Shelby

The drive between Orlando and Miami, via the Florida Turnpike was as dull as a rusty nail, usually. The trip wasn't so bad the last time because her mother had been with her. The return trip was torture, since Shelby was alone and dreading dealing with the ‘Lucas Thing' with every mile that passed.  At the last minute, she decided to take the scenic (but slower and toll-free) route to I-95 south.

This trip home would not be joyous and special, the triumphant return that she had planned. No, she would be sneaky and skulk around, trying to stay under cover. As large and expansive as Miami was, it was too easy to run into someone she didn't want to see or talk to. It seemed everywhere she turned, Melina was around-at the gym, at the bank, at some of her favorite restaurants. So she simply moved away, knowing Melina wouldn't go that far to follow her.

"What an underestimation of that evil, nosy bitch!" She slammed her hand onto the steering wheel inadvertently honking the horn, not bothering to smile or wave an apology to the cars around her.

Shelby hadn't even talked to JC, yet. And tell him what? ‘Hey, sorry about that letter you got from my fiancé's daughter, the one that accused me of murdering him, the one she probably had to hire a private investigator to send to you. Yeah, sorry about that. You still want to get together and have some sex? I promise I won't try to kill you! Or take your money!'

 Shelby shook her head, almost laughing again. It really would be funny, if it weren't so tragic.

The shiny, black Mercedes coupe sped down the highway toward southern Florida, past tiny rundown towns and larger, more spruced up towns.  The car was quiet, the muted sound of the road under the tires and the smooth sound of the engine purring along as she pushed it toward home. She punched at the buttons on the CD player, setting it to shuffle. All at once, her eyes were wet with tears. The sounds that poured from the speakers were from one of her favorite jazz CD's, a collection of songs that she had come to love over the years. Jazz was one of the loves that she and Lucas had in common. It amazed her that the CD would even still play. It had to be years old and well worn. Despite that, she hadn't heard most of the songs since Lucas died.

From Frank Sinatra to Dizzy Gillespie, even a little Judy Garland, Shelby smiled and sang along, tears rolling down her cheek every few minutes, more nostalgia and wishing for the past, than sad. Wondering if she could ever turn back time and do things the right way-maybe never get involved with Lucas. Maybe never get a job at a bar. Maybe just stay home and go to school and be the good, boring girl her parents wanted her to be. Maybe become a teacher, like both of them. Be frumpy and dowdy with a bun and glasses and long skirts and polyester pants and wear sweaters with reindeer on them and make her life about educating children---ugh. Maybe she wouldn't go back quite that far. Maybe just far enough to undo this shit storm.

But if she could undo this nightmare, that would mean never meeting JC. Never staring into those eyes and never feeling those arms around her or those lips on hers. Never hearing his voice-- that voice that sent chills up her spine when he said a certain thing a certain way. He had a manner of speaking, an air about him that was quietly sexy. She loved that about him.

So, even if this shit storm destroyed her and the new life she was trying to build, the one good thing that it brought her was him. And hope. She had found someone, and had been happy, for the most part. She was, honestly, so close to telling him everything. And that was why she had to let him go. Well, tried to let him go. But couldn't. And now things were a mess, and his name was about to get caught up in it, and that just couldn't happen.

Traffic in Miami in the afternoon of any day was unbearable. It was hot and sticky and crowded and it took forever to get to suburbia, traveling the familiar streets and neighborhood stores. Her old high school and friend's homes brought a smile to her lips. The sights and smells and sounds of home were comforting, at least. It was late afternoon, nearly sunset by the time she pulled into the driveway of the two story Spanish colonial that she'd always called home.

The front door was opening before she'd even turned off the car, Renee and Bob spilling out of the opening, bright lights of the hallway and living room behind them. Shelby hugged her dad, then fell into her mom's arms while her dad picked up her bag from the backseat. Together, the three of them walked back up the sidewalk to the house.

