Chapter 1

A black cat moans, when he's burning with the fever.

A stray dog howls, when he's lonely in the night.

A woman goes crazy, with the thought of retribution.

But, a man starts weeping, when he's sick and tired of life.

God Damn that man can sing. This isn't even my favorite song from the album, but I keep playing it over and over and over again, because he knows what I'm feeling.

What I'm feeling is the deep down in your soul misery. I'm talking about the blues.

Okay you're laughing, now huh? You're shaking your head and telling yourself that I don't know anything about the blues. I don't know anything about the music or the feelings.

One of the things about the twenty-first century is that all of the old paradigms and stereotypes don't mean a thing. Another thing is that I don't understand any of what's going on. What the fuck is going on with all of these little white girls that are all about that bass, or who rap and sound like they grew up in the ghetto, but they come from places like Australia?

Okay, Music seriously has become an international language. It is no longer bound to any race creed or gender. So if this is true, why the fuck can't I feel the blues?

My life means nothing to me anymore. There are times when I feel not only like I just can't go on, but like I'm walking slowly towards a grave that I just dug for myself with a shovel made of my own heart and spine.

Today is one of those days. It's one of those days that I have to do something that I know will kill me. And the pain is already so deep inside of me that life simply has no meaning for me. That, boys and girls, is the blues.

Okay, I have a great career. I make a reasonable amount of money. I lived in a beautiful house with a woman I loved and have a lot of friends. I say loved because I don't think she's mine anymore. That's the blues.

The customized Mustang that I'm driving to my date with destiny has an engine bay that looks like it was designed by NASA not NASCAR.

My huge ball bearing supercharger emits the tiniest little whine at eighty five miles per hour. It's not even loaded at this pedestrian speed. The engine makes over eight hundred horsepower, so the whine is more like my pony is asking to be set free than it is being taxed by driving this slowly.

It's actually really difficult for me to drive this slowly, but why the fuck would I want to get there any faster? Like I said before, when you're driving to your own execution, why would you want to get there quickly? That is ... The blues.

"I keep on dreaming, dreams of tomorrow.

Feel I'm wasting my time, lighting candles in the wind.

Always taking my chances, on the promise of the future.

But, a heart full of sorrow, paints a lonely tapestry."

I'm sure that none of you really think that Whitesnake is a blues band. I can hear you now saying, "SHIT, Dylan; Whitesnake is one of those 80's/90's hair metal bands. That's not the blues."

Or "For heaven's sake Dylan, you've got your entire life ahead of you. Get over it. Move on!"

But how exactly do I move on, when my lungs have been ripped out of my chest while attached to my still beating heart and stuck on a plate right in front of me?

"The sun is shining, but it's raining in my heart."

I guess if you knew all of the facts in the story it would help you to understand my pain. I mean it doesn't make sense. If this was a fuckin' movie, I'd be about to ride off into the sunset on my faithful stallion, with the girl clasped firmly in one muscular arm. Her attention would be riveted on me, while I casually blew on the end of my smoking hot shooting iron to cool it off after sending a hot lump of lead squarely up the villain's ass.

But this is Michigan, not the old west. And the good guys don't always get the girl. Sometimes life just makes no fucking sense. Sometimes even when you love her far more than the other guy can possibly ever think of. Even when you do all the right things, say all the right things, make all the right moves ... You still don't ride off into the sunset with the girl.

And it's ten ... Make that twenty times worse, when you know that he's only going to fuck her over, and there's nothing you can do about it. How do I know so much about him and what he wants to do?

That's easy, you see, I grew up with him. We moved next door to each other. We were born within minutes of each other in hospitals that were more than a thousand miles apart. However, our families moved onto the same block within minutes of each other, into houses that were right next door to each other.

As if fate had decreed it, the two of us, each three years old, wandered away from the chaos of moving into new homes. And just as fate intended walked straight to each other. Two wonderful, young mothers simultaneously looked around and each discovered that they had not one, but two sons.

