While we were away, I didn't have to worry about it or think about it. I didn't have time to be nervous, or over think it, or dream up crazy scenarios about it. It wasn't until we got home and settled back into daily life that I began to show a little concern. And then a lot of concern.

About my first day at my new job.

My last day of nearly three months of freedom was spent running around town taking care of important tasks like shoe shopping and a new bag to carry my notebooks and pens. New pens always made me feel great. And a lunch bag. A brand new, hot pink, insulated lunch bag. I threw away the one I used at StarTel. Old memories. I needed new memories, and it was the one thing that would make me feel like this new job was old hat, the same old thing in a new location.

I dropped the bag off in the kitchen when I came home and went back to my day. I had laundry from our trip to wash, dry and fold before Maggie got her hands on it. I was still a little wary about having her in the house, but at least JC didn't expect me to be the maid, cleaning up after two grown men. Not that I would have minded. It was just another issue he'd resolved without asking me what I thought.

After dinner and drinks and a watching the sunset from the patio, JC and I took the party indoors, watched a movie until we were too sleepy to sit up straight and then went upstairs to bed.

Hours later, I awoke in the bed alone. The alarm clock on the side table glowed 1:48 am in bright green numbers.

I knew where he was. He was where he always was when I rolled over in the middle of the night and my hands didn't land in a chest of hair, rising and falling in deep, steady rhythm.  He was downstairs in the studio, poring over music, perfecting and preparing for a show he was doing in San Diego in a few days.

It would be his first show in years and this was, apparently, a big deal. Big enough that he landed a live radio interview and they wanted him to play a song. His first interview since we started dating, his first time singing live, and I wouldn't even be able to hear it. I cursed the damn job and my insistence on being self sufficient.

I rolled back toward my own pillow and tried to decide if I should go down to the studio and get him. He had to be at the station at 9am, so if he didn't sleep now, he wouldn't sleep until that night. JC loved to sleep, but he wasn't a sleeper when he had a to-do list a mile long and a show coming up. He was a perfecter, a planner, a rehearser. He'd drive himself nuts with two lines before he slept. I finally sat up, put on a robe, and slipped through the dark, quiet house to the studio.

From outside the door, I heard the strum of the guitar and his melodic voice waft out. I almost didn't want to disturb him, and then I realized he was singing the same part, over and over, his voice worn and tired. He cleared his throat, tried again, but the sound must not have been what he was looking for.

"Shit. Come on."  

He tried the verse again. In the sweet light of memories/ I feel you standing close to me/so real I want to reach out and hold you close...

I smiled, listening. It sounded perfect to me. He must have agreed because I heard, "Yes. Finally."

The verse was repeating, again. Dammit, he was going to sing himself sick. I tapped lightly on the door, twice. The strumming stopped. "Yeah."

I cracked the door and poked my head in and smiled. JC sat on a stool in front of the console, the new Fender in his lap, fingers on the strings and shiny new pic in his hand. A warm current curled through my heart to see him using them.

"Hey. I woke up and you were gone. I was just checking on you."  He nodded his head at me, motioning me to come in. I walked in and hugged him from behind, resting my cheek on his back. 

"I'm doing alright," he said, his voice raspy. He always sounded awfully sexy when he was tired. "Just working out some kinks. Stuff I might trip over tomorrow, if I'm not careful." He turned in his seat, bringing me around and in front of him, hugged me close and planted a kiss on my lips. "I suppose you want me to come back to bed."

My eyes traveled the small, insulated room full of monitors and lights that blinked and buttons that clicked. It had been a long while since I'd been down in his studio. His rest haven.  

"Well, that depends," I said, returning my attention to him, his three days of beard growth and bloodshot eyes with bags underneath. "Are you doing real work or are you torturing yourself? You're exhausted. I don't know how you're getting any work done but if you're making progress, I'll step aside."

He lifted the strap from around his neck and tenderly placed the guitar on its stand next to him. The pic went into a felt bag with a draw string closure. He drew the top of the bag closed and hung it off of a hook on the guitar stand.

"Trying to make it a little bit better, I guess. Nervous about tomorrow. You?"

I swallowed, hard, and then admitted I was a little nervous. "Yeah. Big day."

"First day jitters," he said, bumbling about the studio, shutting things down, turning off machines and monitors. The room was like a little hit factory. The factory was shutting down for the night.

"I'm just... I'm worried that they made a mistake in hiring me, you know? I'll get there and be thrown into something and I won't know what to do and I'll see it in their eyes. That... look of regret."

"Understandable. You don't know what to expect, so your mind is making things up so you can practice reacting to it. You just need some rest, is all."

"I'm not the only one. You need sleep. Your voice... JC..." I reached out to him, grabbed him by the hem of his t-shirt and pulled him away from the console, where he had been fiddling with buttons.

"Okay, okay. I'm coming. I'm just shutting down."

