He was a work contact. We'd sit across executive maple tables and talk about synergies, being on the same page, and moving forward. We'd be two businessmen talking business. We'd talk about it as if it was life and death.
So he called me. We talked shop and then he said, "I'm playing tonight."
"Playing what?" I asked.
"Playing in my band. Do you wanna come?"
"Sure," I said.
It was rock. They played covers, classic rock covers, and the pub swayed. He sat behind his drums and played like no one was watching. He beat and sweated and let go. The beer belly, the deadlines, the washing up, they all disappeared. This was his escape, his way to get by.
I was envious.
Having said that, they did murder Smoke on the Water so maybe it would be better to just stick to the day job.
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