That's how close we were. If it is at all possible for twins to be born of different fathers and different mothers, then that's what Jimmy and I were. You never saw one of us without the other. There was no separating us, it just seemed odd.

After a while, our mothers even coordinated things like Christmas presents to make sure that there were no unfortunate incidents. Unfortunate incidents either resulted in money wasted or feelings hurt. Like the Christmas, when Jimmy got Laser tag and I got a Nintendo game system.

What ended up happening was Jimmy's mom, who's still to this day like my second mom ended up with her feelings hurt for a while. The woman went through hell getting him that laser tag set. It was one of the most popular gifts for boys that Christmas, and she was proud that she had fought her way through the crowds and lines in the store and emerged victorious.

The problem was that my Nintendo was something that both of us could play together. And we did, for literally hours at a time, while the expensive Laser gun and sensor sat there on a shelf.

Jimmy even started asking his mother for Nintendo games. "But Jimmy," she said. "You don't have a Nintendo game system."

"Yeah we do," he said in that totally sure voice-tone that only an eight-year-old can manage. "WE got it for Christmas."

After coming next door to watch us for a while, she realized her mistake and even told my mother about it. I don't think either of us noticed that the un-opened laser tag gun and sensor went back to the store the day after Christmas. But we both noticed when it was replaced by a host of two-player Nintendo cartridges.

And that was the way it worked, growing up. We did everything together. And the people around us adapted. I was a great runner, but Jimmy wasn't. But we were both on the track team.

Jimmy was the best starting offensive lineman on our high school football team. To keep him interested in football, they made me a tight end. Most of the time, Jimmy was double or even triple teamed by defensive players on the other team trying to get to our quarter back. Those mismatches meant that we really could have gone a player short, so my utter ineptitude, didn't matter.

Why, you wonder, didn't they put another tight end in? It was simple. They needed Jimmy. They wanted Jimmy. And if I got bored from sitting on the bench and quit, so did Jimmy.

It was the same thing in track. Okay, I was fast. Jimmy had all of the speed of an Ox among race horses. But he stayed on the team. Over time, our coach adapted. He made lemonade.

Jimmy, like most oxen, was slow. However, he was as strong as ... an ox. Jimmy became a great shot putter and started to pull his weight and then to excel. As a tight end, I also blossomed. Let's face it; I was fast, but I didn't have the hands to be a wide receiver. I also didn't have the toughness or the bulk to be a running back.

But in our third or fourth game of the first season, the big defensive guys from the other team got past Jimmy and our line. Our quarterback was about to get his ass handed to him, so he just threw the ball up. I guess he knew that he was about to get crushed if he didn't get rid of it, and our eyes met.

In practice, they never threw me the ball. I was one of those Brandon Pettigrew type of tight ends that are only good for blocking. It was like they bought me a special type of gloves with the butter already spread on them. I never, and I mean never, in hundreds of snaps in practice, ever held onto a single pass.

And I know what Greg's motivation was. Our quarterback decided in that moment of fear to make me the scapegoat for his fear and his fuck up. Let's face it. It was the fourth quarter with time running down. Our coach had us taking our time running out the clock. We were down by a point. All we had to do was get into field goal range and our dead eye field goal kicker, would win the game for us.

Greg had a habit of hanging on to the ball too fucking long. Our coach threatened to bench him for it. So Greg, in that high pressure situation, instead of getting sacked, or taking a penalty for intentional grounding, decided to throw a short yardage pass to Butter Hands. That was my nickname. It caught on, so naturally they shortened it to just Butter. It pissed me off when they put it on my letter jacket.

Anyway, his reasoning was that when I dropped the ball, it would become my fault not his if we didn't get into field goal range.

The rest of the guys on the team all groaned when he threw the ball. A couple of them ran towards me just hoping that I could do the best thing they expected of me. That would be to hold onto the ball long enough for it to be considered a fumble when I dropped it. In that case, they could fall on it, and we'd keep possession. It was third down so at least we'd be able to punt the ball into safe territory.

