Date: Fri, 14 Mar 2014 21:32:32 +0100
From: Jayson Leigh <jmleighwrites@gmail.com>
Subject: Up Close and Personal - Chapter 4

UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL
by
Jayson Leigh


This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or locations,
or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The author retains
all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent.

Author's Note: I'm so glad a lot of old readers are rediscovering the
story. I promise it will be posted in its entirety this time. And to new
readers... aren't you glad you waited?! I respond personally to all emails,
it might take a day or two (or three...) but you will get a
response. Please send questions and comments my way –
jmleighwrites@gmail.com.



      CHAPTER 4

      Nothing to Lose

      Ray was singing, his voice swelling steadily on the microphone while
Terry thrummed the bass guitar. The Blackbones' North American tour had
kicked off last weekend but the band had gathered at a rented studio to
work out some kinks in their set list.

      Dave had been beating the drums steadily when he stopped and pointed
his sticks across the room at Ray. "This is bullshit," he said. "You can't
hold a tune without Leo."

      "Fuck you," Ray promptly retorted.

      Trey yanked the guitar strap off his shoulder in silent agreement
with Dave. He walked off to the edge of the stage and called out to Jake
who was sitting behind the glass in the control room. "You sure he's
coming?"

      "He should've been here hours ago," Jake muttered.

      "I know Leo's never on time, but this is fucking insane," Dave
said. "Paul, are you on this?"

      Paul already on the phone and lifted a warning finger at Dave to give
him a moment.

      "We haven't had one good rehearsal since we got back from Tokyo,"
Dave complained. "He hasn't settled on a set list, keeps moving shit around
and what's the point of rehearsing if we don't have his fucking vocals?" He
turned to Paul, "What the fuck's happening to your boy? If he shows up one
more time forgets his own lyrics, I swear to God, I will kill him."

      "Simmer down, Dave," Paul said as he got off the phone. "I can't
reach him on his cell but the hotel says they're pretty sure he's still in
his room. I'm heading there now with Jake."

      "Fuck that," Dave said angrily. "I'm going home. Trey, you coming?"

      Ray approached Paul and said in a low tone, "Look, I don't know
what's going on with him, but you know and I know he only gets like this
when he's using. Now, I ain't no saint... but he's got to separate business
from pleasure. We've got a fucking show to put on and we're nowhere near
ready."

      "I swear he's clean. Maybe it's because of Joni..."

      Ray laughed. "Leo doesn't sweat over pussy. There's always another
one around the corner. Look, I'm just saying go check him out, but, like,
really check him out, you know? We can't have him acting like a fucking
zombie on the tour. He needs to show up and do the work. I'm his backup
singer, but you know I can't hit those high notes he can."

      Paul nodded and headed out of the studio with Jake.


      ###



      Shane started to get worried when Jenny continued ignoring the king
sized bag of peanut M&Ms in front of her. He wondered if he should have
gotten two. It'd been a last minute grab at the pharmacy when he went to
restock his nearly empty tube of lube. He smiled when he recalled how much
action it'd seen just this week, after being ignored for so long.

      "Are you fucking insane?"

      Shane looked pointedly at the yellow pack of candy. "I knew I
should've bought two."

      Jenny grabbed it and tossed it into the trash can. "You don't get to
bribe me."

      He put up a weak protest. "It wasn't a bribe."

      "You'd have to go to Belgium then Switzerland by way of Willy Wonka's
fucking factory to buy chocolate good enough to distract me from the fact
that you got back with Drew, you crazy son of a bitch."

      "I think you're-"

      "May I remind you he left for no good reason? He had you going crazy
because you didn't know where he was. He never thought to call even once
and now he shows up and you take his goddamn ass back? Am I missing
something here?"

      "He's sorry. We're working it out. He needed some time alone to
figure out-"

      "He's an emotionally manipulative bastard. He's going to fuck you up
and make you crazier than he is."

      "You're being a little harsh."

      "I'm being honest."

      Shane's ringing phone grabbed both their attentions but Jenny reached
for it before he did. Panicked, Shane warned, "Don't trash it."

      Jenny rolled her eyes and silenced it instead. "No distractions. This
is an intervention."

      Shane smiled. "Guru Jen's in the building."

