Disclaimer: That '70s Show copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC. The fictional band Degenerate Matter, their albums Vagabondage, Ultrarelativistic, WIMPs and MACHOs, Frozen Stars, the song "Spark," and all the lyrics contained therein copyright to the author of this story (username: MistyMountainHop, maker of Those '70s Comics).

CHAPTER 42
GRAVITATIONAL COLLAPSE

March 3, 1995

San Francisco, California

Wintry Grand Avenue Hotel
…

Brie escorted Jackie down a long, carpeted hallway toward the ballroom. Her arm was lashed to Jackie's shoulders, but Jackie was too exhausted to pry it off. Her recent bout of panic, the sedating effect of Valium—she had no energy to fight.

A door led to a short, dark corridor. "This has to be it," Brie said, half-dragging Jackie through it, and she opened another door at the opposite end of the corridor.

"Only Ms. Burkhart," a deep male voice said, and Jackie glanced up. A tall, muscular security guard barred their way. They hadn't journeyed toward the ballroom but backstage.

"Ms. Burkhart wouldn't be here without me," Brie said, but the security guard repeated himself. His black-shirted body was a locked gate, and apparently Jackie served as a key only for herself. "All right." Brie squeezed Jackie's shoulders. "This is an amazing opportunity, Jackie. Embrace it."

Jackie shuddered once Brie released her, like a wet dog shaking off water. The security guard brought her past a few scurrying stagehands to yet another door. He knocked on it, and Steven came out in his beat-up denim jacket. She itched both to hug him and throttle him, but she wasn't sure which he deserved more.

The security guard returned to his post, giving them space, and Steven said to her, "Were you out there for any of it?" He sounded tense, as if his heart were exposed on a windy cliffside.

"Yes," she lied. "I just had a bathroom emergency."

"I can understand that. We don't want to play this last song without you." He scratched his cheek but held her gaze. "I don't. It'll be the first time I'm … that I'm singin' in front of a crowd."

She crossed her arms over her chest. Her fingers clawed at her cardigan, and it stretched at the power of her grasp. "I don't want to be a spectacle, Steven."

"So you'll listen sidestage."

"It's too late. The press is in the ballroom. My name's out there. Ro Skirving said it."

"Only your first. Then again, any of your 'friends' could spill the last."

"I doubt they even know my last name. If anything, they'd use—" She stopped herself from saying Corin. Her ex-husband had to be in the room behind Steven. She couldn't risk his last name bringing him out. "My 'sister' probably won't tell the tabloids anything, either. That would bring unwanted attention."

"Right. All she needs is for a headline declaring her as your ma."

"Right." Her voice and body were stiff, but she was uncertain how to react. His intentions had to be good. Donna must have told him about this party, and he—

The door behind him opened, and Ro Skirving popped out her head. "Ready to go, love?"

"Just about," he said, and Jackie shut her eyes as if the sun had risen backstage. She'd never seen Ro this close before, one of the best rock singers in the world. Steven's lover, soon-to-be wife, and the woman who'd cut a scar into his left forearm.

"Introductions later," Ro said, and the door clicked closed.

Jackie opened her eyes, and Steven held out his hand. "I'll bring you to a prime spot sidestage. No one'll see you there, but you'll see me."

"Fine." She took his hand loosely, and he led her to a dark area with equipment she couldn't name. Degenerate Matter's instruments were waiting onstage. The crowd murmured like a swarm of bees, but it was just a sound. The band's security wouldn't allow anyone get to the stage.

Steven let go of her and said, "Do one thing for me."

"What?"

"Don't run."

He nodded in the opposite direction of the stage. Degenerate Matter was walking toward her, and she forced herself to stay in place. Each member, including Ralph, wished her a happy birthday while passing by. Steven, though, grasped her hand again before stepping onstage.

She closed her fingers into a fist, caging the sensation of his touch.

