I Had to Detox Her

"What was in that cola? I'm so hot!"

In their room at the Marriott Hotel, Taylor's face was flushed. She kicked off the blanket that had been wrapped around her and writhed on the bed like a maggot, muttering to herself.

Ryan stood by the bed with his phone to his ear, talking to someone. Abigail was in the bathroom, pouring out Taylor's vomit.

Ryan had wanted to take her to the hospital, but Abigail was worried that word getting out would damage Taylor's public image, and insisted on bringing her back instead.

It had been nearly half an hour since they returned to the hotel. Taylor had gone from elated to sad, then furious, and then cold. Now she felt hot all over.

By the time Abigail came back, Ryan had hung up.

"What did they say?"

"Does Taylor have any family history of illness, including cardiovascular or cerebrovascular diseases?" Ryan asked.

"Does severe nearsightedness count? She's always wearing contact lenses."

"Then is she pregnant?" Ryan asked again.

"What kind of joke is that?" Abigail laughed.

Seeing how serious Ryan looked, Abigail quickly stopped laughing and glanced at Taylor, who was lying on her back and tugging at her collar. "Not that I know of."

Ryan looked slightly relieved. "She's not in any immediate danger. As for any aftereffects, we'll have to keep an eye on her."

He had just called DanceSafe's public hotline and described Taylor's symptoms. After asking for some basic information, including her age, they concluded she had taken a combination of various "club drugs." As long as she didn't develop further symptoms such as seizures, shock, or convulsions, she should be fine.

Hearing that, Abigail breathed a sigh of relief and went over to check on Taylor.

"I'm so hot!" Taylor continued to roll around on the bed.

Just then, a phone rang inside Taylor's handbag. Abigail took it out.

"It's Andrea, Taylor's mother. Keep an eye on her while I go answer it," Abigail said.

"Hello, hi, Andrea. Taylor and I are both in Miami. She's taking a shower, and we're about to go to bed. I'll look after her..." Abigail's voice faded as she walked away.

Ryan went to the bedside. Taylor's mouth was open as she gasped for breath. Her golden curls fell across part of her face, and under the bedside lamp, half her face was lost in shadow. He could just make out her pink lips, slightly parted teeth, lowered brows, and unfocused eyes.

She seemed half asleep and half awake. She reached out for the hem of Ryan's shirt, as if she wanted him to come closer.

Medical studies had shown that taking Molly, that harmful stuff, made people more likely to develop feelings of empathy. The English word "empathy" came from the ancient Greek empatheia, meaning "physical emotion or passion." Apparently, this drug's stimulating effect made intimate behavior between men and women more likely.

"Come here." Taylor lifted her head and wrapped her arms around Ryan's waist, resting her head against his stomach. She giggled like she'd found some kind of treasure.

She's the one making the first move. This can't count as taking advantage of her, right? Ryan told himself.

The next second, Abigail came back into the room with her phone. She froze when she saw how close the two of them were, then immediately walked over and forcibly pulled Taylor away from Ryan.

"You're really going to stand by and watch your friend suffer?" Ryan asked, sounding like a compassionate doctor.

"What else? Let you detox her?" Abigail retorted.

Ryan would've been more than happy to do that. Helping people was a virtue! For the sake of her fans, I have to save her.

"I don't need you. I can use my hand if I have to!" Abigail shoved Ryan aside and pushed him all the way out of the room. Then she took the key card and slipped it into her pocket before closing Taylor's door.

In the hotel's long, quiet hallway, only Ryan and Abigail remained.

"You like her." Abigail wasn't asking. She was stating a fact.

Ryan shook his head. "I'll leave her to someone else."

"What does she have that I don't?"

"Besides knowing how to write a couple of lousy songs?"

"Did you actually... with her?"

"I'd only met her once before I met you," Ryan said.

"And she won't come between us." Abigail nodded.

She'd come to Spring Break with a plan, but too much had happened along the way, including her friend unexpectedly showing up in Florida. Now, at last, all the obstacles were gone.

"Who says she will?" Ryan asked.

The next morning, Ryan opened his eyes to see Abigail's reddish-brown curls spread out, the blanket having slipped down to reveal her whole back. He could also see the two dimples above her lower back. Only young women of a healthy weight and proportionate build were likely to have them, which was why they were also called "dimples of Venus."

Naked, Ryan went over to the computer in the room and logged in to his Myspace account. As he'd expected, after Ultra Music Festival ended, he started getting attention from a fair number of EDM fans. His follower count had risen in a meaningful way, jumping by two thousand in a single day and passing the five-thousand mark.

Still, there was no comparison to a shining new star like Taylor, who had received a Grammy nomination for Best New Artist just last month. Her Myspace following alone had passed a million and was now nearing two million.

He clicked on her page and was immediately impressed by its exquisite design. The buttons, title, and background all used a custom theme that set Taylor apart from the official templates and suited her country style perfectly. Clearly, it had been designed just for her. There was a navigation menu on one side, a streaming player for her publicly released music on the other, and blog-like posts in the middle. They included news stories about her in the mainstream media, updates on her new album, and details about her personal life. Each post had been carefully edited and redesigned, and they all looked gorgeous.

Her fans were highly active in the comments beneath every post. By comparison, Carrie Underwood, another country star who was clearly a bigger name than Taylor at the time, had a similar number of Myspace followers, but only a tenth—or even a twentieth—of Taylor's comments and likes.

Ryan returned to his own page and felt as if he'd gone from a lavishly decorated mansion back to an unfinished shell. His fans' replies were all brief phrases like "Sounds great" and "Release a new song soon."

One reply did catch Ryan's eye.

"Remember me? The one hanging from a palm tree at Hobbe Beach!"

The profile picture showed a beautiful blonde. Ryan had been preoccupied with the next day's performance back then, and it had been getting dark, so he hadn't paid her much attention.

He clicked on her page and discovered that she was a student at the Victoria Academy of Arts at the University of Melbourne. She'd probably come to Miami with her classmates for Spring Break.

Ryan remembered that she was very tall, even taller than Taylor, with long, flowing blond hair. When she smiled, she had a reserved air and the elegant bearing of a European aristocrat. She had probably seen Ryan perform at Ultra Music Festival and followed him to his social media page.

Everything about her was great, except that she was in Australia, thousands of miles away, and fourteen hours ahead. Ryan thought about it, then followed her back.

Ryan then logged in to the websites of several paid music download platforms. When he opened the Beatport dashboard, nearly a thousand paid downloads the previous day caught his eye. It was a new high since Taylor had recommended him on social media, clearly thanks to the exposure he'd gotten at Ultra Music Festival.

There was also a message in his inbox.

"Congratulations! Your uploaded track 'Tremor (Original Mix)' has been selected by our editors for our 'What's Hot' recommendation. It will remain featured for..."

The end date was a week away.

Ryan immediately switched to the homepage and searched carefully. He finally found the "What's Hot" recommendation section at the very bottom of the site. After refreshing the page again and again, he saw his track listed once every five refreshes. The section had twenty slots—in other words, there were a hundred tracks in total.

Ryan could only console himself with the thought that even a tiny gain was still a gain.

Just then, he heard Abigail stirring.

Ryan glanced at the time, then threw himself back into bed. A beautiful day began with exercise...