dangertomyself

[dangertomyself]

SoFi Stadium was nearly empty at the twelve o’clock hour. There were only a few short hours away from when I knew my eyes would look out into the crowd and see it filled with faces of all different varieties. People who have traveled far and wide to be exactly where I stood now; singing at the top of their lungs to each and every song that left my mouth. Now when I looked out into the crowd, I only saw a few faces. People here and there doing their jobs to get things in order for the night…. And then there was her. Sitting there with eyes bright watching every move I made, legs crossed. Even as people were talking in my ear, I could hear the voices go in one way and out the other. All of my focus remained on her. Only she wasn’t there at all.

“Hey man, come on,” Damien shouted to me from my left, loud enough for my attention to draw away from the ghost of my memory in the empty crowd. Damien Clarke was my guitariest-- someone who I had known for as long as I had been alive. In a lot of ways, he was a brother to me. Family even more so than my blood kin back in the city. I flickered one last look to her green graze before walking over to where Damien stood.

“What’s up?” I asked nonchalantly, knowing there were few people that had turned their gaze to watch my reaction. Or better yet, they had turned to see what it was that had been keeping me so preoccupied while everyone else seemed to be in a hurry.

Damien dropped his guitar off to the side, and folded his arms over his chest as he looked at me. “You need to get your head back here,” he warned gently in a soft voice. It did not take more than common sense to know exactly what it was he had been referring to; however, I was not in the mood to go there tonight. No one knew exactly what was on my mind tonight, but I knew what my friend assumed it would be. The pills pulling me away, the drugs in my pocket calling my name in sweet whispers. Anything else would have been better, but I could not have this discussion with Damien. It was… complicated. Everything about it was, more so than I liked to admit. Yet, that was my life wasn’t it? Messy, complicated, dark. The only light I had felt in years was waiting for me out in the crowd. Shrugging off Damien’s words, I turned my back and made my way out to the microphone stand that called my name. In a few hours, I would be singing to the crowd…

This was the one place that I knew was my home. Here in Los Angeles, the city that filled my lungs with spirit and gave my brain a fatal dose of ecstasy. There was no better place to be today than here at this stage. I didn't give two shits about what the world was thinking of me, I had read all the headlines and saw every nasty post. A strung out junkie with no hope. A spoiled rich kid that partied too much and wasted his talents on the likes of pretty little pills and street drugs. Were they wrong? No. But who the fuck was I to care? I was the one who was here on stage, giving the people what they wanted. Not a forty year old waste of space behind a computer.

Closing my eyes, the stage manager called out in my ear pieces for the music to begin. Slowly, I leaned into the part of myself that lived and died on every stage I stepped onto. It wasn't for me— it was for the fans. The screaming and yelling bodies that craved my energy. Even though, in the midst of all this, I only craved her and those flashing green eyes.

"She had a face straight out a magazine.

God only knows but you'll never leave her

Her balaclava is starting to chafe.

When she gets his gun he's begging, babe stay, stay...

Stay, stay, stay.

I'll give you one more time,

We'll give you one more fight.

Said one more line,

Will I know you?"

With my eyes closed, I could picture her smile in the car seat beside me. Screaming at the top of her lungs as we drive 120 miles per hour down the long highway with no end in sight. She was my Bonnie for the day, and for the night I was enough of a Clyde to make what we had 'love'. Only I did know it was real.

It was real for me the moment I first saw her, our first words being trivial to the highest extent. Yet I knew then that I had to have her. Years later, many wasted days and drunken nights later, I still found her in the depths of my mind lingering around. She wouldn't leave me even if I wanted her to. She stayed— haunting me. An angel in my day dreams.

"Now if you never shoot, you'll never know

And if you never eat, you'll never grow

You've got a pretty kind of dirty face

And when she's leaving your home

She's begging you to stay, stay

Stay, stay, stay

I'll give you one more time

We'll give you one more fight

Said one more line

There'll be a riot, cause I know you."

When I finally dared to open my eyes, I was met with thousands of bodies and flashing lights. I could hear the roar of the music behind me, yet I paused for a long moment to stare out into the crowd. "Los Angeles!" I yelled, walking out to the end of the stage. I swore in that moment I could see each face shining bright like a million diamonds. "Los Angeles, my home town, my people," As I reached the end, I took a long deep breath.

