4 comments/ 19077 views/ 2 favorites And In The End By: BabyJamesBoy Author's note: The subtitles are from The Beatles song "The End" this song can be found on "Abbey Road" A special thank you goes to 3113 for all your help editing and your patience-BJB ------------ And In The End The first rays of sunshine peeked through the curtains and hit me in the face waking me out of a blissful sleep. I had been pretty drunk the previous night, so before I opened my eyes I tried to remember who I had lying next to me. I rolled over gingerly, my shoulder twinging from the effort reminding me that it wasn't quite healed yet. I took a deep breath and looked at the form under the sheets. Ah, that's right I nodded to myself, Paul. I sat up and watched him as he lay helpless in sleep. It had been a wild week. Now I was wondering if I had made a good decision letting him carry me off to his flat, onto his bed and more importantly into his heart. I knew I wasn't really ready to be in a committed relationship. But more to the point a committed relationship a man. I'll admit the initial experimentation phase had been exciting. I had never voluntarily had sex with another man and it was a novel experience. But was it what I wanted in the long term? Was it fair to Paul, and to be honest, to myself to let this go on? I leaned back against the headboard and reached for my cigarettes and lit one, replaying the previous night in my head. Paul had been especially eager. I could tell he was had wanted to please me at any cost. I wasn't exactly sure why but I took full advantage of it. Up until now I had been passive in our relationship, letting Paul take the lead. Perhaps it was courage fuelled by booze that prompted me to order him to give me head. I think we were both surprised when he dropped to his knees in front of me without a word. He unzipped and yanked my jeans down almost taking me down with them. I had to hold on to the headboard steady myself. This time I didn't close my eyes and imagine a woman's lips there as I had with him in the past. Instead I took his head in my hands and laced my fingers in his hair and watched his every move. It was fascinating watching my cock disappear into his mouth, at the same time the sensations coursed through me. I can't say he was gentle. Several times he actually bit down on me, not that hard but enough to make me wince. I didn't want to come just then so I pulled out of his mouth after a few minutes of that. Once we both naked on the bed, he handed me a condom and some lube. There was an awkward moment when our size difference came into play, but with the help of some pillows and his determination we got beyond that. There was also the worry that I wouldn't be the sort of lover he wanted. I guess you'd call it performance anxiety but once he was bent over in front of me I momentarily forgot what I was supposed to do next. I got the head of my cock into his warm ass and stopped. I wasn't exactly sure how to proceed should I go in easy? Or bound in? Luckily he made that decision for me by backing up to me completing the entry. I guess I expected it to be very much like having sex with a woman, but there was that tinge of forbidden or taboo to it. It was more exciting than I had ever imagined. Paul was quite possibly the hottest lover I had ever had. He bucked like a wild bronco a couple of times almost knocked me off my perch. In one crazy moment I had the vision of donning spurs and a saddle to stay put. If I slowed down he urged me on, reaching behind him to cup my ass and pulling me harder to him. I thought I was hurting him because each time I thrust home he'd grunt like he was in pain, so I eased back a bit. When I did that he reared up and grabbed my hair in his fist, bringing tears to my eyes and ordered me to fuck him harder. Towards the end of it, I had a hard time holding on to his hips. His body was slick with sweat and I was just as drenched. When I did come I collapsed on him pinning him to the bed until both of us caught our breaths. I took another drag on the cigarette and noticed with a little surprise that the previous night's remembrances had given me a hard on. Paul woke up and looked at me, "Good morning boss." I stubbed out the cigarette, "Can I ask you a question?" He yawned, looked at the rise in the blankets my memories had caused, "if it's 'do I make you horny?' I'd say yes." "No, the question is why do you insist on calling me boss? I have a name you know." "At first, I did it just because I knew it pissed you off. But that was before I came to know and love you," he sat up putting his arm around me, "now it's a habit." I sighed, "Just once I'd like you to call me by my real name." "But it's a really silly name," he laughed. Then he kissed me. He threw back the blankets and padded towards the bathroom. I tossed a pillow at his retreating form, hitting him in the back and got out of bed. When he came out I was standing at the window looking down at the street below us. He stood close behind me and circled his arms around my waist pulling me towards him. "What are you thinking?" "About us." I pulled away from him and took a seat on the sofa. "That doesn't sound good," he frowned and sat down next to me. "What's on your mind boss?" "Paul, please?" "Sorry old habit," he grinned apologetically, bowing in my direction, "what's on your mind, sweet baby James?" "I'd settle for just James," despite myself I smiled at his antics, "can you be serious for one moment? Let me say what I have to say without interrupting please?" He sat back and put on a stern face. The corners of his mouth turned up in an attempt not to smile so he wasn't pulling it off very well. I took a deep breath, "You are very special to me Paul. I think as much as I am capable of loving someone, I do love you." "But?" "But I don't see this as being something that is good for either of us. I don't regret a moment of this. I also know that you deserve someone who will be