Up Close and Personal

UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL by Jayson Leigh

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or locations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent.

Author's Note: Lots of interesting feedback after Chapter 5... Poor Shane! And thanks to everyone who wrote; I appreciate every word! I feel I ought to add that this is a novel-length story. The story will have a happy ending (no spoiler; come on, it's posted on nifty!). It isn't however a story where the wonders of healing cock fixes everything... meaning that one shag won't put everything right between Shane and Leo. I hope you stick around to see what happens to them, but I do so hate to disappoint readers who may be expecting something short and sweet. Please keep the comments coming. Feedback (good and bad!) is soul food to writers- jmleighwrites@gmail.com

CHAPTER 6

Crime and Punishment

The bedroom reeked of sex, strawberries and spent passions. Shane had a feeling there was now a distinct smell of dread in the air. A pin dropped on the hardwood floor would be loud enough to be heard. He wished he'd had a drink. Something told him he still had a long night ahead of him.

"Shane?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"What did I say?"

Drew remained alarmingly silent.

"I'm tired. I'm not sure why I said-"

"Who's Leo?"

Shane shifted back against the pillow, feigning calm he didn't feel and hoping that if he acted unperturbed, this would blow over easily.

"I'm talking to you, Shane."

"He's nobody. I don't even know what I was saying..."

"You said I love you, Leo."

"No, `I said I love you, pause, Leo,'" Shane protested in a voice he hoped was tinged with righteous anger. "Notice the difference?"

Drew watched him closely as he considered a moment.

Shane quickly added. "Just this morning Bill and Trent talked about having Leonardo Dicaprio on the show."

Silence.

"Inception was on last night..."

"So you meant to say you love me but you just added Leo at the end?"

"Pretty much."

"Funny how that turned out."

"I know, right."

"You ever heard of Freudian slips?"

Shane couldn't help the loud groan that escaped him.

Drew got off the bed and stalked to the center of the room. "What kind of fool do you take me for?" he asked angrily.

Shane bit his tongue. Drew probably didn't want him to answer that.

Drew began walking away then stopped and came back to Shane, speaking with quiet intensity, "You said what you wanted to say. I know you, Shane and you never speak without thinking first. You don't say things you don't mean. You meant it and I want to know who the fuck Leo is?"

There were two things at play in Shane's mind. Telling Drew the truth and outing Leo Malone. He shouldn't feel any loyalty to Leo and yet he wondered if he had any right to tell anyone about their night together. He traced the crisscross pattern on their rumpled sheets with a finger and marveled at how incredibly shitty his life was. Here he was trying to decide which one of two jerks deserved to be hurt less, Drew or Leo.

"I don't know how you manage to always drive me up the fucking wall. Making love to you just now, I didn't know if I wanted to hold you down and kiss you silly or just wring your neck for all the shit you make me do."

Shane silently began counting the number of olive green stripes on the sheets. His ass was sore and his head ached. He just wanted to roll over and sleep.

Drew made a bitter sound. "You don't want me here. No matter what you think, you don't really want me here. You dropped that name on purpose to rattle me. I know you did it to drive me crazy. Is there someone else? Have you even been with anyone else? Or is this just a mind game you're playing?"

Shane didn't lift his gaze from the seventh stripe. "Seriously, mind games?"

"You know what bothers me isn't that you've been with this Leo guy, it's how you chose to throw it in my face, like I don't even fucking matter to you. So I love you and you love Leo... we're in a fucking threesome now?"

He sighed loudly. "That's not what I-"

"When I wanted to make love, you pushed me off like I meant nothing. Then I come home and you're dressed like... like a whore! Throwing yourself at me like a sex starved maniac and I'm supposed to forgive you? I'm supposed to believe that you really want to be with me? Fuck you!"

Silence filled the room and Shane realized too late as he counted the eighteenth stripe on the sheets, that it was his cue to say something. He'd checked out right about when Drew had called him a whore.

"Are you even listening to me?" Drew demanded.

"Not really."

Drew smiled, but it wasn't a smile, not really. It was mean, twisted and incredibly bitter. "Have you got anything at all to say to me?" Drew asked.

