I heard E cough from inside the room. She was lying on the bed, looking up at the ceiling fan as it turned lazily round and round. I walked up to her and felt her forehead. If she was sick, I would have to stay in the motel. I would miss the show. Her forehead felt fine. I put her sweater on her and packed her sleeping bag into my backpack. I didn’t brush her teeth. I was afraid another tooth would fall out. I carried her onto the bus.

The greenroom was small, with an old leatherette couch and yellowing walls. The carpet was stained. There was a coffee machine in the corner, a refrigerator, and several shiny brown beanbags. I set up E’s bed on the couch and put her in the sleeping bag, a motel pillow under her head. As always, her eyes shut as soon as she was tucked in. I added another blanket on top of the sleeping bag, because the room was cool and I had brought one along. She looked cozy, her angelic, fine blond hair fanned out around her triangular head, the little mouth pursed, eyes shut tight. Her tiny hands rested on top of her chest.

“You look so sexy,” Joy said as she busted into the room after sound check. She herself was wearing a pair of tight white pants and a silver chain-mail top that hung loose over her narrow frame and gave tantalizing glimpses of her breasts from the side. Troy came in next, plopping onto a beanbag and staring into space. Holly and Manfred were in the audience, I knew. I wondered where Harvest was.

He walked in after a few minutes and sank into a beanbag, playing his guitar very softly.

“Is this too loud?” he whispered, glancing at E.

“I don’t think so. She’s really asleep,” I said. As he played, he looked over at Joy, who was hopping around the room listening to a huge pair of headphones, a can of Coke in her hand.

Dougie stuck his head in the room.

“Five minutes,” he said.

When the time came, Joy, Troy, and Harvest walked onto the stage. The floor was packed with people there to see Milk. Harvest had strapped on a bass guitar. Troy was at the drums. Joy, gleaming in her chain mail, had an orange electric guitar hanging off her shoulders as she strode up to the mic.