Chris could actually feel his spirit leaving his body as he tried to breathe during the hangover process.  He slowly opened his eyes and the light from the lamp on his nightstand.  So he’s made it home, it seems.  He wasn’t sure how or by who, but the only thought he had now is that his bladder was crying out for relief.   Inch by inch, he began to move his legs off the mattress.     “Oh Lord,” he said, surprised his brain and his legs were working at a level of function.   Slowly getting upright, his lowered head tilted to the side and noticed something he found on his left chest.  It was a tattoo of some pin-up woman like in the lockers Naval men used to carry at times of war.   She was sexy in the bathing suit, but didn’t remember sitting still or asking for her to be part of his skin.  In cursive underneath it read “Angie”.   Is that the name of a woman he met at the club tonight?  Chris wondered.  And also trie...

  The locker room was smellier than Chris usually thought as he grabbed his towel and headed for the showers. “Barnett!” the coach yelled. “In my office!” he added. Everyone knew what this was all about - it was the fact that he missed the biggest play of the game. He was going to get a lecture. Chris took a deep breath and went into Coach Stone’s office. He instantly sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “Coach, I know I’ve been slagging a little recently. I’m under a little stress with my girlfriend.” “Screw your girlfriend! No. Actually, screw her if it means your going to get back on that field and score again.”

  The applause was almost deafening, but that was because the bar wasn’t that big and the stage was basically a bar stool and a microphone.   “Thank you and Good night.” Chris said, waving slightly as he held the neck of his acoustic guitar as he walked off to the back break room.   “Good show man,” the manager, Frank, said as he passed by.   “Thanks man.” Chris said, running his hand through his hair that had gotten a little damp from the new spotlight that was installed for his show.  He walked into the break room and sat in the first chair that wasn’t used and covered with something.   “Chris!  Chris!” the annoying familiar female voice cried out as she got closer.  “I think that’s the best show ever.” the five, foot blonde said, running into the room.  “I’m going to post this on instagram.” she added and began to play on her phone all the buttons that needed to be used.   “You don’t have to do that.  It’s not like some agent wil...

  It only took one jerking movement with his arms to know something was wrong.  Slowly he opened his eyes from his sleep and looked up at the corners of the headboard.  He noticed the thin, but strong rope looped around his wrist and connected to the posts of the king sized bed.  It wasn’t almost instantly what had gotten to this position.  Then a slightly pull of his legs - he knew he was trapped to this bed.   “Oh Lord.” he muttered as he tried to get his eyes to focus on his predicament.  He was alone tied to a hotel bed and only have a comforter covering his nakedness.  Now he needed a plan to escape.   Escape.  He thought.  He had to escape his own stupidity as he was he reason he was there.  Seconds later he heard a sharp knock on the door with the words ‘Room Service’ in a soft Mexican voice.   He wet his dry lips and cried out ‘no Thank you.’ he responded.  It must have been late because he turned his head to ...