There was days that I didn't want to be this kind of person anymore. A sad sack of shit that spent money on drugs, wasting away all of my potential on a momentary high. The high that I got on stage while preforming should have been enough... there was a lot of things that should have been enough that weren't. That's how I lost her. That's how I lost myself.

"Well now that you've got your gun

It's much harder now the police have come

And I'll shoot him if it's what you ask

But if you just take off your mask...

You'd find out everything's gone wrong."

Los Angeles, here tonight I want you to sing this last part with me as loud as you can. I know you know the words— let me hear it..."

Maybe one day I could be the man I wanted to be. I wouldn't have to give into the darker parts of my mind that were filled with endless demons. But hey, that was a thought for another night.

"Now everybody's dead

And they're driving past my old school

And he's got his gun, he's got his suit on

She says, babe, you look so cool

You look so cool

You look so cool..."

[dangertomyself]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: Flashback

There is beauty in the way that you decide to love someone. Love in itself can be chaotic, tragic even at times, yet all the while worth every second. Sometimes there is a certain love that sticks with you; bound to your heart… never allowing you to forget the magnificent feeling it held. It can be something so grand, that at the time, it is hard to notice completely. You can take it for granted, and use the love as a crutch until there is nothing left but a broken bone. Only this time, the pain you feel is something much worse, more hollow… the taste of sweet love will be gone forever, gone into the universe never to return to your touch. Desperate hands may reach; only to slip through meaningless air of hollow feelings. How did it get like this? How did a world of passion and aspiring hope turn to something so cold?

To answer that question, I would have to go back to the very beginning to where it all started. There were no bright flashing lights, or signs to tell myself this was the right moment. It was not fate, but rather a moment where everything somehow seemed to fall into place. The right time, the right people scenario that happens every so often to two unfortunate souls. The two souls casted for this fatal heartbreak were that of myself and Elle Greene. Myself, the lead singer to an infamous rock group, while she was a no name up and coming actress. From the beginning to end, we both knew our lives would never be the same. One for the better, and one for the worst. The only thing we could mutually set upon ourselves in agreement was that in the beginning, we loved one another. From that very first night, we knew it was love.

I would never be able to quite place that love again— no matter how hard I tried. In the beginning, I never knew I was a man capable of romantic intentions. Sure, there were girls who caught my eye… but they never found a place in my life more than the bed for a night or two. Each beat of my heart brought forth sexual pleasure and desire. The mind of a boy could not quite compare to that of a man. Women were objects; bodies and lust that I craved from the moment I opened my eyes, to the very end as they closed. Their unique taste brought me a new high that even the drugs and alcohol could not compare to. What was more damning than that of a naked woman lying with me in bed? I never wanted to picture myself in any other place. No heaven would ever be as sweet or secure.

The room was filled with people from places that all oozed of money. The high elegance of the air filled my nose, telling my brain that I did not belong there. My manager said it would be a good public appearance, to give the people something to talk about. A rough around the edges singer at a white tie event… what could possibly go wrong? It was a sick joke to someone— someone other than the people of the charity event that all turned to look at me with peculiar eyes from the moment I walked into the room. The whispers started, slipping from one end of the room to the other. It was clear I did not belong there— or was I quick just to set myself aside? To allow the high moments of anxiety to take over what little had to do with me at all? I could not say. The quick aid of a drink or two would do away with any doubts I had shortly.

“How much longer are we going to have to be here, babe?”

My eyes drifted away from the gowns and tuxedos to the woman by my side: Cazzie Maylynn. She was an actress— but what people would call of adult films. We were nothing serious, only using each other for a quick fuck every now and again, but to the public eye they were a high profile item. The blonde did not do much for conversation, her goals mainly being that of how to further her career into more professional aspects. It had been the only reason I wanted to bring her. I knew she was a porn star, there was no hiding that fact, but she had a dream for herself. If there was any way I could have helped her, I did not see as to why I could not try. It also gave me a reason not to be the only outcast in the room.

The faces of empty hearts and dreams circled all around me, pretending that somehow I was the strange one. A man who did not belong. What was it to walk around endlessly with no real drive in your heart? That was all I could see in their faces. Lost souls wandering, searching for the feelings they once held onto so deeply when all of their dreams started to come true. The only difference between myself and the men and suits was that I still lived my dream. Each night I could go out and fill my void and know my heart was content enough to sleep through the night. How many here could claim the same shit?

“Can you stop talking for once?”

