Have You Ever Been Awake for a Dream Come True?

        “All right. Simmer down, everyone. Simmer down. I’d like to make a toast.”

        Although Joel Gibson would have liked for it to, all the surrounding activity in the JLN party hall did not come to a screeching halt when he announced he had something to say. Hardly anyone even glanced in his direction. Despite the fact that he’d been speaking into a microphone, no one acted like they’d heard him. Story of his life.

        Speaking over them anyway, he raised his glass. “To JLN. These past four years have been beyond my wildest dreams. This project has surpassed all my expectations. I just can’t believe we’ve come so far. And I owe all that to my wonderful roster. You guys are awesome. I’m so glad we can share in this wonderful occasion together. You are the very soul of JLN Records and this celebration is as much yours as it is mine and Andy’s. Thank you so much for all your hard work and all the heart you have put into this company. I am so honored to have you working for me.”

        The assembled crowd looked skeptical, to say the least. They knew Joel Gibson quite well. And he was simply not an appreciative person. In fact, the only time he ever really expressed gratitude was when he was in public and had a microphone in his hand.

        Common suspicion was he only said those things to make himself look good in the eyes of the press here covering the party. That, above all else, gave glowing insight into the character of Joel Gibson.

        This was supposed to be a private celebration, commemorating JLN’s fourth year of operation and who just so happened to show up? Why, the media. Everyone had to roll their eyes at that one. That was Joel Gibson for you - always looking for recognition. Not for his label, but for himself.

        After a few more heartfelt words, Joel graciously vacated the stage to let his business partner and best friend Andy Blackwood speak. He only got a slightly better crowd response. That had a lot to do with his slightly better personality. He was much kinder than Joel, not nearly as much of a slavedriver, but he was far from Mr. Popularity in the corridors of JLN.

        The reason? Diagnosed with manic depression at age 15, he’d been on medication almost half his life, to keep himself on an even keel. However, when the work started piling up (and that happened often) and Andy got exceptionally busy, he often completely forgot to take his meds, resulting in violent mood swings and manic episodes that no one but his wife of six years, Stacey, could deal with.

        Stacey had once been an artist on the JLN roster, but had given up the business in 1984, after the birth of her daughter, Dinah Christine, now two-and-a-half. That had been Andy’s idea. He called himself looking out for her, but she had to wonder if he was only tying her down. While she had once had fame, fun and something to do at all times, she was now stuck with the same four walls every day and a child just as moody as her daddy.

        This past spring, Stacey had begun to get restless and approached Joel about signing back on and making another album, but when Andy found out, he flipped. “What is that going to mean for Dinah?” he’d demanded.

        Well, what did he think? It wasn’t like she was going to give her up for adoption! She was just talking about going back to work. And being the Vice President’s wife did have it’s perks. No doubt, she could bring Dinah with her when she recorded and when she toured. Still, Andy was not having it. Pig.

        Andy’s speech was a brief one, simply thanking everyone Joel had overlooked - the behind the scenes people that never really got the accolades they deserved. That was his most likeable quality. He was always out for the underdog. He was the one who always listened to the demos that came in on a weekly basis. No one else would touch that job with a ten foot pole. And yeah, okay, some of them were really bad, but he had been able to find some gold in the midst of all that sludge.

        Prime example: Melodi Dixon. She had sent in a homemade demo back in 1984, never in a million years expecting anyone to actually hear it. In all honesty, she’d done it on a dare. So you can imagine her surprise four months later when the phone rang and a man named Andrew Blackwood invited her out to Los Angeles to meet with the famed Joel Gibson about a contract.

        It had taken months and months of convincing, but Joel had finally agreed to take a chance on Mel. And now, he was glad he had. Her debut album Catch the Melodi had released last year and since then, her star had only grown brighter… and her head had only grown bigger. Seemed Mel’s humble days were a certified thing of the past. In the words of her producer / mentor Tony (Miller-) Stein, she had gotten a good long smell of herself and now she was in a totally different galaxy.

        Her jealousy was legendary, especially where the JLN royalty, number one artist Phoenix Reeves, was concerned. Just the mention of Phoenix caused all of Mel’s hairs to stand on end. Some of the more malicious people in the JLN building even brought up the accomplishments of the much more personable Phoenix to her for spite.

        Thank God he hadn’t shown up tonight. This was one evening where she didn’t feel like dealing with him. She had enough on her mind as it was. Like her boyfriend. She had lived with Dan Marshall, a man 23 years her senior, for almost a year, having met him while making her album. An accomplished producer - and the very man responsible for Phoenix’s success - he helped out on her album and the attraction was instant. Once he left his wife, things really kicked into high gear.

        Tonight, shortly before arriving, they had had a huge fight over Dan’s ever-roaming eye and when they got there, they went their separate ways. Dan went to chat up some cute young production assistant while Mel watched from afar, seething with anger. She was not above creating a public scene. And she was five seconds away from doing so.

        Thankfully, her attention was diverted by Joel, who had begun making his rounds to all the performers, thanking them personally for their contributions to the label this year. “Mel, so glad to see you,” he said, hugging and kissing her. “You look wonderful.”

        She couldn’t argue. She did look good. But obviously, not as good as that blond thing over there. God, she was gonna kill him!

        “Hi, Joel,” she greeted, forcing a smile. “This is a great party.”

        “Thanks. I think so too. I just wanted to come and tell you how much I appreciate all you’ve done this past year. You are amazing, you know that? You and Phoenix single-handedly saved the label after Tony left.”

        What? Her and Phoenix? Did she hear that right? What exactly had Phoenix done this past year, but release the stupidest song in the history of the world (the borderline psychotic little ditty “Let Me Love You”)?

        Before she could protest, Joel asked, “You haven’t seen him, have you?”

        Oh, wonderful. Wonderful. Her boyfriend was over there, trading her in for a younger model and here was Joel, totally blowing her off and asking about Phoenix. That no-talent jackass. She was gonna kill him, too. If she could ever get her hands on him. He was a lot bigger than her.

        “No, I haven’t seen Phoenix,” she huffed.

        “Well, neither have I. And T.J. hasn’t either. I don’t guess he’s coming. But I can’t understand why he wouldn’t call. Maybe he’s just running late. You know how he is. Tell you what - I’m gonna run and call him. I’ll be back.”

        With that, Joel was gone. Mel was angry enough to spit. What a night. And it wasn’t even halfway over yet...

        Andy had begun making the rounds too, going around to the artists and their families and offering his much more sincere brand of gratitude and best wishes for the future.

        Approaching the “Cool People Table” near the stage (where the truly cool people sat - the JLN higherarchy of artists, Phoenix Reeves, Tony M. and Trent “Call me T.J.” Johnson), he was laughing.

        Seemed no one was actually sitting at the table. Rather, Tony and T.J. were camped out on the floor beside it, playing with a really boss Hot Wheels racetrack.

        The toy had been a belated birthday gift, since Tony was in Europe when his good buddy Trent turned the ripe old age of 26 this past August. Having just returned to the U.S. on Friday, he was only just delivering it. And thank God, T.J. liked it. Tony never knew what to get him. He was a guy who had everything. And then some. And his tastes were extremely eclectic. Thankfully, toy cars were a hit all across the board. Andy even looked interested.

        Tony looked up and smiled at him. “Hey, Blackie.”

        “Hey to you too. Now, what is this?”

        “This is my birthday gift,” Trent announced proudly.

        “Well, that's great." Andy paused. "But wasn’t your birthday last month?”

        Without looking up, Trent laughed. “Month before, but hey, who’s counting?”

        “So where exactly is Phoenix?” Andy asked, kneeling down to get a closer look at the meticulous track. They had put it together themselves. Right in the middle of Joel’s speech. Funny.

        “I don’t know,” Tony responded, somewhat distracted by the race he and T.J. were engaging in. “He didn’t call me. I don’t even think he knows I’m home yet.”

        “I didn’t know you were home yet,” Andy said laughing. “When’d you get back?”

        “Friday night. Really late. And I slept all weekend. The jetlag was just intense.”

        “So how was Europe? Tell me everything. What all did you see?”

        “I saw a little bit of everything. I went to see Mikey in England and stayed with him for a couple of weeks and then I went to France. Oh! I got to see the Louvre!” Tony jumped up with excitedness. “And it was amazing. My whole life I’ve wanted to have a painting in there and just seeing it was unbelievable. It was almost a spiritual experience. I was almost in tears. It was just amazing.”

        “Did you get pictures?”

        “Of course I did. They'll be on your desk by tomorrow morning.”

        “They better be." Andy sighed wistfully. "You know, I wish I could just go to Europe like that. I don’t have enough money to do that.”

        “Man, neither did I,” Tony insisted laughing. “You see, it’s funny. I went there to find myself and the only thing I found were a stack of bills waiting for me when I got home!”

        Having only just endured a painful divorce from his childhood sweetheart Kathy and walking away from the business he loved, right at the height of his career, Tony decided he needed a vacation. So off he went. Really, that was the most spontaneous, impulsive thing he’d ever done. And while the overall experience had been a positive one, he was not about to do it again.

        Trent, meanwhile, was only just settling into married life, having celebrated his first anniversary with bride Cecily this past May. He owed his whole life to that woman. He honestly believed that he would not still be alive today if it weren’t for her.

        Having been signed to now-defunct Faraday Records at a hideously young age (eleven; his debut album, instrumental masterpiece Shakespeare’s Fantasy had released when he was thirteen), he had quickly fallen into the trap of drugs, alcohol and sex. And since family support was relatively non-existent (the less said about the Johnson clan, the better), it was really T.J. against the world.

        Enter Cecily Coleman. The former model had met him at her agent’s birthday party back in 1979 (one of the many gigs he could not remember today) and, well, he’d not exactly made a great first impression. But thankfully, Sess was willing to forgive him a few years later and the two became friends. After completing rehabilitation, romance bloomed with the only person who had not given up on him during that turbulent time.

        Cecily was here, however, she tried to stay as far away from the Cool People Table as possible. Seemed the antics of the Three Musketeers embarrassed her. They did the craziest things when they got together. She couldn’t distance herself fast enough. Tonight, she had found company in someone else who didn’t get off on their brand of goofy humor, Micah Mullen.

        Micah had only just flown in from his native England for this party, sans both his band (brothers Adam, Joe and Saul - collectively known as the Mullenese) and his family (wife Patsy and fifteen-year-old daughter Jennafer). He explained that his brothers sent their regards, but had previous obligations to their own families. And as for Pat and Jenna, he confessed to Cecily that they were not huge fans of Joel’s, hence, they did not want to come.

        She completely understood. She really didn’t want to be here either. When she heard, she’d actually groaned. Of course, Trent had been obligated to go, but she would have been perfectly content staying home. However, he wouldn’t let her. “If I have to go, you have to go,” he’d said.

        So here she was. Constantly checking her watch. Was it time to go home yet? What more was there to do? Joel had already made his speech, the food had already been served, the photogs had already gotten plenty of pictures - wasn’t that enough? Couldn’t they all just disassemble now? She didn’t guess so.

        Sighing, she glanced down at her watch once again. This was gonna be a long night...

*****

        The phone rang at a quarter till eight. Phoenix - too sick to move - only looked to his roommate Kristen Clark, who was lying beside him, in an effort to make him feel better. This cold had been working on him for days, but had hit full force last night. It was bad, and before anyone could suggest otherwise, that was no exaggeration. His head was all stopped up, he could barely talk, he was running a wicked fever - and that was most likely Joel calling to ask why he was not at the party. He was willing to bet on it.