Shane shook his head and answered honestly. "Nothing comes to mind."

Drew looked searchingly into Shane's blue eyes, like he desperately wanted to believe that they still had something between them. He seemed to reach a decision and went into the bathroom, shutting the door gently behind him.

The lock clicked into place and Shane moved to seat at the edge of the bed, covering his face with his hands. He didn't know who he was anymore; lying, cheating, and for what? A screwed up drug addicted rock star who probably didn't even remember his name or their encounter.

He looked up as the bathroom lock clicked again and Drew walked out with a determined look on his face. He went into their walk-in closet and came out a few moments later dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, dragging the same duffle bag he'd brought with him when he returned home just a few weeks ago. Ignoring Shane's surprised look, he went about their bedroom, picking up various items and stuffing them into the bag.

"Where are you going?"

Drew sighed then glanced at Shane briefly, "Out."

"You're leaving..."

Drew stopped packing and turned around to face him. "I'll be back tomorrow."

When he saw Shane directing a skeptical gaze at the bag full of clothes, he added quickly, "Maybe next week, I don't know. I'll call you."

Shane was silent for a moment.

"I need some time..." Drew said.

"You're doing what you do best, leaving."

"Whatever this is, between us, it's not right. You push all my buttons all the fucking time but I want you..." He paused, allowing his eyes run lingeringly over Shane's body before continuing in a lower, harsher tone, "I want you all the fucking time, even now, goddamn it. I'm still pissed at you but you're like my own fucking wet dream. You make me do shit I didn't think I was capable of. You always knew how to bring out the worst too."

Shane felt his cheeks heat up at Drew's slightly disturbing yet truthful concession. He offered, finally, in a slightly conciliatory tone, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to make you mad..."

"Sure, you don't-"

"You think everything I do or say is meant to hurt you. What about what you do to me?"

"What I do to you is exactly what you need."

"So what I needed five months ago was you walking out on me?"

"We needed a break."

"You needed a break because you don't like dealing with anything that might require you to apologize, admit you're wrong or less than perfect."

"That's bullshit."

"Maybe if I didn't feel like you're always one step out the door I'd feel like you cared for me, maybe even love me..."

"Now, you're questioning my love for you?"

Silence. Shane recalled feeling like a sex toy earlier that evening; how they'd made love but Drew hadn't really kissed him or touched him with any tenderness. Was that love? "You held me down and fucked me like I charge an hourly rate."

Drew rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Now you're a blushing virgin?"

Shane felt his cheeks heat up. He didn't need to be treated like something fragile, just something that mattered. "It wasn't just rough, Drew. You were punishing me."

"You wanted to seduce and manipulate me and it didn't go your way, is that it?"

"You hurt me and punish me when I make you mad. If you'd stick around and talk things through maybe you wouldn't have to take it out on me later."

Drew gave a disapproving huff but he didn't comment. Shane thought, maybe, he'd struck a nerve. He added, "You don't trust me; you never believe me..."

"Oh, yeah? So tell me, who's Leo?"

Shane sighed. "He's no one." He tried to convince himself he was telling the truth.

Drew folded his arms and arched a brow. "And you say I don't trust you."

At that moment, Shane decided to throw caution to the wind. "Leo was just a hook-up a long time ago. It was a onetime thing. It meant nothing and I meant it when I said he's no one."

Drew stared at him, jaw agape, for a few seconds in stunned silence then he spat out, "You make me sick. Fucking inception and having Dicaprio on your show... you made that up?"

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

"You'll get your own back..." Shane said with a shrug. "You always do."

"It isn't punishment," Drew said dismissively, "not when you deserve it."

"So I deserve to be hurt and walked out on..."

"Don't make this about you. You want to fuck me over and you think it'll have no consequences on me, on us? Life doesn't work that way, baby. If you hate being alone so much then maybe start acting like you want to be with me."

Shane watched him for several long moments before deciding, "You leave, it's over."

Drew shook his head. "You don't get to make that call."

"Don't think I'm going to wait for you this time."

Drew dropped the duffle bag to the floor with a loud thud. He came around to Shane's side of the bed and stepped in close to him. "Aren't you, Shane?"