Cazzie's eyes widened, shocked at my careless remark and the even more careless look in my eyes. Was I being an ass? Sure. I would apologize for it later and she would forgive me— the thought dawned on me as she turned herself away and stalked off in six inch heels towards the bar. Hell in heels could only be the one thing to describe her. Our time together would be as short lived as any relationship I had in the past several years. No woman ever got too close— just as I preferred it to be. Normal people could hardly handle my mood swings and unique methods of affection.

Already nursing a drink in my hand, I turned away from the bar and set my sights towards one of the nearest exits I could find. A lone bathroom would do or even an abandoned room without the watchful eyes of elite people around me. The alcohol really wasn't doing it for me tonight. In the breast pocket of my tuxedo hid the contents of a party favor a little more suitable for my liking. One line disappearing would alter my mood for the night; maybe then I could pay more attention to Cazzie and really give these people something to talk about.

I had already set my sights on a side door of the hotel which I was sure would lead to some sort of enclosed exclusion when I felt the hand of my producer reach for my shoulder.

“Oz! Not so fast! Where do you think you're going?”Danny Chadwick infamously made a name for himself at the Record Label for bringing in up and coming acts that we're sure to make money. I was a shoe in to be the next greatest thing for rock music; someone to bring in attention and green for as far as the eye could see. Little did good ole Dan and everyone else know that I was going to be a lot more trouble than they originally expected.

“I was just getting out for some fresh air, man. Hey!” Calm, cool, and collected. I wrapped an arm around my ‘friend’ in a casual embrace with a familiar smile. The energy around them held nothing but a fake aftertaste. I couldn't have given two shits about Dan or anyone else here— I knew what I was to them and how my piece in the puzzle was going to be used until no longer useful. “Who’s your friend?”

Who was I really kidding? The blonde was one of the first things my eyes noticed when Dan made his way over. I made sure to keep the calm and collected attitude, but my gaze couldn't stop itself from wandering her way. A magnetic pull that felt far too dangerous for my liking. Every few seconds her green eyes would flash upwards towards me; damning my mind for all eternity for what I knew was not mine to have... yet. Was I insane? Maybe. But when has that ever hurt anyone?

“Well, that's what I was coming over here for. Ozzy, I'd like you to meet Elle Greene.”

At the mention of her name, the blonde instantly gave me a smile that felt far too secretive. A world of mysteries hid behind those cherry red lips wrapped inside of a stunning black cut out dress. I knew why she wore it— hell, she must have wanted to be the center of attention. Right now, right here, she had about one hundred and fifty percent of mine. I couldn't even hide it, looking her over from head to toe before finally settling back on the hidden forests that were set deep within her gaze. Reaching a hand out, I offered what might have been my most polite behavior. "Elle, it's a pleasure to meet you. The names Luke."

The curl on my mouth wasn't a smile, but a complete twist of seduction. There was a mystery lying within her, and I couldn't quite uncover the truth. Her eyes could never quite meet mine yet her facade was nothing but polite. Was I somehow fooling myself— thinking she could sense the same spark I had? A spark. The thought turned my stomach over and I did my best not to roll myself. This wasn't a spark, this was full blown attraction at its finest. Human nature, two people ( or well shit, just one ) who were drawn by natural instinct.

Her mouth opened, daring to speak before Dan cut into her stolen words: "Hey, show her around would you? I've got a few more people I need to talk to right now. I know you'll make her feel right at home."

Something in the way he spoke left me knowing he didn't walk up to me with Elle for no reason. Dan was a man who constantly had wheels turning within his head. Whatever he had going, I wasn't sure if I wanted to play with. But when danger looked that good? I didn't know if I could resist. He gave both of us a final farewell before drifting off into the sea of people. My eyes turned to Cazzie, who was still at the bar now being entertained by two other monkeys in suits and I no longer before a sense of guilt about ignoring her. She'd be fine here tonight without me.

The mere seconds passed before I looked back to Elle— finally for the first time she was able to speak. "Well, it was nice meeting you Luke, but I think I better be going." She gave a shrug and dismissive smile. I knew what it meant— but I'd be damned if I let it slip away so easily.

"Hey, where are you going?" I questioned, finally allowing a smile to move her way. I didn't have to be charm all of the time, a voice in the back of my head reminded me. The role of douchebag didn't always need to be played.

Her eyes shifted to everywhere else in the room, never once looking back to up mine. "Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but I know who you are. I'm not trying to be wrapped up in..." As she now frantically talked, her hands moved with her in speech. "The whole bad boy thing. I'm sure you're really nice and all, but I don't want people to see me with you. I came here tonight to play nice with the right people. Being seen with you? I don't think..."