However, I fucked all of that up. For some reason, even I can't explain it, I caught the ball. It was as if someone had replaced the "butter" with superglue. I was shocked. It was like electricity went through me as the crowd, including our parents, all cheered for me.

Then time started up again, and I realized that I was in danger. I heard one of the huge linemen on the other team, grunt, "Motherfucker," as if he was about to decapitate me for daring to catch the ball.

At the same time, I heard my coach yelling words of encouragement from the sidelines. "Run Dumb Ass," he yelled. And that was the one thing I knew how to do. I took off for the goal line and with a few of the guys who were hoping I would fumble providing key blocks I made it clear, and no one on that field had my speed.

My first touchdown changed things. It even changed my nickname. I became "the bomb." They called me that because I was like the atomic bomb. I was the weapon you didn't want to use. I was a weapon of last resort. In practice, every time they threw me the ball, I would drop it. If they tried to use me for short yardage in game situations, I would drop it. But if the game was on the line, and they had no other choice; I was golden. I scored nine or ten dramatic touchdowns out of fear and desperation that season, including two in one game at the division championships.

Smart teachers and coaches found ways to use both Jimmy and I. James Jessie, which was Jimmy's real name and Dylan Marshall, was a pair. That was just the way it worked.

Literally, no one was surprised when we turned eighteen and went off to college together. No one was surprised when we ended rooming together even though the roommate draw was supposed to be by random chance.

Over the years, we had spent so much time together that it was ridiculous. However, college was the first time we had actually lived together. At college, we became fully formed adults, and it also exposed all of the amazing differences in our personalities.

Jimmy was far more socially adept than I was. But I was far better in school. It wasn't just that I was better in some classes; it was as if Jimmy had never learned to study at all. I think a lot of our differences boiled down to our togetherness.

Jimmy had never seen the value of actually attending school. Since we'd always taken the same classes at the same time. We had always done our homework and assignments together. Most of the time it seemed like I did the work and Jimmy copied it. There were years when I did two science projects, one for myself and then one for him. He actually got better grades on those projects because he was more comfortable speaking in front of groups of people.

I would always get better grades on the actual exams, and that would balance out the project grades. We would end up getting similar grades. Our SAT scores really brought the academic differences home. However, even there, most of our teachers were convinced that it was a fluke due to the fact that Jimmy didn't do well on standardized tests, and that he was nervous about the test after being told how important the test was.

But in the end, since we had already both been accepted at Michigan, our SAT scores didn't really matter. However, college did expose several weaknesses. I wanted to major in engineering. Jimmy did too, but he knew that he was never going to pull off the math and science requirements. So we had to sit down and figure out what we wanted to do in life.

I wanted to have our own engineering business. I wanted to design and modify cars. Jimmy liked cars too so he thought it was a good idea, but since we were both going to play football, he thought that even planning for it would be a waste of time.

I went to my classes religiously. Jimmy laughed and got extra sleep. When the first semester was over, I had earned a bunch of credits towards my degree. Jimmy had dropped several classes, but knew everyone on campus.

Jimmy also had something that I had never thought of. Jimmy had a girlfriend. During high school both of us had dated. But we had gone out with a host of girls, not limited ourselves to one. Having a girlfriend is a lot of fucking work. You have to spend time with them.

Jimmy's girlfriend Sarah was one in a million. It takes a special type of woman, not only to accept the fact that the two of us were joined at the hip, but to fit in and be that woman in the middle.

Another huge gulf between us became apparent that year too. Jimmy was no longer a virgin since he, and Sarah were having all kinds of sex. After one of their arguments that happened because Sarah had apparently discovered that Jimmy was cheating on her, an amazing thing happened.

WE, yes I said we, sat down to discuss what had happened between them. While Jimmy pleaded with Sarah for a second chance, she demanded to know why he had done it.

He explained that Sarah, whether she knew it or not, had been his first. He'd simply been curious to see what it would be like to have sex with someone else. If she gave him another chance, it would never happen again. It had just been an overwhelming curiosity. He turned to me and asked me if I understood what he'd gone through.

