How did a legendary rock bar like Hellcat's look? Kind of run down, but with a big neon sign of a cartoon cat doing a gogo dance and a large, possibly real, Grumman F6F Hellcat fighter mounted on the roof over the girl-cat, WWII vintage stuff; the place had been a naval aviator bar once, before it became a rock and roll bar.

It certainly smelled its age: a reek of beer, sweat and other things that couldn't be scrubbed out with bleach and brillo pads, not that anyone ever tried. But it had been rocking since the 1970's and it had a reputation; things happened there. It wasn't supposed to smell like tobacco, but Hellcat's management looked the other way when it came to smokers of all types. They only made a show of telling everyone to snuff it when an authority figure happened by and took offense. Otherwise, the place was understood to be 'at your own risk' when it came to lung cancer and second hand buzzes.

The lights were on, for the moment anyway, and the bars were doing a sedate business as the fans filed in; opening band? No big deal. They were here to see a couple other bands, notably Shamekiss, an established metal act that had a hit about seven years ago and therefore headlined. They had struggled, ever since, to put out another hit, and their subsequent albums were okay, but nothing too great. There was an act between these guys and Reckless Life, promoted by a guy named Martin Smythe, called Blue Ribbon Nitrous Oxide, and they had this slick, overdone look to them, matching instruments and a marquee banner; they actually took up more space on the stage than Shamekiss did. It left very little for Mark to work with to set their stuff up -- it was modest in comparison to the other acts. He managed to work with Manny's good will to get the equipment rented on an IOU, primarily in the form of speakers big enough to handle the size of the room, capacity about nine hundred. He was making sure the cables were out of the way, tucked under things and otherwise not a hazard to be tripped on, though it was also easy enough to get them out later; he tied a lot of them off with colored cord so he could keep track of what was what.

Still, he'd worked at the Power Sound long enough to know how to handle all the setup shit, with a little help from the other guys, though Cave stayed in the dressing room, if a piss-stained closet with decades of sharpie-grafitti could be called that, and worked on his anger management; Martin Smythe had come through affecting a Cockney accent and managed to piss the Texan right off by being patronizing—he’d started with his surprise that the band was doing their own setup, because it didn’t really have enough money to afford anyone reliable – they had a pothead named Johnny Melo, but they all called him Mellow Yellow; he was another Power Sound guy, but a little on the burnt-out side, and Mark couldn’t find him. So he, Ren and Stace got to work.

Down below were the bored, arriving early birds that didn't think the opening band would be worth a shit, and up above, in the VIP area, were dudes that cared more about what was going on with their phones than some piddly-dink band that was opening for everyone else. The floor was well-lit so people could see where they were going and the stage wasn’t, though there were an array of lights overhead. Reckless Life got the basic lights, but nothing else, because everyone else had to get their arrangements as well

It was Reckless Life's first 'big' venue, and a lot of people working Hellcat’s were unimpressed, which is something they just had to live with. They were looked at as some sort of charity case, and had to prove otherwise. On the other hand, Cave and the rest of the band, but Cave primarily, rallied their fanbase of people who signed up on mailing lists and facebook and other social media platforms at the smaller concerts they done to come to the concert. To help bulk the fanbase up for Reckless life, because perception counted, they even pooled money, hard earned in their day jobs, to buy out a certain number of tickets and distributed them to friends (not, for the most part, family) so they had people there that were loyal to them. A surprising number of them were strippers and friends of the strippers, whom Stace had apparently met while he bartended at a titty bar; how he landed that job was a mystery to the band. How he lost it was easy; Stace had a mouth.

In any case, the setup finished and they were onto the sound tests and some heckling from down below, ignored from the dudes in the VIP section, not that Mark had any idea who they were nor cared; Reckless Life didn't have a record deal and didn't even have a promoter, but did its own EP that it paid out the nose for in studio time at a crappy place. It was early stuff and more raw than the current song lineup, that they'd been working on with the hope of marketing themselves to labels to be signed. BRNO, Martin Smythe's little project, were the ones the big guys were here for. And Smythe had been on stage berating them about how they shouldn't put up too much stuff, because they needed to clear off 'bloody fast' once the next band was ready to go. That's what set Cave off.

It was about that time when they finished the sound check, Mark only doing his in perfunctory fashion to make sure the tuning was right on a guitar he'd just picked up for himself, a Soloist Archtop, but with a wood pattern that was gloss black, with the whorls on the stained rosewood done in purple. The whole thing was a custom job that came to Manny's from an estate sale, and Mark decided to throw several paychecks worth of pocket money at it; unlike most of the band, he was financially responsible, if barely.

He had that thing tuned.

The lights went down and the band got lined up to go out, suddenly tense, coiled, ready to go, in that stupid, shitty little hallway. BRNO's guys were dickbags to their opening band, but Shamekiss' guys were giving them high fives and encouragement as they rolled out;

"And here's Reckless Life!" Cheers from their friends, muted applause and 'who the fuck are they?' from the crowd.

He put his foot on the pedal and waited for Dalton to start the drum, which would be when he started his portion of the song's intro.

They'd picked their song well; a hard rocker called “Here Comes the Next” Lots of songs about bad romance seemed to be a trend, but this one had a different slant to it. Instead of lamenting love gone bad, the song took it for granted, even as it looked forward to the next fling, which would probably go a lot like the last one. Early on, Mark learned to write the lyrics to seethe a bit; Cave could deliver the sneer better than any frontman they'd seen live -- the dude was fucking talented, but a total queen about things, and they had, after years of looking for each other, a band that seemed to want to push themselves, spend all their spare time playing and write songs that veered off from the common formulae one heard on the radio. The sweat they put into writing the songs, with Mark driving it primarily and the others then adding to the concepts Mark put together, as he finally grew into confidence in his composition and lyricism, was considerable.

Suddenly, the crowd was paying attention; one of the reasons people came to the Hellcat was because there was a legend about some of the careers that started there -- Martin Smythe wanted that magic for BRNO, those guys in the same skinny jeans and headbands, rocking the ironic thick-framed glasses, but suddenly it was the bunch of guys in the motley array of clothing, from Cave's leather pants and white t-shirt with a yellow smiley face that had a bullet hole through the forehead, to Dalton on drums wearing a suit vest but no shirt under it and Ren rolling the bass with the wifebeater showing off his tattoos, to Stace with the cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he kept the rhythm guitar going. Mark had a button down shirt, white polka dot on dark blue, worn untucked, and jeans. But it didn't matter than they were ragged, because it fed into the impression of ferocity.

A stunned half minute into the music, the suits were watching the set and the people down below had already started surging forward to scream, throw beer and enjoy themselves as the music made an assault on their senses. Cave's howl and the snarl of the guitars, not shy about showing off some chops, the furious but measured drumming and the rolling bass all were a distinct change from the sort of rock that seemed to dominate lately, stuff that tried to strip down and avoided guitar solos. This had more Iggy Pop, more Alice in Chains to it; Cave wasn't some reedy-voiced beanpole lamenting love, he dished out a full-throated vocal, just as Mark was all too happy to make the guitar really wail, rather than holding it back because the current fashion was lackadaisical.

The divergence was rewarded; the crowd was going wild. Somewhere, in the middle of being in the zone, as the music came effortlessly, locked in with the rest of the band and as he moved about stage, flourishing the guitar and throwing his long hair about with gusto, he realized that Julie was down there, because she swore she would be, and that meant, more than likely, that Bryce was down there too; he would have hated this-- heaving, sweating bodies, booze, pot smoke and all sorts of people with tattoos and piercings all around them, pressing in with no personal space. Or maybe she'd been smart and gave the free tickets to her female friends; though they were nearly as disapproving as Bryce was, they were a little more able to bear up loyally in the face of adversity. Sort of, they’d still think ill of the band no matter what. Mark was an object of derision by himself, but Reckless Life was some sort of poster for everything Kelsey and Selene thought was totally not cool. Stace liked to call them the “Pucker Twins,” or "The California Conformity Patrol" even though those girls would be a little out of place in a bar like the Hellcat. Not as much as Bryce, though.

–

Halfway through the set, the texted messages of 'OMG hurry up and get here!” bore fruit and all the people that planned to hang out and come in later showed up earlier than expected and dove into the ground floor. By the end of it, Mark was out of a shirt, drenched with sweat and flushed with blood and adrenaline through his system as they finished their set to a packed house that was screaming their heads off at them – there were suits on the VIP section, that balcony that looked down on them, but it was hard to see them with the lights of the stage shining in their face.

When they got off, they had two receptions backstage; Martin Smythe looking a bit gobmacked along with his boys looking a bit glum, and Shamekiss' lead guitarist, Michael Stern thumping Mark on the back and screaming, “HOLY SHIT BRO!” and practically pouring the hard liquor down his throat. Shamekiss were, at least, happy for the sudden showing of the first opening act, traditionally the new guys that had a lot to learn.

“Where the hell did you guys come from, Jesus Christ!” yelled Otto Bock, their bassist, and that made the whole thing worthwhile, even as they trooped on and the back stage guys hauled equipment off.

“BAR!” yelled Ren; as far as he was concerned, the party wasn't starting until they were at the bar trying to score chicks. It also got them out of the way of the guys that had yet to start performing, as a courtesy. Other bands with bigger dressing rooms might party in the dressing room, but they had no such space in that little pissy-smelling closet they were using.

They managed to get through a tight backstage with lots of people and get to the bar. Ren was yelling for drinks, people were trying to get their attention, and Mark, not worrying about people trying to like pat him on the back or anywhere else, spotted Julie and yelled, “Julie! How was it down there?” He was flushed, his olive-tinted skin slick with sweat – it was baking hot onstage – and he'd lost his shirt, but he seemed to be totally okay with that and all the people pressing in, though he managed to make room, with the assistance of Ren's biceps, for Julie to slip in through.

It was dark by the time they got out of the car, and Julie couldn't unclip her belt and jump out of her seat fast enough. Without looking she thrust the door open, narrowly avoiding a small group of guys in baggy pants and faded jackets. She got off with a mildly annoyed ”Hey, watch it!” but she paid it no heed; already she was struggling out of her ivory wool trench coat and with a carelessness that was an insult to how expensive the coat had been she threw it on the passenger seat. Her cardigan followed and soon she was shivering on the curb dressed in nothing but a skirt and her dark tank top. The night was cold, and she crossed her arms, impatiently waiting for Bryce to finish locking up the Audi. He was looking around himself with disdain; a facial expression he had carried ever since they'd left the restaurant earlier that evening. It had been a struggle right from the getgo. The fancy get-together with his parents was delayed significantly by the late arrival of Mr. And Mrs. Rushton, but that had hardly been a surprise; they were always late, and usually arrived whilst in the midst of a quiet stand-off that brought the atmosphere at any social gathering to sub zero temperatures. Julie didn't dislike the couple, but to say that they were her vision of the perfect future in-laws was a far cry from the truth. Bryce's father was a businessman with a love for all things lucrative and a disdain for those with different aspirations. Fortunately for him, his prodigal son was all too eager to follow in his footsteps and for that, George Rushton adored him. The man had a sharp sense for talent, for opportunities, although Julie suspected that Bryce was his one and only blind spot. Bryce, though very talented, had a knack for getting away with doing as little as possible with the same result. Julie couldn't blame him for it though; she'd never been all that eager to put a lot of effort into her study either. She just didn't feel a real urge to further her career in the business world; who was she to accuse him for wanting to have some off-time rather than having to spend the entirety of his days buried in work, right? Of course, his mother hadn't exactly set an example for him to follow either; the well-groomed, perfectly manicured but not naturally blonde was the picture perfect example of a trophy wife just past her prime. And oh, she made a valiant effort to counter the inevitable decline that came with growing older, but with every wrinkle a bit of her confidence seemed to crumble. Even Julie noticed her husband's wandering eye – and uncomfortably so – and she did sympathize with the woman, to whom status was everything. But pity was not something Camilla appreciated.

“You're gonna catch a cold walking around like that.” Bryce, who'd finally joined the girl, shed his coat and made a gallant attempt to put it around Julie's shoulders. She shrugged it off impatiently, then regretted it immediately after and looked up at her boyfriend. “Sorry,” she apologized, “But it's only a five minute walk. I'm fine, really.” With that she paced off, and Bryce had to take a few large steps to catch up to her. “You're in an awful rush,” he commented, and Julie had to swallow a snide remark on how they would have been fine if his parents didn't consider showing up half an hour after their reservations being fashionably late.

“The show started five minutes ago,” she replied instead. “I promised I'd be there.”

“It's not like they'll know whether you're there or not.” Bryce looked every bit like he'd much rather have been fashionably late as well. It was no secret that he didn't care for Reckless Life or these types of gigs in general; he was much more one for frat parties and the occasional theater performance – you know, to keep up appearances. He enjoyed sharing his knowledge on the arts – whether it was paintings, architecture or the orchestra – and a rock band performing in a shady club in one of the city's lesser neighbourhoods was not something he considered particularly artistic.

”I'll know,” she protested, but there was that guilt again, and Julie sighed, briefly slowing her pace to grab hold of his hand. “Look, just do this for me, please?” she asked, utilizing that disarming smile and doe-eyed look Mother nature had blessed her with. Even Bryce didn't usually have an answer to that, and today was no exception, although he still made an effort by rolling his eyes. At least he willingly sped up after that, and it wasn't long before they were making their way through the scattered little groups of attendees who didn't quite feel like going in yet. Their loss, Julie supposed, although she couldn't help feeling a little resentful towards them for skipping on what was – as far as she was concerned – the greatest performance of the evening. Even from here she recognized Here comes the next, which meant that at least they weren't very late. Still, there was a distinct impatience to the way she looked as the guy at the entrance checked their tickets – there was bit of a queue, to make matters worse – and by the time they'd finally made it inside goosebumps littered her light skin and a look of frustration littered her otherwise pleasant features.

The music swelled the moment they set foot inside the club. The Hellcat was a place Julie had been to once before, although Mark had had to point out to her that they'd gone to some obscure band he liked together, a couple of years back. Even now she didn't recognize it, but admittedly, all these sorts of clubs were the same to the girl. They were likely the same to Bryce as well, although his opinion somewhat deviated from that of Julie – and outright opposed the way Mark felt about it – but that was a bit of a recurring theme; anything that involved her childhood friend and current roommate was sure to carry Bryce's disapproval, and the same was true for most of the other band members of Reckless Life. It had been an issue more than once, one where more often than not Julie had to be the peacekeeper. It was no secret that Bryce abhorred the fact that his significant other socialized with people he considered beneath him and although Mark would often be a bit more restrained in sharing his opinion on Julie's boyfriend of close to two years, the same wasn't true for his fellow band member Cave; the outspoken lead singer openly detested Bryce and had no trouble pointing this out; it was probably a good thing he didn't visit the apartment much for that reason, since every encounter between the two men would inevitably accumulate into a shouting match that more often than not had forced Julie to pull her boyfriend into her room whilst Mark and Cave went out for the night. He didn't seem to come around much anymore nowadays.

The room was not as full as it could be, but Julie noticed that as they stepped into the main hall, people were already beginning to flock to the stage, their interest piqued by the raw sound of guitars, the talent of the lead singer's voice and the music, reminiscent of the classics but with a style so very much their own. Julie had never doubted their talent, and to see people genuinely intrigued by these unknown newcomers filled her with a giddy sort of happiness. It had her barge through the crowd, ignoring Bryce's suggestion to get some drinks first. His hand firmly clenched in hers she elbowed her way past most of the audience, her adamance to get to the front a polar opposite to her gentle nature in most other situations. She'd promised, and when it came to Mark and his band, Julie made no concessions, and she gladly offended an onlooker or two just to get a good view of the stage. Past people taller and broader than her she caught glimpses of them all; Stace, Dalton, Cave, Ren and naturally, Mark. There was something really endearing about the way he poured his heart into his music, although Julie knew better than to ever word it like that out loud. It was probably a combination of having known him from the time they still played hide and seek in Miss Applebee's back yard and knowing just how hard he's worked to get where he was now. Was it weird to feel so proud that people looked so excited to see him play, to hear his music? Sure, it was a team effort, but no matter how much their frontman stood in the spotlight, there was only one star to the fair-haired girl in the crowd. She didn't pause until she'd found a spot from where she could see them perfectly. Near them she noticed a few familiar faces; Vere and Simon and Matthew, all die-hard fans since the very beginning. Julie gave them a happy wave, not bothering to try and talk; the bass droned loudly, the music sent vibrations through the floor and even seemed to make the air around her reverberate. Behind her, Bryce wrapped her arms around her waist. Julie felt much more like jumping, dancing and screaming 'til her voice gave away. The club was getting more crowded by the minute, people were cheering and exchanging looks of pleasant surprise that an opening act could actually be entertaining for once. The music world was a cruel place and Julie had worried on Mark's behalf that it would reject them no matter how good their music was. Now that she looked around though, she couldn't imagine what she'd been afraid of.

They were absolutely amazing.

-----

“You guys were absolutely amazing!”

It was a bit of a challenge to make her way past the excited rock fans surrounding the band as they sat at the bar, and a few people cast Julie annoyed looks, probably mistaking her for another groupie thinking she was somehow more important than the rest of them. If Ren hadn't noticed her in the crowd she probably wouldn't even have been able to get within hearing distance of the band to begin with, but he'd made sure the girl was able to get close enough to squirm into a seat between the bass player and Mark. She didn't hesitate before wrapping her arms tightly around her friend's shoulders; he felt sticky and warm and the smell of cheap alcohol and cigarettes clung to his hair, something unavoidable in a place like this. Julie had to raise her voice significantly to make herself heard above the roar of the crowd and the excited chatter of the people wanting a moment of attention from the members of Reckless Life, which was a bit of a challenge since all the shouting and singing along had made her rather hoarse.

“I told you you didn't have to worry, everyone loves you!” It was a moment later that Julie let go again, and she sat back in her seat to look up at Mark – although his emotions weren't as much on the surface as they were with Julie, it didn't take much to see that he was pleased – more than pleased, she daresay that he was outright ecstatic. “And you put on such a great performance, that solo at the end, that-- oh, and you played my favourite song!” Julie was talking particularly fast, something she was prone to when she was excited, and right now, being excited was a severe understatement of how she felt. They'd absolutely nailed every song they'd played right down to the final chord.

“This must be my favourite performance sofar! Well...” she shrugged meaningfully, a smile widening on her lips, “Second-favourite, of course.” Julie pressed her hands to her lap for fear that she'd go and hug him all over again. Curiously she looked around herself, and for a moment wondered how it felt to have people surrounding you, wanting your attention, praising you for something you had done. It was probably a feeling unlike any other. “I uh, got here just as you started playing. Sorry I was late. Me and Bryce got caught up at the restaurant, but we still managed to arrive on time and --

He probably didn't want to hear it, but she knew that Mark would be wondering where Bryce was right now. Or maybe he wasn't but she felt she should share it regardless. Perhaps if just because it was the only stain on an otherwise perfect evening... well, the latter half of it, anyway.

