I have come to a realization this morning.

No woman on the fucking planet has sharper elbows than Madison Fox. If you think I’m kidding, I’ll be more than happy to show you the bruises that are surely popping up all along my stomach and ribcage.

Sometimes I think she takes all of her aggression out on me in bed, and no… not in a fun way.

She kicks, flails her arms around and slaps me in the god damn face, scratches me, and she denies it to this day… but I know she bit me one time. I had her fucking teeth marks in my arm for two days.

And she has absolutely no idea that she does this. She falls asleep, and it’s like she slips into a fucking coma. I’m pretty sure someone could walk in here, torture me for hours on end, and she’d sleep right through it.

But, despite the fact that she abuses me in her sleep, I like waking up next to her. Believe it or not, I missed it a hell of a lot more than I ever thought I would.

Ya know… I’m actually glad she tracked my ass down and made me talk to her last week. A lot of that shit needed to be said, and let’s face it… she needed to step up and deal with something rather than ignore it, and hide from it.

Which is exactly what I was doing by avoiding her, and yeah… not one of my finer moments, but it did the trick, now didn’t it?

I’m not gonna sit here and pretend it was some quick fix to everything, but it was a start that we both really fucking needed. I don’t know what’s going to happen three months from now, but if the last seven days are any indication, I honestly think it’s going to be ok.

I feel a sharp kick in my side and look over to find Madison still out cold, mouth hanging wide open, hair tangled and sticking up in a thousand different directions. Don’t get me wrong… she’s a pretty girl no matter what, but fuck…that’s scary.

And quite frankly… I’m tired of being treated like her god damn punching bag.

I elbow her in the shoulder a little rougher than I originally intended and she yelps in pain, her eyes flying open.

“What the fuck, you dick! I was asleep!” She screeches, sitting up and taking a swing at me, just barely missing my jaw.

“You’ve been beating the hell out of me for the last six hours.” I smirk as she rolls her eyes and lays back down with a huff.

“You are so full of shit. I have always stayed on my side of the bed.” She mutters angrily. “I think the problem is you tried to molest me while I was asleep, and got rejected.”

“Right… because that makes sense.” I laugh as she glares at me. “I molest you… you reject me… and I end up with broken ribs. Yeah… I see the logic in that.”

“It’s entirely too early to bicker with you. I’m going back to sleep.” She settles back into the mattress and closes her eyes, but I know damn well she isn’t going back to sleep.

I slide my arms around her waist and pull her against me. She keeps her eyes closed, but I can clearly see her cheek twitch. She’s doing her absolute best to not smile, but there’s a good chance it isn’t going to last long.

“I guess if you’re gonna sleep… I’ll have to watch the Grammy announcement by myself.”

“No point in watching. We won’t be nominated… and you sure as shit won’t. You haven’t put anything out in what… ten friggen years?”

“Five, thank you.” I roll my eyes and push her hair out of her face. “And if I recall correctly… I stopped recording for some chick. I thought she would have been at least slightly appreciative of it.”

“I do appreciate it.” She nods slowly. “I really, really appreciate not having to decipher your nonsense lyrics. FutureSex/LoveSounds. Really? Do you even know what the fuck that means?”

“Look woman… we were really fuckin high… and it sounded badass.” Alright, not the best defense, but whatever.

“You are so pathetic.” She giggles and kisses my temple. “Adorable, but pathetic.”

You know… if we’d been able to do this more often, we may not have ended up where we were.

Somewhere along the line, we just stopped talking. Granted, we never really nailed the communication thing to begin with, but it got to a point where we could barely stand to look at each other, much less talk. If you ask me, that’s where all the bullshit started.

I look down at her laying next to me and can’t help but grin. Her eyes are still shut, but there’s a small smile forming on her lips. For the first time in god knows how long, I think we’re both feeling pretty optimistic about all of this. We both know it’s gonna take a lot of work, and we’re both more than willing to do it.

That’s exactly how it should be.

************************

“I don’t know why you’re putting us through this.” Madison mutters and stretches her legs out in front of her. “We’re all just gonna get bummed out when we aren’t nominated.”

“So… you turn it into a drinking game.” Benny grins, not taking his eyes off of the TV. “Every time there’s a category we should be nominated for, but a bunch of shitty people are instead… you take a shot. By the time this is over, we’ll all be good and hammered, and we won’t give a shit.”

“Good plan.” Stella nods as she and Benny begin to raid the mini fridge.

I don’t know why, but I can’t help but notice the way Ryan is doing everything he can to avoid getting caught up in what’s happening right in front of him.

Honestly, I gotta give the guy some credit. Everyday he seems to do a damn good job of proving me wrong. I haven’t seen him so much as even look at alcohol or any of that other shit since he joined the band. And believe me… I’ve been watching. Especially this past week.

Call me crazy, but having him around Madison again makes me nervous as hell. Then throw in the fact that she’s really trying to get her shit together… the last thing she needs is to get caught up in a bunch of old shit.

“Nominations in the best new artist category are…”

Everyone but Madison leans forward in their seats, eyes glued to the screen.

I have to admit… this is the kind of shit I’ve been waiting for. Granted, I figured I’d be experiencing it with Keri, but that didn’t work out so great, did it?

But ya know… this is what it’s all about. Seeing all your hard work pay off. Knowing that it’s not just the fans who appreciate what you do. Because no matter what anybody says, if the critics don’t like you… you’re screwed.