"I'll just take this up to your room," Bob said, making his way up the steps. Shelby and Renee continued into the house and to the kitchen. Shelby settled into a bar stool at the kitchen counter while Renee went back to her simmering pots. Dinner smelled delicious. Mexican, her favorite.

"So how was the drive?"

"It was fine. Long, of course. I took the pretty way, home. I'm amazed I didn't get pulled over. I must have been going over ninety most of the way."

Renee shot a raised eyebrow at her, and then shook her head as if to say ‘kids'. "Well, on your long drive, did you come to any decision about what you're going to do? You must have some kind of plan, to rush back to Miami like this."

"Not really. I need to talk to my attorney first thing tomorrow. I need to know if I have options."

"For what?"

Shelby bristled, slapping a palm against the counter. "For going after her! What else? She needs to leave me, and anyone I'm dating alone. Want to have me arrested for murder? Do it, bitch! Except she won't. She has no case, just her own suspicion and greed."

Renee nodded, agreeing while she listened to Shelby ranting, rolling enchiladas and lining them up in the pan. "I agree that you have to do something. There has to be something that can be done to shut her up."

"I have to find out what that something is, and make it happen." 

A light tap at her shoulder startled her. She yelped and almost leapt off of the chair. It was only her dad, standing next to her. "Daddy! Don't sneak up on me like that! You know I'm freaked out right now!"

Bob chuckled and handed Shelby her cell phone. "It was ringing. I thought you might want it."

Shelby grabbed it, shooting a glare at him, which he ignored and made his way into the kitchen to supervise dinner. He asked questions, poked and prodded and offered his advice on the best ways to do whatever she was doing-but better.  Renee put up with him for only a few minutes before she was directing him toward a door off of the kitchen.

"Why don't you go out into the garage, and I'll call you when dinner's ready? My nerves are shot. I can't take you hanging over me right now."

As soon as he was safely gone, Renee rolled her eyes and went back to her enchilada preparations. "Thank goodness for that garage." Shelby only mumbled in response, scrolling through her phone. "Anyone... interesting call?"

Three calls from Anne-Marie, messages included. She was probably freaked out, from Shelby's email. One call, no message from JC.

"He called. I guess I should let him know I won't be there for our date tonight. As if we were actually having one." Shelby flipped open the phone to the keyboard and slowly typed out an email. Words she didn't really want to say via text, but wasn't sure she could handle by voice, either.

Hey. Sorry to bother you. I can't even imagine what you think of me right now.  I kind of don't want to know.

Anyway. I can't make our date tonight. I'm not even sure I'll ever see you again. So in case I don't.... thank you.

Shelby

Her finger lingered over the send button longer than she really wanted to, in the end, finally pressing the button and watching the envelop disappear and the icon turn from ‘new' to ‘sent', then turning off the phone and sliding it away. The last thing she wanted to see was a rejection via text, or something cold and callous that she didn't figure he was capable of, but was afraid of, anyway. More than that she was afraid of no response at all, because that meant he either didn't care, or didn't know what to say. JC rarely didn't know what to say-something had to be absolutely out of this world, out of his realm of understanding, something he couldn't even mentally conceive, in order for him to be at a loss for words. This situation may have just fit that bill.

"Dinner will be ready in about an hour, then," Renee said, sliding a pan into the oven, then stirring her rice and preparing iced tea to serve with dinner. Sitting at the kitchen counter watching her mother cook brought back memories of an earlier time, an easier time. Before she decided she was a grownup and she could handle being on her own, being with an older man, then being what that older man wanted her to be. Sometimes she really longed to go back to that easier time, and be the old Shelby. The one that wasn't afraid of the tiniest bump in the night. The one that wasn't constantly looking over her shoulder, or hiding in the bushes. 

She held a deep, dark fear that the old Shelby was long gone.

JC

He was staring at the email, his expression stony, eyes ice cold, at the words that made sense, but didn't.

 'I can't even imagine what you think of me. I kind of don't want to know... I don't even know if I'll ever see you again. In case I don't, thank you.'

So she was writing him off? Dumping him like she dumped Lucas, or so she said? So she was done with him, now that he knew most of her secrets? She wasn't going to come clean? Tell them all, now?

