“Hi, Ace!” the voice was perky.
“Hello? Ella?” Ace had to clear his mind.
“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
He looked at the bedside clock: noon. “Oh, shit, I needed to get up anyway. We’re in New York. Stayed up until three; you know that one.”
“Three is an early bedtime in New York. Hey, I’ll call later.”
“No, no, it’s fine. How are you doing?”
“Well, I read Apache and Shipwrecked. Fabulous books. Thanks for recommending them.”
“Yeah, I loved Apache. Makes you realize what jerks our ancestors were.”
“I’d love to go out to Arizona and see that country sometime.”
Is that an invitation? Think fast, Ace.
“Yeah, Arizona’s great. I love the desert.”
“Ace, I’ll let you go. I just wanted to say hi. I really enjoyed talking with you in L.A.”
Ace could hear disappointment.” Hey, don’t hang up; or, you know what? Let me call you back later today when we’re on the road. I gotta get ready to roll. We’re driving down to Atlanta.”
“Ok, please do call me. I’ll be waiting.”
Ace rolled over on his back.
Shit, that’s a surprise. Ella… Jesus! Don’t even think about it Ace; you’re already a dead man.
Harry woke. Oh shit. Hangover. Am I cool? Where am I?
He felt a stirring next to him. Omigod, what have I done this time?
A gentle hand brushed his shoulder.
“Wake up, my tipsy friend.” A sweet voice, who was it connected to? Harry was afraid to open his eyes. He peeped.
Wow, I must be dreaming. A naked, pretty oriental woman was propped up on one elbow smiling at him. Her big tits jiggled. He smiled back. He must have looked as blank as he felt.
“Fumiko.” She laughed.
“Don’t’ worry, Harry; someone had to take care of you! You got a little loopy last night.” She giggled. It sounded a bit like ritter roopy instead of ‘little loopy.’
The gig. Backstage. All those people. Laughter. Drinks. He scrambled to check his memory circuits. Unclear, but no big red flags. He remembered her, though. The photographer from Tokyo.
“Fumiko. What a pretty name. So, how bad was I?” He was afraid to hear. Oh well, bring it on. He rolled over on his back and looked up at the ceiling. Not the hotel. Her place. Tiny. Nice. Lots of artsy photos of naked people and alley cats on the walls
“Oh, you were quite sirry.” She had a little bit of a British accent mixed with the Japanese. “You weren’t belligerent or anything.” Berrigerant. “Your friend Ace said maybe I should take you home, so I did. I hope that’s Ok with you.”
She pulled him to face her. She really was pretty, maybe around forty-five. Jesus, Harry! He smiled like a slice of cantaloupe on a breakfast plate at Denny’s.
“Did I get lucky?”
“Not yet, but it’s stirr’ early.”
A little while later…
“Oh, Harry, “Fumiko whispered, “That was so beautifurr!”
“C’mon, sugardaddy, baby wants it!”
“I gotta make a phone call” Joey swung his legs out of bed. He was worn out. Three girls. Back in the saddle again. I don’t want them hanging out, though.
“What’s up, Joey, wanna gave breakfast? Riggs and I are down here now. We’ll wait for you.”
“I have to run, darlin’.”
“Will you call me, Joey?”
“Sure. Call me and leave your number on my cell, so I’ll have it.”
Thank you and goodnight!
“So how did it hold up?” Riggs laughed. Tony’s sexual prowess was legendary. No implant for him. He was written up in Hunk as being the third biggest in the biz. Stone was number one.
“I had a fun night. Did you go for that brunette?’
“I’m a married man, Joey! So, yeah, and that little redhead, too. You gotta love New Yawk!”
“How about you, Greg? I saw you talking to Annette Slazak. She’s hot.”
“You know me; I prefer to avail myself of the services proffered through the concierge. No messy afterburn.”
“You don’t pay hookers for sex, “said Tony, “You pay them to leave afterwards!”
Shinebone was irritated. With no bus access to control at the gig, he had struck out. He came down into the lobby and saw Russell sitting with his pilot friend Shane.
“You two queers make me sick! “ Shinebone laughed. They laughed back. Marco sashayed in from a cab, as did Harry. Harry had an attractive Japanese woman on his arm. He looked quite pleased with himself. Ace came down with his bags. Boomer hobbled off the elevator. Despite all the yoga, his back was hurting.
The Hashemites, except for their lead singer Garbage, were in the lobby as well. Also, Dickie and Jimmy from the Derricks. The Hashies had really owned the night at Trump Garden, despite the veneer of hoopla that surrounded Childhood. Their metallic yet melodic rap-rock outweighed the old-guy posing. Garbage, he of the full-body tattoos and fifty piercings, was a handsome and charismatic star.
“All wankers accounted for? Let’s go.”
“Are the major dickheads flying?”
“Did you think they’d be driving?”
“Yeah, they took Trashie too,” one of the wild-looking Hashies spoke up. His head was shaved on the left side, spiked-out hair on the right. His face had a beard on the left half, while his right was clean- shaven.
“Birds of a feather.” Said Marco.
“Carr me?” whispered Fumiko, looking up at Harry with hopeful but waiting to be sad eyes.
“I’ll call you; I will.” Harry said quietly.
“Hey, knock off the interracial smooching, and let’s get rolling!” Shinebone actually thought this was funny.
Ace and Harry gave him dirty looks.
“What? What did I say?”