There. That sound. It fills my ears and washes away my grievances. It was the one constant sound that could always soothe me, even in my most inconsolable state. The sound of the ocean.

I've never been to the east coast before. The ocean that comforted me in the past had been the Pacific. But here I stand on a hilly beach, my bare feet sunk in the golden warm sand, watching the Altantic waters lap upon the shoreline not far away. After driving twelve days to get here with hardly a rest, I see that I've finally made it. This is what I came for. My peace of mind. I find it here. The best of all, I'm standing only a block or so away from my new apartment in this small town in South Carolina. It's a smaller town than I've ever lived in before. I hope it's as peaceful as this spot. Anything must be better than the craziness of L.A. The bright lights, the loud noises. The unfaithfulness. There's nothing for me there now. They've made sure of it. But maybe, maybe there's something here. Maybe I can find the solace I so need. The solace I've always needed.

I shake the sand off of my feet and slip back in to my shoes. Turning my back to the beach as the last of the sunlight fades away, I look at the small town I recently became a member of. Starting down a small alleyway, I head for the blinking green letters that read 'O'Laughlon'. It looks like a run down bar but I decide upon it anyway. I'd rather not deal with big restaurants that have a lot of nosy people to look on my business. At least people in dim bars neither take notice of you or want to.

I open the door and head inside.

Jesse made his way through the overly crowded bar. Perhaps he should have taken in to consideration that it was a Friday night before making his decision. Too late now. Spying an open stool at the counter, he made his way to it. Once seated, he got out his notepad and pen.

A bartender in his early fifties with a scruff of beard and a washed up, weathered look stood in front of him. "What can I help you with, stranger?"

Jesse pushed the paper with his order on it to the bartender's side. The bartender looked at him with an arched brow and a curious gaze, then shrugged and went about getting the food. There were a lot of strange people to be found in a bar.

When he came back with a beer and cheese fries, Jesse handed over the right amount of bills before digging in. Had he eaten at all today? No, not since yesterday afternoon. He had been in such a rush to reach his destination that he didn't wish to slow down. But now he was beyond famished. The cheese melted on the fries burned the roof of his mouth but he didn't slow down until the plate was completely cleaned of every fry and drop of gooey cheese. It wasn't enough. Jesse rarely had much of an appetite, but when he did, he could eat a full menu and still be looking for more. Writing down his next order, he handed it to the bartender and receieved more fries, chicken fingers and a hamburger. There was a time when he had to watch what he ate. It didn't matter anymore. Besides, it was near impossible to gain weight when you usually ate less than one meal each day.

Just as he was finishing the last of his food and downing the few drops left in the beer bottle, a woman five or six stools down caught his eye. She was surrounded by a rough group of men, all who didn't look very pleased with her. Dressed in knee length cut off jeans, big black boots with one hell of a spiked heel and a leather vest, her bob length light brown hair sticking up in places as she ran her fingers back and forth through it, she looked like she had enough spirit to take them. The thin blonde and blue highlights strung through her hair caught the dim lights.

"Want to make something out of this, Louie? Do you?" she yelled, giving the man she was addressing a hearty shove with both hands.

Louie rose from his barstool. A mighty man of both height and width, he dwarfed her. His friends also gathered around. Jesse put down his beer, becoming alarmed. Should he do something? Try to save her? His body was still in good shape, especially his arms. He could pack a good punch, he learned that years ago. Still, he doubted that he could stand up to these freaks of nature that looked part giant, part steroid induced football players.

The woman put up two fists, eyeing each man that surrounded her. She took a good look at each one, then faked a punch to the front and kicked the man in back of her. The man went down. She ducked down so that Jesse could no longer see her, but by the men's grunts and riling anger, she was still doing some damage. Jesse stood up, his eyes wide as he tried to take in how to best attack which man, when he felt his arm grabbed.

"Don't. Sit down," the bartender said. "She'll be fine, she needs no help. They won't do anything to her."

Jesse looked at him in alarm. Not doing any harm? Their fists were bigger than her head! They could drag her around like a rag doll with just one of their meaty fingers!

"It'll calm down in a minute. Just watch."

Jesse still stood, ready to take action, and watched. One man was bowed down, holding his thigh, another cradling his arm. She had managed to do some damage, but nothing that would prevent them in killing her. But then, the leader Louie started to laugh, a deep rumbling laugh that filled the bar. He patted the woman on the back and fell on to this stool and ordered a round of beers for his crew and the 'little lady.' She returned to her own stool beside Louey with pride, looking like a queen on a thrown. The other men, though a bit scruffed up, looked jovial again.