I stood in the hallway outside the studio, leaning against the doorjamb, listening to him shut everything down, the room becoming darker and darker as more screens popped off. He stepped out of the room and wordlessly reached around me and flipped off the overhead light. I followed him back upstairs, turning off lights as we went and once we were back in the bedroom, I removed my robe and turned to him, pulling at his clothes.

"Hey, sexy. It's kinda... kinda hot the way you strip me."

I laughed without meaning to. He was so exhausted he sounded drunk. "If you weren't so tired, it would turn me on, too. Go on, mister. In the bed."

He crawled between the sheets, his side so obviously barely slept in and mine a rumpled mess and laid on his back. I flipped off the lamp, set his alarm, and climbed in bed over him. By the time I laid down, he was already breathing deeply. I snuggled in next to him, laid my head on his chest, and listened to his heart thump in my ear until I fell asleep.

My new workday started at 5am, much earlier than I had been used to over the previous weeks. I had established a routine around the house and wanted to keep it up. After weeks of eating on the road, I couldn't stomach fast food or restaurant cooking. I cooked every day, breakfast and dinner. We rarely all ate at the same time, but the food always managed to disappear.  I cooked a light breakfast, left Tyler's in the oven as usual, set aside a plate for JC, then started the teapot and made him a cup of tea to soothe his throat.

I was bringing his tea upstairs when I heard his alarm sound. And then his phone ring. Groaning and cursing, he reached for the alarm and then the phone.

"I'm up, I'm up," he said, his voice a gravel pit. It sounded like it hurt to talk. I winced, watching him sit up. He waved me off, irritated. "Yeah. Eric, it'll be fine. I just need to wake up. What time will you be here?"

I set his tea down next to him and headed to the bathroom to take my shower. A few minutes later, in a burst of cool air from the bedroom, he joined me.

"I can't ever shower alone anymore," I complained, though playfully. "Did you drink your tea?"

"Yup," he croaked. "Do I sound better?"

I wrinkled my nose up at him. "Not really. Still a little hoarse."

"It'll be fine. I just need some time to warm up. Do I smell food?"

"Yup. I figured you would want to eat before you left and since you don't cook--"

His arm snaked around my waist and I felt myself being pulled backward, up against him. He hugged me close to him, bending to the side to nibble on my neck.

"Thank you, sweet girlfriend." I heard-felt it, rather-mumbled into my neck and shoulder.  "You take such good care of me."

I smiled back at him and said, "Returning the favor. Sorry I can't stay and lather you up, but I have to get out and get dressed. Gotta go to work. Bring home the bacon, and shit."

He released me with a pout, but a hand lingered on a cheek as I shimmied past him and opened the shower door. "Okay. Whatever. You want some help?"

I laughed.  "Neither of us has time for that. When are you due back home, do you know?"

JC stepped in front of me and stuck his head under the spray. His hair instantly flattened around his head like a bowl.  "I think I have a couple of interviews after the show this morning, and then a meeting, so... maybe 7? Or earlier. I'm not sure. I'll call you."

"Do you have to be in the studio tonight? I could make dinner, and maybe we can watch a movie or something. Spend some time together before you have to leave. And I might want to talk about my first day."

JC seemed more concerned with rinsing shampoo out of his hair, but he obliged with, "Sounds good, honey."   

I left him to his fancy conditioning routine and dressed for work. Unsure of what to wear, I erred on the side of caution and kept it simple with classic black and white and finally took the earrings JC bought me out of my ears and replaced them with pearls.

On my way to pack my lunch, the doorbell rang. I doubled back to open the front door. The sun was just barely up, but a fresh, crisp, coiffured Eric stood on the doorstep, looked like he'd been awake for hours-and likely had.

"Morning, Eric. How are you?"

"Really good," he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "How's the voice today?"

"Better than first thing this morning but he still seems a little hoarse. Maybe the steam from the shower helped. He had some tea but I'll make him some Throat Coat to take with him."

Eric nodded, taking a seat at the informal dining room table and began flipping through a thick folder.

"He seemed to think he could be done by about 7 today. Is that what you think? I want to know when to start dinner."

"Uhmm...." He flipped to a page in his folder, and then checked his Blackberry. "Should be no problem but last minute stuff comes up all the time. He told me he's not declining anything if he can fit it in, but that's a good bet."

I smiled and set a steaming mug of tea in front of him and opened the refrigerator to pull out some bread to pack my lunch. I spotted my hot pink bag sitting on the top shelf and picked it up, then opened it and laughed. Inside was a sandwich, cut in half, snack sized bag of Doritos, and a bag of cherries.  

"Lunch makes you happy?"

I blushed, laughing again. "Not exactly. JC...I... I take a lunch to work every day, and I was going to make my lunch but uhm... he packed it for me. He did a good job, too. He's awesome."

Eric chuckled. "Like the first day of school."

"Yeah. Sorta like that."

