Chapter 1

Dylan Taylor sprawled across the bed, flicking his long brown hair in
the other direction. His eardrums were still vibrating from the show
last night. It was difficult to tell whether they were vibrating
because of all the screaming fans, or the loud roar of his guitar
tuned to an open G, as he spilled his soul out to the audiences.
Sometimes he wondered if they were listening to his intimate thought
spilling, or if they were looking at him as Dylan Taylor, rock sex
symbol extraordinaire. The band was giving him grief for the latter,
teasing him night and day about his pinup poster looks. His hazel
brown eyes, fine features, and smooth olive complexion, and rippled
chest did little to quell the desire of the press to market him as an
idol. At the end of the day all Dylan wanted was to rock.

He didn't remember what Ant, the drummer was doing sprawled across
the couch in his room. He was guessing from looking around and
feeling his pounding headache that the band had gotten up to some
wild party last night. Though many rumors circulated about the wild
parties of G Flat Noise, Dylan was never a part of the wild
partying. He usually sat in the back of the room, or lay on the bed,
downing half a six pack, and watching the craziness around him, or
pouting, scrawling lyrics on the back of a napkin. Granted he was
not a saint, and he had a few liaisons with a few beautiful women,
but never anything wild like the magazines reported, and never
anything serious.

Somehow, the Grand Vista hotels television had gotten turned to MTV.
Once again, this wasn't Dylan's channel surfing. This was probably
Long Armed Larry, the Bass Guitarists channel selection. Larry liked
to watch headbangers ball, because it helped put him to sleep. Dylan
liked to get a break from Hard Rock music sometimes when he wasn't
gigging, or writing, so he didn't normally turn on MTV. However, he
began watching it, because it was already selected. This must have
been r&b and rap programming, because he'd just caught the end of two
scratch master artists, rhyming over beats.

The next video however caught his attention, and apparently Ant's
attention as well, because he said. "Dude, get a look at that black
chick. She's hot,"

"Get a life," replied Dylan.

"She wouldn't want you anyway loser. Actually she is kind of hot.
She's got really long legs. Nice skin too. Kinda chocolaty, pretty
smile," added Dylan with a smile, sizing up the girl.

"Who is she anyway," asked Ant.

"Some new girl. It sounds like Khrystine Morgan," added Dylan.

"I figured you would know," said Ant.

Dylan had listened to r&b music since he was a small boy, and
although many modern acts didn't do it for him, he did keep up with
the genre as best as he could, while living in the rock and roll
scene. Many of the new artists he noticed would be nothing if it
were not for some Hocus Pocus magician performing studio wizardry on
their vocals, and supplying them with a kicking backbeat. But one
thing he'd noticed when he listened to HOT LA 105 that morning when
he first heard Khrystine Morgan was her incredible voice. Though she
did have the obligatory modern day studio drum kit accompaniment,
here was a girl that sounded like she had a lick of talent outside of
the studio. As though she would sound like an angel singing
acapella. But when he'd heard her on the radio, though it sent a
chill through his bones, and made embarrassing areas on his body
tingle, he had no idea that she was so "hot" for lack of a better
word. She was sexy, but it was more than that. She was also very
beautiful, but it wasn't the mini skirt or the spiked heels in the
video that made her appear that way. It was something indescribable
in those mysterious eyes of hers, when they appeared to be looking at
him through the television.

He rubbed his eyes, and smoothed his chest again.

"Yeah, she's a regular hottie," said Dylan, grinning and indulging in
a roguish fantasy as her video ran to its conclusion.

***

Khrystine Morgan sat gingerly sipping her diet coke as her stylist
paraded several sets of outfits in front of her. In a span six
months, she couldn't believe how much her life had changed. It
wasn't so much materially, since she came from an upper middle class,
borderline wealthy family. At age twenty-two, even before she got
her break in the music business, she had experienced luxury that most
girls were never blessed with. When she was ten years old, she'd
been so taken with the horseback riding lessons that her father at
first insisted that she take, that he'd bought her a horse. By the
time she was sixteen years old, she was presented with her own keys
to a brand new car the week after she got her license. And although
the Morgan's had put away more than enough money for her to go to
Brown University, her fathers alma-matter, she opted not to go, much
to her families chagrin.

When Eddie Thompson heard her signing vocals over a DJ's sampling,
one late night at a party, he signed her on as a background singer.
She'd toured the country with the band, loving life on the road, even
though it was quite a different setting than the pampering she was
used to, doubling up with three band members in a small Super 8
motel. Although it was much less monetarily than she was used to
being surrounded with, she just loved going from city to city, seeing
the reaction of a theater full of screaming teenagers to Eddie
Thompson's smooth R&B vocals. Although Eddie Thompson was a very
successful singer, and a ladies man, he never once tried to hit on
Khrystine, opting instead to take her under his wing, trying to help
groom her for success. Eddie and his band went to Radio City on a
piggyback tour with three other acts to play a set, and fueled by a
dare with fellow background singers, Khrystine auditioned for amateur
night to sing at the Apollo theater. She was so good that they
bumped another act so she could go on the next night, and she won the
best new amateur act award for that week.

She never got to play a second week to see if she could win again.
Nor did it matter, because in that audience happened to be sitting an
executive for Gold Tone records. He took one listen to Khrystine's
alto, and signed her the next day right on the spot. That was where
her life had changed. She went in the studio and in two months, with
the help of JaQuon, she'd co written and co produced her first album,
sharing writing credits with him on five out of the ten songs she'd
created for the album. Even then, it all seemed like too much of a
dream when the sessions were all over and she got to hold her first
promotional albums, produced for all three formats, LP, tape, and
CD. Khrystine never believed that the album would do anything, it
would be just enough to tide her over until the next gig, and it
would be a great story to tell her kids, with the evidence to back it
up when she was tired of gigging, broke, and ready to enroll in Brown
University.

How surprised was she three months ago when she heard "Love Me Right
Boy", on HOT LA 105. She immediately called her best friend
Monique. "oooooooooohhhh my god we are on the radio," she screeched,
holding the phone up to her living room stereo. She was even more
surprised when in a span of three weeks, she had the number one song
in the country, on both the pop and r&b charts.

Her star had risen, and right along with it, her public profile. In
a matter of six months, she'd lost all anominty, and was waited on,
and courted in ways she could only dream about, even though she was
raised around opulence. It was one thing to have a maid who came to
your house to clean everyday when you were growing up, but it was a
whole new thing to have a stylist who put your shoes on your feet.

"Girl I am telling you, this is the dress for you," she said
motioning for Khrystine to stand up.

She stood up, still sipping her diet coke through her straw and she
didn't give much thought to it as Lela helped her slip the red
ensemble over her head. Her video shoot wasn't until next week, and
she had no idea why Lela was worrying about it now.

"Isn't this next week, Isn't the new video shoot next week,"
Khrystine said, wanting to be done with the trying on of the outfits
right now.

Khrystine loved clothes and makeup all her life, and she usually
adored trying on clothes however, she missed her sleep at this
moment. And she wanted to be alone right now and just sit with some
headphones on her head. It would be nice to have time to ponder.
She needed to assess JaQuon and whether or not she would accept his
offer to mix business with pleasure.

"Yes it is tomorrow, but we need you to look scrumptious. Do you
know that BET is coming to this shoot, and not only BET, but
seventeen, glamour, and Jet are going to do a write up on this new
video, this is big exposure Khrystine. You aren't gonna be just a
staple in `our' households. Every house in America is going to have
Khrystine Morgan blaring through their stereos. And its my job to
make sure you look as sexy as you are," said Lela pinching
Khrystine's cheek.

After the business with outfits was over, her makeup artist appeared,
beginning to treat her to a facial. She often wondered about
Quentin. He was the only makeup artist she'd seen in Hollywood that
actually tried to hit on her. Most of the makeup artists were trying
to be one of the girlfriends, not have one of their own. It seemed
strange for him to take such care and interest in making up her face
when he'd openly and honestly confessed that he'd like to make out
with her. To which she'd replied `I'll get back to you on that
one'.

He cracked her up though. She wondered if she should ask him for his
honest opinion about JaQuon, or if she should just sit and ponder
this mystery by herself. When she'd told her best friend Monique
that he'd approached her romantically, her friend had said `no way'.

" You two have a great producing and writing relationship, he
makes the dopest beats, and you write the hottest lyrics. You do not
need to be mixing that up with romance, because the work of the two
of you is going to go to pot. Plus, JaQuon is a jerk. You knew that
before you became famous. Everytime we turned around we would hear
reports about him getting into someone else's trousers. He is from
the old school of date em's and dump em's and he just wants to see
what you are like physically, and you will hate yourself for it, and
him too. Keep him on a professional level. With a joker like that
it has to be no ring no thing, because he is definitely out to use
women. Don't let him tell you any different. I mean he talks to
your chest. I know you are feeling a little lonely lately, but don't
fall for that sucker. You need to find yourself a good honest man,
even if he's not a Hollywood type," Monica had stated when she
suggested the idea of them going out on the phone last night.

