Ike was stretched out on the bunk of the tour bus. The road was fast and light, the unbearable sun did not penetrate the dimmed glass, it was nice and cool inside. He was fingering the guitar gently, headphones on his ears, blasting insane riffs and angry drums deep into his skull. He was trying not to think about Gill and Jenny on the bottom bunk. They had started making love a few minutes back, but it already felt like hours.
The night before, Ike and Jenny shared a bottle of beer when Gill was being interviewed. They laughed about the old days, when they rode around the country in a jallopy, bitten by both heat and cold. Music was more real back then, and the nights were darker. But Ike felt the same thrill as she talked, and rocked back and forth, and burped. He loved the way she put on a hat like she did not care, and the way her hair hung around her face.
There was a whole world of women who would suck his dick and lose themselves for him, but the one woman he cared about would never let him love her.