Fiction, Part I, Section 2*

Sam was following behind Liz, thinking about whether or not her hips could handle a mid-night breakfast when an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her to the side.

"Sammy, I gotta talk to you," a soft but deep voice, with a faint mid-western edge, murmured in her ear.

Sam sighed, her hand on her heart. "Jesus Christ, Ty, you scared the living crap out of me!" She glared up at him, and momentarily blinked in surprise. "Dude, what is up with you? You look like hell!"

"I need you to let me hang at your place for a couple of nights," he breathed against her face. "Please, Sam, something's going on." He pulled her around the corner, away from the busy dining area and into the darker and quieter bar.

"Ty, what did you do?!" she demanded, looking up at him in dismay. She loved the tall, lanky musician from Minnesota, though they were not romantically involved. Modern vernacular would probably call them "friends with benefits," but the "benefits" went far beyond just the occasional roll in the hay.

"It's not me," he protested, shaking his head. "It's just, well, I think Johnny's trying to kill me."

"Johnny." She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a dirty look. "The same Johnny that's your led singer?"

"Well, yeah." He frowned down at her, his incredibly blue eyes currently so bloodshot she could barely make them out.

"The same Johnny Haynes that's been your best friend since before puberty?" She pursed her lips now, waiting for his response suspiciously.

"I know, it sounds crazy." He ran his hand through his long, wavy blond hair and blew out a long breath. "Sam, I mean it--I think something is going on with him and I really think he wants me out of the way."

"For what?! You're not even finished recording your album! For all you know, Geffen is using you guys as a tax write-off!" she finished, referring to the large record company Ty's band had their deal with, who had been rumored to have done just that over the years. Young bands signed contracts with them, got a million dollars or more, put out one record and then the record company suddenly lost all interest in promoting the band or the album. No one knew why exactly this happened, but it happened often enough in the industry for people to have a lot of opinions.

"If we could just go back to your place, and I could crash for more than two hours at a time, I could explain everything," he whispered. "Please Sam, I really need a friend right now."

In all honestly, he looked like he needed a friend. His long, normally gorgeous hair looked oily and was somewhat matted to his head. His eyes weren't just bloodshot, but there were bags under them the size of actual luggage, and she'd never seen him look so thin. In fact, in the three years they'd known each other, she'd never seen him look so uncertain and downright sickly. With a scowl, because she knew he would be underfoot for at least the rest of the weekend and she would fall way behind on her writing, she dragged him by the hand.

"Okay," she said. "My car's about four blocks down, right near Doheny, so--"

"No!" He looked startled. "I can't walk that far--someone might see me!"

"Ty!" She gave an exasperated grunt. "How do you expect me to get you home then? Invisible spray?"

He gave her a weak smile. "You got some?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ty..."

"Okay, look, how about you get the car and--"

"There you are!" Liz stood there, arms across her chest, a frown on her pretty face. "Girl, I've been looking everywhere for you! What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm sorry!" Sam gave her friend a knowing look. "Ty needs some help, okay? We need to get him out of here incognito--can you help?"

Normally, Liz got irritated with Sam's choice in loser boyfriends, crazy musician friends, and the overall nutty music business types she hung out with, but something about Sam's voice and Ty's desperation must have been obvious, because she shrugged her shoulders and nodded. "Of course! We can be a threesome!" She grinned then. "I always wanted me a skanky white broad with big tits and a long-haired rocker with a small penis!"

Ty opened his mouth to protest, but Liz and Sam were too busy laughing to hear him anyway. "Not fair," he muttered as they dragged him out, one on each arm. "My dick's not that small!"
*****

Forty-minutes later, they were seated on Sam's couch, take-out boxes in front of them. Ty was eating as though he hadn't eaten in a week, while Sam picked at hers, wondering how many hours at the gym would compensate for so many late-night calories.

She let him eat for a solid ten minutes, and when he finally leaned back, closing his eyes and resting his hand on his stomach, she leaned over and moved a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. "Talk to me," she said softly.

His eyes opened and he looked at her with a sad smile. "Sammy, I really think Johnny's gone off the deep end. The whole group, actually, but mostly Johnny."

"Like how?" She thought of the times she'd hung out with Ty and the band, both at rehearsals and shows, and Johnny, Rex the drummer and Clay the guitarist were always friendly, fun-loving and as easy-going as any musicians she'd ever met. Johnny, as lead singer and one of the band's two main spokesmen, was by far more gregarious and outgoing, but she'd never gotten the vibe that he wanted the spotlight all to himself. Of course, it was hard to take the spotlight away from Ty, because he was not only a talented bass player with great stage presence, he was also incredibly good-looking and could sing lead when the need arose.

"Well, technically it started about eight or nine years ago, before we moved here." Ty stared up at the ceiling. "It was the beginning of our senior year in high school and Lynn and I had broken up." He referred to his on-again/off-again high school sweetheart whom he still occasionally carried a torch for, despite the fact that she'd left him, Los Angeles and their impending marriage nearly four years before.

"Oh, boy." Sam leaned back on the couch next to him, almost mimicking his position, but instead of staring at the ceiling, she turned her head just slightly so she could look at his straight, angular profile. "Anything to do with Lynn is sure to be trouble."

"You can say that again." Ty hesitated. "She wanted all that traditional senior year stuff, like Homecoming tickets with the tux rental, all the senior skip days and the other crap that, as you probably guessed, I had no interest in. So I told her to forget it, and we had a fight and broke up." He glanced over at Sam and grinned. "Now, the one thing you have to remember is that I was the only one of our gang that was gettin' any on a regular basis. Johnny, Clay and this other guy we hung out with, Brett, had their share of girls when we played live, but we were all underage, so there weren't that many girls at school that put out. Lynn and I started sleeping together our junior year, and of course the guys knew that. So as soon as I put out the word that Lynn was no longer in my life, Johnny moved in on her. You know how 17-year-old boys are--all about gettin' laid, and he saw the writing on the wall. He also had money, something I never had, and he bought her Homecoming tickets, rented a limo, the whole thing. Told her he was just being her friend, because we'd all known each other for years."

"So he put the moves on your girl?" Sam blinked at him. "Just because you broke up for a while? I mean, weren't you guys together from like 8th grade?"

Ty nodded, shaking his head. "But I was mad, you know? I told him to go for it! I didn't care about anything but music, and she was driving me nuts, talking about college, a 'real' career, getting married... babies!" He chuckled. "I think my dick shriveled up just thinking about it! But Johnny, he didn't care about her, he just wanted someone he could screw whenever he wanted, and he was good at saying what she wanted to hear. So they got together, and she thought it was great to flaunt it in my face." He paused. "Anyway, in the end, he really screwed with her and of course, she came back to me, but the point is, that was the first time he went after something that was mine. And now he's doing it again."

To Be Continued...

*Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction. I'm writing it because I love fiction and mysteries and writing and all that goes with it. I'm going to write installments no more than twice a week (sometimes less) until no one is interested in reading it anymore. No outline, no pre-conceived plot or characters. I'm writing this soap opera style, with an ongoing storyline and characters that "build themselves." I will be using my experiences in the music business, the legal business, as a writer, as a mom, celebrities I've met, etc., but none of them will be real. I will also be using some of my favorite names, but they do NOT represent REAL PEOPLE. I know at least 8 or 9 musicians named Mark in real life--but the Mark in this story is not any of them! Names are names, nothing more. If you don't like the story, that's okay, but please don't get up in arms if I make a reference about Mick Jagger being too skinny or Pamela Anderson's breasts being too big--this is all for fun. Thanks for reading!