Chapter Six
11:58.
Arthur stared at the small clock, willing the hands to stop. He'd gotten three more words done on his review of the concert. His heart just wasn't in it.
The minute hand fluttered to 59, the hour hand a fraction of a millimeter closer to 12 and Arthur sighed. *Stone Delivers,* he thought. *Delivers a mockery of what he once was, what he could have been.*
A knock sounded on his door; Arthur knew it was Lou. Dejectedly, he called, "Come in."
Lou poked his white head inside. "Arthur? Are you done with the Stone piece?"
"No," Arthur said quietly.
Lou entered the room fully, smiling. "Finishing touches?"
"Topic sentence actually." At Lou's confused look, Arthur said, "I can't write this, Lou. It's a lie."
"The show wasn't good? Say so. We're journalists, not sycophants. If someone performs badly, we have an obligation-"
"The show was fine, Lou."
Lou sat down in the chair across from Arthur, looking genuinely concerned. "Then what is it? You've been like this since…"
"Since Thursday," Arthur replied. "Since you gave me the Slade story. Since I found out who Tommy Stone really is."
Lou cocked his head. "You don't mean…"
"Radical pop icon Brian Slade is conservative pop icon Tommy Stone."
Lou looked amazed. "How do you know, Arthur? Are you sure?"
"Do you mean can we print it?" Arthur cracked a smile. "I'm positive, Lou. There's no uncertainty. Brian and Tommy are the same person."
"We can't print that," Lou said softly. "Do you have any idea the lawsuit that he'd press?"
"No one in this bloody country has even read that bloody first amendment, have they? Journalists can print what they want to print. It's the truth, Lou. People have a right to know the truth."
Lou sighed. "Okay. I'll run Morris's piece on H.C. Bactor in the entertainment column. You get the Stone/Slade piece ready for Monday. If you're wrong…"
"I'm not."
Lou nodded. "Fine. But its not just *your* career on the line, you know."
Arthur smiled. "I know."
*
Curt was bored. They'd taken the restraints off and he was able to walk around, but it was still the most boring place he'd ever been in. He kept himself busy by humming old melodies and trying to come up with new ones. He'd thought of a song about aliens and time travelers but he figured that without anything to write it on, he would forget it before they let him go.
If they let him go. He was still a bit foggy on whether or not they were planning on keeping him here, and who 'they' were.
He yawned and was about to go lay down again when the door opened. White light spilled in and the man- he'd eventually introduced himself as Al- entered and Curt nodded a greeting. "Can I go home now?"
"In such a hurry?"
"I have plants to water, cats to feed," he said flippantly. Then he sobered. "Is Arthur alright?"
Al looked uncomfortable. "He'll be fine. We'll take care of it."
"How could Brian- Tommy- kill him? Brian used to revel in the truth- telling it especially. But then he got… lost in the fantasy."
"Where does Arthur come in?"
"Arthur… I'm don't even know if he remembers. He was so high that night. It wasn't my first one night stand. But it was the only one that ever meant anything. I was ready to give up. To go shoot myself full of heroine and just end it. But Arthur was so bright… Like a beacon. He gave me everything he had and would have given me more. And I would have given more to him."
"What happened?"
"Dawn. In the light of day, things are different. The rock star suddenly looks more like a washed up old fool and the beacon… Well, in the sunlight beacons don't shine so bright."
"Sure they do. It just doesn't seem that way."
"He's never been out of my head. And I barely recognized him."
"You love him?"
"I wouldn't call it love. I don't even know him." He was quiet for a moment. "Sometimes you fall in love with an idea. But when the illusion fades… so does the love."
"Love isn't always like that."
Curt stared at Al, his eyes pleading. "Please, don't let him die."
11:58.
Arthur stared at the small clock, willing the hands to stop. He'd gotten three more words done on his review of the concert. His heart just wasn't in it.
The minute hand fluttered to 59, the hour hand a fraction of a millimeter closer to 12 and Arthur sighed. *Stone Delivers,* he thought. *Delivers a mockery of what he once was, what he could have been.*
A knock sounded on his door; Arthur knew it was Lou. Dejectedly, he called, "Come in."
Lou poked his white head inside. "Arthur? Are you done with the Stone piece?"
"No," Arthur said quietly.
Lou entered the room fully, smiling. "Finishing touches?"
"Topic sentence actually." At Lou's confused look, Arthur said, "I can't write this, Lou. It's a lie."
"The show wasn't good? Say so. We're journalists, not sycophants. If someone performs badly, we have an obligation-"
"The show was fine, Lou."
Lou sat down in the chair across from Arthur, looking genuinely concerned. "Then what is it? You've been like this since…"
"Since Thursday," Arthur replied. "Since you gave me the Slade story. Since I found out who Tommy Stone really is."
Lou cocked his head. "You don't mean…"
"Radical pop icon Brian Slade is conservative pop icon Tommy Stone."
Lou looked amazed. "How do you know, Arthur? Are you sure?"
"Do you mean can we print it?" Arthur cracked a smile. "I'm positive, Lou. There's no uncertainty. Brian and Tommy are the same person."
"We can't print that," Lou said softly. "Do you have any idea the lawsuit that he'd press?"
"No one in this bloody country has even read that bloody first amendment, have they? Journalists can print what they want to print. It's the truth, Lou. People have a right to know the truth."
Lou sighed. "Okay. I'll run Morris's piece on H.C. Bactor in the entertainment column. You get the Stone/Slade piece ready for Monday. If you're wrong…"
"I'm not."
Lou nodded. "Fine. But its not just *your* career on the line, you know."
Arthur smiled. "I know."
*
Curt was bored. They'd taken the restraints off and he was able to walk around, but it was still the most boring place he'd ever been in. He kept himself busy by humming old melodies and trying to come up with new ones. He'd thought of a song about aliens and time travelers but he figured that without anything to write it on, he would forget it before they let him go.
If they let him go. He was still a bit foggy on whether or not they were planning on keeping him here, and who 'they' were.
He yawned and was about to go lay down again when the door opened. White light spilled in and the man- he'd eventually introduced himself as Al- entered and Curt nodded a greeting. "Can I go home now?"
"In such a hurry?"
"I have plants to water, cats to feed," he said flippantly. Then he sobered. "Is Arthur alright?"
Al looked uncomfortable. "He'll be fine. We'll take care of it."
"How could Brian- Tommy- kill him? Brian used to revel in the truth- telling it especially. But then he got… lost in the fantasy."
"Where does Arthur come in?"
"Arthur… I'm don't even know if he remembers. He was so high that night. It wasn't my first one night stand. But it was the only one that ever meant anything. I was ready to give up. To go shoot myself full of heroine and just end it. But Arthur was so bright… Like a beacon. He gave me everything he had and would have given me more. And I would have given more to him."
"What happened?"
"Dawn. In the light of day, things are different. The rock star suddenly looks more like a washed up old fool and the beacon… Well, in the sunlight beacons don't shine so bright."
"Sure they do. It just doesn't seem that way."
"He's never been out of my head. And I barely recognized him."
"You love him?"
"I wouldn't call it love. I don't even know him." He was quiet for a moment. "Sometimes you fall in love with an idea. But when the illusion fades… so does the love."
"Love isn't always like that."
Curt stared at Al, his eyes pleading. "Please, don't let him die."