Chapter One

Home. That was somewhere she hadn't been in a long time, and it was making her feel old. Old was not a good thing at that point, considering she was only twenty four. Feeling that old was wrong. Every now and then, she reminded herself that she had many years to go before a mid-life crisis, but who said it had to be a mid-life one? It could just be a crisis, her mind reminded her, causing her to sigh again.

The vehicle turned down a familiar looking road, and she hurried to turn down the window, letting the wind blow through her honey brown hair. Her sunglass-clad eyes turned to look out the now open window, and what she saw caused a soft smile to spread on her face. Small children running across their front lawns and jumping in and out of sprinklers while the dogs barked and chased them. The trees that lined some of the yard of very familiar houses. Everything screamed 'home' and she was glad that she was back.

While she was lost in her thoughts of feeling old, the vehicle pulled into an even more familiar looking driveway. She broke out of it when the driver of the limousine came around and opened the door for her. "Miss Turner? Welcome home," he said with a smile. She grinned back and stepped out, taking a deep breath. The air smelled so sweet and fresh, probably because it was home. Her eyes shut and she leaned up against the limousine as the driver took her bags to the front porch. As he was coming back, without even thinking twice, she put her hand deep in her jeans pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill.

He came close again, and she pressed the bill into his hand. "Thank you, ever so much," she said, with a bright smile.

He looked down and tried to hand it back. "Miss, this is far too much."

"Of course not. You got me home safely, and all I was really worrying about was getting home. Thank you, so much," she said, stepping away to walk up her driveway. The smile was still on her face as she dug her house keys out of her bag. A person stood up from her front steps, watching her come closer. "Hey, babe. What are you doing here?" she asked, stopping briefly to kiss him softly before walking up the remainder of the steps to unlock her front door.

He looked at her as she swung it open with a happy smile and began moving her bags into the foyer. "I thought that you were going to be home this morning, Brooklyn. It's practically four in the afternoon," he said.

Brooklyn Arizona Turner craned her neck to look at him and sighed at the look in his eyes. It was a replay of the argument they had every time she left, every time she came back...practically every day that they were together. "Tim, I'm sorry, but my flight was delayed. I didn't think it was such a big deal, and you never told me that you were going to be waiting for me." She moved the last bag in and stepped over them, towards the kitchen. He followed her closely. "Besides, can't we just drop this? We do the same thing every time, and to tell you the truth, I just want to spend a quiet, lonely night here tonight," she said with a wistful sigh.

With a smile, he slipped his arms around her trim waist as she opened the bottle of water she had just taken from the fridge. "I can deal with that," he whispered in her ear, his lips sending a trail of soft kisses down her neck.

She took in a deep breath. "Tim, I'm sorry, honey, but I was planning of spending that day alone." His arms were quickly removed. "It's just that it's been ages since I've had a night to myself, let alone a full day. I just wanted to put in a movie, eat some ice cream, and fall asleep whenever I want to."

Tim turned her around to face him. "You can't be serious, Brooklyn. I haven't seen you in ages, and you tell me to leave?" he asked, his voice becoming louder.

"I'm sorry. We can see each other tomorrow. And don't call me Brooklyn. Only my family does."

He looked in her deep green eyes, and groaned. "Yeah, you're family and every single interviewer that you see. I don't like calling you Brooke. It makes you sound like a prostitute or something." Her eyes narrowed as her hands went onto her hips. "We can't spend the day together tomorrow. Remember, you have to go to the studio then. After all, you have to start your new CD, don't you?" he asked icily.

Her mouth dropped open briefly before she shut it quickly. "That's what this is all about, isn't it? You don't like the fact that I sing. Well, I'm sorry, but you knew that when you asked me out two years ago. I told you that I'm in the studio constantly, and when I'm not, I'm usually touring. This is my life, my dream, Tim. If you don't like it, oh well." When Brooklyn was mad, she could get vicious. "Plus, Brooke does not sound like I'm a prostitute. Otherwise, no one would call me that. You know that I hate being called Brooklyn."

"Fine, Brooke. See if I care. Go to the studio. Tour around the world. I don't care, but don't expect me to stick around, waiting for you."

By now, Brooklyn's face was red with anger. "If you're not going to stick around, then get the hell out of my house. Thank you, very much," she shouted, as he walked out the door and slammed it behind him. Wearily, her head dropped down onto the countertop, and she groaned, while rolling her eyes. "That's all I needed today. I want a quiet day, by myself, and instead, I get a fight. The story of my life," she whispered before pulling her head up. She looked over at the bottle of water and smirked before walking to the freezer and pulling out a carton of ice cream.

She walked into the living room, spoon in hand. Dropping onto her couch, she turned on the television, flicking through the channels on her satellite dish. It would have been a perfect day, if it wouldn't have been for the argument that they had gotten into. Ice cream and television is all she ever needed.

The most annoying sound filled Brooklyn's dream. In it, she was on stage, singing happily, when the noise started. She tried to ignore it at first, but it became louder and louder as the dream started to fade away. Rolling over, she covered her head with a pillow and willed the noise to stop. When it didn't, she raised her head and looked at the alarm clock accusingly. It still beeped at her. "Stupidest thing ever invented," she muttered, hitting it with her hand. It silenced itself, and she fell back on the bed with a happy sigh. The only problem was, once Brooklyn was awake, she couldn't fall back asleep.

She pulled herself out of the bed carefully and placed her barefeet on the carpeted floor. She carefully padded over to the window and looked out, smiling at the sight in her backyard. Every morning when she woke up, she did the same thing. Walked over to her window, looked at the old mobile trailer out in the backyard and smiled at the memories she had.

Turning away, she went through her closest, picking out something to wear before turning towards the bathroom, carrying her clothes with her. The bathroom she entered was as plain as the bedroom. In all of her years of performing, she had never once thought of buying something extravagant. She bought a low key house, she still drove the same pick up truck she had been driving for years, and she never splurged on anything. Brooklyn was still the same simple girl she had been when she was a child, and she hoped that she never changed, because the low key person she was always had been and always will be the only person that she knew how to be. The one thought alone warmed her anytime she thought of it.