Footsteps pounded heavily down the stairs and headed toward the kitchen. I turned to ask Eric something and got an eyeful of JC. My mind went blank and my mouth went dry, when I saw him. 

Goodness, he was handsome.

He was casually sexy in black cargo pants and a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal just a hint of bicep. It stretched across his chest, his t-shirt underneath muffling the clang of the two crosses he wore-one of which I bought him. He was clean shaven, his unruly curls tamed and in a low pile on top of his head. He was bright eyed and his smile lit up the room as he stopped to greet Eric with a handshake and a pat on the back. He came around the corner, then and wrapped me in a hug. He smelled like heaven and aftershave.

"You'll wanna go ahead and hurry home today," I said, winking up at him.

He laughed and kissed me, like we were alone, like Eric wasn't a room away, passionate and deep and way too much for 7am. I pulled back, lightheaded.

"Wow," I coughed. "I... uhm. I have to... go to work now. Thanks for packing my lunch. That was sweet of you."

He grinned, so proud of himself. "You're welcome. You got a good one. I pulled out all the stops." He bent toward me for another kiss, and just as he pulled back, said softly, "I want you to have a good first day. And don't stress about it, you know it'll be easy. Some paperwork, a tour, they'll take it easy on you. You got this. I'll call you later."

"I hope so," I said, my heart rate picking up, thumping out of my chest. Unfortunately it wasn't just because of JC. I picked up my purse and my new bag, slipping my lunch inside of it. "Have fun today, babe. I'm proud of you. Love you."

"I will. Love you, too." He pushed me toward the stairs and followed me down to the door that led to the garage, and then pushed me out of that door, too. "Get outta here, you'll be late," he said, then pressed the button for the wide mechanical door to slide open. Behind me, the door the house closed, loudly.

There was no turning back, now. I was off to work.

Taylor Manufacturing was an upscale campus set among odd jumbles of run-down factories an industrial park in North Hollywood. The blue glass and white stucco, lush green bushes and trees and grassy patches, the circular formation of buildings connected by glassed in skywalks between them seemed out of place in an otherwise pedestrian area of town. Taylor was very state of the art, from the plant to the corporate offices. I was just as impressed, arriving to the building, cracking jokes with the security guard, and pulling into a parking spot as I had been the day I showed up for my first interview.

I lugged myself and my bags toward the administration building, steeling myself for hours of boring paperwork and a full day wasted getting new job tasks taken care of. On some level, it was all very exciting. On another level, I was eager to get back to work, to use my brain, as I'd put it weeks earlier when JC and I fought about whether or not I thought strippers were dumb. I wasn't cut out to be a stay at home girlfriend-at least not in this town.

My heels clicked along the shiny tile as I walked past the reception desk. A bleach bottle blonde with too much collagen in her puffy lips nodded at me while chatting on her cell phone, pointing toward HR with a long, thick tipped, French manicured fingernail. I went in the direction she pointed, my head ducking around each corner and following the signs until I arrived at HR.

Jackie Henry, Director of Human Resources, was a short, sort of pushy woman. She wore her dark hair in a bob and her mouth was almost always set in a perpetual scowl. She seemed to work non-stop. Every time I had come to Taylor, Jackie was barking orders and rushing through the hallways, always carting several folders.

She was in her office, a phone cradled between her ear and shoulder, fingers flying across the keyboard. I couldn't see the surface of her desk. It was covered, left to right, with calendars and folders and paperwork. She stopped typing long enough to lift a finger and point toward a pair of chairs that were parked in front of her desk. I picked one and took a seat and waited for her to finish her conversation.

"Well, I'll blow through it as fast as I can, but she has to be processed........ I understand, completely. Believe me, I do........ Dammit Chuck, I hear you! I'll do what I can and send her over. God, you make my job hard....... Fine... fine. She'll be over there soon enough." Jackie hung up the phone without saying goodbye, tap-tap-tapped a few more lines on an email and clicked her mouse to send. She sucked in a deep breath, blew it out, and then turned to me.  I hoped I didn't look scared.

"Serena, right?" One eyebrow lifted in question. I nodded, clutching my bags in my lap. "Oh, relax, honey. Set that stuff down. Three guesses as to who that was on the phone. They can't wait to get you started, over there."

My heart leapt with a little bit of excitement. I was anticipated and I already had work to do!

"Okay, so here's what's going to happen. I would normally walk through all of this with you, do a formal orientation, watch some history videos and what have you. Chuck is being a butt and he's not giving me time to do that."

She stretched across her desk, sifting through a pile of manila file folders with a finger nail. Plucking one, she pulled it from the stack and held it out to me. My name was typed on a label and underneath it said, Director of Communications. Quite the change from my old job as Business Analyst and Chief Client Babysitter at StarTel.

