I didn't start out this way, I had an honest upbringing and morals once. Where I went wrong? Maybe the first time I tried glass, giving into the pressure from the people I once called my friends. My name is James Bass, but people call me Lance. Can anyone hear me? Can you see me? Can you feel me? Is there anyone willing to help me find heaven when I'm in this hell? I've lost my way and can't figure out which way I go to get things right again. 

I was 17, worked at my uncle's studio part time, a senior in high school and had plenty of what people called friends. Working with my uncle paid well, but I got let go when I came in buzzing on glass. The monster had a tight grip on me and I was 20 when I lost that income, forcing me to find work at a factory. I have been working at Tyco for fifteen years now and I'm tired of being here, but until I feel ready for rehab, I refuse to call my uncle. 

The more I talk to this new girl that started last week, the more I want to get clean. She has a five month old daughter and a three year old cousin she has custody of, her ex having taken off for a floozy. Her name is Raylene. She's of Philippine and Greek descent, thirty-one with unruly black curls and beautiful blue eyes. She stands five foot four, probably weighs about 130 and keeps saying she will be my moral support if I get clean. She says she got clean for her little cousin to have a home, doing so when she heard the mom was pregnant with her and all on her own. She had just gotten fired from her job at Target, shut herself in for three months and got a job when the mom was about five months along. She kept it until she heard Tyco was hiring from the temp agency she signed up with months before starting at the retail position, jumping at it for the wage increase. She worked at the minimum wage job for nearly three and a half years. She would sponsor me even, having gone to NA meetings to fight the addiction off permanently. She quit dancing with my monster for a child to have a better life, for a selfless reason over four years ago. She has to get to her five year mark before DCFS stops randomly piss testing her, resulting in the case being closed. 

I park in the parking lot, killing the engine and put my head back on the seat. I have 45 minutes before work and I look at my cell phone, today's the day. I dial my uncle's number, having memorized it and not having a toot of the monster since Monday. Today is Friday. I press the call button and it rings. "Jeff Bass."

"Hey, Uncle Jeff," I greet the man I've idolized since I was a kid. 

"James. How have you been?"

"I'm ready to go to rehab. I need to, it's time for me to straighten out."

He releases a breath he may have been holding. "When do you want to go?"

"I get out of work at three."

"Have you had any this week?"

"I stopped Monday. I need to do this."

"Hold on, let me get somewhere private." I hear him tell his receptionist not to disturb him in his office. "Ok, so you've been straight for three days?"

"Yeah, it's getting hard to fight it."

"Break your lease, cancel your phone and let your job know you have to quit for a family emergency. You'll be living with me until you hit a year clean."

I nod. "Ok, I gave them my notice Monday that today I had to quit. I told them because a family member was in the hospital on their death bed."

"I need your landlord's information." I rattle it off and he thanks me. 

"Thank you. I will cancel the cell contract when we meet up after work. Where are we meeting? What time?"

I need to do this and he's proud of me for doing this, I hear it in his voice. "Once you get out of rehab, you need to get your diploma."

"I got that after I got fired. Two months after. I started at Tyco three months after I got it."

"Good. You'll be working with me. No slip ups."

He means business. "Understood."

"Meet me at my house at four, if it takes you that long to get there. I'll be home by two thirty."

"I'll see you then. Thank you again."

I walk in and look around, finding my supervisor talking to Raylene. I have to tell her. "Mitch, today's my last day," I remind my supervisor. 

"We're sorry to see you go, James. You're one of our best workers."

"I know. I'm sorry I have to go, but my family needs me. See you in GSA, Ray."

"I'll be over in a minute."

Once I get to my station, I begin taking count of the box, UL and quantity 1 labels. Ray taps my shoulder and I look at her, smiling. "Why are you quitting?"

"I have to get my life straight."

"I'm proud of you for making that choice. When did you decide?"

"Monday morning when I had the last of what I had at home."

"You want to make the labels?"

"Sure."

~*~Lunch~*~

I sit outside with her, our lunches in front of us. "How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know. We can keep in touch, if you want to."

"Definitely." She scribbles down her number and hands it to me, her address on the other side of it. "How many boxes have we done so far?"

"About 24 once I finish packing the one on the cart."

"We might get near forty."

"Yeah, normally we only get about 30, but I'm four days in and feeling more energetic."

~*~End of shift~*~ 

We clock out and I walk her to her Impala. She pulls me into a warm embrace. "You're doing the right thing. Call, text, write or email me if you need someone to talk to about this. I'm here for you."

"Thanks, Ray. I appreciate it," I tell her, squeezing her affectionately. "I'll keep in touch."

She gave me her email a week ago. "Talk to you soon, James." She refuses to call me Lance. I watch her get in and she starts her car, heading for my own as I walk backwards while waving to her. 