      "I'm serious," Jen said solemnly.

      "I'm listening," he said, a little taken aback by her stern
demeanor. Hoping to make her smile, he added, "I'll give you three minutes,
but no more."

      She didn't even crack a smile, just nodded. She leaned forward to
lift a photo frame off his desk. The photo was taken three years ago at the
wrap party marking the end of Shane's inaugural season as the host of Up
Close and Personal. He'd popped open a bottle of champagne and Jenny was
leaning into him, one hand around his waist and the other stretched out to
catch the gushing flow of champagne into her flute. His eyes were crinkled
in laughter, barely a hint of blue showed, but his smile was wide, open and
genuinely happy.

      She recalled that just a few months later, he'd met Drew and he'd
never been the same since. She returned the wooden frame back to its place
on the desk before saying gently, "He takes something from you every time
he leaves. How much of yourself are you willing to give him?"

      Shane waited a few beats before asking, "I assume that's
rhetorical...?"

      "Do you love him?"

      He fiddled with his watch.

      "Do you love him?"

      "I don't want to get into it. Drew's going to be here any moment
now."

      "I don't care. Do you love him?"

      "Yes."

      Jenny watched him thoughtfully. She knew he wouldn't lie to her, yet
she was doubtful his answer. She considered probing deeper when she
realized her mistake. "Are you in love with him?"

      "What does it matter?" Shane said in a quiet voice.

      She arched an inquiring brow. "Why would you want to spend even one
more day of your life with a man-"

      Shane didn't wait for her to finish. "A man who's willing to give me
something no one else is willing to?"

      "And what's that?"

      "Love, romance, sex, intimacy. That's what I want, Jen. I want the
fights and the anger and all the pain that comes with being in a
relationship. I want it all. I don't do one night stands. I don't want to
fuck `em and leave `em like you do."

      Jenny nodded understandingly. "That's good, in theory. The only
problem is you're dating a nut case."

      Shane couldn't help but laugh at Jen's words. "If being in a
relationship means dealing with Drew's baggage and bullshit, then so be
it."

      She asked curiously, "Wouldn't you rather be alone than unhappy?"

      "I'd rather take a day or two of happiness with Drew than nothing at
all."

      "You're settling."

      "You think too highly of me."

      "You don't think enough of yourself."

      "I think your three minutes are up."

      "Oh good; so in conclusion, dump him."

      "Let me think about that for a second... no."

      "Don't say I didn't warn you."

      Shane rolled his eyes. After a few moments in silence, he added
thoughtfully, "Sometimes I wonder if Drew's my chance at happiness..." He
mused, running a hand worryingly through his blond hair before continuing,
"You know how some people think that everyone meets their soul mate,
whether or not they know it? Well, I think that's bullshit. But, maybe,
maybe you get to create your own soul mate. Maybe if you push through the
rough patches and the arguments eventually, you'd both come out being just
want you both want... because I've been with douchebags, lots of them and
honestly, Drew's kind of the best of the lot."

      Jenny sighed in defeat. "You romantic, you should write greeting
cards for a living. Dear soul mate, you're the best douchebag I've ever
been with."

      "I don't mean it like that..." Shane protested.

      "Why do I even bother?" She said as she began heading for the door
before stopping to add thoughtfully, "If Drew's your last chance at
happiness, I say end it now... your life, I mean. Just break open the
window behind you and step out the 28th floor because you've got nothing to
lose."

      Shane, lost for words, decided that the best response to her was to
reach into the trash can for the discarded bag of peanut M&Ms. He aimed it
so it hit her right shoulder before she could duck.

      "You throw like a girl, Roderick," she said with a laugh. As she
pulled his door open, she added, "You know, it's bad enough coming in here
knowing you never listen to me anyway, but what makes it even worse is
listening to this lady wail on and on about amour."

      Shane sighed. "Give me a break, Jen."

      "She's on, all the time, in your office. Gives me a headache."

      "This is her new one. It's really good, you should-"

      "Good god, no! She's good for one thing- torture. I bet you that
album's used in military prisons. Put anyone in a room with that crap on
repeat, I promise you they'll confess to nefarious crimes in no time."

