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Prologue

I’ve been called a lot of things in the past thirty three years: Alex, AJ, J, Bone, Johnny No Name, Jizzle…I’ve also been called a motherfucker, a psychotic, an asshole, inconsiderate, self-centered, incontrollable, a great lover, a horrible lover, and everything in between. Only in the past year have I acquired the new title of husband. And from the moment Rochelle became my wife, she also became obsessed with adding ‘father’ to my resume.

It’s not that I didn’t want to be a dad. It’s just that I didn’t think it would be so hard to make it happen. And when it finally did, I had to screw it up.

It began with what I like to call the package: full lips and big tits. Andrea had both. When she had come jogging next to the car I was riding in at the Gay Pride Parade my pulse wasn’t the only thing that shot up.

Rochelle had gone through eight miscarriages since our wedding in October. We were nearing our first anniversary but it was as if I was married to a virtual stranger. The loveable, erotic, desirable, crazy woman that I had thought was a female version of myself had disappeared. In its place was a calculating, nervous, emotional wreck of the monkee I once loved with all my heart.

If there was one thing I didn’t want to fail at, it was marriage. My dad had walked out on my mom and me and to this day I hated him for it. I didn’t want my marriage to fall apart. I just wanted to know that I was still able to feel.

That’s where Andrea comes in. There was a lot of stuff to feel, if you know what I mean. As the other guys disappeared at the mention of bull riding, I followed Andrea around the after party like a little puppy dog. Rochelle had cut me off of the little alcohol I had allowed myself to unwind. She also flushed every single pack of cigarettes down the toilet. I was like a slinky that had been smashed too tight. I was ready to spring at any moment.

Andrea smelled good like fresh squeezed lemons. She leaned into me in just the right way, her wrist gliding over my arm in this ultra erotic way that had me practically foaming at the mouth. She opened her purse to reveal a little baggie and gave me a wink. I knew what was in the baggie and I could have exploded right in her face with just that wink. She wove through the crowd and I followed like a curious little boy.

She twisted her way into the coat closet and beckoned me in. I slid in behind her, drawing the door closed. I was wearing my Lady GayGay shirt and a black fedora on my head. I ran my hands along my thighs. My pulse was racing. I hadn’t had this much excitement in…hell I don’t even know how long. The last few months of my life had consisted of jizzing into containers and having a doctor play the dating game with eggs in a dish.

Not the most romantic experience, let me tell you.

Andrea took the bag out of her purse and a blunt wrap. She rolled up the marijuana expertly and lit the tip. The ‘all natural’ aroma hit me hard. She took a long greedy inhale and passed it to me. I closed my eyes and let the old familiar sensation hit me. It wasn’t cheap quality stuff. I could already feel the blood vessels in my eye expand.

“It’s been a long time,” Andrea said coyly. Her hands slid to a rest on my stomach. I leaned back into a pile of jackets. “How ya been?”

I stared down at her tits and then made a beeline for those big plump lips.

“I’ve been better,” I said. I held out the hit and she took a drag. With each puff her body came closer and closer to mine until her chest was pressed right into mine. Her hands that were on my stomach had come to a nice resting place on my crotch. I felt my erection pulsating before her fingers.

“You looked like you needed to unwind today,” she said. She dropped to her knees and I almost thought I heard the bells and whistles of a slot machine. Jackpot.

My hands wrapped around the rod holding the jackets while her mouth wrapped around my rod. She worked at it like a professional. Her sticky pink lip gloss was everywhere and I loved it. I hadn’t felt so uninhibited in forever.

“Yes,” I moaned. My head flew back and hit the wall as I released. I felt her heavy breathing against my bare skin. Minutes later she was back on her feet and my mouth crushed hers like an unleashed wildcat. Her thigh muscles felt strong underneath my hands as she wrapped her legs around my waist. We went banging into the sides of the closet; the smell of the marijuana and lemons and sweet release made me dizzy.

I think it was the dizziness that made me realize what I had just done.

“Andrea, we need to stop,” I whispered.

I was waiting for a bitch fit; I had been the victim of many of those in my time. To my surprise, she just dragged out one last nibble on my bottom lip.

“I understand,” she said. My hands dropped from her breast and as if nothing had happened she slipped out the door.

I tried the same technique, only with different results. It was just my luck that Nick was standing by the door. Busted.

I had promised him that what had happened would never happen again. It wasn’t that I wanted to be unfaithful to Rochelle it was just…all so confusing. Little did I know that my time with Andrea was only the beginning of my downward spiral.

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The moment Andrea walked onto the dance floor to try out for the tour, I knew I was a goner. I devoured the sight of every well toned muscle and curve that she had in her body. Kevin seemed impressed enough but I was the one who had pushed for her to get a spot.

After announcing callbacks, I just happened to make sure I bumped into her. She came back to my place in LA armed with some cocaine. I hesitated to take a hit; I hadn’t touched the stuff in six years. Even so, her little brushes against me and her teasing voice brought me to the point of taking a couple of hits. We shared a couple slices of pizza and some wine. I had her naked before the bottle of wine was gone. I tossed her roughly on the bed and she yanked me roughly down. It was wild and inhibited and it was just the type of sex I loved. We clawed at each other and did things that there probably isn’t even a name for.

Somewhere around this time was when Rochelle found out that our last treatment had worked. She had thought it was a failure; heavy bleeding indicated yet another disappointment for her. But in reality it was just the loss of one. She…we…still had two more.

We were having twins.

The night she told me the news I vowed that the craziness was going to stop. I reached out to her, but she turned me away. Affection might lead to a miscarriage. We had never been this far before. We couldn’t take any chances.

I guess you could say I was holding a grudge. Plus making the craziness stop was easier said the done. I had forgotten the feeling of invincibility after a hit of cocaine and the way sex felt so much better when half of your body seemed to be in another world. Somehow I kept coming back to Andrea like a moth drawn to flame. I wasn’t in love with her; no, my real love was at home even if she seemed like she had been abducted by aliens and replaced with someone else. No, Andrea was just my plaything and I her player.

It’s probably poetic justice that I happened to be the one to send the picture of Andrea and I kissing to Rochelle from Nick’s cell phone. I hadn’t meant to; but my finger had slipped. The damage was done. It still didn't make me hate Nick any less.

I came home to all my clothes on the lawn and pieces of shattered guitar stuck to the siding of the house. The locks were changed. Rochelle looked at me from the upstairs window as if she wished I were nothing but a pile of ashes.

“We’re done. I don’t ever want to see you again. You can take your lying, cheating, no good, scumbag, dirtball, short dick, hairy ass away from MY house. I HATE you AJ McLean!”

I managed to pick up my cheetah print boxers before she started throwing things that must have been sitting in our refrigerator a little too long. She was crying and shrieking hysterically. I got back into my car and took off.

The first thing I did was to find a familiar little alleyway where I could score some blow. I figured if I was going out…I was going out big. When I felt like I was at that thin line between just being a total fuckup and overdosing, I picked up the phone.

Tomorrow I would start over. It would be day one.

Again.