Jesse looked back at the bartender in confusion.

"It happens all the time. She can't stay out of trouble for five minutes, the damn brat," he said fondly. "She's one of a kind, she is."

Jesse returned his gaze to her. The men drank their beers then stood up to leave, all saying goodbye to the woman and filing out. Jesse now had a clear view of her.

It didn't take long until she felt his gaze and looked over at him. She squinted with a frown, then put her beer down and walked over to him. "What are you looking at?"

She had flashing silver eyes. Not grey, but silver. A dark ring around her irises kept them from looking almost colorless against the white of her eyes. She had a chain around her neck with a broken heart charm hanging from it. Jesse kept himself from looking below her neck, which he knew she had nothing under than little black vest. Trouble, yes, he saw that loud and clear.

"Are you some kind of freak? Why don't you answer me?"

She had freckles over the bridge of her nose that splattered across her cheek bones. A few here and there on her forehead and neck, probably more on her bare shoulders, arms, and partially exposed flat stomach, but he didn't dare look.

She shook her head, her brow creased in confusion. "Stop staring at me, perv," she finally growled, then walked off.

The bartender appeared again. "A word of advice, stranger? Stay away from her. She's a spitfire. Still immature, clinging to her teenaged years that passed. She'll get you in more trouble than you could ever wish to bargain for. Lord knows I love her. I watch over her, you know. She's been hanging around here since she was sixteen." He stopped and bit the side of his lip. "Shouldn't say that, probably. But she was so creative with her excuses of how to get in that I finally let her. She never knew I served her nonalcoholic drinks in beer bottles. It costed me double because I'd have to waste a beer to put the drinks in, but at least my conscience was clear. Even now, if she orders a mixed drink, I won't add more than a drop of vodka. She's a complete lightweight and doesn't even know it. Thinks she can go on and on without losing it but she can't. Anyway, she's rough. Real rough. No one can tame her and I suggest that no one tries. They all end up with broken hearts and usually a few broken bones to match." The bartender looked him over, as if sizing him up. "Not much of the town can abide her. From the looks of you, pretty boy, you can't either. And stop staring. She'll take it as a challange. And Lord boy, you don't want to challange her."

When Jesse looked back over at her, she was no longer there. He glanced around the bar but he couldn't spot her through the heavy crowds. Jesse nodded a thanks to the bartender and got up, freeing his seat for more paying customers. He walked back out to the alleyway, just to find himself shoved against the side of the building. He didn't even see her until she already had him in place, his shirt gathered in her clenched fist by his throat.

The woman from inside. He'd been in this town for less than a day and he was already mingling with trouble. It seemed to be his talent in life.

"Are you following me? Why were you watching me? Did someone send you?"

Jesse couldn't hide his surprise as he looked down at her. In the bar when he had been sitting, he had to look slightly up at her. Now he had quite a few inches on her. The top of her head just reached his chin. The bartender had said she was trouble and she did look it. But wondering if he was sent by someone? Just what was she in to?

"Why don't you answer?" She looked around with a frown, then reinforced her grip. Her elbow dug in right below his left ribcage. "Damn, Louie. Always taking off when I need him." She looked up at him, meeting him square in the eye. "Don't think I don't have reinforcement. I can have any of those guys back here within minutes. Don't tempt me. Tell me who you are."

Slowly, he reached his hand to pocket and recieved a punch in the gut for his efforts. "What the hell are you doing?" she screamed, then dug in his pocket to see what weapon he was trying to get to use against her. She pulled out a notepad and pen, nothing else. "Are you a journalist or something? Another reporter?"

Calmly, Jesse took both paper and pen from her and quickly wrote down an explaination. He then turned it to show her.

My name is Jesse. I just moved in down the street. I'm not a reporter. Please get your damn heel out of my foot.

She glared at him, looking from the paper to his face. She stepped off of his foot. "Why were you staring at me?"

It looked like you wanted attention with the act you were pulling in there. So I gave you what you wanted. I watched.

"I don't seek attention. Why the hell do you write everything down?"

I have to go. Goodbye.

He took her wrist and slowly moved it away from his chest. Her fist let go of his shirt. He gave her a half smile, then walked away, tucking his notepad back in to his pocket. He walked along the street that ran parralle to the beach. He smiled at the moon that glimmered it's reflection upon the calm waves. He nodded a goodnight to his peace, then headed to his building.