“Bryce is waiting outside, he, uh... said the smoke and the music were giving him a migraine.” And that was technically true, but she was no fool, and the underlying meaning had been clear. Apologetically she looked to Mark, not really wanting to take away from this euphoric evening. Luckily, someone handed them both a beer and she gladly let it distract her. The mood around Julie was infectious and the alcohol definitely helped, too; forgetting about a sulking boyfriend for a while wasn't too difficult now. “So tell me everything,” she insisted, “How was it? How did it feel to see that entire crowd go wild? Do you think Reckless Life will get famous now?”

"One performance? Doubt it. Going to have to put in a bunch more. But hey, it didn't hurt." Mark was cautious about it; he realized that up above there were suits and they'd seen the show, but he wasn't sure how to gauge suit enthusiasm. The music industry looked at more than simply a performance, they often considered other factors as well.

As Martin Smythe's band got up, costumed, well-equipped with instruments and carefully choreographed, he figured that much of the suit types were there for them -- it made a certain degree of sense, as he started getting beered up and carried on conversation with Jules a bit, as well as the others. Bryce would no doubt be back soon, but for the meantime, it was a good time to enjoy company with friends with the pressure sudenly off. If there was a crisis of confidence before the performance, and there always was, there was a sense of relief based on the reaction and how everything went...well, swimmingly. As soon as they got in the groove, they played and it seemed to flash by.

So when they actually started to play, it was a bit of a shock to hear how bland they were; it was a sort of formulaic sort of marketing-savvy type of musicianship that had no spark or passion, or showmanship beyond an empty sort of salute to it rather than the real thing. Their lead singer had a droning voice that was supplemented with special audio effects and the guitars used a lot of distortion. It wasn't precisely sloppy, it was just uninspired and gimmicky.

The crowd sensed it as well, as they sort of settled down from the intensity of the show that preceded these guys; the Shamekiss guys weren't merely being polite, it seemed -- they were industry veterans, guys that had been playing for a while and had that brief flare of a hit album that charted well and got them a wad of cash to work with. So maybe Jules was onto something.

"Mark, you're thinking too hard," Ren told him, putting another beer in his hand, "And this is no time for thinking beyond where we take the party next."

"Yeah, you're right." He clinked the glass of the bottle against Ren's and chugged. It was time to find some trouble to get into.

Julie had little attention to spare for the band that was currently playing, and it showed even in the way she'd physically positioned herself with her back towards the stage. It seemed a considerable part of the audience agreed with her though, and the interest in the lads didn't increase as the polished music droned throughout the hall in an attempt to reel in the crowd. Julie wasn't much impressed, although she didn't know if that was her personal opinion or a lack of real talent on their behalf. Whether the girl truly appreciated rock music was up for debate, and even Julie couldn't really be sure if she wasn't just being a supportive friend who had learned to love the music because she had gotten to know it so well over the years. There was no denying that she could be a bit on the fanatic side where it concerned Mark's band though – and because of the amount of blood, sweat and tears he had put into it she would for evermore refer to it as that: Mark's band – and silently, she applauded the distinct lack of enthusiasm by comparison that the audience held for – for – oh, she didn't even know what this band was called, nor did she care. Hanging out with Reckless Life and their entourage was infinitely more interesting, and all too soon she was engrossed in a rather pointless but amusing conversation with Dalton Marquez, discussing their favourite sneaker brands and awkward TV commercials.

Of all the band members – Mark excluded, of course – Julie got along with him best. Not that she was on bad terms with any of the guys (at least she didn't think she was), but out of the group he was the most approachable and seemingly keen to chat with her. Surely it had to do a little with their shared past, although they had never been particularly close throughout high school. Truth be told, Julie didn't remember him very distinctly at all from that time, but if she was entirely honest her and Mark had been considerably less close in the middle years of their high school years so that wasn't all that surprising. Something to do with different cliques and what not; Julie had been a strong member of the populars whilst Mark had been on a whole different and rather unique course. How they hadn't drifted apart was beyond her but it made their friendship something worth treasuring (though if he'd ever hear her give voice to such thoughts he'd probably mock her for being so sentimental) and for that, she made an extra effort to get along with all members of Reckless Life. Not that it was particularly hard; despite their lives being so vastly different from hers, the fact that she was Mark's friend and room mate seemed to be enough to be accepted, and all in all, they were just pretty awesome guys. Perhaps the slight exception to that rule was Cave Wyatt... Not that she disliked him, really, she didn't! But if she was completely, bluntly and totally honest Julie had to admit that the man scared her a little. Whether it was his background, his outspoken nature or the fact that him and Bryce hated each other's guts, she couldn't be sure - actually, it was probably a bit of all three. Julie wasn't particularly confrontational and preferred to keep the peace if she could help it. Past experience had taught her though, that whenever those Cave and Bryce were in the same room things would rapidly escalate. It was no wonder that Mark and her had not hung out as much as of late; their social circles meshed about as well as water and oil.

The mention of an after-party sparked her interest, and instinctively Julie glanced over at Mark. There was a hint of insecurity hidden in the look; lately she seemed to have been walking a fine line between being a part of the group and overstaying her welcome – and it wasn't because of her, of course. She didn't really get the chance to make up her mind one way or the other though; like clockwork, Bryce made his reappearance in the Hellcat.

"Just a moment," she excused herself and slipped from her seat. It was clear that her boyfriend was slightly less successful in making it into the inner circle that seemed to have formed around the bar and so instead, Julie wrestled her way outward and towards him, taking both his hands in her own as she got close enough.

"You came back!" she said, voice laced with sincere merriment. Clearly though, that sentiment wasn't reflected by her significant other. They hadn't parted on the best of terms during the performance; Bryce had mumbled something about needing a smoke or having a headache and when it became evident that Julie had no intention of joining him outside - to be fair she'd been too immersed in the show to even realize he'd been complaining - he'd walked away and left her on her own in the crowd. Although on her own was a bit of an exaggeration; Julie knew most of the more authentic fans by name and had gladly joined them for the remainder of the gig. She'd have worried about Bryce's absence if this had been the first time for him to leave early. Julie knew from experience that it was better to let him cool off for a while when he was in a mood; he'd probably be a lot more level-headed later.

“You done here?” he asked rather crudely. Julie pulled a face at that - perhaps she'd been wrong in her assumptions.

“Done? I thought you were coming to join me. The guys said--”

"Can we just go home?" he interrupted her, and with his index finger and thumb rubbed his temples. "I have a killer headache, and tomorrow I got that meeting with my dad at the company, so I really don't need this right now."

She tried to hide her disappointment, and after a second's pause the girl nodded in understanding. Bryce had been under a ridiculous amount of pressure lately, what with work and his nearing graduation. She supposed that a rock concert at a bar that smelled mostly of old sweat and stale beer wasn't the best way to relax. “All right, just uh...let me say goodbye first.”

Julie lost the skip in her tread as she returned to the group. She went straight for Mark, leaning into him to make herself audible. “Look, me and Bryce, we uh...” She pressed her lips together into an apologetic look, then briefly glanced over her shoulder. She didn't need to explain; even Mark didn't care much to see her boyfriend near and he probably didn't need to guess as to why she was bailing on him. “Well, we should be going.” She hastily pressed a friendly kiss on his cheek before retreating, and Julie cast him a warm smile. “You were awesome, Mark, I'm just so proud of you!”

The girl couldn't help herself, she just had to hug him even if it was an assault on his manliness (or ego) and so she embraced Mark tightly. Julie stepped away shortly after, letting her gaze wander to the rest of the group. “See you later, guys,” she mouthed, giving them all a little wave, then hurriedly padded off to Bryce, who was still waiting at a short distance. He looked moody and she clung to his arm, following him as he instantly made for the exit. Julie didn't bother saying much; not only wouldn't he be able to hear it, but anything she did say would be likely to just set him off when he was this irritated, so it was in uncomfortable silence that they walked back towards the car. Julie wasn't even sure why he was being so grouchy, although it no doubt revolved mostly around the fact that she had persuaded him to come here in the first place. Nothing about it fit into Bryce's world and if he could help it, it wouldn't fit into Julie's either. But he knew all too well that though she would do just about anything for him, banning her closest friend and the things dear to him from her life just wasn't an option, and admittedly, he had made some brave attempts in the past to adjust to her one 'quirk', as he called it. Although thusfar, it hadn't worked out too well.

“They really did play well,” she tried, once they'd distanced themselves sufficiently from the overwhelming background noise that was the main performance of the evening. The night had chilled even further and again, Julie crossed her arms in an attempt to cover herself up. Bryce paused briefly, and, watching her shiver, moved to put his coat around her shoulders. This time Julie made no attempt to remove it and she gladly pulled the jacket more closely about herself. “I'm happy you came with me,” she said, emboldened by the gesture. “Mark was--”

“Can we stop talking about Mark now?”

The words were spoken harshly, and Julie immediately fell silent, her eyes widening with shock. It took her a moment to catch on to his train of thought..

“...What?” she said confoundedly. “I thought--”

“Well maybe you shouldn't think.”

“Don't be rude.” Julie knitted her brows together irritably. “Why are you so upset? No one forced you to come with me tonight.” His sudden anger, sprung upon her, was getting on her nerves as well.

“Good thing I did though, at least it kept you from doing something we'd both regret.” He cast her a sidelong glance, one that she didn't appreciate much.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Abruptly, Julie halted, turning to face Bryce. An unlikely look of anger littered her features and she abandoned the grasp she'd had on his arm. Bryce shrugged gruffly, a stubborn look on his face.

“All I'm saying is that the way you're hanging around that...” He gestured back towards the club. “It's not right, okay? What am I supposed to think when you're all over him like a--”

“Like a what?” she cut him off. Suddenly it became all too clear what was bothering Bryce, and the sheer repetition of this argument was enough to make her angry, too. “He's my friend, Bryce. My best friend. I've known him since I was a toddler, we played together, hell, we used to share a bath together when we were kids. Are you gonna be jealous of that too?” Her voice was high-pitched now, and despite wanting to keep herself in check her bottom lip was quivering. Julie didn't want to argue, but she couldn't quite stop herself from getting annoyed with the amount of distrust Bryce was displaying toward her. And not for the first time, either.

“Don't be stupid Julianne, you can't just do these things and expect it not to have consequences." There was a belittling undertone to the way he spoke, something that managed to frustrate Julie beyond anything else, and she was having a hard time not to jump at his throat over it. Instead she screwed her eyes shut and heaved an aggravated sigh.

"Look, can we just forget about this?" she pleaded, trying her best to ignore the curious looks they were getting from several bystanders. "Let's just go home, Bryce. You're making a scene over nothing.” She reached for his arm now, but he angrily pulled away.

“It's not nothing if you're gonna act like a right whore every time you set foot in one of these back-alley places!"

The silence that ensued was palpable, and even Bryce seemed shocked by his own words. Not as much as the subject of his accusations though, and Julie stood petrified, staring at him for the longest time. It wasn't until she subconsciously started stepping back from him that he came back to life himself, and Bryce reached for the girl, looking rather hurt when she drew away from him. "Ugh, just get into the car, Jules," he said, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. The vehicle was close behind him, and the alarm lights lit up as he unlocked it. But Julie cared little to step inside, and her lips pursed into a look of disgust.

"I'm not going anywhere with you right now," she bit at him. Oh, she was one for keeping the peace, but once that threshold was crossed there was no saving the situation and Julie would walk home before she'd drive with Bryce right now. And surely he knew it too, and at least in strong-headedness they matched each other just perfectly. He aggressively tore open the car door and fell inside, glancing at the girl on the sidewalk just once more before turning the key and making the engine roar. He sped off before Julie could get another word in... not that she had any intention of stopping Bryce to begin with. With a look of distress she watched the Audi disappear around the corner; only after he had vanished from sight did she realize she was still wearing Bryce's coat and she angrily shrugged it off. She was so ridiculously tired of this.

It happened every time her past life and her future life crossed paths. Every single time. She didn't know what to do about it; Julie didn't want to have to make the choice between the two things she loved dearly. She pressed her hand to her lips, stifling a sob. People were watching her as they walked past, adding a feeling of embarrassment to her already morose state of mind, and she dipped her head so she could ignore them. What was she going to do now? He'd come back, he always came back but she wasn't going to just wait here for Bryce to return - she had some pride, at least.

Fuck.

Julie rolled at the behest of Bryce, and Cave said something about it, but it wasn't a fight that Mark wanted to rehash -- to say that the band hated Bryce and everything he stood for was an understatement, and the way he tried to cut Julie off from everyone he didn't approve of smacked of, to the guys at least, of a massive douchebag. Meanwhile, the Blue Nitrous guys finally got off stage and Shamekiss was due to come on. During that time, Mark and the others stayed steadily buzzed, or at least Mark did. The idea here was to have fun, chat girls up and pace the drinking, because they were going to probably marathon it tonight.

He didn't really think anything of Jules throwing him a hug on the way out except that he was briefly relieved in a sense that she was moving on if it meant taking Bryce with her. There was no buzzkill like a pissed off alpha male competitor that seemed intent on putting him down -- that vibe was too easy to pick up and it made everything awkward. In fact, he looked like he was ready to give her a bunch of shit on the way out, and Mark felt like a bit of a douchebag for not bothering to stand up to Bryce at all on that or to tell Julie to ditch the dude. Of course, the fight always seemed to be about him versus Bryce, and that's how Bryce set it up. Mark learned very early on to avoid saying bad things about Bryce, because it just made Jules uncomfortable and now silence was a habit.

In any case, there was a show to enjoy now, so the rush to the bar happened, with Reckless Life staying well out of the way. When Martin Smythe, he of the faked and put on English accent seemed like he was coming for the bar, the band made a conscious decision to move to the floor, mostly because BRNO was quickly occupying a spot that was reserved for bands that had played already -- the VIP privilege didn't seem very palatable when it involved hanging around Martin Smythe and his band as they tried to razzle-dazzle the other VIP's up there, the suits and their girlfriends (rather than their wives) and other important people. Reckless Life just went out among the fans of people that followed them from show to show, mostly because Cave had a very acute sense how online marketing worked, even if he couldn't hold down a 'real' job (that a guy like Bryce would instantly disrespect anyway.)

The air was a bit humid and somewhat rank from all the smoke and beer and people thronging around as the Shamekiss set started, and it was a well-put together set, but it suffered from a lackluster sort of songwriting that plagued the band after their first album. They were trying to move beyond it, but suffered from the typical problem of reproducing the magic after the first great album. Only a few bands transcended this sort of slump, such as the Stones, Aerosmith, Guns N' Roses, Led Zep, Motley Crue, Alice in Chains and others. In some cases, the great albums came with less than great albums in between, transitions from the first sound to a new sound that grabbed attention.

It happened to some great and classic bands. Second record slump happened too easily, with the onset of life changes that took the muse away or the edge some bands had. Occasionally the evolution was popular, like the Stones with "Beggars Banquet" but that wasn't the rule.

All the same, Shamekiss got in the groove when they started playing what made them famous in the first place. It seemed like it might be unpleasant to never get another hit, but they got one in the first place, which was better than most. They had lots of money and, if careful, would never really have to work, or work as hard, again.

Mark wasn't sure what happened at that point because they were nowhere near that stage, as far as he could tell, though they had good, newer, material that they'd been refining ever since a couple months ago, when Mark started taking notes on a day to day basis; phrases stuck in his head, events and other things. The songs weren't narrative like ballads, but wove concepts derived from the notes themselves: buried in the songs, like Easter eggs. Sometimes he'd get a piece or lyric down or an idea for a riff or best time, all jumbled in there.

In any case, as Shamekiss wound it down, they seemed to gather a respectable moving party of whoever-- Cave tended to attract an entourage with charisma and recognizability, but the others had friends in the crowd, ready to go where the night took them. Mark had invited Julie but, honestly, knew she wasn't going, not with Bryce there smothering the sunshine-- phrase put in the phone as a note.

"Mark? From Roosevelt?" That made him turn around; he girl was exquisite; dark of hair and eye, muscled legs starting where the knee high gogo boots started, wearing an off-the-shoulder top that showed definition in the arms. Her skin was not porcelain, but rather a richer tan tone. The name escaped him.

"It's me, Maria Liao!" Some ways back, he recalled, she and Julie were friends or frienemies, perhaps, but he couldn't remember the whole story.

"Wow, uh, it's good to see you! Long time, huh?" He hadn't, honestly kept up with anyone but Julie, Dalton and the California Conformity Patrol, but he didn't see the need to bring it up. Meanwhile, Dalton was watching; he clearly identified her faster and was mouthing the word "hot" to Mark.

"I saw Julie here and was wondering why she'd be here, but it makes sense now! You stuck with music and you're really good! I knew you looked familiar on stage! You guys sound like Aerosmith or GNR!"

She wasn't short, more like near the average female height, but she was light enough to get pressed in by the crowd, right against him, when he took his shot, "you like Aerosmith?" His kind of girl, "that's really awesome," he hollered over the noise, "and it's been a long time, so how about you come hang with us after the party."

She was hot, but it was a Hail Mary pass; so he was surprised when said, "Rockin! Just let me ditch this guy that I was here with, he's so boring and it's awkward..."

--

The rabbit hole they chased took them to a bar and then a house in the hills in the process of being trashed by a huge party; Cave grabbed two girls and rolled out to the hot tub, Stace took something that had him fingerprinting the walls like cave art while stripped down to his underwear, and the others were partying hard. He and Maria found that things were getting too hot to handle, but not before the home owner plied him with a free sample of what some of the others were taking; very finely ground up white powder.

A sampler, he'd said -- as he handed off the bag with a compliment on a great show.

It wasn't that much stuff, just enough for a small party of two people for a couple hours.

They called a cab, but by the time they were on their way to Mark's apartment, they were already kissing in the backseat; y the time they were in the apartment, they were pulling clothes off. In Mark's room, which had its own bathroom, they put on Aerosmith's 1976 "Rocks" album and did the coke, which was enough to get them going, just a tease, but perfect for the party. The music was fairly soft, the volume down at its normal volume in deference to Jules...and Bryce.

With the music and his own heartbeat in his ears and the hot woman in his arms, and the coke thundering through his veins, they forgot entirely about Jules or her boyfriend.

There was a first time for everything, such as Mark bringing a girl back home instead of staying out all night.

The next morning, Maria was first to the coffee maker, wearing a T-shirt of Mark's.

"Long time, Julie, hope we didn't keep you up last night," she said, with a satisfied smile.

She'd considered going back inside the venue, but what shred of self-respect still remained Julie, firmly kept her from facing any of her friends, acquaintances and whoever else nearby who hadn't been forcibly subjected to the scene Bryce and her had caused just now. Her instinct told her to get out of the street though, and to any place where curious gazes couldn't find her. So she quickly rounded a corner, purposely distancing herself from the infamous club and she paced on her heels through a street still packed with parked cars, but considerably less crowded with people trying to get a belated glimpse of the main act of that night. There was little else in terms of late night entertainment to be found in the direct area, and once she'd walked for a good few minutes Julie realized things were getting awfully desolate – and pretty shady, too. It made her rethink her rash actions a little, and a more cowardly part of the girl wished she'd just remained on that side walk and waited for her boyfriend to return. She'd be in the warm comfort of Bryce's car by now, no doubt stuck in a terse silence that would inevitably be broken when she tried to make amends for something that even now, Julie wasn't sure was her fault to begin with. But at least she would be safe and on her way back to the apartment instead of walking narrow roads in the middle of God-knows-where. And of course, the street she was on steadily declined towards a dubious looking tunnel with pale green lights overhead that offered such an ominous sight the girl ground to an immediate halt upon catching sight of it. If she went in there, surely Bryce would be pissed all over again, albeit for different reasons and ones she really couldn't blame him for.

