By Amethyst

        Billy Tallent curved his gloved hand around the flame of his lighter and lit the cigarette propped between his lips. The late autumn wind tugged at the hem of his long leather coat and yanked at the blond tresses that he had allowed to grow out over the past year. The ends of his hair whipped about his shoulders while the shorter strands on top stayed erect as always. Despite the late hour, he still sported his trademark shades and his cowboy hat. A handsome covering of darker hair now accented his chin and lower lip, giving him a thoroughly dangerous look.

        The evening sky sparkled with a thousand stars, each long gone, but their light only now reaching Earth. Much like people in a way. Some shone brightly while they were here, others burned out before their time and their presence and light were only appreciated after they were gone. Billy found none of the comfort, he once did, in their encompassing mystery, only a kind of sadness at the loss of someone whose light could have outshone them all.

        The temperature of the air around him was bitterly frigid, even though it was not yet winter. At least they didn't have any snow on the ground yet and for that Billy was grateful. The weather didn't really mater much, for Billy was already chilled by an inner cold more intense than Mother Nature could ever supply. It had almost been a year since the end of the Hard Core Logo tour, One year since the incident that changed Billy's life.

 
        Despite the time spent away Billy couldn't shake the feelings of anger and grief that threatened to consume him. A year later, he was still seeing the betrayal in Joe's eyes after their final set. Images of Joe smashing the prized guitar that Bucky Haight had given to Billy, before flying at Billy in a rage. Billy had been so surprised by the attack that it had taken him valuable seconds to gather the stamina to fight back against Joe's frenzied blows.

        Dropping the lighter into his coat pocket Billy removed his shades and crouched beside the grave. He cleared the dead leaves away from the granite headstone, the light of the full moon casting a soft glow on his best friend's name. Billy shook his head. His heart was heavy with the deep sense of injustice that Joe's death produced. The name of Joseph Mulgrew loving son etched on the expensive stone led a touch of irony to the entire situation.

        Billy had no clue what had set Joe off that night, since everything seemed okay. One minute they were, singing their hearts out to the crowd, the next Joe was trying his damnedest to kill Billy. He'd learned later about that prick-wanna-be film maker telling Joe about Billy's rejoining Jenifur.

        When the crowd had finally pulled them apart Joe had moved back toward the stage to finish the remainder of his liquor bottle. Billy stood and their gazes locked over that cursed bottle. The booze and the coke had been a constant barrier between them over the years, Billy had grown out of the habit Joe had not.

        As they stared at each other, neither could find the words to express their distress or their anger. Joe's usually mocking gaze held a defeat that Billy found painful to witness. It was truly over this time and there would be no going back. Finally, Joe Dick realized that his bullying tactics could no longer accommodate his love for Billy Tallent.

        Billy had wiped a single tear from his eye, for the loss of their friendship, but he couldn't deny the sense of relief it gave him. He shot Joe a final, cocky smirk. The remorse in the lead singer's face at that moment would be forever engraved in Billy's memory. They were done and Joe knew it. Billy turned and walked away without a backward glance.

        In a move that was alien for them Billy and Joe each went their separate ways in silence. They never tried to hash it out or confront each other to place blame. Joe did not try and bully or coddle Billy into accepting a half-assed apology that the singer would never admit to offering and Billy allowed his anger to rule his head and refused to make amends for his portion of the blame. Billy Tallent walked out of the club, retrieved what little he had from the van and kept on walking to the nearest bus station. Joe Dick stepped outside with a camera crew, toasted them with a final drink, and blew his brains out all over the sidewalk.

        Pipefitter had reached Billy through Jenifur's manager a few days later with the news of Joe's death. Billy had trashed his hotel room and anything else he could find the first day, cried until his eyes were swollen the second day and was on a plane back to Vancouver the third day. Billy's eye grew moist again as he thought about Joe's funeral.

        Billy had not made it to the service at the church the Mulgrews had provided, but he had shown up at the cemetery. He had remained back in a small clover of trees, away from the other mourners. Pipefitter and John were there, dressed in their best. John looked better, so Billy assumed he had finally gotten a refill on his medication. Wilma Boisey, Billy's Mother was also there. Joe had a decent turn out at least, thirty or forty people by Billy's count.

        Mrs. Mulgrew had turned and caught sight of Billy standing by the trees and their eyes locked. Billy was glad for his shades, unable to meet her gaze directly. Did she blame her for Joe's death? Did all of them know it was Billy's fault that Joe had killed himself? The idea frightened and saddened him.

        Mrs. Mulgrew turned her attention back to the preacher, but not before Wilma Boisey had turned a curious eye in Billy's direction. Instinctively, Billy took a step back, further into the trees and cursed himself for it. It had been a long time since he had seen her and he still wasn't ready to deal with the feelings she dredged up in him.

        He'd just turned sixteen and was in his bedroom on Squire Street. He was strumming on the guitar that Joe had bought him. The Mulgrews were well off, much better than Billy and his Mother. At first Billy had been hesitant to accept it, but Joe insisted it was an investment. So, Billy devoted himself to practicing as much as he could both with and without Joe to make the investment a sound one.

        "Billy!" Wilma Boisey bellowed from her bedroom opposite his. "Billy come here your Mother needs you."

        Billy gritted his teeth and turned up the music on his stereo, trying to drown her out. She'd been drinking since she had gotten home a few hours ago and Billy didn't want to fight with her tonight. It didn't matter if he was nice or disrespectful; he always got it in the end, so he chose to be more difficult.

        "Billy Willie," Wilma cried again, softer this time. "Come to your Mum, sweetie. I need to talk to you."

        Billy stopped strumming and closed his eyes. He wondered if he could get rid of her just by wishing her away. She called again and he set his guitar carefully in it's secret place in the closet. Closing the door, he took a deep breath and walked across the hall to lean in the doorway of his Mother's room.

        Wilma was stretched on her large bed in a low cut negligee and robe, a martini glass in her hand. She smiled and patted the area beside her.

        "Come here, sweetheart," she encouraged gently. "I want to talk to you." Billy moved into the room and settled beside her stiffly. She ran her hands over one of his arms and frowned. "You're too thin, Billy Willie, you need to eat more."

        "I eat plenty, Mum," he replied, quietly. Billy had always suffered a high metabolism.

        He wondered why she was being nice to him, since there was no one here to perform for. Unless, the alcohol was making her all maudlin and lovey dovey, which it sometimes did. Billy was torn between wanting to accept her affection, for whatever reason, and knowing it wouldn't last and he'd just get hurt again in the end.

        "You've been seeing a lot of Joseph Mulgrew, haven't you?" she commented and Billy shrugged.

        "He's just a friend, Mum."

        "I hear he does drugs and drinks, honey. Tell me you aren't doing any of that?"

        "No, Mum," he lied. Well, he hadn't done any thing harder than a few beers and some marijuana anyway, nothing like what his Mother did.

        "Come here, baby," she requested and pulled him closer to cradle his head on her ample bosom.

