Kill me. Kill me now.

Lying perfectly still, I kick my brain into gear, trying to remember what happened the night before. After Drax and I made love -- finally! -- we met up with the rest of the band at a dance club on The Strip.

It was absolute chaos! The beautiful bodies of the young and the horny were mashed together out on the dance floor, and the noise level was even louder than Roadkill's concert. I didn't think such a thing was even possible.

We found the boys in a booth in a far corner with four girls jammed in with them. Four! One empty bottle of champagne was upside down in an ice bucket and Jake was slopping another bottle over the girls' waiting glasses.

"Lauren! Our hero! Let me get you some, too!"

A glass of bubbly was shoved in my hand as we pushed our way into the booth. The girls were all pert and adorable and teensy, whereas I...I still looked like Frankenstein's big sister.

Their plasticky smiles faltered when they saw I was with Drax -- his arm was draped casually but possessively over my shoulder -- but they quickly realized that being rude to the lead singer's...whatever I am...wouldn't end well for them.

Aw, snap, bitches!

The next thing I knew, a tray full of tequila shots arrived at the table and the party really started. I have no clear memory of how many I might have thrown down my gullet. Two? Twenty? It's lost in a hateful haze of hangover.

It's not like me to drink so much. My head is throbbing and my mouth tastes like battery acid and cat poop but I try to puzzle what drove me to match those little groupies drink for drink. I guess I had something to prove. I wanted to show them I deserved to be at that table every bit as much as them. Wow, how sad is that?

There I was, snuggled up to Drax, who felt no qualms about showering me with attention. Yet I still felt the need to prove myself to total strangers who I would almost certainly never see again.

Regret and shame take turns pounding my head and my gut. Regret over drinking too much, of course, but also of betraying myself. I became a different person last night, a person I don't like much -- and not because she was the reason I feel like a giant turd today.

Drax seemed to like that Lola a lot. Fragments of memories flash through what's left of my brain cells. Kissing. Lots of kissing. In front of people!

See? That's what I'm talking about. I don't do that kind of thing, and I don't intend on starting now. I'll leave shocking shows of PDA to my dads, thank you very much.

I was just so jacked up from the success we had after everything looked so bleak. I turned it around for Roadkill. I booked an impossible gig. I sold all that merchandise. I saved Frank's ass from being chewed up and spit out by a mobbed-up bookie. That was all me, so why not let loose and get a little wild? Another wave of nausea reminds me why.

I can't do this again. First off, yuck. But more importantly, I don't feel like I was true to myself last night. Having a glass of wine or even a shot or two of tequila isn't the problem. I'm reasonably sure Dad was right that I don't take after my mother in that way. It's just that I was so caught up with what I thought I should be doing to celebrate, I totally blanked on the importance of celebrating the way I wanted.

This entire Vegas adventure has taught me a lot about myself. Maybe Pepper was right that I need to cut loose more often, although maybe a little less 'loose' next time. Papi was definitely right that I could do with a makeover, though corsets are definitely not going in my closet. But I can't ever allow myself to forget what Dad always said, either: "Always maintain your personal dignity, Lauren."

I can't say I've done that. I've pushed some of my boundaries to the point of breaking. The drinking, the corset, the PDA in front of what I now seem to recall was a crowd. All in an effort to pretend like I fit in.

The cold, hard truth is that I don't. This isn't my crowd. I'm a stay-at-home kinda gal, not a hard-partying metalhead. The travel doesn't bother me, and I adore coordinating events, but all the rest of this nonsense isn't for me.

Something else grips my stomach in a tight clench. Grief. As dumb as this sounds, I've developed feelings for Drax. Just one more example of how I didn't protect myself enough. This was supposed to be a quick fling, no harm, no foul. But I let myself get wrapped up in him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

This all has to end. I'll tell them on the way back to San Francisco. Frank has to take some time off anyway, so that will give them plenty of time to find a real manager.

 But what about Drax? It's not like this guy is even remotely a long-term prospect. Pepper's words ping around my aching brain, and I know she was right.

A tear slips down the side of my face and disappears in my hairline. It's going to hurt like hell to say goodbye to him, but it's for the best. He'll be free to do his rockstar thing and I'll go back to my life above the record shop, only with a little more sass and a lot more style.

The decision doesn't make me feel better, but a sense of calm does settle into my skin like a soothing balm. It'll hurt like pulling out a sliver but eventually the pain will fade and my bruised heart will heal.

Carefully and oh-so-slowly, I turn to Drax's side of the bed. In the dim light, I can barely make out that he's not there. He must be used to feeling like this and got up to make coffee. Lots and lots of very strong coffee, I hope.

Like a zombie, I shuffle around the tiny room and shrug on the robe. It's too dark to really get a good look at myself in the mirror -- thank God -- but I manage to smooth my hair into something a little less Einstein-esque.

The bright light of the day sears my retinas when I crack the door open and I slap my hands over my eyes. The pain! I moan loudly and stumble out into the living area. Between my fingers, I can make out that Savory and Frank are at the table, while Jake is stretched out on the couch, looking about as good as I feel.

"Good afternoon, sunshine!" Drax's cheerful greeting stabs at my ears with icepicks. I groan again and slump into the dinette. "Coffee?"

It's all I can do to nod. While he's pouring, I slowly peel my fingers from my eyes, allowing them to adjust. It kills but just the smell of fresh-brewed java makes me feel better. I pray he went out and got donuts. I would kill for a maple bar right now.

"Here you are, m'dear," he says as he sets the mug down in front of me and drops a kiss on my forehead. I blindly grope for it with my left hand while I shade my eyes with my right. When did the sun get so bright and why is it so damn sparkly?

Only after my first sip do I start to feel human again. My eyes squinch open far enough to see that they're all grinning at me. Yeah, yeah, I made a fool of myself, no need to rub it in. Of course, I don't feel human enough to speak so I just scowl and take another soul-enriching sip.

"So?" Drax says, sitting down across from me, still beaming at me like an ass. "How does it feel?"

"How do you think it feels?" I croak, setting my mug down even though my body and brain are screaming for more. "It feels like Zeus is inside my skull zapping my brain with bolts of lightning."

"Hellz yeah," Jake groans into a throw pillow he has mashed over his face.

Everyone else laughs.

"Not that. Trust me, I know how that feels." Drax peels my hand away from the cup and covers it with both of his. I feel a twist of sadness that this will all soon be over. I also feel completely confused. As usual.

"Then what are you talking about?"

"This."

He lifts my hand for some reason. I still have no idea what he's talking about. Then I see it.