Sunday afternoon I got a call from Lindsay, who asked if I would give Keith a call. She said it sounded important. I dialled his cell, and that normally buoyant voice was ragged and strained.
“Hey Keith, it’s Gerard. Lindsay asked me to give you a call. What’s up?” The line was quiet, but I knew he was there by the breathing.
“I’m sorry to bother you. I was wondering if I might be able to sleep on the boat tonight. Just tonight; I uh, things got a bit…I need to get away. Just for tonight. Please?”
I was confused, and wondered if he was drunk or stoned. He didn’t sound right. But we worked together. “Sure thing Keith, when will you be there? It’s locked, so I have to let security know that you’re coming so they can let you in.”
“I’ll grab a cab. I guess I can be there in about half hour
