Page 198 of Rock Me All Night
"Thanks for the tip." I sit cross legged on the floor.
He does something in the kitchen. I guess he unpacked a set of pots and pans. It's extra bright over there so I'm not about to look.
"I'm making eggs. You want some?" he ask.
"Yes. Thank you."
He moves closer. His hands graze my shoulders. "You want to come with me?"
Mind going straight to gutter. I clear my throat. "Come to what?"
"To practice. It's in an hour."
Not with this headache. Just the thought of groaning vocals and a screaming drum set...
Tom. He knew what he was doing last night. And maybe today too.
A heavy dose of ibuprofen and a greasy breakfast should be enough to make band practice tolerable.
"Sure," I say. "As long as you drive."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
