But as time went by, I started to get worried.It wasn't like him to not leave a note or give me a call to check in and let me know what was happening....I tried calling him on his cell phone, but I got no reply. Then I checked his room and it looked messier than usual (he normally keeps his room pretty clean to make it easier on me), and his dresser drawers were open. I was starting to think he had run away from home, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. Really concerned now, I went. People seeing that lump might think your mind isn’t on the job.” It’s not, I thought to myself. I can play this stuff in my sleep, and right now, my mind is in room 308. We played the last set, and closed with “Goodnight, Sweetheart.” As I packed my sax I saw the bartender heading my way with a glass of amber liquid. The ice clinked in the glass as she walked across the room. Handing me my scotch, she winked and said, “We have a request for you to play a single at a private party in room 308.. More

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