She could remember every word that her best friend since the first
grade said, because as was often the case with Monique, she spoke
what was in Khrystine's gut but she hadn't yet articulated.
Khrystine knew he was a dog in the back of her mind, but he was
really fine, and it had been a long time since she'd had a
boyfriend. So what if she had a little fun, she didn't see what the
harm was. She didn't want JaQuon to marry her. However she couldn't
live with herself if he used her either. Maybe it was better to let
feelings that were beginning to simmer for him die down. They were
mainly based on his smooth brown skin, and rippled abs anyway.
Outside of writing, he'd never showed her any outstanding qualities,
besides being gorgeous. He was nearly outright rude to women at
times unless he was either writing songs with them, or trying to bed
them.

To free her mind, she turned on HOT LA 105 after the makeup artist
had left her sitting peacefully at the table with her Diet Coke and
avocado facial to replenish her pores. HOT LA 105 was a mixture of
all the popular songs on the current radio, playing rock r&b, and
everything in between except for country and western music. Although
there was a strictly r&b station, she often opted to listen to HOT LA
105 because that was the station that let her get a fix of the hard
rock music that she enjoyed, right next to the r&b that she adored.
Her friends, and family always chided her for listening to hard rock
music growing up, but there was something about the raw soul that
some of those white boys had, that blue eyed soul that really tickled
her ears. And she loved the raw power that the twang of the guitar
held. Nothing sounded better in her Audi cranked all the way up than
a hard rock song when she wanted to feel pumped. When she wanted to
feel pumped to her, hard rock was even better than rap. Of course
she wouldn't dare tell that to her friends and family, the wouldn't
understand, they thought her collection of music, with all her hard
rock CDs, and records stacked next to her r&b, classic soul, and rap
albums was strange enough. HOT LA 105 let her move seamlessly
through all her musical worlds.

The British pop sounding tune that was going off as she turned on the
radio was soon replaced by the loud, metal guitar's of G Flat Noise.
They were an incredible band. She thought their first two albums
were awesome, but this third album that she'd just picked up last
month was by far their best, because the lyrics were deep and
insightful. She liked the deep husk of Dylan Taylor's voice, he
reminded her of what a budding blues singer would sound like, as
their voice began to crack. Unlike some modern hard rock singers,
his angry howl held a truly talented soulful voice beneath the
surface. And he could play an electric guitar. He didn't do much
complicated riffing, but he still played with a loose and open style
she adored. It was a shame he was so good looking, because she felt
like it kept the press from taking him seriously. Last month she'd
picked up rolling stone, and the cover story had read Dylan Taylor,
guitar swinging sex symbol. It should have read Dylan Taylor, Baby
Bluesman, and guitar wizard extraordinaire in her mind, but she
understood. Music was a business and she was just beginning to learn
that artists like she and Dylan were a commodity. Not only were they
talented artists, but they were cute kids too. Cute kids sold
magazines to teenagers.

She slipped out of her reverie just long enough to hear the song
Howling Woman go off the air.

"These boys are playing the Civic Stadium this Saturday, at 9:00 PM.
If you want to get tickets, you know what to do," the MC said.

Of course, Khrystine wasn't going to call for tickets, she had
quickly learned she was beyond that stage in her life now. She
summoned her personal assistant with a quick cell phone call.

"Mike, I want tickets to hear G-Flat-Noise on Saturday," said
Khrystine.

"But babe you are going to that charity dinner," said Mike

"Yeah, babe, but G-Flat-Noise doesn't play until 9:00. I'll do my
good deed at the dinner, and slip out at 8:30. Please, I never ask
you guys for anything, I do every interview, every magazine cover
shoot, every video that you schedule me for. I worked 20 hours
yesterday. I've had two hours sleep. Just do this for me. I need a
break," said Khrystine, her voice beginning to crack a little.

"Okay babe, whatever it takes to make you happy, you want it, you got
it, that's what being the next big r&b pop star is all about. So
you've got front row. I don't know what it is you hear in those
crazy boys going around screaming their heads off an sounding like
they are beating on garbage pails but if that's what you want, that's
what I'll get for you," said Mike.

Sometimes mike was so paternalistic. She just laughed, knowing he
wouldn't understand.

"You just don't stay out too late, and don't scream too loud and ruin
your voice. And you'll need an escort," added mike.

"No, no escort. This is a break from my music for one night. I
don't want to go as a star, I want to go as Khrystine," Khrystine
said.

"You can't have both babe. I won't send an escort, but I'll be by
the phone every second in case something happens," added Mike.

He did worry about some of the rabid g-flat-noise fans discovering
Khrystine, and pawing all over her, but he said nothing about his
fears, resolving instead to get her the tickets.

Khrystine smiled, hanging up the phone. Although she sang the best
genre of music on the earth, there was something about hard rock that
was refreshing. And she'd seen G-Flat-Noise on TV. They were in the
words of one of her valley girl friends "totally kicking", thought
Khrystine.

After her makeup artist returned and washed and powdered her face,
she went down to Studio 11 to practice her choreography routine for
her music video shoot next week.

***
On Saturday, Khrystine woke up early, had a light breakfast of
Special K and Orange Juice, did one call in to a radio station in
Dallas to do an interview. The rest of the day she spent flipping
through magazines and watching TV in the company of her best friend
Monique before the charity dinner that evening.

"So why are you leaving the charity dinner early? There are gonna be
a lot of big time actors there," added Monique.

"Well, I know that. But I got Mike to get me tickets to the G-Flat-
Noise concert," said Khrystine with a grin.

"You mean that screaming boy that sings the Howling Woman song that
you love, oh lord," laughed Monique.

"What do you mean oh lord. Ignore the title. Howling Woman is a
good song. Don't you love his voice, it's husky, and it's tortured,"
said Khrystine, trying to hide her excitement, knowing she was about
to get teased.

"Come off of it Khrys. You know you think those white boys slinging
their hair around are sexy. You also know that howling wolfs, or
whoever they are, you know they sound like they are screaming for
their very lives," laughed Monique.

"Oh yeah, well you liked that song that I played for you by
them called Tortured Lives. Well anyway, I got a second ticket to
the show, but just for that, I'm not asking you to go," teased
Khrystine.

"OH I'm so very disappointed," teased Monica with mock anguish.

"I'm sure you are," said Khrystine rolling her eyes.

"Well girl, I'm gonna let you get ready to go to this charity
dinner. Kiss Denzel for me. Get his autograph If you are feeling
extra nice. And be careful going to that hard rock concert with a
bunch of other crazy young people. Yourself included," added Monica.

"I will, I will. Don't nag me. You are only four months older than
me," teased Khrystine.

"I'll nag when I feel like it. And anyway, I'm going to leave my
cell phone on so you can call me if you need me. One thing I'll say
is that you are such a character. I'd like to see you there, doing
some of that head banging, or whatever it is you do when you shake
your head all crazy in the car to that mess," teased Monica.

"It's the same way you shake your booty to JaQuon's rap beats,"
laughed Khrystine, as Monique bid her goodbye.

After Monique Left, Khrystine was free to dress for the charity
dinner. Since none of her assistants were present, she had
the "luxury" of dressing herself, and opted for a gold slip dress and
gold high heel sandals. She'd painted her toenails a gold color
earlier in the day along with Monica, so she opted for no panty hose,
and she brushed her naturally shoulder length hair so that it framed
her shoulders before heading out of the door and getting in her
convertible Audi.

It only then occurred to her that she would be a bit overdressed for
the G-Flat-Noise concert, but there would be no time for her to get
on the LA freeway and go all the way back to her condo before going
to the civic stadium. She'd just have to be a little more dressed up
than her fellow headbangers, smiled Khrystine to herself.

***
During the entire charity dinner, Khrystine had been dreaming about
the G-Flat-Noise Concert, even as old Hollywood legends pinched her
cheek and told her about what a wonderful first single she had, and
how great it was that she was concerned about helping the
environment. Although she liked meeting the legends, compared to
front row tickets at a sold out rock concert she was dying to go to,
it seemed a little bit boring. Though successful beyond her years,
she was still a typical twenty-one year old. She cut out of the
banquet fifteen minutes earlier than planned.

She did eighty-five on the freeway, racing to the civic stadium, and
then struggled to find parking in the underground area under the dome
like structure. After finding a space near a light, a necessity when
alone in Los Angeles at Night, she got on the elevator, taking it up
into the stadium.

At ground level, she went to find her seats in the front row. She
was jammed between two blond people, one male, and one female, who
appeared to be the same age she was, but Khrystine appeared older
because she was dressed to the nines. No one else in the stadium
looked like her, and it had nothing to do with color, just that most
of the kids were clad in jeans, or leather, and sneakers, or boots.
It didn't matter. She just came to see the show and she would
inconspicuously slip out of the front row before the show was over.

The blond girl sitting beside her pulled her bubble gum with her
fingers as she chewed it, twisting it around her pinky.

"You've got to be the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," said the
girl, who had a thick new jersey accent, though she was from LA.

It was a strange compliment, but Khrystine smiled anyway.

"Thank you," she said softly, humbly.

