Now if I could stop my dreaming

And curse the upward skies

Of all their April gales and shepherd gulls

Riding side by side

There would be a world to breathe

Between you and I

And it wouldn't break my heart

If you called to say goodbye

If you're really leaving

Leave nothing in my care

Everything I own is broken

And far beyond repair

I've offered you nothing

Asked nothing in return

Just to stay with me tomorrow

Watch this whole world burn

The afternoon sun dipped low in the sky as JC stepped through the wrought-iron gate of the San Bernardino Arms, its hinges protesting with a faint creak. The air was heavy with the scent of jasmine and the distant hum of traffic on Hollywood Boulevard. He traversed the tiles of the courtyard under the watchful gaze of the sputtering fountain.

As he approached Patrick's studio, the door was open, revealing the chaotic beauty of creativity within. Pausing for a moment, JC took in the eclectic mix of instruments and artwork that adorned the walls before stepping inside. To his surprise, he found Benny sitting on one of the many carpets that layered over and on top of each other, covering the concrete floor. Her knees were up to her chest, and her arms were wrapped around her legs. Her platinum waves cascaded around her like the wild spray of a waterfall. She was engrossed in the music emanating from a set of headphones that muffled over her ears. Patrick was playing back a track from the computer. She had an unlit cigarette between the fingers of her tattooed hand, and she spun the lighter between her other fingers as she listened intently. Her eyes were closed, and she swayed to the rhythm.

"Hey," Patrick announced JC's arrival.

Benny's eyes snapped open, the spell broken, and she looked up at him with an enigmatic smile. "JC, you're here." She pulled the headphones from her ears and rose gracefully to her feet. "Patrick was playing a song you guys wrote. It's great! And, your voice... it's incredible."

"It's the emotion in the song that makes it great. And, you know, that is all Patrick," JC replied softly, momentarily taken aback by her genuine admiration. He shifted his gaze to her hand and focused on the way she held the unlit cigarette between her tattoo-covered fingers, seeking a reprieve from the intensity of her eyes.

"Maybe, but your voice is great. You should be proud."

"Thanks," JC finally said, forcing a smile. "I appreciate that." His gaze shifted from Benny to Patrick, who was leaning against a soundboard. A ray of sunlight filtered through the dusty window, illuminating the haphazard mix of music equipment and vintage records that cluttered around him. "Again, Patrick deserves the credit, really," JC said, his voice soft but unwavering. "His songwriting is what makes all that track great, not my voice."

"Ah, come on, JC." Patrick cracked a smile. "Mr. Humble over here." He shook his head. "You want to hear more of JC?" Patrick asked Benny. "Come to my set at Spaceland on Monday. I think I have finally convinced him to join me. We are going to try out some of the new stuff."

JC rubbed the back of his neck, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety coursing through him. It had been a while since he last performed for an audience, but Patrick's music was great, and he was excited to be a part of it.

Benny's two-colored eyes sparkled with excitement as she narrowed in on JC. "Sounds great," she said, her voice a sultry whisper. "It's been far too long since anyone has had the pleasure of seeing you perform," she added with a knowing smile.

JC felt both flattered and uncomfortable at her words. Her subtle reference to his past fame stirred up complicated emotions within him. And, as much as he wanted to respond to her, he found it difficult to focus on anything but her damn eyes.

"Your eyes," JC blurted out before he could stop himself. "Damn, Benny, you gotta stop using them to stare at me. They're sorta haunting. You're making me nervous, to be honest." He attempted to pass his comments off as a joke, but his voice wavered slightly as he strung his words together into a kind of lisp-laced whine of exasperation.

Patrick chuckled softly, interjecting with a sly grin. "They're sorta dizzying. Or, like, if you look too long, they make your own eyes kinda water. Like when you're watching someone else putting in eye drops; you get the sympathy tears."

"Are you making fun of my birth defect?" She laughed at Patrick.