He watched Drew kneel by him and take his hand into his. "You can get fucked by Leo or whomever else you've been getting it from. I won't hold it against you... forever... but you will wait for me."

Drew's hazel eyes were almost amber with the light hitting them just so, and he smiled agreeably, as if he had a pleasant thought. "You're mine. It doesn't matter who else gets to have you for a little while... they'll never be as patient as I am. I know you. I know what you want, what you need and even though I may not always like you, I do love you and I will always come back. Now how many guys out there can say that and mean it like I do?"

Shane stayed silent. He thought about Leo leaving him after just a few hours. He thought, maybe Drew had a point, but he didn't allow his emotions show. He wouldn't give Drew that satisfaction. He didn't want the other man to see that he'd just ripped out his heart, trampled it and stuffed it back down his throat. Retorting with as much sarcasm as he could muster, "Surely there's got to be some guy out there who'd want a whore like me, don't you think?"

Drew's breath hitched then he said almost apologetically, "I didn't mean to call you a whore..." pausing before admitting, "Well maybe I did." He ran his eyes down Shane's nearly nude form then dragged his gaze away as he got up and lifted his bag onto his shoulder.

As he opened the door, Jasmine ran into the room yelping noisily and circling his feet. Drew paused and looked from her to Shane. "I won't take her with me, not this time." Then he closed the door softly behind him.

Solitude was a concept as foreign to Leo as the act of reading. Without his guitar, band mates or inspiration to write music, he felt quite lost.

He'd hit the small basement gym early in that morning, feeling clearheaded for the first time in ages and realizing what it was to no longer be under the influence of alcohol, prescription meds and everything else he usually took to get him through the day. He had breakfast then went for a short walk around the block, enjoying the cool spring air but retreating once the New York streets began getting busy.

He asked the housekeeper who came in every morning to cook and clean for the morning papers. He'd read them disinterestedly at first then quickly became caught up in business and political commentary. When he was done, he'd asked her to make another run to the newsstand for magazines ... but no tabloids, he'd added, certain that his face would be plastered on at least one of them with the headline, `Leo Malone: Tragic Suicide Attempt! The Inside Story!'

Paul found him hours later engrossed in Architectural Digest. He flipped through the pages Leo had ripped out and arched an eyebrow in question.

"I'm thinking of getting some work done on my place in St. Louis," he replied. "Maybe a deck out on the roof terrace... I'm not sure yet."

Paul nodded agreeably, just glad that Leo had found something to distract him other than DNA tests on television and stealing cars on the Xbox. "How're you doing?"

Leo didn't answer, just held up the magazine to Paul, showing a picture of a sunny rooftop garden complete with a cabana and cozy rattan furniture. "What do you think of this one?"

Paul considered it with a tilt of his head and made a face. "Perfect for a Luau. Not really my kinda thing or yours for that matter...."

Leo rolled his eyes, but didn't tear out the page.

Paul continued watching him, understanding what Leo wasn't putting into words. He wasn't doing great, but he needed to distract himself with something, just to keep his mind off everything that had driven him off the edge.

Sitting on the couch next to his friend, he picked up the magazine closest to him, and flipped through it. He favored a sleek and minimalist aesthetic, he told Leo, and began offering his own suggestions on home renovation.

At 12:10 pm, Jenny walked into her office with a smile on her face and two paper plates in hand. In her right was a huge slab of chocolate cake and in her left hand was a similarly sized piece of strawberry shortcake. She sat at her desk and began the arduous process of deciding which to eat first.

Chocolate was the obvious answer, but sneaky strawberry looked quite delightful as well. It was a terribly serious deliberation, one that had begun in the conference room where Grant's birthday party had been held. She didn't particularly care for the junior editor, but when she'd discovered that not only had the office manager bought him a cake, his wife also had one delivered, she knew she had to put in an appearance.

Her gaze traveled from one paper plate to the other until she finally decided to stop fooling herself; there was no contest here, chocolate would win out every time.

With a satisfied smile, she lifted her fork and was just about to dig in when the phone rang. She glanced at it curiously and noted an external number. The land line was usually limited to internal calls and most of her acquaintances had her cell.