Although people thought she was beautiful before she was famous, she
never looked at herself as attractive, she just saw Khrystine when
she looked in the mirror.

"No, I'm serious, and it's not the dress," added the girl.

"thanks," said Khrystine absentmindedly.

She was ready for the show, and felt a tinge of disappointment as the
bland opening act graced the stage.

"You like G-Note," said the girl.

"Love them," said Khrystine.

"That's weird. Cool but weird," said the girl eyeing Khrystine
strangely.

Khrystine was used to getting this reaction when she went to rock
concerts, but she was sure it had more to do with her attire than
with the color of her skin in this instance. At any rate the girl
sitting beside her seemed nice enough, though she was rather chatty.
Khrystine was pretty sure the young woman had no clue about her
song, "Love Me Right Boy", and she was glad.

Although the young woman had been chatty to the point of annoying
during the opening act, Khrystine breathed a sigh of relief when she
was quiet as G-Note-Flat graced the stage.

***
Dylan Taylor looked into the audience, preparing himself as he
strummed the opening notes to their current hit "Howling Woman", in a
clean, straight forward, yet cleverly disguised lead in riff.

He always glanced at the faces in the front row to try to get a feel
for the audience he would be playing for, to try to put a face to a
stadium that appeared to be filled with little flecks of pepper from
his perspective on the stage. However, he could always see the faces
in the front row, and that helped him put a human face on the throng
of adoring followers that turned up to their gigs throughout the
world.

This evening, he saw a strange sight as he scanned the front row.
There appeared to be a very well dressed black woman sitting front
row, center stage. It wasn't the fact that she was black that made
her stand out as much as her fancy attire. He wondered if she was a
fan of the band, or just some type of press agent. It was too dark
for him to tell, but she was a snazzy dresser, if you liked that sort
of thing.

His scanning of the front row completed, Dylan shouted to the
audience.

"Does Los Angeles want to rock,"

And the crowd hollered.

"I said, does Los Angeles want to rock," repeated Dylan.

The crowed screamed again, and this time young black woman was in
with the revelers, putting her hands up in the air, in a rock on dude
type stance along with the other revelers.

It was at this point that Dylan got the answer to his question about
the well dressed black woman. She wasn't a PR agent. She came to
rock.

Dylan said "I see you momma," but didn't point directly at the young
black woman. For some reason he didn't want to draw undue attention
to her, because she was so well dressed.

At that point, he had to take his eyes away from her delightful
oddity, lest it distract him from the show.

In his black running shorts, slightly muddy combat boots, a bandanna
tied around his arm, his olive body already glistening with sweat
before the performance, he drew the primal teenage scream out of the
young women in the audience before he sang a note.

"You're my howlin woman momma yeah," mumbled Dylan softly, kneeling
laying his head straight back against the stage and beginning to
strum his guitar.

The crowd really went wild for him as he gyrated lightly, tilting the
guitar slightly in the air. At this point he stopped teasing the
audience, standing up, strumming his true opening riff.

As he sang, he sort of kicked, and swiveled his way along to the
rhythm, letting it guide him as it would, as he strummed freely. He
loved to pluck his guitar before a live crowd, because although he
stuck to the original enough so that the band and the fans would
recognize the song, live stage let him improvise according to his
mood, and the desires of his fans. He spun a slightly complicated
riff, yelling, pick it up ant, and ant began drumming as though he
was beating the rhythm to a military procession, only ten times as
fast, gliding seamlessly into their next hit, "Tortured Souls".

He played facing Long Armed Larry, letting Larry give it and take it
back with matching chord progressions until the bass guitarist
couldn't take it anymore, calling out playfully I fold, as the
audience clapped and cheered.

"How many people out here know what I'm talking about? I'm just a
hard workin' man at the end of the day. I'm a hard working man that
plays for my fans," he half screamed, half sang into the microphone.

"Where are all my hard working men at," asked Dylan to the audience.

He played two more songs, before the show had an intermission. Hard
working man though he was, his vocal chords could use a snatch of
Budweiser, and or Lemon Tea, or he didn't know how hard he could long
he could keep singing without wetting his throat.

"Time for Budweiser," said Dylan.

The fans screamed.

It seemed everything he said the fans screamed, even when he referred
to his love of beer. After he turned his round, yet muscular behind
toward the audience and swaggered away, the lights came up on the
stadium full blast.

***

Khrystine thought about getting a mixed drink during the shows
intermission, but opted against the idea. She didn't want to appear
lonesome, but she would appear lonesome at the concession stand by
herself ordering a drink. Deciding to sit and wait for the band to
return she occupied herself by dangling her high heeled shoe on her
big toe, and trying not to drop it. She was quite involved in this
self amusement, followed by examining her cuticles when she felt a
tap on her shoulder.

It came from a well dressed blonde man standing directly in front of
her. She felt a bit uncomfortable that he'd just reached out and
touched her bare shoulder, and she recoiled a little. His designer
suit, impeccable wing tips, and horn rimed glasses made her think
that he was some sort of business man, or reporter.

"Are you Khrystine Morgan," asked the man.

"In the flesh, shhh, I'm trying to be incognito this evening," she
added looking around to see if anyone had heard.

"Well it's going to be hard for you to be incognito in your trademark
mini dress and high heeled shoes. As soon as the lights came up, I
knew who you were," explained the business man.

"Well, I was at an event, and didn't have time to change. Wait. Who
are you, and why am I explaining myself to you," said Khrystine, her
tone getting a little aggressive, as she squared her shoulders.

It felt silly to be explaining her attire to some bozo in a suit that
she didn't know.

"You look stunning darling, really you don't have to explain yourself
to me. I'm Chad Stevens," he said extending his hand to her.

Khrystine shook it absentmindedly, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow
upward, because she had no clue who Chad Stevens was.

"I thought that would mean something to you Ms. Morgan, but you are
new to the business, and you aren't really in the rock music business
anyway. I am the PR Agent for Dylan Taylor, and G-Note-Flat. I'm
one of those behind the scenes type guys," added Chad.

"Oh I see. I never really knew how many behind the scenes type guys
there were until I cut my record. So maybe we'll bump into each
other again," added Khrystine, smiling graciously, letting all of her
big, beautiful pearly white teeth show, hoping that Chad would get
the message, and realize the conversation had petered out.

He was beginning to wear on her nerves like a cheap suit with his
phony camaraderie with her.

"Actually I will probably be bumping into you back stage. G-Note's
drummer Ant saw you when he was standing behind the wings over there,
and the band would like to meet you backstage after their show,"
added Chad.

"I don't know," said Khrystine, her voice wavering.

She felt hesitant about going backstage to meet a band, who had
legendary tales spun about their life backstage, and at their hotel
after parties. It could be dreadful if some nosy reporter saw her
going back to meet the band, and conjured up some fake, juicy story,
complete with pictures of her going behind the scenes to meet them.
What was more, even if no one saw her, she knew about the reputation
of that Dylan Taylor, before she was famous, and he probably thought
he would ask her backstage and see if she was nothing more than a
glorified groupie.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

"They really want to meet you, and this will be a great press story,
a little thing about meeting the band in the papers the next day,
could drop your name in circles that wouldn't ordinarily hear about
you. They might even be curious to pick up your LP to see who you
are. Everything's honest with me, seriously. The band loves to meet
anyone in the business who comes to see their show, not just gorgeous
r&b singers. Please do us the honor," begged Chad.

"Well umm…Okay," said Khrystine very quickly, answering before her
better judgment commanded her tongue.

There was something so compelling about a band as popular as G-Note-
Flat begging to meet her. She really had arrived. Dylan's Talent
had moved her before she was famous, and she respected him as being a
true musician, whose popularity rested on more than just his striking
features. And a tiny piece of her wanted to see how gorgeous Dylan
Taylor really was when he was standing three feet away from her. Was
he as gorgeous as he looked under the stage lights tonight, in the
magazines and on MTV? She would know after the second set.

***

Backstage Ant and Dylan were engrossed in conversation.

"Dude this is so cool that Khrystine came to our show," said Dylan.

"It is cool. She doesn't look like a chick that would dig rock
music, but I say everything is open and free. What I want to know
is,"

"If she's really hot," finished Dylan for Ant.

"Well, she looked like it from the front row. Who knew that well
dressed black chick that I called momma was Khrystine Morgan. I just
hope she doesn't know I was talking to her when I said momma,"
chuckled Dylan.

"I oughta tell her when she comes back here. She looks like the kind
of woman who would chew up a man, spit him out, and not think twice,"
said Ant.

"Aren't all Hollywood babe's like that," teased Dylan.

Although he tried to play it cool, his heart was fluttering a little
because he was excited to meet Khrystine Morgan in person, the pretty
chocolate hued girl whose husky alto was capable of doing strange
things to his body over an airwave. In person she must really be
something, thought Dylan.

He came out to play the second set five minutes earlier than he
planned, and Long Armed Larry teased, the sooner the show is over,
the sooner we see the babe.

