So much for sleep. It was four a.m.
“Since you were involved, you’ll have to talk to them.”
“I told you to leave it alone. If you had, then this wouldn’t have happened!” I screamed.
“Well it’s too fucking late now, so get dressed. Thank heavens the van’s alarm went off. We’d be in sorry shape for catching the ferry if that piece of shit slashed our new tires.”
I shut the door and staggered back to the room. Keith was still sleep. How was I to survive on one hour of sleep? I struggled into a sundress, quickly tied my hair up and slipped on some sandals. When I got outside, the police were talking to Ryan. When they interviewed me, I showed them the tally sheets and postcards.
When the police had their report, it was after five. My entire body craved sleep. I went back to my room and got Keith up. For someone who got by on little sleep, he was difficult to rouse before ready. I filled him in.
“Bloody hell!” he muttered. “How the fuck did they find us?”
“A large white van with Piss Ants painted in the windows isn’t difficult to find,” I answered. “We may as well pack up and have breakfast.”
Ryan insisted Keith drive. “You’ve had more sleep than me,” he said.
Keith didn’t argue.
We had to wait in a long queue at the ferry. I was surprised there were so many up at this ungodly hour. No one was happy, having had zero to three hours of sleep amongst us.
“The ferry’s here. Why aren’t we fucking moving?” Keith grumbled.
The van got very hot. It was just past eight, but already the tarmac absorbed the sun and there was no shade. We opened windows but no one was happy about being stuffed into the cramped van.
Finally, nearly half an hour late, cars began moving.
Everyone bailed and headed to the passenger area. As much as I wanted to see the scenery, sleep soon overtook me.
“Wake up, luv. We have trouble again.”
I woke to see Keith looming over me. “What’s wrong?”
“How much money do you have?”
“Why?”
“That piece of shit punctured a tire after all. It has a slow leak. Ryan’s changing it, and doesn’t want to call his dad again. We’ll need a new tire when we reach Dublin.”
“La Vache,” I uttered, now wide-awake. “I have money in my bag. I’ll start making more postcards fast. What time is it?”
“Nearly eleven.”
“Two straight hours of sleep,” I yawned.
“Sorry, luv. Ryan’s livid.”
“Well, it’s partly his fault. He should have left it alone. How much is a new tire?”
“Ryan says around fifty quid.”
“Fifty? I don’t mind helping, but do I have to pay it all?”
“Between the cost of the ferry and other expenses, we have barely enough for food. We’ll recoup after tonight, but right now, you’re the only one with enough cash. We’ll pay you back.”
“What about you? Did you bring any money?”
“I only brought a hundred quid and it’s pretty much spent.”
“On beer and fags, no doubt.”
“We gotta be able to enjoy ourselves. It’s hard playing our souls out every night.”
“Except being the responsible one, I have to pay.”
“We helped you after you were robbed.
“Fine, but I’m getting a promissory note that I’ll get paid in full before Roskilde. If it means you have to cut back on beer, so be it.” I pulled money from my bag and thrust it at Keith who took it and disappeared.
I left for something to eat before finding a place to make cards. I might be able to make twelve before show time. I was working hard when Keith found me.
“I’ve been bloody looking for you. Ryan’s pissed off but signed the note.”
“He should appreciate me, not be pissed off.”
Keith shrugged. “So you think you can make enough postcards?”
“If you go away and leave me alone.”
Keith walked off without saying another word. By the time the horn sounded to return to our vehicles, I’d finished four postcards. I was the last to arrive at the van.
“Finally. If you weren’t here soon we’d leave without you,” Ryan said.
“How? Does the van sprout pontoons so you could float to Dublin? I’ve been working my derriere off making postcards. You’re supposed to be responsible but you’re drinking as much as everyone. That’s why you’re broke. And this mess is part your fault.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Fuck! I’ll never understand women.”
“I’m sure you won’t,” I shot back. “We’re complicated and you blokes being such simpletons will never understand us.”
At last the ferry docked in Dublin. I was exhausted and now understood why musicians turned to drugs to keep awake. To make matters worse, we couldn’t afford an en suite room and ended up in one with one bunk bed and a shared bath.
