“If I wasn’t a celebrity,

Would you be so nice to me?
If I didn’t have Gs, like, every day,
Would you still wanna be with me?
If I couldn’t buy you diamond rings
And all those other expensive things,
Would you be so into me
If I wasn’t a celebrity?”

“I swear, if I hear that song one more time, I’m gonna murder somebody,” Chris grumbled.

“Such is the price you pay as a first-class singer, Chris,” said Joey with a grin that Chris longed to wipe off. “You have to listen to your songs more times than anybody else in the world.”

With a sound between a sigh and a growl, Chris bent forward and put both hands over his head. “Play something else, guys, please, before my ears start bleeding all over the place.”

Justin obligingly switched stations on their wireless radio, but asked Chris with a frown, “What’s your problem, anyway, dude?”

“Who says I have a problem?”

“Well, for one thing, you’ve been one heck of a grouch lately,” said JC, thumping Chris’s shoulder on his way past the couch.

Chris rubbed his shoulder and regarded JC with a dark scowl. “I am not a grouch!”

“Oh, sure,” Joey countered, “and Oscar the Grouch is the captain of the Good Ship Lollipop.”

“That’s very funny, Joe.”

“Is something wrong, Chris?” asked Lance, regarding him with genuine concern. “Anything serious on your mind right now?”

“No,” said Chris in a tone that insisted otherwise.

“Nice try, Pinocchio,” Joey said, placing the tip of his finger on Chris’s nose and pulling that finger away in a slow horizontal line; Chris slapped him away.

“I think we’ve known you long enough to know when something is or isn’t bothering you, man,” Lance said. “Come on, you can tell us.”

“Yeah, you’re among friends,” said Justin as he scooted a little closer.

Chris sighed, but eventually gave in. “If you must know, it’s Allie.”

“Your Allie?” said Joey with one eyebrow cocked above the other.

Rolling his eyes at the ceiling, Chris replied with the most incredible sarcasm, “No, Allie Reynolds, the big baseball star. Of course, my Allie.”

“Well, what about her?” JC asked.

“I don’t know what to do with her anymore, guys.”

“Oh?” Joey remarked. “Isn’t that funny? In the year and a half you’ve dated her, you could never get enough of her and everyone says you two go together better than cookies and milk.”

“More like cookies and ketchup if you ask me.” Chris shook his head. “Sure, everything was great between us for a while…but now everything’s so different.”

“How so?” questioned Lance.

“You probably wouldn’t see it on the outside, but I can feel it. It’s hard to put in words, really. I love Allie, as much as I’ve loved any woman, but she’s become a stranger to me. I don’t know what she wants from me or how I can—” Chris trailed off, then shook his head again as if to snap himself out of it. “Oh, why am I even telling you this? This is my personal business, not yours.”

Now it was Joey’s turn to roll his eyes. “Well, ex-cuse us for trying to show a little sympathy,” he retorted.

“Thanks for the sympathy,” said Chris without looking or sounding the least bit grateful. “But I’d like to handle this my own way, thank you very much.”

“You know what I think, Chris?” JC broke in. “I think you’ve been working way too hard for way too long; you need to blow off some steam.” To everyone else, he said, “Lace up your bootstraps, boys. We’re going out to dinner and a movie tonight. My treat.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Justin.

“Me too,” said Joey. “Just promise me we won’t have to sit through ‘Shrek’ again.”

“Naw. I’m finding myself leaning a little more toward ‘Moulin Rouge,’ if the rest of you have no objection.”

“Better bring a truckload of tissues, then,” Justin said, “because I hear that one stabs your heart, tears it out by the seams, mashes it into a pulp and blows it to bits.”

“What do you say, Chris?” Lance asked. “You game?”

Chris didn’t appear particularly interested, but he smoothed back his short brown hair and murmured, “Yeah, sure. I need to get out and do something normal.”

While Joey, Justin and JC trotted off to get ready, Lance clasped Chris’s shoulders for a moment and said softly, “Hey, listen, Chris, whatever’s up with you and Allie, don’t let it get you down. I’m sure it’ll work out somehow, some way.”

That’s easy for you to say, Lance. She’s not your girl.

 

---

 

“So, what movie are we aiming for tonight, James?”

Jamie smiled. “Oh, I don’t know. We could try ‘Bridget Jones’s Diary’ or ‘Serendipity.’ Possibly ‘On the Line’ again.”

Nat stuck out her tongue. “Anything besides a cheesy chick flick?”

“Yeah,” said Jamie, still smiling, “we could skip the cheese and go for the real deal. I hear they’re playing ‘Moulin Rouge,’ too. It’s supposed to be a beautifully tragic story that would give Shakespeare himself a run for his money. Would you believe that, just when everything turns out all right in the end, the girl succumbs to tuberculosis and dies in her love’s arms? Man, and I thought ‘Romeo and Juliet’ made me bawl buckets.”

For a few seconds, Nat stood still, giving Jamie a funny look. Then she rolled her eyes skyward and shook her head, causing her dark curls to bounce jauntily about. “Jamie, honey,” she declared, “you are the most hopeless romantic of anyone I’ve ever known.”

“You say that like it’s supposed to be a bad thing.”

Nat shook her head again, but a smile played on her russet face all the same.

As the two girls and close-knit friends left their apartment and set off down the dusky street together, Nat commented, “The boys must be nuts about you.”

Jamie’s pale, round face turned wistful. “I’ll be lucky if a guy even looks at me for more than five minutes,” she said softly. “You stand a much better chance at landing a man than I do, Nat. You’re the one who’s genuinely pretty.”

Nat gave her a playful shove in the ribs. “Well, you ain’t half-bad-looking yourself, girl. Besides, there’s more to a pretty woman than just good looks. A whole lot more.”

After that, Jamie kept quiet for the next ten minutes or so.

The truth was, she had never considered herself ugly, but she knew she wasn’t movie-star material, either.

She thought back on her high school days; she had never been asked to the prom and had only attended homecoming once as a senior, and even then, that had been a mostly-friends date. She’d never held hands or kissed a boy, not in the way she saw it done in movies and books.

Most of the time, her inexperience with the opposite gender didn’t bother her, at least too much. Still, she wondered what it would be like to have just one man give her the time of day, if only for one day.

Maybe that’s why I love love stories so much. If I can’t have a real romance right now, I can still get my romantic thrills somewhere else.

 

---

 

Chris could see why everyone deemed Moulin Rouge! a work of art. Even so, he found himself asking, Why couldn’t JC have picked a comedy for tonight?

Watching the ill-fated love between the charming Christian and the sparkling Satine roused too many disturbing emotions; Justin hadn’t been kidding about bringing a truckload of tissues to the theater. More than once, Chris felt his throat jump and he wiped his eyes furiously on his jacket. He was glad he sat at the external end of the row, so that only Lance noticed him, and when Lance asked in a whisper if he was okay, Chris muttered, “Got a little salt from the popcorn in my eyes.”

A little more than halfway through the movie, Chris announced to everyone, “Soda’s almost gone and getting too watery. I’m going for a refill.”

As he stood up, Joey told him, “Hey, while you’re at it, get some more popcorn, will you? Nothing under jumbo-sized.”

“And more frozen M&M’s, please,” said Justin with a wave of his empty box.

JC added, “And those little ice cream bites, too; they’re fantastic!”

“Your stomachs’ wishes are my commands,” Chris answered with a mock bow.

First, he made a quick trip to the men’s room, where he washed his hands and rinsed his face thoroughly with cold water. Even after he’d dried off, his reflection’s eyes still looked visibly red.

What’s the big deal, man? It’s just a movie, for crying out loud! No need to get all blubbery over some mawkish story with a bunch of fancy effects.

All the same, his heart felt unexplainably heavy and his stomach made him feel like he’d just swallowed a rock.

Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten so many tacos at dinner. Or at least not put on so much Lava Sauce.

Shaking his head, he turned away from the mirror and jerked the door aside. As he breezed into the foyer, he almost collided with a girl coming out of the other restroom; they both jumped a mile and yelled out at the same time.

“Oh!” the girl gasped when she’d recovered her composure. “Oh, excuse me!”

“I’m sorry,” Chris never hesitated to say while he waited for his heart to resume its normal rate. “I didn’t see you.”

“I wasn’t watching where I was going, either.” The girl smiled, and Chris found himself smiling back. “Say, you look familiar,” she remarked at length.

Chris’s breath stuck in his throat. His already tight stomach tightened even more. Was this girl one of those nutty fans he and the guys were almost constantly dodging, at almost every place they went?

Couldn’t he go anywhere these days without being recognized and stirring up a scene?

“Didn’t we meet before?” the girl asked.

Holding his gaze steady, striving to keep his cool, Chris answered very slowly, “Not that I can recall.”

To his immense relief, she never pressed for further details about him or got ape-crazy on him, and she asked as casually as ever, “So, you’ve got a date with the movies, too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said with a bit more enthusiasm. “Looks like half the town decided to invade this theater tonight. I was lucky to get through the crowds alive, to say nothing of finding a decent seat.”

The girl rolled her eyes at the ceiling and made a half-laugh. “Oh, boy, tell me about it! Which movie are you watching this evening?”

“‘Moulin Rouge.’”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “No kidding? That’s my movie, too! How are you liking it so far?”

He shrugged. “It’s all right, I guess. I’ve seen worse.”

“Well, I’m loving it, and I’d better grab some more popcorn and get back there before I miss much more of it.”

“Guess I’d better do the same.” To his own surprise, Chris felt some reluctance at cutting this conversation short. He could have easily stayed there and engaged in small talk with this girl for the remainder of the evening.

They walked to the concession stand together, both taking care to give the other plenty of elbow room. They placed their orders at adjacent registers, and while they waited, Chris couldn’t resist giving this girl a quick but thorough survey. Something about her perked his interest, though he couldn’t say what it was.

She wasn’t much to look at—not unattractive, of course, but he couldn’t very well envision her on a fashion billboard or magazine cover. Her shoulders were too square, their bones a little too pronounced. Her chest and hips were well-packed, her nose broad and somewhat squashed, her face an almost perfect circle and almost colorless. Her hair was a nice shade of brown, though he doubted she did much with it aside from washing and brushing. She had a nice smile, too, and her hazel eyes contained a genuine spark. Chris also couldn’t help noticing her small stature, and in his case, that was something noteworthy; while he had always been on the short side himself, this girl’s head barely reached his shoulder.

On the whole, she was about as much the opposite of Allie as it was possible for a girl to get. For all that, Chris was truly intrigued.

When the girl’s gaze tangled with his, he felt his face and neck redden, and he discreetly looked the other way.

Her order, being the smallest, was completed first. “That’ll be seven-seventy-eight,” her cashier said.

When the girl rummaged through her pockets, she only produced six dollars and fifty-two cents. “Oh, great!” she groaned, catching Chris’s attention again. “I was sure I had enough!”

“Too bad, honey,” said the cashier, not sounding too sympathetic. “Your popcorn and soda are all ready to go.”

Almost before he realized what he was doing, Chris whipped out ten dollars from his own wallet and placed them on the counter.

“Here,” he said.

The girl gaped at him in disbelief while the cashier just shrugged, snatched up the money, and muttered, “Works for me.”

“Thank you,” the girl told Chris in a soft voice.

He nodded amiably. “No problem.”

The girl continued to regard Chris with wonder as she took up her snacks and backed away from the counter. Just as she was turning to the aisle leading to the subdivisions, another man came up briskly from the other end and plowed straight into her. Chris jumped off the floor at the noise and immediately spun about, but the girl was already sprawled on the checkered tiles with her soda in a fast-spreading puddle and her popcorn scattered in every direction.

Rather than help her up or even apologize, the other man kept going, though he snapped over his shoulder, “Watch where you’re going, Shorty!”

Chris wanted to chase that guy down and customize his face; instead, he hurried to the girl’s side as fast as he could. Dropping to one knee beside her, he asked anxiously, “Are you all right?”

The girl’s face was ketchup-red, her eyes glistened, and her voice was almost a squeak when she answered, “I think so.”

With a murderous glare over his shoulder, Chris said under his breath, “Jerk!” Then he took the girl’s shaky hand in his and pulled her very gently to her feet. He was glad to see she wasn’t hurt, but he could tell how embarrassed she was. At the very least, only a handful of other people were there to see it.

Someone in uniform was already on his way with a broom and dustbin. As the girl stood with her head bent to her chest and her hands brushing futilely at her eyes, Chris fetched his own popcorn bucket, which had just been set down. He brought it to her with his own replenished drink, saying softly, “Here, take these.” As the girl stared at him and his liberal offering, he added with an encouraging smile, “It’s okay. I can easily afford another jumbo-sized popcorn. And I hope you don’t mind Sprite.”

The girl hesitated at first, then tentatively accepted both from him. “Thank you,” she whispered again. “Thank you so much. That’s so nice of you.”

“You’re very welcome. It’s my pleasure.” He patted her shoulder and kept his eye on her until she had safely turned the corner before he went back to the concession stand.

This meant Chris had to wait another ten minutes until he could finally go back to the guys with the loot, and he knew he had missed a fair chunk of the movie by now. But he didn’t mind. He even walked down the aisle with his head higher than usual and a bit more spring in his step.

Whoever that girl is, I’m glad to have met her, if only for a little while. Wonder if I’ll be able to catch her again after the movie. If not, I just hope she’ll be okay.

 

---

 

“Well, it took you long enough, J-girl!” Nat whispered when Jamie resumed her seat. “What kept you? And what’s with the jumbo popcorn? I thought you only went for a regular.”

Unwilling to reveal the whole story, Jamie only answered, “I, uh, had a little accident and some guy was nice enough to give me his own popcorn.”

“For real?” Nat sounded surprised and greatly impressed. “Well! There’s a gentleman for you. Glad to know the breed still lives.” Grabbing a fistful of popcorn, she added, “And this ought to last us all the way to the end credits.”

Jamie nibbled a few kernels herself and took occasional sips of her soda. But even with her eyes on the screen, she kept seeing her hero, with his short but solid build, gangster-like clothes, spiked hair, rugged demeanor—and soulful brown eyes.

I’ve never seen such eyes. I’ve never seen anyone like him.

Naturally, a few boys had caught Jamie’s eye over the years. Most of them were nice enough. But this guy…something about him put him in a class entirely by himself.

She’d meant it when she told him earlier that he looked oddly familiar. Was he who she thought he was?

Could it be possible? Here, of all places?

Meanwhile, on the other side of the dim theater, JC was saying, “Chris, there you are! We were just about to send Lance after you.”

“What was all the problem?” Lance asked.

“Had to use the men’s room before I headed for the snack bar,” said Chris as he settled into his seat and doled out the junk food. 

“Must’ve been quite the bathroom break,” said Joey with a shrewd look. 

Chris would have slugged him had Lance and JC not separated them. Instead, he replied with a not-so-subtle note of disdain, “And it took them a while with the popcorn, too. You did say jumbo-sized, after all. And Justin asked specifically for the frozen M&M’s.” 

“That I did,” said Justin as he grabbed the box and dug in. “Man, I’ll tell ya, once I start eating these, it’s impossible to stop. They go great with the popcorn, too.”

“Pipe down, everybody,” JC said, motioning toward the big screen. “They’re getting to the good part!” 

No one said another word for the remainder of the movie, and it wasn’t long before Chris found himself caught up in the eye-dazzling and soul-wrenching story once more. He officially lost it when Satine took her last breath in Christian’s arms, and when Christian sang at the end, “The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return!”

By the time the lights went on, there was as much sniffling in the theater as applause, if not more. 

Wiping at her eyes, Jamie asked, “Are you crying, too, Nat?”

“N-no,” Nat insisted while she dabbed her eyes and blew her nose on a napkin. “I just got a bit of salt from the popcorn in my eyes. That’s all.” 

As Chris followed his mates into the foyer and disposed of his garbage, he said with a groan, “Geez, JC, we’ll have to watch three comedies after this.”

“That movie got you bawling like a baby, didn’t it?” Joey taunted Chris. 

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Macho,” said Justin, giving Joey a push. “I could hear you blubbering as hard as anybody in there.”

Joey narrowed his eyes and stuck out his lower lip in a childish pout. “I was not!” 

“Want to bet?” Chris countered. “You used up almost every napkin we had by yourself.”

“I just had some of the salt from the popcorn in my eyes. That stuff stings, dude.” 

“Yeah, right,” Lance smirked. “That’s what they all say.”

“And speaking of popcorn,” said JC, regarding Joey with an expression of pure disbelief, “how in the world could you eat two big buckets of popcorn and all that candy in one sitting? And after a big dinner, too?”

With a nonchalant shrug, Joey rejoined, “Guess I was still hungry.”

Lance shook his head, a lopsided smile playing on his mouth. “I seriously doubt there’s ever a time when you’re not hungry, Joe.”

