PART SIX

Joan stares at the sketches of the overly endowed Ashley Bloom until she hears Adam returning from the bathroom. Quickly, she turns the pages back to where the 'ballerina' is. Adam enters and goes to his futon, yawning from exhaustion. Joan knows he is very tired and that tiredness is beginning to cause the pain over David's loss to temporarily fade. Joan now realizes why she has been reading a low but constant level of guilt in Adam. She assumed it was the guilt all people feel when someone they care for dies. Those regrets that you can never settle—usually about telling that person how much they meant to you. But Joan now knows most of that guilt concerns how Adam feels about sleeping with David's wife.

"Why are you looking at that again?" Adam asks as he points at the sketch book.

"I know, I know—it's a little O. C. D., but I just had to see if I could pick out your 'two' from in here."

"A-And have you?" Adam nervously asks.

"I found your ballerina."

"Oh. Are you asking for details?" Adam responds with a hint of relief in his voice.

"Nothing intimate, but maybe just a thumbnail sketch?"

"Well, I won't tell you her name. 'Ballerina' will have to do. She came to me last fall for a sketch that was a little different than what the others wanted. Most of my clients were having boudoir portaits painted as gifts for their husbands or boyfriends, but…Ballerina wanted a more intense body study type work. She's a dance major, and realized that she was in the best shape she would ever be in during her life. She wanted to immortalize that moment so she could look back fondly on it in her older years."

"I suppose the situation was rather erotic, and she threw herself at you?"

Adam blushes but shakes his head 'no'. "That does happen sometimes, but she was quite open and free about nudity. The portrait sessions didn't seem to be much of a turn on for her, but…they were for me. I began flirting with her, and at first she was amused. After her portrait was done, I began to pursue her, and eventually she decided to reward my persistance. We began a no strings attached affair that lasted a couple of months. When things had run their course, we parted amicably."

Joan nods. "It sounds like a good experience, and certainly she is a beautiful woman. When was this relationship?"

"Back in the middle of winter. Are you jealous, Jane?"

"A little. Knowing you were with two other women sounded acceptable in my head, but actually seeing one of them…well, that's a little harder to deal with. But I'm okay with this Adam. We agreed to date others, and of course we have now moved on to a friend relationship that will someday include 'benefits'. But what I find hard to understand is what I found at the back of this collection of beautiful women…Ashley Bloom! Adam, how could you sleep with her?"

Adam sighs heavily and stares at the floor. "I should have guessed you would figure this out. You always seem able to ferret out any secret. What do you want me to say, Jane? That I'm sorry? That I should feel lower than dirt for sleeping with a married woman—especially the wife of a man I considered a friend? That I should be ashamed of myself? Well, I am. I hate myself for being so weak. I hate that I could even consider such an act, let along go through with it. Trust me, I've been beating myself up over this for weeks."

"How did this happen?"

Adam does not make eye contact, but he answers. "About a month ago Ashley called me to set up an appointment to start a portrait. David's birthday was coming up, and she had heard him brag about the work I did with boudoir pictures. It never occurred to me that anything could happen between us. I went to her apartment and did a few preliminary sketches with her wearing a leotard. Ashley paid me in advance by check since she knew like all students, I was always short on cash. I gave her a couple of days to pick out which pose she wanted to go with, and we moved on to the final sketch—this time in the nude. I've drawn a lot of beautiful women, but Ashley…"

"Yeah, I noticed her major 'assets'. I even get how something like this might happen. I know back in high school when you use to sketch me, I always found it a turn on. I can just imagine how erotic the experience must have been with her in the nude. Did she come on to you?"

"Yeah, but I responded quickly. Normally when this happens, I can resist—but not this time. Maybe because it was such a long time since I was with another woman, maybe it was because her 'assets' were so irresistable, but whatever the reason, I stopped thinking and I let temptation get the better of me. We had sex right there in her bedroom…the same room where David was killed."

"So this has been going on for a month?"

"What? Oh, God no. We both realized what a horrible mistake we had made, and we hated ourselves for being so weak. Ashley swore she had never done anything like that before, and I believed her. We made a pact to keep this secret forever, and to avoid seeing each other ever again. I left that day saying I would send the portrait by delivery, and that I would not be back."

"But you accepted the invitation to David Bloom's party."