The crowd cheered at the band's return, so loudly that Jackie winced. "That was some encore break, huh?" Ro said into her microphone. "But the birthday badass is nearby and listening, so let's get to it."

An instrument tech had given Steven a guitar. Steven draped its strap over his shoulder, and he took Ro's place at the microphone. "This is my first time," he said, "but you don't have be gentle."

A collective laugh rose from the crowd, but Ro's soared above it. Jackie squeezed her fist, trying to hold onto what part of Steven was hers. He strummed the beginning of "Spark" and sang, "Spent years trying to reignite myself..."

By the time the whole band joined him, Steven was glancing sidestage at Jackie. With Ro as backup harmony, he sang, "'Damn, open your eyes. You're not alone. Such degenerate matter, you matter to me,'" and Jackie clutched her purse beneath her armpit. Running would be easier that way.

The band quieted down at the third verse, leaving Steven to play and sing alone. "I burn dimly. The world's not as bright as it was before..."

She hadn't promised him she wouldn't run, but his voice made her stay. Its intimacy built a house around her, but memories of Ralph tapped on the windows. He was facing away from her, had been the whole time. Perhaps out of respect, but his relationship with Degenerate Matter—whatever it was—bruised her own relationship with it. Fingers that once smashed her face played chords she'd come to love.

"How did I find you among the debris?" Steven sang with the band backing him. "With blood smearing my eyes, broken hands, diseased heart?"

Blood smeared her eyes after Ralph had struck her, and it had streaked her thighs during her miscarriage.

The music descended into a crashing, noise-filled coda. It blended with the crowd's applause, and Ro uttered a quick, "Happy birthday, Jackie. Good night," into her microphone.

The band moved offstage with Hyde taking the lead. He gripped Jackie's hand before she could think, and he pulled her past Degenerate Matter's crew. Roadies were charging onstage to remove the band's equipment. Ann-Marie would detest the sight: long-haired, grizzled men in old band T-shirts invading her pristine, lavender-and-silver ballroom.

"We're goin' to the greenroom," Steven whispered in Jackie's ear. "Gonna introduce you to the band."

Further backstage, they were met by the security guard who hadn't let in Brie. June and her husband were behind him. "Trevor Halliday," the guard said to Steven in a low tone. "Pitcher for the 'Frisco Giants. Thought you'd make an exception."

Jackie looked beyond the guard to the greenroom. Everyone in the band but Steven had gotten safely inside.

"One minute," Steven said to the guard

The guard stepped back, giving them the illusion of privacy. But he was watching as six-foot-three Trevor detached himself from the equally-tall-in-heels June. "Man, it's an honor to meet you," Trevor said and put out his hand for Steven to shake. "You and Ro killed it out there."

Steven accepted the handshake. "So did the rest of the band, but thanks. Cool to meet you and your...?" His gaze moved to June.

"Wife," Jackie said since Trevor had clearly forgotten June's existence. "June."

Steven shook June's hand, too, and June brushed her blond hair from her shoulder, as if giving a view of her long neck was a greeting.

"Good luck with your season, man," Steven said to Trevor. "Hope the strike ends well for the players."

"Thanks! Thanks a lot!" Trevor was smiling like a kid, but June wore a skin-wrinkling pout. Her husband had left her out of his orbit. He was stargazing, and it seemed a solo endeavor. "I catch Degenerate Matter whenever I have time off," he said to Steven. "I'm part of the fan club. Best way to get concert tickets."

"We run the thing ourselves. Helps deal with scalpers." Steven guided Jackie toward the greenroom door. "Anyway, have a good night, man. And don't forget your wife."

"Next tour think you could hook me up with backstage p—"

Steven shut himself and Jackie inside the greenroom, cutting off Trevor's last word. Jackie kept her focus on Steven's denim jacket, on a tiny hole near the collar. "You weren't impressed by him?" she said

He shrugged. "I'm a Brewers fan."