"I'm going to give you these DVD's to check out. Watch them and bring them back next Monday. I have to check off that you've seen them. They're the normal company history, sexual harassment, corporate guidelines stuff." She dropped several DVD's in paper sleeves in my lap. I tucked them away, inside the folder. "I'll need a copy of your driver's license and social security card. You can bring those in later; I don't have time to take them now. Inside that folder is all the paperwork I'll need you to fill out and bring back."

Jackie opened a file drawer and retrieved a set of booklets, thick and thin, and then dumped it on my lap. "Those are your health care options. Read through it. Fill it out; return it to me so I can get you on the plan. If you have questions, call me after hours, leave me a voicemail, or send me an email. You have my card?"  She didn't even wait for an answer before picking up the bags that I'd set at my feet and tapping me on the shoulder.  "I'll take you over to the plant. Chuck is probably foaming at the mouth, by now."

I gathered all of the paper that had magically multiplied in my lap and followed Jackie back out of her office, down the hall, past the receptionist and over to the elevator. The doors slid open silently and I followed Jackie once again. She pressed ‘S'.  For the skywalk.

Dammit! I didn't want to take the damned skywalk!

I held my breath as the doors opened and the long, carpeted, glass dome covered walk way hundreds of feet up in the air loomed before us, connecting the administration building to the other buildings on campus. Jackie stepped forward, walking heavily across the walkway with apparently no concern that it might fall. I kept my eyes on her, listening to her babble about recent company events, and tried not to look outside. Or down. JC would just love this moment.

We walked through several buildings, Jackie nodding and chatting as she breezed through. I counted three catwalks. I was going to sweat through my new suit if we had to over one more, but finally we made a turn and entered through two steel double doors to a bustling, bright office. Phones were ringing, office doors were open, men and women in lab coats and hard hats were walking in and out.   

Chuck's office was in a corner of the largest building on campus. His and three other offices separated us from a long hallway. At the end of the hallway a mezzanine hung over the manufacturing plant. In the distance I heard machines chugging and whirring, voices calling, intercoms announcing. The sound of industry.

Jackie led me into a well-lit but sparsely decorated office. It was a man's office after all. Chuck's desk was also lined with paper, folders, and reports. He had several large monitors on his desk as well as blinking flashing lights across LED screens that hung from the wall and a monitor that gave him a bird's eye view of the plant floor. As Operations Manager, if so much as a hiccup stopped production, it was Chuck's fault.  

Chuck was a tall, robust man with big hands and a friendly smile. He reminded me of my dad, a little. His smile and excitement to see me step into his office put me at ease, and I didn't even hold back my laughter when he stood so fast his chair fell over. He scrambled to pick it up and then to offer me a handshake.

"Welcome," he said, pumping vigorously, and then motioning for me to sit. Jackie slipped away, the sounds of sandals slapping against her heels and her gritty voice carrying from down the hall. She'd found someone else to harass. "We've been expecting you. I'll be honest, I caught some flak for letting you start after the New Year. We're well into some big new projects and I rushed you through processing because I need you here, getting ramped up."

He picked up his phone, punched a few numbers and spoke into the receiver. "Get Leonard in here," he said, and then hung up, leaning forward onto the pile of papers and folders that made up his desk and clasping thick fingers together. "Leonard is our Head of Manufacturing. You'll be working closely with him because what comes out of that plant is his business. You will make it your business and the EPA's business and the public's business."

Leonard was short, which was not helped at all by his long, dingy lab coat and giant hard hat. From the glasses to the bowtie comb over, he reminded me of Less Nessman from WKRP. He was unclasping and removing his hat when he walked into Chuck's office, then smiled and stuck out a clammy hand toward me.

"Well. You must be the new girl. I'm Leonard." I shook his hand, for some reason surprised by the strength of his grip. This little man might have been little, but he commanded power and held a lot of responsibility.

Chuck spoke while Leonard took the seat next to me. "We're behind the 8-Ball here on some new compounds. We need to get them out to market and Sales is waiting for documentation. We have two new orders, big ones that start production in about a month. There's been little coverage, and we're behind on reports and filings. These are required and they all fall in your lap. And I'm sorry, but it's a lot of work that no one else has time to do."

Leonard did his best to explain the new compounds while I dug out my new notebook and pen and took some notes. An hour and a half in the building and I was already working! My hands were shaking with excitement, creating an almost illegible mess out of words I didn't understand. I nodded, almost comprehending what Leonard and Chuck were saying to me. All I really understood was that I was already a few weeks behind schedule. I was excited about the challenge of catching up.

After about an hour of beating me over the head with information, Chuck walked me to my office, which was located in the same building, just on the opposite side of the floor. Just past the elevator, Chuck led me through a set of double doors, marked by a nameplate that read ‘Marketing, Communications, and Publications'. I guessed that was me.

The walls on either side of the entryway were covered with plaques and framed commendations, reports and praises. A bookstand was in the corner, stacked with thin pamphlets, each detailing a different compound or product.

