"Well, thanks." Curt said, getting up from his chair. He just finished speaking with the interviewers. "Thanks for not being assholes." He let out a little smile. It immediately disappeared, the moment he turned around.

He began walking back to the stage. As he took his steps, he looked down at himself. He looked at the remaining liquor on his chest, which almost dried on him. He ran his hand through his hair. It was damp and sticky. He licked his lips. The taste was still there. Altogether, he felt dirty, and tired.

Seeing all this, the stagehand rushed to get a towel, and returned with it just as Curt approached. Curt took the towel listlessly and wiped his face. He hung it on his shoulder and walked up the stairs, trudging heavily.

He stood there on the stage with his hands in his pockets, thinking of something to say. He was oblivious to the people cheering at his return. Not long after, he was interrupted by the drummer.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

Curt stared at him with wide eyes, looking lost.

"How was the interview?"

"Oh. Better than expected."

"That's good to hear."

"Listen." Curt said gravely. "I'm gonna go home. Just tell the guys if they ask for me."

"Going home? Where exactly?" he asked, sounding disappointed. He didn't bother to add that they still had a couple of songs to go.

"To—uh, my apartment. You know." He tossed the towel away as he moved towards the door. Before he could pull it open, he was interrupted again.

"Hey Curt, you're not keeping any problems from us, right? We had a whole talk about this."

"No." he lied, and walked out. Something had been bothering him, and it was escalated by almost everything he did.

In the lobby, the same man who met him earlier sat slumped in a chair. He was asleep. Curt lightly tapped his shoulder. He opened his eyes and crossed his brow in confusion.

"Oh, it's you." he said, realizing who woke him up.

"Sorry to wake you." Curt apologized. "Do you know if the guy who drove me is still there? Don't wanna go searching ballistically outside like an idiot."

"I think so. I mean, he should be. You told him to stay, didn't ya?"

"No, but I didn't tell him to leave either."

"Then he should be there still."

Indeed, the car was there when Curt got out. He got in.

"Take me home." he said to the driver, who was also sleeping.

"Oh shit." He jumped. "How long have you been there?"

"I just got in."

"You fuckin' scared me. What were you saying?"

"Take me to my apartment."

"You sure you wanna go straight there? There's a bit of darkness left. Maybe we could hit a few dives on the way."

"I'm sure."

"Okay." the driver said, tipping his head.

While the car wheeled its way on the road, the driver tried to have a conversation with Curt. It was a one-sided conversation, with him talking about what he did as he waited for so long.

Curt shrugged him off in the back seat, too distraught to care about the self-pitying narrative. He had his own troubles to wallow in.

But the driver droned on.

"You know, I don't understand you sometimes." he said quietly.

"Understand?" Curt asked, out of nowhere.

"Yeah." he said. "I kinda don't get you at times, but I guess that's what makes you interesting. What makes you guys interesting." He was unaware that the other was immersed in a different conversation.

"I don't understand you sometimes." Curt spoke.

"Don't try to understand me." Brian snapped back. "Stop trying to understand me!"

"Well, we're here." the driver announced.

"What?" Curt asked, slightly bewildered.

"We're at your apartment, as you requested."

Curt hastily opened the door and leapt out.

"Give me a call if you're ever interested in going out somewhere." the driver said.

"Huh? Yeah." he responded tiredly.

"Rockstars…." the driver grumbled under his breath, as he drove the Cadillac away.

Note: I know, I know, this chapter doesn't have a song. It sort of just turned out that way. I dunno, I guess the story needed a quiet transition…. Kudos to Jay though, for the suggestion, even though I didn't set out to follow it.