WHITE HOT FOREVER

FRIDAY, JULY 31: MY SERPENTINE

The town was cursed in name, not spirit. Valerie found Louisiana quite delightful by day. What little she’d felt of it, as they hauled ass from Albany earlier that morning.  And now they were gone again, loading the buses outside the hotel as the nighttime temperatures plunged into the forties and nipped her nose, coaxing the first opportunity to wear this coat in three years.  But it was her good coat. Puffy and pink, goose down and fur-lined along the hood, Valerie balled her fists in her pockets and rocked on the curb, watching the crew as they threw trunk after trunk in the bay, careless once they’d finished loading the equipment of importance. She winced when her bag hit the back wall and fell with a clatter. She’d halted her collection of novelty shot glasses two stops in.  From where she stood, golden warmth spilled from the bus windows. Jill had climbed inside the second the doors parted, no flesh for the cold, and the band followed in drips and stumbling drabs. All except Axl and Izzy, who were unaccounted for in separate ways. She hadn’t seen Izzy since the venue, and Axl since Doug pulled him aside in the hall on the way out. Almost. He’d almost made it on time. They were slotted to leave at one.  Crüe moved no quicker. Heather bundled into a gray peacoat as she walked out elbow-in-elbow with Sharise, their blonde hair whipping in the wind. Tommy smoked in their stead, curiously subdued. It wasn’t often they traveled overnight. It must’ve killed his high.  At the path’s end, Heather stopped short. “Val? What are you doing out here?”  “Waiting for Axl.” She smiled at Sharise, who grinned back before scurrying for the second, larger bus. “It shouldn’t be much longer.”  “It’s freezing out. Go in before you catch something.”  “Oh, no. I’m used to it. I’ve missed weather like this.”