30
Near Eyre Square I saw the young blond guy, and no mistake, he was staring at me. I decided to put an end to this and moved, but he turned and was gone before I could reach him. I swore that next time, one way or another, I was going to have a chat. I mean, what the hell, was he stalking me?
I got into Nestor’s, visions of whiskey before my eyes. The sentry was in place, said,
“Jaysus, look at the cut of him.”
This is not complimentary; it’s as bad as it gets. I shot him a look.
Jeff was stocking shelves, said,
“Welcome back, buddy.”
I took my usual chair, the hard one, my back to the wall. Felt tired, my knee aching; the damn painkiller wasn’t kicking in. The news was on: a bomb in Bali, 187 dead, three Irish missing. The newsreader was speculating on Al-Qaeda involvement. Jeff
