Buffy's life is turned upside down, Bobby is arrested, and Keith lives.

Everything in my life led up to a single moment. A chain of events dragged me into the depths from which I thought there was no return. I was kicked out, so I moved in with Gretchen. I was kicked out because of my band. My band became successful because I chose not to bow to my mother's wishes. Buffy became known to me because of my band becoming successful. Bobby discovered Buffy through me.

Bobby is an asshole.

Everything was going perfectly. I thought that finally things were starting to look up. Up in Flames had a loyal fan following. We were making money on our one single, and we were getting ready to record "My life with you is Hell."

It was peaches and roses. I never knew the corruption that lay underneath.

Ok, now I'm really starting to sound Gothic.

No one deserved this.

I was lying in bed and thinking happily about my life when Suzi called.

"Keith, have you seen Buffy?"

"No, Sooz, I haven't."

"Sooz?"

"I'm in a really strange mood right now, sorry."

"No worries. It's just that Bobby said she might have left for your house a bit upset."

"Why would she be upset?"

"It seems they had a fight of some sort. They went out for her seventeenth birthday, and things got a little ugly at his house afterwards."

"Want me to come help you look for her?"

"Sure. You know the area out there better than I do. Pick you up in about ten minutes?"

"Sure."

I hung up and looked out the window. It was a nice night out, so I didn't need to dress warmly. I went downstairs. Gretchen and Tom were laughing and talking in the kitchen.

"Buffy's missing."

"When, what happened?"

"She had a fight with Bobby apparently. She went off mad, and according to Bobby, she was heading of toward my house."

My eyes kept turning to the desert. I don't know why. Something out there drew me.

"What is it?" Gretchen was looking at me with concern.

"Something feels off. I don't know how to explain it. Suzi is on her way over to look for her. I was figuring that we could. . ."

"Keith?"

"I don't know. Something just isn't right. Buffy has a cell phone. Why wouldn't she keep it with her?"

"What are you thinking," Tom asked.

"It's probably nothing. I should just go looking. . .she's in the desert."

"Huh?"

"Look, it's just a hunch, ok? If I were pissed out here, it would be easy to try to take a short cut between my house and Bobby's and end up out of sight in a ditch or behind a hill. At night, with no moon, it would be easy to get turned around. Something really feels off about all of this.

I was still looking out the window when Suzi arrived. "Etch, you go with Suzi to look at all of the places around her that she might be. I'm going to go out into the desert. It's probably nothing, but I don't trust this whole situation. Something just seems off."

Without another word I walked out of the back door and through the gate in the fence. I walked across the access road that ran behind Gretchen's house and then it was nothing but scrub around me. I wandered. I had no clear direction in mind.

Do you even have a moment in your life where everything just works out? Have you ever just known that something was the right choice, only to find out later why?

That happens to me all the time. I'm not saying that I'm psychic. I'm not sure I even believe in psychic phenomena. Our brains take in more information than we can process. Every once in a while, all that random data will line up into a cohesive whole, and we get a glimpse into the infinite. Some people call this epiphany, and some call it inspiration.

It has occasionally been called luck, or even intuition.

Whatever it is, I let it guide me tonight.

I walked under the stars, wondering about the course of events that led to this moment. Why would Buffy have run off? I called Bobby to try and get his side of things while I walked.

"Hey, Bobby, what happened between you and Buffy?"

"Turns out she wasn't as into a relationship as I thought."

"What do you mean?"

"He was fine with dating, you know, but kind of frigid where any affection was concerned."

"I don't know. She seemed to be into you all the times I saw you two together."

"Yeah, but hand holding was about as far as he seemed to want to go. A bit of cuddling. That's it. I tried to kiss him at the restaurant and he slapped me."

Something occurred to me. Bobby was referring to Buffy as he. Something was off.

"What happened at your place?"

"Well, my parents were out, and I thought. . .look i have to clean up. Could you call me back later?"

"Sure, Bobby. . ."

I walked a bit more, and things still wouldn't lay right in my mind. There were too many jagged edges. Too many missing pieces. Why would Bobby need to clean up after only he and Buffy had a fight.

I called Gretchen, "I have a really bad feeling about this, Etch. Look, whatever you do, don't go to Bobby's house right now."

"Do you think we should call the police?"

"Yeah, let me do it."

I dialed 911 and waited for the operator.

"Hello, My name is Keith Robison. A couple of my friends had a fight, and one of them is missing."

"What type of fight?"

"I'm not sure, but my other friends parents aren't home, and he won't let anyone in. We haven't been able to contact the other friend on her cell phone for a couple of hours."

"This is all pretty vague, Mr. Robison."

"Buffy Hansen is missing. She was last seen at Robert Lewis' house. His address is 211 north Alpine Way."

"You said you haven't been able to contact your friend for a couple of hours, and she was last seen with Mr. Lewis?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I would ask that you stay away from Mr. Lewis' house for the time being. We are sending officers over to investiga. . ."

"Hello?"

I looked at my phone. I was out of signal range. That was so odd. I'd never lost signal in the desert before. The moon had just come over the horizon and a flat bowl of land was revealed to me. There were some tire tracks from ATV's here and there, but not much else. it was even almost devoid of life.

I saw a small dark mound a little way off. It moved and I saw a glint of metal.

I rushed over to it, and realized it was a person. An earring had glinted in the light of the moon when it moved. The face was a complete mess, and some of the bones seemed crushed. There was blood all over the dress, so I assumed it must be female.

"Keith?"

Oh my god. "Buffy?"

"Help me." She passed out. I looked at my phone again. No service.

I ran back the way I'd come and dialed 911 for the second time tonight. I got the same operator. "I found Buffy, she's in the desert with me. She's beat up pretty badly, and I don't think it's possible she got her on her own."

"Where are you, My. Robison?"

"I have no idea. Can't you track my phone?"

"Your signal is bouncing a little bit."

I took a couple of stepps back from the depression. "Is that any better?"

