Page 60 of Down Beat

The laughter feels good. Real good. Especially after the shitty start to the day. My thoughts drift back to Rey as we eat in relative silence, to the way he turned my day around with one simple off-the-cuff phone call. He ended it too quick for me to thank him for giving me that pick-me-up, but I guess that’s what life with somebody as well known as him is like: constant snatched conversations in the brief moments of respite between the demands of a tour.

My gaze drifts to the hallway as I pop the last bite of bread into my mouth.

I’m not too proud to admit that I’m becoming addicted to the little hits of him, even after a few short days. But one thing I know for sure sets me apart from most of the other people who feel the same way is that my addiction has nothing to do with who he is in name, or what that earns him.

I don’t like Rey, the lead singer of Dark Tide. He’s arrogant, loud, and careless.

I like Rey, the guy who loves to play his guitar and sing about the things that torture him most.

I like Rey the artist.

Now I want to know Rey the man.