Chapter Seven

Saturday 12pm, Los Angeles, CA

Dee woke and stretched out on her double bed. Her fingers touched something warm and her eyes flew open, a scream dying in her throat as she came face to face with Spike.

"Jesus Simon! What the fuck? Don't ever do that again! I nearly died of a fucking heart attack you shit!"

"Good afternoon to you too darling." he smiled, blue eyes twinkling in the bright noon light that seeped through the curtains, "So, what do you think?" he propped himself up on his elbow and ran a hand through his bleach blond crop.

"I think someone ought to Buffy your arse, you second rate vampire wannabe. Why the fuck did you do that to your hair? And why the fuck did you wake me up? I only got to bed at 6am, pulled a 12 hour shift you fuckwit."

Simon's smile faded as he looked at his best friend.

"You don't like it?" he asked, his voice small, ignoring the fact that he'd woken her up after so little sleep.

"Oh give over you platinum poof, it looks great. James Marsters eat your heart out. I love it Simon. I just loved your dark hair as well." She chose her words well as she knew just how desperately insecure he really was underneath all the glam gay bravado.

"Let me get up and make a cup of tea and you can tell me all about the gorgeous hairdresser who butchered...did this to your hair. Where did you go by the way? 'Vamps R Us'?" she smirked as she climbed out of the bed.

At sometime during the day she'd managed to unclothe herself and she was wearing a tank top and shorts set combo Simon had bought for her the previous Christmas, they were red with little skull motifs all over them. As much as she denied it by refusing to dye her long, wavy, honey brown hair to black, Dee herself was partly gothic but mainly rock n roll as she kept reminding Simon by switching off his 'My Chemical Romance' dirge and replacing it with 'Aerosmith', 'AC/DC' and 'Bon Jovi' everytime he played something she didn't like.


Dee padded out into the small but servicable kitchen area and yawning, switched on the kettle. She had five days to get her sleeping patterns back into night time sleeping as she was due back on the day shift at the end of her time off.

Simon pranced in behind her wearing a lime green shirt and tight black jeans.

Dee just stared at her flat mate in utter disbelief.

"What on earth are you wearing?"

"Do ya like? Juan gave it to me." he said indicating the really hideously bright shirt that made her want to reach for her sunglasses.

"No i do not and who's Juan?" she said pouring hot water into two mugs. She had brought her own supply of tea over when she'd moved to LA as although America has the best coffee in the world it also has the weakest tea. She'd been to New York before on vacation and had made the mistake of having a cup in tea in a McDonalds. It was shit. So her bag had been crammed with boxes and boxes of PG Tips just for her. Until Simon had taken a liking to it and she'd had to email her best friend back home to post her some more.

She handed a mug to Simon who sipped it appreciatively.

"So? Who's Juan?" she repeated.

"The gorgeous hairdresser..." he replied, smiling.

"Simon, you are incorrigible. Only you could go for a hair colour and pick up the hairdresser. I do like it though but it is very disturbing how much like Spike you look. You know i have a crush on Spike and now i'm living with a gay version, i mean, how mean is that? I get to look but not touch is that it?" she smiled, over the rim of her NY Giants mug.

He smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh my good god! You've even had your eyebrow shaved like his. You are fucking kidding me!" she laughed, "How the hell am i going to keep my hands off you?"

"Uh uh girlie girlie, i keep telling you I am strictly backdoor. Unless you're gonna let me in there.."

She flipped him the finger as she walked out of the kitchen and into the cosy orange lounge.

"So what happened at work today? Anyone famous die?" she asked casually as she flicked channels on the tv, settling into the large brown sofa and switching on the side lamp; all without spilling a drop of tea.

"Oh before you reply. Have you seen Stella today?"

"my little baby Stellacat? Yeah she's out in the courtyard somewhere, sunbathing her furry ass and showing it off to the big boy cats out there." Simon remarked as he crossed over to the opposite green sofa.

"You know i really do think you're colour blind. Orange walls and green and brown sofa's"

"So you've said many times before. Do i care? No. They were here when i moved in as you well know and no we are not painting the walls of this place some namby pamby beige with chocolate accents. It's bad enough that your room looks like a freaking Hershey's bar without the rest of the place following."

"Oh and your red and black dungeon is so much better I suppose? Why don't you go the whole hog and get a coffin?" she retorted good naturedly.

"I just might!" he stuck his tongue out at her and she giggled.

"Oh just think i've got five days off work and you haven't" she started to joke.

Simon sat up straight on his sofa.

"Ooh work!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"You will never guess who i saw in the morgue today? I had to go there to collect some samples for testing on another case and there she was, all laid out in front of me."

"Who?" Dee asked, intrigued, despite the morbidity of the statement.

"Denise Richards" he said triumphantly.

"Who?" she queried, "Low flying aircraft; straight over my head."

"You know, that actress, the one who was in that James Bond film with Pierce Brosnan, named Christmas."

"Do what? A james bond film called Christmas?" she asked, puzzled.

"No, you fuckwit, the character was called Christmas. Oh god what was the film? 'Tomorrow never dies'?, no, I know 'The world is not enough.'"

"I've seen it but i don't recall her."

"Oh for god's sake woman have you spent your life under a rock? I know the UK is slightly backwards but.."

"Fuck you" she smiled.

"Oh god, she was married to that actor , ya know brother of Young Guns."

"Emilio Estevez?"

"Yeah, his brother. Charlie Sheen that's it. Then she dated that rock star you've drooled over. You know, Richie Sambora"

"Oh shit!" she exclaimed, her mug hitting the worn brown carpet, as Simon's words penetrated her brain.

Richie...Jon

Oh my fuck, she'd spent almost an hour calming down and instructing Richie Sambora on how to save the life of Denise Richards.