JC sighed, frustration giving way to anger. He powered the phone off and shoved it back into his pocket, shaking his head, blinking back a tear as a familiar feeling coursed his body.  'I don't get how I keep getting mixed up with these chicks. Do I have some kind of magnet on my forehead? Does it say 'I love drama and crazy shit?' Fuck!' 

He kicked at the table in one of the side rooms where he was trying to catch a quick nap on the worn wooden futon, until his phone buzzed in his pocket. He had figured the date would be off-- he now knew that Shelby was aware of the package he had been sent. He was expecting her to want to see him, though. To want to get things out in the open. Talk it out. And then maybe they could be real with each other. He wasn't expecting the email brush off. The Dear John Letter, just as he'd allowed himself to admit he felt something real for her. It was Déjà vu all over again.

"Hey, man. It's not sounding good in here." JC rolled his eyes up to find Rod bent over the couch, and then leaning on the back of it, smashing down the cushion. "Wanna talk it out? I promise not to be a big mouth or a shithead or anything."

"Not at all. You have done quite enough," said, JC, shaking his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. That was all he needed, was for Rod to insert himself into the situation.

"Okay. I deserve that. I do, and I know I do. I did you dirty, and I realize that, and I've been trying to apologize for it, but you won't let me. We're all a part of this whole big... thing." Rod walked around the couch, closing the door as he walked past it, then plopped into the chair opposite the couch. "We've gotta work together, man. Help each other out. We have history. I know I've been an asshole, but give me one last shot. I swear I'll do my best to help and not hurt."

"It has nothing to do with you. It barely has anything to do with me."

"Okay." Rod was silent for a few minutes, waiting for JC to open up, if he was going to. When no further words came, he asked, "does it have anything to do with that package you got yesterday?"

JC nodded.

"Was that bad news?"

Again, JC nodded.

"About that girl?"

A third time, JC nodded.

"You seemed kinda happy with her. I saw the footage of what they got of her, that night at the movie. She looked scared out of her mind. I kind of forget that not all girls out there are famewhores and starfuckers. Some of them actually like their privacy. Tell her I said I'm sorry. Okay?"

JC laughed. A short, bitter laugh, and then another and then another. "I uh... I don't think I'll be seeing her again anytime soon."

"No? Freaked her out bad? Man, I'm sorry."

Irritated, JC twisted around so he could see Rod in the chair opposite the couch. More to the point, so he could glare at him. "It's not you, Rod. Get over yourself. It's this whole big... thing."

And then against his better judgment, the whole story began to spill out. Meeting Shelby. Asking her out. Having an incredibly fantastic sexual experience with her, time and time and time again. Realizing that being with her was way more than the sex. Falling for her. And then, knowing nothing about her, and her standoffish response to his requests to get to know her more.  And then her almost accidental blurt a few weeks ago about how he wasn't just her ex. He was dead. The controversy that swirled around her. And now, indecision. What to do about it?

Rod was quiet, listening to the long ramble of tangled web that came from JC, nodding, thoughtfully considering. "Well," he said, in the softest tone that had ever come from Rod. "Kinda seems like she doesn't want you to do anything."

"I know. It seems like that. It's just... I don't know how long I can sit by and do nothing and watch her suffer and be this... guy on the outside of her life. I want to know her. Really know her. I want to know all about this mess she's in. I want to know how I can help. I want to know how I can stand by her. I don't want to be pushed away. That makes me feel...." JC struggled to find the word that fit this situation.

"Used?" Rod's suggestion hurt. "You mean, like you used her to get over Kim? Even Stevens, I say. Why not just walk away, man? That seems the easiest thing to do. Is this girl really worth getting yourself involved in her drama? Her past, a past she didn't even feel like you were good enough to know?"

JC considered, honestly, Rod's point of view. It didn't match what he felt in his heart. It didn't match what he was sure he knew about Shelby. Fake name and blurry past be damned, her feelings were her feelings. It was hard to fake those.