"What are you doing?"

"Moving away from a dead zone. Tell me when my signal stabilizes."

"I have you localized. Wait there for police please."

"Hurry, she's covered in blood."

"Can you describe her injuries to me?"

"No, because there's almost no light, and I had to walk about half a mile to even get a signal."

"Fleeing the scene of an accident. . ."

"Are you a complete MORON!!!! I couldn't call from where she was!"

"There's no need to yell, Sir."

"There's no need to be incompetent, Ma'am. Use that boil on your shoulders for something other than keeping your hair in place. I couldn't make a phone call, to you, without moving from the scene. It was necessary. If you would like, I'll leave my phone here so you can get the rescue personnel roughly to my location, and I'll go back to the victim."

"There's no need to be rude, Sir."

"See my previous statement. You really need to learn to think. My friend is probably dying here, and you are telling me that I'm to blame for calling you."

"Hello, this is Carl, I'm Belinda's manager. I hear you are being belligerent?"

"Carl was it? Well, Carl, My friend is bleeding profusely. She is in a depression in the earth that for some reason get's no cell coverage. I am between three and five miles into the desert, and there was no one but me to call. To do so I had to leave her side, and Belinda told me I was breaking the law in doing the only available course of action. I informed her that she was incompetent and an idiot, which is why she transferred me to you. Now, do you think I'm being belligerent?"

"I remind you, Sir, that we do have a recording of this call."

"Carl? Why don't you give me to an actual manager. You know, someone responsible for your and Belinda's jobs. I'm tired of speaking to people incapable of thinking for themselves."

The venom in Carl's voice transferred through the phone, "Sir, I will have you know I am a college graduate, and am the only supervisor you are going to speak to."

I'd had enough of stupidity. "You said that this call is recorded, Carl?"

"Yes, Sir," he spat out.

"Then my lawyer will be in touch. When are the rescue personnel arriving? Hello?"

I checked my phone, and the call had been disconnected. I ran back to Buffy. I was in enough trouble already without having her blood all over me when police or others arrived, but I couldn't stand around and do nothing. I turned on my flashlight app and turned the face of the phone to face Buffy. I could see her chest rise and fall, so at least she was breathing for the moment. "Hold on, Buffy, help should be on the way."

I began to hear a sort of rhythmic thumping sound, and a helicopter came over the rise. I turned my phone toward them and waved it, leaving my flashlight app running. They landed about fifty feet away and an EMT got out and ran over to us.

"I found her out here, she's a friend from school."

"How did you find her?"

"I often walk out here, even after dark. I stumbled upon her." How could I say that I felt guided here? I tried my best. "Look, if you'll feel more comfortable having me go with you to the hospital, I'll stick with you. Otherwise I'm going home."

"That would be a good idea. The police will likely want to question you."

I sighed. The pilot got out, and they put Buffy on a back board, and hooked her up to an IV. They got her to the helicopter and turned on the lights inside so that the EMT could get to work. He cut her dress, and I saw the mess for the first time. She'd been wearing no underwear. She was so cut up that it was difficult to tell her gender, even though I knew what I should be seeing. I thought I'd help out the EMT.

"She's transgendered, but hasn't had surgery."

"That may be moot at this point. She doesn't have much left of her genitals. I need you to sit back, Sir."

I was shocked that anyone, especially Bobby could have done this to another individual intentionally. I tried to find a rational explanation for it, but my mind failed completely.

She'd lost a lot of blood, but thankfully no arteries had been nicked. I heard the pilot talking to someone, and heard his confirmation that we'd be flying in to Utah Valley Regional Medical Center. I caught bits and pieces of the conversation between the EMT and the pilot. I didn't understand most of it, but what I did hear didn't sound good. Severe lacerations. Smashed bones in the face and jaw. Reconstructive surgery.

I watched the lights of the cities pass by underneath. They were connected by the ribbon of highway, the car lights red on one side and white on the other. Only my worry for the health of my friend kept me out of the poetic state that wanted to form. I held her hand. Halfway through the flight she regained consciousness for a moment and squeezed my hand back. I looked into her pain filled eyes, and thought I saw a thanks in there.

She passed out a few moment later, and I noticed the Y out the window on the side of the mountain. It was lit up for some reason tonight. It meant we were almost at our destination.

We landed, and almost immediately some surgeons wheeled a gurney up to the side of the helicopter, ducking under the blades as they came. Information was passed on and they wheeled her downstairs. While they left, I called Tom. "You can practice law in Utah, right?"

"Yep, I took the exam in California, Utah, Nevada, and Colorado."

"Can you come up to the UVRMC? I think they may think I did something to Buffy, and I want you here just in case."

"You found her?!"

"Oh, yeah, I found her, argued with the 911 dispatcher, and got a free helicopter ride."

"Ok, wait til I get there before making any statements. Just in case."

"Can you call Gretchen and Suzi? I think I am about to be taken into custody."

A couple of police officers came up to the side of the helicopter.

"Keith Robison?"

"Yes."

"Could you come with us please, Sir?"

I got out of the helicopter and followed the officers inside. The led me into a nondescript room and I sat on the chair there.

"Quite a night you had out there, Huh?"

I said nothing. I just waited. The other officer spoke up, "Tough guy, eh?"

"On advice of counsel, I regret that I will not be making a statement at this time."

The two officers looked at each other and then the first spoke, "If that's the way you want to play this, son, we can, but it just makes you look guilty."

I chose not to rise to his bait, and waited the forty minutes while Tom arrived. I didn't expect Gretchen to come with him. "Are you ok, Keith?"

"No cuts or scrapes." I smiled at her, then my smile faded, "Nothing like Buffy."

"When you told us not to go to Bobby's house, we tried to stay away, but eventually the pull became too great, that and we'd already looked pretty much everywhere else. There were cops all over the place. I think the entire city police force showed up for this one."

"All four of them?"

Gretchen lightly punched me in the arm.

