"So, how's that song comin'?

"What song?"

It was another pleasant Sunday afternoon at the Chasez house. The grill was fired up, the kitchen was full of food, the TV was blaring football, and the kids were playing in the yard. It wasn't hot but it wasn't cold, the sun was out and it was a perfect Florida day. Not a day that Josh wanted to ruin, talking about his failures.

"You know what song. The one you're supposed to be writing?"

Maybe if he pretended to not know what Tyler was referring to, he could get out of talking about it. It wasn't likely, though. Every few years, Josh heard about an old friend that he used to admire that got a record deal, or joined a band, and he dug up some courage and decided he was going to take this song writing, singing thing by the horns and just.... do it.

And every few years he chickened out, right when he got to about the same point. The point he was at, now. Where the song was half written, and half composed and he just couldn't make himself go through with it. Because even if he could write the song, and compose the music, he'd get to the edge of the stage and freeze. And he just couldn't figure out why.

"Uhm. The song is coming. About halfway done." 

Josh and Tyler were hanging out on the deck, legs and feet dangling off the edge, arms balanced on the railing, beers in hand.

"You're not quitting again, J."

"I didn't say I was. I just said it was halfway done."

"I mean it. You always get to this point, and then never take it anywhere. I'm sick of it. You're not quitting. Even if the song is shit, you're finishing it. You hear me?"

"Listen to you. All stern and stuff." Josh laughed and took a long pull off of his bottle. "This, by the way, is beer."

"Ehhh."  Tyler shrugged, checking out the label of some rare brand Josh was probably talked into by the clerk at the store. "It's alright. A little fancy for my taste."

"But it's good. And that's all that matters."

"So. The song."

"I'm serious. It's halfway done. I'm gonna keep working on it."

"You better, because if you don't, I'll beat your ass. Then you can dream about that."

Josh kicked his feet and drank his beer and enjoyed the sun shining on his back and his kids playing in the yard. Looked around at his nice house. Looked through the window at his beautiful, wonderful wife and his great family and his amazing children, and even the annoying little brother sitting next to him, dictating. Enjoyed his life, his actual life, his real life, instead of the life he could probably only live through dreams.

Josh put the song out of his mind. There would be plenty of time, on plenty of other days, to worry about the song. 

Life got busy, and for a time, the song was actually forgotten. The design for the Performing Arts Center was complete, and Josh's days were filled with trying to balance a construction schedule, his life at home, and new design requests that were coming through. He was at the point where it was difficult to manage everything on his own, and had to contract staff from another firm for help to manage projects and lay out specifications for new bids.

Josh was busy. And happy, because busy meant that days went by fast, even though they were long. And because when he was busy, he fell into bed exhausted, with just enough energy for a few minutes of sex and then when it was over he passed out until morning. If he dreamt the same dream, or if the song was haunting him, he never remembered it. It didn't wake him up. Weeks went by before he even realized he hadn't been dreaming.

‘Maybe what I needed was something to distract me,' he told himself.

What brought the song back was something so completely ordinary. The radio.

The site where the new Performing Arts Center was being built was an hour away, on a good traffic day. Josh flipped from one radio station to another, cursing himself for leaving his iPod and cd's in Celeste's car. There was nothing, absolutely nothing on the radio that he wanted to listen to. Annoyed, he snapped the knob to the right and turned it off.

Your love, like a candle
Flickers in the dark
You came into my life
And brightened up my heart
With you by my side
I see the love that I wanna feel
Show me you love me baby
Show me that it's real

Startled, Josh blinked a time or two before he realized he was singing. Singing it. The song! His eyes bounced around the car, and then around the road before him. He was captive, in the car. He couldn't go anywhere or do anything to distract himself. He could only let it play out. May as well. He had a while before he'd get to the construction site.

He tapped a finger on the steering wheel and let the song overtake him. Lyrics that he'd only thought of in phrases began to arrange themselves in his mind and fall out of his mouth. Chords and notes and lines of music that he'd only been able to piece together before seemed to flow. Together, it was magic.

Just take my hand
I'll make you understand
I want you
You want me
And that's the way it's got to be
Now that you're here
I'm gonna make it clear

Give me the love I need
Give in to me
Just give me the love I need
Hold me, caress me
Give in to me
Hold me, caress me
Give in to me
Give me the love I need
Give in to me
Just give in to me

"Ha!" Josh screamed out into the stale air inside the car, grinning from ear to ear. He smacked the steering wheel, inadvertently honking the horn. Drivers around him glared and passed him-he could only smile at them and wave as they went by.

So, now what? Now more and more of the song was coming together in his head... just when he had no time to work on it. Just when his real, actual life was in full swing. For the first time, he was disappointed and regretful-not about the life he led, but about all the time he'd wasted, when he could have been working on music, and didn't, because he was afraid. Now when he wanted to work on music, he couldn't because the life he'd been building in order to run from the dream was alive and kicking and in full force. It was a whole another kind of nightmare.