committed to you and love only you and I can't do that." He shrugged, "I can understand you're bi, if you want women on the side I can deal with that." "I can't see us ever being able to be out as a couple. You can't tell me you're OK with that." He shook his head slowly and left me on the sofa going into the kitchen. "Do you want coffee?" I joined him, "I'm not done Paul." "I know where this is going. Save your breath I don't need your lame excuses, alright?" he looked at me with tears in his eyes, "I just hope you find that special someone who makes you as happy as I could make you, if you'd only let me. I can heal you James, I can make you forget whoever it was that hurt you so badly that the minute someone treats you the way you deserve to be treated, with love and care, you run away." "Now you're just being overdramatic." He grabbed my wrists and pulled me close to him, "I don't think you're being very honest with yourself. It's not me, it's not it getting out that you might be bi that's really bothering you. You can't handle intimacy, you can't handle love. Sex yeah, that you can do in spades. As long as you're getting fucked or fucking someone you're cool. But if they love you? You're gone so fast the sheets aren't even dry. You do deserve to be loved. You are worthy of it. I hope you realise that sooner than later or you will die a very lonely man." "Thanks for that analysis Dr. Paul," I pulled away from him, "if you want out of the band, I'd understand. Maybe it's not a good idea for us to work together anymore." I walked to his bedroom and gathered my things. It was pretty hard to get dressed with my heart pounding hard and my hands shaking badly but I managed to after a fashion. When I came out he was holding a cup of coffee in his hands. "James? Before you go, let me just tell you that if you walk out now, that's it. I'm not coming for you ever again." "I know." "And don't worry your secret is safe with me. I don't kiss and tell." "Thank you." "I would still like to be in your band. I am capable of keeping my professional and private life separate. You may be the most fucked up person I've ever met but you are talented. I think you have a long career ahead of you, and I'd like to be part of that," he sipped his coffee, "I think I'll go back to calling you boss. It suits you better." I nodded, opened the door and stepped out into the hallway before I felt the impact of all of it hit me so hard I had to lean against the wall to get my bearings. After a minute I took a deep breath, lit a cigarette and made for the lifts. As I got into the taxi and looked up at Paul's flat; he was standing by the patio glass watching me leave, seeing him like that sent a knife of pain through my heart but I knew I had made the right decision. Or at least I hoped I had. The Love You Take I knew he was leaving me way before I think even he knew. I wasn't blind. I could see it in his eyes and in the way he drank himself stupid almost every night. Part of me knew I was a fling, an experiment and it was not going to last. I still loved him with all my heart, I couldn't stop it, nor did I really want to. The night before it all ended he was restless. We had spent most of the week in my apartment making love, watching movies on the TV, ordering in and just living in a cocoon of our own making. I think all the intimacy and closeness was getting to him. In the middle of a cuddle and movie he got off the sofa and started pacing like a caged animal. "You OK boss?" He shot me a wild look, like he wanted to run screaming from the room at the sound of my voice but then got himself under control, "Let's go out somewhere. The walls are closing in on me." "I just ordered pizza." "It'll keep, please Paul? I am serious if I stay in again tonight I am going to lose my mind." He said with a humourless laugh. "Where do you want to go?" "Out, I'd like to go to a club someplace where we could dance," he closed his eyes and swayed a bit like he was listening to the music already. He was starting to freak me out, so I took his arm and tried to get him to sit down. Instead he lifted me off the sofa and put his hands on my hips, pulling me in tight to him, grinding himself into me, "wouldn't you like to dance with me?" "I'd love that but you know that would just wind up in the tabloids tomorrow." "Yeah, you're right," he let go of me and stopped swaying. "We can still go out though, and dance, just not together." At the club, he was almost instantly swarmed with beautiful women. I bit back the green-eyed monster and reminded myself it was just dancing. I repeated my new mantra when one of the women essentially dry humped him. I had to admire the way he danced. His lithe frame seemingly possessed by the music. It was intensely frustrating having to watch instead of able to dance with him. I felt almost dirty; like a peeping tom. The guy sitting on the stool next to me was watching me watch him dance too. He nudged me with his elbow, "who's that little hotty?" he leered. "He's straight" I lied. Just then he almost fell over, trying to dip some girl on the dance floor. "They all are until they get enough drink in them. He's about two away from being anybody's." I couldn't argue with that. Instead I finished my drink and started removing my boy from the crowd. One of the women was pretty vocal about my actions and grabbed him by the shirtsleeve. We had a tug of war for a brief moment but I won. The minute the door to my apartment was closed he pushed me up against it and gave me a slow lingering kiss. I was a bit taken aback by his aggressiveness because he had never made the first move before. I think dancing got him worked up. He pulled back and took me by the hand leading me into the bedroom. "I want to make love to you," he smiled widely at me, "but first, you need to make it worth my while." "Meaning?" "Make me hard." With that I unzipped his jeans, got on my knees and took him into my mouth. I don't think he really