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the beer into the fridge, she heard Johnny’s
voice from the living room. “Hey. Care if I look through your CDs
and pick something?”
    “Go for it. Do you want a beer right
now?”
    “Yeah, sure.”
    She came back in the room and saw him
kneeling in front of her CD player that sat on the middle shelf of
the big bookcase that took up a good chunk of the wall across from
the front door. Beneath the CD player were short shelves of dozens
of albums, alphabetized from AC/DC through Rob Zombie. She had a
rather large collection. The last time she counted, she had well
over three hundred CDs. She hadn’t wanted to ask her insurance
company if they would be covered in the event of theft or fire, but
she videoed everything in her house and kept the tape in a safe
deposit box in case there were any question. Katie estimated that
her music collection (not including the actual CD player or the
digital files she had on her iPod) was worth thousands of dollars.
She didn’t know if being friends with Johnny had made music one of
her passions too or if they were good friends because their love of
music was something they shared in common. Whatever the case, a lot
of her money went toward purchasing music.
    “Aw. You still have my first CD. ‘To Katie,
my best friend forever.’ God, did you puke when you read that?”
    “No, of course not. But that’s raw,
unpolished, fresh-from-the-garage stuff. I bet I could make a
shitload of money if I put that up for auction on eBay.”
    Johnny feigned disgust. “Well, I suggest you
at least wait until I’m back in the studio. Either that or wait
till I’m dead. You’ll make more money then.”
    She sat next to him on the floor and handed
him his beer, lid already removed. She playfully slapped his arm.
“You’re sick.”
    “That’s why you love me.” He pulled out And All That Could Have Been , a live Nine Inch Nails CD.
“Awesome. This first. I don’t think I’ve heard this one.” He slid
the CD into the tray. “Oh, you’ve got some Disturbed. Haven’t heard
them in a while. They’re next, I think.” He paused. “Or maybe
Hendrix.”
    Katie scoffed. “Don’t you have any of this
stuff?”
    He shrugged. “Somewhere. In my mom’s attic
maybe. I don’t know, really. I used to. Some of it might be gone
for good.” He was looking at the artwork on System of a Down’s Toxicity album, the band’s name made to look like the
Hollywood sign. “This was such a great fuckin’ album.”
    “Yeah. I can’t decide if this one or Mezmerize is my favorite.”
    Already looking at another row of music,
Johnny placed the CD jewel case back in its slot on the shelf.
“Yeah, that was a good one too.” Katie’s eyes followed the CD into
its slot.
    When she looked away from the CD, she found
Johnny staring at her again, just like he had earlier in the
evening at Napoli. She recognized that look, though, and then she
knew it wasn’t just her own emotions tugging at her heart. Johnny
had the look. And it disarmed her because he’d never had
that look for her . Never. She swallowed, looked down, then
got up quickly. “I forgot my beer,” she said, nervous, walking to
the kitchen. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest.
    Johnny took it in stride unfazed and
continued talking over Trent Reznor’s smooth suggestive vocals.
Katie didn’t hear what Johnny said, exactly, but she breathed in a
few deep breaths alone in the kitchen, willing her heart to slow
back down. Then she got another beer out of the fridge and twisted
off the cap, even though she had no intention of drinking it. She’d
already had too much to drink tonight, but fetching a bottle out of
the kitchen had provided a convenient escape from the charged
moment.
    When she came back in the living room,
Johnny had out his first studio CD, not the garage band copy he’d
made for his best friend and biggest fan. When Spawn of Satan had
landed a contract, they had changed their name to “Spawn” at the
insistence