Justin shook his head as well as he muttered, “Man, you must have been born with two stomachs.”

“More like three stomachs,” said Chris. “Or even four, like a cow.”

“Mmrrrroooooooo.” Joey held his forefingers over either side of his head and mimed chewing a cud, which sent all four guys into a laughing fit.

When Chris could speak again, he asked dryly, “Why did I get the feeling you were gonna do that, Joe?” At the same time, it surprised him at how good it felt to have a good laugh. It provided a nice respite not just from the movie, but from everything that had come about these last few weeks.

That’s what you gotta love about Joey. Seldom a dull moment with him around.

A familiar voice caught Chris’s ear right then, and he noticed a familiar face amid the crowd. As if his legs had a mind of their own, he found himself moving forward to catch up with that face. Behind him, he heard JC say bewilderedly, “Chris?”

“Hey, Chris, where are you going?” Lance called.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Feel like grabbing a coffee before we head for home, J?” Nat asked while she and Jamie walked side by side.

Jamie screwed up her face and pushed her tongue through her teeth. “How about hot chocolate instead? That’s a little more to my liking.”

“That’s right,” Nat said, eyeing her meaningfully, “I keep forgetting that you have uncultured taste buds.”

“I just don’t like the taste of overcooked dirt, that’s all.”

Nat sighed. “Sheez, girl. One cup of bad coffee and you’re sworn to lifelong abstinence.”

“Anyway, if we’re going anywhere else tonight, Nat, you’ll have to fund it—” Jamie stopped dead in her tracks, and Nat stopped when she saw her.

“What’s the matter?”

“Where’s my purse?” Jamie asked.

“Didn’t you bring it out of the theater with you?”

“I know I did! I would have sworn I did.” Jamie turned in a full circle, her eyes skimming the floor, which was almost completely buried under the mass of human feet.

Before she had a chance to panic, someone tapped her shoulder and a familiar voice said, “Excuse me; is this yours?”

Jamie turned—and her eyes just about popped out of her head at the sight of her handsome hero. He held up her purse, where she could see the broken stitching on one strap.

“Good thing I was following you,” he told her with his winsome smile.

Jamie hesitated only a second before taking her purse back and gushing, “Oh, thank you! Thank you, a million times!”

He laughed. “You’re welcome, a million times.”

“I definitely need to get a new purse. You are such a lifesaver.”

“That’s okay. I was hoping to catch you again tonight anyway, and what better opportunity than this?”

“None that I can think of.” Jamie’s heart fairly leaped into her throat at the understanding that someone like him actually wanted to see someone like her again.

“I wanted to make sure you were all right after…you know…what happened earlier. Are you?”

Jamie swallowed hard. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Peachy-keen.”

“What’d you think of the movie?”

At first, Jamie’s brain was a total blank. Then she managed to get out, “Awesome. Incredible. Beyond incredible. Just…wowsers. It made me cry my eyes out.”

“Oh, you think?” Nat broke in. “I’m surprised you didn’t drown the whole theater!”

This incursion enabled Jamie to turn her head, change her expression, and talk more normally. “Oh, come on, Nat, I didn’t cry that hard.”

“Oh, yeah? I swear to heaven above, Jamie Corrine Miller, just hearing about a stray kitten turns you into a busted faucet.”

It was all Jamie could do to resist thumping her girlfriend in this man’s presence. While she managed to keep her hands to herself, she coolly retorted, “Okay, so I’ve got a sensitive side. Sue me, why don’t you?”

“So, your name’s Jamie,” the young man remarked, sounding intrigued. “Well, that saves me the trouble of asking, which I was just about to do.”

Unable to help smiling again, Jamie told him, “Yeah, I’m Jamie. And this is Nat, my roommate and best-friend-slash-worst-enemy.”

“Pleasure,” Nat said, holding out her hand, which the man shook heartily.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Nat and Jamie. I’m Chris.”

“Chris,” Nat repeated, looking and sounding most thoughtful. “That’s a nice name.”

“For such a nice man,” Jamie would have said if she’d had the nerve.

Chris now offered his hand to Jamie, and a little electric tremor passed between them when she touched him, making them both jump off the floor.

“A-ha,” Nat crowed, “there’s a dead giveaway right there! Goes to show Cupid’s arrows aren’t always required for the job.”

Jamie felt her infamous blush sweep over her entire face and neck, and again she knew that Chris was all that kept her from pouncing on Nat.

Chris said, with another chuckle, “Talk about a shocking experience!”

In spite of herself, Jamie had to laugh, too.

“Oh, come, now,” said Nat, wagging her finger at Chris, “that’s the oldest pun in the book! Don’t you know any ‘current’ ones?”

Jamie couldn’t resist adding, “How positively re-volt-ing!”

Now all three of them shared a peal of laughter. “Hey, that was a good one!” Chris smiled.

“Yeah,” Nat said, “but I think it’s time for a ‘switch’ on topics.”

“Keep this up and someone will soon be facing charges of assault and ‘battery,’” said Jamie, and Chris just about keeled over. Jamie had never thought of herself as funny, but seeing how she cracked Chris up heartened her to no small degree.

“I don’t know whether to laugh or to clobber you for that one, J,” said Nat. “That was terrible!”

When Chris recovered his breath and could talk, he said, “Oh, man, you girls should totally go into stand-up.”

“Maybe someday, we will,” said Jamie.

“But right now, we gotta get going,” said Nat, hooking her arm through Jamie’s. “Sorry to cut this pleasant conversation short, Chris, but we’ve got other plans for tonight and tomorrow.”

“No problem,” he said. “I need to get going, too, anyway. It was nice conversing with you, Nat, Jamie.”

Jamie didn’t know why she did it, but just as Chris was turning around, she blurted out, “Can I have your phone number?”

Chris didn’t know why he did it, but he obligingly jotted down his cell number on a tiny scrap of paper he just so happened to have handy in his pocket.

“Thank you,” said Jamie, unable to help the slight quiver in her voice as she tucked the paper in her own pocket. “Thank you so much for everything, Chris. I hope I’ll be able to see you and talk to you again soon.”

“Believe it or not, I hope so, too,” he replied. “In the meantime, take care.”

“You too.” They shook hands once more, and Jamie’s fingers tingled even after they’d let go. Strange as it was, Chris experienced the same sensation, though he merely smiled and turned away.

“Whoa,” said Nat when the man had gone. “You are bold, Jamie. I can’t believe he gave you his number just like that!”

“I can’t believe I even asked him in the first place,” Jamie said, her voice hushed, her eyes staring blankly ahead.

“Well, he seems nice enough, at any rate.” Nat had to give Jamie’s arm a little tug to get her moving. “Come on, lover girl. Ice cream sundaes at the corner store, on me.”

That got the other girl’s attention in a heartbeat. “With chocolate syrup? And nuts?”

“Enough to satisfy even the nuttiest chocoholic.”

“Who was that, Chris?” asked JC when Chris came back.

“She a friend of yours?” queried Justin.

“Sort of,” Chris murmured, lifting one foot to scratch the back of his leg. “Her name’s Jamie.”

“She looks nice,” Lance commented.

“She looks pretty average for a girl,” said Joey, adding hastily, “Don’t get me wrong.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” JC said with a smile. “I think she’s kind of cute.”

Justin asked Chris, “And did I just see you give her your number?”

Chris felt his face go red-hot, though he insisted, “It was a harmless enough request.”

“Really?” said Joey, arching his brows.

“Come on, guys, I just met her. Besides, I’m already committed to Allie. You know that.”

“Sure, we do,” said Justin.

Joey gave Chris a hard elbow to the ribs as he added roguishly, “Though your face implies otherwise.”

It was all Chris could do to avoid palming his face or taking Joey out on the spot. “Come on,” he said again as he adjusted the sleeves of his black motorcycle jacket, “let’s just get out of here before someone recognizes us and causes a riot.”

As if the words were a cue, a deafening scream rang out and some pubescent voice wailed, “Oh, my gosh! It’s ‘N Sync!”

That was all it took to light the fuse.

Now a whole slew of people, with females making up at least eighty percent, were shouting and hollering and stirring up a positively hysterical scene.

“‘N Sync!” 

“It’s ‘N Sync!”

“‘N Sync, here?”

“I don’t believe it!” 

“You’re kidding!”

“Shut up!” 

“Justin!”

“Chris!”

“Justin!” 

“JC!”

“Justin!” 

“Chris!”

“Lance!”

“JUSTIN!”

“Lance, I love you!”

“Marry me, JC!”

“Hey, Joey!”

“RUN!” Joey urged his mates, none of whom needed telling twice.

 

---

 

This wasn’t the first time Chris was forced to bolt when it came to his fans. He had a feeling that it wouldn’t be the last, either. But he still found it incredible, ridiculous, and utterly humiliating to be running from a swarm of silly kids, and some silly adults besides.

Since it was impossible to escape through the main doors, Chris and his gang had to get out of the theater through a smaller side door. Even then, JC hollered, “Everybody split up! Go anywhere, hide anyplace! We’ll find each other later!” 

As Chris set out on his own, he heard Joey shout, “I wonder if this is how Shaggy and Scooby felt when the ghosts were after them!”

Even going their separate ways, all five guys found a considerable number of pursuers on their tails. Chris thanked his lucky stars that he was naturally quick on his feet—and the fact that he had been on the track team in high school certainly didn’t hurt.

At least this is one way to work off all that junk food!

Chris went wherever his feet took him, zipping around random corners and dodging more than one pedestrian. He tried to go in a direction that his followers couldn’t easily figure out, and he was also grateful for the waning daylight, which made his getaway all the easier.

Finally, when the screams died away and he could see no one coming after him when he glanced over his shoulder, he stopped. Just in time, too, since by then his lungs were on fire, his heart was set to burst from his chest, his legs were reduced to soggy noodles, and the sweat all but poured down his face and neck. As the man struggled to recover his breath, he noticed that he stood in front of a small coffee shop.

So he went in there to hide and rest for a while.

Only a handful of people were in there at that time, and if anyone noticed Chris Kirkpatrick’s presence, they made no sign of it. Just to be safe, however, Chris sat in one of the corner booths located way at the back. He all but collapsed into his seat and used some of the napkins from the little metal dispenser to dab his face and neck. When his heart slowed, his lungs cooled, and his breathing steadied, he buried his face in his hands and moaned, “Oh, this is nuts.”

It was times like these when he wished he and his band hadn’t made it quite so big. As a kid, he’d dreamed of fame and fortune, as anybody would.

But had he known that he would be this famous…

Why can’t I be a more normal, average person? Why can’t I go out and grab a burger, see a movie, or just walk down the street like anybody else?

Chris didn’t know how long he sat there in that tired, defeated position, but a familiar voice made him lower his hands and open his eyes.

What he saw made him sit up straighter, and his posture became cardboard-stiff.

Just a few feet ahead of him stood a young man with sandy-colored hair, a day or two’s worth of stubble, a very sour demeanor, and clothes that looked like they hadn’t seen an iron for ages. Chris recognized him as the guy who had knocked Jamie down at the theater.

As if that weren’t enough, the beautiful blonde girl the guy was speaking with (or arguing with) looked very much like—no, it was—but it couldn’t be—surely Chris had to be mistaken.

Allie?

 

---

 

“Hey, Nat, check this out!”

Nat looked up from her bowl of Fruity Pebbles. “Check what out?”

“The guys of ‘N Sync were all spotted at a movie theater last night!”

“So?”

“It was the Pine View Cinema! The same theater we were at!”

Now Nat snapped to full attention. “What? Give me that paper!” She narrowly avoided tearing the Daily News in half when she snatched it from Jamie’s hand. She took a moment to skim the article, then declared, “Well, how about that? Talk about a small world.”

“I knew Chris looked familiar!” Jamie cried elatedly. “Chris Kirkpatrick, of all people! I can’t believe it! I mean, what are the odds of that happening?”

“You got me, girl,” said Nat with her gaze still on the article. “Says here that ‘a hysterical teen mob’ came after them, and they had to split—literally. Where they ended up is anybody’s guess.”

Jamie’s beaming expression disappeared, and she said with a cringe, “Oh, wow. That had to be no fun. For the guys, I mean. It sounds like they can’t be anywhere in peace.”

Nat shook her head, making no effort to hide her disdain. “Dang, people just ain’t got no respect for other people’s privacy. No respect at all.”

“Poor guys. I would hate to be in their shoes.”

“If someone came after me like that,” said Nat, folding the paper in half and slapping it against the table, “I’d hit ‘em so hard, other people would hurt just from looking at ‘em.”

A wry smile played on Jamie’s lips. “Knowing you, Nat, you could scare them off just by looking at them. No one gives the evil eye like you do.”

“This is true.”

The two girls stayed quiet for the next minute or so, with Nat eating and Jamie merely stirring up a whirlpool in her milk. Nat ended up breaking the silence first. “Well, J, now that you know Chris’s true identity, what are you gonna do? You gonna put his number to the test, or what?”

“I don’t know,” said Jamie softly while she watched her cereal spin around. “It would be nice to see him and talk to him again, but I don’t want to overdo it. I don’t want to give him any wrong impressions. And besides, he and I have barely met. We only started becoming acquainted. Chances are he’s already got another girl, and if even he doesn’t…oh, I don’t know. Doesn’t it just seem downright weird to you, Nat?”

With a shrug, Nat only said, “No weirder than asking for his contact info the second his back is turned, and him giving it to you then and there.”

“Hmmm.”

 

---

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Why would I kid about something like this, Joey?”

“You’re sure it was Allie?” asked Lance in a much softer, more considerate tone.

“Positive. I would know her anywhere.”

“Dude,” said Joey, spreading his hands, “there are, like, ten million blonde babes in this world! So many of them share a striking resemblance. I’ve come across a few guys that I would have sworn were you from a distance. And besides, what are the odds of winding up in the same coffee house as Allie, on that side of town?”

With his gaze on his untouched bacon and sunny-side-up eggs, Chris muttered, “I don’t know. But I saw what I saw.”

“Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding,” said JC, placing a comforting hand on Chris’s shoulder. “Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet, buddy.”

Chris merely sighed and slid a hand over his throbbing eyes. All through last night, he’d remained tight-lipped, and sleep had been next to impossible. Even as he opened up to his mates this morning, he felt it was doing him more harm than good.

“Did you find out who the other guy was?” asked Justin.

Chris kept his eyes closed and his hand in place, but he answered promptly enough, “No.”

“You didn’t get his name, or anything like that?” Lance queried.

“No. I was too far away and they both spoke too quietly, though I could tell their conversation was not a pleasant one. Then again, I could also tell he was the sort of guy you wouldn’t get along with too well. Even from where I was, I got a bad vibe from him.”

“And they didn’t know you were there?” JC pressed gently.

“I don’t think so. Neither of them looked my way, and I didn’t have the nerve to approach them. I just stayed there and kept my head down, and by the time I dared to look up again, they were both gone.”

“So you couldn’t be a hundred percent sure if it was Allie or not,” Joey said.

“I guess not.” Now Chris lowered his hand to his chin and opened his eyes. “But I still don’t have a good feeling about this at all, guys.”

JC patted his shoulder. “I’d never tell you what to do, Chris,” he said, “but I suggest for now, you give Allie the benefit of the doubt. Wait and see what really happens with her, and then go from there.”

“And who knows?” said Joey with an encouraging smile. “You may not have anything to worry about after all.”

Chris wasn’t convinced, but all he said was, “For once, Joe, I hope you’re right.”

As Justin browsed the morning paper, his eyes grew decidedly bigger and he said, “Well, here’s something to worry about, all right.”

“What?” Lance craned his neck to read the article as well, and in a few seconds, he said with complete dismay, “Oh, no.”

“Let me see that,” said JC, taking the paper for himself.

Chris couldn’t resist peeking over JC’s shoulder, and he felt his heart drop to his feet as he read the mention of their appearance at the Pine View Cinema the previous night. There was even an elaborate description of the mass of teens and pre-teens they had inadvertently aroused, and how he and his mates had taken off like scared rabbits.

“Well, that’s just peachy,” JC grumbled as he tossed the paper aside.

After Joey had his chance to read the fine print, he made a curt nod and stated, “Yep. That’s the last time I’ll be able to show my face there.”

“Lord help us all,” said Justin while Lance buried his face in his hands and Chris dropped his forehead against the table.

 

---

 

Five days later, Jamie still hadn’t found the courage to dial Chris’s number, though she kept a good hold on that snippet of paper.

It wasn’t that she was afraid of him rejecting her (okay, so a part of her did worry about that), but what were you supposed to say to someone who was an ultra-major pop star? How were you supposed to act around a person that so many other people knew and admired? Oh, she understood that Chris was really no different from anyone else; there was no need to treat him any differently now that she knew who he was. She knew she wouldn’t want people treating her differently if she became rich and famous.