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Jesse stared at the sky, the stormy night clouds rolling through, masking the glow of the stars. The moon had disappeared beneath the thickness of dark, but every once in a while, Jesse got a peek at it.

Theapartment was nonfurnished and broken down. One room, plus a small bathroom that contained a shower that was barely big enough to stand in. The kitchen contained a counter with a few cabinets that Jesse was afraid to open and an eletrical outlit for a microwave. A minifridge stood in the dirt shadow of where a regular sized refrigerator once stood. A lone hard, straightback wooden chair was in the corner. Jesse laid on a twin sized air mattress, looking out at the sky window. It was the reason why he had bought the place. Not many lived in the building and it was quiet. Plus there was that window to watch the sky. A small window to his left was opened a crack, the sound of the ocean reaching him. He had to buy somewhere close to the shore, for that sound. With the amount of money he had, he could have ripped any place on this street down and built a mansion. Instead, he lived in a place fit for a pack of rats. He always did find peace in the oddest of places and things.

His thoughts drifted from the sights he had seen on his drive, the feel of the sand at last under his feet again, to the bar he had been to. His stomach growled as it attempted to digest the onslaught he had done to it.

In his minds eye, against the backdrop of those dark clouds, he could see her eyes. Those silver eyes that glistened in curiousness and anger. He had been all over the world and never once saw eyes like that. Still, he had seen women like her before. Tough, trying to take on any challenge. He had also witnessed what happened to women like that. It was never a good ending. She seemed safe enough though, here in this small town where everyone apparently accepted who and what she was.

Jesse closed his eyes and thought about the waves. Envisioned them. Saw each drop of water melt in to the others, creating force, slamming against thousands of small grains of sand over and over. Smoothing the shoreline, erasing marrs done to it.

After all this time, he couldn't believe that he still had trouble sleeping. Everything he tried was fruitless. Even exhausting himself to the point of collapsing didn't work. His body was physically drained but his mind was wide awake. His mind never slept. Instead, it was always busy at work, never ceasing in it's rapid thoughts. His brain was like the waves, sending him in to endless awareness, never stopping, never sleeping, never heeding anything but itself.

The sleeplessness started after his parents' car crash. Medications never worked, just made him sick, which made trying to sleep even more of a hell. He had been enrolled in sports, but that quickly failed. It didn't help with the sleeping and the team mates complained of his silence. For seventeen years, he dealt with the same struggle as sun sets. Somewhere around sun rise, he eventually is awarded a quick dose before waking.

The nights are long and usually torturous. After long days, Jesse's too weak to fight off the images and memories that haunt him. He'd lay and watch as his mind betrays him, floating in grief until the first rays of light touches upon his room.

Jesse glanced at the clock. It was nearly three. Still hours away from dawn. The memory was coming back. He could see the headlights blaring, heading straight for him. He doesn't want to go through it again. Doesn't want to see his parents in agony, their faces distorted. He doesn't want to smell the blood or hear the gurgles of pain. He turned on his side and made the headlights turn in to silver eyes. They back away and he can see her face. She acts like a teenager, as the bartender said she tries to be, but he could tell she's in her midtwenties. He tried to imagine her past. Why she acts the way she does. He traced the pout of a frown with his eyes. Noticed the smooth line of her heart shaped face. Compared to his six foot three frame, he guessed her to be about eight inches past five feet. He remembered her hands. She had long, strong fingers and short nails. Slender wrists that gave way to smooth forearms and muscular upper arms. Sturdy shoulders. She had high cheekbones that made the shape of her eyes exotic. A well shaped nose and arched eyebrows that framed her entire face. He could almost count her freckles.

He was out of details. He needed more to think about, more to devour, so that the living nightmares didn't return. He wracked his brain for something more.

She had a strong voice. Her skin heated and turned a shade of faint pink when angry or exhilarated. She played out of her league. What is she doing in a fall apart bar like that?

She'd look lovely on the beach. Did she live nearby it as well? Hopefully in better living conditions than this.

He grasped for something else. Anything. Not just about her, but about anyone. Yet his brain had exhausted all possible outlits. There was nothing left. The clock stuck three thirty and the headlights came back, heading straight towards him. He heard his mother's terrified scream, the crunch of force meeting metal. There was no stopping it now.