      Shane laughed, wishing he had another bag of candy to chuck at his
best friend. He glanced behind her when a shadow appeared in the door
way. He smiled. "You're here."

      Drew strode right to Shane's desk, ignoring Jenny. "Sorry I'm late. I
got held up at work." He leaned over and took Shane's chin firmly in hand
to kiss him.

      Shane brushed their lips together lightly, pulling back, with the
intention of keeping it short, but he felt Drew's hands come up to hold his
face firmly in place then his tongue pushing against his lips
demandingly. He opened his mouth briefly to the press of Drew's tongue
before remembering that they had an audience.

      He pulled back and nodded his head toward Jenny. Drew finally threw
her a glance before turning back to Shane and kissing him lightly one last
time.

      Propping himself on the edge of the desk, Drew feigned surprise as if
he'd just noticed her for the first time. "Jennifer," he acknowledged
shortly.

      "Andrew," she replied.

      "How are you?" he asked curtly.

      "Good."

      "Great."

      After a few moments of awkward silence, he added again, "What's new?"

      Jenny smiled. "Guess what? You've been gone so long I grew a few
inches; doctors are baffled by my sudden growth spurt. You?"

      Shane bit down on his lip in an attempt to keep from laughing while
Drew narrowed his eyes at her jab. "Nice, Jen," he replied, every word
dripping with sarcasm. "Glad you finally made it to the third grade."

      She studied her fingernails intently for a few seconds, then looked
up at Drew "Was that you speaking? See, I thought you'd left already
because you do this thing where disappear when everyone's least expecting
it."

      Shane blushed, hating to see his friend dredge up his and Drew's
issues like this. He spoke up quickly, "Drew, weren't we leaving?"

      Folding his arms in obvious frustration, Drew ignored Shane. "Where's
your broomstick, Jennifer? Shouldn't you be off to the witches' convention
tonight?"

      What was it that brought out the inner children in his best friend
and boyfriend whenever they ran into each other? He'd suffered through
snarling conversations like these more times than he cared to recall.

      She smiled at Drew and replied sweetly, "No, Andrew, that was
yesterday. Such a shame you missed it, but I'm sure your duties as
president of the Heartbreakers Society keep you pretty busy, huh?

      Drew was just about to retort when Shane slammed his laptop lid
shut. "Goodnight, Jen." He turned to Drew, "I'll see you at home."

      Jenny winked at him before making a quick exit, leaving Drew to
remark in her absence, "There goes your very own guard dog."

      Shane sighed. "Just drop it, okay? You two could try to be civil
around each other."

      "She started it."

       "Really?"

      Drew smiled, holding out a hand to Shane. "Let's not fight. Tonight's
supposed to special."

      Shane reached for him with a reluctant smile. "Where're you taking
me?"

      Drew smiled. "Well, there's this new Italian place Brian's been
raving about..."



      ###



      Leo looked closely at the pills and
counted. One... two... three... four... five... all the way to ten. He
closed his left eye and looked out with only his right, he saw ten
pills. When he looked with only his left eye, there were still only ten
pills. What was happening here? It was like the case of the disappearing
pills.

      He shook the bottle, frustrated and confused. It was empty. He'd been
sure there'd been twenty left. Oh, wait a second, when he looked at the
pills laid out on the table with both eyes, he realized that there were
still twenty left.

      Laughing out loud, he reached for the other bottle on the table took
a long swig of whiskey. Good ole Johnnie Walker. Always there when you
needed him... not like some people He set the bottle down and wondered how
time had gone by so quickly. He could've sworn he'd had two, maybe three,
gulps of whiskey, but it was mostly gone now.

      He couldn't remember much of anything, anymore. He looked around, was
there someone here drinking with him? He'd talked to Jake this morning, or
was that yesterday... Well, he was alone now, he thought. Always
alone... story of his life.  He smiled at that thought; it was comforting
and satisfying to accept the truth.

      Swallowing another pill, he counted out the rest, nineteen
remaining. He remembered now, that he'd started out with thirty. He'd taken
six to start with, leaving twenty four; one for each year of his life, he'd
theorized. He swallowed seven more in rapid succession and chased them down
with another swig of alcohol.  Now there were twelve left. Did that mean he
was twelve years old again? He burst out in loud laughter and swept the
rest of the table with his hand. He put the bottle to his mouth but nothing
came out.

