Bitter's End

Chapter 1

Curt Wild stumbled out of the cab at the foot of the Empire State Building. It had been years since he’d been this far into New York City. Of course, it had also been years since he’d had a purpose other than to get drunk and feel sorry for himself. It was too late to back out now, and he knew he had nowhere to run. Curt was nervous as hell, and not sure he could go through with his plans without having a massive stroke.

It was late February, 1992. He was forty-five years old, and looking every day of it. The decades of bright lights, hard life, and even harder drugs and booze had taken their toll on him. He looked horrible. True, his blonde hair still glittered as brightly as it had in 1972, but here he was, middle aged and going through a midlife crisis to beat the devil.

On autopilot, Curt stalked down two city blocks, his tight jeans catching the attention of several young girls on the streets. As he glanced at the faces, he thought a few of them had hints of recognition in their eyes. But then again, he thought, that could just be the cold.

Stopping in front of one of the taller buildings, he shook the powdery snow off his head and shoulders, and looked up at the door. Pop Idol Magazine/McKenzie, Smith, Lawson, and Sladen. An entire high-rise devoted entirely to two businesses. Curt assumed that meant these two ventures were both very well-to-do.

Sladen. That name caught Curt’s attention. It seemed very odd that this particular name should show up on a building that belonged partially to Arthur Stuart, the man who destroyed Brian Slade’s career. With a shrug, Curt pushed open the massive glass double-doors and stepped into the sterile warmth of the lobby. At the far end of the room, a gum-smacking blonde sat at a desk, filing her fingernails.

“Help ya?” she snorted with her thick Brooklyn accent. Curt smiled as well as he could under the circumstances and stilled his frozen, chattering teeth.

“Arthur Stuart, please.”

“Have an appointment?”

“N-no…just tell – “

“If you don’t have an appointment, you can’t see him,” she growled rather nastily. Curt rolled his eyes.

“Just buzz up and tell him Curt Wild is here to see him.” Curt pulled off his hat and let his hair fall into his face. The girl started to snark at him for the second time, and as she glanced up the words died in her throat. Shock crossed her face and her mouth fell open in an awe-struck gawp.

“Yes sir, Mr. Wild.” Curt grinned in spite of himself. Finally, a fan.

Curt looked around. The walls were bare white painted plaster except for framed blow-ups of many of Arthur’s magazine covers. They lined the walls up and down, starting with the first cover. Led Zeppelin, from 1978. It was very simple, and on newsprint. Black and white. As the covers progressed, they grew more fancy and more colorful. They moved from newsprint to weighted white paper, then to magazine stock. There was an issue from the mid-eighties with Curt’s picture on it. “Curt Wild: The One that Got Away.” Curt remembered that interview… some dopey Brit kid named Alex had followed him around London for two days, asking the stupidest questions imaginable. But he’d had a girl with him, and they had been from Pop Idol Magazine…sent by Arthur.

The last issue was leaning against the wall, having yet to be hung. On the cover in large letters was “1972: Remembering Glam Rock in the U.S. and Britain.”

“Mr. Wild,” a smooth female voice called out. Curt turned around. A vaguely familiar face smiled back at him. “I’m Cynthia…Mr. Stuart’s assistant. Follow me, please.”

The rocker followed the girl into the elevator, wondering where he had seen her before. Something about her brought back a blink in his past, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He thought so hard that he lost track of where he was and what he was doing, and when the elevator dinged on their floor, he had no idea why he was there.

“Curt!” a snotty Scottish voice barked over the humdrum of the office. Curt looked up, and suddenly it clicked into place. Alex Law was calling out to him over the top of his corner cubicle. Cynthia, the girl escorting him in, was the photographer from the interview. A reminiscent smirk crossed his face.

“Hello, Alex,” Curt drawled. He smiled and looked down at Cynthia. “So, how’s the photography coming, Cyn?” Her eyes went wide and she smiled from ear to ear. He had remembered her. Her smile caused his to widen even more, and he felt genuinely happy for a brief moment.

“Great…wonderful. After that interview, Arthur gave me the cover assignments for most of the issues. I guess I should thank you for that…”

“No problem.”

“Well, Arthur is in a meeting right now, but if you can wait ten minutes or so, he’ll be finished.”

“Sure.”

Cynthia scurried off toward the large teak doors opposite the elevator. Curt couldn’t help but feel very proud of Arthur and everything he had built. At least someone from that horrible era made something of himself other than a fool. Of course, he never had been able to get away from the music industry altogether. It was the vice that bound them all to each other whether they wanted to admit it or not.

Curt sat down in one of the plush armchairs near the office and leaned back against the wall. His anxiety had grown a thousand times worse since he entered the building, and now he felt like he was going to explode.

“How are you, Curt?” Alex smiled down at him.

“I’ve been better,” he growled back a little more harshly than he had intended. Alex just continued to smile his same stupid smile. It seemed that nothing got through to him.

“Haven’t heard much from you lately. Give up on music?”

“No…just taking a break from it.”

“When’re you gonna give me another interview?”

“When’re you gonna ask for one?” The two squared up against each other like they were preparing for a verbal war, but instead they just laughed.

“I’d love to interview you again…find out what you’ve been up to these past few years.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Curt grunted at the bubbling Scot. It still amazed him how closely they resembled each other.

“Is’at you’ brothah, Alex?” one of the girls called over her cubicle. Curt winced.

“Nah…just the subject of my next interview!” he called back.

“You idiot! That’s not that moron’s brother! That’s Curt Wild!” another voice bellowed out of a random cubicle. Everyone stopped and looked at him. Gasps and whispers of amazement passed through the office, making Curt feel both excited and very nervous.

“Don’t pay attention to them…this is the first time anyone famous has ever come into the office.”

“You call me famous?”

“Hell yes!” Alex barked, his voice growing louder with every word. “You’re the one that got away! You survived the Hell-ride of the early 70’s, and most of all, you survived Brian Slade.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s an accomplishment.” Curt muttered. For the first time, Alex seemed to realize that he’d crossed the line. The rock star appeared visibly pained by mention of that particular person. They fell silent and Curt glanced over at the doors again. He couldn’t hear voices behind them, and wondered if maybe he was wrong coming in here. Suddenly, he felt very stupid.

“I wish Arthur wouldn’t hide in his office all the time,” Alex said out loud, and not to anyone in particular. “I mean, he’s such a great guy, but he stays too busy. The lawyers need to leave him alone too…they’re in there harassing him right now. Fucking bastards…”

“Lawyers?” Curt asked.

“Yeah…fuckin’ vultures…always making sure he’s not violating any laws, or snooping too far into people’s privacy or shite like that. The dirty, private stuff is what people want though! They need the details to be amused!”

“Don’t I know it,” Curt muttered, remembering all the times he’d seen pictures of his private life splashed up all over television and newspapers before he even really knew what had happened. Most of the time, his fans knew more about him than he knew about himself.

“But hey…sometimes reporters do go too far…it’s not fair that they go prying into people’s lives without their permission…” Curt shot a sideways glance at Alex…from what he knew, it wasn’t like this man to be so thoughtful. “But the people have a right to know what’s going on, don’t they? So bollocks on the ones that complain! If you don’t want people do know about it, don’t fucking do it!”

There it was…true Alex Law fashion. As long as he profits from it.

About that time, the doors cracked, and a scrawny little man with a great big briefcase came scurrying out. He looked very young and very scared. Without a word, he scampered across the office and into the elevator. Alex waited until the lift door slid shut, then barked with laughter.

“Alex…shut up and get back to work. I don’t pay you to goof off.”

“Yeah, yeah…I’m going, Arthur. Chill out.” Alex stood, still laughing. “See ya ‘round, Curt.”

“Yeah…” Curt breathed, afraid to turn his head and look.

“Curt Wild?” Arthur asked, sounding a little shocked and very confused. Curt glanced over and felt his heart stop briefly.

“Hi, Arthur.”

“What are you doing here?” He stepped out of the room, and Curt noticed for the first time that he still looked the same as he did ten years before, though he was washing his face now, and there was a little more gray in his hair.

“I…” Curt started to answer. He hesitated. He wasn’t really sure why he was there. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, right. Come in." He tried to force a smile, though the curve of his lips looked more like the quiver of tears. Curt stood on shaky legs and crossed the six feet of space between them. Careful not to get too dose, he edged around Arthur and into the large, sparsely decorated office.

"Nice...it’s very...Spartan," Curt said nervously, trying to make small talk.

"Yeah," Arthur laughed. Curt realized then that he was equally as nervous. "Too much decoration is a distraction."

"It makes people ask questions."

"Yeah."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Curt refused to turn around and look at Arthur, who refused to move from the now closed door. He ran a hand through his hair absently, squeezing the ends together before dropping it back to his shoulders. If he had been looking, he would have seen that Arthur had done the same. This is ridiculous! Curt screamed to himself. I know! I know, he, answered, but I can't help it... I fucked up.

"So..." Arthur's voice wavered.

"So..." Curt echoed. The depth of the lack of sound pulsed around them, swirling into their ears and screaming out their names, each in the other’s mind. Curt swallowed and hung his head. "I wanted to tell you something...I just wanted to say..." he trailed off. He had never apologized for anything. He never felt the need to. So he wasn't entirely sure he could do it now.

"Say what?" Arthur asked, sounding very anxious.

"To say...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you in that hotel room." He turned around and ventured a look at Arthur's face. He was completely flushed, and looked on the brink of tears. Maybe this was a mistake, Curt thought, "I've regretted that every day since it happened."

"Yeah..." Arthur replied, his eyes betraying the strength of his voice, "Me too."

"And I should have told you what I knew about Brian ten years ago...But I couldn't."

"I know," Arthur interjected quickly. "I found out that they had threatened to kill you if you talked... but..."

"But what?"

"But..." Arthur swallowed, "but I wanted to find you anyway..."

"Why?"

“I…I don't know. Trying to find myself, I guess.”

"What do I have to do with you finding yourself?"

"You were the connection to the past for me...l always thought it was Brian Slade, but that wasn't it. It was always you…spooking me back. I wasn't just some groupie, or some lost kid looking for free drugs and a little attention. I was looking for a place where I belonged."

"But what the hell do I have to do with it?"

"You were the first person to make me feel like I belonged." Curt glanced up and they locked eyes. He had prepared himself for a tirade – he had expected anger and disappointment...hatred even. But what he found instead in those eyes was regret and longing, just the same as he felt.

"I shouldn't have left...I wanted to stay, but I was so scared I'd be left behind again."

"At first I thought it was good thing that you had left too...but then I realized...the longer I went without you, the more I needed you. And seeing you on television all those times just made you feel more out of my reach. I..." he hesitated. "I didn't even expect you to remember me."

"I never forgot you. I wanted to find you, but I didn't think you'd care. I mean, you were what? Eighteen?”

“Seventeen, actually.”

“You had so much of your life to live...you had a future. All I had was my bottle of cheap whiskey and a few bad songs to keep me alive."

"I thought that if I ever did find you again, you'd think I was just that stupid, fanatical kid that wanted the glory of the rock star. I do love the music, but it was never about the glitz and the glitter for me...It was about you..."

“I thought you would hate me for leaving you there.”

“I did for awhile. Then I realized that it was something that had to be done.”

“You probably wouldn't be where you are if it hadn't happened.”

“And you might be dead.” The reverberations of voice died away, leaving the swirling emptiness to fill the void. Curt glanced at Arthur, who looked away, then quickly looked back just as Curt lowered his head again. He wanted to speak – to say something, anything, but he couldn’t find the words to express his emotions. Talking had never been one of Curt Wild’s strong points.

A sudden knock at the door distracted them from the still silence in the room. Curt smiled slightly when Arthur, still holding the doorknob, jumped. Arthur noticed the smirk on Curt's face and smiled nervously in return. He cleared his throat and turned around.

"W-what is it?" he called through the heavy doors. Cynthia's muffled voice echoed back.

"Your 2:00 is here!"

“Another lawyer?" Curt asked, glad to have the mood lightened.

“No...interview for a new go-fer. Cynthia needs an assistant, and Alex needs to be knocked down a few pegs...”

"Cyn needs somebody other than Alex to boss around, right?” Curt grinned wickedly and chuckled. For the first time, Arthur laughed out loud.

"Yeah," he giggled. "She does seem to have a way of pushing people around."

"Its not bad, though...she only acts tough."

"True...wait, how do you know Cyn and Alex?"

"They interviewed me a few years ago... remember...'The One that Got Away'?"

"Oh yeah...God, you have a good memory."

Another bang on the door. "ARTHUR, HURRY UP!!!"

"Yep, she's a tough one alright," Curt laughed. “Definitely a keeper.”

“Yeah...so are you gonna be around?"

“Uh...yeah. I've got a place over in Yonkers...in one of those gated community things."

“I was over there for about two years...just moved into Park Hudson here in Manhattan.”

“Yeah? Nice place..."

“ARTHUR STUART! OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!!!" "Hey...I'II see ya 'round?" Curt asked hopefully. Arthur smiled. "Sure. Be back here at 5?"

"Gotcha."

“ARTHUR!!! I’M GOING TO COUNT TO FIVE, AND THEN I’M GOING TO HAVE ALEX BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN! NOW GET OUT HERE!” The sound echoed through his office, causing Curt to shake his head and laugh harder. He remembered Cynthia’s sense of humor, but had forgotten how impatient she could be.

“Arthur, I think you’re being paged.”

“No kidding?” he replied sarcastically, smiling. “She makes a great alarm clock too.”

Curt moved across the room and out the door, his hand just barely brushing Arthur's as he pushed the heavy wood away. Outside stood a small girl, maybe seventeen, with fiery red hair and a courier bag slung over her shoulder.

"Come in, Miss Phillips," Curt heard Arthur say genially as he crossed the room and punched the button for the ground floor.

Chapter 2

Curt stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the building. Things had definitely not gone the way he'd planned. He had expected Arthur to scream at him, to throw things, to challenge his right to be there. But none of that happened. Standing here now, it all seemed childish and unnecessary. This was probably exactly what Arthur had thought about it as well. Curt had played the dialogue in his head a thousand times, guessing how it would turn out, but he never expected Arthur to be as broken up and regretful as he himself was. And what's more, Arthur wanted him to come back.

