Author's Note

Special thanks to TheSpiritWolf12 for being my editor this chapter! Hope you guys enjoyed it so far.

A Little Slice of Heaven.

I can smell the familiar musk of rain. Not that I mind rainfall. It's comforting, welcoming even. Mother nature's perfume made by honest hooves. A lot of pride goes into weather work.

Looking up, I see fellow Pegasi flying to spear forming clouds to keep the sky clear. Glancing back down I see the uppercrusts of Canterlot not even giving the lack of downpour a second thought. Most of these ponies don't appreciate weather workers. Snobs born with a silver spoon in their ass. Hits Home for me as I use to be a Deuce too. At least that was the name back home. Now I'm the one sitting on a pile of bits doing what I love while these Pegasi work their flanks off. Or at least what I used to love.

Sure, weather work pays crap and it's mostly grueling, having to fly quite the distance into heavy downpour with nothing between you and the lightning but yellow raincoats. But I envy those guys. They have meaning behind their work, a purpose. The easiest part is hopping on stray rain clouds until they release water back down to the soil. Maybe back on the occasional pony elitist who looks at you or your coworkers wrong.

The fussbudgets called it grunt work, but there is a lot of pride in risking shock just to make sure the farmers got all the water they needed. They help feed Equestria, ponies with the world hoofed over to them don't appreciate the working class. Why did I give up being a part-time hero?

A Part-Time Hero? Good song title, better make a mental tab on that.

It's almost like Mother nature is being a tease these days. I haven't had the chance to appreciate nature's rainy tune.

I exchange pleasantries with ponies walking along the cobblestone, past the buildings in my home away from home, Swineley Records. A tiny label sure, but a label I can trust. Mr. Swineley is an honest business pony. Well, a pig to accurate. He's stubborn, sure. But over the last two years, we've become good friends.

I take a moment to look back at the little slice of heaven we built together. More like buying at dirt cheap with some gambling money and then refurbished into said little slice of heaven.

The office building grew from mute, gray and busted to a lively yellow-brick. The boarded windows now restored. A large billboard sits on top with the visage of a tuxedo-clad Timberwolf howling into a microphone under the moon. The words "Swineley Records" plastered on it in a blue cursive font.

I enter the building with forced confidence, shoving the past night as far out of mind as possible. Seeing somepony new, I approach a curly red mane mare. She sits behind a desk, fidgeting with a Rubik's cube before noticing me. The receptionist glows a friendly smile my way and I feign one in return. I never met her before, so I cautiously observe her face. Big brown eyes, a pair of circular specs and freckles peppering her cheeks.

Noticing I was taking my sweet time eyeing her over, her face starts to glow. She bungles her words as she runs a hoof nervously through her curls. Poor bunny didn't know what hit her.

"I-I-Is there something on my face?"

"No, I just make it a habit of memorizing faces of every pony I meet," I answer. "Do me a favor, dear, and let Mr. Swineley know I'm on my way, He's expectin' me."

She smiles with a half-lidded fantasy in her eyes before shaking her curly head, nodding. I guess that's another perk of dressing to impress. You can see it when a pony undresses you with their eyes.

I trot along down the red carpet, humming. The door opens and I step into his office met by a boisterous laugh. He cut me off mid hum before dragging me up by the waist with a mighty squeeze and twirl. Swineley was far larger than I am, and not just based on weight. He is almost twice the height of most ponies when standing on his stubby legs. If Swineley wanted, he could snap a log like a wafer.

Based on how hard he was hugging me, I feel like a log. If said log had vertebrae to pop that is.

"HEY! There's my boy! How ya doin'?!"

He loosens his grip and lets me back on all fours.

"Can't complain," I fib."So how was time with the old ball'n chain?"

"It was some much needed quiet, saw a flick and went shoppin', got meself some snazzy threads! Ya like!?"

Still standing on his back legs, he snaps his spenders against his rotund body. He turns slowly showing off a new brown pair of slacks and a pale mauve pin-striped shirt, sleeves rolled up with one side holding a pack of cigarillos. He sits down, reclining in a chair that has seen better days, resting his tiny hooves on the desk.

"But no shoes for those tiny trotters, eh?" I quip.

"Ha. Ha. Funny guy, siddown kiddo lets talk house."

He pulls the package from the rolled sleeve offering me the pack."Smoke? Wife's making me cut back on the cigars."

"I don't think those count as cutting back, boss,"

"They're smallah! Now ya want one or not, Tony?"

"No thanks kicked that habit."

He shrugs his shoulders with an "Okie doke."