***

The second half of the show had been more exciting than the first,
and she found herself standing and cheering right along side the bold
young blond woman from New Jersey, as though it was her first rock
concert, and like she had never known the glory of singing onstage
herself.

Right before the band performed their encore performance, she felt a
pair of slightly sweaty hands grip both of her wrists. The hands
felt husky and her first reaction was to flinch.

"Come Now," said the voice huskily.

Khrystine's first reaction was to scream.

"Shhhhhh…..Chad Stevens sent me out here to get you now before the
lights come up, so that you won't be in danger. You should be more
careful in the future. There was a lot of buzz around, even I heard
it, that Khrystine Morgan was somewhere in the audience. Those kids
could have mobbed you," added the voice.

"Who the heck are you," whispered Khrystine loudly.

"The bodyguard for the band, come on," he said gripping her wrists
and effortlessly leading her out of her seat, as the band closed
their set, and the curtains went down.

G-Note-Flat was heading backstage at the exact same time Khrystine
was.

Khrystine was seated in the lobby backstage, and asked by the balding
body guard if there was anything she would like

"Evian would be lovely," said Khrystine.

Five minutes later, he returned with her Evian, and Khrystine heard a
loud thumping sound begin behind her head. It sounded like somewhere
a party had started full swing in a matter of five minutes. At one
point it literally sounded like a human body, or a base guitar was
thrown up against the wall behind her head. It was hard for her to
tell just what it was that made contact with the wall, but it seemed
like a really wild party was brewing. She knew this was probably the
bands after party, and she quickly got up from her seat.

Khrystine was about to bail. For one thing, the band was waiting
entirely too long to let her go back and meet them. However, most
importantly, she was beginning to grow afraid to meet the band,
because every two minutes, the level of noise escalated triple fold,
and she could hear their loud music being played in the background as
a party soundtrack. It made her wonder if the rumors were true, and
if so, how many groupies were back there. She got up out of her
chair and walked swiftly toward the door, switching, her long,
oriental looking straight black hair blowing in the breeze behind her.

As soon as she got through the door frame, she collided softly into a
person, and it took her a little while to realize that she was
staring up into Dylan Taylor's neck. He was in his classic attire,
shirtless, wearing black strech pants, and combat boots, and she
closed her eyes because she was eye level with his incredibly muscled
olive colored chest.

"I'm so sorry," said Khrystine, closing her eyes as though she'd
walked in on Dylan bare.

"No, I'm sorry, I'm glad I was able to get out of there before you
bolted. That's where you were headed. Dylan Taylor, I'm the reason
you were summoned back here,' added Dylan, his lips curling up into a
slight grin.

The slight grin highlighted his really thin mustache and small but
well groomed goatee to such a degree that Khrystine looked at his
mouth, as though realizing he had the facial hair for the first time.

"No I'm sorry, I'm sorry that I almost left. There was a lot of
noise going on back there so I didn't know what to expect,' added
Khrystine softly.

"That was my fault, I really tried to get away from all the commotion
back there, so I could greet you. Chad was going to come out and get
you, and invite you into the next room over, but that room isn't
really conducive to conversation, and I just thought I might like to
talk to you a minute. That is, if you want to talk," he said
gesturing for her to have a seat on the couch as she sat across from
him.

"Sure I'd love to talk. That's what the PR agent said. He said that
you all liked to meet anyone in the business who came to see your
shows," added Khrystine with a soft smile, crossing one of her long
legs.

"And you bought that, he's getting phonier all the time," laughed
Dylan.

Khrystine didn't see what was funny and she raised one of her
perfectly arched eyebrows upward.

"So that was a joke to get me back here," said Khrystine, her tone
getting slightly aggressive.

"Woah, relax, take it easy. I was only kidding. I really wanted to
meet you after our drummer Ant saw you. I just wanted to thank you
for coming to check us out, and to let you know that I'm a big fan of
your new single," added Dylan.

"My single," said Khrystine truly flattered.

"You've heard my single. And you like it. Get out of here," added
Khrystine.

"Woman are you kidding you cannot turn on Hot LA 105 without hearing
Khrystine Morgan," he said affecting his voice so that it sounded
like a radio announcer.

"Well I'm hoping so. Maybe in the end I'll sell as many records as G-
Flat-Noise," laughed Khrystine.

"I'd say that you are heading in the right direction," said Dylan,
grinning.

Dylan had a nice smile. Though his lips were on the thin side, his
light brown goatee, and the true cherry redness of his lips made them
almost resemble some type of candy. She felt as though he could see
through her when she looked into his hazel eyes however and she
quickly averted her glance.

"I can't believe you listen to my music. You don't appear to be the
type of person who would listen to my song on the radio," said
Khrystine, talking more to her gold high-heeled shoe than Dylan.

Although she was normally full of self-confidence, and more than
composed, something about his rugged handsomeness unnerved her and
made her not want to look directly at him, for fear that he would see
that she found him very attractive. She definitely didn't want him
to think she was flirting with him. She and Dylan Taylor couldn't
come from two more different places in life.

"Well, we shouldn't judge books by their covers, because before
tonight, I would have never believed you would come to a G-Flat-Noise
concert," added Dylan.

"You have a point there, but I've loved rock music since I was small,
added Khrystine,"

"That's the same way that I love r&b," said Dylan.

"Who are some of your favorites," inquired Khrystine.

"Oh lets see, Sade, Anita Baker, Regina Belle, Khrystine Morgan,"
said Dylan enumerating on his fingers.

Khrystine laughed.

"You've got a good sense of humor. Putting me up there with Anita
and Regina. Lets see as far as rock musicians go, I like old stuff.
You didn't name any old stuff. I like Zeppelin, and Hendrix, Deep
Purple, and the Greatful Dead. As far as new stuff, G-Flat-Noise,
Metallica, Guns-N-Roses, Megadeath," added Khrystine.

"Woah, you like some heavy stuff. Its good stuff, but its heavier
than I pictured you listening to," said Dylan.

"Its not heavy. Hard Rock music lets me be free. I can get rid of
all that crazy pent up energy listening to the metal and the raw
power behind the vocals," added Khrystine.

"Well that's why I play Hard Rock. It's a release. Maybe you might
decide to play hard rock too. You've certainly listened to the
masters. Really, when I said earlier I couldn't picture you
listening to the bands that you dig is cuz…well, to be honest, you
look waaay to beautiful to listen to Metallica, as stereotypical as
that may sound," added Dylan with a chuckle.

Khrystine had been picking up on flirty little things that Dylan had
been doing since they were talking, the first was making deliberate
eye contact with her, even when she willed her eyes to look in the
other direction. The second thing was that he kept shifting his body
so that he was easing closer, and closer to her on the couch as
though she wouldn't notice. Thirdly, he'd draped his arm around the
side of the couch and tilted his body completely toward hers. She
wasn't watching him, but she could surely feel his eyes on her.
However, how that he'd gone right out and called her beautiful, she
began realizing that he was openly flirting with her. Although she
had really enjoyed their conversation up to the flirtatious remark,
she began to reevaluate his friendly smile, and the draping of his
body across the couch that kept getting closer, and closer to her in
light of his previous statement. She wondered what made him feel
bold enough to utter his last phrase. Did he think that she would
fall all over him simply because he told her that she was beautiful.
Or was he trying to make her blush so he could run back and tell all
his bandmates that he flirted with Khrystine Morgan, and she ate it
up with a spoon.

His flirtation made her very uncomfortable, and she looked at him,
cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrow.

"You know what Dylan, it was nice meeting you, but I have to go now.
I have another commitment," she said glancing at her new gold
designer watch.

"Hey wait, I was just getting to know you a little bit, let me get
your number," added Dylan, suddenly embarrassed after he uttered the
statement because he never asked for girls numbers. He usually left
them begging for his.

"I don't even know you Dylan Taylor. Yeah it was nice meeting you
and all that, and thank you for inviting me backstage, but if you
need to talk business, have your people call my people. My PR
agent's name is Mike. I'm sure Chad knows who he is. See you
around," said Khrystine, grabbing her purse and making a very hasty
retreat from the backstage area.

She opened the door to her silver convertible Audi, let the top down,
and sped off through the parking lot, scaring some older person who
was backing out by daring them to continue, driving almost
dangerously down the ramps and onto the busy LA streets, only slowing
down enough to see her way clear before she pulled off to the highway
full speed ahead. Boy was she mad at that arrogant Dylan Taylor. He
thought he could come onto her with some cheesy lines, and she would
just take the bate and do his bidding. She supposed that's what he
thought. It angered her that she wasn't able to see though his
phony, `I just want to get to know you better, I'm a big fan of your
music', act. The rumors about Dylan Taylor were really true. He was
out to explore every woman that he found attractive. Well she wasn't
just any woman, Khrystine Morgan wouldn't be `loose' for any man.
And even if he wasn't out to bed her, and he was sincere in his
compliment, a man like Dylan Taylor simply wanted his seven minutes
of difference. Not only was he white, but he was a rock musician.
What business would he really want with a black r&b star, other than
to see what it was like to have been with `Khrystine Morgan', or
someone other young female music upstart.
Chapter 1

Dylan Taylor sprawled across the bed, flicking his long brown hair in
the other direction. His eardrums were still vibrating from the show
last night. It was difficult to tell whether they were vibrating
because of all the screaming fans, or the loud roar of his guitar
tuned to an open G, as he spilled his soul out to the audiences.
Sometimes he wondered if they were listening to his intimate thought
spilling, or if they were looking at him as Dylan Taylor, rock sex
symbol extraordinaire. The band was giving him grief for the latter,
teasing him night and day about his pinup poster looks. His hazel
brown eyes, fine features, and smooth olive complexion, and rippled
chest did little to quell the desire of the press to market him as an
idol. At the end of the day all Dylan wanted was to rock.