      The bar was at the opposite end of the room, so far away. Whose
bright idea was it to put the bar at the wrong side of where he was
sitting.

      Goddamnit, he needed some sleep.

      He put six more pills in his mouth and crunched hard, relishing the
unpleasant bitter taste. He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. He
really needed to get to the liquor case. He tried to stand up, pushing
against the table but the rest of the pills in his hand came tumbling out
and when he tried to turn around, he accidentally kicked the chair over
with his foot. Fuck it. What a mess he was making of everything. He made
such a mess, everywhere he went.

      He took a step forward and faltered. He'd thought for sure he'd be
sleeping by now, he felt sleepy... no not quite... yeah, that's it. He
didn't feel quite right. He decided he'd just sit down for a second. He
bent over and tried to pick up the chair but his knees buckled and he fell
down to the floor. His vision swarm for a few seconds and so he closed his
eyes to rest. When he opened them again, he could see. He was fine after
all.

      There was a pill by his cheek. He stretched out his hand to pick it
up but his fingers were too big and he couldn't grasp it. He kept trying,
but he just couldn't pick it up. He looked at his palm and realized it was
sweaty.

      Maybe he wouldn't sleep at all. He'd just lay here on the floor and
wait. He was sure he had something to do later today. He'd nap first and go
later. He could use a break anyway. He shifted his head to get more
comfortable but Johnny Walker was in the way. He tried to push the bottle
away, but it barely moved. Johnny Walker wouldn't budge. That amused him
and he giggled... wasn't there some ad about Johnny Walker walking? His own
laughter sounded like it was coming from miles away, and he wondered why.

      His eyes closed gradually and he realized he wasn't quite sleepy,
just weak and light headed. Licking his dry lips, he began wondering how to
get himself up. He tried to take a deep breath, but couldn't. It felt like
his lungs were closing up. Was there a heavy vise clamping down on his
chest? Why couldn't he breathe?

      Darkness overcame him before he completed another thought.



      ###



      Paul pushed his way past the elderly couple waiting for the
elevator. He was pretty sure they could wait another minute or so before
getting up to their room to watch The Price is Right, he thought darkly.

      Jake gave him a look which he pointedly ignored while pushing the
button for Penthouse Level 2. A red light flashed below the key pad and an
electronic message popped up- please insert key card. What the fuck?

      Sheepishly, he gave up the elevator to the couple. "It's all yours."

      He tried to keep his temper in check as he explained to three front
desk clerks, two front desk supervisors and finally an assistant manager,
why he needed to get into the very exclusive floor reserved for the rich
and famous.

      "Get me your manager," he insisted angrily, his voice rising with
every word. "Get me a fucking manager or I will make a scene that'll clear
out this hotel faster than you can say fire."

      Within moments, the manager appeared and it took very little
convincing to get the harried looking manager to agree to Paul's insistent
demands. In no time, he and Jake were being ushered back into the elevator
with a concierge in tow.

      He could've admitted to the hotel staff that there might be some
urgency to his request but as the manager of a very famous celebrity, Paul
was first and foremost concerned about the optics.

      Any show of concern to the public that Leo might be missing would
certainly leak to the press. In the event that Leo was fine and quite
possibly sleeping off a rough night, the whole thing would blow up in his
face. He'd learned to always err on the side of discretion. In any case, he
was an optimist. Leo was clean. Leo was fine. It was all good.

      The concierge made to push open the door to Leo's suite but he
grasped the young man's arm. "Thanks, but we'll take it from here."

      In the suite, he and Jake fanned out to the different rooms, five in
all; two adjoining bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms and a large living room
where they both returned.

      Paul heaved a huge sigh of relief. "I guess he isn't here after all,"
he told Jake happily. "We might've just missed him."

      Jake nodded, but still had a concerned look on his face.

      They exited the suite and encountered the concierge in the corridor
who asked Paul, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

      Paul didn't slow his stride, already reaching for his phone to call
the studio. Perhaps, Leo had already arrived there in his absence. He
glanced back. "We searched all five rooms and found nothing. Thanks,
though."

      "Uh..." the concierge said uncertainly.