She sighed. "Jennifer Bell," she answered.

"Hi, Jen."

Fuck, she'd know that voice anywhere. She wondered if there was a blue moon today. "Drew..." she replied reluctantly. She knew she should've ignored the call and eaten her cake.

"Do you have a second?"

With a sour glance at the slabs of cake on her desk, she muttered, "For you, Drew, I've got all the time in the time in the world."

He laughed softly. "Is Shane anywhere around?"

Wondering what this was about, she replied, "Nope, I'm all alone."

"Have you talked to him today?"

"We chatted on set briefly this morning, but that was it. What's going on?"

"So he hasn't said anything to you?"

"I said we've barely talked today," she said impatiently. "Is everything alright?"

"No," Drew began then paused. "I want to ask you. You don't have to tell me who, but I think I deserve to know the truth... Is Shane seeing someone? Is it serious?"

"What?" she exclaimed.

Drew repeated, "I said, is Shane seeing..."

"I heard you the first time," she said. "I guess my response is what are you smoking?

"Jen, this is serious."

She replied evenly. "Do you even know the man you've been dating these past three years? Shane, the serial monogamist...?"

Drew gave a sigh of relief and after a short pause, he added, "He said something yesterday and I thought maybe-"

Jenny decided to cut him off then. "If any one's going to bring me to speed on gossip between the two of you, it's gotta be Shane. In future, if you've got a question about your boyfriend, ask your boyfriend."

"Shane isn't... I love him, but-"

Jenny tapped her fingers against her desk impatiently. "Please don't confide in me. I can't help you. Let's end this."

"Okay, do me a favor. Don't tell him I called."

She declined immediately. "I'm not going to lie to him."

He was silent then offered a compromise, "How about this. If he asks you, don't deny it, tell him everything. But if he doesn't... you don't have to bring it up."

She swallowed hard, knowing that she would still be lying by omission, still, she guessed, what Shane didn't know wouldn't hurt him. "Okay, whatever..." she agreed reluctantly before hanging up and staring blankly into space.

What was going on between them? The very thought of Shane cheating on Drew was laughable. She decided that it would be just like Drew to try to pin the fault of their dysfunctional relationship on her best friend.

Shane clenched his fists in the boxing gloves and took a step back.

"Good job," his trainer, Quincy, said with a pleased smile, as he began removing the pads securely fastened to his hands. He looked back up when he heard Shane say to him, "One more time, Q."

He hesitated a moment before holding the pads up for Shane again.

Shane wiped his brow before stepping into an upright stance. He started with a basic jab-cross-hook combination and gradually began hitting harder, aiming for the pads no matter where Quincy moved them. Before long, he got lost in the rhythmic motions of the punches and it was only when the trainer yelled his name sharply that he blinked and stopped suddenly.

His delivery had devolved into something angry and haphazard. He panted loudly with exertion and looked down at his gloved hands, feeling the sudden rush of pain to his knuckles.

Quincy asked carefully, "Are you done?"

Shane knew it wasn't a question, more of a warning, really. He nodded and turned away, lifting both hands to his mouth to undo the velcro straps before pulling his fists out of the gloves.

He knew he was wound tightly as a bow but Quincy wouldn't ask what was wrong; their relationship was strictly professional. He watched the incredibly muscled, dark-skinned man approach him with a concerned expression. "How about we work off some of that frustration on the treadmill, huh?"

He glanced at Quincy, his worried blue eyes clearing out momentarily as he let out a laugh. "Sure." He would've preferred to continue boxing but he had a feeling his colleagues wouldn't appreciate a talk show host returning to the set with bruised and bloodied knuckles. However would he hold those cue cards on air?

Quincy kept true to his word, varying the speed of the treadmill every 30 seconds, so that by the time their session ended fifteen minutes later Shane was thoroughly worn out.

He slid off the tread mill as it slowed to a halt and panted in disbelief at the other man, "You're a mad man."

Quincy grinned, a wide smile lighting up his dark-skinned features. "You're welcome," he said with a hearty slap to Shane's back. "Sometimes you've just got to get out of that head of yours."

