There was a dog in the house. A beautiful, caramel colored, sweet English bulldog puppy. In the house.

A glimpse of what my life might become once I moved to LA was being played out in front of me as I stepped inside JC's house and made my way toward the noise. Tyler and two friends, Allison, and the dog were in the den, where groups of people usually congregated when they came over. It was easy to see why-it was the den to end all dens. The largest flat-screen TV I'd ever seen dominated one wall and, when the surround sound was on, made the room seem like a movie theater. The furniture, upholstered in brown and cream, large and well-cushioned were so comfortable I made a point to not get cozy or I would fall asleep. The set could be moved around and configured to accommodate a small group or a large crowd, and at the opposite end of the room a pool table filled the space and arcade games lined the wall. A small but well stocked bar was tucked away in a corner of the room, adding the last element to a great gathering. The Chasez House was the place to be-JC and Tyler seemed to love having the house where everyone wanted to hang out.

I stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall, watching and listening to the yelling, laughing, and barking, confused and yet so amused I could neither turn away or interrupt. My giggle caught Allison's attention and her face lit up as soon as she realized it was me.

"Serena!" She squealed and bolted across the room toward me, her long blond hair fanning out behind her. She was taller than me by half an inch, so she nearly bowled me over as her thin arms circled my shoulders. Tyler followed, except his hug ended in an arm wrapped around my neck and a fist rubbed roughly against my scalp.

"That's for taking so long to come out here again," he said, releasing me to stumble into the room.

"Ow, ya asshole." I patted my tender scalp and pretended to frown but my joy at seeing him again won over. Tyler had been like a brother to me since I'd met him-I'd never expect any other kind of greeting.

Tyler winked and smiled, his dimples deep and cheeks red. "Does the old man know you're here? He's not home."

"Yeah," I answered, parking my suitcase and bags out of the hallway. The puppy wiggled its way over to me and sniffed my toes, his little body shaking with the excitement of seeing someone new. "I talked to him in the cab on my way here. Who's dog?"

"Mine," Allison answered, arms crossed, rolling her eyes. "I just got him a week ago. They think they're training him. He's just playing with them."

"It's working. Check it out." Tyler squatted in front of the dog, held out his hand, and said, in a stern voice, "shake!"

The dog let out a whimper, opened his mouth and began to pant.

I snorted. "Yeah, that's working out great, Ty. You're doing a real good job."

"He's just doing that because you're here," Tyler said, but gave up anyway and plopped onto one of the couches, next to his friends. They sat like bumps on logs and stared at me. I looked from the two of them to Tyler and back to them and back to Tyler again.

"Oh." Thank goodness he caught the hint-- I thought I was going to have to smack him.

"Hey, guys, this is my brother's girlfriend, Serena. She's here from Atlanta." He angled his thumb in their direction. "These are my friends Dale and Pedro. We call them Dumb and Dumber." Both young men offered me toothy grins and nods, mumbling ‘hello's and ‘nice to meet you's.

"This family needs to come up with nicer nicknames. Nice to meet you guys," I answered with a smile, then squatted in front of the dog. "What's his name?" I asked, looking up at Allison.

"His name is Kahuna."

"Hi, Kahuna," I said softly, offering a hand for him to sniff. Like magic, he lifted a paw and set it in my hand, then licked my face.

"No way! Did you see that?" Tyler sat up, his mouth open. "He did it!"

"You have to be gentle, Ty. You can't scream at the dog and expect him to obey. Respect him and he'll respect you." I smoothed down the fur at the top of his massive head and scratched behind his ears. He let out a loud yawn and sank to the floor, where he stretched out and promptly fell asleep.

"My story has become tiresome," I said with a shrug.

"So, how long are you in town, Serena?" I opened my mouth to answer Tyler and frowned at the couch.

Tyler and Allison were curled up together, squished into the corner of the small three-seater. His friends, for some reason, were squeezed in next to them. There was plenty of room and other surfaces to sit on, so why they all wanted to sit on the same couch puzzled me.

A critical, judgmental ‘young people,' ran through my mind before I could stop it, then dismissed it as memories flooded of my younger, more carefree days. Before I became older and mature and judgmental of the energy of the youth. Melissa and I did a lot of things that made no sense, like grocery shopping in our pajamas and wearing matching hats and t-shirts with nonsensical phrases on them.

"I fly out Wednesday. I have an interview Tuesday."

Tyler's eyebrows shot up toward his headline, his brown eyes big as saucers. "Seriously? A good one? You're really moving out here, huh?"

I nodded, unable to hold back my grin or the excited little squeak, or the way my shoulders hunched up and my body shuddered with anticipation. "I'm trying to. I wish I could get a damn job already, you know? Limbo sucks."

"I bet."

"So how are you doing? I heard Allison was cracking down on you on the Bar Exam. You taking it?"

Tyler's head bobbed with his nod and he slung an arm over Allison's shoulder. "In the fall. Finally. Ali said she'd dump me if I didn't so..." He shrugged and blushed, his cheeks growing redder if possible "Plus, it's a condition of my job that I have to take it within a year of getting hired."

"I didn't say I'd dump you," Allison protested.

"You said you were tired of dating an 'almost attorney' so I should get my ass in gear."

"That sounds more like what I said, yeah."

He stuck his tongue out at her and then tightened his arm around her neck and pulled her closer. He kissed her, right near her ear and she beamed, then closed her eyes and sighed.

My heart hurt to watch them-they made me miss JC.

"Well, I'm happy for you. I think you'll find it's not as bad as you're making it out to be in your mind."

"Maybe not. Maybe not."

His attention turned to the TV, where some movie, loud and full of action and foul language, had Dumb and Dumber in a trance, mouths open, eyes unblinking.

"So, I'm gonna take my bags upstairs."

I stood and stretched, still a little tense from the flight. I'd made great use of my time, studying up on Taylor Manufacturing and the entire industry itself. I would have to convince them that though I was coming from a completely different angle, that the methodology was the same-- make the product shine.

