I let my head rest on the bar. A college road trip had brought me to Los Angeles, but something about this bar spoke to me. Maybe it was the karaoke, I had an affinity for singing even though I am often off tune; tonight was no exception.

For some reason the odd faces in the audience didn't scare me. This was odd, because normally I scare easier than a five year old on Halloween. Quickly I found my song, my favorite to sing while out karaoking. The soft strains of R.E.M.'s Everybody hurts began as the words appeared on the small screen in front of me. I didn't need the words, but I stared at the television anyway.

"Everybod-y-y-y hu-u-u-urts S-o-o-o-o-mmmmmetimes-s. . . ." I slurred the words as they happily taunted my drowning sorrows.

The bartender placed the tequila bottle softly on the counter, making my ears ring. I sat up looking through the three shot glasses filled to the brim. Carefully I placed the glass to my lips, and downed the first shot. I tapped the bar to signify to the odd bartender that it was time for another refill. I became aware of a man in a white suit sitting next to me.

"You have quite a set 'a pipes on ya there sister. . . ." The man signaled to the bartender to refill the second of the three drinks.

"Thanks, but I only sing while completely smashed, as well as utterly depressed." I nodded to the bartender in thanks. Hurriedly I squeezed a lime into my mouth, and downed another shot. I winced. "I'm not interested in a record contract, so you can leave now." The man only turned towards me.

"Want to know what I heard? You might find it more helpful than a bottle of tequila." He met my gaze as I turned to see who this man was. Some how I wasn't taken aback by his red horns, or green skin. In fact I'd have to say his skin was complimented by his stark white suit. I took this all in quickly, I was all too interested in what he had said.

"So," I said lazily, "what did you hear? The makings of a true diva, cause like I said I'm not interested in a contract." I laughed half heartedly. I waved to the bartender to finish off the bottle. The man tapped the glasses and the bartender obeyed.

"On the house." He smiled kindly. "I heard what you know already. You're in a heap load of heartache. You may be devoted to him. . . . ." I quickly downed my three shots. "but he's not the one." The man slid a card over to me. "My friends call me Lorne." He nodded to the bartender knowingly. "Three more, then call her a cab." I watched him leave the bar and enter the stage area where he introduced himself while straightening his white suit. Had I been called here to learn what I already knew?