Stroll On Over. Send another Whiskey my way. I hadn’t decided what to order when I sat down. I’m surveying my new home. I’m living upstairs. This week. We don’t gig until tomorrow night. Friday Night. But the agency screwed up, double-booked us. We got paid for it anyway. So I’m killing time. We managed to pull a last-minute two-night stint here. Here. Here since Monday morning. Deadsville. Shit you not. I’ve never played here before but I follow my rules. Keep a low profile. Most people around here have only seen hair this long in a movie. So I stick very close to home base. I like this hotel. Friendly staff. Clean. Irish Whiskey in the bar. Civilized for a Deadsville.

I’ve just decided that a shot of Carolyn’s and a shot of Jameson’s in a coffee would be right up my alley. I can relax. Kick back. Soundcheck was done last night. I’m caught up on laundry. We all are. The rest of the boys hit the local lake. Safety in numbers. What’s this. Monique, the only daytime server just set a Whiskey on the rocks in front of me. Compliment of the young lady in the corner. I hadn’t noticed her. And now the red flag dropped itself in my drink. I gestured thanks her way. Then walked over. On the way I was almost certain of what would happen next. Boyfriend. Big ol’ jealous farm boy. Didn’t turn out that way. We had a lot in common. Walking away from her table I was glad I had met her. She can’t promise anything but she might come and see us play tomorrow night. Friday Night. It depends on her boyfriend. Hell, I said, bring him along. Does he like Rockroll? ... xoRJ