Peter's Place, later that day

When they were out on the back deck Peter handed Mike a fresh ice bag and a beer and set the bucket full of bottles on the table, then sat on one of the deeply padded benches and waited. Mike's shades couldn't cover the damage; his lip had stopped bleeding but was swollen pretty good, and the bruise that started next to his mouth was spreading along his jaw. Mike didn't say a word so Peter cut to the chase.

"So. You gonna tell me why you pissed all over your good life and the woman who loves you more than breathing?"

"Well if I do a dozen other people are gonna push in front of you to hear it." Mike dropped into a nearby lounge chair and winced as he adjusted the ice bag against his face. "I don't know, that's the short answer. I can explain it a million ways, and I've tried to, but nothing sounds like it makes sense."

"Hell, Mike, I know you love Bonnie. That much is a sure thing. But what made you go all suck-my-face and grab-my-ass with that nobody? She was around all day at the shoot and you never gave her a second look, so what changed later? Were you drunk, stoned, horny, lonely? She was just there so you pick her up and make out in the dark like the old days? Tell me something man or I'm gonna think there is something very ugly happening inside of you."

"Yeah we were drunk. We were high. I don't know about horny, at least not at first, but you could be right. I know I'd been thinking earlier of what I'd be doing if I was with Morris, but I wasn't with her, so it went out of my head. So it was a party like all the others, dancing and getting high with everybody, cast, crew, you guys. And then it turned." He shook his head. "It turned. Then she asked me to walk her to her hotel." He stopped and looked straight at Peter. "I don't know why, it was more like 'why not'."

"Tell me what happened, then. I mean all of it because I know you haven't done that yet, not with anybody. Especially not her."

Mike killed the rest of his beer and reached for another. "Like I said. It turned, somehow. And we were getting silly , just silly, laughing and carrying on and telling jokes and all that dumbass stuff. And then she's in my lap and we're groping each other and making out. No words, no thought."

"So who started it?"

"I don't know. What does it matter?"

"Bullshit. You know it matters." He saw his friend stare down at the table, and he knew the answer. "Why, man? What were you after? Bored, and looking to get it on with some casting office chick you figured was paid off in advance?"

Mike's head snapped up and he looked offended, but Peter wasn't having it.

"Don't pull that insulted look on me, I'm not the one who was grabbing ass while my girl was working hers off a couple thousand miles away. And if you don't wanna hear it, tough shit, because you know you listen to me different than to the others. So tell me, why did you pick up a knife and stab Bonnie in the heart? It all comes down to that, doesn't it?"

Suddenly all the self-possessed defensive tricks fell away from Mike's demeanor until there was nothing left but disgust and shame.

"You know, I could tell you I just got stupid. Like unaware and high and all that mess, and I'd like to think I can make her believe that too."

"But you don't?"

"No. You saw me man, that week I felt so much like my 'old' party self it was like I wasn't even me. I partied with people I'd never met, local grips and extras, in places I'd never go to sober. Places the press didn't go so that's why you guys never saw any of it. And some nights yeah, I was so horny I'd have fucked a fencepost. I didn't do anything about it, and anyway we weren't hanging out with whores or groupies but with women who liked to have a good time but drew the line at a one-nighter with a TV rock star. In fact some of these babes who knew about the show would ask me about Bonnie, where she was at and why wasn't she here with me, how that must really be a drag. I was part way into the old scene, but not all of it."

"So what happened, then?" Peter was looking harder for a reason that even Mike was, trying to make it make sense so he could stop seeing Mike as the mean bastard he used to be. "If it was all fun and games before, what the hell happened?"

Mike shook his head. "That last night, all bets were off. I feel like a low-life asshole, thinking now of how I was carrying on that night."

"Well we know you didn't go your separate ways after you were busted by the photographer." Peter sounded sick, his voice flat.

The certainty was dark on Mike's face. "Like I said, I walked her to her hotel. We didn't go to the bar this time. And whatever you think happened, happened. In spades. That's why Morris couldn't reach me at our suite. I wasn't just out, I was all the way out."

"You gonna tell her all this? I mean she knows the basics, but before she gets the hairy details from the press..."

"Pete, how can I?" He gestured wildly with the ice bag. "She already got messed up over what almost happened with Phyllis that time, she knows about what i was like before with all the groupies. But this is different. She's no dummy, Pete, never mind telling her all of it, it scared the shit out of me to see what knowing even part of it did to her. And I don't know what to do now."

Peter's voice was a dry as dirt. "I'd say you've goddamn done enough. Man," he rose abruptly, making Mike jump. "You screwed some no-longer anonymous piece of ass, and who knows where she's planning on going with this, and I hope you were at least smart enough to use a rubber so you don't give Bonnie - remember her? – the clap, or a paternity suit to deal with." Peter threw his hands in the air and paced back and forth then stopped again to rant, "You have the balls to sit there drinking my beer and whimpering about not knowing what to do? I'd say you should be grateful for her to leave you alive and not burn your house down. You're my best friend man, and I guess I have to love you anyway, but right now you make me wanna puke."

"Yeah, well we're solid on that one. I'm just hoping she'll talk it out with Genie and figure out how to deal with things. With me. It's not good for her, man, it's not. I mean, I've never seen her like today, like the last circuit blew. I just..." he trailed off.

"What else? Come on, I see something else thrashing to get out here." He knew he was right, and could see that Mike didn't want to say it.

"It's all my fault, all of it." He leaned forward and dropped shades to the deck, staring at his clasped hands. "So I feel like an asshole for even feeling it, let alone saying it."

"What's that?"

When he looked up, Mike wore the expression of an abandoned child. "I miss her, Pete. I miss her being with me. Back after that thing with Phyllis, she told me I'm the one she could come to when she needs to get things straight, but I was the one who'd messed them up. And I feel the same way, when I need to sort things out she's the one who always helps me, but not this time, not for either of us. It's like I've smashed something and there's no way to fix it. I guess she'll stay with Genie for a while, she needs to figure out how to deal with me before she can deal with everything else. I know she'd want to hit me again every time she looked at me. I deserve it. But Peter I feel like, I feel," he stopped again.

"What?" Peter demanded, "Guilty? Powerless? Clueless? Asshole of the Universe? What?" He was mind-bendingly angry at what Mike had done, angrier than he could remember being for a very long time.

Mike looked Peter in the eye and shook his head. "Well yeah, I mean yeah I feel those things. But mostly I feel like I'm missing part of myself, like I cut out my own heart. Pretty lame, huh."

The look on Mike's face put out the flames. Peter sighed and flopped on the bench next to him. "No, man... not lame at all."