"Sometimes." he said. "One of the guys is married. He brought his wife along. They spend a lot of time together." The poor guy. Locked in the room with his nag of a wife. She wasn't that bad, Jakob supposed, but she could be a wench of a woman, that was for sure. And seeing her first thing in the morning was like waking up and rolling over to Roseanne Barr. Not something that Jakob wanted to experience, thank you very much.
"He doesn't always bring her along." Thank god. "But this time he did." At least Jakob's room wasn't as close to his as the other band mates. He'd rather listen to Fran Drescher laugh than listen to them fuck.