Patrick shook his head, no, then after a beat turned to JC with a sudden realization. "She's like Medusa, isn't she? Look too long and you'll turn to stone."

Benny smirked, rolling her eyes playfully. "If only it was that easy to escape," she replied, her tone laced with a hint of subtext.

"Patrick," JC began, turning to face the singer-songwriter, "you know, we should probably get to work finalizing the set list for Monday. It's only three days away." His tone was assertive, ready for the distraction of work.

Benny placed the unlit cigarette between her lips and nervously clicked the wheel of the lighter a few times. She began to make her exit, so the two men could get to work.

"See you Monday, then?" Patrick asked as Benny moved toward the door.

Benny's lips turned up in a sardonic smirk; a sound of hollow laughter escaped her. "I'll have to discuss it with my better half," she said with a tinge of resentment, emphasizing the words 'better half'. "You know, he likes to be the one running this show."

*****

The dimly lit Spaceland pulsed with life, a gritty oasis in the heart of Silver Lake. The hum of conversation and laughter mingled with the electric anticipation in the air, creating a palpable energy that enveloped every corner of the space. A makeshift stage loomed at the front corner, and bar tables were strewn about around an open floor space.

Amidst the throng of people stood JC, his dark, wavy hair peppered with silver strands that seemed to glint beneath the hazy lights. He gripped his girlfriend's hand tightly as he scanned the room for Patrick. Jen had long black hair flowing down her back like obsidian. She was beautiful and glamorous, yet her attire-a simple black t-shirt and jeans-suited the unpretentious atmosphere of the club. Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Babe, are you nervous?" she asked, noticing the tight hold he had on her hand. She pulled it loose and wrapped her arm around his waist, her touch steady and reassuring.

"Not nervous," he answered. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in close, pressing his lips to her temple. "Just excited."

He scanned the room, taking in the faces of those who had gathered, searching for Patrick. His eyes fell on a pair of shadows at a booth in the back corner, opposite the bar. Patrick and his wife, Marie, were arranging items on the table. JC led Jen to them to make introductions.

Marie was short and petite, dressed in a simple vintage black dress with buttons all down the back, a growing baby bump proudly on display. Her short hair, dyed a vibrant shade of violet, framed her face in wild waves.

"Marie!" JC said in surprise. He hadn't seen her in months and was surprised to find her five months pregnant. He turned to Patrick, who was hanging up a shirt with his album cover on the back wall behind the booth. "You didn't tell me you two were expecting!"

"Hey, JC!" she replied. "Yeah, it's been a while, huh? I can't believe Patrick didn't mention it."

"Neither can I," he said, shaking his head as he eyed Patrick. "I'm going to have words with him about that later."

"Please, don't be too hard on him," Marie pleaded, amusement sparkling in her eyes. "He's been so preoccupied with his music and you lately."

"Still, he should've said something." JC couldn't help but smile despite his disapproval. He embraced Marie carefully, mindful of her condition. "Congratulations, by the way."

Patrick, satisfied with the arrangement of his merchandise on the wall behind the table, dusted his hands together and smiled broadly. "This must be Jenifer," he asked, reaching his hand out to shake hers.

Jen took Patrick's hand with a warm smile. "Please call me Jen," she said, laughing. "It's so great to finally meet you in person, Patrick. JC talks about you all the time."

Patrick chuckled as he gestured for them to take a seat. "Well, I hope it's all good things," he replied. "I've been looking forward to getting him on stage with me. I heard you were helpful in getting him to agree."

JC laughed softly as he took a seat next to Jen, draping his arm over her shoulder. "She can be quite compelling," he mused flirtatiously.

After finalizing the formal introductions and a round of initial small talk, JC stood to buy a round of drinks, when the atmosphere in the venue seemed to shift as Benny entered and approached their table hand in hand with her husband.

JC noticed them immediately, his gaze drawn to Benny's platinum hair and the way it contrasted with Colin's slicked-back dark locks. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease as he watched them approach, Colin's polished exterior juxtaposed with the gritty and alternative flare of Spaceland was palpable.