She placed her clothes on the counter, folded into a tight pile, and reached up into the cupboard pulling down two fluffy towels. Looking at the towels, she ran her hand over them with a bright smile. "If I ever meet Martha Stewart, I'll be sure to tell her how much her towels rock," she said with a smirk, putting them on a small ledge beside the shower. Without even thinking, she leaned into the shower and started the water to the temperature that she liked, before pulling the small knob that started the shower head. Backing away, she pulled off the tank top and pajama pants she was wearing, tossing them in a pile in the corner. She stepped into the shower, closing the glass door behind her and reaching automatically for the scented bodywash, smelling it quickly.

Brooklyn finished her shower and reached for the first towel, wrapping it around her body before her hand came out again and took the second towel, slightly smaller than the first. She wrapped it around her hair and finally stepped out, looking at the small puddle of water under her feet. "I swear, I can't keep a house clean to save my soul. Momma always told me that I should either marry a rich guy that has a maid or a gay guy. She obviously didn't care much for me," she said with a laugh, standing in front of the mirror. She looked at her face, devoid of makeup, like she liked, the tanned flesh a few shades lighter than the highlights in her hair. A smile broke on her face, and she watched as her cheekbones raised slightly, making her look a little more youthful. "Sometimes I wish that I was egotistical, because I would love to tell myself how wonderful I look in the morning," she said sarcastically, before bending forward and rubbing her hair with the towel. Once it was slightly dried, she flipped her head back up and looked at the tangled mess. "What I wouldn't give for Paul Mitchell at this moment," she said with a laugh.

Despite the condition of her hair, the brush slid through almost too easily, settling the damp strands on her shoulders. Her mind on autopilot, she reached for the white tank top and pulled it over her head, pulling her hair out from beneath the straps before she pulled on the western style blouse, leaving it open as she pulled on a pair of black jeans, buttoning them as she walked back into her bedroom. She sat down on her bed, pulling on a pair of socks as she listened to the coffee maker downstairs give out its last few gurgles.

A little bounce in her step, she headed down the stairs, and went into the kitchen, looking towards the coffee maker. Instead, the sight in front of her made the happy smile on her face slowly fade away until it was a slight grimace. "What are you doing here? I really don't want to get into an argument this early, Tim," she said with a small sigh, nothing like the one she had let out upstairs in bed.

She walked to the coffee maker and poured herself a mug of the fragrant liquid. Her fingers curled around the handle of her favorite black marbled cup, as she took a sip of the black liquid. While on tour a few years ago, she had learned the coffee didn't keep her awake anymore, and she quickly switched to adding no milk and sugar. It made a hell of a difference, she realized, and now, she was awake after one cup, instead of the six it used to take her. "Aren't you even going to say good morning?" he asked, leaning up against the counter.

Brooklyn turned quickly, her hair flying out behind her. "Good morning," she said with a suppressed groan. "I just have a few quick questions for you. How did you get in, why are you here, and you do know that I'm going to the studio today, right?" she asked, brushing the hair out of her deep green eyes.

Tim's eyes scoured over her tight, small frame, and clear, delicate features. "I used my key, of course. I didn't use it yesterday, because I know that you like to be the first in your house when you come back." She smirked and nodded as she took another sip of coffee. "I'm here, because I wanted to see you this morning, and yes, I know that you're going there today."

Her eyebrows raised very slowly and her eyes widened ever so slightly. "Uh-huh. That's wonderful. Now, tell me the real reason why you're here. You've never just wanted to see me in the morning."

He sighed, placing his empty mug on the counter. "I know, baby, and I'm sorry. I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I know how crabby you can be when you come home, and I just didn't think that you would have directed it towards me."

If it was possible, Brooklyn's eyebrows went even higher, and stayed there without a tremor. It was one of her patent moves, one that she used in interviews and with close friends and family. Everyone knew that look, and no one liked it, because it always meant something different almost every time she used it. "Yeah, sure. I'm always a bitch when I first come home. Wonderful choice of words," she said with a snort of laughter, draining the bottom of her mug. It was placed beside the coffee maker, and she walked slowly out of the room, listening as he followed closely. "Tim, I'm hoping that you don't take this the wrong way, but I really do have to leave sometime soon. I have to be at the studio in an hour, and it takes me forty five minutes to drive there."

He nodded, as she walked back into her bedroom, bending down beside her biggest suitcase. She pulled out a pair of black cowboy boots that she wore almost every day, and sat down on the plush carpet to slip them on her feet. Brooklyn always laughed at how she was living out the stereotype of a country singer. Cowboy boots, western style shirts...all she needed was the horse to ride to the studio and she was complete. The only problem was (and she probably would have done it if it wasn't for the little problem) that she was afraid of things that could crush her easily, and horses were included on that list, even if she had used them in a video before, and she had actually rode one. "I understand, Brooklyn, and I was hoping that maybe...I could come with you?" he asked hopefully.

She rolled her eyes and turned around, running her hands through her now dry hair. "As much as I would love for you to come with me, it's all business meetings today. Recording is boring for someone else, but these meetings are even worse. We're looking through songs all day, and figuring if we want someone to guest spot on the record. If I could skip out, I would, but I have to be there."

"So, you're saying that I can't come."

A smart-assed remark was about to slip out of her mouth before she stopped herself. "What I'm saying is that you wouldn't be allowed in the room, anyway. It's all copyrighted material, and you're not an employee of Curb records, meaning that you couldn't listen to us or read what we are. Until I decide what I'm singing, you can't see a word of the copyrighted material. Sorry." She shrugged, and walked towards the door.

"Can't you pull a few strings? You're the biggest name they have signed there."

"No, actually, I'm not. Tim McGraw is the biggest name. I'm a distant second, if that. LeAnn Rimes isn't considered anymore, because she's suing to get out of her contract. Anyway, thank you for the compliment, but no, I cannot pull some strings. I'm sorry, Tim, but that's how it goes." She walked back down the stairs, a quick look at her ever present watch telling her that she had a to hurry. "Listen, I'll see you when I come back. Before you ask, no, I don't know when, but I'll call you from the road if I'm not too tired to go out and get something to eat, all right? Love you, bye," she said, placing a kiss on his cheek before throwing her purse over her shoulder and hurrying out the front door. "Don't forget to lock it," she called behind her as she ran towards the pickup truck in her driveway. She pulled herself into it, and closed the door, locking it before starting the engine and pulling out with a wave to her boyfriend.

She sighed, dropping her head slightly to stretch out the tired muscles in her neck. Brooklyn had been hoping that it would work, but instead, it made it scream back at her in more pain that before. Her head came up with a sharp intake of breath, and she rubbed it tiredly. "Yeah, I understand that. How long do you think it'll take to record the album? Forget meetings and the such, just recording time."

