But I found an empty practice studio and called Mitchell anyway. He answered on the fourth ring. “Hey,” he whispered. “I can’t really talk right now. Can I call you back later?” I closed my eyes. “You’re still with her.” “Well, I mean, it all kind of just happened. She’s still pretty upset, so I’m not really sure what’s going on right now.” My mouth filled with the taste of disgust. It was grainy and metallic. Mitchell was an idiot, but what was my excuse? “Hey,” Mitchell whispered, “I was just thinking. Maybe you can get me the contact info for the bandleader on the show. You know, just in case they happen to need a backup drummer? That Dancing With the Stars band kicks some serious butt.” I heard a woman’s voice say, “Who are you talking to?” “No one,” Mitchell said. And then he hung up. My first thought was to get out of Dodge. I’d push open the heavy wooden door to the practice studios, then make my way through the tall iron gate and past the security guard.