enjoyed the blow job as much as I did. I'm sure all the ladies who had gone before me treated his cock like it was made of glass but I don't play that way. He yelped when I scraped my teeth across his head, and bit his shaft. He withstood it longer than I expected him to, but after a few minutes he pushed me off of him. It always amazed me for such a small man he had quite the package. I had wanted to feel him in me but I didn't quite know how to approach the subject as I didn't want to scare him off. I was amply rewarded for my patience by receiving one hell of a fucking by him. At first he entered me slowly, like I was a virgin. I didn't want to be treated like china so I bucked back into him fully taking him into me. He was incredibly gentle at first, but his slow love making technique was not what I wanted. He was only frustrating the hell out of me, more than turning me on. I got in his face yanking him by the hair so hard I thought he was going to punch me. I hissed at him, "Stop acting like I'm one of your swooning groupies! Fuck me like a man, you wimp!" That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. He pulled almost all the way out and drove himself back in hard enough to knock my breath from me. Aside from the way he exhaled each time he thrust in, he was completely silent. I tried to get him to make some noise. Encouraging him to call me names or do something, but he stayed mute. His rhythm never faltered, in fact I had no warning he was about to come until he grew in me, then pulled me tight to him. Usually after sex I wound up holding him, but this time he moved away from me the minute he caught his breath. He took one of the pillows putting it between us and went to sleep. I dismissed this as being due to all the booze he had consumed, even though warning bells were going off in my head. I lay awake for a long time and just watched him sleeping. He looked like a small boy curled up on his side, his hair in his face. When I did fall asleep I dreamt of him. He was far away from me on a mountain and no matter how I tried I couldn't reach him. Then the area around me began to catch fire, I woke up with a start to find him sitting up in bed smoking. I'm not much of a morning person but for him I managed to be at least civil. I could see by the faraway look he had in his eyes that morning that he was already leaving me. I saw it, noted it, but didn't want to believe it. I was treated to the whole "it's not you, it's me" speech. I wanted to pick him up by his scrawny shoulders and shake the living shit out of him. I wanted to scream at him that he was never going to find anyone who could treat him better, but I kept it cool. I knew that nothing I would say or do would change his mind. Instead I let him leave me. I watched him get into a cab, willing him to look at me; he did and made a half wave in my direction then disappeared into the vehicle. So much for love. Is Equal To A few weeks later, as I sat in my manager's office listening to him talk about upcoming appearances he had scheduled for me, and all the plans for this or that show I realised I needed a holiday in the worst way. My head hurt, my mind felt full and I didn't want to be Mr. Rock Star any more. Russ didn't seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm, instead he just charged on. I envisioned opening the window behind me and scaling down some piping to escape or maybe even better just jumping out. Free falling until that last jarring contact with earth, and then SPLAT. Unfortunately in my daydreaming I said that word aloud. "Splat?" Russ shot me a confused look, "Is that a commentary on something or are you just trying out a new word eh boyo?" "Oh, sorry, never mind, go on." I sat forward in the chair trying to feign interest; obviously I didn't fool him because he closed the binder in front of him and stood up. "I think not. Do me a favour Jimmy; go get some tea. When you're ready to be a good boy and listen to ol' Russ, come on back." I went down the street to a small café. I ordered some lunch, and a pot of strong tea. As I waited I tried to pull myself together. A few tables over two teenaged girls spotted me and giggled whispering to each other. I smiled at them and that caused another round of giggling. One of them came over and flashed her pert breasts at me asking me to sign them. "I'm sorry love, I don't sign anything that can get me arrested." I joked, and after a few rounds of negotiations I signed the back of her shirt instead. The food and the tea definitely woke me up but I didn't want to go back to Russ' office and waste the rest of the afternoon listening to him drone on. I rang him on my mobile gave him some lame excuse and headed uptown. It was a rare sunny day, so I decided to just walk for a bit. I was hoping wherever my feet took me something would get me out of my funk. With no clear path in mind I was surprised to find myself standing outside the first club I had played at. I remembered being so nervous that I threw up before going on stage, and hearing my name as the manager announced me made my heart almost stop in my chest. But there was something special too about that, first times. Unbidden I thought of Paul and the first time we had made love. I must have looked like a right prat standing outside this club, staring into the darkened windows because a moment later the door opened and this blonde woman stepped out. She barely looked at me, announced, "We're closed until 7. Come back then" and started to shut the door again. I turned to walk away when another woman came out of the club and said something to her. She looked at me again, "Who?" she said. Her companion said my name and pointed at the record store across the street. I turned around to look at what she was pointing at and saw that it had a huge display of my album in the front window. The two of them debated if that was really me. While they were distracted I took the opportunity to make my