Up Close and Personal

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.