"Are you talking Robert Lewis? How did you know to keep your friend away from there?"

"I called the police on him."

"And you found the victim in the desert, coincidentally?"

"See, Tom, this is why I need you here."

"I can see that. Gentlemen, unless you are about to charge my client with something, then we are leaving."

"We can hold him on suspicion."

"Of what? Being a good Samaritan?"

"He was belligerent with the 911 operators."

Tom looked at me. "They accused me of leaving the scene of an accident. I told them that I had to leave to make the cell phone call, since there was no coverage where Buffy was. They got rude from there. I called them incompetent and told them my lawyer would be getting the recording of the call from them."

"You hadn't asked me at that point."

"I was more thinking civil action through Jordan. You know, get them fired or something for failure to think critically in a time of crisis."

Tom and the cops snorted at that one. "The operator really told you that you could face criminal charges for moving to a place where you could get cell coverage?"

"Yep, so I called her on it."

"Was it Belinda?"

"How did you know?"

The two cops exchanged glances, "We've had to deal with her before. She probably got Carl to pretend to be a supervisor as well, didn't she?"

"Yep, who is he anyway."

"Her fiancé who also works there. They've been written up for this crap in the past. I hope you do pursue this."

I looked at the cop in surprise.

"She sent us to arrest a former boyfriend because he wouldn't give her back the engagement ring she threw in his face when she stomped out."

"She was fined and written up for that one."

"Wow. So, am I free to go?"

"As long as you don't leave the state, yes. We will want to get a statement from the victim when she regains consciousness."

We went to the waiting room. Suzi and her parents were there already. We hugged.

"You found our son?" Buffy's father asked, before correcting himself, "I mean our daughter? It will take me some time to get used to this, but I'm trying. Thank you for that. Apparently she wouldn't have lasted much longer out there.

"The doctors have told us what was done to her. I am bringing in a plastic surgeon friend. He has a practice in Salt Lake. They need to rebuild the bones in her face. We've decided not to try to rebuild other. . .things."

Apparently he had a little difficulty referring to the male anatomy of his daughter. I probably would also.

We sat in the room and waited. It was after two am when a doctor came in to us. "She's out of surgery and has been moved to recovery. We'll keep her there until she regains consciousness and then move her into a private room. When she's in her room you will be able to visit her."

We sat down to wait some more, but it wasn't much longer before a nurse came to get us and showed us to her room.

I could see her eyes light up at the sight of us, and a slight moan escape her lips, but I assumed her jaw was wired shut.

Her face was covered in bandages. I was glad that I didn't have to look into that ruin again. I'm sure that the plastic surgeon was good, but there's only so much he would be able to do with the surface for now. She would have a lot of recovery after this.

It felt weird talking to her, when she couldn't talk back to us.

"Well, I guess you made it to your destination before I made it to mine," said Gretchen, "were you always an over achiever?"

We were able to understand her soft chuckle.

It was almost three in the morning at this point, so Gretchen and I went out to her car and drove home. Tom had left when we went to the waiting room. We drove home and I went to my room. As I was getting ready for bed, Gretchen rushed behind me and slipped between the covers. I hadn't seen her at this point and thought nothing of it really.

I put on a pair of sweat pants, my usual attire and slipped myself under the covers as well. I turned toward her, thinking she wanted to talk, and she kissed me. I was tired, and not thinking clearly. I pulled her toward me, and felt her responding to my touch. She pressed herself against me, and I realized she was naked under the covers.

I fought with myself for a moment before pushing away. I moved myself to the outside of the covers, trapping her in my bed.

"Etch, we can't do this. I won't do this to you."

"I need you right now, Keith. I just got to think about what might have happened, and before anything does, I want you to have loved me."

"Nothing is going to happen, Etch."

"You don't know that. No one can know that."

"I believe it. That's enough for me. I won't ruin our first moment together because of fear, Etch. I want every moment we share to be special. You and me, no regrets, no fear, no reservations. Can you truly tell me that is what you'd give me tonight?"

"But. . ."

I put a finger to her lips. "You know how I feel about you. You know how I react to you. This is the hardest thing I've ever asked of you. We need this to be right."

"But I love you, Keith. Isn't that enough?"

Every inch of me strained to take her in my arms. I wanted her more than I wanted breath, more than blood, more than food. In that moment I realized that there would never be another woman for me on this entire planet. Without her, nothing was worth living.

"Etch, You are the only woman I can ever love. I wake each morning and smile because you are alive. I go to sleep each night and dream of our times together. You give me hope, and help me to seek after my dreams.

"It's because of that, of all of it, that I won't do this tonight. It's because I love you, and know you love me."

She began to cry softly, and I kissed away her tears. "I love you." I said each time I broke our kisses. She began to laugh at me after the fifth repetition. "You are such a dork sometimes, Keith."

"Yeah, but you love me anyway."

"I know. I don't always know why I love you, but I do."

"You love me for my manly singing voice."

She giggled at me. I lay down and we both fell asleep quickly. Just as I was drifting off, I realized my door was unlocked and Gretchen was naked in my bed.
***
I felt a touch on my shoulder, and looked up to see Tom standing over me.

"Oh crap."

"Morning, Keith, You want to let my daughter up so that she can go get some clothes on?"

I jumped off the bed, and Gretchen wrapped the blanked around her. "Nothing happened, Sir."

"I know that, Keith, otherwise I would have come in here with a shotgun."

I looked worriedly at him, but he chuckled. "I don't have a shotgun, Keith. I'm joking." Gretchen was giggling at me.

"I heard you two last night, and listened at the door for a while. I'd like to talk to my daughter for a bit if you don't mind, Keith."

I grabbed a T-Shirt and went downstairs. I was finishing a bowl of cereal when the doorbell rang.

It was Mr. and Mrs. Lewis.

"How could you do that to our son? How could you let the police drag him off. He spent the night in jail, Keith. How could you!"

"Mrs. Lewis?"

