His Prisoner by Jesse Jordan (34)

Rocky

“So, Rocky, with the Fragments releasing your first full-length CD, what plans do you and the guys have?” the host asks, grinning with an empty smile that I'm sure comes across well on TV. In the pre-interview chat, I could see that he wasn’t into music... but we're able to fit the interview in right after getting done with the taping for Late Night. I'm looking forward to the flight back, getting some sleep... and my date tomorrow with Cora.

For now, though, it's time to work. “Well, Saturday night we're doing a premiere concert for our newest single, we're calling it Four Letters. That's going to be a ton of fun.”

The host looks interested, grinning like he had tickets or something. “Really? And when can we see a full CD?”

“Gashouse is working overtime on it,” Joey says, taking the lead on those sorts of questions just like the three of us had worked out before the interview. I knew that if we let them, the host would just look at me the whole time, with Joey and Ian being ignored. To hell with that. So, unless they ask us by name, we sort of worked out a rotation. I get to talk about concerts and band activities, Joey's the CD, and Ian is fans or just general things. So far, that's helped, Joey and Ian have both gotten to talk. “It's going to be... well, I'm not trying to get over excited, but we're hoping for something that people will appreciate.”

“The buzz on the web is big for the Fragments,” the interviewer says, smiling still. Jesus, is that smile Botoxed on that way? “A lot of people are still sharing and downloading the little bar blurb you guys did of Gimme Danger. But that's not going to be the lead single, why is that?”

“We were working on the CD, and Gimme Danger is a great track, but Four Letters just spoke to our hearts,” Joey says, causing me to nod. The three of us talked about it on the plane ride over from Los Angeles, and he's right. Cora's words touched Joey and Ian too. “It's that sort of song that just clicked, right to our hearts. The preview video's up already, for anyone who wants to check it out, and the whole thing is going to drop right after the concert finishes streaming.”

The interview wraps up, Ian being his normal public self and answering with one and two word answers most of the time, and we shake hands with the interviewer before we leave the studio. As we do, Martha's waiting for us in the wings, a concerned look on her face. “Rocky? Got a minute?”

I'm groaning inwardly even before Joey and Ian give me commiserating looks and head towards the snack table. I'll give it to the network, they have good snack tables, stocked with stuff from the cafeteria downstairs. “What is it this time?”

Martha sighs, showing me her tablet. “I just got off the phone with Cora about this.”

I look, going white as I see the headline and the video clip. The website's edited at least, they blurred out my cock, but.... but you can see almost everything else. “What? What the fuck, Martha?”

“I know, I know,” Martha says, taking the tablet back. “Like I said, I just got off the phone with Cora about this.”

“And?” I ask, pissed off that I'm facing another personal scandal, but still worried about Cora. “Is she okay?”

“She's happy about it,” Martha says, nearly whispering sadly. “She said… she said that she's glad about it, that she's already going to talk to some of the reality producers about trying to spin this into a spot on a show.”

I wince, my heart aching in my chest. “She what?”

Martha nods, reaching up and patting my shoulder. “I'm sorry Rocky. I think... I think she used you. I know what she said in the parking lot, I heard it myself with my own ears, but maybe... I don't know, Rock. Maybe she's been gaming you the whole time, maybe she thinks that it's not an issue, maybe... I don't know, Rocky.”

I'm crushed, and I turn around, walking off without saying anything, leaving the sound studio and looking for an escape. There's a stairwell off to my left and I take it, heading up the stairs, climbing higher and higher. The interview was done nearly at the top of the Astor Plaza building, so it's only about six floors until I reach the door to the roof, and I open it, gasping half in the exertion and half in emotion. The frigid New York wind smacks me in the face, and I slip and slide as I half-run from the door, looking for quiet and something that I'm not sure even exists. I reach the railing to the fake grass space that's on the roof and lean against it, trying to calm down.

The first tears are hot, burning as they drip down my cheeks, and I try to fight them back, but I can't. They roll out of me, my chest hitching as I start to sob, not caring. Hey, the tabloid media wants to see? Fine, go ahead, take all the fucking photos you want. I don't give a fuck anymore. Watch as 'Rock's Fallen Angel' cries his fucking heart out and sobs like a bitch over a woman who used him, who played him for a fool. Take a look, you fucking vampires. Take a look, make your money, I don't give a damn anymore.

I don't know how long I'm leaning against the railing, I do know that I'm shivering when I hear someone crunching on the snow and turn my head, seeing Ian crossing the roof, his arms wrapped around himself, his face full of concern. “You gonna jump?”

“No,” I rasp, blowing my nose. “Besides, there's another landing like this one floor down, I'd just break my fucking legs.”

Ian comes over and looks, seeing the narrow strip of fake grass below, and off to the corner of the building what looks like it might be a restaurant. “Huh, I didn't know that. We've been looking for you.”

“I figured. You hate the cold,” I rasp again, clearing my throat. “Guess you're glad for the hat right now.”

Ian tugs on the knit cap that he's wearing, he wore it for the interview as well, and half-shrugs. “It helps, I'd rather have a heavy jacket though. Hey, Martha clued Joey and me in on what happened. Jesus man, I'm sorry.”

I shrug, leaning back against the railing again, staring out at the lights of New York. “I love her, Ian. That's what makes this hurt so much.”

“I know,” Ian says quietly, leaning against the railing next to me. “You know what's been bugging me? How's this keep happening to you, anyway? You've got to have the worst luck of any guy I know in terms of tabloid scandals.”

I shake my head, anger and hurt and sadness still boiling inside me. “I don't know, Ian. I'm tired of this shit though. I wanted to be a rock singer, not a tabloid prince. I... I can't take much more of this.”

Ian nods. “I know.”

I look over, surprised at the answer. “What, no comments about bucking up, about learning to deal with it and to focus on the fact that I'm on the verge of becoming a huge rock star?”

Ian shakes his head and shifts around, sitting down on the grass, his legs dangling over the edge of the landing before he leans against the lower railing before looking to his left and right, snorting derisively. “Can't believe the city safety inspectors let this still go on, someone could fall through this and hurt themselves any day. Anyway, Rock, you know that millions of kids every year dream of being rock stars. And for 99.9 percent of them, they don't have what it takes. Whether it's a lack of talent, a lack of look, a lack of work ethic. Whatever it is, they don't have it. So, let's say that you're that one in a thousand kids who has that right combination of talent, look and isn't afraid to work. You've still got thousands of others to compete with. So, what happens to most of that thousand? You ever think about it?”

I shake my head, sitting down next to him. I don't know what it is about Ian, he's just got this way of speaking that calms us, that reaches through the emotions no matter what it is, and while it doesn't cheer us up, it at least gets us from going nuts. Maybe it's just that because he doesn't talk a lot when he does, it's fascinating. “No, what happens to them?”

“There's a few who make it, of course, if even for just a minute. A lot of them turn out sad cases though, especially the one-hit wonders. A lot get burned out, some burn out all the way. Drugs, partying... jumping from fifty-seven story buildings or putting shotguns to their heads. But a lot of them just quit the biz for the very same reason you're hurting right now. Not the sex tape, but the stress and realizing that music... it's both a calling and it's a job, man. We're happy when we play, but it's not forever. We put the guitars and drums up, we have to look ourselves in the mirror. We have to go to the store, we have the same dreams and needs of everyone else. Like love.”

“Like love,” I whisper, putting my head against the railing. “Jesus, Ian, this hurts.”

Ian nods, saying nothing for a long time. Finally, when he does, it's with concern in his voice. “Rocky... I don't want you going on if this is going to kill you. I'd rather we break up the band. I can get a spot working with someone else. It won't be the same, I've enjoyed every minute of being in the Fragments with you. But I don't want to see you dead.”

I swallow, and while my eyes are looking out over Manhattan, I shake my head. “I'll make it, Ian. I owe you and Joey that much.”

“Bullshit. You don't owe us a fucking thing,” Ian says, his voice level and contemplative. “You owe yourself.”

I think it over, and make a decision inside myself. “Okay, maybe I do. But I owe myself more than just walking away. I don't know if I've got a career in this, but that song, the concert tomorrow, I owe that to myself. For all the pain, all the hard work... and that song. It is fucking timeless.”

“And I read the original paper, man. I don't know what she became later on or why, but the eighteen-year-old girl who wrote Four Letters those years ago… she loved you, Rocky. So, if you want my fifty cents’ worth of free advice, tomorrow night, sing to that girl. Not to the image you've got in your mind and heart right now... but sing to the girl that loved you, and to the image that you love. Don't let it go into past tense yet, it's too fresh, too raw for you. But tomorrow, sing for that girl.”

“And the rest of the songs?” I ask, thinking of the fifteen song set that we've put together over our free moments the past few days, old material, new material, and a few rock covers that we've done in concerts just for fun, and thankfully no Eternal Flame.

Ian looks over and smirks. “Sing for Joey. You know he's got the hots for you.”

I laugh and punch Ian in the shoulder. “Asshole. Why do you have to make me smile when my heart's breaking?”

Ian gets up and offers me a hand, pulling me to my feet. “Because that's what life is. Smiling through heartbreak while you slowly freeze your ass off on a New York rooftop. Hmmm, wonder if we can turn that into a song?”

I clap him on the shoulder and give him a hug. “Thanks, big man. No matter what, I've got your back.”

“And I've got yours, Rocky. Come on, Martha's gotta be pissing her pantsuit by now.”

We go inside, where we find Joey and Martha with worried looks on their faces at the studio level, the concern clearing when they see that I'm okay. Martha comes up closer, rubbing my frozen cheek. “Rocky...”

“It's okay, Martha,” I reassure her, taking her hand and pulling it away gently. “I'll be okay. What I need right now though is to get to the airport and fly home. We've got a concert Saturday, and we've still got run throughs to do tomorrow morning on that.”

Something flashes in Martha's eyes, but she swallows and nods. “Okay, Rock. I already talked with the MTV people, they said they'll call us a limo for the trip to JFK. We'll be there in plenty of time. Too bad we don't have a private plane.”

