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while I do my air shift.
Can’t let my listeners know
I’ve just been kicked out
of my bedroom, not to mention
maybe out of my girlfriend’s bed.
Celebrities don’t get kicked
out of places, right? I slip into
Biggest Little City radio star mode.
“What’s up, Reno? If your
Nevada Day was anything like
mine, I know what was up
this morning. Hope your
evening rocks just as hard. Coming
up, White Tie Affair and
Sugarcult. But let’s get things
started with Three Days Grace.”
Cool as ice cream.
A LITTLE AFTER MIDNIGHT
One of my groupies calls and I offer
her the David Cook tickets, which, as
promised, were in my in-box. For
real? What can I give you for them?
I get her meaning, but pretend
innocence. “Nothing but love,
honey, nothing but love. Track me
down at the parade tomorrow.”
The pimply overnight geek comes
in ten minutes late. I don’t say a word
as I vacate the booth. The night
squeezes me with icy fingers, chills
