Chapter 37

The "Chopsticks" moment with DJ was the last happy thing that happened to Lauren – or the Kingmakers – for the next three weeks. As August turned into September, and September's days began to slip away, Lauren continued her slow spiral down into depression, sadness and despair. And the band followed her. Work on the new CD had been difficult before her affair with Danny crashed and burned. Now it was close to disastrous.

They had a few songs, but no one in the band was settled on them. They disagreed about the musicality, the tempo, and the thousand other little details that went into a song. And the fact that Lauren couldn't string together a set of lyrics worth a damn was just gas on the fire. She had several songs half-finished and didn't like any them, but with no new inspiration, she just continued to try fixing the unfixable. Feedback from the band wasn't helping and they couldn't seem to reconcile lyrics with music and vice versa. Fitz was doing his best to influence them and break through the barriers, but his success was spotty. And he was growing more and more concerned with production deadlines.

"That's not the right tempo for this," barked DJ.

Stevie shot him a look. "It's what's working for me. Don't like it come over here and play it yourself."

"Hey!" Even Augie's tone was terse. "Not helpful."

"Neither is the drum beat. We're all over the place; this is noise not music." DJ was frustrated and starting to believe that there was little hope for the album. "Are you hearing anything, Lauren? Might be nice to at least know what kind of song you're tinkering with."

"Back off." Lauren put her head down on the table. Where were her lyrics? She was utterly dry and out of ideas, and the fear of a bad album following an average one was really starting to take hold and that was only making it worse for her.

"We've been backing off." DJ folded his arms. "That's our whole problem. Our production schedule has been spinning out of control for the last month. We're getting nothing done. Anyone remember what changed about a month ago?"

"Not relevant," she growled.

"Not relevant my ass," muttered Mike.

"Do you have something to say to me? Any of you? Then just say it and stop being a bunch of little bitches. After your second divorce, Mike, did I bail on you? Did I? Have I bailed on any of you? No, we worked through it no matter what kind of shit we needed to work through."

"No, you've never bailed on us, Lauren. And we supported you when you were in rehab; we said we'd wait for you to get your shit together. And we did," said Stevie.

"And I appreciate that. So maybe you could all cut me a little slack while I get my shit together again. Problems don't just disappear; they stick with you for a while." She turned her back on them and went back to scribbling in her notebook.

The tension between Lauren and Mike continued to simmer for the remainder of the day, and came back to the studio with them on Thursday until it finally came to a head when Lauren tore into Mike over some minor disagreement, and he laced into her just as hard in response. The string of expletives that erupted from the rehearsal room was followed by a loud crash as a stool went flying backwards and then a few more curse words. Mike walked out of the room, shoulders tense, his mouth in a thin line. The rest of the band, Fitz, and Tisha were all in the control room and collectively watched as Lauren tore up a number of papers and flung them around the room.

"Calling her a 'crazy-ass, control-freak bitch' didn't exactly improve her attitude, Mike." That casual observation came from Stevie.

"Well, she is. I get she's hurting over this breakup, and I'm sorry, but I am not her punching bag. I'm not putting up with that kind of shit. We are so ridiculously behind on this album…" Mike, who was normally the last member of the Kingmakers to ever lose his temper over anything, was furious.

Inside the booth, Lauren turned to look at the window – realizing that the others were staring at her. Out of breath from her tantrum, her chest was heaving and her hands were clenched into fists. Her unruly hair was pulled into a messy knot, and with it away from her face the dark circles under her eyes stood out prominently. Tisha wondered if anyone else noticed that she was looking much thinner than normal. Lauren looked through the window with a thousand yard stare that unnerved her cousin. A moment later the door flew open with a bang.

"I'm done. I'm going home." She looked at them all accusingly and waited for someone to challenge her, to try convincing her to stay.

"Then just go. Maybe you can get some writing done," snapped Mike. "At least when Taylor Swift gets dumped, she gets some mileage out of it."

Lauren whirled around to face him, livid. "You are SUCH an ASSHOLE!" She stormed out of the studio without another word to anyone.

"Nice fucking job." Augie glared at Mike and then closed his eyes; he had a massive headache.

"Mike's got a point. We're never going to get done working like this. We don't have a hit. We don't even have something that's halfway to a hit; we're exceling at mediocrity. She's completely around the bend," said DJ.

"Hey," said Stevie. "I don't disagree but we're not helping by talking to her like she's washed up. That's not going to unblock her. But I don't know what else to do."

"Only thing we can do. We wait," said Augie.

"Come on, Augie! You've got to stop covering for her. All of us are in the band, not just her. We wait. We wait. We've been waiting and it hasn't gotten us shit," said Mike.

Augie walked over to Mike and got right in his face. "Then what do you recommend we do? Your brilliant technique of confronting her obviously worked so well today, you dick. So, what's your great idea? I'm waiting."

"Okay," said Fitz with a sigh as he moved between Mike and Augie, forcing them to step back from each other. "Let's call it a wrap today." He didn't disagree with what any of them had said. The issue really was with Lauren and they weren't going to get anywhere until she got right in the head. And there was no way for him to make it happen any faster.

Augie held up a hand. "Fine. Give her a long weekend; we'll get it done. We always do. Let's all regroup back here on Monday afternoon. See how everyone is doing and then do a full day on Tuesday. I'll give her some time and talk to her on Sunday."

When she left the studio, Lauren didn't go home. She went into the city and wandered. Stuck in her own head, she didn't really pay attention to the people around her or necessarily where she was going. Finally she found herself in the park and sat on a bench. From behind her sunglasses she watched people come and go, and it didn't take long for her to notice the young man several benches down who had a stack of some kind of publication next to him. He didn't seem to be pushing the material on anyone, but was more than happy to exchange one for money when someone sat down… all under the watchful eye of two of his friends who loitered nearby.

A stressed out Wall Street type in a suit sat down and talked to the man for a minute, and after he paid, Lauren caught the smallest flash of a plastic packet being tucked in the front cover before it was handed over. She wasn't surprised; she'd played that game plenty of times back in LA. Find your dealer, pay your money, and have your poison slipped into your pocket or tucked in a newspaper. Then off you went.

A taste of that would solve your problems. The little voice in her head was a whisper, but one she hadn't heard for a long time. She closed her eyes and pretended not to hear it, but the voice pushed.

All that pain, all that hurt? You never felt it before. A little up your nose and the whole world changes. Gets brighter, better. You know it...

Lauren ground her teeth. She knew the voice lied; that it would make everything worse. But she had to admit, she'd been thinking about it: that haze of energy and excitement that came with the cocaine high. For her it was a euphoria that blocked everything else out so that she didn't have to think about the things she didn't want to think about. Things like her writer's block. Things like Danny.

Danny… Every time she thought of him it hurt, a physical pain that twisted her up inside and turned her inside out. At night she couldn't sleep. She would stare out the window, missing feeling him beside her and hating the idea that he was sleeping with Linda. Then she would berate herself for those thoughts; she couldn't fault him for that. She was, after all, his wife. And Lauren was, well, nothing.

You don't have to feel like nothing any more…

Lauren looked over at the bench. Her writing talent was gone, and that meant her career was gone. Danny was gone. She had nothing left and that meant she really had nothing to lose. Ten minutes later, she was walking home, her fist clenched inside her pocket around a one-ounce bag of cocaine.