      Jake paused instinctively. "What is it?"

      "Did you check upstairs?"

      Paul's jaw fell agape before he responded flatly, "The penthouse has
an upstairs? How much are we paying for this fucking place?"

      Jake raced back in and allowed the concierge lead them to a mirrored
panel which hid a spiral staircase.

      "This place is a fucking maze," Paul commented as he climbed the
steps carefully. He'd suddenly lost all trace of optimism and found himself
reluctant to go up.

      Leo was sprawled out on the floor. His skin was cold and clammy, dark
hair falling untidily over closed eyes. He looked like he was sleeping,
except there was a stillness about him that just seemed unnatural.

      Paul stood still, didn't want to get too close. He was stunned and
numb while Jake knelt down beside and put two fingers to Leo's neck.

      "There's a pulse," Jake cried with relief. "It's faint, but it's
there."

      Paul blinked then, breaking out of his stupor at Jake's words. He
dialed 911 while looking around the room. As soon as the call was over, he
walked around Leo's unconscious form and grabbed the empty pill bottle
under the table.

      He handed it to Jake in silence.

      Jake glanced at it, but didn't take it from his hand.

      "He was supposed to be clean," he said quietly. "I thought he was
clean."

      Jake muttered something he didn't catch.

      "What?"

      "I got those for him."

      In one smooth motion, Paul threw the bottle furiously across the room
then slammed his hands into Jake's barrel-like chest with enough force to
knock the former athlete off balance. "You stupid son of a bitch."

      Jake couldn't look at him, just knelt down next to Leo and clasped
his hand tightly. "He came to me last week, said he couldn't sleep. He
promised me he'd only take what he needed... I thought he had it under
control. I thought-"

      "He took just what he needed, alright," said Paul, his words dripping
heavily with sarcasm. "He's an addict, Jake. The whole bottle's exactly
what an addict needs."

      "I'm sorry," Jake said, looking at Leo with tears in his eyes and
shaking his head. "I'm so fucking sorry."

      Paul was silent for a few moments then he said firmly. "You're
fired. Once the paramedics get here, get the fuck out and take that bottle
with you."



      ###



      Shane moaned out in pleasure when Drew took his nipple into his mouth
and sucked on it hungrily. He traced patterns across Drew's back, feeling
firm muscle beneath warm skin. He opened his eyes and watched the movement
of his hands, remembering what he loved best about his partner's body;
lean, supple skin covering taut muscle.

      He arched his back when Drew stuck his tongue into his navel before
moving down to his cock and taking it into his mouth. His dick slid in
smoothly over Drew's tongue and he let out a small cry when Drew sucked him
long and hard before pulling off with a wet pop.

      He asked Shane confidently, "Has it really been that long?"

      Shane didn't answer. Just get on with it, he thought. He put a hand
on Drew's cheek and pushed his hips forward.

      Obliging, Drew took hold of his cock again and licked the head before
staring teasingly at Shane. "Tell me how much want me to suck you off."

      Shane sighed inwardly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He
replied with as much patience as he could muster, "Your mouth on my cock,
now."

      Drew smiled. "Good answer."

      With that he bent his head again to take the tip of Shane's cock in
his mouth while one hand gripped the base. y. Shane fucked his mouth in a
slow, shallow rhythm, slowing the roll of his hips to the tune of Drew's
earnest sucking. He felt a rush of arousal at the warm heat circling his
cock. There was a steady thrum of desire coursing through his veins. He
would've liked it hard and fast the first time around but Drew liked to
take his time with these things.

      He let his eyes drift shut. It would be easier to maintain his
arousal this way. He had to stop thinking about the last time he'd given
himself over completely to love making. It'd been three weeks now. One
encounter with Leo Malone and he couldn't get it out of his mind. He'd been
with Drew two weeks, they'd spent almost every night making love and he was
still thinking about Leo.

      His eyes snapped open. He was awful, thinking about Leo while in bed
with Drew. He shouldn't. He ought to think about who was here with him
right now. He leaned forward to run his hands through Drew's hair, trying
to stay in the here and now. Drew's dark hair reminded him of Leo's, but
Leo's was darker and a little shorter. He closed his eyes, remembering the
feel of it in his fingers when Leo was pressed against him, their cocks wet
and slippery rubbing off each other as they raced towards orgasm.