“Hmm, maybe for the world tour,” Joey jokes, patting me on the back. “Come on Rocky, I was thinking we can put a version of Pour Some Sugar on Me in the set Saturday.”

“Not if you want to get paid,” Martha warns, growling, as we turn and leave the studio, heading for the elevator. “You play any Def Leppard, and I'll castrate you all.”

“Then we can sing The Bangles without a problem,” Ian deadpans, and Martha growls again. “What?”

“Fucking rockers. Wiseasses, all of you. Come on, let's go home.”

Cora

The concert isn't so much a concert as it is a press event, and because of that, it's got the whole media circus going along with it. Red carpet entrances for the celebs, who are showing up and being dropped off by their drivers in outfits that might look tame at the MTV Music Awards, but that's about it. For the rest of us who might drive their regular cars, valets are mandatory.

Also, Vevo is streaming the whole concert on the brand new “The Fragments VEVO” channel tonight, with the world premiere of Four Letters happening immediately afterward on MTV.com and on YouTube. I checked this morning, the preview video's hot, already garnering over a half million views even though it's only a forty-second preview clip. As for me, my original ticket was for a celeb entrance, but I go instead through the regular entrance, skipping the circus.

What this means for me is that I'm able to approach the venue without having to walk through the red-carpet gauntlet that the celebrities are. Instead, I look normal in my jeans and the old leather jacket that I used to wear back in high school, my hair pulled back and threaded through the hole in the back of the baseball cap I'm wearing along with the cheap aviator sunglasses that I picked up at the dollar store today.

Why I'm doing this, I don't really know. Actually, check that, I do know. I knew when I dropped Bella off at Mom and Dad's house, already dressed for this fool's errand. They say that love is foolish, that any reasonable person would have cut their losses and moved on by now. Let's face it, I'm not exactly ugly, at least Rocky thinks I'm attractive, and other men have hit on me too. So, it's not a matter of trying to deal with the instinct to reproduce. It's not a matter of security either if I was just money-grubbing I'd have slept my way to a decent prenup when I was an intern.

I'm doing this for Rocky, and for my heart. So yeah, I'm a total damn fool, and I am more aware of that than ever as I hold my arms up for the security guard to sweep the metal detector over my outfit, ignoring the beeps over my sunglasses and the zippers of my jacket. “Take off the glasses.”

I want to protest, I don't know if my face is famous enough to be noticed by security, but I know that if I do, I'm just going to call attention to myself. I quickly pull them off, and the guard checks my eyes, looking carefully. “What's up?”

“Sorry, but we had a bunch of folks show up high as kites last month for some concerts that my company worked, and it's cheaper than the alternative,” the guard says, studying my eyes for a moment before waving me through. “Enjoy it.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, putting my glasses back on and heading into the Bowl. They've built up the stage quickly, erecting temporary extensions that will allow the guys to cross the moat-like gap between the normal stage and the rest of the arena. The Starlight Bowl is often used for stage productions, not rock concerts, and the production crew wants to make sure that not only are the guys close to their fans but also that nobody gets trampled in between a couple of wrought iron fences.

Thankfully, I can use another element of the Starlight Bowl to put my plan into motion. Established the way it is, and built in the late forties, the wings aren't built with the same amount of defined 'front/back' areas that newer stadiums are. The giant evergreen shrubs that extend around the wings of the stage allow open access to the back of the house from the arena area.

I use the shadows and the general hubbub of the situation to try and put my insane plan into action. Roadies are still on stage doing mic checks and lighting checks while most of the concert goers are outside, checking out the A- and B- listers who made it to the concert, probably begging for a few autographs, snapping photos, and stuff like that. Still, there's a lot of people around, and I plan on taking advantage of the craziness. I head towards the wings of the Bowl, looking to get backstage. My plan is simple, just act like I'm supposed to be there, and hope that nobody notices that I'm not wearing an ID tag until I run into Rocky, Ian or Joey.

I slip past the big bushes, and in seconds hit my first snag. While the original plans for the Starlight Bowl might have only had the evergreens separating the backstage and the seating areas, someone must have tried to pull the same trick that I'm trying, because there's waist high temporary security barriers just past the bushes, out of sight of the concert goers but still enough to stop someone who just randomly decides that the big ass bushes aren't a real barrier. I grab on and jump, thankful that I'm wearing tennis shoes and land on the far side. Safe, so far.

I want to hurry, but I know if I run I'm just going to attract attention, and instead I take out my cell phone, pretending that I'm talking to someone as I walk towards the backstage door. I'm just feet away when a security guard comes out, seeing me. “What are you doing back here?”

“What do you mean?” I bluff, hoping he buys it. “I'm part of the crew, you idiot. Now, I need to get this information to Miss Mellors, right away. The camera crew that's going to be working the crowd is saying there's a problem with the uplink feed.”

The guard buys it for a second but then shakes his head. “No, no way. Come on, let me see some ID or your backstage pass.”

I'm desperate, but suddenly luck falls my way as Ian and Joey start to walk by, talking together. “They know me. Ian! Joey! Please!”

Joey looks over, and the look of anger on his face chills me to the bone. What's going on, why is this happening? I figured after Rocky wouldn't return my messages yesterday that he was angry with me for something, or maybe just that he's upset about the scandal, but what could Joey and Ian be angry with me about?

Ian whispers in Joey's ear, and Joey nods, ignoring me and going backstage. Ian comes over, looking at me with an icy, surly stare that sends even more fear into my heart. Ian normally looks like a bear that just got poked with a stick, but he's never looked truly angry before with me. “What are you doing here?”

“Please Ian... please, I have to talk to Rocky. I don't know what's going on, but I have to talk with him, there's been a terrible mistake!” I plead, desperate. The security guard's heard enough and grabs my arm, his grip like iron on my bicep, squeezing tight enough that I think my arm's going to break any minute. Still, I struggle, even as he twists my arm behind me and yanks, my shoulder screaming out in pain enough to make the world swim. “Please, Ian! Please, just two minutes!”

“Stop,” Ian says, putting his hand on the guard's shoulder. “Okay... two minutes, out here. Then I don't want to see you again.”

The guard lets go, and I shake out my arm, hoping that the ache I feel isn't a tear of something inside, and follow Ian. He leads me through the generally organized chaos that is the backstage of any rock concert. All of the equipment creates a huge amount of gear that needs to be brought in. While it's semi-organized, it forces Ian to lead me in a slightly meandering path towards a semi-trailer that's parked along a road. Stopping, he turns around. “Talk.”

“Ian, I don't know what's going on. After I talked with Martha on Thursday, I tried to text Rocky yesterday, and he's ignoring me. I mean, I get that the scandal's bad...”

“Bad?” Ian asks, incredulous. “Do you have any idea how much you've hurt him?”

“Hurt...?” I ask, my voice trailing off. “Ian, what are you talking about? I've never tried to hurt Rocky.”

“Right,” Ian growls sarcastically. “So, you weren't hurting him when you leaked the sex tape and started shopping yourself out to reality TV producers? You weren't hurting him when you lied to him? Martha told us all about it, and I found him on top of the MTV building. To be honest, two days later I'm still not sure if he was going to jump or not.”

I gasp, clutching at my chest at the thought of Rocky being that broken up. “Ian... I never leaked the sex tape. And I didn't talk to any TV producers, why would I?”

“Everyone's got a price,” Ian growls. “How much was yours to lie to him? To trap him for the tabloids? For your TV spots?”

“Wait, what? Ian, no! I didn't lie to him, I was going to tell Rocky about...” I stop, confused. Wait, TV spots? “Ian, what are you talking about?”

“Like I said, Martha told us about it, how you were happy about the tape,” Ian says, shaking his head. “I trusted you too, Cora. I even liked you. So why?”

“I'm not happy!” I yell, tears threatening my face again. “My God, Ian, this is tearing me apart! How do you think it felt telling... telling my family about the tape, being called a slut in the middle of dinner with my...?”

“Ian!” Martha calls from the shadows, stepping forward. “They need you on stage!”

“Okay!” Ian calls, turning back to me. “Time's up.”

“Please Ian, I didn't do it!” I hiss, grabbing his arm and lowering my voice. “Martha's lying to you guys. I didn't sell you out. I love Rocky, you have to believe me.”

Ian looks into my eyes for a moment, then nods. “Okay. Wait here, after the concert I'll see what I can do. But I gotta go.”

“Thank you,” I sigh, letting go. Ian heads off, and I think that Martha's going to follow him, but instead, she waits, studying me with a triumphant smirk on her face. I turn to face her and realize in a crashing moment that all this is her fault, somehow. “What? And why Martha, why?”

Martha laughs evilly, and I shudder knowing that she's been guiding the guys for so long. What sort of damage has she done, what hell has she been putting them through, and why? “Which do you want answered, you stupid little girl? What, or why?”

“How about both, before I kick your ass,” I growl, but before I can do more than take a half step forward, Martha steps back, pulling a gun from her jacket pocket. I freeze, and she hums triumphantly.

“CCW permit, hard to get in Cali but not impossible. You know, it doesn't matter, you're finished in this town. There's no studio with any rep at all that's going to hire a producer that fucks the talent then leaks the sex tape out,” she laughs. “And there's nothing hotter than a rock star who's got a bad boy streak so deep in him that he'll fuck anyone he can if she's willing to give it to him. Cha-fucking-ching.”

“You... you're setting Rocky up,” I growl, taking a half step forward before remembering that Martha's got a gun on me. “Why? You know what this sort of stuff will do to him, to his soul. Why destroy him?”

“He'll realize why some day… when all those people have turned against him, and he's at the end of his rope, and there's only me to save him, to open up my arms and hold him close, comforting him. I'll build him back up, bring him into my bed… and then I'll destroy him fully and completely. Guess he shouldn't have missed my signals the way he missed yours. Not everyone's nice enough to just write some love poetry,” Martha laughs. “Some women don't like being scorned.”

“You… you bitch,” I hiss, and Martha smiles sweetly.

“Why thank you, I appreciate your compliments. Now, it's time for you to go.”

