Page 62 of Down Beat

The blue circle switches to her profile pic. Hello, kitty. I watch the dancing dots, mesmerized by them while I alternate which hand holds the phone, and which one gets warm.

T: Shouldn’t you be on stage?

My lips kick up on one side. Does that mean she’s following our tour now?

R: Fifteen minutes or so. Whatchya doin?

Her dots dance, then stop, then dance. I could skip the show and happily cozy up beside this flame from heaven and watch her dots dance all night, knowing it meant another little glimpse at the girl behind the tough façade.

T: You really want to know? I promise it’s not as glamorous as your life.

Oh, she has no idea. Life is never glamorous; you can just afford to mask the ugly truth better the more money you have to spend on the illusion.

R: Give me something to think about, Tabby-cat.

T: Like you’ll have any time to think…

R: Maybe not for the next two hours, but I’ve got all night, baby.

Her dots don’t show. Too forward? Did I push it a bit far with that one?

“Ten minutes, guys!”

I throw up a hand to show I heard, the tension melting from my shoulders as her dots begin to skip again.

T: I’m in bed, listening to music while I write my own. Leave it up to your imagination whether I sleep naked, or not ;)

Snap. There she is, that little vixen she likes to pretend doesn’t simmer beneath all that anger. The text at the top of the thread changes from “Active now” to “Active 1m ago.” She’s switched off. Left me hanging.

Girl sure knows how to play, and she’s got me holding on like a fool. I lock my phone and leave it in the secure area before giving my reflection the once-over. My hair’s spiked as usual, my clothing black on black.

I’m at ease, comfortable, and entirely in my element. And thanks to Tabby-cat, horny as a motherfucker.

Going to be one hell of a show.