Celebrity Status (currently being revised to 1st person) Walk of Fame-- Book 1

Chapter Five

"The ways you left me dreaming, 

Compose a lonely contradiction,  

Inside my mind, I scream for you, 

You don't know my affliction."                                                     

- Bach's Revenge debut album, track 5

 Well, that couldn't have gone worse if he'd planned it. It was like some twisted  Hollywood script. He was the underdog and she'd kicked him while he was down.  He'd thought about the moment for two years. Two. Freakin. Years. Never once, did he even allow himself to consider it would end like this.  

Good thing Mitch wasn't around or Sebastian would've throttled him, for no  other reason than the fact that the guy woke up and took a breath that morning.  

His feet felt like he wore fifty pound cement blocks on each of them. Every step  to his car a monumental effort. His chest was heavy--maybe it was trying to crush  whatever part of his heart might have been left intact.  He drove fast, too fast, to Sawyer's house. He wanted to break something and if  anyone would understand that, it'd be Sawyer. The garage door was open and the lights  were on. Good. Sebastian brought the car to a screeching halt, practically tearing his  body in half trying to exit the vehicle. When did he put his seatbelt on? 

He slammed the door shut. "Shit."  

When he turned toward the garage, Sawyer's distinct silhouette stood in the  door, a lit cigarette between his lips. "Hey," he said. "You all right?"  

Sebastian weaved his hands into his hair and began to pace up and down the  driveway. "No."  

Sawyer's lip twisted in a half smirk. "She kicked you to the curb before you set  foot on the sidewalk, didn't she?" 

Sebastian flew forward just as Sawyer removed the cigarette from his lips and  flicked it to the side. When Sebastian reached him, his left hand gripped the collar of  Sawyer's shirt, his other arched in the air in a clenched fist. He could see Lane seated in  the garage, in the corner of his eye, preparing to stand up and intervene.  Sawyer smirked. "G'head. Hit me if it will make you feel better. I get it. But I'm  not the one you're mad at."  

He was right. Sebastian released his grip and dropped his hand. Sawyer yanked  at his collar, righting it before turning and sauntering into the garage. "C'mon. Have a  beer, yeah? It'll make you feel better."  

Lane was already at the fridge, retrieving the beverages. He handed one to  Sebastian. "Sorry. That sucks."  

Sebastian mumbled something incoherent, took his beer and flopped down on  the sofa. The springs were old, without much give and he almost winded himself.  

Sawyer reached into his pocket for another smoke, lighting it, before sitting  down beside him. Lane moved back and sat on the milk carton, clearing his throat.  "You okay?"  

"He's just ducky," Sawyer volunteered.  

"I'm fine. I'll be fine," Sebastian lied. "I-I-I just didn't see that coming." He took a  swig of his beer, bitter and cold it moved down his throat. He hoped it would somehow  quash the fire in his chest.  

Tossing his Rubik's cube in the air, Sawyer caught it. "Not every chick can want  you man."  

"She's not every chick--"