"Hey, Benny, Colin," Patrick greeted them with a warm smile, motioning for them to pull up chairs and join the table. "Meet my wife Marie, and Colin, this is JC, and this is JC's girlfriend, Jen."

"Nice to meet you," Benny said, her voice soft and sweet as she offered a genuine smile to both women. It was easy to see how her warmth and beauty could be captivating to those around her.

"Likewise," Colin replied, his tone more clipped and businesslike. He pulled out a chair for Benny, placing his hand on the small of her back as if to guide her into it. The gesture appeared courteous, but JC couldn't shake the feeling that it was more about control than chivalry.

"Can I get you two anything to drink?" JC asked. "I was just heading to the bar."

"Scotch, neat, and she'll have a vodka soda," Colin responded before Benny could even open her mouth.

"Actually, I'd like a gin and tonic," Benny interjected, her gaze holding Colin's for a moment. There was a hint of defiance in her eyes, as if daring him to challenge her choice.

"Alright then, one scotch and one gin and tonic coming up," JC said, patting the table, before heading off to fetch their drinks.

It was impossible to miss the tension between Benny and Colin. It was palpable, an undercurrent running beneath their interactions. The way Colin would lean in a little too close when speaking to Benny, or how his fingers would brush against her arm in a possessive manner. Thankfully, the tension was eased, somewhat, by JC's return with the drinks, but he noticed Benny's unease simmering beneath the surface, her jaw clenching and unclenching as she endured Colin's subtle power plays.

"Your EP looks fantastic, Patrick," Benny complimented, holding up one of the CDs. "I love the cover art." It was a pencil sketch she had done of Patrick reclined and wrapped in a series of tendrils growing from a tree.

"Oh, you do, now?" He asked dramatically.

"I hope she billed you for it," Colin interjected, his words dripping with sarcasm.

"Colin," Benny warned, her tone sharp and edged with irritation. She shot him a look that seemed to say, 'Enough.'

"Sorry, just making conversation," Colin replied, feigning innocence, but JC could see the satisfaction in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Let's just enjoy the night, alright?" Benny suggested, her voice strained but determined. "We're here for the music, after all."

"Of course, dear," Colin agreed, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

The stage lights flickered to life, casting long shadows over the small crowd that had gathered near the front. Patrick and JC exchanged a final glance before taking their places on stage. Patrick, guitar in hand and harmonica dangling from his neck, and JC, perched behind a keyboard, began to play as the rest of the room fell away. The music wove its way through the air, ensnaring the audience in its spell.

Benny watched from the table, her eyes fixed on the two performers with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the dim lighting. She seemed momentarily lost in the world of the music, the tension between her and Colin temporarily forgotten.

"Isn't this just fantastic?" she spoke loudly over the music, leaning toward Marie and Jen. "They're really great together."

"Absolutely," Marie agreed, her eyes shining with pride as she watched her husband perform.

As the set continued, Benny's earlier agitation appeared to dissolve, replaced by a genuine enjoyment of the music. Her gaze followed JC as his fingers glided over the keys, his energy infectious and captivating. It was almost easy to forget the unease that had hung over the table earlier in the evening.

But then Colin shifted in his seat, his fingers drumming against the table, and the fragile peace shattered. She leaned away from him, and when his hand slid over her thigh possessively, she pulled away from him sharply.

"Are you seriously still upset?" he asked, his voice dripping with condescension. "You're acting like a child, Benny."

"Colin, not now," Benny hissed, her voice low and strained. "We're here for the music, remember?"

"Of course," he replied insincerely, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he reached out to grasp her arm tightly. "That's no way to talk to your husband." He dug his fingers into her skin in an iron grip, squeezing until she winced in pain.

"Let go of me," Benny demanded in a whisper, trying to pull her arm free from his grip. 