Her manager, Joseph Saviro, shuffled his papers and pulled one out. "We reserved your favorite studio for two weeks. It shouldn't take longer than that, really." Nodding, she reached for the stack of papers in front of her. "You have to select around fourteen songs, and we'll weed them out from there."

"How many are being put on the album?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. She knew the answer, because she asked the same question every time.

This time, she mouthed the answer along with him, causing Joseph to chuckle under his breath. "Between ten and fourteen." They both nodded as she flipped through the papers again. Her hand came up to pull the reading glasses down from her head, settling them over her eyes. They scanned over the paper, and she placed it in one of three piles in front of her. Yes, no, and maybe. The yes pile was very slim, and the no pile was practically towering.

"Talk to me. Keep me awake, please," she begged, reaching for the warming can of soda. She took a quick sip and leaned back in her chair, reading the next song. She was notorious for having at least one tear jerking song on every one of her albums, but she wanted a really bittersweet one, and this seemed to be perfect. One of the main components for picking out songs was that she could envision a video in her head as she read the words. That, and if she could feel everything was written on the paper, she liked it. It was very often that she fell in love with a song, but this one was getting close.

Joe sighed, looking through more papers. "Okay, your last tour was such a success that they want to put on a tour as soon as your popularity builds again. I don't think you can get much bigger than you are right now. We also have a number of artists that we want you to work with, but of course, it's up to you. Some are country, some aren't."

She sighed and placed the song in the yes pile. "All right. As long as it isn't Eminem or Limp Bizkit, I'm happy. Names?"

Her glasses went back up, and her weary eyes looked at him. "Tim McGraw, Mark Wills, JC Chasez, Reba McEntire, Trisha Yearwood, Toby Keith...the list goes on and on. Diamond Rio and Alabama are some of the highest."

A thoughtful look passed on her face. "Okay, we've done three quarters of those artists. I want something new. I like the Diamond Rio idea, but answer me one question. Who the hell is that JC person?" she asked.

He looked at her like she was crazy. "I know that you don't listen to much music other than country, but I would think that you've heard of NSYNC. Mainstream pop/rock music. They swear that there isn't a frontman to the group of five, but there's two, really. Justin Timberlake and JC Chasez. Timberlake just wouldn't work with you. Your voices wouldn't mesh, but you with Chasez...you should hear that boy sing."

Brooklyn frowned slightly. "Boy? I'm not sure about working with a pop artist." She paused and scratched her head. "Wait, didn't they do a song with Alabama?" she asked.

He nodded, looking at the paper. "Yeah, and it turned out to be a great hit. They did one of NSYNC's songs. I'm sure you've heard 'God Must Have Spent..." because I know that you have that CD." She nodded. "I'm not pressuring you or anything, but at least meet with him. He's around the same age as you, and has a fantastic voice. He would be a fantastic country artist, but I think his heart is set on pop music. He's also a producer, I suppose. We've been looking into him doing one or two of your songs, but if the two of you want to sing a song together, all the better."

"Can I meet him first?" she asked, crossing her legs the other way when the bottom leg began to cramp up. She always liked to meet the artists that she was going to collaborate with, especially if she didn't know them. Brooklyn had very high standards to be set, and if she didn't like the person, she wouldn't sing with them. To her, singing was as intimate as being friends and having a deep conversation with a person.

Joe grinned at her. "Way ahead of you. He's coming in tomorrow." Her eyebrows raised for the second time that day. "Don't give me that look, Brooke. Apparently, he has a friend, who's also in the group that's a big country fan and he told him about your work. Needless to say, he's intrigued. He wanted to meet you as soon as possible, and even if you said no, I was going to fly him in. I talked to him on the phone a few times, and he's as sweet as can be. Maybe you'll finally dump Tim and go out with a guy like that."

She made a face that was a mix between a smirk and a frown. "Wonderful. Are we done for the day?" she asked.

He nodded, standing up. "Want to get something to eat before you head back home? I know you too well, and if you don't eat, you'll fall asleep at the wheel. All I need is for one of the biggest names in music to show up while you're in a morgue, cooling your heels in a metal container."

"I swear, you speak pure poetry. I'll eat with you as long as we can go to that funky little diner that I love so much. I'm sure Tim won't mind if I eat without him, as long as I call first."

She stood up as well and reached for the papers, jamming them into a few file folders. "You know, I never liked that guy. You actually have to call him if you're not going to eat with him? That's a little...how do I put this gently....possessive."

Brooklyn was shaking her head as they walked out the door and headed towards the elevators. Curb Records in Nashville wasn't all that big, compared to the other studios that she had seen, but she loved the homey atmosphere of it. Everyone knew everyone in the building, and she had never seen a group of friendlier people. She smiled and waved down the hall to one of their other recording artists as the elevator doors opened, allowing the duo to step inside with a few other people. "I like your choice of words. Really, I do." She paused long enough to move the folders to her other hand and run her free hand through her hair, settling it down on her shoulders more neatly. "The only reason I'm calling is because I told him that I might meet him for dinner. Since you offered to pay for a meal at the diner, I can't make it."

He nodded, as they stepped out onto the lobby floor with everyone else. "Wait, I didn't offer to pay for you. Brooke, stop putting words into my mouth."

"Why? It's so much fun," she said with a bright smile as they walked out. She headed towards her truck and opened the door, tossing her stuff inside. "Can I borrow your cell phone?" she asked, a look of disgust coming over her face. She was forced to carry one on tours, in case she needed security in a hurry, or someone needed to tell her where to be, but she despised the things, and wouldn't own one for herself. Joe handed it over without comment, and she hurriedly dialed his home number. "Hey, Tim," she began when the answering machine at his apartment turned on. "It's Brooke. Listen, I can't make it for dinner, and I'm hoping that you get this before you decide to cook or anything. I'm going out with Joe and I probably won't see you tonight. Later," she finished and hung up, passing the phone back. The two walked across the small parking lot to the small diner across the street and walked in, smiling at the familiar people inside. "Middle class Americana...you have to love it," she murmured to him as they found seats at the counter.

The woman standing there smiled brightly at the two of them. "Well, hey, there. It's nice to see you guys again. You haven't been here for a little while. How's it been going, Brooke?" she asked, placing two coffee cups in front of them. She filled them up without question.