No one moved an inch as I wheeled my bags out of the hallway toward the stairs, squeaking all the way. 'Young people', I thought again as I trudged the staircase, suitcase and carry-on in tow. As soon as I hit the third floor, the phone in my pocket buzzed-couldn't be anyone but JC, who I hoped was calling to tell me he was on his way home. I left the bags at the landing, dug the phone out of my pocket, walked to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hey sexy," I said, in the most sultry voice I could muster. "Whatcha wearin'?"

"Oh," was the response, with a tinge of surprise. "Uhm, a shirt and some jeans."

"Mmmm," I purred. "What kind of shirt? Which jeans?"

"Uh." He cleared his throat, usually his sign that he couldn't talk because he wasn't alone. "The kind you like. Hang on a second, okay?"

"Mmmhmmm...."

Faint sounds of papers shuffling, a brief conversation and a door opening came through the phone before he picked up again. "So, about that conversation we were having." He stopped to laugh a little and added, "I can be wearing less in about an hour, if that interests you."

I couldn't help but smile, a low chuckle falling out of my mouth. The mere sound of his voice did weird things to my insides, made my heart race and my stomach flop and the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end. I couldn't wait to see him.

"That does interest me. I'm very interested, in fact. Hi."

"Hi. So you made it to the house and everything?"

"I'm in your bedroom, right now."

"Soon to be our bedroom."

I glanced around, realizing I hadn't even looked at it since I walked in. It was clean, as usual, simple but elegant, cool and calm and always inviting, but very clearly a man's room. We would have to come to some sort of agreement on softening the room a little. I almost felt like there should be deer horns or something on the wall, it was so rustic.

"We''ll see about that," I answered with a laugh. "Any chance we can move downstairs? I had to lug my shit up three flights of stairs."

"Fuck," he grunted, loud in my ear. "I just talked to Tyler an hour ago. He and his friends were there. No one brought your bags up for you?"

I winced-- I didn't mean to get Tyler in trouble. "No, but... don't worry about it. I handled it. I'm strong."

"That's not..." He sighed, and then seemed to let his frustration go as quickly as it came. "The-I would have taken care of that for you. I don't understand why that doesn't just jump to his mind."

"Mmmm... chivalry is so sexy. Your momma raised you right."

"Tyler was raised by rude wolves, apparently." I could barely hear him over the noise behind him-- people talking, cars driving by.

"Where are you?"

"Leaving the studio, right now. Should be back there in about an hour, maybe more. Depends on traffic. Do you need anything? I mean, that I can get at a store, before you get all smart ass on me."

"Just you. I've got some other things I need you to take care of."

I heard the car door slam and all the noise disappeared, save the metal tinkling of keys on his key ring. "You're feisty today. I like it. See you in a bit. Love you."

"Love you, too." The engine of the car purred to life, idling softly in the background. "Hey, drive safely, okay? I need you in one piece."

"So you can tear me apart?" In my mind I could see that smile of his, the evil one, with the matching eyebrow lift and head tilt that almost made me scream.

"You got it. Hurry home."

"As fast as I can."

I tossed the phone to the side and climbed further up onto the bed, gazing and daydreaming into the ceiling fan. I wanted to stay there. Forever.

I must have fallen asleep waiting, because one moment I was plotting to never go back to Atlanta and the next moment I was coming around to the sensation of something heavy on my stomach. My eyes fluttered open as whatever was heavy shifted. A deep chuckle filled my ears and the familiar scent of tea tree extract filled my nose. A smile automatically began to spread as I realized the heavy thing on me was JC.

"Hey," I whispered. "You smell so good. I missed you."

"Hey," he whispered back, scooting up the bed so he could lay next to me, facing me. "I missed you, too. How you doin'?"

"Mighty fine right now, sir. Mighty fine. Can I have a kiss?"

"Oh, you may, madam. You may."

He bent to kiss me, his lips lightly brushing mine, more of a tickle and a tease than a kiss, but then came back again for more, deeper, stronger, more passionate. He sucked in a long breath through his nose and let it out in a moan, halfway muffled by his mouth covering mine, his tongue playing with mine. When he'd reached his fill of my lips he tipped his head to the side and found his favorite spot to nibble. His chin was prickly with stubble. I felt a rash developing as he kissed and nuzzled-- I didn't care. I'd live with a big red rash on my neck everyday if it meant it was him giving it to me.

After a few minutes, he sighed and pulled back, leaning on one elbow. The sun was just beginning its descent into the horizon so the room was darkening, pretty with the rosy glow of dusk from behind the blinds covering the door to the patio. He was handsome in any light but that light in particular made him seem irresistible to me. I found myself hoping he didn't want to go out. I longed to just hang out with him, to lay around and listen to his inane stories and useless facts about everything.

"So. Everything okay?"

I nodded. "Everything is great. Why?"

"I mean, with Regina and stuff. You guys aren't fighting or at odds again or anything, are you?"

"Not at all. She's doing great, working in one of her dad's hotels, getting ready to go to her first college class in the fall. We talk about once a week. I talk to Charles about as often." I couldn't resist anymore-- I had to touch him, stroke his face, smooth down the hairs on his cheek. "Why do you ask?"

He reached across the small space between us, smoothed my hair down and tucked it behind my ear. His fingers dug in and pulled through to the ends, bringing it over my shoulder. "Your hair is straight. I haven't seen it that way in a long time."

"Oh, yeah. My hair." I laughed, subconsciously running a few fingers through it. The day before, on a whim, I walked into the salon I usually frequented and treated myself to a sleek new look. I'd been wearing the curls for a long time and was ready for something new. "I told you I went to the salon, last night when we talked."

"You didn't tell me you got rid of your curls."

My head tilted with confusion. "You don't like it straight?"

"I didn't say that," he answered with a laugh. "Stop reading into what I say."

