Presenting Chapter 2. You'll start to notice I use a number of lyrics from various songs. I'll let ya guess what songs. Anyway, I'm not as happy with this chapter as I am with the first, but I wrote this in one night and I spent six months writing and rewriting the first. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

6

Chandler propped on foot on the amplifier and kicked the guitar riff up another notch. Ross struck a crazy beat on drums behind him. Monica watched this from the bar, sipping a glass of straight vodka. The bar was half-filled, the patrons nodding their heads to the beat. She had to admit they were good. Ross had played keyboards in high school and she knew he had begun to learn drums but she didn't realize how good he was.

The song ended and Chandler waved to the crown and thanked them for being a great audience and asked them to buy the demo so they could eat. Ross and Chandler hopped off stage and hurried over to Monica.

That was great, Monica said.
Chandler said distractedly, gimme a sip of that. He grabbed the glass of vodka and gulped, grimacing at the bite.

A fan had pulled Ross over to the side. Chandler murmured, dragging her away, toward the exit.

Outside, he pinned her to the wall brusquely and kissed her roughly. My god, I wanna fuck you, he growled against her neck. Monica could already feel the familiar ache.

They made love roughly. No, not made love, Monica reminded herself, we fuck, she reminded herself as she lay in bed, smoking, long after Chandler had fallen asleep. She fumbled for the tiny bottle on the nightstand and gulped it down. I don't want to make love. Love hurts. Mom and Dad always said they love me, but do they ever show it? Guys never say it when they have their way with me. Rachel nevers calls now that she's in New York and she's got a boyfriend. Fuck love. It hurts to damn much.

7


Fuck you, Monica grumbled at Ross as her head hung over the toilet. She coughed again, then flushed. Ross was on his high horse, playing the holy roller. You sound like Mom and Dad, she continued, I just got out of their house, I didn't come along for this.

All the vodka she had drunk the night before was making a return appearance. Ross, being a perfect angel, lectured on the evils of drinking and smoking. Last night had been a killer. Chandler had written a new song about his parents' divorce and, drowning in nostalgia, she'd drunk herself into oblivion. She'd passed out in the wee hours of the morning on the bed, nude except a pair of Chandler's boxers. When she'd woken, her head feeling like it might split in two and the taste of smoke and bile in her mouth, she'd draped herself in a towel, which she now wiped her mouth on. Go away, Ross.

Ross sighed, shook his head then stalked off. Chandler came in a moment later.
You okay? he asked worriedly, brushing away a lock of hair dampened by sweat.
she grumbled then gagged and spat.
You really shouldn't drink so much, he began but Monica cut him off.
Look, you're not my boyfriend. Don't tell me what to do! I gotta enough people who do that. You don't even have to be nice to me if you don't want to. She spat again.
Chandler wasn't sure whether to be surprised or hurt. He opened his mouth then closed it again.
None of the other guys I've slept with have cared for me. I don't care if you do.
Chandler stood up. Want some water...or,or something? he asked uncomfortably.
She shook her head as she bent over the toilet again. Getting back into the living room, he realized how little he knew her. Well, he knew her, just not the way it counts. He knew where to touch to make her go nuts. He knew the exact spot on her neck where her pulse flitted by and was so sensitive. He knew the feel of her lips. He didn't know her favourite food, her favourite band, whether or not she planned on college. But...she didn't want a relationship, she'd made that much clear. Hell, she didn't want him to like her. Well, he did. A hell of a lot.

8

Monica lay on the back seat, smoking and fighting to keep her remaining drops of nourishment in her system there. They had left late because of her hangover and she wasn't getting any better. It was just past noon. They were headed for some god-forsaken shithole of a town but if it kept gas in the tank and a couple bucks in their pockets, so Ross was happy.
Chandler was strumming his guitar and sang the same few lines over and over again. Nobody loves me, nobody cares, and when I die there won't be nobody there. Nobody loves me, nobody cares, and when I die there won't nobody there...

Chandler's voice faded as it played over and over in her head. She recognized it as a song by a punk band she'd seen once in concert. And when I die there won't be nobody there, I wanna die, I wanna die... That's me to a T. Fuck the world I will deny you.

Ross pulled to the side of road for a map check, convinced he was lost. Fighting a losing battle, Monica shoved the back door open and stumbled to the ditch, retching and gagging. I will deny you I WANNA DIE I WANNA DIE

9

Chander sat in his usual spot, the front passenger seat. He was scrawling snatches of lyrics into his notebook for such things. There is no love left in your eye, there is love between your thighs. That seemed to sum up his and Monica relationship, if you wanted to call it a relationship. They had been sleeping together for over a month. They had been on the road for six weeks. So far they had been making okay money, enough to cover expenses.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. She stared out the window, the look of contempt contrasting sharply with the trembling cigarette tucked between her fingers. She looked so fragile. She was so complex, something that drew him into her. She tried to give the impression that she was completely independent, she doesn't need anyone or anything. Except alcohol it seems.

She drank like a fish, something that scared him. She seems to get drunk every other night. It was just the physical side that made him worry. It was how she seemed to use the vodka and the rum and the coolers and the wines and the scotch and the whiskey just to run away from it all. Yet he couldn't seem to help her. Every time he tried to get closer, she pulled away.

Close to twelve hours later, Chandler walked to the motel from the bar they had been playing at. It had been crowded there and they's sold almost twice as many copies of their demo as they usually do. He wished Monica had been there though. She'd started drinking early and had going at it heavier than usual. Only a couple minutes after their set started she'd stumbled out the exit. Maybe she'll somber enough for a hard-

He froze. His thoughts stopped, the air in his lungs and the blood in veins turned ice cold. Monica lay half in the ditch, half on the walkway, uncouscious, blood trailing from one nostril.