He didn't remember what Ant, the drummer was doing sprawled across
the couch in his room. He was guessing from looking around and
feeling his pounding headache that the band had gotten up to some
wild party last night. Though many rumors circulated about the wild
parties of G Flat Noise, Dylan was never a part of the wild
partying. He usually sat in the back of the room, or lay on the bed,
downing half a six pack, and watching the craziness around him, or
pouting, scrawling lyrics on the back of a napkin. Granted he was
not a saint, and he had a few liaisons with a few beautiful women,
but never anything wild like the magazines reported, and never
anything serious.

Somehow, the Grand Vista hotels television had gotten turned to MTV.
Once again, this wasn't Dylan's channel surfing. This was probably
Long Armed Larry, the Bass Guitarists channel selection. Larry liked
to watch headbangers ball, because it helped put him to sleep. Dylan
liked to get a break from Hard Rock music sometimes when he wasn't
gigging, or writing, so he didn't normally turn on MTV. However, he
began watching it, because it was already selected. This must have
been r&b and rap programming, because he'd just caught the end of two
scratch master artists, rhyming over beats.

The next video however caught his attention, and apparently Ant's
attention as well, because he said. "Dude, get a look at that black
chick. She's hot,"

"Get a life," replied Dylan.

"She wouldn't want you anyway loser. Actually she is kind of hot.
She's got really long legs. Nice skin too. Kinda chocolaty, pretty
smile," added Dylan with a smile, sizing up the girl.

"Who is she anyway," asked Ant.

"Some new girl. It sounds like Khrystine Morgan," added Dylan.

"I figured you would know," said Ant.

Dylan had listened to r&b music since he was a small boy, and
although many modern acts didn't do it for him, he did keep up with
the genre as best as he could, while living in the rock and roll
scene. Many of the new artists he noticed would be nothing if it
were not for some Hocus Pocus magician performing studio wizardry on
their vocals, and supplying them with a kicking backbeat. But one
thing he'd noticed when he listened to HOT LA 105 that morning when
he first heard Khrystine Morgan was her incredible voice. Though she
did have the obligatory modern day studio drum kit accompaniment,
here was a girl that sounded like she had a lick of talent outside of
the studio. As though she would sound like an angel singing
acapella. But when he'd heard her on the radio, though it sent a
chill through his bones, and made embarrassing areas on his body
tingle, he had no idea that she was so "hot" for lack of a better
word. She was sexy, but it was more than that. She was also very
beautiful, but it wasn't the mini skirt or the spiked heels in the
video that made her appear that way. It was something indescribable
in those mysterious eyes of hers, when they appeared to be looking at
him through the television.

He rubbed his eyes, and smoothed his chest again.

"Yeah, she's a regular hottie," said Dylan, grinning and indulging in
a roguish fantasy as her video ran to its conclusion.

***

Khrystine Morgan sat gingerly sipping her diet coke as her stylist
paraded several sets of outfits in front of her. In a span six
months, she couldn't believe how much her life had changed. It
wasn't so much materially, since she came from an upper middle class,
borderline wealthy family. At age twenty-two, even before she got
her break in the music business, she had experienced luxury that most
girls were never blessed with. When she was ten years old, she'd
been so taken with the horseback riding lessons that her father at
first insisted that she take, that he'd bought her a horse. By the
time she was sixteen years old, she was presented with her own keys
to a brand new car the week after she got her license. And although
the Morgan's had put away more than enough money for her to go to
Brown University, her fathers alma-matter, she opted not to go, much
to her families chagrin.

When Eddie Thompson heard her signing vocals over a DJ's sampling,
one late night at a party, he signed her on as a background singer.
She'd toured the country with the band, loving life on the road, even
though it was quite a different setting than the pampering she was
used to, doubling up with three band members in a small Super 8
motel. Although it was much less monetarily than she was used to
being surrounded with, she just loved going from city to city, seeing
the reaction of a theater full of screaming teenagers to Eddie
Thompson's smooth R&B vocals. Although Eddie Thompson was a very
successful singer, and a ladies man, he never once tried to hit on
Khrystine, opting instead to take her under his wing, trying to help
groom her for success. Eddie and his band went to Radio City on a
piggyback tour with three other acts to play a set, and fueled by a
dare with fellow background singers, Khrystine auditioned for amateur
night to sing at the Apollo theater. She was so good that they
bumped another act so she could go on the next night, and she won the
best new amateur act award for that week.

She never got to play a second week to see if she could win again.
Nor did it matter, because in that audience happened to be sitting an
executive for Gold Tone records. He took one listen to Khrystine's
alto, and signed her the next day right on the spot. That was where
her life had changed. She went in the studio and in two months, with
the help of JaQuon, she'd co written and co produced her first album,
sharing writing credits with him on five out of the ten songs she'd
created for the album. Even then, it all seemed like too much of a
dream when the sessions were all over and she got to hold her first
promotional albums, produced for all three formats, LP, tape, and
CD. Khrystine never believed that the album would do anything, it
would be just enough to tide her over until the next gig, and it
would be a great story to tell her kids, with the evidence to back it
up when she was tired of gigging, broke, and ready to enroll in Brown
University.

How surprised was she three months ago when she heard "Love Me Right
Boy", on HOT LA 105. She immediately called her best friend
Monique. "oooooooooohhhh my god we are on the radio," she screeched,
holding the phone up to her living room stereo. She was even more
surprised when in a span of three weeks, she had the number one song
in the country, on both the pop and r&b charts.

Her star had risen, and right along with it, her public profile. In
a matter of six months, she'd lost all anominty, and was waited on,
and courted in ways she could only dream about, even though she was
raised around opulence. It was one thing to have a maid who came to
your house to clean everyday when you were growing up, but it was a
whole new thing to have a stylist who put your shoes on your feet.

"Girl I am telling you, this is the dress for you," she said
motioning for Khrystine to stand up.

She stood up, still sipping her diet coke through her straw and she
didn't give much thought to it as Lela helped her slip the red
ensemble over her head. Her video shoot wasn't until next week, and
she had no idea why Lela was worrying about it now.

"Isn't this next week, Isn't the new video shoot next week,"
Khrystine said, wanting to be done with the trying on of the outfits
right now.

Khrystine loved clothes and makeup all her life, and she usually
adored trying on clothes however, she missed her sleep at this
moment. And she wanted to be alone right now and just sit with some
headphones on her head. It would be nice to have time to ponder.
She needed to assess JaQuon and whether or not she would accept his
offer to mix business with pleasure.

"Yes it is tomorrow, but we need you to look scrumptious. Do you
know that BET is coming to this shoot, and not only BET, but
seventeen, glamour, and Jet are going to do a write up on this new
video, this is big exposure Khrystine. You aren't gonna be just a
staple in `our' households. Every house in America is going to have
Khrystine Morgan blaring through their stereos. And its my job to
make sure you look as sexy as you are," said Lela pinching
Khrystine's cheek.

After the business with outfits was over, her makeup artist appeared,
beginning to treat her to a facial. She often wondered about
Quentin. He was the only makeup artist she'd seen in Hollywood that
actually tried to hit on her. Most of the makeup artists were trying
to be one of the girlfriends, not have one of their own. It seemed
strange for him to take such care and interest in making up her face
when he'd openly and honestly confessed that he'd like to make out
with her. To which she'd replied `I'll get back to you on that
one'.

He cracked her up though. She wondered if she should ask him for his
honest opinion about JaQuon, or if she should just sit and ponder
this mystery by herself. When she'd told her best friend Monique
that he'd approached her romantically, her friend had said `no way'.

" You two have a great producing and writing relationship, he
makes the dopest beats, and you write the hottest lyrics. You do not
need to be mixing that up with romance, because the work of the two
of you is going to go to pot. Plus, JaQuon is a jerk. You knew that
before you became famous. Everytime we turned around we would hear
reports about him getting into someone else's trousers. He is from
the old school of date em's and dump em's and he just wants to see
what you are like physically, and you will hate yourself for it, and
him too. Keep him on a professional level. With a joker like that
it has to be no ring no thing, because he is definitely out to use
women. Don't let him tell you any different. I mean he talks to
your chest. I know you are feeling a little lonely lately, but don't
fall for that sucker. You need to find yourself a good honest man,
even if he's not a Hollywood type," Monica had stated when she
suggested the idea of them going out on the phone last night.