"I'm not, JC. You said-" I stopped, then, and took a breath. Way to pick your battles Serena. Just... stop picking every single one of them. "I had it straightened because it's getting so long that I was starting to look like a poodle. Do you like it?"

"I like what you like. Honey, you're beautiful either way. I was just asking." He smiled and dropped a kiss on my forehead. "Thank you for stopping yourself," he whispered, then dipped his head to kiss my lips.

"I'm trying," I sighed. "So, please say you don't want to go out, tonight."

"Uhhh..." He swallowed, his eyes darted right then left, then back at me. "I don't want to go out tonight?"

"Nope." I shook my head and slid my hand down his face and his neck to his chest, and then around his ribcage to his back as I rolled to my side and scooted closer to him. "No, you want to stay in and watch a movie, and annoy me by pointing out continuity errors and crunching popcorn in my ear."

"Hmmm," he mused. "I do like annoying you..."

"Mmhmm."

"Well, I guess my mind is made up, then. Sounds like fun, I'm glad I thought of it."

"I'm excited to hang out with you."

"It's been awhile, huh?"

He sat up and offered his hand to help me up. After I was on my feet, he curled a hand around my waist and pulled me to his side, pointing to my bags standing neatly just outside the closet. "I almost fell over your shit in the middle of the hallway, by the way."

"I'm sorry. I was distracted by the sexy guy on the phone."

"Oh, see," he said, grabbing both hands and pulling me behind him toward the door. "Flattery will get you everywhere. Let's go find a movie. And see if I have popcorn. I have no idea."

We searched the pantry for popcorn, found a few bags and popped them, then dumped it into a bowl, and took over the now empty den. JC moved the couch that was previously holding way too many people out of the way and pushed the overstuffed ‘chair and a half' into its place.

"Hold on," he said, a finger raised. "Don't move." I waited while he rolled the matching ottoman in front of the chair, then sat down and scooted all the way back, making room for me to sit with him.

"Plant it, right here, mama," he said, smacking the space between his legs. I crawled up onto the chair, the bowl of popcorn in my lap, two tall glasses of Pepsi at his elbow on the table next to us.

With a flick of his wrist on the remote, he dimmed the lights, turned on the surround sound, and pulled up the DVD inventory. "What do you want to watch? Have you seen Garden State yet?"

His chin was on my shoulder, an arm around my waist, his heartbeat thumping rhythmically into my back. As long as we didn't have to move for a good, long while, I didn't much care what we watched.

"I haven't. Sounds okay."

I relished the feeling of his stubble rubbing against my temple and settled back against him. ‘Yep,' I thought to myself. ‘This is home.'

*

"Honey, they don't bite."

"I know. I'm... I don't know. I'm nervous."

I picked at my breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, contemplating the plans that had been made for the evening-JC's friends wanted to take me out. But he wasn't going.

I wasn't so much dreading it as I just... wasn't looking forward to it. I still had my suspicions about them, but I had promised, months ago, to try to relax and be more social with his friends. I couldn't let my promise become empty words that I uttered in the heat of the moment because they sounded good. I was going to have to actually live them out.

"What if I don't dress right, to go out in LA?"

"You dress fine," JC answered, absentminded, distracted by the newspaper. He reached for his coffee cup, blew into it to cool the steaming hot liquid and sipped it. His eyes lifted to mine as he set his cup back onto the saucer. "You'll be fine. Don't worry yourself sick about it. And don't say you're not, because you have a wrinkle across your forehead that scares me."

Instinctively, I rubbed my forehead, willing the wrinkle and the worry away. "Okay. I'm just... Okay, I'm not gonna worry about it. I'm just. Okay."

"Okay."

I shot him an annoyed glance. "Don't mock me."

"You'll know when I'm mocking you. Do you want to go to the studio with me, today? I have a short session and I can play you some of the new stuff."

He was so nonchalant and casual, picking at his nails, asking if I wanted to go to the studio with him, like he did it every day. I couldn't believe he just asked, out of the blue. I'd been begging so long and he'd been saying no for so long that I gave up. After he played a few snippets for me in Atlanta, I'd been craving music from him, especially another listen to ‘Last Night'.

"Yeah, I'll go," I answered, trying not to betray my excitement. "Sounds fun."

"Alright. We need to hit the road, soon." He finished the last swallows of his coffee and winked at me over the cup as he lowered it. "What do you say we conserve water by showering together?"

I chuckled. "I say we don't conserve any water when we shower together. Let's just call it what it is."

"Okay. Let's go have sex in the shower."

I shot up so fast I nearly knocked the chair over. "Thought you'd never ask!"

*

"So, I should tell you something before we go in," JC announced, pulling the car into a spot near the front door of a nondescript stone building. The lot was empty, the street barren of cars. He seemed to be the only one working early on a Saturday morning. A plain white sign with black block lettering hung over the entrance that said ‘Paramount Recording Studios'.

"I promise not to touch anything." I was kidding, but anticipating the speech anyway.

"Not that. Well yeah, be careful, but uhm..." He stopped and waved at the van that pulled in next to us. My jaw dropped to my chest when the door opened and the driver stepped out.

Dark hair, goatee, silver chain around his neck, thinner than I remembered seeing him last, but the same impish grin and warm smile. I'd know Chris Kirkpatrick anywhere.

"Oh. My. God." He wiggled a few fingers at me and smiled as he stood next to the van, waiting for his passengers. I waved back, and smiled, sure that I was blushing a radiant pink. I turned back to JC, who was grinning, himself. "Are you gonna spring them all on me?"

JC laughed and reached for his door handle. "I was trying to think of a way to tell you. He's early. Chris is never early. Come on, I'll introduce you."

Yeah, let me just try not to fall out of the car so I can meet the third *Nsync member in the span of a year.

I popped the door latch and got out, but stayed near the car as JC came around the back toward the van.

"'Sup, C!