"This whole area, Communications, is yours," Chuck was saying. "Everything that gets printed about this company and what we do is your job. You have a staff, most of which have been here for over a year.  I expect you to use them. You report to me and work with Leonard, but he's your lifeline. Defer to him when necessary."

Chuck weaved through carpeted hallways, past the scent of coffee from the bright, spacious kitchen and break room, a copy room with fancy binding machines, printers and photocopiers. Open doors revealed two to three people in a few offices, all craning their necks to see the new girl being brought through.

I felt like fresh meat.

He finally stopped in front of an open door and stepped aside. "Your office, ma'am," he said, with a cheeky grin. I walked in and almost teared up.

It was a corner office, with a wall of windows, a big, wide executive desk made of a beautiful cherry wood. The computer hutch and the credenza against the wall completed the set. A live Ficus flourished near the windows, where the shades were pulled up and the mid-morning sun was pouring in.  Two stately, elegant chairs sat in front of my desk. Across the room were a small meeting table and a seating area with a two-seat couch and coffee table. Several filing cabinets, all in the same wood as the rest of the furniture, stood next to each other against the wall, near the doorway.

I must have stood there, staring, jaw dropped for a full minute. This office was two... no, three times the size of my office at StarTel. I had furniture that matched, and a view of the Hills, and space to move and work. And I bet the drawers opened and closed and didn't stick because the wood shrank and swelled with the alternate heat and cold. Chuck just watched, eventually dropping the bags he'd carried for me from his office onto one of the chairs.

"I'll introduce you to your assistant," he finally said, breaking the trance. "Then I'll give you a few minutes to get situated. We have an Ops meeting at 11:00 every Tuesday. You'll need to be at those. Leonard holds briefings at 2 pm on Tuesdays, and I need a bulletin to go out at 4:00, immediately following. Every week. These are mainly status reports. Your staff and your assistant can help you."

He turned, just barely raising his voice to call outside the office. "Rayna? Come in here a second."

Rayna was a svelte woman with golden brown skin and a heart-shaped face framed by straight, dark her that fell just below her shoulders. She rushed into my office, wielding a box marked ‘Dell' on the side, wearing a wide smile, a thin, low cut blouse, tailored slacks and peep-toe pumps. I liked her right away.

She tucked the box against her side and stuck out her hand toward me. I shifted the stack of papers, pens and notebook I was still carrying around. "I'm Rayna," she said, her voice a smoky, sultry tone that I already liked. The last assistant I had was chirpy and cheery. "I'm really excited about working with you. Your laptop just came in, just so if you'll give me a few minutes I'll go ahead and set it up."

Chuck and I stood back, watching her unpack the machine and change the settings on the laptop.

"Rayna has been with Taylor for three years. She knows the ins and outs of this department as well as the company. Anything you need to know, start with Ray first. Don't be fooled by her title, though. She runs this joint. Right, Ray?"

She laughed, her eyes darting across the screen and fingers navigating the keyboard. "Whatever you say, Chuck."

He laughed, his voice booming and bouncing around the office. "She knows how to toe the party line. I've got to run. You're in good hands. Don't forget the Ops meeting and Leonard's meeting. Ray, make sure she gets where she needs to go." Rayna nodded, but Chuck was already gone.

"Okay, you're all set. I've left your network ID and password here. There's a cheat sheet on how to use the phone and a list of instructions for dialing here." She laid her hand on a blue sheet of paper next to the phone. "To get me, just pick up the phone and dial ‘49'. Get settled, and then you and I can talk about how I can help you get caught up, because... man, we're behind."

That phrase, we're behind was staring to scare me.

Rayna left my office, her pants swishing all the way. I heard her at her desk across the hall and listened to her conduct her business day. She was efficient but friendly, sort of a no-nonsense but not quite all business personality. They'd matched me with someone that would work well with my harried, always behind, worries-over-every-last-detail personality. I hope it worked.

I settled into my office chair of comfortable, supple black leather, logged into my computer and then logged into email. I was expecting a few standard setup emails, but my eyes bugged out when I saw that it was already jam packed with 858 new emails-announcements, schedules, briefings, meeting reminders, requests. Most were handled by someone on the Communications team, but I had been copied on every transaction. It was daunting to think I had to read through them all to get caught up, but I was thankful for the paper trail.

It was just after 10am. I wondered how JC was doing and how his interview went. I dug out my cell phone from my purse and checked it. No messages. I shot him off a quick text and slid the phone away just as Rayna was coming back into my office. She sat down across from me with a notebook and pen in hand.

My eyes were beginning to glaze over as she reviewed some departmental procedures, things she would be doing to help me and the weekly schedule. The Communications department published several releases weekly, often more depending on the level of production. Some would be written by me, some by the staff. In addition were the materials that had to be developed for the sales staff so they could sell the newest environmentally friendly product offering to companies, who would, in turn, order said products to be manufactured by Taylor. I would also manage the avalanche of information that filled the pamphlets I saw in the office entry way. We were, surprise surprise, behind on them.