"I don't think it was that. I really don't. I get it, now. Why she didn't want me to know.  You know? It's ugly and it's messy and it has nothing to do with me. But everything to do with me ‘cause..." JC hesitated, having never really said it out loud. Saying it out loud would make it real, and in the current situation, more pitiful and heartbreaking. But it had to be said. "I think I love her."

Rod leaned back in the chair and laughed that laugh that JC couldn't stand but tolerated, for the moment. "Love her? Like you loved Kim? But she didn't love you back, did she? Do you think Shelby loves you back? If she did, would she have drop kicked you? Would you be on the curb like Thursday's trash?"

He sat forward in the chair again, staring intently, dark eyes boring through him. "I hate to be harsh, but it has to be said. You let yourself fall for chicks that don't feel what you feel. They aren't capable of feelings that run as deep as yours. When are you gonna learn that lesson?"

Rod's words hurt. Hit him right in the gut and punched hard. Because they were true. When he let himself feel, he felt deeply. When he let himself love, he loved deeply. That was the main argument against not letting himself feel. Not letting himself love. Keep it light, casual surface, until he absolutely had to dip into those feelings. If it didn't come back to him and he didn't get the same love in return, it was heartbreaking. He got great songs out of it, but being one of the top songwriters in the country wasn't worth the pain, anymore.

"I thought I did," JC said, after a few moments of heavy, thoughtful silence. "I really thought I did."

"So, you really think she killed her old man?"

"No. I don't. I mean... this is dumb, but she'd be in jail, right? Thing is... the money came from somewhere, and if she really like... killed him she'd never get money. Right? And the letter came from the Ex's daughter, and chick sounds majorly bitter. Like almost insane, she's so bitter. She hunted me down to send me a letter about Shelby, because she thought I was in danger?"

JC sat up, shaking his head, and moving to sit on the edge of the couch. "It doesn't add up, to me. There's something else going on."

"Sounds like it. So there's no date tonight? No walking in here with a grin on your face tomorrow?"

JC shot a dirty look at Rod, which then softened into a mere grimace. He laced his fingers together and stared at them, shaking his head. "Not until I can see her, or talk to her. Find out what's going on."

"You should go see her. You'll never be able to concentrate until you get this straightened out."

JC exhaled what felt like a lung full of air, and stood. "Too much work to do. We leave for LA next week. And maybe... I don't know. Maybe I should stay away for awhile. Let her sort this thing out and... figure everything out later."

He extended a hand to Rod, who took it and used to help pull him out of the chair. After an awkward pause or two, JC pulled him into a hug. "I appreciate the ear, and the common sense that only Rod Phillips can deliver."

Rod laughed and returned the hug, slapping him on the back with his free hand. "I owed you one or two, I figured. And hey. I'm done fucking with the only good connection I have left. New leaf and all that. Sorry, man. About everything."  Rod shrugged, a little shy, a lot bashful and embarrassed.

JC nodded quiet approval. "You know what they say, ‘fool me three times and I must enjoy being fooled'. It sucks when you don't have my back, man, especially since I'm bailing you out, here. We both know I am. Don't make me regret trusting you again. This'll be it, for me."

"You won't," Rod said, his expression never more serious. "I mean that."

Shelby

The sleep that night was fitful. Shelby slept off and on, dreaming alternately of Lucas and JC, jerking awake every time the dream reached a pinnacle point. Morning dawned bright and early, especially since she'd had no sleep. She showered and dressed in her best business attire--a suit that went at least to her knees. Leather satchel, dark heels, and hair pulled into a low clip, she slipped out of the house quietly and got into the car, headed downtown.

She stepped into the suite of offices leased by her best friend in high school and attorney, Robin Gold, at 8am sharp. Her appointment was at 8:30, but one could never be too early when discussing litigation. The receptionist showed her to a seat in the lobby, and Shelby sat down to wait.

‘Isn't this something? I never imagined myself back here. Ever.'