"Yeah, I didn't know how to get out of that without raising suspicion, but I never intended to go. I was planning on spending the entire day and night…with you. But then, Ashley called."

"She was the one who got you to rush me out of here this afternoon? Why?"

"About a week ago, Ashley called and said she had changed her mind about the portrait. It was almost done, but she said she didn't want it any more. She was afraid she wouldn't be able to hide her guilt if David saw that painting. But today she called and told me David was reviewing their joint account on line, and he saw the check I had cashed for the portrait. He told her he was looking forward to seeing it. Ashley panicked. How could she explain she had changed her mind? So she called me and begged me to bring it to the party."

"And that's why you rushed me out of here. You had to do the finishing touches to the portrait right away in order to get it to the party on time. Yeah, I can see why you couldn't explain that to me."

"You don't sound very mad, Jane."

Joan shrugs. "At least this is more soothing to the old ego than what I was originally thinking—that you were pushing me out of your bed to hook up with someone else. I guess I understand, even though I have to say I'm really disappointed in you, Adam. Even considering your past history, this is pretty low."

Adam nods. "I agree. I can be…weak. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to me, and it's too late to make ammends to David. But Adam, you may have another problem. Ashley thinks she may be pregnant."

Adam's face turns pale. "Oh God. We…we didn't use protection. It was such a moment of uncontrolled passion… Oh God, what if it's my kid?"

"Easy there, Ashley only thinks this. She hasn't even taken the test to find out if it's true. And even if Ashley is pregnant, there's no guarantee the baby would be yours."

"But if it is…? Ashley may end up in jail for David's murder. I'm sure she couldn't have done it, but if she goes to prison anway, what would happen to our baby? Will they give it to me to raise? How can I support a kid?"

"Adam, chill. I'm sorry I mentioned this. Look, we're tired and really rattled by what has happened. Try to get some sleep, and don't make an issue of something that probably isn't even true. Okay? Please try to get some sleep. You look like you can really use it."

Adam nods and rests his head on his pillow. Joan does the same.

Joan adds, "And if you need help relaxing, my offer still stands. We can hold each other, cuddle for comfort if you need it."

"Thank you Jane. You really are the best of friends."

Adam claps his hands, and the lights go out…

X X X X X

7-05-07/Thursday morning.

Joan becomes aware of daylight even before she opens her eyes. Good, her tutor has followed her request and didn't do his tap-tap-tap routine before dawn. As Joan eases from sleep to wakefulness, she becomes aware that someone is spooning her. Through the thin cotton tee shirt she wears, Joan can feel the contours of someone very male and naked. One of his arms is draped over her breasts, and she can feel his warm breath on the back of her neck. Joan smiles and opens her eyes. Yes, on the other side of the room, Adam's futon is empty. Well, he changed his mind, and didn't even awaken her when he got under the sheet with her. Joan is glad Adam changed his mind about cuddling, and considering he is naked, perhaps he has changed his mind about…the other. Does he want to make love? Is she okay with that? Yes, she is.

Joan looks back over her shoulder with a 'Good morning' forming on her lips when she sees who is in bed with her…a naked stranger. He is a tall, dark haired man around twenty and he holds on to her tightly. Joan quickly considers what blow she can deliver to save herself. Her many training sessions on fighting techniques never included this position. Joan raises her arm, hoping she can smash her elbow back toward his jaw when the stranger snorts once and begins to snore. Joan pauses. If this is a sexual assault, it is the laziest one on record. And his breath! The guy reeks of stale beer and (sniff) barbeque…? This reminds Joan that Adam's room mate, Will somebody, was suppose to at a family barbeque and was to stay away for the rest of the week. Apparently he is back very early.

Gently, Joan lifts the guys arm off of her breasts and starts to slip out of bed, but the guy begins to stir. Joan quickly slips her pillow under the arm and he settles back down. It seems anything soft will do. Probably slept with a teddy bear when he was a kid. Joan is up now, and about to lower the sheet back into position when curiosity gets the better of her. One quick peek… Well, hello Mr. Happy, glad to see you're not yet 'up' this morning. Joan completes covering the guy with the sheet, and as she does so, it occurs to her that for a girl who is still technically a virgin, she has seen way too many penises.