        “Do you want me to get that, sweetie?” Kristen asked, slowly raising up.

        Phoenix shook his head, stifling a groan. “I know exactly who it is and I don’t feel like dealing with him tonight.”

        She nodded. “Oh, that’s right. Tonight was the party.”

        “Yeah. And you know how Joel is if you miss one.”

        “He knows how to suck all the fun right out of anything, doesn’t he?”

        “He’s perfected it into an art form,” he grumbled.

        The phone rang four times more before the machine downstairs picked up. Hopefully, Joel would not leave a message. And hopefully, he would not call back.

        Kristen lowered herself back down next to Phoenix and felt his face. “You’re still pretty warm. You feelin’ okay, babe?”

        “Yeah. All things considering.”

        “I’m so sorry you had to get sick.”

        “Me too, Kris. Me too.”

        As if on cue, the phone rang again at that precise moment.

        “Oh, I don’t believe it!” Phoenix exclaimed hoarsely. “Not again.”

        “Let me handle him,” Kristen instructed, sitting back up and grabbing the phone next to the bed. “Yeah, what?” she answered.

        Phoenix had to laugh. No one could ever accuse her of being Little Miss Congeniality. That was, in fact, the very thing he loved so much about her.

        “Kristen?” Joel asked, sounding very surprised.

        “Yeah?” she asked, sounding very annoyed.

        “What are you doing there?”

        “I live here. What the hell do you mean, what am I doing here?”

        “I’m just surprised. You don’t come out to L.A. often.”

        Well, he had her there. She didn’t. She and Phoenix had two residences to their names - a small modest one-story home in Bozeman, Montana, where they had lived for years and this ten-acre monstrosity that he employed only when he needed to spend more than a few days in Los Angeles.

        He much preferred the Bozeman home. It was home. He’d lived there all his life, he knew everyone, he was happy there. There, he didn’t have to be Phoenix Reeves, rock icon extraordinaire. There, he got to just be himself - Donald Patrick Reeves, the outdoorsy former accountant (yeah, you read that right) who just so happened to make it big. That was excellent.

        Kristen didn’t care for L.A. any more than he did and was even more outspoken about her dislike of the city than he was. And he always had something to say about the phoniness of this town. That was another thing he really loved about her - she always spoke her mind, no matter who disagreed with her. Yet another personality characteristic they shared. They shared a brain sometimes! It was creepy.

        “No, I don’t,” she conceded to Joel, quickly adding, “but I’m here now. And this is still my place. So, now that we’ve cleared that up, is there anything else I can help you with?”

        “Yeah. Is Phoenix there?”

        “No, but Donnie is.”

        Joel forced himself to laugh. “Very, very cute.”

        “What do you want with him?” Kristen demanded.

        “Well, tonight is - was - the fourth anniversary party and I just thought that he would be there.”

        “Well, you thought wrong.”

        Man, Kristen was being a bitch! Phoenix had a huge smile on his face. He could only hear her side of the conversation, but that was enough. She was giving Joel hell. ’Atta girl.

        “Look, can I talk to him?” Joel asked, growing increasingly impatient.

        “No. He doesn’t wanna talk to you. He doesn’t wanna talk to anybody. He’s sick.”

        “When did that happen?”

        “About the time you called,” she informed, with an undeniable snippiness in her voice.

        Joel had never liked that girl. She had an attitude that would not quit. And her personal appearance! She thought she was Cyndi Lauper, obviously, with the snow white hair, complete with blue streaks. She even dressed like her. Well, Cyndi Lauper had something Kristen did not, and for that matter, never would have: a winning personality.

        “Let me talk to Phoenix,” he demanded.

        “I told you no. He’s sick.” Kristen held her ground. So Joel didn’t like her? The feeling was mutual, sweetie! Something about him had always unnerved her. Maybe it was the way he treated Donnie - although Donnie was perfectly capable of holding his own, she still did not like to see anyone harass him.

        She’d always had this fierce protective sense toward him, which she really couldn’t explain. He was a guy who did not need much protecting. But still, Kristen felt almost maternal toward him. He was almost like her baby. And he was a good two years older than her. Figure that one out.

        Joel had officially lost his patience. “If you don’t let me speak to Phoenix right now, I swear to God I - ”

        “Go to hell,” Kristen snarled, hanging up on him. And to ensure that he didn’t call back, she placed the phone off the hook.

        “Way to go!” Phoenix praised, smiling up at her.

        “Thank you. Thank you,” she replied, also smiling as she lowered herself back down next to him. “Glad I could help.”

        “You’re amazing, you know that?”

        “Yeah. I do.” She gently moved some disheveled black hair off his forehead, whispering, “Get some sleep, babe. I promise you Joel won’t call back.”

        He kept smiling. “Oh, I’m sure he won’t. Thanks for handling him, Kris.”

        “Hey, anytime, sweetie. Like I said, I’m glad I could help.”

        “I’m glad you could, too.”...

        Two stories down from the executive offices on the sixth floor, the party still raged on. With Joel occupied elsewhere, Andy considerably lightened the atmosphere, continuing to offer his thank-yous and best wishes and even racing Tony on that killer Hot Wheels track he’d bought for T.J.

        And he hadn’t been the only one who’d given in to the temptation to come over and revert back to his boyhood. That toy was quite a hit. Everyone from the head marketing guy to somebody in the A&R department and even some of the journalists and photographers that had been hired to cover this event had wandered over just to get a look, some even staying to race, all while their respective dates rolled their eyes in disgust.

        And here came Micah. Funny thing was, he didn’t look too happy.

        “Hey, Mikey,” Tony greeted, smiling up at him. He was still lying there beside the Cool People Table, right in front of the racetrack, only now he was merely a spectator (since he’d lost one time too many to all the younger, faster guys).

        Micah did not return the smile. In fact, he almost seemed to be scowling. What was that about? Tony would soon find out.

        Kneeling down, Micah hissed, voice dripping with both disdain and humiliation, “If you don’t get off the floor and act your age right this minute - ”

        “What, Mikey? What?” Tony challenged, again smiling. “Come on, man. Live a little. We’re not hurting anything. We’re just having some fun. And if you don’t mind me saying, you could stand to join us.”

        Micah shook his head emphatically. “No. I don’t think so.”

        “Oh, come on! What is so bad about racing some cars? Don’t tell me you haven’t done worse! For God’s sake, you sing karaoke! If you can do that, then you can get in on this race. Come on, man. Whaddaya say?”

        “I say this is a ridiculous waste of time and that you need to be ashamed of yourselves.”

        “Well,” Tony said quietly, reverting his gaze back down to the floor, “I guess that pretty much says it all.”

        He’d known Mikey for years - they’d been best friends for years - but sometimes, that guy was just too much! The word “hypocritical” comes to mind. I mean, here was a person who had no qualms whatsoever about performing long-forgotten country songs in a karaoke bar, but staunchly condemned a Hot Wheels racetrack? What was wrong with that picture?

        Don’t get me wrong - Tony loved him. He really did. He was a great guy. There was absolutely nothing to dislike about him. He was a good, good guy. But come on! If his horse got any higher, it would be up in the stratosphere! He needed to loosen up. Big time.

        “Man, come on. Just one race. You and me,” Tony continued to persuade.

        Micah continued to refuse. “No. I told you no. Now, you’re making a huge idiot out of yourself.”

        “Well, you know what, Mikey? It wouldn’t be the first time. You seem to have forgotten who you are talking to.”

        “Fine. Fine. Do it your own way. Have it your own way.” With that, Micah threw up his hands and walked off.

        Trent, who had been lying right beside Tony and had heard the whole exchange, leaned toward him and whispered, “You know, we’re going to burn in hell for that.”

        That had been, of course, a joke, caustically aimed at Micah’s, shall-we-say, zealous Christian beliefs. Tony did not find it very funny. Maybe he did not necessarily agree with Mikey’s views (he was born a Jew and he was gonna die a Jew, thank you), but he would never make fun of them. Micah was really sincere about his faith. He was, at the risk of sounding trite, your model Christian. He didn’t drink, he didn’t smoke, he didn’t curse, the guy hardly ever left the house, he’d been married to the same woman over half his life - he was everything Tony had always thought a good Christian should be. And then some.

        And no matter what T.J. might believe, the guy was no Bible-thumper. The very idea of Mikey telling anybody they were going to burn in hell was just ludicrous. He had always been extremely respectful of the varying beliefs of his colleagues. Granted, he didn’t really want to hear about them, but he didn’t expect you to hear about his either.

        Although somewhat angered by Trent’s little remark, Tony didn’t say anything about it. Why bother? He had a right to his own opinion. It may be wrong, but under the Constitution it was perfectly legal. And besides, he knew the truth about Mikey, anyway. It didn’t matter what anybody else said. He knew what kind of person he was: A good one. A great one...

*****

        After getting off the phone with Kristen, Joel actually had to take fifteen minutes to calm down. He was that mad. This was serious business. Phoenix had really pushed it to the limit, as far as the attendance thing was concerned. Joel didn’t know who that guy thought he was, but here at JLN, you did not ditch parties. Number one draw or number seven-hundred-twenty-seven draw, that just was not done. Tony had never pulled that when he was number one draw. He had better sense than that. He knew that was unacceptable.

        Another thing Joel didn’t appreciate - Phoenix siccing his blue-haired attack dog on him when he was only calling to check in. God, that little bitch made him mad! If Joel were a lesser man, he would knock some respect into her. But since he was far above that, all he could do was pound his fists in frustration.

        You know, Phoenix had done this one time too many. One time too many. This was actually the third straight party he’d conveniently decided not to come to. And every single time, he’d had some weak, spur-of-the-moment excuse that Joel had not bought for a second.

        There was the time he had to stay home with his cat - his cat - who had caught some awful cat disease and had approximately ten minutes to live (at least, to hear Phoenix tell it). Well, that was a good eight months ago and Cat was still alive and well. Funny.

        Then there was the time Phoenix had just completely “forgotten” about the festivities. That, while infuriating, was fairly plausible. That guy forgot his own name half the time, which only served as further testament that everyone did indeed have their flaws.

        Here was this guy, this very attractive (the female fans could not get enough of him), well-mannered guy, who was funny, friendly and kind and an awesome musician (the best piano player Joel had ever seen - and his voice wasn’t too bad either). And yet, when it came to organizational skills, Phoenix merited a big, fat zero. If even that.

        And now, here was this phantom illness that had sprung up out of nowhere and incapacitated Phoenix to the extreme that he had to forgo the party, at least, according to Kristen.

        That was the last straw. The absolute last straw. Joel had had it. This was never happening again. He knew the perfect way to ensure it.

        Picking up the phone, he dialed his personal secretary, Logan Easton. Why him, you ask? Well, the youngster (he was maybe twenty-five) was efficient, well-organized and willing to do anything Joel asked of him - basically, Logan was everything Phoenix wasn’t.

        That was why they would make such a great team.

        Joel had a brilliant idea: Phoenix needed someone to keep him in line, Logan was the best in his field when it came to that (he’d worked wonders with Joel), so why not put them together?

        Of course, much as he’d expected him to, Logan wholeheartedly agreed when approached. He was so eager it almost scared Joel. But hey, that was Logan for you: always ready for a new challenge. He was amazing. Perhaps the best new (office, anyway) asset JLN had acquired over the past two years. There was nothing he would not do. Absolutely nothing.

