"Right you have the lists and phone numbers. Here take this too" Paul was carrying my bag to the car, as we loaded up he was going over all the bits we had to make sure were right before we could finalise a venue.

Macca pushed a wad of cash in my hand as I straightened and shoved my sunglasses up my nose.

"Paul there is like a grand here" I glanced up at him then began grinning madly like I was preparing evilly for one hell of a party. He went to grab it back. I snatched my hand away quicker "Finders keepers, you should have given it to Rusty. Silly, silly love song man!"

Paul shook his head and let the grand stay in my hand then motioned towards the buildings behind us "Is John still down with Agent Rogers?" I nodded and followed his gaze towards the studio.

Paul suddenly took hold of my other arm (the one with no money in it!) a look of mild worry crossed his features "Do you think Rogers will be ok with you? He was pretty terse towards you the other day"

"Oh I'll fix him right up, Macca. Don't you worry about a thing"

"That's what I'm worried about"

The agent in question walked outside with John, talking about something, too far away for us to know what it was about.

I suddenly grew nervous, John and I  hadn't said a real private goodbye.

He shook my hand.

Well great, that's just lovely.

"Miss Loboriel are you ready?" Rogers gave me the once over and turned away. I made a funny face behind his back and made Paul laugh.

"Rogers. Rusty" I acknowledge the two that I would be travelling with like a business woman; brisk and short, to the point. Rusty shook his head while Rogers glared.

I hugged Paul goodbye just to try and get a rise out of Lennon and it failed. He didn't react, I got nothing. I give up.

"Well lets go you two. I haven't got all day to watch you two fairies play with your back packs" They were checking for crap like they would be trekking the alps- no shops available for the stuff they accidently left behind. I was sat in the back seat ready to go; Men!

Thirteen clubs and two days, five hundred miles thereabouts of driving between them all. Rogers picked his nose and flicked it out the window. Well this is fun, not.

"Hey Rat, what was that blokes name in Reno, you know the one Abe and you went busking years back. With the servo and rad stage area" Rusty called from the front seat over the road noise. The noise that made that background din that either sent you asleep or mad.

"Um oh yeah you mean Kobby or was it Lobby, the Maori dude. That place was awesome we should go there"

"No diversions" Rogers looked at me in the mirror and I poked my tongue out at him.

Rusty spoke up in my defence. "Yea we can. Stop in get food, it's on the way, that would be a cool place for the band to play" Roger's shook his head in the negative yet again "We gotta eat man" Rust moaned.

As we worked our way through the list, it started sinking in that this was really happening. John Lennon is stepping out into the spotlight again, I feel sick. "I feel sick, you need to stop" Rusty turned around and smiled a huge smile of  'well done' at me. I'm blank to what his happiness is about.

"Look there's a diner up ahead, we'll pull in there, that ok Loboriel?" My turn to nod and I paled from the ache in my stomach. Did I eat this morning? No, 'just sex' occurred, and a sip of his coffee.

I sprint to the toilets and it ain't pretty. A lady, waiting outside the cubicle, sounds like she might join me.

"Nice work Loboriel, you made me stop at your requested site. You are a real piece of work, you know that" Rogers harped and I looked around and sure enough we were in the place. Rusty was already up on stage, grinning from ear to ear at me. I just went back to the loo again and stayed hovering over the toilet bowl for what felt like eons.

I awoke much later to mumbled talking and realised the light had faded and lights of a town were a few miles ahead.

"There she is, have a nice sleep?" Rogers spoke pretty chirpily to me but I couldn't make out if it was sarcasm or not. I shrugged and took a swig of water.

"Right there's your keys, go to sleep, no stuffing round Catlyn" Rogers berated me like a two-year-old and turned on his heel. I ignored his words and did what a good friend should do- walked straight over to Rusty's room.

"Hey" I knocked on his door and invited myself in- what? I'm a friend.

"You feeling ok? You were pretty out of it back there. Rogers, in his infinite wisdom, was talking drugs and alcohol. Oh crap you're not pregnant are you.." Rusty watched me go and grab the one and only chocolate, a yummo Mars bar, from his mini fridge "You are so paying for that"

"Whatever, a $5 chocolate, big deal. And NO. And NO again. You know I don't drink before 8 and it was 7-ish when we left"

"It's always eight somewhere in the world- that's your own line by the way" He dug out some boxers, walking toward the shower "What's with you and Lennon then? You know he's on a schedule, why are you stuffing around with him?"

"Mind ya own business Rust. Go shower you're putrid"

Rogers caught me by the arm as I went to go back inside my own motel room "What the hell, get your mitts off the arm agent" I opened the door and he just followed me inside. Ok, now I'm peeved. "You need to leave"

He was ok to look at but had a stick up his bum from years of crawling to his boss. I went in the bathroom to get a drink. I filled the glass with water and stood sipping it in the bathroom.