For the first time in his life, Curt Wild was completely and utterly speechless. He stared at the building in shock, wondering how and why things had gone so well. And he wondered what he had done to deserve it. Five o'clock... he was to return and possibly pick up where his life had suddenly ground to a screeching halt and left off fifteen years before.

Now, he just had to find something to do with himself for the next three hours. The anxiety had ceased, and a sense of anticipation took its place. He might finally have a chance at happiness. Smiling to himself, Curt started down the street, intending to simply wander until time to return to the Pop Idol office. Wandering, though, was never good when one’s mind was so full as Curt’s. He had a million thoughts buzzing around behind his eyes, and none of them seemed to make any sense. He needed to find a distraction, and soon, otherwise his brain might explode.

Spotting a Starbucks sign swinging in the breeze about a block down, he decided to go waste some time in there. Maybe they'd have the latest issue of Arthur's magazine. He could get a cup of coffee, sit down, and read that.

~ + ~

Five o'clock rolled around, and Curt was back in the elevator, as promised. Everyone else had already come flooding out into the streets. Cynthia stopped him on his way in and let him know that Arthur was still waiting for him, so he could go straight up. Curt found it hard to keep himself under control. Suddenly everything was going so right — luck was on his side, and he felt like he owned the world. His skin seemed to be the only thing keeping him from going everywhere at once. But, the decades of misery and remorse somewhat allowed him to keep himself in check. After all he'd always lost everything good he ever had.

The elevator dinged, and Curt stepped out into the darkened office space. It was black, and silent as a tomb with the exception of the small bar of light shining from beneath Arthur's door. Curt swallowed, suddenly very nervous again. It had been fine when there were people around, but now it was going to be the two of them on their own, and without supervision. He tried to tell himself that there was nothing to be nervous about, but his tingling spine and pounding heart wouldn't listen to his brain. Besides, the last time they had been alone together, he had taken advantage of the mixed-up kid Arthur used to be. Even now he was still ashamed of that.

Taking a deep breath, Curt crept across the empty room and raised his hand to knock. He paused. Something in his mind started screaming for him to leave as fast as he could. He was going to get hurt again. He was going to find that he was mistaken. He was going to be killed for doing what he did to Arthur all those years ago. SOMETHING was going to happen.

Curt lowered his hand. Then raised it again. And lowered it a second time. He could hear movement on the other side of the door; like someone was pacing back and forth. Curt realized he could hear himself gasping for breath, and was sure that as quiet as the air around him was, so could Arthur. He raised his hand to knock again, this time forcing his arm to propel his hand toward the door twice. Before he could pull his hand away completely, the door was open and Arthur was staring him in the face, a look of worried surprise in his eyes.

"I didn't think you were coming," Arthur murmured. Curt tried to speak, but found his throat completely dry and his jaw unable to work. "I thought I had dreamed you coming here.”

"No..." Curt croaked. He stopped and cleared his throat, then started again. "I didn't think you'd really want me to come back."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Arthur replied a little too quickly, and Curt smiled. They both relaxed a little.

"So..."

"So..."

"Hungry?"

"Yeah."

"Any ideas?"

"Well ...I was thinking..."

"Yeah?"

"Remember the lawyer? That's Edward McKenzie. He's the senior partner from the law firm upstairs. He's not a bad guy... just —"

"A fuckin' vulture," Curt finished. Arthur's eyes snapped up to his. "You said it yourself...earlier today." A moment of silent shock passed, recognition set in, and they both started laughing.

"Yeah," Arthur laughed, "that's exactly what he is. One of the four vultures from upstairs." He forced the laughter back and cleared his throat. "At least, I think there are four of them...I've never met that Sladen guy. Don't even know what his first name is. Anyway, I was going to say that we were supposed to be having a dinner meeting tonight at La Caravelle. He was up here this afternoon to tell me that he couldn't make it. So now I'm stuck with this dinner reservation..."

"La Caravelle? Isn't that a little expensive?" Curt asked. He never could see the sense in paying more than twenty bucks for a meal. It just didn't seem worth it.

"That's actually one of the cheaper ones he's chosen. Usually they're three to four hundred dollars a person. It's ridiculous."

"I'll say..."

"So yeah...I'm going to be charged for this reservation whether I eat or not...so would you like to join me for an overpriced and possibly disgusting dinner?"

Curt smiled. "Why not?"

"Alright…let me lock up and we'll go."

Curt was positively buzzing. So was Arthur, by the look on his face. It seemed absolutely ridiculous that they should be this way — like overeager, silly little girls. He felt like a teenager chasing after a crush. At least he knew he was alive now. At least he knew he could still feel.

Arthur ushered Curt over to the empty elevator and set the alarm as the doors slid shut. The close quarters in the cramped elevator set Curt's nerves on end. He wasn't sure exactly how he was going to deal with this night. After all, it was like a date...a first date with a one-night stand from twenty years ago, to be exact. He glanced over and noticed that Arthur seemed just as uptight, if not more so.

Evil instincts kicking in, Curt decided to have a little fun and use the younger man's jumpiness to his advantage for a little fun. Swallowing the lump in his own throat, Curt pretended to lose his balance temporarily so that when he righted himself, he was standing just behind Arthur. The journalist swallowed and glanced over his shoulder. He forced a smile at the wicked one on his companion's face and turned back quickly. Curt's smile broadened.

"So," Curt whispered half-jokingly in a husky voice, leaning dangerously close to Arthur's ear, "What kind of food is it? Gonna pick out something good for me? `Cause you know I don't understand all these strange uptown ways. I need a little…guidance. "

Arthur squeaked audibly and Curt, unable to contain himself, crumbled against the back wall of the elevator, laughing. Arthur was shaking with nervousness when he turned around. He tried to glare at the rock star, but the humor showed through in his eyes.

"It's French. And don't worry...I'll make sure you don't eat the escargot." Arthur smiled wanly at the laughing puddle of flesh on the floor. Said pile of flesh smiled back.

"That's good to know."

The rest of the elevator ride was very quiet, with the exception of Curt's occasional giggles and snickers. Arthur smiled despite himself, trying desperately not to let on that he was having as good a time as Curt was. Once on the street corner, Curt started to hail a taxi when Arthur caught his arms and tugged him toward the black limousine on the corner.

"Where are we going?" Curt asked, not catching on.

"To our ride," Arthur quipped and shoved the rock star into the back seat. "It’s much easier than fighting for a cab during rush hour."

"Where to, Boss?" the driver asked. Curt was surprised to find the chauffeur was a woman. "Dinner at La Caravelle. But home first, if you don't mind, Rae."

"Do you have time, Arthur? Its already six."

"Dinner's at eight. I think we can do it. If we have to, we can walk to the subway station from the apartment."

"Okay...but it’s your funeral," she said and raised the barrier again.

"Uhm...Arthur?" Curt asked warily after several moments, "Why are we going to your house?"

"This is a very upscale restaurant, Curt...we can't have you walk in there dressed like that."

"But how do you plan to get clothes for me at YOUR place?"

"We're about the same size...more or less. I'm sure my clothes would fit. Besides, my place is close."

"How close?"

"Park Hudson close."

"And that's how close?"

"Eleven blocks."

The car fell silent again, and stayed that way for the half-hour that it took to get to Arthur's building. Curt glanced back and forth from the window to Arthur to his feet, while Arthur stared unabashedly at Curt. Rae let them off at the gates to the building, and in they went...back into another tiny, cramped elevator with a keypad and card slot. Arthur took out a cardkey, slid it through, and punched the button for the top floor. It was about half-way up the building that either of them dared speak again.

"What made you decide to come back?" Arthur asked as they climbed to the top of the 36-story building. The question caught Curt off guard. It took him a minute to answer.

"Guilt, I guess...Curiosity..." with each word, his voice dropped until finally, "regret."

"What did you have to regret? I was just some mixed-up kid..." Arthur hung his head. "I wanted to be loved so badly...I was willing to do anything."

"Me too," Curt admitted. "Life seemed so pointless for so long. I wasn't sure I'd live to see twenty-six."

"I know how that feels. But the difference is that you were trying not to be seen while in the spotlight, and that was where I wanted to be...no matter what."

Another bout of silence ensued, and they tried not to watch each other until the elevator let them off on the top floor.

"We're here," Arthur said, barely above a whisper, and led the way across the foyer. He pulled out a set of keys and allowed them entrance to the apartment on the left. "This is it..."

Curt looked around in amazement. For one man, Arthur had a hellishly large house. It had to cost him at least five thousand a month...probably more.

"Sixty-three hundred a month," Arthur said as if reading Curt's mind. "It's a little big for me, but it serves its purpose. And it helps to have a place to hold private meetings and small parties. But then again...I don't go to many parties anymore."

"Me either...too much temptation."

Arthur started to laugh again. "I never thought I'd hear that coming from you."

"Clean for almost ten years...I don't want to start again. I wouldn't stop.

"I can understand that... I did my fair share of that shite back then too...come on." Arthur led the way into the Master bedroom, toward the walk-in closet, completely without thinking until he entered the room with Curt on his heels. There was an awkward moment where they both had the same thought that scared the hell out of them, but it passed quickly as Arthur darted into the closet area and pulled open the doors.

"Uhm...I'm not going to have to wear some monkey suit, am I?" Curt asked, looking worried. Arthur laughed.

"Oh...no, what I've got in mind is more to your speed." Curt looked even more worried. Arthur laughed harder as he dug into the back of his enormous, organized closet, disappearing behind the rows of black, gray, and tan business suits. This world seemed so far away from 1972... It felt like a place Curt knew he didn't belong.

It was several minutes before Arthur resurfaced again, holding a box that contained several hanging bags. Curt looked curiously at it as the younger man opened it up and started pulling out clothes. Many of the clothes in the bag were women's cuts, and he could almost feel Arthur's face flushing as he went through the items. He could tell that these clothes hadn't been touched since the very early eighties at latest, and to look at them now was thoroughly embarrassing.

"I know it's in here somewhere," Arthur muttered, flinging brightly-colored clothing from one end of the closet to the other.

"What are you looking for?"

“My party suit,” Arthur replied distractedly. He continued to throw clothing across the room. Soon, he found what he was looking for... at the very bottom of the last bag. On a hanger was a pair of purple velvet dress-cut pants and a matching dinner jacket. The sliver lamé shirt hanging inside the jacket had a very medieval feel to it, being covered down the front and at the cuffs with ruffles. "Here, try it on. It looks like it'll fit you. I think your shoes will do fine. It’s just the jacket they worry about anyway."

Curt hesitated slightly, then turned and disappeared into the large bathroom. For some reason he found he couldn't bring himself to change right there in the closet. He'd never had a problem showing off his body to anyone before... but all of a sudden he was having this attack of modesty.

Sticking the hanger up on the towel rack, Curt slowly peeled off his clothes and crawled into the ones he had been given. Surprisingly, the pants fit perfectly. They were about half an inch too long for his taste, but he could deal with that. They were form-fitting, but not so much that it was painful. The silver shirt was a beautiful contrast to the velvet, and the dinner jacket was a perfect fit.

Curt looked up in the mirror and realized that if he'd had short hair, he'd have looked like one of the lawyers in the building of Arthur's. On the way out the door, purely as an afterthought, he pulled his hair back with the rubber band he'd had around his wrist all afternoon.

Taking one last breath, Curt flung open the bathroom door and stalked out, trying not to show his approval of the outfit. Arthur, on the other hand, was not the least bit worried about showing his pleasure at seeing Curt Wild all dressed up for the first time in years. A large, catlike grin spread across his face, and he started to laugh as Curt tried not to do the same.

"It looks great," Arthur laughed. "Better than it ever did on me." Curt said nothing. He noticed though, that while he was wrestling with his own clothing, Arthur had changed out of the businessman's costume and into something a little flashier himself. He was obviously well-known, so Curt wasn't sure how people were going to react to seeing Arthur Stuart dressed so loudly.

He wasn't sure he could keep his hands to himself.

"So... dinner?" Arthur asked, and Curt nodded, not trusting his tongue to speak quite yet. They turned, and together headed back downstairs and to the subway.

8:00 on the nose and they were walking into the quietly busy La Caravelle. Men in tuxedos escorted women in glitzy gowns while men in business suits sat crowded around tables eating pasta with chopsticks. Maitre D's were given large bills to seat people walking in off the street. Curt and Arthur were getting hard, disapproving glances from the other patrons.

Sensing Curt's uneasiness, Arthur leaned closer and whispered, "Don't worry about it...l know the owner and I hold fifty percent of the company's stock. They won't say anything."

Then, just as he finished speaking, "Ah! Monsieur Stuart, it fait se beau de vous revoir! 'Oo is jour friend?"

"Thank you, Armand...this is Curt. He will be dining with me tonight."

“Oui, monsieur...zis way."

They were led to a dark corner of the restaurant and seated at a large table — one to hold at least six people. Having never before been in such a place, Curt was amazed...until he picked up the menu.

"Arthur...what the hell does this thing say?" Curt hissed, feeling his head swell.

"Its French. We'd already made reservations for the seven-course meal, so don't worry about the menu."

"Okay..." Curt wasn't too sure. "Arthur...where are the prices?"

"Don't worry about it... its pris-fixe."

"Pre-what?"

"Pris-fixe... fixed prices."

"Oh...okay. So how much is it?"

"Do you really want to know?"

“Yes.”

"Sure?"

"YES!"

"Quiet down, Curt! Don't yell!"

"Just tell me how much the damn meal is!"

"$110. Base price."

"For the whole meal?"

"Each." As Arthur said it, Curt choked. He had never eaten a meal that expensive in his life.

"This is ridiculous!"

"I know...just go with it. Its going on McKenzie's tab anyway...I'll squeeze him for the money later. And he'll regret ever wanting me to set this up...l didn't want to come here. I'd have been happier with beer and pizza myself...but N0000..." Curt nodded in agreement and the pair started giggling like little girls again. They had much trouble reigning themselves in when the waiter came to find out what they would be drinking. Arthur ordered, and Curt had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

Two minutes later, the waiter returned with a bottle of wine and a plate of little black things that reminded Curt of fish brains.