Shane smiled back in silent acknowledgment of what Quincy had done. He'd kept Shane running harder and longer than he usually did in an effort to disconnect his mind from his body. Shane's mind had been moving too fast for his body to keep up, but on the tread mill, it'd been the other way around.

He didn't know what it was about working out; Quincy had once said something about endorphins... he didn't care. He just felt better. After getting through a cool down and stretching movements, Quincy left Shane with a hug and a whispered, "Take care of yourself, buddy."

On returning from the locker room where he went to shower and change, Shane found Jenny skiing leisurely back and forth on the elliptical machine.

He exaggerated a double take when she caught sight of him. "I didn't think you knew this floor existed," he said with a laugh. While the studio was located on the 28th floor of the building, the communal gym was all the way down on the 2nd floor.

Jenny hopped off the elliptical. "I think I got lost," she said with a straight face. "I was told there was a bakery down here." On her way to him, she grabbed a takeout container off the seat of a recumbent bike. "I come bearing gifts."

"What is it?" he asked warily.

"Cake," she declared, opening the box with a flourish. She linked her arm in his and led him to a wall on the far side of the gym, away from the two other occupants in there. "Let's sit."

Shane eyed the pieces of cake doubtfully. "Just what I need after burning all those calories..."

She offered him a fork. "Live a little, will ya?"

He took the fork, reaching for the chocolate piece when she cried out, "No."

He retreated then tried for the strawberry shortcake.

"I changed my mind," Jenny said quickly.

He bit back a laugh and asked carefully, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, absolutely," she said with a resolute nod.

"I thought you loved chocolate," he said with a hint of skepticism.

"Well..."

"Right," he said slowly, "how about we split both pieces?"

A slow smile appeared on her face and she looked at him like he was a genius. "Best idea I've heard all day," she declared.

Moments later, both slices had been evenly divided, and Jenny happily forked out a large chunk into her mouth. She moaned out loud before noting, "I haven't had cake in ages."

"Last week..." Shane said drily.

She huffed. "Time is relative." With another piece in her mouth, she let out another indulgent moan that had Shane muttering, "Please stop or people might think we're over here having sex."

She laughed. "Trust me. If we were having sex, everyone would know."

They ate in silence until Jenny asked casually, "What's with you and Drew?"

His grip on the fork tightened briefly before he spoke up. "What do you mean?"

"The fight, remember? You wanted advice on how to fix it...?"

"Oh that. Right. Your advice sucked."

"And by sucked, I take it you don't mean..."

"No, Jen. It blew."

"Sucked? Blew? Doesn't sound so bad-"

"Jeez. Quit it with the blow-job metaphors. Your advice was terrible."

"What could be so terrible about seducing your boyfriend?"

Good question, Shane thought. "I didn't know what I was doing."

She threw him a curious look. "Why wouldn't you know what to do?"

"It felt...weird," he admitted, putting down his fork.

She knew how her friend talked around issues sometimes, saying one thing but implying another. "Weird, how?" she asked carefully. Weird, for Shane, could mean any number of things.

Shane chose his words carefully. "I don't think I know him as well as I thought. He didn't want to be seduced." There was silence as he flexed his fingers, savoring the pain that bit at the knuckles. When Jenny reached for one injured hand, he snatched it away quickly.

"How'd you get that?" she demanded.

Shane imagined horrified thoughts of Drew hurting him sprang to her mind. "Relax. I got these boxing," he reassured her with a hint of a smile.

"Oh thank God. For a second, I thought maybe Drew... well, never mind."

Shane blinked. In the past, he would've laughed at Jenny's leap in logic. Now, he wasn't so sure. He bit down on his lip thoughtfully, recalling the previous night. He'd gotten off when Drew fucked him; had felt in control, well except when Drew's hand had tightened briefly around his throat and he hadn't been sure what would come next. He said softly, "I don't know why I'm still with him. All we do is hurt each other. I can't think of any good reason to stay but a part of me thinks if I let him there'll never be anyone else who gets me like he does."

Jenny wrinkled her nose. "Does he really `get' you?"

