As Desdemona took the stage at the Hollywood bowl, Caroline felt a rush of heat hit her bloodstream when she saw the curvy brunette with soulful eyes.

"You know it gets cold on the streets I sleep on," Desdemona's low voice spoke into the microphone. "A lost soul without a home.

Hoping someone would find me.

Feed me.

Take care of me.

Maybe even love me.

I wander alone in the dark every night.

Living on the scraps of human affection

The stray cat I've always been."

Caroline thinks Desdemona Potts is the greatest poet since Shakespeare.

Desdemona pulled on her guitar strings and slowly began to play. Her curly hair with messy red and blue highlights hung on the sides of her face. Her big brown eyes filled with mysterious rage.

"I'm not asking you to save me.

You don't have to understand me."

She sang confidently, her ripped jeans were tight and her T-shirt was loose. Her beat picks up. Caroline saw lightning bolts and stars.

"I'm a stray cat. And I can't change that.

Unwanted. Unlucky. Unloved.

Stray Cat."

Desdemona looked into the crowd. Caroline swore that Desdemona was looking right at her. And when they made eye contact it was like magical air molecules were flying all around her. For those two minutes, they were the only ones in the arena.

Her voice grew a bit quieter, curling her lips. Lighting Caroline's fire even more.

"I'm a stray cat. And I can't change that."

The music stopped and Caroline snapped back to reality. Some redhead had climbed onto a man's shoulder. Screaming her head off, the redhead lifted her white T-shirt up and exposed her breast.

What a desperate move. Slut.

Desdemona cracked a smile, "Thank you."

***

Blood rushed through Desdemona's body, still feeling the adrenaline from the show.

Sex is the perfect after-show ritual.

"I always try to leave an impression," The redhead batted her eyes, leaning on the closed door of the dressing room.

"More like two impressions," Desdemona chuckled, licking her lips as she approached her. "And is that a southern accent I hear?"

"I just moved to LA from Alabama," She said, puckering her lips, as their noses touched. "I hear your accent too. You're from Texas, right?"

"Yea," Desdemona whispered, before kissing her red lips.

Their tongues quickly became intertwined. Heat coursing through their bodies. Desdemona put her hands on the small of her back.

"I'm Darla," The redhead says as she slightly pulls away. "I've always wanted to fuck a big rock star."

"I'm not that big. I only have one album," Desdemona slid her hand under Darla's shirt.

"But it's a hit album," Darla moved her hand over Desdemona's stomach.

"It's a start," Desdemona said, taking off Darla's shirt.

No bra.

"So I'm going to warn you now. I don't do relationships," Desdemona said, grabbing her.

Darla knocked Desdemona down on the couch and stroked the outside of her jeans.

"Oh after you have me," Darla said as Desdemona arches her back as Darla almost rips her pants off, "You'll definitely come back for more."

Yep. Sex is the perfect after-show ritual.

***

Desdemona and her manager, Jeff, sat in big chairs at Appleseed records across from Johnson and Smith. Johnson, a guy, who probably misses his blackberry and rolls up his sleeves, to make himself look "cool". Smith, a woman, whose pants suit probably cost more than a car payment and who overuses the word trendy. Smith put her hands together.

"So we invited you two here today, to discuss the new album...we love what you've done so far..but we think..." She started then stopped, trying to find the nicest way to continue.

"We need a song that's not depressing." Johnson spat out.

Desdemona chuckled.

Desdemona looked at Jeff. Jeff motioned his hand downward, telling her to keep calm.

"We are open to changes," Jeff says.

"Well we love your...spark," Smith said. "But the songs you have written are...real downers."

"Downers?" Desdemona chuckled.

Jeff shot her a look and repeated the hand motions.

"But sure," Desdemona nodded. "How can I make it an upper?"

Smith rolled her eyes.

"We just feel." Smith speaks again, "We want to break into a commercial audience. Widen the net."

Desdemona looks at Jeff.

"Go take a breather," Jeff whispers to her.

***

Desdemona walks through the parking garage to find a quiet space. She looks out to the neighboring buildings and pulls her emergency joint out. Even the ugliest parts of Los Angeles, are still prettier than her trailer park back in Texas.

She inhales and holds the smoke in her mouth to get her lungs happy as quickly as possible.

She looks around the parking garage, thinking about how she wants to punch Johnson in the face, when a curly-haired guy walks her way, kicking the shit out of a random tin can, mumbling to himself.