Now free of her spooner, Joan looks around and wonders where Adam is? Why would he leave her in bed with a naked guy, even if he is Adam's room mate. Joan goes into the bathroom, locks the door and slips out of the borrowed tee shirt. Her things are dry and she quickly gets dressed…once more back into the little black dress. She is really getting tired of this garment. Joan returns to the main room and sees her recent bed companion is still snoring, and Joan realizes he is sorta half asleep and sorta half passed out. Ah, the joys of college life. Joan looks around for a note from Adam, but finds none…

"Who are you?"

Joan barely hears the question as the guy's voice is weak and raspy. She turns and sees 'Will' with one eye open and trying to get some saliva going in his mouth to relieve the dryness. Without answering, Joan goes to the kitchenette, gets a bottled water from a cabinet (cold would be a mistake) and locates a bucket from under the sink. She returns to the main room, hands him the water and places the bucket close to him.

"Thanks." he whispers as he drinks about half the water and is immediately sick. Joan carries the bucket to the bathroom, pours the contents down the toilet, checks for and finds some pink stomach medicine and returns with the now empty bucket. You learn a lot of odd skills in college. The guy accepts the pink stuff and drinks down about a fourth of the bottle.

"Thanks again. Can you bring me the green cylinder under the bathroom sink?"

Joan makes a quick trip back to the bathroom and returns with a small metal cylinder painted green.

"Is this oxygen?" Joan asks.

The guy starts to nod but realizes that is a mistake. "Yeah, twenty minutes of oh-two is a guaranteed cure for any hangover. At least the headache part."

As he puts on the oxygen mask and begins to breathe deeply, Joan asks, "And this happens often enough you keep oxygen cylinders on hand?"

He shrugs. "If you don't indulge during your college years, when will you?"

Joan recalls several fellow students at Arcadia College who have indulged themselves to the point of failing grades, damaged health and near death. "My name is Joan Girardi. I'm Adam's friend."

"Wil Speake."

"Uh, you'll speak about what?"

"My name is Wil, short for Wilbur, Speake - with an 'E' on the end. Weird name, huh?"

"I'll say. Who names a kid 'Wilbur' these days?"

Wil starts to chuckle but then groans in discomfort. "Please...don't make me laugh. Did you say your name is Joan? I thought for sure Adam said 'Jane'."

Joan sighs. "Nickname. Moving on, do you know where Adam is?"

"Don't you? You're the one sleeping with him."

"Actually, we slept on separate futons last night."

"Then...that wasn't a dream? I dreamt I was with my girlfriend last night."

"Uh, no. That was me."

"Oh. Did we...?"

"Oh God no."

"You don't have to be insulting about it. I'm not that bad. Why weren't you sleeping with Adam? The whole idea for me going away was so the two of you could hump your brains out."

"Adam was too upset. A friend of his died yesterday."

"Oh, sorry to hear that. Is he okay?"

"Not sure. He was upset last night, and this morning he's gone, but where?"

"There's a bakery nearby where we sometimes get pastries. Maybe he went to pick up breakfast...ooh, but none for me. I feel awful."

"That comes with the binge drinking, and why are you back so soon? I thought you weren't returning until Monday?"

"Our family barbeque is also a bit of a family reunion. All the uncles, aunts and cousins get together to hash out arguments and hurt feelings from stuff that happened years ago. Add generous amounts of booze and the scene quickly becomes something I can't stand. I had to get out of there, so I drove back to Berkeley."

"Drunk?" Joan accuses.

"No, never. But I did bring a cooler full of beer and a couple of slabs of ribs back with me. I didn't mean to come back to the apartment. I was going to find a friend to crash with, but I forgot most of them were off with relatives too. So, I settled in the back seat of my car, ate my ribs, drank my beer and passed out."

"What a 'fun' way to celebrate our independence. The founding fathers would be so proud. So how did you end up in bed with me?"

"I don't remember. I guess I must have wandered up here at some point, but it's all a blank. I don't remember if Adam was here, or where my clothes are, and I certainly don't remember getting under the sheets with you. Sorry about that. I, uh, didn't get 'touchy' did I?"

"Not...overly so. As for your clothes, they're in a pile on the bathroom floor. I don't understand why Adam would leave me in bed with a naked guy I don't know."

"Maybe he didn't see me? You were between me and him, blocking his view, and if he was quietly sneaking out to avoid wakening you, he could have easily missed me. If he went for those pastries, he shouldn't be gone too long. I hope he brings coffee."

