T hat place seemed real. Logically I knew I slept. I knew there was a large, exhausted body around me, those wide hands holding my breast, Jamie’s thick lips against the back of my neck, but somehow, I wasn’t really there .

I floated in that place we all go to. Asleep. Awake where thought is real, but no experience existed beyond sensation and memory. I drifted deeper, and Jamie’s face came to me; the sharp edges of his chin, the teasing heart-shaped mouth. He was younger in this vision? Memory? I couldn’t tell which it was. I only knew that I was so thin, my shape not quite established, but still an adult. And Jamie, no longer allowed himself to be the boy I loved. He was Dash. He was vulgar and cruel sometimes and utterly irresistible to women who met him .

Women like Kylie. My boss .

Kylie who forced me to that concert, a large showcase with different bands, but she was mainly interested in watching Dash Justice parade around the stage, vocals sloppy, energy high. If the concert wasn’t bad enough, Kylie made me follow her backstage .

“Come on, stay for ten minutes. It’s a nice hotel. I’m going to drink and go back to my room. Maybe alone, maybe not. We’ll see who or what happens .”

Kylie was turning out to be a disappointment. I’d followed her career since high school; read her articles in SPIN and Rolling Stone. I’d even sent out query emails about internships. Those led to discussions about music and the future of the industry .

“Stick with me, kiddo,” she’d promised and after only a month under her tutelage, I was making progress, discovering things about myself, about my talent and music that I’d never thought I’d find .

“Let’s go,” Kylie said, tugging me beyond the barricade that separate fan and fandom. The girls behind us called out names, things that came from jealousy, envy, but Kylie lifted her chin and walked right by them .

Dash was not the headliner, but he was still important, demanding a crew of his own and perks for his band—booze, blunts and boobs. By the looks of the party we’d walked into, every one of his requests had been satisfied .

“Kylie!” I heard, watching as my mentor kissed the cheek of Rita Davis, Hawthorne’s manager. Stupidly, I glanced around her looking for Lager, thinking he had to be here if Rita was, but in the middle of their conversation, I picked up Rita’s tone, frustrated, tired and sounding a little pissed at her clients .

“I needed a break, love. Too much testosterone in that studio.” Kylie didn’t introduce me to everyone, but I did meet journalists, some there to cover the concert, others to try and wrangle an interview from Dash .

“Fat chance,” Kylie whispered when one of her college classmates from Yale mentioned sliding a recorder in her pocket and subtly ask Dash about the new album. “His people check every journalist. No way is she getting even a quote.” I’d nodded, a passive agreement with the woman I was sure could open a few doors for me, but really I didn’t care about anything but avoiding Dash. Kylie, on the other hand, had big ideas. “There he is. I’m going in and I promise I won’t need to sneak a recorder in .”

I watched her move her pin up figure, like a dancer around the crowd, nodding to people as she moved, turning to grab a flute of champagne before she came to Dash’s side. A soft tap on the shoulder and he turned to greet her, smile half held, gaze soaking up every inch of her .

I wanted to be sick .

Kylie was beautiful. It shouldn’t have surprised me that she grabbed Dash’s attention, but she was blond and went every two weeks for a spray tan. She had acrylic nails and false eyelashes. None of those things appealed to Dash. He wanted natural. He wanted real and Kylie, as beautiful as she was, was a Barbie. The kind of girl Jamie used to laugh at or outright ignore when I knew him .

The crowd thickened, and I used them as an excuse to mill away, stepping back, ignoring Kylie’s voice as she called to me. “Iris?” over and over and by the fourth time she called to me, I knew he’d know. I knew he’d remember my dream to write for Reverb and attach that to the name leaving Kylie’s mouth .

There was no hiding, so I didn’t, moving my chin up, tugging my skirt down and marching through the crowd to come face to face with Dash Justice. I hadn’t seen him since that night he tried to kill his cousin. Because of me .

His reaction was surprising. And, not at all. I seemed worthy of a once over, a slow appraisal that he tried to play off, but not more than that .

“Dash, this is my intern, Iris …”

“Why don’t you leave your pequeña intern down here and bring me upstairs. The crowd is irritating, and I could use some quiet. You have a room, right ?”

Kylie seemed momentarily stunned, possibly insulted, but then Dash bent close, whispering something in her ear while his hand slipped down to her ass and whatever argument might keep her from the room, died a quick death .

“Iris,” she said, not bothering to look at me. “Hang around, I might have something for you to type up tonight .”

“No,” Dash said, laughing as he drank from an emptying bottle of Jack, “you won’t .”

She ignored him, offering me a quick glance. “Stick around .”