"Nothin' much man," JC answered, stepping easily into one of those ‘handshake into hug' gestures that men do. The other three passengers in the van came round and they all shook hands and made small talk.

"So, you brought me a present?" Chris tipped his head toward me and winked.

"Uhm, no she is mine."

JC laughed a little then looked over at me, I guessed making sure the joke was okay. "Come over here. He doesn't bite, either." He waved me over and I stood next to him, nervous as shit for really no reason at all.

Chris squinted into the bright morning sunlight and grinned. "Yeah, I do."

"This is Serena, the girl I told you about. She was a fan." He glanced at me, his expression puzzled. "Was? Is? You're still a fan, right?" I just laughed and offered a hand to Chris.

He took my hand and gave a firm but gentle shake, but held it and didn't let go. I noticed his hands were soft and he and JC had matching calluses on their fingers. Shivers didn't shoot up my spine, shaking Chris' hand, the way that they did when I met JC.

"A fan of what? Of me? Or the band? I'm sure you know what the right answer is."

"Both," I said, finally finding my voice. "I'm a Nigels fan, too. Are... oh!" I perked as I looked from Chris to the other three men leaning against the van, to JC, and then realized JC was working on music with Chris.

"This is why you asked if I wanted to come today!"

"Guilty," JC said, nodding his head toward the door. "Hot out here. Let's get to it."

*

JC's head bobbed in rhythm to the music, the driving beat shaking the room from the floor to the ceiling. His fingers seemed to move on their own toward buttons and knobs, tweaking and adjusting. I could always tell when JC was deep into something. He didn't move at all, and he brought his fingers to his mouth and pulled at his bottom lip or just pressed them to his lips while his concentrated stare fixed onto something.

Months ago, I would have probably been like an excited puppy, curled up in the corner of a chair or a couch, just happy to be in the room. Well, let's face it, I was still that way, mostly because of who was in the room and because JC was letting me into a place I'd wanted to be, for a long time and I was so enjoying the experience.

"I wouldn't mess with that at all, man. That's perfect sound, right there. Don't you think?"

"Yep, I like that." Chris tapped a finger against the wooden railing of the soundboard and looked over at the other three, who were all nodding. He spun around in his chair and pointed at me.

"What do you think?"

"Uhhh..." I shrugged and laughed at being put on the spot. "I think I agree with the professional."

"Good answer. So she agrees with me," Chris said, spinning back around. "That doesn't say much for you, C."

JC laughed, shook his head and went back to scrolling his list. "Okay, let's do the last one."

He clicked the mouse and the room was full of sound again. Five heads gathered around the board, tossing ideas back and forth, making adjustments, rewinding, fast forwarding, and playing over and over. I was amused the amount of bickering between JC and Chris.

"We thought about bringing the bass out a little more..."

"I think it's fine. You don't want to overpower everything else with a heavy bass line. It's not jazz."

"Well, no, I just think it's really light and we could bring it up just a little."

"You can, if you want. Doesn't need it."

"I think we should, though."

"Well, then do it."

"But you're saying not to..."

"You asked me to listen and give my opinion. You know just as much as I do. If you want to bump up the bass a little, do it. It doesn't need it, but it won't hurt it."

"Alright, that's all I wanted to know."

"You didn't say that, you said you wanted to bump up the bass."

"Whatever, man."

"It's always whatever when you know I'm right."

"Shut up."

"You shut up. We done?"

"I guess." Chris sighed and held a hand out. He and JC laughed together, their hands pumping in a vigorous handshake. "Thanks, man. I appreciate your ear."

The relationship dynamics between men was fascinating. They reminded me of my brothers, who could yell at each other for an hour and then go to lunch and laugh about it. Men were so much more laid back about disagreements, letting the majority roll off their backs. Women were much more emotional and passionate and could hold onto the smallest thing forever.

Chris stood and stretched, his arms reaching toward the ceiling and then pulling his t-shirt down over his belly. He turned around and smiled at me again. "We scare ya, with our little fight over here?"

I shook my head. "Nah. As long as you're not throwing punches, I know it's safe."

"Serena has brothers," JC said from behind Chris. "And she's been in the same room with me and Tyler. She knows how this goes."

Chris and his band members filed out of the studio after a few minutes of small talk and goodbyes. The small room fell eerily quiet, considering how loud it had been for the past three hours. JC swiveled around in his chair and nodded me over to the console, pulling out the chair next to him that Chris had been sitting in.

"Have a seat. Welcome to your own private listening session."

I couldn't hold back a squeal, which he laughed at. "Sorry, I'm excited."

"Don't apologize for being cute. It makes me happy to hear that sound. You ready?"

I nodded and he clicked the mouse,then sat back as the music began to swell. "This is a good show opener right here. Sets the mood, I think-"

I reached over and put a finger to his lips."Just... shhhh. I want to hear it. Please?"

He nodded, his small, half a smile speaking volumes to me. He was so used to having to explain himself, his style, his choices, that he did it automatically and subconsciously. It wasn't necessary-not with me, not with anyone who was a fan of music, his or anyone else's. All he had to do was let the music stand for itself and let the story unravel.

And boy, did the stories unravel. Infidelity. Heartbreak. Soaring love. Depths of fear. Loathing. Anger. Fire. Passion. It was all there, woven into every lyric, riding on every note, embedded into every measure. It was a powerful collection of music with a wide range of genres-a lot of eclectic, alternative sounds but he dabbled in a little bit of rock and some soulful, jazzy sounds as well. We had listened to about eight songs in a row before he lowered the volume and spoke again.

"What do you think?"

"I love it," I answered, instantly. I didn't even have to think about it. I was in love with it and I hadn't even heard the entire collection yet. "I just... I do. I think it's great. I think it'll do great on tour, I think the label will love it and sign you and you'll get to do what you were born to do, again."

"What if..." JC paused and stared into the soundproof booth, dark and empty. He chewed on his lip a little, blinked a few times and then continued. "What if this, right here, is what I'm born to do? What if recording and touring is nice but it's not me anymore?"

