You're a cuck... Rockstar

Wakes back up in forty minutes

He woke with a start, the cold floor against his cheek. The room was spinning, the laughter and music a distant memory. The smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke clung to him like a fog. He sat up, his head pounding, and squinted through the darkness.

Across the room, the singer had Amy in his lap, her head lolling against his shoulder as she giggled at something he said. The sight sent a bolt of pure rage through John. He didn't know how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity. He pushed himself to his feet, his legs wobbly beneath him. The floor swayed, but he took a step forward, determined to claim back his territory.

"Hey," John slurred, his voice unrecognizable to his own ears. "That's my girl."

The singer looked up, his pupils dilated, and grinned. "Oh, is she now?" He tightened his grip on Amy, who looked at John with a dazed smile.

"Come on, John," she said, her voice a siren's call. "It's just a little fun."

John's stomach churned, the high turning to nausea as reality crashed down on him. He stumbled closer, reaching for her. "Amy, we should go."

Her eyes glazed over, she giggled again. "But the party's just starting, baby."

The rockstar's smug smile grew wider. "You should loosen up, man. Live a little. Just sit down, have another drink." He patted the couch cushion next to him, the gesture oily and insincere. John's fists clenched at his sides, the cocktail of drugs and humiliation fueling his anger. The singer's hand lingered on Amy's thigh, his thumb stroking her skin in a way that was definitely not 'just friendly'.

John's vision blurred as he tried to focus on the man who had so easily infiltrated his life. The singer's eyes, once filled with the kind of passion that made John's heart swell, now held a glint of mockery. He was playing a game, a game John hadn't even realized he was a part of. The room tilted, and John felt like he was watching a movie reel play out in front of him, each frame more painful than the last.

"You know," the singer drawled, "you're not exactly the kind of guy I'd peg as a fan of ours. You're a bit... tame, don't you think?" He took a sip from a bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the low light as he swallowed. His hand remained on Amy's leg, a taunting presence that seemed to burn through John's skin. "Amy, on the other hand," he said, leaning closer to her, "she's got a wild side. I can tell."

John hears the last thing he wants from Amy....

"Hehe, wow, Spade your so big "