By three in the morning, I was tired and a little sick of being ignored. Fifty bucks from Kylie’s drink fund slipped to the front desk clerk told me which room was hers, and I hopped the elevator, heading to the tenth floor. I intended to slip a note under her door. I intended to blend back into the background and avoid seeing Dash Justice at all costs. But then I came to the end of the hall, scanning the numbers above the doors for 1024 and then stopped where I stood, watching as Jamie closed Kylie’s door, slipping his shirt back over his naked chest .

He looked pale, and his eyes were sunken in. For a minute, I forgot about the pain and betrayal and the guilt that consumed every available space in my heart. Jamie looked sick, then sickened when he spotted me .

He didn’t move from her door or do anything other than watch me curl the note I’d written my boss between my fingers .

“She’s sleeping,” he said, satisfied smirk making him look stupid .

“I was just going to…” I waved the note, not sure why I thought he needed an explanation. Jamie went on watching me, eyes sharp, focus penetrating until sweat began to surface and collect on my lower back. I didn’t know what he wanted form me or if he expected an apology, an excuse .

“How…how have you been?” I asked, regretting the question the second it left my mouth .

He didn’t answer, just shook his head and gave me a look that made me feel small and insignificant. “Fucking bueno, chica. And you ?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, brushing past me, pulling a fifth of vodka from his back pocket. He took a long swig, coughing before he stopped in the middle of the hall, turning to glare at me. “I just fucked your boss .”

I flinched, my nose curling. “That’s not…” I wanted to say “none of my business” because I knew it wasn’t, but that was not what I felt deep inside. It was my business because he was mine. I’d loved him first. I’d wanted him, waited for him for so long and then, I just…right . I’d pretended to betray him .

Jamie stepped closer, that bottle hanging from his fingers. “Did you hear me?” He stunk of liquor and sex. I covered my nose, not wanting to smell him, walking away from him as he followed .

“She rode me, Iris. She rode and rode me until I thought my dick would explode, si ?”

“I…I don’t care.” The tears burned in the corners of my eyes, but I managed to keep them from following. “You…do what you …”

“You care,” he snarled, grabbing my arm. “You care so much it’s eating you up from the inside, isn’t it ?”

That’s what he wanted, I thought. To see me hurt. To know that he’d broken my heart just as I’d broken his. This whole thing hadn’t gone as Isaiah and I planned. We stupidly thought Jamie would leave, would hide away in his music then, when he was better, when he was focused, we’d come to him tell him we were never together. We’d make him understand that it had all been for him. But Jamie had nearly killed Isaiah and retreated into himself, into bottles, not his music. I’d tried once to call him, to gently explain myself, hoping he’d listened, but the second he heard my voice, he hung up .

Now he wanted me to hurt. I knew that, but God help me, I already was. And he needed to understand that no matter what I’d done, he was still damn well mine. He just didn’t see it .

So, I removed the veil .

“They’re all the same,” I said, stepping away from the wall. When I looked at him, my eyes were clear. The anger I felt warmed me. It fueled me .

“What…”

“Kylie, or any other woman…every blonde. Every redhead, every face and body that isn’t me .”

“They are not… coño , you’re full of yourself .”

“And you’re full of me too, Jamie.” He stared, eyes brimming with something; I couldn’t decide if it was hate or passion. Rage or fear. “The woman who comes after me, all the women who come after me, are discount value. They are replicates that can’t touch you like I did. They can’t have you like I did. You will taste them and be haunted by the memory of my skin, how it felt to have me around you, touching, sucking, loving you like no one ever will again.” Jamie’s arms shook, and he lost his grip on the bottle. Liquor soaked into the carpet at our feet as he went on watching me .

“Every woman that isn’t me will leave you wanting. They’ll leave you with the memory of me and each of them will recognize that they’re trying to love a man who loved a woman so much his hate for her has become a virus. It’s infected you, Jamie, every pore. Every cell of your used-up body .”

His laugh was low, bitter and the frown on his face told me he hadn’t appreciated my brand of truth. Jamie shook his head, mouth curling. “You started this…all of this…you and Isaiah. You betrayed everything I believed so yeah, Iris, I do hate you, but I will forget you.” He tried to move forward, likely thinking his size and stature would make me retreat, but I stood my ground, not moving at all. Still Jamie frowned, expression disgusted. “I’ve already forgotten you. You don’t even register .”

Somewhere, deep down, he probably meant that. He’d likely convinced himself that I was bottom shelf, not worthy of thought or consideration, but I knew better. I’d seen where he lived. I’d been inside his head and lived in his heart. He was the one taunting. He was the one with something to prove .

“Tell yourself that. Convince yourself that you hate me, that I’m the enemy. Maybe one day, you’ll believe the lie .”

The sharp ring of my cell stirred me, and I sat up quickly, pulling my phone off the bedside table, extracting myself from that dreamy memory and the warm cage of Jamie’s tempting body. I hurried in a scramble to answer, spotting the name on the screen and left the room .

There was a rock legend calling .