"You told the police that he beat up that filthy faggot he's been hanging around with. How could they do this to our son."

"Your son almost beat a girl to death."

"She's no girl," Mr. Lewis replied, "We know all about Lawrence Hansen."

"She may not have physically been a girl before, but that's not the case anymore thanks to your darling son."

"Our son didn't. . ." began Mrs. Lewis only to be interrupted by her husband.

"What are you talking about, Keith?"

"Your darling son smashed all of the bones in her face. She has her jaw wired shut, and I'm sure pins and wires in place to keep the rest of it from falling apart. Her groin and legs were mutilated. There wasn't enough left to rebuild what she had, so they went the other way."

The both looked sick at this, imagining what had happened. "You talked to your son last night. Did he tell you what he was doing when I called him?" They shook their heads. "Cleaning up. He did this at your house, likely with your camera running, Mr. Lewis."

Mrs. Lewis vomited. Mr. Lewis looked pale.

"And for your information, Buffy was one of my friends. I don't take kindly to my friends being maligned by short sighted bigots who don't get their facts straight before accusing people falsely."

I slammed the door in their faces, and collided with Tom and Gretchen who were standing behind me.

"That could have been handled better, Keith, but I'm not sure I would have shown your self-control."

"And I might have let slip my own secret."

They hugged me. I made a phone call when we finished. "Um, Richard. We've got a problem."

"What's up, Keith."

"Bobby's been arrested."

"Wouldn't Tom be a better person to talk to about this?"

"I called the cops on him. He almost beat a girl to death. I want a new drummer. Figured, since you were the one who dealt with talent. . ."

"Well, we won't be able to find anyone else who can play the Behemoth."

"The Behemoth was a gimmick, and not a very practical one. I just need someone who can play percussion."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, Richard, I am."

A call beeped through on my call waiting. "Keith, Bobby's been arrested for attempted murder. We need to get Tom to help him. This has to be a false arrest," Jake said breathlessly.

"Jake, actually, he tried to kill Buffy."

"Oh. . .ok. . .what are we going to do about a drummer."

"I called Richard to find out."

"Ok, thanks. Um, keep me in the loop when you find anything out." Something sounded broken in his voice.

The three of us had always been friends, but Jake and Bobby had been a little closer to each other than either of them had been to Keith.

I went back to Richard. "You still there?"

"Yeah, I have a couple of possibles in Utah, and one in Seattle of all places. We can set up a session with the guys in Utah first, and if they don't work out, we can use some of the band's funds to fly the guy from Seattle out."

"Ok, set them up for today. I think I need to keep busy or I'm going to go insane. I'll call Jake."

I tried to reach Jake a couple of times, but the phone just rang. "Gretchen, could you drive me over to Jake's house?"

We drove the short distance, and I was shocked to see my 12-string and amp outside the garage.

There was a note on my guitar: Keith, I need to think some things thought. I've taken ten thousand from the band account, and I'll be taking a little trip. Stay out of trouble, ha ha. You'll probably want to find a Bassist as well, since I'm not sure when I'll be back.

He had written if, but then crossed it out.

"Richard," I said after calling him back, "we need a new bassist as well."
***
I set up the amp in Gretchen's garage, and I began to play. I started with "My life with you is Hell", and then went into "Black Flag". I continued with "My Own Person" and a little "U + UR Hand". I began to play a soft melody, that I'd never heard before. It came out of the pain of the past twenty-four hours. It reminded me a little of the Five for Fighting song "100 Years" but with a sorrow to it that tore at me. I played it over and over until it was engraved on my soul.

I only looked up when I heard the pop of another amp being plugged in, and a bass line began to weave into the melody I was picking out.

We played through the song without words a couple of times in its entirety. The first time he was a bit heavy handed, but he softened it for the second time through. He played so lightly that you could barely tell there was any bass there. But the hint of it filled out the song. We came to the end. I was about to walk over and talk to him, when he whipped out some sheet music and jotted down everything we had done. He copied both of our music within the space of five minutes with no errors.

I gaped at him.

"Sorry, I hate to lose perfection. I try to write all of my best jam sessions down before I forget them."

"I wish I could write sheet music like that."

"Perfect pitch. It helps a bit. Hi, I'm Guthrie Kyle."

"Kyle Guthrie?"

"Nope, my last name is Kyle. My first is Guthrie. And before you say it, yes, my parents were huge fans, and had to name me after him. They wanted it to be obvious."

"The song writer, or the baseball player?"

"Song writer."

"Wouldn't Woody Guthrie Kyle have been better?"

"You'd think"

We both laughed about this a bit, and then a black full sized van drove up. One of the smallest people I've ever seen got out of the driver's seat. Ok, jumped would have been the best term for it. He'd had the side door specially modified so he could open it from the ground. He started pulling out drums and carting them to the garage.

"You want some help?"

"You think just because I'm short I need help?!"

"Dude, we just wanted to know if you wanted it. I always feel big and useless watching anyone do work while I'm on my fat butt." I managed to say this entire statement with a straight face.

He looked at me, and looked at me some more, as if he couldn't figure out what to make of me. Then he started laughing. "Ok, kid, you're alright. Sure, help me unload so we can get this audition going."

"Aren't we auditioning with Desdemona?"

"Look, guys, I can go get my costume on, and pretend for you, but this is the real me, and if we're going to work together, we need to come at it without preconceptions."

They both gaped at me, so I proved it by singing the first verse of "My life with you is Hell" acapella.

"And I thought I was weird. At least when people see me in the midst of my drums, they get the sounds they expect."

We set up the drum set, but Guthrie kept looking at me funny. Eventually I turned to him and asked him, "What?"

"You're really Desdemona on stage?"

I pulled out both of my IDs and gave them to him.

He looked upset. "Well, I guess I won't be able to ask you out then. . ."

The drummer began to laugh again. "You thought you'd be able to get a date with Desdemona just for trying out for her band? Everyone knows she's a lesbian. . .I mean, that he's straight. Ok, I'm confusing myself. I'm sure you've seen the photos on her fan site from yesterday."

