William sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples. Trying to ease the pounding in his head. “Drinking on a Monday night was a bad idea” he thought. He had spent the night before at Isy’s Supper Club. In 1974 it was a club still holding on to its symbol of a Rat Pack, American style club. A holdout for entertainment no longer deemed cool but still a great place to have a good time, drinking more than one should. Which William had done and now the bill was due.
His morning was rushed as usual, but he managed to collect himself and get out the door almost on time. He arrived at work to a busy newsroom, the smell of coffee and cheap cigarettes in the air, the phones ringing and reporters were running back and forth like bees in a hive. As he shuffled through the newsroom, he felt as though everyone was staring at him, disapproving of his antics from the night before.