        Billy allowed it, but kept his feet on the floor for a quick escape in case she changed gears on him. She smelled wonderful, like an orchard of ripe apples and Billy was hard pressed not to sink into her arms.

        "Do you love me, Billy?" she sighed as she caressed his hair.

        "Yes, Mum," he returned obediently.

        "And you’d do anything for me, wouldn't you?"

        Billy tensed. "Yes, Mum."

        "You’re my little boy," she said wistfully as her fingers tightened on Billy's hair. "My precious baby, aren't you? Give your Mother a kiss."

        Billy was silent, unwilling to do as she requested and risk her accusation that he was hitting on her. She had done that to him a few times and made him feel like shit all over again.

        "Billy, don't you love me?" she insisted and tugged on his hair.

        "Yes, Mum," he muttered and winced.

        She stared at him and fluttered her eyelashes. "Then give me a kiss." Billy cautiously leaned in and touched his lips to her cheek and was relieved when she smiled.

        "I love you so much, Billy," she stated, reaching to caress his cheek. "You love me?" He nodded. "Say it, Billy. Tell Mommy how much you love her."

        "I love you, Mum," he returned, quietly.

        Wilma smiled again and continued to caress his cheek. Billy felt his body and his heart betray him, as he moved into her touch. He did love her, despite everything. She was his Mother and he was her son. He coveted the times she was nice to him, treated him lovingly because she wanted to, not just because she had an audience.

        The sound of flesh hitting flesh abruptly ripped Billy out of his contented fantasy world.

        "Liar!" Wilma screamed as Billy's head jerked back from the force of the slap she delivered. Unprepared, he lost his balance and dropped to his knees on the floor. "Why do you lie to your Mother!"

        Billy tried to fend off her blows, but she had risen from the bed and was now kicking at him and hitting him with the Bible off her night stand. He curled up in the corner and bit his lip against the pain she was inflicting.

        "You're a liar aren't you?" she screamed as she yanked a wooden hanger out of her closet. Billy tried to scramble out of the room but she caught him across the knee with it, almost crippling him.

        "I'm not lying!" he cried out in defense and pain as he cradled his injured knee and slid back against the closet door. "Mum, I'm not, stop!"

        "Liar!" she screamed as she hit him again and again with the cursed thing.

        "Fuck!" he cried out as she slammed her weapon against his fingers. "Mum please!"

        "Liar! You rotten stinking liar!" she screamed. "Just like your father! You're no good, none of you, you're no fucking good!"

        "Mum, stop it!" Billy suddenly cried and lunged at her, knocking her backwards.

        He heard the crunch as her head hit the table and the lamp fell over onto the bed. Billy watched in horror as his Mother went limp. He cradled his left hand, sure that at least two of the fingers were broken, and stared at Wilma's still form. He crawled over to her, barely able to move his right leg at all, and shook her with his good hand.

        "Mum?" he whispered, fearfully. "Mum, are you okay? Mum I didn't mean it! Please wake up. Mother!"

        Oh god oh god oh god! What had he done? Had he killed her? What the fuck did he do? He didn't know what had possessed him, he had never fought back, he was too afraid he might hurt her. No matter what, Billy didn't hit women, especially his Mother, but now he had and his worst fear had been realized. Instinct caused him to reach for the phone and dial the memorized number with his good hand.

        Less than fifteen minutes later Joe Mulgrew arrived and his eyes narrowed on his friend. Billy was still propped up against the closet door staring at the prone form by the bed. His face had lost all color and his eyes were glazed with confusion and fear. His eyes met Joe's, as his friend entered the room, and a single tear escaped down Billy's cheek.

        "Joe, "he whispered as Joe carefully knelt beside him. "Joe, I think I fucking killed her, Joe. I never meant to do it, I was just…she was hitting me and…she wouldn't stop Joe, I tried to get away Joe, I didn't want to…I…I shoved her and she hit, Joe she hit her head and Joe I killed her, Joe."

        "Chill, Billy," Joe ordered, trying not to show his distress at his friend's injuries. "I doubt you killed her, but either way we'll figure this thing out, okay?"

        Billy nodded and wiped at his face, self-consciously. Joe was here; everything would be okay now. He watched his friend move to his Mother's body and check for a pulse. Leave it to Joe to know what to do, Billy hadn't even thought of that.

        "She's alive," he stated, flatly. "Just knocked out," he regarded the bottle of Gin beside the bed. "Or passed out more likely."

        "We…we have to help her, Joe," Billy insisted and started to rise.     "Help…help me get her into bed, we…"

        "Fuck her, Billy," Joe refused and moved to assist his friend, who was in obvious pain. "Let the bitch sleep it off there. I need to get you to a hospital." He grimaced as he saw visible bruising around Billy's fingers and his left eye. There was blood rolling down the right side of Billy's temple and he was favoring his right leg.

        "No hospital, Joe," Billy whimpered. "Just…I'll be okay, no hospitals okay?" Again he glanced at his Mother's body. "Are you sure she's okay, she…I think I hurt her Joe she hit really hard. I heard it and…"

        "She's wasted and she deserved it!" Joe snapped and blocked his friend's line of sight. "Stop fuckin' worryin' about her and let me take you to the hospital." Billy shook his head and almost lost his balance, but Joe caught him. He helped Billy back to his room and sat him on the bed. "Where's your first aid kit, then?"

        "Bathroom, under the sink." Billy winced as he automatically started to gesture with his bad hand. "I'm sorry I called. I didn't…I didn't know who else…sorry to get you out, Joe. I fucked up big time."

        Joe ignored Billy's self-incriminations. "Those are broken, Billy, " he said. "We're gonna have to go to the hospital, sooner or later."

        Billy remained silent and Joe left to find the medical kit.

        When he returned he helped Billy off with his shirt and swore violently. The impressions of the ridged hanger were evident all over Billy's pale body and the sight of it made the bile rise in Joe's throat.

        "Jesus H Christ, Billy!" he croaked. "What the fuck did she do to you?"

        "Doesn't matter," Billy denied and reached for the moist cloth Joe had brought with the kit. He winced as he raised his arm to wipe at the blood on his forehead. "Fuck, Jesus, I think I'm dyin' Joe. I think she might have succeeded this time, Buddy."

        Joe didn't doubt that. Billy was as white as a sheet and looked ready to pass out. He attended to Billy's fingers and carefully attached a splint. He wrapped an ace bandage around Billy's ribs for support, just in case the guitarist had bruised or broken any.

        "Ya can't die, ya Fucker, you’re my investment remember?" Joe taunted as he placed a bandage over the cut on Billy's forehead. "I can't have a band without a lead guitarist. What the fuck you expect me to do, stand on stage and play the tunes on my dick?"

        Billy grinned, or tried to, but it just ended up forming into a grimace. "Might be an improvement on your singing."

        Joe gave him an offended glare.

        "That's not Buddies," he stated, wounded and Billy shook his head.