"No... they're fish eggs," Arthur corrected when Curt voiced his disgust.

"I'm NOT eating those."

"Just try it...I've never had caviar either." More bravely than he expected, Curt sucked it up and tried the slimy looking stuff with Arthur. And one bite was more than enough for both of them. Curt, trying to get the flavor out of his mouth, drank half the bottle of wine straight, much to Arthur's chagrin. "Curt," he spluttered, trying to sip his own instead of guzzle it, "that was an eighty-five dollar bottle of wine you just drank.."

"Yeah? It sucked."

"Most expensive ones do."

"How 'bout a cheap one next time?"

"They don't have cheap wine here."

"Beer?"

"Nope."

Water?

"D'you like soda water?"

"HELL NO!"

"Then no.” Another five minutes passed, and the waiter brought out a small plate with what appeared to be tuna and seaweed on it. They both stared at it in disgust. Braving it, though, Curt tasted a piece of the fish and found it to be infinitely better than the caviar. Arthur tried it too, very careful to avoid the green stuff.

How do people live on this shit?" Curt asked as he tried to pick a chunk of fish out from under a seaweed leaf without touching it..

They don't...they starve."

"I can see why. Yuck."

When they had depleted the plate of fish, the waiter brought out the next course. Another plate came, and on it sat two lobster tails with some strange purple sauce on them. Still laughing about the seaweed tuna, they each took a tail and dug in. It was actually very good. It had a rich flavor, and aside from the watercress, they enjoyed it.

"There wasn't enough of that," Arthur commented as the waiter came to pick up the plates.

"Yeah," Curt agreed, "this eating in shifts is for the birds." They continued to laugh until the next course came, paired with a bottle of wine. Neither one was sure what it was, but Curt instantly recognized the greens as Sumac, being very much allergic to poison Sumac. "Are they trying to poison us?" he asked quietly, picking through the plate of strange-looking salad.

"I think so," Arthur replied, forking something that looked like lettuce and tasting it. It tasted like grass.

"I'm not a fuckin' rabbit," Curt growled, and earned disapproving looks from the people at the tables around him. Arthur had to slap both hands over his mouth to keep from giggling. Subsequently, not too much of the course was eaten by either one of them. It wasn't because it didn't taste good...it was because it looked horrible.

“But Curt…this is fine cuisine! These are delicacies!” Arthur laughed. Curt rolled his eyes.

“Delicacy, my hairy white ass! It’s crap on a plate!”

“Curt!” Arthur hissed, “Not so loud!” Curt looked around and found he was once again the center of attention…only this attention was not the good kind. Most people looked like they were ready to throw him out on his nose. He blushed slightly and lowered his voice. In fact, he remained silent until the next course appeared.

Next up was yellowtail with some strange citrus glaze. This was pretty, and it smelled good. To both Curt and Arthur, this seemed like a winner. They both dug in, surprised by the exotic taste, but still thoroughly enjoying the relative normalcy of the flavor.

"It's about time we got some real food!" Curt mumbled though a mouthful of fish. When that was done two minutes later, each was given a good-sized tenderloin with yams. Again, Arthur commented that it wasn't enough.

Finally, dinner was over and they were to the dessert. And they had no idea what it was. But it was good. Arthur threw down a credit card when the bill was brought, and it wasn't until after the waiter returned that Curt saw the bill — totaling $457.93.

Once outside, Curt stopped and turned back to the restaurant. Then he looked at Arthur and laughed. “That is the WORST meal I have ever eaten."

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

"Arthur, this is ridiculous," Curt hissed as the two lawyers took their seats. "They're fucking stiffs!"

"I know...just go with it," Arthur pleaded.

"That's an...interesting...suit, Mr. Wild. Armani?" McKenzie asked.

"Fairy."

"What?" Arthur asked, choking on his water. "Jack designed it?"

"Yeah. It was one of his first."

The disparaging looks from the two lawyers and other patrons of the restaurant didn't faze Curt in the slightest. He kept his chin up and his mouth going despite what everyone else said or did. He wasn't about to be intimidated, especially when intimidation was what he was so very good at. It would look bad to be beaten at his own game.

By the look of the menu, tonight's dinner wasn't going to be nearly as bad as the last one. At least here, Curt could read the menus. Sort of.

"So, what'll it be, gentlemen?" the waiter asked, winking slyly at Curt.

"How 'bout you on a plate?" Curt asked, and the young man instantly blushed. Arthur laughed. It was about time someone got into these places and shook things up a little. And Curt Wild was just the person to do it.

"Maybe later, hon. How 'bout dinner?"

The two lawyers shook their heads and glared at Curt, who went on as if he were the only one in the restaurant.

"I want the crab to start, then Lobster as my main course."

"And for dessert?"

"That bittersweet chocolate caramel thingie."

"I'll see that you get a bittersweet chocolate caramel thingie, then," the waiter quipped, and Curt laughed his trademark raucous laugh. The lawyers ordered a service of caviar, to which both Arthur and Curt made faces. One ordered the duck, and the other the halibut, while Arthur asked for the sirloin.

Dessert was another matter entirely. Arthur requested the Caramelized Hazelnut Pyramid, while one lawyer asked for the cheeses and the other for the White Chocolate Bavarian.

"How the fuck can you eat vinegar for dessert?" Curt asked, thoroughly disgusted.

"Very easily, Mr. Wild," Lawson retorted indignantly.

"So...we're here tonight to discuss this audit of yours and what you plan to do about it, Arthur," McKenzie stated, putting an end to the snippiness.

"Yes. And I have brought with me the subject of my newest cover story. Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Curt Wild." Arthur said his name loud enough so that at least half of the restaurant heard him. The people that recognized the name stopped what they were doing and turned to look, each wanting a glance at the rock star. As if he were a normal person, the lawyers went on.

"Edward McKenzie."

"Bill Lawson. Stevan Smith and Timothy Sladen are also somewhere in the restaurant tonight. They are the other partners." Curt and Arthur glanced at each other nervously. That name was a little too familiar to both of them.

"Have you met Tim, Arthur?" McKenzie asked, "He's from London, just like you."

"I have the feeling I have," Arthur said through gritted teeth. It was obvious from the look on his face that Curt was thinking the same thing. Brian.

"That isn't important, Ed," Lawson went on. "What IS important is that you find out what happened to all of that money you're missing. If you don't, the IRS is going to throw you in jail."

"For what?!" Curt barked, making a woman at one of the neighboring tables jump. "He hasn't done anything!"

"Curt," Arthur said, resting a hand on his knee under the table, "Somehow, almost $700,000 is missing from the company account. I don't know what happened to it. The IRS seems to think that I'm hiding it from them, but they can't prove it yet. If I can't find out what happened to that money by the end of this month, they'll shut down the magazine and I'll go to prison."

That's fucking ridiculous," Curt growled, draining his glass of wine and reaching for the bottle. Arthur grabbed it just before he could get hold.

"I know. That's why I'm here with Ed and Bill tonight. We're trying to find out what happened to it."

"There's a leak in one of the departments," McKenzie said matter-of-factly. "Someone is spending that money and not writing it down. It’s being done in cash, and its being done when there's no one in the office."

"How could they do that?" Arthur asked. He was confused.

“How many people have keys to that office?"

"All of them."

"How many of them have passcodes for the security system?" Ed asked.

"Do they have separate passcodes, or do you all use the same one?" Curt asked over the top of the lawyer.

"The same one. It’s easier that way."

"There's your problem," Curt cried out. "You could check with the security offices, but they'd only be able to tell you when the person was coming in...they wouldn't be able to tell you who it was."

"Arthur," Lawson said, joining the conversation for the first time, "You've got to stop being so trusting. Just because they're your employees doesn't mean they’re your friends. It doesn’t mean they won't use you if given the opportunity."

"He's right, Arthur...they could all be working against you and you'd never know it," McKenzie added.

The conversation lulled as food started to come. The caviar was even more disgusting looking than the last one they'd had, so Arthur and Curt stuck to the crab. The dinner to follow was fabulous, as was the dessert. Curt had never tasted such good food before. When the bill came, he wasn't the least bit put out when he saw that it came to a grand total of $769.82. Especially since he wasn't the one paying for it.

After dinner, the group had Rae take them to the office so they could start going through the budget files. The spirits were high, and even Curt was having a good laugh with the lawyers. He and Arthur had started talking about the past... about the day when Tommy Stone was exposed. Curt found he could still remember every word of that exposé.

Even the elevator seemed less cramped than normal. The four men were enjoying themselves and the lighthearted banter, but it was soon to be ruined. When they reached the Pop Idol financial floor, they were surprised to find the lights on, and the financial secretary going over records with one of the two missing lawyers.

"Shannon...what on earth are you doing?" Arthur demanded as they stepped out of the elevator.

"Oh! Mr. Stuart! Mr. Sladen called me over to find a figure for him. He's got an idea as to where the money has gone."

"Really?" Curt asked, stepping out from behind Arthur. Shannon's face went dead white. "Wait," he said, tilting his head to the side, "don't I know you from somewhere?"

"No...l don't think so," she replied nervously, her smooth British accent shaking with anxiousness. It filled his ears familiarly.

"Hmmm...I guess not...you wouldn't have been around while I was," he replied, falling back.

"W-we were j-just finishing up. I'm going home now, if that's okay with you, Mr. Stuart."

"Sure. See you Monday, Shannon."

She scurried past him, followed by the only lawyer from the firm that Arthur had never seen. As he passed, Curt caught his arm and looked him in the face. The face was completely unfamiliar. But the eyes... he snatched his hand out of Curt's grip and scrambled into the elevator, slamming the button until the doors closed and whisked him away.

Arthur happened to glance back. The look on Curt's face was enough to frighten him to the point where he grabbed the rock star's arm and took off up the stairs, into the safety of his office, and away from the lawyers.

"What the hell was that?" Arthur asked once he'd managed to calm Curt down enough to get him to sit in the chair.

"I know where your money is going," Curt blurted suddenly. "What?"

"Shannon."

"What about Shannon? She's never done anything wrong, and she's been here as long as the lawyers have." Curt listened intently. When he tried to get to his feet, Arthur pushed him back down into the chair. “She wouldn’t do anything wrong…especially not since I pay her salary.” Curt simply shook his head. "What is it?"

"Shannon...don't you recognize her?"

“Yeah, she’s my bookkeeper.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“No.”

"You destroyed her career, Arthur."

"No I didn't..."

"Yes, you did. Think back to the day you blew Tommy Stone's cover...the day we talked..."

"You remember that?"

"OF COURSE I remember that! But that isn't the point! She was the PR slut working for Tommy Stone!" Curt pushed Arthur out of the way and stood up. As was his nervous custom, he lit a cigarette and started pacing the floor. "Timothy Sladen is Tommy Stone is Brian Slade...Don't you get it? Don't you see the resemblance in the names?"

"Well, yeah...it did seem a little strange, but Shannon…”

"Look at his eyes! They're the same cruel blue eyes..."

"How can you be so sure?" Arthur snapped. He still wasn't convinced.

"I've looked at them enough. I'll never forget those eyes. Ever."

"The girl working for Tommy Stone was named Sharon. She had brown eyes, not blue."

"Sharon...Shannon...its all the same!!! You can get contacts to color your eyes! I KNOW her! She was the one following Brian around...the one that Jerry was always slobbering over!"

"She's not old enough to be the same person."

"Shannon was only seventeen when they dragged her into the mess."

"She's only 35."

"No...she's 37. She lied on her application. You didn't run a background check, did you? If you had, you'd find that she's not who she claims to be."

"It can't be...

"IT IS!!!" By now, Curt was furious. He was screaming at Arthur, who was refusing to listen to him. He was chain smoking, and dying for a drink. Hell, he wanted drugs.

It had been ten years since he'd seen Brian in person. Where there had always been an angry longing to touch him, now it was nothing but a deep, shocking hatred and endless pity for the man.

"Look," he continued, trying to calm himself, "you might not want to believe that sweet, innocent little Shannon in there is the one passing your hard-earned money upstairs, but that's EXACTLY what's going on. Brian Slade has managed to get himself a law degree and make partner in the firm above us. Don't you see what's happening? He wants revenge on you for destroying him a second time."

"But what does Shannon..."

"SHANNON IS HIS LINK TO YOU, YOU IDIOT!" he gasped for breath, threw down the cigarette, and caught Arthur by the arms. "She is loyal to Brian because she realizes she can manipulate him without him even knowing it. She works for him as well as you. She is here, acting as your financial secretary so she can have access to your bank statements. She's taking the account numbers and putting the money into their accounts instead of yours."

"But how'?"

"She's smart...you get the bank statements and you see the deposits...but do you ever actually check the math? It probably doesn't add up. She prints statements of her own and makes you THINK you're getting the money...but you aren't. The only money you make comes from the direct deposits that have to have your signature to change."

"I still can't believe she'd do that to me."

"You're too damn trusting, Arthur. I mean seriously, what is she doing up here on a Saturday night anyway? Shouldn't she be out with her family or friends? Surely she doesn't work around the clock."

"No, but..."

"And what's more, why don't you have a second accountant going over the books after her? Because you can't afford it or because she convinced you that you don't need it?"

"No, but..."

"But nothing. How would he get her home phone number if he's never been into your part of the building? Doesn't it seem strange that they'd be up here without informing you, especially since you'd never seen him before? I mean, don't you have a car phone that you keep on all the time? Would it really have been so hard to just call you or Rae and let you know they were here?"

The two paused and looked at each other. Arthur was still refusing to believe what Curt was saying. It seemed too unlikely...too surreal. Things like this just didn't happen outside bad Hollywood movies. People didn't just come back from the past to ruin your life because you just happened to expose a dirty little secret.

"Didn't you say last week that you'd never actually seen Sladen?" Curt asked, letting go of Arthur's arms. Arthur nodded dumbly. "If he's not on retainer, then what the hell would he be doing nosing around in your files?"

"I don't know."

"When did Shannon start here?"

"About a week before they moved in upstairs."

"Did she say where she came from?”

"She's from England. I think she said London."

"Is her last name Hazelboume?"

Arthur's eyes snapped up instantly. "How did you know that?"