For some insane reason, I step forward, not knowing what's come over me. Actually, I do know. This bitch is threatening to ruin not only me, but more importantly the man I love, and his two best friends. No way in hell, not if I can help it. “I don't think so.”

“Back off, Cora. Don't make me shoot you,” Martha says, her voice dropping to a menacing growl. “Think what that'd do to your daughter.”

“You mean the daughter you lied to Rocky about? Does he even know?” I ask, stepping forward again. “No bitch, I can see it in your eyes. It was your first lie about me, and the biggest one since I actually helped out. How'd you really find Bella?”

“I Facebook stalked you as soon as I saw your reaction to him. I knew about your brat long before you thought to switch things to private. Now, no more warnings... go.”

Instead of turning though, I let my instincts take over, charging Martha as she swings her gun. I step underneath the swing and grab her, the gun going harmlessly over my shoulder to thump against my back, but hey, my leather jacket does more than look cool, and she loses her grip on it, the gun clattering to the pavement. Shoving her against the equipment crate behind her, we wrestle, not politely, not according to any sort of rules, but down and dirty, knees and elbows and fingernails all getting involved. It's not a catfight, but I claw at her, trying to get past her to get to Rocky before things are ruined between us. Martha's yelling, but I get a knee into her thigh, causing her to shriek in pain. I start to get up, but before I can I'm tackled, the security guard’s slamming me to the ground and knocking the wind out of me. “Bitch! Let me go!”

“Call the cops on her,” Martha says to the guards, letting the guards help her to her feet. “She threatened to kill me, and to blackmail Rocky.”

“No! You lie!” I gasp, but the guard's still on my back, I can barely breathe. I feel my arms wrenched behind my back again, and the zipping sound of the plastic cuffs being tightened on my wrists. Someone grabs my feet, and despite how hard I try and kick I feel the same thing happen to my ankles before I'm picked up like a sack of potatoes and hauled towards the road. “I'll get you, bitch!”

“No... you won't,” Martha says, turning away. The guards turn my body as they haul me, and I can't see anything more except the road and the flashing lights of the approaching cop car coming up the road, I guess they were close. I hang my head, wondering what I'm going to do.

I just don't know.

Rocky

“Rocky... yo, Rocky!” Ian calls, catching up with me. The last-minute preparations before the concert have been hectic, a lot more hectic than anything I would have expected. First, I actually had to sit down for makeup. Honestly, who the fuck wears makeup on stage at a rock concert? Well, Joey does, but that's his look. He's got the whole eyeliner and even a half of his mouth done up with black gloss, taking it up half a notch from what we normally do. I'm the same way, my normal look just taken up half a notch. The whole thing is us, but with the volume turned up a little bit. It's all for the cameras for the Net feed. Apparently, the director and the folks at the label want us looking good out there.

Ian on the other hand... looks like Ian. Except that right now, instead of looking sleepy or grumpy, he looks worried. “Ian, what's up?”

Ian glances at Joey, who shakes his head. “I didn't say nothin'. We don't need that shit before this.”

“Yeah, we do,” Ian says, turning back to me. “Rocky, Joey and I ran into Cora outside. Listen, man... she's saying that she didn't leak the video. She said that...”

“Guys, you gotta be on stage!” the concert director says, interrupting Ian. “Now! We start live streaming in one minute!”

I wave the guy off but look at Ian. “Listen, after the concert, tell me. If you believe her, we can talk.”

Ian nods, looking over at Martha when she approaches. Her suit looks jacked up like she's been fighting with someone, and her hair's a mess, but she's smiling. “Come on guys, let's have a good concert.”

“And Cora?” Ian asks, but Cora shakes her head. “You were there.”

“She's not here anymore. After the concert, guys. She and I talked some. Come on, go out there and rock. That's the end of the rainbow out there!” she says, smiling broadly as she points toward the stage. “Go kick ass!”

I'm confused, looking from Ian to Joey to Martha, and my mind is whirling with questions about Cora, but the director's in our ear again, tugging on my jacket, and I throw my hands up. “Fine, fuck it. I want a full explanation of this shit when this is all done. Let's go.”

The crowd isn't the biggest we've performed in front of, even with the standing room crowd area there are only six thousand people. These six thousand though, they're here to see us, not some main act... and in the wings checking some of the faces I see before the lights go down, I think the net worth of the six thousand people outstrips the thirty thousand we played warm up.

“Holy shit,” Joey mutters, glancing over at me. “Was that Emilia Clarke?”

“You should try to get her number after this,” I joke, taking a deep breath. “Come on guys, this is just like any other concert.”

“Ladies and gentlemen...” the public-address system booms, in a voice that sounds like it's making the trailer for an epic movie or something. In a land without hope, a woman with no chance meets a man with no fear... “Rocky Blake, Joey Rivera, and Ian Ivory... the Fragments!”

The applause is loud, but with an open-air amphitheater, it's not too bad. It helps us to keep our wits about us as I run out on stage, the spotlight following me before Joey follows, and Ian stalks behind, heading for his drums. When we're all in place, the lights drop for a moment, and Ian smacks out on his drumsticks. “One-two-three-four!”

Joey rips off the opening riffs to Gimme Danger, and the spotlights and stage lights flash on as Ian tears into his drums. I'm momentarily blinded, the crowd reduced to nothing more than a faceless, single mob blob, shadows against a bright light that I can read by sound and instinct more than anything else.

The crowd's cheering, and I can even hear some of the fans in the standing room only section along the edge of the stage singing along as Joey and I start singing the chorus.

Joey nails his guitar solo, nearly tearing the stars down from the heavens with the scream of his guitar, and we launch into the second half of the song. We're having a great time, and at least more importantly for my peace of mind at the moment, I'm having a great time. When the song wraps, the roar of applause is larger than when we came out, and as my eyes adjust to being able to see the crowd, I can see that even some of the celebrities who came more for the chance to get their picture in People or Variety or maybe The LA Times are cheering.

“Thank you, thank you,” I say into my microphone, taking a deep breath and calming down. “How'd you all like that?”

“YOU GUYS KICK ASS!” someone in the crowd calls, which is followed by a roar of approval from the crowd.

“I'd say you guys kick ass for coming out here for us, so thank you!” I call back, getting another roar. “Okay, we're going to play a long time favorite of ours, this song was first done back in nineteen eighty-seven, and by the way, our manager has already promised to kick my butt if we play it... but what they hell, this song rocks!”

Joey hits the opening riffs with me playing backup, and the crowd, which has a lot of older celebrities in it in their thirties and forties, is clapping along almost instantly as we launch into a cover of Pour Some Sugar on Me, a classic that again has everyone singing their asses off with us. In fact, the crowd is so loud at times that I don't even need to sing, and I hold the mic out to the crowd during the last chorus, letting them sing their own version, bringing a party atmosphere to the concert. When it wraps, Joey, Ian and, I are already sweating, and I'm grinning ear to ear. Ten minutes in, and we've got them in the palm of our hands already.

I go over to Ian's drum set, grabbing the towel off the little stand we've set up and mop my forehead, giving Ian a thumb’s up. He returns it, taking a quick swig of water while we've got a moment to breathe in between songs. “Water?”

“Yeah,” I answer, taking a swig from the squirt bottle, capping it and turning back around. I grab the mic from the stand and play to the crowd a little, letting the mood mellow out. “You know, maybe it's just a rumor, but I heard somewhere that the whole reason Steven Tyler started that whole long scarf thing on his mic stands was because he wanted a quick way to wipe his forehead. Who knows, after this, we might be famous enough to get the truth straight from his mouth. Hey, anyone know if Steven or Liv is in the crowd tonight?”

“Yeah man!” a distinctive voice from the crowd calls, and I shade my eyes, seeing a dark figure stand up. “You're rocking baby!”

“Holy shit,” I mutter, the mic picking it up and causing a ripple of laughter. “I've met an honest rock god. Thank you for coming, Steven. Uh... go easy on us when we play Sweet Emotion in about twenty minutes. And... mind if I get your autograph later?”

Another ripple of laughter rolls through the crowd, and I grin before letting the smile fade. “Our next song, well, it's our lead single off our new album. Sitting around the studio one day with our producer, we were trying to figure out...” I start, getting ready to go into the story of how Four Letters was written, but I shake my head. I can't, thinking about Cora and what she did hurts too much right now. “Maybe that story can be another time. But let's slow it down now... Four Letters.”

The lights dim, our lighting crew is professional as all hell, and I put the mic back on its stand. This time I play the opening notes on my guitar before letting it slump to the side and Joey takes over while I start singing. The pain in my heart is real, thinking of what Cora did to me, and I falter for a moment. Joey and Ian cover it, and I swallow, remembering Ian's advice. Sing to the girl who wrote this, sing to the girl who has my heart, not the woman who hurt me.

Tears slip from my eyes as I sing, and when the final note slips away into the night, there's silence, just like when we demonstrated it to the record execs. The first applause starts somewhere in the back, rolling forward in a quiet, mixed way as people wipe their eyes and come back from wherever the song took them in their minds and hearts, until it swells, grows, and rolls over us in a tsunami of hands clapping. There are few cheers, no roar of approving voices, most people are still too raw to trust opening up, and I step back into the darkness that's outside the spotlight that's shining on me, crying a little before wiping my eyes and gathering myself for the rest of the concert.

* * *

The final applause is massive, and looking out over the crowd with Joey on my left and Ian on my right, we bow, thanking them one more time for coming out. The video feed for Vevo cut off about two minutes ago according to the motions from the director in the wings of the stage, and I turn to Joey and Ian, grabbing them in a hug. “Thank you,” I say quietly, my microphone discarded for now. “Thank you.”

“Rocky... if I live to a thousand years old, I'll never forget that performance of Four Letters,” Joey rasps. “I love you, bro.”

“I love you too, Joey,” I reply, hugging my brother tightly before hugging Ian, both of us with similar words. I'm an only child from Simi Valley, but my two brothers are a Puerto Rican kid and a guy from Huntington Beach, that's all there is to it. The three of us leave the stage while the public-address announcer takes over, thanking everyone for coming to the Starlight Bowl, and giving advice on how to get their cars or other means to leave. Little of it means shit to the celebrities, they're invited to the after party at the country club that's next to the Bowl.