"Pretty good, Molly. I know I haven't been here in a long time, but I'm going to be a regular pretty soon. My tour just ended." Brooklyn smiled and took a sip of the coffee. It was the same it had always been, ever since she had started coming to the diner a few years back. Nothing seemed to change in there, and she was glad for that. "How's business been, like I even need to ask that question," she teased.

Molly grinned at the two of them from where she was leaning against the counter slightly. "Oh, you know. Same people every day. I swear, it's like the whole town comes in here around the dinner rush. Speaking of which, where were you two? We've missed you around here."

It was hard for the two of them to get a word in edgewise, but they still loved it. "Meetings, finding the proverbial needle in a haystack, planning the new record...same old, same old," Brooklyn said, a grin beginning to break on her face. Molly shook her head slowly, as the two giggled softly. "Hey, do you think that I could have my regular or are you not serving omelets that late anymore?" she asked.

She waved the question away like it was stupid. "Cheese omelet with home fries for the wonderful young lady, and a house burger with fries for the wonderful young lady's manager. Brooke, you want a chocolate shake with that?" she asked.

Her eyes widened and she patted her stomach. "If I didn't know better, I would think that you're trying to make me fat. Hit me with your best shot, Molly," she said with a laugh, as Joe's cell phone rang. He rolled his eyes and looked at it before turning it off. "Who was that?" she asked, sipping her coffee carefully.

He reached forward and added some sugar to his before drinking it. "Your boy toy, of course. He's probably crying in his pillow because you're not around." He made a pathetic looking face at her, and she laughed, pushing him just enough to show him that she really could push him off the stool, not that she hadn't before. At least once a year, he ended up on the floor for saying something, and she had seen Molly's eyes light up, looking to see if he was going to fall, as she placed their orders.

She smiled and leaned her elbows on the counter. "So, when is this guy coming tomorrow? More importantly, when do I have to be at the studio?" she asked, shaking her head so that her hair settled the way she liked it. If she was vain about one thing, it had to have been her hair, because she never liked the way it was, and she was always readjusting it. "Don't tell me that I have to be there early," she groaned.

Joe's smile spread further on his face. "He's landing early in the morning, something like six or seven, because from where he was, it's only an hour flight. You have to be at the studio around the same time he is, so you do have to come in a little earlier, Brooke. I'm serious, be on time for once."

"I was on time this morning," she said, with a pout, turning to thank Molly as she placed the chocolate shake in front of her. "So what, because he's a big name, I have to make some sort of impression. He better not be one of those snobby types that I hate so much."

He shook his head as Molly refilled his mug. "No, not you. I need all the coffee I can get at this point," he said to her. "He's not a snob, believe me. At least, he didn't sound like one when we talked. Anyway, after the initial meeting, everything is up to you. Whatever kind of torture you want to put the boy through, you're more than welcome."

Brooklyn grinned brightly. "Sounds great to me," she said with a chuckle. "I can tell you something right now," she said as her plate was put in front of her, "I know where we're going for lunch. Molly, you are a goddess. Thank you, so much."

Half of a bagel was clamped in front of her teeth as she ran into the building, her purse flying wildly behind her. This was definitely not her morning. Tim had shown up, and the two had gotten into another fight that took so much time, she didn't realize how late she really was. Brooklyn figured that she broke at least five laws getting to the studio, but she hadn't gotten caught, and that was all that matter...at the time. Now, a look at the watch on her wrist told her that she was late. The elevator was going up to the top floor before it would have hit the bottom, so she headed towards the stairs, which no one seemed to use. She banged the door against the wall, and she started up the stairs, trying to eat at the same time. "I hate mornings," she mumbled around the mouthful of food, as she turned the corner and went up the next flight.

She finally found the fourth floor, which was more steps that she could have imagined, and she ran down to the room she knew they were going to be in. She threw open the door, wincing when it hit the wall. "Oops," she said, shrugging. "Sorry, I didn't wake up in time. Where's the coffee?" she asked, looking at the bewildered looks. Joe shook his head and pointed to the coffee urn in the corner. Her cowboy boots clicked merrily as she tried to get her breath back and poured herself a cup, sitting down at the table. "One second. Breath is needed," she panted, putting her half eaten bagel in front of her. She bent her head and took a few deep breaths before her head snapped up and her hands ran through her hair. "Okay, I'm here."

"Like we didn't hear you pounding on the stairs. There is an elevator," Joe reminded her. She shot him a bad look, and took a bite of her bagel.

"Would you rather me be fashionably late, or incredibly late to the point where you have to hurt me?" she asked, with another shrug. "The elevator was on the top floor and it would have taken forever to get down to the bottom. I swear, I'm the only person in the building that knows where the damned stairs are. To top it all off, I think I twisted my ankle." Brooklyn turned her head and noticed the other man. "Oh, you're here already? Damn, I'm later than I thought. Hi, Brooklyn Turner," she said, extending her free hand, which luckily wasn't covered with crumbs like the one holding her bagel was.

He smiled slightly, watching as the flush from her impromptu run fade from her face. "JC Chasez. Nice to meet you."

"One bonus point for you, Joe. All right, what are we doing here today, since I'm so lost," she said, leaning back in her chair after they had released hands. Joe smiled and began to explain everything, while Brooklyn took the time to examine JC. She tried to do it without him noticing, since she didn't want to be caught staring at him.

His dark hair seemed to be put perfectly into place. It was moussed, gelled, teased, and brushed to what seemed to suit him best. It contrasted nicely with his slightly tanned flesh. Her eyes slid down to his eyes, examining them carefully. Dark blue, almost soulful, with a hint of mischief. That thought caused a smile to spread on her face slightly, since he definitely did not look like a person who would be naturally mischievous. Her eyes slid down over his face, his strong jawline, until they reached his clothes. She liked that he hadn't dressed to impress. Comfortable khakis and a long sleeved shirt. A little warm for the weather in Nashville at the time, but pretty good.

Her attention was pulled back to what Joe was saying. "Sorry, what was that? I think my mind is still in my bed."

Joe looked over at her, merging his eyebrows together. She leaned forward on the table, her eyebrows raising very slowly. A smile quivered JC's lips as he watched the two of them. Brooklyn leaned back with a smug smile when Joe had to look away from her look. The eyebrows did it every time. "That look is dangerous. Brooke, have you picked out any songs yet? I'm sure JC would like to see them."

She bent over slightly and leaned towards her purse, which was at her feet, pulling out the folder. "If you don't mind, that is," he said.