"I told you...she worked for Brian while I was around. She went up to the studio by accident. She was going to an interview for a clerical position and went up one floor too far...they dragged her in and…I guess you can say they assimilated her. She's one of them now."

"But...why is she doing this?"

"TO GET MONEY OUT OF YOU!!!"

Arthur looked at Curt like he'd lost his mind. "What?"

Curt rolled his eyes. "You need to have her investigated. You're a journalist... run a background check on Timothy Sladen and find out about him. Do one on Shannon as well. If you don't believe me, I'll bring you pictures. I have several."

Arthur was completely numb. For years he'd had a smooth-running company that had never had so much as a power glitch...now that Curt had come back into his life, everything was turning upside down. It seemed odd that Curt should show up as this particular time and suddenly know so much about it from one single glance at two people when he'd only known about the problem for a day.

Things just didn't add up. There was no way something like this could have gotten past him so easily. There was no way he couldn't have known Shannon was the one doing it. But he had seen the bank statements...they HAD added up...at least, the ones he checked did. What was more, who was to say all of the lawyers upstairs weren't in on the ploy... and what about…

"You...you're working with them..." Arthur hissed, turning on Curt.

"What?"

"You were sent to distract me while they got in here and took all of my files. You were here to make me believe that nothing was wrong, and now that you've realized you've been caught, you're going to try to dump it all on them..."

"Arthur...no...wait a minute, I —"

"Arthur, no...

"Everything you've said for the past twenty-four hours has been a complete lie...its all bullshit..."

"Arthur, please...you're wrong...its not —"

"You said it yourself...I'm too trusting... Now get out..."

"Arthur, no..."

"GET OUT!!! Get out or I'll call the police!"

Curt had lost, and he knew it. Instead of trying to convince Arthur otherwise, he turned and walked away. There was no point in trying to argue it. He was going to lose anyway. And Brian was going to win again. Brian always won. He always got away.

The elevator ride was very slow. Curt was once again completely alone. On the way out the door, he passed Rae, who was in a hurry to get upstairs and get Arthur's attention.

"Curt! We've got to help Arthur! He's in trouble..." she cried, but Curt paid no attention. She tried to stop him, but he walked past her, muttering something about Arthur deserving what he got.

He had tried to help...he'd given his entire life story to a man he barely knew. He'd agreed to sit through a boring meal with two lawyers who not only didn't know him, but didn't give a damn whether they did or not. He had spilled everything he could think of as to what was happening with Arthur's financial situation. He'd recognized Brian in his new countenance and tried to warn Arthur. He'd recognized Shannon and explained what she was doing.

And in the process of trying to help, he was blamed for things he'd not known were happening until a few hours before. After twenty years, he'd finally allowed himself to feel again, and the first thing that happened was what always happened.

He got hurt.

Curt hailed a taxi. Silently, he rode back to Yonkers and the comfort and solitude of his apartment. This time there was no hope of fixing things.

All he had left was himself.

A solid month passed with no word from anyone. Curt had slipped into a deep depression. Arthur had been taken to court on embezzlement charges, and Pop Idol Magazine was being held in trust until the trial was over. Curt had caught pieces and parts of it on the news as he flipped through channels. In the end, Shannon quit working for Pop Idol — citing unfair assumptions on her person, and was instantly offered a job with Timothy Sladen when he left the law firm, saying he was also treated unfairly. That sealed Curt's suspicions. He knew then for sure that Brian Slade was out to destroy Arthur Stuart once and for all.

Edward McKenzie continued to represent Arthur as the trial dragged on and on. So far, it was all that the news stations had covered for three solid weeks. Curt was sick of it. He had been hurt for the last time. The night he was thrown aside, he swore he'd never go back, that he'd never care again.

But somehow, since he knew the truth, he couldn't help but feel involved. Deep down, he wanted to do something about it, hoping Arthur would take back the cruel things he'd said. Curt wasn't going to hold out hope though. He never got what he wanted. Ever.

Surprisingly, Curt's name only came up once in the trial. Arthur had already taken the stand, but had said nothing about what they all knew to be true. Rae had been grilled, and she had said he'd heard Sladen talking to Shannon about their plan being almost complete. She'd had her window down in the car, and had heard the whole thing, but they'd not known she was there. She mentioned that she had run into Curt and tried to get him to help her convince Arthur, but he refused to go. She also said that Arthur had refused to believe what she had heard. Either that, or he wasn't willing to admit it to himself.

Alex took the stand soon after, and managed to offend everyone in the courtroom in less than five minutes. His testimony was the strongest, though. He made it perfectly clear that Arthur was innocent, that he was a good man, and that Shannon was the biggest fake he'd ever met...a bigger one than even himself, he'd said.

Cynthia said much the same. She had also been highly suspicious of Shannon since the beginning. The more she talked, the more Shannon's name arose.

When the new girl, Amy, was put on the stand, she said that both Cynthia and Alex had told her that the financial trouble had started long before she had put in an application. She thought it was a bit odd that there was only one person doing the books, but since she was no good at math, she didn't push the question. She admitted that she didn't really know much about the situation, but from what she had heard, it all had to do with the two people everyone else had named.

That was when the entire case changed. Talk of Arthur being the crook ceased, and more and more questions concerning Sladen and Shannon arose.

When the subpoena went out for Shannon Hazelboume to take the stand, no one could find her. She had left New York City, and as far as they could find, had left the United States completely. Timothy Sladen had vanished as well. The more questioning that was done, the more the blame pointed toward those two. Still, other than that single mention from Rae Cheney, Curt's name was dear.

Which is precisely why it was such a shock when two fully armed New York City police officers appeared at his apartment door that night with a notary public and a subpoena. They explained to him that he was being called because he claimed he knew Shannon, and because he was there the night they found the two in the financial office. He was told that he could plead the fifth once on the stand, but he had to go with them peacefully, or he would be arrested for resisting an officer.

So, for the first time in his life, Curt Wild was taken to court. Surprisingly, too, because this time he actually had not done anything worth being arrested for.

That night was the loneliest one he'd ever spent. He was in a hotel room with no phone and no television. There was no one to talk to, and all he really wanted was to see Arthur. He wasn't scared — not that he'd admit to himself, anyway — but he was a little angry. He had wanted to stay out of it.

The next morning, court resumed at 9:00 am. Curt was put on the stand as soon as the defense was given the go-ahead. At first glance, he noticed that Arthur looked as terrible in person as he had on television. He really had lost at least thirty pounds, and was very ashen. The humor had gone out of his eyes, and now they were nothing more than sunken pits of misery. Curt found he felt sorry for him.

"Mr. Wild, can you please tell us where you were on the night of February fifteenth?" McKenzie asked.

"I was home that day. About 10:30, Arthur came to my house to return a few things I'd left with him about a week before."

"What were these things, if I may ask?"

"A set of clothing." A murmur passed around the courtroom. "Oh shut up. There wasn't any sex involved. We had gone to dinner at La Caravelle that night, and instead of wasting time we didn't have and going back to my house in Yonkers so I could get dressed, he loaned me a suit. My clothes were left at his apartment. But that doesn't have anything to do with where I was on the fifteenth, does it?"

"No sir. ..I suppose it doesn't," McKenzie replied, chuckling.

"So, as I was saying..." Curt raised an eyebrow at the lawyer, "Arthur told me that afternoon about the problems he was having with disappearing money. We talked briefly about it, then he asked if I'd give him an interview for the magazine."

"What did you say?"

"Booga, booga," Curt snorted. "What do you think I said?"

The entire courtroom laughed, including the judge. Curt glanced over and noticed that Arthur had cracked a smile for the first time in weeks. "I agreed, you idiot. You know that. And since I agreed, he invited me to dinner that night with his lawyers — that would be you, Mr. McKenzie, and Bill Lawson as well. I agreed, and because there wasn't really anything else to do that afternoon, we decided to go out onto the balcony and do the interview."

"Was the interview recorded?"

"Yeah. It took seven tapes. They're at my place if you'd like me to get them."

"I don't think that will be necessary. So after the interview, what happened?"

"Arthur called Rae to bring his spare suit up, and he went into the master bathroom to change while I used my own bedroom to get ready. After that, we went to dinner at Aureole."

"And after dinner?"

"Arthur agreed to take everyone back to the office so they could go over the records. I went along because I didn't really have anything else to do... When we got there, Shannon was already in there with that Sladen character..."

"What happened?"

"Shannon sounded very nervous, especially when she realized that I knew who she was. She took off out of the building in a hurry after that."

"Who is she?"

"Shannon Hazelbourne is the girl who worked as Brian Slade's personal assistant in 1972. She also worked under the name Sharon Hazel for Tommy Stone before Arthur exposed him as Brian Slade."

"What does one have to do with the other?"

"The lawyer she was with...Timothy Sladen. His real name is Brian Slade."

The collective courtroom gasped. Arthur's head was in his hands, and it looked from the stand like he was in tears. Mutters and questioning glares came toward him. No one really wanted to believe what he was saying. Curt wasn't too sure he had said the right thing...until McKenzie started talking again.

"Mr. Wild, what makes you think Mr. Sladen would do something like this to a man he's never met?"

"Because Arthur ruined his life ten years ago."

"And how did he do that?"

"Told the world that Tommy Stone was Brian Slade."

"But Tommy Stone and Brian Slade are not Timothy Sladen."

"ARE YOU THAT FUCKING BLIND?!" Curt yelled, and was reprimanded by the judge to watch both his language and his tone of voice. "Look at the names. They're too close for it to be a coincidence. Besides, I saw the man myself. It's the same person!"

"But they look nothing alike."

"That doesn't matter. Haven't you realized that there are forms of surgery now that allow people to completely change their looks?"

"But they're expensive."

"He has the money!" Curt sighed. He wasn't getting anywhere like this. "Look," he started again, as calmly as possible, "This man has a hell of a lot of money. He's not after Arthur for the money... he's after Arthur for revenge. He is a cold, evil creature that will stop at nothing to get what he wants, and what he wants is to see Arthur fail. Check the records... he's probably changed his name to Timothy Sladen. And that little bi...witch, Shannon...she's still right on his heels. SHE was my first clue...then I saw the man myself. It IS Brian Slade. I have never been more certain of anything in my life."

"And did you or did you not try to warn Mr. Stuart of the problem?"

"Yeah, I did."

"What did he do?"

"Accused me of working with them."

"And why was that?"

"He said I shouldn't know so much about what was going on...but he told me earlier that day what had happened...and I would recognize those two anywhere, and in any disguise. Brian Slade and Shannon Hazelbourne should be on trial here, not Arthur. He hasn't done anything wrong."

When Curt stopped speaking, the courtroom was dead silent. No one dared to move, much less speak. Arthur's shock and fear had dissipated. He wasn't sure how these new comments would be taken, especially since they were in such a precarious position. Curt could see Arthur's fear for himself had turned to fear for him.

After a moment's time, the judge called the bailiff over and whispered something over the dais. The man on the ground nodded and turned to the back room. The silence continued for another five minutes. Even the court reporter has stopped her typing to join in the hush that had befallen the room.

Somewhere in the back, a woman coughed. Someone else shifted in his seat. A rustle of papers from a juryman. The bailiff returned a moment later, equally as silent.

"If the defense has no further questions, I give the witness to the prosecution," the Judge said in a muted tone. McKenzie sat down and Arthur sighed loudly as the opposing lawyer — one Saunders Kavanaugh by name — stood and Strode toward him.

"Mr. Wild," he boomed, his southern accent thick as honey, "What makes you think this court will believe that your story is true?"

"Because I've never lied to anyone about anything."

"Your background doesn't seem to be too clean," he chided, and Curt scowled. "Several arrests for arson, theft, and indecent public acts. Mr. Wild, it is also a widely-known fact that you are indeed a homosexual."

"And what the hell is your point?" Curt growled, and received a hard look from the judge.

"My point is, that you may not be the most trustworthy person in the world. What's to say you haven't made up this elaborate story to pass off the disappearance of the money on someone else because you're trying to get Kudos with your little crush over there?"

"My WHAT?" Curt bellowed, eyes narrowed.

"Your crush... your fucktoy... your little boyfriend over there."

"OBJECTION, Your Honor...he's badgering the witness...and what does sexual orientation have to do with anything?"

"Sustained."

"I withdraw the statement," Kavanaugh continued. "You have a criminal record, Mr. Wild. You also have a personal grudge against Brian Slade. It is entirely possible that you could be mistaken. In fact, it is very possible that you are mistaken. You said yourself that Timothy Sladen looks nothing like Brian Slade...but Brian Slade is not the topic of discussion...that would be Arthur Stuart."

"Look, you shit...Arthur hasn't done anything. He is the most trusting, good-natured person I have ever met... and probably the best friend I've ever had. I am telling you what I know because — you're right... I am trying to suck up to him. I don't want him to go to prison. I don't want him to fail. I want to see him happy and successful no matter what happens to me. You can arrest me if you like — pin the whole fucking thing on me. Tell everyone that Curt Wild was the one that stole a whole bunch of money from Pop Idol Magazine because he had a moment of insanity. But know this...Arthur is innocent, as am I. If you leave Sladen out there, this is just going to happen again. Then worse things will happen. And it will all be because you're too damn stupid to listen to me. If you want to catch the real criminals, go find Brian Slade."

Once again, the courtroom fell silent. No one even so much as moved this time. Curt Wild had just told off one of the most prominent lawyers in New York City. He had declared that Brian Slade was back again, and that while he knew what was going on, he was innocent. It all added up perfectly, yet at the same time, it didn't add up at all. Without a word, the judge got the Bailiff's attention and nodded. He left the room though that same small door, then returned and escorted Curt out of the courtroom silently.

As the waiting room door was closed, Curt could hear the judge ask the defense to call its last witness. Just before the name was given, the door snapped shut and he was closed off from the proceedings.

"Okay, Mr. Wild. You are free to go. Deputy Giazzi will take you back to the hotel."

"Who are they grilling now?"

"I can't tell you that. I'm sorry." And he was ushered out the door.