“Rocky...” Ian says, and I can see in his eyes that he wants to talk about Cora and her being here, but before he can continue, Larry is there, grinning and clapping us all on the shoulders.

“My God, guys, you three did it! I don't quite understand it all, I guess I'm getting old, but apparently, you guys are the number one trending topic on Twitter, and the live stream had at one point over a million viewers! The video for Four Letters has only been out for ten minutes, and you've already got a hundred thousand views. Guys... the media analysts are saying this could be in Hello territory,” Larry gushes, still grinning. “Biggest major debut ever!”

“That's great Larry,” I reply, shaking hands with him. My throat is harsh though, and I need water, breaking into a slight cough. Larry notices and grabs a bottle from a nearby table and hands it to me, letting me take a big swig. “Seriously, thank you for all your support on this.”

“And to think, I wanted Eternal Flame!” Larry says with a laugh, clapping me on the back. “Listen, I had a request from Martha, some media folks want to talk to Ian and Joey. Since you guys aren't scheduled to go to the after party for another forty-five minutes, I'm gonna pull them away. Rocky, get yourself a drink and relax a little before you have to change.”

Ian's eyes flare at Larry's words, and he holds up a hand when Larry goes to lead him away. He leans in, whispering in my ear. “Cora said Martha's lying. She didn't sell you out. After that comment in the wings, I believe her. Find Martha.”

I nod, and Ian walks away, Joey next to him. I finish off my bottle of water, but the next thing I need to do is pee like a madman. After a long set like this, I always have to whiz like a racehorse, and I rush to the bathroom, making it in time. As I shake off, I think about what Ian said. Cora didn't sell us out? Martha's lying? I have to know.

I shake my cock off and zip up, rinsing my hands before I leave the bathroom, looking for Martha. She's nowhere to be found, so I grab one of the roadies. “Hey, you seen Martha Mellors?”

“Who?” the guy asks, in that typical bored roadie voice. I understand, they've worked with guys a lot more famous than me, but I suspect that it's a point of professional pride. They'd sound that bored if John Lennon somehow came back from the dead and asked for directions to the nearest McDonald's.

“Our manager. Black hair, black pantsuit?” I ask, holding my hand up at about Martha's height. “Usually carrying a tablet?”

“Oh yeah, Vampirella,” the roadie says, pointing off to his left. “Just saw her going into one of the dressing rooms, she was on her phone.”

“Thanks,” I tell the guy, walking off while he pushes another crate of gear towards the front of the house. The hallway with the dressing rooms is one of the only carpeted ones in the back, and my footfalls go quiet as I approach the cracked open door. I slow down as I approach, listening as I hear Martha on the phone.

“Yeah... yeah... yeah, I'll try and get you the security feed, but it's gotta be edited. Why? You don't fucking need to know why. But yeah, I got her arrested,” Martha says, and I stop just outside the door, listening. Martha's walking back and forth, I can hear her boots on the thin carpet, and her voice is fading in and out.

“Of course, it's a setup! What, you think Miss Goody Two Shoes is actually stupid enough to try and do that? Come on, I had to prod her like a motherfucker to get her to snap enough to get the security guards involved. After I did that double check on her, you know I had to set her up.”

Martha stops, listening to the person on the other side of the phone call. I quickly reach into my pocket, pulling out my cell phone from my jacket pocket and turn on the voice recorder as Martha continues. “Her kid? Honestly, I don't give a fuck. I assume the little shit's at her grandparents' house, maybe she's with a babysitter, who the fuck do you think I am? No, no, no. It's not his, but if you wanna drop some innuendo, you probably can get away with it. Who the fuck cares? I'm sure you know how to phrase it. No... come on Joanne! You're getting good hits and feeds from this, and I know you watched that video enough times to get yourself off at least twice. And I'm not even asking you for money, I just want her destroyed and him...”

“Him what?” I ask, shoving the door open hard enough to make it bounce off the far wall and close behind me as I step in. “Him what?”

“Uhh... I'll call you back,” Martha says, hanging up her call and turning to me. “Rocky... great concert, and you really kicked...”

“Shut up,” I hiss, slamming my fist against the wall. “I heard it all, Martha. Or at least enough. You set up Cora. You're the leak, aren't you? You've been the leak all along.”

Martha goes to shake her head, then shrugs when she sees that I'm not going to buy any bullshit job, her game's up. “I was doing my job, Rocky, that's all. Come on, I tried to tell you. This is a new era, baby. Nobody gives a damn about a guy who can sing well! Nobody gives two shits about good music! The public, they want to eat you alive, they want to want to suck you dry and if you're not on drugs, fucking someone famous, or getting into trouble, nobody gives two fucks about you!”

“So, you manufactured scandals,” I growl, keeping my phone hidden in my hand. I hope this is being picked up. “The fights, the groupies, all of it... you fed the scandals to the scandal sheets.”

“Of course, I did!” Martha yells, throwing up her hands. She's pacing again, looking at me wild-eyed. “I had to! Rocky, your image is that you're the guy every motherfucker in the world wants to be, and every woman wants to fuck, but in real life, you're boring as fuck to the general public. Nobody cares about the amount of weight you can bench press, or that you like long walks on the beach or riding your mountain bike up in the canyons to gain inspiration for writing music! You're a boring ass white boy from Simi Valley, and the general public doesn't give a shit about the fact that you're a great guy! They'd rather that you be an asshole, so the guys can reassure themselves that they aren't totally shamed by you, and all the girls can fantasize about rehabbing the bad boy.”

“How long?” I ask, trying to control my anger. I might be a 'boring ass white boy from Simi Valley,' but I've had to throw down more than once, and not all the scars on my body are from riding my bike. Still, I won't hit a woman, as much as Martha deserves it right now.

“Who do you think engineered all those meetings with the girlfriends? I made sure you'd meet girls who were not into long term things. Hell, I'd have hooked you up with Taylor Swift if I'd had the chance, with all the good that would have done to your public profile,” Martha says, chuckling. “Rocky, the public wants you sexy and single, it's my job to keep you both.”

“And Cora? Why did you lie about her, try to destroy her?” I ask. “And what's this about a kid?”

Martha shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “It doesn't matter, Rock. She's done, gone, kaput in this town.”

“Then so are you. You betrayed me, you betrayed the band!” I yell, angry and hurt. “Why? Why are you trying to wreck my life?”

“Because you rejected me!” Martha yells back. She sees that I don't know what she's talking about, then laughs harshly. “Oh, you don't even remember, do you?”

I think and remember. It was my twenty-first birthday, two and a half years ago. I'd just turned twenty-one, and Martha took me out to celebrate. Ian and Joey were both tied up for the weekend she said, so we went out and got blitzed at a club, dancing on the floor where she got a little grabby, grinding on me. The next day I'd woken up with a splitting headache and fuzzy memories, not quite sure how I got home, but I'd woken up alone. “My birthday?”

Martha nods, an ironic half-smile on her face. “Yeah... I'd liked you for six months Rocky, but you did the same thing to me you did to Cora back in high school. You friend zoned me, not even realizing that I was into you. So, I got you drunk, hoping that I could get past that good guy side of you. You... you said yes, you stupid fuck. Actually, you called me Cora, saying that you were so sorry you'd overlooked me for so long. It broke my heart, you calling me that, and I walked away. How do you think I remembered that name so well when I first heard you call her that in the booth?”

I stare at her, stunned. “You... Martha... you... that's it. You're fired.”

“You can't fire me, I work for the label,” Martha says, smirking. “And I've got plenty to back up my version of things.”

“Maybe, but I've got two things on my side,” I reply, smiling a predator's smile, nothing at all like the smile that I give friends, or the flirty smirk that I use on stage. There's no warmth in it, and I understand now, for the first time in my life, what real hatred is. “First, I'm the superstar, remember? I'm the guy fronting the band that's trending on Twitter. And second...”

I pull my phone from my pocket, showing her the voice recorder still going. “I've got you admitting to so many things, I'm sure at least some of this is criminal. You're done. Have a good life, Martha.”

I turn on my heel and leave the dressing room, walking down the hallway and across the backstage area towards the exit to the Bowl. I half expect Martha to try to follow me, but she doesn't, and I get outside without anyone stopping me. I see Larry, who's still talking with some magazine media, I think that's the reporter from Rolling Stone that introduced himself before the concert. “Hey, Rocky!” Larry calls, waving me over. “Jimmy would like a quote.”

It's hard to even think about trying to play the media game, but going off right now would do nothing but cause trouble, so I come over, clapping Larry on the back and giving Jimmy the reporter a respectful nod. “Of course, but then I've gotta talk with you, Larry. In private?”

“Sure,” Larry says, still smiling. He can see it in my eyes, something's wrong, but he's been a pro at this a long time.

“So, Rocky, after tonight's smash premiere concert, what's next for the Fragments?” Jimmy asks his voice recorder out.

“We're going to keep putting our hearts into our music, and I hope we can keep entertaining the fans,” I say. “I'll let Larry and the team at Gashouse figure out the details.”

“One more thing...” Jimmy says. “During your intro for Four Letters, there was a bit of a pause. Uh, got anything to comment on that?”

I nod, my false superstar smile disappearing. “Yeah... that song was written by a very, very special person. I paused because I was thinking of her, that's all. Who knows, maybe someday I'll tell the full story. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk with Larry.”

“Of course. Thanks, guys,” Jimmy says, leaving us. I wait for him to be totally out of earshot, and turn to Larry.

“What's going on, Rock?” Larry asks, his face written with concern.

“Larry, I'm going to have to miss the after party,” I explain, taking my phone out of my pocket again. “Here, copy this voice file. You've got a worm in your apple, and I think you need to know about it. And I need to apologize to Cora.”

“Cora?” Larry asks, surprised. “Rocky... I just got done talking with the cops. She was arrested tonight, she's been taken to jail.”

“WHAT?!?!?!”

