When I'm done with the barmaid, I slap her ass and send her back to work all shaky-legged and grinning.
I'm not grinning, though.
Gemme's gotten in my head and under my skin again and just after I thought I was rid of her for good, she's all I can think about again.
I can still see her face in my mind's eye at the venue, trying to hide her tears and stumbling her way through telling me she wants to see me again some time. "I'll see you later, well, probably not, I dunno, it's up to you. I don't think you'll want to, but I would like to see you again, I guess..."
You were right, I don't wanna see you again, and I didn't wanna see you at all today. But I did. And all that confusion I felt once before, comes rushing back up.
I don't even realise I've sat down until I open my eyes and realise the dumpsters are taller than they were a few minutes ago.
You still love me, huh?
How could anyone love me, anyways? Look at me. I've turned back to the drugs, I've become an adulterous bastard and no matter how spiteful I get with girls, none of them seem to care. I mean, Kat's lasted the longest - bearing in mind I've only been away from Gemme for two months - she doesn't seem to mind that I made her lose her job and turned her into a junkie slut, and she doesn't even mind when I'm rough with her. She won't even wear sweaters to cover up the bruises.
My face twists into an expression of disgust as I pick myself up and wander back to the trailers near the venue. I'm not sure who the disgust is more directed at - myself, or Gemme for opening all those old wounds again.
I do my best not to think about any of it, keeping my thoughts behind those walls in my head as I walk.
And I thought those walls were strong enough to hold it all back. Apparently there's a weak point in them.
Gemme's back. The insecurities are back. The cravings are back, even though I've been high for most of the evening.
Fuck my life. Really.
The hideous temptation to go over to the Brooklyn Bridge and throw myself off it is sitting in the back of my head, like the cut on the roof of your mouth that would heal if only you could stop poking it with your tongue.
But I'm not going to. We're moving on from New York tomorrow. Travelling across America to spread the word and gather more fans.
Hopefully that will take my mind off it.