So stupid, how it always seemed to turn out like this. Despite what this particular night had turned into, Bryce and Julie had a pretty enviable relationship ninety percent of the time. There was but one moot point and anyone who knew Julie consequently knew about her and Bryce's issues in that regard, despite her frantic attempts to make things seem peachy keen. But although Mark and his pals had branded him an utter bastard a long time ago, he generally took really good care of her and worshipped the ground she walked on. It was only where it concerned her living arrangements and the one other occupant to her apartment that Bryce turned ridiculously possessive to the point where they'd spend more time arguing than enjoying their time together whenever they were in the flat. It was an almost predictable pattern: something small would trigger a jealous reaction from Bryce, which forced Julie to walk on egg shells until she, inevitably, messed up in one way or another regardless by either speaking too fondly of Reckless Life, or not being able to meet up with her boyfriend because she'd made plans with Mark or frickin' hugging him for putting on a brilliant show and he'd explode and storm off until either she managed to appease him with profound apologies or he'd spent enough time driving around that his anger had abated and he'd come back, treat her like a queen and never mention it again. Not until it started all over, anyway.

With a sigh of frustration, Julie reached for her phone and activated the screen. Without thinking she looked for Bryce's number among the recent calls, but before she'd pressed it, her eye caught sight of Rebecca's name, right below. The two girls been out together the day before as some sort of reward for Julie helping out at the animal shelter all of last Saturday. Rebecca adored animals and she was a dedicated volunteer at the Silver Lake shelter for cats and dogs who, with her persuasive and enthusiastic character, would persuade her friend into scooping out litter boxes and taking golden labs and German shepherds on long walks four at the time every once in a while.

Julie checked the time, then, despite deciding calling anyone at this hour was definitely inconsiderate, quickly rang her friend in the hopes of getting a ride home.

-------

“That's ridiculous. And you actually let him get away with it?”

It had taken a while for Julie to open up, but by the time they'd managed to make their way back to the apartment and into her room the words had come pouring out without any hesitation whatsoever. She wasn't one to gladly spill her personal issues, and she wouldn't dream of sharing her relationship problems with Kelsey and Selene (they had placed Bryce on a firm pedestal from the get-go where he unequivocally remained until the end of time). But Rebecca was always willing to lend a listening ear, provided she had the time to spare. In times of need though, the girl would drop just about anything to come to a friend's aid, and truth be told Julie had no idea what Rebecca had been up to when she picked up the phone. With a short “I'll be there ASAP” she'd come to pick up Julie and despite her directions being obscure at best, it was less than twenty minutes before the five year old Lexus came roaring around the corner, relieving the blonde girl from the growing concerns that she was going to be dragged into the nearby shrubs never to be seen again. They'd made a beeline for Julie's apartment, and while it had probably been Rebecca's intention just to drop her off, the girl's emotional state had her decide to camp out in Julie's room that night instead. So armed with a couple of Coronas (make that a lot of Coronas) they were currently camping out on top of her queen size bed, pillows stacked to ridiculous height behind their backs and a Guy Ritchie movie playing on the LCD screen mounted on the wall.

Julie nodded unhappily to the question. In Rebecca's company, shame and guilt had rapidly been replaced by a feeling of indignation over being told off when she'd really not done anything to begin with.

“It's not like he didn't know when we first met,” she commented grouchily. “I mean, I was already living here, I already went to these gigs and I've known Mark like, forever so what's he complaining about? It's not like he has anything to worry about – if I wanted to fuck my best friend, that would have happened by now.” Her tongue was considerably looser under the influence of alcohol, but the brash words still served to make her blush. A quick look at Rebecca and they both burst into a girlish fit of laughter that persisted for a good minute before finally fading to a bemused chuckle.

“Did he try ringing you again?” Rebecca inquired after some time. Julie looked down at her phone, flicking the screen back on with a routine swipe motion. Bryce had called her three times and from the looks of it, sent her quite a few messages. A grim look of satisfaction crossed her features before she tucked the phone back in her pocket. He deserved to be worried. Asshole.

“What?” Rebecca eyed her quizzically, and Julie couldn't help but laugh.

“Did I say that out loud?” she said sheepishly, and her nose wrinkled into a look of dismay. “Well, he is an asshole. A really rich, handsome, protective and caring asshole.”

“Preach it, sister,” grinned her friend, and they clinked bottles before downing what must have been their fourth drink or so since arriving here. “You might wanna send him a text though, or he's gonna end up serenading you at your balcony in the middle of the night.”

“It is the middle of the night, and that would be something. I imagine he'd hire someone to do it for him though.” Julie fell silent when the sound of someone opening the door announced Mark coming home. The presence of a female voice informed them that he wasn't alone. Rebecca and her exchanged looks, the former arching her eyebrows as the uncoordinated stumble of two people who didn't have the patience to wait until they were in the privacy of their bedroom to get better acquainted resounded from the hallways, shortly after followed by the sound of a door closing.

"Hah, looks like success is already paying off," Rebecca snickered.

“Sssssh,” Julie warned, a bit of a slur in her voice. “Don't let him hear us.”

They stared at one another whilst listening to the noises that ensued. Sounds of music being put on were a dead give-away of what was going to follow and Rebecca suppressed an amused chuckle when something evidently fragile fell to the floor and shattered to pieces. Considering the nature of the noises that ensued though, it didn't seem that anyone was going to be picking up the shards right now.

“Oh God,” Julie whispered worriedly, “Is this what I put Mark through with Bryce?” She bit her lip upon hearing the voice of a girl clearly enjoying herself. “I sure hope not,” she added, looking a little sullen.

“What, are you jealous?” inquired a snickering Rebecca, who instantly received a pathetic little smack on the shoulder for her efforts.

“No, of course not,” Julie protested. “I just don't think he's ever brought a girl home before. It's a little--- weird. You know, I kinda forgot he had a..."

"A sex life?"

Another impassioned cry resounded and by now the two girls were actually getting a little uncomfortable. Julie quickly crawled towards her night stand and reached for the remote. The previous movie had long since ended and she hurriedly flicked through the list available, not being particularly picky before settling on a classic. The way she upped the volume earned her another look from her friend but Julie couldn't really care less about what she thought. "Hand me another drink," she demanded instead, and with a huff fell back into the cushions. This was awkward.

---------

It was late morning when Julie woke up again. She didn't actually recall falling asleep but in her inebriated sleep that wasn't all too surprising. Rebecca was snoring softly beside her; Julie found herself quite snugly curled up against her friend and if she wasn't assaulted by a killer headache the moment she opened her eyes she'd probably feel embarrassed about it. “Ow...” she groaned, rubbing her temple with the heel of her hand. Struggling into an upright position she kept her eyes closed, feeling her way towards the door. Dressed in nothing but her pyjama shorts and an old soccer shirt she was still squinting by the time she'd managed to stumble into the kitchen. She never even noticed the girl and therefore the greeting came as an unpleasant surprise that made Julie jump visibly. She blinked a few times before looking up, and she had to comb a few of her long curls back to get a proper look at the, er, visitor.

“May?” Julie cast the girl a look of utter confusion; it couldn't have been all too sharp a sight judging by the ill-concealed smugness with which Maria regarded her. If Julie hadn't been all too aware of what had been going on the night before then the girl's appearance made it blatantly obvious now, and she wondered absently just what it meant that Mark had actually brought a girl with him. She wasn't particularly pleased that out of all the billions of women in the world, this had apparently been his pick.

“I uhm...wow.” Jules' eyes widened slightly and to give herself a distraction, she turned and reached for the upper cupboard door, opening it and grabbing her coffee mug. Pouring herself a much-needed cup o' Joe she wisely tried to gather her thoughts on the presence of the girl. Conflicting memories clung to Maria Liao's appearance; few of them pleasant, most of them having left a bitter aftertaste that even now hadn't quite dissipated yet.

“We uh... were watching a movie,” she replied, realizing that some sort of response was expected from her. Julie didn't fail to notice the way Maria's eyes quickly darted to Julie's bedroom door.

“We?” she asked curiously.

“Yeah, look, hang on a minute, I just need to--” Julie didn't even bother forming a proper sentence and quickly made herself scarce again; to say the dark-haired girl's presence had come as a shock was a bit of an understatement and she desperately needed to gather her thoughts before attempting any sort of conversation.

Mark was just leaving his room as she made to enter hers, their doors opposite one another. Julie shot him a look that could only be interpreted as an annoyed ”Really?” before averting her eyes and heading back into her bedroom, where a drowsy looking Rebecca was making attempts to squeeze into her skinny jeans whilst still lying on the double bed.

“Good, you're awake,” a rather terse sounding Julie commented. Without a thought she set the coffee down on her night stand, the hot liquid splashing over the edge and dousing her smart phone. Pulling open her wardrobe she went in search of an acceptable outfit – her mental state was thrown back into her high school years where appearance was everything and the right clothes were the best way of garnering confidence – and grew increasingly aggravated by the ridiculous amount of blouses, cardigans and knee length skirts she possessed. Her eye ultimately fell on the summer dress Bryce had once given her – not even for a special occasion; he was just a hopeless romantic who loved to surprise her – and hurriedly tugged it over her head. As she went in search of her hair brush, Julie pointed at Rebecca, gesturing for her to get off the bed.

“Hurry up and get dressed,” she instructed, “I need moral support.”

That caught Becky's attention and she immediately rolled off the bed, continuing her battle to get her pants over her well-rounded bottom while standing upstraight. “Is Bryce here?” she inquired with a heated face, heaving a sigh of relief as she finally managed to close the top button. “I didn't hear the door.”

“No no, he isn't.” Truth be told, Julie had all but forgotten about her boyfriend, her mind preoccupied with old resentment and mixed feelings she couldn't quite place just yet.

“Mark brought a – a girl to the apartment. And I don't like her.” That was a bit of an understatement and it really didn't cover the situation at all. “I don't want to sit in the living room with her on my own, and I can't stay in here like a hermit without looking like an idiot now.”

“Uhuh.” Down-to-Earth Rebecca nodded, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes as she rounded the bed, reached past Julie and tugged a clean shirt from the stack in her wardrobe. “I'm borrowing this,” she redundantly informed her. “We'll just ruin her self-confidence by looking absolutely stunning.”

Julie couldn't be sure if her friend was being sarcastic or sincere; it was probably somewhere in between but when it came to loyalty, Rebecca was gold. Which, coincidentally, was the opposite of Maria Liao.

“So why do we hate her, exactly?”

“Oh, I don't hate her, per se...” Julie objected, although that was probably a lie. “She's just not a very... great person.” Her hand already on the door, Julianne hesitated, then looked back to Rebecca. “We used to be friends in high school, until I found out she was talking trash about me behind my back. It cost me my friendship with Samantha and my weekend job at the Travelstore, among other things. It's eh... it's complicated.”

“Say no more,” smirked her friend and she pressed the door open, barging past Julie and leading the both of them into the living room, where both Mark and Maria turned their heads towards the two arrivals with rather different expressions plastered on them. Unceremoniously she fell onto the couch and Julie quietly followed; the physical proximity of her friend alone already served to lift her spirits a little.

“I'm Rebecca,” Becky introduced herself, though she didn't bother to get up. Her keen eyes took in the appearance of Maria, who seemed to counter the critical look with a similar sort of gaze.

“Maria,” she replied just as curtly, and the girl ever so subtly edged a bit closer to Mark. Julie noticed the way her hand was lingering closely beside him on the couch; not quite touching his leg but near enough to claim him, as it were. Typical. “So, are you two together together?” she inquired airily. Julie instantly blushed; Rebecca, naturally, had her answer ready and wrapped her arm about her friend's shoulder, tugging her closer. Julie just made a point of not looking at Mark at this point, but didn't object; she couldn't care less if Maria thought her to be a closet lesbian right now.

“What's it to you if we are?” Rebecca asked sharply.

“Oh no! I didn't mean it like that!” Maria almost seemed genuinely apologetic. “It actually makes a lot of sense, looking back on things.” Julie suppressed a look of annoyance and stubbornly continued to stare down the coffee table. “I mean, how else can you live with this guy for four years and still sleep in separate rooms?”

Now Julie didn't need to look up to know what was happening, although from her peripheral she could see Maria reaching out to run her finger affectionately down the side of Mark's face. Whether he was pleased with that, she wasn't sure; she vengefully hoped not.

“Right, excuse me for a minute...” Maria jumped up, and she was clearly feeling a lot better than Julie at this point. The girl looked around, pointing at the furthest door. “That's the bathroom?” she inquired, then wandered off, leaving the remaining three to sit there in silence. Julie was still making a seeming effort to have the table spontaneously combust, but as soon as she heard the bathroom door closed her gaze darted up and she sat more upstraight; Rebecca seemed to catch on and removed her arm, then went to sit at a more conventional distance.

“So Maria Liao,” Julie commented, a bit redundantly perhaps. She was stuck between not wanting to cause another fight – one was enough for now – and still wanting to air her grievances. “Of all the people in the world, you bring her back? Nice call, Mark.” So much for being complacent.

Her words were dripping with cynicism, something that really didn't fit her and Julie quickly set her gaze on the large window; not that the grey, densely packed clouds offered an interesting view, she just didn't have the nerve to look at Mark after that.

He'd woken up confused, naked and with sheets crumpled up at the foot of the bed, but he'd had the chance to scrape off the sweat in a long hot shower. When he'd claimed the apartment, he'd taken the room with the bathroom attached that had less space, but a bathroom all to itself, and he abused the privilege shamelessly; he'd installed a custom shower head on the thing and had a shower curtain that looked like it had blood splattered all over it -- he loved that cheesy shit and he was able to put it up because that bathroom was his.

By the time he'd gotten out there and saw Julie brush past, he realized that the girls might not be playing well, but he tried to stay cool with the whole thing ensuing; he'd come out in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt of his own, looking a little mussed and partied out, but still in pretty good shape, especially as he poured the coffee. He was damp hair and smelled of the soap he'd used extensively to scrub himself off in the most thorough way -- because even in the throes of morning-after bleariness, he could smell the funk that hung in the air and couldn't actually calculate how the hell it'd gotten there. He'd had to throw open windows fast, just to help clear that miasma.

"Uh, I think I might have just started something," Maria told him, "Because Jules came out and then bolted back for the room."

"It's cool," Mark replied, "she's probably just warning her you-know-who that there's company." Bryce seemed to be an eternal fixture around here, and the decor of the living room reflected it with a couch that wasn't terribly comfortable, chairs that had a whiff of trendy to them and a too-organized kitchen that was actually a bit difficult to cook in without feeling like a slob because you dared put a jar out of place. It was sterile and cold, muted colors and annoyingly prim and proper sensibilities that dictated form over function. Mark's room, of course, was a totally different story; a speaker, an amp, guitars, posters, a mattress on the floor, a milk crate for a bedside table, and a closet full of clothes that had not one suit jacket to the name.

Bryce would have hated the room if he were ever allowed in, but Mark made sure the lock was turned every single time.

In any case, holding a coffee cup that was decidedly blank of all logos and in all white, he leaned over to Maria and said, "So, good morning," and gave her a lingering kiss by way of further greeting, which was to say, he was a gentleman and he'd made sure to brush the unholy things that lived in his mouth the morning after an alcohol and coke fueled party. He'd never really done cocaine before, but they'd figured it out fast enough; the stuff was ground enough so it didn't hurt the nose and it seemed to make everything a lot more fun. Small doses, moderate amounts.

The sound of the door made them break the kiss off and turn toward the sound; Mark's surprise was mostly in the eyebrows at the sight of Rebecca, who was, face it, one of Julie's most laid back, understanding and fun friends. She was a sight more welcome than Bryce or the Pucker twins, so the smile was genuine, even as Maria made the bee-line for the bathroom -- some people did coffee and then showers, but Mark was a 'shower first' sort of guy.

"Well, if you're thinking 'look what the cat dragged in' I can only say that I've been taking notes on how you do it," he replied cheekily, but beneath the smile, he meant it. It was often the case that he was treated like an unwanted charity case in his own apartment, which he paid half for -- and sweated his balls off to do many days -- by his roommate and friend's dick boyfriend, who wanted Mark to just keep paying the rent but always leave for the convenience of Bryce. But he was trying to keep it a calm sort of thing, where he just pointed out the obvious rather than snap and be pissed. Was cocaine supposed to make a guy zen? That was a strange side effect, to say the least.

"Hi, Rebecca, so you're playing the homewrecker today? Or are you Julie's backdoor woman, on the side from the main gig with Bryce?" It was said with a wry grin, he was much happier to see her than Bryce, and even though Julie was sulking. She'd have to get over it-- he couldn't imagine a universe where Maria Liao somehow was worse than Bryce Rushton. In any case, his phone went off right with that annoying little buzz, he'd had it in his hand when he wandered out of his room, and he checked the message as a matter of instinct. His phone was not the latest or the greatest, and certainly not Apple, but it did text messaging -- he had a group SMS that included the rest of the band.


Mark was prepared to handle Julie, was alright dealing with Bryce if he were there, and managed to roll with the surprise of Rebecca in the house...but this took him by surprise and the mask totally slipped.

The way Mark countered her snide remark only served to increase the glum mood Julie was in and she wrinkled her nose in dismay, sinking further into the couch. The sky offered little distraction by now, and insecurely her gaze darted to her friend and back several times over before finally settling on the subject of her grievances. Well, one of them, anyway. “Fine,” she said moodily. “Fine. I guess I can't argue with that.” But despite how unhappy she was, with him, with Maria, even moreso with Bryce, there was one thing she was incapable of and that was to get proper angry with Mark. And fair is fair: he had never really given her reason to, either. “But if this is you trying to get back at me for having a boyfriend you don't get along with, then that's just really, really immature and I don't like it.”

She pulled her legs up on the couch at that and wrapped her arms tightly about her knees, and so failed to avoid the jab between the ribs from Rebecca's elbow. “Stop being a diva” the girl told her patronizingly. “You don't have to be happy about it, as long as he is.”

“...I know.” Julie pressed her lips into an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry, you're absolutely right. It's just... No, you're right. Never mind, I'm not going to ruin a perfectly good morning by-”

She didn't really finish her sentence, as she caught sight of the sudden change of expression on Mark's face as he peered down at his phone. Julie wasn't sure what to make of it at first but what a poor friend she would be if she couldn't tell a look of sheer astonishment when she saw one. There was a spark of happiness there too, though, even if it went concealed under a layer of absolute shock and the hungover girl elbowed her way off the couch and was up in a second, darting over to Mark and glancing first over at him, then, perhaps not entirely respectful towards his privacy, looked at the text message displayed on his phone. “Oh,” she uttered uselessly, eliciting a look of surprise from Rebecca. “Oh! That's awesome news!” Julie easily made up for his lack of immediate excitement by wrapping her arms about him, evil high school girls temporarily forgotten, and hugged him tightly. “I told you you'd get famous now!” she exclaimed perhaps a little too shrill and too close to his ear. “Let me get some drinks – no, coffee,” she insisted and went off towards the kitchen, leaving Mark in the company of Rebecca, who nodded at him with a half-smile.

