I'll Be Here All Week by Anderson Ward Page A

are still too high. With the price of gas more than double what it was when he started touring, it costs him too much to get to some of his gigs. It’s almost cheaper to fly. He wonders when that happened and if it’s going to be like that for good.
    His computer chimes a binging sound that lets him know he has an e-mail from Rodney:
    Rockford is closed. Scratch it off your schedule.
    Idiot, he thinks.
    The phone on the nightstand rings, and he nearly falls off the bed trying to get to it. It’s always jarring to him when the phone in a hotel room rings since he takes most calls on his cell phone and never expects anyone to know where he is. Usually it’s just the front desk asking if he needs housekeeping or towels. In this case, he’s pleased when it’s Sam.
    â€œDo I have the right room this time?” she asks.
    â€œWhy?” Spence asks. “Did you call here earlier or something?”
    â€œThey gave me the wrong room twice,” she says. “I almost gave up and asked some old man out to lunch instead of you.”
    â€œLucky guy.”
    â€œTell me about it,” she says. “I’m good company.”
    â€œNo argument here.”
    â€œDid I wake you?” she asks.
    â€œNo, I’ve been up for hours,” he lies. He’s barely been up for thirty minutes. He checked his bank account online the minute he woke up as an incentive to go back to sleep for another hour or two. He would have done exactly that if she hadn’t called.
    â€œWell, I’m bored and not working,” she says, “so I figured I could get out for a while and you might want to explore the city a bit.”
    â€œI do like to explore,” he lies again. He’s been to South Dakota, a few times and has never seen Mount Rushmore. He only saw the Saint Louis arch because he looked out the window of his car as he drove past it. He’s seen more shopping malls than landmarks.
    â€œDoes this mean you’re free?” she asks.
    â€œI’m available, but I’m never free.”
    â€œBlech,” she says. “Forget I asked.”
    â€œI thought it was clever.” He smiles.
    â€œYou were wrong.”
    â€œOuch.”
    â€œDespite that, I’m still asking you to lunch,” she says.
    â€œI will again consider myself lucky,” he says.
    â€œWhat do you say to fifteen minutes in front of your hotel?”
    â€œI only get fifteen minutes with you?” He grins like an idiot, as if she can see him through the phone. “That’s not much of a lunch date.”
    She sighs dramatically. “I mean that we will meet in fifteen minutes, not for fifteen minutes.”
    â€œAh, I see my mistake.”
    â€œI think you were smarter last night.”
    â€œI’m the anti-drunk,” he says. “Alcohol makes me smarter.”
    â€œFifteen minutes, weirdo?”
    â€œEasy.”
    â€œSee you then,” she says and hangs up.
    Now he’s in trouble. He’s not remotely ready. He’s lying dirty in the hotel bed in his boxer briefs with his laptop on his stomach. He’s unshowered and unshaven. He looks like the kind of person who sleeps until after noon every day, which is what he is. But he wants to see her and he wants it to be soon. He can’t remember the last time he showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth at the same time, but he’ll remember from now on.
    On the corner, Sam meets him dressed in a long green overcoat and very sexy black boots. That’s three for three with him; he likes short hair, glasses, and boots. She’s just getting better every minute. She’s wearing a dark scarf wrapped up to her chin, and her short, pretty hair is hidden underneath a knitted hat that matches the scarf.
    â€œCute hat,” Spence says as he leans in to hug her. She offers her cheek, and he kisses it as he takes in the smell of her perfume. It could just be her shampoo or skin cream for all he