The folder was tossed in front of him. "The ones on the right are the ones I want to use for sure, and the ones on the left are maybes. I tossed out the copies of the horrible songs. I'm not singing about tractors. Didn't I make that mistake once?" she asked. Both Brooklyn and Joe nodded as JC looked through the papers. "By the way, when is lunch? I'm starving, and my stool is calling my name," she begged.

Joe checked his watch. "We still need to meet with Mr. Stroud, and then, we'll let you go for lunch. You don't have dinner plans, do you?"

"Of course not. I was planning on eating at the diner again. I figured that I wouldn't be out of here until at least six or seven, so I told him that I wouldn't be back for dinner. There's something great about having the diner just across the road," she said with a smile, leaning back further in her chair. "Well? Any thoughts, requests, comments, or criticism?" she asked when JC closed the folder and slid it back across to her.

His eyes raised to meet hers, and she couldn't help but smile. "I'd rather hear what you have to say, first," he said in a quiet voice.

She nodded. "All right. There's a few songs that would be all right for duets." She opened the folder herself and looked through the papers, digging out a few. "Some of the ones that I liked, I obviously can't sing by myself, and that's not great for tours, but there's a few that I can." She paused and brushed one hand through her hair. "Really, I could care less. I like all these songs, so whoever it is that I do the duet with, whether it be you or someone else, I let them choose."

JC nodded slowly. "To tell you the truth, I've never heard you sing, so to be honest, I don't know if these songs would work out, really. Some seem like you have to have a certain voice."

"Us country singers can make anything work. We just keep breaking on purpose," she said with a grin, shaking her head. "Sorry, just kidding," she added when she noticed his look. "Breaking your voice, also known as the country twang, is one of the most popular things out there in country music. If you ever want to hear a twang, listen to a Dwight Yoakum song. He's the master of it. I don't twang, despite popular belief, Joe," she said, turning to look at him. He grinned back. "Singing country with artists like me isn't anything like a Dwight song. We don't make you break, we don't make you ruin your voice, like some people have known to do. It's a lot like other genres of music." She paused, allowing herself to take a deep breath. "Wow, more than you needed to know. I should just shut up right now."

Laughter filled the room for a moment, but it seemed a little strained for both Brooklyn and JC. They both seemed a little uncomfortable around each other yet, but she couldn't see why they would be comfortable yet. In a matter of a half hour, she had showed up late, checked him out like a greedy woman with no morals, and lost train of the conversation. Babbling just added to her uncomfortable factor. "I think Brooke just explained everything that you needed to know for this." He shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder why she needs me around at all."

"The company, Joe. Just the company. Now, I think we should head over to Mr. Stroud's office, because the hunger pains in my stomach aren't good. A bagel does not keep me for the day," she said with a sigh, standing up with everyone else. "You are coming with us for lunch, aren't you, JC, or did you have other plans?" she asked.

He smiled as the three started walking towards the door. "No, I don't have plans. Every time I've been to Nashville, I've never really had a chance to look around."

"Really? I don't live here, but I love the town. Actually, to tell the truth, I love the diner across the road." She grinned as she dug her hands into her blue jeans, tossing her head to move her hair properly.

JC's smile turned into a grin as they came near the elevator. "Is the elevator free? I don't think the lady here could take the stairs again." She groaned, dropping her head.

Joe smiled. "Brooke, we're actually five minutes early. That speech really helped us out," he said, teasing her as they stepped in. To his astonishment, she pressed the button for the lobby. "What are you doing?" he asked. She merely lifted a finger, and grinned as the elevator took her down to the bottom. She jumped out with a smile. Brooklyn told them that she would be just a minute as she ran out the doors. Joe watched as she ran towards her truck, which was parked close to the front of the building. She opened the door and pulled out her hat before sticking it on her head, brushing her hair behind her ears. She didn't feel right that morning without her little cowboy hat, and she had to stop long enough to pick it up. A soft wind blew over her as she rushed back to the door, one hand on her hat.

"Sorry about that, but I knew something wasn't right with me today. Should we head up now?" she asked. With an bemused smile, Joe nodded and the three loaded into the elevator again. Brooklyn fell silent again as she began to readjust her hat until it was sitting far back enough for her to see clearly. "Joe, have you ever noticed that I am the true stereotype?" she asked, looking in her reflection. Her cowboy boots were present again that morning, along with her boot cut blue jeans. Another western style blouse, similar to the one that she had worn yesterday, was around her shoulders, hiding the pink tank top she was wearing.

Joe looked over quickly before shaking his head. "You make a horrible cowgirl, Brooke. I know, for a fact, that you're afraid of horses." She winked up at him, settling her hands deep in her pockets. "All you need is either the toothpick or the piece of hay between your teeth to chew on. Though, a John Deere hat would look better than the cowboy hat."

She smiled, placing a hand on her hat. "Excuse me, but this thing is my baby. You gave it to me before my first concert and it's stayed with me ever since. I don't think I've ever had an article of clothing for this long in my life." She looked over at the young man beside her, and noted the smile of amusement spreading across his face. She couldn't help but grin in return, because for some reason, she instantly liked him...unlike a lot of people that she had ever met.

With a sigh, Brooklyn dropped into her usual seat and grinned at the man beside her. Joe had been caught up in meetings for lunch, but that didn't stop her from snagging the newest person in the Curb Records building for food. Not that it took much convincing on her part. He seemed eager enough for food. "Hey, Molly. How's the day been?" she asked, leaning on the counter.

Molly walked over immediately with a pot of coffee, smiling. "Not bad, Brooke. You weren't kidding when you said you were going to become a permanent fixture in here for awhile. And..." she stopped as she looked over at JC, a look of bewilderment passing on her face. "Now, who is this, Brooklyn, my dear? New boyfriend?" she asked, raising both of her eyebrows.

Brooklyn smiled. "Nice try, Molly. This is JC. He was around for a meeting this morning, and I can't let a non-local leave Nashville without coming to the best diner in town," she said with a bright smile. "Yes, I'm buttering you up," she added with the same grin. "I'm hoping that you could make my milkshake extra thick this time."

The woman behind the counter smiled. "Of course, Brooke. JC, it's a pleasure to meet you. You guys want coffee?" she asked. Brooklyn reached over the counter and pulled out two mugs placing them in front of them. "Honey, I don't know why you don't just work here. You know the place like the back of your hand," she said with a smile.

