He sat down at the far end of the bar and waited for Hollis to finish telling a story to an old man in a canvas fishing hat who looked only half interested. “And so, I was only this far away from Alex Rodriguez and that actress lady he was with.” “Huh.” “Yep. You know, he’s a lot smaller in real life. Looks a lot more worn down than he do on TV. Bad skin, too. You think he wears makeup when he goes onto the field and that’s why he looks so pretty?” “Screw you, Hollis.” Hollis laughed and switched his bar towel from one shoulder to the other as he walked over to James. He slid a cardboard coaster over to him and leaned his forearms on the prickly edge of the plastic bar mat. “You decide to stick around?” James pulled his cell phone, cigarettes, and keys out of his pockets and laid them on the bar so he could sit more comfortably. “Seems that way. Looks like you’re having fun.” “Oh, Randy down there is a Yankees fan. One of them transplants from up north.
