He wanted to shake his fists at the sky and scream in frustration.
He wanted to find a blonde....
Finally he found one. In a small, red-fronted bar, dimly lit. She was sitting at the end of the bar, facing the door, toying with a tall drink, half empty, from which the ice had melted.
"What'll it be, Mister?"
"Anything! Anything!" he said excitedly as he slipped behind a table, his eyes still on the woman at the bar.
"And the same for me?"
"Sure. Sure."
She brought back two drinks, picked up a bill, turned it over in her hand speculatively. She wore an off the shoulder dress, and high rouge on her Mexican cheeks. She made change from her apron, putting the money beside the second glass, sitting down in front of it, across from him.
Still he had not noticed her.
Two patrons entered. They moved to a table in the far corner near the Venetian blinds of the window and began to talk in low husky voices.