I was embarrassed and had to admit to both of them that I had no experience on which to base an opinion.

"You mean you've only had sex with one girl, right," said Sarah triumphantly.

"No," I said timidly. "I've never had sex period."

Sarah agreed to give him another chance but with the stipulation that someday she might need to vent her own curiosity. Jimmy said, "No."

He told her that he loved her, but there was no way that he would walk around on eggshells for the rest of his life waiting for her to cheat on him. He said that if he agreed to it, years later, down the line when they were married and had kids, she might just decide to take him up on it. That, he said would be far more painful and more devastating than what he had just done.

His mistake and that was what it was, a mistake, had been born of youthful curiosity during the beginning of their lives together. She could wait until they had been together for years or even married with children. And then it would be something that he might never be able to get over.

"But I'm not interested in anyone except you," she said. "I might not ever do it."

"But you might," he said.

"I can't just let you do this to me without some kind of penalty," she said. "What would stop you from doing it again?"

"You're right, Honey," he said. "I need some kind of punishment. But the idea of some other guy even touching you makes me want to throw up." She looked into his eyes and saw the pain written there and a lot of regret.

I looked at him and saw the same con game he had run on our parents, our friends, and our teachers over the years. However, even I was unprepared for what came out of his mouth next.

"It's painful for me even to say this," he said with what looked like real tears in his eyes. "Sarah, I want you to have sex with Dylan."

"Huh?" I exclaimed. I was totally in shock.

"Okay," said Sarah. Truthfully, I later learned that she had painted herself into a corner. The poor girl really loved Jimmy and had only wanted him to agree not to cheat on her again. However, she had let her mouth draw a line in the sand that she couldn't back away from without appearing to be a doormat.

"Wait a minute," I said.

"What," asked both of them at the same time?

"Isn't your first time supposed to be ... You know ... special. And with someone you love?" I asked.

"You see," said Jimmy. "That's exactly why I can't let you read those God Damned books! No more reading for you Dylan. Go get your library card and bring it to me. As a matter of fact, the library is off-limits to you." Sarah just sat there with a smile on her face, looking at me. She had a real glow on her face.

"Dylan, when you meet this perfect girl and fall in love with her, do you want to be embarrassed and ruin your first time together by not knowing what the hell to do?" he asked.

"Do you want her to laugh at you and then go back and tell all of her friends how inept you were? How fucking romantic will that be?" he asked. "You know what will happen then, right?" he asked. I was horrified and had no idea.

"You'll realize that I was right. So you'll start trying to gain experience with girls you don't like so the next time you run into a girl that you do like, you'll know what to do. You'll end up screwing ugly girls, or smelly girls, or old women, or fat girls. They'll ruin the experience for you. Shit, you may end up turning gay," he said. Jimmy was on a roll.

"The perfect person for you to start with, has to pretty," he said. "Is Sarah pretty?" he asked.

I didn't say anything. "Dylan, open your God Damned mouth, or I'll embarrass you," he said.

"Yes," I said. "She is." Sarah blushed. Jimmy was a major con man.

"You're too God damned timid," he said. "Sarah, Honey, after our first date, the first time Dylan saw you. I asked him what he thought about you. I asked him then if he thought you were pretty. He said you were beyond pretty. He thought you were beautiful, and I was lucky to have you."

"Jimmy," I said sharply! I was pissed that he'd told her that. I just got up and walked out of our dorm. "You guys work out your problems without me."

I walked around the block of dorm buildings. Jimmy knew that I lacked his confidence with women. I just didn't understand how my best friend could have embarrassed me that way.

As I walked I waved at several team mates, class mates and others that I knew. After a while, I felt better. When I returned to our building, I noticed that the beat-up car that Jimmy and I shared was gone. I figured that meant that he had taken Sarah back to her dorm. He and I were going to have a talk when he got back.

I walked into our dorm and took off my jacket. I grabbed a bottle of soda and sat down in front of my laptop. I figured I'd play a few rooms of the video game I was working on. Just as I got comfortable, I heard a voice from behind me that shocked the shit out of me.