“Congrats,” she said airily. “Things might be looking up for you, eh.”

She paused when from the kitchen she could hear the jingle of Julie's phone; though suppressed by the two-way door that separated this room from the other, there was no wondering who she talking to. Her voice sounded reserved at first and Rebecca silently rooted for the girl, but it was only moments before that usual sweet pitch returned and when she heard the girl chuckle and assure him that 'Yeah, she could go out today', it was all Rebecca could do to roll her eyes and sink back into the couch.

“That girl's thick as a brick,” she muttered, shaking her head. Sure enough, it was only a moment later that Julie returned, phone still in hand, announcing that she was going for a shower and that they should order take-out tonight to celebrate, before disappearing into the bigger bathroom. She didn't actually say that Bryce would be coming to pick her up, but it was definitely implied.

“Hand me a Sharpie,” Rebecca demanded. “If she's gonna be a doormat, I should write 'Welcome' on her forehead.” She pretended to get up from her seat before leaning over, elbows leaning lazily on her knees. “That guy walks all over her.” The brunette looked to Mark then, trying to estimate his feelings about the whole ordeal. She wasn't entirely clueless on the negative atmosphere in the apartment, of course, but the extent of the hostility Mark felt towards Bryce was a bit of a grey area to her still.

“Doesn't that bother you at all? Like, aren't you her best friend? Sometimes I just want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and...” Rebecca was abruptly cut off by the buzzer, announcing someone was waiting at the entrance downstairs. “Oh Jesus, did he park his car around the corner when he called?” she mumbled irritably. “Doesn't he have a key nowadays anyway?”

With a look that spoke volumes, Rebecca pushed herself off the couch and in a way suggesting she really rather not wandered over to the intercom, pressing the button while scowling at the thing. “Good thing it doesn't come with a camera, right?” she said airily, then studied it again. “...It doesn't, right?”

-----

Meanwhile, Julie was rushing to get herself prepared to head out. She was in and out of the shower in a matter of minutes and out her bedroom door whilst still buttoning up her vest. She didn't even realize Maria was just leaving the opposite room at the same time and bumped into the girl unceremoniously, causing them both to yelp before ending up staring each other down in the narrow corridor.

“Hey,” the dark-haired girl said, making a conscious attempt to break the ensuing -and very awkward – silence.

“....Hey.”

“So, what are the odds I'd run into you and Mark, huh.” Maria looked every bit as unhappy to be there as Julie, but she was making an effort at least. That wasn't what Julie wanted to hear in the slightest though, and with a subtle unimpressed look Jules leaned against the closed door.

“Yeah, what are the odds you'd go after the one person you didn't try to turn against me back in high school.” A grim look darkened her face. “Didn't you do enough?”

Maria looked sincerely apologetic at that. “It's not like that, Mark and I just happened to run into one another after his gig. We hit it off and one thing lead to another---”

“Please, don't.” Julie wasn't good at hiding her emotions and the look of repulsion spoke volumes.

“Sorry.”

“I really doubt you mean that.” Julie narrowed her eyes; this was feeling uncomfortably familiar and she didn't like it at all.

“Come on Julie, we were teenagers. I'll admit I was a bitch at the time, but I've grown up since. Can't you believe that I've changed?”

That was a low blow – Julie couldn't very well throw a girly fit if Maria was going to act all mature about it. She wasn't sure what she believed though; people changed, but the whole apparent coincidence of it all kept a lingering suspicion in her mind.

“...I believe that Mark is old enough to decide for himself who he does or doesn't sleep with,” she said diplomatically. It was the best Maria would get right now, and she seemed to know it too. Slowly she nodded.

“Well, maybe we can talk some more next time.”

“Next time? There's going to be a next time?”

Maria shrugged. “I don't know,” she said, glancing towards the living room. “Who knows what'll happen, he's a pretty awesome guy.”

Julie averted her gaze; she didn't like any of this at all. But she knew all too well that she had no right to act like a spoilt little princess throwing a fit because she didn't like Mark's new... well, whatever this was. “He is,” she admitted. The buzzer managed to save them both from another snide remark and Julie felt and looked positively relieved. “That's Bryce, he's picking me up to get lunch.”

The arched eyebrow she received for that made an actual question redundant.

“My boyfriend,” she explained, surely making Maria rethink her previous assumption. Julie didn't linger to hear what she had to say about that and quickly hurried towards the front door, passing Rebecca on the way. There was something about the way her friend eyed her that didn't sit entirely well with the girl but she ignored it for now; as far as Bryce was concerned, Rebecca was more on the same page with Mark than anyone else. It was all right though, she didn't expect either of them to understand.... their lives were so vastly different from her and Bryce's.

Julie had opened the door well before Bryce actually arrived on her doorstep. As always, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him; his dark hair was flawless, his shirt and casual suit immaculate and free of any creases. He was still wearing his shades but purposely took them off as he got close to her, flashing a winning smile that immediately won her over. “Let's not fight again, Jules,” he told her, which was more a statement than a suggestion. He magicked an expensive bouquet of roses from behind his back, handing it over to her in a graceful gesture. It was as much of an apology as she would get and Julie couldn't help herself; within moments she was smiling, smelling the lovely fragrance of the flowers and ultimately hiding into a snug embrace.

“Let's not,” she hummed contently, then got out of the way, letting him inside. As she closed the door he already paced into the living room; Julie couldn't help but feel nervous on his behalf – she knew how poorly him and Mark got on – but if Bryce at all cared about Mark's disapproval of his presence then he did a great job of hiding it.

“Hey Becky,” he greeted the girl on the couch, then plopped down on the modern armchair to the side of it. “Mark,” he nodded quickly, crossing one leg leisurely over the other, his foot resting on his knee. “Julianne tells me you're meeting with a record company today. Would be great if you guys got a contract,” he grinned. Julie, who'd only just followed into the room, tentatively put the flowers on the dresser, tersely listening to the conversation. She quietly braced herself for a derogatory remark; Bryce didn't hide the fact that he thought little of Mark and his aspirations to become a famous musician.

She wasn't mistaken.

“Maybe you'll actually be able to pay your half of the rent now, eh. I'm sure Julie will appreciate not having to worry about the bills any more.” He gave her a quick wink as if he were doing a favour; Julie shrank a little, then even more as he addressed her again. “Jules, why don't you put those flowers in a vase. They're gonna wither if you leave them lying around like that.”

Julie swallowed the words on her lips, wanting to tell him to not be condescending towards her friend, and quietly nodded. She made off into the kitchen, only just catching a shred of Bryce informing Mark that hopefully he'd be able to pay the full rent soon. You know, if she and Bryce were going to move in together after graduation.

He was about to open his mouth and say something, when the discussion went on between Rebecca and Julie over his motives for bringing Maria Liao home; the reality was that there wasn't anything deliberate about it, man meets woman at party, they drink quite a bit and wind up getting out of a really fucked up party that looked like it was turning ugly, broken windows and all, so they could keep the whole thing going on a more private note. While in the cab, and to the discomfort and/or amusement of the guy driving, they can't keep their hands or lips off each other. They stagger home, not having remotely discussed Mark's roommate or her boyfriend, or how bringing Maria home might somehow be revenge for that, manage to get in the door before they're getting clothes off and manage to get the door to his bedroom shut so they can snort some blow and screw.

It wasn't precisely a well-thought out plan, any of it.

In any case, the fateful text message arrived with a torrent of thoughts, including disbelief -- was it because Martin Smythe had put out the word about his band that Reckless Life got attention, or was it Shamekiss turning on contacts for them? He hazily recalled partying with those guys last night, which perhaps explained why there were other text messages there about how awesome it all was. He wasn't quite prepared to really respond to that backlog, even as Jules got over his shoulder, read his message and then shouted in his ear.


He wrote that back to Cave, even as Jules was talking about it, figuring that if anyone was going to be a boon asset in this situation, it was the only father figure he ever knew. Harry Cohen was an intense, sharp-tongued workaholic that nonetheless would come through on this stuff; the guy had a complex about it not working out with his mother, and kind of stayed in his life; right toward the end, he's the one that hooked Mark on the guitar, though Mark quickly outgrew Harry's three-chord teaching. That last Christmas, age 13, he'd gotten the Gibson SG, a guitar still sitting in his room, though it had different strings and was customized to Mark's taste, it was still his first guitar and where he learned his sound.



That was more than he could process, so he sank right back down on the couch as Rebecca started talking about Julie, getting it off her chest perhaps and he nodded along a bit, chewing on what she was saying, echoing his thoughts really, before sitting himself up and forward, brushing his hair bach over the ear so it was out of his eyes and looking Rebecca right in hers.

"Look, the thing you gotta know about Julie is this -- she picks boyfriends to please her parents, and her parents want her with guys like Bryce because it means she doesn't have to worry about the future. Rich guys. Powerful guys. People with connections. I don't get it, but that's why she asked me if bringing Maria here was some sort of planned thing, because that's kind of what she's used to, not this spontaneous thing where, well, yeah. Her relationships are weighed against the approval of her parents, who don't want her to struggle." He certainly didn't deliberate anything ahead of time or weigh Maria Liao as mating material.

"So it's complicated," he finished.

Then the buzzer went off, and she went to let Bryce in the stairwell; they had a minute or two, seeing as they were five floors up and had no elevator.

"But if this deal happens, I mean Edge is a big one right?"

"Yeah, they're a label known for setting the trend. It's not some small fish."

"But doesn't that make you the sort of guy that Julie dates if you cut a record and get big? I mean, if parental approval is predicated on success and money..." Rebecca asked, perhaps a bit naively.

And that's why Mark laughed, "Even if that happened, and I don't know what the future is, I know this much -- rock musicians are not what they have in mind when they think of success."

"But an asshole like Bryce is," she asked pointedly.

Mark sound resigned when he asked Rebecca and leaned forward, lowering his voice, "You've met Jules' family, right?" He'd apparently had this discussion before with the band.

"Of course."

"Nice people, but did you ever notice how emphatic they are about their espectations?" Mark asked, pointedly.

"Okay, but it bothers you, right?" Rebecca persisted, even as she leaned forward to match Mark's undertone.

"Yeah. But Bryce has one outstanding talent," Mark told Rebecca.

"That is?" As Bryce knocked.

"He's got a fucking forked tongue," Mark said flatly, "and he knows how to use it."

That wasn't pulled out of his ass -- there was a song in the works by that name.

---

Bryce showed up with flowers, Rebecca did not look impressed and Mark busied himself with actually finishing his coffee and silence reigned, even as Bryce went on about Mark not actually paying the bills -- that was a complete fucking fabrication, but he just watched him impassively as he stored away more material for "Forked Tongue" and promised, absolutely, to make that song one of the best he ever wrote -- something sardonic that painted a picture of a man that smiled and patted you on the back while looking for a place to stick the dagger. He didn't really intend to make Bryce a Muse, but if you needed The Man in a song, he was a fucking avatar of The Man.

There was a brief exchange of looks between he and Rebecca -- neitehr were impressed, perhaps because Mark was another man and Bryce didn't try so hard and Rebecca because she'd seen guys like this.

"Not sure what's going on because it's just a meeting. It might not be anything." He was playing it down for Bryce, but probably not as well as Bryce played the asshole while keeping a woman strung along -- in the scheme of things, Mark simply wasn't as good at dissembling as Bryce was, he'd never be glib or fast on his feet with a cutting remark. But he found he could bear the whole thing quite well by keeping 'lyrics' and 'material' in mind.

"Well, maybe if you get a deal of some sort, at least you'll be able to afford some sort of place to live if you pool together with some of your band buddies, right?" He made the band sound like it was just some dudes chugging beers and playing covers, but in a sense, Mark was used to this and, quite frankly, the night before made it very clear that things were not quite as they seemed to Bryce.

Edge records was huge, and they did not follow trends, they set them. They picked up transformational artists, they didn't mess with what popped up in the wake. He'd sort of explained that to Rebecca, but if she wasn't music, she might not have quite grasped the significance; Paul Neven, their former top man, now in honored retirement, was respected and feared across the music industry, a man whose moves were watched by all press. He'd been quiet for a few years in retirement, but the dude was showing up at the office for a meet with Reckless Life? That was something that had him jittery, and it perhaps showed as he stood there in the kitchen, mutely processing everything for a moment.

"Might wanna lay off the coffee there, Mark, the way you're shaking. I guess it's a big deal even for a deal with a small label, huh? Hey, I'm just trying to give him good advice for handling the pre-meeting jitters," he told Rebecca, who'd given him an imperially-lofted eyebrow. "Julianne cares and so do I." Oh how well he pretended the hurt.

Those words made him see red. Mark opened a drawer, pulled out a Colt 1911 and pulled the trigger; a loud boom and a round, red hole sprouted right between Bryce's smug, condescending fucking blue eyes, dead before he could wipe that 'I'm better than you' smirk off his face. The gun recoiled furiously but Mark brought it back down and lined up the sights again. Then, as the body crumpled to the kitchen floor and blood pooled out, Mark fired three more into Bryce's face to make sure the funeral would be closed-casket. So quick, so easy, so right.

Except it didn't happen that way, no small part due to the drawer containing not a gun, but merely rubber spatulas and whisks,but it was wonderful to consider the daydream, briefly, as Bryce managed to say those words with just enough sincerity to gull something like 60% of the population. Mark tried to overcome his shock at hearing that arrant bullshit by desperately scrambling in his mind to find something else to think about.

Either he didn't know what Edge records was or Jules didn't relay that when she told Bryce too much already -- not that Mark could reasonably expect Bryce not to get things out of his girlfriend. But he didn't like the way Markwatch worked, in that Jules would feed things to Bryce and Bryce would use it all to try and pick an argument where Mark would come off like the asshole.

In any case, Maria managed a strut out into the area, managing to pull eyes her way as she did -- freshly shampooed and wearing one of Mark's shirt with the club clothing of the night before, which helped draw attention away from the 'walk of shame' attire beneath, and Bryce's eyes seemed to click a bit as they homed in.

There was a momentary assessment between two predators recognizing their own, as well as the opportunities. For example, Bryce saw a beautiful Mexican-Chinese girl (someone he'd never touch due to racial considerations, since he came from an Orange County Republican family) with a toned, lithe body that strutted like a champ through the place and the reason why 'Julianne' was on edge this morning while Maria very carefully catalogued Bryce's blonde, muscular, somewhat tanned USC fratboy looks as well as the immaculate J. Crew attire down to the the boater shoes, and saw the reason why Mark seemed subdued, which was a complete turnaround from earlier when she had seen Mark, before Bryce entered the equation.

They both ran two calculations; avoid but work to similar ends. Each saw in their likeness a person that could help drive a wedge between Mark and Jules.

"Oh, you must be Julie's boyfriend. Brian or something?" Maria played off the whole thing with an airheaded Cali girl act, but made eyes at Mark even as he poured her another coffee and handed it over, as a gesture of gallantry as well as something to do besides talk to Bryce.

It got him an, "ooh, thank you babe," and a quick kiss; however much Bryce didn't approve of the likes of Maria Liao for her ethnic ancestry, he couldn't help but wonder how the fuck a guy like Mark managed to swing that move -- the girl was smokin' hot and Mark Verona didn't have a pot to piss in. It upset Bryce's ideal of what the world should be like.

"I think I'll go check on Julianne," Bryce said, as he beat the hasty retreat.

When Bryce found her, Julie was looking a little flustered, mostly due to the fact that she'd had to crawl all the way to the lower back of the hallway closet to find one of the few vases that hid inside the apartment. She'd encountered a horrid brown spider during her efforts and whilst normally, she'd gladly shriek and demand that either Mark or Bryce – in spider related emergencies she wasn't picky – remove the creature before she'd even set foot anywhere near the cupboard, right now she rather face the arachnid than head back into the living room where the atmosphere would be an almost familiar sort of tense. The poor thing had been more afraid of her than she was of it (which was impressive, really) but had in its panic decided that the best course of action was to rush right toward the girl. So now Julie had a sore spot on the back of her head from bumping it against the lower shelf and a dusty vase clutched in her right arm and was silently vowing never to go back in there again no matter how direly she would need the vacuum cleaner or Christmas decorations.

The moment she realized Bryce was behind her, Julie began to struggle back up again. In turn, he immediately leaned over, extending a hand in offer of support. She gladly accepted it and allowed Bryce to pull her to her feet. “Thanks,” she said bashfully, and Julie tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. It was a gesture that betrayed when she was nervous, something she'd been doing since she was little and that Mark would without fail pick up on. Bryce looked her over, gesturing briefly at her shoulder.

“Your shirt has dust all over it,” he pointed out, and the girl blushed.

“I'll change,” she replied, which would be the third time that day. “Just let me take care of these flowers first.” They had been lying rather carelessly on the carpet and Julie hurried to pick them up, draping them over her lower arm with an apologetic smile. “I'll uh---” She looked towards the living room door, but heading into the kitchen seemed like an unwise decision and so she ended up heading towards the restroom to fill the slender glass canister under the tiny tap. She could just about feel Bryce's eyes bore into her, but Julie bravely ignored it and soon turned around, placing the vase on the shelf under the mirror that filled half the length of the corridor's right wall. As she began tucking the long-stemmed roses inside, one by one, her gaze seemed to wander. Inadvertently she caught sight of her own reflection; the smudge on her sleeve was barely the size of a marble and had Bryce not pointed it out, than she likely would have not even bothered to clean it at all. The urge to take her top off, throw on an old sweatshirt on instead and pig out on the couch for the rest of the day was creeping up on her and Julie had to shrug off the thought; one glance at Bryce made it blatantly clear that what he had in mind demanded Abercrombie dresses and high heel sandals, not faded hoodies and sweatpants.

“So where are we going?” she chimed, her voice light in an effort to raise her spirits. Julie's gaze wouldn't quite focus and she cast down her gaze, lost in thought as she took in the blurred contours of the pale flowers. When Bryce wrapped his arms around her from behind she froze, but not a moment later leaned into him instead, a soft smile appearing on her lips.

“I was planning to take you to the harbour,” he confided, and Julie giggled as he dipped his head and pressed a trail of playful kisses down the side of her neck. “Take you to that quaint little French place for lunch, walk the pier, maybe head back here afterwards...” Bryce ran his fingers through her long hair, leaving little to wonder as to what that would entail.

“I'd like that,” Julie replied, absently plucking at the petals to the point where she was tearing the frail leaves off altogether. “Although... I'd like to be able to meet Mark for dinner.” That comment took more courage than she thought it would, and Julie found herself holding her breath. Bryce froze in his movements, and as he withdrew she was already thinking up apologies in her head to defend herself. As it turned out though, they were redundant.

“All right,” he nodded pensively, and Julie finally looked up to make eye contact with him via the mirror, surprise evident in her facial expression. “I guess this meeting of him and his band is a pretty big deal and you'll want to be there for him if it doesn't turn out the way he hoped.”

“Or celebrate when it does,” Julie protested.