He sticks the butt into his mouth and strikes a match. The swine takes a smooth drag, filling to room with the scent of vanilla before exhaling the mist to continue our conversation.

"Ya been wirkin' yer ass awf since we met, so before anything else, I was thinking about offering you a vacation before ya end up a stick in da mud like me! Or worse, you end up like dat agent of yers. Too young to be married to yer jobs ya feel me?"

"Who, Gillian? She has always been work and no play boss besides, I don't mind, you guys are nice to me. The least I could do is stick around long enough to keep the lights on."

"Yer a bucking saint kiddo, ya know that? I'm hoping youse don't mind the grind, even though record sales are on the up an' up, we still need to use most of our profit for equipment and repairing this dump."

"Not at all, sink or swim, we're family, right?" I assure him.

"Buckin' A," Swineley mumbles coaxing more nicotine from his cigarillo.

"I'm glad ta hear it, kiddo. Cuz I got a whole week planned out, we got a gig set up for you in about three hours, an interview with Manely magazine tomorrow and our sponsor wants a photo-shoot for this season's fashion trend. I don't got time to burden ya with details so I faxed Gillian the details."

"Sounds like a plan, boss."

"Wondaful, now get movin' kiddo, you're almost at the big time now, keep up this pace and you won't need a small time producer like me, hell you may end up buying the place,"

"You kiddin'? Keep this dump!" I taunt.

He returns my sarcasm "How generous! Now go on, I got other clients too, and they ain't as compromising as you ya know?"

I shake his hoof and show myself out. Swineley brings the best out of me. I'd do anything to make sure he can keep running the label. It's the least I can do after all he has done for me.

Taking the stairs and down the hall to Gillian Holiday's office.

Don't let her name fool you. The last thing a workaholic like her will do is take a vacation. Griffons are known to be hardworking folks. She is triple that. An earnest work ethic with a wit drier than the Queen of Trottingham. She had my back since Manehattan, so I'd trust her with my life. Gillian is the lifeblood of this company, a jack-of-all-trades she hasn't only handled scouting and scheduling, but balanced the books on finance, that's what eight years abroad will get you.

I knocked a rhythmic tap ta-ta taptap. . . tap-tap on her door just to aggravate her.

"Knock it off, pretty boy and get your yellow flank in here."

"Hey Gills, watcha got for me toda..."

Now I'm used to working with other ponies. Musicians, singers, songwriters. But the Mare sitting in front of Gillian's desk? I don't want anything to do with her. Her name is Octavia Melody. She's a modern day Nieghooven. A perfectionist. And just so happens the gray cutie is my ex.

Seems I interrupted a rather interesting conversation before I'm shot a dirty look by the ashen mare in the bow tie.

Gillian doesn't help the silence. She just pats away on her typewriter without looking, skimming through a few files on her desk. Her gray-blue feathers are always preened neatly, styled on her head giving her a more griffon equivalent of a bun. I try to ignore those purple eyes burning a hole into my dome and focus on Gillian's her pink sweater. A gift from last Hearth's Warming accompanied by her usual gray work skirt. Gillian sees my darting glances begging for help, so tipping her tinted circle specs, she speaks.

"Well, first let's get you two to your first stop, Golden Globe has requested a few songs for an after party and wants you to entertain."

She tosses a few papers into a purse before standing to exit the room with me following suit.

"Wait! What's Octavia doing here?" I ask, holding back my discomfort.

"She's conducting the orchestra for us, what else?"

"Free of charge, might I add," Octavia explains with a little tinge of venom behind it.

I'm left speechless. I've tried to avoid Tavi since I found out she takes jobs in Canterlot. I don't hate her, but she hates me, and I don't blame her one bit.

"What, ya gonna get all fanboy on her?" jests Gillian.

"No, just. . . just uh" I find myself stuttering.

"We used to date, but not to worry, I won't allow our past to hinder my performance. Besides, pompous old cougars like Golden Globe eat him up, he won't disappoint everypony." Tavi shoots dryly.

Ouch.

"Sucks to be you, Two-tone." Gillian teases me. Or I hope she is.

I shudder at the thought of working with my ex. My angry, unforgiving, intelligent, perfect, beautiful ex.

The entire train ride is loud. No one's talking, of course. Tavia's glare screams in silence at me. If I didn't know any better, seems she was trying to make my head explode.

Honestly, I still care about her. Tavi is a very intelligent mare. Something I love in a gal is class and smarts. She has both in spades, even when irate. Those violet eyes of hers most have caught me day dreaming because as soon as Gillian looked over at her she suddenly had the urge to go to the bathroom.

In the next car down.

"Take a picture." she growls, and not in a way she used too.