"I thought she might just be European, you know, the hand holding and stuff."

"That kiss wasn't a friends thing."

I blushed.

"Yeah, but most people think it was doctored. No one could find her on an first class manifests for Thursday coming in to Salt Lake international."

"That's cause we flew business class. We were still having a dispute with iTunes."

They looked at me and then both of them burst out laughing. "I<3Desdemona was actually right. You were under the name Desi Arnez in business class from Nashville," said the drummer.

"Yep, that was us...but apparently I didn't even know what name my Agent had gotten me in under."

"Wow, loverboy, not only is Desdemona not a girl, but she isn't into guys. You are completely out of the running."

"Shut up."

We finished setting up the drums. I knew I could work with the bassist, but could I work with the drummer. He'd been really argumentative at first, but who knows whether the jolly version was more real.

He sat down. He pounded out a bit of a beat to check distances, then called out, "Ready for 'My life with you is Hell" on the count of five."

We barely had our instruments ready when he hit the trap the fifth time.

He put us through the song at a blistering pace. About twice as fast as I was used to, and when I turned to talk to him, he simply looked at both of us in awe.

"Can you guys do it any faster? I know when we perform it needs to be at the proper speed, but you two are amazing. The last pair of guys I tried that on lost me about halfway through, and that was a technically easier song than this one."

I looked at Guthrie and smiled. I screamed into the opening riff as fast as I could move my fingers. We were going at about five times the normal tempo, and I could feel the burn of the strings even through the calluses of my left hand. The opening was the toughest part, and we were off to eight times the normal speed when I hit the chorus. The drummer was lost for a moment, and then found his place and joined us. We finished up a bit slower, but still fast and breathing hard.

"Ok, I can die happy. I've finally found someone who can keep up with me."

Guthrie and I laughed. "So, what's your name?" I said looking at the drummer.

"Since I just came here for the hell of it, not sure it matters, but I'm Davey Dolenz"

I blinked at him for a moment, but let it go.

"Well, if you're here for the heck of it, then might as well try one last thing with us."

I began to play the unnamed song and Guthrie joined in. It had started simple like "100 Years", but the additional instruments added complexity. Somehow, even though it seemed complete with two of us, Davey was able to find a place for himself in the song. It was beautiful.

It gave the song more of a blues or jazz feel than it had otherwise had, but that seemed to fit as well.

Words came to me in that moment, and I just sang to the song:

Don't blame the girl,
It's not her fault,
This is her life, and it is hard
You hate your life, so I can see
Just don't take this out on her, or me!
We live your rules,
Not by our own,
Don't blame the girls
It's not our fault.

The two of them stopped playing and just stared at me. "Um, guys?"

"Yeah, you're Desdemona alright," said Davey.

"And I never knew she had this much versatility," said Guthrie with stars in his eyes.

"Wait, what?"

"You just wrote that, off the top of your head."

"Sometimes poetry just hits me, and I have to get it out. Saying it is often enough. . .but. . .um, could I borrow your paper and pen?"

I wrote down the Chorus, which came first this time, and then the first verse. I tossed in another chorus at the end. I knew this wasn't the end of the song, but I had some of it. "Mind if we try out the verse next?"

"You're the boss-lady."

"I'm a guy, Davey."

"When we're hangin and watchin the tube, you're a guy, but when we're working, you're Desdemona. That means you're a girl, boss-lady."

"I go by Desi with my friends."

"See, you even have a nickname for her," Guthrie said with a smile.

"Ok, let's try this."

We played the verse which had come to me:

When she was, just seventeen
She turned you down, where you were seen
You made her pay,
Hope killed through pain.

While the music played on, I spoke the last line of the verse, "She asked you more than once to simply turn away."

We played through the chorus again, but the emotion was too strong for me and I couldn't sing.

"That really seems to affect you,"

"One of my friends was attacked last night by her boyfriend, my former drummer, and almost killed. She's in the hospital with her jaw wired shut and covered in bandages."

"And you're playing music with us?"

"It helps me to relax. Helps me think. That and I'm afraid that my girlfriends dad wants to kill me a little because he found his daughter naked in my bed this morning."

They looked at me with grins on their faces. "Nothing happened beyond some kissing, I promise."

"Sure it didn't."

I punched Guthrie in the arm for that one.

"You really are a boy."

All three of us laughed. "Guys, would you mind heading inside while I made a quick phone call?"

I called up Richard. "So, about ready for the next pair?"

"Why would I want anyone else?"

"Well, those are my two most difficult clients. Guthrie is a bit of a prima-donna, and Davey won't play with anyone who can't keep up. Says it's not worth his time to be playing with mediocre talent."

"Guthrie is a good guy with an amazing talent for sheet music and bass, and Davey just needed to find someone who could show him up."

"Wait, you mean to tell me you actually like these guys?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Well, um, I sort of only sent them over because I wanted to look like I was trying to find both of them a paying gig. No one else will take them."

"Well, don't you think that it makes us fit for each other?"

"Yeah, and if only the Misfits wasn't taken as a band name it would really fit you three."

"Nah, I like Up in Flames."

"Won't Bobby and Jake disagree with you keeping it?"

"I doubt it, since Bobby wanted to be N^th Degree, and Jake wanted Meaningless Death Imagery."

"Isn't that the name of that band. . ."

I was confused for a moment, and then it dawned on me, "No, he really wanted to call us Meaningless Death Imagery. That's part of the reason I changed the name of Meaningless Death Imagery, corporate tools. It was such a cool name for a band that I had to use it somewhere.

"Ok, so, since I'm going to be paying them, what is the going rate for a drummer and a bassist?"

"A piece of the pie, just like I get."

"Only on stuff they record with me, I take it?"

"Yep."

"Then book us some studio time mid next week. I feel like getting 'My life with you is Hell' and 'Black Flag' up on iTunes."

"Life around you in never dull, Keith."