Curt was curious to know what was going on back inside. He thought about ditching the cop and catching a taxi home, but he wanted to be around in the hopes that he'd catch Arthur for a minute and find out what was happening. He needed information of some sort, and he had to have it soon or he'd go insane. Just as he thought his head would explode, a hand landed on his shoulder, causing him to jump almost out of his clothing.

"Calm down, man...it’s just me," a familiar voice said from behind him. Alex Law.

"Alex...you scared the hell out of me."

"Why so jumpy?"

"Nerves, I guess."

"What did they do to you?"

"Not much...asked about the night we found Shannon and that motherfucker in the files. I think they think I had something to do with it."

"Naw...they'd have kept you in there if they thought you were part of it."

"You have to admit...I do sound like I know too much about it."

"True, but what the hell does it matter? You know Brian Slade better than anyone else in the world."

"Why the hell are you here?"

"Looking for you. I got away from the hotel when the guard fell asleep and got that information Arthur told me you said to get." Curt was shocked. Arthur had actually taken his advice. "Here it is...tell me if this adds up."

Curt looked over the filed Alex handed him. Thomas Brian Stoningham...name officially changed June 16, 1985. There was no mention as to what his name was changed to, though. Curt started to ask about it, but Alex quickly cut him off.

"Classified," he replied to the questioning glance. "And Shannon's files aren't any better. She hasn't changed her name, but her information is shite. But the one thing I found out is that she did lie on Arthur's application. She is thirty-seven."

"So what happens now? Where are they?

"I ran a criminal background check on the two of them. Brian is dean...but Shannon...in the past ten years, she's been arrested four times under four different names for petty theft. Most of the charges were reduced to a $500 fine and she was let go. The last one she served thirty days. God only knows how many other people she's ripped off." There was a pause, then "I believe you, Curt."

"So where are they?!" Curt was getting impatient.

"I don't know!" Alex yelled back. I did a check on Shannon's passport information. She's left the country but so far she hasn't arrived anywhere that I know of. She could be using a fake passport...but they'll slip up soon enough. It’s not like they didn't get enough money out of Arthur. "

"Yeah...so what now?"

"We wait for the pigs."

"This could take forever."

"True...but there's nothing you and I can do."

About that time, the officer came around to pick Curt up and spotted Alex. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, reaching for his radio.

"Calm down, man. I'm not here to hurt you or ruin the case or anything...I needed to talk to Curt."

"And what's all that shit he's got?"

"My files. Things that I think the court needs to see. I'm gonna give them to you, and you're gonna take them inside...otherwise we're gonna have a problem." Curt stood back and watched while Alex bickered with the cop and eventually paid him to take the files inside and give them to the judge. "Now," Alex said, turning to Curt, "should we get out of here?"

"Do you think we could get back into the courtroom?"

"Doubtful," Alex replied, lighting a cigarette and offering one to Curt, "They're pretty well-guarded. Alex paused, then looked over. "so, what d'you think of that new bird, Amy?"

"Huh?"

"The redhead...came in the day you were there?"

"She's cute... kinda young though."

"She's twenty-five... she keeps telling me no. Obviously doesn't know what she's missing."

"Smart girl." Curt smirked. Alex scowled.

"Yeah, yeah...l'm not that bad..."

"Yeah you are. And you enjoy being that way."

Alex shrugged. "I guess so. But where's the fun in being good?"

"Exactly."

The two stood out behind the courthouse and smoked an entire pack of cigarettes. There was an eerie silence around them, particularly because they were in downtown New York City during lunchtime. There should have been noise from traffic and car radios, as well as muttered conversations and just general city reverberations among other things, but there was nothing. Not even so much as a pigeon. It was like the entire world was standing still. When the door banged open and the officer stepped out, the pair nearly jumped out of their skin. He was smiling slightly when he handed the empty file folder back to Alex.

"Well son," the older man replied, "I think you've just won the case for your boss. They're letting him go." Alex and Curt looked at each other. They had managed to do in two hours what it had taken the rest of those idiots in the courtroom three weeks to fail at. "Are you two twins or something?" he asked after a moment of watching them.

"Yeah," Alex replied, smiling. "Come on, bro.. .lets go find Arthur."

Just as they got around to the front of the building, the press went nuts. The doors had opened and the contents of the courtroom had spilled out onto the sidewalk. Arthur was smiling, but it was a humorless gesture. He still looked absolutely miserable.

At the foot of the courthouse, Rae sat waiting in the limo. She spotted them and waved them over, indicating an easy getaway. Hoping they wouldn't be noticed too much, Curt and Alex took off to the car. Sneaking around the back side of it, they climbed in and planted themselves on the side seats. A moment later, the doors were opening and Arthur was being shoved into the car, McKenzie on his heels.

He sat down as the door slammed shut and the car started, and closed his eyes. He was finally free. Arthur sighed and opened his eyes.

And froze.

Chapter 6

"Curt!"

"Hi, Arthur."

"What the hell is going on?"

"You're free."

"I know that."

"You can go back to your life now." Arthur tried to glare at Curt, but the hollow look in his eyes left much in the way of anger to be desired. Arthur had been so drained of emotion in the courtroom that he could no longer feel. No matter how hard he tried, anger would not overcome his fear and mental exhaustion. "Do you believe me now?"

Arthur hung his head. Life was spiraling out of control around him, and he was helpless but to watch as everything he knew and loved went out from beneath his feet. He sighed and looked up again, and there Curt saw tears hovering at the corners of his eyes. The light and humor was completely gone.

"I believed you all along," Arthur said, hanging his head. "I didn't want you to be a part of this, so I pushed you away."

"Arthur, I've been a part of this since 1972. Anything that involves Brian Slade involves me to some extent. He hasn't forgotten me either. Do you realize that he sees this as a perfect opportunity to put both of us away for good?"

"It's all my fault. You were right about that."

"Stop it."

"I shouldn't have let you through..."

"Arthur, knock it off right now or I'm going to kick your ass."

"What's the use? I've lost everything. I don't have anything now.”

"You're babbling."

"It’s all gone."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Curt was getting impatient.

"The company is bankrupt," Alex broke in, "They're going to start auctioning off the machines tomorrow to pay the debts."

"The hell they are." Curt growled. Arthur's eyes snapped up to meet Curt's.

"What?"

"I'm not going to see you lose everything because of that little bastard. Rae!" He reached over and knocked on the glass to the cab.

"Whatcha need, darlin'?"

"Take us to the bank."

"On my way."

"Curt?" Arthur asked suspiciously.

"What?" he replied innocently.

"What are you doing?"

"Fixing things."

"They're not your things to fix." There was more weariness than resistance in that voice. Even had it been such, Curt wouldn’t have listened.

"Do I look like I give a damn about that, Arthur?"

"Don't argue with him, boss," Rae called out from the front of the car, "He knows what he's doing."

"I think," Alex replied, and received sharp looks from everyone in the car.

Traffic was heavier than normal, but a quick listen to the radio told that there were bad accidents on both the George Washington Bridge and in the tunnel on 1-95, so naturally traffic was backed up all over the city. The clock ticked on, and Curt grew more and more impatient with each passing second. Just as he thought he'd go insane with anticipation, there was a break in the traffic and they started moving again.

Two hours after they started out, they made it to the bank. As they went inside, everyone stopped. Over the past few weeks, Arthur Stuart had become quite the celebrity, and due to his part in the trial, Curt's own fame had been given an undesired boost. As they made their way over to the service desk, people stared unabashedly at the pair, completely unnoticing the other two tagging along behind.

No sooner had Curt forced Arthur to sign his name to the book were they being ushered into a spacious elevator by a small brunette. She smiled sweetly at them as she glanced back and forth between Alex and Curt. The two smirked at each other, but said nothing.

When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, the woman (who had earlier introduced herself as Rachel) led them over to a desk where she had them sit. She took her place behind the large oak desk and started clicking away at the keyboard in front of her.

"How can I help you gentlemen today?" she asked, her accent as thickly southern as Rae's. Curt wondered briefly why everyone he had met in the past few days was so obviously southern when they were so far North. Maybe, he thought, it was because all the northerners were moving South.

"We need to open a new account," Curt said quickly, cutting off any comment Arthur was about to make. "It will be in his name, and we're transferring money from my account."

"Curt, what the hell are you doing?" Arthur hissed, turning to him and trying to pull him over.

"Fixing the problem."

"I can't let you do that. I've already told you... its not your problem to fix!

"Shut up, Arthur."

"So new account and transfer. What sort of transfer are we talking about here, gentlemen?"

Curt looked over at Arthur, who shrugged and refused to answer. Knowing he wasn't going to be of any help, Curt turned to McKenzie and started questioning him.

"Its going to take about $600,000 just to pay the debts and get out of the red."

"Done," Curt said matter-of-factly and turned back to the girl. "Can we do that today?"

"Uhm...l can put in the request, but the money won't be available until tomorrow."

"Would we have time?" Curt asked the lawyer.

"I don't know...the auction is at 2:30... what time would the money be available?"

"If all goes well, it will be in the account when we open tomorrow."

"So...will it work?" Curt asked again.

"I think so."

"Do it." The girl started clicking at the keyboard again, entering information as fast as her fingers would allow her to type. She requested identification from both Arthur and Curt, and in a matter of minutes, everything was set up and ready to go. Curt had an extra thousand dollars transferred into the account to open it, and by the time the dock struck 3:00, they were back out on the streets.

Alex offered to go back up to the office and start calling everyone to get them back to work, and Curt forced Arthur to agree, telling him that he was too exhausted to be of any further use. McKenzie went with Alex, and together they caught a cab back over to their part of the city. Rae, always the mother-figure, pushed Curt and Arthur back into the limo and took off toward Arthur's house.

"You need to sleep, y'know," she kept saying, but Arthur was trying his best to ignore her.

"She's right," Curt reassured, getting in Arthur's face so he couldn't be ignored. "If you don't sleep soon, you're going to end up worse than you are now."

"I'll be fine..."

"No you won't," Rae blurted.

"Yes, I will."

"No, you won’t!” she cried out. "LOOK!!!"

They came up on Arthur's building just as two building security guards came out the front door, talking with Timothy Sladen. Shannon sat in a white car near the sidewalk, dark glasses covering her eyes. The three watched as the man handed one of the guards a considerably large wad of bills. Even seeing it himself, the events didn't register in Arthur's mind. He started to get out of the car, but Curt grabbed him and jerked him back in, and Rae locked the doors.

"Arthur, what the hell are you doing?!" Curt cried out, shaking the younger man gently.

"Going home."

"You can't get out of this car!" he replied, almost hysterical, "they'll kill you if you do!"

"What?" Arthur asked, still completely unaware of the danger outside.

"LOOK!" Rae shouted again before Curt could answer and pointed to where Sladen was shaking hands with the guards. "He's paid them off...They'll call him when you show up again."

"You're not going in there," Curt picked up. "Rae, let's go to my place."

"I have to get my things!"

"YOU CAN'T!" Curt screamed in Arthur's face.

"You're going home with Curt," Rae insisted. "I'll come back later and get your things, if l can get in...but until then, you're not going anywhere near this building. Is that clear?"

"Yes..." Arthur said dejectedly as the car started to pull away from the building. He relaxed in Curt's grip and fell against the seat. Curt refused to let go of him, as he was afraid he might try something stupid like jump out of the car. It seemed the only reasonable thing for a man in shock to do.

It was a long, slow drive through the thick rush-hour traffic, but they made their way to Curt's apartment, to where Rae and Curt had to all but carry Arthur. He was completely listless, and worked against them every chance he got. It took quite awhile, but they got him upstairs, and Curt had Rae put him to bed while he called over to Arthur's apartment to find out the situation.

He was told that Mr. Stuart was not home, but would be expected back later that night. He was also told that if he had any information as to where Arthur was, he was to call the high-rise office immediately. Curt thanked the receptionist and hung up the phone.

By the time he was finished, Rae had come out of the bedroom. She looked worried. "Curt, do you think he's going to be alright?"

"Yeah. It might take some time, though."

"He's not safe is he?"

"No. That's why you're going to stay with him. Nobody knows he's here."

"Where are you going?"

"Back to his place to see what's going on."

"Why you? They'll kill you if they get a chance."

"I know them. Brian's not stupid enough to hurt me in Arthur's apartment. He'd easily do away with you though."

"But why?"

"Because I'm famous." Rae started to respond, but realized that he had her on that point. The one thing they’d spent so much time trying to convince him of had finally sunk in. She also realized that she really was expendable as far as a madman could see. Nobody really knew who she was. Curt, on the other hand, could go in and come out unharmed, because of his fame. If he truly was right about Timothy Sladen being Brian Slade, then his death would prove his point.

She hated to admit it, but he was right. It was safer for him to go.

"Besides," Curt added, "when he wakes up, it'll be better if you're here. He trusts you more than he does me right now. He's less likely to do something stupid with you in the room."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

“I would.”

And he was gone.

~ + ~

It took Curt nearly two hours to get from his building to Arthur's. As the taxi stopped, he realized that the white car was still there, but Shannon was no longer in it. That left two choices: either the car was bugged with listening devices and a camera, or they were inside the apartment, waiting to get at Arthur.

Instead of risking his life and going inside, Curt walked to the corner and picked up the pay phone. Dropping a quarter in, he dialed the number for the nearest police station.

"Emergency Services, how my I help you?"

"Hi, this is Arthur Stuart," he lied, "there are people in my apartment, and I did not invite them in. I never gave them a key, and I have reason to believe they are trying to harm me."

"What is your location please?" Curt gave the woman the address and the apartment number. "Thank you, hold please." Bad elevator music started, and he vaguely recognized it as The Ballad of Maxwell Demon. It had been years since he'd heard that song, and as usual, Brian always managed to show up at the worst times.

Or maybe they were the best times.

"Okay, Mr. Stuart, I am assuming you are not in your apartment now?"

"No. I'm calling from a pay phone on the corner. A friend of mine will be waiting for you when you get here, but for now I feel like I’m in danger, so I’ll be going back to his home. If you need to see me, he will bring you to me. Please hurry."

Curt hung up the phone and waited. After about a minute, he heard sirens, and hoped they were the ones coming to him. He picked up the phone again, dropped in a quarter, and dialed Arthur's telephone number. Then, he waited for the answering machine to pick up.

