Alone Again Or

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

At midnight Christian and I returned to the hotel, wired on espresso-latte-bombs, and everyone else seemed to be conked out. Except Ziggy, who was nowhere to be found.

I spent an hour trying to read the contract and decided, yeah, I would definitely have to get a lawyer to read it. Maybe Watt could recommend someone. Good thing we were going home tomorrow.

I spent another hour tweaking the strings on the Ovation, playing around with that thing Tread and I had started. I was starting to call it “Windfall” even though it had no lyrics yet. When I got tired of that I stood in the hot shower until my fingers turned soft. At 2:30am Pacific Time, I got into bed and wished for a book to read other than the Gideon Bible; one of Matthew’s mysteries would have been perfect. I lay still in the dark and felt the caffeine wearing off, but I couldn’t sleep.

At three Ziggy still hadn’t come in. The more I tried not to think about where he might be, the more my stomach churned.

He’s not yours, I told myself. He likes to fuck you and you like to fuck him and it’s damn convenient when that works out, but you don’t own him. I thought about how, the past few nights, he’d been there, and this morning… was it only a week ago he’d begged me to show him what it was like? What happens when he gets tired of you? When he wants to go back to women? Then, what? Shut up. Just don’t think about it.

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