        "Good gimmick though," he decided. He released a gasp of pain as he tried reach for his shirt again. "Joe…Fuck!" He took a minute to catch his breath. "Joe and his amazing…ah…harmonic dick."
 
        Joe smirked, but was relieved Billy had calmed down enough to crack jokes.

        "Keep it up wise ass," he warned affectionately and pulled the shirt away from his friend's hand. "I'll let you be the first to blow on it." He moved to Billy's closet and found a loose button down that would probably be less aggravating to the blonde's injuries and helped Billy to pull it on. "You're stayin' at my place tonight, Billium."

        "Don't…can't leave her, Joe," Billy refused as Joe tossed clothes into a duffel bag and extracted the guitar from it's secret spot. "What if she doesn't wake up."

        "You'd be better off," Joe decided, coldly.

        "I can't leave her, Joe," he protested. "I hate her, I hate what she is, but she's still my Mum."

        "You won't leave while she's unconscious?" Joe surmised and Billy nodded solemnly. "Fine. "

        He stormed out of the room, entered the kitchen and filled a pitcher with cold water. He returned to Wilma's bedroom, set the picture on the night stand and hauled the woman back onto the bed. He dumped the water over her face and chest and she sputtered awake. He tossed the empty pitcher on the bed and leaned over her, menacingly.

        "Billy's comin' to stay with me. You stay the fuck away from him, you hear me? You ever raise a hand to him again and the next time you have an accident you won't be waking up from it, you get me?"

        Wilma stared up at him in drunken horror and nodded, slowly.

        Joe returned to Billy's room.

        "Your Mother's awake and she says you can stay with me, ain't that peachy?" he offered, helping Billy to his feet. Billy had heard the threat that his friend had delivered to his Mother, but at this point it didn't matter.

        "Sure, Joe," he agreed. "Let's go, Buddy."
 
 

        Billy had waited until the end of the service, but did not stay to see Joe lowered into the ground. He turned and started to walk away, only to have Pipefitter and John hurry up to him.

        "Hey man, when did you get here?" Pipe asked.

        "Today," Billy muttered and pulled out a cigarette. "How you guys been."

        Pipe shrugged and reached for the smoke, hopefully. "Good, a little wierded out, you know." He smiled when Billy allowed him to take the cigarette then pulled another for himself. "You still workin' with Jenifur?"

        Billy nodded, lit their cigarettes and inhaled sharply. "Yeah, go on tour next week."

        "Are you okay, Billy?" John asked, softly. John was always the most astute of all of them, the most in tune to their emotions and when one of them was out of sync.

        "I'm fucking great, John Boy, how the hell you doing?"

        "It's not your fault, Billy," John offered, knowingly and Billy pulled his hat a little lower over his face and glanced at the ground beneath him. "It's no one's fault, not even Joe's really."

        "Oh, well good, that's good, John," Billy smirked. "Let's all be glad that Joe blew his fucking brains out for no fucking reason at all."

        All three were silent after the outburst and Billy continued to puff on his cigarette.

        "I'm sorry," he offered, absently. "I'm a little jacked at Joe still, I guess."

        "I think we all are," John agreed. Pipe was enjoying his smoke too much to get heavily involved in the conversation.

        "Yeah, well, I gotta go," Billy stated and flicked his cigarette away. He offered his hand to John. "Keep in touch, okay? You know where to reach me, right?" John nodded and gave Billy a brief hug.

        "You take care, Billy."

        "Yah, send us some fuckin' girls, Mr. Rockstar," Pipe teased as he gave Billy a rambunctious hug as well.

        Billy stepped back, checked his pockets to makes sure his cigarettes and wallet were still there, and grinned.

        "I'll see what I can do," he promised half-heartedly.

        "Billy!" a familiar voice called.

        Billy ignored it. He waved at his two former band mates and headed down the gravel path to the gate.

        "Billy, wait, please."

        Billy paused, but didn't turn around.

        Wilma Boisey caught up to him, slightly out of breath and teetering on her stiletto heels. "Sweetheart, how are you?"

        "I have to go," Billy insisted and started to move again without even looking at her.

        "Billy, please, can't we…I just want to talk to you."

        Billy shook his head. "No time, sorry."

        "Billy," the softness in her tone caught him.

        He paused mid stride and turned back to meet her sad gaze.

        "I'm sorry about Joe, honey."

        Hot tears welled beneath his shuttered eyelids and he quickly blinked them away. "Yeah, me too."

        Wilma took a step closer. "I've stopped drinking."

        "Me too," Billy admitted quietly.

        "I…I even have a good job now."

        Billy didn't know why but he couldn’t stop saying the stupid phrase. "Me too."

        "I still love you, Billy," Wilma stated.

        Billy's jaw tightened. "Good bye, Mum." He turned again and walked away.

        Now, here he stood over Joe's grave a full year later. Billy's emotions were still as intense and confused as the day he'd learned of Joe's death. He wondered if he would ever feel okay about it. Probably not, it was hard to lose someone as close to him as Joe was.

        "Damn you Joe," he muttered. "You always have to have the last fucking word, don't you? The last grand gesture award goes to Joe Dick. You fuck!" Billy adjusted his dark glasses with a hand shaking with anger and grief. "It was important Joe, why couldn't you understand that? Just once why couldn't you have let me have one of the things I dreamed about? Why did it always have to be about you and your fuckin' twisted view of what we should be in this stinking world?"

        Billy raised the frame of his glasses and wiped at the single tear that had again escaped its prison. He sniffed and glanced around, reassuring himself that he was still alone in the small cemetery. He smirked, knowing Joe would hate that his parents had said a mass at the funeral and then stuck him in the ground with all the other worm food in the churchyard.

        Joe had once told Billy that he wanted to be cremated, because he didn't like the idea of going into the ground. It was rare that they ever discussed serious topics, other than with their music, so Billy always listened carefully the few times Joe had confided in him honestly. Billy knew Joe's parents would never understand their estranged son's wish so Billy did not visit them upon his return.

        Billy suspected Joe fear of being buried was due more to being alone with his own inner demons than of the critters that might be climbing around him. Joe had a darkness inside him that Billy had witnessed entirely too often. Sometimes, the singer embraced that side of himself and allowed it to rule over the people around him, but more often Billy watched Joe run from it.

        Joe hid behind drugs, booze, sarcasm, a general disdain for the world and of course his greatest solace, their music. Joe was scared of the damage he could do if he allowed the darkness inside him to reign. Billy believed the idea of being left alone in the dark, cold ground with only that evil to comfort him scared the hell out of Joe.

        Of course, Joe's parents were Catholic so they had a traditional service. Billy had actually been surprised to learn that they had even bothered to show for their son's funeral, they had pretty much disowned Joe about ten years back. But, they say blood is thicker than water, so maybe that was true.

        Billy shook his head and tossed his cigarette aside, before reaching for the pick and shovel he had brought with him. Even in death Joe Dick was still pulling Billy's strings and it simultaneously frustrated and amused the guitarist. Billy couldn't argue his way out of this one and Joe had probably counted on that.

