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when I air quoted girlfriends.
    “You effectively trashed my life and there are still groupies hanging around your home. Nice work, I'm leaving.”
    I pushed him off me and turned to the door, his hand flattened against the wood grain.
    “They aren't mine Frankie, I have two sisters for fucks sake. Do you really think I would objectify women like that?”
    “Yeah, I do. You are a rock star, don't they all do it?”
    “See, I was right. You have prejudged me.”
    “Did not.”
    He laughed and leaned his heavy body against the door. No escape for me then.
    “You just did. You think that because I'm a rock star that I've had endless groupies. News flash sweetheart, I haven't and unless you start flashing your goods at one of my concerts, there ain't going to be one in the future.”
    Slowly he boxed me into the corner, his hands on either side of my head as he lowered close to my face.
    “Going to be flashing them at my concerts?”
    “No. Jeez what a question to ask.”
    “Well then you aren't a groupie then, are you?”
    “Absolutely not.”
    He lowered further, drawing closer to me. God help me, I think I'm either going to pass out or orgasm. One of them, not sure on which.
    “Then it shall remain that I don't fuck groupies.”
    “You don't fuck me either.” I whispered.
    “Not yet I haven't.”
    He grinned darkly. Oh dear lord, your help has not come fast enough. One kiss and I was melting inside.
    The night had dragged on, the boys were their usual selves, something that I was becoming accustomed to. They were energetic, young and too well funded. If I thought that I was coming to a quiet house in the suburbs, I was wrong. A party had just sprung up out of nowhere. One minute it had been the five band members and a few under dressed women, then there was a lounge room filled with people. This wasn't the average lounge room, my poky apartment could fit in this thing five times over. Beyond the Tuscan styled interior walls was a glorious vista of the glittering nightlife that is Vegas. I didn't have to crane my neck to get past a stupid drainage pipe, this view stretched for miles.
    There were people everywhere, in the pool, against the walls drinking and talking. A lot of groping. A lot of face sucking. A lot of things that should not be mentioned in polite company. I mildly wondered if Curtis knew every single person that was here. This was his home yet I would bet that he didn't know an eighth of them.
    There seemed to be a lot of hanger-on types or as I prefer to call them, leaches. Even mister I don't fuck groupies had far too many of them hanging around but they were for everyone else apparently.
    None of this sat well with me. In the short time that I had known Curtis, I had grown to like him and I doubted that any of these people would care for the real person.
    Someone was calling my name. I turned to see Curtis who was now completely blitzed and walking towards me with two beer bottles in hand.
    “You like beer baby?” he crooned.
    I looked at the two women that he had his arms draped over. I don't fuck groupies, my ass.
    “No.” I spat angrily.
    “Well that doesn't seem right. I thought I saw an empty in your bin this morning.”
    “You were mistaken.” I sighed. “Look, I'm going to go home. Where is my bag and can I use your phone to call a cab?”
    A serious but still rather drunk look crossed his face.
    “Why do you want to go home? Don't you like living with me?”
    My eyes darted to the two women, they were in their triangle bikinis but they were borderline revealing all. They smiled their supreme attitude grins at me, one that said that they were better than me. That they were going to be in his pants before me. Why did I care? This morning I wanted to get rid of him.
    “Not when it turns out you're a liar, no. Where's my bag?”
    That vein bulged.
    “What did I lie about?”
    “Groupies.”
    I pushed past him, trying to find one of the other band members that might tell me where my