Still, whenever she tried to think of what to tell him, of where she could possibly begin with him, her mind remained a complete blank and her tongue felt more twisted than a poorly made pretzel.

Besides, it didn’t seem conventional for the girl to make the first move on the guy. She might as well be the one to whip out the big bouquet of roses from behind her back, or get down on one knee and ask, “Will you marry me?”

More than once, Jamie scolded herself, Why am I being so silly about all this? What harm could there be in just talking to him?

That afternoon, she sat Indian-style on her bed with a little gray monkey she’d owned since her babyhood. She held the soft, slightly tattered toy out at arm’s length and said to its smiling face, “Hi, Chris, this is Jamie. You know, that girl from the movies? I was wondering if we could…no, that’s not gonna work.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Hey, Chris, Jamie here! Sorry to be a bother, but I was just thinking about you and wanting to know, if you wouldn’t mind—naw, that’s stupid, too.”

With a sigh, she flopped back against the mound of pillows. With her eyes on the ceiling, she muttered, “Who am I fooling? What chance does someone like me stand with someone like him, even on the ‘friends’ level? Sure, he was nice enough at the theater, but who knows about next time? If there even is a next time?” At length, she drew her monkey a little closer to her face and asked, “What do you think, Georgie?”

“I think you might want to be careful about who you let catch you talking to inanimate objects. Someone will ship you off to the nuthouse in a banana crate before you turn around.”

Jamie jumped about two feet off the bed, and then as she recovered herself, she narrowed her eyes and said with dripping disdain, “Hello, Natasha.”

Nat, having just come back from her part-time job as a grocery bagger, leaned against the doorframe with her slim arms folded and a canny smile gracing her nut-brown face. Even in a white shirt, faded jeans, and a bright red apron, she looked great; Jamie doubted any article of clothing existed that her friend wouldn’t look great in. “Practicing your lines, huh?” Nat said, more as a statement than anything else.

Jamie’s expression softened, and her whole body sagged on the bed. “Okay, you got me,” she confessed. “I guess I just don’t want to come off as a complete dope if I ever speak to Chris again.”

“What do you mean, ‘if’? You still got his number, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Then what are you waiting for, girl? What’s the holdup?”

“I guess…” Jamie fumbled for a bit before going on. “I guess I’m not sure this is the right time.”

“What makes a time more right than any other time?”

Sitting up, Jamie answered dryly, “You know what I mean.”

Stepping all the way into the room, Nat said, “Honestly, J, I don’t see what any harm there can be in one simple call. Chris can’t bite your head off over the phone. Besides, you always wished one guy in the world would take notice of you, and now you’ve got your wish.”

“But, Nat, this is Chris Kirkpatrick we’re talking about! We’re not talking about a call to a grandmother or some old high school chum—”

“Oh, so that’s it, is it? Chris’s super-celebrity-status acting as a big barrier?”

“No! Yes…”

“Which one?”

“Both.” Jamie sighed again and clasped her stuffed monkey to her chest. “Besides, the girl making the first move on the guy? It simply isn’t done that way.”

Nat placed both hands on her slender hips and raised an eyebrow as high as it would go. “So you expect the men to do all the work, hmm? Well, then, little missy, how do you explain Jane Eyre?”

“Jane Eyre?” Jamie repeated, puzzled.

“Or Elizabeth Bennett? Or Ariel, or Belle, or Jasmine, or Pocahontas, or Meg? Who knows where those fine ladies would have ended up had they not possessed the guts to go after their guys?” Nat brushed her fingers through her short black hair as she went on, “I may not be the world’s biggest love expert, honey, but I can pretty much guarantee you’ll be sadly disappointed if sitting around and waiting is all you’re gonna do.”

“I don’t love him,” Jamie insisted even as she felt that old blush take over her face. “I admire him and the rest of his group as much as anyone could.” She paused, then added, “And what if he already has someone else, anyway? How awkward would that be?”

Nat shrugged. “Like the old saying goes, you’ll never know if you never try. What have you got to lose, J-girl? At least you’d be no worse off than you are right now.”

With her gaze on her monkey, Jamie mumbled, “Yeah, that much is true.”

“Just keep this in mind, my friend—it’s a phone call, not a wedding proposal.” In another minute, Nat said, “Much as I’d love to stick around and indulge in girly talk, I got other urgent affairs to attend to.”

“You’re excused,” Jamie told her.

“Catch you later, J.” Nat stretched out her hand and gave the monkey’s right ear a little tweak. “See ya, Georgie.”

 

---

 

Chris ran a water-slick comb through his hair and added an extra spritz of cologne. He knew he should be looking forward to tonight, yet the knot in his stomach wouldn’t go away. As he surveyed his reflection, he told himself, You can do this, man. You can be polite to Allie and not give her any unnecessary tip-offs.

“He-e-ey, lookin’ sharp!”

Chris could already see from the mirror that Justin stood behind him, with Joey right behind Justin. “Hi, guys,” he said as he adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses.

“Oh, boy, wait until Allie gets a load of you!” said Joey. “Her eyes will totally bug out and her jaw will leave a major dent in the pavement.”

“Thanks,” Chris said, not sure at all whether he’d been complimented.

“You okay?” Justin asked, furrowing his brow. “For a guy who’s got a night out with his girl, you don’t look too thrilled.”

“This is the first time you and Allie have been able to get together in almost two months,” Joey said. He paused, then asked, “Hey, you’re not still sore about whether you might have spotted Allie with someone else that other night, are you?”

“No,” Chris said, but then found himself confessing, “Well…maybe a little.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, man,” said Justin with a light slap on Chris’s back. “Allie needed no persuasion to go out with you tonight, did she?”

“She didn’t hesitate to say yes, but she sounded far from ecstatic.” Now Chris turned to face his mates properly. “Plus,” he added, “it’s been a tough week.”

Justin and Joey knew he wasn’t exaggerating.

Aside from their grueling agenda that week, they’d all had to endure quite a bit from their friends and associates about their ill-timed cameo appearance at the movies. While a few people were genuinely sympathetic toward their plight, most acted as if the guys had landed first place on America’s Funniest Home Videos. Laughs and wisecracks were doled out in heaping spoonfuls; even Wade and Johnny got a bigger laugh out of it than Chris believed necessary. During rehearsals once, Wade had gone so far as to chant, “Run, run, run, as fast as you can! You can’t catch me, I’m an ‘N Sync man!”

At another time, Chris would have laughed along, but right then, he could have sunk through the floor. It was all he could have done to keep his hands down, his head high, and show some grit.

Now Joey slapped Chris’s shoulder and said, “With luck, man, this evening will be just what the doctor ordered.”

“I hope so,” Chris said. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“Much more of what?” Justin queried. “Your problems with women, your problems as a guy from ‘N Sync, or your problems with life as a whole?”

“All of the above, I guess.” Chris sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, guys. I love my job, I love my fans, I love my woman, and I love you.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” Joey cooed, giving Chris’s cheek a pinch.

Chris gently shrugged Joey off before continuing, “I know I should be grateful for what I’ve got, and I am. But sometimes…”

“Sometimes, what?” asked Justin after a minute or two of silence.

Chris sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly through rounded lips. How could he describe it? In another minute he managed to say, “Sometimes I get the sense that no one sees me or appreciates me as I truly am.”

Justin made a little nod of understanding. “They don’t appreciate the guy inside the performer,” he said. “They don’t know what goes on with you when you’re not on a stage or in front of a camera.”

“Exactly. And sometimes I think they don’t even want to.”

“Kind of like that girl from the ‘Lucky’ song,” said Joey, being serious for once. “On the surface, she appears to have it all, anything that anyone could dream of—and yet she feels lonely and insecure, crying herself to sleep every night.” 

Chris didn’t say it, but he thought if they made a few alterations to those lyrics, the song would fit him to a tee:

“He’s so lucky, he’s a star,
But he cry, cry, cries
In his lonely heart, thinking—
'If there’s nothing missing in my life,
Then why do these tears come at night?’”

“Goes to show that fame plus fortune doesn’t equal happiness,” said Justin.

Chris nodded and sighed again. “Oh, well…I don’t mean to be a party pooper, but I did want you to know how I feel.”

“That’s all right,” Justin assured him with a smile.

“You know we’re always here for you, buddy,” added Joey. “We’ve all got your back.” He looked and sounded so sincere that Chris felt a rush of gratitude toward him, along with a little twinge of shame for getting annoyed with him so frequently.

“Thanks, guys. That means a lot.”

 

---

 

Although Chris was known for knowing the value of a dollar, he had to splurge every now and again. So when Allie joined him for their dinner date, he took her to one of the finest restaurants in the city and spared no expense on the meal.

Allie came out of her door all decked out in a black maxi dress that ended a little above her ankles, enough to show off her gleaming black stiletto heels. The diamond earring and necklace set that Chris had given her for her most recent birthday shimmered like a thousand stars. For this occasion, she kept her hair down, though it still fell away from her face and tumbled down her back in graceful golden waves. Chris could also tell that she had been generous with her new makeup kit, as well as with a divine perfume that must have cost nothing under fifty bucks an ounce.

Combined with Chris, with his sleek burgundy jacket, pale lime button-down shirt, black single-pleat pants, and black oxford shoes, there was no logical reason as to why these two young people shouldn’t be together.

As stunning as the restaurant was with its well-designed interior and impeccable food, what Chris liked most about this place was that it was just him and Allie, with no screaming kids, and everyone else who was there knew how to behave.

Chris and Allie dined by one of the enormous windows that provided an equally superb view of the city. It took both of them a while to make up their minds on what to eat, but at last Allie settled for the Asiago chicken smothered in mushrooms and a velvety sauce, whereas Chris opted for the herb-roasted lobster alongside a juicy slab of prime rib.

From a glance, this would have met anyone’s expectations of a romantic dinner.

While they waited for their orders, Chris idly traced the edge of his wine glass with his index finger as he asked, “So, how have you been, Allie?”

“Fine,” she replied without meeting his gaze. “How’s business?”

“Hectic, but otherwise going as well as can be expected.”

“That’s nice.”

“You look nice tonight. That dress goes awesome with your hair.” 

“Thanks.”

“I always liked your hair best when it hangs down.” 

“Thanks.”

“And that necklace is the perfect touch. Really brings you together.” 

“You should know. You bought it for me.”

After two or three minutes, Chris took another stab at small talk. “So…what’s new?” 

Allie tossed her head to send her hair a little farther back from her face before answering, “Nothing much. What’s new with you?”

He made a slight shrug. “Mm, nothing particularly noteworthy.” 

“New album’s selling well?”

“Selling like hotcakes.” 

“Any plans for what you’ll do after this?”

“Not a clue.” 

“The other guys doing well?”

“Yes, they are. Very well, in fact.” 

“Yeah? That’s cool.”

Another awkward pause lingered until their maître d' came back, and Chris couldn’t help thinking about Jamie and how much easier—and friendlier—his conversations with her had been. He also noticed that Allie perked up a bit more when their plates were set down, and that she showed more interest in the food than in him.

“Mmm…top-notch,” she commented between bites. “I wonder if it’s possible to get the recipe for this chicken.”

Chris took his time to cut up his dinner and chew it, and while he took occasional sips from his glass, the level didn’t go down much. At one point, he asked, “Allie?”

“Hm?”

“Are you feeling all right?”

That got her full attention for at least ten seconds. “I feel fine,” she said, looking and sounding puzzled at the question.

“Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?”

Chris hesitated briefly, then shook his head and muttered, “Never mind.”

Neither of them said another word for the next twenty minutes. Even after they’d ordered dessert (indulgent chocolate puddings under a mountain of whipped cream), Chris couldn’t shake the feeling that Allie was keeping something from him. No matter how many times he told himself not to be stupid, the suspicion wouldn’t quit nagging.

About halfway through dessert, Chris excused himself to the restroom. Inside the pristine men’s room, he peeled off his jacket and set it aside with his glasses so that it wouldn’t get spattered while he gave his hands and face a good wash. After drying off, he spent another five minutes gazing at his reflection. He noticed that a few strands of hair had come loose above his forehead, and he smoothed them back and used a little water to make them stick.

What’s the matter with me? Why should I feel this way? Why must everything in my life feel so out of whack? These questions, along with many more, circled in his brain like a dog chasing its tail, and he could find no answers.

At length, he donned his jacket once more and returned his glasses to their perch. He drew several good breaths while he straightened his lapels, and he kept his head up as he breezed out the door.

He hadn’t taken ten steps when something compelled him to stop and listen. From behind a tall artificial plant on his left side, some guy was saying, “Come on, Al, this is nuts! You know I hate being yanked around like this. I ain’t some toy on a string.”

“Quit your whining, Landon,” retorted a female voice that made Chris’s heart trip a beat. “It’s crucial that we maintain a low profile, especially when Chris is around.”

“Why don’t you make it easier on yourself and just give that guy the boot? Why spread yourself too thin between him and me?”

“Break up with Chris Kirkpatrick? Are you insane? The media would have a field day! You know how closely they monitor him and all those other guys. Heck, they’re still talking about ‘N Sync going AWOL at the movies!”

“Yeah? Well, I was there, too. Where’s my fifteen minutes of fame from that night? I have every bit as much the looks and the talent as those five pretty boys have. Why doesn’t the public follow me everywhere I go and document my every move?”

“Because you’re not a world-famous superstar, that’s why. Besides, I’ve got it too good with Chris to simply ditch him. He’s always there with all the money I could ask for and the most fabulous gifts that would turn any girl’s head.”

“So you complain about not having him to yourself as often as you’d like, and yet when it comes to money or fancy presents, he’s your handyman.”

“What are you griping about? You get a share in the benefits. Don’t forget, Landon, we wouldn’t have been able to go to half those places and spend half that much if we were on our own. And what about that new stereo system you’d been coveting for the last six months? Had Chris not been generous enough with that loan three weeks back, you’d be in a retirement home by the time you managed to get your paws on that stereo.”

Chris’s whole face burned white-hot. His hands balled into rock-rigid fists. What’s this? She told me she needed that money to pay off her mortgage bill!

“Whatever,” said the guy named Landon, and Chris could picture him rolling his eyes as far as they had the capacity to go. “But I still don’t like how you’re smoking-hot one minute and ice-cold the next. You’re getting to be too fickle for your own good, baby.” 

“That would be the understatement of the century, brother.” Now Chris stepped around the plant, making his presence fully known.

There could be no mistake now. There, in plainest sight, stood Allie with the scruffy guy from the theater and the coffee house (at least he’d had the decency to comb his hair and fix himself up somewhat this time). They both jumped off the floor and yelled bloody murder at the same time, turning quite a few heads in their direction. Even three waiters paused to see what was going on.

“Chris!” Only bats and dogs would have heard Allie’s voice had it been one octave higher. Her blue eyes would have popped from their sockets had they been any bigger.

“Hello, Allison,” Chris said in a tone of solid ice. “Good evening, Landon.”

Landon was the first to recover himself, and he narrowed his eyes and demanded furiously, “What’s the big idea, man? What’s with you barging in on us like that?”

“That’s something I would care to ask you, buddy.”

Allie faltered for several seconds before saying lamely, “I can explain.”

Chris crossed his arms. “Explain what? You messing around with some other guy when I’m not around? How I don’t satisfy you, Allison Matthews, except when it comes to your material comforts?”

“I…I…”

“How dare you, both of you. Sneaking behind my back while using me as an ATM.” Chris’s voice grew softer and sharper. “I would have expected better from you, Allison. I would never have done this to you. But it wasn’t good enough for you, was it? It never has been, has it?”

“Whoa, hey, pal,” said Landon, taking a step forward, “take a Chill Pill. It ain’t like she’s married to you or nothing. You got no more claims to her than any other dude—”

“Shut your mouth, Scruffy.” From the way Chris eyed him, it was a miracle Landon wasn’t down on the floor, bleeding from every place.

“Chris—” Allie began.

“Save your breath, honey, while you’ve still got it. I can assure you that my schedule will no longer be a hindrance after this. You will no longer have to rush back and forth, dividing yourself too many ways. You will also have no need to worry about the media. I won’t breathe a single word about the money. I’ll even leave you a nice tip with tonight’s meal, and Scruffy here can keep that stereo. But I would rather eat dog crap mixed with cyanide than come within thirty feet of either of you for the rest of my life. I would rather gouge my eyes out with a rusty nail, one after the other, than look your way again. Goodnight, Allison, and goodbye.”

 

---

 

Somehow, Chris managed to keep it together until he reached his penthouse. As he sat in his car, alone in the dark, his entire composure turned to soup. The tears flowed as if from a broken faucet, and he dropped his head onto the steering wheel and cried like a baby. He sobbed, cursed, and positively howled for what must have been a half-hour, maybe an hour.

