Studs tried to rise, and nearly screamed in agony. Al, good old Al, told him to be still and offered him a slug of bourbon. Studs accepted, glad to have a barber who was once a medical corpsman in the Navy.
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He lay, heavily bandaged, on the billiard table of the pool hall in his building. Studs Fedora vaguely remembered being stabbed and staggering away on Cara's arm, trying to reach his office. After that, nothing, though the blood and medical debris covering the table argued that he had not quite made it.
The blur before his eyes resolved itself into the ceiling of the pool hall in Studs Fedora's building. Three concerned faces leaned over him: Homeless George, Al the barber, and Cara Lotts. He was only happy to see one of them.
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