The Game is Over

Indigo

***

Fuck. I don't know why Bobbie stayed with me for as long as she did. I was practically out already, the only thing the other guys needed from me was a formal announcement. I know they knew. Come on, how could they not? I'd bring back a couple of young guys almost every night, play around with them and send them on their way home with a few hundred dollar bills in their pockets to shut them up.

I know she knew, too. Fuck, when I think about it, I don't know how she could've been with me at all. I was such an asshole, if I was in her position I would've bitchslapped me from here to China months ago. But she didn't do anything. She never complained, never said a word, nothing. Sure, I'd walk in on her crying sometimes, and she'd try to hide it, but she didn't have to. I would have ignored her anyway. I was a prick that way.

I think what drove her to do what she did was when I started with Lance. She could tell he wasn't just another one of my whores. We were friends before we slept together, and she could see that there was more between us than lust. Shit, I remember when she walked in on us practically eating each other on my hotel room couch...she looked so hurt right then, but she just walked out the door after seeing the whole thing. She took off for a couple of days after that, but she came back. She always came back.

After Lance and I began, there were no more young guys, no more cheap prostitutes. It was just him and me, all the time. I couldn't have brought myself to sleep with anyone else, even if I'd wanted to. He meant too much to me. At that point, Bobbie was playing the third wheel in the relationship. I'd gone from her sometimes boyfriend to some gay guy who had a male lover and used her for public appearances. But she stayed around. I still don't know why.

She left eventually, though. She lasted longer than anyone else would have, but she couldn't last forever. She got sick of everything, said "fuckit" and left me. Good for her.

But not before she wrote the song. She left it on my bed, with a little note that said I could take full credit for it as long as it made it onto the next album. If it didn't...well, of course she'd tell the Associated Press everything she knew. I honestly didn't care if the media found out about me and Lance, but I made sure the song got on to the next album anyway. I kinda liked it, actually. Think of it as a tribute to the one woman who could take my shit. At least for a little while.

~JC~

Fuck you. I should've done this a long time ago. I wrote this for YOU, you fucker. Arrange it, sing it, produce it. Say you wrote it. I don't care if the two of us are the only ones who know what it's REALLY about. As long as people hear it. I can't believe I loved you as much as I did. STILL do. Fucker.


Invincible is what you think you are
You're so typical
Though you think that you're a star
You act like everyone revolves around you
Baby, you dropped the ball But now the game is through

'Cause you tried to play both sides
You got caught up in your lies
And now you're running, you're running out of time


You played yourself
But did you think
That you could really find love
From someone else?
You're making moves, you're gonna lose,
you know
You played yourself
And now you're thinking you can get one by me
But you'll never win
Try again 'cause the game is over

Take it personal
'Cause I did when you cheated on me
You may be beautiful
But there's more that the eye can't see
You're so predictable
The way you calculate each move
Heads I win, tails you lose
Because you don't have the right to choose

How could you think that you could do me like that?
Running behind my back
How could you do me like that?
Now the game is over.

***

fiction

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