Shane thought that Drew sure knew all his soft spots. The casual way he'd taken Shane's acquiescence in bed last night; using him like he'd known Shane wouldn't react or push back. Like he knew Shane would always submit to him sexually and he was free to take... take whatever he wanted from him. "He knows how to hurt me and I think sometimes, I do the same too."

Jenny chewed the last piece of cake thoughtfully. "I think you two bring out the worst in each other."

Shane watched the rhythmic sprinting of a lady on a treadmill across the room. "That's true."

"So why...?"

"I don't know." he said shortly then added reluctantly, "I don't know if I deserve better."

She made a surprised sound and stared at him for a few shocked moments. "Why the fuck would you think that?"

"I'm emotionally manipulative," he said.

"No, that's Drew... not you."

He glanced at her briefly then looked away with a smile. "Do you know why I wanted to seduce Drew last night?"

She shrugged.

"Just last week, we were having sex and I stopped him because the news about Leo Malone's overdose came on TV."

Jenny laughed. "Well, that's odd."

Shane didn't want to disclose why he'd been so concerned about Leo. He wanted to put that night of passion firmly behind him and figured there was no reason to out the rock star from the closet he so desperately wanted to remain in.

"His OD took me by surprise," he improvised to Jenny. "I'd just interviewed him and he seemed fine. Anyway, I pushed Drew off me..." Shane trailed off. He couldn't help but smile at the memory. "I pushed Drew off while he was giving me head."

Jenny lost it then, threw her head back and cackled with glee. "Oh that's the best thing I've heard all day. Do you know how much I'd have paid to see that?"

He watched her laugh and commented drolly, "I'll be sure to record all awkward incidents in my bedroom from here on."

"Oh, Shane," she declared cheerfully, reaching out to ruffle his damp blond curls, "Drew brings out the worst in me too."

He turned back to watch the woman running on the treadmill at heartbreak speed. "I should've just apologized to him. Pushing him off like that was rude and probably humiliating. I should've talked to him but I thought... well, seducing him seemed like a great idea."

Jenny looked at him guiltily. "Not one of my better ideas."

"It wasn't your fault," he reassured her quickly.

They both fell into silence before Shane added in a quiet voice. "The sex was a little rougher than I liked."

Jenny's green eyes widened like saucers. "What did he do?"

"He..." Shane stopped, bit his lip and sighed. "It was just weird, okay? I don't want to go into details. I wasn't raped or anything like that. It just wasn't what I wanted."

She frowned. "He's a sick son of a bitch."

"Look, I haven't told you everything. Drew was right about one thing. He thought my, uh, seduction was manipulative. I agree. I didn't do it on purpose, but it was. You know what they say about the road to hell and good intentions, right?"

"I don't know about that. I think Drew comes down very hard on you while you take a lot of shit from him. Now, he's even got you agreeing with him."

"I'm not perfect."

"No, you're not. But you're a good person and you deserve better."

"I've got flaws that you don't see because I'm your friend. You'd probably hate me if we dated."

"Oh please. Alex cheated on me," Jenny said, "and I didn't even hate him when we got divorced. There were so many other things wrong with our marriage... divorce was a no brainer. My point is there are lots of things going on with you and Drew that have no place in a relationship."

"All's fair in love and war, right?"

Jenny shook her head vigorously. "Love isn't war."

"So you never played dirty in a relationship?"

Jenny sighed. "Are there some things I regret doing, especially when I didn't take the time to communicate how I felt or listen to how he felt? Sure, but when we were honest with each other, we didn't have to play dirty."

"Did you ever... did Alex ever punish you? Like if you did something wrong... would he...?

"No," Jenny said shortly.

"And you never..."

"We both might have lashed out in anger now and again but really, payback has no place in a healthy relationship."

When Shane said nothing in reply, she eyed him speculatively. "Is that what Drew does to you?"

Shane mulled over Jenny's words. "I think he tries to punish me. When he gets mad, he leaves to punish me. He doesn't need space or time to think... he does it to hurt me. Yesterday was the first time he did it... sexually..."

"You need to leave him," she said firmly.

"I would," Shane said with a sudden laugh, "but he left already."