"Just the way I likes it."

Keith ended the call and went inside.'

"Well, guys. Welcome to Up in Flames."

Davey was the first to get his voice, "You're shittin me."

"Nope, provided you don't mind wearing Goth on stage."

"Can you believe this joker, Guthrie? He tells us that he wants us to join Desdemona's band as long as we don't mind wearing Goth on stage."

"Yeah. . .um, what is your name?"

"You looked at my ID and didn't read it?"

He pulled the IDs out of his back pocket and handed them back to me, after a quick glance.

"Keith, I for one would be fine with wearing a bright pink tutu, and having neon lights sprouting out of my hair, just as long as I get to be on stage. Compared to that, Goth is tame."

I looked at him funny, but he simply said, "don't ask unless you really want to know."

"Don't tell him. You shouldn't've told me, but you did, and now I'm telling you, you don't wanna know!"

We both looked at Davey, and he looked back at us with an innocent expression. "What? Don't tell me you never watched that movie."

I looked at Guthrie, and he shrugged at me. Some things were probably better left unsaid.

We watched a little TV. We were watching some music show on Vh1. "So, did either of you guys watch Sarah Carerra last night on the Tonight Show?"

Davey and I shared a look. "Um, do you have a crush on every female singer?"

"Just the apparently unattached ones."

"Hate to break it to you, Guthrie, but she's dating Josh Holliday."

"What's Josh got that I don't?"

"Talent," I said at the same time that Davey said, "good looks," and Gretchen said, "money," from the doorway.

"I know when I'm beat."

"So, who's this?" Davey asked looking at Gretchen.

She plopped onto my lap, "I'm Gretchen."

"You ever get tired of the big cross-dressing lug, I can always climb into your lap."

"The cross-dressing is a bonus."

"Ok, I didn't need to know that."

Everyone chuckled at this.

"Etch, These are Davey and Guthrie. Drums and Bass."

"Etch?" Said Davey looking at me."

"Yeah, my nickname for her."

"Mind if I use it, Fair Lady?"

"My, you are a flirt." Gretchen giggled a bit.

"At least you didn't call me a little one."

He finally cracked a grin and we laughed. "Geeze, you guys need to lighten up."

We hung out for a little while, and then I noticed that we would just have time to get up to the hospital for visiting hours.

"Hey, guys, I definitely want you two to play with me. Richard has your contact info?" I got two nods and continued, "ok, then as soon as we get studio time scheduled, I'll call you."

"Thanks for this opportunity, Keith."

"Yeah, man, thanks."

Guthrie and Davey let themselves out. We hopped in Gretchen's car and made the trip up to Provo. We parked and made our way into the warren of passageways that is the UVRMC. The difficulty comes from each portion of the hospital being built at separate times. At one point, each of the buildings had different floor numberings, and the floor would change from one end of a hall to the next.

We got to Buffy's room without much difficulty. She had a keyboard on her lap, connected to a small screen in front of her, and a bigger one connected to the wall behind her head. Apparently her dad wanted her to be able to communicate as easily as possible.

She smiled with her eyes when she saw me. I watched as the words slowly appeared on the screen: I hear I have you to thank for my life.

"I did what anyone would have done."

:Everyone else was looking in the wrong place.

"I just love walking in the desert."

:Just accept my thanks, damnit. You deserve it.

"Ok, you're welcome."

:Hi, Gretchen.:

"Hi Hon. How you feeling?"

:sore. My face hurts, and my legs hurt. My dad tells me I'll be beautiful after this. I keep telling him I was always beautiful inside.:

"I know, hon. You'll come out of this just fine."

:And thinner. I'm not able to eat anything right now. Liquid diet FTW.

We laughed a bit at this. We hung out for about an hour in her room, just trying to cheer her up. I think she did us more good than we did her.

Before we left, I had to ask her something that had been bothering me the entire time, "You seem really upbeat for someone in your position."

:This gave me something I have been dreaming of for years. I am suffering a little pain now, and I have nightmares of the attack, but my outside matches my inside.:

Gretchen squeezed her hand. It was amazing to me that most of her was wound free. "I hope they've had a counselor in to talk to you."

:They have. We talked a lot this morning. She thinks it will be a long road to recovery, and not just my physical injuries. I don't agree with her right now, but she's the expert, right?:

"Buffy, only you can decide whether or not you are recovering. Make sure you tell your counselor the truth, though, so she can help you the best she can."

After these platitudes, Gretchen and I drove home.
***
We went to church on Sunday. The rest of the day we relaxed and Gretchen prepared for surgery the next day. She gave me her keys for the first time voluntarily. She'd be in the hospital overnight and I would pick her up on Tuesday morning.

We checked her in and I drove off. Nothing there for me to do. I was just getting to the car when Richard gave me a call. "So, can you meet me in Provo in the next couple of hours?"

"Sure, what's up."

"We have a studio booked with AM Records to get "Black Flag" and "My life with you is Hell" ready to be uploaded to iTunes."

"Ok, I'll need to drive home and get changed, and then drive back up to Provo."

"Where are you now?"

"I just dropped off Gretchen at the hospital for her surgery."

"Ok, that should be fine. Get here when you can."

I made my way out of Salt Lake and drove home as quickly as I could, avoiding speeding of course. I grabbed a pair of flats. After looking through my closet for something comfortable, I grabbed a girls tee and a pair of pants from my drawer. Yes, they were girls jeans. I had to look the role. I put on my makeup and my hair, and picked out a pair of day glow pink tennis shoes.

I grabbed my 12 string and drove up to Provo and found the address that Richard had given me. I saw Davey's black van in the parking lot. I still had no idea what car Guthrie drove.

I went inside, and it was completely different from Riverfront Records.

There was a man sitting at the front desk. “You must be Desdemona.”

“Yep, who are you?”

“I’m Ammon, and this is my studio. Welcome.”

I was impressed. It seemed a smaller company than Riverfront, but there was a definite professional quality about the place that had been lacking in Nashville.