        That was, of course, a blessing, especially in this case. While Phoenix may be well-mannered, funny, friendly and kind, he was extremely stubborn and headstrong. He did not like to have anyone tell him what to do. He wouldn’t listen to a single word anybody ever said to him. No one knew better than him.

        Well, Joel had given him plenty of chances to prove he was capable of holding his own and he’d blown every last one. Things were gonna be Joel’s way now. No matter what Phoenix thought.

        Still, Joel couldn’t help feeling for Logan. He definitely had his work cut out for him. Getting Phoenix Reeves organized was going to be one hell of a job. And Phoenix would no doubt make it that much harder by fighting him tooth-and-nail every step of the way.

        Logan, however, insisted that he could handle it. “I’m equipped for people like him, Sir,” he’d sworn, saying that he’d taken a “Coping With Difficult People” course while in community college.

        Well, that was all well and good, but he’d never met Phoenix Reeves. He gave new meaning to the term “difficult!” And damndest thing of all, he did it all with a smile! But, Joel reasoned, if Logan could handle him (and he freely admitted he was no saint), he could easily corral Phoenix.

        This was gonna be great! Never again would Phoenix be three hours late to a recording session (a star trip if Joel ever saw one). Never again would he miss a party without just cause. Never, ever again.

        A new era had officially dawned! Godspeed, Logan Easton. Godspeed...

        Back at home, Phoenix had no idea what Joel had just done to him. At this point, he really didn’t care, either. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this sick. And he didn’t want to try.

        No doubt, Joel had not believed Kristen when she told him what was going on. He probably thought Phoenix was pulling some spoiled brat celebrity tantrum and was ditching the party on purpose.

        And that made him so angry he could puke. But then, he’d been nauseous all evening, anyway.

        That was the first assumption Joel always made when you didn’t do exactly what he wanted you to - “Don’t get an attitude with me, young man! We don’t do attitudes at JLN.”

        No. What they didn’t “do” at JLN was free will. When you signed that contract, you might as well have signed it in blood. Once the covenant was complete, you were the sole property of JLN Records and Joel Gibson, and you were to expected to be on call at all times.

        Well, that simply wouldn’t work for someone who had as much to do as Phoenix did. Singing songs in a studio and showing up for all the necessary shindigs were the very least of his duties. In fact, those didn’t even scratch the surface!

        He had several other things on his plate, such as his own video countdown show - aptly titled Top 20 - on which he was not only host, but executive producer. That meant he had full creative control. And he had to be there a lot.

        There was also the matter of family. While he was painfully single (his last relationship had ended a year ago and he was still too gun-shy to play the field again), he still had a mom who was not in the best of health (she’d had a heart transplant last summer, and while things had improved, she was still not one hundred percent). He was not about to just up and leave at the risk of Mom getting really sick again and needing him. As many times as she’d been there for him during the course of his life, he had to return the favor.

        Another thing: Kristen. Don’t get me wrong - she was one tough chick who didn’t need anybody looking out for her - but she was still his girl. And he still wanted to be there when she needed him to be. And she needed him now. She’d just broken up with her latest boyfriend, a guy Phoenix had never liked anyway. His name was Jeff. He sold used cars. Does that tell you anything? It told Phoenix something: she could have done way better.

        That was why she’d come out to L.A. in the first place - because of what went down with Jeff. She’d said that he had been eyeing another girl that worked on the lot and while nothing had happened yet - as far as she knew - she still didn’t trust him, so she broke it off. And she was extremely upset about it, even if she didn’t let on.

        Phoenix could tell. She had come, completely unannounced (although it had been a great surprise; he was out here working on the show and had really missed her), called Jeff every rotten name she could think of, then retreated to the basement for what he could only guess was a good cry. And when he surprised her with ice cream, she once again affirmed that he was the only man she’d ever really love.

        Yep. This was killing her.

        He only wished he could do more. He wished he hadn’t gotten sick. What was this virus, anyway? And where had it come from?

        He had no clue. All he knew was he was sick. And tired. He actually ended up falling asleep during Dynasty. Dynasty! He lived for that show! Do you believe that?

        Kristen did. Laying beside him, she gently felt for fever again and sighed. Yeah, she was upset over that scumbag loser Jeff, but this took precedent right now. Donnie needed her a whole lot more than she needed him. And she could have done better. She still could. There were better guys out there. Much better guys.

        What she was concerned with right now was Donnie. Poor thing. And who did Joel think he was making it all worse? He didn’t own him! He was allowed to do what he wanted to do! He was certainly allowed to stay home and nurse a cold!

        If she were him - and keep in mind that she was a lot meaner than him - she would have gone anyway and coughed all over Joel. That would probably teach him a lesson or two.

        Still, she understood why Donnie hadn’t gone - he felt like crap. She just hoped the fallout wouldn’t be too big. She hoped she hadn’t gotten him into trouble. Joel did sound pretty mad on the phone. And when Joel Gibson was mad, he did some crazy things. She just hoped he didn’t come down too hard on Donnie.

        That would be awful...

*****

        The festivities were pretty much over by ten o’clock - at least, that’s when the artists began heading for the door. The journalists stayed a bit longer, hoping to get some last minute stories and pictures while the executives left around the same time the racetrack did.

        Andy and Joel, however, stayed until almost eleven-thirty, commenting on the party, the milestone and everything in between all while their wives, Stacey and Nina (for whom JLN was named - the acronym stood for Joel Loves Nina), sat a safe distance away from each other.

        While their husbands got along famously ( ... well, most of the time), they absolutely could not stand to even be in the same room. That was mostly Nina. Her resentment of Stacey was legendary. Not that it was not returned, Stacey was just more willing to give Nina the benefit of the doubt. She’d always been good about that - it was evident in whom she married.

        She was more than willing to believe that Nina Corday Gibson was a good person. Maybe it wasn’t true, but Stacey was willing to believe it. Okay, so maybe she didn’t have the best background. And okay, so maybe she wasn’t the nicest person to be around. That was perfectly okay. Joel obviously loved her anyway. For whatever reasons, Stacey couldn’t even begin to guess, but he did.

        Nina, meanwhile, wasn’t giving Stacey much of anything. That girl needed to get off herself! She was not that cute. She was not that sweet. She was not that talented. She was not that good of a wife. She was not even that good of a mother. Now, Nina didn’t have any kids (nor did she ever want any), but she knew one thing about parenting: you never, ever let your child get the upper hand. And that’s exactly what Dinah had done.

        Oh, that little girl was awful! And Stacey let her walk all over her! Never once (and the child surely needed it) did she ever even attempt to spank her. She even went as far as to make excuses for her!

        “Well, she is two. They don’t call them the terrible twos for nothing!”

        Bull. That was pure bull. She needed a good old-fashioned spanking. And Stacey was a horrible mother for, one, not seeing that and two, not administering one. That was simply all there was to it.

        And another thing - Stacey was not nearly as perfect as she wanted people to think she was. Nina knew what all the little bitch had had to say about her behind her back. Her friend Nancy in the mail room had told her everything. Stacey said she was nothing more than a trophy wife, who had only married Joel for his money.

        Nina had never heard such crap in all her life. If that were true, wouldn’t she have taken up with Joel after he hit it big with JLN? And yet, where was she when he was struggling to get it off the ground? Right there. They were operating out of their own apartment.

        And would a trophy wife take a job at her husband’s company? No! And yet Nina had. She was the receptionist in the lobby - perhaps the hardest job in all the building, because the phones were always going crazy.

        She hadn’t coasted on Joel’s success to find some of her own. She’d gone out and gotten herself a real job. Nina couldn’t imagine Stacey ever doing that.

        Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes. Nina couldn’t stand the sight of her. Bleached blond thing. She wasn’t cute. She just thought she was. And for some reason, so did Andy.

        He was the one thing Nina had to give it to Stacey about: she did put up with him a whole hell of a lot better than Nina would. He’d pulled some doozies in his day. And each time, Stacey had been right there to smooth it over. She’d never left and she likely never would. That was commendable. As much as she hated to commend her.

        Joel and Andy sat there for hours, all while Nina and Stacey sat in opposite corners of the party hall, each checking their watches. Every few minutes, Stacey would run and call her babysitter, to ensure that everything was okay back home with Dinah.

        Nina could just imagine the conversation: “Well, we were coloring pictures a minute ago, then Dinah set the curtains on fire. But don’t worry. I put them out. Right now, she’s watching cartoons - wait. Dinah, no! Oh, she’s got a pair of siccors. I’d better go.”

        How they ever managed to get a babysitter in the first place for that child, let alone keep one was beyond Nina. The money must be fabulous. Enough to cover the sitter’s Valium addiction, no doubt.

        God, just let this night end and let it end soon. Nina couldn’t take much more...

        Mel had ended up ducking out of the party early, at Dan’s insistence. Seemed he had gotten entirely too chummy with that production assistant, so Mel had headed over to lay down the line: he was hers, so hands off. And when Belinda did not let go right away, Mel forcibly pried her off.

        Dan, obviously mortified, had dragged her out of the party hall and they fought the whole way home. She had screamed that she wasn’t gonna have him dump her for someone younger and cuter, even though history proved that that was exactly what he had done with his wife of almost 30 years, Molly, when he’d met Mel.

        Really, she had never thought about it before, but Mel sort of felt bad for Molly. She had given that man her whole life and even had a child with him (the deplorably spoiled Megan - Mel could not stand that girl). And then, what does he do? Run off with someone younger.

        At the time the indiscretion took place, Mel felt absolutely no remorse - hey, Dan had a choice and he made it - but now that he was doing much the same thing to her, she felt such a sense of shame that she even tried to call Molly that night and apologize.

        Needless to say, she was not having it. When she heard who was on the other end of the line, she handed the phone off to Megan, who’d screeched, “Leave my mom alone! God, you tramp, haven’t you done enough damage?!”

        Bitch.

        Mel’s repentant mood long over, she headed for bed alone at eleven. She was not about to kiss and make up with Dan tonight. Not after what he’d done. Still, he weaseled his way into the bed shortly after midnight and set about proving just how sorry he was.

        He said he’d been a fool. That he couldn’t help himself. That he was sorry. And he’d made love to her with so much intensity that Mel had to believe him. It was impossible to stay mad at that man. Especially when the make-up sex was so good.

        After that, Mel had fallen asleep and she assumed that Dan had too, but when she got up to use the bathroom at almost three, he was not beside her. That was not like him at all. He never left after sex. He was usually too exhausted to move afterwards, let alone leave the bedroom. Something was up. She could just feel it.

        She didn’t know quite why, but as she went down the stairs (still buck naked), her heart sped up. Something inside her knew what she was going to find. That still didn’t make the discovery any easier. Downstairs, on her living room floor, was her boyfriend. Screwing that production assistant with the same intensity that he’d just screwed her with. Mel lost it.

        “I don’t believe this!” she screamed, running toward them.

        Both Dan and Belinda looked up. He turned white. She turned red. All over. She immediately ran for her clothes. Mel was right behind.

        “Not so fast, you whore!” she yelled, turning her around. She was mad enough to rip her little blond head right off her body, but instead just shook her. “How could you come in my house and do this? You whore! Get out! Get the fuck out!”

        Belinda did not hesitate. She threw on her dress, grabbed the rest of her things and ran out the door. Dan, meanwhile, stared dead at Mel. He immediately began stammering. “I - I - Look, Mel, I - This is not what it looks like.”