        As he made the first slice into the earth with the shovel, his memory drifted back to the first time he had met Joe. His Mother and he had just moved into the neighborhood and Mrs. Mulgrew, being the good Christian she was, invited them over for lunch.

        Billy Boisey had just turned thirteen and was sitting with his Mother Wilma in the Mulgrew's kitchen. Billy felt more than a little foolish in the navy suit and tie his Mother had forced him to wear for the visit, and so in rebellion, he slouched in his chair and remained stone silent.

        A young, good-looking boy with thick shoulder length hair entered the kitchen. He'd wore ripped jeans, a soiled T-shirt and ratty sneakers. Moving to the refrigerator he pulled out the milk bottle. His Mother glared at him as he rudely began to drink from it.

        "Don't drink out of the bottle, Joseph!" she warned in a high pitched, nagging voice that sent chills of annoyance up Billy's spine.

        Joe glanced at his Mother, mockingly, raised an eyebrow then nodded. He spit the milk back into the bottle, capped it and returned it to the fridge, obediently.

        Billy thought the women at the table would explode as their faces flushed a deep crimson. He struggled not to laugh and had to cover his mouth with his hand to avoid being caught. It had been the boldest act Billy had ever witnessed.

        Wilma Boise, true to form, recovered first and smiled at the youth.

        "Hello, you must be Irene's son, Joseph," she greeted smiling as Billy lowered his eyes and took an interest in his cuticles. His Mother, a walking advertisement for the Dumb Blond club, he thought amused.

        "I must be," Joe decided, his gaze resting on Billy. "You must be your Mother's son, William."

        If Billy was surprised that Joe knew his name he never showed it. Barely offering the other boy a glance Billy started chewing on his thumbnail, unconcerned. He caught the other boy's obvious sarcasm, which of course slid right past the two women. Can you spell half-wit; he challenged them silently and smirked.

        "Nope," he finally replied aloud. "Name's Billy, I don't do William."

        Joe made a comical face. "If you don't do William, who are ya doin', Charlie? Claude? David?"

        "Joseph, where are your manners?" Mrs. Mulgrew scolded.

        "Must've left 'em in my other jeans pocket," Joe returned

        He returned his Mother's insulted stare with a brazenly daring look, then returned his attention to Billy. Again, Billy's lips held a ghost of a smile, but it was quickly swept away as Billy's Mother reached over and curled her fingers through her son's short, honey colored locks.

        "You should think about cutting your hair, honey," she suggested. Billy pulled away from her petting, but she it didn't seem to bother her. "Shorter hair is much more attractive to the girls." She smiled at Mrs. Mulgrew. "Billy's become a real heart breaker, haven't you, sweetheart?"

        Billy winced slightly at the endearment and ignored the question, choosing instead to sip the nasty tasting lemonade Mrs. Mulgrew had served them. Joe reached inside the fridge again and pulled out two sodas.

        "Come then along, Billiam," he taunted, handing one of them to the blond. " I've found my manners it seems. I'll show you my room."

        Billy accepted the drink and the offer, eager to get away from his Mother for awhile. She was insanely protective of Billy in public, but ignored him when there was no one to play the part of a loving Mother for. Except of course when she was drinking, then Billy had her full attention, unfortunately.

        Billy didn't bother to correct Joe's use of his name as they headed upstairs and entered a large, pristine bedroom on the second level of the house. Billy swallowed his disappointment and shot Joe a perplexing look. He had assumed that Joe's room would be more of a disaster area than Billy's own room at home, but everything was clean and orderly. Billy bet he could bounce a quarter off Joe's bed and even the floor was swept and polished. The only things on the walls were a couple of pictures of airplanes.

        Joe stood back and gauged Billy's reaction, which the youth wasn't quite as good at hiding this time. Finally, Joe grinned and moved toward a small utility door that was only about three feet tall and easy to miss if you didn't know to look for it.

        "Comin' or what?" Joe demanded cockily. He grabbed his flashlight from the dresser and pulled open the tiny door. Crawling inside, Joe switched on the light and disappeared from view. Billy shrugged and followed, pulling the door closed behind him.

        "Where are we going?" he asked as the area around them widened and a pair of ancient stairs loomed ahead of them.

        "My room, like I said," Joe replied as they climbed the stairs to a large attic. Sunlight from the few small windows above them streamed in and created a mystic illumination through the dust particles around them.

        "I thought that was your room?" Billy challenged as Joe switched off the light and closed the door to the stairs.

        "Nah, I just sleep there on occasion. I keep it that way to keep the old bag off my case. I hang out here."

        Billy glanced around at the heavy metal posters, piles of clothes and antique furniture that Joe had organized in his own unique way to form a sitting room. A small television set and stereo surrounded a sitting area, with a large ancient lamp propped between them. One of the walls were painted in a bizarre abstract collage of color that when stared at for more than a few seconds, seemed to have a life of it's own and reshape into different patterns. In the corner a seaman's trunk and a variety of old boxes were piled up away from the area. Billy thought it was the coolest room he had ever been in.

        "Don't your folks mind you being up here?" he inquired.

        Wilma Boise would shit a brick if Billy had this much room to roam. She hated him being completely out of sight from the rest of the house. As though she had to have him physically there just to show she could ignore him.

        "Nah," Joe returned dropping onto the small sofa. "Mom never comes up here, she has allergies and the old man's too fat and lazy to fit through the door."

        Joe made the comment with such a serious look on his face that Billy couldn't help but laugh aloud. The sudden burst of mirth surprised him, because Billy didn't have much to laugh about in his life and he usually refrained from reacting to anything one way or the other; a trait that annoyed his Mother constantly.

        She would be yelling at him for one thing or another and he would just sit there staring at her like she was something distasteful he had just found on his shoe. He couldn't help it, he had learned the hard way that remaining total passive and disinterested was the best way to deal with her. He never knew what kind of mood she would be in, if she was coming down on the depressants she took or high on the alcohol she consumed daily.

        When he was younger, shortly after his old man split, Billy always seemed to do or say the wrong things around his Mother and he got beaten for it. After three trips to the emergency room, Billy learned to shut down his emotions and become cold and seemingly heartless. His Mother still smacked him around, but without him crying out, showing his pain or begging her to stop, she seemed to keep it to a minimum. Billy figured she didn't enjoy it as much without him screaming all the time.

        Joe must have sensed Billy's dismay at allowing his mask to slip and smirked as he rose again. He moved to a small roll top desk, cluttered with cassette tapes and forty-five's. Opening one of the drawers he pulled out a package of cigarettes and waved them at Billy.

        "Smoke?"

        "Fuck yeah!" Billy returned eagerly, totally loosing his untouchable veneer.

        He had been craving one since he left the house. His Mother knew he smoked, half the time she bought him the cigarettes. As long as he didn't smoke around her when there were other people she didn't mind. Billy accepted this rule, not the least bit interested in suffering through her maternal act of concern any more than she was.

