Exhausted, ravenous, and in considerable discomfort, I survey the clubroom floor. A lone security guy stands at the door to prevent anyone else from entering. The last of the guys are leaving and Guillermo is busy packing up his gear. Cindy is flicking off the backbar lights – she looks over, and we exchange glances. Robert strides across the floor and disappears down the corridor to the manager’s office with the day’s bar takings. The security guy disappears through the front entrance foyer and Cindy locks the doors behind him. Guillermo raises his hand to attract my attention, but I point at the stage and mouth a goodbye.
There are three ways to part the curtain, but in the middle the fabric overlaps and it can be awkward to get through, especially with a bulging bag on my shoulder. I c
