Jesse got her talked into their room behind the doors and I threw down my bag, took off my coat and wondered if it’d be uncool to call Amber or Jen.

They could drive up and get me faster than it’d take for me to catch my train.

And they would.

But it was a long-distance call, and no doubt the hotel charged for those, and the band was big time now so a little charge to Indy probably was no big deal to them.

But that was not how I rolled.

And anyway, it was a lot to ask Amber or Jen.

So, I’d made my decision, I was going to stick with it.

I’d borrow some cash from Jesse to get to the station in the morning, I’d ask him where I could send the money to pay him back and I’d sleep in a hotel suite for the first time in my life.

On the couch.

That was okay by me.

It wasn’t in a big train station with strangers milling around me.

And I wasn’t wandering out in the cold in the middle of the night, trying to find the L.

Of course, this was what I told myself, but I knew no way I could sleep.

Preacher was close to me.

I closed my eyes tight then opened them and walked to the window.

I leaned my shoulder against it, then my head.

Okay, it didn’t suck, staring at Jesse’s view of Chicago, which was awesome.

My head thudded on the window, I jumped so bad when there was a hammering on the door.

“Jesse! Open the fuck up!”

“Ohmigod, Preacher,” I whispered, standing frozen and staring at the door.

More hammering and, “Jesse! Open the motherfucking door!”

Jesse opened a door, the one to the bedroom, and came careening out of it in his jeans, no shirt, no shoes.

Okay, evidence was pointing at the fact I should have braved the cold and rain and milling strangers in a train station.

“I’ll get rid of him,” he assured me as he hightailed it to the door.

“Okay, just to say, this is not a fun party,” Cynthia, in panties and a bra with smeared lip gloss, pouted from the doorway to the bedroom.

I couldn’t keep my eyes on her.

Jesse was opening the door.

“Preach—” he stared.

He got no further as Preacher shouldered in, and he was a big guy, I figured his shoulder could get him in anywhere he wanted to go.

No problem, an open door.

I thought this as I stared at him standing in the same room with me and tried really hard to breathe.

“Are you shitting me?” Preacher asked Jesse, but his eyes were on me.

How I knew he was asking Jesse was anyone’s guess.

But Jesse knew it too, because he answered.