"What makes you think you know me so well?" I finally cut her off, feeling a bit pissed off at her words. Were they wrong? No. Did I live up to almost every terrible thing people thought about me? Probably. But hell, at least I wouldn't be that rude to a total stranger. Looking at her, I knew I caught her by surprise. Whatever anger lighted in my mind, I was quick to put out. What was it going to do anyways? I wasn't nearly drunk or high enough to go down that road.

Her expression remained in a state of neutral— unshaped by any regret of what she said or any means of taking it back. She was bold as fuck, I'd give her that. Hell, I still kind of liked it. "Fine, Lucas. Maybe I am wrong." Shit, the surprise on my face couldn't have been harder to hide. "But that doesn't mean I am going to find out tonight. It was nice meeting you."

"Would you ever want to find out?" I pressed, knowing the window of her time would be short lived. What the fuck was wrong with me? This girl had insulted me more in the last five minutes than any girl had in years. Maybe that was what I liked— she was real... honest. Not a fake shit show.

"Maybe. Maybe not." As she started to walk away, face still hardened with intent, her eyes looked back at me with only a hint of a smile as she drifted into the sea of people. I could see the flash of green in the back of my mind like a green light in the sea of darkness. What the hell was I doing? I didn't know. But for whatever reason, I knew I had to know more. She was the realest thing I had come across in years, the only heart and mind I somehow wanted to know more of. Elle Greene.

[dangertomyself]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄:

“What do you mean, you don’t have anything done?”

My shoulders merely shrugged, the answer clear… What had been even more clear was the pinched look of careless indifference upon my face. We sat opposite one another within my main living room; only a single glass coffee table separated us as we lounged upon plush sofa cushions. While our critical situation may have been similar, our stance was utterly different. I, the man of the hour, had been relaxed with no urgent care for the critical matters at hand, while my personal manager Phil Goldsworth was alive with petty irritation. His hands shifted through the paperwork that splattered the table, shifting through the notes as if to discover something that was missing.

“There has to be something here that you can work with, Luke. Some bullshit that you can put together to give to the label by the end of the fucking week.” As the last words spit out, Phil’s hand flicked in anger, tossing papers onto the ground. Some had been business notes while others had been of my own creation. Lyrics, mental spewings… Anything to get my mind off of things.

I knew none of it was satisfactory enough for Phil. My manager sorely wanted a song; a concrete message to give to the record label to say that Luke Lennox was back on the bandwagon, ready for urgent action to be put out onto the world again. The pitch they were proving to exchange was rainbows, flowers, and bullshit. A lie fabricated and forced together with an elegant bow. Phil seemed inevitably to have stupidly forgotten one defiant message: I would under no circumstances be anyone’s Goddamn present.

“If you don’t like what I’ve suggested to you, Phil— I suggest you get out of my apartment. Go sell your bubblegum bullshit to someone else. If they don’t like what I have—”

Phil cut me off short, “You wouldn’t have this apartment if it were not for the label! Did you forget about that?” The shorter, nearly balding man, stood abruptly, nearly taking the table up with him in his brisk rampage. I looked to him in astonishment.

My manager continued: “What you have to give is the bullshit, Lennox. Or should I refer to you as Lucas Johnson? The poor piss of a kid that you were back in Missouri? Because that is what you are not. The same fucking waste. Only this time you’re strung out on pills and alcohol... Can’t even write a single word to save your life...”

As the comments mingled together, Phil struck the table as he walked impatiently past me and towards the door. Several more papers drifted to the ground. My sunken eyes fixated upon words I wrote as they drifted aimlessly through the air and onto the wood flooring— time for only a single moment managing to stand still long enough for me to pick up on a few particular words: waste of space in a faceless crowd. Isn’t that what I was in contrast, after all? If not for the fame, the money, the fortune… I was Lucas James Johnson. A waste of space in a crowd, with no distinctly outstanding talent except for that of an unhealthy ability to consume immense amounts of alcohol in short periods of time.

“I expect something by tomorrow morning, or you are done, Lennox. I swear, I mean it this time. You are cut. Done. I don’t care what happens to you, you will no longer be my problem to take care of.” Phil slammed the door forcibly closed upon exiting, the frames upon the wall shook uncontrollably in its wake. One nearly crashed to the floor in the violent aftermath, yet I produced no mind to it. My fixation lingered upon my calloused hands, balled into violent fits within the center of my lap. The skin of my palms ached as fingers pressed into the burning flesh. Hot flashes of anger distorted my vision like a black burst of lightning. One by one, the spark of darkness crashed through my gaze.