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The skies were grey as the faintest of light began to appear. Jesse was ready to greet it. He pulled on his fraying jeans and a soft shirt, running his fingers through his still damp hair. Aided with the aggression that his nightmares always led him to, he had gotten up an hour or two ago. He exercised his pain through sit ups, crunches, push ups, pull ups, and a five mile run. Once he did this routine to stay in shape for the stage. Now he did it to release the demonic memories trapped in his head. After he was calm and his head was clear, he had tried out the shower. After a few minutes, the water stopped running brown. In the future, he'd have to find a better place to get clean.

Jesse grabbed his guitar case and headed down to the street. He didn't bother with shoes. He wanted to feel the sand as soon as possible. A single block he walked before he was back in his zone. He had ran up and down the shoreline in bare feet this morning, but he hadn't been able to notice the sensation, only the pain that had driven him.

The waves filled his ears, greeting him a welcome good morning. He sat with his feet at the edge of the damp sand, then got out his guitar. It was black with blue flames - the guitar he had fixed and cared for over the last twelve years. This was his first guitar, given to him at the age of sixteen. The gratefulness towards Dr. Lillywhite had never faded. Without his aide, Jesse never would have experienced all he had. The adoration of thousands of fans. Being at the top of the world with each sold out concert. Living the high life that a tortured young mute never could have imagined he'd grow up to be. His only regret was never finding the doctor. But maybe that was how it was supposed to be. After all, why burden the man who had given Jesse such amazing gifts, after the doctor had finally found meaning in his own life?

Jesse started strumming through the first few chords of his morning tune. He played the sweetest, softest chords as he watched the sun rise in the sky. Then he'd get stronger, the music reaching further.

A wave greeted his naked feet, encouraging him to continue. The ocean was his sole constant friend. A peace giver that no human could quite match, in his experience. Perhaps no one ever would. Jesse was determined to live the remainder of his life in as much solitude as possible. He liked people, of course. He was a rock star that lived off the reaction of people, how could he not? But he liked the quiet. He liked the peace. And no one had ever understood him well enough to wish to stick around. Jesse was okay with that. He accepted it long ago. He really didn't need anyone but himself and the occasional chat from anyone. He only needed enough from each day to busy his mind at night.

The waves grew stronger as the song did and as the sun rose. He watched as the waves delivered colorful shells, then snatched them away again. Sometimes he'd see some unhappy creatures wash up and demand reentrance.

Music, as exercise, the ocean and simple peace, made everything right again. He felt at home inside the songs. Wrapping notes around him was as comforting as wrapping a warm blanket around his body on a cold night. It made it better, soothed the discomfort, eased the problems. During all the tours he was on, he was always the one that felt right at home, because he always had his guitar. His other bandmates had homes, family and friends. Jesse had his guitar and his guitar was home.

He laid back in the sand, balancing the guitar on his stomach and chest as he continued to strum. He closed his eyes against the light and let his surroundings take him away. To take him home.

A shadow fell over his face, making him peek open an eye to look.

He stared straight in to silver eyes. "What are you doing now?"

She was in jogging shorts and a tank top, her hair piled in a bun at the top of her head. Her hands were on her hips and a frown on her mouth.

Jesse looked at his guitar, then back at her. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I see you're playing the guitar. But why are you lying on the beach at six in the morning? Are you not...mentally sane? I mean this and last night...it does cause for some worry."

With a sigh, Jesse put his guitar aside and took out his notepad. He disliked his morning rituals being interrupted, but he figured he owed it to the woman who had delayed his nightmares last night.

I didn't think you worried about strangers. Especially me.

She eyed him with annoyance. "If you want to be an ass...look, I have to be careful, alright? There's a lot of people who don't like me in this town. They'll find any reason to force me out or see me get in to more trouble. I've had undercover detectives follow me already just to catch me doing something that might look questionable. After my childhood, I tend to dislike it greatly."

I'm not a reporter or a detective, Jesse wrote.

"I guessed that by now. I was trying to say...whatever. Why don't you talk? What's wrong with you? You might not be a detective, but you are creepy."

Jesse smirked. My voice isn't what it used to be.

"Are you mute?"

Jesse stared at her, not sure how to answer what she thought was an innocent request.

That's a good question.

She crossed her arms. "Well you're not helping the creepiness with adding mystery."

Who said I wanted to? Why do you care?

She looked angry. "I was just trying to be nice, okay?"

You don't have to get defensive.

"I'm not getting defensive!" she exclaimed.

He quirked an eyebrow. She glared at him. Jesse sat up.

Sit?