        “Oh, no?” she challenged. “Well, it looks like you were screwing another girl on my living room floor. Are you telling me that’s not what was happening?”

        “I - ”

        “Save it!” she screamed, throwing his glass ashtray at him. It hit him smack in the chest. She started pacing. “I can’t believe you’d bring that girl into my house.”

        “It was my house before it was yours,” he informed, almost breathlessly.

        “You wanna be territorial now? Huh? That’s funny. Really, really funny. Look at me!” she screamed, coming to a stop right in front of him. “Get a long hard look at me. Now tell me that didn’t mean anything. You can’t, can you? Goddamn you! You cheated on me! And I’ll bet you’ve been cheating on me. This wasn’t the first time, was it, Dan? She wasn’t the first girl, was she?”

        He didn’t say anything. “Answer me!” she screeched. “Look at me, Dan. You fucked me tonight. Remember that? Wasn’t I enough for you? You had to go to her to really satisfy you? Well, you can go to hell! I’m done with you! I never wanna see you again! I can’t believe you’d do this to me! I hate you! God, I hate you.”

        He reached out to her. “God, don’t ever touch me! Never again! I hate you!” she yelled, shoving him away.

        That’s when it happened. He fell to the floor, clutching his chest and gasping for breath. Mel felt her own chest tighten. She looked down at him in disbelief. What was happening?

        “Dan?” she whispered.

        He reached out to grab her leg. “Mel,” he gasped, “get my pills.”

        “Your pills? What pills?”

        “My heart pills.”

        “You don’t take heart pills.”

        “Yes I do. They’re in our dresser. Top right hand drawer, behind your stationery. Mel, please hurry.”

        Okay. Now, she was really scared. Who knew Dan had a heart condition? He certainly hadn’t told her anything about it! How could she not know about his pills? Why would he keep them from her?

        Running up the stairs, a terrifying thought hit her: what if she had brought this on? What if she had caused this? What if her yelling and carrying on (not to mention the twelve-pound ashtray to the chest) caused him to go into full cardiac arrest? What if she caused him to die?

        No. No. No. Dan was not dying. He was not having a heartattack. He was only really stressed… as he should be. He’d been cheating on her. Was she just now remembering that?

        She had just finished screaming how much she hated him and now she was almost in tears over him and worrying that he was going to die?

        No, no. That wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be...

*****

        Tony didn’t hear the phone at first. He rarely did. He was an extremely heavy sleeper, so it was not unusual at all for him to completely miss a call. He never usually thought much of it. That was what they made answering machines for, right? Tonight, however, something compelled him to sit straight up in bed. He couldn’t explain it, but somehow, he knew that this call wasn’t bearing good news.

        And sadly, he was exactly right. On the other end of the line was a hysterical Mel.

        He felt his stomach get cold. “Melly,” he began in his all-time calmest voice. “What’s the matter, kid? What happened?”

        “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” She was sobbing.

        His heart sped up, but somehow, he kept his voice calm. “Melly, talk to me. What happened? What’s going on?”

        “Oh, my God, Tony. I need you,” she wailed. A late night desperation phone call was hardly out of the ordinary where Melly was concerned. This time, though, there was something more in her voice. Something that told Tony that there really was an emergency.

        “You’ve got me, kid. You’ve got me,” he assured. “Now, tell me what happened. Come on. It’s okay.”

        “No it’s not. Oh, my God, no it’s not. Tony, Dan’s dead.”

        Yes. As of three-twenty-six this morning, Dan was dead.

        The pills had not helped him at all, so Mel had had to call paramedics. By then, Dan had been just lying there on the floor. He wasn’t moving and he didn’t look like he was breathing. When the EMT’s arrived, they confirmed Mel’s worst fear: he had suffered a fatal heartattack.

        And what had brought on that fatal heartattack? She had. Oh, my God. This was all her fault. She had killed him.

        “He’s dead?” Tony questioned quietly, in a state of total disbelief.

        “He’s dead,” she affirmed, with a sob. "Oh, my God, I can't believe this is happening."

        “Melly, are you - are you sure?” He felt like a total ass for asking that. Odds were, she was. She wouldn't be this worked up if she weren't. He was just asking that to satisfy his own need for confirmation. Something this sudden (he'd only just seen him last night) was a little hard to believe.

        “Of course I'm sure! I was right there with him when he died!” Mel screamed. She soon started sobbing again. "Oh, my God, I can't believe this."

        “Okay,” he resolved quietly. "Okay. Calm down for me, okay, kid? Calm down." God, that sounded trite. He could imagine he wouldn't be very calm in that same situation. Still, a worked up Melly was a dangerous Melly. And she didn't need to be alone right now. "Where are you?"

        “I'm - I'm at home,” she whispered.

        “Okay, listen to me. I'll be right there, all right?”

        “I need you,” she sobbed.

        “You've got me, kid. You've got me. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be right there.”

        “God, Tony, thank you. Thank you so much.”

        “Don’t worry about it, kid. Don’t worry about anything. Just hold tight. I’m coming. I’ll be right there.”...

        That was not the first phone call Mel had made. She had also once again phoned Molly Marshall, this time to break the news. That was one of the hardest things Mel had ever had to do. The words just stuck in her throat. It was almost as if she couldn’t bring herself to say it because she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.

        There was no way. Dan couldn’t be dead. Not like this. Not this soon.

        Twenty-four hours ago, everything was fine. They were still in bed. Life was still normal. Nothing had happened. No fight, no Belinda, no heartattack... oh, my God, she had caused this. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get that out of her mind. She had killed him. This was all her fault...

        It was half past four when Phoenix woke up. That meant he’d slept seven hours. And he still felt like manure. Only now, if such a thing was possible, it was worse. He was sweaty and groggy and his head was pounding.

        Oh, how he loved being sick.

        Moving Cat off his face (for some reason, that was her favorite place to sleep), Phoenix sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Kristen was still right beside him.

        God. What had he done to deserve her kind of devotion? She was amazing. Here she was, right in the middle of a substantial romantic crisis, and what was she worried about? Him. Him. What a selfless girl. God, he loved her.

        Standing stiffly, with his obese yellow kitty close behind, Phoenix determined that he needed a shower. And then, more medicine. And then, more sleep. If there was actually any good side of being this sick, that was it - this was the only time when it was actually acceptable to sleep the entire day and half the night. And if there was anything he truly loved, it was sleep.

        While Phoenix may have wanted a shower, Cat had other plans. She was obviously hungry. That meant (sigh) he’d have to go downstairs to get her some fresh food.

        Ah, the sacrifices of parenthood. Phoenix had always wanted children, but if they were anything like that cat of his, maybe they weren’t such a great idea right now. He barely had enough time to feed himself, let alone Cat. And he couldn’t give her near the attention he used to be able to lavish.

        That was probably why she’d been in such a pissy mood lately. She was a little spoiled brat who wanted attention - his attention (for some reason, Kris just couldn’t do it for her). And she was willing to do anything to get it.

        Even demand food in the middle of the night when you felt like you’re head was going to explode.

        God. He’d raised that cat since it was three weeks old, but sometimes, he just wanted to throw it out the window. Right now was one of those times.

        But he relented, taking the princess downstairs for a midnight snack and checking the machine for messages. Kristen had put the phone back on the hook before she fell asleep, so that most likely meant Joel had called back and left a threat or two. Lovely. That was exactly what Phoenix needed right now.

        There was a message, but much to his surprise, it was from Trent:

        “Hey, man, it’s me. Just checking in. Me and Steiney missed you tonight - he’s back, by the way. And you’re never going to believe what he got me for my birthday. Oh, man, it’s cool. Everybody in the place had a fit over it. I’m serious! Guys I’ve never met before in my life were coming up to me and going, ‘Hey, can I play?’ Man, it was wild. It was really wild. Hey, so, um, it’s about 12:15. Give me a call whenever you get this, okay? I’m probably gonna be up a while. I don’t have to work tomorrow. I hope everything’s okay. I was a little worried when you didn’t show up. Let me know how you’re doing, okay? All right. Well, I’ll see you later, man. Call me.”

        Well, would you listen to that? And they said Phoenix was the worrier.

        Still, T.J.’s concern was really nice. He was definitely going to call him. Later. Much later. No doubt, neither he nor Cecily would appreciate a phone call at four in the morning. Not unless it was an emergency, at least.

        And Phoenix had had many the emergency in years past. Whenever a crisis happened, his first instinct - before anything else - was to call his best friend. And no matter how late (or how early, depending on how you looked at it), Trent always listened. He never turned him away. He never complained. He always just let him bear his soul. And he offered the best advice! Phoenix was telling him all the time that he’d missed his shrink calling. He would have made a great one.

        He’d known T.J. for four years now, even though it seemed like a lot longer. He was, in all honesty, the best friend Phoenix had ever had. Even better than Kristen. Not that he didn’t adore her - God, he did - but there were just some things he couldn’t do with her, like take in a Lakers game.

        He and Trent acted like such rabid idiots from their courtside seats that they embarrassed the mascot. And that was really saying something. They had such a great time.

        Another thing Phoenix could do with T.J. that would not work with Kris - write, perform and tour.

        Not that she hadn’t contributed some great lyrics in her day (she’d co-written his biggest hit, last summer’s “Let Me Love You”), singing was just not her thing (God love her, she was tonedeaf). And neither was touring.

        He and Trent had basically combined their acts in every aspect but the official one, meaning they were still two separate, solo artists who seemed to do everything together. It had not started out that way, that was just something that had evolved over time. And it had become their trademark.

        They’d been called music’s Batman and Robin (T.J., being younger by a good eight years, won the “Boy Wonder” title by default. It took seniority to be the Caped Crusader, baby!) They wrote together all the time and were constantly singing on each other’s albums (in those impeccable harmonies that Phoenix couldn’t believe to this day). They complemented each other perfectly. Both musically and personally.

        T.J. seemed to be everything he was not: talkative (he himself admitted that it practically took an act of God to shut him up), outgoing (not that Phoenix was not, he was just not that outgoing), instantly likeable - the list went on and on.

        It was really quite an amazing thing that they'd managed to find each other. Phoenix freely admitted that he'd be lost without him, which probably sounded pretty weird. Still, it was true. He'd said it before and he really meant it - there was absolutely no one (outside of Mom and maybe Kristen) that cared about him that much and the feeling was mutual. Phoenix would even go as far as to say he'd jump in front of a bullet for him... he just hoped he'd never have to...

        As promised, Tony showed up at Mel's house at almost four. He'd held her while she cried about Dan's passing for about an hour before suggesting that they move to his place. Again, this sounded trite - and quite a bit selfish - but it really creeped him out to be in the very room where Dan had died. Thankfully, she'd agreed and after they'd gotten there, he'd sat her down, made her some coffee and encouraged her to tell him what happened.

        She did, in no uncertain terms. Looking up at him, tears rolling down her face, she explained, “I killed him.”

        Certain that he hadn’t heard that correctly, Tony had asked her to repeat herself, which she did. Over and over and over. She was inconsolable. He was speechless.

        What exactly did she mean she had killed him? In the literal sense? No. Not his Melly. She was known for her mood swings, yeah, but she would never kill anybody - would she?

        No. As it turned out, she was only on a severe guilt trip. Sobbing, she told him the whole story - how she’d gone downstairs to find Dan screwing that young tramp, how she’d completely lost it, yelling, screaming, throwing that ashtray at him, how he’d just fallen over, how there was nothing she could do to help him, how the paramedics had taken him away - the whole thing.

