Chapter Seventeen
At day’s end I was totally exhausted. I let my clothing fall to the floor in a rumpled heap, showered, and bundled up in a cozy robe. I picked up the guitar, but my eyes kept wandering to the locked front door deadbolt, an ineffective barrier to my anxiety over everything on my mind. Even sleep did not bring peace. I tossed throughout the night.
The next morning I walked into KZSD with newly opened eyes. I noticed the receptionist’s clothing, the bright color of her lipstick, and little things out of place around the lobby. As I unlocked the door to Studio B, I thought it opened too easily. Who else had a key?
I answered each phone call on Gayline believing at any moment I would hear the falsetto New York accent. No threats came in, though there was plenty of on-air ta