I sat back in the chair and pondered his question, but it was hard to imagine him never singing again. "Do you really think that's where you are?"

He shrugged and pressed his lips together in a slight down turn. "This process, it's just grueling. It's hard on the ego. Not that I really had one, but... I feel like I'm groveling to this label, crawling on my knees for a deal and I don't have to do that."

"What about going on tour to play your new music for fans is groveling? They want you to test your audience, right? Didn't Sony roll Mariah Carey out like that? Jessica Simpson?"

He nodded and smiled a little. "I guess. I heard that. Yeah."

"So, Dallas told me something, back when he was sticking his nose into our business? He said, ‘you know that saying that pride goes before a fall? Don't let your pride trip you up and find you ass up in the middle of the street.' I gotta repeat those words right now, sweetie."

"He said that?"

"He said that. And forgive me but I think they apply, here. You've waited what... five years to release something. In between this and your last album you have left a label." I leveled my stare at him. "You think people are just going to say ‘oh JC Chasez, yes. He's completely relevant right now. Hand him a giant damn record contract for seventy bazillion dollars and don't make him prove that we're not wasting a penny of that'. From a marketing standpoint, I get their approach to you."

Silence, except for the low volume on the music playing from the speakers in each corner of the room. "Bazillion isn't a number," he said from behind a hand stroking the growth of hair on his lip.

"Then fill it in with a number that exists. You know what I mean."

He looked away, toward the monitor, and tapped his fingers on the console. "The label is Sony," he said quietly. "There's some politics because of the Jive contract, since they're essentially the same company, but they're willing to elbow through it, if I can prove I have a fan base." He paused and took a deep breath and then sat back, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

"And honestly, all this hesitation is about not knowing if I have that-this tour won't be about me and my music. I'll have to fight the entire time."

"Okay. Let me remind you about the Janet Jackson tour, with *Nsync. Remember that? Booing for the first 3 songs, and by the time the set was over, the crowd was cheering and demanding encores. You can win over an audience. There is precedence, JC. Stop it with the excuses."

He laughed, staring off into the distance, as if he was remembering, way back when. "So you're saying get over myself. You really think it'll be okay? That these songs are good? I'm asking as a fan, not as my girlfriend that loves me."

"Mmmm... how can I say this? As a fan, you need security, because I could jump you, this music is so good."

He burst into loud, sudden laughter and stood, kicking the chair back. It rolled until it hit the edge of the couch at the back of the room. "I love you so much right now. I gotta get you home and out of my hair."

I swiveled back and forth in the chair, listening to the annoying squeak it made as I moved. "So, is there... any chance I could get a copy of-"

"No," he said, stern and abrupt, shaking his head, ejecting the disc from the machine."I'm not even going to let you finish, no. Because it'll leak and I'll be pissed off. No. Sorry. Exclusive."

I expected that answer. I'd have been surprised if he said yes. "Okay. Doesn't hurt to ask."

"Sorry I have to say no."

"Stop, it's fine. I'm okay. So we're leaving? Can I turn everything off?"

*

I stood in the bathroom, under the bright fluorescents, shaking my hands out, trying to relax my entire body and stop the flush from crawling up my neck toward my forehead. Three of JC's friends were on their way to pick me up and take me to dinner and then some club in West Hollywood, where a larger group would be waiting. To hang out-dance, drink, eat, chill. Alone with them. All night.

"I wish you were going," I said for the fiftieth time.

"I know," he answered for the fiftieth time. "You'll be fine. They'll take care of you. And I'll try to meet up with you guys later."

JC passed behind me, his cologne wafting into the room. He was dressed in a crisp white dress shirt, jacket and tie, but wore his regular jeans and sneakers. MTV was filming a special episode of the Dance Show and JC would only be shown from the chest up. "May as well be comfortable," he said, when I questioned his fashion philosophy for the evening.

He checked his hair, and his shave job, brushed his teeth and walked back out of the bathroom, hooking a hand around my waist and dragging me with him.

"Lara will be here any second. Grab your purse and your shoes-come on, you can do this."

"Alright," I grumbled, stealing one last glance in the mirror and adjusting my halter top blouse. I looked good, if I said so myself, but not out of vanity. I didn't want to look like the tourist, the sore thumb, the under or overdressed one in the room. I crossed my fingers that all my effort would not be in vain and I wouldn't look like I tried too hard.

"You look fine. You look great, very nice. Don't worry. Let's go."

He pushed me out of the room, toward the staircase and followed me down. I never heard anyone come into the house or a doorbell ring or a car honk, but Lara, a statuesque brunette with emerald green eyes and jet black hair was perched on the edge of the couch in the sitting room, scrolling through her phone. She looked up as we came down the stairs and smiled.

"Hey, Serena. You look great. Are you ready? The other girls are in the car."

"Yeah, I guess." My heart was about to explode-I couldn't believe I couldn't calm down over this one evening out!

"Hold on a second."

JC grabbed me and turned me into his arms. I held onto him longer than necessary but finally stepped back. I felt something being pressed into my hand as he squeezed it. "In case you need it," he whispered. I looked down and he had slipped me a few bills for the evening. I kissed him and braced myself for the night, then followed Lara out of the door and out to her car.

Lara did most of the talking on the way to the restaurant, a short drive from JC's house. I met the other two girls in the car but both were relatively quiet. We bypassed the line at the entrance and were seated at a patio table so that one of the girls, Alera, could smoke. I fidgeted with the water glass and contemplated getting something to drink, just to calm my nerves.

"So, what is it that you do? I mean, why are you in LA all the time?"Alera took a drag off of a freshly lit cigarette, the tip a glowing red ember.

"Uhm. Well let's just say I'm in Marketing. It's complicated to go into."

"Try me." She stared at me with cold brown eyes, her dark brown hair framing her face, giving an illusion of softness where there was none.

"Alera..." Lara muttered.