"Probably because the studio pays better. I like this place a hell of a lot more though. I'll just have my usual. JC?" she asked turning to look at him.

His eyes slid away from the menu overtop of their heads, and he smiled at Molly. "A burger would be fine, thank you."

"Polite to boot. Please tell me that you're going to date him sometime soon," Molly teased. Brooklyn just shook her head, closing her eyes in embarrassment. "I get it, I get it," she said happily, noting the blush spreading across her face. "I'll go place your orders, and that milkshake will be comin' right up, Brooke."

She walked away, allowing Brooklyn to lose the color in her cheeks. "Sorry about that. When you come here for so long, they pry into your private life. You're lucky that you made such an impression on Molly. She's very picky about who I eat with," she explained, taking a sip of her coffee.

JC looked up from where she was adding his milk and sugar to his coffee. "So I noticed." He fell silent for a moment while he looked around. "I have a question," he said. She could tell that it was the same question that had been on his mind ever since the beginning of their meeting with Mr. Stroud. Brooklyn motioned for him to go on with a simple gesture of the hand. "Why me?"

She opened her mouth to say something before it closed quickly, a strange look on her face. He chuckled softly as he watched her mull the question over in her head. "If you want to know the truth, it wasn't my choice. I mean no offense to you or anything, but I didn't know about this until yesterday. Joe brought it up in our meeting, and I had no choice but to say yes or not," she said, a teasing lilt to her voice. "You should feel privileged, though. Not everyone gets to come to my favorite diner. You must be special or something. Are you special, JC?" she asked, leaning on her elbow on the counter.

"I'd like to think so, but there's nothing special about me," he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. She watched as he sipped at his coffee before she turned to pick up her own. The milkshake appeared in front of her and she thanked Molly before she walked away. "What about you?" he asked suddenly, turning to look at her.

Her lips pursed in thought. "Well, people have told me before that I'm special, but I don't believe them. The last thing I need is an ego." She paused and cocked her head. "At what my stomach is telling me, an Eggo, maybe, but not an ego. Oh, that was lame."

JC nodded as the food appeared in front of them. "Is this a regular burger, or am I special?" he asked, trying not to chuckle.

"This is normal. There's nothing like getting a meal that'll feed you all day for under five dollars. This is the life." They both fell silent, and Brooklyn attacked the omelet and home fries in front of her. There was nothing better, in her opinion, and she wished that she could take along the cooks with her on her tours. The food that she got in hotels and restaurants was nothing like the food here, and she always was homesick for the diner, and the food. She was thankful that the place was open twenty four hours a day, seven days a week (excluding Christmas day) because of the late nights that she spent at the studio.

Once her plate was clean, she picked up her milkshake and sipped it quietly for a moment. "So, Joe told me that you like to produce. Do you produce your own stuff, or other people's work?" she asked.

"A little of both. I was hoping to produce one of yours, actually. I heard that you're not that bad of a person to work with."

"Understatement of the century," she said automatically, smiling at his face. "I was just kidding. I'd be more than happy to have you produce one of my songs, but not if it takes time off of your vacation time. I know how hard it is to get a vacation in this industry, considering that I don't even get one this time."

He watched her stir her milkshake slowly with her straw, looking down into the brown depths of it. "You don't get a vacation at all?" he asked.

Brooklyn turned to look at him. "Of course, I get a vacation. I just don't get one until the album is finished. Then, I plan on haulin' ass to the nearest ski mountain and being the only one there with a cowboy hat. Yeehaw," she teased, tipping the brim of her hat. She watched his slightly amused expression and smiled widely. "I frighten you, don't I?" she asked.

"Just slightly," he said. Her smile became broader. "Let me guess, you're a big Garth Brooks fan."

She shrugged, placing her cup in front of her. "Who isn't? I think he's every country singer's inspiration. He's a mecca in the industry, he's a great singer and performer, and, a bonus in my opinion, he's a great guy. He has one of the best personalities that I've ever seen." She paused and played with her straw again, looking ahead. "I mean no offense to you or anything, but I do prefer country music performers to most people. I've seen people that have...excuse the expression....become a little big for their britches." He chuckled at that. "Stars that just walk by their fans, ignoring them, whatever. I don't know you and your friends, so I don't know if that applies to you. What I do know is that most country performers are more tolerant. We'll jump into a crowd in the middle of a performance, and we know that the crowd won't go wild, reaching for us, creating a mob. We'll stand out there and give autographs for hours if need be, until every single person gets one. Maybe it's just the fans, maybe it's something else. I don't know. All I know is that the country part of the music industry seems to be a lot more friendly, a lot more loving, and a hell of a lot more giving. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's just what I believe."

JC nodded slowly, thinking over her words carefully. Truth be told, he was intrigued by the young woman dressed as a cowgirl beside him. She had strong views, she was friendly, and she seemed to be fiercely independent. He wasn't attracted to her, although he thought she was pretty, though not entirely beautiful, but he had liked her from the very beginning. Even her loud entrance into the room. "I understand, and I know what you mean. At least, I've heard the stories. I've seen the same that you have, and to tell the truth, I have the most and highest respect for people in your industry, if not yourself." He paused long enough to smile and thank Molly as she refilled his coffee mug. "I remember when we first met Alabama. I was thinking, you know, a group of people in the industry for years, snobs or something like that. My friend, Lance, tried to tell me different. He was telling me what you told me, that the country music industry is one of the most friendly. I still didn't believe him. When we met them, I was waiting for some sort of reinforcement to my opinion. Instead, I met some of the greatest guys in the world. It was amazing."

She smiled slowly, pushing back her hat without another thought. It looked like something she did naturally. "Same thing for me. When they came out with their greatest hits CD a couple months ago, I invited them to come and sing at one of my concerts. I was thinking the exact thing, even though I probably should have known. It had to have been one of the most fun concerts in my life. Either that one or Sawyer Brown." She looked over at him and noticed his bewildered look. Giggling, she shook her head. "There's a huge country group. They remake some awesome songs like Six Days On The Road and have some huge hits." When he still looked confused, she laughed a little harder. "Never mind."

A comfortable silence fell over them, and Brooklyn smiled down at the counter. She didn't dare tell him that she thought he was going to be a snob, just the same way that he felt about Alabama. He had completely destroyed her misconceptions, though she knew that there was still time for him to prove her right. She just thought that he wouldn't. "You know, there's a question on your mind, and I know that you want to ask it, but you figure that it would be impolite to say it. Come on, I hear it every time. Hit me."