"Don't you have any here?"

"Yeah, but I'm not up to brewing any, plus...there's the whole naked thing to consider."

"Right...that. Where are some clothes for you?"

"Top drawer over there."

Joan goes to the dresser and finds a tumbled assortment of clothing. She spots a speedo swimsuit and playfully considers tossing Wil that, but instead grabs a pair of jogging shorts and a tee shirt with an 'Oakland A's' logo. After tossing him the clothes, Joan quickly goes into the kitchenette and starts a pot of coffee. She waits until she can pour two cups before risking venturing back into the main room. By then, Wil is dressed, turning off the oxygen and sitting on the side of the futon.

"Feeling better?"

"At least the headache is gone." Wil says as he accepts the coffee cup. "Bless you, my child."

Joan sits on the opposite futon, wondering how long she will have to make small talk with this guy before Adam returns.

Wil continues, "Starting to feel human again, but my guts will be iffy for awhile yet. So you're Jane, I mean, Joan. No wonder Adam was so anxious to see you again. Dang, you're a pretty one."

"Thanks. So, you and Adam have been room mates for almost a year now. How are you getting along?"

"Not bad. We respect each other's privacy, at least as much as you can in a place this small. And we get along okay. Occasionally Adam and I will hang out in a local pub, even though that's not usually his scene. And we've been to a couple of A's games together. And Adam is always cool about when I need privacy for when my girlfriend visits, and I do the same for...uh..."

Joan smiles. "Relax, I know Adam has been with others, and I'm okay with it."

"That's a relief. Thought I spilled the beans there for a moment. Wouldn't want to get Adam mad and have him switch roomies for the next semester. It's tough finding a good one. When I think of that nightmare case I almost got stuck with..."

"That would be the guy Adam replaced when he lost his scholarship to go into rehab?"

"Yeah, Freddy Krueger in the flesh."

"Long fingernails or the nightmare part?"

"Nightmare, but I do remember his fingernails being kind of long and dirty. I only met the guy once, but that was enough. You could tell he was using, and worse, he was one of those paranoid type druggies who kept muttering to himself. Something about how the world will one day worship at his feet when they realize what a great artist he is. Freak show. When I heard I was getting another artist as a roomie, I was worried until I met Adam. What a relief."

"I can imagine. If it weren't for the 'freak show's' problems, Adam never would have made it to Berkeley. It's a good thing Dean David Bloom took such a personal interest in Adam, and recommended him to take 'Freddy's' place. By the way, David Bloom is the friend that died yesterday."

"Oh crud, that must have hit Adam hard. Poor guy. He was always going on about how great the Dean was to him, and how he was so helpful even when it caused him problems."

"Meaning?"

"Oh, Adam told me that after the druggie got his 28 days of rehab, he came back to school expecting to reclaim his scholarship. Gives you an idea of how connected to reality the guy was. It seems the now dried out druggie made a huge scene in the Dean's office, ranting, cussing and making threats. Dean Bloom got so mad, he swore he'd never let that weirdo back into Berkeley."

"Really? I wish I had known that earlier... Say, how long does it take to get pastries from that bakery?"

"Usually not this long. Have you checked your messages?"

Joan does a playful slap of her forehead as a 'duh' gesture. "Checking... One voice mail... Adam says he had to run an errand, sorry he had to leave so quickly and he will call me later. Okay then, I guess I might as well head back to the city."

"I'll let Adam know when you left in case he calls. Bye Joan, nice to have met you. By the way, the little black dress in the morning practically screams to the world: 'I spent the night with my boyfriend'."

Joan blushes, gives a ta-ta gesture and exits...

X X X X X

Cindy Thomas holds a drink carrier filled with coffee cups as she approaches Lindsay's desk. Cindy sighs as she notices Lindsay is still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Inspector Boxer has worked through the night, again. Cindy removes one of the coffee cups and hands it to her friend and mentor...

"With extra caramel, just as you like it."

"Thanks." Lindsay says as she looks through a report and distractedly takes a sip. She pauses and takes a second drink. "Ahh, that hits the spot."

"Another all nighter?"

Lindsay looks down at her clothes and nods. "Can everyone tell?"

Cindy holds up her thumb and finger just half an inch apart. "Little bit."

