<em><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: comic sans ms;">  Jazz, groaned as the sunlight began to beam its way through the blinds in her bunk.  The night before had been a hell of a time and her body screamed in agony even after the pure bliss she had experienced those few hours.  At least this time she was waking to a total stranger on the bus, one she was scrambling to keep hidden and then had to pays bus fare home.  That in its self was a sigh of relief.<br/>  <br/>       She let her blue eyes focus on the wall before even making an attempt to sit up.  Although they found the tabloid she had picked up at the local grocer’s market, one that had the band’s picture on the cover with a story of some sort and a smaller one on her and her father.  Of course the bastard was playing the victim in the article.<br/>   <br/>       “A good father.”  She laughed lightly to herself before tossing the trash mag aside.  If he had been a good father he would have paid support and at least have been more active in her life.  Truth was she only saw him once a year generally after Christmas and of course no late gifts ever came her way from him.  By the time she was nine she knew no to expect anything from him always the same old same old excuse.  “Santa didn’t stop because you were a bad girl.”<br/>    <br/>      She wasn’t a bad child not in the least but the emotional abuse the man decided to give her on the only day of the year that she would see him.  Jazz had long past moved on, she cared nothing for the man.  Now it seems he thought he was entitled to money from her for all of his troubles of dealing with her as a child, it was a joke, the only problem was those rags never asked her the truth in the matter.  Maybe they should but most likely they never would.<br/>    <br/>      Jazz listened to the singing and then smiled momentarily as Dizzy yelled for it to stop.  At least she had her friends, her band to make it through, and then there were those wild fans after the show that became a show of their own.  She pulled on an oversized t-shirt that hung to past her thighs, covering her panties and not bothering to pull on pants stepped out into the commons area.  <br/><br/>     Plopping down on the couch next to Dizzy she grabbed his bottle, downed a drink and handed it back, not even grimacing from the burn in the back of her throat, one she had gotten use to. “Isn’t it a little early for this stuff?”  She asked as if she was a mother, it was a joke, and after all she had just taken a shot.  </span></em><br/>