She could remember every word that her best friend since the first
grade said, because as was often the case with Monique, she spoke
what was in Khrystine's gut but she hadn't yet articulated.
Khrystine knew he was a dog in the back of her mind, but he was
really fine, and it had been a long time since she'd had a
boyfriend. So what if she had a little fun, she didn't see what the
harm was. She didn't want JaQuon to marry her. However she couldn't
live with herself if he used her either. Maybe it was better to let
feelings that were beginning to simmer for him die down. They were
mainly based on his smooth brown skin, and rippled abs anyway.
Outside of writing, he'd never showed her any outstanding qualities,
besides being gorgeous. He was nearly outright rude to women at
times unless he was either writing songs with them, or trying to bed
them.

To free her mind, she turned on HOT LA 105 after the makeup artist
had left her sitting peacefully at the table with her Diet Coke and
avocado facial to replenish her pores. HOT LA 105 was a mixture of
all the popular songs on the current radio, playing rock r&b, and
everything in between except for country and western music. Although
there was a strictly r&b station, she often opted to listen to HOT LA
105 because that was the station that let her get a fix of the hard
rock music that she enjoyed, right next to the r&b that she adored.
Her friends, and family always chided her for listening to hard rock
music growing up, but there was something about the raw soul that
some of those white boys had, that blue eyed soul that really tickled
her ears. And she loved the raw power that the twang of the guitar
held. Nothing sounded better in her Audi cranked all the way up than
a hard rock song when she wanted to feel pumped. When she wanted to
feel pumped to her, hard rock was even better than rap. Of course
she wouldn't dare tell that to her friends and family, the wouldn't
understand, they thought her collection of music, with all her hard
rock CDs, and records stacked next to her r&b, classic soul, and rap
albums was strange enough. HOT LA 105 let her move seamlessly
through all her musical worlds.

The British pop sounding tune that was going off as she turned on the
radio was soon replaced by the loud, metal guitar's of G Flat Noise.
They were an incredible band. She thought their first two albums
were awesome, but this third album that she'd just picked up last
month was by far their best, because the lyrics were deep and
insightful. She liked the deep husk of Dylan Taylor's voice, he
reminded her of what a budding blues singer would sound like, as
their voice began to crack. Unlike some modern hard rock singers,
his angry howl held a truly talented soulful voice beneath the
surface. And he could play an electric guitar. He didn't do much
complicated riffing, but he still played with a loose and open style
she adored. It was a shame he was so good looking, because she felt
like it kept the press from taking him seriously. Last month she'd
picked up rolling stone, and the cover story had read Dylan Taylor,
guitar swinging sex symbol. It should have read Dylan Taylor, Baby
Bluesman, and guitar wizard extraordinaire in her mind, but she
understood. Music was a business and she was just beginning to learn
that artists like she and Dylan were a commodity. Not only were they
talented artists, but they were cute kids too. Cute kids sold
magazines to teenagers.

She slipped out of her reverie just long enough to hear the song
Howling Woman go off the air.

"These boys are playing the Civic Stadium this Saturday, at 9:00 PM.
If you want to get tickets, you know what to do," the MC said.

Of course, Khrystine wasn't going to call for tickets, she had
quickly learned she was beyond that stage in her life now. She
summoned her personal assistant with a quick cell phone call.

"Mike, I want tickets to hear G-Flat-Noise on Saturday," said
Khrystine.

"But babe you are going to that charity dinner," said Mike

"Yeah, babe, but G-Flat-Noise doesn't play until 9:00. I'll do my
good deed at the dinner, and slip out at 8:30. Please, I never ask
you guys for anything, I do every interview, every magazine cover
shoot, every video that you schedule me for. I worked 20 hours
yesterday. I've had two hours sleep. Just do this for me. I need a
break," said Khrystine, her voice beginning to crack a little.

"Okay babe, whatever it takes to make you happy, you want it, you got
it, that's what being the next big r&b pop star is all about. So
you've got front row. I don't know what it is you hear in those
crazy boys going around screaming their heads off an sounding like
they are beating on garbage pails but if that's what you want, that's
what I'll get for you," said Mike.

Sometimes mike was so paternalistic. She just laughed, knowing he
wouldn't understand.

"You just don't stay out too late, and don't scream too loud and ruin
your voice. And you'll need an escort," added mike.

"No, no escort. This is a break from my music for one night. I
don't want to go as a star, I want to go as Khrystine," Khrystine
said.

"You can't have both babe. I won't send an escort, but I'll be by
the phone every second in case something happens," added Mike.

He did worry about some of the rabid g-flat-noise fans discovering
Khrystine, and pawing all over her, but he said nothing about his
fears, resolving instead to get her the tickets.

Khrystine smiled, hanging up the phone. Although she sang the best
genre of music on the earth, there was something about hard rock that
was refreshing. And she'd seen G-Flat-Noise on TV. They were in the
words of one of her valley girl friends "totally kicking", thought
Khrystine.

After her makeup artist returned and washed and powdered her face,
she went down to Studio 11 to practice her choreography routine for
her music video shoot next week.

***
On Saturday, Khrystine woke up early, had a light breakfast of
Special K and Orange Juice, did one call in to a radio station in
Dallas to do an interview. The rest of the day she spent flipping
through magazines and watching TV in the company of her best friend
Monique before the charity dinner that evening.

"So why are you leaving the charity dinner early? There are gonna be
a lot of big time actors there," added Monique.

"Well, I know that. But I got Mike to get me tickets to the G-Flat-
Noise concert," said Khrystine with a grin.

"You mean that screaming boy that sings the Howling Woman song that
you love, oh lord," laughed Monique.

"What do you mean oh lord. Ignore the title. Howling Woman is a
good song. Don't you love his voice, it's husky, and it's tortured,"
said Khrystine, trying to hide her excitement, knowing she was about
to get teased.

"Come off of it Khrys. You know you think those white boys slinging
their hair around are sexy. You also know that howling wolfs, or
whoever they are, you know they sound like they are screaming for
their very lives," laughed Monique.

"Oh yeah, well you liked that song that I played for you by
them called Tortured Lives. Well anyway, I got a second ticket to
the show, but just for that, I'm not asking you to go," teased
Khrystine.

"OH I'm so very disappointed," teased Monica with mock anguish.

"I'm sure you are," said Khrystine rolling her eyes.

"Well girl, I'm gonna let you get ready to go to this charity
dinner. Kiss Denzel for me. Get his autograph If you are feeling
extra nice. And be careful going to that hard rock concert with a
bunch of other crazy young people. Yourself included," added Monica.

"I will, I will. Don't nag me. You are only four months older than
me," teased Khrystine.

"I'll nag when I feel like it. And anyway, I'm going to leave my
cell phone on so you can call me if you need me. One thing I'll say
is that you are such a character. I'd like to see you there, doing
some of that head banging, or whatever it is you do when you shake
your head all crazy in the car to that mess," teased Monica.

"It's the same way you shake your booty to JaQuon's rap beats,"
laughed Khrystine, as Monique bid her goodbye.

After Monique Left, Khrystine was free to dress for the charity
dinner. Since none of her assistants were present, she had
the "luxury" of dressing herself, and opted for a gold slip dress and
gold high heel sandals. She'd painted her toenails a gold color
earlier in the day along with Monica, so she opted for no panty hose,
and she brushed her naturally shoulder length hair so that it framed
her shoulders before heading out of the door and getting in her
convertible Audi.

It only then occurred to her that she would be a bit overdressed for
the G-Flat-Noise concert, but there would be no time for her to get
on the LA freeway and go all the way back to her condo before going
to the civic stadium. She'd just have to be a little more dressed up
than her fellow headbangers, smiled Khrystine to herself.

***
During the entire charity dinner, Khrystine had been dreaming about
the G-Flat-Noise Concert, even as old Hollywood legends pinched her
cheek and told her about what a wonderful first single she had, and
how great it was that she was concerned about helping the
environment. Although she liked meeting the legends, compared to
front row tickets at a sold out rock concert she was dying to go to,
it seemed a little bit boring. Though successful beyond her years,
she was still a typical twenty-one year old. She cut out of the
banquet fifteen minutes earlier than planned.

She did eighty-five on the freeway, racing to the civic stadium, and
then struggled to find parking in the underground area under the dome
like structure. After finding a space near a light, a necessity when
alone in Los Angeles at Night, she got on the elevator, taking it up
into the stadium.

At ground level, she went to find her seats in the front row. She
was jammed between two blond people, one male, and one female, who
appeared to be the same age she was, but Khrystine appeared older
because she was dressed to the nines. No one else in the stadium
looked like her, and it had nothing to do with color, just that most
of the kids were clad in jeans, or leather, and sneakers, or boots.
It didn't matter. She just came to see the show and she would
inconspicuously slip out of the front row before the show was over.

The blond girl sitting beside her pulled her bubble gum with her
fingers as she chewed it, twisting it around her pinky.

"You've got to be the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," said the
girl, who had a thick new jersey accent, though she was from LA.

It was a strange compliment, but Khrystine smiled anyway.

"Thank you," she said softly, humbly.