Even after his tears ran dry and the sobs no longer tore his throat, he continued to slouch in his seat, feeling as empty as if someone had pulled a plug on him.

When at last he got out of the car and boarded the elevator, it cost just about every ounce of strength he had. He prayed his mates wouldn’t be around when he stepped through his door—but no, there they were, all four of them, scattered about the living room. They took but one look at him, and JC spoke first. “Chris, what’s wrong?”

“You look terrible,” Joey said. 

“Are you okay?” asked Lance.

“What happened?” Justin solicited. 

Chris found himself joining JC and Justin on the couch. He deposited his glasses onto the sleek black coffee table and all but flung his jacket to the side. Even on the couch, he sat as far on the edge as was possible and kept his head down. Justin stayed put, but JC slid a little closer and placed a light hand on Chris’s bent back. Lance and Joey moved closer as well, and the whole miserable story left Chris’s lips virtually of its own accord.

While he didn’t go into extensive detail, his mates were knocked for a loop nonetheless. Lance’s jaw pretty much hit the floor, while Justin said in a half-whisper, “I can’t believe it!”

“Neither can I,” Chris mumbled into his palms. 

“Oh, Chris, I’m so sorry,” said JC, now wrapping his arm around Chris’s shoulders and giving him a squeeze.

Even Joey, who’d always been the most apt to tease Chris about Allie, sat in stunned silence. When he could speak, he only said, “I never would have thought Allie was capable of stooping to such a level.”

Lance shook his head and murmured, “That was cruel, to say the absolute least.” 

Lifting his head a little, Chris dryly informed his mates, “On top of all that, would you believe she acted like she was the victim in this scenario? Like I was the bad guy? The one hurting her?” He didn’t mention the way Allie had whined and carried on at the restaurant, how half her face went black from her mascara as she spouted things like “I can’t believe you’re dumping me,” and “You can’t do this to me!”

“Oh, wow,” said Joey, making no effort to hide his disdain.

“That is rich,” added Lance with equal scorn.

“As fine a piece of work as they come,” Justin put in. 

“I’m so sorry, Chris,” JC said again.

Chris didn’t shy away from JC’s touch, but he shook his head and put a hand over his eyes once more. “Now I know the truth for myself,” he muttered, “and yet I wish I didn’t know.” 

“We don’t blame you for that, man,” Justin replied softly.

After a few minutes, Joey asked, “Can’t we do something?” 

“Think you might need a break from work, Chris?” Lance queried.

“No.” That was all it took to make Chris look up and straighten up. “I can’t have people see me falling apart. I must keep my daily routine intact at all costs.”

“Are you sure?” asked JC. 

Chris nodded vigorously. “I’m sure. I need to stay busy, and furthermore, people won’t have as much to gossip about if I don’t make a big deal out of this.”

“But it is a big deal,” said Joey.

“Yeah, but the public doesn’t need to know that. All they need to know is that Allie and I are no longer together, end of story. Lord knows what would happen if they got their hands on the dirty details.” The thought by itself was enough to make Chris nauseous; he could literally taste something foul. 

None of the guys appeared satisfied with this decision, but all JC said was, “Well, all right, Chris. If that’s the way you feel about it.”

Justin made a small salute as he added, “Your secret is safe with us.” 

“Thanks, guys.” Chris paused, then whispered, “And thanks for hearing me out…and for not rubbing it in.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t rub it in,” said Joey, sounding surprised and a little hurt at the idea. 

Lance reached out to pat Chris’s knee. “And you know you can talk to us about anything.”

Although Chris felt some relief for having confided in his mates, his heart was still broken—not just from Allie’s actions, but also at the realization that this marked the third relationship since his rise to stardom that proved an abysmal failure. 

In his mind’s eye, he saw Alicia, Danielle, and Allie arranged in some kind of row.

Alicia had seemed nice enough at the start. But she didn’t have the rationality of a grasshopper, and she took on the most ridiculous airs when she and Chris were together. While she never said it outright, she might as well have told the world through a megaphone, “My boyfriend is a celebrity, and so that makes me better than all of you put together!” 

Danielle had also had as much charm as any girl. But she got a little too cozy with Chris’s money, and consequently a little too picky about the gifts he bestowed on her. Never mind what the price tag said; never mind that she didn’t need this or that to survive; never mind the old saying, “It’s the thought that counts”—anything that cost forty dollars or less was simply taboo.

Now here was Allie, who’d thought she could use another guy to fill in those “gaps” Chris left behind, and Chris couldn’t curb the thought, Three strikes and you’re out. 

As Chris half-drowned himself in a hot shower and crawled into bed, he thought about Moulin Rouge! and its central theme: “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.”

What a load of cock and bull. 

True love, if such a thing existed, was only to be found in books and television. A sadist must have invented Valentine’s Day. So many people over the years found what they truly believed was love, only to have it blow up in their faces.

Chris’s last thought before falling into the welcoming arms of sleep was, Well, no more. I played my hand in this game, and now the game is over.

 

---

 

Even with Chris and his mates keeping their mouths shut, the media got wind of Chris’s split from Allison Matthews soon enough. At least the details weren’t as explicit as they would have been otherwise. Most mentions of Chris and Allie in print went no farther than the mere fact that they were no longer a couple, and people expressed a great deal of puzzlement as to the reason why. Some even seemed disappointed that so little was being said about the matter, that Chris didn’t appear more upset. Chris got a perverse pleasure out of making his fans’ heads spin, of knowing how much they yearned for a much more sensational story.

Chris focused the bulk of his time and energy on his work. When he wasn’t working with *NSYNC, he worked out—lifting weights until he couldn’t lift his arms, jogging until his legs screamed for mercy, swimming in the luxurious pool on the penthouse roof until he practically grew gills. In a different situation, the other guys would have made cracks about Chris’s sudden, somewhat overzealous dedication to exercise, but they all let him be. Sometimes they even joined him.

Once in a while, Chris would rent a motorcycle and go for a cruise around town. He never had a particular destination in mind, but he reveled in the speed, the wind in his face, the ability to make the cycle go as fast or as slow as he pleased.

Though he avoided any form of contact with Allie, he must have received a thousand messages on his voicemail from her alone. She cried, cajoled, even threatened him a little. It reached the point where he would simply delete the message the second he heard her voice, and he once grumbled to his mates at breakfast, “I’m gonna need a new number.”

JC shook his head in pity before taking a swig of coffee. “Girl just can’t take a hint, can she?” He and the others refrained from actually saying Allie’s name whenever possible, although Chris knew whom they meant anyway.

“There’s irony for you,” said Joey as he drizzled steaming syrup over his waffles and sausages. “She didn’t need you so much before. Now that you’ve cut her out of your life, all at once she cares.”

Chris snorted and jabbed his fork all the way through his own stack of waffles, so that the tines struck the plate underneath. “It’s her cushy little status as my girlfriend that she cares about. Saving her pretty little face from the public’s scrutiny, all that money and all those ritzy presents I showered her with—that’s what matters to her more than anything else.”

“Maybe you were a little too generous with her, Chris,” said Lance gently.

Justin took a sizeable bite of sausage and said between chews, “Hopefully the next lady in line will be a little less money-oriented.”

“There will be no fear of that,” Chris said. “I’m not doing this anymore, guys.”

Joey’s fork fell to the table with a clang, and Justin choked on his sausage and had to take several large gulps of milk. When Justin could talk, he asked incredulously, “Say what?”

Chris replied coolly, “I’m done courting women, that’s what I say. I’m never dating anyone, ever again.”

“You mean, never again?” asked Joey, furrowing his brow.

“Never.”

After an awkward minute or two, JC commented, “Well, that’s a bit drastic, isn’t it?”

“No, it isn’t. Not for me.”

“Gee, Chris,” said Justin, “just because you met a few ladies who fell short of the bill doesn’t mean all ladies are like that.”

“No need to wage a vendetta against the opposite sex for the rest of your life,” said Joey.

Chris could feel his face heating up, but Lance came to his rescue. “Leave him alone, guys. He’s been dealt an extremely painful blow, and it’s only natural that he’s still smarting. Give him time to recover, and whether he finds someone else or not, that’s his business. Not ours.”

“Thank you, Lance,” Chris murmured.

They finished their breakfast in silence, and after Chris wiped his mouth and pushed back his chair, he announced, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the pool.”

 

---

 

“What’s this, J? You’ve actually got a phone in your hand?”

With a lopsided smile, Jamie answered, “It’s now or never, Nat.”  

Nat also smiled and gave a little wink as she disappeared into the kitchen. “Good luck!”

“Yeah, I’ll need it.” Returning her gaze to the white receiver, Jamie sucked in a long breath and let it out slowly through puckered lips. In her lap rested the paper containing Chris’s number.

No matter how many times she ordered herself to stay calm, her nerves simply wouldn’t stop jangling. The phone shook in her hand, and her feet felt cold despite wearing her favorite purple socks and having both feet tucked beneath her. Her fingers were hardly steady enough to punch in the appropriate numbers, but those numbers got punched in. While she listened to the rings, she prayed, Please answer, Chris. I may never find the courage to do this again.

When she heard Chris’s voice at last, she almost jumped off the sofa, only to droop like a wilted flower upon realizing it was just his voicemail.

“Hey, this is Chris! Sorry I missed your call, but if you leave me a message, I’ll get back to you A-S-A-P! Thanks a lot, and bye-bye-bye!”

At the sound of the beep, Jamie started to hang up—but then she found herself leaving a message after all.

“Hi, Chris, it’s Jamie Miller. We ran into each other at the movies a couple of weeks back, and you were nice enough to leave me with your number. So today, I decided to take you up on your offer, if it’s still open. Hope I’m not being a pest. Please call me back as soon as it’s convenient for you. Thank you, Chris. Goodbye.”

 

---

 

Chris sliced through the water, savoring its sweet coolness, basking in the sheer power of his arms and legs as they propelled him. Sometimes he felt he would spend all his time in water if he could. In the water, it was like nothing else in the world mattered; for a while, he could forget everyone and everything. He also loved the pool on the top of the penthouse—just the right length, width, and depth, as clean as it was possible for a pool to be, and at that time, he had it all to himself.

When he had done a considerable number of laps (he didn’t bother to keep count), he hoisted himself onto the warm concrete lip to rest and get his breath. He raised his goggles to the top of his head and gently wiped his eyes and nose. While he sat there with his legs still soaking, he noticed Joey approaching him.

Since Joey was still fully dressed, Chris knew he hadn’t come for a swim. But Joey did have Chris’s cell phone with him, and his face appeared uncharacteristically serious. When Joey joined his companion, he said in a tone as grim as his expression, “Hey, Chris.”

“Hey, Joe. What are you doing with my phone?”

Crouching beside Chris, Joey informed him, “Well, I thought I’d do you a favor and help you clear some of your messages. With how much this thing’s been ringing lately and all.”

Since the guys all had easy access to one another’s phones, Chris’s only response was, “And?”

“And I thought you should hear this. Be forewarned that it’s her, and I know she’s left you a truckload of messages already. Still, I feel this one warrants your ear.”

Much as Chris dreaded hearing it, he knew it must be important if it had someone like Joey so concerned. So he said, “If you insist. Go ahead.”

Joey punched in the code for the voicemail and pressed the button for the loudspeaker so that Chris could listen, too. Sure enough, Allie’s voice floated out. This time, she sounded almost hysterical, like she tottered on the edge of a serious breakdown.

But it was what she said that hooked Chris’s attention:

“Christopher Alan Kirkpatrick, you better pick up this damn phone and talk to me! I don’t know what it’s gonna take to get through to you! If this is how it’s gonna be, if you don’t take me back, I’ll—I’ll kill myself! Do you hear me? I’ll kill myself, and if you don’t care, everyone’s gonna know about it and they’ll blame you! You understand? My death will be your fault! All—your—damn—fault!”

At the end, Joey asked softly, “What do you think of that?”

“She’s probably just bluffing,” said Chris, despite the nasty chill in his stomach. “She knows she’s losing this game with me, so she’s playing dirty. Emotional blackmail.”

Joey shook his head. “I don’t know, buddy. What if she isn’t bluffing?”

“I never knew her to be the suicidal type. Sure, she had her moody moments. She got whiny and even threw a fit now and then when things didn’t go her way. But I can’t picture her actually doing herself in.” Even so, Chris was truly taken aback.

Angry as he was with Allie, much as the thought of her disgusted him, he most certainly didn’t want her dead.

Could she mean what she had said? Could the girl make good on such a threat?

But what if it was a trap? A devilishly clever ruse to convince him to come back to her? Chris wanted nothing more to do with Allie, and yet he wanted no real harm to come to her.

He knew he wouldn’t be responsible if she did go through with it—but how understanding would the public be if they found out? This would set every tabloid in all fifty states (and beyond) on fire; that much was a given. Not only Chris’s reputation, but also the entire image of *NSYNC would be shattered.

Emotional blackmail…that puts a new twist on things! Whether she means to do it or not, that girl’s got more gall than I would have ever believed possible.

“I’m really sorry to bring this up, man,” said Joey, looking and sounding truly apologetic. “But I thought you had the right to know. I also thought you should know as soon as possible.”

Chris wished Joey hadn’t told him, and at the same time, he knew that only a true-blue friend would look out for him like this. So he meant it when he said, “It’s all right, Joey. I appreciate the ample warning.” He put out his wet hand to clasp Joey’s shoulder. “Let’s hope this turns out to be nothing more than a cruel, sick joke.”

“If it is,” said Joey, “it’s the cruelest, sickest joke I ever heard in my life, and it ain’t funny in the least bit. Either way, this puts Allie in a whole new light for me.”

“Me too.”

“So what should we do?”

Lifting his other hand to rub the nape of his neck, Chris admitted, “I suppose we should hang onto this message for a little while. We should most definitely present this to the other guys and see what they think, if they have any ideas on what to do. JC might know; he’s so good with this kind of stuff, and he usually has a solution for everything. And then…I don’t know. Guess we’ll just lie low and see what happens.”

After a minute of silence, Joey said, “And then you’ve got another message that you may want to hear as well.”

“Is it good or bad?”

“I don’t know. In a different state of affairs, it might be considered great. But you tell me.”

“Go on, play it.”

“Hi, Chris, it’s Jamie Miller. We ran into each other at the movies a couple of weeks back, and you were nice enough to leave me with your number. So today, I decided to take you up on your offer, if it’s still open. Hope I’m not being a pest. Please call me back as soon as it’s convenient for you. Thank you, Chris. Goodbye.”

“Jamie Miller?” Chris felt a mix of things at hearing her voice, mostly incredulity. “I’d almost forgotten about her!”

“Sounds like she hasn’t forgotten you,” Joey said with a half-smile. “What do you say to this one? Keep it or chuck it?”

Chris hesitated, then found himself saying, “Keep it for now.”

“You gonna return her call?”

“I don’t know.” Chris averted his gaze. “I—I’ll have to think about it.”

Joey patted his bare shoulder. “Doesn’t have to be anything serious, old buddy. It can be a just-friends call if you’d like.”

A just-friends call. Easy enough. Aloud, Chris said, “Again, I’ll consider it. For now, just put my phone back where you found it, and leave all the other messages as they are. I’m going back in the water.”

Joey nodded and stood up. “Okay. Later, brother.”

“Later.” Chris watched his companion walk away. Then he sighed, pulled down his goggles, and took the plunge once more.

 

---

 

Jamie wandered into the kitchen to find Nat stirring something in a big pot on the stove. Jamie had to take but a single whiff to know what was cooking. “Mmmm…spaghetti and meatballs. My favorite!”

“With my positively irresistible tomato sauce,” Nat said with her cocky smile. “Guaranteed to make any Italian or Italian devotee positively swoon.”

“Awesome! You know I can never resist your tomato sauce. It’s always got that lovely zing to it.”

As she opened a tiny bottle and gave a few good squirts over the pot, Nat said, “I’ll let you in on a secret, James. It’s the Tabasco sauce that gives it that zing.” Reaching for a little jar of dry spice, she added, “But it’s the oregano that makes the whole thing turn out just right.”

Jamie had to swallow hard before she could say, “I don’t see how Julia Child herself could best you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment!”

“Can I help with anything?”

“An extra set of hands for the salad would be ideal. And no, I don’t mean that literally.”

Some fresh vegetables and a small plastic board were already waiting on the kitchen island, so Jamie dug out a big knife and got busy slicing and dicing. One notable trait of her salads was that she kept the skins on most of the vegetables; both she and Nat were fervent believers in letting nothing of any nutritional value go to waste. They didn’t even stop at the cores when eating apples, and they always saved the peels from bananas and citrus fruits. Their mutual motto was, “Why lose it when you can use it?”

While Jamie chopped and Nat stirred and seasoned, Nat asked at length, “So, how did it go?”

“How did what go?” Jamie asked without looking up from her work.

“With him.”