      Drew's hands around his hips to clutch at his butt cheeks, spreading
them and encouraging Shane to arch deeper into his mouth. He knew Drew
would soon reach for the lube to prepare him and he idly wondered how much
quicker, and enjoyable, this would be if he was alone with one hand on his
cock and a dildo in his ass.

      The muted television screen on the wall cast a flickering shadow in
the room. He noticed that news was just coming on...he hoped they'd be done
on time so he could catch The Daily Show. His eyes fluttered down to Drew,
caressing his balls and sucking diligently. He glanced back up to the
television and imagined he'd seen Leo's name on the screen.  Just
great... He wasn't just thinking about the man. He was seeing his name
everywhere too. He stared at the screen once more and realized that it
wasn't just his imagination.

      `Leo Malone Hospitalized after Drug Overdose,' was the headline
flitting across the screen. He jerked away, pushing a very surprised Drew
off him.

      "Where's the remote?" he asked, panicked.

      Drew wiped his lips. "What the hell?"

      "The remote?" he asked more urgently. He couldn't find the damn thing
in the dark. He pulled at the sheets wildly, pushing the duvet and pillows
to the floor in the process.

      Drew leaned over to the nightstand and very calmly passed it to him.

      He grabbed it frantically, and turned up the volume.

      A female reporter's voice came through over the image of paramedics
pushing someone in a stretcher into an ambulance.

      "...found unconscious from a drug overdose and was rushed to
Cedars-Sinai Medical Center earlier today. Reports indicate that alcohol
and prescription sleep medication were found at the scene. At this point,
it remains unclear if this overdose was accidental or a deliberate suicide
attempt. Mr. Malone was in Los Angeles ahead of a concert at Staples Center
this weekend. It is now unclear if his North American concert series will
go on as planned... And on to other news..."

      Shane was white as a sheet, unable to process anything. Leo? Drug
overdose? When? How? Why? Suicide attempt? That meant he was still alive,
right? He heard Drew's voice faintly, asking him a question.

      "What?" he asked impatiently.

      "What the fuck is going on?"

      "I just interviewed him. I know him. Fuck, I don't what happened..."

      Drew watched him in disbelief. "So you stopped us making love for
this?"

      Shane ignored him, got off the bed and began searching through their
clothes on the floor.

      "What're you looking for now?" Drew asked exasperatedly, kneeling on
the bed and watching Shane with growing irritation

      "My phone. Where is it? I've got to call... where is it?"

      "Call who?"

      Shane didn't answer as he searched pocket after pocket for his
phone. "Shit," he cried angrily when it was nowhere to be found.

      "No, fuck you," Drew said as he kicked their clothes out of the way
and stalked angrily out of their bedroom.

      Shane glanced at the slammed door guiltily; he knew he should follow
him and apologize. He considered doing just that, but the image of Leo
being pushed into that ambulance came to him. Drew could wait, he
decided. Right now, he needed to call Paul.

      Now if only he could find his damn phone.



      ###



      Leo woke to Paul's voice growling a threat. "...Get me what I need or
I'll have my hand so far up your ass, it'll come out your mouth and slap
you silly."

      His eyes fluttered open and he muttered weakly, "Shut up." His voice
was gravelly and he clutched his throat in a bid to stave off the throbbing
pain that bloomed when he spoke.

      Paul paused to glance at him. "You're awake," he observed before
returning the phone to his ear. "Get back to me today, or I'll have your
head."

      Leo's vision focused and he took in his surroundings. He was clearly
in a hospital. There were odd looking pieces of medical equipment around
the room, and an I.V stand attached to his left hand stood next to the
bed. What happened now? He wondered.

      "How are you?" Paul asked as he approached the bed.

      A few moments passed before Leo replied, "Where am I?"

      "Cedars-Sinai."

      "Why?"

      Paul ignored his question. "How're you feeling?"

      "Fine... I..." he began and then he realized that he wasn't doing too
good. "Thirsty..." he said then put a hand to his stomach. "I feel
terrible."

      Paul took a glass of water with a straw from the side table and held
it to him. Leo took a few sips using the straw then leaned back on the
pillow. He licked his dry lips and asked, "What happened?"

