My diary hit an abrupt end just then. My diary didn’t reveal the full extent of the night’s festivities.
It turns out the boys didn’t listen and I learnt that quickly. I hadn’t listened either. The children were with Bruce for one of the few times I required him while on the road. Yes, of course, I had Bruce when I was on stage, but I quickly snatched my precious trio back. This was one of the few times we had let loose.
Suddenly it was two in the morning and I was sure everyone has retired for the night. There was Frank, Seth and myself. We all decided to crash into the Sandoval accommodations. I kept Frank about my children – damn guilt. I fell through the door, and onto the sofa. I was wedged in the middle, with Frank to my left and Seth to my right. Seth’s wine glass, half full was sitting precariously near the edge of the table, looking as if at a moment’s notice it would fly off the surface and splash all over my pristine carpet. Frank lifted himself out of the distorted sofa and made the first move. I was struck by a moment of clarity. Shit, what if Frank dares mention our conversation of two years ago. I would be mortified.