“Him?”

“Chris Kirkpatrick, you dolt! Did you talk to him or not?”

“Yes, and no.”

That made Nat stop and turn her head. “What do you mean, yes and no?”

“Got his voicemail and nothing else,” said Jamie, trying not to sound as disappointed as she felt while she cut a carrot in half.

After a short pause, Nat said, a little more kindly, “Well, at least you know you dialed the right number. Did you leave him a message?”

“Yes, I did.”

“What’d you say?”

“Nothing much. Just told him who I was and asked him to call me back at his convenience. That’s it.”

“Well, I suppose you could have done worse. So now all you have to do is wait for him to call you.”

“Yeah,” said Jamie, and it was all she could do not to add, ”Fat chance of that ever happening.”

Nat gave her wooden spoon a few sound raps against the side of the pot before saying, “Be patient with him, sweetie. He’s a busy boy, and true, the odds of him noticing you amid all the other girls who drool over him may not appear too promising.”

Now Jamie did look up. “Are you implying that I drool over him?”

Nat shrugged. “Hey, I’m just saying. No need to take offense, honey.”

Jamie merely pursed her lips and went back to slicing carrots.

As Nat lowered a metal spoon into the sauce for a taste test, she continued, “On the other hand, my dear, you may be in for the surprise of a lifetime.” She tasted the sauce carefully, gave her lips a few light smacks, waited another second, and declared at last, “Mmmm-hmm. Perfect!”

 

---

 

“I’ll kill myself, and if you don’t care, everyone’s gonna know about it and they’ll blame you! You understand? My death will be your fault! All—your—damn—fault!”

“Wowsers,” Lance said as the fivesome sat in a circle, staring at Chris’s phone like it was possessed. “If I hadn’t heard it, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“I heard it and I still don’t believe it,” said Joey.

“Holy smokes, this girl is good,” Justin whispered faintly, his eyes set to pop.

“Guess it’s true what they say—there’s more than one way to win a war,” JC said grimly.

Chris added every bit as grimly, “And this girl is going straight for the kill.” The word “kill” left a rancid taste in his mouth.

“You really think she’d do it?” Justin asked.

JC ran both hands through his lengthy brown hair as he answered, “Anything’s possible, Justin. Maybe she does want Chris back that badly, or else this could be her perverted idea of revenge. One way or the other, she’s placed Chris in an impossible position. I don’t know whether to be more impressed or more nauseated.”

Chris shook his head and distractedly brushed his own fingers through his hair, which was still damp from the pool. “Well, guys, what should we do about this? What do you suggest, JC?”

“Hmm.” JC took a minute to consider his answer, with his eyes on the kitchen table and with one hand massaging his chin. At last he said, “Well, one thing is certain, Chris. You can’t allow this girl to manipulate you this way. You should never yield to threats, no matter what they are.”

“I know that. I’m not letting her push me around that easily.” Chris wrapped his arms around himself, feeling as though someone had locked him in a freezer. “But she still scares me with this call. I mean, I don’t hate her to this extent.”

JC nodded. “And that’s another given. This kind of talk should never be ignored or taken lightly. You couldn’t have a more logical reason to be concerned, buddy.”

Chris bowed his head to his chest. “I told her I’d rather eat dog crap, or scratch out my eyes, than come anywhere near her or even look at her again—and yet I can’t bear the thought of her body lying somewhere, with a knife in her hand or a bullet through her brain. I could hardly live knowing she’d thrown her life away on my account.”

Now JC reached over to grab Chris’s shoulder, squeezing so hard that Chris winced. “It’s not your fault, Chris.” JC spoke quietly, but the vehemence in his voice made the others recoil. “Do you hear me? No matter what she does, to herself or to anyone, it will never be your fault.”

“I know that, too,” Chris said, able to look JC dead in the eye while he said it. “Even so…”

“Even so,” Joey echoed.

JC’s face softened and his grip on Chris’s shoulder eased a little, though he still kept his hand there.

At length, Justin asked, “Should we call the police?”

“Not yet,” JC said. “No one else should know about this for the time being. We can’t let on to Allie that we know. Likely enough, that’s what she’d want us to do—spring headfirst into action.”

Chris said, “And I sure don’t want to go dropping in on her, trying to see what she’s up to.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Joey with eyes to rival the size of saucers, “ba-a-a-ad idea!”

“I agree wholeheartedly, Joey,” said JC. “That’d only add a shipload of fuel to the fire. Not only would that send Allie the wrong message, but that would also make a complete fool out of Chris.”

“Boy-howdy, you can say that again,” Chris muttered.

“So what do we do?” asked Lance.

“Nothing, for right now,” said JC as he let Chris go. “We’ll wait a bit and do our business as usual, but keep our ears open at the same time. If Allie keeps calling, we’ll know she hasn’t gone through with her plot. If she keeps making death threats, if she starts showing evidence…” He trailed off for a brief moment before resuming. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Chris understood this was the most sane, sensible thing to do. But that didn’t make him feel any better. Drawing an abstract design on the table with his fingertip, he said softly, “I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe her.”

“Neither can I,” said Lance with a hand cradling his forehead. “That girl’s got such nerve.”

“I take back what I said earlier,” said Justin. “This makes the girl as fine a piece of work as they come.”

Joey couldn’t help asking, “Even if we know Chris won’t be responsible if Allie…did it, do you think other people, our own fans, will believe otherwise?”

JC gave a heavy sigh and put his hand over his eyes. “I hate to say it, Joe, but I think it’s safe to assume that a lot of people, including our fans, really would take Allie’s side. This would make for a blazing scandal.”

“As if I weren’t already famous for the wrong reasons,” said Chris, feeling his heart sink to his shoes.

“Not to sound sexist,” said Lance, “but the women tend to get the most sympathy in these situations. Boys have always been known for giving girls grief. Girls have always been known as the martyrs, and some girls have gotten pretty good at playing the martyr.”

“Maybe that was one of the points Michael Jackson was trying to make with ‘Billie Jean,’” said Joey. “The girl goes after the guy and creates a scene, and yet everyone takes her side. She hurts him first, and people keep warning him, ‘Don’t go around breaking young girls’ hearts.’” He ended that last sentence in high-pitched, slightly off-key singing.

Justin said nothing to this, but Chris had never seen his face look so sad before.

JC slowly withdrew his hand and opened his eyes as he murmured, “Goes to show that women are every bit as capable of cruelty, aggression, and deception as men. When you get down to it, anyone is capable of anything.”

“When I first met Allie,” said Chris, still making random doodles on the table, “I’d never have suspected her capable of something like this in a million years. Even before that disastrous dinner, such a thought never once crossed my mind. Guess it goes to show what I know of her…which is to say I don’t know her at all.”

 

---

 

After dinner, even though the night was still young, Chris went to his room to be alone. He sat on the side of his bed with both feet on the floor, staring at his phone in his hand for a long time.

Allie’s last call continued to disturb him to no end; he was so tempted to erase it and try to forget about it. But he knew he couldn’t. For one thing, this could serve as useful evidence later, if things took a turn for the worse. For another thing, even if he did remove the dark message from the phone, there was no earthly way he could remove it from memory.

Slick move, Allie. Very slick.

Lying, infidelity, exploitation…was there any level the lady wouldn’t stoop to? 

Justin’s right. This girl is as fine a piece of work as they come. And I’m the unlucky guy she had to land her paws on.

Along with thoughts of Allie came thoughts of Jamie. Chris hadn’t expected that other girl to still show interest in him, least of all call him. Her call, while the complete opposite of Allie’s, took him by surprise in its own way.

Now what? Should he call Jamie back?

Maybe it was only fair. Of course, it didn’t have to mean anything serious. He might not be dating anybody anymore, but that didn’t mean he had to alienate himself from all women. He could still talk to them and be nice.

Besides, something about Jamie appealed to him, even now. She was so cute—maybe not in a way that would instantly light someone’s fire, but bubbly and bright, totally down-to-earth, and totally approachable. A far cry from the other ladies he’d known, that was for sure. At any rate, Chris didn’t see how he could fare any worse with her.

So he played Jamie’s message one more time, finding himself smiling a little at her shyness, and pushed the button that dialed her number automatically.

After three rings, he heard, “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Jamie?”

“Chris?”

His smile broadened. “Yeah, it’s me.”

He heard a squeal at the other end, and Jamie’s voice rose an octave or two. “Holy cow, I can’t believe it!”

“Believe it.”

Jamie faltered for a few seconds before blurting, “I never expected to hear from you!”

“I could very well say the same about you.”

“Oh, my gosh, I’m freaking out over here! This is too cool!”

“I’m flattered. How are you? You doing all right since our last interaction?”

“I—I’m okay. How about you?”

Unsure of how to answer that, Chris ended up telling her, “I’ve been better and I’ve been worse. These last couple of weeks have been crazy.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Jamie paused, then said, “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Oh, no, you’re perfectly fine. I was very glad to get your call. I’m just sorry I missed you the first time.”

“I understand. I still can’t believe I’m talking to you now.”

“Well, it’s good to talk to you now,” said Chris, and meant it. “How’s your friend, that other girl? Nat, is it?”

“Yeah, Nat. She’s doing fine, thank you. She landed a new job recently.”

“Oh, really? What does she do?”

“Nothing too thrilling. Mostly she bags groceries and stocks shelves, but it’s a paycheck. Plus, she gets a nice discount when she shops there.”

“Oh, yeah, who wouldn’t refuse a nice discount?”

They spent the next half-hour talking about simple, unembellished things, and yet Chris enjoyed the conversation immensely. Jamie listened to everything he had to say and never pried about anything. Still, he took care not to drop any hints about who he was, and he steered well clear of the subject of Allie.

At one point, he found himself saying, “Hey, listen, Jamie, would you like to meet with me sometime? Some place where we can see each other and have a real talk?”

She never hesitated. “Sure, I’d love to. What’d you have in mind?”

“Well…how about meeting up at Friendly’s just off Birch Avenue, and we can have ice cream while we’re there? I’ll buy.”

“That’ll be terrific! I love Friendly’s, and I’m a hopeless ice cream addict. I could eat that stuff until I passed out.”

He laughed. “What time would suit you?”

“Any time that suits you.”

Chris’s heart jumped. A lump swelled in his throat even as his smile lingered. Even on a platonic level, this was the first time in ages that a woman took his schedule into honest account. When he was sure he could keep his voice steady, he asked, “Would next Friday be all right? Five-thirty?”

“Sounds perfect! I’ll see you then.”

“Okay, awesome!” Already, he found himself counting the days until next Friday.

“Thank you so much, Chris, for both the call and the invitation.”

“Thank you.” 

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

 

---

 

Jamie could hardly sit still at her table. Much as she understood (or tried to make herself understand) that this wasn’t technically a “date,” she’d taken a little more time than usual to fix herself up. She wore one of her nicer shirts, a bubblegum-pink top with a scoop neck and cap sleeves, over a crisp pair of khakis and white tennis shoes. While she wasn’t much of a jewelry or makeup person, she did sport a blue and purple butterfly charm on a thin silver necklace, and had applied just a touch of baby-pink lip gloss. For added measure, she’d put her favorite shampoo, soap, and perfume to good use, so she gave off a fragrant mix of oranges and spices.

No sooner did her watch mark five-thirty than she saw Chris step through the door. Even from a distance, even with his black FDNY cap and dark shades, she knew him when she saw him. She promptly stood and waved to him, and he nodded and tipped his cap before heading her way. It wasn’t until he reached her that he removed his shades and settled them atop the brim of his hat, and he greeted her warmly, “Hey, Jamie!”

“Hi, Chris! You made it just in time.” She moved to his side of the table, but before she could do anything else, he told her, “Quick question—do you prefer handshakes or hugs?”

This question took her somewhat aback, but she never hesitated to answer. “I’m more of a hugger than a handshaker.”

He smiled and opened his arms. “Then come here, you.”

She needed no further persuasion. From the way they hugged, you would have thought they were old friends reuniting after a decade. Jamie felt warm and fuzzy all over, and whatever kind of cologne Chris was using that day, she adored it. “It’s so good to see you,” she said when they let each other go.

“Good to see you,” he countered. “You look really nice.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she coyly tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. “Thank you. So do you. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

His handsome smile continued to linger; she would have sworn that smile could melt a full dish of ice cream by itself. “Then I shall do my best to make it worth the wait.” He made a grand gesture toward the main counter. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

One of the best things about Friendly’s, if not the best, was their “Build Your Own Creation” option when it came to their ice cream. Both Chris and Jamie opted for the largest sundaes, each of which contained three different flavors of ice cream and three different toppings of their choice. Jamie chose mint chocolate chip, Forbidden Chocolate, and Hunka Chunka Peanut Butter Fudge, all smothered in marshmallow cream and hot fudge with a generous shower of fresh walnuts. Chris opted for regular chocolate along with peanut butter and vanilla, and all topped with plenty of M&M’s, gummy bears, and Kit Kat bars.

When the two were seated in a corner booth with their desserts, Jamie said, “Hello, sugar junkie, it’s a pleasure to pig out with you!”

“Are you sure you can eat all that?” Chris asked, pointing at her sundae with his plastic spoon.

She jabbed her spoon back at him. “As sure as you are that you can eat all that.”

He eyed her slyly. “Tell you what, sweetheart, I’ll make you a bet. First person to finish every last bite—and keep it down—wins a whole buck from the other person.”

“You’re on.”

“Ready, set—go!” At Chris’s signal, they dug their spoons deep into their frozen dairy mountains at the exact same time.

Between gooey mouthfuls, Jamie raved, “Mmmm…flavors worthy of the gods.”

“I’ll share a secret with you, honey,” Chris said between bites of vanilla and Kit Kat. “The trick is to pace yourself. To not gorge yourself all at once at the start.”

“And a very small, very early lunch also comes in handy,” she rejoined, “so your stomach is able to utilize its full capacity.”

He scowled. “Hey, now, that’s cheating!”

“Ah, don’t worry. I’ve heard it said that men have bigger stomachs than women—or a higher metabolism rate.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was serious when he said, “So, Jamie, tell me a little more about yourself.”

“Well, let’s see. For starters, I’m the world’s biggest Disney geek. I own every movie Disney and Pixar have put out thus far, and I can quote just about every one back to front.”

“Oh, can you?”

“Sure, I can.”

Holding one of his gummy bears between two fingers, Chris said nonchalantly, “Well, I suppose such a hobby beats those pre-hysterical times when humans used to sit around and stare at each other all day. Now that must have been very boring.”

Jamie smiled, understanding the cue. “As a kid,” she said, “I always wondered what it was really like under the sea. I also wished I could go to Agrabah, the city of mystery, of enchantment—”

“—and the finest merchandise this side of the river Jordan, on sale today! Come on down!”

She giggled at his rapid-fire speed and over-the-top accent. “To be a professional actor, hi-diddle-dee-dee, that’s the kind of life for me!”

“Oh, yeah, sure. What does an actor want with a conscience, anyway?”

She narrowed her eyes and jutted her lip. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

He shook his head slowly. “You are a sad, strange little lady, and you have my pity.” With that, he tossed another gummy bear into the air and caught it neatly in his mouth.

“Hey, that was very good!”

“What? My skills concerning Disney or my skills concerning gummy bears?”

“Both. I wish I could catch candy in my mouth like that.”

“Ah, there’s nothing to it, really. It’s all a matter of timing, and just remember the difference between catching the food in your mouth and throwing the food into it. It’s more like baseball than basketball.” Chris paused, then leaned forward and added, “Also, try to remember to keep your lips over your teeth the whole time. You’d be surprised at what an M&M can do to your teeth.”

“Thanks for the warning,” said Jamie in the same conspiratorial tone. In her normal tone, she asked, “Say, would it be cheating if I had a few of your gummy bears?”

“Not if you allow me a bite of that nutty marshmallow glop of yours.”

So Jamie plucked five bears, each a different color, from Chris’s sundae, and he took a heaping spoonful from the top of her sundae in exchange. “Now we are even,” he declared with a sticky white blot on his upper lip. “Boy, that’s rich stuff. You sure like marshmallows, don’t you?”

“Heck, yeah! Plain, toasted, on s’mores, off s’mores, in cocoa, outside cocoa, even on pizza.”

He almost choked. “On pizza?”

“Graham cracker pizza,” she reassured him, “with melted Nutella and grated white chocolate. Nat introduced me to the recipe. It’s a masterpiece.”

“I see. Sounds like your buddy is quite the chef.”

“Trust me, you haven’t lived until you’ve had a sample of her cooking. She makes the world’s best spaghetti sauce from scratch, and she can cook the most fabulous eggs in her sleep.”

“What can you make?”

“Well, I can make a decent salad, and I can put just the right amount of butter and jam on toast.” She laughed with him before adding, “Naw, I’m pretty fair-to-middling in the kitchen myself. At least I haven’t made anything inedible, not yet.”

