Chapter 13
Jack had no idea how long he’d slept. When he finally blinked his eyes open, the curtains were pulled tight, the apartment dead silent. There wasn’t even Wendy’s humming in the background as she read or worked or did one of the other thousand things she did in her free time. He sat up, his muscles protesting from his cramped position on the short couch. His brain was more alert, but his body felt like rubbish. It was a very good thing he had two days until they resumed rehearsals. Between f*****g with Paul and Wendy’s couch, his back was practically a pretzel.
He spied the folded sheet of stationery on the coffee table, his name written across the front in Wendy’s neat script. Be back this afternoon. Stick around as long as you want.—W Scrubbing his hands through his hair, he