"I've extra clothes here. I'll shower and change in a few minutes."

"What are all of these reports?" Cindy asks as she glances at the many documents piled on Lindsay's desk.

"All from the Bloom case. Witness statements, preliminary forensic evidence, this thick one is a list of all of the registered .25 caliber automatics in the city."

Cindy picks that up and flips through the pages. "Wow, there must be thousands."

"Around seven thousand, and that's just the registered ones. Unregistered is probably five times that or more. The Blooms didn't have a registered one."

"Why are there so many? I thought the nine millimeter was the popular gun of choice these days."

"It is for cops and gang bangers, but the old .25 still has a lot of appeal. It's small, light weight, easily fits into a pocket or purse and most of all, it has low power."

"Wouldn't you want just the opposite with a gun?"

"I would, but your average honest citizen who only wants to protect his home, business or self isn't looking for a hand cannon to blow people away with. Pulling the trigger on someone is one of the hardest things for a person to do. I know of cases where John Q. Public had a big gun in hand, and just couldn't bring himself to shoot. Sometimes the bad guy shoots first, and sometimes he just grabs the gun away from the civilian. With the .25, the chances of killing someone with a single shot are fairly low as long as you don't hit the head or the heart. That makes it easier to shoot a bad guy if you absolutely have to."

At that moment Jill and Claire walk up to them and join in. Cindy hands each of them a cup of coffee.

"Bless you my child." Claire says as she takes a deep sip.

Cindy comments, "You both look like you've had rough nights."

Jill responds, "And rough mornings. My supervisor has filed murder charges against Ashley Bloom even though I recommended we hold off. Of course if this blows up in our faces, Denise will blame me anyway."

Claire asks, "Why does your boss dislike you so much?"

Jill shrugs. "Beats me. Up until a year ago we weren't friends, but we got along okay. Then her attitude shifted and she's been on my back ever since."

Lindsay gulps her coffee, not wanting to reveal several secrets she knows. That Jill and a public defender named Hanson North had a passionate affair that they had to keep secret for obvious conflict of interest reasons. Hanson made the mistake of trying to make the relationship more than about 'your place or mine' and Jill followed her usual pattern of dumping any guy who tried to get too close. Denise Kwan, who had been sniffing around Hanson for a long time, became his rebound relationship - also very hush hush, but Lindsay accidentily found out. When Jill began missing her daily dose of Hanson, she gave him the nod to return and he dumped Denise with lots of apologies. One more time Hanson made the same mistake of wanting to take the Jill/Hanson relationship to the next level and once more, bye-bye Hanson. Lindsay has kept mum about this because Jill knows she doesn't like Hanson, and is worried that any interference on her part might harm their friendship. Eventually Denise will cool off and ease up on Jill. At least the odious Hanson North is out of Jill's life.

Lindsay says, "Okay, let's review and see if there is any way to salvage a case against Ashley Bloom. Cindy, I assume since you spent all of last night flirting with that cute artist, you have nothing to chip in?"

"Just that Adam, the 'cute artist', was really hurting over the death of his mentor, David Bloom. When I realized that, I backed off with the flirting. Adam confirms what a lot of people had to say about the Blooms. Despite the age difference and the recent dispute over having a kid, the couple seemed very happy in their marriage. Adam even painted a boudoir type portrait of Ashley for her birthday present to her husband. I noticed it listed amongst the list of presents you have on your desk."

Lindsay frowns as she recalls Cindy's eidectic memory. Even a glance at any list and the young reporter had it memorized. Lindsay digs out a photo of the painting to show the group... 'Wow!' is the general reaction.

Claire comments, "You know, our anniversary isn't that far off. If I dropped a quick ten pounds, maybe I could get this Adam guy to paint something like that for me. I'm sure Ed would love it."

Jill adds, "And Luke's birthday is coming up. I know he would love to see me painted like this."

Cindy reacts, "Hey - hey, forget it. I don't want my friends posing nude for a potential boyfriend."

Lindsay asks, "Boyfriend? I thought he was hooked up with the Girardi girl?"

"That...seems like a failing relationship to me. Not that I'm trying to break them up, but if Adam happens to find himself free to look around, I'm leaving a trail of bread crumbs leading to me."

The other women chuckle at Cindy's obvious eagerness for the 'cute artist'.