Chris took his time to lick his spoon clean before asking, “What else about you is worth mentioning?”

“I also love musicals. I’ve grown up in a family of Broadway nuts, so it’s come to grow on me, too.”

“What’s your favorite musical?”

“Oh, boy, wa-a-a-ay too many to settle for just one!” Jamie started ticking off titles on her fingers. “My Fair Lady, Guys and Dolls, Hello Dolly, Forty-second Street, Fiddler on the Roof, Phantom of the Opera, Les Misérables, Music Man, West Side Story, anything by Rodgers and Hammerstein—and I harbor an especially soft spot for Grease.”

“Grease, huh?” Chris quirked an eyebrow.

“I used to have a hopeless crush on John Travolta, though whenever I listened to the soundtrack, especially to ‘You’re the One That I Want,’ it was hard to imagine that was his actual voice. He sings like a girl.”

“What’s wrong with singing like a girl?” Holding his spoon as he would a microphone, Chris sang (with a higher pitch than usual), “I got chills, they’re multiplyin’, and I’m losin’ control! ‘Cause the power you’re supplyin’, it’s electrifyin’!”

“Great voice,” said Jamie, trying not to sound overexcited. “You sound like you really get off on music yourself.”

“Honey, music is my life. Everything else is just gravy.”

“I believe it. I can’t imagine what I’d do without music, either. I hardly make it through a single day without listening to at least three or four songs.”

“What kind of music do you listen to?”

“I don’t know. Anything that sounds good to my ears, I guess. How about you?”

“You name the song, you name the singer; chances are I’ve heard them at least once.” Chris almost let slip that he was in a band, and to his relief (and slight disappointment), Jamie said nothing about *NSYNC at all.

“I’m not much of a singer,” Jamie said as she swirled her spoon around her bowl, “but I like to sing now and then for the pure fun of it. Just make sure you have some earplugs handy if you’re around me.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re not that terrible.”

“You’d be surprised. One time, when Nat overheard me singing John Lennon’s ‘Imagine,’ she told me, ‘I can’t imagine what Mr. Lennon would think of that awful desecration of his sacred song!’”

Feeling a tug of pity, Chris gently assured the girl, “She was probably only pulling your leg.”

“Maybe.” Jamie lowered her gaze. “But I know I’d never win any singing contests. I’d hate to think what Simon Cowell would have to say about me.”

For a more pleasant topic, Chris asked, “If you could do anything you wanted in the world, what would you do?”

That brought a smile to her face, which made him feel better, too. “Write books,” she said at once. “I’ve been a bookworm since birth, my highest marks in school were in English, and I’ve always dreamed of walking into a library or bookstore and finding something on a shelf with my name on it.”

“What kind of books would you write?”

“I’d like to try my hand at a bit of everything—romance, fantasy, mystery, historical fiction, maybe even a bit of horror.”

He gaped at her. “A sweet, harmless, innocent little thing like you writing horror stuff? I find that impossible to believe!”

Now it was her turn to quirk an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Nat claims that I make her afraid to turn out the lights at night.”

“Well, then, we shall see just how reliable your buddy’s word is, one of these days.”

When at last they got to the last bites of their ice cream, both managed to swallow that final bite, though it took a substantial effort to do so. “Whew!” Jamie sighed as she leaned back and let her hands flop on either side of her. “Oh, boy, that was almost too much, even for me!”

“Oh, man,” Chris groaned as he cradled his head with one hand and fondled his stomach with the other, “nobody had better mention the word ‘food’ to me again. Ever.”

“Well, buster, it looks like we’ve come to a draw. What do you propose we do with that dollar?”

“How about we split the prize? You give me fifty cents and I give you fifty cents.” 

“Deal,” she said, fishing two quarters from her pocket and sliding them across the table in his direction. In exchange, he gave her a quarter, two dimes, and a nickel. She smirked at the greater quantity. “Trying to make yourself appear more generous, eh?”

“Hey, I’m only a gentleman.”

“Oh, well,” she said as she pocketed the change. “It’s a sweet deal all the same.”

He smiled. “Oh, yeah. A very sweet deal, indeed.”

 

---

 

To spend a little more time together (and to work off some of that junk food), Chris and Jamie took a stroll around the block. Chris kept his sunglasses on the whole time, though he often faced Jamie directly when speaking to her.

Even now, they had plenty of things to talk about; Chris half-believed they could discuss the phone book page by page and the conversation would never get dull. He soon learned that he and Jamie had an amazing deal in common—they celebrated their birthdays in October (Jamie’s birthday was on Halloween), they were born and raised in Clarion, they’d failed algebra in school, they deplored heights, they adored tacos (“I don’t think I could get by without tacos or spaghetti,” Jamie said), their favorite color was silver, they worshipped the Beatles, Michael Jackson, and Tim McGraw; they even had a younger sister named Kate.

Already, Chris felt like he had known Jamie for years, despite having only been with her in person three times. How could that be possible?

Don’t knock it, man. Just be grateful that at least one female on the planet sees you and talks to you like a normal, everyday person and doesn’t jump all over you.

When the day started getting dusky, Chris offered to accompany Jamie to her apartment. Of course, she couldn’t refuse him. When they reached her door, he held out his arms for another hug, and the girl was only too glad to receive his warm embrace. “Thank you, Chris,” she mumbled into his chest. “This has been so much fun.”

“I’m glad,” he replied softly as he held her. “I have to admit, this has been a real perk to my week, too.”

When he let her go and she stepped back, she hesitated for just a second before asking him, “I know you must have a lot going on, but would you like to come here sometime for dinner? No special reason,” she added quickly. “Just…you know…because.”

Chris also hesitated briefly, and said, “I don’t see why not. The way you’ve talked about Nat’s cooking does have me interested, and I think it’s only fair I give her culinary talents a try.” He also found himself saying, “I don’t see it happening anytime soon, though.”

“That’s fine. Just let me know when there’s a big enough gap in your schedule.”

Again, the girl’s thoughtfulness touched Chris more deeply than he would have believed possible. It also moved him to no small degree that she would invite him to an actual home-cooked meal, rather than have him go on a bender at some five-star restaurant. “When that happens,” he said, surprising himself with the word when, “tell Nat to include tacos on the menu.”

Jamie smiled and gave a little wink. “That’ll be the first thing on the menu, guaranteed!”

So many other words hovered on Chris’s tongue, but all he could get off his tongue was, “Well, goodnight, Jamie.”

“Goodnight, Chris. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome again. Tell Nat I said hi.”

“Will do. Take care.”

“You too.” Chris had to practically force his legs to move. He never looked back, though Jamie stayed on her step and watched him until he was out of sight.

 

---

 

“Hey, buddy, welcome home!” Justin said when Chris stepped through the door.

“We saved you some supper,” said Joey, who, for some odd reason, had a flowered dishtowel tucked into his belt.

Chris grimaced. Though it had been well over two hours, his stomach was still bloated from the Friendly’s indulgence. “Thanks, guys, but maybe I better wait and have it for breakfast.”

Joey stared at him in disbelief. “Meat loaf and three-cheese potatoes?”

Chris made a half-shrug. “Okay, then I’ll save it for a midnight snack.” He went to the refrigerator without another word, but only to retrieve a water bottle, and he leaned backward against the sink while he took a few swigs.

Presently, Justin asked him, “So, how did it go with Jamie?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?” Joey inquired. “Is that all you have to say?”

“What is there to know? We met up at Friendly’s, had ice cream, went for a walk, and that was it.”

“You were gone for almost three hours,” said Justin.

Chris took another gulp before shooting back, “So what? I don’t demand a blow-by-blow account when you go out, do I?”

Justin frowned. “Okay, okay! No need to get so snippy. Sheesh.”

“No harm in asking an innocent question or two here and there,” Joey added, holding up both hands in mock surrender.

“Sorry,” said Chris, instantly regretting his snippiness. “Really, though, it went as well as anyone could expect.”

Justin gave a short nod, and Joey wiped his hands on his towel as he said, “Well, that’s good to hear.”

Right when Chris was opening his mouth to say more, his cell phone rang. When he fished it out of his black Levis and checked the caller ID, he groaned, “Oh, no.”

Joey remarked, “The old femme fatale’s come to call once again, huh?”

“None other.” Chris let it go into voicemail, as usual, but when the ringing finally stopped, he asked, unable to help sounding a bit desperate, “What am I gonna do, guys? I’ll bet you anything she’ll call again in five minutes.”

“I place my wager on less than five minutes,” Justin said.

Chris shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to her, but I also need to know what she’s up to, if she’s got any funny business going on.”

Joey had an idea. “If she does call again,” he told Justin, “you take the call.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the smoothest liar out of all of us. If anyone can talk to Allie without sounding too suspicious, you can.”

Justin’s face darkened. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”

With a serene smile, Joey replied, “Both. It’s an insult-iment.”

“Well, hardy-har-har.”

“I suppose that’s our best option for the time being,” said Chris. “Just keep it casual when you talk to her, J. See if you can get any necessary info out of her without truly prying.”

“Pry without truly prying,” Justin muttered, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. “Yeah, sure. It’s so good to know I’m good for something not so good, for a change.”

Sure enough, Chris’s phone rang again less than five minutes later, and Justin held the thing out at arm’s length, as if he expected it to bite him. He closed his eyes, inhaled slowly, exhaled just as slowly, and pushed the designated button. “Hello, Chris Kirkpatrick’s live answering service. How may I help you this evening, sir or madam? Yes, Allie, I know it’s you. I think I’ve heard your voice enough times to be able to differentiate you from all other women.”

Joey covered his mouth to stifle a snicker, and even Chris had to smile at Justin’s clever put-down.

“No, you may not speak to Chris. Because he’s not here to be spoken to, that’s why. No, I don’t know where he’s gone. No, I don’t know when he’ll be back. How am I supposed to know? Look, Allie, I’m telling you in the plainest English possible. I—don’t—know—where—he—is. He often leaves his phone behind, and I’ve known him to take as long as five hours just to buy a lousy loaf of bread and quart of milk.”

Chris suppressed, with some difficulty, the urge to thump Justin for that last remark.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be more than happy to convey a message. Yeah, okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay, I get it. I get it! I said, I get it! All right, keep your socks on, I’ll tell him. Yeah, love you, too. Have a pleasant evening, Allie. Don’t do anything overly crazy. Bye.”

“Well?” Joey inquired when it was safe.

“She was calm,” said Justin, “to an extent. But anyone with half a brain could tell she wanted Chris, and she wanted him now.” He slapped the phone into his other palm for emphasis.

“And that’s it?” Chris asked doubtfully. “No threats? No more talk of harming herself, or doing anything foolish?”

“Nothing worse than you’d better talk to her soon if you knew what was good for you.”

“Oh, great. Now the girl’s got me worried on multiple levels.”

“She’s a sly one, all right,” Joey conceded.

“Well, at least we know she’s still here, in one piece,” said Justin as he handed Chris’s phone back to him. “No need to sound the alarm just yet.”

“Yeah,” said Chris as he returned his phone to his pocket, “at least the bomb hasn’t gone off yet, though the timer’s still a-tickin’.” Unable to help himself, he asked, “But did you really mean what you told her, Justin, about how I take five whole hours to shop for bread and milk?”

 

---

 

In the following week, Chris tried not to worry too much about Allie. He had little to no time to dwell on the girl and her crazy scheme, anyhow, since work ran him and his mates ragged. Every night, all five of them came home drenched in sweat, barely able to see straight or string more than three words together, and Chris had just enough strength to take a shower, grab something to eat, and crawl into bed; he was out like a light the second his head hit his pillow.

Surprisingly, no further calls from Allie came that entire week. Even on Friday, his voicemail had no new messages. Chris didn’t think it was possible to dread a call and long for it so much at the same time. He never would have believed he could harbor so much concern for a person he would have unhesitatingly pegged to the wall with foot-long masonry nails.

On Friday, after the guys had wrapped up work earlier than usual and were walking out of the studio with a bit more spring in their steps than usual, JC announced, “Well, boys, whad’ya say we celebrate the start of the weekend with a nice big steak dinner at Sizzler? I’m buying.”

“Better make that a blank check,” said Joey, “because I plan to order not only a nice big steak, but everything else they’ve got on the menu, too.”

“Somehow I’m convinced you’ll actually be able to keep all that food down, Joe,” Lance said with a smirk.

Chris said, “I wager fifty bucks that Joey can keep down the appetizer, the main course, and the dessert, all in the biggest sizes available.”

Joey cocked his brows. “Is that a challenge, old timer?”

“This from the man who ate the biggest Friendly’s sundae and lived to tell it,” said Justin, patting Chris’s belly as he would a dog.

Whipping out his own wallet from his rear pocket, Joey declared, “I wager a hundred and fifty bucks that Chris will have the least clean plate of all of us at dinner’s end.”

Now it was Chris’s turn to elevate his brows. “Oh, yeah? Just you wait, Joe; you’ll eat those words.”

“Let’s hope those words don’t give him indigestion,” Lance said with a hearty laugh.

“If a heart attack doesn’t get him first,” Justin also laughed.

JC rolled his eyes and used both hands to smack Lance and Justin’s heads at the exact same time. “Okay, people, enough with the wisecracks already!”

As Lance and Justin rubbed their sore spots, Chris said, “Careful, JC; don’t want to crack those poor, pretty heads.”

“Yeah, they’re cracking up enough already,” said Joey.

JC’s mouth curled in a half-smile, even as he insisted, “No more puns, now. I mean it.”

“Anybody want a peanut?” asked Joey, and even Chris couldn’t keep a straight face.

When they reached the parking lot, they split up to go to their own cars. Chris whistled “Space Cowboy” as he juggled his car keys from hand to hand, but then his whistling stopped cold when he discovered something on his windshield, wedged between his wiper blades.

It was a photograph of him and Allie, taken the previous year. Allie, garbed in a seductive, glittery blue dress, had her arms wrapped as far around Chris’s neck as they could reach, and her cheek nestled against his. As if that weren’t bewildering in itself, someone had torn the picture clean in half—with Chris on one half and Allie on the other—and scrawled something over both faces in solid black ink.

When Chris held up both pieces to the waning daylight, he could make out the phrase: SHE’S OUT OF MY LIFE.

While he couldn’t quite identify the handwriting itself, the words were large and swooping, and somewhat disjointed.

Chris felt the force of this message as he would a punch to the gut. It literally stole his breath away. For at least a full minute, he couldn’t move at all; he couldn’t even get his hands to cooperate. All he could do was gape at the vandalized photo while the lyrics to the designated song caromed through his brain like a cruel playground chant:

“She’s out of my life.
She’s out of my life.

And I don’t know whether to laugh or cry;
I don’t know whether to live or die,
And it cuts like a knife.
She’s out of my life.”

When at last Chris’s body regained its proper function, he opened his car door; due to the awful shaking of his hands, it was a wonder he didn’t lose his keys. He more or less collapsed into the driver’s seat, and shut the door with barely enough force. He would have torn the picture into even smaller bits and thrown those bits out the window. Instead, he found himself stashing the evidence in his glove compartment.

Even after the compartment was shut, Chris continued to sit there, his breath coming in short, hard bursts. Even when he closed his eyes and covered his face with both hands, he could still see that lurid memo.

Who would do this? he couldn’t stop asking himself. 

Who would have enough gall to pull off such a freakish prank?

Surely none of the other four guys could be responsible. Surely none of them would stoop that low. Not even Joey had such taste.

There could only be one culprit…but it wasn’t. 

It wouldn’t be.

It couldn’t be.

Could it?

 

---

 

Somehow, Chris’s car made it to the Sizzler in one piece. He was the last to pull into the parking lot, and all four of his mates were already in the restaurant when he stepped through the door. The place was fairly crowded that evening, but not enough to instill claustrophobia.

“Hey, old buddy, what kept you?” asked Joey when Chris joined their line.

“We were just starting to worry,” said Lance.

Chris said nothing.

Upon closer observance, the other four furrowed their brows and Lance asked softly, “Chris, what’s wrong? Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m okay.” Chris had yet to meet their solicitous gazes.

JC stepped closer and placed both hands gently on Chris’s shoulders. “Look at yourself, man! You’re whiter than a bedsheet.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Justin asked.

Lifting his head only a few degrees, Chris mumbled, “I’m just a little run-down from today’s rehearsal. Really, guys, I…I’ll be fine.”

None of them appeared at all convinced, but they asked no further questions.

Even when they were sitting in a private booth with their dinners, Chris had to practically force-feed himself; anything he put in his mouth had no more flavor than cardboard. He did manage to make decent talk throughout the meal, but his jokes and laughter easily sounded more contrived to anyone’s ears. Joey ended up winning the bet after all, and Chris forked over the fifty dollars without a fuss.

