|
"JACQUES, I believe I will tarry a bit before I order tonight. I feel like something special."
"But of course, monsieur."
He spoke in his usual heavy French accent with distinct Bronx overtones. Smiling verminously, he then bowed slightly from the waist, his heavily brilliantined toupee glowing in the reflected light from the bar, and disappeared through the maze of candlelit, festive tables. I sipped my drink thoughtfully as I studied the handwritten menu of my favorite midtown restaurant, Les Misérables du Frite...
|