Although people thought she was beautiful before she was famous, she
never looked at herself as attractive, she just saw Khrystine when
she looked in the mirror.

"No, I'm serious, and it's not the dress," added the girl.

"thanks," said Khrystine absentmindedly.

She was ready for the show, and felt a tinge of disappointment as the
bland opening act graced the stage.

"You like G-Note," said the girl.

"Love them," said Khrystine.

"That's weird. Cool but weird," said the girl eyeing Khrystine
strangely.

Khrystine was used to getting this reaction when she went to rock
concerts, but she was sure it had more to do with her attire than
with the color of her skin in this instance. At any rate the girl
sitting beside her seemed nice enough, though she was rather chatty.
Khrystine was pretty sure the young woman had no clue about her
song, "Love Me Right Boy", and she was glad.

Although the young woman had been chatty to the point of annoying
during the opening act, Khrystine breathed a sigh of relief when she
was quiet as G-Note-Flat graced the stage.

***
Dylan Taylor looked into the audience, preparing himself as he
strummed the opening notes to their current hit "Howling Woman", in a
clean, straight forward, yet cleverly disguised lead in riff.

He always glanced at the faces in the front row to try to get a feel
for the audience he would be playing for, to try to put a face to a
stadium that appeared to be filled with little flecks of pepper from
his perspective on the stage. However, he could always see the faces
in the front row, and that helped him put a human face on the throng
of adoring followers that turned up to their gigs throughout the
world.

This evening, he saw a strange sight as he scanned the front row.
There appeared to be a very well dressed black woman sitting front
row, center stage. It wasn't the fact that she was black that made
her stand out as much as her fancy attire. He wondered if she was a
fan of the band, or just some type of press agent. It was too dark
for him to tell, but she was a snazzy dresser, if you liked that sort
of thing.

His scanning of the front row completed, Dylan shouted to the
audience.

"Does Los Angeles want to rock,"

And the crowd hollered.

"I said, does Los Angeles want to rock," repeated Dylan.

The crowed screamed again, and this time young black woman was in
with the revelers, putting her hands up in the air, in a rock on dude
type stance along with the other revelers.

It was at this point that Dylan got the answer to his question about
the well dressed black woman. She wasn't a PR agent. She came to
rock.

Dylan said "I see you momma," but didn't point directly at the young
black woman. For some reason he didn't want to draw undue attention
to her, because she was so well dressed.

At that point, he had to take his eyes away from her delightful
oddity, lest it distract him from the show.

In his black running shorts, slightly muddy combat boots, a bandanna
tied around his arm, his olive body already glistening with sweat
before the performance, he drew the primal teenage scream out of the
young women in the audience before he sang a note.

"You're my howlin woman momma yeah," mumbled Dylan softly, kneeling
laying his head straight back against the stage and beginning to
strum his guitar.

The crowd really went wild for him as he gyrated lightly, tilting the
guitar slightly in the air. At this point he stopped teasing the
audience, standing up, strumming his true opening riff.

As he sang, he sort of kicked, and swiveled his way along to the
rhythm, letting it guide him as it would, as he strummed freely. He
loved to pluck his guitar before a live crowd, because although he
stuck to the original enough so that the band and the fans would
recognize the song, live stage let him improvise according to his
mood, and the desires of his fans. He spun a slightly complicated
riff, yelling, pick it up ant, and ant began drumming as though he
was beating the rhythm to a military procession, only ten times as
fast, gliding seamlessly into their next hit, "Tortured Souls".

He played facing Long Armed Larry, letting Larry give it and take it
back with matching chord progressions until the bass guitarist
couldn't take it anymore, calling out playfully I fold, as the
audience clapped and cheered.

"How many people out here know what I'm talking about? I'm just a
hard workin' man at the end of the day. I'm a hard working man that
plays for my fans," he half screamed, half sang into the microphone.

"Where are all my hard working men at," asked Dylan to the audience.

He played two more songs, before the show had an intermission. Hard
working man though he was, his vocal chords could use a snatch of
Budweiser, and or Lemon Tea, or he didn't know how hard he could long
he could keep singing without wetting his throat.

"Time for Budweiser," said Dylan.

The fans screamed.

It seemed everything he said the fans screamed, even when he referred
to his love of beer. After he turned his round, yet muscular behind
toward the audience and swaggered away, the lights came up on the
stadium full blast.

***

Khrystine thought about getting a mixed drink during the shows
intermission, but opted against the idea. She didn't want to appear
lonesome, but she would appear lonesome at the concession stand by
herself ordering a drink. Deciding to sit and wait for the band to
return she occupied herself by dangling her high heeled shoe on her
big toe, and trying not to drop it. She was quite involved in this
self amusement, followed by examining her cuticles when she felt a
tap on her shoulder.

It came from a well dressed blonde man standing directly in front of
her. She felt a bit uncomfortable that he'd just reached out and
touched her bare shoulder, and she recoiled a little. His designer
suit, impeccable wing tips, and horn rimed glasses made her think
that he was some sort of business man, or reporter.

"Are you Khrystine Morgan," asked the man.

"In the flesh, shhh, I'm trying to be incognito this evening," she
added looking around to see if anyone had heard.

"Well it's going to be hard for you to be incognito in your trademark
mini dress and high heeled shoes. As soon as the lights came up, I
knew who you were," explained the business man.

"Well, I was at an event, and didn't have time to change. Wait. Who
are you, and why am I explaining myself to you," said Khrystine, her
tone getting a little aggressive, as she squared her shoulders.

It felt silly to be explaining her attire to some bozo in a suit that
she didn't know.

"You look stunning darling, really you don't have to explain yourself
to me. I'm Chad Stevens," he said extending his hand to her.

Khrystine shook it absentmindedly, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow
upward, because she had no clue who Chad Stevens was.

"I thought that would mean something to you Ms. Morgan, but you are
new to the business, and you aren't really in the rock music business
anyway. I am the PR Agent for Dylan Taylor, and G-Note-Flat. I'm
one of those behind the scenes type guys," added Chad.

"Oh I see. I never really knew how many behind the scenes type guys
there were until I cut my record. So maybe we'll bump into each
other again," added Khrystine, smiling graciously, letting all of her
big, beautiful pearly white teeth show, hoping that Chad would get
the message, and realize the conversation had petered out.

He was beginning to wear on her nerves like a cheap suit with his
phony camaraderie with her.

"Actually I will probably be bumping into you back stage. G-Note's
drummer Ant saw you when he was standing behind the wings over there,
and the band would like to meet you backstage after their show,"
added Chad.

"I don't know," said Khrystine, her voice wavering.

She felt hesitant about going backstage to meet a band, who had
legendary tales spun about their life backstage, and at their hotel
after parties. It could be dreadful if some nosy reporter saw her
going back to meet the band, and conjured up some fake, juicy story,
complete with pictures of her going behind the scenes to meet them.
What was more, even if no one saw her, she knew about the reputation
of that Dylan Taylor, before she was famous, and he probably thought
he would ask her backstage and see if she was nothing more than a
glorified groupie.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

"They really want to meet you, and this will be a great press story,
a little thing about meeting the band in the papers the next day,
could drop your name in circles that wouldn't ordinarily hear about
you. They might even be curious to pick up your LP to see who you
are. Everything's honest with me, seriously. The band loves to meet
anyone in the business who comes to see their show, not just gorgeous
r&b singers. Please do us the honor," begged Chad.

"Well umm…Okay," said Khrystine very quickly, answering before her
better judgment commanded her tongue.

There was something so compelling about a band as popular as G-Note-
Flat begging to meet her. She really had arrived. Dylan's Talent
had moved her before she was famous, and she respected him as being a
true musician, whose popularity rested on more than just his striking
features. And a tiny piece of her wanted to see how gorgeous Dylan
Taylor really was when he was standing three feet away from her. Was
he as gorgeous as he looked under the stage lights tonight, in the
magazines and on MTV? She would know after the second set.

***

Backstage Ant and Dylan were engrossed in conversation.

"Dude this is so cool that Khrystine came to our show," said Dylan.

"It is cool. She doesn't look like a chick that would dig rock
music, but I say everything is open and free. What I want to know
is,"

"If she's really hot," finished Dylan for Ant.

"Well, she looked like it from the front row. Who knew that well
dressed black chick that I called momma was Khrystine Morgan. I just
hope she doesn't know I was talking to her when I said momma,"
chuckled Dylan.

"I oughta tell her when she comes back here. She looks like the kind
of woman who would chew up a man, spit him out, and not think twice,"
said Ant.

"Aren't all Hollywood babe's like that," teased Dylan.

Although he tried to play it cool, his heart was fluttering a little
because he was excited to meet Khrystine Morgan in person, the pretty
chocolate hued girl whose husky alto was capable of doing strange
things to his body over an airwave. In person she must really be
something, thought Dylan.

He came out to play the second set five minutes earlier than he
planned, and Long Armed Larry teased, the sooner the show is over,
the sooner we see the babe.

***

The second half of the show had been more exciting than the first,
and she found herself standing and cheering right along side the bold
young blond woman from New Jersey, as though it was her first rock
concert, and like she had never known the glory of singing onstage
herself.