"What? I'm just asking what she does. I'm interested." She turned her attention to me, again. "So? Marketing. What do you market?"

"Phone systems," I answered. "Not the equipment--the software, the programming, the technology. For right now."

"You're looking for a job here, though, right?" Lara eyed Alera and sipped her iced tea, then glanced over at Yvonne, who hadn't said more than five words all night-maybe because she was busy sucking down drinks. She downed every glass like it was trying to run away from her.

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "I keep coming out here, not really for work but to interview. I have an interview Tuesday-"

"Good luck with that. So how long have you known JC?"

"Alera-"

"What?!" She spat at Lara, adding a bitchy stare. "I can't ask a question? Did I interrupt your ass kissing session in the car? No. So, butt out." Her stare turned to me, just as bitchy, to my surprise. "So?"

"I've known JC just about a year, now."

"Mkay." She blew out a plume of smoke and set her elbow on the table, her cigarette dangling from long thin fingers, adorned with black nail polish. "And so, you think that you've stolen his heart or some romance novel shit like that?"

This was exactly what I was afraid of. I was a deer in the headlights and Alera was the oncoming car. My eyes went from Alera to Lara, who was slouched in her chair, elbow on the armrest, forehead in her palm.

I was starting to pick up a vibe and a clue. Alera's attitude, her entire demeanor smacked of jealousy. I had to wonder why she was even invited to this night out-maybe she wanted to check out her competition? Against my better judgment, I compared myself to her. We had the same build, were the same height, the same length of hair. I had grey eyes and she had brown, I was part Greek and she appeared to be Hispanic. The biggest difference between us? I wasn't a bitch.

"You know what? Uhm... I don't really think anything. I like LA and I want to live here. I love JC and I want to live near him." I glared at her, gaining strength by the minute. "Did I... say or do something to offend you?"

"Let me just tell you this..." She stamped out her cigarette in the ashtray and exhaled a long trail of blue smoke. "Whatever you think about JC, from your encounters with him, or whatever... you're in for a rude awakening. Once you live with him, you'll realize how moody he is and how he gets bored with women really quickly, really easy. Just don't plan on living with a rich man in a big house in West Hollywood forever."

Lara must have kicked her under the table, because she jumped and screeched,"Ouch, you fucking bitch!"

"Knock. It. Off," Lara seethed, through her teeth, her eyes on fire.

"I didn't agree to be nice to this year's new girl. That's all on you. I've been about as nice as I can stand to be. This is lame, I'm gone." She nodded at Yvonne and they both rose and marched out of the restaurant toward the line of taxis that waited just outside the restaurant entrance.

"Shit," Lara said, sighing loudly, running her fingers through her long, dark hair. "Serena, I'm... I'm so sorry about her. She'll come around. And even if she doesn't, she's such a bitch JC doesn't let her in the house half the time." She smiled, trying to ease the mood. I smiled back at her, suddenly way over my fear about JC's friends. Lara, at least, was alright with me.

"She uhm... well, she thinks she's JC's type." She rolled her eyes and continued. "He tried-he's equal opportunity, you know? They just didn't click and he never asked her out again. She's crazy about him... he's not checking for her. She's pissed because...well I'm sure you noticed that you two kind of look alike but he wants you, instead. She's jealous, but harmless. She'll get over it. She always does."

Lara folded her arms and leaned onto the table, surveying the mess of plates and napkins and glasses and silverware. "Well. Of course they stuck me with the bill." She began to rifle through her purse, mumbling something to herself about ‘always happens, and they never leave a tip or anything'. I pulled one of the bills JC gave me and slid it across the table.

Lara looked horrified. "Oh, no. No. This is my treat!"

"JC gave me this, please take it. Consider it a gift from him."

"Tell you what." She picked up the small black folder as soon as the waitress dropped it at the table and slid her credit card into the slot. "I'll get this. You get the first round of drinks at Villa. It'll go a long way toward warming everyone up. So, put your damn money away, woman!"

I laughed and slid the folded bill back into my evening bag and sucked down the rest of my iced tea. Finally, I could relax.

Lara was snappy and sarcastic, fun and open. She reminded me a little of Melissa. I could see why she and JC were close friends, had been for years. And, though she was obviously attractive, I didn't detect anything more than friendship between them. Maybe I was going to be able to wrangle my jealousy and hold it at bay, after all.

Damn that JC for being right. I hated it when that happened.

He showed up later, well into the evening. I didn't intend to get drunk, but was on the edge of tipsy when he arrived. He slid in next to me, wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed my cheek before I noticed he was there.

"Hey!"

"Hi." I was so happy to see his face, smiling down at me that I grabbed his cheeks and pulled his head toward me and kissed him. He laughed and said, "Looks like you're having a good time." He nodded at the waitress and asked for a light beer as she passed our table.

"Yep, I'm fine. How was your taping?"

"Good, it went well. How's your evening?"

I shrugged and bobbed my head, side to side, indicating a so-so experience. "A little bit of a sluggish start, but Lara so fucking rocks. I love her already."

"Yeah, she's great. Let me guess, Alera?"

I nodded.

His eyes rolled to the ceiling and took a long swallow off of the amber bottle that was set in front of him. "She'll be fine. She'll get over it."

"That's what Lara said. I'm okay. We had a good time together anyway."

"I'm happy about that." He glanced around the table at the group that had gathered, a loud conversation going back and forth between each side of the table. "What are they talking about?"

"Who would beat who in a fight. Right now, Chuck Norris versus Optimus Prime. Chuck is losing, sadly."

"What? Chuck always wins. Chuck is the man!"

"Well." I leaned against him, pointing down at the table. "Ricky said Chuck is old and he shaved his beard, so he lost his powers. Then Adam said it didn't matter, Chuck still wins and Ricky wanted to know how, because the power is in the beard, and now there's a big argument over it."

JC laughed as the argument went back and forth. He bent his head to mutter into my ear, "Why did I want you to meet these people, again?"