"So, Dylan, do you really think I'm beautiful?" she asked. I was too shocked to answer. She was lying in my bed under my sheets. "Dylan, let's talk about this," she said.

"Dylan, do you know why I want to do this?" she asked. I shook my head. "First it's a good way to teach Jimmy a lesson without hurting him too badly. Second, I get back at him without having to be a slut about it. I know that you're a gentleman and aren't going to go around bragging or telling anyone about it. However, the real reason is because of what you said." She picked that moment to sit up. I saw her boobs for the first time. They weren't big. And one of them was bigger than the other. But they were the first real tits I had even seen in person.

"Do you remember the part about how your first time should be with someone special, someone you're in love with? Don't laugh but that's the way I felt about it too. And Jimmy was wrong. That special girl would be, if she is as special as you want her to be, perfectly willing to teach you what you need to do. However, since you haven't found her yet, I would love to stand in for her. I would consider it an honor and a privilege to be your first."

And then she pulled me in for a very gentle kiss. I don't remember when my clothes came off, but I remember her gasp when she got me naked. She seemed to love my dick as she played with it. That ended up being my first blowjob. And then she taught me how to return the favor. She showed me what she liked, and she seemed to get a lot of pleasure out of it.

We spent a lot of time exploring each other's bodies. We were rubbing each other and rolling over and over and then; I felt it. Somehow she had worked us into a position with her on top of me. She impaled herself on me and sank slowly down on my dick. It was the best feeling I have ever had. That first penetration made us both suck in huge gasps.

"Dylan, you have to go slowly, Honey," she squeaked.

"I didn't ... I'm not trying to hurt you," I said.

"Dylan, you didn't do anything wrong," she said. "But you're a lot bigger than Jimmy. It feels really good, but I don't want you to tear me apart."

She sank slowly down, moaning and shifting her hips all the way. It seemed to take a long time. I could feel her tight pussy gripping every inch of my dick as she descended.

"Oh God!" she hissed. "Don't move!" Then she slowly started to pump her hips forward and back. The look on her face was bizarre. She looked as if she was in excruciating pain. Her hands turned into claws and dug into my hands.

Her hips began to pump faster and harder. "Ooh, baby. Soooo good!" she said. "Dylan, I need you to flip me onto my back and take me. Instinct took over. I gently put her on her back. Her legs spread themselves apart, and she looked at me as if there was nothing in the world she wanted more than to have my dick back inside of her.

I pushed inside of her and felt that tightness envelope me again. This time I was on top, and I started slowly to pump her myself. "Faster, Dylan," she hissed. She seemed like a different girl. Her hips moved up to meet mine. She pulled me down to kiss her, and our tongues swirled around each other's mouths.

"Fuck me Dylan," she hissed. "Make me your woman." And I did we slammed together with such force and desperation that it seemed almost violent.

"Oh, Shit, shit shit shit," she screamed. "I'm gonna ... I'm there..." I had no idea what was going on. Were we done? After a few moments, she reached down and sucked my dick until I was done. She swallowed every drop. And then she wrapped her arms and her legs around me possessively.

She looked straight into my eyes. "Dylan, when you get a little bit of practice, you're going to be amazing. That was the best sex I've ever had," she said. "I totally lost control. Don't tell Jimmy about the things I said, please. I don't want to hurt his feelings."

I agreed and didn't say much. I was still reliving every second of what had just happened. She asked me if she could use our shower. And she looked at me weirdly.

When she came out, I walked her back to her dorm. "Dylan, why aren't you saying anything?" she asked.

"That was the most special thing that has ever happened to me in my life," I said. "I was trying to process it all. And I was thinking."

She smiled. She really was beautiful. Her eyes had a glow to them that was hard to miss. "What were you thinking?" she asked.

"That if you weren't Jimmy's girl ... I ... I love you too, Sarah," I said.

