Daron's Guitar Chronicles Volume 6

431 WHAT'S ON YOUR MIND

WHAT'S ON YOUR MIND

I went to pick up Remo in his own truck. I was surprised he didn't have much with him, but apparently most of it was being taken care of by the road crew. "It means they'll dump off a load of my dirty laundry after everything's unpacked, but at least I didn't have to carry it," he explained as he buckled himself into the passenger seat. "Now let's get Mexican food. It's the one thing you can't get in Europe."

I drove, and he directed me to a taco stand in Silver Lake, where we stuffed our faces for about five bucks while sitting on the back bumper of the truck. And Remo talked about how touring in Europe was different from the States, and it took more support and more coordination, but the album sales bump was huge. And I told him what he'd already heard, but with more detail, about how our US tour hadn't bumped sales much at all, seemingly because of lack of inventory in the right places.

We drove to the deli then for dessert and I bemoaned the lack of good ice cream places in Los Angeles. I told him about doing session work over an ice cream sundae while he had a cup of coffee.

"Do you like the work?"

"Yeah, I like it. Sometimes it can be a bit dull, but come on, I'm getting paid to play the guitar."

"Better than playing in a cover band, though?"

"Oh, way better. It's apples and oranges, can't compare. I'd rather be doing my own thing, but that's all in limbo right now." With a spoon, I dug into the hard ice cream where the hot fudge had weakened it.

"Last time we talked, you said a lawyer was gearing up. Anything happening with that?"

"Here's how he explained it to me. 'Lawyers are like gorillas. We go in there and beat our chests at each other and usually that's all you need before someone backs down and there's no actual fight.' Far as I can tell the chest beating is still in the firing letters back and forth stage."

"In other words, nothing."

"Yeah."

"Heard from Digger?"

"Not a peep. And nothing from Ziggy either."

"How long's he been gone?"

I winced like I was having brain freeze but really it was that I had avoided actually calculating how long it had been. And now I couldn't avoid it anymore. "Three months since we heard he went to India." Which meant I'd been living with Jonathan for almost as long.

Remo whistled appreciatively. "I can't believe I've been gone that long."

"That's because the weather hardly changes here. So it seems like the same as when you left."

"Smartass. Europe's a big continent and you end up with days off between shows. We did summer festivals first in August, then some in the Mediterranean in September, and then back through the cold countries for regular shows before winter comes."

"And why Japan in the winter?"

"The winters aren't too bad there, I hear. It's only a 19-day tour anyway. We'll be flying back on the day after Christmas." He had creases by his eyes and the wrinkles in his forehead were starting to show, but that was a good look on Remo. It went with his sort of cowboy-ish image. His sandy hair hid the gray that was salted all over his head. "Speaking of holidays, you ask about Thanksgiving?"

Shit, I hadn't. But I was really sure J. would say yes. "We're in. Should we bring anything?"

"How about a bottle of wine?"

"Okay, but, you know, you don't have to do all the cooking."

He chuckled and took a sip of his coffee. "I'm not doing any of the cooking. I hired caterers."