There were only two great things Jordan Catalano had learned in his thirty years on Earth. One of which was that often those who were meant to love you the most sometimes didn't, he'd learned that hard lesson from his parents at a very young age. Secondly was that when it came to matters of the heart, age meant nothing. He'd realized that any wisdom gleaned through age and maturity was never applicable to romantic relationships. He sighed bitterly at his current predicament, here he was in a Manhattan hotel suite on New Year's Eve totally alone, and once again single. Jordan's latest ex-girlfriend, a television actress Amy Flynn, had ended their relationship two days previous after meeting someone else. Jordan rose his glass of bourbon up into the air 'To Amy and Mr Hollywood actor, I hope you're goddamn well so happy together' Jordan sneered at his reflection in the mirror over the mini bar. He stared angrily at himself as he finished his drink. In truth Jordan wasn't surprised when their relationship had ended; it had been nothing but a turbulent disaster. Amy always wanted something from that he couldn't give, to play the fame game and be a media whore. Jordan was a lot of things, but a sell out was not one of them. That was a part of the reason he had not gone out in Manhattan to celebrate the festivities with his band mates, it would be a paparazzi storm, and frankly he was uncomfortable with that much attention. Only his childhood friend Shane, and fellow band mate, could understand how Jordan could sing in front of thousands of people with so much charisma and energy and yet be so reclusive when it came to his private life. He avoided being seen in public outside performing on stage, as much as possible.

As Jordan took another bottle of Bourbon from the mini bar, he began to smile to himself. He thought out loud 'At least I didn't marry Amy like I did with Eleanor' he laughed sardonically. He often wondered how exactly his marriage to Eleanor Mitchell had actually gone ahead. Jordan sat down in one of the suites overstuffed armchairs and took a healthy gulp of his drink. Jordan tried to think how exactly it had all happened. Eleanor had been insanely hot, but unfortunately had the emotional depth of a shot glass, she also happened to be as dumb as a brick. Their marriage had lasted barely a month, which then of course was then splashed all across the gossip magazines for months longer than their actual relationship. "Rock star Catalano dumps Supermodel Mitchell" Jordan bellowed out in mock seriousness "Mitchell says Catalano cheated with best friend Joyce", "Mitchell says Catalano into Alien fantasies".

He'd almost died when he'd read the magazine headlines, that was why he hated fame, it was propagated by such bullshit. It seemed to Jordan though in the face of his latest failed romance, that all of his relationships ended for always the same reasons. He'd hated being totally alone since his childhood, he had this insatiable need not to be alone, so this often lead to meaningless relationships. It was always was sex and no conversation, and he'd found as he grew older that the conversation part had become more important to him. The only girl he'd close to achieving anything close to that, had been a very long time ago. He smacked himself in the head, cursing himself for thinking about her. That red haired temptress who'd left him with his heart shattered upon the floor, it was almost a revenge for him doing the exact same thing to her, breaking each other's hearts until they were irreparably broken. Jordan always thought about her on night like this, when his heart should have ached for the current girlfriend who'd dumped him, but instead longed to see her big wide smile again. This misery was magnified by his increasing intoxication 'Hell that was a lifetime ago, get over it Catalano' he growled. Yet he couldn't help it, Miss Chase eternally inked upon a part of his heart like a small tattoo

Jordan swallowed the last of his drink, he was supposed to working on some new lyrics for a song his band were writing for some romance teen movie ' Driving lessons'. It hadn't been going well, how he could write a love song in his current state of mind. Jordan decided he might as well just watch some TV and numb his racing thoughts with alcohol; the silence in the penthouse was driving him nuts. So nuts he'd almost given into his craving to smoke, he'd quit the year before after the death of his friend Tino from an early onset of Lung Cancer. That had really shaken his sense of mortality and made him reassess a lot of things in his life. His current state was a momentary lapse in is now clean living policy. He wished the band had never agreed to meet the movie people the next day, 'who organises a business meeting for New Years Day' he mumbled. He barely registered the images on the screen as the countdown began outside the bubble he had placed himself in. His eyes began to droop as all coherent thought left him "I fucking hate New Years" he slurred as fell into a dreamless sleep.

"...Now ladies and gentleman we have the moment you've all been waiting for". Jordan snapped awake as the audience on the television cheered loudly. He jerked his head up from its resting place on his chest, the clock on the bedside table read 2.30 am. Jordan rubbed his eyes and sat up looking at the television. It was a rerun of a chat show from two months before; he thought it might be 'Oprah' or something. Jordan stood up to turn it off when something caught his attention. 'For many years people have wondered who the mysterious Patricia Pullman was, author of the phenomena,the 'Driving Red' series. She has never been seen in public before, but with the first of her books 'Driving Lessons 'gone into film production, Ms Pullman has decided to come forward." Jordan paused by the television, he'd heard of the books and a couple of his ex-girlfriends had been obsessed by them. He continued to watch simply out of curiosity. "Now before she comes out, we have one more twist in this exclusive interview. Patricia Pullman has decided to reveal her real name also for the first time. Now please will everyone please give a show of your love to the brilliant Angela Chase". Jordan's knees went to jelly as he fell down into a crouching position in front of the television. He felt all of the bourbon he'd drank rising up his throat as a familiar wide, shy smile filled the screen. "Fuck" he whispered softly as he was rooted to the spot.