When they were on their way back to the condo, Michael Jackson’s “She’s Out of My Life” cropped up on Chris’s radio. As enthusiastically as Chris would have sung along under different circumstances, as readily as he would have kissed the ground the King of Pop himself walked on, he put out his hand and shut the whole thing off in half a second.

 

---

 

“Oh, this is the night, it’s a beautiful night, and we call it Bella Notte…”

“You’re watching that again?” Nat asked as she stood at the entryway to the living room, having just come home from her night shift.

Jamie, who was curled up with Georgie on the far right of the sofa, paid no attention. When Tramp and Lady unknowingly ate the same spaghetti strand, and when Tramp suavely nosed the last meatball in Lady’s direction, Jamie really could not help the tears in her eyes or the tennis-ball-sized lump in her throat.

Nat watched her girlfriend for a moment, made a slight shrug to herself, dropped her purse on the floor, and eased into the nearest chair without another word. Neither of the girls looked at each other or made a single sound until the end of the movie, and Nat was the one to retrieve the tape.

That was when Jamie finally acknowledged the presence of another human in that room. “Oh, hi, Nat.”

“Hey, lover girl. Enjoying yet another romantic movie night, I see.”

Brushing her eyes across Georgie’s soft arm as she sat up, Jamie asked, “Is there a problem with that?” She couldn’t help sounding a bit defensive.

“No. But you have been watching an awful lot of love movies this week, with Disney flicks constituting more than half.”

Jamie shrugged. “Guess I’ve just been in a lovey-dovey mood lately. More so than usual.”

Nat eyed her slyly. “Does this have anything to do with Mr. Kirkpatrick, by any chance?”

“And what’s it to you if it does?” Jamie demanded, cursing that infamous blush of hers.

“Well, don’t get your purple socks in a bunch, girl. I find it rather adorable, as a matter of fact.” The twinkle in Nat’s eye proved she meant what she was saying—or, at least, that she wasn’t ribbing Jamie quite so much this time.

At length, Jamie found herself confessing, “Maybe I am kind of falling for Chris. I mean, I always liked him well enough as a guy from ‘N Sync. But…”

“But now you’re seeing him in a different light.”

“I guess.” Jamie looked down and began to absently smooth Georgie’s gray fur with her palm.

“So what’s the problem?”

“Problem?”

“You don’t look or sound like you’re over the moon about it.” Nat now regarded her with authentic concern. “What’s eating you, J?”

Jamie didn’t want to tell her, but she couldn’t think of a good enough alternative, and she saw no point in trying to hide the facts. “I really don’t think I’m in his league.”

“In his league?”

“Come on, Nat, think about it. Can you honestly picture someone like him with someone like me?”

“So what? You’re plenty of fun to be around. I can count on one finger the number of dull moments you and I have had since the day we met. You’re funny, smart, easy to talk to, and as sweet as sugar. And your looks sure don’t hurt, if that’s what’s got you so concerned.”

“But I don’t meet the media’s standards. I may not be butt-ugly, but I’m far from sexy. Chris deserves special women—ladies who look good to the public’s eye in every way.” Like the contents of a bottle when the cork’s gone, everything Jamie had been keeping inside came spilling out all at once. “I’m five foot nothing, too generously proportioned in every area, my hair’s nothing worth bragging about; heck, I couldn’t get a proper tan if I stayed in a tanning salon for a week. All through school, I was the kind of girl who stayed home every night, and not because I was bogged down with chores or homework. I was lucky to be invited to one dance, even if it was on a just-friends level. I’m almost twenty-seven, and not once in my life have I kissed a boy outside of family. And now my path has crossed with that of one of the biggest pop stars in history. Everybody loves him and looks up to him. He doesn’t need somebody like me spoiling his image.”

“Is he that shallow?” Nat’s tone was unusually quiet, her expression uncharacteristically serious. “Does he care that much about your public appearance, Jamie Corrine Miller? Has he ever made you feel like a hindrance to his fame or a smudge on his reputation?”

Jamie managed to look her girlfriend in the eye when she answered, almost ashamedly, “No. I mean, sure, he’s been nice enough to me so far. He was the perfect gentleman at the movies and we had a truly awesome time at Friendly’s. I don’t think he would have left me either night if he didn’t have so many other pressing affairs. He was definitely nice enough to return my call and talk to me for a little while.” With one hand still clutching Georgie, she raked her free hand through her hair as she struggled for the words. “Even if he doesn’t care, he should care. Even if he wasn’t so rich and famous, even if he didn’t have so many eyes watching him, he would still deserve loads better than me.”

After a long, uncomfortable silence, Nat spoke again, as softly and stoically as ever. “Well, then, until he finds that ‘loads better,’ maybe you ought to put him to the real test and see what happens between you two. And who knows? Maybe you’ll both discover that you’re not so different after all, that you just might make a good match after all.”

The sigh that Jamie gave out would have filled a small sail, but she raised no further protest.

Now Nat stepped closer and slid her thin arm across Jamie’s broad shoulders. “At the risk of ripping off that corny Christina Aguilera song,” Nat continued, “love will find a way. If it’s meant to be legitimate between you and Chris Kirkpatrick, it will work itself out.” She gave Jamie a light squeeze. “Just you wait, J-girl. Just you wait.”

Jamie’s only response was inward. If it doesn’t work itself out…that’s what I’m afraid of.

 

---

 

Chris sat at the foot of his bed with his feverish head in his clammy hands. When a gentle knock sounded on his door, he didn’t say anything or budge an inch. Since the lock had been left loose, his four mates were able to get in easily. JC, the first to stick his head through the gap, spoke first. “Hey, Chris. It’s us. Can we come in?”

Chris didn’t say yes or no. 

One by one, his mates approached him, as warily as if he were a ticking bomb. JC sat on his right side while Lance took the left; Joey and Justin opted to remain standing.

“We know something’s up,” said Lance with his arms folded over his chest. “Tell us what it is.” 

“It’s nothing,” Chris said without looking up.

Justin scoffed and gave Chris’s ankle a light kick. “You do realize you’ve never been able to hide your emotions very well, don’t you, Mr. Kirkpatrick?”

Joey added, “Maybe you can fool the public, but with us, you might as well have been trying to hide a three-ton purple elephant with green stripes and blue and yellow polka dots in your shower.”

That last part convinced Chris to take his hands away and raise his head all the way. Regarding Joey with mixed irritation, bewilderment, and a hint of amusement, he commented, “That’s about the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Joe. And that’s saying a lot.”

JC wrapped his arm around Chris’s shoulders. “Come on, Chris,” he said softly. “What happened to you tonight? You were just fine when we were leaving the studio earlier. What event took place between there and Sizzler to make you so upset? Is this about Allie? Did she leave you another threatening message, or what?”

Unable to help himself, Chris jerked away and snapped, “Damn it, JC! What’s with you and the third degree? Why does everybody have to be constantly poking their big, fat noses in where they don’t belong? Why don’t you all just get off my back and stay off?”

A deafening silence followed this outburst.

All four guys gaped at Chris, their expressions ranging from shell-shocked to wounded. JC (whose expression was a mix of all the above) ended up breaking the silence again, his voice almost inaudible even for Chris’s ears. “All right. Okay. Fine. If that’s how you want it, that’s how you’ll have it. Do excuse me.”

“Excuse all of us,” said Lance as he slowly got to his feet and turned away. “We’ll be more than happy to let you figure it out your way.” 

“Good luck,” Justin added in a tone that could have drawn blood.

Chris would have apologized then and there as he watched everyone head for the door, but his tongue was a useless blob.

Even after the quartet had left the room, what Joey said in the hall was distinct enough. “I swear, I’ll never understand him. One minute he’s all fine and dandy, and the next he’s all on edge and meaner than a snake.”

Then Justin said, “Sometimes I love that guy. Other times, I would love nothing more than to dump him out a ten-story window.”

Closing his eyes again, bowing his head once more, Chris put a single hand over his face this time…but not before a single tear had found its way clear down his cheek.

 

---

 

Maybe something Chris ate earlier didn’t agree with him—or his stress was getting the better of him, or both—because he had a fine time getting to sleep that night. On the rare occasions when he managed to doze off, he experienced some rather bizarre dreams.

In one dream, he and Allie stood together at the edge of a high cliff, and Allie pointed a large gun at her own head while screaming incoherent obscenities at Chris. Much as Chris tried to stop her, he couldn’t move any part of his body, or make any sound. So he was forced to watch as the trigger was pulled and a blood-spattered Allie plummeted headfirst into the dark abyss. Chris actually woke from this with a sharp yell and such a violent jerk that he almost toppled out of bed. It took a long time for his breathing and heart rate to return to normal, and longer for him to try to sleep again.

In the next dream he could later recall in stark detail, he was performing a concert with his four mates. Unlike most concerts, all five of them were dressed like Michael Jackson for this one; Chris himself was decked out in a black fedora, a black sequin jacket over a white shirt and black pants, and glittering white gloves. They danced in flawless Michael Jackson style all over the flashy stage (Joey was able to pull off a most impressive moonwalk) while “Billie Jean” played at full blast. The whole audience sang along, and even with the blend of a million and a half voices, the lyrics sounded crystal-clear to Chris’s ears:

“People always told me, ‘Be careful of what you do,
Don’t go around breaking young girls’ hearts!
And Mother always told me, ‘Be careful of who you love,
And be careful of what you do ‘cause the lie becomes the truth!”

However, the chorus had a bit of a twist to it:

“Allie Jean is not my lover!
She’s just a girl who claims that I am the one!
But the girl must get her gun!
She says I am the one,
But the girl must get her gun!”

Then, somehow, Allie herself materialized onstage, right in front of Chris. She was clad in a short, swirly, fire-red dress, her hair enveloped her like a golden mane, and she handled a jet-black pistol like a child’s toy. At one point, she grabbed Chris by the neck and forced him to dance wildly with her; as before, he had no control. The next thing Chris knew, he was on his knees in a vivid circle of light. Allie’s lifeless body lay in his arms, in the style of Michelangelo’s Pietà. The pistol was nowhere in sight, though that didn’t stop the all-encompassing tide of hot voices accusing Chris of the “murder.”

The last memorable dream, while a little more pleasant, was no less weird. Chris and Jamie Miller were acting out the iconic “You’re the One That I Want” sequence from Grease; they had the tight black clothes and everything, and Jamie had all the dance moves down to a science. The most noteworthy aspect of this dream was that Allie kept trying to interfere, as if she were supposed to be Chris’s dance partner all along. Yet every time she tried to cut in, Chris and Jamie would sidestep her or push her away, all the while singing and dancing like it was nobody’s business. Once, when Allie tried to grab Jamie from behind, Jamie delivered an offhand kick to the other girl’s face that sent her crashing into a pie booth.

A real-life shout roused Chris from his sporadic sleep. Even after he was fully awake, it took him another two or three seconds to discern that JC was calling for him and everyone else in the condo—and the man’s tone didn’t sound at all promising.

“Guys! Get in here! Now!”

Heart thudding, mouth drier than a stale Triscuit, Chris flung aside his covers and scurried out his door on legs of jelly. He almost collided with Justin and Joey in the hall, and Lance had already beaten them to the living room, which was where a red-faced JC stood, and which proved to be the place of the problem.

Almost every inch of the floor and furniture was covered with what looked like bits of paper—but upon closer observance, Chris realized they were shredded Valentine cards. Whoever had done this certainly hadn’t lacked for stock or creativity; there must have been a thousand cards at least, the designs varying from elaborate and sophisticated to cutesy and cartoony. It hurt Chris a little to see the way one card with an adorable puppy holding a flower in its mouth had been torn up so recklessly.

“Okay,” said JC as soon as they were all assembled, “which of you practical jokers is responsible for this mess?”

“Not me,” Lance protested, looking and sounding thoroughly bewildered.

“Don’t look at me,” Chris added in a small voice.

“My hands are clean,” said Joey, holding out both hands in plain view.

“I didn’t do it,” Justin insisted. “I didn’t even know they still sold Valentines at this time of year.”

“Since when would any of us pull off such a sick joke, JC?” Lance asked.

When at last JC was convinced that no one standing in that room was the culprit, he demanded, “All right, then, who forgot to lock the door last night?”

Justin answered, “I distinctly recall the keys being in your possession last, JC.”

Joey nodded in vigorous agreement. “And if there’s one thing you’re famous for, JC, it’s that you always keep your doors locked, cars and condos alike.”

JC’s lips pressed into a pencil-thin line. “Then that means some psycho must have busted in here last night, while we were sleeping.”

Chris felt a chill crawl down his backbone.

Glancing about the room, Lance commented, “Apart from the mess, nothing else looks wrong to me.”

“Yeah,” said Joey, “doesn’t look like our little guest made off with anything.”

“All the same,” JC said, “we had better search this place from top to bottom, and get started on cleaning this up.” He ended this sentence with an emphatic wave at the living room litter.

“I’ll get a garbage bag,” said Justin as he made a beeline for the kitchen.

While the rest of the guys did their individual inspections of the condo, Chris stayed put. As he examined the ripped puppy Valentine, he noticed something on the back of the card. When he put the pieces together, he saw that, like last night’s torn photograph, they spelled out a message that alluded to a well-known song.

This time, the message read: YOU’VE LOST THAT LOVIN’ FEELIN’.

The writer had gone the extra mile with a drawing of a crude heart skewered on an arrow and a few “drops” falling from the arrow’s point—and red ink for both the writing and artwork, so that those tiny drops gave the clear indication of blood.

Another ruined Valentine bore that same phrase and illustration, and another, and another. In all likelihood, the prankster had gone to the time and trouble of putting the same message on every single Valentine before tearing them up.

Now Chris felt like he would be seriously sick.

Now he knew that this couldn’t be a coincidence.

Whoever sneaked in here last night undoubtedly had him in mind.

Someone was targeting him, and much as he didn’t want to believe it, he had a pretty strong hunch of who that “someone” was.

When Justin came back with the garbage bag, Chris made a tough effort to mask his distress, and set about gathering the debris together…but not before slipping the puppy Valentine into his gym shorts pocket.

 

---

 

While Jamie was far from an exercise enthusiast, she often went for an out-of-doors walk when something weighed very much on her mind. Red Maple Park ranked among her top choices for such a walk. A natural footpath threaded through a dense copse of tall, lush trees, and in the dead center of the park, there was a gorgeous blue-green pond full of ducks and geese with an occasional swan or two.

Plus, you could almost always get a free pretzel while you were there.

Jamie had just arrived at the pond with two large pretzels, still warm and fragrant, when a familiar figure perched on one of the wooden benches caught her eye. She stood still, blinked a few times, and knew she couldn’t be mistaken. Her heart instantly picked up speed while her insides turned to butter. Part of her wanted to run away even as another part yearned to curl up in those soft, strong arms.

In the end, her legs carried her to the bench—slowly but steadily.

Clearing her throat, trying to keep it casual, she asked, “Is this seat taken?”

The head that had been hanging low for the last twenty minutes or so rose with a jolt. Even with his black shades and navy blue visor, his astonishment registered plainly enough. “Jamie?”

“Hey, Chris,” she said with her best smile.

“Hey,” he echoed after a minute’s pause.

“Fancy running into you here.”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“I don’t know. Guess you just have a memorable face. The kind that, after you’ve seen it once, it’s near impossible to miss it again.” Maybe it was only the sun, but his cheeks looked very red at that last part. Hoping she hadn’t overdone it with that little crack, she asked, “Is it okay if I sit with you?”

He fidgeted a little. “Oh…umm…yeah, sure. Make yourself at home.”

She settled beside him, then offered him one of her pretzels. “Want one?”

He accepted it, somewhat tentatively. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Consider it payback for that jumbo popcorn.” She bit into her thick, spongy bread, taking her time to chew it and relish the salty, buttery flavor. “Mmmm…so good! Nothing like a freshly baked pretzel in the park on a beautiful day, huh?”

He had to smile a little as he also took a bite. “Well, I do like pretzels. And it is a beautiful day today.”

They sat in silence for a good while, watching a duck chase another duck across the pond. A rare black swan on the shore took a few nips at its own feathers. Every now and then, Jamie stole a sidelong glance at Chris; once or twice, she would have sworn he was looking at her, but his face was always averted when she turned her own head, so she didn’t know if she was mistaken or not.

This time, he spoke first. “So, how have you been, Jamie?”

“Not bad. How about you?”

“Okay, I guess.” His own tone didn’t convince him, but either Jamie didn’t notice or she was considerate enough not to pry for details.

“I know it hasn’t been that long since our last interaction,” she said as she flung a piece of her pretzel into the water and watched the ducks scramble for it, “but I’ve missed you.”

Now Chris looked at her properly, more touched than he would have believed possible. “Yeah? I must confess, I’ve been thinking about you and missing you, too.”

Her heart skipped a beat upon hearing that.

