“Sorry, mate.Did I wake you?” he asked.
“No, no. I stillhaven’t quite got the hang of night life on the bus.”
“I gave up sleepyears ago,” Puddin’ said. “It’s overrated if you ask me.”
“Well, I’m up ifyou need to talk.”
“I sent a textto my daughter in London, and I’m just waitin’ for her reply.”
I sat beside himon the sofa by the large window. “Do you get to see her much?”
“We haven’tspoken in seven years,” he replied.
“I’m sorry, Ididn’t mean to pry.”
“No, it’s allright. It was all my fault. I nearly did myself in with drink and drugs. I losteverything, including my family, but I’m praying to my higher power that mysweet Elli will speak to me again. She’s thirty-two years old now. Got twokids. One of ’em I ain’t even met yet.”
“Wow, that mustbe tough.”
“Last time wespoke on the phone, she told me not to contact her again unless I’d earned myfive years clean and sober chip.”
“But, you’vebeen clean for seven years, haven’t you?”
“Aye. Bill gaveme my seven-year chip two days ago.” He grimaced. “It’s taken me two years togather up the courage to reach out to her.”
Bill Myers wasPuddin’s sober coach and stayed close to him to keep him on track. He was partcounselor, part referee, part gofer, but more importantly, he kept Puddin’ offsmack, and that’s what he was paid to do. He wasn’t so close that they shared aroom, but he was on the bus while we were traveling, and in the same hotel onshow days. He was more of a personal assistant for Puddin’ nowadays, runningerrands, grabbing coffee, that sort of thing, but Melody footed the bill,apparently. Anything to keep Puddin’ happy and sober.
“Congratulations,why didn’t you say anything? We should celebrate.”
“Nah, mate, Inever celebrate. Might jinx it,” he said with a wink.
“I can hightailit back to my bunk if you’d rather have some privacy,” I said.
“Please stay, I coulduse the company. Else, I’ll just be staring at this damned phone all night.Plus, I wanted to talk to you about somethin’ anyway.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Those bikerides you do between shows. D’you ever fancy a ridin’ partner?”
“You wanna ridewith me?” I asked, unable to hide my smile.
“The next showis in Phoenix, and that’s where my ex-wife lives. Elli’s mother, that is. She’sgot all my belongings in a storage shed, including my 1997 BMW R 1200 C.”
“Nice.”
“You bloody wellbet. Anyway, I’m hopin’ I can bribe one of the crew guys to commandeer a truckand help me go fetch it. It’s been in there a while, so I have no idea whatkind of condition it’s in. But if I can bring her back to life, you don’t mindif I tag along?”
“That’d begreat,” I said. “If you need help, don’t be afraid to ask. I’m happy to lend ahand, and happy to share the road with you.”
Puddin’s phonedinged, and he grabbed it excitedly.
“She textedback,” he said. His eyes filling with tears as he read her reply. “She saidshe—” his voice cracked. “She w-was happy to hear from me and can’t wait tot-talk.”
“Oh, man. I’m sohappy for you.”
“She said shewas proud of me for getting clean and sober,” he said, and broke into heavysobs. I put my arm around Puddin’, and he pulled me into a full embrace astears from the past seven years flowed freely.
It was a momentthat will remain etched inside my mind for as long as I draw breath. I feltprivileged and honored to be there with Puddin’ for such a meaningful moment inhis life. It was mind blowing enough to share the stage with him let alonebecome friends.
