Johnny was a busy man, to say the least, never a moment of quiet. He liked it that way. Between all the gigs, plotting Arasaka’s downfall, and the endless sex and drugs, he barely had any time for himself.

Which is how he found himself now: broke, dry on substances, and freshly booted from his favorite club for feeling up one of the dancers. On top of that, he needed to keep a low profile after one of his recent raids on Arasaka.

In moments like this, he hated the quiet. Left alone with his thoughts, he did what he usually did, practice. Guitar on his lap, his metal hand slid up and down the neck as he strummed the familiar tune of one of his band’s songs. It was too easy. He could play it drunk, high, and with his eyes closed. Hell, he had, more than once. Who was he kidding? He’d played at least half his gigs completely wrecked.

He needed something different. A new song. He’d bring it up with the rest of the band later. He could play them like a fiddle to get what he wanted. Except Nancy. That controlling bitch. Still, he doubted she’d be opposed to cranking out a new single.

His dark brown eyes dropped to the guitar. His fingers worked the strings, searching for the right note, the one that might actually inspire him.