exit. I had almost gotten past the club when the blonde caught up to me. "I am sorry I didn't recognise you, you're not really my style of music." She stopped and turned pink,"OK Sarah that was totally rude," she mumbled to herself, smacking her hand on her forehead, "can we try that again?" She stuck out her hand, "Hi I'm Sarah." As I shook her hand I couldn't help but smile at her, "Hi Sarah, I'm charmed." She brushed her bangs out of her eyes, "Yep that's me little Miss Charming." She gestured at the club, "Would you like to come in? It's not much but I just took it over from my dad, and we're trying to make it into something." "I've actually been in here before. Your dad gave me my first shot at performing, he is sort of responsible for unleashing me on the world," I said as we walked into the dark foyer, "how is he doing these days?" "Dead," I quickly offered my condolences, but she dismissed them, "he has been gone for two years." She led me to the main room. The stage was so much smaller than I remembered it, and the whole place had a shabbiness that announced that they were not doing very well. "The problem is that there are too many clubs in London. We can't get the sort of acts that we need to keep things up." She said seemingly reading my mind. I am not sure what prompted me to say this but the words seemingly popped out of my mouth all on their own, "if you have dinner with me tonight, I will play a show here Saturday free of charge." Her friend who had been following close behind us made a loud squeaking noise that made both us turn around and look at her. After a second or two, Sarah turned back to me. "You're kidding right?" "I'm totally serious." "Just dinner?" "Unless you're offering something else," I laughed, but she didn't seem to be nearly as amused as I was, "Just dinner. I promise." And In The End Ch. 02 I wish I could say we all lived happily ever after...but I'd be lying. James had decided to move on with his love life, and I was not invited for the ride. Oh, we had a friendship of sorts. Or we were working on it, but it was awkward at best. I tried to find someone of my own, but failed miserably. It was all because I kept comparing the new men to him. How could someone get under my skin so quickly? Yeah, he was incredibly good looking. Kind hearted, sexy and fun, but goddamn it, he was not the only man in the world! I had lovers before him; it wasn't like it was my first time. So why him? Why couldn't I get him out of my head? It didn't help that I had daily contact with him while we were getting set to record his new album. The first time he showed up to a band practice with that woman hanging off of him I wanted to cry. Instead I put on a stone face and did my bit. I left the moment practice was over, skipping the usual socialising afterwards. I invited my latest mistake, Michael, to a practice. I was hoping to make James jealous. Instead Michael acted like a goddamn groupie and practically drooled all over him. I caught James' expression of pity when he looked at me over Michael's shoulder...not the desired reaction at all. I was packing up my sticks trying to get Michael and myself out of the hall before I strangled the asshole, when I felt James' hand on my arm. "Sarah and I are going to grab a bite. Do you and your friend want to come?" "I dunno boss, he's hardly house broken." Michael heard me and flipped me off. "You can't keep avoiding me," he said as he leaned in a bit closer, "it's just dinner. Please say yes." Against my better judgment I agreed. The cab ride over was awkward, Michael insisted on sitting next to James leaving Sarah and I to squeeze in as best we could. Michael continued his campaign of fawning during dinner. I could tell James was pretty uncomfortable but he was polite as always. Sarah glared daggers at Michael and announced before dessert that she had a headache. James offered to take her home but she muttered something about needing time to herself. When Michael got up to use the restroom James and I sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. Finally I spoke up, "I'm sorry about Michael, boss. I don't know what I was thinking with him." "It's not your fault," then he laughed, "OK maybe it is." "I think this is our last date, he's really not my type." James sat back in his chair, lit a cigarette and stared up at the ceiling for a minute, "So, what is your type?" "You." He shifted his gaze back to me, "that's sweet but it's not really what I wanted to hear." "You asked. Did you want me to lie?" He shook his head and opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else but Michael came back and interrupted the moment. James stubbed out his cigarette, paid the bill and stood to leave. He forced a smile when Michael grabbed him in a bear hug before letting him go. I took Michael back to my apartment. I was both pissed off and very horny. I was so hard I could have driven nails into steel with my cock. But I didn't want Michael. I wanted James. I wanted to fuck him so hard that he couldn't walk straight for a week. I wanted to make him scream for mercy, hurt him like seeing him with Sarah hurt me. I told Michael to strip for me. He did it with a cocky half smile, thinking he was going to get what he wanted. He was wrong. I rolled on a condom, bent him over the kitchen table and just drove myself in with no lube, and no foreplay. I pictured James in front of me, and imagined my cock as a huge sword cutting into him. I wanted to see blood. I wanted to feel ripping flesh. But Michael's well-used ass was soft and yielding, so the fantasy was ruined. Michael liked me to fist his cock when I fucked him but I didn't touch him other than to move my cock in his ass. It was all about me this time. My anger seemed to all go to my cock it felt larger than it had ever been. I reached my climax quickly, pulled out and left him hanging there. He got dressed in silence, not looking me in the eye at all. Once he was finished