Guys like me living around the edges of things. Sailors and assorted travelers passing in and out. Gentlefolk, merchants, and peons - the same straights as in most other places. Lots of good port smells - spices, coffee, tar, salt - you know. Palm trees and night-blooming wallflowers. Well, anyhow, there I was in Texorami, making music and women, winning at cards and jockeying around the sky. Hell of a way to go, you know? His throat. He started a nasty argument over it one night - could have gotten serious - but Gerard and Caine broke it up. If you kept beating him at anything you had to be cheating. The trouble with him was that he was good at so many things he wouldn't admit even to himself that there were some things other people could do better. He once accused me of cheating at cards, did you know that? And that's about the only thing I wouldn't cheat at. And that was it for the rest of the night. When I was done playing I'd go find some action, women, or cards, usually. I played drums till all hours in a basement spot up the river where the walls sweated almost as much as the customers and the smoke used to wash around the lights like streams of milk. I had a little red sail plane I used to go sky surfing in, every couple of days. Texorami was a wide open port city, with sultry days and long nights, lots of good music, gambling around the clock, duels every morning and in-between mayhem for those who couldn't wait. "Forget it, Random The reframing is out, too."
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