I needed a shower, but the bathroom was occupied and there wasn’t time to wait. All we could afford to eat was fish and chips. I was sick of fish and chips.
“What a pisser. There’s no beer here. We’re in Ireland. It shouldn’t be hard to find Guinness.” Keith lamented.
“I hope you have money,” I said. “I can’t buy you a beer.”
“Come on, luv. You’re in as pissy a mood as Ryan. A pint of Guinness isn’t much.”
“I couldn’t afford to get us a decent room. What makes you think I can afford beer?”
“It’ll help me perform better. I really need one.”
“Then maybe you’ll get lucky and get one at the club.”
Keith rolled his eyes. “We may as well head back to the hostel, then.”
We returned to the hostel but none of the other band members, including Ryan were around. Good, I had time for a shower. And the bathroom was unoccupied.
“I don’t mind joining you in that shower,” Keith gave me a mischievous smile. “I’ll be your bar of soap.”
I shrugged. “I doubt there’s rules against it.”
We dashed into the bathroom. I immediately turned on the water, shed my sweaty sundress and joined Keith who had already stepped in.
“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you.” I didn’t have a chance to respond before his hands were all over me. “It’s been eons since we’ve done anything, I almost forgot how sexy you are.”
“I’m disappointed. I remember how sexy you are. Perhaps because I hear girls gushing about you ad nauseam.”
I began my own caressing but someone pounded on the door interrupting our romantic interlude.
“Hurry up! Other people need this bathroom.”
“Bloody hell. We just got here. What’s that wanker on about?”
Our amorous mood broken, we toweled off and dressed when the pounding returned.
Keith wiggled into a Who t-shirt and into his same tattered Levis while I wrapped myself in my dressing gown.
I gathered our things while Keith opened the door. “Take it easy, man,” he said. “We’ve barely been here 15 minutes.”
The bloke looked like he hadn’t bathed or shaved in a year. His stringy hair hung past his shoulders and his beard was all scraggly. I wondered what his hurry was now.
“It’s all yours, mate,” Keith said. “I left shit in the toilet for you.”
I stifled a laugh. “You are wicked!”
We returned to our cubicle of a room and I shed my dressing gown. Keith immediately began caressing me.
“You know, you won’t make me go any faster if you keep doing that,” I giggled.
“I’m getting my fix ‘til tomorrow.”
“Well, don’t. If you keep it up we may miss tonight’s performance altogether.”
“It’s a pity to cover that gorgeous body.”
“I’m not going to the show naked, sorry.” I slipped into my red ruffled mini skirt with a black spaghetti strap top and pink heart with red words saying Pretty in Punk, then pulled on my red and white striped stockings and black ankle boots. I had to do my hair and put on my boots in the van.
We arrived at the club, and I set up shop. Ryan dropped two boxes of shirts at my feet. “Can you stay here the whole time and make postcards? You can see the stage.”
“Oh, well drop a subtle hint,” I shot back. “I’ll stay, but only if you appreciate me bailing you out.”
Ryan momentarily cast his eyes upward. “Yeah, well thanks,” and left.
When the Piss Ants hit the stage, I scarcely believed we’d had such a stressful day. Keith leaped around the stage like it burned his feet. Billy performed his usual acrobats with his stand-up and kept pace with Keith when playing his bass guitar. Jimmy never missed a beat and his sticks looked like blurs.
After the headliner left the stage, both bands came out for autographs. Everyone drank Guinness and I wondered who supplied it. Keith grabbed me for an impromptu kiss and I kissed him back.
“Oh, Keith, Keith, could you sign this for me?” Some girl shoved one of my postcards at Keith. I sighed. Back to reality.
“We’ll take this up later,” Keith said, winking at me.
“You can count on it,” I giggled.
When the van was loaded and we got back to the hostel, it was past three. We had to get up at six again for the drive to Rosslare. I was so exhausted all I could do was shed my clothes and climb into the top bunk. Again I was awakened by pounding on the door. I woke with a start hoping it wasn’t Ryan with more bad news.
[To be continued… Click here to view all chapters.]
