been burned too many times in that search.
In the short-term, though? That was easy. I took a long swallow of the whiskey and announced, “Where are we going? Gather up the groupies!”
═ ♪ ♫ ♪ ═
Her name was Lacey and she was an aspiring actress, working as a hostess as some downtown restaurant.
And her name was Chrissy, and she was a wannabe news anchor working at some clothing boutique.
They circled my hotel room together, running their hands over the furniture and casting furtive glances at each other for my benefit.
And for reasons that I couldn’t fathom, I was not into it. My sanity’s gone. That’s what’s happened.
They met in front of me and smiled. “Nice room,” one of them said.
“Nice view,” added the other. Lacey? Chrissy? She settled on my lap. The other climbed onto the mattress and knelt next to me.
“Thanks for inviting us up,” Chrissy or Lacey said, taking a deep breath so her chest rose with it. “We love your music.”
“We’ve always wanted to meet you,” LaceyChrissy whispered into my ear.
They kissed each other, watching me out of the corners of their eyes. ChrissyLacey wiggled her ass on my lap, and LaceyChrissy ran a hand down my arm.
I was tense as a stone all over except for where I needed to be.
And I knew just who to blame. Her song was stuck in my head. The song… maybe if I finished the song I could finally put her aside. That’s it. Gently, I pushed the girl off my lap and onto her feet.
“Sorry, ladies,” I said, “I’m really fucking tired.”
They exchanged a look—one that morphed from surprise to embarrassment to outrage as they realized they were being asked to leave. Yet they remained frozen next to the bed.
I retrieved their purses from the couch and handed them over, hoping that would get their feet moving.
“Are you serious right now?” one of them asked, the bedroom voice gone and replaced by an ugly twang.
The other dropped her southern belle affectation as well, instead sounding one octave away from a shriek. “Seriously? The great and mighty god of rock Keir Sonder can’t get it up?”
I rolled my eyes. Why couldn’t I just be tired? Why did the night have to dissolve into insults? “Go. Get the hell out.”
“His dick’s probably tiny,” one of them spat as they finally started moving.
“Like a little pinky,” the other said.
And that became their chant as I escorted them through the room and out the door. “Pinky dick! Pinky dick!” I was tempted to show them the truth. Knowing my luck, they’d snap a cell phone picture and slap it up on the internet before I even drank the memory out of my head.
“You have a good night too, ladies!” I shouted down the hall after them as they click-clacked to the elevators. I waited until I heard the bell ding and saw the doors shut them away. Thank fuck.
Only one of the guys had heard the ruckus and peeked his head out—Javier watched them go before turning to me and asking, “What the hell, is your dick broke, or something?”
I gave him the middle finger before closing myself back inside my room. The guys would no doubt find the whole thing hilarious in the morning.
I’d deserve their mockery. Those girls were hot, and they wanted a threesome. What red-blooded man just turned that down, much less didn’t even rise to full mast?
I’m tired and distracted , I assured myself as I settled down with my guitar.
But I didn’t feel regret over the missed opportunity. I felt relieved that they were gone, and I began to feel much more at peace as I played.
Bent notes and broken rhythms littering my sheets
Worlds turn to the tune and the cadence of our heartbeats
This one wouldn’t make it onto the album, but the next one would, and the next. I’m just in grumpy songwriter mode. Nothing out of the ordinary.
If Cadence’s name didn’t repeat through the whole damn song, I might have almost believed myself.
CHAPTER
In the short-term, though? That was easy. I took a long swallow of the whiskey and announced, “Where are we going? Gather up the groupies!”
═ ♪ ♫ ♪ ═
Her name was Lacey and she was an aspiring actress, working as a hostess as some downtown restaurant.
And her name was Chrissy, and she was a wannabe news anchor working at some clothing boutique.
They circled my hotel room together, running their hands over the furniture and casting furtive glances at each other for my benefit.
And for reasons that I couldn’t fathom, I was not into it. My sanity’s gone. That’s what’s happened.
They met in front of me and smiled. “Nice room,” one of them said.
“Nice view,” added the other. Lacey? Chrissy? She settled on my lap. The other climbed onto the mattress and knelt next to me.
“Thanks for inviting us up,” Chrissy or Lacey said, taking a deep breath so her chest rose with it. “We love your music.”
“We’ve always wanted to meet you,” LaceyChrissy whispered into my ear.
They kissed each other, watching me out of the corners of their eyes. ChrissyLacey wiggled her ass on my lap, and LaceyChrissy ran a hand down my arm.
I was tense as a stone all over except for where I needed to be.
And I knew just who to blame. Her song was stuck in my head. The song… maybe if I finished the song I could finally put her aside. That’s it. Gently, I pushed the girl off my lap and onto her feet.
“Sorry, ladies,” I said, “I’m really fucking tired.”
They exchanged a look—one that morphed from surprise to embarrassment to outrage as they realized they were being asked to leave. Yet they remained frozen next to the bed.
I retrieved their purses from the couch and handed them over, hoping that would get their feet moving.
“Are you serious right now?” one of them asked, the bedroom voice gone and replaced by an ugly twang.
The other dropped her southern belle affectation as well, instead sounding one octave away from a shriek. “Seriously? The great and mighty god of rock Keir Sonder can’t get it up?”
I rolled my eyes. Why couldn’t I just be tired? Why did the night have to dissolve into insults? “Go. Get the hell out.”
“His dick’s probably tiny,” one of them spat as they finally started moving.
“Like a little pinky,” the other said.
And that became their chant as I escorted them through the room and out the door. “Pinky dick! Pinky dick!” I was tempted to show them the truth. Knowing my luck, they’d snap a cell phone picture and slap it up on the internet before I even drank the memory out of my head.
“You have a good night too, ladies!” I shouted down the hall after them as they click-clacked to the elevators. I waited until I heard the bell ding and saw the doors shut them away. Thank fuck.
Only one of the guys had heard the ruckus and peeked his head out—Javier watched them go before turning to me and asking, “What the hell, is your dick broke, or something?”
I gave him the middle finger before closing myself back inside my room. The guys would no doubt find the whole thing hilarious in the morning.
I’d deserve their mockery. Those girls were hot, and they wanted a threesome. What red-blooded man just turned that down, much less didn’t even rise to full mast?
I’m tired and distracted , I assured myself as I settled down with my guitar.
But I didn’t feel regret over the missed opportunity. I felt relieved that they were gone, and I began to feel much more at peace as I played.
Bent notes and broken rhythms littering my sheets
Worlds turn to the tune and the cadence of our heartbeats
This one wouldn’t make it onto the album, but the next one would, and the next. I’m just in grumpy songwriter mode. Nothing out of the ordinary.
If Cadence’s name didn’t repeat through the whole damn song, I might have almost believed myself.
CHAPTER
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