      "Your stomach got pumped."

      He winced.

      "You don't remember anything?"

      Leo blinked. He didn't want to.

      "Rohypnol will do that to you."

      He looked away.

      "You tried to kill yourself with almost thirty pills two days ago and
you damn well near succeeded too."

      "Two days ago?" Leo couldn't help but ask.

      "The doctor said you might experience some temporary amnesia,
confusion... nothing too serious. It should fade away the longer you're
awake. We found you in your hotel suite yesterday afternoon, Jake and I."

      "Well, fuck you very much." he snarled. A moment later, he sighed,
instantly remorseful. "I didn't mean that."

      "Yes, you did."

      He didn't contradict him. "I need a smoke."

      "No. You're in the hospital," Paul said briskly, "and you just tried
to kill yourself. Let's deal with one vice at a time, okay?"

      Leo took another sip of water.

      "I want you to know that I have no regrets stopping you. And I will
do it again, if I have to."

      Leo looked at Paul uncomfortably. For the first time, he noticed how
disheveled his manager looked. His brown eyes were tired and bloodshot, his
suit rumpled and tie undone.

      "You've been here for two days?" he guessed.

      "Yeah,"

      "I don't know how to..." Leo began uncomfortably.

      "Don't," said Paul quickly, "Not if you don't mean it."

      Leo looked away uneasily and Paul watched him, filled with empathy
for the young man in front of him. They'd been together since the very
beginning.  He was just an A&R executive for Atlantis, a fancy title for a
scout who traveled around recruiting talent for the record company. He'd
made a brief stop in St. Louis to see old friends for Christmas when he'd
spied posters for the band, unoriginally named Rampage for Destruction. He
had nothing to do that night, had made it to the bar just in time to see
the rag tag group of teenagers attempt to put on a show. The band had
sucked but the lead singer was glorious.

      Waiting till their set was over; he'd surreptitiously approached the
kid while the others were packing up their gear. Leo had been decked out in
baggy jeans and a hoodie but Paul had an eye for this sort of thing. The
kid was already a star, but he'd get him looking like one in a tight pair
of jeans, a faded concert tee and a three thousand dollar Rick Owens
leather jacket.

      He'd handed over his card confidently while Leo had eyed it
suspiciously.

      "You're not the first, you know," Leo had said after taking no more
than a second to look at it. "None of the other guys would take them on,"
he said with a nod to his friends.

      "They suck," Paul had said honestly.

      Leo stifled a smile. "They're my friends. I won't go all Hollywood
and leave them behind."

      "Big on loyalty, huh?"

      Leo said nothing, just shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to
another.

      "So let's say I get them some kind of development deal," Paul
improvised, thinking fast. "Nothing solid of course, they'd still have to
prove themselves to get a record deal."

      Leo had perked up, glancing back at his friends. "Really, you can do
that?"

      Paul had shrugged. The way he saw it, he really wasn't making any
promises. Development deals were a dime a dozen, and between the bassist
who couldn't even strum a simple chord correctly and a mediocre drummer,
Paul figured the deal would fizzle out naturally.

      "The guy from Sony said he'd lose his job if he brought them in," Leo
said eagerly, "but you? Wow, thanks. Give me a sec, I've gotta tell the
guys."

      Paul had grinned, suddenly seeing a bright future ahead of him. "Hold
on, let's talk about you for a moment. Let's talk about everything I'm
going to do to make you a star."

      "Paul? Paul?"

      He shook his head to shake away the memories and looked at his client
sitting forlornly on the bed. He hid a yawn behind his palm and said, "The
nurse is probably going to be back shortly."

      Leo nodded.

      "Do you know your net worth?" Paul asked suddenly.

      Leo shut his eyes tightly, wondering where Paul was going with
this. He opened them again and shook his head. He didn't much attention to
the monthly statements he got from his accountant and money manager.

      "How about your insurance bond for this tour, do you know how much
Atlantis took out on you?"

      Leo looked at him warily but didn't speak.

      "Eighty five million. Atlantis records has an eighty five million
dollar insurance policy on your life. They've got another twenty million
dollar policy on your voice, in case you get incurable laryngitis or some
shit like that. And your fingers, say you ever lose any digits in a freak
accident and you can't play the guitar anymore, they get paid."

