Circa 1988.

"Hello...Tower Records D.C. What can I help you with today?"

A delighted chuckled emanated in the background. "Guess who...?"

I was short on patience and energy, taking night classes at George Washington while continuing my job during the day. I knew that just working in a record store wasn't going to pay the bills, so I was taking classes at the university to hopefully find a job in the "real world." Wherever that was.

Couldn't help smiling though. "I'm thinking of a certain British gent that I think of so fondly," I said. "Ever so fondly..."

"Keep thinking."

"Why, maybe Nigel John Taylor, perhaps?"

"Hehe, Nick always said I could never disguise my voice properly," John said. "Grace, it's *so* good to hear your voice!" I hadn't heard from him in ages. I hadn't talked to anyone in the band really - and when I did, it was usually Nick, because he was the only one who was willing to talk to me, and was sober.

The last time I had seen any of them in person was at Live Aid in '85 in Philadelphia. Since I had seen and talked to them in detail, Simon had gotten himself married to the supermodel Yasmin Parnaveh. Much to Helena's chagrin. Although I knew it was fo the best. And it was - Helena met her soul mate, Matt, in college, two years after meeting Simon, and Simon and Yas had been married for a while now, quite happily.

"How has my Washington lass been doing?"

"Oh, okay I guess. I've been taking classes at George Washington."

"Oh really? Wot are you studying?"

"I'm not really sure what I want to do - but proabbly I'll end up teaching. It's the only thinkg that's on my mind right now. I want to teach, John. It seems to be the kind of work I was destined for." I paused. "Like you were destined for greatness in being a musician."

John scoffed. "Thanks. But wow. Grace Huang. All grown up."

I smiled. "Yes, I suppose so. But what's new with you, John?" I had always been worried about him, about all of them, since I knew they had a back-breaking schedule which didn't leave much time for anything besides being rock stars.

"Not much, not much. But I'm sure you heard by now about Roger and Andy."

"Yes, Nick phoned me about that. Bummer. Serious bummer."

John sighed loudly. "Tell me about it. I mean, I understand. Roger and Giovanna just wanted a simple life, wanted kids, wanted a house in the country. Andy was wined and dined out in L.A. and is trying out solo life. And so we've been working things out as a threesome, with various guitar sidement and drummers interjecting. 'Notorious' came out well but without the same energy and chemistry. Though I am liking one of the guitarists - his name is Warren, he used to play with Frank Zappa and Missing Persons. Cool fella. Plus...yeah, we split with Paul and Michael."

"What? Paul and Michael? What happened to 'Seven and the Ragged Tiger'?" I always thought the Berrows were what kept Duran Duran on track - sure, they all had delusions of grandeur that they were going to be a megasuccess but nothing would have happened with the Berrows.

"I think we were all cheesed off about that when Andy and Roger left. We wondered what was so wrong with our endeavor about being stars, about being famous," John said regretfully.

"You guys rocked the house when it was the five of you. You proved that at Live Aid."

"Yeah, we did, didn't we? Listen, the reason I'm calling is this...we're all taking mini-vacations right now, after recording the new album..."

"Oh yes, the new album! 'Notorious' is it?" I smiled, looking up one of the large posters that graced one of the walls in Tower. Walt still supported the band, although Andy and Roger had left. The poster was huge, with a picture of Christy Turlington in black and white, and I couldn't help but feel jealous, after all, she was a supermodel, and Nick had said that John met Christy at a party and they had dated...

"Yep! So I wanted to know if I could come out to visit you on holiday. For a couple days," John said.

I scoffed. "John, why did you bother asking? Of course I want to see you! Mi casa, su casa..."

John laughed heartily. I loved to hear his laugh. "So I take that as a yes?"

I laughed back. "Yes! Just tell me when I can expect you and I'll be waitin'!"

So John was state-side bound for a few days. Although I was still sweet on John, I knew this was to be a visit of firends, not of former lovers. As soon as I saw him, I knew that I was right.

John Taylor looked a wreck.

His eyes were bloodshot as if he hadn't slept for days. Bone thing and tired. I never once used drugs, had an occasional cigarette, and drank to be fashionable and social. But I knew enough about drug use to know that lethargy and red eyes were common side effects with drug abuse. And I was scared for him.

"Hi Grace," John said, slightly listless and sounding exhausted.

"John!" I was concerned as a mother hen. I pulled him into my apartment, wrapping myself around him and knowing something was wrong because I could wrap my arms around him without a problem. When I first met Duran Duran, that would have been impossible. He had been a handsome, stocky young man and now he was like this...

He managed a smile. "I'm so glad to see you. I've missed you. My D.C. girl." John dropped his suitcase haphazardly by the door, in an attempt to deliver the hug back.

Was that relief I saw in his eyes, or something else? Waves of worry washed over me again and again. As determined as I was to ignore these misgiving in my mind, I couldn't. My friend was standing there, look like an extra from "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" and I had to ignore that? I shouldn't have tried.

John didn't want to do anything, so I just ordered a pizza and chicken wings and we stayed in. Ate and talked. We talked for what seemed like a short time but turned into hours. Mostly it was John telling me how he hated the music business itself, but loved making music. How he wanted so badly to find the woman to be the love of his life.

I wanted to say that I was going to be there for him.

But as horrible as it sounded, I was disgusted. Why did he have to be a junkie? He had so much going for him. He was SO talented. He was an amazing guitarist and played bass amazingly. He had legions of adoring fans. Why oh why did he have to get mixed up with cokeheads?

I sat up with him that night and made sure he went to sleep. I had gone, taken a shower, and changed itno my pajamas with little blue flowers on them.

I had set up the fold-out in the main part of my apartment for him, and he had gotten ready for bed, but laid there, eyes open and glazed, even when I lowered the lights.

"John," I said, in a soothing voice, "you need to rest."

"I know. I just have trouble sleeping sometimes, that's all." He looked at me, eyes bugged out.

I sighed. I was *so* worried about him. "John, please..." I was almost tearful.

"Grace, lay down beside me," he said quietly.

"Okay," I said, slightly guarded. Maybe if I lay next to him, that wouldn't be such a good idea. After all, if I sensed his cologne like years ago, I could fall under his spell. Maybe this isn't such a good idea...

"Come closer."

I did as he said, I snuggled up closer to him. Reminded me a bit of when I thought, years ago, that I was in love with him and wanted to spend the rest of my days with him...

I relaxed and closed my eyes. I was tired after all, it had been a long day, then me and him had talked for so many hours.

The next thing I knew I felt little nudges on my cheek. Blearily, I opened my eyelids as if it they were weighed down.

But I was awake enough to know John was the one nudging my cheek.

With kisses.

"John..." I complained, wriggling out of the way. "Don't. Please don't..."

He sighed. "Grace, I just want to touch you and feel you...like I remember." I pushed him away. Along with my loving thoughts of him. I had been waiting for this moment, hadn't I?

"John, we can't. I can't..."

He had a slight tremor, which made him shake occasionally. I took his hand in mine, and stroked it gently. I stayed with him until he fell asleep.