"Leonard sent me the verbiage but it has to be formatted before it goes to the printer and I haven't had time, with doing everything else. I'll get to it this week and they'll be at the printer's on Friday, in case he asks. Which he will."

"Okay," I noted, nodding. "So... if you can do all of this..." I waved my hand around the office. "Why aren't you in this chair? Why are you my assistant? I don't even come from this industry, I have so much to catch up on and-"

She laid a hand on top of mine and squeezed. Dark brown, sympathetic eyes found mine and softened when she saw the shine on my grays. "I don't want your job. I want to help you do your job better and I'm great at that. I'm happy right here. From what I've heard about you, once you get in the swing of things, you'll knock this out of the park. You just need to ramp up. And quickly."  She checked her watch and stood, scooping up her notebook and pen. "I'll take you to your Ops meeting. They don't like for people to be late."

*

By 5:00, I'd already had a day and a half. I had traveled from one end of the campus to the other, attended two meetings with Rayna's help wrote and released a product briefing and sent it to the Web Department to post on the company website, set a schedule and a to-do list for the following day... and I had homework.

My HR paperwork had to be completed and, in my meeting with Leonard, he piled two thick binders into my arms and told me to "study up. This is what we do. Need to know it backward and forward, yesterday." I dragged them to my office and then dumped them into my cute new bag that was most certainly not built for lugging thick binders of information.

I shut down my laptop and slid that into my bag as well. Somewhere between dinner and watching a movie and being romantic with my boyfriend, I had to read and delete or respond to 858 emails.

At 5:15 I was in the car and on my way out of the security gate. I checked the phone again. Still no call from JC. No answer to my text message. My heart sank, a little. I had a bad feeling that he wasn't sitting at home, waiting to tell me about his interview and playing his song and he wasn't waiting to hear me talk about my long, trying, exhausting day.

Just as I figured, the house was empty when I pulled up. JC's car was gone and Tyler worked such long hours lately that he was staying with Allison during the week, since they were inseparable and she lived closer. Allison had a studio apartment and a large dog-add Tyler and I wasn't sure there was even breathing room in that place these days. Young love, I sighed, twisting my key in the lock and stepping inside the house.

Maggie had come.... I could tell by the scent of cleanser and the vacuum stripes in the carpet. I dropped my bags and piles of things on the dining room table and headed straight for the kitchen to start dinner, something decadent and wonderful, since we had the house to ourselves.

7:00 rolled around and there was still no call from JC. This exercise was wearing my patience, and drying out my dinner of roasted fish, rice pilaf and vegetables. I could only hold dinner in limbo for so long. I grabbed the phone and called him again.

"Hello, love of my life," I said at the beep. "I am communicating with you. I'm leaving a voicemail. It is 7:30. Dinner is ready. I'm waiting on you. Please call me if our plans have changed. That's all I ask. Love you." I hung up, turned the ringer up loud, and dove back into the pile of work I'd brought home.

My eyes watched the clock, my heart sinking and my mind working with each minute that passed. By 8:30 I was cursing, loudly. The fish had dried up and the rice wasn't looking much better and my broccoli was mushy. I picked up the phone and ordered a pizza. A small. Wherever he was, I hoped he ate. Maybe he could have some dried out fish and rice and soggy broccoli?

At 9:00 my pizza came. I ate in stony silence, in a big damn house I had all to myself. I was supposed to be snuggled up on the couch next to JC, not a sliver of light between us. And the worst of it all was that I had to work the next morning, so I couldn't drink. Though I was tempted.

At 9:42, Right Said Fred's Too Sexy came blaring from my phone. JC was calling. I ignored it and let it go to voicemail. 5 minutes later, he called back. Calmly, I picked up.

"What?"

"Hey," he said. "I know. I suck. Eric had my phone and I just got your message. I'm sorry, I'm on my way, please don't yell."

"Okay," I answered, chewing on a piece of crust.

"Okay? Just okay?"

"Yup. Just okay. Drive safely."

A second of quiet passed, and then another. And then another. "I'm not in trouble?"

"Just come home," I said. And hung up.

Just after 10, the garage door rumbled the floor beneath me, and rumbled again as it closed. The house was so quiet that I heard him get out of the car, his door slam shut and the tinkle of the keys as he worked them in the lock. He climbed the steps and came looking for me. 

"Smells good in here. I'm starvin'. What's for dinner?" I looked up from my pile of books and small box of pizza, glared at him from across the room, and went back to work. He opened the oven, wrinkled his nose at what greeted him and closed the door.

"I thought we were having dinner tonight. Why are you having pizza?" He opened the lid of the Domino's box and seemed disappointed to find it empty. "You didn't order enough for me? What's going on?"

I couldn't even look at him. I was furious, so mad my fingers were shaking.

"You're not talking to me? Because I'm late?"

