As we walked in our apartment I noticed a huge quantity of messages on the answering machine. The first one was from RHCP manager Lindy, who said tersely, “Call me as soon as you get this,” and hung up. The phone was ringing off the hook, Loesha answered, didn’t say anything, just looked confused, and passed me the phone. The sky fell in. Hillel was dead. I crumpled to the floor. No more nothing. No more dancing. No more arguments or petty bullshit. No more supportive discussions. No more yearning. No more discovering ourselves together in the funky grooves. No more of the easy laughter at the
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