"I still have pictures" I blurt.
Way to go, dumbass.

"Oh, so you keep those around!"

"Not now Tavi, please."

All that did was make her angrier. Normally Octavia is good at controlling her outrage. If I had to guess by the steam coming out of her ears, this time won't be so smooth.

Wish it is just a metaphor, us ponies can literally blow steam out of our ears.

"Don't Tavi me!" she snaps, "You said you loved me!"

"I didn't lie, Tavi" I whisper.

"Is that right, then how many mares you sleep with since? You renounce herding for me, then turn around and dump me with no explanation!"

She's right. I did give up herding for her and I did break things off. Polygamy is pretty normal in Equestria, but when you commit to one, it's seen as a great act of love. Then I ran out on her. So much for commitment

We were quite the couple. She traveled a lot, so I used to wait for her like a love struck puppy. Every Friday, I'd waltz right up to her hotel in Canterlot, kick down the door and carry her off while she giggles. We would get strange looks from ponies, with me carrying her around like a filly outside. All I cared about was her opinion. She thought I was spontaneous. And she liked spontaneous.

Things change, however. She got serious. I'm talking want a baby, move in with me serious. You know how hard it is to hide alcoholism and depression from somepony you love under the same roof? Doll Face got lucky she caught me at a breaking point to get what she did out of me. If not for being drunk, I would never have laid with Dolly, so why would I agree to be in a relationship when I was sober? What kind of monster would enter a committed relationship knowing he's a drunk, a borderline nutjob? The point is she doesn't want baggage, no one does.

"Well? Have you?" she prods" Have you slept with anyone else?"

"Yeah."

She was taken aback by my honesty. Her face locked in a confused but still angry frown. I lied to her enough already. She at least has the right to hear that much.

Tavi sees me as a beast. Uncouth, unorganized and inconsiderate. An animal who stole her heart and threw it away. I won't change her mind on that. Not that it matters anymore.

"Did. . . you fall in love any of them?" Tavi's trying to sound hopeful.

"Not until last night." I admit "But if it makes you feel better, I feel guilty about everything."

"Well, it doesn't and you should." she scolds me.

"I know"

She stares at me for a while. I start to fidget a bit in my seat. When I get the fidgets the shakes come next. I need a drink. Soon.

"I'll be right back"

I get up from my seat to exiting the train car before her prim voice stops me.

"What happened to you?"

I did not expect that.

It isn't accusatory. It Isn't angry. It was a sad, concerned tone. My mind races for a way to respond. Octavia doesn't need to know what happened to me. I never told her because no one deserves to suffer with me. Besides, Tavi has every right to be angry, and I'd rather her be angry at me than pity me. She deserves to be spared from my demons.

Without turning around I state calmly, "Nothing, now get over it."I swallow courage so I can send a second retort" You always nagged me, there's your answer. "You happy, toots?"

I exit the car afraid to look back at her. Part of me regrets it. If I had been selfish, and told her the truth, she would end up trapped with a sad sack like me. Thank Luna my plan worked. I hear her cursing my name as I trotted away. If being the bad guy in a relationship is what it takes to spare her from heartache, then so be it.

I enter the stallion's bathroom locking the door. Reaching into my vest I retrieve a silver flask to drink as fast as my lungs would let me. Don't matter what's in it. All that matters is it chases the blues away. I stop long enough to hear knocking at the door.

"You okay?" I hear Gillian's voice call out for me. My nerves calm down long enough. for me to get a grip on the door handle. I open the door with a smug smile. Time for act two.

"I'm fine, just had to keep Tavi on a leash. Poor girl can't get over me!"

Gillian shakes her head in disapproval.

"Don't be a dick, Tone." She chides. "We need this gig."

"Fine, just keep her out of my pants." I chuckle.

"If you wore any"

We walk back into our car. I take a window seat and Gillian plops beside me. Octavia is back to her calm, proper self-minding her manners. It's funny really. First Doll Face butters me up, then Tavi catches me off guard. Just shows that I'm slipping. Hiding from everypony close to me for all these years must've left cracks. These cracks are letting them see just how rotten I am. My only hope is that when I reach that point, I won't drag anyone with me.

The alcohol must be weak. Because it takes a good hour for me to nod off to sleep. The sounds of the train on track lullaby me to the point where I dream. It's been months since I had one,so i eagerly let myself flow with it.

Wedding bells, happy faces. and a swing. Tavi sits on it. I push it. Each time she swings back she becomes some pony else.
Dolly.
Each time I push away Tavi take her place.
Frustrated.
I can't stop the swing.
I can't even hold one of them.
I can't stop pushing them.
I can't.