I nodded, biting my tongue. If I opened my mouth, we were going to fight and I was not in the mood. Better to let it blow over and then talk about it the next day, when I could be sane and rational and not in the heat of the moment. At least that was my goal. JC pushed, though, trying to break me. He would regret succeeding.

"Okay. So. My dinner choices are whatever's in the oven, and cereal. Great." JC turned around and opened a cabinet, pulled out a bowl. Opened a drawer, pulled out a spoon. Grabbed a box from the pantry and the milk from the refrigerator and poured a mammoth bowl of cereal and then sat next to me at the table.

He crunched flakes-loudly-next to me. The sound of his spoon against the porcelain made me want to grab it and throw it across the room... but I resisted. Back to reading email. And deleting email. And filing email.

"Do you even want to know why I'm late?" He asked, around a mouthful of food. I sighed, rolled my eyes and shook my head no. "Not even a little bit? Come on, Serena. I get it. You're mad. Can we move past 5th grade, now? You don't want to talk because you don't want to fight. I get that. But I mean... you have shit to say. So say it."

I bit my lip, holding back for one last second before I opened my mouth, because once I got started I wasn't going to stop. "I'm eating pizza, sweetheart, because our dinner dried up in the oven. I was keeping it warm, and it dried out and it's ruined. Since you didn't have the courtesy to let me know I didn't even have to cook tonight, I ordered a small pizza and I ate every bite of it. Enjoy your cereal."

He spooned more flakes into his mouth, crunching and watching me while I talked. "Okay. Got one question answered."

"And no, to answer your second question. I don't want to know why you're late. I don't care what kind of rock star supershit thing you were doing that suddenly became more important than being home for dinner. I don't ask you to check in everyday. Just...when we have plans it seems like you find a reason to miss them. Something is always more important and you base it around some arbitrary wording. You never said you'd be home by 7? You never said you'd call me?"

"I said, I guessed 7," he said, rolling his eyes at my frustrated glare. "I never confirmed that. And I was aiming for that and it didn't happen and I'm sorry..."

"It's not that it didn't happen, JC. It's that you didn't call me to say, ‘hey this meeting is running long. I'm not going to make dinner. We'll do it another night'. I really thought I learned my lesson, from the last time. I really thought I had this down pat." I tossed a pen across the table. The rubber grip made it skid across the table, landing near the edge and rolling back and forth. In the silence of the room, the sound was amplified.

"You know what, JC?" I looked at him, making sure he could see my eyes. I wanted him to see the hurt and the anger in them. "These are the things worry about, when I think about the future. Whether or not something comes before me, and possibly our family, and our time together. And... you know, I'm trying not to be a hard ass about it but I just don't know how to decipher your code. I thought I was pretty clear. You seem to have a different understanding, one that benefits you, and I'm not supposed to be mad, right?"

"Yeah, you can be mad." He dropped his spoon into the now empty bowl and pushed it away from him. "Look, I already said I suck. And I knew you wanted to yell at me about it, so that's why I'm here listening right now. I get it and I'm sorry. Nothing comes before you, baby. Just sometimes things try to work in between us and I need to do a better job of moving it out of the way. I don't know what else to say but I'm sorry."

"And I'm just not sure if that's good enough right now, JC." I sniffed, trying not to cry, and propped my elbows up on the table and dropped my head into my hands. "I had a long, hard day and I was so looking forward to sitting with you and talking about it and now I have a headache and I just don't feel like it. You consistently beg me to trust you and to let you be there for me. Do you see now, why I have a hard time with that?"

JC didn't answer. Internally, I dared him to come up with something lame, just so we could argue about it.  Just so I could show him that he was wrong and I was right.

"So, what was it? What big important rock star shit became more important than dinner with your girlfriend? I can't wait to hear this."

"Well... it's good news. If you care."  My head lifted while he spoke, working the cloth placemat between his fingers. "So, the radio show first. It went really well. I was pleased with it. I got them to record it and send it to me, if you want to hear it. Anyway, these guys, this band called up the station and asked to talk to me and Eric. They're an acoustic rock group and they're going on tour. They decided to look for a co-headliner, someone with a variety of music and some experience. I guess they're pretty popular locally, but they're green as far as national touring goes. They got a couple good sponsors and... well...they wanted to meet. See if we could strike something up."

This news was good news, very good news. But much like the MTV Dance tour that never panned out and the self managed tour that was struggling to get off the ground, at best, I wondered if this, too, would fizzle, leaving JC holding the proverbial bag and disappointed again. I wasn't sure I could take more disappointment-it was hard to watch him rebuild himself.

"Okay," I said, after a long, thick silence, in which JC didn't dare look at me but I stared him down like a hawk. "What are your thoughts? What are the pros and cons? What is your feeling on it?"