        She blamed herself for the whole thing.

        That made Tony scathe. Even in death, that bastard was finding a way to make Melly miserable. He’d always known he was no good for her - that all he’d ever do was break her heart. And he’d tried to tell her that, too. But she’d never listen.

        And now look at them.

        Although he was thinking it, Tony would never be as callous as to offer an “I told you so.” Instead, he only held and rocked her and tried to assure that none of this was her fault.

        She wasn’t listening to that either.

        God, what a mess. What a huge, huge mess...

*****

        It was a quarter after six when Cecily woke up that morning. Of course, Trent was not budging yet. She couldn’t really blame him. He’d been working his ass off lately. He needed as much rest as he could squeeze in on this, a coveted day off.

        Recording was always difficult, especially with all the demands Joel imposed on you during the process. Thankfully, though, T.J. only had three more songs to go on his eighth studio effort, tentatively titled The Golden Dream.

        This album promised to be a worthy follow-up to the record of his career, 1983’s confessional masterpiece Free. That project held a very special place in Cecily’s heart. Not only because of how much success it had brought him, but because of how much closure it had brought him.

        The album was based entirely on Trent’s struggle to “break free” from all his varying addictions. And it didn’t skirt around the truth. The songs were blunt and to-the-point, reeking with anguish and shame, yet still somehow having a hopeful upswing. And the conviction in his voice was unbelievable. Although she knew she had a very biased opinion, the whole thing still gave Cecily goosebumps.

        She’d recorded a pair of albums, as well, a few years ago, none quite as successful as his, but that was perfectly okay with her. Music was obviously not her vocation. She could live with that. Sensing her time at JLN was through, she had asked to be released from her contract shortly after she got married.

        Joel had thought that was T.J.’s idea - that he wanted the little woman all to himself at home - but nothing could be further from the truth. Trent had actually encouraged her to give music another go. It was Cecily who had adamantly refused. The whole thing was all but over, anyway. And besides, she’d really wanted to just chuck it all and be a wife.

        Call her old-fashioned, but she really felt like her place was with her husband. She couldn’t bear to be apart from him for more than a few days at a time, so touring separately would be next-to-impossible. And in this business, especially with Joel at the helm, separate tours were almost inevitable.

        It had been no one’s decision but her own. And for some reason, no one seemed to get that. She guessed she couldn’t blame them much. Here was this chick, this liberated ’80’s lady, who had tattoos on her unmentionables (including the name of a former beau on her behind - which she had only recently had removed. Ouch) and had insisted on hyphenating her name when she got married, yet she wanted to give up her lucrative, if not entirely successful, career to be a housewife?

        That didn’t sound right, did it? If any outsider were to hear that, they would probably call her schizophrenic. And Cecily could say very little in her defense.

        The fact was, she was a case study in contrasts. Always had been. She considered herself fairly classy - she knew how to conduct herself in public and not embarrass those around her - and yet, she was quite the tomboy. The whole glamour bit was never really her thing. And yet, she’d found her greatest success in what was perhaps the most glamorous job around - modeling.

        See what I mean?

        She was so complicated, even her own mother did not fully understand her.

        But T.J. did.

        That was what she loved so much about him - he really got her. He was the first guy who ever had. Everyone else had always tried to conform her to what they wanted her to be - Cleopatra (that guy was a lunatic), Donna Reed, what-have-you - yet, he totally accepted her for who and what she was. He’d never once tried to “change” her. All he’d done was give her the purest, most unconditional, selfless love she’d ever known. And he laughed at all her jokes. That was a major plus.

        She was absolutely, completely, totally taken with him. It was really quite juvenile. She still sighed when she saw him, even though the attraction was much more than physical. There was so much more there. He was so much more than that unbelievably gorgeous face. And he knew the same thing about her.

        Cecily trusted him with her life. And she’d never really trusted anybody before. Right after they really got serious about their relationship (shortly after the first “I love you”’s), she had tearfully laid down the line to him: “You’ve really got me,” she remembered confessing. “I’ve never felt for anyone the way I feel for you. You’ve really got my heart. Now, don’t fuck it up.”

        He had sworn that he would not and made her promise much the same thing. His thing was always abandonment. Her guess was it had a lot to do with that psycho family of his. They had never been there for him. Really, he’d had a lousy childhood, despite coming from one of the wealthiest families in Nashville (and everyone in Nashville had money).

        That just went to show you - money could buy you anything but love. And acceptance.

        And back at home, T.J.’d had neither.

        Okay, so his mom Karen did lavish attention on him to the point of insanity, but you could easily discount that by considering that the woman was insane. She was obviously over-compensating for that horrible husband of hers.

        Cecily could think of a million names for Robert Johnson, but “Dad” was not one of them. When it came to parenting, the guy absolutely sucked. He didn’t have a clue about his younger son - he was all wrapped up in his older one, classic underachiever of the year, Gary.

        She’d even managed to coerce it out of Trent that Rob had disowned him on their wedding day, since he had decided to spend the rest of his life with a “colored girl.”

        Well, close-minded, uncaring, verbally abusive, prejudiced - that guy was just worlds of fun, wasn’t he?

        And Karen (A.K.A. - Little Miss Perfect) never called him down for anything he ever did. All she did was try to make up for it, which only made the offense even worse.

        Man. No wonder T.J. had so many issues.

        Abandonment, however, was the main one. Every time they had a fight, the first words out of his mouth when things got really heated were always, “I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me.”

        Yeah, right. Like she ever would.

        She needed him even more than he needed her - and he needed her an awful lot. They really ought to be in some sort of co-dependent therapy. It was really sort of pathetic. She couldn’t go shopping without him, he couldn’t go to sleep without her. The only place they actually dared to venture alone was the bathroom - and they didn’t do so very often.

        It was so funny. Especially when you consider how badly they’d gotten off at first. When she’d first met him, he absolutely repulsed her. If you had told her way back then that she’d now be married to the creep who had staggered over to her at Marvin’s birthday party and suggested - in the crudest of terms - that they blow the joint and she blow on him, if you know what I mean, she would have called you schizophrenic.

        Of course, a lot of that had to do with the circumstances. When Cecily first met him, T.J. was all of eighteen. Her first impression of him was this pale little kid whose hair weighed more than he did. She never would have even glanced twice at him had he not approached her. She was not attracted at all.

        Funny how things worked out, wasn’t it? Over time (a lot of time - it was two years before she even saw him again), they came to be friends, but nothing much more than that. She continued to date other guys, she even found herself pregnant by one, Joey Marks. And while Trent never said anything to her about a steady girlfriend, he was no doubt getting it from somewhere. He had to be.

        It was only after he got out of rehabilitation and she miscarried her baby (a boy she named Hunter Lane) at five-and-a-half months that things really heated up.

        Losing Hunter was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. Even thinking about it today, over four years after the fact, she still teared up. She hadn’t exactly planned the pregnancy (she’d thought she and Joey had been more careful than that), but she was willing to make the most of it. It had always been a dream of hers to be a mommy and she couldn’t wait to make it reality.

        And then, the bottom fell out.

        Looking back, she should have seen it coming. She’d been having severe back pain for days and Hunter had grown considerably quieter in there (she’d just discovered the magic of fetal movement and had a very active son). She really should have gone to the doctor sooner. But she had so many other things on her mind. Like recording her first album. She was actually in the studio when the bleeding started. By then, of course, it was too late. They induced labor and the son she had dreamed so much about was stillborn.

        And when all this went down, who was right there with her? Who didn’t leave her side once? Who held her and rocked her and took it upon himself to plan Hunter’s memorial service? It certainly wasn’t Joey.

        He didn’t even act like he cared. When told, he only sympathized, “Oh, that’s awful. I’m so sorry to hear that.”

        What? Your son just died and that’s the best you can come up with? “I’m so sorry to hear that”? Right then, she ended things. And, for comfort, she turned to the only one who had been there with her all the way - Trent.

         And the rest, as they say, is history.

         She really didn’t know what she’d do if she didn’t have him. He was her rock. And she couldn’t wait to have babies with him. He could, of course (Cecily sensed that the idea of parenthood sort of freaked him out), but she was already planning on it. She really couldn’t wait.

        Right now, though, she was content with her canine baby, T.J.’s one-hundred-pound Saint Bernard, Bubba. That dog had taken a while to grow on her, but she loved him now. And she was almost used to him wedging himself between her and Trent at night.

        She didn’t suppose he would be getting up any time soon, so she was just gonna let him be. He would wake up whenever he woke up. This was the first day off he’d had in over a week. He needed to rest.

        She was just glad the album was almost done. He’d been recording since June. That actually meant the project was ahead of schedule, since recording, at the bare minimum, took six months. But still, she sensed that Trent couldn’t wait to get it over with. She could always tell when he was tired of something.

        And she couldn’t say she blamed him. She’d never liked recording, either. But that had a lot to do with Joel being her producer.

        God, what memories.

        She was so glad she was done with all that. She was so much happier now. As insane as she knew it sounded, she was perfectly content just being T.J.’s wife. That was all she wanted to be.

        For now, anyway...

*****

        Mel had stayed over at Tony’s all night. It had taken that long to calm her down. Interestingly enough, she had seemed to go through all five stages of grief all in one night, right there on his living room couch.

        By mid-morning, she had seemed to have accepted everything and almost appeared eager to move on. Leery of such a rapid recovery, Tony suggested she stay a bit longer and get some sleep. Mel, however, insisted that she needed to get home. She said that she needed to clear her head.

        And she did. Honest to God, she was no longer upset about Dan’s death. What was really eating away at her was the fact that he was cheating on her a few scant minutes before he died. That devastated her beyond words. To be dumped and cheated on was just indescribable. She felt such an empathy for Molly Marshall.

        Well, well, what do you know? What goes around really did come around. Mel was really getting a taste of her own medicine. She had taken Dan away from his home, his wife, his daughter, with no thoughts about anyone but herself and how great it was to be in love.

        God, why hadn’t she seen it? Why hadn’t she thought of it? Was she that naive? Was she that much in love with that slime? She had to be. Why else would she miss all the tell-tale clues?

        There were all the long hours, all the unexplained phone calls, all the constant flirting with any young thing he saw, the fact that he’d cheated on Molly with her - it all came together to form one big revelation: she should have never trusted him.

        And who had tried to tell her that over and over again? The very same person who had helped her through what was the one of the hardest nights of her life.

        That’s right. Tony.

        He’d always been there for her. He’d always been looking out for her. She’d just never appreciated it before. She thought he didn’t know what he was talking about. She thought he was only trying to interfere in her life. Turned out, he was only trying to help her. He was only trying to keep her from getting hurt.

        God. Why hadn’t she listened to him?

        Mel honestly couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid. She couldn’t believe she’d let Dan use her like that. What a fool she was! What a stupid, stupid fool...

        It took two hours for Tony to get his head together after taking Mel back home. He knew he needed to do something, but what? And how? Not knowing what else to do, he picked up the phone and called Joel.

        Struck silent by the news of his employee’s sudden death, Joel simply sank down onto the edge of his desk and took in a deep breath. What a kidney punch. He honestly never would have thought something like that would happen. Sure, people died all the time. Death was, after all, a part of life. But a death this sudden, of someone he knew so well - it was just unbelievable.

        “Is Mel okay?” Joel heard himself whisper.

        “Yeah. Yeah,” Tony affirmed with a sigh. “She’s a little too okay. I’m worried about her.”

