Author's notes: Well...read with caution, I suppose. There's some topical matter, namely who's paired with whom, that might be offensive. Feedback is always appreciated (kaylee@kikiroxxorz.com), and there is a second part if interest is generated. These guys don't belong to me, etc, etc.

Any problems can be directed to my dear and fluffy muse, Ryan Adams. He sings, I write.

"Now I hold you close in the back of my mind, feels so good, but damn, it makes me hurt I’m too scared to know how I feel about you now La cienega just smiles and says “I’ll see you ‘round.” Now I hold you close in the back of my mind Raise my glass cause either way I’m dead Neither of you really help me to sleep anymore One breaks my body and the other breaks my soul La cienega just smiles and waves goodbye."

~Ryan Adams, La Cienega Just Smiled

He still dreams of her .Of warm weight pressed against the length of his body, of cascades of honey hair, soft entangled in his hands, of golden eyes alight with laughter. He holds her in his head always. His hands shake with it, his eyes cloud with it. With all of the moments that should have been his, with all of the words he should have said. He doesn’t look at anyone without seeing her, and it makes me feel guilty. *** “I’m going in to town,” Simon snapped. Kaylee lifted her head. “Where’s he going?” River watched him slam the door. “In to town.” “How come?” “To meet a friend.” “What kinda friend?” River almost smiled. “The kind he hasn’t met yet,” she replied. *** I once asked Kaylee if she’d really pay someone to lie with her, and now here I am. In a whorehouse. Not with a companion. With a whore, with hair the color of pineapple and too much makeup. She’s the farthest thing from Kaylee I could find. “What’s her name?” I consider this. “W-who says there’s a ‘her’?” “Oh, honey. There’s always a her.” I consider lying, and then settle for the truth. I am not a good liar. “Kaylee.” “Kaylee, huh? I’ll bet she’s pretty.” “Prettier than you can imagine.” I drop my money into her lap and leave. *** He storms back in just the same as he stormed out. Throws his jacket down on a chair and stalks off to the infirmary. “Simon?” I call, and he pokes his head out, glarin’. “What?” “You all right?” He furrows his brow. “Shiny, Kaylee, just shiny. Why?” “’Cause I care ‘bout you, is all.” Suddenly he’s in front of me, with tears stuck in his pretty blue eyes. “If you care so much,” he says, his voice all even and creepifyingly calm. “Then why are you shacking up with my sister?”