Chapter 5The Polar Vortex could have swept its Arctic chill down Manhattan’s canyons and still Jimmy McSwain would be sweating bullets. Make it a sweltering late June night, where the temperature and the humidity were battling it out for victory, and he was downright sweating. Normally he’d be dressed in cargo shorts and a T-shirt, as little as possible really, and as he walked the streets, he couldn’t help but be jealous of those scantily clad. But he couldn’t exactly show up that way to Gaslight, not tonight. Not for a first date.
Gaslight was on 46th Street, between Ninth and Tenth Avenues, a bar with dim lighting and hot guys and drink specials throughout the week. This being Monday, it was also billed as “Musical Mondays,” complete with a stage, lyrics, and accompanying music. Many o
