We came back to the hotel at 1AM, not too late. We had fun, drove through the entire city, saw a reggae band, drank a little, and ate the famous NYC Street Hot Dogs (except for Joe). I wasn't entirely sure about eating one either, I'm very concerned with hygiene but Mick and Paul were teasing and I wasn't gonna puss out.

Once alone in the room with Joe I began to feel self-conscious again. Like the first time we met and I didn't wanna look him straight in the eyes because I was intimidated by his everything. I went into the bathroom and took forever brushing my teeth and washing my face hoping when I got out he'd be asleep.
You see, people think having sex is a very personal act; but I think sharing a bed, without any sex, is even more personal.
Because you lay there in silent darkness where the only thing you can hear is each other's breaths. You don't want to move because you don't want to invade their space, so you have to just lay there; trying not to move a muscle, to breathe as quietly as you can, to figure out if they're already asleep.
Then in the middle of the night it can get too hot or too cold, and if they unconsciously place their arm over you? Or if they're too close.
The morning after you have to see each other with glossy eyes, bad hair, dried up saliva on the corner of each other's lips and smelly breath. It's not pretty.

Yea, you have to be very comfortable with someone if you want to share a bed.

I walk out and he's smoking, shirtless, the way he always sleeps wearing only briefs.
"Can you try to smoke outside next time?"
"Since when does smoke bother you?"
"it's always bothered me, I just didn't say anything."

The Next Day
I woke up when I heard the water running, the clock marked noon, my throat felt like a cactus.
I tried to get off bed but I became dizzy and then a pounding headache began, I retrieved back into the covers.
I whined like a baby because the pain was unbearable, the kind that makes you sick to the stomach.
"What's wrong?" Asked a dripping wet and exposed Joe. I covered my face with the blanket, "nothing, just a very bad hangover."
But it wasn't nothing, I don't know what it was, maybe a common cold or some shit. Whatever it was made my head hurt all day, my nose was clogged and my stomach nauseous. I slept and slept and slept.

At 5PM Joe came by "you're still there? Are you sure you're okay? Have you eaten?"
I just shook my head, "I'm not hungry, I think I have a fever."
"Do you want me to find you a doctor?"
"No, it's not that bad, worry about warming up, giving orders to the guys and stuff."
"Very funny" he says sarcastically "alright, I guess you'll miss opening night at Bonds."
"Oh no, a historic moment, and I'm sick in bed." I reply sardonically.
He gives me a small laugh and walks out, "Good Luck!" I let out in my raspy voice. "Thanks" he replies closing the door behind him.

After another daze I hear a faint knock on the door and then suddenly I see a girl with red hair standing at the end of the bed.
"Who the fuck are you?!" I say sitting up quickly.
"Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you! I'm Catherine, I work here, I brought you your room service!"
"I didn't order anything" I say, my eyes adjust, I notice her striking blue eyes and freckles.
"No, your husband did, he said you were sick. I brought you tea for your sore throat."
"Oh okay, thanks. Sorry I just, I get paranoid when I'm sick."
"It's okay." She places the tray on the bed, broccoli cream soup and bread on the side. Wow, he remembers.

I notice she's still standing there, the short busty girl, "did you need something?" I ask.
"Huh? No, sorry. He um, he asked me to stay and make sure you actually ate. Hope you don't mind." She explains blushing.
"Oh, okay. Well, take a seat if you want."
She sits and observes me while I eat slowly, it may be my favorite soup but my stomach has no appetite. I decide to pick up conversation, so I ask about her and we talk for a while.
She's from California too, but the north side, she's in New York studying.
"You're very lucky" she suddenly says.
"Why?" I ask surprised.
"You're married to the lead singer of The Clash!"
I keep myself from rolling my eyes, "now that's something, isn't it?" I say sarcastically. "Everyone thinks being with a remotely-famous dude is great. But let me tell you Catherine, it's a pain in the ass. I don't recommend it, especially if you're a jealous person."
She laughs, "aw, does that mean I shouldn't try to date Topper then?"
"Topper? No! He has a girlfriend."
"Oh. Sorry, I didn't know that."
"Of course you don't, they never know, and that's how you get cheated on."
She looks down embarrassed.
"Sorry" I say, "don't take me seriously, I'm a wretched bitch. You did nothing wrong." I cough, fuck now I have a cough too?!
"No, don't say that, you're just having a bad day." Aw.
"Yeah, maybe...are you gonna go see them?"
"The Clash? Sadly no, all the tickets are sold out."
This astonished me a bit, they sold out?! Weren't they playing like 6 shows? I cough again.
When did they become popular in New York? I must've been sleeping a long time.
"Well, I can probably get you in" I offer.
"Really?" She asks instantly elated.
"Yeah, after being such a cunt I'll get you a backstage pass too."