Roadie

The carpet was sticky under her feet. She was glad she hadn’t worn her sandals. She made a mental note to take her shoes off when she got home – if she walked this in to her mothers new cream carpet, she’d never hear the end of it. She looked at the band with resentment, but quickly turned the resentment on herself. When she split with Tom, she should have told them to bugger off, she wouldn’t drive them anymore. Yet here she was, and there was Tom, plucking his bass and staring at some blond in the front row. That was the last straw; she could not deal with this humiliation any longer. She put her pot of light beer on the bar and walked out. Let them put their drums in a maxi-cab. 

 

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