"You're a tough cookie, I like the spunk really. Interesting"

I glanced at him in the mirror. He stood behind me and behind him a chair was wedged in under the doorknob.

Ok.... so that's new.

"You need to leave"

He patted his gun in his holster. This is so wrong. Where has he even been keeping this new personality 'weird dirty' Rogers?

We have had no 'moments' before. I'm sure I've only met 'dickhead' Rogers in all our past altercations.

I idly shrugged wondering if he was just 'weird dickhead  dirty tuna' Rogers all along.

He pounced and was squeezing my face, he hands feel like damp toilet paper, sweaty and gross.

I'm in a bit of a tight spot here.

If I do it, give in, he will take it as a yes and come calling whenever he wants... this situation with John has us being in close contact until the case is over.

If I refuse it, he's gotta gun. Number one, that's a pretty big number one right there and number two he has FBI resources at his disposal. I could be shoved in a big, deep dark hole for a long, long time.

"You're a hard nut, Catlyn, been around the block a few times, how about we go a round or two, just you and me sweetheart. Make some sparks fly. What do you say to that, turn you on?"

When a bloke asks you if somethings turning you on the answer is always no. If he has to ask.. he isn't doing it right.

He leads me to the bed, no sorry, shoves me towards the end of the bed then he sits on the edge and pushes me to my knees on the floor. Hasitily he starts pushing his trousers down, but not before the gun is taken and sat right beside him.

On my eye level....

Just incase I forget he has it...

Well this is a pretty ugly pickle I'm in.

Maybe I can just give him a quick blow job- yuck. I amm not the hooker that I regularly refer to in my letters to Abe.

...He starts feeling himself up, making 'it' rise to half mast, leaning a heavy hand on my shoulder he pulls me forward, closer. My neck clutched and shoved down to within spitting distance of his dreadful member, I feel sick again. Patting his gun and lifting it, he starts tossing it about like a toy as if to feel the weight. He casually swings it in my direction when I attempt to lean well away from weird dirty Rogers and his tuna sausage.

My hand shoots forward to placate the gun slinger and I palm him off a bit. He leans back on his elbows and enjoys the rough way I fumble over his crouch til he wants more from me.. And its not my hand.

Swinging the pistol he hits me on my healing, still very tender, jaw. "Fuck you, Rogers"

"That was the intention Catlyn"

He drags me up and throws me on the bed as he rips my shorts down. With the predicament, and prick looming, I begin to internalise.

Now I am only thinking of protecting myself, protecting my sanity.

I want to leave and if I can't do that phsyically, I will go instead into some little hole in my brain to escape, mentally.

It's the only way to survive.

As he is poking around to find his way in, a bang on the door stops him, then he goes at me again.

The bang gets harder- the door, not him.

"Rat I know you're awake, the light is still on"

Rogers shushes me and puts a hand over my mouth tightly. Rusty, thank god, persists, banging away for an answer. Rogers moves his hand and feels around for his gun, it's on the floor by now. His cock is just in me, twitching at the entrance, not moving. I feel it and bile rises in my throat. I want to rip it off his crappy horrid body. I want him to stop. The gun looms, I'm point blank range and nothing but a breath between the steel and my cheek.

The door is hammered "Just give me the damn Mars bar and I'll go away Cat!"

Rogers slaps me, muffles my cry then pushes me to speak, to make Rusty go away. The gun presses against my cheek.

"Go away Rusty" Rogers rewards me with a lick up the side of my face, ugh. He moves, making his member poke me more. Rusty, obviously desperate for sugar in the shape of the Mars bar, slams the door again "Go get your own Mars bar Rusty!" I holler.

He paused the banging and I hoped he got the message.

"Rat stop goofing around and sling me the damn Mars Bar"

Rogers thrusts into me, this sick dog was being turned on by Rusty stood at the door. I felt him tense inside me.

Rusty was going to give up, I could sense it. I felt rather than heard him step off the small porch and pause.

Please come back Rusty. Be hungry. Want that gooey chocolaty snack again.

Well what more can I think, that's all that had him at my door in the first place.

Rusty banged the damn door twice more and I actually did a small prayer to God. Rogers shoved into me again, and thrust more intenstly. Taking his hand away from my mouth he gestured for me to tell Rusty to nick off again.

"Go away Raymond I don't even like Mars bars"

The door was kicked in so hard I didn't have time to see the gun hit my temple.

That was all he could do though.

Rusty, my Mars loving guitar hero, was onto Rogers like a deranged dog, pounding the bloke to bits.

"He's gone, Cat"

I was staring at the ceiling, Rusty pulled the sheet to cover my body, then he sat down. "Oh Cat.." He pulled me into a hug and held me til I stopped being a big bawling baby. I was sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.

I never want to feel like that again.

Helpless and belittled.

Rust got up and fixed the door, I fell asleep,with him guarding me, sat on the end of my bed.