On the way to my uncle's place, I think about the girlfriend I lost a month ago due to my addiction to glass. I wonder if she's doing alright, how she's been because I heard through some friends she's pregnant with my child. I was with Laticia for two years before she got tired of my addiction. Just then, my cell rings and it says it's a blocked call, but I pick up anyway. "James Bass."

"You stopped going by Lance?" a voice of beauty questions. 

"Yes. Who am I speaking with?"

"Tish."

"Hey, girl. I was just thinking of you. How are you?"

"Pregnant."

I shake my head as I pull into my uncle's driveway, killing the engine. "How pregnant?"

"Three months, it's yours."

I nod, absorbing the info. "Ok, well. I'm at my uncle's and I'm going to rehab. I'll inform my uncle and let him answer your call later. What time could you call back?"

"I'll call around nine."

"I'll inform him. Do you have his number?"

"Yes."

"Give him a call."

"Ok." I pull the phone away from my ear. "James!"

I put it back to my ear. "Yeah?"

"I'm proud of you for getting clean."

"Thanks."

"I'm here if you need reassurance." She hangs up and I sigh. 

I collect my thoughts and walk up to his door, nervous as I raise my hand to rap on his door. I let the rhythm only I can do flow through my hand onto the door and wait patiently. The door opens and my uncle stands off to the side to hold the door open enough for me to enter his very humble abode. "You made it. I'm very proud of you for doing this. Are there any new issues?" He leads me to the living room. 

"Tish is pregnant and it might be my child. I like this girl I met at Tyco," I explain, sitting on his armchair. 

"Are they supportive of your decision?"

"Yes. They even said I can turn to them if I need support, Raylene said she would even sponsor me after rehab."

"Good. Will I be hearing from Tish?"

"Around nine."

He glances at his watch. "Not a problem. You go to the rehab facility in the morning, it's out patient. You are to go straight there and back, no stops between. My assistant, Kiara, will be sponsoring you until I reach this Raylene you say will do it." 

I fish the piece of paper out of my pocket and hand it to him, his fingers quickly adding her information to his cell phone. He hands me the paper, it going back into my pocket. "I also have her email address in my gmail account."

"I'll need the passwords for all email addresses and social media accounts."

My cell beeps in my hand and it's a text from my dealer, Justin. My uncle raises his eyebrow and I call him on speaker. "JT."

"I don't do that anymore, I'm getting clean."

"What? You've gotta be kiddin' me!" he shouts. 

"No joke. I start rehab tomorrow. I haven't had any of it since Monday morning. I'm done."

"You'll be back. Users always come back."

I'm worried that he might not be able to stay clean, but I'm here for him. "You've got mail!" my AOL notification on my phone tells me. 

I open it and it's from him. 

'Ray, I'm two weeks in and haven't missed any meetings and things are slowly getting better. I have a job lined up with my uncle and limited freedom. I'll take what I can get. 

How are the kids? Is anyone asking why I left? How have you been? Hope to hear from you soon. 

-James' is what he sent. 

I reply, reassuring him that he's doing the right thing and telling him about everything. 

I get a call from a blocked number during my lunch and I accept the call. "Hello?"

"Hey, Raylene," a familiar voice greets me. 

"James?"

"The one and only. My uncle wants to talk to you about being my sponsor."

"Does he have my contact info?"

"Yes, the day I quit is the same day I moved in here and he has all your contact info, even your email address. I have minimal privacy and it's working out for the best right now. How're the kids and you?"

"Good. Mikah and Caly are getting so big. Mikah starts kindergarten in September, he's so excited. I'm training this kid that goes by JT."

"He's my old dealer, be careful. He might try to get you to buy."

"He claims that you getting clean made him rethink his profession."

"Just be careful, please, Ray," he pleads. 

"I will. So, I was wondering if we could meet up or something," I bashfully mention. 

"It's something you can bring up to my uncle when he calls you."

"Alright."

"I feel like I'm a kid again," he groans. 

"James!" a man on his end of the line shouts. 

"Yes, Uncle Jeff?"

"Shoes. Who are you talking to?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm talking to Raylene. She said that she's more than willing to talk to you."

"Inform her that I'm calling her around seven."

"Let him know I said ok. The kids should be in bed by then."

"She said it works for her."

"I have to go back in, James."

"Call me after you talk to my uncle?"

"Of course, unless you would rather text."

"That or IM me."

"I will. Miss you."

"I miss you as well."

I finish up my shift and pick Caly up from daycare, stopping to get a gallon of milk before heading home. I get the milk put away and sit on my front stoop to wait for Mikah to get home from preschool. I make them tacos for dinner and get them bathed and into bed by 6:30 as always. I sit down for about twenty minutes and the name 'Jeff Bass' flashes across my phone's screen. "Raylene Kratos."

"Are you the Raylene my nephew speaks to?"

