in the midst of all

In the midst of all this angst, Glen from Rolling Stone started calling more often.

At first it was just to check in, with a slight note of urgency. Hey, how’s it going? Are you getting good stuff? When are you coming back?

But then the conversations began to get more and more charged. More negative. More domineering.

Look, you need to wrap this up.

This is going on way too long.

We’re not spending any more money on this.

It was the money part that really ticked me off. When he told me that, I hadn’t had my own hotel room for twelve days, and I hadn’t charged a goddamn thing on the Rolling Stone credit card for ten. I ate with Derek, either alone or with the rest of the band, and everything else was essentially free.

I told him that.

“I don’t care,” he shot back. “We sent you out there to do a job, not go off on your own little fantasy vacation.”

Asshole!

He absolutely had a point: I was here to do a job. And I wasn’t doing it.

But it was obvious he was just using the money angle to m