he muttered something about calling me later; we both knew that was a lie. I went to bed alone, "Another One Bites The Dust" played in my head as I tried to get to sleep. The next morning I dragged my sorry ass out of bed and back to the rehearsal hall. James was already there and talking to the other band members. He looked hotter than hell in a faded tshirt and pair of tight ragged jeans. My mouth watered thinking about what the jeans so vividly outlined and my cock stood to attention. Mark, the bass player smirked at me but said nothing as I quickly took my seat at the drums trying to hide my hard on. I was so distracted that I flubbed my piece seven times running, each time a different mistake. James was polite but I could tell he was getting irritated with me, as was the rest of the band. We kept having to stop and start from the beginning. Finally he called a break. While I was getting some coffee Mark came up to me, and in his weird mix of his native Scottish accent and some misguided attempt to sound like a California surfer he quizzed me, "Look dude, I don't mean to get into your space but you are seriously sucking today. What's your damage?" "I just broke up with my lover." "Oh bummer. Hey sorry man," he shook his head. I worked my way over to where James was talking to the sound engineer. I waited for him to finish before asking to speak to him privately. He frowned at me but granted me an audience and we went into a back room. Before I said one word he turned to me with his eyes blazing, "You said you could keep your private and professional life separate. You sure aren't acting like it! Your playing is total shit and you have all the subtly of a 14 year old boy viewing a porno." "I had a rough night..." I started but he cut me off. His fists were clenched, "don't give me that bullshit Paul! I'm sorry but if you can't get it together I will have to find someone who can." The heat of his anger shocked me, and then I took a good look at him. He looked about as frazzled as I felt, "Looks like you didn't have a little slice of heaven last night yourself boss." I think my change of tone caught him off guard; he unclenched his fists and lowered his head. I tried to put my hand on his shoulder but he jerked away from me, took a deep breath and then without another word left the room. A few minutes later I heard loud crashing sounds coming from the rehearsal hall. I got there to find that my drum kit had been thrown across the room. The rest of the band was just standing there with their mouths open, their eyes glued to the rapidly closing outside door. Mark was the first to speak, "You wouldn't think such a little dude could be that strong..." he said to no one in particular, his faux surfer act dropped. Then he looked at me, "guess that means we're done for the day, eh?" I ran out the door trying to find him, but James had disappeared. I went back inside and the band had picked up my kit. Luckily no major damage was done but the violence behind the action left me breathless. I could tell the rest of the band was pretty freaked out too. On the way back to my apartment I tried calling him repeatedly. He either had his phone off or he was not feeling very talkative, I didn't leave a message. I went over the events of the day in my head trying to get where it all went to hell. Something was niggling at the back of my mind, I couldn't quite put my finger on it. But then again, introspection was never my strong point. ------------------- It wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. In the past, I would make a decision, act on it, and get on with my life, never looking back. But this time it wasn't working. I didn't regret my time with Paul as a lover, but I didn't want to be involved with a man, really. I wanted to be with women, specifically one woman, Sarah. She was everything I thought I needed. So why didn't I feel whole? The day started out oddly. Sarah had spent the night in my flat. Usually I love having someone sleeping next to me; it makes those half conscious moments upon waking seem like the best time of day. Sarah had a way of entwining herself around me like I was an overgrown teddy bear. It was endearing most times, but that morning I felt trapped. I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding having dreamt I was being pulled underwater and was slowly drowning to find that she had thrown her legs over mine. She had her arms around my chest effectively pinning me to the bed. I wanted a cigarette, some tea and a shower in that order, but couldn't move without waking her. Finally the alarm went off and she rolled over groaning about the early hour. The night before had been a total disaster. Paul had brought his boy toy with him to practice and I in a fit of masochism decided to invite the two of them out with Sarah and me. I guess I thought the twinge of jealousy I felt seeing them together could be overcome by making friends? It was stupid of me. Instead it made Sarah angry when this stud basically hit on me in front of her and Paul. It made Paul angry, and me feel like I was being repeatedly kicked in the chest. By the time I got back to my flat that night Sarah had calmed down, she met me at the door wearing next to nothing, with a sheepish smile, apologising for her behaviour. I felt that really I should have been the one saying I was sorry but I didn't, I let her take the blame. Sarah handed me a drink, which I downed immediately, and then she led me into the bedroom. She helped me out of my clothes and rained kisses on my shoulders, neck and mouth. When her lips reached my cock my body responded in the expected way but my mind was elsewhere. Luckily she didn't notice, instead she took the lead, placing my hands where she wanted them, covering them with her own to make them do what she wanted. Then she pushed me onto my back, lowered herself onto me and began to ride me like I was a prize pony. The warmth of her enveloping me