In Shanghai, where most people believe Kenny G’s “Going Home” is real jazz, I used to hang at The Bee’s Knees, where the hot players from the Beijing scene gigged. You could differentiate them from the locals because they talked twice as loud and smoked three times as much. I bonded with Reilly, the American who ran the place, over cheap booze. He needed it, I had the connections to get it.
A rainy night in Shanghai, a jazzman with a missing arm, and a duel over the arm in question. I’m pleased and chuffed to announce the publication of my newest short story “One-armed Bandit” in The Adirondack Review. This tale will also be a part of my new short story collection… but that’s something for a future post. Stay tuned!