Inside the most ostentatious greenroom Hyde had ever been in, Jackie didn't leave his side. She was clinging to him without touching him, breathing shallow breaths. Her gaze had dropped to the linoleum floor. Maybe the giant vintage vanity that was more Broadway than rock made her uncomfortable. She seemed to avoid mirrors like they burned her.

"Don't pass out on us," Sherry said from a chaise longue. She patted its purple velvet upholstery. "The fainting couch is already taken … although, technically, this is a chaise."

"We're just people," Nate said, seated on a tufted ottoman next to her. "Our crap stinks just like anyone else's."

Sherry cupped her forehead. "Nate—Jesus."

"That's my point, Sherry: I'm not Jesus. Jesus!"

"Okay, whatever." She stood, approached Jackie, and extended her hand. "Pardon our bandmate there. He suffers from PST: post-show tension."

Jackie shook Sherry's hand hesitantly, and Hyde flicked his eyes toward Ro. She was sitting sideways on a wingback chair, legs dangling over one of the armrests. She drank from a water bottle, and a small tilt of her head told him what he needed to know. She'd wait until everyone else was finished.

Nate jumped off the ottoman and grabbed Jackie's hand with both of his. "Don't listen to Sherry. I'm very personable and kind toward our fans."

But the most personable man in the room was keeping his distance: Scotty. He stood behind the vanity, hands in his pockets. Hyde's San Francisco Giants cap, sitting precariously on the vanity's edge, had more presence.

"Do you know who that fucker is?" Hyde said to Jackie and hiked his thumb at Scotty.

"Do you?" Jackie said, and her caustic tone ate through his doubts. He'd gone too far tonight, but he'd salvage what he could. Keep his own attitude light.

"Yeah. Reformed hair-metal god. Also, Lee's guitar tech. I spend a lot of time with him on tour. He's a good guy."

Jackie's face showed an expression he couldn't read, but she allowed another inch of space between their bodies.

"Scotty," he said, "quit being coy, man. Your Wildebeest videos ain't that bad."

"Oh, yes, they are," Nate said, laughing.

Scotty offered a half-smile and a half-wave from his spot behind the vanity. Fame wasn't his deal. Hyde got that, but Jackie deserved better than that lousy greeting. "Shake the woman's hand, Roxx."

"Let him stay where he is," Jackie said.

Hyde pushed a heavy breath through his nose. This meeting was not going like he'd hoped, but Ro finally got to her feet and stood in front of Jackie. "Think those assholes out there understood anything we played?" Ro said to her.

Jackie's cardigan bunched under her fingers as she pulled up the strap of her black dress. It had fallen slightly. "Probably not."

"But you understand every word."

Jackie nodded.

"Means you understand him," Ro said, gesturing at Hyde. Jackie didn't react, but Ro continued. "And you understand me." She pulled a guitar pick from her jeans pocket and pressed it into Jackie's palm. "You're part of this band, Jackie. You're in the songs … because you're in him."

She curled Jackie's fingers around the pick and held onto Jackie's fist. "You gave him to me, and that's a gift I can't repay."

Jackie still didn't react. Her mind must've fled this room. Hyde had to get the rest of her out of here so her mind could return.

Ro released Jackie's hand. "Our Australian tour starts in a few days. You can go to any of the shows you want. Or all of them." She patted Hyde's cheek. "He'll foot the bill, and you'll get the best seats."

"Thank you," Jackie said with no affect.

"Been a wild night," Hyde said, "and it's gettin' freakin' late."

Sherry checked her watch. "It's not even midnight, old man."

"Yup, and I should've been in bed an hour ago. Jackie, how'd you get here?"

"I drove."

"How's about I drive you back?" Because she was in no state to drive herself.

"You're about to go on tour."

"Take him." Ro plucked Hyde's baseball cap from the vanity and tossed it at him. "Just make sure his ass is at our hotel by six a.m."

He put on the cap and snatched his duct-taped backpack from the floor. His intention had been to protect Jackie tonight, but as he grasped her stiff hand, he feared he'd done more harm than good.