registered, I could feel her hot breath on my chest, but it was like it was all happening to someone else. I closed my eyes trying to get into it but I got it all confused and pictured Paul bracing himself over me instead. After awhile she tightened around me, dug her nails into my arms, moaned a few times and laid her head on my shoulder. I didn't come, I felt about as involved as if I were a dildo. The next day I arrived at the studio in a really edgy mood. Being pounced on by my manager, Russ, the minute I got there did not help improve upon it. "There you are boyo!" he chortled at me, putting his arm around my shoulders "not to put the screws to you m'lad but the record company is breathing down our necks. We need to get this done!" "We" probably need the advance to pay off "our" ex wife, I thought uncharitably. I bit back my comments and instead palavered on about how close I was to actually starting recording, etc. Basically parroting to Russ what he wanted to hear so he would get the hell away from me. Paul was not in good form; he kept messing up the simplest things. Usually I am pretty laid back about that, but the more mistakes he made the harder my head pounded. I don't really remember exactly what was said, but he and I exchanged heated words in one of the back rooms, by then I was so enraged he could have recited "God Save the Queen" and it would have set me off. I decided to remove myself from Paul before I did something I would forever regret. Maybe the band had overheard part of the conversation or maybe they just heard the raised voices, but when I came into the room they all looked away quickly. I meant to go have a cigarette, calm down and go back to rehearsing. I put on my jacket and started outside, and then I spotted Paul's drum kit. I literally felt something snap in my head as I walked over to it, kicked over the cymbal and launched the bass drum into the wall. The snare followed and the hi-hat soon joined them. The destruction felt frighteningly good to me. I had that after climax sense of release as I lit a cigarette and quickly left the building. I heard Paul coming out the door after me. I ducked behind the dumpster and watched him run past. He circled the building before going back in. I waited a few minutes then headed off to get massively drunk. ------------------- I woke up before the sun thinking I was probably going to get call telling me I was fired. When it didn't come I debated whether or not I should go into the studio like nothing happened. Curiosity got the best of me. I wondered what was going to happen next. I was prepared for the worst just in case. From the way everyone else seemed to be walking on eggshells waiting for WWIII to break out, I could tell I wasn't the only one thinking that. James wasn't there yet and the whispers escalated as the time passed and he didn't show. I was just about to pack up and head back home when he arrived. I've often heard the phrase "death warmed over" but until that morning I'd never seen it personified. James' eyes were swollen, bright red and ringed like a raccoon's. He was unshaven, seemed to have skipped his morning shower and looked like he was wearing the same clothes he had passed out in the night before. Without a word to any of us he stumbled over to a stool and sat down. He took out his guitar, plugged it in and started tuning it. Russ hurried over to him and from what I overheard he was trying to get him to forget the day's rehearsal and go get himself together. For his part James never even looked up. He just kept twiddling with his guitar. After a bit of that he got up unsteadily, moved away from Russ and cast his scarlet eyes at the rest of us as if to say, "well, what are you waiting for?" I could see no one else had the balls to say anything, so I volunteered myself to be the voice of reason, "Ah, boss? I'm not so sure you're really up to this today." He looked at the band as if trying to confirm this was the consensus, nodding half to himself. He unplugged his guitar, almost falling forward as he did so and stumbled out. I had seen zombies with more animation; I was getting really freaked out by his total silence. I followed him out of the studio, "Boss? Hey wait up!" He wobbled on his feet as he turned to face me. He pulled out a cigarette, and after a few tries got it to his lips but couldn't quite get the lighter going. With that he sighed, exhaling fumes of pure alcohol in my face and dropped the cigarette on the ground. Then his eyes rolled up in his head and he started to go down, luckily I caught him just as his legs gave out. I slung him over my shoulder and took him back into the studio. Russ directed me to a couch in one of the back rooms and I laid James out on it. I turned him on his side so he wouldn't choke if he got sick, and put a wastebasket nearby. Russ sat down on one of the chairs and gestured for me to do the same. "I've been in this business for many years," he started, "I've seen many a talented young lad, none quite as talented as our boyo here." "Yeah, he's pretty remarkable," I was wondering where this was all going. "The problem usually is that once they get to the top, these lads find that they are really all alone in a sea of people who just want something from them. People they thought were their friends. If they don't have strong support from people who really give a damn about them, they fall apart," he continued. James groaned and rolled over onto his back, we both watched him for a moment. Then Russ fixed his eyes on me; "I've had three ex-wives, so I'm not an expert in relationships. I don't know what makes love work, but maybe you do." "I don't know what you mean." "Yes you do," He cocked a half smile at me, patted me on the shoulder and stood to leave, "despite what he thinks, he needs you." "How did you know?" I was dumbfounded. I never thought Russ was the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was more on the ball than I had credited