        “Where’s she at?”

        “Well, she was here, but she went home about two hours ago.”

        “And you let her leave?” Joel seemed stunned.

        “Yeah. Actually, I took her home.”

        “You what? Are you insane?”

        “Well, what was I supposed to do, Sir? She didn’t want to stay."

        Joel sighed, running a hand over his face. “You could have tried to reason with her some.”

        As if he didn't? “I did. It didn’t work. You know there’s no reasoning with Melly.”

        “Well, yeah, but still, she doesn’t need to be alone at a time like this.”

        “She wants to be, Joel.”

        “I don’t think she knows what she wants right now, Tony.”

        God. Since when was Joel that protective? Since when did he care so much? And since when did he know Melly so well? If anyone knew Melly, Tony knew Melly. And she was a girl who meant every word that came out of her mouth. When she said she wanted to be alone, then, she wanted to be alone. Even if you didn’t think it was the best thing for her right now.

        “I think you should go check on her,” Joel suggested.

        “I can’t do that,” Tony maintained. “She wants to be alone.”

        “She’ll thank you later. Just go.” Although he knew it sounded funny, it was Joel’s first instinct to make sure Mel was okay. He wasn’t really sure why, but he felt really bad for her. She and Dan were quite the couple. “Just go check on her, okay? And find out when there’s going to be a service, so I can tell everyone.”

        Well, was there anything else Joel needed this morning? A pizza? A taxi? An escort, maybe? Speak now or forever hold your peace. Guess not. Tony sighed. “Yeah. Okay.”

        “All right. Call me back.”

        “I will.”

        With that, Tony hung up, even more confused than before. Was Joel on to something? Did Melly really need company? Had he done the right thing by letting her leave? He didn’t want her to go through this all alone. Maybe he should go check on her.

        But then, what if she didn’t want him there and chased him away? She was going to have to reconcile this in her own way. He couldn’t do much to help her.

        But he could at least try. The worst she could do was tell him to go away. And he’d heard that one before.

        He just couldn’t stand to see her suffering over anything all by herself. She didn’t have any immediate family close by and didn’t have too many friends, so he was all she had right now. And he wasn’t gonna let her down.

        He just hoped he was doing the right thing. He hoped he didn’t alienate her. Oh, God...

        Kristen had gone out to get brunch at almost twelve. She wanted Donnie to have something edible laying around whenever he woke up. And she most certainly didn’t cook.

        After feeding Cat, Phoenix did eventually manage to get that shower he’d so desperately needed, then dosed up on some more Nyquil and went back to bed. If his calculations were correct, this new day would be the third one. Hopefully, he did not have that much longer to suffer.

        The phone rang at twenty after noon, jolting Phoenix out of some demented, medicine-induced nightmare. Propping himself up on one elbow, he instinctively looked to Kristen. She was gone. And the phone just kept ringing. Oh, all right.

        “Yeah, hello?” he answered, sounding very out of it. He really hated it when idiots called and woke him up, especially when he felt like shit.

        “Hey, man, it’s me.”

        Ah, Trent. His favorite idiot of them all.

        “Hey,” Phoenix responded flatly, mumbling, “What’s up?”

        “Look, I know I’m probably waking you up and I’m real sorry about that, but I had to call you. I just got some bad news.”

        “What's wrong? What happened?”

        “Dan’s dead.”

        “What?” That caused Phoenix to sit straight up in bed - and Cat to come running. She jumped up in bed beside him. He shifted the phone to the other ear, distractedly petting her. “What happened? How’d he die? When?”

        “I’m not really sure,” Trent admitted. “All I know is he died sometime last night.”

        “And how do you know this?” Much like Tony, Phoenix couldn't help being a bit skeptical. It wasn't that he didn't believe him. He just couldn't believe the circumstance.

        “Gary called me. Maybe twenty minutes ago. He woke me up too, so I’m sorry to do the same thing to you. How are you?”

        “I’m okay,” Phoenix replied, running a hand over his face. Cat reached up to grab it. Reaching back down to her, he got back to the matter at hand. “So Gary called you?”

        “Yeah. He said Megan called him.”

        “I see.”

        T.J.’s brother Gary and Dan’s daughter Megan had been dating on-and-off for almost three years. Their relationship was a rather precarious one, to say the least. One minute, they’d be staring into each other’s eyes and gushing on and on about how in love they were, while the next, they would be spitting and cursing at each other, all while spewing juvenile insults such as “You’re ugly.” Tony had called it a few months ago. Theirs was indeed a kindergarten courtship.

        “So what all did Gary say?” Phoenix pressed, continuing to pet his kitty.

        “Not a lot. Just that Dan had died last night and Megan was real upset about it.”

        “Oh, man. I can’t believe it.”

        “Me either. Me either.”

        Silence. Neither knew what to say. Phoenix finally cleared his throat and spoke. “So do you know anything about a funeral or anything like that?”

        “I haven’t heard,” Trent said quietly. “But I can imagine Molly is going to plan something.”

        “Yeah. Yeah. Probably.”

        More silence. Phoenix was totally, completely leveled. This one had come out of nowhere. He’d never in a million years expected Dan to die this soon. He’d honestly thought the guy would outlive him! What a shock. Phoenix had only just seen him a few days ago - and they’d had a huge fight.

        Oh, my God. Cue the guilt. It hit like a wave. How could he have said those things? Yeah, okay, so he was really mad, but that didn’t justify them! And now, he could never take them back. They were hanging in the air forever. Phoenix could never apologize. That one hit him right in the gut.

        “You - you okay, man?” T.J. asked quietly.

        “Yeah. I’m fine.” Phoenix assured.

        “You don’t sound too fine.”

        “Well, I’m sick. I’ve been sick,” Phoenix justified, with a sniffle thrown in for effect.

        “Really? When did that happen?”

        “It's been working on me for about a week, but it totally slammed my ass down last night, which would be why I ditched the party.”

        “And let me guess - Joel, being that kind and compassionate soul that he is, just couldn't resist calling to badger you about coming, despite your pneumonia, right?”

        “You do know him well,” Phoenix affirmed with a sigh.

        “It's sad, but yeah, I do.”

        Still more silence. This was all so awkward. Phoenix almost couldn’t make it make sense. His producer had just died - only days after they had one of their infamously bitter argument - and here he was, discussing something as trivial as Joel Gibson with his best friend. What was the matter with him? Megan had just lost her dad. He should show a little more consideration. She had to be going through it right now. He had to ask. “How’s Megan doing?”

        It was T.J.'s turn to sigh, lighting a cigarette. He'd been trying to quit since the beginning of the year and well... let's just say some days were harder than others. “Not good. Gary said she’s a wreck right now, which is understandable, since - ”

        “I know. She was really close to him. God. That’s just unbelievable, ya know? I’m just in shock.”

        “Yeah. Me too. It's one of those really sobering, numbing things. I just saw him last night. He and Mel had a big fight at the party.”

        Oh, yeah. Mel. The other woman. Really, Phoenix knew he should be giving her the benefit of the doubt. She had just lost someone very close to her, too. But he couldn’t get out of his mind what she’d done to Molly. She was one good woman. In fact, she was like his other mom. She was his L.A. mom. He loved her to death. And she didn’t deserve what he did to her - excuse me, what they did to her.

        How could Mel live with herself? How could she look in the mirror? And she had the nerve to dislike him? Well, excuse me, but Phoenix had never taken any man away from his wife. The mere thought was deplorable. How could she have done that? How could she face herself?...

*****

        For the next few days, the mood was different at JLN. It’s not something that’s very easily described. One would probably have to observe the atmosphere both then and now to recognize the changes.

        I can tell you this much - it was not so business-oriented anymore. Everyone was still reeling. No one could believe that one of their own had passed away so abruptly. Not that Dan was exceptionally popular around there (in truth, he had very few friends) but his death still sent shockwaves through the building. It even had many surveying their own mortality.

        None at JLN seemed more jolted by Dan’s demise than Phoenix. In all honesty, he hadn’t been all that close to Dan either, but he had respected him tremendously. He was one hell of a producer. No one would ever be able to interpret Phoenix’s songs quite like he could.

        He knew - even though he never had a hand in the actual writing of them - what each one was trying to convey. He could tell just by the “vibe” what mood they should be setting. And he helped orchestrate accordingly. He had some of the best ideas! He was the true master. All Phoenix did was write this stuff down and bring it in. It was Dan who brought it to life.

        Another thing - he actually listened to what Phoenix had to say regarding his songs. A lot of producers nowadays seemed to have their own agenda (with songs you wrote) and they would rarely even ask your opinion.

        Not Dan. He not only asked Phoenix’s opinion, he encouraged his participation on the production end of things. He taught him everything he knew about the helming profession and when time came to make Through My Eyes, his latest album, Dan even allowed him to self-produce three of the tracks.

        He relinquished control of the project to someone who had relatively no experience in the production field. Do you know how rare that was? Either that guy had nothing but total trust in him and his artistic vision or he had a death wish. Phoenix preferred to think it was the former.

        Word was Joel had already hired someone to replace him. Janie in the commissary (the source of all good gossip in the JLN building) didn’t know all the details, but she said she heard him talking to Andy about some new producer. Some guy named Frankie. Or something like that.

        Was that or was that not the epitome of bad taste? Dan had not even been dead a week yet and Joel had already given his job to someone else? How low could you get?

        Of course, these were only unsubstantiated reports, but what other explanation could there be? Joel was not notorious for hiring new people. They had had the same staff of three producers ever since JLN came into being four years ago - Joel for Cecily and Joey, Andy for Tony, Stacey and girl group Americans and Dan for Phoenix.

        There had, of course, been a few exceptions: Micah and the Mullenese always produced themselves, while Tony had helmed Mel’s debut - with some help from Dan. T.J. had brought over his own producer, Bill Peterman, from his Faraday days.

        Point is, Joel hadn’t splurged for new blood in four years. He wouldn’t suddenly do so now. This guy had to be Dan’s replacement. And that thought really irked Phoenix.

        Don’t get me wrong - he was sure the guy was great. It was nothing against him personally. It was just the principle. Call him crazy, but he just thought it was still a little too soon to be bringing anybody in to take Dan’s place. Joel could have at least let the body get cold. They hadn’t even had the funeral yet!

        Phoenix had discussed his concerns with Trent, who understood exactly how he felt, but rationalized that this was a business. A business that could not exactly afford to take a year to mourn. While he acknowledged that three days was just a little abrupt, he said he understood why Joel had done it.

        In his eternally business-minded viewpoint, life - meaning work, since work was Joel’s life - had to go on. Even though it sounded extremely crass, that was Joel for you. That was business for you.

        And he was probably right. But that didn’t make the situation any easier to reconcile. Again, it was nothing against this new guy personally - Phoenix was sure he was really good at what he did. Thing was, though, he would not be as good as Dan. And that bothered him more than words could ever express.

        A lot of things about this bothered him, actually. He had never handled death very well. Even as a kid. He was the kind that would cry for three years over a goldfish. And when his first cat died, he’d thought for sure they’d have to put him in therapy.

        That had a lot to do with his unexplainable, yet unshakable fear of death. For as long as he could remember, he had been terrified of dying. Absolutely terrified. He had no idea why - the most he’d ever lost in his life was that aforementioned cat at age 13. But still, he was scared to death of dying - no pun intended.

