Ashes on Everything

You could tell by the look on his face that he was just starting to come to terms with the fact that Smith was never coming back, that all of the trappings that often come with success in the music business had taken his grandson before it was his own time to go. He had walked into that record store with a big smile on his face, happy to be there, not really knowing what to expect, pleased to meet the fans who had turned up to pay their last respects.

And as we stood there at the front counter of the last dusty, dirty record store in our city, sharing a cigarette with the owner who has smoked five packs a day for the last 40 years, the two Bills looked around and saw the same thing that I had seen that morning in Echo Park--there were smoke and ashes all over everything.