Jenny sat up with a surprised expression. That sneaky son of a bitch. He'd conveniently omitted the fact that he'd left Shane for the umpteenth time when he called her earlier. "For good?" she asked hopefully.

With a shrug, Shane said, "He left Jasmine behind."

Her face fell. "I'm sure he'll back for her before too long."

Shane watched the sprinter on the treadmill finally wind down. "I'd be crazy to take him back."

She reached for a bit of chocolate frosting left on Shane's plate with her finger and popped it into her mouth. "So why exactly did Drew leave?"

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you?"

"Oh my God! You're gay?"

He smiled. "I hooked up with someone in LA. It wasn't serious. Just one night."

She stared at him; startled at first then a smile crept on to her face. "Was it good?"

Stunned by her nonplussed reaction, he grinned, "Incredible."

She shrugged. "That's what one night stands are for; short, sweet, no regrets. Well, I'm glad you got some, well, from someone other than Drew, that is. You guys were on a break anyway, it doesn't count. Does he tell you he does when he's off on his own?"

Shane shook his head.

"Well, that settles it." She narrowed her eyes and waggled her finger at him. "You shouldn't keep things from me."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Who is he? How did you meet?"

Shane shrugged. "Just someone at the hotel." He desperately hoped she wouldn't push for a name.

She smiled gleefully, "It's like Christmas. You had a one night stand. Drew's gone. I feel like I should be doing a happy dance or something."

"Go ahead."

"I would, only..." She paused, frowning, "I wonder if..."

"What?"

"I wonder if Drew came back, apologized and swept you off your feet again. Would you take him back?"

His first instinct was to deny, but then he remembered who he was talking to. He sighed loudly.

"Shane?"

"I should get back to the studio," he said, clearly unable to answer a question he didn't have the answer to. "I need to get ready to shoot next week's promos."

"He's hurt you emotionally. Yesterday, he hurt you during sex. What's next? Are you going to let him hit-"

"Jen, stop it. He'd never do that. I would never let it get too far."

She threw him a look of pure disbelief, but held her tongue. Gathering up the empty take out box, she said quietly, "I don't even know if you know what `too far' is..."

"Are you tired, Mr. Malone?"

He looked away from the window to Dr. Stein. People watching at Central Park had become a favored pastime at these therapy sessions. "No, I'm good. I got a few hours of sleep last night." Then he'd played Grand Theft Auto till dawn; but he didn't mention that.

"No, I meant, are you tired of this charade, yet?"

He had Leo's attention now. "I'm not sure what you're talking about..."

Dr. Stein pushed his tortoise shell glasses up his nose and closed his leather bound journal. Staring unblinkingly into Leo's eyes, he said. "You're paying me $600 per session so I'm happy to do this for as long as it takes... but frankly, I'd rather be helping patients who want my help. Perry Ford referred you to me. We're old friends and I know he wants you back on the tour, but I won't sign your release. You have a history of drug and alcohol addiction; anger problems and manic depressive tendencies, yet you refuse to deal with any of it. You even have yourself convinced that you didn't mean to kill yourself. Now, maybe you didn't but unless you talk to someone who can help you understand yourself, you motives and your addiction, I'm afraid we're just going to have to end this."

Leo blinked. He thought he'd been fooling the doddering doctor with his glib answers. What would happen when Perry heard that he couldn't be cleared for the shows? Ray and the rest of the guys would be incredibly pissed while Paul... he didn't even want to think about the look of disappointment on his manager's face. "What..." he cleared his throat then asked in a stronger voice. "What do I have to do?"

Dr. Stein nodded. He pulled opened a drawer and pulled out a worn blue journal that had his full name, Grayson D. Stein inscribed in gold script on the front cover.

Leo let out an amused huff. "Let me guess, the other journal's a fake."

"You noticed," Dr. Stein said with a smile. "The black one's my doodle pad. I don't like to use the real journal with patients who are wasting my time."

He got off from behind his desk and motioned to the couch. "Now, Mr. Malone, would you care to have a seat on the couch? I do believe you're been on my chair all this time."

Leo looked back at the overstuffed burgundy monstrosity and took a grim step toward it.