        Joe tossed him a cigarette from the pack then placed one between his own lips. He leaned forward to light Billy's with a lighter, then lit his own. Both inhaled deeply on the first draw, then dropped satisfied onto the sofa. They turned and smiled at each other, finding something in common, and a friendship was born.

        Billy had been following Joe's lead ever since. For awhile it was cool that way. They both liked music and were interested in forming their own band. Billy's self confidence had been in the toilet from so many years at his Mother's abuse, but Joe had enough confidence for them both. Joe was also the only one who could get any kind of reaction, good or bad, out of Billy. Sometimes, those reactions were very intense, because Billy had no other outlet for his emotions. Joe accepted this easily, thrived on it in fact, always working hard to make Billy laugh or get him angry enough to throw something. Not good to keep it bottled up he would say, fuck the world and feel what you want to feel.

        Joe had a faith in Billy that the young guitar player found amazing and slightly unsettling. Billy had just fooled around on the guitar at home, he couldn't afford lessons, but Joe decided they would both learn. So, whenever they got money they bought music books and learned what chords they could. After awhile, Billy was easily playing without the books, learning to play the songs on the radio by ear. Joe was suitably impressed, but continued to push and make Billy better.

        Every day after school they practiced until both of them would go home with bleeding or callused fingers. Every weekend they spent searching music stores for some new sounds to learn. They were learning three songs a day and smoking two packs of cigarettes a day between them. Every now and then, Joe would reward Billy with a six pack of beer or a rolled joint for celebration of their hard work.

        The drugs and the booze never got in the way of the music though, in fact they wrote some of their best stuff when stoned out of their mind. Joe couldn't play as well when he was high, but Billy played perfectly, as he always did. The drugs did not seem to effect his talent for the music.

        When Joe decided they were ready to start playing in public Billy became doubtful of his ability. He had never played for anyone but Joe and he didn't think he could make it in front of a live audience. Joe however found a way around his friend's anxiety, as he did everything else. They were just playing a character, like an actor on stage. No one had to know the real Billy and Joe.

        So, Joe decided to change their names and form characters for the band. He picked Tallent for Billy's new last name, spelling it with two L's just to make it different and unique. Billy thought it sounded pretentious, but Joe assured him it was supposed to sound that way, all rock stars had pretentious stage names.

        Billy often called Joe a prick or a dick when they were together, because of the obnoxious way Joe sometimes acted. Joe couldn't argue the fact that he could be a prick at times, so he decided on the milder version of the endearment for his stage name. They found two other people to complete the band, John and Pipefitter. In less than a year, Hard Core Logo was born.

        From then on, the two were inseparable, both in their music and personal lives. You never saw Billy without Joe and you knew if you picked a fight with one you would be facing them both in the end. Joe's lust for danger and the next cheap thrill kept Billy hopping as they grew into young men. John and Pipefitter were usually standing at the sidelines somewhere waiting for the fun or the violence to start. With Joe, it was a toss up if they would be going home happy or going home bleeding. Both avenues excited a passion in their lead singer.

        Often, Billy had to be the voice of reason to save their skins when Joe had pissed off some poor jerk by hitting on the guy's girlfriend. Nothing was off limits to Joe and it seemed the more famous the band became, the more Joe worked to live up to his stage name. Of course, on the flip side, Joe could get girls that wouldn't give the time of day to any other guys.

        Billy held his own in that department and for awhile; he allowed the temptation of so many women to be his vocation in life. Sex, drugs and rock and roll, that was what they had all right, but for Billy it got old pretty damn quick. Perhaps it was watching his Mother be slut and slave to so many men, it sickened him to be of keeping the same company.

        They had a few wild times, but Billy wanted to fulfill his career. He was getting tired of playing the same old gigs in the same old places with the same faces in the crowd. He wanted more, he wanted the dream of being a recognized, professional musician.

        Joe taunted Billy about his rock star ambitions, reminding him over and over that it wasn't about the fame and glory, but about the music. For awhile, Billy listened to Joe, as he always did. Joe had gotten them started, he was Billy's best friend and there was a lot Billy felt he owed to Joe. Joe had taken Billy's talent on faith and Billy had accepted his friend's superior knowledge in what they should do.

        However, it soon became apparent that Joe was not so much concerned about the music as he was partying and having control over Billy. Joe could be an insensitive prick a lot of the time and he knew just how to hurt Billy the most. Of course he did, Joe was Billy's best friend, they knew everything about each other. They say those who know you best can hurt you the most and Joe was a professional at that game.

        Billy found he had started to miss the old Joe, the young boy who laughed more and loved old movies. He missed sitting up late at night in Joe's attic, often stoned out of their minds, trying to defeat each other with shadow figures they made on the wall or their name the movie game.

        He missed the thoughtful side of Joe that would always give Billy a pat on the back or a thumbs up when Billy succeeded in learning a new song. Sometimes, they would walk for hours around the city and search for places they hadn't seen before. Sitting in a café or outside in the park and listening to Joe make up outlandish stories of the people that passed by.

        Joe was still funny and sarcastic, but there was a meanness developing in him that Billy didn't find the least bit amusing. Joe tested the limits of their friendship over and over again, yet the two men were never closer. Every now and then, especially during the last tour, Billy would see a glimpse of the old Joe. In their little game of zoning out or the café game. Most often, however, the music was Joe's priority than anything else.

        John and Piperfitter were a part of the Hard Core logo band, but they knew there was only ever Billy and Joe. No one was permitted into their private world and anyone who dared to try was left to face the cold and merciless side of Joe Dick. For whatever reason, Billy allowed Joe to shut others out of their special circle. Perhaps, he found it just a little flattering that Joe wanted there to only ever be the two of them and was unwilling to share Billy with the rest of the world.

        However, Joe's possessiveness began to take its toll on Billy and the band itself. Any time Billy showed a little independence, Joe would cajole him into another way of thinking. He didn't use Billy and Billy certainly wasn't Joe's doormat, but there were just certain things that Joe felt the urge to test Billy on, loyalty being the highest. What would Billy do for Joe? How far would Billy go to prove his fidelity and friendship?

        Billy had conceded many things to Joe over the years. He'd allowed himself to be humiliated and vulnerable to Joe's will over and over. At the same time, Joe was responsible for Billy being able to release many of the inhibitions that had ruled him growing up. It never stopped him from loving Joe just as much or wanting to stay friends with him. Billy adapted to the new Joe as he did everything else, because Joe was his best friend and people had to make allowances for their best friends.

        So, Billy looked past the coke and the women, passed Joe's ability to get them kicked out of or barred from almost every bar or night club. He took Joe's abuse, and allowed other's to feel the cruelty of Joe's spite all with a grain of salt. Every now and then, Joe would go too far and Billy would push back. He found himself becoming more and more resentful and angry with Joe. He was allowing his rage and frustration to command his actions as Joe often did. Billy was becoming Bitterman.