“Or that.” Bryce tightened his embrace on her, leaning his chin lightly on her shoulder as he continued to gaze at her reflection. “You know I just want you to be happy,” he told her. “If you want to celebrate with your friend then I'm fine with that. If you want, I can tag along too, so you don't feel like a third wheel.”

“Third wheel?” The comment incited a feeling of suspicion within the girl. “The guys in the band never let me feel left out.”

“I know, I know,” he rushed to soothe her, “But things aren't exactly the same now, are they? If he's bringing that girl he's seeing, you gotta admit, you'll be the odd one out.”

The look on Julie's face soured immediately. She'd never been one to conceal her emotions very well and it was all too clear that she didn't like what Bryce was insinuating. “He's not – they're not a thing, she's just a girl he brought home after a drunk night out. It's nothing.” The words were far too defensive and they both knew it, but where Julie was already bracing herself for an outburst from her significant other, Bryce looked nothing if not supportive.

“You know him better than I do,” he replied simply, then planted a kiss on her cheek, never quite breaking eye contact. “Now if you'll just throw on something nice for me, we'll be at the Beaujolais an hour from now.”

----

When Julie returned from yet another trip to her bedroom not five minutes later, she ventured purposely into the living room first to say goodbye to her friends. Rebecca was on the couch still, although she seemed to have found her coat in Julie's absence. “Don't much feel like hanging out here on my own,” she remarked, which was a thinly veiled accusation, albeit without the underlying negativity Julie was rather accustomed to. Still, it elicited a look of apology from the girl, and as Becky got up from her seat she was quick to give her a hug.

“Thank you so much being there for me,” Julie whispered, still annoyingly aware of Maria's presence in the apartment. She was doing her best to ignore the girl altogether, and in both their best interests; she wasn't capable of feigning friendliness right now, no matter how much she trusted Mark's judgement.

“Don't sweat it kiddo,” grimaced Rebecca. “I'll walk down with you and Frat Boy in a sec, just lemme grab my bag from your room.” The nickname made Bryce sound like a dubious sort of superhero sidekick, but Julie gladly let it slide; she owed her friend – big time. But after Rebecca had exited the room it was significantly more difficult to ignore Maria, and reluctantly Julie acknowledged the girl with a poorly feigned smile. “Maybe I'll see you around again,” she said with strained politeness, not really giving the girl the opportunity to reply. Instead, she turned to Mark, but where it had always been such a natural thing for her to give him a hug or burst into unbridled excitement like she was prone to, the presence of both Maria and Bryce – even if he was still lingering in the hallway – was putting a damper on her spontaneity, keeping her from acting in her usual bubbly way. She still put a hand on his arm though, the minimal physical contact enough to at least somewhat convey her support. “I know it's gonna be good news,” she told him sincerely. “Just please call me when you know more, okay? Promise? Promise.” Julie squeezed his arm urgently, her nails digging slightly into his skin. “I'll be free all evening if, you know, you want to go eat somewhere or hang out...or....” She wasn't really sure where she was going with it; Julie wasn't the type of person to force her presence on other people. But this was something Mark had been working so hard to achieve and she really, really wanted to be a part of it, because if it meant so much to him, it meant the world to her as well.

"Yeah, I promise," he told Jules, feeling bad that, well, in a sense, she was caught between Bryce and Maria, or 'call me Mai', and seemed to be feeling that pressure in a way he didn't. In a room full of people, it seemed like Julie was the one who was alone, in a sense, "I'll make sure to let you know what happens either way."

In any case, with Bryce hustling them out the door with a 'break it up' attitude, it seemed a relief to have him gone, though a guilty one since he took Jules with him. That seemed to be the way of it, happy to have Bryce gone and then feeling bad because it seemed like they were a package deal these days.

"So, that was the you-know-who," and it was no question from Mai.

"Yeah, that's Bryce Rushton, chairman of the Pucker Club of California."

Mai made a face, "Yeah, he seems, uh, very, uh, intense." She didn't seem to think well of that particular brand of intensity, "So what's this thing that's going on?"

Mark gave a grimace, "Well, it's a big meeting that's happening in about two hours at a record company, and I thought I'd have time to chill out and, I dunno, uh..."

"Well, obviously," Mai told him pointedly, as she wrapped he arms around his neck, and moved in close, "It's totally important that you make that meeting. I mean, I can get a cab ride back and we can hook up later, you think?"

"Yeah, definitely, like right after we have an idea of what the heck is going on, maybe we'll be able to work something out." People seemed to expect some sort of a party, even the likes of Bryce, which in and of itself was scary. Mai was on the phone fast enough, dialing out a cab company or whatever form of transportation she preferred, leaving Mark to sort of try to spruce himself up a little more and wait for her ride to get there. He knew, as soon as he checked the phone, that Dalton needed a ride and so did Stace, so he'd be chauffering those two in, which added some travel time, but they would still be roughly on schedule.

--

The meeting wasn't actually at Edge's headquarters. They got there, got put into cars and then were whisked off to a nearby eatery with a high hedge and gate to keep the public out, and served omelets on a level of perfection they didn't know existed, as a band, along with grilled mushrooms, herbs and gruyere on the inside. Buttery, properly salted eggs and everything else done just so. It was just breakfast, but it was paid for by a company expense account. So too was the espresso -- compared to the hungover looks of his bandmates, Mark was comparatively fresh. Stace, predictably, mentioned something about a good lay making up for a bad night's sleep, and Mark shrugged but couldn't deny that he felt relaxed and at peace with the world.

Harry Cohen was even there, on their side, rumpled, balding, and taking notes as the talk went over a variety of topics -- yes, Edge wanted to sign them, possibly, but the inquiries were often down to Paul Neven and Mark talking more about where the songwriting was coming from, how much material there was and to give him a sense of where they were going. Sure, he'd heard some of the work on stage, but what he was getting at was simple, and essential -- was there an album's worth of material behind the stage presence and musicianship?

"Cavanaugh here," no one called Cave that, but apparently Paul Neven did, " says that you are the one primarily responsible for the songwriting. How true is that?"

He was a birdlike man, surprisingly small, gray-haired and wearing a pair of blue slacks with an open-collared shirt, unpretentious looking but probably tailored to the tune of more money than Mark paid in rent over four months. Five, if the man wore a tie. The watch was probably worth more than his yearly income. But it was strange, because those brown eyes watched intensely but not with the sort of condemnation that Bryce had -- he'd never quite met someone this rich and powerful, and it was a bit of a relief to get the impression of a man that was not some egotastic tower of douche, but a fairly considerate person that apparently loved music even if he wasn't a musician himself.

"Well, I do a lot of brainstorming and take a lot of notes, but I also bring the concepts to the other guys and we refine it from there. I wouldn't want to take credit for the process, the creative work is more complex than that."

"But you have a notebook and you keep things written down. I'm wondering, and I realize that this is an unusual request...but might I see it?"

Mark gave him a strange look as he fished the notebook out -- it wasn't anything bound in any kind of fancy leather, it was just cardboard and paper, but it had a number on it -- 6 -- that implied it was the 6th one he'd been through. He handed it over reluctantly, but breathed freely when he did. It was an act of faith, something the other guys, besides Cave, didn't quite notice, and he tried to affect the demeanor of calm as he sipped his cappuccino as a way to keep from fiddling with his hands as Neven leafed through.

"Well," the executive finally said after he was done, "That's certainly a free-associative jumble, but it looks like you indeed have a lot of material. You know, I'm retired, right?"

"Yes, I'm aware," Mark told him.

"But occasionally, I do some work. And once in a while, I handle a meeting like this instead of Len, I mean Mr. Schwartz, here, who is usually the A&R guy that handles such things, because that's how I started, and I still like to watch a new talent blossom. I think, to be honest, that Reckless Life should be on Edge, assuming, of course, we can work out a reasonable sort of deal, and figure out the advance. However, I did take the liberty of having such an offer drawn up. It is our standard offer, I'm not sure if you are familiar with the terms, but it includes an advance that should cover the cost of equipment and accomodations while in the recording process." He slid the paper across the table, toward Harry Cohen, "And your counsel can examine it and you guys can mull it over at your leisure."

Mark glanced over to Cave, who gave a slight nod in response, and then he looked back to Paul Neven, "We'll try to have an answer for you quickly, Mr. Neven."

The man handed over his card, "This is the line to Len's office. He'll be handling the process from here on out primarily, though I would be dropping in from time to time. I really do hope you sign. I think we can do something very special."

--

When the meeting was over, Ren was a bit lost, "So what did you guys talk about that he just plopped down an offer like that right after it was done? He was reading that notebook and then bam. Deal." Ren managed to recover some of his color from the hangover with a big breakfast and plenty of coffee. None of them were dressed up for the meeting, but Ren apparently decided that it was too hot out for leather, and was down to a pair of cargo shorts and a tank top that showed off a pair of sleeve tattoos.

Cave glanced over at Mark and then to Ren, "That's because those are Mark's material, the stuff he turns into song idea. The old guy was screening it through to see if we had what it takes, I guess. Is that about right, you think?" Out of the lot, Cave seemed the most at ease with it; arrogantly assured that this sort of deal was his due and it had finally arrived. It allowed him to navigate the meeting with a clearer head than the rest, who were less calm about it.

Mark shrugged a bit, even as he brushed his hair back, "I think that's exactly what he did."

"I wonder what he saw in there?" Cave wondered.

"Beats me. But I'm pretty sure we're taking this deal, right?"

"Well, show of hands, maybe, " demurred Stace, "Just to make sure it's unanimous, like we agreed when we started." Unlike the others, Stace looked like he was completely unruffled, despite a huge amount of drugs done the night before that had him fingerpainting a wall in Beverly Hills like it was a cave somewhere in prehistoric France.

"Yes," Cave said.

"Absolutely," Ren said, "This is as good a deal as we can hope for."

"Hell yeah, money!" said Dalton.

"Yeah," Stace said.

"Unanimous, Edge is the best choice for a variety of reasons, especially when it's Paul Neven calling the shots."

The deliberation happened in the parking lot of the label, so the band walked right back in to deliver the news to Len Schwartz in person, and Harry Cohen started to work on hammering the contract out, on behalf of the band, with the understanding that they'd pay a modest fee to him, instead of him trying to take a piece out of his own stepson.



It followed with.



It wasn't fair to say that the venue was chosen because it was the sort of place that'd piss Bryce off, but Cave did bring that up when Mark broke the news that he might be there -- it was a Tiki bar with lots of rum and cheesy umbrellas in the drinks. It wasn't meant to be the only place they'd hole up, because they were going to bar crawl all over the waterfront at Manhattan Beach, because they would probably wind up swimming if drunk enough. He didn't need to tell Jules that, she knew the place well enough to know the drill. The Bolo was definitely a dive bar, but it was a beloved, unpretentious sort of place that had tradition and the band just happened to love the place with a passion. It was also woman-friendly, because it served up all sorts of 'chick drinks.'

By 6pm, they'd basically messaged a lot of people and pooled their money for a blowout -- meager savings were allocated to the whole thing, because the advance, once the checks cleared, would put ten grand cash in each of their pockets, and that meant that they could just pull out all the stops. On the other hand, they kept the circle tight, mostly down to the closest friends they had, or at least, people they wanted to hang with. Sure, Bryce might end up there, but they were bringing enough people, Harry included, to constitute a crowd.

Bolo's was just the right sort of place for a shabby mixed crowd to set up shop, and the bartender, Big Hakulani, was already hooking them up with the drinks -- he was in for a big night on tips, it seemed, and just happened to be a fan of Reckless Life. A former sumo wrestler, the guy had bulk to spare, but a big, gap-toothed smile. He could barely squeeze behind the bar, but he was far and away the man as far as the band were concerned -- it was also understood that they'd come back to Bolo's around the time his shift ended, at midnight, so he could join the celebration.

Mai was there too, snuggled into the crook of Mark's arm and already a bit flushed from the first drink, which was some sort of expensive special Nicaraguan reserve rum that Big Hakulani served up for the band in shotglasses on the house, for the first arrivals, including, as it were, Jules, Rebecca and, though it seemed a waste of great rum, Bryce. He was there, but the day was so damn good that even Cave overlooked Bryce as Harry called out, "Reckless life, just signed by one of the most famous fuckin' record labels in the world. About time!"

Glasses clinked and the rum was taken down, a slow, spicy, vanilla burn that warmed to the core. Things were only on the up and up, it seemed...

The Beaujolais was renowned for its fine cuisine and matching prices, and as a result mostly isolated from the general populace. The card was expensive but Bryce loved to flaunt his, or rather his father's, riches and as he often assured Julie, 'Nothing's too good for my Muffin,' so they'd forgone the plethora of bistros and beach joints that littered the pier and were now seated outside on opposite sides of a little table with almost translucent white cloth draped over it, adding to the opulent atmosphere that reigned at the French restaurant. Julie pitied the waiters who had to walk around in outfits that were almost fancier than any of her father's suits, especially when the California sun was beating down on them quite mercilessly this spring afternoon. Everything breathed a level of extravagance and luxury she'd never thought to be a part of, and it was strange to think that with Bryce by her side she would likely be enjoying this lifestyle until her death bed, something that promptly served to make her feel guilty again. That wasn't to say Julie didn't enjoy their afternoon out, she just wasn't as accustomed to spending money that didn't technically belong to her and there was just no way that she'd be able to afford even an appetizer on her own, let alone a bottle of wine on the side and profiteroles after. But Bryce insisted; he knew that she wasn't able to say no when he cast her that charming smile and fair is fair, dessert was delicious. They'd spent most of their time chatting away about their family, the upcoming sailing trip and the wedding of Bryce's older sister Christine next month. It was just odd how easy it was to talk when the conversation steered clear of Reckless Life and everything surrounding it. Sometimes Julie wondered if it wasn't just better if she did move out. It definitely would make Bryce and Mark a lot happier, she suspected; sometimes she just couldn't be sure if, to Mark, her friendship still outweighed the presence of a man he so whole-heartedly detested it made Julie sad just thinking about it. She'd never expected things to go this way; four years ago, her heart had been filled with hope and excitement, and moving into the same apartment with Mark had seemed like an adventure and a chance to fully explore life out from under the protective wings of her parents. She wasn't sure if she'd managed to get everything out of it that she could, but there was no denying that the past four years had been pretty awesome.

Despite their differences, their high school influenced habits that set them miles apart, Julie and Mark had taken the risk of renting the pretty accommodating apartment together, two months before high school graduation. Admittedly, it had been for practical reasons – neither could afford to pay for a room on their own on their minimum wage weekend job – as well as a desperate need to leave their parental homes. But it wasn't just that and, looking back on it, Julie thought it was a clear sign that she hadn't even considered moving in with Kelsey or Selene at the time instead. Mark had been equal parts intriguing and confusing from where she stood in life, but he had never quite ceased to be that boy who'd come up to the fence and use their secret knock (two knocks, pause, three knocks, pause, two knocks, extra long pause then one more knock) to see if she were up for playing hide-and-seek or play soccer on the field behind their houses. Not even four years of high school had been able to change that, and although at age eighteen they'd both grown tall enough to lean over the fence instead, they'd never quite stopped to chat whenever they happened into their yards at the same time and, coincidentally, it was how the plan of moving into the same apartment came to fruition.

Julie was caught in a dreamy half-smile when her phone buzzed audibly. Bryce considered it impolite to leave your phone out during a meal, but even he knew better than to protest when she was so eager to hear if the band's talk with this record label had resulted into anything concrete. Julie didn't even bother to pretend that she hadn't been waiting for a message all this time – although that wasn't true; she'd expected Mark to have called – and quickly snatched up the device, unlocking it with her thumb and letting her eyes dance across the two lines of text. It was writing on the wall that the very reason he hadn't called was Bryce's presence, but the news was just too good to let that get her down and Julie literally jumped in her seat, barely stifling a cry of excitement before glancing at Bryce across the table.

“They're signed with Edge Records!” she exclaimed then, realizing people were turning to look at her, lowered her voice and conspiringly hunched over towards her boyfriend. “They've got a contract and they're celebrating at Manhattan Beach tonight. Isn't that great?” The smile plastered on her face could not be faked and merrily, Julie leaned back into her seat, scooping the last of the chocolate goodness from the crystal bowl it had been served in. Sucking the cream off the spoon she gazed out at the sea, wondering just what this would mean for Mark and his fellow band members. Signing with a record label this big was a major deal and she'd spent enough time with her roomie to know just how well-known Edge Records was in the world of upcoming bands in general, and rock musicians in particular. It therefore took her a while to realize that Bryce hadn't actually responded at all yet.

“What?” she asked, slowly lowering the spoon from her lips. “Aren't you happy for them?” An unhappy but familiar realization crept up on her and the mirth faded a little. “I know Mark doesn't like you much, but he's still my friend. Can't you just be a little happy for them at least?”

“Oh I am happy for them,” he finally responded. “Maybe he'll finally amount to something now. Are they paying them up front?”

Julie's lips parted, but she swallowed what she'd initially wanted to say, thrown off by the question. “I—I don't know,” she stammered, “Does it matter?”

Bryce shrugged. “If him and the other stooges finally manage to make some money, they might be able to get a place of their own.”

The words reminded Julie of the conversation she had half listened in on back at the apartment. “Why would Mark move out?” she asked cautiously, already knowing where this was headed.

“It only makes sense, muffin.” Bryce leaned forward, taking hold of her hand. As he affectionately ran his thumb over the back of her fingers he eyed Julie intensely. “His life and yours are going to be so different now; if Reckless Life becomes successful they'll soon be touring the state, the whole US maybe. What sense does it make to have him stay in the apartment when they can probably rent a home more... suitable to their lifestyle?” He raised his eyebrows in a 'Do you understand what I'm saying?' sort of way. “Besides, you've paid for just about everything in there that isn't in Mark's bedroom. In the long run it's only logical that he'd move out so we can live there until the firm in Miami has been set up properly.”

“Together?” Julie asked insecurely. “You mean...”

“Don't worry,” Bryce interjected, patting her on the hand reassuringly. “I know it's all still a little fast for you. We'll just wait and see how it goes, all right? And if Mark and his little band do make a name for themselves, then at least you won't have to worry about having to pay the bills on your own.” To that, he leaned far over the table and pecked her on the cheek. “I'll always be there for you, Julianne,” he told her soothingly. Julie smiled faintly at that.

“I know,” she answered, peering down at how her hand was firmly clasped between both of his. There was a familiar sensation of being unable to breathe pinching her throat and she tried to no avail to swallow the feeling away. There were a lot of things she wanted to say there and then, but as usual, the girl refrained from starting another argument and after a few seconds raised her chin and allowed the smile to grow more confident. “Let's head back,” she told Bryce. “If we want to make it back to the beach on time we can't hang around here much longer.”

----

The place was thriving from the get-go, and despite having arrived pretty early there was a particularly lively atmosphere at the Bolo. They'd picked up Rebecca on the way here and the girl was already in a good mood. “Ren's the exotic looking one, right?” she grinned, not even slightly insulted when Julie mentioned the text Mark had sent her (she really, really was a terrible liar). Kelsey had also tagged along per Bryce's request; Julie suspected that he wanted at least one person on his side in this place. The club fitted him as badly as a cheap suit would, and although he had traded the pastel shorts for khaki trousers, he still looked a tad out of place. Selene hadn't been able to make it; her current conquest had a successful IT manager quite smitten with her and they were currently on a weekend trip to the Big Apple, where the poor guy would no doubt lose a few grand to Selene's relentless shopping addiction.