        So if anyone around him died (even people he only barely knew), he was always plunged into this sort of mini-depression, mixed with an unhealthy amount of anxiety. He was always haunted by the idea that next time, the person dead very well could be him. He’d even had nightmares about it, but then, that one could be explained by him still being on cold medicine. That stuff always fucked up your dreams.

        Fact was, he was taking this harder than anyone - even Megan was doing better than him - and that was really sad. He knew it. He knew how stupid this was, but he just couldn’t help it. Death always had this effect on him. He just hoped he never had to experience it again...

        The whispers had indeed been true. Joel had already hired someone to take Dan’s place in the control room. However, he was making a conscientious decision to wait to make that public. He didn’t want to seem insensitive.

        He had already taken a fair amount of heat from Andy and a select group of others (even Logan) about hiring someone so quickly, but he’d really had no other choice. Business did have to go on. Mel needed someone to produce her sophomore effort (Tony had declined), which was set to begin production in January. Phoenix also needed to begin thinking about his next project. And he needed a producer too. And this guy had come highly recommended.

        While this would end up being Frankie Wright’s first professional producing gig, he had helmed several amazing indie projects including the one that got new guitar virtuoso Liza Brewer signed by Columbia.

        Everyone Joel asked had nothing but good references for Frankie Wright, both professionally and personally. He’d heard so many good things he couldn’t dream of not checking the guy out for himself.

        They’d met in his office maybe three months ago. The meeting had not been long by any stretch of the imagination, but that didn’t mean anything. All it took was five minutes with Frankie Wright to determine that the guy was pure talent. Through and through. By the time their initial half-hour meeting was over, the deal was sealed. He was in.

        That was what Joel wanted everyone to understand. This was not some spur-of-the-moment thing. He was not dishonoring Dan’s memory in any way, shape or form. He had honestly been courting this guy for two months. The only reason he had not snatched him up sooner was there was truly not enough room for another producer. That was the only reason.

        Joel had honestly been coming up with ways to somehow make a place for him months before Dan died. He’d even asked Dan’s opinion on it once or twice.

        His advice? “If you’re so gung ho on this guy, then do what you have to do.”

        So he had. He didn’t want to offend anyone. He really didn’t. He knew how awful it would probably look, especially to the family, so he had not said anything about it to anyone other than Andy and his closest business advisors, all of whom had advised him to wait.

        Well, sorry, but he couldn’t exactly do that. This guy was good. Honestly, truly good. And it was only a matter of time before he came to the attention of a competitive label. Columbia had seemed interested when they signed Liza. Joel couldn’t run the risk of his most promising new acquisition being snatched right out from under him. He had to act now.

        So he had. The only thing he was upset about was this having to be Frankie’s foot in the door. He wished there could have been some other way. Any other way. But here they were. They had to move on. And he had no doubts that he’d done the right thing. No doubts at all...

        In what was probably their most appalling display ever, Gary and Megan had embarked on yet another suspenseful chapter of “As the Sandbox Turns” - as Tony had so cleverly dubbed it.

        The whole thing was just sad. So, so sad.

        Right now was a time when Megan probably needed him more than anything else and what was Gary doing to make her feel better? Calling her a “big fat cow” and saying that the reason her father had died was “he was tired of looking at you - you’re so ugly.”

        And did I mention that he said all those awful things in the company of not only her mother and grandparents, but also the funeral director. Yes. That whole spectacle had taken place at the funeral home!

        My God, was he nuts? This was a new low. No one could believe he’d do something so awful, least of all Trent. But, of course, Gary felt no remorse. He said she’d had it coming.

        Obviously, he was not only a self-absorbed, underachieving jackass, he was also a petty, immature son-of-a-bitch with a wicked cruel streak. My God, the look on Megan’s face when he said that! As if the poor thing hadn’t had enough to deal with already.

        The whole incident had left T.J. once again wondering if he was somehow adopted. Or if Gary had somehow been repeatedly dropped on his head as an infant. There was no way he could ever see himself doing something that horrible. The fact that Gary could with no regrets at all had sent chills down his spine. If Megan ever took him back after this, she was a bloody fool.

        Of course, Gary could care less whether or not she ever took him back. He didn’t need her, anyway. In fact, he was much better off without her. She thought she was so much better than him, did she? Well, he’d show her - he’d see how great she thought she was when her daddy’s mistress showed up at the funeral.

        That’s right. He had done the unthinkable. He had invited Mel.

        Seemed no one had really wanted her there. Molly - the executor of her late ex-husband’s estate - had decided that it should be a family thing and Mel was definitely not family. However, Gary could not resist one final dig in at the former love of his life and gave her a call. He said that they had tried to keep the service a secret, but, as the lady in Dan’s life when he died, she had a right to be there.

        Whether or not she would show, he had no idea, but he had invited her. And, he couldn’t wait to hear about Megan’s reaction...

*****

        It was pouring down rain the morning of October 16. And oddly enough, it really set the mood. On the day of every single funeral Trent had ever gone to, it had been raining. Why that was, or if it was anything more than a strange coincidence, he had no idea. All he knew was it was the perfect backdrop. With the dark, gray sky and the driving rain, it almost seemed that nature was mourning right along with the family. And that, for some reason, felt comforting.

        The actual funeral itself was scheduled for this afternoon at one, while the graveside service was at two-thirty and the wake was set to commence at roughly three-thirty in the JLN party hall. That did seem like an odd locale - T.J. could think of a million better places - but Molly had said that there was no more fitting tribute to Dan than to have it there.

        He loved working more than anything, she said, so why not celebrate his life in the place that gave him the most joy? Well, okay.

        You would think that JLN would be closed down today, out of respect. But obviously, Joel had no respect for anyone but himself. Not only had he replaced Dan less than a week after he died, he was also conducting business on the day of his funeral - while the wake was slated to be right there in that very building!

        And you wanna hear the absolute worst part? T.J. had to record today. Do you believe that? Who in their right mind would want to record on a day like this? How was he supposed to conjure up enough professionalism to compensate for both the overwhelming sympathy for the family, for their loss and the overwhelming contempt for Joel, for being such an insensitive jackass? He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

        But wait. There’s more!

        Okay. Not only did he have to record today, when he should be a floor down paying his respects, but Phoenix had to be there too, since they were recording the latest in their series of duets, stirring ballad “Tell Me.”

        Dear God, what was Joel trying to do?

        Didn’t he know that Phoenix was a wreck as it was? He was taking this hard. If anyone needed some closure downstairs, it was him. And yet, here they were. What a huge mess.

        Thankfully, Bill completely understood how they were both feeling (he didn’t understand the need to do this today either) and promised to “go easy” on them. And when he said something like that, he usually meant it.

        He had pledged to let them go after the first really good take, then stay behind to work on the sound levels while they went on ahead to the funeral. He was opting to stay behind so they could go. That was amazing. He was amazing. However, that still did not atone for the fact that they had to be here in the first place, but at least they knew they wouldn’t be here long.

        Really, it was strange. This song - much like the monsoon outside - really set the mood for later this afternoon. No one could have planned this. It was just one of those weird things that would never happen again in a million years.

        The irony gave T.J. goosebumps. He had written this song almost three years ago, on a day much like today - except no one had died. He was just really, really bummed. The lyrics were ripe with sorrow and the music pregnant with pain. It was a song that did not have a happy ending. It simply concluded with the same lament it began with: “I wish someone would tell me what I’ve done.”

        Looking over the lyrics and listening to the finished track of the song (featuring an elaborate string section performed by the borrowed London Symphony Orchestra) was proving to be very difficult. This was almost too ironic to be true. What a strange, strange coincidence.

        As he often was, Phoenix was forty-five minutes late to JLN’s Studio Two (better known as “The Ratnest”), showing up at 11:30. He obviously did not want to be there, but still delivered the performance of a lifetime in the booth. It was really unbelievable. He gave it all he had.

        Literally, he sang his heart out. It was all he could do. He’d needed a release. An outlet, if you will, to channel all he was feeling. This song seemed like the perfect one. He just let it all go, into the microphone. All the depression, all the anxiety, all the questions he had about why - he vented them all into the song.

        They both did. Standing there in their funeral finest (both had planned to head straight from here to the service), they emoted the painful lyrics beautifully. Both of them had varying vocal styles and ranges, yet the whole thing came together so well. Neither outshone the other. No one was flat, no one had ventured off-key, it was all perfect. The very first take was perfect. So perfect, Bill was almost speechless when he addressed them through the control room microphone.

        “Wow,” he managed. “That was unbelievable. I am just blown away. That was exceptional. Just exceptional. It’s not gonna get any better than that. You guys can go.”

        Phoenix didn’t even bother saying goodbye. As soon as he was excused, he was out of there. Trent didn’t hang around much longer. Just long enough to head into the control room to thank Bill for his sacrifice.

        By then, it was ten after twelve. If he hurried, he might be able to make it to the church in time. One hindrance was the nasty weather - there were bound to be a number of wrecks. And then, there was the small matter of having no idea where this place was.

        No one did, really. He doubted Dan even knew. He didn’t seem like the type that went to church a lot. But then, the same could be said for all the other churchgoers he knew.

        The paradox was a fascinating one. The fact that Dan had been an adulterer who took up with a girl just two years older than his own daughter likely had no bearing on him going to church. He could probably sit there with pride, having no idea how much of a hypocrite he was. And not really caring, either.

        Please don’t misread that. It was not that Trent was anti-church or anti-Christian. Far from it. He had been brought up Catholic. And I do mean Catholic. For his family to be such immoral, messed up people (sorry, y’all), they were certainly faithful. We’re talking about being at the church every single time the door was open, commemorating birthdays for the most obscure of saints and even - get this - baking cakes for them.

        There was the ridiculous tradition of fish on Friday, every Friday, regardless of whether or not you wanted it. Today, the very thought of fish made him nauseous. There were also plenty of crucifixes and candles all over the house. And T.J.’s personal favorite - six painful (all the horror stories about ruler-wielding nuns, sadly, were not exaggerated) years at an all-boy Catholic academy.

        We’re talking the whole nine yards.

        Trent liked to joke that for his first birthday, he’d gotten the Complete Catholic Package, with bonus set of steak knives, for the low, low introductory price of $39.95.

        Yet, as he’d grown up and gotten a really hard look at the doctrine being preached and the people in the pews, something just didn’t add up. Therein began his distaste for all things religious.

        He had to say he’d come some way in the past few years. He had since made his peace with many of the world’s faiths. Catholicism was the only one he had real issues with. Something about it just didn’t seem right. There were all these unreasonable mandates, all these well-intentioned but clueless people (including his own mother), all this meaningless rhetoric - and of course, your hypocrites.

        To him, the very definition of a religion was something that was of another dimension, yet powerful enough to affect your life in this realm. And most of the religious people he knew didn’t seem very affected at all.

        The hypocrisy could be very disillusioning to someone young and impressionable who was searching for answers that those people couldn’t possibly provide. For T.J., however, it was all just frustrating. He’d heard it all before. Hundreds of times. And it didn’t make any more sense now than it did then.

        He doubted it ever would. He knew he’d probably never be able to reconcile all of his issues within the church, but that was okay. He’d made his peace with that. Over time, he’d resolved that religion was a personal thing - it was whatever worked best for you. And, at least at this point in his life, Buddhism was the thing for him.

        It had all started with Sess. She began studying the Zen school shortly after they got together and had nothing but good things to say about it. At first, Trent had had his qualms, but had agreed to at least give it a try.