She took a step back, unsure, then finally sat down.

I told you my name is Jesse. What's yours?

"Kylie. Where are you from?"

Most recently, L. A.

She laughed. "Well, that explains the strangeness, I guess."

You've been there?

"Me? No. Just heard all the stories. I've never been out of this state."

That doesn't make you feel cagey at all?

"Should it?"

How old are you?

"Twenty-six. You?"

Thirty. Where do you work?

"Depends on the week. I get fired a lot. I'm about to get fired again. I'm a waitress at the diner on third street. But most people refuse to sit at my section because they don't want to be served by me."

What did you do that makes you so bad? You seem innocent enough.

She smiled, her eyes lighting up with amusement. "You're the only one that thinks so. Yeah well, I deserve the rep, I guess. This town once had a bright and shining star." She looked up at him, meeting his eye. "And I killed him."

And you say I'm creepy? Jesse returned with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, you got me there."

Care to explain a little more?

"Eric Miller was a great guy. He got straight A's in school, was the quarterback of the football team. He had the looks too. We went to school together, from the first day of kindergarten to graduation. He lived three houses down from me. I was very fond of him and he loved me. He proved this to me by proposing on the day he was supposed to be sent overseas - he had joined the army." Kylie slid her fingers through the sand making scratch marks in it as she bit her lip. "I didn't want to be here, worrying about him, planning a wedding without him. Having to wonder if he'd come back. I didn't want that lifestyle. I didn't want to be an army wife. On top of it all, I didn't love him like that. Sure, he was my best friend. He was reliable. We dated for years, but...he left me without that feeling I needed. The feeling that makes you want to get married and be sure that this person is that one. So of course, I said no. In front of his family, his friends...what was I supposed to do?" She looked at him, as if looking for the answer that she still wasn't sure of. "I said no. He left. Eight months later we got the notice. Eric was dead."

Shit. I'm sorry.

She shrugged. "I was too. The town said that I was the reason. I made him so depressed and distraunt that he became careless. Or maybe he tried to get himself killed. They blamed his death on me, the damn yankee orphan that never fit in anyway. Understand, even before the proposal, through all the years we dated or were even friends, Eric's parents disapproved. No one liked that we were together. Eric was straight up all the way. Played by the rules. I...didn't."

It wasn't your fault.

"Tell that to all of them," she said, waving her hand towards the town.

So you're an orphan?

Kylie nodded. "It's not as traumatic as it sounds. I don't remember my parents at all, I was too little. The only thing I ever knew was foster care, so it wasn't so hard on me. That's not to say I liked it, but it wasn't like one moment I was in this great loving family and then boom, I'm being abused by some jerk that took me in. It wasn't like that."

So Foster Care wasn't that bad?

"No. But it definitely wasn't good either. Why?"

I'm an orphan too.

"Yeah? And how was foster care for you?"

I don't know. I never went. I did all I could to stay out. When I knew I couldn't escape them anymore by staying where I was, I ran away.

"Hard life?"

You could say.

"Does it have to do with your speaking problem?"

I don't know. Maybe. I don't think about it much.

Kylie looked up at the sky. "It's getting late. The diner will be open soon and I have to get to work. Want to come with me? I can serve you breakfast. That'll make more customers than I've had in four days."

Jesse wasn't hungry. He never ate this early. Still, he couldn't refuse her offer. Nodding, he put his guitar back in it's case and stood up, brushing off the sand as she did the same. He put the notepad in his back pocket and followed her.

"Oh. You have no shoes. Will you be okay to walk? It's a few streets up."

He nodded. The soles of his feet were no strangers to the hard, hot streets.

"They usually don't let people without shoes in to the dinner," she said, keeping up conversation as they went, "but no one will be in yet but Chef, so it won't be a problem."

Once they had reached Third Street Diner, Kylie pushed open the door and motioned for him to follow. She glanced at her watch. "It's still about ten minutes until opening, so you better stick with me so the manager doesn't see you if he comes in."

She led him to the break room with rows of small lockers. Finding hers, she unlocked it and pulled out her waitressing clothes. A short blue dress with thin black pants and a white apron. "I hate dresses. So I ordered a really short dress and got pants so it looks more like a shirt and pants," she said, then stared at him. Jesse was at a loss for what she expected him to do. "Well? Turn around. I just met you last night. There's no way you're seeing me stripped down next to nothing so soon."

Jesse looked at her in amusement, then turned towards the wall. When she was finished, she tapped his shoulder. "Come on."