The presence of Maria was a bit of a let-down to Julie, but Rebecca mercilessly jabbed her in the side, firmly telling her “Time to be a grown-up, Jules. You get to bring Bryce, he gets to bring the anime chick. Now for once you're actually even.”

Julie pouted rather childishly at that, but before they actually joined the band and their growing entourage she managed to shed the feelings of resentment and she was all smiles when she congratulated each and every one of them heartily. The girl even hugged Cave, even if his presence usually served to intimidate her a little. “So awesome, I'm really happy for you guys,” she told Dalton. Julie purposely turned to Mark last, mostly oblivious to Bryce's somewhat strained words of congratulations. Rebecca was making an effort to mimic Julie's exuberance, but likely it was only so she could get a closer look at Ren and decide for herself whether he was worth her attention. Julie looked a bit shy as she locked eyes with her lifelong friend; the fact that his arm was wrapped about the shoulders of the exotic looking girl was making her feel rather uneasy. She was too polite and by far not bold enough to request a moment of his time, even if at any other time in the past few years she'd demanded his attention whenever she'd wanted it. But things were different now, Julie was awkwardly aware of that. Fortunately he was quick to catch on, and as he temporarily abandoned the hold he had on Maria Liao Julie felt her nerves dwindle almost immediately.

“Congratulations,” she told him as he stepped in closer to the girl. “I was so happy when I heard you actually got signed! I mean, I know you would, you guys are amazing, but it's still great that now the rest of the world will know it too!” She dipped her head; Julie's hand purposely dug into her small shoulder bag, rummaging through the stuff inside before fishing out a small package. “I have something for you. I--” Julie paused, realizing she was barely managing to rise above the music and the excited chatter of everyone around. Her voice was gentle, melodic, but not very loud and she gestured for Mark to follow her just a few steps away from the crowd and to a slightly quieter corner of the club. “Sorry about that,” she said, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I uh... I figured that since this is a pretty special occasion, you should get a present. Actually, that's not true.”

The tiny package had been neatly wrapped, but rather than handing it over, Julie seemed to change her mind there and then and quickly removed the shiny paper herself, then clutched the gift within her palm. “Hold out your arm,” she demanded, demonstrating what she was expecting by twisting her own arm wrist-up towards him.

“Now, I know you're gonna laugh and I know this is going to be the cheesiest gift I've ever given you, but bear with me, all right?” Julie extended her hands towards his now up-turned palm and finally stopped hiding the little object. With both her fingers she nimbly curved what looked to be a bracelet of sorts around his wrist. It was nothing overly fancy or shiny looking – definitely not something Bryce would have approved of – and rather seemed to consist of several dark-brown, smooth strips of leather that she was now tying together with dedicated precision. Julie glanced up at her friend once or twice, but mostly dedicated herself to the task. “Do you remember when you still thought I could actually learn to play the guitar, you know, way back when?” The memory made her grin; trying to get Julie to play a barre chord properly was like trying to teach a walrus to sing and he had been so ardent in getting her to learn that ultimately she had been able to play all of Stairway to Heaven together with Mark. You know, not counting the solo. She'd also stubbornly refused to play any other songs since.

“I know that didn't quite go the way either of us had hoped,” she continued, tightening the little knot with care. “But I did learn something from it; you love what you do and you're ridiculously good at it. And I was confident it would only be a matter of time before other people would notice that, too, so I made you this.”

She turned his wrist around, and on opposite side of the bracelet it revealed the tear-drop shape of a faded, gray guitar pick with a narrow gap on each end through which the leather rope looped, making it the single focal point to the unconventional wrist-band. It had some text on the underside of it – nothing she'd put there herself, mind; in pen writing it read “J loves the G”, a particularly deep inside joke that no one else should ever have to read. “You gave me this at the time,” she told him, tapping the pick with her fingertip. “And so... so I made a bracelet out of it like two years ago, so I could give it to you once you made it. Well, are making it.” Julie's cheeks flushed the longer she rambled on, and her fingers clenched around his lower arm with anxious firmness. “It really seemed a good idea at the time,” she added helplessly. “But maybe – egh. Tell me I'm not being too sentimental, please.”

It was, admittedly, rough to get her to actually change her fingers on the frets to get the chords in the first place, and Mark was not really the teacher type -- he'd learned that the hard way at Manny's trying to teach it a couple of times before he gave up and returned control of the teaching to Johnny Melo who was probably better off at that job teaching than he was as a salesman, whereas Mark had a keen ability to actually sell the guitars and pick one properly for whomever came in, whether it be a mother and her son, neither of them particularly aware of the variations in guitars that existed, and looking, generally, for something to start with, to guys that wanted a prestige guitar to, his preferred class of buyer, dedicated musicians who wanted to get into the nitty gritty of strings and pickups and fretboards and other things that often wasn't as profitable as selling a whole guitar so much as getting these guys set up with parts they needed, including special order stuff.

So of course, that period of time, which essentially covered the year before she even met Bryce and while he was between bands and looking for something to do when he wasn't working, wound up with them both lacking as much to do as they had now, and it was something of an amusing memory, and it was a way to save money on a Friday night instead of going out and getting blasted like everyone else. It was easy, of course, to phone the parents and ask for money, but that felt dirty and like failure, which was certainly why Mark avoided doing it if he could.

Lessons were the result. They didn't really work out.

But the idea that she'd been weaving that thing as of two years ago expecting him to get that call, which predated the band, was pretty touching, so he figured 'fuckit' and gave her the hug she deserved for the thought, and then strapped it on his wrist, "Well, it's probably sentimental, but it's part of the good times.

She'd brought Bryce, Rebecca and one half of the Pucker Twins into the party, but it didn't put a dent in them at all, though Kelsey had this repulsed look on her face; everything about the party seemed to meet with prim disapproval, from the Band to the Bar to Big Hakulani himself. Sure, the bar had worn everything, but it was polished brass and dark hardwood, with a foot rail and several different beers on tap, though the tropical rum drinks were the specialty, and the laughing and whooping went up in volume as more of those were consumed.

At least Rebecca and Ren were in an advanced stage of 'getting to know you' that involved drink refills and laughter, which made a certain sense - Ren was a pretty straightforward guy, with little of the complication that typified, say Cave, who was mercurial in his moods and could best be described as temperamental. Dalton had a girl or two keeping him occupied and Stace was trying to talk Big Hakulani into the idea of being a roadie, for some crazy reason -- the guy was huge and could carry stuff, but he didn't know wiring. It was possible that Stace just liked the huge Hawaiian, but there was no way the dude would easily fit on a tour bus if they went that route -- not that Mark had any idea what a tour bus was like. What they called tours was nothing like what Edge might well set them up with if they put out an album.

And there was Bryce, offering up half-hearted congratulations. It was easy to keep the conversation empty and without much in the way of response because he certainly didn't want to get into a deeper discussion of Mark's hopes and dreams. He was hoping the nightmare would end when he woke up.

Meanwhile Maria found her way in Mark's personal space soon after the embrace ended, and asked, "What's that on your wrist?"

Mark replied, "Just a reminder of fun times in lean times."

Soon thereafter, the group started to move out of the bar, finishing their drinks and lighting cigarettes as they staggered along the beachfront, finding the next place to hole up and drink, with a couple drinks and another stagger-movement until they ended up in the sand several bars later. Somewhere down the line, Big Hakulani got off his shift and came in a big old Hawaiian flower shirt, Mark was down a shirt that Maria was wearing, because it'd gotten slightly 'chilly' and it looked like people were a bit wobbly on their feet which was, of course, when the joints came out, far enough away from beachgoers and cops alike to be safe. In a brief moment of panic, he thought that Kelsey was going to let up a scream or Bryce was going to object, but then he saw that Kelsey was being carried over someone's shoulder, which was actually a damned decent thing to do considering how much of a bitch she was, and Bryce was holding his own, though in a sullen sort of silence that wasn't inclined to actually interrupt the proceedings. The flames flickered and joints were lit and passed around; they'd picked a spot of beach that was virtually uninhabited, well off the beaten path and started building a driftwood fire as they got well and good stoned.

Maria was passed out at this point, being a lightweight practically on par with Kelsey; he'd had to hold her up to get her to this point and she was curled up on a towel in the sand. There was a lot going on, small groups 'getting to know each other' in the firelight, stoned and drunk, having a fairly intense party night. It was ironic, because among those getting somewhere with one of the women in the entourage was Big Hakulani, and Mark couldn't help but think that was Stace setting the dude up with a piece of ass to get him to sign on with Reckless Life.

"I think I figured out what I'm going to get you tomorrow, Jules," Mark slurred over the sound of the tide crashing in. Bryce was out of hearing, probably trying to call a cab or something, or perhaps just looking for a way to sober up enough so he could drive out, which meant it was a good time to tell Jules anything he didn't want Bryce in on, "so clear your schedule, cause it's gonna happen."

Of course, the other guys were planning on going on some sort of wild shopping spree; leather pants, outrageous jewelry, new phones...they had their plans, but Mark held off on the idea. But clearly, he had a plan of what to do with at least some of the money. But then he got up a bit and staggered off with an intoned, "Love you, sis," toward Maria; he curled up against her in the sand, and was passed out not fifteen seconds later.

This night was something to enjoy and despite the abundance of overly inebriated people surrounding her, Julie was having a blast. Extreme cheerfulness had somewhat simmered down to the effects of some good old Mary Jane, but since doing drugs was a line Julie wasn't willing to cross, she had gladly drifted on the buzz of a few too many cocktails for a while longer, until eventually that largely wore off and she witnessed the world about her with a lot more clarity than most of the other party-goers. In some ways she was very much a typical Catholic girl – and in many ways she really wasn't – whose biggest fear was to not live up to her parents expectations. Suffice to say that narcotics wouldn't be particularly well-received in the Lancaster household.

The sky was surprisingly clear and whilst the sea breeze was getting rather cool by now, she couldn't feel the cold. The soft glow of the fire warmed her skin sufficiently and despite being sat alone on an overturned log, Julie felt far from lonely. Bryce had only just wandered off to somewhere quieter so he could arrange a cab or whatnot. Kelsey had already been sent home earlier, which had been a load off Julie's chest; the girl really didn't take her alcohol well. Rebecca was nowhere to be seen, but neither was Ren and the girl supposed that could only be a good sign; he was an all right guy and as long as her friend hadn't made off with Cave Julie wasn't too worried. Her gaze drifted towards the snoozing couple on a bath towel, and at the sight Julie sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, absently chewing on the soft swell of it. She couldn't make up her mind on what she thought of Maria and Mark together; the fact that she was present here all night – and the way she'd clung to Mark for the entire duration of the party spoke volumes – told her that this might not be just a one-off thing. Julie didn't like that but, as Rebecca had told her in not so many words, it wasn't up to her to like or dislike it. She was no idiot, she knew all too well of the concessions Mark had made where it concerned Bryce and even know he made conscious efforts not to argue with her boyfriend, over and over again. She knew the two had little in common but oh, how Julie wished she could find a way for the two important men in her life to somehow get along. But that wasn't the way of things and she'd be incredibly selfish for expecting Mark to adhere his love life to her standards when she'd hardly done anything untoward herself.

Shifting slightly in her spot, Julie hesitated briefly, then got up from her seat and ventured over to her friend and not-so-friend, bringing along with her the blanket that had previously been draped across her lap. It was with gentle care that she covered the pair with it, a complacent look on her face as she looked at the sleeping image of the far-too-drunk Mark. “Silly Tigger,” she said with a grin, “You won't even remember what you said by morning.”

She caught sight of movement in her peripheral and immediately Julie stood from her crouched position, turning to meet with the sight of Bryce, not a few paces away. He carried a dubious expression and Julie knew the sentiment behind it all too well. Daintily she padded over to him through the loose sand, briefly wondering where she had left her shoes. “Is the taxi here?” she inquired by means of distraction. Bryce glanced over her shoulder to where she had come from.

“He's a grown man, you know,” he complained. “You don't need to fuss over him like you're his mother.”

Julie didn't really know how to respond to that. Bryce had clearly been drinking far too much and it significantly altered his demeanor. Not in a pleasant way, either. “I don't want them to be cold,” she said appeasingly, hiding under his arms the moment she got close enough. Hugging him affectionately she looked up at Bryce, attempting a smile. “I would have done the same thing if it was you.”

He looked unwilling, but eventually he wrapped his arm properly about her shoulders and pulled her along towards the road. “That's exactly my problem,” he said sourly. Again, Julie was at a loss for words and so she squeezed her hold around his waist a bit and just silently walked along with him, considering her slippers a permanent and somewhat regrettable loss. A taxi was already waiting as they got to the parking lot and despite knowing they'd have to pick up Bryce's car tomorrow, she felt very relieved for being home soon. Not that the silence wasn't tense inside the vehicle, but it was a short-lived atmosphere. All too soon Bryce decided that he was more frisky than angered and it wasn't long before he was uninhibitedly drawing his girlfriend to him for a long make-out session on the yellow cab's back seat. Julie caught a few glances from the driver in the rear view mirror that made her incredibly uncomfortable, and she made repeated efforts to keep Bryce's hands from grabbing her in inappropriate ways. Bryce, whose inhibitions seemed to have largely abandoned him thanks to the copious amounts of gin and vodka drinks, cast her a disturbed look as she pushed his hand away when it slipped too far up her side. He looked rather flushed, his eyes somewhat unfocused as he raised his head from hiding against the crook of her neck. “C'mon Julie, don't be a prude,” he said. “You kinda owe me.”

She wasn't entirely sure that she'd done anything that put her in Bryce's debt, nor that it should work that way to begin with, but they were almost back at her apartment and with a “When we're home,” she managed to keep him from doing things at least one of them would regret.

Bryce insisted on paying for the taxi and Julie soothed her conscience that the generous tip he'd thrown at the cab driver at least made up for their lewd behavior. More fondling ensued inside the elevator and by the time they made it into the flat, his arms were well up the skirt of her dress and the straps had found their way halfway down her shoulder. Sloppy kisses kept her from even managing to lock the door behind her and Julie stumbled more than walked backwards into the room.

“You know what we should do?” Bryce panted, grinning as he parted his lips from hers. “Just do it on the couch. That fucker would hate knowing what we did on there.” He seemed pretty content with himself, even if Julie wasn't. There was a bit too much of a contrast between her largely sober state and his obvious drunkenness and she began to grow more than a little impatient.

“Don't be an ass, Bryce,” she scolded, slapping him on the shoulder, for all the good it would do. She didn't like his derogatory comments but after two years knew better than to think anything she should would stop them. So, as always, Julie eventually let it slide and willingly accompanied Bryce to the privacy of her bedroom. Drunk sex wasn't particularly refined, but Bryce was many things, just not a bad lover and eventually they both fell asleep exhausted.

It was an unpleasant surprise to find Bryce missing by morning, but when Julie woke up somewhere around nine, she realized she was on her own. Her head was throbbing mildly but it wasn't anything an Advil wouldn't cure and after snoozing for a few minutes she got out of bed to investigate. He wasn't in the shower either and as she wandered around the apartment, still a bit dazed, in nothing but her top and her panties, Julie realized that Mark wasn't home yet either. She supposed that at least that meant she didn't have to face Maria, but it still made her wonder if everything was okay. Her phone was hiding on the floor right behind the front door, and when she scanned it for messages, Julie concluded that either everyone was still asleep or stubbornly ignoring her, for there was no sign of life from anyone who had attended the party before. There were some pictures from Selene but Julie cared little for another slide show of Selene flaunting her riches; she could only be supportive of her bragging friend for so long.

Eventually she decided that if the world was going to ignore her, then she would gladly ignore the world too, and Julie went to the kitchen for some much-needed coffee and a bowl of honey-puffs. Flicking on the TV she was soon engrossed in a marathon of eighties cartoons that she really had outgrown about a decade ago but that were far more entertaining than any show on a different channel.

"Oh my god," Maria groaned, as she rolled over into the sand from the blanket.

Mark felt rather fine in comparison to some of the others pulling themselves awake; they'd made sure they weren't where the tide would come in and wash over them in the course of sleeping on the beach, but otherwise, they looked like a pretty sorry lot. It wasn't intended that everyone just plotz out in the sand for an entire night after drinking way too much, but it's how it worked.

The aftermath wasn't a pretty sight, but some held their liquor better than others, and Mark was one of those that seemed to be fundamentally alright, which meant he was one of the people helping others get up and find them ways home -- cabs had to be called, for example.

Maria grumbled about having to do some sort of assignment for next week, and Mark knew that he was pretty much on his own for the rest of the day, which suited him just fine. While he looked as sandy, worn down and partied out as the others, and he'd been partying the night before last as well, he felt fairly upbeat -- after all, his life was in order. The little things were, at least, not so much an annoyance now that he was moving forward with things in life.

Others squinted at the early-morning sunlight as they shambled over the dunes, drawing the stern-mouthed disapproval of joggers in spandex, buttpacks and sunglasses with wrap-around elastic bands; they were in varying stages of undress and looked like extras from a zombie movie. The waves crashed in behind them as they packed what few possessions needed it and got off the beach before a citizen from the spandex brigade could call the police on them-- phones were out, apps were opened and locations given. While it was a little early for cabbies, it was also a little early for people to be calling cabs, which meant the cabs showed up after about thirty minutes, which gave everyone time to bum money from each other and otherwise figure out how to pay these guys and get home.

Mark, thankfully, just had to drive Maria to her place, shared with other girls, near UCLA, in his beaten up Honda accord, which was almost a decade old and definitely not a slick ride, but had gas and kept running. She was pretty miserable looking from the amount of alcohol consumed, but she managed to stagger into her apartment. Once that was taken care of, it was a drive back to his own apartment with a lot of money in his bank account and not much to do on a Sunday morning...and a braided wristband, which gave him an idea.

Jules was going to get a gift in return, though it wasn't necessarily the same sort of gift that she'd gotten him. He managed to get through the door with a wave to Julie, who looked like she was weathering the after-effects decently enough. He told her, "Might wanna coffee up, I know what we're doing today," he told her with a mischevious grin -- no Maria in tow -- "but just make sure to wear something with no sleeves, but keep it totally casual, because it's just me, okay?"

That was an unusual enough request in the scheme of things, especially with Bryce practically dressing the woman, but Mark felt like he had to definitely explain the dress code without giving anything away. Before the questions could come, he was through the door and into his bedroom, already peeling off the sodden, sandy clothes that he'd worn the past night, which were thrown into a bin that seemed to be overflowing with clothing crying out to be washed. He hopped into the shower, cranking the dial to get the water good and hot, scrubbing himself with a fairly rough sort of sponge that made the skin feel like it was getting a degree of treatment. Once out, he picked a new pair of jeans and t-shirt to replace the old jeans and t-shirt from an overstuffed closet full of jeans and t-shirts. Meet the new, same as the old. By the time he got out, he felt a lot fresher, and then it was time to roll.

Even though Julie wanted to ask him where they were going, all he'd tell her is, "Sunset."