"Hi, this is Arthur. If you're hearing me talk, I'm not here. Please leave a message." The machine beeped, and Curt started talking.

"Hello, Spaceboy... I know you're there, Brian, and I know Shannon is with you. She was my first clue that you're the one under all the plastic and the makeup.

"Still playing with girl-toys, Brian?

"Y'know, you've fucked up one too many times. They're coming for you now, and they will find you, I promise. You won't get away with it this time." He hung the phone up, lit a cigarette, and walked toward the gates to the building.

Just as he dropped the cigarette stub, four police cars with flashing red and blue lights came flying up to the gates where he stood. They climbed out of the car, guns drawn, and came toward him.

"You Arthur Stuart's friend?"

"Yeah."

"Are they still inside?"

"I think so."

"How do you know?"

"We saw Timothy Sladen and Shannon Hazelbourne paying off the security guards. When I called over here, the receptionist told us that we were supposed to call and tell her where Arthur was if we found out. They've all been paid off."

"If we go up, you go with us. Do you have a key?"

"Yes."

Curt led the officers up to Arthur's floor. As the elevator came to a halt, its twin slid shut. Curt could just see the blond sweep of Brian's hair as it whisked him away. Scowling, Curt turned back to the apartment. The door was standing open, and they could see straight through to the shattered sliding glass door to the balcony.

Curt, followed by the five officers, entered the apartment. It had been completely destroyed. Torn clothes were strewn everywhere, dishes were smashed, pictures torn and their frames shattered, their glass coverings having been ground into the carpet. The carpets and drapes were ruined, the glass from the balcony door spewed into all the rooms, and even the front door, he noticed, was hanging off of one of its hinges. The furniture was overturned, and the contents of every closet and drawer were dumped into the floor. Curt stood in the doorway and watched as they searched the closets and rooms. When they were all out of the room, Curt looked around at the mess. He surveyed the room, and knew something was still amiss, even in the disaster. There was something there that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Then, a small door off to the right opened, and out came Shannon, with two full bags and her head down. "SHE'S IN HERE!" Curt yelled, and instantly, all five officers were in the room.

"FREEZE!" one shouted, and all guns trained on her. Startled, she stumbled slightly and looked up, a perfect vision of panic.

"Hi, Shannon," Curt said with a wicked smile.

"Motherfucker..." she hissed as she was handcuffed and read her rights. "You might have me, but you're never going to get Brian!

"That's what you think, Miss Hazelboume," the arresting officer commented and pushed her toward the elevator.

"He's gone," Curt said finally. "He got into the other elevator just as we came out."

"Are you sure?"

"YES!" he screamed, then paused to breathe. "Look, I know these people...They're dangerous. Just because you've got Shannon doesn't mean you've got Bri — er — Timothy. He's the one you need."

"If you know them so well, where is he?"

"Hell if I know. Probably on his way to the airport."

"Let's go." They retreated from the apartment and locked the door behind them. Two officers remained on guard until the search team could get there, and Curt took the remaining two back down to their car. They insisted on speaking with Arthur, so Curt directed them toward his apartment.

The officer in the passenger's seat radioed back to headquarters and had them send out a unit to the airport, as well as have the security staff on the lookout for Timothy Sladen. Curt relaxed a little, but was still much too uptight to speak normally.

Both officers knew the situation well, as one of them had been present at the trial. They both commented that they had heard Shannon refer to her partner as "Brian." Curt insisted almost hysterically that she had just proved his entire point, but he was quickly corrected. The officers commented that while they all heard what had been said, it may not stand up in court.

Frustrated, Curt threw himself back against the seat and sat out the remainder of the drive in silence.

Chapter 7

“…so that’s all I know. We did this to keep Arthur safe.” Curt growled at the officer, who was less than amused by his harsh tone. He had been banned from smoking an hour earlier, and was not the least bit happy about that. He was having withdrawal, and he was ready for these men to leave his house. It seemed, though, that just as they appeared to finish, there was just one more question to answer. And that one more question spawned another string of questions. It was a vicious circle.

At last, the officers left, but not without posting a guard at the door. Two very large, very stern-looking men flanked the portal. Arthur was told not to leave this apartment for any reason. If he felt like he was in danger, he was to page the guard downstairs. After the trial, they said, they were taking no chances with Mr. Stuart’s life.

The door closed finally. Curt dove for his cigarettes, lit one, and sucked it down to the filter in two drags. He lit another, then offered the pack to Arthur.

“I quit doing that three years ago,” Arthur commented, attempting to push the pack away.

“I think you need it right now.” Curt offered the pack again. Arthur glanced at Rae, who was looking the other way, apparently pretending she wasn’t seeing him. With a sigh, Arthur pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it from Curt’s offered lighter.

He took a deep drag and instantly coughed it back out. Curt, amused by the sight, started chuckling to himself. Arthur began to laugh as well, a sound that was much welcome to both Curt and Rae. It still had a hollow ring to it, but at least he was in better spirits.

The laughter died away. Rae stood up and announced that she was hungry.

“I’m gonna head down to the bistro on the corner. Do either of y’all want something?”

“Yeah,” Curt responded and stood up. “Get them to send up one of everything.”

“You’re joking, right?” Rae asked, a small, incredulous sounding laugh following.

“No.” Curt pulled a wad of money from his wallet and handed it over to her. “One of everything.” Rae shrugged.

“If you say so.”

Rae started for the door, and had almost gotten it open when Curt grabbed her arm. “I know you’re just going to the corner, but take this with you…just in case.” He pushed a gun into her hand.

“Curt!” she cried, “I don’t want to carry this thing!” She tried to give it back, but he pushed her hands back.

“Take it. Just in case. The safety is on, so it won’t go off unless you take that off. I don’t think you’ll have to use it, but its good to have…”

“Just in case,” they finished at the same time.

“I know,” she continued. “I don’t want to take it, Curt.” He started to retort, but she stopped him with a hand in the air. “But I’ll do it to make you happy.” She pushed the gun down into her purse. “Is there anything else?” Curt and Arthur looked at each other and shrugged. “Good, I’ll be back.”

And out the door she went, leaving Curt and Arthur alone together for the first time in three months. A familiar eeriness settled into the space between them, and it caused Arthur to shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“So…” Curt muttered, kicking his bare feet across the carpet and shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

“So…” Arthur echoed, drawing his knees tighter against his chest. “Thanks…” he whispered, just barely audible above the noise of the traffic outside.

“No problem,” Curt responded equally as quietly. He took another deep drag from his cigarette and tossed it into the ashtray next to the door. There was an air of strangeness between them – one of unfamiliarity. They had been fine when Rae had been with them, and Alex and the lawyers. But now here they were completely isolated from the rest of humanity. Arthur felt much like a heel, and was convinced that Curt saw him as the same.

Curt, on the other hand, felt like he had unnecessarily screwed up Arthur’s life again. He felt that he had no right to be part of this, and remembered then that he had intended to stay out of it. It was the law that had dragged him into this. More specifically, it was Edward McKenzie that had done it.

Curt glanced up at Arthur, who was looking back. Arthur quickly looked away and pulled himself even tighter. He was slowly folding in on himself, and it was obvious to Curt that he was highly uncomfortable.

“Look,” Curt said, breaking the silence before they both lost their minds, “I’m sorry if you thought I was in on the plot, but I wasn’t. All I wanted was to apologize for the mistakes I made twenty years ago. I was a fool then, and from the way things have gone, it would appear that I’m still a fool now.”

“Curt…”

“I don’t get along well with other people, and I’m sure as hell not open and loving like people would expect from someone they love. But that’s just it. I am who I am and I’m not going to change that for you or anyone. I did what I did today because I had to. Don’t ask me why, but I just had to do it. I wasn’t trying to buy your friendship or your love. I don’t expect to be forgiven for anything I’ve done, and I don’t want your sympathy.” Curt stopped and took a deep breath. Arthur could hear the smoker’s rattle in his lungs even from across the room. It seemed to reverberate, like it was trying to show Curt’s true age. Curt stalked past the couch and toward the glass doors to the balcony. “I just want to see Brian Slade where he belongs, even if it means I have to go down too.”

Arthur could do naught but stare. He was hearing the one thing the rest of the world had wanted to hear for twenty years. He was hearing – and seeing, for that matter – the human side of Curt Wild. He was seeing the true, defenseless person beneath the makeup and bad attitude. There was a deep hurt and a heavy sense of regret in his words, despite the aloofness he attempted to show. It was as if Curt were for the first time discovering his humanity.

“I don’t blame you, Curt…” Arthur murmured. Curt didn’t move. “I didn’t expect you to ever come back, and when you did I was so surprised. It seemed like all of my prayers had been answered…” Arthur paused and glanced toward Curt. His head had dropped slightly, but had otherwise remained completely motionless. “It seemed like there had to be a reason…”

“There was a reason,” Curt growled and lit another cigarette.

“I know…” Arthur continued, his voice shaky. “It just seemed that with the luck I’d been having there was some sort of ulterior motive. It couldn’t just be that simple. I was so convinced that the world was out to get me that I turned my back on the one person I knew deep down was the only one that could help me.”

“Yeah,” Curt snorted, still not turning.

“But you came in after just a few days, and you knew exactly what was happening. I never would have said those things if McKenzie and Lawson hadn’t put the ideas in my head. Even they thought it was strange, and they questioned your motives for coming back. This had been happening for so long that they’d made me suspicious of everybody.”

“Uh huh…”

“Curt, please…”

The key sounded in the door, sending a click echoing across the vastness of the apartment. Curt turned for the first time, looking not at Arthur, but at the door as the deadbolt turned. He stubbed out the cigarette and turned for the bedroom. Just as the front door swung open, the bedroom door slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place.

Rae stepped in with the delivery boy on her heels. Instantly, she knew she had walked in on a bad moment. The slammed door echoed through the apartment, and Arthur had drawn up into himself so much that he looked like a child again. Naturally, Curt was nowhere to be found. She flinched as the front door pounded against the backstop, sending a warbling echo out in the other direction. She started to speak, but her reassessment of the situation told her it would be better to keep her comments to herself, at least for a minute or two.

She ushered the delivery guy into the kitchen and had him help pull all of the food out of the bags. She then tipped him with a little of Curt’s money, walked him to the door, and laid the now depleted wad of cash on the coffee table.

“Now what the hell is going on in here?” she quietly demanded of her boss. He glanced up at her and shook his head. “Oh, I get it… you tried pouring your heart out to him and it backfired, right?” Arthur nodded weakly. She rolled her eyes. “Oh good God… do I have to do everything for you, Arthur? I swear you’re like a lovesick puppy…sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t be in your best interest for me to throw a stick and let you go fetch it.” She sighed dramatically, kicked off her shoes (which made her roughly five inches shorter), and stormed toward Curt’s bedroom.

She could hear movement inside the room. Thumps and crashes resonated through the wood, and it sounded to her like things were being thrown. Lightly she tapped on the door.

“Curt, come out here please.”

“Go away!” he bellowed back, and the crashes continued. It sounded like he had something over his mouth.

“Get…Out…Here…” she demanded over the crashes.

“NO!”

“CURT WILD!” she yelled, jerking at the doorknob.

“Noooo!”

“Open this door and get your silly ass out here right now!”

“Fuck off!” he retorted as a loud crash sounded over the cries. Rae growled under her breath and turned toward the kitchen. She found two paperclips, a toothpick, and a grocery store discount card, and turned back to the door. This time, she was on a mission.

“Okay, Curt…if you don’t open the door RIGHT NOW, I’m going to pick the lock and drag you out!” She received no answer. Rae commenced to picking the lock, fiddling with the paperclips until finally she heard the quiet snap of the mechanism and the door swung open. The room was dark, but from what Rae could see, there was no sign of Curt, or of anything out of place. It almost appeared as though he had cleaned the entire room. Not entirely sure she wanted to see the results of this little spat, Rae reluctantly reached for the light switch, hesitated, and flipped it up.

The entire room was clean. It had been neatly organized and dusted – quite the opposite of how it looked before Curt had come back to the place with the police. The only thing out of place was the overturned and now broken television lying on the floor near the bathroom. This just didn’t seem right after the noises she had distinctly heard from behind the closed door. Cleaning and dusting didn’t sound like a body hitting the wall or the floor.

“Curt?” she called out. There was no answer. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and the light was off. It seemed odd that he would be sitting in the bathroom alone, in the dark, but then again, she’d thought he was out to destroy his bedroom, not reorganize the entire thing. “Curt? Are you in here?”

She pushed the door open and stepped in. What sounded like broken glass crunched under her be-socked feet. Rae floundered for the light switch in the darkness. Finding a button instead of a switch, she pushed it. Nothing happened. Turning the knob gently, the light came up like a sunrise, gradually getting bright enough for her to see that the large plate-glass window was smashed all over the bathroom floor. Curt was nowhere to be found.

“ARTHUR!!! COME HERE!!!” she yelled, running to the window. There was no blood, and from what she could see, there was not a crowd gathered at the base of the building. It didn’t appear that he had jumped, but there didn’t seem to be anywhere for him to go but down.

Chapter 8

“Where the hell did he go?” Arthur demanded, storming in across the crunching glass. Rae stood on tiptoes on a towel, leaning out of the window. The neighboring windows were closed, and the curtains drawn on all of them. It was obvious that he couldn’t go up, because there was nothing but a straight wall. Going side to side would be possible, but still highly difficult, as the balconies were more than fifteen feet apart. Whatever had happened, Curt had certainly not done it alone.

“Call the police up here.”

“What?” Arthur asked, craning his neck out the window.

“Call the damn police, Arthur! Curt’s gone!!!”

There was a moment of shocked silence before Arthur jerked into motion, reaching for the telephone on the wall. In his panic, he forgot what he was doing. He stared at the phone in his hand, wrinkled his forehead, and looked at Rae for further instructions.

“Dial the damn number!” she barked, and he nodded numbly. His fingers shaking, he punched the keys, and within seconds was connected to the NYPD.

“911. Please state your emergency.” Silence. “State your emergency, please.” Arthur listened and heard everything that was said repeatedly, but could not form words. He could hear the dispatcher in the background on the other end clearly, calling orders out on the radio.

