The Gods of Rock 'n' Roll

When the Music's Over:Allison

His eyes grew even lighter, now the color of yellow flames.

"You, Allison. But not to take from you. I want to create with you. I want to give to you. I don't think I could terminate another contract even if I wanted to. You've awakened something inside of me. All that is finished. I don't know what this means, any of it. I just know that after meeting you, I can never go back to the way things have been. I don't want to."

Allison was about to let him have it when the door to the studio opened. Demetrius stepped in and cleared his throat. "Boss, Sal is awake."

Phillip looked as though he wasn't finished with Allison. She stood first, anxious to be away from Phillip to clear her head.

"Will you take me somewhere I can clean up?" she asked Demetrius as she walked past him.

She needed space. Phillip's little head trip left her feeling dizzy. How could he do that? Not just the physical act. The thought of feeding off someone's lifeforce just seemed so wrong to her, like he was some sort of parasite.

Yet these people came to him willingly. She'd known many people who would have gladly given anything to be famous, to be a star. If he could give it to them, why then wouldn't he expect payment?

She'd seen something else, though. Something he probably didn't expect she'd see. Regret. Disappointment. This was not what he had wanted from his existence. He may have justified his actions by saying the people asked for it, but in his heart, he really didn't take pleasure in seeing the girl, Déja, in the throes of drug and sex addiction.

The bottom line was that Allison didn't sense anything malicious or evil about him at all. But what did he mean when he said he wanted to make music with her? They'd played together and it had been the greatest musical experience of her young life. She'd felt closer to him than she ever had with Robbie. Of course, her feelings for Phillip were very different.

Robbie had always kept a wall up, claiming he didn't want to drag her down with him into the depths of his despair. She'd fought with him for years to let her in, sometimes winning when he was desperate to feel better, but when it counted, she was helpless.

He'd been in such a good place, they'd just got back from a great tour, and she'd dropped him off at home. He'd only been out of high school a year and the two of them had been determined to make a go of their music career. Their mom was at work when she left him and said she'd be back the next day for them to look at booking the next leg. They'd hugged. He'd teased her about smelling bad. Traveling in a van cross country meant having tolerance for each other's body odor. She'd socked him in the gut and blew him a kiss.

Eight hours later she got the call from their mom. She'd found him unresponsive in his room, empty pill bottles surrounding him. He'd had "When the Music's Over" by the Doors on repeat.

Allison shook off the memories and tried to block the song from playing in her mind as she entered the room Demetrius showed her to. She thanked him and closed the door. What she wouldn't give for a shower and a good night's sleep. As if someone heard her thoughts, there was a knock at the door. She opened it to find another of Phillip's men there with a towel and a robe.

"Phillip asked that I bring you refreshments. Please make yourself comfortable. May I bring you something to eat?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Francis. Is there something—"

"Doesn't this whole scenario bother you, Francis? What he does, the artists?"

Francis stood a little taller and looked down his nose at her. "All I can tell you is that Phillip has sacrificed for more people than I can count and never complains about it. He's there for his people night and day. He does his duty without taking advantage or causing anyone pain. I've met many beings in my afterlife for which I cannot say the same. I trust him with my life and have for over twenty years."