Cora

“No Mom... no, I want you to keep Bella with you guys. Don't bail me out, I don't need it. Yeah, the processing guys said that LA County runs arraignments seven days a week, so I'll be put through tomorrow. No Mom... no... no. Mom, I understand, but I'll be okay. Okay, Mom, the guard's giving me the signal, my time's up. I love you too, give Bella a kiss. No, if she asks, tell her what happened. It's okay and I don't want to have to explain away a lie later. I love you too. 'Bye.”

I hang up the phone and take a deep breath. The guard, who's probably seen a million people come through the processing cell at the Burbank City Jail, isn't sympathetic, but at the same time doesn't look like they're about to bust my head in either.

“Guess I got lucky to be arrested in Burbank instead of Compton,” I mutter to myself, but the guard overhears me anyway, laughs.

“You're lucky that we're slow tonight and that you're a woman here on something minor,” the guard says. “Anyone arrested on serious charges we ship to LA County Jail. Guys got a ninety percent chance of going to County. What'd you do, anyway?”

“Got in a fight with a bitch who's wrecking the life of the man I love. Huh, she told the security guys who arrested me that I tried to kill her.”

The guard starts to escort me back to the holding cell, laughing. “Yeah well, obviously, the guys who brought you in, put something different down. All right, here we are. We'll see if we can get you processed into a bed sometime soon.”

The guard unlocks the door of the holding cell and lets me back in. It's your typical holding cell, ten people sharing three benches, all of us sitting around looking at each other. Most of them look like they're off in their own heads. Two of the girls are drunk. One of them sleeping it off, while one of the others, a knockout redhead who is dressed in what looks like haute couture, sits back, bored. I try to settle in, and lean back against the wall, sighing as I think about what a fuck-up I've made of everything.

“So, what are you in for?” the redhead asks, turning her head to look me over. “You're not drunk, no drugs, and no offense honey, but you're no gangbanger.”

“Thanks, I think,” I answer, looking off into the ceiling. “I'm... I'm in for going after my heart.”

The redhead nods, humming. I don't know why I answered the way I did, it's a different answer than what I told the guard. Maybe it's just different sitting around with a bunch of other women who are also in the system instead of talking with a guard, maybe it's just that it's ten minutes later.

“Love, huh?” the redhead asks after a moment. “Over a man?”

I nod, tears threatening. “I... I fell in love, but another woman lied about me, she's trying to hurt the man I love. I went to the concert tonight to try and talk with him. I never got my chance and ended up here. How about you?”

“I guess you could say love too,” the redhead says with a mirthless chuckle. “I'm an escort. I was with one of my clients when his wife came in, the cops with her.”

“Didn't know the cops did that for cheating husbands, even if you are... well, I guess they arrested you for prostitution?” I ask, not sure how to broach the subject.

“Yeah, that's what's on the arrest sheet. Trust me, I'm no mere hooker though. As for the cops, when the wife happens to be a member of the State House who is up for election next year and doesn't want the press sniffing out the fact that her husband was trying to charge off fifty thousand dollars of the campaign funds on, well I believe the term she screamed at him was, consultation fees.”

“Fifty grand?” I ask, incredulously. “For... what?”

“Monthly visits. He's been my client for about a year now. I'm quite good at what I do,” the woman replies proudly. “Like I said, I'm not just a hooker. I actually do have my master's degree from Yale.”

“Wait... how does a master's degree from Yale lead to escorting?” I ask, perversely intrigued. “I mean... if you want to share.”

“Sure. Last year I filed taxes with the IRS for two hundred thousand dollars, all legally listed as consulting fees. The degree comes in handy there. And that's just what I declared, there were a lot of perks. I haven’t had to pay for much of my life for the past three years, it’s all gifts from clients. I'm twenty-six with a house already paid for, half a million in investments, and even if this shuts me down I'm pretty much set for life,” she says, not cocky but just proud of what she's done. “I can see you're still confused.”

“No... yes... I guess. I mean, I'm nowhere near as experienced with men as you are obviously, I guess sex carries a lot of emotional weight for me,” I stammer, trying to put what I want to say into words. “Sorry, I'm not trying to be mean.”

The redhead shakes her head, laughing softly. “Don't worry about it, I know what you mean. And I'm not trying to be a robot either. If the right person comes along, I'll leave this life, sell off my client list to another girl who I can trust to take care of them. Client list I have, I'll score an easy quarter million even if I let it go on a fire sale discount. As for emotional weight, I've felt that from time to time. Who knows, maybe I'm just waiting for the right person.”

“I... I knew the right guy as far back as high school,” I admit for some reason. “Back then, he didn't recognize what I felt for him. Then we got back together through our work, and well... it clicked this time. Until the other woman got in the way.”

“Don't they always?” the redhead asks. She offers her hand, and we shake. “By the way, I'm Kelly.”

“Cora,” I reply, shaking. “So, do you think you're going to get busted? What about your savings and stuff, you know?”

Kelly shakes her head, smiling. “Most of what I've got is in offshore accounts, and besides I declared it properly, as consulting fees like I said. And with my client list... well, let's just say that I might be forcibly retired, but the names I've got in my little black book, they don't want to even take the chance that I might leak. The Assemblywoman's husband isn't the only powerful client that I visit. Once my lawyer gets here, I'll be good.”

I lean back, the two of us staring at the walls, the silence stretching out except for the snore of the sleeping drunk until Kelly asks again. “So... do you have any kids?”

“A daughter,” I admit, the thought of Bella bringing tears to my eyes. “She... I have no idea how I'm going to explain this to her when I get out. She's three, she turns four in the spring.”

Kelly smiles, and scoots over, taking my hand. “You're lucky, and no lie, I'm jealous. You have a daughter who loves you, I can see that just in your eyes and by how you just talked about her. We... we escorts have to know how to read our clients and people very well, very quickly, to get as good as I've become. So focus on her... just take care of her. Maybe someday, when I find the right guy, I'll be as lucky as you.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I just... I love him, too. Rocky's the man I wish was her father, he and I... I've loved him for years. But, am I just being delusional?”

“No, you're not delusional,” a choked voice comes from the front of the cell, and I turn my head, sure I'm imagining things. Rocky's there, still in his stage clothes, a guard next to him. “Come on, I'm getting you out of here.”

Kelly pats my knee and gives me a smile. “I think you've got your answer. Good luck.”

* * *

“So, you told Larry what you overheard?” I ask, sitting in the questioning room of the police station that's attached to the jail while the rest of the paperwork is being filled out. I'm still in shock, Rocky's right here, and since leaving the cell he's not let go of my hand, except when I had to go pee.

“I did more than that, I shared the whole sound file with him,” Rocky says, reaching up and stroking my hair. “Oh, Cora... I'm so, so sorry. How could I have doubted you?”

“It's okay,” I reassure him, on the edge of tears again, the fifth time since stepping out of the cell and into his arms for a hug. “You were being lied to by someone you thought you could trust. You knew her for years.”

“I've known you longer,” Rocky whispers, his thumb stroking over my cheekbone. “And yet I didn't believe you. I'm... I'm a terrible person.”

“No, you're the man that I love,” I reply, putting my hand on his heart. “I was hiding something from you... my daughter.”

“I overheard something Martha said about a child, and it made sense as I got a ride over here,” Rocky says, then he smiles. “Okay, enough of that. I was a fool for not believing you, and you were one hundred percent right to protect her. The rest of that we'll chalk up to just bad timing and Martha's lies.”

“Really?” I ask, and Rocky nods. “Rocky... I know this isn't my apartment, but I'd like to still lay things out between us in the free time right now. Like you know, I have a little girl, her name's Bella.”

“That's a beautiful name,” Rocky comments. “How old is she?”

“She'll turn four in April, actually. Uh... you know the father,” I say with a shake of my head. “Duane Phillips. He and I hooked up at LACU for a minute there.”

“Is he still around?” Rocky asks. “I mean, I know you're single Cora, but... well, I'm just curious.”

“He hasn't been part of my life since about a month after I found out I was pregnant. The only interaction he has in Bella's life is the monthly child support payment he sends,” I tell Rocky, shaking my head. “It was a mistake to ever sleep with Duane. But... Bella's the best thing in my life. Rocky... Bella and I, we're a package deal. No more lies, no more deceptions, I want to be upfront with you on that.”

Rocky nods, holding my hand still. “I've been thinking about that ever since I had a chance to reflect on what Martha said to her source. I was thinking, am I really ready to be put into a fatherhood role? Because Cora, I'm not interested in something casual, especially with you. And the more I thought about it... the more I realized that I am. Now, I'm not saying I'm going to step right in and start playing Daddy, I realize I need to get to know Bella and she needs to get to know me. But... well, the more I thought, the more I realized that I love you. And I've loved you for years, probably as far back as high school.”

“Really?” I ask, stunned. “But...”

“But I was a dumbass,” Rocky completes for me. “Cora, do you want to know why Martha was so vicious in what she did to you?”

“She said something about you rejecting her when she pulled her gun on me,” I comment, and Rocky nods. “You did? I never knew.”

“I didn't even know until tonight. Back when I turned twenty-one, Martha and I went out to celebrate,” Rocky says, kind of embarrassed. “We did the normal thing, got pretty wasted at a club. Now, we'd been working together for a while, and I was friendly with her but I didn't have any feelings for her. Apparently, she did... but when she had almost seduced me, she walked away.”

“So, she started making up the scandals,” I comment, sighing. “But why Rocky? You say she walked away after she'd almost seduced you. Why would she hate you so much as to try and wreck your life?”

“Because of what I said to her,” Rocky says softly, squeezing my hand. “You see, the reason Martha tried to destroy you so much wasn't just because we fell in love... but that when I was nearly seduced by her, I called her Cora.”

His words hit me like a thunderbolt and I feel my heart swell, and I grab Rocky's head, pulling him into a kiss. All the pain, all the hurt of the past days wash away in the feel of his lips on mine, and I lean in, giving him all of me. We're interrupted when the door of the interview room opens, and Larry comes in, along with a lawyer from Gashouse Records. “Well, I guess you two made up.”