Finally, they pulled into a parking lot and strolled up to a place that had a sign that said, "The New West Tattoo Company" and he ushered her in. The interior was off-white walls covered in artwork and the people that'd gotten it done there; notable celebrities and non-entities, rock stars and actors. The place had couches and coffee tables with people occupying them and what looked like a row of barber's chairs and barber's stations, but with inks and needles, the tools of the trade. The place had huge windows in the front that let in the sunlight, and rafters overhead that gave it a wide-open, high-ceilinged look. There was music piped in over a very expensive speaker system, and there was a very hot, but very tattooed, woman playing the receptionist role.

"You're getting one with me," he told her. It was all moving fast because he knew if he gave her a moment to think about it, she'd start to balk, "Pick one and get it where you want, I'm covering."

Hopefully, they'd be in the chair with the needle buzzing before her anxieties caught up with her. So went the plan, anyway.

“Wait, what?”

How Mark's words still managed to catch her off-guard was beyond Julie. She supposed that somewhere she had still thought that he wasn't that crazy and had only brought her here to show off what new ink he was getting. Really, she should have known better though. “You're insane,” she said, gaping at the plethora of tools that stood neatly next to every seat lined up against the far side of the establishment. The place could easily be mistaken for a rather eccentric sort of beauty parlour, and a professional one at that. This went way beyond a pedicure and highlights though, and the mere thought of what her parents, what Bryce would think if they discovered she'd permanently marked her own body -– well, it wasn't pretty. Julie shrank almost visibly upon inadvertently envisioning the words of accusal, of disapproval that she'd have to endure for it. It didn't even matter what her own opinion on the matter was, really; she just knew she'd much rather avoid such confrontation. But just as she was ready to spin around and flee from the curious gaze of the exceptionally beautiful looking receptionist lady and from the store altogether, there was Mark's hand grabbing hold of her wrist as if he knew she was going to run. It stopped her dead in her tracks before she'd even started moving at all and Julie rather sullenly stared at her friend, trying to gather her own thoughts. There was a look in his eyes that she knew all too well. Mark was daring her to do this – no, daring her to dare do this.

He'd always been the one to challenge her to things that were wildly out of her comfort zone. When they were young they'd been silly things, stupid things like jumping into a pond together when they could barely swim or drinking a full gallon of chocolate milk – that had been particularly disastrous – and sneaking into a late night horror marathon at the local theatre that gave her nightmares for three months after. Each and every one of them had been terrifying, and yet she never regretted doing them at all. As scary as new things were to Julie, they were also adventurous and thrilling and fun and among her fondest memories. And despite the expectant look he gave her, Julie knew she could still say no to Mark, even if he clearly wanted her to whole-heartedly say yes. Even if she bolted now, if she ran scared and admitted to not wanting to get a tattoo because it was permanent and scary and painful and lots of other reasons that were really all very sensible, then there would be no repercussions. No angry glares, no silent treatment, no looks of disappointment or uncomfortable reminders in any random argument to follow. He'd still be her friend and they'd still be okay. They were always okay.

It was that and only that which caused Julie to rethink her initial opinion, and as her gaze deviated from Mark to the many, quite amazing looking tattoos that adorned the dark-haired woman who had by now stepped out from behind the neon-lit counter, she felt her nerves slowly settle. Her heart beat still felt elevated, but rather than being nervous there was a far more enjoyable, more exciting sensation boosting her adrenaline levels. Suddenly it didn't seem like something she shouldn't do just because it wasn't the appropriate thing to do anymore. Contrary even, a more defiant part to the usually so eager to please girl wanted to go out and do this because no one she knew would expect it, let alone approve. No one but Mark anyway, and probably Rebecca. In her head she could already hear the girl loudly applaud Julie for 'growing a pair', as she would so bluntly describe it.

“Hey there,” the receptionist girl welcomed the two of them. Her head quizzically inclined, she took in both Mark and Julie before settling her gaze on the latter. “Welcome to New West. You're looking to get some ink done today? Did you have an appointment?”

Julie refrained from answering, gladly letting Mark do the talking. As suspected, this had been a pretty spur of the moment idea, although she wondered if this was what he had drunkenly promised her the night before. Drunk ideas were rarely good ideas, but perhaps this could be the golden exception.

The girl nodded after Mark's explanation, and her toothy smile widened; the red lipstick made her teeth look ever so white.

“Well, my name is Riley,” she introduced herself, “And me and my co-worker are here to help you figure out what it is you'd like – and where - and answer any questions you might have.” Julie didn't imagine the look Riley gave her at that; despite her diminishing nerves, she still wasn't all that confident that this was a good idea at all and it was definitely showing. “Are you sure you're ready for this?” Riley inquired rather directly. His gaze dashed to Mark just for a moment. “He's not making you do this, is he?” she grinned. “I'm not working on you if you don't want it. That's bad for our reputation.”

Almost immediately Julie raised her hands, palms forward. “No I – he didn't make me do anything. I just--” She paused, taking a deep breath, trying to keep her mouth from running off with her.

“Yes, I do want this.”

The answer clearly entertained Mark and she pulled a face at him, then focused on Riley instead. The friendly girl had already summoned her colleague – a redhead with a laid back attitude and a piercing through her left eyebrow who introduced herself as Robin. Meanwhile, Riley seemed eager to get started – her enthusiasm was rather infectious.

“Now you come with me, then we'll get you started.” Riley gestured towards one of the seats at a nearby table, which had several books and magazines stacked on top of it. “Do you have any idea what you want already? You can look at the examples we got on the walls or in the albums, there's literally thousands. Or you tell me what you have in mind and we'll figure something out together.”

Julie didn't immediately reply. She'd never really given this any real thought before and spontaneous decisions didn't quite seem to be her thing nowadays. Her eyes wandered the various pictures that were plastered all over the wall, and she quickly dismissed the Chinese symbols, the dolphins, hearts and infinity signs and the numerous tramp stamps. “Oh man,” she groaned after aimlessly staring at the wall for several minutes. Doubts were returning and more than once did she look to where Mark was animatedly discussing his options with the other professional, wondering how long it would take for him to notice if she snuck out of the store now.

“Most people take months deciding what they want before even setting foot in here.” Riley had gone to stand by Julie's side by now and was casually looking over the overwhelming amount of examples. “You don't strike me as a girl to do things on a whim. So how come you're here?”

Julie cast the girl a sidelong glance. The easy answer would be to blame it all on Mark – deny all responsibility and hide behind her usual insecurities like she was so prone to. But that was the coward's way out and besides, it was a lie, and after some thought the girl managed to gather her thoughts and give Riley an answer far closer to the truth.

“Mark and I have been friends for as long as I can remember,” she explained, and Julie knitted her brows together into a somewhat difficult expression. “I'm not gonna lie, this was definitely his idea, but if I really didn't want this, he wouldn't have suggested it. I wouldn't be standing here right now, either. The thing is, our lives are changing and like, I'm going right and he's about to go far, far left.” Julie shrugged and crossed her arms, her features softening. “Call me sentimental, but I guess I like the idea of having something to remember the fun times. We've had a lot of fun times.”

Riley nodded in understanding at that. “Definitely not the worst reason to get one that I've heard,” she grinned, then pulled out a chair to sit down. Paper and pen in hand she looked at Julie, who quickly followed suit and took a seat opposite her. “Now let's talk details.”

The actual design didn't take more than ten minutes to draw up. Surprisingly enough, her own words gave Julie enough inspiration to brainstorm a few ideas she had. In the end Riley managed to custom design for her a graceful, curving branch of sweet pink blossom with dark slender branches (reminiscent of the one that even to this day stood at the edge of her parents' garden), rather simplistic in design, with the silhouettes of two birds in the very top of it, of which one had just taken off into the sky, the other looking after it. A phrase wound in parts inbetween the twigs, reading

When you're high

you never

ever want to come down

That was the easy part, now for the part where it would actually have to be applied.

“I'm gonna have to incline the chair all the way back,” Riley explained as they relocated to a place with all these wildly unfamiliar tools next to it. “You're absolutely satisfied with this? No changing your mind once that needle's doing its magic.”

Julie shook her head and pulled the loose, sleeveless top she was wearing up to her chest again. In the mirror she was watching her abdomen, regarding the pen version of her future tattoo with a critical eye. It wrapped about her hip so perfectly, curving gently towards her navel. It was a bit bigger than she had anticipated but anything smaller and it would have seemed wrong. Mark was definitely going to be surprised about this one.

“You're not allowed to look 'til it's finished,” she told Mark. “And if this hurts, you know I'll take it out on you, right?”

“Feisty girl,” Riley said approvingly, giving Mark an amused wink. “Bet you have your work cut out for you with this one.” She pointed towards the chair, focusing on Julie again. “Now let's get to work, you're gonna keep me busy for the next four hours.”

Once Robin heard what Mark wanted to get, he was going to be in the chair a lot longer than Julie, she grabbed an artist by the name of John West, Junior, the old man's son, who was grinning at the idea. He was a tall, rail thin guy wearing a chambray work shirt and unpretentious jeans with a fairly wide seat, rather than the sort of fashionable skinny jeans being used. The New West did a lot of really awesome biker and rocker tattoos, but embraced the cowboy/working class symbolism. The idea was to discourage guys like Bryce from getting their Greek letters done here while being listed as one of the best tattoo companies; they liked the artistic challenges. Its why Mark picked it.

"I don't get a lot of Medusa requests, and you want a full upper arm?"

"Hell yeah," Mark told him with a grin, "I wanna make my first a badass one."

"Nipples?"

"Nah, lets cover those with a snake or leave them out, but definitely the cleavage."

"So what do you envision?"

Mark went down the gallery of tattoos with John West, pointing out the things he liked; shading, darker inks, subtle grades of shading and the sort of things that challenged an artist to make a really good tattoo. The man was taking notes and sketching on the basis of an internet search they did for women and snakes, trying to pull together a more original image than, say, the Versace logo.

Of course, there was the occasional surreptitious glance over to see what Jules was doing, and to make sure she didn't run. He couldn't stop her from leaving, but he'd done his best to set the whole thing up on short notice with really good tattoo artists, expensive work in the couple thousand dollar range. Much as drunk frat boys might go to any old tattoo artist to get the Alpha Sigma Sigma letters on a bicep, you got what you paid for when you tried to do more complicated work. This place, it was all nice leather chairs and old fashioned wood shelves, like a barber shop, along with a high ceiling and the sunlight streaming in. It was relaxing, quiet, and not seedy, which perhaps made the whole process go over a bit better.

"So long as I actually see it; I bet you've got it in a place your sisters won't see it, since they'll run right to Ed and Mariska..." That was said with a grin; Jules' parents were okay with him, but thought he'd come around and get a real job after he got it out of his system. They weren't aware of the signing...or perhaps they were through Mark's mother.

In any case, it was hard to see what Julie was doing while the work started on his arm; the needle took up his attention as the work started. Over the course of his time working warehouses and other fairly physical jobs, as well as biking to get to school and then work until he acquired a (slightly junky) car with several years on it, so he had definition, and that was part of the planning on how to do a tattoo -- the curve of the arm, how much arm there was.

The reality was that the more skin and fat was at the location of the site of the tattoo, the less painful it generally was. But Mark didn't have a lot of that excess, so there was the buzz of the needle and the sensation of being pricked, but it quickly washed away as the endorphins kicked in. He has piercings done, with needles, multiple times, but it didn't quite prepare him for a tattoo.

His phone started to rattle a couple times, a low buzz, but he didn't check the messages until John took a break, and then he saw that two of them were Maria, and some other from the bandmates. He snapped a picture of the tattoo being worked on and posted that on facebook, along with a location tag. But he was careful not to add Julie's name there -- parents, friends, boyfriend, if any of them knew the jig would most certainly be up.

It wasn't going to be done in one sitting and the quote on price for the ink was a lot; Julie's was a fraction, but Mark was getting major work done. But Medusa made sense, it was Italian and rock n roll, since chick and cleavage, and metal because mythical monster. Mark never held a job where tattoos mattered an it seemed unlikely he ever would, but the windfall money from signing meant that he could afford to make this tattoo a real work of art. Julie, if she hadn't been taken to a place like this for the sort of ink that stars got, the probably would have balked, even given those conditions. Of course, there was something affirmation all about friendship sealed in blood, and that counted for a lot. If Julie had refused, he would have grabbed Dalton, but he also knew that the work would take more than one appointment. Still, Dalton and he were buds later in life, he and Julie shared the sandbox.

There was at least one text message that required him to actually reply; his mother felt it was a good idea to have some sort of celebration with the neighbors and people he knew back home, which meant Julie and her parents, too. That might well wind up involving Bryce in some way, much as the thought disturbed him, but he steeled himself and responded anyway. The invitation included Dalton and his mom, but the rest of the band was sort of not a part of that...nor did he want to show off the likes of Cave and Stace to a bunch of neighbors in the Valley. They were generally California types, but a lot of the members of Reckless Life were a little too hardcore.

"Hey, Jules, heads up, my mom's decided that there's going to be a thing next weekend -- Harry and your parents will be there too."

It was natural that he and John would talk while the work was being done, and the discussion ran to bands, Reckless Life and the record deal. "Wow, congratulations, man. So this is how you're spending some advance money?"

"Yeah," Mark replied, "the rest is gonna pay rent-- Julie is my roommate -- and I'll save what's left for whatever feed come up."

"Sounds good, always seems like a lot of guys just blow that first check..."John told him.

"I can see that," Mark admitted, thinking of Cave and Dalton especially, "So you've seen a few come through?"

John rattled off some names, and it was an impressive list.

"Most of those are my dad's though," he told Mark.

"What is it like, inheriting a family business?" Mark asked-- he didn't know who his father was at all.

"Its weird, there's pressure to keep the legacy going. I mean, my father taught me everything I know and I went into this business to follow him, but am I as good as he is?" John mused, as he worked on the lines of another snake in the medusa's hair, "It's hard to say. I love what I do and I think that makes a lot of difference in life."

"I can dig that." Though Harry Cohen was the closest thing he had to a father, and the guy taught him the rudiments of guitar before Mark way outstripped him. It wasn't like he was following in the man's footsteps though; Harry was a lawyer, a contracts guy. At least, Mark figured, he'd be locked down good on that end. No surprises and all that.

"So, how's it look," John asked him, as he turned him to look at it in the mirror -- there was some blood, there always was blood involved, but it got wiped away to give Mark a better look at the ink.

"Looks good," but it wasn't really entirely done yet. "The more important question is, how does Julie's look?"

He was dying to know what the surprise was.

The idea of a little get-together in their old neighbourhood was a pleasant surprise to the girl. “Saturday or Sunday? I have to work at St. Joseph's this weekend. Actually, I'll figure it out,” she instantly corrected herself. Julie was still lying mostly flat on her back, enduring the not-so-pleasant sensation of the needle gun doing its work. Riley was a diligent worker with a lot of talent, and every time Julie managed to catch a glimpse of her efforts she'd be more and more at peace with her decision. Lying there thinking wasn't the best way to keep her courage up, though, so she gladly chatted away at the tattoo artist, or Mark or even Robin, currently manning the desk, just to keep her mind distracted from the inevitable moment where she'd have to show the rest of the world just what she'd been up to. But Mark didn't need to know how nervous that made her; it always seemed particularly important that he didn't think her the coward she probably was.

“Suzie's gonna go mental when she finds out about the contract, you know.” Julie's little sister was about as big of a rock fan as Mark himself and would gladly harass him about the classics, his band and everything else. If she'd been older surely she'd have been the one to hit the venues with Julie when Reckless Life was playing. Unfortunately, she'd only just turned fifteen and Mommy Lancaster wasn't quite so willing to watch her baby girl grow up just yet. “You've grown up much too fast,” she'd complain to Julie. “Let me enjoy my two lil' ones while I still can.”

Eric and Susannah, despite being twins, stood in sharp contrast to one another. In fact, where Suzie was a devoted Mark groupie, Eric and Bryce got along in a way that had surprised even Julie. It was a bit of a relief, really, since Susannah and Bryce were a bit like oil and fire. Another thing her sister and her best friend had in common, she supposed.

“Right, looks like my work is done.”

The incessant buzzing of the needle that Julie had long stopped hearing, finally ceased and now the only noise was the more subdued drone of John West working on Mark's arm. Her right side felt like it had been sunburnt, but although she was dying to find out what Riley had managed to conjure up, the moment she was allowed to stand the first thing she did was try and steal a glimpse of Mark's work in progress. Not that she was even remotely successful; he was angled away from her as if the two men had done it on purpose.

“Aren't you curious at all what it looks like?” inquired a slightly amused Riley. Julie's attention was returned to the dark-haired beauty.

“Yes, very much,” she nodded and gladly padded after her to the standing mirror on the far end of the parlour. Her shirt was still twisted and tied together to stay up to chest height, and although her skin looked a little inflamed, the end result was way beyond what she had expected. There was no denying that Riley was an artist in her own right, and she'd managed to turn what had seemed to be a serene, yet somewhat simplistic depiction of a flower branch into a true piece of art, with perfect shading, colouring, depth and all drawn in a way that seemed to tell a story rather than just depict an image. The slender twigs seemed to sprout from right behind the waistband of her denim shorts, climbing up along the natural curve of her body. The little birds held her captivated for even longer than the pink, fragile flowers. Something about them affected her in a way that was both uplifting and sad all at once, though she couldn't quite explain why.

It was executed in a way that (though unbeknownst to Julie at this point) offered a sharp contrast to the sensual, graphic and so very alluring image depicted on Mark's upper arm. It was gentle and a little modest, even though it covered a far more significant part of her torso than even Julie had really anticipated. Surely Mark would at least be impressed that she had foregone the 'easy' option of having a little anchor on her wrist or a trail of stars on her ankle. No, it had become a bold expression in a sweet and gentle shape, and the longer Julie stared at herself in the mirror, the more she realized that it suited her to a tee.

“Wow...” she said softly, and it was clear she was a little overwhelmed. It was only when Mark inquired how it looked that the girl sprung to life again and although it was difficult to tear her gaze away from her reflection, she was growing increasingly curious about Mark's work of art. “You show me yours and I'll show you mine?” she said coyly, keeping the lower half of her body twisted away.

“You really oughta wait til I've finished the lines,” the owner's son pointed out; naturally, Julie agreed.

“Can I still show Mark?” she asked him, which he clearly considered to be a silly question but it was just Julie trying not to seem impolite. A one-sided smile tugged at her lips as she whimsically raised her eyebrows. “I bet it's a lot bigger than you expected,” she told her friend, “But I really love it.” There was still a hint of shyness to her before she turned so that he could look at the right side of her body.

“Do you remember when we would play in the garden, way back when?” she said absently, her eyes again wandering her lower body with fascination. The words she'd picked were written in graceful letters, curving along with the subtle motions of the slender twigs as if they were part of the branches altogether. “That cherry tree had always been a thorn in my dad's side. It was in your yard but half the branches extended into ours and he'd grumble so much about all the little leaves drifting on his koi pond. He never really cares for much but that stupid pond is still his pride and joy. I loved those pink flowers though, well, I guess there wasn't anything pink that I didn't love, and when dad agreed with your mom that he was allowed to cut off the branches I was so sad.”

