The Intervention

She scurried from room to room, passing through the scattered crowd of what was supposed to be her loving gesture to her boyfriend, her showing of support, his intervention. What it was turning out to be was just another one of those damn Hollywood socialite parties. "Dick! Where the hell is Dick? Him and his Goddamn groupies..."

She scurried through the house trying to keep everything moving smoothly, but everything was falling apart. They had been for a while now. She passed by the suits from the firm, the hangers on, the lousy musicians that never have anything better to do than schmooze their way in to the latest party... and some asshole who was about to break a very expensive piece of postmodern art.

Why are these people here? Who are these people? These are not the people who should be here!

"Hey asshole, put that down!"

Approaching the master bathroom to retrieve what would have only been described as a lethal dosage of aspirin, if there ever was such a thing, she heard the one sound that was going to push her over the edge. He should have never been invited, but Dick was Tyler's best friend. She couldn't ignore that. But he's also a junkie who was gonna fuck this up, royally. Pounding on the door, the only response she received was the giggling of groupies and what was most certainly the snorting of cocaine.

"Dick! Open the fucking door right FUCKING now! I want those groupies out of my house this instant!"

"Just a minute luv!" he squeezed out between a little bit of laughter and a lot of tongue down some strange girl's throat.

She stormed off and stashed herself in the large closet only a few feet away, crying hysterically.

This whole thing is screwed. It's no longer an intervention, it's a disaster. And Tyler! Poor Ty! God, I hope he's okay. I can't believe that douche-bag lawyer of his couldn't get him out sooner. Twelve hours in prison is too long for my Ty... Oh god! What if he was violated by his cellmate?! What if he's gay now?! I can't lose this house!