“Gone…” he muttered.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Rae growled, and snatched the telephone out of Arthur’s hand. “My name is Rae Cheney… We have reason to believe a friend of ours has been kidnapped…yes…he’s gone… the window is broken out…no he didn’t jump…his name’s Curt Wild… yes… Wild… W.I.L.D… about 5’10”, long dirty blonde hair, blue eyes. Last time we saw him he was wearing black leather pants and a blue shirt…okay…thank you.” Rae slammed the phone down and turned back to Arthur, who had gone stark white. “They’ll be here in about five minutes. Go wait by the door.”

It seemed slightly odd that she should be ordering around her boss, but Arthur was wholly useless at this point. He was a walking vegetable, and one not capable of much intelligent thought at that. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was blaming himself for Curt’s sudden disappearance, and she knew she had to find a way to get him to snap out of it.

Arthur waddled toward the door slowly – the shock was setting in, and he did not seem to be aware of his surroundings at all. Rae considered sending him up a few floors to investigate, but decided she would rather keep him in her sights. After all, were Arthur Stuart to wander around in such a state, he may never come back.

~ + ~

Meanwhile…

Curt Wild was tied to a chair in a dark room. His body ached, his head pounded, and he could feel something wet trickling from his scalp down his face and into his eyes. He couldn’t wipe it away as his hands were bound to the back of the chair.

He could see a small bar of light coming from beneath the door, and could hear footsteps and hushed voices on the other side of the door. Both voices sounded vaguely familiar. One sounded angry. His vision was blurred, and the light at the door hazy, but he could see pale shadows of stout, stubby legs as they paced back and forth.

Then, the door opened. Curt’s eyes snapped shut and he tried to yell, but found he had been gagged as well. He shook his head, but it made him dizzier than he was. There was nothing to hold onto save the chair he was tethered to, but he still felt like he would fall. Trying to make the spinning stop, Curt opened his eyes, blinking rapidly against the bright light.

“I still think it’s a real crap idea!” a rough, British voice barked out. A voice Curt would know anywhere…Jerry Devine. Then, a tall, lean figure stepped into the blinding light. It took two steps forward and closed the door behind. A light clicked on over Curt’s head. In the small circle of fluorescence, he could see nothing but himself and the chair.

“Well, this is such a sad affair,” the slightly English-tinged voice murmured. “But I’ve opened up my eyes.” Brian Slade. Those words were once Curt would have known anywhere. Bittersweet had been the anthem for their entire relationship. And now twenty years later, it was being used against him a second time. Curt wanted to scream at him, to curse him, but with the oily bindings over his mouth, he could do neither. Much unlike himself, he sat perfectly still and stared straight ahead. “What is it, Curt? Upset because I’ve finally won?” He remained still, waiting. “Come on, you bastard… you know you want to say something… what is it?” His lack of reaction was making Brian uneasy – he could feel the tension coming from the other man.

Footsteps came up behind him swiftly. The gag was ripped from his mouth, the fabric cutting the corner of his lips deeply as it swept past. Curt opened and stretched his jaw, but continued to say nothing.

“I LOVED YOU!” Brian shouted from behind him. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE!”

“Spare me, Brian,” Curt hissed. “You never loved anyone but yourself.” A hard blow struck him across the face. Curt reeled in the chair, fighting back a cry at the pain.

“You don’t understand love!” Brian cried.

“And you do?”

“YES!”

“Please, Brian…You didn’t understand love when it landed in your lap. What makes you think you’d understand it now?”

“You don’t know anything about me!” he screamed in Curt’s ear. A ringing sound filled the space left by Brian’s voice. His eye was starting to swell from the last blow, and he could taste blood in the back of his mouth.

“I know you well enough to know that you sent thugs after me to hide all your secrets,” Curt spat. He was slapped again, this time on the other side. “I know you left your wife behind to go away with me.” Another smack. “I know you stole that pin from Jack Fairy and claimed it as your own.” Curt braced himself for another blow, but it never came. Only the sound of soft, quiet sobs closed around him.

“You don’t understand…” Brian muttered. He sniffled, straightened himself again, and started to yell. “YOU’LL NEVER UNDERSTAND! You used me to get yourself off the streets! You spent my money, stole my fans, and now you’ve ruined my life! Why can’t you stop meddling in my affairs, Curt?”

“Because you won’t leave me alone,” Curt muttered. Both eyes were swelling now, and Curt could feel himself slipping. There was one last, hard blow to his head, and the world went black.

~ + ~

Rae opened the door. Four large, fully armed police officers greeted her. They asked questions, searched the house, and took fingerprints from every surface of the bathroom. They told her there wasn’t much they could do, and left.

Disheartened, Rae sat down on the couch next to Arthur. Neither was able to speak for quite some time. The silence between them was deafening, as was the sound of New York City traffic filtering in through the broken bathroom window. Rae watched quietly as small tears rolled down Arthur’s cheeks. For the first time in her life, she was seeing the frightened little boy that Arthur once was – that Curt still remembered him to be. Her heart went out to him while it was at the same time breaking. All these months of fighting with and against the two of them had taken its toll on her as well.

It was roughly an hour later when Rae forced herself off the couch to do something constructive. She stumbled into the kitchen, looking for some semblance of food though she was not hungry and was more than certain Arthur was in no shape to be eating either. Still, it was something to do. She had her head half-buried in the refrigerator when the downstairs buzzer went off.

Nearly killing herself in the hurdle over the refrigerator door, Rae dove for the speaker panel.

“Hello?” she asked, not sure how she was to answer the intercom in another person’s apartment.

“Is this Ms. Rae Cheney?” a deep voice replied. “This is Inspector Adam Sloan. I was called in by the Yonkers precinct…may I come up.” There was a pause while Rae puzzled over what he had said. Then suddenly it clicked into place and she snapped the button.

Her anticipation renewed, Rae began to pace the floor. Arthur still sat completely still, his eyes closed, on the couch. He had barely moved, and she was pretty sure he was in shock. At least he was moving and had covered himself up with the blue chenille throw she had found in the bedroom.

Several minutes later, the door buzzer sounded. Shrieking, Rae ran to the door and snatched it open. She was expecting one man, but instead found nine standing before her, each carrying various pieces of equipment.

“Ms. Cheney? Adam Sloan.” The tall, stringy man in the lead stretched out his hand, which she took. “This is my crew. We’ll be heading up this investigation.” Rae drifted backwards out of the way while the men and women following Inspector Sloan piled into the studio apartment and began setting up equipment. They tapped phones, set up surveillance cameras, took more fingerprints, questioned both herself and Arthur for what he was worth, and finally began to make telephone calls.

Inspector Sloan explained to both Rae and Arthur that they would question the officers that took the original call, find out what they knew, and apply it to what they would find out from this investigation. It gave both Arthur and Rae a small feeling of security and optimism, but in reality, Arthur was the only one that truly knew the horrors Curt could be facing at the mercy of Brian Slade.

Arthur’s mind was racing back and forth over the events of 1972. He had run away to become more than just some scared little kid, and had gotten mixed up in the musical underworld that nearly destroyed him. He had overcome that and made something of himself just in time to fall prey to the same demons that had enslaved is eighteen year old mind twenty years before. Rae continued to buzz around him, asking him questions and forcing him to talk to the police, but he was so preoccupied with reminiscence that he could hardly concentrate on the now.

Though he had not asked for Curt to come back into his life, Arthur still blamed himself for what had happened. And now he was stuck in Curt’s apartment, helpless as a child, waiting for the police to rescue the man that had twice rescued him.

Two hours passed very slowly while the investigation team finished setting up and find-tuning their surveillance instruments. Occasionally they would ask Rae or Arthur questions, but for the majority of the time, the pair sat together on the couch, waiting for their next orders.

By 11:30 that night, everyone was exhausted, but no one dared move for fear the telephone might ring, or the “kidnapper” would come back for Arthur. But still no one moved.

“He’s not going to call,” Arthur said out loud, surprising everyone. “Brian doesn’t want a ransom. He wants to kill Curt.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” Sloan asked, snapping open his notebook.

“Because I was there twenty years ago,” he said quietly. Rae turned to him. She had never heard him talk about his past – she wondered if anyone had. “I was part of the scene in 1972. I knew Curt back then…sort of. I knew that Brian hated him…”

“Arthur? Why haven’t you ever talked about this?” Rae asked, taking his hands.

Two solid days passed before there was any sort of break. Rae had forced Arthur to go home and rest while she herself stood guard and waited for information. It was when Arthur was on his way back that something happened.

As he stepped into the elevator, it shot straight to the top, and he was nearly trampled by four officers scrambling to get downstairs. He moved out of the way – was thrown, actually – and was dragged inside by Rae, who was very excited.

“They think they know where Brian took him!” she squealed, sitting Arthur down and out of the way. People continued to run and flail around the apartment, and they watched silently until Arthur’s claustrophobia finally got the best of him. He turned around and went out onto the balcony.

~ + ~

“Do you really think you’re going to get out of this, Curt? Do you think you’re going to be that lucky this time?” Curt was now lying flat on his back, his arms and legs still bound. He had been so severely beaten on so many occasions now that his eyes were swollen closed and his jaw too sore to move. The madman above him was expecting an answer, but he found he was unable to give one. “They won’t ever find you!” the high-pitched British voice sneered as its owner kicked him hard in the side. “They’ll always wonder what happened to Curt Wild!”

“Listen, man… this is really not a good idea!” a second voice said. This time Curt clearly recognized it. It was Jerry Devine. He could not open his eyes or work his mouth, but that was a voice he’d know anywhere. “They’re going to get you. They got Shannon…she’ll talk.”

“Shut up, Jerry,” Brian hissed. “The little bitch is out of my life. I’ve been trying to get rid of her for years.”

“Just like you got rid of Mandy, right?” Curt struggled to say. It came out muffled and indistinct, but it served its purpose.

“What did you say?”

~ + ~

Rae explained to Arthur what she had been told – that Shannon’s apartment had been searched, and inside the police found several addresses without titles. One of them was definitely Brian’s apartment. That too had been searched, and inside of his they had found slips of half-burnt paper with addresses and telephone numbers. There was also an address for a man named Jerry.

“Jerry Devine,” Arthur whispered. All movement in the room stopped.

“How did you know that?” Inspector Sloan asked.

“He was Brian’s manager…and Curt’s for awhile. I met him once.”

“But why would he…” Rae started, but Arthur held up a hand.

“I’m not finished…” he sighed, shifted position, and looked up at his limo driver. “It was Jerry’s idea that Brian should fake his death. I found that out when I was still working for The New York Post. Jerry has a criminal record longer than Curt’s if you can believe it. Even when Brian Slade changed his name to Tommy Stone, Jerry still followed him, and so did Shannon. I’ve no doubt that Jerry Devine is somehow involved with this. He always was the mastermind behind Brian’s evil schemes.”

Everyone remained still for a moment, then suddenly burst back into action. Sloan was on the telephone with headquarters, and they radioed out for the units to switch course and go straight to Jerry’s house just over the state line. Behind her back, Rae crossed her fingers that something would come of this piece of well-concealed information.

Hours ticked by like days. It seemed to Arthur that no matter what new pieces of information he produced from the dark and mildewed corners of his memory, he could not lead the police any closer to where Brian had taken Curt.

In a fit of aggravated rage, Arthur Stuart walked away. He went downstairs, hailed a taxi, and went for a ride. He didn’t get far before the traffic stopped him, but at least he was away from everyone and could think clearly without someone leaning over his shoulder, ready to write down the embarrassing parts of his life. After sitting still for half an hour, he paid the driver, got out, and started wandering about the city. It was an aimless venture, and it quickly led him to the one place he didn’t expect to show up.

He found himself standing in front of his office – in front of the building that within the past week he had owned, lost, and regained. Something had drawn him here, Arthur knew, because he would not have come here of his own volition were he thinking clearly.

Strangely enough, he was also carrying his keys. So, doing what any other major business owner would do, Arthur unlocked the doors and went inside. At first, he thought nothing of the alarm not going off as he opened the door, but as he got to the panel and saw that it read “unarmed,” he began to worry. Knowing he would be scolded by both the officers and Rae for coming here on his own, Arthur decided he would not call the police, but instead investigate for himself. It seemed the only way information would actually be had.

He started for the elevators, hesitated, and went to the stairwell instead. If someone were in the building, the elevators would give too much notice of his presence – after all, they could be seen moving from any floor. And so Arthur went up, floor by floor, until he reached the first of the law firm’s offices. Every Pop Idol floor was clear and looked as if it had been untouched, even though there was supposed to have been an auction.

Then Arthur remembered that Curt had transferred all that money to save his magazine… it must have been the doing of Ed McKenzie or Bill Lawson. They were the only others that had access to that account. Smiling wanly, Arthur thanked his lawyers and Curt before turning back into the stairwell. There were another fifteen floors above him left so search, and two basements.

“If I were a psychotic ex-musician, where would I hide?” Arthur asked out loud, scanning the directory panel next to the door. “Would I expect people to look for me in the basement? Or would I go down there because everyone else would think that it would be the last place I would hide?” He stared at the directory, weighing the options against what he knew of Brian Slade…and what he didn’t know. “Well, if I’m wrong, I can always go up later,” he muttered and started down the stairs.

Nervous shock greeted Arthur as he made it down to the first basement and found that the door was not only propped open, but appeared to have been ripped off the hinges. Lights were on, but there was no real place to hide. Glancing around the door frame, he realized that they (it was obvious that Brian had help) were down in one of these levels somewhere. It wasn’t this one, but apparently this is where whoever it was had been camped out with Curt.

Somewhere above Arthur, a door slammed. Someone else was in the stairwell, and there was nowhere for Arthur to hide…except inside. Quietly, he slunk around into the other room, flattening himself against the wall as best he could. The footsteps came closer, and Arthur’s heart started beating faster. He knew the only way out would be to disarm who or whatever was coming.

He waited, watching as the fluorescent lights threw strange shadows across the ruined door; shadow that stretched as the invader came closer. Arthur tensed and hunched, ready to pounce when the figure appeared in the doorway, wielding a gun.

