Changes

"Run that part again, Blondie. You're not hitting it right."

Blondie shot the producer a look that could have killed him on the spot. Mike was fully confident that the only thing keeping the producer alive was the soundproofed glass holding Blondie in.

The respective members of the Dolls were sprawled around the room. Tony and Tom were playing ping-pong, Robert was sipping a beer. Billie was reading a magazine and frowning at the story on the Rolling Stones new album. Tre was messing about with the copy machine...nothing good could come of that. Mike and Jay were having a whispered conversation, which was interrupted when the studio's phone rang.

Mike picked it up and Jay gave him an irritated look.

"Hello?...he's recording now, can I take a message?"

Whatever was being said, Mike's entire face changed and he looked nervoulsy around the room.

"Actually, it's best if you tell him...yes, I'll put you through. Hold on."

Mike strode quickly out of the room and into the recording room. He handed the phone to Blondie, then retreated. Blondie looked politely puzzled, but spoke into the phone.

Mike reappeared in the producer's box, his face pale. But no one noticed this, as they were watching Blondie.

The drummer was having an argument over the phone. Billie sucked in his breath, recognizing it as the same argument he'd had with the police officer who'd called him about Adrienne and the boys. Blondie gestured angrily, obviously refusing to believe whatever he was being told.

And then he began to cry.

In all the time Tre had known him, he had never seen Blondie break down, lose control. He felt as though he was watching something personal, private, indecent. The drummer nodded, whispering into the phone. Then he hung up. And hurled the phone against the wall.

He strapped on his headset and pressed the intercom button.

"Again."

The producer gave the others a puzzled look.

"But...that looked serious-"
"I said, RUN THAT SHIT AGAIN."

Blondie's voice came bellowing over the speakers, and the producer quickly punched the required buttons, sending Tom's previously recorded bass over the speakers.

Blondie nailed it. He took the solo and expanded it, disregarding whatever plans Def Leppard had had for the song. He improved it, rewrote it to become a blasting, roaring song that was just as good as the classic, if not better. And then he finished, chucked his drumsticks at the wall and stormed out of the studio.

Tom looked at Mike, his eyes demanding an explaination.

"Does Blondie know a guy named Andrew?"

Tony went pale as she said, "That's his brother...all the family he's got left in the entire fucking world..." She whispered.

"Well...according to the doctor...his brother's been in a hit and run. Some drunk driver ran him over...and tried to...well, basically, he died."
"Oh my god."

Robert looked around and wasn't surprised to see that Tom had vanished. Then he looked at Tony.

"Go on."
"What?"
"Tony, get in there and kick some ass."
"What are you ON? Blondie-"
"Blondie is a big boy. And Tom's with him. They'll call us. They don't need another person...you know how Blondie is."

Tony looked as though she wanted to argue, but closed her mouth. She picked up her guitar and gave Robert a filthy look.

"You're going to hell."
"I'll save you a seat."

She slammed the door behind her. Robert waited until she started playing to bury his head in his hands.

"We're gonna break up...if all this shit keeps up, we won't be able to take it."

The statement was so reminiscent of Tre's earlier statement that Mike started laughing even as Robert repeated, "God...if this keeps up, we're all going to break up."

The producer started cursing and said, "It takes a fucking death to get these kids recording...a fucking death..."

And no one could do anything but laugh, trying to ignore the severity of Blondie's situation.