He could sleep anywhere, a necessary skill engendered by his regular job, but not for more than four or five hours. Then he’d wake and pace until he felt sleepy again, or get up and draw. He’d done most of the work on his book then, in the small hours when the rest of the band was asleep. Or in the morning, at a time when many people were getting up and going to work but the members of Murder City Ravens, having worked all night, were catching up on some well-earned shut-eye. Worst of all, he woke up alone. He remembered her saying she had work in the morning but on this, the first day of the convention, the official program didn’t start until noon. He’d hoped to get at least one more session with Allie before they had to part for the day. And only for the day. No way was he letting her get away from him now. He got up, restless until he spotted his sketchbook and pens. He showered alone, the ledge at the back of the shower giving him ideas about the next time he saw her. Nothing he could fulfill on his own.