Right before the band performed their encore performance, she felt a
pair of slightly sweaty hands grip both of her wrists. The hands
felt husky and her first reaction was to flinch.

"Come Now," said the voice huskily.

Khrystine's first reaction was to scream.

"Shhhhhh…..Chad Stevens sent me out here to get you now before the
lights come up, so that you won't be in danger. You should be more
careful in the future. There was a lot of buzz around, even I heard
it, that Khrystine Morgan was somewhere in the audience. Those kids
could have mobbed you," added the voice.

"Who the heck are you," whispered Khrystine loudly.

"The bodyguard for the band, come on," he said gripping her wrists
and effortlessly leading her out of her seat, as the band closed
their set, and the curtains went down.

G-Note-Flat was heading backstage at the exact same time Khrystine
was.

Khrystine was seated in the lobby backstage, and asked by the balding
body guard if there was anything she would like

"Evian would be lovely," said Khrystine.

Five minutes later, he returned with her Evian, and Khrystine heard a
loud thumping sound begin behind her head. It sounded like somewhere
a party had started full swing in a matter of five minutes. At one
point it literally sounded like a human body, or a base guitar was
thrown up against the wall behind her head. It was hard for her to
tell just what it was that made contact with the wall, but it seemed
like a really wild party was brewing. She knew this was probably the
bands after party, and she quickly got up from her seat.

Khrystine was about to bail. For one thing, the band was waiting
entirely too long to let her go back and meet them. However, most
importantly, she was beginning to grow afraid to meet the band,
because every two minutes, the level of noise escalated triple fold,
and she could hear their loud music being played in the background as
a party soundtrack. It made her wonder if the rumors were true, and
if so, how many groupies were back there. She got up out of her
chair and walked swiftly toward the door, switching, her long,
oriental looking straight black hair blowing in the breeze behind her.

As soon as she got through the door frame, she collided softly into a
person, and it took her a little while to realize that she was
staring up into Dylan Taylor's neck. He was in his classic attire,
shirtless, wearing black strech pants, and combat boots, and she
closed her eyes because she was eye level with his incredibly muscled
olive colored chest.

"I'm so sorry," said Khrystine, closing her eyes as though she'd
walked in on Dylan bare.

"No, I'm sorry, I'm glad I was able to get out of there before you
bolted. That's where you were headed. Dylan Taylor, I'm the reason
you were summoned back here,' added Dylan, his lips curling up into a
slight grin.

The slight grin highlighted his really thin mustache and small but
well groomed goatee to such a degree that Khrystine looked at his
mouth, as though realizing he had the facial hair for the first time.

"No I'm sorry, I'm sorry that I almost left. There was a lot of
noise going on back there so I didn't know what to expect,' added
Khrystine softly.

"That was my fault, I really tried to get away from all the commotion
back there, so I could greet you. Chad was going to come out and get
you, and invite you into the next room over, but that room isn't
really conducive to conversation, and I just thought I might like to
talk to you a minute. That is, if you want to talk," he said
gesturing for her to have a seat on the couch as she sat across from
him.

"Sure I'd love to talk. That's what the PR agent said. He said that
you all liked to meet anyone in the business who came to see your
shows," added Khrystine with a soft smile, crossing one of her long
legs.

"And you bought that, he's getting phonier all the time," laughed
Dylan.

Khrystine didn't see what was funny and she raised one of her
perfectly arched eyebrows upward.

"So that was a joke to get me back here," said Khrystine, her tone
getting slightly aggressive.

"Woah, relax, take it easy. I was only kidding. I really wanted to
meet you after our drummer Ant saw you. I just wanted to thank you
for coming to check us out, and to let you know that I'm a big fan of
your new single," added Dylan.

"My single," said Khrystine truly flattered.

"You've heard my single. And you like it. Get out of here," added
Khrystine.

"Woman are you kidding you cannot turn on Hot LA 105 without hearing
Khrystine Morgan," he said affecting his voice so that it sounded
like a radio announcer.

"Well I'm hoping so. Maybe in the end I'll sell as many records as G-
Flat-Noise," laughed Khrystine.

"I'd say that you are heading in the right direction," said Dylan,
grinning.

Dylan had a nice smile. Though his lips were on the thin side, his
light brown goatee, and the true cherry redness of his lips made them
almost resemble some type of candy. She felt as though he could see
through her when she looked into his hazel eyes however and she
quickly averted her glance.

"I can't believe you listen to my music. You don't appear to be the
type of person who would listen to my song on the radio," said
Khrystine, talking more to her gold high-heeled shoe than Dylan.

Although she was normally full of self-confidence, and more than
composed, something about his rugged handsomeness unnerved her and
made her not want to look directly at him, for fear that he would see
that she found him very attractive. She definitely didn't want him
to think she was flirting with him. She and Dylan Taylor couldn't
come from two more different places in life.

"Well, we shouldn't judge books by their covers, because before
tonight, I would have never believed you would come to a G-Flat-Noise
concert," added Dylan.

"You have a point there, but I've loved rock music since I was small,
added Khrystine,"

"That's the same way that I love r&b," said Dylan.

"Who are some of your favorites," inquired Khrystine.

"Oh lets see, Sade, Anita Baker, Regina Belle, Khrystine Morgan,"
said Dylan enumerating on his fingers.

Khrystine laughed.

"You've got a good sense of humor. Putting me up there with Anita
and Regina. Lets see as far as rock musicians go, I like old stuff.
You didn't name any old stuff. I like Zeppelin, and Hendrix, Deep
Purple, and the Greatful Dead. As far as new stuff, G-Flat-Noise,
Metallica, Guns-N-Roses, Megadeath," added Khrystine.

"Woah, you like some heavy stuff. Its good stuff, but its heavier
than I pictured you listening to," said Dylan.

"Its not heavy. Hard Rock music lets me be free. I can get rid of
all that crazy pent up energy listening to the metal and the raw
power behind the vocals," added Khrystine.

"Well that's why I play Hard Rock. It's a release. Maybe you might
decide to play hard rock too. You've certainly listened to the
masters. Really, when I said earlier I couldn't picture you
listening to the bands that you dig is cuz…well, to be honest, you
look waaay to beautiful to listen to Metallica, as stereotypical as
that may sound," added Dylan with a chuckle.

Khrystine had been picking up on flirty little things that Dylan had
been doing since they were talking, the first was making deliberate
eye contact with her, even when she willed her eyes to look in the
other direction. The second thing was that he kept shifting his body
so that he was easing closer, and closer to her on the couch as
though she wouldn't notice. Thirdly, he'd draped his arm around the
side of the couch and tilted his body completely toward hers. She
wasn't watching him, but she could surely feel his eyes on her.
However, how that he'd gone right out and called her beautiful, she
began realizing that he was openly flirting with her. Although she
had really enjoyed their conversation up to the flirtatious remark,
she began to reevaluate his friendly smile, and the draping of his
body across the couch that kept getting closer, and closer to her in
light of his previous statement. She wondered what made him feel
bold enough to utter his last phrase. Did he think that she would
fall all over him simply because he told her that she was beautiful.
Or was he trying to make her blush so he could run back and tell all
his bandmates that he flirted with Khrystine Morgan, and she ate it
up with a spoon.

His flirtation made her very uncomfortable, and she looked at him,
cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrow.

"You know what Dylan, it was nice meeting you, but I have to go now.
I have another commitment," she said glancing at her new gold
designer watch.

"Hey wait, I was just getting to know you a little bit, let me get
your number," added Dylan, suddenly embarrassed after he uttered the
statement because he never asked for girls numbers. He usually left
them begging for his.

"I don't even know you Dylan Taylor. Yeah it was nice meeting you
and all that, and thank you for inviting me backstage, but if you
need to talk business, have your people call my people. My PR
agent's name is Mike. I'm sure Chad knows who he is. See you
around," said Khrystine, grabbing her purse and making a very hasty
retreat from the backstage area.

She opened the door to her silver convertible Audi, let the top down,
and sped off through the parking lot, scaring some older person who
was backing out by daring them to continue, driving almost
dangerously down the ramps and onto the busy LA streets, only slowing
down enough to see her way clear before she pulled off to the highway
full speed ahead. Boy was she mad at that arrogant Dylan Taylor. He
thought he could come onto her with some cheesy lines, and she would
just take the bate and do his bidding. She supposed that's what he
thought. It angered her that she wasn't able to see though his
phony, `I just want to get to know you better, I'm a big fan of your
music', act. The rumors about Dylan Taylor were really true. He was
out to explore every woman that he found attractive. Well she wasn't
just any woman, Khrystine Morgan wouldn't be `loose' for any man.
And even if he wasn't out to bed her, and he was sincere in his
compliment, a man like Dylan Taylor simply wanted his seven minutes
of difference. Not only was he white, but he was a rock musician.
What business would he really want with a black r&b star, other than
to see what it was like to have been with `Khrystine Morgan', or
someone other young female music upstart.

- posted by Mahogany @ 9:20 AM