Making the Album

Billie stirred. He felt stiff, and his right arm was asleep. He stretched and opened his eyes.

He was in a hospital. But he wasn't wearing one of those terrible ass-less gowns. And he felt better, somehow. More alive. He had an incredible urge to grab a guitar and compose a song. He grinned. Sitting up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

And saw Barry sleeping in one of those horribly uncomfortable hospital chairs. The producer's mouth was open and he was snoring slightly. Billie couldn't help but laugh. In all the time he'd known Barry, the producer had been nothing short of poised.

At the sound of Billie's laughter, Barry jerked awake. Before saying anything, he cracked his neck. Then he looked at Billie, whose laughter died away.

"This is awkward." Barry said quietly.
"How... How did I get here?" Billie asked him stiffly.
"I found you... In the cemetary."
"Do the others know?"

If the others knew, Billie thought he'd die of embarassement. But Barry shook his head.

"They don't know details. They know I found you in Minnesota."
"Why would you lie for me?"
"Because... Well, this is my fault, Billie... And I thought you'd like to know that I'm quitting tomorrow."

Billie's jaw dropped.

"You CAN'T. You're the best producer in the business."
"You hate me."
"So?"
"I fucked your relationship up. I'm leaving."
"This isn't about you and me. This is about me and Tony. You'll stay, do your job and never touch her again."

Barry stared at Billie for a long minute. The seconds literally squinched by. Then Barry sighed.

"It wasn't her fault, you know... I don't know why I did it... My entire life was in shambles, you lot didn't really like me... She was just... there and she kind... I guess I got carried away."

Billie stood up, eyes flashing.

"I don't care what happened. You'll keep your hands to yourself, or I'll make you."

Then the punk rocker walked out the door, leaving Barry behind.