Each flash seemed to awake a new memory in my mind, like some valts unlocking with the twist of a key. The truth of each hidden safe was brought to the surface, glaring me right in the eyes. If I could not write a single word worth the approval of my recording label, I would be trashed. Even more so of a joke to the world than I already had been. I knew what people had thought of me— cruel malicious words that I already knew about myself ten times over. There was no one thing that I did not read on the internet that had not crossed my mind at least one or twice. A washed up star, someone better off alone, or the best… Someone not worth caring for at all. People would write cruel things about me daily at the expense of their own amusement, and for many nights, I knew they had been right. I was not good enough to write a song anymore. The only thing I was good for was drinking, snorting lines, and having a good time. The music, the joy, the bliss of giving people something to look forward to… That was all gone now.

The explosions of empty darkness seemed to ease, long enough for me to realize that my hands had been bleeding. Clenched into fists, my nails ripped through the surface of my skin and created little cuts. I could not even feel the pain— it felt empty to me now. There had not been a single time in the last eight months on my own that I had felt something worthwhile. Was it possible anymore? Or had I fried every cell within my brain like people would scream at me on the streets passing by? The empty feeling that knotted up into my throat was enough to make any normal person, man or woman, cry. Yet, there were no tears in my eyes. I couldn’t bring them even if I wanted to. This feeling was not something new— it was a friend— a loneliness that normally would have been eagerly accompanied by a bottle of Jack Daniels. The mere thought of it was like the opening of a window in a dark room, a stream of sunshine into my brain that I welcomed to desperately.

But I couldn’t go there again. I promised myself this time… It would be different. It had to be.

Without thinking, both hands still dripping in light trickles of blood, my hands of large proportions reached out to grab hold of the single paper that I had noticed earlier. My mind was drawn back to those little scribbles of words that I had thrown together days before. Waste of space in a faceless crowd. My mind began to put together more, and without question the words slipped from my vocals:

“Waste of space in a faceless crowd…

Tell me what I have to say…

If you know what’s right then you’ll walk away.”

What could I say to myself to get through that I had to put away the temptation of drinking? Of drugs? It was time to close that chapter of my book; the novel in that part of the series was well more than written. I knew how it ended if I did not finish what I started from the beginning. To take another drink, no matter how hard the temptation grew, would be that final end to everything I had ever built. The dream he once wanted as Lucas Johnson would have been for nothing. There were two parts of myself that seemed to always be at battle: the outer version the world saw, and the true man I was within. Two very different angles within the same reflection. I could only ever be one or the other. The hellion born to die, or the man that rises from the ashes of hell to meet my fate.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎:

“ I can get there on my own,

You can leave me here alone.

I'm just tryin' to do what's right...

Oh, a man ain't a man unless he's fought the fight. ”

Sitting in a four cornered room surrounded by three gentlemen, all looking at me as if I was a useless piece of meat for the eating was before them instead of a remarkable man. I pondered why I was there-- knowing full well that I could have walked gracefully into any recording company in the whole city of Los Angeles and gained myself an exclusive deal. It would have been effortless; anyone would have loved possessing me… As loud as the confidence was that rang in my heart like a beating drum, the whispered words of doubt managed to scream louder. This may have been my final shot at proving myself. Phil may have been right-- after all-- look at me now. A nearly thirty male with far too many wicked demons in my past than any one my age should. Doubt remained the driving factor leading me there with a guitar in hand, and a song significantly unique than anything else produced in my name.

“ I could never point you out...

Waste of space in a faceless crowd.

Tell me what I have to say,

If you know what's right then you'll walk away. ”

It was only myself and a melodic guitar now; stripped and vulnerable in a private room of careless men that did not give one single damn about me or my well being. To be sober enough to produce money for them had been enough of a factor to remain persuading the musician until he was at his breaking point. Nearly everyone in the cruel world knew I had reached my breaking point on more than one critical occasion. To listen to the words that poured from my mouth, anyone would discover the truth behind the song than I had written. It was a short, few cords ofy battle, my temptation with the few solitary things in life that I loved more than myself most days. A personal reflection of emotional pain, of forgotten truth… My truth. I had to walk away from the past, and start something new for the better. If not, I forever remain a waste of space in the miserable world for whatever numbed days I had left.

