((“Loverboy” Vinnie Lane is sitting in a chair in his room at the Sunset Marquis, the iconic West Hollywood hotel he has been staying in for the past week. The room is a disaster. The bed sheets are tossed in every direction on the floor, clothing is strewn about, beer bottles, liquor bottles and shot glasses are on every flat surface. Loverboy sits in the armchair in his boxer shorts covered in red hearts, and he looks out the window over the landscape of Los Angeles, where stars are born and die. As Loverboy sits in the chair, looking out at one of the busiest cities in the world, Roxy Cotton – completely naked except for her pair of six inch high stiletto heels – rushes around the room.))

Roxy: Vinnie? Where’s my purse?

((Loverboy doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move. He continues to look out of the window, seemingly unaware of the chaos around him, or the frantic movement of the beautiful naked girl.))

Roxy: Vinnie? Hello? Can you hear me? Fuck…

((Roxy looks about ready to completely freak out, her spastic motions and her contorted facial expression make her look like a crazy person in a mental ward, albeit an extremely sexy one. Suddenly though, before she can engage the catatonic rock n’ roll megastar with an angry outburst, she comes across the small purse among the twisted sheets and clothes on the floor. The discovery instantly relaxes her, her body language immediately changes from someone who is ready to fight into someone sensual and seductive. Roxy’s seemingly default façade, the minxish sexpot, comes over her like a wave to disguise the brief glimpse of anxious reality beneath it. She smiles, and saunters over to the seat in which her lover, Vinnie Lane, continues to rest in supine malaise. Walking directly in front of Loverboy, Roxy turns to the desk before them and bends over it, sticking her perfect, round ass into his face. He doesn’t blink, or even notice. Roxy finds the white line of coke on the mirror on top of the desk and inhales quickly, making the fine white powder vanish from the reflective surface. In the mirror, heavily shadowed eyes blink rapidly and large, black pupils widen even further. Roxy stands straight again, looking back at her distant partner who has still not so much as looked at her. Smirking, she picks up the mirror from the desk and turns around, climbing onto the armchair and straddling Loverboy, her breasts in his face, and sets her purse on the head of the seat. Pulling out a plastic baggie, she empties a tiny amount of pure white cocaine onto the mirror.))

Roxy: Did I wear you out that easily, baby?

((Loverboy, again, does not respond. He moves his head slightly to keep his view of the window, but Roxy moves herself into his field of vision again as she starts straightening the clump of coke into a pair of straight lines with a credit card.))

Roxy: You were like… some kind of wild beast once you took that first hit, baby. I haven’t been taken like that in a long time. Like a fucking super hero. You’re a fucking god.

((Writhing in Loverboy’s lap as she talks to him, her lips millimeters from his ear, she finishes cutting the lines and brings the small mirror back in between their faces. With a smile, she offers the cocaine to him.))

Roxy: Come on, baby, take some more… I want more of you before we leave…

((Finally Loverboy reacts. He blinks a few times and looks at the naked woman in his lap, seemingly for the first time. He looks like a man brought out of a trance, or someone woken from a lengthy coma. He smiles up at her angelic face and leans forward tentatively, hovering his nose over the mirror’s edge for just one reluctant second, looking at himself, then closing his eyes and sniffing up the line in a fluid movement.))

Roxy: Good boy…

Loverboy: You know it gets me going when you call me that…

Roxy: And you know I love getting you going…

Loverboy: We have to leave soon. I’ve got to get to Denver.

Roxy: We will, baby, soon. I’m not ready yet. We’ve got a few hours before we have to be at LAX, okay? Just relax. Play with me.

((Loverboy smiles again as he watches the second line of coke vanish into Roxy Cotton’s nose like a magic trick. Setting the mirror aside, Roxy leans forward again toward her little cheetah printed purse, pressing her firm, saline filled tits right into Loverboy’s face. His hands squeeze her breasts together on his mouth as he kisses and laps at them. Roxy’s eyes involuntarily flutter closed at the feeling of his lips and tongue on her, and she continues to rummage through her handbag, eventually pulling out a different baggie as well as a few other items.))

Roxy: Vinnie… do you trust me?

((Loverboy pulls himself from Roxy’s ample flesh and looks up at her.))

Loverboy: I do… I mean, I barely know you. This week is the first time we’ve really spent any time together, but, I feel like we have some sort of bond, you know? It’s like I’ve got you in my veins.

((Roxy brings her hands in front of Loverboy, holding her works. A small spoon, a disposable syringe, and three small blue pills. Loverboy’s smile disappears as he sees what she has, but he says nothing. Roxy works quickly and deftly, crushing the pills, prepping the needle with a bottle of Evian water nearby, pulling a tuft of a cotton swab from her makeup kit. Soon, she flicks a lighter alive and has a pillar of yellow flame caressing the bottom of her spoon, cupping it in fire, as the powdery residue of the pills bubbles into a mixture. Roxy smiles as she draws back the plunger.))