Ten seconds passed between them before Chris spoke again. “Hey, Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“You know how you said I was welcome at your place for dinner when the time allowed?”

“Yeah?”

Chris bit his lip, then removed his shades as he said softly, “Well…tomorrow night, I’m free.”

“Really?” Now her stomach did a full cartwheel.

“If it’s not a burden on you and Nat.”

“Oh, no, not at all! Nat’s been nagging me for days about when you were coming.” This was only half-true; Nat had brought up the subject more than once, but no more than three times.

Now Chris had to smile at Jamie’s enthusiasm. “You remember my specific request for dinner, don’t you?”

“I sure do! You specifically requested tacos, and Nat makes the best tacos you’ve ever eaten in your life. Are you picky about whether they’re soft or hard, or what type of meat is in them?”

“No. General taste is all I care about.”

“Then you’ll fall head over heels for Nat’s three-cheese chicken tacos. She fries them with green chilies in pure sunflower oil, and serves them with all the sour cream and hot sauce you want. They’re crispy, crunchy, and oh so good!” Just talking about them was already making Jamie’s mouth water.

He chuckled. “It’s a good thing I’m eating something right now, or you’d have me salivating all over the place. Sure sounds like a feast fit for a king.”

Right then, two young men passed them by. One of the guys also wore dark shades and had a smoldering cigarette between his lips, and his companion wore a shabby tank top that revealed heavily tattooed arms. They both spared Jamie and Chris a sidelong glance, and the guy with the tattoos remarked, “Man, get a load of that guy sitting with that little tub of lard.”

“No wonder they’re always so fat,” said the smoker. “They’re forever stuffing their faces.”

Jamie felt these words like she would a slap across the face. She sat stock-still with the remains of her pretzel, unable to move or speak at all.

Chris, in contrast, was on his feet and had a good-sized wad of the tattooed guy’s top in his fist in less than two seconds. With their faces mere inches apart, Chris loudly demanded, “Care to rephrase that, buddy?”

Despite being almost a full head taller, despite his tough appearance, the tattooed guy didn’t appear so tough now. His voice actually shook a little as he protested, “Whoa, man, easy! I-I was just kidding! Can’t you take a joke?”

To which Chris replied sharply, “Your sense of humor needs work, pal, and a whole lot of it. Same could be said for your brain.” Letting the man go with a shove, he continued, “I’ll give you a break now. But next time, you’re in for a real break. Understand?”

The tattooed guy’s only response was to take off like a dog with its tail between its legs, with the smoker close at his heels.

When Chris turned back to Jamie, she had her head down and both hands raised, but there was no mistaking the sounds of her crying. Without a word, he returned to the bench straightaway and gathered the poor girl into his arms with the utmost gentleness.

He sat quietly with her and let her cry for a time. When she calmed down some, she pulled away, rubbing her eyes self-consciously. He kept both hands on her shoulders as he asked her, “Are you okay?”

She managed to look him in the face as she answered in a quaver, “I-I’m fine. Or I will be in a bit.”

Chris shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Jamie. Those two jerks were way out of line. I’ll never understand how anyone can get such a kick out of that kind of thing.”

She sniffled and brushed her wrist across her eyes one more time. “This is not the first time someone’s poked fun at my weight,” she murmured. “Goodness knows how often it happened in school. I never stopped and counted.”

He lightly squeezed her shoulders. “Don’t listen to them. You’re pretty just the way you are, Jamie Miller. Being tall and skinny is so overrated, anyhow; I never saw anything attractive about a walking twig.”

What he said delivered a new kind of shock, and Jamie could only sit there and gape.

He thinks I’m pretty. Chris Kirkpatrick thinks I’m pretty.

With a tentative smile, Chris asked, “So, are we still up for that taco feast tomorrow?”

Despite her moist eyes and the red hue of her skin, there was no earthly way Jamie could keep the smile off her face now. “How does six o’ clock suit you?”

“I’ll be there. Not a minute later. Not a minute sooner.”

“I’ll see you then,” she said, adding inwardly, It’ll never be soon enough.

 

---

 

“Going somewhere tonight, Chris?”

Chris, who was just applying a final touch of aftershave, gave JC’s reflection in the glass an awkward look as he replied, “Yeah. Don’t know how long I’ll be but I’m banking on a good couple of hours.”

JC merely glanced over Chris’s immaculate hair and goatee, light blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and black dress pants before shrugging and turning away. “Hm. That’s nice. Knock yourself out, man.”

In three seconds, Chris turned around and called, “JC?”

JC stopped. “What?” 

Chris hesitated for another second before forcing the words out. “I…uh…I just want to say I’m sorry. For what I said the other night.”

With another shrug, JC just said, “You didn’t tell us anything that night that wasn’t the truth. Sometimes I do pry a little too much. Sometimes I go far beyond the third degree.”

“What I did was still uncalled for, yelling at you and the other guys like that.” Chris’s tone grew softer, his expression more pleading. “I didn’t mean to. Honest.” 

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay, Chris.”

“Will you forgive me?” 

Now a genuine smile filled JC’s entire face, and the man crossed the room in two strides. “Already been done, brother,” he said before engulfing Chris in a bear hug.

Chris sighed and fervently squeezed him back. “Thank you, JC. I really am sorry.”

“Me too.” When the two men relinquished their grip, JC kept his hands on Chris’s shoulders as he told him softly, “I’m still here if you need to talk about anything. We all are.”

Chris chewed his lip some, and then said, “Actually, now that you’re here, there is something I’d like to discuss with you. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah? I’m all ears.”

“You remember Jamie Miller, that girl from the movies a while back? The short girl with the brown hair?”

“Yes, I do. She looked like a real sweetheart.”

“Well…she and I recently reconnected, and she invited me to her place for dinner. That’s where I will be tonight.”

JC raised his brows significantly. “Really?” he said, more as a statement than anything else. He gave Chris’s left shoulder a good-natured slap. “Well, good for you! And that’s very generous of her, providing the meal herself instead of expecting you to foot the bill at some fancy restaurant.”

Chris had to smile as he said, “Oh, yeah. No offense to Joey, but I don’t recall the last time I had a decent meal made with the comforts of home. It will be a beautiful change of scenery.”

Noticing the distant look in Chris’s soft brown eyes, JC asked, “So, what’s the big deal?”

Chris closed his eyes for a moment. He took a long breath and took even longer letting it out. When at last he spoke, he asked, almost inaudibly, “Would I sound like I lost my mind if I admitted that I’m starting to like this girl?”

“As in, like-like her? As in, falling for her? Head over heels?”

“Yes.”

Very slowly, JC’s hands withdrew from Chris’s shoulders altogether. JC stood still, regarding Chris in a manner that wasn’t skeptical or critical in the least; quite the contrary, his expression was nothing but tender, and his voice was a perfect fit. “Of course, you haven’t lost your mind, buddy. If that’s the way you feel about this girl, I don’t see the harm in it. You deserve to find love again.”

Chris sighed. “I know you’re right. It’s just so ironic, considering how I swore on no uncertain terms that I would never do this again.”

“Which goes to show how careful you need to be with the word ‘never.’”

Rubbing his eyelids with his fingertips, Chris muttered, “And so far, I’ve picked a lot of losers. Sure, everything’s great between me and the girl at first. But as soon as we get used to each other and all those goo-goo feelings have gone away, everything falls apart. I learn the hard way that the girl never loved me to start with, or she loved me for the wrong reasons.” He shook his head and sighed again. “I seriously don’t think I could handle that kind of disappointment again, JC.”

JC nodded empathetically. “Yeah, I know. Love is always a gamble. It’s often very difficult to tell the difference between the real deal and an unhealthy infatuation.” Returning a hand to Chris’s shoulder, he continued with a smile, “But from the way I see it, my friend, the real deal is well worth the gamble. It’s like a buried treasure—it may take ages and ages to find it and you may fret more than once that you’re just wasting your time and energy. But when you find it at last, all at once that time and energy count for something, and you value your treasure all the more.”

Touched and amused at this profound philosophy, Chris gave JC a light shove and told him with a lopsided smile, “Says you.”

JC laughed and gently shoved back. “And I’m never wrong about such things.” His tone regained solemnity as he ushered Chris to the door. “Now, go have a great evening with Jamie. Don’t worry about rushing into anything with her. Just relax and try to keep things fun between you two. And take your time coming back here.”

“Will do,” Chris said, smiling even as his heart brimmed with simultaneous anticipation and terror.

 

---

 

“Good grief, Jamie, will you sit down and relax already?”

“I can’t help it,” Jamie wailed as she paced the living room like a caged cat. “I’m so scared and so excited! Are you sure this place is presentable enough? Are you sure there’s nothing left for us to do to get ready?”

With a half-laugh, Nat used her long fingers to tick off household tasks. “Everything’s picked up and put in its proper place. Garbage has been evicted. Walls are spotless. Not a speck of dust to be found anywhere. Furniture looks fresh from the store. Carpet can’t be vacuumed anymore without getting sucked up. Kitchen’s got enough food to satisfy an army. Table’s all set with our best dishes, and you can eat your dinner off the bathroom floor. You and I are fresh from the shower, too. Yeppers, I’d say we’re good to go.”

Turning to the mirror for the hundredth time, Jamie asked, “Does my hair look okay? Did I use the right shampoo? Do these pants go well with this shirt? Maybe I should have chosen a different perfume—”

Nat rolled her eyes and slapped her own forehead. “Oh, give me a break, girl! He’s not the president of the United States, or the prince of England, or the Pope.”

“No, he’s not. Just one-fifth of America’s number one pop band.”

Rising to her feet, Nat said in her firmest tone, “Now, I’ll have none of that from you, missy. Chris is going to be treated like any other guest, like a normal, decent human being. Understand?”

Jamie’s face went redder than her cherry T-shirt, were such a thing possible. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” Slowly, she turned away from the mirror and approached her roommate. “I’m just not used to this kind of thing, you know? I never had a guy outside of family at my place before.”

Nat’s expression softened a little, and she made a short nod. “I can understand and appreciate that much. Just try not to have a heart attack, okay? At least not until after Chris leaves.”

Now it was Jamie’s turn to roll her eyes. “Oh, you are a riot, Nat. Totally first-class.”

Before either girl could say another word, the doorbell rang, causing Jamie to jump three feet off the floor. She would have knocked the door clean off its hinges had Nat not stepped in front of her with a raised hand and said, “No, no, allow me.”

Sure enough, when the door was dragged aside, there stood Chris Kirkpatrick—positively irresistible in every way. Jamie’s knees dissolved at the sight of him while Nat told him with the coolness of a cucumber, “Good evening, sir. A most magnificent pleasure to meet you.”

“Hi, Nat,” said Chris with a tentative wave. His soft gaze tangled with Jamie’s and Jamie half-expected to fall into a swoon. “Hi, Jamie.”

“H-hi, Chris.”

“Did I make it in time?”

“Right on the button,” said Nat after a quick consultation of her wristwatch.

It was all Jamie could to talk at all, let alone keep her voice steady. “W-won’t you come in, Chris?”

Nat stepped aside and held the door all the way. “Nuestro apartamento es su apartamento,” she told Chris with a deep bow at the waist and a flawless accent.

Chris laughed and bowed in exchange as he stepped over the threshold. “Muchas gracias, querida.” As Nat closed the door, he looked all around the living room and commented, “Nice place you got here, ladies. Very nice.”

“Thank you,” said Jamie, feeling her stomach tingle and her cheeks flush at the same time.

Chris took a deep whiff. “Mmmm…and it smells awesome!”

This emboldened Jamie enough to say, “Hope you’re good and hungry, because we’ve cooked up a real feast.”

Nat said, “After spending more than two hours on the meal, he had better eat it and like it.”

This earned her another laugh from Chris. “I don’t think there’s any fear of that,” he smiled. “Jamie tells me you’re a terrific cook.”

“Terrific enough to start her own restaurant,” Jamie couldn’t resist putting in.

Nat only pretended to act modest as she replied, “Well, I may not be a five-star chef, but I managed not to burn anything tonight. Shall we proceed, lady and gentleman?”

“You mean I actually gotta share this feast with you two?” Chris asked as he followed Nat into the dining room with Jamie close behind him.

“Hey,” Jamie said, “even the people who throw the food together have to eat, sooner or later.”

Nat added, “Where do you think we get all that energy to throw all that food together in the first place?”

Chris jutted his lip in a pout. “Oh, okay. I’ll try to save you at least a few bites.”

Of course, there was more than enough food on the table to feed three mouths. As promised, an enormous platter was heaped with large, plump tacos, all fried to a lovely golden crisp; Chris could tell from the steam and the faint crackle that they hadn’t been out of the pot for very long. On the side, the girls had put out brown rice, corn mixed with black beans, jalapeño peppers, and plenty of tortilla chips with fresh guacamole. For beverages, they’d thrown some orange juice, pineapple juice, and lemonade concentrate together with ice-cold Sprite.

Chris was practically drooling before he sat down, with Jamie on the right end of the square table and Nat on the left. He took as much food as could fit on his plate, and that first bite of crispy, spicy, cheesy chicken could only be described as heavenly. When Jamie asked what he thought of the tacos, he just said between bites, “Can’t talk. Must eat.”

Nat nodded in hearty approval. “Works for me!”

They had a wonderful time eating and chatting, and Chris did participate in conversation after his second taco. He made Nat swear on her life that she would share this recipe with him, and Jamie couldn’t stop laughing at his wisecracks throughout the meal.

It was such a cozy atmosphere; it was easy to forget the strain of the last few months. Indeed, Chris felt better than he had in a long time. For the first time in ages, he felt like a one-hundred-percent normal person, rather than the target of some nosy cameraperson, pack of juvenile nutcases, or psycho girlfriend.

He wished the night would never end and he savored the time he did have as best he could.

When they finished dessert (homemade churro bowls filled with ice cream and smothered in hot fudge and caramel sauce), Chris leaned back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head and gave a great sigh of contentment. “Oh, yes…this is the good life. My wholehearted compliments to the chefs.”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Jamie smiled. “That was delicious. If I had a better dinner before, I can’t remember it now.”

“That makes the time and effort all worthwhile,” said Nat, also smiling.

“Jamie’s right, Nat. You really should invest in the food industry. You really should start your own restaurant.”

“You really think so, huh?”

“I know so. I’d pay good money to eat there.”

“What could we call it?” Jamie asked. “Nat’s Diner? It’s short, to the point, and it means something.”

“That’s not bad,” Chris said, “but it needs a little more pizzazz. How about Nat’s Bistro? Or Nat’s Nifty Kitchen?”

“Nat’s Nifty Kitchen?” Even Nat couldn’t repress a giggle. “Are you serious?”

Chris shrugged. “Hey, at least it shows some creativity.”

Jamie suggested, “Or how about this? Nat’s Hoppin’ Boppin’ Poppin’ Hash House!”

Chris and Nat both stared at her for a split second before Chris palmed his face and Nat said, “Sweet sufferin’ succotash, Jamie, I don’t think so!”

“Hm, maybe you’re right. That name alone is quite the mouthful.”

“People would get indigestion before they set foot in the door,” Chris said as he slowly withdrew his hand and opened his eyes.

“I do kind of like Nat’s Bistro, though,” Nat conceded. “Still short and simple with a tad more appeal.”

After swapping several more names worthy of a public eating place, Chris said, “Hey, ladies? This is gonna sound a little weird, but where’s the men’s room here?”

“Down the hall, second door on the left,” Nat told him. “You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.”

When Chris disappeared from the dining room, Jamie also let out a great sigh and slumped in her chair. “Holy Toledo, Nat, I still can’t believe it,” she said in a half-whisper.

“Can’t believe what?”

“Like you don’t know! I’m talking about him, in here, with us.”

Nat reached for a toothpick as she casually responded, “Believe it or not, honey, I’m having a hard time believing it myself. So I believe you when you say you don’t believe it.”

“Okay, don’t hurt yourself.”

In the bathroom, Chris took his time to wash his hands and douse his face. As he dried off on the soft green hand towel, he noticed a CD player on a corner shelf with a stack of CDs.

Unable to resist, he stepped closer to that shelf and gently thumbed through those CDs. He discovered a Michael Jackson album, a Tim McGraw album, two Beatles albums, even a Luciano Pavarotti album. He saw Huey Lewis and the News, Celine Dion, Genesis, Madonna, the soundtracks for several popular Disney movies, and, to his great amusement, Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys.

Oh, Justin will love that. These girls have superb taste in music, though I’m not so sure about the Backstreet Boys.

Then his eyes fell upon a CD set apart from the others. The case stood just a little behind the player, and when Chris picked up the case to see it better, his entire body froze up and his eyes more or less popped from their sockets.

His own image stared back at him, with the title spelling out: *NSYNC: CELEBRITY.

 

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