“ When the walls come down… ”

In a short period of over three minutes, I eased the strumming of the guitar out with the silence of the air and met the waiting eyes of the men sitting before me.

“This is all that you have?” Phil, my manager was the very first one to question. Breaking the silence with his curt comment. I did not know what they would say— their reactions possibly being anything under the sun. Yet Phil’s word’s did not surprise meat all.

“This is what I have for you. This… Or nothing.”

Phil scoffed, nearly opening his mouth to say something more, when the head of the company cut him short. “Rebranding. That is what I will call this. A new direction from someone who had been working with us for a very long time. A lot of artists branch out every now and again-- this is your chance. Your rebranding.” Mike Hardenburg was a thin man of nearly sixty years in age. He had watched me grow from the young boy I was when I first started until now. Hardenburg knew exactly what route to take in order to get the absolute most that he could out of me. To pass me up to the world would have been a mistake on his part… Therefore he had to turn what the musician brought him into something he could work with. Rebranding.

“I guess that is what we will call this…” Phil added, almost reluctantly. The two other men in suits nodded at his words. After all, Mike’s words had been the final say.

“We will go over this and get back to you as soon as possible, Mr. Lennox.” A man named Stephan added, turning to his boss Mike to add a few short words under his breath. The entire transaction was the epitome of a classic business exchange. Nothing personal or full of drive… A money wheel spinning at its finest. Simple short nods and goodbye’s were exchanged as the men all turned to leave. I thought that I was going to be the only man left in the room as I stood up from the four legged chair with my guitar when one of the men approached him.

Stephan Lewis gave me a warm handshake, but even through the touch I could feel the snake like scales of his reptile being underneath. Stehan was a money hungry mongul, someone who would sell out the likes of myself in a heartbeat if that meant he could further himself in any way. I hated people like him; the tux wearing, Audi driving, bully type, to push people down in order to get to where they needed to go. Squeezing my hand once in a firm grasp, I pulled mmy hand away and put it in my pocket. Meanwhile, the snake made his way over towards the opposite side of the room, slithering towards the open bar and pouring himself a single glass of Scotch. The fumes took over the air… Even if I was standing several feet away.

“I’ll tell you, Mr. Lennox… I was surprised at what you brought in for us today. A little… ” Pausing, he took a slow drink, eyes fixated upon me the entire time. The taller man’s eyes never faltered from a singular spot on the floor just where Stephan stood. I could not look to the man directly; to look at him would be to acknowledge the temptation. The snake was testing him. “Softer than what you’ve done in the past.”

“I don’t think there is anything wrong with a change.” I was quick to add, never faltering for a second.

Stephan gave a curt, almost cruel laugh. Suddenly, the distance between them grew shorter. The tail of the snake weaved his way back over to me… Drink in hand. Oh, how I wanted to strike. Attack the animal before the cobra could get me first. Seconds turned to hours as the suited reptile approached. I knew that i could not avoid the fear of what I wanted most forever. Without warning the lamb morphed into lion— facing the snake with power and dominance. I could feel the strength in the way my back stood straighter— shoulders pushing out to expose gallant chest muscles. The musician stood tall, but most of all, unafraid.

“Oh no, there isn’t anything wrong with it…” Stephan stood only a few inches away from me. The smell of the alcohol burned through my nose, nearly lighting my bloodstream on fire. I knew exactly how it would taste against the tip of my tongue, and the electric feeling it would give me just to give into the temptation only once. It would solve the anxiety I felt, cure the sleepless nights, and the aches of mybody after a long day. Alcohol wasn’t just a drink-- in many ways it had been the only thing that was there for me in my life. The only dependent thing to keep me going. “I just think change some times can be a little overrated. Especially when there are… Certain things in life that are familiar. Certain things you should stick to.”

Next to the chair where I had been originally sitting while I played was a lone table. Stephan’s hand with the glass reached out, setting the Scotch down right beside me, as if for me to take… I watched his movements the entire time, swallowing slowly.

“There are certain things that some people just do best,Luke . Don’t take it personally. We all have our calling.” Turning on the back of his heel, the reptile in a suit made his way towards the exit door before calling over his shoulder: “Be back here again next Friday. I’m interested to see what you’ll have for us then. I’d like to hear… Well, a little of the old you if I’m being honest. Have a good night.”