She slipped in to black sneakers, then led him back in to the diner's corner booth. "How would scrambled eggs and toast sound? Tomato juice? It's the first thing the chef starts up."

Jesse nodded, then watched her leave. He found it odd, how she could be so rough last night and almost normal today. She had an undeniable edge to her that he found contagious. She was interesting to be around. He didn't mind his peace being disrupted, something that he never allowed anyone else to penetrate. But Kylie gave him things to think about, to take his mind off of his private hell. She made his day exciting, something that was currently rare in his life.

Kylie returned with the promised food. She looked around, spotted no customers, then sat down in the booth seat opposite to him. She stole a piece of bacon she had included on his plate and munched on it. "Mmm. The skillet's not too hot yet, but the food is decent," she said.

Jesse offered her a piece of toast, seeing that she looked hungry. His stomach was still tied in knots over the night before, which it tended to stay in until late day.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked when she had finished off a second piece of toast.

I'm not very hungry. I'd rather see you eat, he wrote.

"Why did you agree to come if you weren't hungry?"

You invited me. I had little excuse to deny you.

Kylie shrugged and snagged the last piece of bacon. "Oh well, it's on the house anyway. What will you be doing after this?"

Jesse looked down at his guitar case. Find somewhere to play in peace, probably.

"You looked disturbed when I first saw you on the beach. Did I disrupt you from something important?"

An old daily routine. Nothing that can't be broken once in a while for a good cause.

"What do you do during your days? Just play guitar?"

I write songs, too. I read. I read a lot. I go sight seeing. I travel, weekly road trips.

"You must be anxious to explore around here then?"

I've never been on the East Coast before. I expect it'll be quite the adventure, yes.

"Are you planning on sticking around for long?"

Hopefully. I've had enough of big cities.

"Small ones aren't the great either," she said wistfully.

Why do you live here then?

"Because here in this little town, I'm a big fish in a very small pond. This is my world and it happens to revolve around me. Everyone watches me, pays attention to me. Why venture out to find that it's not all about me, when here I'm Battlefield's own celebrity?"

Jesse's head snapped up to look at her in alarm.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head. Nothing. I thought I heard something, that's all, he lied.

She looked at him intensely, wondering what he was trying to hide. Before she could indulge herself though, the bell on top of the door rang out and five customers walked in.

"And so it begins," she grumbled, getting up and palming her notepad. She forced a smile as she greeted them. "Hello, my name is Kylie, I'll be serving you today. Can I can get you drinks while you decide?" she cited in a sweet voice.

"This isn't your section. Where's the other waitresses?" one man asked.

"It's opening time on Sunday. No one else is in yet. Drinks?"

"No one else is in?" The man shook his head and stood up. "Come on, we'll go eat at Denny's. I'm not staying here so she can poison the food."

Without complaint, the other four stood up and walked out, leaving Kylie to look helpless. She glanced over at the chef. "Please don't tell Jeff."

"I won't. But you better start finding a way to get those customers to like you or we'll all go bankrupt," he said.

Jesse watched in surprise. He had seen Kylie in the bar last night and she had warned him that the town hated her, but it was one thing to hear and another thing to see it play out.

Why'd they act like that? He asked her, holding up the notepad so she could see from her distance.

"I told you already. This town hates me. The downsides to being a small town celebrity is that everyone knows who you are."

Being a celebrity isn't all that great.

"It beats being a nobody."

I wouldn't be so sure about that.

She sat back down in the booth, looking defeated. "I don't know what to do anymore. All I know is that leaving would mean admitting defeat. I can't let them drive me out of my own hometown. My dad works here. I'd have to come and visit him...would I hang my head in shame each time? I couldn't bear it. I won't do it. I won't."

Jesse felt for her. I'm sorry.

"Yeah well, we all have our problems. I'm going to go call in another waitress to help out. I guess you want to get going too. Can I take your plate?"

He handed her the plate and stood up. Thank you, I had a good time.

She nodded. "No problem. I'll see you around, I'm sure."

It'll be hard to miss the celebrity.

He hid his laugh and put a five dollar bill on the table for tip, then took his guitar and saw himself out. Maybe that's why he and Kylie had connected. She considered herself a small town celebrity with a bad attitude. And he...well, he was a washed up hasbeen who had once known the feeling of real fame. As someone who knew what it was like to have people follow him around every minute of each day, he didn't envy Kylie's status in the slightest.

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