      "Paul..." Leo said, his voice was tight and desolate.

      "But wait," Paul said with mock humor, "there's more! The benefactors
of your estate will receive a twenty five million dollar payout when you
die. Suicide isn't covered, of course, so I guess your family would've been
short a chunk of change if you'd succeeded yesterday."

      "Don't do this..."

      "Do you want to know what me and the guys get if we lose you?
Nothing. We get zero, zilch, nada. The insurance companies don't have
friendship policies."

      "Paul..." Leo said in a warning tone.

      "So the next time you feel like you've got nothing to live
for... nothing to lose... think on that for a sec," Paul said, his voice
rising in anger with every word. "Jake was crying like a fucking baby when
we found you. Do you know what it's like seeing a grown man built like a
brick shithouse cry? Ray, Dave, Trey and were here all night with me,
scared out of minds that we were going to lose you."

      "I don't know what I was thinking..." Leo said quietly.

      "You were clean. I know when you're using and you were clean as a
fucking whistle. What happened?"

      Leo shook his head, unwilling to answer. The silence in the room
weighed heavily on both of them until Paul cleared his throat. "We leave
Los Angeles as soon as the doctor clears you. The tour's being
rescheduled."

      Leo opened his mouth to protest but Paul cut him off. "It's not my
call. The insurance company won't honor your policy on the tour until you
get a clean bill of health from a shrink."

      "I don't need a shrink. I'm fine, okay?"

      "Just cut it out. Nothing is going to happen until you get
better. The entire tour's being rescheduled as we speak."

      Leo's eyes widened with realization at the enormity of his
actions. "I swear, I wasn't trying to kill myself. There're easier ways to
do that..."

      Throwing him a look of skepticism, Paul said, "Do you know what the
rest of us do when we need some rest? We go for a walk or we drink a glass
of milk. I personally listen to a bit of classical music and I'm out like a
light. My wife takes warm baths and drinks herbal tea... That's what normal
people do."

      "I just wanted a break from everything. I needed some sleep."

      Paul exhaled loudly and said in a firm tone, "Then you should've
taken one or two pills. Better yet, call your doctor and get a prescription
for sleeping aids not that illegal date-rape shit."

      Leo turned his head away to hide the tear that came unbidden to his
eye. He didn't succeed. Paul went to stand by the window to give his friend
some time to compose himself.

      The loud sound of a vibrating phone suddenly invaded the room and
Paul answered it. "Paul Golden. No comment. No. Hell no. Yeah, that's
it. Good bye."

      He put the phone away and turned to Leo. "Fucking reporters been
calling all day. The press wants an update on your progress."

      Leo sniffed but said nothing.

      Silence filled the room as Paul turned back to the window watching
cars pull in and out of the parking lot. "Shane Roderick's been calling,"
he threw out nonchalantly.

      Leo inhaled sharply. "Wha..."

      "I said Shane Roderick's been calling. Wanted to know how you're
doing. I thought you'd want to know."

      Leo nodded, wondering, if all Shane wanted was a scoop for his
show. Did he even care about him? Not likely, after what he'd done.

      "He seemed very concerned," Paul said, as if he'd heard Leo's
thoughts. "He was the only journalist who didn't call dibs on your first
interview... if you want to know."

      "Oh," Leo said with barely concealed surprise. "How did you know
I..."

      "You'd be surprised at what I know.".

      Leo didn't get a chance to follow up on that cryptic statement
because the door opened and a middle aged doctor with a broad smile walked
in, clipboard in hand.

      He nodded at Paul and approached Leo's bed with a wide grin. "Hello
there. I'm Dr. Bernard Campbell. I see the sedation's finally worn off. How
are you feeling?"

      Leo sat up, his cool composure slipping back in place once again. He
instantly disliked the upbeat demeanor of the doctor, acting like he was
walking into a birthday party. "How the fuck do you think I'm feeling,
doctor?" he snarled.

      Paul held back a chuckle as Leo's acerbic tone wiped the cheery grin
off the doctor's face. He'd been having doubts that Leo would recover from
this mess quickly, but he realized that his fears were misplaced. His boy
just might do okay.