The Drumbeat Years (girlxgirl)

9

9

20th. July 1996 - Morning

She didn't have as bad a hangover as she thought she would. Sitting upright in the bed, replacing the room phone, after receiving her wake-up call, she smacked her lips, trying to gain some moisture into her mouth and looked, with bleary eyes around the room. She didn't want to think how Russell felt, this morning, and hoped she hadn't caused him too much damage.

Conventions were notorious for the guests coming together. He had drunk a lot and, right now, he probably worried whether she would say anything to Mel. She wouldn't and she would talk to him as though nothing had happened. Still, the memory of his breath as he leaned in towards her almost made her retch. Strange that she thought of him before thinking of the strained reunion with Dawn.

And, with that, her mind began to pinwheel around her former tutor's reappearance in her life. As she slumped her shoulders forward, she ran her fingers through her mess of hair. After all this time, all the years when thoughts of Dawn had invaded her consciousness, she had all but rejected her upon meeting again. And for what? Because she did drugs? Everyone in the music business did drugs. Hell! A lot of writers and artists did, too!

Flipping the covers aside, she realised she had slept in her underwear. Again. She needed a shower. She needed to brush her teeth. She needed food and fresh air. Removing her underwear as she moved, she entered the bathroom and set the water running. After a second, she turned the temperature down. Right now, a cold shower suited her mood better.

Once showered and dried, she began readying to slip into fresh clothes. Opening the wardrobe, she glanced across all the clothes she had brought. All black, with little variation in style. It was her 'thing' and it made choosing outfits easier. Her eyes lingered on the one dress she had brought with her. Black, of course. Shaking her head, she pulled out fresh jeans and a t-shirt, with "I'm not 'n orfur, I'm a riter", on the chest.

Her mobile phone began to ring and she groaned. It was too early for that. The whimsical tinkles did nothing to lighten her mood and she watched it until it stopped ringing, the three-line display flashing off. She would leave that in the room today. As she neared the door to head down for breakfast, the phone rang again and she let out a frustrated growl.

"Morning, Beer Monster!" Kyle sounded far too bright and cheerful for, she checked, half-past eight in the morning. "So, dish it. Dish the dirt. Dish it! Now!"

"Nothing to tell. We talked. She's changed. I'm over it." She wasn't over it and she knew damn well she wasn't over it. She just hoped Kyle didn't notice.

"You're not over it. I can tell." The cheeriness in his voice dissipated a little. It sounded as though he sat down to prepare himself for a long rant from her. "What happened?"

"Nothing. She's just different. Not who I remembered. It's for the best." Her words hung in the air and she knew Kyle waited for her to continue. "Alright, she looks ill. Wears too much make-up. She's really thin and her choice in clothes has got worse and ... and ... she's doing drugs. Cocaine, I think. I'm not going through that again."

"I see." Kyle understood. He had stood by her as she had watched someone destroy themselves with drugs. Now, he would tell her that she was doing the right thing. "So, when are you seeing her again?"

"I'm not! It's done. I'm over her!" She knew she protested too much and she could imagine those raised eyebrows from Kyle, the ones that said he could see through her bull. "She wants to see me tonight, after the Con closes, but I'm not going. I'm not."

"Sure. Cool. Cool." He didn't believe a word of it. "Do you want me to come over? I have less to do than I thought I would. I could be there in ... two hours. Hour and a half if I take speed limits as suggestions."