        Billy's exasperation only seemed to amuse Joe, which in turn  usually forced Billy to put his fist through a wall. It was as though they were polar opposites at times. Billy wasn't stupid, he knew Joe intentionally tormented him until he cracked. Joe was a menace when he was infuriated, but Billy was absolutely malevolent, and Joe seemed to thrive on the intensity of Billy's anger.

        Perhaps, Joe felt less monstrous in the face of Billy's fury, or perhaps he just enjoyed seeing the guitarist completely lose control. Whatever the reason it was happening more and more once Ed Festus entered their lives. He was the band's ticket to real stardom, he could push Hard Core Logo to the top and Billy would willingly do almost anything for that.

        Joe was jealous of the things Billy would do for Ed, not understanding that Billy was doing it for all of them, so the band would move on to bigger and better things. Again it was the control thing that incited Joe. Control over the band and over Billy. Joe seemed to be trying to sabotage Billy's efforts at every turn. Used to Joe's childish ways, Billy countered each attack and managed to keep the band afloat with Festus. That was, until Joe pissed in the man's drink after their final song that Ed Festus had flown in to see.

        Billy and Joe fought hard that night, not just because of Joe's asinine gesture, but because of what had happened the previous night. Joe had learned from Pipefitter that Festus was coming to the show. He was unusually congenial to Billy all that day and Billy should have known something was up, but he had been too excited about what could be their big break. Joe scored some blow and a case of beer for them and they got wasted in their hotel room.

        Joe finally brought up Festus and Billy immediately became defensive. Joe was trying to blow it for all of them and Billy was sick of being held back. Billy was an ungrateful little fuck for all that Joe had done for him and Festus only wanted Billy as an ornament in his bed, not as a musician.

        Hateful things were said that night, most of which Billy barely remembered. They were both angry and both wasted as well. The fact that Joe brought up the idea of Fetus wanting to fuck Billy, or that Billy was willing to be the older man's Boy Toy, infuriated Billy like nothing else.

        He didn't understand why Joe would think that and it scared him that Joe would be angry over it. They had done so much together, including fucking two girls at the same time in the back of Joe's van. Why Joe would get such an idea in his head was beyond Billy, but the guitarist made the mistake at showing his fear momentarily, but it was enough to set Joe off.

        They were closer than brothers, better than friends, but they had never crossed the line into a sexual relationship. Except for a couple of times when they were both so wasted Joe kept trying to kiss him. Even that was just another of Joe's sick little games, wanting to see how much Billy would allow before stopping it. Billy suspected half the time that Joe wasn't nearly as stoned as he pretended and he'd push the envelope too, to see how far Joe would carry the charade.

        Billy would wrestle with Joe in the pretense that Joe was trying to have his way with him, sometimes he'd allow Joe to strip him and give him a hand job, other times he retained enough of his sanity to push the singer away. Sometimes they'd do two separate women in the same room or in the back of the van, no big deal. There were a few nights Billy couldn't remember how far he and Joe had gone.

        However, Billy was strictly heterosexual and as far as he knew, so was Joe. But, the dangerous glint in Joe's eye that night before the concert frightened Billy more than anything ever could, then or since. There was an animalistic gleam in Joe's eyes, a Lion readying to claim his prey and Billy was apparently the doe caught in the Lion's heated gaze.

        As Billy became more frustrated Joe changed to his calm and controlled mode. Billy was too wasted to see the warning signs. He'd allowed his guard to drop, accepted another few snorts of coke and another beer from his good buddy Joe.

        The following morning, it was obvious what had happened. Billy remembered pieces of it like a badly decaying silent film. Joe hitting him and Billy being too stoned to fight back. Joe pushing him to the floor and ripping Billy's jeans down. Thankfully, Billy didn’t remember the pain of Joe's thrusts or whatever Joe had been screaming at him over and over.

        Billy could see it happening but couldn't stop it. He remembered feeling lost and afraid and that his heart was beating entirely too slow. He was almost floating for a time and then Joe was turning him over and screaming at him again.

        Billy woke up in the hospital, with six stitches across his rectum and an IV in his arm. An overdose they said, he'd taken too much cocaine and mixed it with alcohol to cause a disastrous effect. He had stopped breathing and Joe had given him CPR until the paramedics arrived.

        Billy refused to talk to Joe, who was as remorseful as Joe could get without actually being sorry. Billy checked himself out of the hospital a couple of hours later and went to rehearsal. Billy played better than he ever had, spurred on by anger Joe's betrayal, which lent a decided intensity to his playing. Then Joe fucked things up with Ed Festus , Billy's last hope at a real career and it was the final straw. They argued and Billy left, much like he had that night a week ago.

        Billy had always wondered how far over the line Joe would push to hurt him, because hurting Billy was a direct effect of loving Billy, at least in Joe's twisted mind. There wasn't anything Billy could do to change that. The only thing that Joe never did was intentionally strike Billy with malice.

        They shoved each other and wrestled, but never came to blows, because Billy swore he would never allow anyone to hit him again after he got out from under his Mother's control. Joe had seen the damage that woman had done to Billy over the years and he abided that rule, but his words often hurt far more than any punch to the face ever could. At least, Billy had always felt that way, until Joe bloodied his lip the final night of their tour. It had only taken the one time for Joe to deliberately hit him and Billy was gone.

        Billy felt bad for desecrating Joe's grave. He had forgiven Joe for what had happened and had returned for a bogus reunion tour in good faith. Things would be different this time, Joe had promised and for awhile it was just like old times; too much like old times. This time Joe's jealousy was over Jenifur and Billy had refused to be intimidated by it.

        When things initially fell through with the popular band, Billy really had considered coming back to start again with Joe. He truly wanted them to be the band they could be, if Joe would let them. Billy had matured during his time away from Joe and was able to gain perspective in his life. He had become more decisive, more confident about what he wanted and that new bravado seemed to eat at Joe.

        However, when Jenifur again seemed to loom in Billy's future he had become excited and hopeful again. He hadn't meant to keep it from Joe, he would have told him that night, after the show when they were all still in good spirits. He would tour with Jenifur for a year, then come back and be even better to restart Hard Core Logo. Billy honestly thought the experience would be good for him and Joe both and that they could finally do what they had always wanted. He wouldn't have left Joe behind.

        Their reunion did not seem to be in the cards and Billy was forced to realize that Joe would never change. They way Joe blew up at him only proved that Billy would be letting them both down if he tried to rekindle what they had. He felt remorse and an odd sense of relief to have it truly end between them, but he honestly never considered Joe would take his life over their final parting.

        "Why you gotta be such a prick, Joe?" Billy demanded after one of their arguments.

        "Because I am," Joe replied honestly as he moved to settle on the end of the bed next to his friend. "I always have been I always will be, why do you expect me to change?"

        Billy shrugged and wiped at his eyes, sniffing suspiciously. "Not expect, just hope I guess," he muttered. "You're a mean fucker, Joe and I hate it that you can hurt me."