He looked over at her before looking at the counter. "I just figured...oh, hell. Where did you get your name from?" he asked.

She grinned brightly and turned her stool around to look at him. "It goes with my middle name, but I want to know how you got the name JC."

"I asked first." He had turned to look at her, blue eyes twinkling.

She laughed behind a slender hand before smiling at him again. "My full name is Brooklyn Arizona Turner. I got the name Brooklyn because I was conceived there, and I got the name Arizona because I was born there when my parents were on a trip. Now, you're turn."

He smiled back at her. "Mine's not as...exotic as yours. Joshua Chasez. Simple as that."

Brooklyn looked disappointed to him. "Damn. I was hoping that it was because your middle name is Christopher or something."

He shrugged, almost laughing at her disappointment. "Sorry, it's Scott. You know, your parents must have been a little crazy," he added.

"You have no idea. I think they wanted me to get teased at school. It just made me a stronger person," she teased, flexing her muscles. "I like my name. It makes me a little original. There was no person in my school with the name Brooklyn. People usually think I changed my name, or my family is full of hippies. If that was true, I would have been named Sunshine or something like that." She chuckled with him, as she turned her stool back around. "Hey, Molly? Want to hook us up with some ice cream or something?" she asked, flagging down the older woman.

"For you, Brooke, anything."

Again, another silence came over them. "Can I tell you something?" he began. Brooklyn raised her eyebrows, in a way of telling him to continue. He grinned at the action before looking down at his coffee. "This may be a little premature, and you may think differently, but...this is hard to explain." He frowned, playing with the spoon in front of him. "I want to do the song. Any song, but I want to do it."

Her eyebrows raised again. He noticed the look and laughed. "Sorry, it's just so natural now." She cleared her throat and smiled. "This is a little quick to hear this, but I can't blame you for loving me instantly," she began in a snobby voice. "Truth? I would love to have you do it. The only thing is, what convinced you? I don't want to do this if you think it would be great for publicity, though I don't know how, or if you just want to get in my pants, because it ain't happening. I happen to have a wonderful boyfriend." She said the last part with the tiniest amount of doubt in her voice, and he caught it. "Thanks, Molly," she said when the plates of chocolate pie with ice cream atop were set in front of them.

"You don't mince words, do you?" he asked. "It's none of the above. I don't want the publicity for doing this...hell, I could care less if you said that I contributed on the album or not. I don't want to, as you put it so eloquently, get in your pants, though I do like them." She chuckled as she reached for her spoon, breaking off a point of the pie. "I like you. I don't know why. We've never sang together, we haven't picked out a song, but I like you. Despite your loud and late entrance, despite the fact that you dress for the part," he said, fingering the brim of her hat, "and despite you thinking that I was going to be a snob, I like you. I'd love to work with you, mainly because you remind me of me."

She frowned slightly. "I don't see how you and I are anything alike. We're in two different fields and just how did you know that I thought you were going to be a snob?" she asked.

"Because I thought the same thing." JC chuckled to himself, pulling the plate closer to him. "I thought that you have what I call the Britney Spears-syndrome. I don't know if you like her, but I don't particularly care for her. She's let the fame go to her head. She used to be the sweetest girl but...this is off topic." He grabbed the fork on the plate and smiled down at the piece of pie. "As for you and I being alike, I'm sure you'll see it one day. I'm almost positive about this."

She waved away the comment with her hand. "Whatever. I just want to know if you're serious about this. I would absolutely love to work with you, and I don't even know if you're any good."

He held out her hand to her, smiling brightly. "I've never been more serious in my life. It'll be a pleasure to work with you."

"Likewise," she said, her smile almost breaking her face as they shook and turned to more important issues: dessert.

Brooklyn sighed and dropped her keys on the small table beside her, happy that the day was over. She had a lot of fun, but she was dead tired. Since the two didn't have to go back to the studio for the day, they headed to downtown, and under his weak disguise, she showed him all of her favorite places, also known as Brooklyn's Landmarks. She didn't think that she had laughed so much in her life, or caused someone else to laugh so much. Usually, her jokes went right over Tim's head, and he just shook it like she was crazy. JC actually seemed to understand them, and thought that most of them were funny, or at least chuckle worthy. Some caused her to look over at him and announce her own jokes as lame. Of course, that usually caused a laugh, too.

The turn of events for the day was fun. Their last stop had been to a roller rink, though neither of them actually rented skates and went out. Brooklyn had leaned against the railing and sang along, unconsciously and softly, to The Way You Love Me, by Faith Hill. The look of amazement and surprise was evident on JC's face, but he didn't say anything. That puzzled her slightly, not that she could do anything about it.

The day had finally ended when she remembered that she had to drive home still. She chuckled as she walked into the living room and sunk down on the couch, remembering how he seemed reluctant to let her drive. She had never known anyone that cared if she drove home tired, but he made sure that she downed a cup of coffee before allowing her to get close to her truck (and give back her keys, since he had stolen them earlier that day to keep her from leaving Nashville), and asking her if she was sure that she didn't want to get a hotel room and just spend the night there. She shook her head, wondering why she had never had a friend like that before. Her friends were apt to drive drunk if she didn't play the good role and steal their keys, since she never drank. For once, someone seemed to care about her, and the thought stayed in her head during the entire ride home.

The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. With a sigh, and knowing who it was, she leaned over and picked up the phone that was beside the couch. "Hello, Turner residence," she said, even though she didn't need to.

"Hey, babe. How did the meetings go?" Tim asked on the other line.

She rolled over on the couch so that she was on her stomach, and put her feet in the air, crossed at the ankles. Her hat had already been tossed beside the door, and she had pulled her hair into a loose ponytail at a red light, making her seem incredibly casual. "It went incredible. We went to the Honky Tonk Diner for lunch and walked around town for a little while. You wouldn't believe how my feet are killing me," she said, a smile creeping into her voice and on her face.

He sighed deeply. "I always told you that those boots aren't good for walking in." He paused, waiting for her argument, but hearing none. Brooklyn usually defended her choices vehemently but this time, she was too tired to argue. "Did you get the person that you wanted, though?" he finished.

She pulled the ponytail out of her hair with her free hand and let the honey brown strands land on her shoulders. "Yup. It was so cool. We were at the diner, talking about random stuff, like my name," she chuckled at that, "and he turned to me and said that he wanted to work with me, because he liked me."

