Daron's Guitar Chronicles Vol 5

322 FORTRESS AROUND YOUR HEART

FORTRESS AROUND YOUR HEART

We had a suite with two attached bedrooms, while the other bands were down the hall a little: Topher and Magenta in one room, Rol in another. MuchMusic had delivered a rather large fruit and candy basket and two bottles of wine to the suite. I didn't see any reason why all seven of us shouldn't break into that except maybe 11:30 in the morning is a little early for wine.

It was white wine, does that make it okay?

The suite had a big dining room table in it, and we sat around it. There were only four wine glasses so me and Bart drank out of coffee mugs. Chris actually decided to pass. When I wasn't looking, Bart ordered "real food," too, so sandwiches and soft drinks arrived shortly afterward. I don't actually remember anything we talked about. The point is that these guys (and one gal) seemed reasonably nice. That was a huge relief.

Then the first call from the lobby from a reporter trying to find us came in, and we invited him up, and Topher and Magenta made themselves scarce. I was a little surprised that he kissed her when they got up from the table.

I think I stared. After they left the room, Ziggy murmured in my ear, "Husband and wife."

"What?"

"They're married. Don't act so surprised."

"I'm not sur–okay, so I'm oblivious and no one told me. How do you know?"

"It says so in the liner notes on the cassette." He yawned and his cheeks were flushed from drinking the wine too quickly. "So who is this coming up?"

"I... um. I'm not sure."

Ziggy rolled his eyes at me, then went to open the door.

That started a parade of like half a dozen reporters and writers of various stripes, some male, some female. Some wanted to talk to me, some to Ziggy, some to both of us, some to all four of us, in various combinations. Rol talked to a bunch of them, too, while they were waiting around. They were supposed to each get a half hour, I think, but it turned into more like just a bigger and bigger group as the afternoon wore on.

One of the last to arrive caught my eye the moment he walked into the room. I'd learned by then that the term for a guy who looked and dressed like him was a "twink." He was poured into his jeans, had on a pastel-colored Polo shirt that was just a little too tight for his gym-worked pecs, and a single diamond stud in one ear. His hair was just longer than a crew cut and had a sun-lightened look that I doubted was natural.

Ziggy's ears pricked up at his entrance, too, and he caught my eye for an unreadable couple of moments. The visual equivalent of elbowing me in the ribs, I guess. At the time I was telling tour anecdotes to the woman from "Now," which she'd described as Toronto's version of the Boston Phoenix.

"The eyepatch is very Bowie-esque," she said.

"It is?" I couldn't remember Bowie wearing one, but he was largely before my time and I mostly knew him from the radio, not films or photographs.

"He went through a sort of space-pirate phase, I think," she said. "And I think it was his other eye."

Ziggy got up and showed the man with the diamond earring to the soft drinks. In the end, I didn't get to talk to the guy at all, which is probably just as well. Intrigued as I was, I was also hearing warning bells ringing in the back of my head.

The next person to arrive was a publicist from MuchMusic, who took charge at that point, and I was somewhat relieved. She was in an olive pants suit, very stylish with a cream-colored blouse and her hair long and loose. She introduced herself as Antonia, which I remembered because I told her our security guard, who wasn't present at the moment, was named Antonio. She said I could call her Toni. I would guess she was about thirty.