Arthur reached for the gun, caught it around the barrel, and took the other man to the ground. There was a tussle, and Arthur found the other man had the upper hand, particularly when the gun was pointed squarely at his own temple.

“Inspector Sloan!” Arthur cried, breathless and near hysterical.

“Arthur, what the hell are you doing here?” he questioned, flipping the safety on and helping Arthur to his feet.

“I…I’m not sure, actually,” he replied, dusting himself off. “I just went for a walk, and I ended up here…I don’t know why I came here. I just seemed like the right thing to do, I guess.”

“Well it would appear that you’ve found something,” Sloan growled. “Now that you’re here, I suppose we will continue looking together.”

“How did you know I was here anyway?”

“Rae asked someone to follow you. There wasn’t much else I could do at the apartment.”

So together they started downstairs; Arthur in the lead as they descended onto the final landing. It was obvious this door had been pried too, but it was not in as bad shape. The lock on this one still worked. There were small bars of light coming from beneath and beside the door – flickering as if candles were lit on the other side. Arthur could faintly hear voices on the other side. One sounded hysterical, the other angry.

Pressing his ear against the door, Arthur listened intently, recognizing the voices but not able to pick them out and pin them to specific people. Inspector Sloan pushed him out of the way and within moments had successfully picked the lock.

As the door swung inward, they were greeted by the sight of emptiness. The voices had moved into the other room, and Arthur was growing steadily more nervous by the second. Curt was here. He could feel it. But he could not stop himself from trembling at the thought of his only true friend bruised and broken by the one person they both despised more than any other.

Arthur and the Inspector crept into the room silently. Sloan had his gun in his hands, ready to take out who- or whatever stood in their way of getting to the rock star. And as their luck would have it, the hired help picked that exact moment to stumble back into the room. They stood stock still, waiting for him to react, but he only held the side of his head, swaying as if he had been hit.

No wonder, considering who the poor guy’s working for, Arthur told himself. There was vague recognition of the figure, but it had been nearly twenty years, and even when he raised his surprised gaze to meet theirs, it took Arthur a moment to recognize Jerry Devine. He was considerably older, though his features were much the same, less the weight.

There was no chance of a struggle, as Sloan had crossed the room and pinned the older man to the wall with one hand over his shocked mouth. Arthur watched in amazement as the officer moved silently and efficiently. Careful not to so much as graze the other objects scattered about the floor, he moved closer so he could hear the conversation.

“You are under arrest for suspicion of kidnapping, and aiding and abetting a felon,” Sloan whispered. “You have the right to remain silent, and anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand?” From under the hand over his mouth, Jerry nodded. “Now, you have one chance to save yourself. You will be granted asylum with the NYPD so long as you help us capture Timothy Sladen. Will you do this?” Again, Jerry nodded. “I am going to let go of your mouth now. If you say anything out of the way, I’ll shoot you. Do you understand?” A third nod. Slowly, Sloan lowered his hand.

Jerry’s face was sunken, as if he were unable to comprehend what was happening, but not entirely upset about it. He looked tired; like he had been dragged through a horrible ordeal. For a moment, Arthur wondered just what Brian had had this man doing all those years. With someone as sadistic as Brian Slade, though, there was no telling.

“I want out,” Jerry whispered, nearly inaudible. “He’s gone too far this time, and I’ve been trying to stop him, but I can’t. He wants revenge on you,” he added, pointing straight at Arthur. “He wants to ruin you for ruining him. I swear I tried to make him stop!” At this point, Jerry Devine was almost hysterical. He was still controlled enough to keep his voice down, but both Arthur and the Inspector knew that would not last long.

“Does he have Curt?” Arthur asked. Jerry nodded and pointed to the steel door from which he had just come through. “How do we get him?”

“I’ll create a distraction. You go in and get him,” Jerry offered. “Once he’s safe, we can deal with Brian.”

“How do we know we can trust you?!” Arthur hissed, his eyes narrowing.

“Because I’m tired of the shite!” Jerry snarled in response. “I want it to stop so I can get on with my life!”

“Look…I’ll stay with him, Arthur. You get Curt out of here,” Sloan demanded.

Quietly, Jerry hid Arthur where he would not be seen once Brian was in the room. They were going to attempt to lure him into the stairwell to give Arthur time to get to the prisoner. Maybe if he was cornered, there would be a better chance of capturing him.

Still unsure of the seemingly halfcocked plan, Arthur did as he was told, crouching behind the dusty boxes while Sloan ducked out into the stairwell. Jerry went back into the room, and a moment later came out quickly with Brian on his heels. Arthur’s heart skipped a beat as the man came into view. Though he had changed, those same cruel blue eyes still hovered before him - the same horribly beautiful eyes that hhad first drawn Arthur into the mess. A mingled wave of fondness and hatred flashed through him, and he silently begged Jerry to get him as far away as he could.

A moment later, they were heading into the stairwell, going up, and Arthur was dislodging himself from the storage containers. Without a moment’s hesitation, he snatched open the door to the vault and flipped on the light. The sight that greeted him made his knees go weak. The world started to spin before his eyes as he stared helplessly at Curt, slumped in a chair, bloody, and not moving.

An audible gasp left Arthur’s throat, and he paused momentarily before moving to Curt’s side. Curt was breathing shallowly, but was very obviously unconscious. For the first time panicking, Arthur began ripping at the ropes binding his friend to the chair. The knots were murderous, but he finally got them undone and lowered the limp form of Curt Wild to the floor.

Outside, he heard a crash and a gunshot. Feeling Curt was safe as he could be for the moment, Arthur darted out of the room and into the stairwell. There was blood on the wall above him, and he could see Brian pinned to the floor beneath the weight of the other two men. He was struggling, and bleeding.

Arthur looked around for some way to help. There was nothing he could do…until his eyes landed on the little red box next to the door. Slamming his elbow through the glass, Arthur reached in and pulled down the white handle inside. All over the building, alarms went off. Within moments, he knew there would be both firemen and police swarming the building, searching for the fire.

And there were. Before Arthur could get back into the room to check on Curt, he could hear the sirens above ground and the sound of glass shattering as people entered upstairs. He bent and pressed two fingers to Curt’s neck. There was a faint pulse, very slow and unsteady.

“Come on, Curt…don’t leave me now,” he muttered, tears seeping from the corners of his eyes. They had been through too much to have it all end now. Grabbing for his bruised hands, Arthur continued to talk to Curt.

Finally, there was a yell from the stairwell and in rushed several police officers, firemen, and paramedics. In the chaos, Arthur was pushed to the side to watch the whirlwind of people sweep in and rush his friend out.

Then, it was only himself and Inspector Sloan climbing the stairs. Arthur was going into shock, and Sloan knew this. He looked around and saw the happenings - Curt strapped to a backboard as he was loaded into an ambulance, people milling about inside the yellow tape as a crowd gathered outside the building. As they reached the sidewalk, a paramedic grabbed Arthur’s arm and dragged him toward a waiting ambulance. They threw a blanket around his shoulders and lifted him into the back of the truck. Sloan said something to him, but he didn’t recognize the words. A brief glance up saw the officers loading Brian into another ambulance along with two of their own and a paramedic who was tending to a gunshot wound in his right arm.

If anyone had asked him about the incident, they would have found that nothing else stood out in Arthur’s mind that day, or for the next two.

Chapter 10

It was a bright, clear morning when Rae and Arthur made their way up the steps of the hospital. They had been there every day for two weeks, checking on Curt and questioning when the doctors were going to let him go home. Over that time, Rae had cleaned up his apartment and Arthur had had the window replaced. He had also seen to having his things transferred into the apartment on the floor with Curt’s, but that was to be a surprise for when Mr. Wild was finally discharged.

The little old lady named Lucille in the apartment on the floor with Curt had come to Rae one day and explained to her that she would be moving to Boston to be with her daughter, but Rae and Arthur were both sure that there were other motives for the move - mainly the psychotic ex-rock star lawyer that had been on the loose for so long.

Arthur nonetheless acted on a whim and spoke to the landlord the very morning she moved. By that evening, he had signed the papers and within a week had been able to move all of his belongings in and set up his new home.

Brian had been arrested, treated, and released into the custody of the New York Police Department a week earlier, and was currently sitting in a solitary cell in the maximum security wing of a mental hospital awaiting trial for countless charges. It was pretty clear that he would never get out of this one, as Shannon had also been arrested and Jerry had committed himself to the same hospital two days after the incident in the Pop Idol building, claiming it was the only place he felt safe from himself and from Brian-Tommy-Timothy.

The magazine was also back to normal. While all hell had been breaking loose, Alex had seen to calling back the staff and restarting the interviews and presses. The new issue had gone out without a hitch, and everything was in full swing, including his unending harassment of the new girl. Cynthia had been in and out to check on both Arthur and Curt, and had seen that the security was stepped up while she herself took over finances and began straightening out the books.

Upstairs, Bill Lawson and Ed McKenzie had shut down and restarted their firm, after getting rid of anything at all connected to “Timothy Sladen.” The other guy - that Smith character - had left of his own accord, invited on as private counsel for JP Morgan. They had now reformed as Lawson-McKenzie, L.L.C.

And as it stood now, Arthur and Rae were finally going to pick Curt up and take him home. They reached his floor, and before they were even within sight of his room they could hear him screaming at the top of his lungs…probably reaming out another candy striper for cold breakfast…or the disgusting excuse these people had for coffee.

Laughing, Arthur rounded the corner and leaned in the doorway. He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled as Curt continued to scream and yell at the small brunette without realizing his friend was there. The fit was mildly ridiculous, stemming from the fact that he had to ride in the wheelchair out of the building.

The poor girl he was screaming at left the room nearly in tears before Curt realized that he had company. On her way out the door, Arthur read her name tag: Leigh.

“Oh, hi…” he muttered sheepishly. “It’s a stupid rule, though! I can walk, so why the hell won’t they let me?!”

“Standard hospital procedure,” Arthur laughed. “Just get in the fuckin’ chair.”

~ + ~

Arthur had managed to wrestle Curt into the chair and calm Leigh down enough to where she could do her job while Rae went to get the car. Even though Curt was behaving himself well enough, Arthur still kept a hand on his shoulder, should he try to get up and cause another scene.

Much to everyone’s surprise, he was complacent all the way down and into the car. They were about a block from the hospital when Curt pushed the button to lower the screen between Rae and himself.

“There’s one more thing I have to do before I go home,” he said. They all knew what it was, and Rae started to argue, but the sharp finality in his voice caused her hesitation. She glanced back and forth between Curt and Arthur’s gazes, and Arthur’s slight nod made her turn the car away from its current track.

They reached the gates to the hospital half an hour later, and at first the guard started to argue with Rae, but Arthur rolled down his window and explained to him that Inspector Sloan had given them permission to come. Reluctantly, he let them pass.

Rae opted to stay in the car, but Arthur went along. He too felt the need to see this.

They were taken into a small room; one divided by a glass wall and a counter. Curt sat down in the chair, and within five minutes, Brian Slade was being ushered into the room. At any other point in his life, Curt’s breath would have stopped at the sight of Brian Slade entering a room, but now he was filled with nothing but deep pity and a furious loathing.

Brian sat down in the chair on his side of the glass, his head down.

“Look at me,” Curt stated. Brian made no move. “Look at me now, or I’ll see to it that you rot in here for the rest of your pathetic little life.” Slowly, those cold steel eyes lifted. Curt could no longer see the beauty in them.

“Well this is such a sad affair,” Curt hissed, “but I’ve opened up my eyes.” Brian’s lip turned up in a very familiar sneer. Curt knew he detested having his own words used against him. “I loved you, Brian. And you destroyed it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled. “You don’t know the pain of being ruined!”

“PAIN?” Curt gasped. “You want to talk to me about pain, Brian? Let me explain pain to you. Twenty years ago you ripped out my heart and threw it on the ground. Then ten years ago you threatened to have me killed if I told anybody your dirty little secrets. Then two weeks ago, you tried to beat me to death! I always wanted to see the good in you, but there was none. You don’t understand pain unless you are inflicting it, and even then you don’t truly know the power you have!”

“You don’t know what its like to be destroyed!”

“Oh shut up, Brian,” Curt groaned. “You destroyed yourself. You just don’t know what you had. And you still don’t understand what its really like to hurt. But you will, Brian…you will.”

There was a long pause where they simply stared at each other. Tears seeped from the corners of Brian’s eyes, but the chain connecting his wrists to his feet kept him from wiping them away. For the first time in his life he was fully exposed and vulnerable - unable to even hide his emotions. Curt watched not with amusement, but morbid fascination.

“How rich in contrast love can be,” he whispered to Brian, smiling as he glanced over his shoulder. “Some times I’m quite amused to see it twist and turn, to taste both sweet and dry. See, Brian, I know what love is. And I’m not afraid of it anymore. I know my place in life, and you should know yours now. Das ist nicht die ende der Welt…” he whispered as he stood and turned away.

~ + ~

Over the next month, Curt went back into the studio and recorded a new album. Arthur’s interview hit the shelves in the next issue of Pop Idol, and it was the highest grossing issue the rag had ever seen.

The album was to come out within the month, and the world tour they were putting together was selling out as fast as the tickets could be had. Alex had found true love in his new partner when he was really after just a one-night fling, and the girl from the bank that had pushed the transfer through so fast had been offered the position as new financial secretary at Pop Idol.

Life had never been better, and as the curtain rose, Arthur Stuart felt it all come back to him - the rush of blood and the excitement of being part of it once more. He watched, wide-eyed and excited as the lights suddenly glared down onto the already shining form of Curt Wild. He was wild that night, and Arthur could not help feeling the same way he did in 1972.

Then as quickly as it started, the show was over and Curt, sweaty, breathless, and covered in glitter was coming toward Arthur, sweeping him up in an arm, and heading for the side door. For the first time in his life, Curt Wild was free, and he was happy. He had gotten back the one thing he had let get away so many years ago, and put to rest all the demons from his past. There was nothing left to stop him as the door swung open and the flashbulbs clicked madly around them.

Brian was right about one thing - the memories do stay. They would linger ever, and fade away never. And as proof of that fact, here he was, the cigarette, and with Arthur by his side he would - as Mandy had said - trace that ladder to the stars.