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I can’t even take it half the time and I live with her. Go ahead and catch your breath there, Beck.”
    Beckham watched Ian look at his wife, who had turned red and looked like she was about to kill him. He swallowed hard again, waiting for the fireworks.
    But she just turned and smiled at him. “Hi, I’m Sparrow. Please don’t listen to his nonsense. He has this disease that makes him speak without thinking.”
    Beckham shook her hand and smiled. “Can’t fault the man for telling the truth.”
    Ian’s laugh bounced off the kitchen walls. He grabbed Beckham’s shoulder and squeezed. “I like you, man.”
    They pulled out the guitars after they’d talked a while and then the friendship was officially established. All track of time was lost.
     
    Beckham and Ian got together a few times a week, planning the show. Beckham wanted it to feel like a mutual collaboration—not just his thing, but the two of them working together throughout the evening. They would sing a few songs together, Ian would be featured on the guitar through several of Beckham’s songs, and Beckham had gotten Anthony to do choreography for some of Ian’s songs.
    Ian agreed to do the talk show circuit with Beckham, surprising audiences midway through Beckham’s interviews. It was a huge hit. The two of them had such an easy rapport with each other that talk began circulating about them doing a movie together.
    Ian would miss the first week or two of rehearsals while they finished packing and moving, but besides the songs with Beckham, he and his band were ready. They had already been practicing for the past few months.
     
    Rehearsals would begin the next morning and Beckham was ready. In addition to doing vocal exercises every day to keep his voice in shape, he had a trainer who kicked his ass every day. They switched it up, running through Griffith Park, Sepulveda Basin, Malibu Creek State Park, and every now and then, Runyon Canyon Park. If they went to the same place two days in a row, fans magically appeared, no matter how remote the trail.
    For someone trying to clean up his act, the girls were probably the hardest vice. For years he’d had bad habits and girls were at the top of the list. It was just so convenient. And numbing—something he’d needed to be since … the very first time he’d had sex. There were always girls, women of all ages, ready and willing to do whatever he wanted. And he’d obliged far too many. Being at Hazelden had helped him see that his problem in that area was possibly even bigger than the drugs, since he had relapsed a few times in the past year plus. He spoke to his AA sponsor, Troi, a few times a week. He’d also told Nate and Anthony he needed to be accountable to them. Thanks to them, it had been a long time since he’d relapsed. After witnessing a rockbottom fallout during a girl-crazed weekend, far too much press, and seeing how it was messing with Beckham’s mind to be such a sleaze-bag, they knew he had to get a grip. They took the job seriously and checked in with him, especially if they saw him spending too much time with a groupie.
    Just a little longer and maybe he could find a nice, normal girl. As much as he missed sex, and fuck him, he missed it, all the weirdos out there had significantly helped to cure him. If there were even any normal girls still out there … Beckham wasn’t sure anymore. He’d gotten to know Sparrow better over the last few weeks, and she made him hope that there could be a nice, beautiful woman out there for him too. She was exceptionally rare, though, anyone could see that. He really didn’t have time for a real relationship anyway, so he might as well keep clean. Otherwise, a nice girl would want nothing to do with him .
    He found his thoughts straying to Roxie Taylor once more—something that happened frequently during the month since he’d seen her—and knowing that she was a possible problem for him, he gave Nate a call. Nate picked up on the first