Lance stretched languidly out of the limo. He smoothed his suit down and looked up the red carpet and around at his bandmates.
Eminem saw them arrive. Light shining off them as if they stole it from the sun itself. Momentarily he thought to himself how much heat he radiated tonight. It varied with how turned on he was. Em smiled to himself. When Lance was hot, his flesh was burning. Then he noticed who got out of the limo after him. Blond girl. ‘Die,’ he thought. He saw him wrap his arm around her waist and smile for a picture. Just last night that arm had been wrapped around his waist, bringing his hips down to … Eminem shuddered involuntarily.
Lance stumbled out of the back of the bar, his fifteenth beer of the night still in his hand. He sighed and rested his sweaty back against the brick wall, closing his eyes, feeling the sweat drip off his eyelashes. He felt rather than heard someone near him. “Dude, you ok?” the person asked.
The voice was deep with a slight melodic quality. Slowly Lance lifted one eyelid, trying to focus on the blurry face in front of him. All it did was make him dizzy and feel like he was going to throw up. He reeled forward, doubling in half, causing the beer bottle in his hand to crash on the concrete. The last three beers he drank came up and landed on the pavement. A cool hand was placed on his back. “You need a ride home?” the voice asked.