HEY!

“Ah, fuck. Not you.”

Cigarettes, Jeff Chimenti? How could you do that to your hair?

“It’s a joint.”

No, it isn’t. You work for the Grateful Dead. You wouldn’t sneak outside to smoke a joint. That’s a Marlboro you’re puffing on.

“Well, they’re not feeding me or Oteil again. It helps keeps the hunger pangs to a minimum.”

Can’t you negotiate meals in your contract?

“Contract? I don’t have a contract. I get paid in tips.”

What?

“The band tips me out at the end of the night. It’s always a pain in the ass getting it out of Billy.”

This is not right, Jeff Chimenti.

“I brought it up to Bobby one time. Asked if I could get paid like a normal person.”

What did he say?

“Nothing. He just picked up his phone and called the keyboardist for JRAD. Never lost eye contact. It was kind of a power move.”

That doesn’t sound like Bobby.

“I know! That’s what made the move so powerful!”

Wow. Seriously, though: stop smoking.

“They’re the only thing that keeps me together.”

And stop quoting KISS.”

“Never.”