"Yes, I'm a friend of James'. Are you his uncle?"

"Yes, I'm Jeff. He told me you wouldn't mind being his sponsor."

"I have no qualms about it. I've been clean for almost five years and have two children."

"How would you make time for the meetings?"

"I go to them twice a week around nine in the evening, having my neighbor watch my sleeping children. I usually go Tuesday and Thursday and they're an hour and a half each."

"Why did you get clean?"

"For my little cousin, Mikah, to have a better life with me versus his mom who has been bouncing between friends and shelters."

"And you've been clean since his mom was pregnant?"

"Yes, I have."

"Once he's clean a year, I see no problem with you being his sponsor."

"Agreed. Thank you. I'll make sure he stays clean from that point in time on."

He's been attending all meetings for NA and the appointments as well, working his ass off as a co-producer with me.

He still has the skills he did when he got fired. He's currently working with one of my biggest clients, excited to be back in the game. His name is JC Chasez, he's working on his fifth album and James has gotten him to lighten up some. He's gotten a few laughs out of the man, a man known to take recording and performing beyond serious without cracking so much as a smirk until the day or project is complete. I'm just sitting back, watching how they interact and I appreciate how they work so well together. "Just go down a touch, deepen it," James instructs him. The older man nods to acknowledge the suggestion, completing the song they've been working on for nearly half the day. JC hits the note, James smiling to show my client it had been a successful moment and the vocalist hangs up the headphones, exiting the booth to listen to the result. 

He sits beside James and they both listen to it, shaking on a job well done. "Thanks, James! It's perfect!" He looks at me, a huge grin of accomplishment on his features. "Jeff, I want him to complete this album and work on everything concerning me. He's been absolutely wonderful and I won't allow anyone else to co-produce any of my projects with you. He's definitely the cream of the crop."

JC left an hour ago and James has been working on mixing another song, determined to make it perfect. He's becoming agitated by it, unable to replicate the result again. "James, save what you have onto the USB drive and let's head out."

He sighs, obviously wanting it to be what JC wants before leaving. "Yes, Uncle Jeff," he replies. 

I stop by the desk to talk to the receptionist, her cheeks turning pink at the sight of my muscular nephew. "Melissa, James and I are going to step out for a couple hours, you know how to reach me if you need to."

"Yes, Jeff."

"JC has never even smiled before success the way you got him to do today, nobody else has been able to get him to due to how seriously he takes his career," I inform James. 

"There's a first for everything and I suppose this was one for him; I honestly believe he enjoyed it," he replies, tearing apart his fried chicken and taking a bite of the piece he took off the bone. 

"You've been clean six months; I'm giving you a choice of keeping the sponsor you have or Raylene."

"I'll keep Frankie around, it wouldn't be fair for Raylene or I to uproot like that," he explains. 

"You're only a city apart."

"She has two children and I've got a career here."

"I can employ her at the studio, have her trained to mix and co-produce at the studio."

He fires a message off to someone, it signaling a response moments later. "She said to call her around 7:30 tonight, she would like to discuss details about the position then."

It’s been five years clean, three years into the beautiful relationship with Raylene and we are doing fantastically with our own studio and clientele. It’s Mother’s Day and I have a special surprise for her, handing it to the now seven year old Caly and Mikah helps me bring in the breakfast we had worked together to make for Ray. I place the tray beside our bed and kiss her forehead. We made pancakes, eggs, toast, sausage and toast while she slept in. We ate ours before serving her, giving her a luxury.

We have moved to Atlanta and of course, nobody knows us around here other than our clients and returning artists with nothing except success coming their way because of the hard work they’ve put into their careers. My uncle funded our studio for three months before we managed to make triple what he’d put in, all his overflow of clients have come to us and they love how we operate. The major clients always return, even more thrilled because we are closely associated with my uncle’s studio and JC Chasez has put our names out as some of the best producers on the east coast and our rapport has skyrocketed. She had quickly picked up all the skills to make her a great producer and mixer. Jive, Arista and Virgin Records have sent us some the biggest and newest names to us and we couldn’t be happier as we do what we love.

“Mmm, morning,” she greets us, smiling.

“Caly, could you give mommy the special present from me?”

The little girl hands her mom the black velvet box and smiles, climbing onto the bed to sit beside her mom. Mikah is now 12 and attending middle school, both girls having unbelievable grades that make us proud. “Open it, mom.”

She opens it and sees the beautiful ring the girls and I had gone to pick out last weekend, keeping that from her. She looks at me and looks ready to cry as she looks at the three mother of pearls , surrounded by four diamonds on a 14 karat gold band. I drop to my knee on the floor beside the bed before she looks up and when her eyes lock onto mine, I smile. “Will you marry me, Raylene Kratos?”

She tears up and nods her head. “Yes, James Bass, I will.” I stand up and embrace her warmly, the kids cheering happily.