He looked up and they awkwardly made eye contact. He looked oddly familiar.

"You..." Desdemona pulls the joint out of her mouth, "Want a hit?"

He looks around. They were the only ones there. He slowly walks to her. She hands him the joint. Though it seems apparent he doesn't know what to do.

"Will it hurt?"

"You'll cough. But just take it slow." Desdemona puts the joint in her mouth, "Just put it to your lips and breathe slowly in through your mouth." She says through her lips.

He takes the joint and hits it. He starts coughing up a storm.

Desdemona pats him on the back and takes the joint.

"I'm..." She started.

"Desdemona Potts." The boy said, "I know who you are, my sister is a big fan." He held out his hand, "I'm Jesse. Jesse Abrams."

Desdemona calmly shook his hand. She figured out who he was. The son of Aaron Abrams, one of the greatest rockstars to ever roam the planet.

"What brings you to Appleseed today?" Jesse asks her.

Desdemona pulls the joint out of her mouth and slowly blows the excess smoke out, "Bunch of tight ass suits wanting to talk down to me, they say my music is a real drowner."

She passes the joint to him.

"Well, you do always sound...sad," Jesse says, taking a hit.

She stares at him. Not sure if that was a compliment or an insult.

He passes the joint to her. She takes it.

"What about you?"

He shifted, crossing his arms, "The tight ass suits, want me to promote my dad's newest greatest hits album." He chuckles, "I can't stand the music industry."

"Yet I fucking love it." She groans.

***

"The sirens were loud," Caroline says as she writes in her notebook on her bed. "Then everything went quiet."

She stops and looks at the paper. She huffs.

"Then everything went quiet. Everybody talked. But nobody said anything. And I was screaming...." She stops again.

"I was screaming" she whispers to herself, "What am I screaming?"

She aggressively draws over her words. Rips the sheet of paper and throws it on the plush carpet.

She hears the banging on her door.

"Yo Care, dinner is ready," Her brother yells through the door.

She hides her notebook under her pillow and opens the door to see Jesse.

"Mom is being a total bitch."

"You always say that," He tells her as they walk down the stairs.

"You're so lucky you got to move out."

"Because I'm going to college. Because I actually finished high school."

Caroline rolls her eyes.

"Guess who I met?"

"Who?"

"I met Desdemona Potts."

"Shut the fuck up!" Caroline screams, stopping him in his tracks.

"Language," Celia Abrams yells from the other room.

Caroline rolls her eyes and turns her focus back on Jesse.

"What is she like?" Caroline whispered.

"She's really nice and cool." Jesse said, "She actually invited me to chill with her at this club tonight...but...I don't know."

Caroline hits on the chest, "You have to go and you have to bring me."

"I don't know."

"Please. Pretty please." Caroline pouts her lips and gives him puppy dog eyes.

"Mom is not going to let me go to a club."

"So? I'm 18. I don't need her permission."

Jesse cocked an eyebrow.

"Maybe...if we lie." Caroline said. "Tell her we're going to some boring place."

"No." He says, putting his hands up.

***

The siblings walked to their mother sitting at the oversize and over-set dining table. They sit on opposite sides of her.

"How was your meeting today darling?" Celia asked her son before taking a small bite of salad.

"Fine," He says before taking a bite.

Caroline kicked him under the table. Jesse stares at her. He should know more than anyone how stubborn his little sister is.

"Hey Mom," He rested his fork, "I was thinking after dinner, I could take Caroline out for dessert...you know some brother and sister time."

Celia raised her eyebrows. Her children hadn't spent that much time together since his son moved out. Even while they were living together, they hadn't been that close. She shifts between them.

"Maybe you might actually be a good influence on her." Celia says, "Just have her home before midnight."

Caroline huffs. She can't believe her mom is still giving her a curfew.

***

Caroline walks in with Jesse, through the backdoor of Smokey Mirrors nightclub.

Caroline gasps as Desdemona walks, wearing ripped jeans and a leather jacket, with....with that slut redhead from the concert beside her.

"Hey, Desdemona."

"Hey, Jesse."

Their eyes meet. Caroline feels her heart beating, staring into those big dark brown eyes, staring at her up and down with amazement.

"Des, this is my sister Caroline."

"Hi," Caroline waves. Hoping she doesn't look like a total idiot.

