Page 19 of Dark Room Junkie

I lifted my head and pulled out an earbud. “Romero.”

“You came back today?” he called mockingly. “And now you’re sitting out here?”

“If I had known what was going down here tonight, I would’ve stayed away.”

Romero flashed his sleazy sunshine smile, almost blinding me with his tanned skin. The guy was almost fifty and had been dyeing his gray roots black for years. “I’m just dropping by,” he said, holding up a few pizza boxes, trying to make it seem like that was all he brought. “Hungry? Want one?”

I looked at him with a blank expression. “And what do you want for it?”

Romero grabbed his crotch. “Blow me. And if I can fuck you, you’ll get the coke too.”

“I’d rather starve,” I said casually and put the earbud back in.

Romero just shrugged and disappeared up the stairs.

Once the phone was charged, I went down to the basement to throw the wet laundry into the dryer. Ultimately, I stayed there, sitting in a corner, using the leather jacket as a blanket, and trying to get some sleep. At least I had some peace and quiet here.

7

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Alex

“This is just a regular band rehearsal today,” Chris said, leading me into the room. “Feel free to take some photos of us and just do your thing.”

Was it so obvious that I was a bit nervous? My assignments mainly involved advertising. When working with models, they did exactly what I instructed. But I was facing a completely new challenge here. I didn’t even know which camera was the right one, so I packed three—two digital and one analog—which made even less sense.

But maybe this offered a new opportunity to expand my collection for the photo book—although I knew Chris’s band members and didn’t consider any of them suited for portraits.

Lukas sat on a chair, and Ramon on the couch. They tuned their guitars and discussed a song while Chris fetched a beer from the fridge. I stood next to the couch, assessing the wooden table in the middle, wondering where to spread out my equipment. The table was cluttered with empty beer bottles and overflowing ashtrays. My expression must have conveyed my thoughts because Chris hastily opened one of the small windows, which led to a light shaft but still let in fresh air. He then grabbed a bucket, made the bottles disappear into it, and emptied the three ashtrays.

“Sorry. Hard to avoid in a rehearsal room,” he said, slightly embarrassed. “I think Marco and Steven had a party here on Sunday.”

But the table wasn’t clean yet. It looked like someone had wanted to seed a field; tobacco was scattered everywhere, along with little pieces of paper, pull tabs from cans, lighters, and torn steel strings. Chris put the bucket away and wiped the table with a damp paper towel.

“So ... uh ... only Marco and Manuel are missing?” I asked, sitting down next to Ramon on the couch and opening my bag.

“Marco, yes. Manuel is no longer with us,” Chris said.

“What do you mean, Manuel is no longer with you?” I asked, confused.

“We kicked him out or at least that will be the official version. He quit, and Marco found a new singer pretty much at the same time. He heard the songs for the first time last week and had a week to learn them. Starting tomorrow, we’re recording the vocals again. That’s why we made a last-minute invitation. You have no idea how glad we are that you had time today. We desperately need photos.”

“I thought you had already finished the recordings?”

“Yeah! We’re lucky the guy showed up in time.”

“What do you meanshowed up?” Ramon chimed in. “He’s always been here, actually. We just didn’t know it.”

The guys laughed, and I tried to figure out what they meant, which was rather difficult, so I focused on my cameras. I laid them out on the table and checked the settings.

“Okay,” Chris finally said, apparently feeling responsible for me. “Make yourself at home. There are drinks in the fridge. Just help yourself. Ah, and here...” Chris dragged a cardboard box from behind the couch. “Need earplugs?”

There were at least a hundred packets of earplugs in the box.

“Thanks,” I grabbed one and turned to Chris with a puzzled expression.

“Don’t ask,” he replied, shaking his head and glancing at Lukas.

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