Josh would have to find some time... and soon. Before it went away again and began to poke at him at night, again. Before it became his original nightmare, again.

It was a Friday night, the end of a long work week. Josh and Celeste had barely seen each other all week, what with his construction oversight, working on new bids, and random meetings on random days. She'd had to pull double duty, adding Jack to the morning drop offs, and asking Karen or Roy to stop and pick them up and watch them for a few hours. Josh didn't like it. Didn't like that at all. He missed his time with Jack every morning. He missed picking up his kids every afternoon and making their snack and listening to the stories of their day.  

Josh missed his wife, most of all. Seeing her come down the stairs every morning, watching her take care of her family, making love to her and being the one she fell asleep against every night. It was more likely these days that he'd miss dinner and bath time and bed time and would wake up Celeste when he tip toed into the house and up the stairs. Sometimes they could have a few minutes together-most times she was exhausted, and he was tired, too. They hoped this new trend wasn't going to tear them apart. It was great for business. Not so good for their marriage.

But tonight, all business was set aside. The kids were with their grandparents; Josh and Celeste were out on the town. A nice dinner, a pleasant moonlit walk near the beach, and now a couple of sets of Tyler's band The Associates at the Warehouse, which was sort of a club, mostly a bar. A perfect evening.

"I can't even believe these guys don't have to try to have fans," Josh said, leaning over to Celeste so she could hear him over the din of the lazy bass player. "Listen to that-it's like the less they try, the more the crowd loves it."

Celeste laughed and moved her chair closer to him so she could wrap a hand around his arm, lean her head on his shoulder. She loved being out with him, just the two of them. It reminded her of their early days, when he was so nervous and insecure and unsure of himself, but he knew one thing-that he loved her and he wanted to be with her. She thought he was sweet. A little creepy, but more sweet and fell in love with him faster than she really wanted to, but let herself because it felt good to have someone feel the way he felt about her.

She wished that she could help him, though. He always seemed to want things and never really have the courage or self assuredness to go after them. Every few years there was a glimmer of hope, that he'd finally talked himself into doing some music.

The Baby Grand was a prime example. He said he was going to do it. He needed the piano, because he was finally going to do it. That piano had been sitting in that room for three years, barely touched. He'd sit at it, and stare at it and then get up and not go back to it for months at a time. It was frustrating to watch him talk himself out of something so obvious.

He was a musician. He couldn't see that?

The first set ended, the band bending deep in their bows to a smattering of applause. Instruments set aside, they piled off of the stage, laughing and joking around with each other. Josh caught Tyler's eye as he scanned the crowd.

"Hey guys, I'll catch up with you before the next set. Gonna chat with my bro for a minute."

The short, stocky blonde made his way across the room and grabbed a chair, turned it backwards and plopped down on it.

"Counselor."  Josh greeted him with a nod.

"Uhm... Building Designer Guy," Tyler responded, to which they both laughed. "Good to see you guys out. Haven't heard from you in forever. Sundays aren't the same if I can't eat free food and drink free beer at your house."

"I know, man. Life has been really busy, so we've been taking Sundays and relaxing. Being a family."

"Well... busy is good. I assume busy is the reason I'm not looking at a new song, then. Right?"

"Right." Josh lifted a hand to signal the waitress that he wanted a refill of their rounds of beer, and pointed at Tyler to add him to the tab. She nodded and headed toward the bar. "But I'm still working on it. Here and there."

"Songwriting must be hard when you're doing everything you can do to not actually write songs."

Josh bristled, sitting up straight. "You know what, Tyler? I'm getting really sick and fucking tired of-"

"Guys!" Celeste braved a hand between them, cutting off all conversation. "We're having a nice night, let's not ruin it by saying things we'll regret, later. Alright?" She looked from one brother to the other, both peeved, both avoiding each other's eyes. "Alright?"

"Alright," they said, in unison, and then looked up at each other.

"It's just... you know. I get frustrated. I think you're talented, man. And you could do it, if you would just get over yourself." He reached across the table and threw a play punch at Josh. "I mean that with a lot of love. I really do."

"I know." The waitress arrived with bottles for everyone, picking up the empties and her tip with a smile. "I'm... I'm trying. And I'm serious when I say I'm still working on it. I just don't have a lot of time, these days."

"Well. You want to toss some notes around, up there? The crowd thins out usually around the end of our second set. Won't be a whole lot of people."

Josh's heartbeat sped up at the prospect. So much that he found it hard to breathe, and began to cough. He shook his head, violently, trying to catch a breath.

"Alright, alright, don't die or anything. I was just asking. The invitation is always open, though. Always."

Josh still couldn't speak, just nod. Tyler got up, drained his bottle of beer, slammed it back onto the table and walked off, headed backstage.

Celeste's gentle rub on his back felt good. Really good. He missed her.