“Uh... yeah. Larry, I'm sorry about causing trouble and making you miss the after party,” I plead, getting to my feet. “You guys didn't have to come down here after midnight to get me out of jail.”

“Considering that an employee working for me was leaking information to the press, ruining not just your life but Rocky's, and all of it under my nose without me knowing, it's only the beginning of what I need to do,” Larry says. “Mr. Thompkins, you have anything to add?”

“Yes,” the lawyer says. “As part of the agreement that Larry had me work with Martha Mellors, she has withdrawn her complaint against you, everything's been dropped. Also, Mr. Olson took a few minutes to discuss something else with me. I told him I advise against it, but he seems to not want to listen to that advice.”

“What?” Rocky asks, confused. “Larry, I thought we were just going to get Cora out of jail.”

“We are, but you guys need a ride, and I figure we can talk business in the back. It's one perk of having to bail people out after a concert, we get to ride in a limo afterward,” Larry says, gesturing to the door. “Come on Cora, you're a free woman, and I will at least give you a ride home, or wherever else you want to go.”

The four of us climb into the back of a limo, which pulls away, and I feel like I'm in a surreal situation, sitting in the back of a limo at roughly one thirty in the morning with Rocky, Larry, and a lawyer. Finally, after a block of the four of us staring at each other, I speak up. “Uh, this is weird.”

“Welcome to showbiz,” Larry jokes. “But if I can be serious, what Martha did, it's inexcusable. Unfortunately, trying to prosecute it would be nearly impossible. Still, I got her to sign a resignation letter, while Gashouse promised not to prosecute for hacking and stealing footage from our security system. There are a few other laws as well, but Gashouse promised not to go after her.”

“But I can,” I growl, and Larry nods. I think about it, and look over at Rocky. “No... no, I don't need to do that.”

“Good, because I'd prefer if you were focused,” Larry says. Rocky gives him a questioning look, and Larry grins. “Rocky, your band is missing a manager now. So, I had an idea. Instead of hiring a producer and having your manager do publicity, what about hiring a publicist and having your manager do production instead?”

Rocky's lips spread in a grin and he looks at me. “Well? What do you say? I mean, we'd need to run it past the guys, but I think Ian and Joey would go for it. And I can't think of anyone who'd look out for our well-being better than you.”

I take Rocky's hand and nod. “One question.... does this mean I need to start wearing suits?”

“Nope,” Larry replies, laughing. “As long as you won't get arrested for public indecency, you can wear anything you want to work. Hell, you make songs as good as Four Letters, you can do production work wearing just body paint for all I care.”

I nod and let go of Rocky's hand just long enough to offer my hand to Larry. “Larry, you have a deal. We can talk details later. In the meantime, do you mind giving Rocky and me a ride to Simi Valley?”

“Simi Valley?” Larry asks, surprised. “I thought your apartment was closer to Burbank.”

“Yes... but my daughter's in Simi Valley, and I think Rocky is due an introduction.”

Rocky

Larry wishes us both a good evening as we get out of the limo, still holding hands. We'll see him Monday. We watch as the taillights wink at the stop sign, cherry for a moment before the limo turns right and starts driving back towards the freeway to take Larry home. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah... kinda pissed that my phone got broken in the scuffle,” Cora says lightly. “It'd have been nice to be able to give Mom and Dad warning about us coming.”

The porch light turns on next to the front door of Mr. and Mrs. Clearwater's house, and I put my arm around Cora's shoulders, smiling. “I don't think that they went to bed. Come on, let's go see your daughter.”

The door opens even before we're halfway up the walk, and Mrs. Clearwater comes running out, pulling Cora into a hug as she sobs, happiness and concern written on her face. “Cora... oh my baby girl, how....”

“Shh, Mom, it's okay,” Cora whispers, trying not to cry herself. Mr. Clearwater is right behind, and while his eyes are shining in the streetlight, he's not quite as openly emotional as his wife.

“Thank you, Rocky,” Mr. Clearwater says, offering his hand. “I assume that you had something to do with this.”

“In more ways than you know, sir,” I reply, shaking his hand. “Actually, I feel like I owe you and Mrs. Clearwater an apology.”

“You got our daughter out of jail, and Larissa already told me that you and Cora.... well, she said that you might be in love. No apologies are necessary or wanted. Whatever else, just call me Bruce,” Mr. Clearwater says. “Please, welcome to my home.”

It's nearly three thirty before we get done telling Bruce and Larissa the details about what happened, and by the end, all four of us are yawning. Finally, Larissa stretches her arms overhead and smiles, her back cracking loud enough that I can hear it from the other side of the couch. “Okay guys, I think that's the signal that all of us should get some sleep. Rocky, you're perfectly welcome to stay here, if you'd like.”

“Thank you, Larissa,” I reply, still rolling the names around in my mouth. It seems strange, I've known them for a decade, and it's going to take time to think of them by their first names. “The couch is nice here.”

“Would you like to look in on Bella first?” Cora asks, taking my hand. “And then tomorrow... well, we'd originally planned to get together Friday night, but I think Sunday's a good day too.”

“That sounds perfect,” I reply. “Oh, remind me. Tomorrow we need to get together with Joey and Ian. They need to know about this too. Larissa, Bruce, thank you. And good night.”

Cora leads me towards the back of the house, leading me to a bedroom door. She opens the door carefully, the soft light from the hallway illuminating a sleeping little girl. I walk carefully in my socks towards the side of the bed and kneel down, looking at her. “Cora... she's beautiful.”

“She's amazing,” Cora reassures me as I stand up. “And the fact that you'll be here in the morning, she's going to probably wake you up to talk to you.”

“I can think of worse ways to get woken up,” I reassure her, pulling Cora into my arms. We kiss tenderly, and while my body stirs, I'm exhausted, it's been a very long day. Still, my cock twitches slightly, and when I cup Cora's backside, she purrs, her tongue tracing mine before we step back.

“You sure you don't want to join me in bed?” Cora asks. “No sex, but... just to feel you with me?”

I nod and look down at Bella. “Sunday night, maybe. But we have a little girl to think about, and she comes first.”

* * *

The late morning sunlight turns my eyelids red, and I open my eyes slowly, only to be surprised when a cherubic little face stares intently back at me from a distance of about six inches. “Uh... hi.”

Bella's face breaks into a grin, and she steps back. “Hi. You snore.”

I blink and start to stretch before my arms hit the back of the couch, and I remember where I slept. “Thanks, I guess. So, you're Bella, right? I'm Rocky.”

“I know, Mommy told me while you were sleeping,” Bella says, sitting down on the carpet. “Are you really a rock singer?”

I nod, tugging on my hair. “That's what this is for. They make us keep our hair long.”

Bella laughs, shaking her head. “No, they don't. You're silly. Lots of singers don't have long hair!”

“Oh? Name one,” I ask, levering myself to a sitting position. I'm still wearing the same jeans from yesterday, but at least I took off the belt and stripped down to my t-shirt before curling up with the blanket that I found waiting for me when I got back from Cora's room. I gotta thank Larissa for that.

“Billy Corgan,” Bella answers promptly, her face serious. “Are you really a rock singer?”

She's got me there. “I sure am. Tell you what, after I go use the toilet and maybe rinse out my mouth, we can check out the song that your Mommy helped me make. It's on YouTube.”

“First things first, we're going to get you some breakfast and a change of clothes,” Cora says from behind me, coming in from the kitchen area. She gives me a kiss and ruffles my hair. “Although it's closer to lunch.”

“Call it brunch then,” I counter, pulling Cora down onto the couch, where she curls up in my lap and kisses me again. I feel my now well-rested cock half harden under her squirming hips, and pull back, Cora chuckling as she feels it too. I look over at Bella, who's still watching us with an intent look on her face. “Uh, Bella, do you mind if I kiss your Mommy?”

“Nope. Lemondrop told me that her Mommy and Daddy kiss all the time. I'm going to go help Grandma.” Bella gets up off the carpet and goes into the kitchen, leaving me watching her in her jeans and pink t-shirt, confusion on my face.

“Lemondrop?” I ask, looking at Cora. “Friend from daycare?”

“It's Hollyweird, what can you say?” Cora chuckles, stroking my hair. “And she's a sweet kid, despite the name. I can't believe you're in this house like this. Oh, and Bella likes you. She said she likes the way you snore.”

“Never known that my snores are cute for kids before,” I reply, pulling Cora tighter. “As for being in your house, this is great. Bella's amazing. Uhm, would you mind later if we go by my parents' house, introduce you guys? Mom and Dad would love to meet Bella and... well, they don't know.”

“Oh, you're too good to tell your parents about the girl next door, huh?” Cora teases, smiling. “See who you go to bed with tonight, mister.”

I shrug, returning Cora's smile. “I wasn't sure how to really talk about it. You know, the whole intimate thing?”

“Then we can deal with that after brunch,” Cora says. “Come on, I hope you like bacon bits in your oatmeal.”

Starting with brunch, the whole day is magical. After brunch, we take Bella to my parents', where after a bit of a shock they both accept it quickly. Bella's a delight, and Mom and Dad both fawn over her, playing first in the backyard and then later in the living room while Cora and I look on. I talk with Ian, who says that Larry called him and Joey both. Ian's cool with it all, and he said he and Joey are fine with the idea. I'm reassured and glad that our schedules are a little more open now that we don't have to immediately take care of band business, and hang up Dad's home phone with a happy sigh. “Ah... that's a load off my mind.”

“Ian and Joey?” Cora asks, bringing me a drink. I nod, sipping it before I set it aside.

“They're fine with it. They'd like to sit in on the meeting with Larry, but I don't think that's unfair, you are going to be the manager for all three of us, right?”

“Totally fine with me,” Cora says, hugging me. “Rocky, you know, Bella's fine with your Mom and Dad, she's going to be going down for her nap soon. Would you... well, would you like to get away for a little while?”

I nod, reading Cora's eyes. “Of course, I would. In fact, I think I know just where to go.”

Bella yawns, and we go over, scooping her up. “Hey sweetie, would you like to take a nap here before we go out to dinner?” Cora asks. “Rocky already said that Krispy Bites are okay by him.”