"Honey, never say that again. I'm your best friend's girl friend. Someday he and I are going to get married. However, if I wasn't his ... Boy oh boy!" she said. She looked at me strangely. "Dylan, are you crying?"

"No," I said turning around.

"This is so unfair," she said softly. She opened the door to her dorm and looked around. Her roommate was out. She pulled me inside and started kissing me. Before I knew it, we were in her bed and had started again.

By the time I got back to the dorm, feeling extremely guilty and also confused, I expected Jimmy to be there waiting for me and angry. He wasn't. I showered and went to sleep, still dreaming of what I had done.

Jimmy showed up at about two on the morning. He was smiling and woke me up. "How was it?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Please don't tell me you chickened out," he spat. "This is killing me. Why didn't you fuck her? Okay we'll do it again tomorrow. Do you want someone else?"

"You knew... ?" I said.

"Of course," he said. "I arranged it, remember? Dylan, you and I are supposed to be the same. If I'm not a virgin, you can't be one either."

"But Jimmy, she's your girlfriend and..." I began.

"Bros before Hoes," he said. "No bitch will ever come between us."

"But you're going to marry her and have kids with her," I said.

"Says who?" he asked, looking at me like I was silly.

"But you told her that today," I said.

"I just said all of that shit because women like hearing it," he said.

"So you don't love her?" I asked.

"I love fucking her," he said. "Go to sleep. We'll talk more tomorrow."

Over the next few weeks, things changed. I realized that I had fallen in love with Sarah. But in trying to be true to Jimmy, I avoided all contact with her. It didn't work for long. Jimmy started asking me to help her with her math and a couple of other subjects she was weak in.

Since he had no interest in studying, he left the dorm to give us privacy. I did everything I could to make her comfortable. I made her dinner. I massaged her feet while she read. However, I stayed away from her. And she noticed it.

Just before we went home for Christmas break, she came over. She waited for Jimmy to go out as he always did when we studied.

"Dylan, you're the best guy I've ever known," she said. "I've already told you, but this is so unfair. I wish so badly that things were different."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Dylan, you treat me like a princess. You're kind. You're considerate. And you treat me like you really do love me. I've been trying to give you hints that I would like a rematch, but as much as you want me, you haven't even tried," she said. "I really wish you had, but..."

"But you're Jimmy's girl," I said.

"Jimmy has been cheating on me since we started," she said. "I guess I'm his safety net. When he has no one else to fuck, he stops by and uses me. He uses you to keep me busy while he's sowing his oats and ... And you had no idea did you."

I just stood there with my mouth open. "But why," I asked. She came around the table to me.

"God, I wish I had met you first," she said. She was taking off her clothes as she walked towards me. We spent the entire evening and half of the night in my bed. We were both crying when she left. She left a note for Jimmy. I waited to confront him with it.

"Great," said Jimmy when he read her note. "That saves me the trouble of a messy scene in trying to get rid of her."

"You don't love her anymore?" I asked.

"God damn it Dylan," he said. "Get with the program. I was tired of her as soon as I fucked her. Why do you think I've been leaving her here with you? You kept her busy for me while I..."

That was when I learned one of the most important differences between Jimmy and I. To Jimmy only he and I were important. Jimmy had a new woman every week or two, and they all thought that they were the one he was going to marry.

"Jimmy, she loved you," I said.

"So fuckin' what," he smiled. "No one ever marries the first person they hook up with. She was a practice girl, dummy."

"A what," I asked.

"Dylan, you scored two touchdowns last week," he said. "We are headed for the NFL, with a bullet. If you weren't so busy wasting your time going to class, you would know that you can probably have any woman on this campus. One of the girls I'm screwing has the biggest softest boobs I've ever seen. Another one has an ass like a rap star's girlfriend. And both of them are prettier than Sarah."

I had no idea how to tell him that I loved Sarah. It took me months to get over her. And all during that time, Jimmy was throwing girls at me. When he wasn't throwing them at me, I actually met a few on my own, or rather they met me. As our football careers rose, people actually began coming up and talking to me.