Celebrity Status (currently being revised to 1st person) Walk of Fame-- Book 1

Chapter Eight

 "You want me just to help you, 

To tell you it's alright, 

A simple way, erase the day,  

And swallow up the night."                                                             

- Bach's Revenge debut album, track 8

Sebastian's head spun like crazy by the time he got to Sawyer's. He took off before first period  after seeing Charlie in a passionate lip lock with Mitch. He fabricated an excuse about a  doctor's appointment to McKenzie and spent the day driving around aimlessly looking for  some kind of answers. But just like everything else-they eluded him.  

Sawyer was pissed, flicking his smoke at Sebastian's feet. "We haven't even cut the  record yet and you're pulling the tortured artist BS already. Where the hell were you today?"  

Sebastian inhaled sharply. "I took a trip down none-of-your-god-damned-business  lane, followed by a stop at the kiss-my-ass cafe."  

"Oh yeah?" Sawyer raised an eyebrow. "Did you remember to pick an extra large bag of go-screw-yourself on the way here, you dumb shit?" 

"Hey," Lane intervened. "Maybe you both need to book at trip to grow-the-hell-up  Island."  

"Screw you, Yoda," Sawyer said.  Robbie, who was sitting on a lawn-chair with his hands knotted behind his head,  cleared his throat. "You guys are like a really vulgar version of the three stooges. But dumber.  Are we gonna play or what?"  

"Depends if prima donna has vacated the pity party," Sawyer said. "I don't jam with  girls."  

Sebastian clenched a fist and was about to put it to good use, when he realized  Sawyer's ugly face wasn't worth hurting his knuckles for. Instead, he withdrew the guitar  tabs he'd written last night from his pocket and tossed the papers at Sawyer's feet. "Learn it  and love it, bitch."  

Sawyer bent over and picked up the papers, his eyes scanning the tune Sebastian had  easily put together. "We leave for Los Angeles in ten days, you wanna pull your Houdini  crap, do it one someone else's time."  

Three hours later, the band managed to pull everything together to produce a damn  good piece of music. When they finished, Robbie whipped his drumstick, narrowly missing  Sebastian's head, instead hitting the shelving unit before making a rapid descent to the  concrete. "Wow, that's different from anything we've ever done before. Some seriously dark  messages there, bro. Do you need suicide watch?" 

"I need a suicide watch about as much as you need a kick to the head."  

"So negative to the suicide watch then," Robbie said.  

Lane chuckled softly as he put his bass away. "Seriously, is everything okay  Sebastian?"  

Lane's tone was so sincere, without prodding or mockery that Sebastian's defences  diminished instantly. "Yeah man, I'm okay. It's been a rough week. Haven't been sleeping."  

"That explains the horrific bags under your eyes," Robbie said, "You look like a serious  stress case."  

Seb glared.  

"Er," Robbie corrected, "you're just not as pretty as usual."  

"You should try a lavender eye pillow," Lane offered.