"Why do you keep eating at that place? Your cholesterol must be through the roof." She mimicked his words to herself before laughing. "And what do you mean, this guy liked you. You never said that it was a guy."

No red flags came into her mind, no warnings came from her conscience. Instead, she continued. "Yeah, it's a guy. JC Chasez. He's a pop singer in a very popular group. One of the sweetest guys I've ever met. He's also going to be producing the song that we sing, and maybe a few others, if he feels like it. He's actually taking that much time out of his schedule to help me. Is that not the coolest or what?" she asked, bouncing her feet up and down.

"It's so nice that you think this JC guy is just so sweet." His voice was thick with sarcasm and something that took Brooklyn awhile to figure out. Jealousy. "Why don't you just spend all your time with him. I'm sure the two of you will be very happy together." With that he hung up on her. She looked at the phone in shock before putting it back on the hook, very slowly.

Her face showed her disbelief. "I can't believe him. I really can't. He's impossible." As if on cue, her telephone rang again. She hurried to pick it up. "Hello, Turner residence," she said in a tired tone.

"Hey, did I catch you at a bad time?" the person on the other end asked.

She tried to figure out who it was, but she fell short. The voice sounded very familiar, much like her older brother's, but she wasn't sure who it was. "No, you haven't...whoever this is. Austin?" she asked.

"As in Texas. Nope, it's JC. I take it that you have a family member that was born in Austin?" he asked.

She couldn't help giggling. "Yeah. Austin Dakota. I think that you don't need an explanation," she added, grinning to herself. "So, what can I help you with and how did you et my number? It's unlisted." She could almost imagine him at this point. She was sure that he wasn't laying down, because it almost sounded like business. He had to have been sitting up, on the edge of his hotel bed (she knew it had dark blue sheets and comforter, because she had stayed in that hotel before), leaning forward with the phone held firmly, yet loosely in his hand, she thought. She wasn't positive, but it seemed to be true enough to her.

"Your number, I got from your manager." Brooklyn made a sound that she understood, but didn't say anything. "The reason I'm calling...remember how I grabbed a copy of all the songs?" he asked.

Her eyes widened and a true smile broke over her face. "Please, tell me that you have good news. Please, please, please."

He laughed on his end. "You want to get rid of me that fast?" he asked in a polite tone. "Yeah, I think I found a winner." She giggled softly, and let her feet fall. "Anyway, it seems to be really good, but of course, I need your final say on it, but I think you'll like it."

"Which one?" she asked.

He fell quiet for a moment, before laughing quietly. "To tell you the truth, there's more than one. I figured that I would let you pick. Do you have your folder?" he asked.

She was about to say something when her mouth dropped open. "I just realized that you're calling long distance. How stupid of me. You're staying at the little inn near the studio, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter. I'm sure that I can afford a long distance call."

"Believe me, once I'm on the phone, I never get off. Just give me a sec. Did you put it under your name, or a fake name?" she asked. When he told her, she nodded. "Great, I'll call you as soon as I grab my folder. Later." She hung up on him before he could argue and ran to her purse, pulling out the folder. She ran back to the couch and picked up her telephone again. "Hello, can I be connect to Joshua Chasez's room, please? He's expecting my call," she added as an afterthought, just imagining what the woman on the other end was going to say.

She sounded smug, if anything. "Could I have your name, please? We have a list of people that are allowed to accept the call."

Brooklyn shook her head with a frown. She didn't think that the publicity and popularity of him was that big, but she didn't listen to pop music. She like to stick to country, and the occasional alternative or oldie tune. "Of course. My name is Brooklyn Turner."

"Of course, Ms. Turner. Just a moment, please." She was expecting to hear a disbelieving tone, or an ecstatic one, but she figured that everyone in Nashville was used to country stars there, despite the fact that it was a large town and there were a lot of people. She figured that it was the same for Orlando, or New York, but she couldn't be too sure.

The usual clicks went over the line and finally JC picked it up. "Well, hello there stud," she began to in sultry voice, so much unlike her own. "My employer told me to call here, because your looking for an escort. I'm just what you need, baby. Would you like my measurements, or should I just come over and show you?" she asked, trying not to laugh.

He stuttered for a moment. "I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong number."

She laughed loudly this time. "Sorry, couldn't resist. Okay, I got my folder, you stud muffin. What am I looking for?" she asked, opening it and pulling out a stack of papers. "The duet songs, right?" she asked, reaching for her glasses at the same time.

"Well, actually, I have some opinions on the other songs that you picked out, but that can wait. Yeah, the duet songs." He paused and she could hear the shuffling of papers over the phone. "Okay, these are the ones that mainly caught my attention. The first five in the folder, actually." Brooklyn hurried to find all those songs and left them in a pile in front of her. She tried to get comfortable on the couch again, but it wasn't working.

"Uh huh. Can you hold on a second?" she asked quickly, not waiting for his answer. She dropped the phone and hurried to take off her shirt, throwing it in the corner. Clad in just her jeans and tank top, she sighed happily as she picked up the phone. "Okay sorry about that. I needed to get comfortable." She paused and looked over the titles of the sons that she pulled out. "They all seem pretty good, but truth be told, I can't really pick one out. We should probably et together and try to sin them one day. It would give us a better perspective on it. Well, it's worked for me before."

He chuckled at her slightly confused tone. "We can do that tomorrow, I guess." She could hear the papers being rustled again and she couldn't help but grin. For the first time since she had met him (and she reminded herself that she only met him earlier that day), he seemed flustered or not all together. "You've got a good point with that. Do you want to move on to the others or should we keep that for the next day?" he asked.

She shrugged, even though he couldn't see her. "Nah, let's run through it, unless you're tired. I have a feeling that I'm going to be up for awhile yet," she said, looking over at the clock.

"Oh, did you have a hard day at the office, honey?" he asked in a sarcastic voice.

She burst into laughter. "Very cute. I like it." The smile faltered from her face when Tim's words came crashing back to her. "Nah, it's not that. Just some normal problems that I run into almost every day. Nothing that I can't handle, I'm sure." She chuckled at that, and the smile started on her face again, slower, but making its way to its usual brightness. "So, what did you want to tell me, or whatever? Hit me with it."

"Sure." She leaned down further on the couch, knowing that this was going to be far more interesting than her last conversation on the phone.

Chapter Two
pepsicolagurl@shaw.ca