        "You let me hurt you, Billy," Joe reminded, gently. "If anyone else said the things I do to you you'd tell them to take a flying fuck or you'd bash their face in. With me, you let me say these things." Joe caressed Billy's trembling shoulder affectionately. "Why do you let me, Billy? No one should be allowed to hurt you, not even me. Don't you understand that yet?" Billy shook his head. "You let your Mother fuck with your mind and treat you like shit, you refuse to be pissed off at your old man for running off and leaving you with that bitch and you never stay angry at anyone for any length of time. Why do you allow all of that?"

        "You're fucking with me, now," Billy hissed and moved from the bed. He hated it when Joe got all philosophical on him, it was just another game they played and Billy came out the looser. "Fuck off Joe, I'm tired of this crap. My Mother, my father or who I do and don't let fuck with me is not the point here. You pull this shit just to bait me and I'm sick of it, Joe. I don't want to play this twisted game anymore. I'm here to play music not be your fucking lab rat so stop screwing with my head!"

        "How am I screwing with your head, Billy?" Joe inquired, calmly from his relaxed position on the bed as he lit a cigarette. "That's implying that there is something there to screw with, something you're hiding from me, right?"

        "I tell you everything, you fucker, you know that," Billy insisted. "And you remember everything, don't you, ya prick? Every little detail so you can use it to torture me with later."

        Joe smirked. "Am I torturing you, Billy?" Silence. "Billiam?" Billy turned away from him and started pulling his clothes off.

        "I'm tired, Joe," he stated, removing his shirt, socks and jeans and climbing into the bed that Joe was sitting on. "You wanna continue the game, fucking talk to yourself, I'm going to sleep."

        Joe watched Billy reach across to turn out the light and quietly puffed on his cigarette. Finally he rose from the bed and stripped down to his boxers. He pulled the sheets back and settled beside Billy, offering his friend the last few draws on his cigarette. Billy accepted them, then raised up to douse the butt in the ashtray on the night stand, before turning his back to Joe.

        "Billy?" Joe whispered softly as Billy settled back under the covers.

        "What?"

        "Does Billy Tallent still love Joe Dick?"

        "Fuck."

        "Maybe later, now answer my question."

        "Maybe later I'll answer your question," Billy retorted.

        "Does Billy Tallent still love Joe Dick?" Joe pressed and Billy sighed at yet another of their games.

        "Is Joe Dick still fucking with Billy Tallent?"

        "Joe Dick wouldn't dream of fucking with Billy Tallent," Joe assured brazenly, allowing the double meaning to sink into Billy's brain. There was always a double edge to the lead vocalist's words and they were rarely lost on Billy.

        "Then Billy Tallent still loves Joe Dick," he finally acknowledged, "for now. Now go to fucking sleep."

        Billy shook his head at the idiocy of it all. Joe rarely came out and said, hey I love you, he preferred to pretend they were talking about two separate individuals. Billy wasn't all over gushing his love for another guy either, it wasn't how guys worked, but he would accept this limited version of their true feelings.

        "Billium?" Joe called again.

        "Fuck off."

        "Sweet dreams."

        Billy sighed and turned slightly to face Joe. "You too," he offered and turned away again. "Night…ya prick."

        Joe's smile mirrored Billy's.

        Billy shook the memories of the past away and tied the rope he'd secured to Joe's coffin, to the tow ball of his truck. He climbed inside the cab and carefully slipped the vehicle into gear. Stepping on the accelerator, he felt a rush of adrenaline as he heard the crunch of the coffin being yanked from the grave and landing on the higher ground above.

        He turned off the ignition and stepped out. Moving to the back of the truck, he stared at the dark wood casket that held his friend. What the hell was he doing? Creeping around a cemetery late at night, digging up a body, had he lost his mind? He sat on the tailgate of the truck, unable to take his eyes of the coffin. Maybe that acid trip he took at Bucky's farm damaged his brain more than he thought. Why else would he be out here stealing Joe's body?

        "Jesus, Joe," he swore. "You still have me jumping through hoops, ya fucker." He shook his head and rested his chin in his hand, thoughtfully. "Maybe I can put you back, who would notice? They'd notice more if you were gone, right?"

        An owl hooted and scared the shit out of him. He jumped off the tailgate and spun around guiltily, expecting to find someone there to confront him. He put a hand to his hammering heart and took a few deep breaths. He could just see Joe laughing at him and calling him a pussy.

        "Okay, get a grip, Bill," he told himself. "You have to do this, you promised Joe." He cast an uneasy glance at the coffin. "Besides, there's no turning back from this point." the idea of getting caught and possibly being put in jail also spurred him into action.

        With trembling hands, Billy pulled open the lid of the casket and prepared himself for what remained of his best friend. It wasn't as bad as Billy thought it would be, actually. Granted, there was some decomposition, after a year it could be expected, but the casket had been air tight and the guy that had prepared Joe's body had done a good job. In reality, Joe sort of resembled a really bad day on the drugs he coveted so much.

        Billy took a deep breath, not the greatest smell, but hey what could he do about that? Dead bodies smelled bad. He lifted Joe gently from the coffin and placed him on the padding in the back of the truck. He arranged the blanket around his friend then released the rope and gave the coffin a push back into the grave.

        Securing the tailgate, Billy retrieved his tools and slipped back inside the warmth of the cab. Leaving the cemetery, he drove for a few miles before pulling off the main road and heading for the beach. Just a little further and this night would be over. Just a little while longer and he'd have kept his promise to Joe.

        "Billy?" Joe asked, quietly and there was something in the lead singer's voice that made Billy raise his gaze from the guitar and pay attention. "Promise me something?"

        "I ain't doin' yer laundry again, Joe," Billy refused with a smirk and Joe shook his head.

        "Fuck the laundry, I'm not talking about that."

        "What then?"

        "Promise me first."

        "Tell me what you want me to promise first."

        "That's not Buddies, don't you trust me?" Joe asked, wounded and Billy snorted.

        "I know better, that's why we're Buddies," he returned. "Now what do you want?"

        Joe was silent for a few minutes and Billy was beginning to suspect it was just the alcohol that had gotten him started in the first place. He had dropped his gaze back to the chords he was trying to master when Joe finally spoke again.

        "If I die before you, promise you won't put me in the ground, Billy?"

        Billy's head remained bowed but his eyes rose in surprise. "What?"

        "When I die, I don’t want to be buried."

        Billy smirked again. "You gotta lay off the sauce, Joe. Makes you all maudlin and shit. You're not dyin' for Christ's sake."

        "But when I do I want you to promise not to let anyone put me in the ground, Billy." Joe insisted seriously. Billy regarded him, suspiciously.

        "What the fuck are they supposed to do, release you into the atmosphere?" he joked but Joe never even cracked a smile.

        "Fuck it, Billy, this is important!" he exclaimed. "I'm serious." Billy could see that and he frowned.