It had been at least a year since Shelby sat in that chair, in that office, waiting to talk about this issue, the Lucas Thing. Shelby thought back to the last meeting, the settlement meeting, when the papers were signed and hands were shaken, and Robin had pulled her aside and gave her a long, tight hug and told her to take care of herself. She'd tried. Lord knew, she'd tried.

Robin had done some upgrading, Shelby noticed. She smiled to herself, thinking the fee she got from the representing her against Lucas' family, in addition to mediating the Firestone settlement was likely a large portion of what it took to take the two-man firm from modest neighborhood law firm to almost posh, upscale attorney's offices, with deep carpet that still smelled new, plush leather chairs for the lobby, a fancy coffeemaker with little china cups and a tall, mahogany receptionist's desk. Shelby almost couldn't wait to see Robin's office.

A few minutes before 8:30, Robin's door opened and she stepped out, looking fashionable as always, in a smart pantsuit in black. Robin rarely wore any color but black. She said it was her power color. "Shelby Coster," she gushed, caramel skin glowing, teeth gleaming white, hair in springy spirals down her back. "It's wonderful to see you again. You look fantastic. Come on back."

Shelby stood, gathered her bag and followed Robin to her office. The door clicked softly as it closed behind her. She almost laughed to herself, seeing that the upgrade train had found its way to Robin's office as well. Not only did she no longer have the rundown, run of the mill office supply store desk with two broken drawers and not enough desk space, but she also didn't have the ratty rugs and the cheap gold plated lamps and the futon that looked like it got quite a bit of use. Robin had hit the big time, replacing her old desk with a massive glass top executive desk that just barely fit the room, matching chairs and credenza and side tables. High end rugs, silver lamps and classy shades, coordinating art on the walls Robin looked like she belonged. Shelby was proud.

"So, I see Gold &Farmer is doing well, these days," Shelby said, trying hard not to smirk. It wasn't working. "How is Greta?" 

Greta Farmer, the other half of Gold & Farmer mainly worked in divorces and domestic cases. She was a bulldog, but could be sweet when she wanted to be. One would think that she hated men and marriage, but she was happily married to a judge who presided down at City Hall. She liked to say she hated folks that didn't understand what marriage meant, and destroyed the meaning of the institution. The sooner she got them out of their sham of a union, the better. Greta had more than a frown for Shelby when she heard that Shelby and Lucas were engaged.  Embarrassed but used to the criticism, Shelby ignored it. After they were married, it would have all seemed worth it.

"Gold & Farmer is doing excellent. So much business came in after the uh... well, you know."

"The landmark settlement?" Shelby grinned across the desk. "You can say it. I'm just happy I could help out an old girlfriend. That's all." 

Robin smiled, pointing manicured nail tip at Shelby. "Hey, careful with the ‘old' part, okay?"

Shelby sighed, and the bright smile she was trying so hard to keep on her face faded. "So anyway. You must know why I'm here."

"I do," she said, her demeanor shifting on a dime. She sat forward and pulled a thick file from the pile on her desk. Shelby recognized it... God, how she had hoped to never see it again. On top of the file she set a notepad and picked up a fountain pen.

"So, what I got from your message is that Melina is pretty much stalking you. All the way to Orlando? And involving someone you're dating. Am I correct?"

Shelby nodded, scooting to the edge of the chair so that she could lean her elbows on the desk. "I've been living in Orlando for the last six months, and seeing someone sort of high profile. 13 seconds of my face aired at about 2am on an early Friday morning, and all of a sudden, he gets a package with a lot of information that he really doesn't need to know. Who  I date, wealthy or not, famous or not, coincidence or not, is none of her business, and I guess it isn't against the law to be nosy, but isn't it against the law to send letters to him, claiming that I committed murder?"

"Did you bring the package with you?"

"Yep. " Shelby dug the envelope out of her bag and slid it across the desk. Robin picked through the stack, rifling through pages, frowning at some pieces, shaking her head at the stack in general. She read the note on top, chuckling to herself.

"Melina is a fucking idiot," she said simply.

"I know that," Shelby said, wanting to laugh, too. "But how so, specifically?"