Marie and Jen noticed the slight commotion. Jen eyed their interaction with an expression that was a mixture of concern and disbelief. She couldn't hear them over the sound of the music.

"Is this really the time and place for a scene?" Colin asked, his grip tightening. His eyes were cold and unfeeling as he glared at her. "We wouldn't want to distract from your friends' little performance, now, would we?"

"Maybe it is," Benny shot back defiantly, her voice shaking with anger. "Maybe it's the perfect time." She could feel her body trembling under his unyielding hold. Benny stood abruptly.

"Careful now," Colin warned, his voice dangerously low. He stood and leaned in closer toward her, pressing her body between his and the table. "You don't want to push me too far."

"Or what?" Benny challenged softly, throwing caution to the wind, yet not wanting to draw attention to them, as she finally managed to break free from his grip.

"Oh, Behave, Berenice," he retorted, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he brought his face mere inches away from hers.

"Behave?" Benny interrupted, her voice rising with indignation. "I am not your child, Colin. I'm your wife."

"Then act like it?" he spat back, his face contorted with rage. He grabbed her arm and yanked her toward him. He placed his mouth to the side of her face, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. "You should be more grateful. Everything I have done for you"

With that, she yanked her arm free, and stormed out of the bar, leaving behind a heavy silence and an air of uncertainty.

Benny's storming exit resonated through the club, creating an uneasy atmosphere that permeated the stage. Even as JC and Patrick continued to perform, JC couldn't shake the nagging feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach.

"Thank you," Patrick said into the microphone after the final chord faded away from their last song. The crowd clapped and cheered, but JC's thoughts were already elsewhere.

"Great job, man," Patrick clapped JC on the back as they made their way off the stage and joined Jen and Marie at the back table.

"Thanks," JC replied, distractedly. "I think something happened with Benny while we were playing?"

"Yeah, I saw it too," Patrick sighed.

As they reached the table where Jen and Marie had been watching, both women wore unsettled expressions.

"What was that all about?" JC asked, nodding at the door in reference to Benny and Colin, as he rejoined them.

"Hard to say," Jen replied, biting her lip. "Colin seems like a real piece of work, though."

"Did they leave?" Patrick asked, sliding into the seat next to his wife.

"I don't know," Marie answered, rubbing her pregnant belly absently. "I thought they were fine, but something happened."

"It got sorta tense," Jen added, as JC slipped into the booth next to her.

"I think it's been like that for a while," Patrick mused. "I don't imagine she'll take his shit for much longer."

*****

JC arrived as the sun made its final descent, casting only one soft, diffused ray of orange light through the courtyard of San Bernardino Arms. It had been a week since the concert, and he hadn't seen Benny since that night. A sense of unease settled within him, accompanied by an inexplicable anticipation.

As JC walked past Benny's studio on his way to Patrick's, he couldn't help but let his gaze linger on her door, which was slightly ajar. The sound of shattering glass caught his attention, followed by a string of muffled curses.

"Dammit!" Benny's voice rang out, laced with frustration and anger.

JC hesitated, torn between offering assistance and respecting her privacy. He could feel the thrum of her chaotic energy, the palpable tension emanating from her space. He furrowed his brow, his concern for her well-being overriding his initial reluctance. With a deep breath, he approached her door and pushed it open.

"Hey, Benny... everything okay in there?" he called out softly, trying to mask the worry in his voice.

The platinum blonde waves that once framed her face now hung limply, dampened by sweat and tears. She sat on the concrete floor in the center of her studio surrounded by a splattering of paint, and broken glass, a half-finished canvas was covered in a spill of colors. One arm rested in a sling.

"Everything is fine, JC," she looked up at him, her mismatched eyes covered in a layer of tears. "This fucking broken elbow is making everything difficult!" she yelled up into the air as if condemning the heavens for bringing her to this point.

Her frustration was palpable, and JC knew all too well the suffocating sensation of being trapped, unable to express oneself through their chosen medium. He had experienced it himself during the darker days of his career, when others silenced his voice and left him feeling lost and adrift.