“No Krispy Bites,” Bella says with another yawn. “Burgers.”

“We can do burgers, baby doll,” I reassure her, ruffling her hair. “Have you had a good day so far?”

“Uh-huh. I like you, you can date Mommy,” Bella says, causing Mom and Dad to laugh while Bella holds her arms up to Cora, who sweeps her up and carries her towards the back.

“The door on the left is Robert's,” Mom reminds her before turning to me, smiling. “Well, it took you two long enough.”

“What do you mean, Mom?” I ask, and Mom laughs. “What?”

“I've known that Cora's been crazy about you since she was fifteen,” Mom informs me, patting my cheek. “You have no idea how happy you've made me, seeing you two trying to make a go of it. Thank you, Robert.”

I hug Mom, giving her a kiss on the temple. “Thank you, Mom. For being patient with me.”

Cora comes out from the back, smiling. “She was asleep almost before she hit the pillow. So... Rocky, would you like to take a walk?”

“I'd love that,” I reply, taking her hand. “How long is Bella normally down?”

“Today, with all this excitement? Let's give her ninety minutes,” Cora says.

Dad speaks up as he sits down in his favorite chair. He looks tired but excited. Part of me wonders if he hasn't been looking forward to being a grandfather, he certainly had fun today.

“You two take your time, if she wakes up early I think I'd like a little more playtime,” he reassures us. “Enjoy your walk.”

We leave the house still holding hands, and I reconsider for a moment about taking her to the garage, the place we spent so many hours together. I stop outside the open door, looking. “Too bad Mom and Dad put their cars back in there.”

Cora looks, and hums. She wraps her arm through mine and squeezes, a soft smile on her face. “You know, that garage has some of my happiest memories from my childhood? I fell in love with you in there.”

“I think I fell in love with you there too,” I muse, looking out of the corner of my eye at her. “All day today, I've been trying to pin down exactly the moment, and I can't. I just kept having flashbacks to playing in the garage or singing with just you or eating lunch in the band room over at SHS together. I don't think there's a single moment, but at the same time, I can't think of a moment, looking back, that I didn't love you. I just... I was too caught up in trying to become a rock star.”

Cora steps in front of me and puts her arms around my neck, looking up into my eyes. “I'm talking both as the woman who loves you and as your manager right now. I don't want you to give it up. We made magic together, and we will continue making magic together.”

“And if we argue or disagree?” I ask. “A lot of couples have problems working together because of that.”

“Then we disagree, we argue at work, and we make it up to each other at home,” Cora laughs. “Rocky, in all those flashbacks, do you remember some of the arguments we used to have about music or ideas for the Shattered Dreams? Yet, I still loved you the whole time. Even when you were being a stubborn, blind goof. And more importantly, you forgave me the moment you realized how I'd been hiding from you. So, what I want to do, Rocky Blake... is take a walk down to the canyon with you. I'd say the garage, even with the two cars in it... but I don't want your Mom to hear.”

The heat in her words adds to the anticipation in my mind and we start walking again, heading down the street towards the old trail into the canyon. There's no need for words as we make our way down the beginning of the trail, we just hold hands, until we reach the very bottom, and Cora turns to me, putting her arms around my neck. “My love.”

“My love,” I reply, picking her up. I carry her off the track and over to a rock that catches my eye, and grin, it's the perfect height. “You know, pretty soon we're going to have to make love in a real bed. Sound studios, canyons... we're very unusual.”

“It's only rock n' roll, but I like it,” Cora teases, pulling me in for a kiss. Her hands roam over my back, and I'm glad that I wore just a long-sleeved t-shirt and some casual athletic pants that I'd changed into after we brought Bella over, it allows me to quickly sit back and pull my shirt over my head, tossing it onto a nearby oak branch, my eyes fixed on her amazing blues.

I lean in for another kiss, letting my lips trail across to her ear, licking the perfect curve slowly before running my tongue around the inside of the shell, Cora moaning deeply as I do. Kissing down her neck, I lift her up again, cupping her ass through the casual sweats she's wearing. Squeezing her ass a little, my cock surges in my pants as I feel the silky skin, the perfect blend of firm and soft, the sexy contours of her body. Kissing down her neck, I squeeze and stroke her body, listening to the sounds she's making, focused on her, her pleasure my only concern.

Cora pushes me back, getting off the rock to kiss me again. “I dreamed of this,” she whispers, her hand slipping inside my pants to wrap around my cock and pulling it out. “I want you to watch.”

My eyes are locked on Cora as she leans against the rock, half squatting until her mouth is level with my cock, and she opens her mouth, her dark pink tongue dangling out. She teases me, pumping the shaft of my cock with her fist as she flicks her tongue almost over my cock, until with a naughty glint she drags her tongue over just the tip of my cock, swirling her tongue over the head and sending sparks shooting up my body. I lean forward and grab an overhead tree branch for balance, our eyes not losing each other as she slowly, torturously swallows my cocks, sliding her lips around my shaft and sucking. Her eyes almost glow in the dappled shade of the trees with love, desire, and naughtiness. She knows how good this feels to me, and as she starts to pull back, bobbing her head up and down on my cock, her tongue working invisible devilish magic on the underside of my shaft, I'm lost.

“Cora... oh fuck...” I groan, my hips starting to thrust. Cora keeps up, the warm rumble from her chest thrilling my cock. Cora reaches down between her legs, sliding inside her pants, and I can see the bulge as she starts rubbing herself, her moans mixing with her licks and sucks.

I'm trembling, nearly on the edge when Cora pulls her mouth off, grinning up at me. “Not this time, Rocky. I want you in... oh God... my pussy needs you...”

Cora stands up on shaky legs and kisses me again, my cock bouncing to my racing heart rate I'm so ready to blow. Pulling her hand from her pants she slides a finger under my nose and I can smell the warm, heady scent of her pussy, and I suck on her fingers, drunk off the taste of the woman I love. Cora watches before she kisses my cheek and then my ear, her breath pushing me past the point of all control. Grabbing her arms, I spin her around, pushing her body into the rock and grabbing her hair, pulling her head back.

“You're mine,” I growl in her ear, pushing her pants the rest of the way down. Her ass is creamy white and warm as I line myself up, my cock aching to plunge into her. “Say it!”

“Oh, God yes... I'm yours,” Cora moans, her eyes fluttering as I rub the head of my cock against the wet lips of her pussy. “Rocky... always yours.”

“Who's your man, forever?” I ask, tugging on her ponytail. I'm not normally this forceful, but I want Cora, and I can't fight this need to claim her. “Who do you belong to?”

“Rocky Blake,” Cora sighs happily. “I'm Rocky Blake's.”

“And I'm Cora Clearwater's,” I respond, sliding my cock inside her. Her pussy is tight and hot, like sinking into warm, clingy caramel that molds itself to my cock, my heart, and soul crying out in ecstasy as I thrust deeply, taking her. Both of us moan as I slide all the way in, my hips settling against her ass, fully joined with her. “My love... forever.”

The feeling of pleasure and loss that fills me as I pull back is exquisite, adding to the intensity as I drive in again, thrusting hard this time and smacking hard against her hips, jolting both of us and pushing her against the rock. I pull back and thrust a third time, her body wrapping around my cock and setting my nerves on fire. I growl in triumph, a feral smile on my face. “Yes!”

“Yes!” Cora replies, pushing back into me. I start thrusting, riding the tightness of her body and the warm curve of her ass, feeling her flesh wrap around my cock, tight and amazing. My nerves are on fire, and my hand tugs on her hair, pulling her closer to me. I take her, hammering her firm, supple body, my cock plunging in and out hard and fast. She's mine, I'm hers, and as I pump myself in and out over and over, I'm giving as much as I'm taking.

Cora's pussy tightens around my cock, and I'm groaning, trembling on the edge of coming, but she's not quite there yet. I hold back, my cock aching and my balls tingling as I thrust over and over into Cora's amazing body, my heart aching to please her. She squeezes tighter, and I can feel her also shaking, the first tremors of her orgasm starting.

“Rocky.... fu.. fu.. I'm...!” Cora starts, before her words are cut off, her breath catching before she lets out a primal scream, and I'm right behind her, my cock exploding deep inside her. I bellow to the afternoon sky, instinct making me call out that this is my woman, my mate, my life and my love. My knees shake with the power of my orgasm, and the local wildlife falls totally silent as my cry echoes through the canyon, evaporating in the cool winter air.

I can barely hold myself up, sagging against Cora's body, the rock holding both of us up, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight. “My love, my love,” I whisper over and over. “My love forever.”

We stay there like that until a hawk screams above us, reminding us that we're not alone, and I stand up, still holding her close to me. My cock slips out, soft now after coming, and I sigh happily. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cora whispers, turning around and hugging me. “I don't want to go back yet though.”

I check my watch and see we still have a little bit of time on Bella's nap. “We don't have to. We should probably pull our clothes back on though. Are... are you okay? I was pretty rough.”

Cora chuckles, and strokes my face, looking into my eyes. “Yes, my love. I'm more than okay. Your words, my words... thank you. One question. Uh... do you think your Mom heard? I'm not sure how she'd handle us being sexual. You know, church-wise?”

I shake my head and kiss her nose. “Mom will deal with it. Nobody and I mean nobody, is going to come between us ever. I love you, and I'm quickly starting to love Bella too. In fact, since I haven't been there yet, I was wondering... whose apartment is bigger, yours or mine?”

“Yours, for sure,” Cora says with a smile. “Why, do you want us to move in?”

“Until we can find someplace for the three of us, sure. So, Cora Clearwater, would you and Bella like to move in together?” I ask, smiling at her.

Cora nods and wraps her arms around my waist. “Rocky Blake, you have yourself a couple of roommates.”

Cora

The Los Angeles Coliseum. Host of two Olympics, the first Super Bowl, dozens of other major sporting events, and more. Tonight, it's ours. Standing in the wings with Bella, I understand the look on her face as she looks out into the stands. The Fragments have pulled almost sixty-seven thousand people to their show, and as the last of the sunset fades and the stadium lights take over, we feel the immense weight of the fans who are here to see the guys.