        "Okay, Joe," he agreed, quietly. "I promise, but what…I mean they gotta put you somewhere, man."

        "I want you to put me in a boat, maybe a canoe, set it on fire and set me adrift in the sea."

        Billy stared at him and waited for the punch line. "What, you mean like some kinda Viking or Indian burial, Joe?" Joe nodded. "Why?"

        "It's not important why…" Joe protested but Billy was curious.

        "Fuck that, tell me or I won't promise you shit," he warned. "Why do you want to do that?"

        "It will be my last chance to be an explorer, Billy," Joe admitted quietly. "It's all I ever dreamed about, a magnificent funeral like that. Like John Smith discovering the New World."

        Billy shook his head, leave it to Joe to be dreaming about his funeral while everyone else struggles to stay alive awhile longer. Finally he nodded and Joe's shoulders sagged with relief.

        "Okay, Joe," Billy permitted. "I'll do my best."

        "Thanks, Buddy," Joe returned. "I knew I could count on you."

        "Anything else you want done, a bon voyage party maybe?" Billy was teasing now and Joe smiled and told him the other small detail.

 
        Billy settled Joe's body in the small dinghy and retrieved the gas can from his truck. He hadn't been able to find a canoe, but he didn't figure that would matter that much right now. The dinghy had been relatively cheap but had dipped further into Billy's savings than was desired.

        Of course, touring with Jenifur had allowed him to remain flush for the last few months, but Billy still had a little girl to support and didn't want to stretch himself to thin. He'd been pleasantly surprised when the court had awarded him joint custody of his daughter. He had her for six months and Mary had her for six months.

        Mary hadn't been happy when Billy initially requested visitation with Billie, so he had taken her to court. For once, the judge was sympathetic to Billy's desire to be a father to the daughter he never knew he had. Billy was making good money and was a devoted father. The arrangement worked out, because Billy usually toured during the spring and winter months and he could be home with Billie in the summer and fall.

        The little girl hadn’t taken to Billy at first; naturally she was confused and upset to be leaving her Mother. But, eventually Billy's charm softened her and she started to warm to him. She enjoyed going to the studio with him, learning how to make records and play some of the instruments.

        Billy was teaching her the guitar and his band mate Peter was teaching her the keyboard. Billy played with his daughter and took her places and showered her with all the love and attention he didn't have growing up. He could still be firm with her about eating habits and bed time, but for the most part everyone knew he spoiled Billie.

        Even Mary had to agree that Billy was a good Father. She had finally managed to swallow her bitterness and encourage their relationship, wanting Billie to be comfortable and love her real Dad. Billie did not need much encouragement, she adored Billy and the singer was constantly amazed whenever she gave him a hug for no reason or told him she loved him.

        Billy pulled the blanket tighter around Joe's shoulder and torso then doused both it and the boat with the gasoline. He set a map in Joe's hands, to help him on his journey to wherever the singer ended up. Tossing the gas can further back on the beach he paused to stare up at the stars twinkling above them.

        The full moon cast a ghostly path across the water to light Joe's way. Billy pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and lit it with a shaky hand. He had made a promise to Joe and he had meant to keep that promise. Now he just needed the courage to follow through.

        He puffed for a few minutes on the cigarette lost in memories of him and Joe, laughing, singing, partying after a gig and rehearsing early the next morning until well into dark. The silver bracelet on his wrist, Joe had given him for graduating high school with honors. Wilma hadn't even showed for the occasion. Billy never took the bracelet off, not even after Joe's death. Billy's first time with a girl that Joe had especially picked for him, because she was a seasoned professional, as Joe called her.

        Billy climbing the drain pipe to the attic of Joe's house after a particularly bad beating by his Mother. Joe would dress his wounds and soothe him with tender words of comfort. Many times, the physical and emotional strain of keeping his feelings inside exploded during those nights and Billy would cry himself to sleep in Joe's warm arms.

        God, he didn't think he'd miss Joe this much. It hurt, it hurt bad, like someone was twisting a double edged sword through his heart and allowing the pieces to seep painfully through the rest of his body. He wished things could have stayed they way they were, before Hard Core Logo developed a steady following and Joe became obsessed with controlling everything.

    Billy wished he'd had the courage to stay and beat some sense into Joe after Joe had fucked him over, both physically and career wise. But being raped had damaged Billy's trust in his friend and threw suspicion on Joe's real intentions. Billy had done the one thing he could, he ran.

    He didn't want to think of the implications of what Joe did of what it meant. He didn't want to believe that he had some how led Joe into thinking he wanted that by allowing Joe to cross the line a few times when they were stoned. A few kisses here, a hand job there, but it shouldn't have meant anything; they were wasted after all, right?

    Were people accountable for their actions when they were as inibriated as much as Joe and he had often been? Billy had allowed it, for whatever reason, and he suffered the consequences. He had to admit to sharing the blame, which was what had led him to forgiving Joe. If it had been a game, or something more real, Billy couldn't explain it any more now than he could then.

    Rape wasn't always about sex, Billy understod that. It was more about power and he could see that being a reason for Joe to do what he did. He might not ever condone it but he could understand it, because power over Billy was what Joe was all about.

        Finally, Billy reached for the plain acoustic guitar he had in the seat of the vehicle. He returned to the water's edge and carefully shoved the boat into the water. He tossed his cigarette into it and watched the flames engulf the boat as it floated down the moon's path toward the ocean.

        Billy settled on one of the larger rocks on the shore and began to play the song Joe had requested. To say he was shocked by his friend's choice was an understatement, but when he read the lyrics to the song, he understood why Joe liked it so much. Again, Joe had not failed to surprise him. Even in death, Joe would have the last word, by planting a final seed inside Billy's heart and mind. Billy began singing in a soft, natural voice that contrasted his usual, in-your face-tones.
 
 
 

        Billy stood and wiped at the tears streaming down his face as he watched the boat blaze a mystic path across the sea. He looked down at the silver ring on his finger, Joe's gift to him after their first professional gig. It finally dawned on him that despite everything, all that Billy had suffered at Joe's hands had been for Billy's own good.

        In some, twisted way, Joe's treatment of him had given Billy the drive to succeed. Whether driven by anger or spite, it was there and Joe had been right. Billy should never allow anyone to control his life, as he had allowed Joe to do. Even someone that Billy loved as deeply as he loved Joe should not control Billy's personal destiny that was for Billy to do alone. His fist tightened, before he pulled off the ring and hurled it into the waves.

        "I know where I'm going, Joe," he promised, quietly. "I'll be okay." He stared after the boat for a long time, until only a small portion of the flame was visible. "See you in the New World, Buddy."

        Billy Tallent turned away, collected the guitar and gas can and climbed inside his truck. He adjusted his rearview mirror to catch a final glimpse of the boat and the promise he had made to Joe.

        "Billy Tallent loves Joe Dick," he whispered softly. "Forever and always." He shifted the truck into gear and drove away without another backward glance.
 
 

The end
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