She smiled faintly upon reminiscing. “You'd snap off little twigs from the tree in spring and bring them over. We even tried planting them in my yard so I'd have a tree of my own! That never worked out, though.” A sidelong glance towards Mark made her pause, and the little smirk faded.

“You don't even remember, do you?” she realized, and Julie blushed embarrassedly at that. “Oh God, I guess that's two for two on being too sentimental, huh. You know, you could've warned me a little sooner so I could've gotten a sexy naked mythical hero on my arm instead.” She prodded teasingly at his (blank) arm, glad to have conjured up some sort of distraction. “Sorry, I peeked,” she admitted. But tease though she might, it was only a moment before she reconsidered her words, finding that even if she was being altogether sentimental, it just didn't matter. Not really.

It felt much like the two friends were at a crossroads of sorts, and somewhere, Julie worried that they would be turning into paths that wouldn't reconnect quite as often as they had done in the past. Things were going to be different, what with Mark's future looking so promising now, and with her about to graduate and head off into a life of -- of – well, she may not be entirely sure yet on the details, but there would likely be a time of moving in with Bryce, of relocating to Miami or New York or somewhere else completely new. Maybe even wedding plans...

Julie couldn't help wonder what Mark would have to say if Bryce actually popped the question. Kelsey and Selene had been hyping her up about it for weeks now and although Julie had no reason to believe that Bryce was at all eager to get down on one knee and present her with a no doubt hilariously expensive diamond, she was confident that it fit right into his perfect plan of their future together. Julie wasn't sure how she felt about it yet; it all seemed so official, so... final.

She shrugged the thoughts away with a brief shake of the head. The little drawn rose petals offered a comforting sight and she gladly lingered on the birds at the very top of it, situated on the side of her rib cage. They were fairly nondescript creatures, no doves or crows or humming birds, just – plain little darkly coloured bird silhouettes, expressive in their positions only. One was already off into the sky, its head turned down towards the other, as if to encourage it to follow. The second one was still perched atop the little twig, its wings in the process of unfolding and setting off into the sky to join its other half.

“You know what, it doesn't matter. It's perfect,” she decided, ending her doubts and insecurities once and for all. Julie finally looked up at Mark properly, still seeking some sort of confirmation that she was doing the right thing. Part of her worried about the implications of doing something so outrageous, so well out of her comfort zone without any regard for possible consequences. But in this moment she couldn't care less what the world thought; her body, her decision. It wasn't so simple, of course, but for now everyone else could wait. Which said a lot, coming from Julie.

“You know I can't afford to pay for this myself,” she told him reluctantly, “And it's a little late to tell you not to spend so much money on me. But can I at least buy you dinner, or order pizza and ice cream back in the apartment then spend half an hour deciding on a movie before putting the Usual Suspects on?” Julie relaxed her posture, finally lowering her right arm. “We don't hang out together much anymore – not like this. Though...” And she stole a glance at the beautiful picture on her torso. “...I hope I don't have to get a tattoo every time I want to have you to myself for a while.”

"Don't sweat the money, it's worth it for good ink," Mark told her. He was used to sweating the money too, and the thing was, it was a lifetime wish for him to get some really high quality ink. He knew that Ren and Cave were paying less for theirs, but they also hadn't held off getting tattoos until they could afford a place like this. The other reality was that Julie would have been shocked how economical the ink really was for her. His was going to run a couple grand, hers was more like a few hundred on top of that. Still a lot of money left over for rent and whatever else came down the road. He did intend to save it, once he got a new phone, but designated a certain amount to go in and spend on really good ink. He'd seen shitty ink, and his pride just wouldn't abide something like that.

And it was already taking shape on his arm, contoured to fit and drawn custom, which raised the cost some, but the Medusa had a life of her own on his arm there, and she wasn't quite the 'naked chick' cliche so many dudes fell into. He was a little surprised at Julie's design and the placement, but it made sense that it was a place where few people were going to see, unless she wore a bikini, which was a social risk in California and perhaps even Miami or the other places he overheard Bryce talking about from time to time.

In any case, the buzzing needle carried on the work, but he didn't mind letting people have a look as John Jr. worked his thing, and there were a few people peeking in at the work, though few people wondered about who was getting it because he was, essentially, just another dude walking in to get some ink. There wouldn't be a lot of filling in here, no real return visits to add to it, though there would be a little red added to the eyes of the hair snakes.

"And dinner sounds fine. It oughta be good timing anyway, if Mai isn't sleeping off a hangover, she'll be studying." And, for that matter, Bryce probably was going to be a grumpy little bear too -- mostly because the combined strain of drinking at places like the Bolo and watching people he detested suddenly get a moment of success probably had him worn the hell out. Odds were, they'd be on their own.

Mark, for his part, felt oddly refreshed from the whole thing, even while Julie's tattoo artist went into the instructions for aftercare with Julie.

That was a relatively good day, with pizza and movies afterward, though the next day, Mark had to go to Manny's and put in his resignation. The response he got from Leona, Manny's daughter wasn't the usual harried response of a woman with a lot on her shoulders, but genuine pleasure at the news that the band had gotten signed.

"But I can still do a part time gig until I find out when we start doing studio work and cutting a record," he told her, even as there was a heartfelt hug out of the whole thing.

Dealing with the neighbors was a little tougher; if he'd been worried over Leona's response to the resignation, he was looking at his mother's little patio party with trepidation -- the San Fernando Valley was more like Bryce's sort of place, a white picket fence suburbia, shopping malls and well-scrubbed people who had respectable white collar jobs. While his mother and Harry Cohen were one thing, Mark often felt, coming back, that he was a little too scruffy for the place. As a result, he dressed as 'up' as he could in comparison to his normal mode of dress, adding a button-down shirt that was still not Bryce respectable -- it was white with blue and black stripes in a check pattern, Western-styled and a little too 'cowboy' for the Valley, but it's how Mark preferred things. He wore the shirt open with a t-shirt beneath, also revealing the jeans that were held up with a belt with a buckle on it and left the sleeves rolled off to show off the snake-tail of medusa coiled down his forearm, itching and shining from an application of moisturizing lotion.

The whole thing was in his mother's back yard, and there was a hot tub and a lagoon-like pool there that she'd put in sometime after Mark moved out, which implied a degree of 'Anna is having a life of her own now' in the whole thing, but it made a good setting for a grill, manned by Julie's father, and a bar that people could use to simply assemble their drinks.

Dalton was already there, wearing, of course, leather pants that he'd blown his money on as soon as he got the check cut. It was hard to calculate just how much overpriced 'rocker' jewelry he'd gone out and bought, but it made Mark smile in amusement. There was a new nose stud there as well, perhaps in imitation of Lenny Kravitz, which seemed to be the overall look.

And the neighbors that weren't invited were already peering at the strange entourage of people that were showing up -- not in so many numbers, but guys like Mark and Dalton stood right the hell out in a setting of pastels and suburban bliss. All the same, Harry was there, slapping his other shoulder and his mom seemed genuinely happy when they hugged.

"Whoa, did you invite him here?" Of course, Bryce showed. Who the fuck invited him? Well, that was Julie's mom coming over to hug him. Was the dude that concerned about what Julie was gonna do that he had to intrude on every party she was going to be invited to.

Anna shook her head, subtly, to match his whispered question, "No way," she whispered back. There was a flash of momentary surprise, but his mother was a professional when it came to working with idiots, and she put on her game face; it was similar to his, slightly olive, dark hair, though hers was thinner than his, and dark eyes. Even as she got older, she managed to stay trim and fit, though that might well have been the swimming pool, and also why she kept her hair cut off-the-shoulder. She was ruthlessly conventional in the Valley-sense that she was wearing capri pants and a fairly conservative top with some jewelry, but San Fernando considered fitness freakdom and its fashion accessories to be totally within the bounds.

"Well, I guess he's about to pop the question any day now, so I guess..."

"That he's going to stalk her until she's chained to him in holy matrimony?" Anna's view of marriage was well known after a divorce and, presumably, Mark's father that came before that marriage. Her dry tone reflected that.

"You got it."

“It needs more skulls, really.”

Suzie grinned broadly, a mischievous look on her face as she studied the considerably sized embellishment to Julie's side and midriff. It earned her a scowl from her bigger sister and Julie, for the so manieth time, cast a somewhat insecure glance in the mirror, studying the, admittedly beautiful, image Riley had drawn above her hip. The red had mostly vanished and although the healing would take at least two weeks, the image already looked as spectacular as it had done in her mind before it had even been inked into her skin. It carried that famous shine right now that surfaced a few days after the tattoo had been applied, making all the colours seem all the more vivid.

“Well, I like it,” she pouted, then lowered her shirt carefully over her abdomen.

“I never said I didn't!” protested her baby sister. “It suits you. You know, some of you anyway.” The girl gave her two thumbs up as she sat down on the edge of the bed. “Pretty cool, sis.”

Julie shook her head and smiled, trying to adjust her top to fully cover the markings on her body. The two were hiding in Susannah's bedroom, awaiting the arrival of most of the guests that would attend Mark's family's garden party. From the window they could look into the backyard, and visitors were steadily trickling in, gathering around the pool with drinks in their hand. The smell of grilled meat reached the open window, and Julie felt her stomach rumble. Skipping breakfast had definitely been a bad idea.

“So are we gonna go soon? Mark's already there, you know.” Suzie was leaning precariously over the window sill, trying to look at the visitors leaning against the outer wall of their neighbour's house. “Say, do you think mom will let me have a tattoo now as well?”

“Not on your life,” Julie replied, tugging the girl back by the collar of her shirt. Suzie was barely an inch shorter than her, but she still had that teenage lankiness that emphasized the difference in age between the two siblings.

“Aw, you could put in a good word for me! Mom thinks you're so perfect, convincing her that tattoos are the proper thing to do now should be easy for you!” She turned to Julie, prodding her upper arm. “Nice bruise by the way, did you try skateboarding again?”

Julie rubbed her upper arm, covering the mark. “Nah, just body combat at the gym,” she remarked airily, then made a final attempt, to no avail, to get the bottom hem of her shirt to reach to the faded blue denim skirt underneath. Her outfit was particularly casual – not trashy, mind, but judging by who the party had been organised for, it seemed silly to head over while dressed in a cocktail dress or her usual primp cardigan and skirt ensemble. “Suzie, do you have something that'll fit me?” she inquired aggravatedly.

“Probably not,” her sister grinned. “You look like you put on weight. Lay off the doritos, fatty.” She narrowly avoided a pillow aimed at her head, but then obediently dove into her wardrobe in search of something that wouldn't look even shorter on her older sister. Ultimately she retrieved a long-sleeve-over-short-sleeve top in pink and black that fit Julie almost perfectly. “Mom told me to buy it a size bigger so I'll grow into it,” Suzie complained. “Clearly she still thinks I'm six years old.” It wasn't something Julie could usually be found wearing, but it made her feel strangely happy to put it on. Suzie had, two years ago, drastically changed her taste in clothing in favour of the skater look, and whilst mommy Lancaster had optimistically called it 'just a phase', by now it had become very clear that it was a bit more peristent than that. Even now the girl was dressed in loose combats and army boots, with an AC/DC top to complete it. She was likely one of the few girls to wear a shirt like that and actually know their songs; more than that, Suzie had most of their albums, and not even on itunes but on proper cd's which she treated with all the reverence of a boyband groupie – just significantly cooler.

“You didn't tell me Bryce was coming too.” The teen had already ventured back to the window and was leaning even further out of it now. The comment surprised Julie, and curiously she joined Susannah in staring down at the people below. Sure enough, she could see him heading into the garden as if he'd been a longterm member of the neighbourhood. People generally approved of his presence but none so much as her mother Mariska, who idolized him in a way that bordered on the awkward and was treating him to the warmest of hugs. “Did you know he was gonna be here?” her little sister inquired curiously. Julie shook her head.

“I had no idea,” she replied, her eyebrows raised.

“Does he know about the tattoo?”

A subdued sigh. “Yeah.... He knows.”

Julie caught herself staring and she shook her head, turning away from the sight of party-goers. She briefly wondered if she should change, but neither this shirt or her original top would really suffice, and she figured that Bryce would be happier to see her in something that covered up what he had referred to as her being forever mutilated, or something along those lines. “What will people think, Julianne?” he'd asked accusingly, ”I can't believe you'd do this to me when I'm about to hit a major promotion.” Not that that promotion was ever out of the question anyway; every step on the career ladder for Bryce was assured by his dad who was always on the lookout for opportunities for his prodigal son. But she supposed that he was right; the wife of a successful businessman did not typically wear ink, that was Mark's world, not hers. In hindsight she wasn't really sure what she'd been thinking; perhaps she'd been trying to make her best friend happy. Maybe she'd tried to linger in a dream that wasn't part of her current life anymore or maybe she actually did something she wanted without considering the opinion of others... whatever the case, it was too late for regrets. This was permanent and although Julie wished she had the courage not to hide it, she at least enjoyed the fact that she'd dared to do this.

---------------

Bryce met her downstairs with a somewhat cool greeting. Julie, as if to compensate for the lack of affection he showed, subconsciously made an effort to get in his good graces again. It had been made abundantly clear that he disapproved of her recent lifestyle choice and it wasn't like Julie hadn't known beforehand that he would disapprove of her getting a tattoo. He'd blamed her for not discussing it with her beforehand (which she knew would have resulted in a resounding no – Mark had probably known it, too, which was likely why he'd sprung it on her as a surprise) and not thinking of his future. Safe to say the evening had ended with a lot of arguing. Julie detested arguments; she had this desperate need to be liked by everyone she knew and to feel that her own boyfriend was upset with her was something that sat like a stone in her stomach. Which is why, when she headed outside to greet him, her actions were overly affectionate. She wrapped her arms about him, pressed a kiss to his lips and whispered a “Hey, hun,” in his ear before drawing back far enough to look him in the eyes. Or shades, as it were, resulting in her watching her own reflection more than anything. He cast her a faint smile in return, and soon raised his chin to look at the other visitors. He seemed to be searching for people, and Julie assumed he wanted to offer Mark his congratulations.
“I think he's in the back of the yard,” she said helpfully, “I didn't know Mark had invited you. Why didn't you tell me?”

Bryce didn't respond to that, nor did he make any effort to venture to the poolside of the garden. His arm was wrapped about Julie's shoulders and almost possessively so. Scouting the surroundings once more, Julie wondered what he was doing, though in silence. She didn't recall Bryce knowing all that many people here, although all of her family was present. Of course he knew Mark but even Julie was aware that litte affection existed between the two, so it seemed unlikely that he was that desperate to find him. And it wasn't long before he abandoned his abject staring and focused on his girl again. “Let's go say hi to your family,” he suggested, ushering her towards Julie's merry looking parents.

The party was a cozy and entertaining one, though definitely tame by Mark's standards. Julie had ventured over to him and his mother a few times to chat, but Bryce had quietly lingered near her parents, not even heading over once just out of politeness. It was getting on her nerves, and although she was tiptoeing around Bryce just out of concern that she'd add even more to the growing pile of things-that-he-thought-were-wrong, she was getting ready to mention it. But just then someone carted in a rather massive looking cake with the band logo and Mark's name on it. People cheered and applauded and sang "For he's a jolly good fellow", you know, all the cringe-worthy things you'd expect at a party where most the attendees were well into their fifties. Julie grinned at the sight of it, easily imagining Mark's discomfort; this wasn't quite the type of attention he enjoyed. He'd have to suffer through it, though, and she could almost feel his relief when some uncle or neighbor or whatnot ended his congratulatory speech and stepped back into the crowd. People moved in to cut the cake into pieces, ready to dig in - now imagine the utter look of surprise on Julie's face when at that moment, Bryce firmly took hold of her hand and drew her into the clearing that had not yet been filled.

“Ladies, gentlemen,” he said, raising his voice, that signature smile revealing his bleached white teeth plastered on his face. People halted and turned to look at him, his voice carrying across the entirety of the garden. Bryce raised his glass, eliciting a look of eyebrow-raised confusion from his significant other, who would have gladly slunk away at that point. She couldn't fathom what he wanted, but as it turned out, Bryce had an unexpected desire to praise Mark for his efforts in a public sort of way. He nodded amicably at the very reason all these people had gathered before turning towards his audience. He'd always been grateful to be the centre of attention and Julie couldn't but feel a little embarrassed for the over-the-top speech. People were eyeing him with interest and, by proxy, her as well. Bryce relished the attention; Julie wanted to shrink and hide.

“You all know why we're here – our friend, relative and long-time procrastinator Mark here,” a wink at the subject that Julie noticed wasn't too well-received, “Has decided to take some major steps up the career ladder, joining the rest of us in the big leagues! It won't be long before you and your band 's name will be on the cover of all the fanzines and money will come pouring in. The days of cold pizza and Walmart jeans are of the past, my friend!” Some people laughed heartily; they were Bryce's type of people, neighbours from around the block who shared his rather materialistic view on the world. Meanwhile, Julie felt increasingly uncomfortable, and to convey her sentiments she tugged gently at her boyfriend's arm, which, unfortunately, had the complete opposite effect.

“But! I'd like to take this opportunity to make a beautiful day even more special. As most of you already know I have been so lucky to get this wonderful creature to fall in love with me," - a brief squeeze of her hand, and Bryce pulled her a little closer. "My sweet Julianne and I have been together for just over two years, and I can tell you, they've been the two happiest years of my life. I can't even begin to imagine life without her, and you know what, I don't want to! So without to further ado I want to announce the engagement of me and my dearest Julie, who I love more than I do my family's Maui holiday condo,” There were some scattered laughs at that, but the general feel of the audience was that of revered silence. Julie felt much like her heart stopped beating, and when Bryce turned fully towards her, getting down on one knee she forgot to breathe altogether. “That is, if she'll have me,” he grinned, and from his pocket removed a box which, without having to even look closely, revealed one of the most stunning diamond rings the girl had ever seen in her life. “Julianne Marie Lancaster,” Bryce proclaimed formally. “Would you make me the happiest man in the entire world and be my wife?”

A sudden silence stretched on, and although a few bystanders already opted to cheer prematurely, most watched with bated breath, waiting for that moment of release where Julie would utter a teary-eyed Yes and fall into her lover's arms. Instead she stood there, staring catatonically at the man in front of her, then at the people around her. She caught glimpses of her parents - her mother already reduceded to emotional tears - of Suzie and Eric, of Anna and ultimately of Mark, on who her eyes lingered for a few long moments. There was a plea hidden in the look even if she didn't know what she was asking of him, but her attention was drawn back to Bryce when he urged her in a whisper to "Come on, Julie, don't leave me hanging." The pressure was getting to her, the people around her making her more than a little nervous. She couldn't even quite process the gravity of the situation - she just wanted people to stop staring.

And Bryce, he looked so hopeful. No, that wasn't the right word; expectant seemed more appropriate. He'd removed his shades and the look in his eyes was tugging at her heartstrings. She'd never been able to refuse him, and although he should have known better than to put her on the spot like that, she knew that inside he had meant well. A frail smile crept up on the girl as she quietly nodded. "Okay..." she whispered feebly, then gladly hid against her now fiancé as he eagerly embraced her, showing to all the world just how intensely happy he was that she would be his.