Gypsy Road

Rock Fever

The sound of a loud and obnoxious alarm wakes me up, and my eyes fly open. It's still pitch dark out, so all I can see is the outline of Eric's body and the furniture in the room, all illuminated by the red light emitting from the digits on the clock.

"God damn it..." I hear Eric grumble as he rolls over to shut the damn thing off.

I groan. "What time is it?"

"Oh you know, only 5:00. The people here before us probably left the fucking thing on and no one bothered to shut it off before we arrived."

"Fantastic..."

He huffs in frustration, then turns the clock so it faces away from us.

"And who could sleep with the damn numbers glaring bright red in their eyes all night?" He sighs and rolls back over, pulling the sheets up tighter around his shoulders.

Before I can reply, I almost instantly start dozing off. I try to pry my eyelids open, but without much luck. I succumb to sleep and when I wake again, orange sunlight gazes through the thick curtains. The sun must just now be rising. I reach past Eric and spin the clock back around. 7:06. Close enough, and it's not like I am going to be able to get back to sleep for a third time anyways, especially at this time. I carefully slip out of bed and Eric stirs a little, but he doesn't wake up. I decide I should actually try today, so I grab a leather skirt and a black blouse, and I skirt off to the shower. I turn on the water, waiting for it to heat up. I step in, letting the warm water beat down on my shoulders for a few minutes. After I have sufficiently woken myself up, I quickly wash my hair and then step out onto the rug, swiping a towel from the bar and wrapping it around myself. I tie it securely and scrub my hair until it's fairly dry. Well, damp rather. But it's better than sopping wet. I step out into the separate part of the bathroom, finish drying off, and get myself dressed. Then I prop the door open, brush through my hair, and put on some eye makeup, sticking with blue eyeliner and some bright eyeshadows for today. I am definitely representing the look of my era with my outfit and makeup today, and that's perfectly okay. Just as I'm finishing up, I hear the sound of covers being thrown back and Eric creeping across the room.

"There you are." He grins sleepily as he enters the small powder room. He takes a quick second to glance in the mirror, and he chuckles at his ruffled hair.

"You sleep good, sunshine?"

"Yeah I guess so." He replies, rubbing his eye.

"Yeah I know, it was a rough night."

"Yeah. I swear if that damn clock causes any more trouble I'm going to smash it into a wall."

"That makes two of us." I laugh lightly.

"Well, I'm gonna take a shower, kitten. I'll be done in a bit."

"Alright." I kiss his cheek and he scurries into the other portion of the bathroom, silently closing the door behind him.

While I wait for him, I sit in the arm chair in the corner of our room. I decide to pick up a notepad on the nightstand and to do my part in helping Tom write some songs for the next album. Even though I'm feeling creative, I am drawing a blank. Maybe I should just jot down a couple riffs I have in mind and call it good. After all, they could be useful in the future, even if I don't have any full songs or lyrics written. And maybe Tom will be able to use them. I scribe out a couple riffs I came up with a while ago, and then set the pages aside. I think for a second in the silence, then I pop the TV on to a generic music station, the ones that don't have video, just facts about the bands and some pictures of them as the audio pours out of the speakers. It just so happens that a song that's been stuck in my head, Def Leppard's Comin' Under Fire is playing. I sing along with Joe Elliott's voice and shuffle in my bag until I find a book. I'm definitely glad that I packed along one of my favorites, Pet Sematary by Stephen King. I flip through the pages until I come to the spot I last left off on. I continue singing along with Joe's voice coming from the TV as I read my book. Eric steps into the room only a few seconds after I start reading. His hair is still damp, and he's wearing some black jeans, a black sleeveless shirt, and of course, his boots.