The redhead clears her throat. Giving Caroline a dirty look.

"Why don't we go dance, Desi?" The slut demands, grabbing Desdemona's arm.

"I don't want to dance. I want to sit." Desdemona says.

The redhead rolls her eyes and looks at Jesse, "You want to dance with me?"

"I would love to," Jesse stared at her chest. He turns to Caroline, "You can come dance with us."

"I'm going to go sit down too," Caroline said, her eyes shifting between Jesse and Desdemona.

"Okay but come find me if you need me."

"I'll be okay."

Jesse looks at Darla and smiles. She walks toward the dance floor. Jesse follows. Desdemona turns away and walks off. Caroline follows her, pushing herself through the crowd. Desdemona walks out onto the patio. Caroline stands next to her.

"Hi."

Desdemona takes a blunt out of her jacket and lights it.

"You want a hit?" She asks, holding it out to Caroline.

Caroline takes it, "Yes."

Caroline hits the blunt, "I'm a big fan."

"Thanks."

"I listen to your music all the time. Your lyrics are so dark...but like...scary soul-sucking beautiful."

Desdemona nods, "Thanks."

Caroline giggles.

"You good?" Desdemona scoots away, "How old are you?"

"18."

"Wow, don't tell no one I'm letting them smoke."

Caroline glared in silence. Desdemona takes the blunt.

"I know, you must get like this all the time but...where does it come from?"

"Where does what come from?" Desdemona asks, taking a hit.

"Where does the music come from?"

"Truth?"

"Truth."

"It comes from talking to the devil and bathing in virgin blood."

Caroline's eyes widened. Desdemona tilts her head and laughs.

"You're kidding, aren't you?"

Desdemona slightly nods.

"I'm a poet first. Poetry is the center of writing."

"Who are your favorite poets?"

Desdemona huffs, "If you can name at least one poet, I'll tell you."

Caroline sits up, "Percy Bysshe Shelley."

Desdemona lifts her eyebrows. Caroline nods.

"I like English Romanticism," Caroline says. "You?"

"I have a couple." Desdemona leans back, "Oscar Wilde. Nathaniel Hawthorne. Poe."

Caroline nods, "So Mid-Dark. Dark. And super dark."

Desdemona chuckles.

"I like darkness I guess. It's real. It's primeval. It opens you up and makes you bleed on the page."

Caroline gasps, "See right there. You are so good with words. I could never put words together like that."

"You write?"

She took a breath, "Well. I will try. I like writing. I swear if my hands were chopped off and I couldn't ever write again...I would go completely insane, ya know."

Caroline nervously looks back up. Desdemona is staring at her, smiling as she nods.

"I know exactly."

"But I'm not as good as my dad," Caroline says, taking the blunt.

Caroline felt like an idiot. Saying that to a total stranger.

Desdemona stares at her, puzzled. Not sure how to respond.

"That shouldn't stop you." Desdemona finally says, "I bet your stuff is better than you think."

Their eyes meet. Desdemona shifts closer and her arm reaches out towards her. But it's just Desdemona grabbing the blunt from Caroline's hand.

"....Hey." Desdemona calls out, "If you want help writing, I'll help you."

Caroline tries to keep herself from melting as she pulls out her phone.

"Yea. I would love that."

They exchange phones.

"I'm not doing much Monday. You wanna come over and show what you got?"

"Really? Yea, I would really like that."

Desdemona hands Caroline her phone back, "Cool."

***

Desdemona took Darla home to her place and as expected had crazy good sex. But after three rounds, the two of them sat back in bed in silence. As always Darla looked hot as ever post-orgasm, however, Desdemona didn't feel completely satisfied.

"Who is your favorite poet?" Desdemona asks.

Darla scrunches up her face, almost laughing at the question.

"I guess." Darla sits up, "...Shakespeare."

Desdemona shifts a little farther away, definitely seeing Darla's uncertainty.

"Shakespeare?"

"Yea..." Darla puts her knees up, "I read Romeo and Juliet in high school...parts of it."

Both felt the awkward chill between them. So Darla lays down on Desdemona's chest.

"Shakespeare wasn't on my SATs."

Desdemona put her arm around Darla. Liking the warmth of her skin.

"I never took those," Desdemona whispered.

Darla kissed her neck. While Desdemona enjoyed Darla, her mind began to think about Caroline.