"I have no idea." I tipped my head back and kissed him, my lips lingering on his just a second longer than usual. "But I'm having a great time."

###

JC and I spent most of Monday, the holiday, out in Malibu at a party. One of his friends hosted an annual barbecue at his beach front house. The common area of the house was void of furniture, except for chairs lining the walls. The music bumped loudly from the stereo system, a mix of old school r&b and pop alternative. I met more of JC's friends and realized that pretty much everyone JC had ever met, he considered a friend. It was hot, the sun beaming relentlessly on the party most of the day. By the time we headed home, I was exhausted and JC was pink.

"I should have put some sun screen on," he mused, glancing at his arm as he drove, navigating the highway from Malibu back to West Hollywood.

"Rock Lobster," I joked. Then laughed at his glare.

"You ready for tomorrow?"

I nodded, exhaling a long, slow breath. I wasn't nervous, anymore. I just wanted it over, so I could breathe, and stop practicing the interview over and over in my mind. Stop anticipating questions and reviewing my portfolio like there was something I could change, to convince them to hire me. The days seemed to drag toward Tuesday, but then Monday was flying by so fast. I needed Father Time to work with me, a little.

"I hope this is it, really. I hope I get this and I get to move. I'm so sick of StarTel and their politics. I've gone from the Savior to some kind of pariah. When I got here Friday, all I wanted to do was cancel my return flight and not go back home. I want to come here, and stay here."

JC was quiet as he drove, his eyes hidden behind the large lenses of his sunglasses. His jaw twitched like he wanted to say something but wasn't saying it.

"What?" I finally asked, just to get it out of him.

"I think you should quit, and move here."

A hard chuckle escaped, a haughty ‘HAH'. "Don't tempt me. That idea sounds so good right now."

"So do it. Quit and move here. I'm serious."

I stared at him for a few seconds and then rolled my eyes at the entire ridiculous proposition. "Move here, and do what?"

"Look for a job. Settle into life in LA." He glanced at me, and then back at the road, and then back to me, and then back to the road. "Be with me."

It wasn't like I hadn't considered doing just that. He was reading my heart, but my mind had other plans.

"You must know I can't do that, and why. Don't tease me, JC."

"What do you mean, you can't do that? And why? What must I know?"

"For one, I can't abandon my job right now. I need to still produce good work, so that when people call for references, they can give a good one. I still have a house payment and a car payment. I have money saved, but who knows how long it could be before I find something? When that runs out, then what?"

"Serena..." He shook his head and looked over at me again, and then back to the road as he took the exit toward the house. "I would take care of you, you know that. Whatever you need, you got it. I'm serious about this. I'm serious about offering my help."

I said nothing, despite wanting to scream ‘Yes! I'll take your help, just get me to LA!' I couldn't let myself do that.

JC pulled into the driveway, waited for the garage door to open and parked in his spot. He turned the engine off but left the keys in the ignition and turned himself so he was facing me.

"What?" he asked, lifting a hand and letting it drop back into his thigh. "What are your thoughts? What are you thinking? What's your argument?"

"I just... what would people think? I quit my job and move to LA and turn into your stay at home, live in girlfriend."

"You wouldn't be that, you know that. I know that. Your family knows that, and so does mine. So?"

"So, you, me, and our families aren't the only people on the planet, JC."

"What other people's opinions do we need to consider? Who is it that you're in love with, me or people?"

I sighed, and answered, because he wouldn't let it go, if I didn't. "You."

"Who are you going to live with, and fall asleep next to every night, and wake up next to everyday? Me, or people?"

"You."

"So, who matters more to you-me, or people?"

"Obviously, you."

"Okay? So..."

"So fuck people. But still-"

"Still what?"

"Still, I want to do this for myself. I want to come here with earning power and contribute to our life together, here. I don't want to come here because you bring me here. You're so sweet to offer and I love you for it, but you can't fix this with your money."

JC's head rocked back with the shock and impact of my words. I knew, instantly, that it was the wrong thing to say. Shit! I was trying so hard to not start a fight this weekend and I walked right into one.

"I'm-" His voice shook as he tried to formulate words to respond to me. Under the pink of the impending sunburn, a deeper red glowed around his neck and crawled up his face, over his tight, trembling jaw line, up and over his cheeks to his forehead.

"Sometimes you bug the shit out of me, Serena. I'm so tired of having to defend myself. I'm not trying to fucking fix anything with my money."

He popped the latch on his door and climbed out of the car, slamming it shut. He stomped into the house and slammed that door, too. I sat in the car for a full minute before getting out of it and going into the house.

JC was in the kitchen, gulping down a bottle of water. I walked in, leaned my hip against a counter, but said nothing. He finished the bottle, tossed it into the recycling bin, and leaned against the opposite counter, shaking his head.

"I don't care, anymore, what you do," he said, his voice low. "If you want to stay at StarTel, fine. If you want to tell them to take their job and shove it up their asses, fine. Whatever you want to do, decide to do, okay. What I don't want to hear about, anymore, is you complaining about what's going on there, and not doing anything about it when there are good options for you-" He held a finger up and walked toward me. "One very good option for you, which you won't take because you're afraid of what people might think."

He stepped back, just a step, but still close enough to see how agitated he was.

"Take this however you want to take it. You're very lucky that I love you more than anything. Otherwise, I'd have given up a long time ago. I offered because I want you to be happy. I said, before, I want you to have what you want and if I can help, I want to do that. I'm hurt that you think I'm throwing money at you, or at this, to solve a problem. If I was doing that, I would have offered it sooner."

"JC, I know, and I'm sorry-"

"I know," he interrupted. "You always are. You're always sorry. You're scared and I realize that, but being scared is no reason to do nothing. Brave people do what they have to do, in spite of being scared. Figure out what you want to do. Do it. Let me know."