"She implicated herself. I'd bet if I called this gentleman that you're seeing, that he'd send me a photocopy of the FedEx shipping label that he received. No matter, I bet it would match the copy that FedEx has. And I bet it would match the copy that she was so good to insert in this neat little package, the one in which she completely identifies herself. She's so eager to get back at you for not giving her that money that she's dancing herself right into a harassment suit."

Robin sat back, pen between white teeth, rattling it around. It was an irritating sound, but Shelby could endure it, if it meant good news. "I bet if I twist this, that I could definitely put her over the edge of the law. Your friend should file, too-- no one should be sending him unsolicited information about someone he's seeing. If he wanted to know all of this, he would have just hired a private investigator, no? But yes... it is dangerous to accuse someone of murder with no proof and attempt to sway other people of it. Not quite illegal, but I think we've got a leg to stand on."

"Tell me, plain as day. Can I shut her up?"

"We can try, Shelby." Robin reached across the expanse of glass, covered in manila file folders stuffed with briefs and action items and looked Shelby right in the eye. "You know I don't like to make promises I can't keep. But I got you this far. I have no intention of letting you down. We can fight this out as long as you want to fight it. At the very least get an injunction to keep her away from you. We'll have to have a statement from your friend. He'll have to file his own paperwork."

Dejected, Shelby shrugged a shoulder. "Well, Melina has pretty much ruined any chance of anything further happening with him. This is why I'm so... pissed. I don't get to do things the way I want to do them. Things are always out of my control. So what, if I was pulling away from things between us? She took away my power and my chance to end this without him finding out and without him getting hurt and without him getting hurt. Now I'm exposed and embarrassed, and Robin... I don't want this all over the news, again.  I don't want him to have to file anything. I don't want his name in this at all. I can't mix him up in this."

Robin was hesitant, playing with the pen, her mouth twisted as she winced. "Well...we can certainly try to do this without him being involved. It would be hard to get through it without mentioning his name.  And it would give us so much more impact. What... what is his name?"

Shelby hesitated before answering. Was Robin asking because she needed to know? Or being nosy?

"JC Chasez. That's his name."

Robin blinked a few times, then closed her eyes for a few moments and then opened them again, her eyebrows nearly at her hairline. Shelby almost laughed at her reaction. "JC Chasez? Like from ‘Nsync JC Chasez? Tearin' Up My Heart, was on our walls in high school, JC Chasez?"

Shelby smirked. "Well, it's not like he's still a teenager, Robin. He's our age. Older than us, actually."

"I knew that. It's just..."  She snickered. "It's just... he's ... JC from ‘Nsync."

"Do you have a point?"

"No. I don't. It's just funny."

"What makes it funny? He's sweet, and a wonderful person, and very deep and I lo-"

Shelby swallowed, clutching her throat, feeling the blush crawl up her chest. Was she really about to say she loved him? Out loud? She inhaled a deep breath and shook her head to clear it. ‘Get rid of it. It's too late for that.'

Shelby exhaled and tried to return to business as usual, looking Robin in the eye. "JC is a great guy. He really is. I've enjoyed knowing him and being with him, but it won't work, with him. I need to make a clean break and if possible, I want to keep him out of this. He didn't ask for any of this, and I don't want to give it to him."

So that was it. She'd just decided, right there, that she wasn't going to see him again. Her bravado was hid her heart breaking in two, top to bottom. It was amazing that it had even become whole again, but it had. In the short time she had known him, she had known happiness, and what it was like to be with someone who wanted nothing in return, who didn't offer money or favors in return for what she gave. He was in it for the fun of it. It felt good to give it, just because. Shelby had to wonder if she'd ever find anyone like him again. 

"Listen. Robin. I want to know how you feel about something... and if it'll make her and this whole thing go away without involving JC, it would be worth it, to me. But only if you think it's a viable plan. A good idea, I mean."

Robin put down the pen and folded her arms on the desk, eyes open wide. "I'm listening. What, exactly, are we talking about?"