Jill says, "Okay, down to business. I questioned Ashley Bloom, and she sticks to her story of the masked man. Also, while she was at the hospital, she finally took that pregnancy test. Negative. She missed her period, but it was a false alarm. Of course that doesn't change how things could have played out last night."

Claire says, "I have bad news for any case against Ashley. The pattern of gunpowder residue on her hand isn't fully consistent with someone shooting a gun."

Jill asks, "Meaning in court...?"

"I wouldn't be able to swear Ashley shot the gun. It's possible, but it is also possible she got the residue when a gun went off as her hand was reaching for it, just like she claimed. Also, the angle of the bullet is wrong. Ashley is five foot six and David was six foot even. Whoever shot David had to be tall, around six three or better."

Cindy says, "Maybe she stood on something? There was a footstool in the bedroom."

Lindsay asks, "When were you in the bedroom?"

"I had to snap a few pictures. Hey, don't give me that look. We all have bosses that expect results. So, what about the footstool idea?"

Jill smiles. "Yeah, I can see me trying to sell that to a jury. Ashley, in a murderous rage, pulls a footstool over to her husband, stands on it and fires a gun while he just stands there watching?"

Cindy blushes, and Lindsay quickly adds, "Besides, the Girardi girl was right about the third elevator and the missing tuxedo jacket. The small private car doesn't have a security camera of its' own, but we have security coverage from the parking garage that shows a tall man running from that elevator out into the street with a tuxedo jacket pulled up over his head. The timing fits for someone fleeing the scene of the crime. It looks like Ashley is off the hook."

Jill says, "So we're back to square one, and Denise is going to chew my ass, even if it was her mistake to file charges."

Cindy says, "Maybe not. What if the tall guy was in on it with Ashley? After all, this is a hundred million dollar estate. She might have hired the guy to do the killing and something went wrong. Maybe she backed out at the last moment? Maybe the shooting was suppose to be covered by the sound of the fireworks and it happened too soon? Maybe the guy was her boyfriend. A woman like Ashley could get any guy to do something dumb."

Claire says, "That's a lot of 'maybes'."

Jill remarks, "But not bad as possibilities. After all, how did the killer know about the third elevator? And how did he manage to do so much in the short time it took the witnesses to get in that room? Maybe Ashley helped, and the sock on the jaw was a way to make Ashley look innocent? She had motive. If she thought the baby was her boyfriend's, and until just now she didn't know she wasn't pregnant, then she faced a bleak future with a divorce and no child support for a kid that wasn't David's."

Lindsay says, "Whoa. Reel it in on the speculation. A hired killer or a boyfriend? Sure, that's easy to accept, but we need to find some proof. Remember proof? All we know now is that a tall man no one can name is probably the one that pulled the trigger. We will have to dig deep into David and Ashley's lives. Find out if they had any enemies, carefully check their finances, and yes, look into the possibilitity that young and chesty Ashley might have had a guy on the side."

At that moment, Lindsay's partner approaches with a document in his hand.

"We've got a call, Lindsay." Jacobi says.

"Can't another team respond? We're just getting started on the Bloom case."

"I know, but this is a quickie. The Unies already have the killer in custody, and only need a detective to sign off on the arrest. If you want, I can handle it alone. From the preliminary report, I should be back in less than an hour."

Lindsay fidgets at this suggestion. Even though Jacobi taught her the ropes in the detective business, she never likes to have him go out on his own. At his age, and with his experience, he should have gotten the promotion that Tom snagged.

"Just what are the details of this 'quickie'?"

"Uniformed officers responded to a report of a gunshot at a restaurant... Hey, this is a coincidence. It's that same one you recently recommended to me: Otto's Tyrolean Cafe. Anyway, the Unies entered and found a guy still holding a .25 automatic and standing over the dead body of the owner, a Mister..."

"Otto Schneider. Was it a robbery?"

Jacobi adjusts his reading glasses and looks further into the report. "Uh, not exactly. The murder suspect is some college student who was known to be having a dispute with the owner over an unpaid debt..."

Cindy has a cold feeling in her soul. She also remembers from the list of registered .25's, the name Otto Schneider. Quickly she asks, "What is this college guy's name?"

Jacobi frowns. He's not sure he likes the addition of this young reporter to Lindsay's circle of friends...

"The name is Adam Rove."

To Be Continued. Please review.