He stepped back, then and walked out of the kitchen and headed downstairs to the studio. I felt like a heel. Not only that but I felt lightheaded and shaky. My heart was pounding out of control as I clung to the counter, my head reeling with thoughts and decisions and complications.

"Thought I heard someone come in."

Tyler swept past me and opened the refrigerator, rifling through drawers and opening containers of leftovers I had cooked over the weekend. He glanced at me and then did a double take, his brows knit together and a wrinkle in his forehead. "You okay, Serena?"

"Yeah," I think I said, feeling flush. "I uhm..."

I couldn't get another word out before I burst into tears. Tyler stood there, in front of the open refrigerator door, Rubbermaid container in his hand, frozen in place. I felt my way along the counter to the table and pulled out a chair, landing heavily in one of them, then propped my elbows onto the table, sank my face into my hands and let the waterworks take over.

I heard the refrigerator door close and felt the table shift as Tyler sat across from me and leaned onto it. He slid a few napkins across the table and I took them, using them to wipe my nose and cheeks.

"What's going on? Something up with Josh?"

"We just..." I hiccuped, and stopped to take a breath. "We just seem to be fighting all the time. And it seems like it's always me that's starting it and I feel like I'm making this hard on him and... I love him so much, and I don't know what I would do if..."

"You guys always make up, though right?"

I nodded, the tears still flowing. "It's just so damn hard, you know? I've been alone for a long time and I've never had someone like him in my life and I don't want him to go away but damn, I seem to be driving him away all the time."

"Serena... don't you have people in your life that, you know-are hell bent on taking care of you? That you can always depend on?"

"My dad. And my brothers. But they're family. It's different."

Tyler blinked, and reached across the table, grabbed both of my hands and held them. "JC wants to be your family. He wants to take care of you, like family. It's just how he is. How he's always been. Get used to it, or you'll lose it. And I know you don't want that."

JC stayed in the studio until well after sunset. After I calmed down, I considered going down there, but decided to give him his space. When I was ready for bed, I showered and dressed in my nightshirt, set the alarm and crawled in on what had become my side. Just as I was on the verge of sleep, I heard the bedroom door open and then close.

"You up?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be right back. Don't go to sleep yet."

I heard him slip into the bathroom and saw the faint glimmer of light from under the door, heard the shower come on and then go off a few minutes later, and then heard the door open and smelled the scent of his shower gel and steam billow out. He climbed into bed beside me and laid there, on his back, one arm tucked behind his head. I laid next to him, waiting for him to say something.

"Do you love me, Serena? I mean really love me?"

"Yes. I really love you, very much."

"Like, how much? Would you give me an organ, if I needed it? Like a kidney or somethin'?"

"In a heartbeat, if you could use it."

"Do you trust me? I don't mean with other women, I mean in general. In our relationship. Do you trust me?"

"More than anyone in my life."

"Okay. So. You love me. Enough to give me a piece of your body. Enough to offer your whole body to me, time after time. You trust me, more than anyone else in your life." He flipped over, turning on his side to face me.

"Don't I deserve some credit, or the benefit of the doubt, about the help I'm offering? Why do I have to stand by and watch you struggle, when I can help? Why can't you let me help you get where you want to go?"

"Because..." Yeah, why? Suddenly, I felt ridiculous and like my argument lost its steam. It didn't make sense to keep plugging away, never knowing when I was going to make the move-not when I could bypass the waiting and the worrying and have his support. If people wanted to criticize me-or us-over it, there wasn't anything I could do about it. People would criticize anyway, but he was right. None of them were in this relationship.

I flipped to my side, facing him, and moved closer, found his cheek and stroked the tiny hairs growing back after his shave earlier in the day. His arm slid across my waist and around my back. The heat from his hands, his body, radiated out and enveloped me in warmth and comfort. This was the feeling I missed when I was at home, alone. This feeling of safety and security and of being with someone that just wanted the best for me, and was putting up with an awful lot of shit to prove it.

"Because my pride is finding me ass up in the middle of the street, is why." I turned my head and buried my face in the pillow so it would muffle my laughter. He was laughing out loud, in my ear, the sound echoing from his chest.

I laid there, stroking his cheek and listening to him breathe. My eyes had adjusted to the dark and I could see his eyes, open and watching me.

"I want to say yes," I whispered to him. Like it was a secret. I was so afraid, for some reason, to say out loud that I wanted to accept his help.

"So do it," he whispered back. "It doesn't have to be right away. Let's say... let's say by Thanksgiving. You can come to Orlando, meet my parents, we could come back to LA together. That gives us like... a month together to get you settled before I'm gone for six weeks on the tour. I want to spend that time with you and I can't be in Atlanta."

I was shaking- nervous for no reason at all-and my heart was thumping in my ears. All I had to say was that one word but I couldn't get it out.

Instead, I nodded.

"Okay?"

"Okay," I said, finally.

JC let out the loudest breath of relief I think I have ever heard in my life. He rolled to his back and wiped his face with his hands, breathing deeply, and then sat up.

"I'm thinking road trip," he said.

I sat up, puzzled. "Right now?"

"When you come out here. The show will be over, and I won't be rehearsing. We'll take our time, drive through the country, see some sights. What do you think?"

"I think the true test of a relationship isn't living together. It's driving across the country together."

He turned toward me and though I couldn't see his face, I knew he was giving me that look that said ‘whatever'. God, I loved him.

I laid back down, grabbing his arm and pulling him down next to me. "Fine, road trip but I'm telling you right now, I'm not looking at a big ass ball of twine."

"I'll plan the whole thing. It'll be fun."

"Okay. Can I go to sleep now? I have an interview in the morning."

We moved into our usual sleeping formation, my back to him, his arm over my waist, him pressed up against me from chest to feet. He kissed the back of my head and settled into the pillow. In moments, his breathing deepened and slowed-he was on his way to sleep and I was right behind him.

Right before I drifted over the edge of sleep, I heard, "You won't regret it. I promise. I love you."

###