A dark-skinned man stood in the doorway, his black suit out of place in the blistering heat. The dark smirk on his lips and the glimmer in his eyes set him apart from the ants scurrying down in the city.

“Pissing off as usual,” he said, the smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You were always the one to leave the heavy work to us.”

Jamie lifted the cigarette to his lips but he didn’t draw breath. He let his hand hover in the air. His eyes roamed over the man’s face.

“You weren’t much better than I was.” He decided to let his hand fall to his side. The glimmer of red at the end was just too hot to bother with. The man before him was enough to keep him running anyway. “I remember clearly that writing music wasn’t your thing.”

The man picked at his fingernails. His dark eyes flickered from his hand to Jamie and out to the city. He gave a sigh, more dramatic than what was necessary to get his point across, but Jamie had become accustomed to it. In some ways, it was comforting to hear the same sound in every conversation. It gave him something to listen to, to anchor to this field. Without it, he was always threatened at being swept away by his own senseless mind that he might not be able to come back down. Somedays it was ideal; others it took all his energy.

“It wasn’t but at least I had something to offer.”

Jamie flicked the cigarette at him. He dodged it, stepping to the side in those hideous black shiny shoes.

“Heath…” Jamie’s voice trailed off. He didn’t like the sound of his name in his voice. It didn’t sound right. It sounded like it was a name lost to time and death, plucked away from this universe and stripped of all meaning. The memories connected to that name might be able to fill hundreds of books, but it wasn’t enough to show how much it meant to Jamie.

“Quit whining,” Heath said while rolling his eyes. He walked towards the railing and draped his arms over the side. He gave Jamie a look that meant he was at his pushing point. “We both know exactly what they want from you. If you weren’t such an idiot, you would have cut them off completely long ago.”

Jamie stood up from the chair. He didn’t get even halfway to the door when Heath stopped him. He tugged his arm away but Heath shoved his shoulder so he would face him. Their eyes locked.

“Listen to me,” Heath said. The smirk was gone, but the look in his eyes always looked the same. It was death. “Forget about them.”

He broke out into a grin. “Or let them fuck you over again. You like that, don’t you?”

Jamie shoved Heath back again. Heath laughed, cackling to the point that he fell back against the railing, his hand clutching his chest.

Jamie slammed the sliding door shut, but not before he heard Heath yell out, “Bend over! It makes entry smoother!”

The laughing couldn’t be droned out through walls alone. The laughter was circling around him.

He staggered to his bedroom. His empty hand felt strange without the cigarette nestled between his fingers. That was a bad sign if he ever saw one. He smiled down at it, manically laughing inside his head, but still reeling from the anger. Heath stood outside the sliding door, staring back at him through the glass.

Jamie kept his eyes on him as he walked backward toward his phone. He picked it up, eyes locked with Heath’s, and then answered it.

“‘ello! Only the finest speaking.”

“Jamie! Why haven’t you been picking up? I’ve been calling all morning!”

He fell back on his bed, phone pressed to his ear. “Long time Grant. I don’t just answer anyone you know.”

Grant sputtered. “We’ve known each other for years!”

Over fives years. God, he was so fucking old.

“What do you want?” The glass sliding door cracked open. Heath walked in like he’d never seen the place. He picked up a discarded pair of jeans, held them up with one finger, and raised a brow.

Jamie glared at him but kept his choice of words to himself.

The phone line had gone silent. He frowned. He checked that he hadn’t lost connection. Nope. Grant was still on the line.

“Grant?” His own voice made his gut clench. He’d been through phone silences like this. They never led to good things.

“There’s been something happening in LA…well…”

“Spit it out. Come on.”

The suspense wasn’t good for his heart. He reached for another cigarette. Another wouldn’t hurt him too much.

“You’re going to get a call from management today. I thought you might want the heads up.”

He lost grip on the cigarette. It tumbled to the ground. He cursed and ducked down to grab it.

He hissed into the phone. “What the fuck you mean they’re going to call me? I don’t want to hear from them!”

“I know! That’s why I’m calling you now. Don’t be surprised.” Another beat of silence. “It was Sam’s idea.”

Jamie froze. He left the cigarette on the floor and he hung over the side of the bed. He hadn’t heard that name in a long time. It had been his choice to keep it out of his life. Of course, he wasn’t going to be able to run from it forever.

He sighed. “It’s always his idea.”

He pressed his lips together. A hard look fell over his face. “Do you know what’s it about?”

“Not a clue. Look, I gotta go. See you sometime?”

“Sure.” The dead promise could be heard through his voice. Grant knew it was empty. They both did. And neither of them were going to try to change that.

He hung up and tossed his phone to the end of the bed. Heath crept up, hovered over the edge of the bed. Jamie waved him away. It wasn’t going to get rid of him, but it was all the energy he had in him.

He stared up at the ceiling. Sam. A call from management. And Heath.

The strings weren’t attaching and he was lost as to what management could possibly want from him this time. If it had something to do with Sam, then he was at a complete loss.

Jamie closed his eyes. He almost drifted off to sleep when there was a knock from downstairs. He mumbled to himself, not wanting to get up again, but the knocking came again. There was no one he wanted to see or who he'd been expecting. No one visited anymore. Everyone was out in LA or New York. Who the hell would want to stay in Oklahoma when they could be in either of those places?

He rubbed his eyes as he stood up from his bed. He wasn't exactly dressed to be meeting anyone. His rumbled stained t-shirt would have to do. Though he did pull on the jeans Heath had wrinkled his nose at before he stomped downstairs.

The knocking was louder this time. They were going to break down his front door for Christ's sake.

“I’m coming!” He cursed as he stubbed his toe on the sharp corner before he crossed the trashed living room. It smelled like absolute shit.

He should hire a maid. When he glanced into the kitchen, he saw gnats and flies circling the dirty dishes. He didn’t realize how bad it had gotten in the past week. It hadn’t even occurred to him to clean up.

He sighed and left for the mess to be dealt with at another time. The front door was a heavy dark wood that was surrounded by glass. The small window was a frosted glass so he couldn’t see who it was. Before he opened it up, he dashed to the next window to peek out the side of the curtain.

A policewoman with dark skin stood outside his door.

Shit. Today was the day he was supposed to get his anklet taken off.