"Can I help?" he asked, his voice laced with concern as he approached her cautiously. He didn't want to startle her further, but he couldn't stand idly by while she suffered in silence.

Benny's eyes were filled with pain and anger, but also a flicker of gratitude for his empathy. "I can get it," she worked to get herself up to a standing position. "What I can't fucking do is paint!" she seethed and kicked at two loose paint brushes at her feet.

As she spoke, JC couldn't help but glance at her injured arm, his mind full of suspicions. Even after only one brief interaction, Colin had struck him as controlling and volatile, and he worried that Benny might be paying the price for his temper.

"Here, let me help you pick some of this up," he offered, his voice gentle and steady. She tried to stop him, but he inched further, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, as he offered a comforting smile. "I'm really good at cleaning," JC informed, bouncing on the balls of his feet with pride. JC pulled his phone from his pocket, "You want me to call my mom? She'll confirm it," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Benny shook her head, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "No, JC. This is something I have to deal with on my own," she replied, her tone resolute yet tinged with vulnerability.

He hesitated. He raised his hand up to his chin and rubbed at the thin stubble, thinking for a moment before fully stepping inside, his brow creasing with concern. He bent down and picked up three large shards of glass from a shattered cup. He took in the sight of her injured arm cradled carefully in its sling. "So what happened?" He asked her, trying to be as casual as possible, bending over to pick up another remnant of glass.

Benny's eyes skittered away from him, focusing instead on the cluttered array of paintbrushes and art supplies that lay scattered across her floor. "It's nothing, really," she reassured him, though her voice lacked conviction. "Just a stupid accident."

"Oh honey, I don't think so," JC pressed gently, taking a cautious step closer. "You know, Colin is your husband, but that doesn't mean..."

"Colin?" Benny's laugh was hollow, tinged with a chilling bitterness. "No, JC, this wasn't him. I fell-that's all. I'm just clumsy sometimes, especially when I'm trying to juggle so many things at once."

"Okay," JC replied, though he couldn't quite bring himself to believe her. He knew what darkness could lurk behind closed doors, hidden from the world by a carefully maintained facade. "If you say so, Benny. But if anything changes, I'm going to be right next door. Until probably nine, you know, Patrick and I will be there."

"Thank you," she murmured, her eyes downcast. "If I knock anything else over," she raised her sling-wrapped arm as a reference, "I'll be sure to call you both over to rescue me."

"Look," JC said, annoyed by the downplaying of his offer, "I don't know what's going on," his voice firm but gentle, "and I won't pressure you to tell me. But, you know, you're an incredible artist, Benny, and you deserve so much more than whatever he..." He paused, searching for the right words, "...than whatever is causing this pain," he concluded, eyeing her injured arm.

Benny looked up at him, her brown and her green eye both wide, searching deep into his. Then, without warning, she leaned forward, rose on her toes, and pressed her lips against his. The kiss was sudden and intense, desperate in its plea or yearning for solace in a sea of chaos.

JC felt his breath catch in his throat, his heart pounded in his chest. It wasn't that he didn't find her attractive-quite the opposite-but this was not the turn he wanted their relationship to take. He was paralyzed with indecision, unable to respond to her unexpected and sudden display of affection and worse, unable to keep the blush from his heating cheeks.

The surrounding air grew heavy with intensity, but as quickly as it had begun, Benny broke away from him, her eyes flicking down in shame. "I'm sorry, JC," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "I shouldn't have done that."

He was conflicted, unsure of what to do next. The kiss was not a proclamation or an attempt at seduction; he knew that. It was a cry for help. "Hey," he said softly. He bent down and picked up the rest of the broken glass on the floor. "It's okay, Benny. We all need someone sometimes."

Benny took a step back, looking at him as if for the first time. "Jesus Christ, JC," she said, just above a whisper. "You're a fucking rarity. One of those people, who really is, just... kind."