And I know Madison has her mind made up that they won’t even be nominated, but I just… I can feel it. Maybe it won’t be one of the big ones, and yeah… maybe they won’t win… but they’ll at least get a nomination. Then I can spend all night telling her I was right and she was wrong. Which is honestly one of my favorite things to do.

“Wunderkind. The Hairy Pigeons. Dillion Street. The Ledge. And, The Pencils.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

The room is dead silent and I immediately look over at Madison. She’s staring at the screen, her eyes damn near bugging out of her head, her jaw almost on the floor. Can’t say I blame her, cause I sure as shit wasn’t expecting this.

“Damnit. I had my shot poured and everything.” Benny mutters, a wide grin spread across his face. “Oh well… fuck it. Now we just take a celebration shot, right?”

“Nominations for song of the year are… John Mayer for Half Of My Heart. Lady Gaga, for Bad Romance. Carrie Underwood for Undo It. The Ledge for Don’t Let Me Stop You. One Republic for Secrets.”

“Ok… who paid this guy to do this? Seriously…” Stella turns to face me and frowns. “There’s no fucking way this is real. I mean… one, ok fine. But two of the biggest goddamn Grammy’s on the planet? I’m not buying it.”

You know… I expected some cheers, some celebrating. Just… something happy. Instead, they’re all sitting around here, like they’re waiting for someone to pop on the screen and say ‘oh, just kidding!’

They roll through several other categories, and just when I think those are the only two nominations we’ll get, album of the year is announced.

And suddenly… the room is going fucking crazy. Benny’s jumping on the bed, drinking whiskey straight from the bottle. Stella is on the phone, calling every single person she’s ever met. Ryan is glued to his laptop. And then there’s Madison.

She’s still seated in the same spot on the couch, staring at the blank television screen. I plop down next to her and slap her leg playfully. She shoots me a sort of dazed smile and shakes her head.

“Ya alright?”

“I have a Grammy nominated album.” She says slowly. “I am fan-fucking-tastic.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“I’m just… surprised, I guess.” She shrugs and starts to pick at her nails. “I mean… when I couldn’t do it on my own, I kind of just… figured it wouldn’t ever happen. I spent so much time working for it and wanting it, and it didn’t happen, no matter what I did. And now… I’m just… wow. But you know… the one that’s got me just… blown away, is song of the year. I wrote what could possibly be the best song of the year and I just can’t fucking believe it.”

“You are aware that I told you this would happen… right?” I grin as she rolls her eyes. “Just say it… ‘Justin, you were right. As usual.’ You’ll feel so much better afterward, I promise.”

“Fine. This is the first and last time I will say it.” She sighs loudly and smiles at me. “Justin… you were right. For once.”

“Not what I wanted to hear. But I’ll take it.” I nod. “You know this means we’re all going out tonight.”

“Figured. I’ll go get changed.”

She strolls out of the room and I can’t help but smile as Benny, Stella and Ryan continue to celebrate.

I think it’s safe to say that this has been the best fucking week ever.

**************************

Sometimes, I think Madison should just buy her own damn karaoke bar.

I don’t know why, but she’s practically obsessed with this shit. And seems to thoroughly enjoy putting everyone she knows through this torture. If I wanted to listen to people with no talent butcher classics, I’d spend 24 hours a day in a car with Trace.

I love the dude… but holy shit, he can’t sing to save his life.

“You gonna sing or sit there like a bitch all night?” Stella smirks at me and takes a long sip of her beer.

“He never sings.” Madison rolls her eyes and elbows me in the side. “He’s entirely too cool to get up there and make a jackass out of himself. Which is odd really, since he does that on a daily basis.”

“Fine. You want me to sing, I’ll sing.” I mutter, snatching the book away from her.

I browse the list of songs for a few minutes, and once catches my eye almost right away. I can clearly remember hearing this on Madison’s Ipod awhile back, and it just… hit me weird, I guess. I mean… I’m not like Madison. I don’t find some type of personal meaning in every single song I hear, but this one, I did.

I slide out of our booth and head for the DJ, my name and song choice scribbled on a small sheet of paper. On the way back to my seat, I can’t help but cringe when Trace’s name is called and he damn near sprints up to the small stage.

This cannot end well.

He’s had more to drink than any of the rest of us, and with Trace….well… bad things happen when he’s that drunk.

A vaguely familiar song starts and he kind of mumbles the lyrics, paying no attention to the boo’s being shouted at him. But once the chorus starts, it’s a whole other person on that stage. He’s dancing around, gyrating and honestly… I am fucking terrified.

Sex bomb Sex bomb you're a Sex bomb
You can give it to me, when I need to come along
Sex bomb sex bomb you're my sex bomb
And baby you can turn me on.

Once again she steals away
Then she reaches out to kiss me
And how she takes my breath away
Pretending that she don't miss me

Ooh, I would bleed to love her
Ooh, bleed to love her
Ooh, I would bleed to love her

And once again she calls to me
Then she vanishes in thin air
And how she takes my breath away
Pretending that she's not there

Ooh, I would bleed to love her
Ooh, bleed to love her
Ooh, I would bleed to love her

Somebody's got to see this through
All the world is laughing at you
And somebody's got to sacrifice
If this whole thing's gonna turn out right

Ooh, I would bleed to love her
Ooh, bleed to love her
Ooh, I would bleed to love her
Bleed to love her
Bleed to love her