“If you’ll follow me?”

Davey and Guthrie were already set up, and waiting on me.

"Sorry, boys, I had to stop by my house for my guitar, and I was in Salt Lake when Richard called me."

"No worries, Desi.”

“Yeah, your beauty makes the darkness of my day bloom into light.”

I looked at Guthrie, and he broke out laughing. “I’m joking, Desi.”

I laughed with him.

Ammon came over the speaker, “ready to begin whenever you are.”

“I need a couple of run throughs with the guys on ‘Black Flag’ before we record it, is that alright?”

“It’s your time.”

I played through “Black Flag” singing the words quietly. Halfway through, both Guthrie and Davey slipped in. It ended up being somewhere between “Bring Me to Life” and “My Heart will Go On.” I know. It is hard to imagine, but there it is. Think a sweeping voice melody with some pounding accomniment.

We practiced it again, and then it was time to record it. “Ammon, whenever you’re ready.”

I began to play the introduction, which had me playing the top 6 strings alone. I went once through the melody, and then I was hit by the surf of the drums and the call of the bass. We merged and receded from each other like the surf, like the tides. As they kept playing this portion, I moved into a sort of moon rising over the ocean progression. I have no idea how to really describe it beyond that. The high strings of the guitar became the singing of the wind through the lines. I envisioned a merchantman on the high seas.

I began to sing slowly:
On the seas of life I sail, between the ports of youth and age
I have gi'en you but little of my thought.
I was young and was naive, and you, the fool, were thought a sage
In my heart is the battle that we fought.

I had given you my love, and found in you good truth and learning
you offered up my love for less than naught
When I came to you in pain, and thought to gain a balm of healing
Yet in vain would I search for what I sought

The bass line took on the creaking of the rigging, and I took on the pounding of the feet running to stations. The drums were the cannon as the pirate ship came into range and began its attack on the helpless merchantman:
It flaps in the wind from the highest mast, striking fear in the hearts of man.
And it looks on the world, seeking souls to steal, but mine not one of them.
I have braved your foul oath,
my sword has run you through,
I am ready here for you. . .with knee unbent
For this time when we shall meet,
'neath the glare of that pale moon,
it is your cloak and not mine. . .shall be rent
For your love I sought in ages past, but love gi'en not in return
And the end of our journey will be resolved upon that night,
Only one of us can live while darkness flies.

The bass and drums backed off, and we were back to the original melody. The merchantman slipped into the fog for a reprieve:
In the mirror are you seen, to be my own true other half
My dreams of you are lost to distant past
You sit and say, while those plans you made, a word on my behalf
Those plans to fly my bones upon your mast.

But I shall not falter, nor shall I fall, as my own true path I tread
And the laugh you hear in your dead ear, my last
For the quick shall flee before my wrath, and all behind be dead
As we look upon all that we have surpassed

We ramped back into the chorus. The pirates opened fire as soon as the sails were seen, but it was a warship, and the pirates were outgunned:
It flaps in the wind from the highest mast, striking fear in the hearts of man.
And it looks on the world, seeking souls to steal, but mine not one of them.
I have braved your foul oath,
my sword has run you through,
I am ready here for you. . .with knee unbent
For this time when we shall meet,
'neath the glare of that pale moon,
it is your cloak and not mine. . .shall be rent
For your love I sought in ages past, but love gi'en not in return
And the end of our journey will be resolved upon that night,
Only one of us can live while darkness flies.

I envisioned the pirates slowly sinking as we finished up the final chords, and the merchantman being escorted back to port by the warship.

We finished and I talked to the control room. "Can we get a playback of that?"

We listened to the sound and it seemed good, but since this was his studio, "What do you think, Ammon?"

"It seems good. There are a couple of rough spots in the transition between the verse and chorus. Want to try it again?"

We ran through it two more times before all of us agreed that it was good.

We'd all practiced our parts of "My life with you is Hell" enough that it only took us two times before we had it where we wanted it.

"You guys know 'Bodies'?"

They nodded at me. "Ammon, we're going to do one more track, if that's ok?"

"Your time, your money," he said with a smile.

It took us another half an hour to get "Bodies" where I wanted it. Finally, we had three tracks.

"Richard Fields said that you needed these in MP3 format. I can hold onto your masters for you as well."

"That sounds good to me. Just send them off to him when they're ready."

I turned to my two compatriots. "Well, hopefully people want us still." I said it with a smile, but there was a bit of worry in my heart.

"Look, You are one of the best singers I've ever met," Guthrie said. We all laughed at this. "I know, limited experience, but I have had a lot of tryouts. You bring out the best in the people you work with, or you just know how to pick the right people. Either way, you can't help but be successful."

"Yeah, boss-lady, you're an amazing talent."

I looked at the time, "I gotta run, guys. Visiting hours."

"Later, Desi."

"Bye, Desi."

I went to the UVRMC and up to Buffy's room.

:Where's Gretchen?:

"Up in Salt Lake for her surgery."

:Oh, yeah!:

"So, how are you feeling?"

:A little better. I'm still sore, and will be for a while.:

"Ok, well, glad to hear you're hanging in there."

:Thanks for coming here. I appreciate the visit.:

We visited a bit and I left her a bit happier than I found her, I hope.
***
I drove back up to the University of Utah hospital to pick up Gretchen. We filled out her paperwork and she was wheeled out to the curb. I ran to get her car and helped her into the passenger seat.

"So. . ."

"Yes?" Gretchen had a grin on her face.

"You know. . ."

"Sorry, yes, I know. Yes, it's swollen, and there is bruising, but I am all girl now." Her smile was radiant.

We talked about inconsequential items as I drove. She was beaming. She'd wince in pain a bit when I went over a bump, but it was overshadowed by her happiness.

I contrasted the two people I knew in this situation. Buffy had almost died. Gretchen went through it as a matter of course. Both of them got the same result.