"You know," he choked out. "Maybe I'm almost drunk or something, but we could leave the kids with my parents tonight."

A perfectly formed eyebrow arched. The hint of a smile on pretty, plump lips was forming. An idea was circulating and swirling through her head, communicated through her eyes. "Why are we still sitting here, then? Let's go."

They sped home, arriving back at the house before midnight, before it got too late to take their time and explore and be as loud as they wanted to be, as passionate as they wanted to be, and make up for as much time as they wanted to make up.

"For the record, I'm not drunk." 

Josh was already undressing, kicking out of his shoes and unbuttoning his jeans. They slid down his hips to the floor, followed by his briefs. He stepped out of them and left them in a neat pile, right there.

"For the record, I never thought you were." Celeste unbuttoned her blouse and peeled it off, unzipped her jeans and let them fall, her panties following. "Beer always makes you like this. Don't you ever wonder why I love Sunday nights? You drink like four beers and we always have a good night."

"I never realized that. Ancient Chinese secret, huh?"

Illuminated only by moonlight, they crawled into the bed, gravitating toward the middle. Toward each other. Josh indulged in her smooth, supple skin, the way his hands slid across her belly, down her arm, around her bottom. Celeste craved his body, his muscular form that he seemed to be born with but was really too shy to show off-the broad shoulders and perfectly formed chest, and biceps that made things inside her body clench when he hugged her.

She stroked his face, his days old beard now soft. He ran thick fingers through hair that smelled like this great shampoo that she'd been using since their college days. He loved the smell of it, always would. He rolled her over, and sank onto her, their mouths glued together, tongues swirling around each other, panting and groaning and moaning together.

Celeste had signs, when she was ready for him, when she just couldn't stand another second as a single being and wanted to be joined with him. She arched up into him, her legs tight around him, her nails scratching lightly along his back. Josh smiled and sighed, reaching down and guiding himself to her, almost entering a trance in that moment they became one.

"Haaa," Celeste breathed, her head flung back, her body shaking. "Holy fuck. I missed you."

"Not as much as I missed you."

He sat up a little, bracing himself so he could set a good rhythm. And so he could watch her. He loved to watch her, to listen to her, to feel her enjoying him. It was a little bit of an ego stroke, yeah... but he really just loved to see her let loose and give herself over to whatever might happen.

It wasn't always this way. In the early days, he didn't quite know what to do with himself and wasn't really sure what women wanted when they were with him. It wasn't like Celeste had a lot of experience but thankfully she knew what she liked and what she wanted. He was moldable and teachable and had a good imagination. He would take direction and not be offended and now... well, now their sex life would be the envy of all their friends, if they were crude enough to mention it.

They moved together as if sex was a well choreographed dance. Slow and methodical and sensuous, until it built into something fast and forceful, white hot and wild. Hearts thumped together, bodies slapped together in a pool of sweat. Josh thrust himself into her, his rhythm never failing, watching her breasts rock with the movement, listening to her gasp for air and sigh and moan and squeal. When she was on the brink, she was spastic-her arms flew around his neck and her legs tightened around his waist and she raised her body to him, working her hips with his rhythm, the sounds of her climax in his ear. As usual, her spasms and convulsions was enough to jog the experience for him and he followed soon after, taking advantage of the empty house to be as vocal as he pleased.

When he was spent, he slid off of her, onto his belly, panting into the mattress. Exhausted. But smiling.

"That was..." Celeste swallowed, gulping for air. "That was magic, baby."

Josh could only grunt in her direction, his fingers tapping her belly, where they landed when he moved off of her.

"Well you're not tired, are you? I could go another round, if you want."

"Lady..." Josh laughed, so utterly exhausted, but considering another go at it. "We'll see. I need a minute to catch my breath."

Celeste rolled to her side, wrapped her legs around his leg that had still been lying between hers, and slid closer to him. She kissed his dry, chapped lips, ran her fingers through his hair damp with sweat.

"I love you, you know that?"

"I had picked up on that, over the years," he muttered, eyes closed, but smiling. He moved his arm down a little, to cup a cheek and squeezed. She giggled and did the same to him. "I love you, too."

"Josh I... I just want you to be happy. And I know the business makes you happy, but not completely. I know the family makes you happy, but there's something else you're ignoring. And I don't think you're going to find true happiness unless you can turn around and look it in the eye and not be afraid of it."

He eyes blinked, under the closed lids. Celeste was always right, when it came to this. But as always, when it came to this, it was easier said than done.

"What if I can't do it?" His whisper was quiet, almost inaudible. "What if I try and I fail, again?"

"If you don't try, you've already failed. And I did not marry a failure."

Celeste rolled over and got up, out of the bed. He heard the bathroom door close and her usual post-sex shower starting. He guessed they weren't having sex again. Unless...

He forced himself up and out of the bed, and to the bathroom to join her. He had one more in him. Probably.