"Uhm. Well." JC sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair, disheveled by this point in the day. "My first thought is that it sounds like a good deal. Kinda fun, real grass roots, you know? Just playing for people that want to hear tunes. They're not looking for an opener, more of a co-headliner, which is cool." He shrugged. "Downside is that it starts next weekend, so I go straight from my San Diego show out on the road with these guys. They're just renting some vans for them and their gear. They'll cover transportation and lodging for me and 2 other guys. I gotta cover food, which is no big deal. We handle our own merchandise, keep 100% of that... but I don't... I don't have any. I don't have CD's or t-shirts or stickers or anything, so..."

"JC!" I sat up, landing a smack on his bicep. "You are dating a Marketing Goddess! I can do anything! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Honey... I know... but...I didn't know I wanted them, until today." He laughed but looked maniacal, trying to work everything out in his head. "I mean. I don't have a label, and promotion is something they usually handle. This is just really bad timing I don't know how fast I can get anything put together and printed and ready to go, in basically a week."

"Let me help." I was begging, practically. I would get down on my knees if I thought it would make a difference. If no merchandise was what stood between him taking the gig, I would move heaven and earth to help him. "Please. Tell me what you want and I will work on it. You might not have it by your first night on stage, but I'll do whatever I can to get it to you as soon as possible. Okay? JC?"

"I..." He scratched across his forehead with his thumb, following along the worry lines popping up. "Uhm. Okay, let me talk to Eric in the morning? And see what... you know... I don't know, honey...."

I huffed, impatient with him. "No, I will talk to Eric in the morning. Your job is to write songs. Tomorrow, you pick what songs you're singing so you can get them... mastered... or whatever, and we can find a place to press some so you'll have them to sell. I can do this. I will do this, for you. I swear. Yes?"

JC sat quietly, thinking. I could always tell when his mind was changing, because he didn't argue. He would work it, mull it over, get used to the idea. He yawned, loudly. And then he smiled. "Thought you were mad at me."

"I am," I answered, tapping his shoulder with my fist. "Don't think you're off the hook. You're making it up to me before you leave town. I want a confirmed date and time, I don't want to go out. I want to eat at home. And so help me God, if you're late, I will set you on fire."

He burst into sudden uncontrollable laughter at that, his head bending forward until it hit the surface of the table. I laughed with him, but I was serious. His third strike would cause a serious chain of events that I did not want to set into motion, but it was one of my deepest fears about dating him-coming in somewhere behind everything else in his life. I refused to be an accessory, a plaything.

"I'm totally not going to try my luck with you. Tomorrow. 7:00. I'll be here."

"Okay. You hear yourself right?"

"Yes ma'am. I do." He yawned again, stretching his arms up toward the ceiling, then dropping them down to his belly as he slouched in the chair. He looked over the surface of the table at the piles of books and manuals. "Work? Already?"

I nodded, my eyes dropping to the computer screen. "I so did not have the easy day you predicted. You were actually wrong about something."

"Not so much wrong as... uhm... incorrectly forecasted. Your easy day is coming. Why didn't you just go work in my office?"

"Because you work in your office. Your stuff is everywhere."

"So move it."

"Ha!" I laughed, incredulous. "Rule number one in this house? Don't touch JC's shit. I don't even dare. This is the only place big enough to stretch out. I need a place to work."

"Well. Dining room table it is, then." He picked up his bowl, set it in the sink and headed out of the kitchen. I went back to my pages and pages of new emails.

JC turned around, came back leaned over and kissed my temple. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for dinner. Or to hear about your day. You wanna turn this off and come yell at me some more about it?"

I wasn't even sure that JC knew how to be sneaky. He quite obviously just wanted me to come upstairs to bed with him. I was already tired and had a headache, and let's face it; there was no way I was reading 858 emails in one night, so I let him think that was a good idea.

I let him hold my hand in his and lead me up the steps to the bedroom, where I let him peel my clothes off. I watched him take his jeans and shirt and socks and shoes off and then climbed into bed behind him. We gravitated toward each other like always, our limbs a mix of mine and his, all tangled beneath the sheet.

JC kissed my forehead and then worked his way down my face to my mouth, where he landed the softest sweetest kiss he'd given me a long, long time. Feather soft.

"So your day wasn't good?"

I shook my head, snuggling closer, burying my face in his neck. "Was okay, I guess. But my night is looking up."

"You don't want to talk about it? Or uhm... work it out?"

I giggled against him. "I'm so tired, baby. I'm sorry. And I'm still kind of mad at you, but if you let me go to sleep, I promise that our morning will be fun."

"I'm not waking up at 5am to have sex with you."

I laughed. "You'll do it and like it."

I felt him smiling against my cheek. "Alright then. We'll see about that. How was your day? You threw a temper tantrum downstairs because I wasn't here to talk about your day with you. I'm not gonna ask you again."

I sighed, drifting into sleep, moving as close to him as possible. "Well then shut up. I need my rest, and so do you. Got a tour to get ready for."