him for "Simple m'lad, anyone else would have kicked his ass by now. Lord knows if I was just 20 years younger I would." He laughed and left the room. ------------------- I don't really know how I got to the studio that day. The last thing I remembered was downing the last of one bottle of Jack Daniels and starting in on another. Then time skipped ahead to swimming up to consciousness to be greeted by the sinking feeling I was going to be desperately ill. My eyes were blurry and I wasn't really sure where I was. I just knew I had to sit up quickly before I was sick all over myself. I heard someone move off to my left and a small refuse container was thrust into my hands just in time. When things had settled into the dry heaves the container was removed. My mouth felt like a whole battalion of soldiers returning from a 10K hike had just walked over my tongue with their socks on. A bottle of water appeared and I cautiously took a sip, gagged briefly but was able to keep it down. I heard the door shut and lay back down on the sofa trying to get my bearings. Slowly things in the room started to come into focus and I was able to guess where I was. How I got there remained a mystery. "Welcome back," Paul said as he came back into the room holding a wet paper towel, bending over me to wipe my face with it, "you are one big mess there, boss. But I have to hand it to you, you sure know how to make an entrance." "Do I want to know?" "I'm pretty sure you don't," he sat next to me on the sofa, "I think we need to get you home, and into bed." Before I could say anything he added, "I meant that in the 'you need to sleep this off' way, nothing else." "I'm not sure I can move," I protested as my stomach attempted to leap up through my throat. "It's up to you, boss," he brushed some hair out of my face and stood up, "I'll go tell Russ you're awake." Oh yeah that's just what I need, but Paul was out the door before my brain was able to pass that on to my mouth. As I got to my feet my head throbbed, and the floor seemed to tilt. I used the wall to steady myself, but I didn't get that far before Russ burst into the room. I could tell by the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes that he was not happy. "Not quite a red letter day is it Jimmy? Now you know ol' Russ only wants to best for you, right?" He waited a few seconds for me to say something when I didn't he continued, "but let's be fair, either you get yourself together and get back on track or the big boys at the label are going to want to know why they are not getting what you're under contract to give them." There was more to the speech but I didn't really catch it, I was too busy trying not to be sick again. Finally he stopped, and turned to leave, "You need to sort your life out. And I don't mean just professionally." After he left I sat back down on the sofa, I was both physically weak and mentally drained. I was also feeling a curious mixture of embarrassment and self-pity, which were not two emotions I was much given to having. Just then the door opened and Sarah came into the room. "Paul called me. He said you were sick and that I should come get you. Are you OK?" "Aside from making a total spectacle of myself, I think I will be," as I stood up another wave of nausea hit me but I was able to keep it at bay, "let's get out of here." Once I was safely in bed, I heard Sarah on the phone talking to someone. Afterwards she lay down next to me on top of the covers, "Russ is sending over a doctor to get you a vitamin shot and something to help with your stomach." She started petting my hair, each stroke made my eyes feel heavier; I could feel sleep creeping up on me. "How sweet" I mumbled, as I slowly lost my battle to stay awake. And In The End Ch. 02 ------------------- I knew the last thing a smart person would do was check up on James. After all, he had his girlfriend to do that right? But smart isn't always filed under my picture in the dictionary of life. I couldn't gauge how much Sarah knew so I could potentially blow his cover, but my concern overrode that by a mile. When she let me into James' apartment I was able to see that I wasn't on her top ten list of people she wanted to hang out with that day, to give her credit she did at least try to be gracious. After some small chitchat, she got serious, "Something's bothering him, isn't it?" "That'd be my guess." "Does he ever talk about me?" Sarah leaned in, "Did I do something wrong?" "I sort of doubt it's you," I said trying to keep my voice neutral. I could see her relax, and for a brief second I thought that was going to be the end of it. My relief was short lived. "Then who is it? "Maybe it's a what," I offered hoping to throw her off the scent. Sarah shook her head, "no he doesn't get bothered by things. It's not him, I have never seen him this stressed out. He's not sleeping, he pretends to but I've woken up and caught him staring at the ceiling." "You haven't known him that long." "True, but I can read him pretty well. He's pretty transparent." She pulled at a lock of her hair and bit her lip. I had enough of her dramatics, so I just blurted out, "So who is it Lady Sherlock?" "You." Unknown to either of us James had been standing in the doorway listening, and chose this moment to alert us to his presence by speaking up, "now that you've both had your say, I'd like you both the get the hell out of my flat." With that he turned around and went back into his bedroom slamming the door. Sarah looked at the door for longer than I was comfortable with, and then turned to me, her face a mask of pain and shock. "You're his lover?" "Was, but he dumped me for you," I gestured towards the door, "let's get out of here before Godzilla gets loose again. I'll buy the first round." By round four Sarah had reached the point where she wanted to have some explanation. I got through the whole sordid story without any interruption, and then sat back waiting for the questions to come