The drive through the city was a long, arduous shank in my side. My ribs rattled like a xylophone tossed down the stairs as I pulled up in Venice, feeding the meter a handful of quarters and disappearing into a music store to purchase new strings for my banjo. On Wednesday's I
taught five string bluegrass tunes to privileged children belonging to the city's most famous zip code in the luxury of their impressive homes. Their fathers absent, their mothers grateful that someone was taking an interest in their little darlings. Pocketing my strings I returned to Danny's where Johnny had saved us a table and paid for a round of beers from money he acquired from a Subway commercial.
Stretching back he yawned the yawn of a wounded beast before flopping back down into his perfectly tanned skin. In an effort to keep the apartment, he had broke bank to obtain, Johnny had been working night and day to make rent but the writing was on the wall. Johnny was, at heart, an actor. He craved it with every ounce of his being and
with the slightest hint of an audition would cry off from work to join the ranks of the Hollywood hopefuls. All too often it left him picking up his outstanding wages as he was walked from the building.
'I can lend you the money, bromo. It's no big deal.' I said.
'I owe him three months, I can't be owing you too.'
'Well the offer is there.'
'I guess it's back to the motels.' he sighed, his breath full of resignation.
'You should move in to mine, we can split the maintenance work for the old lady, that way it'll keep the costs down. Hell, you can have the maintenance gig. Between Winston's creepy carnie movie and the banjo classes I'm doing alright.'
'That's a pretty sweet deal, baby. You ever need a hand splitting that workload…'
'You can't play banjo.' I exclaimed sinking my glass.
'I'll roadie for you, fuck I'll polish your plectrums.'
'Now that just sounds filthy.'
The bar was filling up and having cleared my tab and gotten the owner off his back Luke was in good spirits and offering to let us sample some of the local brew they were considering buying in. A brunette at the bar yelled stop staring at my tits to which I politely declined.