Christie Road

"What is it, Billie? What's happening?" she shouted over the growing noise of voices and confusion. She gripped his shoulders tightly, trying to calm him down and defuse his fury, but she could feel the tension in his body, taut and electric, rippling from him in hot waves, and realized he could barely hear her.

With every ounce of effort he could muster, he steadied his voice as he looked down at her and wrapped one arm around her neck, pulling her close. "It's nothing you need to worry about, baby. Just some assholes fucking around, that's all. Mike--" he said, looking around, and his friend was already nodding consent, "--take her out the side entrance and I'll meet you in the parking lot in a few minutes. I've got some business to take care of," he said grimly.

"No, Billie, don't--" Jazz protested, but Mike looped his arm through hers and gently tried to lead her away. She reached toward Billie, trying to break free and get back to him, but Mike's hold on her was strong, and Billie was already disappearing toward the back of the club. She watched as he stalked down the hall toward the dressing rooms, slamming each door open and thrusting his head inside, until he vanished in the shadows.

"Mike, let me go get him, please," she begged, trying to pull her arm away from him. "I don't know what's going on, but he's so upset and I'm afraid he's going to get hurt."

He nodded kindly, but didn't let go of her, still maneuvering her toward the door.. "I know, Jazz, but trust me, he can take care of himself. He just doesn't want you to be in the middle of anything. Let's get you out of here and we'll catch up with him in a few minutes," he crooned soothingly.

Suddenly the sound of shouting stopped both of them in their tracks, and Jazz took advantage of Mike's distraction to twist her arm out of his grasp. Dodging around the clusters of people buzzing with astonishment, she fled down the hall where Billie had gone, searching desperately for him.

She looked into every room as she ran, calling his name, knowing he would never hear her. Finally, in the dressing room at the very end of the hall, she burst through the door, catching the frame on her way in to keep herself from colliding with Billie.

She had never seen him like this. The girl who had been with him in Cinelli's stood backed against the wall, withering before a full-blown explosion of fury that threatened to leave her little more than a shadow burned into the wallpaper. He hummed and trembled, like a downed power wire, and barely a hand's breadth separated his body from hers as he spouted a torrent of profanities and threats. Incredibly, her chin jutted toward him in defiance, her hands pressed against the wall beside her as if she were preparing to launch herself at him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he bellowed. "Why can't you just get the fuck out of my life and leave me alone?"

"Sure, you'd love that wouldn't you? It doesn't matter that I worked my ass off taking care of you, putting up with your temper and your mess and your stupid friends that couldn't even seem to feed themselves! Just pretend none of that ever happened, now that you're some kind of hot shit rock star!"

"Taking care of me? Oh, that's beautiful!" he roared. "Who the hell paid all the bills, even those fucking credit cards you maxed out at Nordstrom? Every time anything broke, every problem we ever had, who had to figure it out, even when we were touring? What exactly did you ever do besides spend my money?"

"I gave you five years of my life, you bastard, and I'll be damned if you're going to just throw me away like this! I deserve better, and I don't care who you think you are, I'm not going to just give up and crawl away!"

His face was livid. "I could give two shits what you do, but you better understand one thing--I want no part of it, or you, or anything about you! But you drag her into this and I swear--"

She threw her head back and laughed cruelly. "Oh my God! This is too funny! Are you seriously defending that little whore? Billie, you have to be kidding! She's nothing but a street slut!"

His fists slammed into the wall on either side of her head, and she flinched for the first time. His face lunged forward until he was almost nose to nose with her. "So help me, Lani, if you call her that again, you're gonna be picking yourself up off the floor so fast it'll--"

From behind him, a tiny gasp stopped his tirade and he turned to see Jazz, her clasped hands pressed to her mouth, eyes huge and terrified. Her head shook slowly back and forth, trying to shut out what she was seeing.

Without a second glance at Lani, he turned toward Jazz, his arms open to enfold her. But instead of embracing him, she took a hesitant step backwards, raising her hand as if to protect herself from him.

"The whore's afraid of you!" Lani cackled behind him, and a gutteral snarl ripped from his chest. "Or is that her specialty, taking the rough stuff? Is that what you like about her? Does she let you smack her around?"

Somewhere inside him a fragile thread snapped, and everything in front of him drifted out of focus. Through the roaring in his ears, he could hear Lani's vicious laughter, and the tiny sound of a much smaller voice sobbing. He felt himself pulled inexorably in two directions, walking a tightrope between rage and love, and for the first time in his life, the rage suddenly didn't seem to matter anymore. Lani could go to hell. All he wanted was to sweep Jazz into his arms and carry her away from this nightmare, to take her somewhere safe and quiet where he could wrap her in his love and take the sting of the bitter words away.

But when he turned back to Jazz, he saw with disbelief that she was gone.