pouring out. When none came I asked, "are you gonna be alright?" "Do you think he loves me?" I took a drink, "in his stunted way I think he does. You are totally wrong about him being transparent. You just see the false front and think that's him, but it's not. He's been really burned in the past, and I don't think he's let anyone in close enough to get that chance again." "If you were me," she started to say, "I guess that's dumb. You're in the same boat aren't you? You still love him." I nodded, "have to admit it, yeah I do." "Then what should we do? Fight over him?" Sarah asked, her voice in an almost whisper, "Or work together to save him from himself?" "Can you deal with sharing him with a man?" "Can you deal with sharing him with a woman?" she smiled, and then quickly dropped it to a frown, "what if he doesn't want either of us?" "Then we can say we honestly tried. Someone has to do something before he self destructs." Sarah tilted back the last of her drink, raising the empty glass as a signal to the waiter, "let the games begin." To be continued.... And In The End I got to the restaurant a few minutes early and found her already there, as I approached the table she quickly gathered up some papers she had been studying and shoved them into her purse. The conversation kept coming back to me and my career even though I was much more interested in finding out more about her, it seemed a bit odd to me that very afternoon she didn't know me from Adam, but now she seemed almost an expert, then I caught on, "Sarah, I hate to ask this, but those papers you were reading when I got here, were those crib notes about me?" She turned bright red, and nodded. "I just wanted to have something to talk about." I leaned across the table and put my hand on hers, "Can we talk about you instead? I already know all I need to about me. Tell me about yourself." Sarah took a deep breath and countered, "I'm not that interesting really." "That isn't true. For example, how do you like running a club?" I asked. "Well you know how musicians are, most of them wouldn't know how to make a living out in the real world. They're the most spoilt bunch of prima donnas, and think the world should revolve around them and their 'art'." She stopped and looked at me completely horrified, realising what she had just said, "I'm sure you're the exception!" "Sometimes." I laughed. With little prompting on my part she opened up and told me her entire life story, the rest of dinner I barely got a word in edgewise but despite all that I was captivated, and looked forward to seeing her again. The Love You Make It was the oddest chance that made me see the ad for his one off show. I was actually trying to see what Sainsbury's had on sale that week, I almost missed it but the photo in the corner caught my eye. It was a great picture of him, just him and his guitar posed up against a brick wall. Why was he doing a solo show without the band? And what the hell was he doing playing some dinky club that held less than 500 people? After all this last tour he packed in twenty to thirty thousand a night. I stared at his picture, the way he had of looking at the camera like a lover. I knew that look he had given it to me more than once. "Stop it!" I said aloud, "he's not yours anymore. Deal with it." Not that he ever really was. I told myself I wouldn't go to the show, obviously he had moved on and it was up to me to do the same, but of course Saturday rolled around and there I was lining up with the rest of the people hoping to get in. I saw him arrive; I ducked back in the shadows as he walked past me. He turned and looked in my direction with a slight frown but then some cute little blonde grabbed his arm and led him into the club. I was one of the lucky few that got in, there was a mad rush for the front of the stage and the place was filled to the rafters. I managed to get a spot two rows back. He took the stage at 10 pm; there was a collective gasp and then cheers. I had only seen the performances from the back of the stage. I knew he drew the audience in but seeing it from their point of view I could really understand why he had such a following. Even in the crowd I felt like his songs were being sung just for me, and by looking at those around me it was clear that the feeling was shared. During one of the sad ballads he stood on the edge of the stage and looked into the audience, his eyes widened when he finally saw me. At the guitar break he looked straight at me again as if he was trying to memorize where I was. As the set wound down I started to make my exit. I wanted to leave with the crowd but I didn't want to miss a note of the song so I just slowly moved to the back of the club. I had almost gotten to the door when a fight broke out near by. Two rather drunken women were loudly arguing about something and they effectively blocked the doors. By the time the bouncers separated them the show was over. The place emptied out pretty quickly, and I had congratulated myself on making a clean get away until I rounded the corner heading to the underground and he stepped out of the shadows directly in front of me. "Did you enjoy the show?" he asked, as he lit a cigarette. "It was very good, I've said it before boss, you are talented." "I really didn't expect to see you tonight. You almost made me forget the lyrics to my own song." He laughed, and then he got serious, "So how have you been Paul?" "I won't lie, I really miss you." "I miss you too." He dropped the cigarette and crushed it out with his shoe, "I would like to be your friend do you think that's at all possible?" "Do you mean hanging out at the bar type of friends? Or playing darts kind of friends, or friends who occasionally fuck the hell out of each other?" He smiled, "You always had a way with words. Let's start with the first two and see if we can do that." "And then?" He brushed his hand across my cheek, "and then, well, then we'll just have to play it by ear."