        That was one of the smartest things he’d ever done. While he knew full well that there were plenty of people who thought he was crazy, he still could not deny the experiences he’d had. For the first time in years, he was really, truly happy. And after an eternity of torturing himself with the mistakes he made so many years ago, he had finally made peace with the past and set his sights on the future.

        Of course, Buddhism was not entirely responsible - a lot of it had to do with his growing into himself - but it had made a marked difference in every aspect of his life. That was exceptional.

        Turned out, traffic was much lighter than he’d expected it to be. Mind you, that was not to say the freeways were clear (this was L.A.), but they were not nearly as congested as Trent had feared they’d be. And the directions Megan had given were right on. He actually got there before Cecily. And Phoenix.

        That was funny, especially given how Phoenix had left JLN before him. Either he’d gone a different way and gotten stuck or he’d had something else to do before coming. With that guy, you could never tell.

        One of Phoenix’s most annoying characteristics was his tardiness. He was born late and he was gonna die late. That was, in fact, a very popular joke around JLN - that he would be late for his own funeral.

        Turned out, he was late for his producer’s.

        T.J. could only hope everything was all right. Phoenix had a terrifying habit of retreating into his own little shell every time something really bad happened (case in point, when his last relationship ended - he stayed in what could only be described as catatonia for eight days). He was like a turtle. With suicidal tendencies.

        He’d looked awful this morning. It was obvious he’d been up most of the night, although Trent didn’t know if that had to do with Dan dying or the cold that he hadn’t quite shaken yet.

        What he did know was his best friend. And he was not taking this well at all.

        But why? He had not been exactly close to Dan - in fact, they had all-out wars every few weeks during production. Seemed they were two very strong-willed people who did not take opposition very well. Dan had been an Army general - why he’d gotten into this business was anybody’s guess - while Phoenix was simply a spoiled brat. They did not mesh well at all.

        Of course, it was natural to mourn the loss of someone you had worked so closely with for so long (four years and three albums). But almost completely shutting down over a guy you really didn’t like? That was just a little bit much. But that was Phoenix. What could you do?

        Again, Trent could only hope he was okay. At least he had Kristen with him. He was not completely alone - wherever he was, which was hopefully on his way. The service started in five minutes. And how distasteful would it look to show up late? Exactly. He hoped he got there soon...

*****

        When the invitation had first been extended, Frankie had to admit he’d been surprised. He’d only just gotten this job - he hadn’t even officially started yet - and he was being invited to attend the funeral of the guy he was replacing - a guy he’d never even met?

        That didn’t sound right. He couldn’t intrude on that. How bad was it going to look? How exactly did Mr. Gibson plan on introducing him? Was he just gonna parade him in front of the widow and say, Hey, Mrs. Whatever, I’d like you to meet Frankie Wright. He’s the one who inherited your husband’s job?

        No. No, no, no. That was just wrong. There was no way he could go to that. And so he’d refused.

        Fair enough, Mr. Gibson had acknowledged. Then, he proposed something even worse - come to the wake.

        What was he, crazy? If he didn’t want to go to the funeral because he hadn’t known the guy and thought it might be a little too uncomfortable for the family, why on earth would he want to go eat some free food with a bunch of people he didn’t know - and still run the risk of alienating the family?

        Frankie had said no on that one too, but Joel had persisted. He had said that it would not be awkward because no one would know who he was.

        Wait a minute. Wasn’t that worse? How would you feel if you’d lost somebody very close to you and some strange guy nobody had ever seen before showed up at the wake and took off with a casserole under his arm? He couldn’t do that. It just wasn’t right.

        Refusing to be deterred, Joel had offered that this would give him the chance to meet his new productional charges, Melodi Dixon and Superstar Phoenix Reeves.

        Well, yeah, it probably would, but what horrible circumstances to do so under. He didn’t know how they had felt personally for the deceased (whose name he couldn’t even remember - even more reason not to come), but he always thought that a bond was formed every time you went into the studio with someone. He had first-hand proof of that one - he was engaged to the last person he’d helmed, superstar-in-training Liza Brewer.

        He knew that when you collaborated on something as powerful as art (and music was art), you forged a bond. He had with every single person he’d ever produced. Albeit, some more than others but the connection was still there. So these people were bound to have been bonded with their producer. They were probably very upset over his death. To march up in front of them and go, Hey, I’m your new producer. Let’s talk songs, would be not only insensitive, but also stupid, since it would likely make a horrible first impression.

        And as we all know, you never get a second chance to make one of those.

        After he’d refused a third time, Mr. Gibson had seemed to finally get the message and back off - until this morning. That was when he called with his final, in his mind, most convincing reason to attend the wake: it was to be held at the JLN building. What better time to become acquainted with the grounds?

        Well, I dunno. Anytime?

        No. No. No. The final answer was no. Frankie couldn’t believe he’d even ask. What was he hoping to accomplish? It certainly couldn’t be consoling the family. Liza had thought that maybe he was just trying to initiate him into the JLN family. She said her new bosses at Columbia had gone out of their way to do the same for her.

        He begged to differ. He’d been right there and no one at Columbia had doggedly insisted she attend the funeral of the girl whose place she took on the roster. This was so morbid. And it told Frankie something about Joel Gibson - the guy was relentless.

        When you added it all up, it made sense. He had stalked him for months, calling every couple of days to ensure that he had not gotten any offers from competitive labels. If Frankie had been a lesser person, he would have fabricated some just to get Joel to stop calling him. How was that any of his business? He said he wanted to make sure no one else snatched him up, but what would it matter to him if they did? He obviously had no plans to hire him. If he did, he would have a lot sooner. All Joel had wanted to do was keep Frankie on a retainer, which might not have been a problem if he had just been willing to compensate him for his trouble.

        And of course, he had not.

        Frankie was really starting to wonder if he had done the right thing by taking this job. With all due respect, Joel Gibson seemed to have a screw loose. What kind of guy would he be to work for? Something told Frankie he didn’t want to know...

        Mel had initially thought about skipping Dan’s funeral too, but she absolutely couldn’t stop herself. You know what? Gary Johnson was right. She did have a right to be there. While she might not have been bona fide family, she was still the one with Dan at the time of his death. She was still the one he’d left the house to in his will. She was still the one he was cheating on that night… she had to get that out of her mind. She really did. That was not important. What was was going in there and showing everyone that she was not gonna cower and hide. That she was not ashamed of herself. Her misdeed, maybe, but never herself.

        Still, she found herself stopping to collect her thoughts in the church parking lot before actually getting out of the car. She had to take some deep breaths and offer some last-minute encouragements. This was not going to be easy. But then, she had never met a challenge she didn’t like.

        Approaching the door to the church’s sanctuary, she found something odd: Tony. He was just standing there, pacing around in the rain. He looked up as she approached. “Hey. I was waiting for you.”

        She seemed surprised. “You were? How did you know I was coming?”

        He simply shrugged. “I know you, Melly.”

        “Molly didn’t invite me. I know she probably doesn’t want me here.”

        “Don’t worry about that. You’re with me. Nobody’s gonna say anything.”

        She wished she could believe that. Not that she didn’t love Tony with all of her heart - God, she did - but he was not much of a shield. Especially from an irate family who blamed you for the discentigration of their lives. It was sweet that he was trying to protect her, but he really couldn’t. She had to face this jury herself.

        He held the door and walked in behind her. At first, no one noticed. The service had not yet started - even though it was supposed to have five minutes ago - and everyone was still whispering amongst themselves. Then, just by chance, someone looked back and saw them.

        What happened next was like a chain reaction. Every single person in the place turned to stare at her. And all their faces said the same thing: “How dare you show up here?”

        Mel honestly wanted to go through the floor. Maybe this had not been a good idea. She had obviously been mistaken - this was no jury. It was a lynch mob.

        “Don’t pay any attention to them, kid. Just go,” Tony whispered, leaning down to her, all while running a hand reassuringly down her back.

        Well, that was easy for him to say. No one was staring at him. She was the one they were all after.

        Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. If Melly had not been invited, and Tony was walking in right behind her, what other conclusion were they going to draw but that he had been the one that called her? He was getting his fair share of disgusted glares. But you know what? Who cared?

        He had no idea who had leaked the news to Mel - honest to God, it hadn’t been him - but that didn’t matter. She’d come anyway. He’d known she would. That was why he’d stood outside and waited. He knew there would be some persecution and he didn’t want her to face it alone.

        He’d also had a pretty good idea that some of it would be aimed at him, but it was no big deal. He could handle it. God knew he’d been in worse situations than this before, situations where he’d actually been guilty. This was nothing. Melly was basically being fed to the wolves, here and he couldn’t let that happen. Maybe she wasn’t the best, most moral kid he knew, maybe she hadn’t made the best choices ever, but she still did not deserve to be ostracized. He’d had to do something. He couldn't make her face this all by herself.

        As he nudged her forward, Mel stared straight ahead, purposely avoiding eye-contact with everyone who had turned to stare at her. She was going to hold her head up high. She had no reason to be ashamed. She had just as much right to be here as anyone else.

        Still, tell that to Megan Marshall, who, upon the sight of her father’s mistress, jumped up and ran over. She, unfortunately, was not as discreet as the silent gawkers had been.

        “What are you doing here?” she demanded, grabbing Mel by the arm.

        Before he could even register what he was doing (he was acting on pure instinct), Tony reached out and pried her hand off. Megan glared up at him. “And you - ”

        “What about me, Megan, huh?” he challenged, again on pure instinct. He was never usually so bold in the face of confrontation. In fact, he made it a rule to avoid it at all costs.

        “You had no right bringing her!”

        “Well, you know what? You don't have a whole lot of right to determine who belongs here and who doesn't. And you know what else? I didn't invite her.”

        “She wasn’t invited. How else would she know?”

        “Well, I’m not the one that told her. But what if I had? She has every right to be here.”

        “No she doesn’t! That tramp ruined my mother’s life. I want her gone. Now.”

        “You watch what you say about her,” Tony snarled. Megan seemed to recoil. He couldn’t say he blamed her. He’d sort of scared himself with that one.

        “I appreciate this, I really do,” Mel said, turning around to face him. “But you don’t need to speak for me.” She turned back to face her adversary. “Look, Megan, I know I was not invited, but I really wanted to come. I am so sorry - ”

        “No you’re not. You wrecked my parents’ marriage, killed my father and now you show up at his funeral with your new boyfriend? Didn’t you just get divorced, Tony? What, did she break up your marriage, too?”

        Wrong thing to say. That seemed to be quite the sore spot. Seemed Kathy had had much the same suspicion where Mel was concerned. She had accused Tony of sleeping with her every five minutes.

        And absolutely nothing could have been further from the truth. Melly was like his daughter. He had never once thought of her in that way. That not only his own wife but this snotnosed little bitch would presume otherwise was the final straw.

        “You listen to me, little girl,” he began, in startlingly uneven tones. “You don’t know anything. Don’t you ever - ”

        “For it not to be true, you sure deny it vehemently, don’t you?” Megan combatted.

        The gloves were off. “This is coming from somebody who has been dating the world’s most vindictive, immature man for half her life. You wanna know how Melly knew about this? He would be a good place to start. Why don’t you call him and see what he knows?”

        “How dare you? I want you gone. Now.”

        Mel suddenly found her voice. “That’s not happening, sweetheart. Deal with it.”

        Out of pure frustration, Megan reached out and popped her.

        Pandemonium ensued.

        This situation had officially become chaotic.

        Gary would be proud...