“Mommy,” Bella asks, tugging on my hand. She's five and a few months now, and while she's started to just call me 'Mom' instead of Mommy, the shock of seeing so many people pushes her back into a comforting word. “Mommy, are there a million people up there?”

“No, honey, but it sure feels that way, doesn't it?” I ask. Bella's got her headphones on, I only allow her close to a concert if she's got high-level headphones on, and being the good kid she is, she doesn't argue about it too much. “I checked right before we came, Larry says that they sold a lot of tickets though.”

Bella nods then looks around. “Where's Daddy?”

I smile, the word still making tears come to my eyes. In the past three months, all on her own, Bella's started calling Rocky 'Daddy,' the first time when the three of us were at lunch together with both Rocky's parents and mine, all the adults stopping. Rocky actually broke down crying, kissing Bella on the forehead and hugging her tight. That night, we made love for hours, both of us fueled by the passion and warmth of that word.

“Daddy's getting ready with Ian and Joey,” I tell her, kneeling down. “Now, do you remember what I told you about how the concert's going to work?”

“The warm-up band's going to go play, then Daddy and Joey and Ian are going to do their part of the concert. And I have to wear my headphones the whole time,” Bella replies dutifully. “If I can't do that, I need to go with Mr. Olson up to the press box.”

“Very good. And if you don't listen to him?” I ask, arching an eyebrow. I've never had to do it, but I won't risk Bella's safety or health bringing her to a concert.

“Then I'm in big trouble,” Bella says. “But you don't have to worry Mom, I'm going to be good.”

“Okay, then headphones on, here comes the opening act,” I say, putting my own earplugs in. I stand back, watching on the big screen on the other side of the field to see what the fans do as the opening act goes into their number. They do their job, getting the crowd warmed up and giving the ticket holders their money's worth. Looking out on the swirling lights and watching the lead singer do her thing, I have to admit they're at least catchy.

When they finish up, the crowd cheers them hard, and I'm glad. They've got a bright future, and who knows, maybe someday they'll be the headliners of their own tour. It is one of the things that I've learned over the year plus that I've been the manager and producer for the guys. Music isn't as dog eat dog as people like to think it is. As long as you're making good stuff, there's plenty of room at the top for everyone.

“Ready?” I ask Bella, tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention. I see Larry coming up in the wings, and I give him a thumb’s up. “Nice find, Larry.”

“You can thank George T for that,” Larry says. “Hey, Rocky asked me to come over here to the wings, do you know why?”

I shake my head, curious. He's been acting strange all day, I figured it was just something to do with the huge concert, which kicks off our North American summer tour. But what's he up to?

“Don't know!” I yell, then realize that Larry doesn't have ear plugs in, and lower my voice. “Sorry. I don't know. Guess we'll find out because here they are.”

Ian and Joey come around, Joey looking so unlike his normal sweet self that Bella does a double take before laughing, making Joey laugh too. The stage director gives them the signal and they go on stage, Rocky emerging from the other wing to the chants and cheers of the crowd. They're scheduled to kick off with Limitless, their new single off the upcoming album, but instead of tearing into the fast track like I'd watched in practice, Rocky holds up a hand. “Thank you, Los Angeles! How're you all doing tonight?”

The roar is nearly physical, and Bella quickly pulls her headphones back on, making me half cringe, I'd forgotten. Rocky waves until the crowd quiets down, then continues. “Ladies and gentlemen, first off, I'd like to apologize to the lighting guys and the other concert folks, I'm calling an audible on tonight's show.”

“What the hell's he doing?” Larry asks, and I shrug, shaking my head.

“I have no idea,” I reply, looking over. “Do you know anything?”

Larry shakes his head, and we look back out on stage. Joey and Ian are both relaxed though, and I think I can see Ian grinning. Obviously, they're in on it, whatever 'it' happens to be.

“You know, it's been one hell of a year for the Fragments,” Rocky says after a moment, smiling. “And for me especially. Now, you guys give me, Joey, and Ian a lot of credit, but I'd like to bring out someone who really is the engine behind our success. She's the woman who's written some of the songs you guys love most, and she's also... well, she's a lot of things to me. Producer, manager, and love of my life. So, Cora Clearwater, will you join us on stage?”

My eyes go wide, and I stare, shocked as Joey unslings his guitar and comes over, grinning. “Come on Cora, we'll take care of you.”

“But, but... I'm in jeans and a t-shirt!” I protest, and Joey laughs.

“So's Rocky, Muse. You can do it, I'll be there with you,” he says, his kind voice totally different from the almost scary makeup he's got on. “You're gonna love this. Besides, with the lights the way they are, you can't see the crowd, so just imagine it's the four of us out there.”

I look down at Bella and pat my daughter on the head. “You stay with Larry.”

“Okay, Mommy,” she says, taking Larry's hand. He looks surprised for a moment, then smiles down affectionately. Taking a deep breath, I let Joey lead me onto the stage, the roar of the crowd buffeting me. As I walk out, a roadie appears, maneuvering another mic stand on stage, and Rocky grins, meeting me halfway across the stage to take my hand.

“What are you doing?” I ask, Rocky's smile never faltering until he has me in the middle of the stage, the two of us in the middle of the huge spotlight before he speaks again.

“Folks, this woman... she's become the heart and soul of the Fragments. And well, the song that really launched us, I know you guys have listened to it a ton of times, she wrote it. Now, it wasn't because she's such a great songwriter, she is, but because she's such an amazing woman. I used to not like the press, but for those of you who keep up with things, Cora and I have been together for a little while now, and well...”

The whole crowd roars, and I can't believe it as Rocky gets down on one knee, pulling a slim box from his back jeans pocket. I'm trying not to cry, but I lose it when Rocky opens the box and shows me the platinum and diamond ring inside, sparkling in the spotlight. “Cora Clearwater, you're my heart, the sun of my soul, the strength in my life. You've loved me for longer than I can believe still, and your patience, your kindness makes me the richest man in the world. Will you marry me?”

I nod, unable to talk, tears of happiness falling down my face as Rocky takes the ring and slips it on my finger before standing up and embracing me. The roar of the crowd doubles when Bella runs out and we make a family hug, both of us kissing her before I set her down, and start to lead her off stage. Rocky stops me though, not letting go of my wrist. I turn to look as Bella runs off stage with Joey's help again, wondering what the hell Rocky wants.

When Bella's out of the spotlight, Rocky brings his microphone back up. “Just a moment, Cora. I'd like to tell the people here a story, and I need your help.”

I turn back, and while I can hear the crowd, I don't see anything but Rocky, and his green eyes see nothing but me as we wait until there's almost silence in the Coliseum. “You see, Cora and I, we've known each other since we were both thirteen years old. And we quickly became best friends. For Cora though, it became more. I was too blind to realize it, though. All I could think about was the promise we'd made to each other, that we'd make hit records together. And our senior year, I still didn't realize it consciously at the time that Cora loved me. So, one night, Cora wrote a poem, a song lyric. We went our separate ways after that for a while, until God, fate, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, whatever you want to call it, brought us back together to work on an album for the Fragments.”

I'm crying, smiling as Rocky goes and gets the spare mic that the roadie had brought on stage, still talking. “One night, towards the end of the recording, we were stuck, looking for that one last song to finish out the album. Cora and I were discussing it, and in a move that took more guts, heart, and love than I think I'll ever see again, she shows me this notebook. In it was the song lyrics she wrote for me. And it was those lyrics that became... well, it became Four Letters.”

The crowd roars as Rocky holds out the mic to me. “Now, I'm going to give you a choice, Cora. If you like, I'll sing the normal version for you, the one that all these people know. But... but there's another version, isn't there?”

I swallow, and nod, raising the microphone to my lips, barely able to whisper. “Yes.”

The roar of support from the fans is overwhelming, and it's Rocky's turn to grin. “Cora... my love, my Muse, my soul... would you do a duet with me?”

I nod. We've sung it so many times together, and I've sung my part around our house, or in the studio with Rocky just for fun. But that's what this is, not a concert, just fun with the man I love. I smile, and look at Rocky's face, raising the microphone to my lips again and clear my throat, singing a capella.

Joey and Ian come in with their parts as the song shifts to Rocky, who does his answering verse, and the two of us sing the chorus together. It's powerful, and all I see is him as we soar, flying on the notes high above the stadium. I can see our future, I can see the love. I can see the family we're going to have, and the baby that I haven't told him about that's growing in my belly yet. I just found out today and was going to tell him after the concert. I think that plan's going to have to change.

The song shifts, triumph replacing the sadness, and Rocky and I sing the final verse together. The one that nobody except for Ian and Joey has ever heard before, the verse we wrote when we didn't know... except we always knew.

The last notes, harmonized together, fade away into the suddenly quiet Los Angeles night, and I step forward, putting my arms around Rocky's neck and kissing him tenderly. The crowd roars, and he doesn't hear me at first when I whisper in his ear. When I step back, he's smiling, but confused. “What?”

I raise my microphone up one last time and smile. “I said... I love you. And... Rocky, you're going to be a father. I'm pregnant.”

The roar this time is full-throated from all sixty plus thousand people, and Rocky drops his mic, hugging me tightly. He's sobbing for joy, and it takes him five minutes to control himself before he can pick up his microphone again. “Oh, my God. Okay... uh, well... wow.”

I think I surprise Rocky, Joey, Ian, and everyone when I speak again. “Now, if you want to give me an engagement gift, I've got an idea.”

“What?” Rocky rasps into his mic, still wiping at his eyes.

“Give these people the best concert of their lives. You're a rock star. So, go rock.”

Rocky nods, and turns his face back to the crowd as I step back, the spotlight following me until I step off stage and back into the wings. I'll never forget it, my moment in the limelight, but at the same time, I'm glad to be back in the shadows, watching as Rocky gives the darkened wings a glance again, then turns to Joey and Ian, giving Ian the signal, starting with the driving beat of their new song, Limitless. Because that's what our future is.

Limitless.