When we got home, Tom was watching the news. I caught something that surprised me.

"Still no news about Sarah Carerra. As you know, she collapsed during the Wake Up program, and was rushed to the hospital. There has been no press release as of yet, but some information says that she has not regained consciousness yet."

I helped Gretchen to her room, and then tried to find more information about Sarah, but there wasn't anything new.

I kept track of both Gretchen and Sarah during the rest of the week. On Thursday, Sarah woke up. She'd be giving a press conference on Saturday, so I went and visited Buffy for the first time in days.

She seemed happy to see me. She'd downloaded the new tracks from iTunes and was listening to "Black Flag" when I walked in.

:I love this new song.:

"Glad to hear it. We recorded it on Monday with my new band members."

:Good. I'm glad that Bobby wasn't able to destroy you or me. We are better than him.:

I was a little worried about her words, but decided to leave it to her counselor. As I was leaving the hospital, I got a call from Yancey.

"Originally, I'd only scheduled you to start next week, I know, but could you come in tomorrow? One of my other employees had something come up, and won't be able to make it."

"Sure. I can do that."

"Will you do me a huge favor?"

"What. . .?"

"Come dressed like you did for Gothplosion?"

I laughed, "Sure, I can do that."

"See you tomorrow, Yancey."

"See ya, 'Desi'."

I drove home. "Hey, Etch, Yancey wants me to dress full blown stage Desdemona tomorrow."

She giggled at me. "Make sure you take my camera. I want photos."

"Fine, I'll get photos." I tried to sound put out, but I smiled at her.

I made sure she was comfortable, and waited on her hand and foot. It was getting late when I got a call from Richard.

"More bad news with iTunes?"

"Nope, good news this time. Your songs are selling well. You've been downloaded almost three hundred thousand times as of this point. I made sure the naming and organization was proper this time, and so did my publisher. We're golden this time. That's just over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars gross."

"Wow."

"That's only the songs we uploaded this week. 'Bodies' is still being downloaded. I split off a share for Bobby and Jake from those. I made sure that your purchases came from your share, and theirs came for their respective shares. That's why I hire accountants. After we take out shares for Guthrie and Davey and myself, including the sales of the video and 'Bodies', You have just over a hundred thousand dollars."

I was shocked. It had taken my mother, father, and I all saving what we could afford sixteen years to gather the money in my college fund.

I'd earned more than that signing in less than a month.

"Um, Richard, do you do accounting work for me, or am I going to have to hire a money manager or something?"

"Well, since you're almost family, I can help you out. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking of tossing half of it into my college fund, putting ten thousand in my checking account, and then investing the rest somewhere, but I'm not sure where yet."

"Ok, I'll contact some brokers and see what I can find out regarding good investments for you."

"I don't want anything too risky. Just something that will give me a good return."

"Yeah, after your behavior and choices, I don't think it's going to be too difficult to get your emancipation extended."

"Hush. I still have to finish high school."

"You better put some effort into it, according to Gretchen."

"Yeah, I know. It just seems like there are better uses for my time."

"Can I give you some advice, Keith?"

"Shoot."

"Decide why you're doing it. Figure out where you want to go to college. You have enough money in there to pay for most four year institutions in the nation. Figure out where you belong, and get yourself there."

"Yeah, maybe I should apply to Juilliard."

"Why not?"

"I'd never get it."

"With how good you are on the guitar? I happen to know you could do classical guitar, Jazz studies, composition, voice. . ."

"Wow. . .that would be cool. Me, at Juilliard. In three years, Desdemona might be an ancient memory, so that might be a great place for me to be."

"Keep it in mind. Figure out what you need to get there, and do it."

"Ok, thanks."

I hung up and looked at Gretchen. "So, how would you like to live in New York for a few years?"

"Maybe I'm going to college somewhere else?"

"Like where?'

"BYU?"

"You can go to BYU?"

"Sure, as long as my pastor gives me an endorsement."

I chuckled at this. Well, that would be cool. "Well, time to go to sleep, Etch. See ya tomorrow."

I went to bed and actually dreamed of Juilliard. It would be something to try out, definitely. Juilliard would prepare me for a real career in music, after my band went the way of most bands: fade into obscurity.
***
I caused a sensation. I made sure to bring my marker with me, and I signed a lot of shirts, one or two chests, and even a breast. I did my best to touch as little as possible, but no contact is impossible.

^#32 It may be transitory, but it's memorable, Desdemona.

I took a picture after I was done. I wanted to remember that one. The girl, a pretty blonde, asked for a copy and gave me her email address. She winked when she gave it, and the reason she asked me to sign that part became clear.

I'd have to get a Desdemona email address. Preferably one with industrial strength spam filters.

Toward six o'clock, as the crowds were thinning, I felt a tug on my skirt.

I looked down and saw a cute little girl standing there. I crouched down to her eye level. She couldn't have been more than six or seven years old.

"Hi, Honey, how can I help you?"

"Nice miss clown lady? Can I come to the circus with you?"

"I'm not from the circus, Honey."

"Oh." Her face fell, and she looked like she was going to cry, "Daddy always told me if I was bad he would sell me to the circus. I think going to the circus is better than being good."

"Don't you want to go back to live with your Daddy?"

"Please, miss clown lady, don't make me go home with Daddy."

"You can call me Desi."

"Ok, Dizzy."

I smiled, but didn't correct her. I looked up and saw Yancey standing over us.

"Hey, Yance, I think we have a lost girl."

She completely broke down, "I thought you'd protect me!" She wailed, and a man materialized out of the crowd gathering at the front of the store.

"There you are, Celia. It's time to go home."

The second he touched her, she screamed.

"Yance, call the police. I think we need someone better suited than us to sort this out."

What in the world did I get myself into this time. I just went to work to earn some money. Sure, at this point I don't really need it, but I like the store. Now, I've got a little girl turning to me for help, and acting like her father is hurting her.

AM Records is trademark Ammon Monroe and both are used with his permission