Roxy: Tell me about her again?

Loverboy: Roxy, come on…

Roxy: Please? Just one more time? I’ve been a good girl, haven’t I?

((The adorable pout and coquettish batting of her false eyelashes is enough to bring the smile back to Loverboy’s face. He laughs lightly.))

Loverboy: What do you want to hear?

Roxy: What was her name, Vinnie? You never told me her name.

Loverboy: Nikki. Her name was Nikki.

Roxy: Did you love her?

Loverboy: Yeah. I did.

Roxy: Why?

((Loverboy stutters and stammers to a stop. He seems lost for words at such a strange question. Not what did he love about her, or why he stayed with her, or what happened to her – but why did he love her.))

Loverboy: I… I don’t know, Roxy. I don’t know what made me fall for her, you know? But I did, man. It was fast, too. I had no chance. I thought about her every day, all day. I wanted to be with her no matter what. I needed a fix, you know? All the time. I was addicted to her.

Roxy: And the poem?

Loverboy: It was supposed to be a song, yeah. But, like, I couldn’t really bring it to the guys. They didn’t like her, you know? All they saw was a… well…

Roxy: A junkie?

Loverboy: Yeah. That’s what they said. I’m sorry, that’s harsh.

Roxy: It’s true, Vinnie. I know what I am. Who I am. You think junkie is the worst thing I’ve been called? I show my pussy on the internet, I fuck musicians and wrestlers and movie stars. I don’t give a shit what people think of me. Unless it’s you. Will you hand me your belt?

((Loverboy reaches to the floor and retrieves his black leather belt with silver heart buckle. Roxy extends her arm towards him and nods, and he gently loops the leather around her bicep.))

Roxy: Pull tight, baby. It won’t hurt. Can you tell me the poem? Please?

((Loverboy tightens the belt on Roxy’s arm, and she lets out a gentle sigh. The veins of her inner elbow and forearm immediately begin to raise from her skin, filling with slowed blood blocked by the makeshift tourniquet. Loverboy starts to recite the poem he wrote for his old lover in a quiet voice, uncertain at first, but slowly gaining momentum and confidence as he finds the rhythm. The silver tip of the syringe finds a home in the golden skin of Roxy’s arm.))

Loverboy: Nights like these I remember you telling me how I’d never understand.
How you wanted me running through you too. You wanted both.
The way we would fall asleep after stubborn arguments
led to fierce passion, my nose in your menthol Marlboro hair.

Every morning after was the same with you praying at a dirty spoon altar,
chipped nails clicking against a disposable Jesus you refused to dispose
of in spite of the dulled point, the final sigh of relief as the Holy Spirit
communed within you. I’d look away while you found God.

You shivered in my arms underneath two blankets but pretended everything
was fine, and when your eyes would finally open I knew you were my crushed blue
pills. I gave it to you again and you gave it back, cold fingers in my flesh, red lines
in your skin like roadmaps, and I wondered just where we would go.

Then we’d be back where we began, you asleep and losing your grip
on my arm, me waiting until I was sure your heart kept pushing life and death
through you. Fingering the creases in your skin and tracing broken veins.
I’d always wonder which of us you were dreaming of.

((Roxy folds herself to Loverboy’s chest, her arms around his neck, her face against his. She finds his lips for a deep kiss, then pulls away and locks his eyes with hers.))

Roxy: It’s beautiful.

Loverboy: It’s horrible.

Roxy: Yeah. But beautiful.

Loverboy: Kismet. And cotton fever.

Roxy: Like us?

Loverboy: I don’t know. No. Not like us. It’s not the same. I’m sorry.

Roxy: It’s okay, Vinnie. I know. I’m just glad you’re honest.

((Roxy sits up again, and bites her lip. She pulls the belt down into her hand.))

Roxy: Give me your arm.

Loverboy: I really don’t know, Roxy. I have a match on Monday. It’s not like it’s an easy one, you know? Luca Arzegotti could have beat me the other day.

Roxy: He didn’t. He’s not a megastar like you.

((Loverboy laughs in spite of himself, but quickly presses his lips together and speaks with gravity in his voice.))

Loverboy: I watched her die, Roxy. I watched Nikki’s heart stop after she took too much of that bad junk. It was the worst day of my life. I loved her.

Roxy: I know.

Loverboy: I can’t go through that again. I won’t be able to deal with it. I’ve got good things going on, man, you know? My life is better now. The money, the championships, the parties and fame and sex. You. This is too good to ruin.

((Roxy kisses him again, and keeps her face close to his, looking into his eyes deeply and whispering.))

Roxy: Trust me.

((Loverboy doesn’t move for what feels like hours. After long seconds of silence tick away, he slowly raises his arm to Roxy, who wraps the belt around him.))