Chapter Eight
"She'll be okay...I think." Austin spoke the words with uncertainty, and looked over at the balled up figure in the chair. She let out a grunt and pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head. "Man, I have to put up with this back home? Nu uh. I think I'm going to see if I can go back to work."
"Shut up, I'm trying to sleep over here. I'm not going to mention names, AUSTIN, but if someone hadn't been so excited to find that Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory was on last night at TWO in the morning, I might be in a better mood. Loser," she shot at him, and closed her eyes, curling up in the uncomfortable chair again. Both Joe and Austin looked over at her, as she did fall asleep.
He shook his head. "I've never known Brooke to do that before. I mean, I've been her manager since the beginning, but since when can she fall asleep in a small place like that."
Austin simply shook his head. "Don't ask me. Brooklyn's always there to surprise you. It's what she's best at." They let her sleep for ten minutes before their flight was ready to board. "Great, what am I going to do, carry a twenty four year old onto a plane?" With a sigh, he walked over to wake her up. He crouched down on his heels and brushed her hair back from where it was falling in her face.
Brooklyn moved her head towards his hand and let out a small sigh in her sleep. Chuckling to himself, he took a piece of her hair and started to tickle the end of her nose with it. She scrunched her nose a few times before she let out a sneeze, her eyes opening wide. "Oh, someone's dead. Is it time?" He nodded and reached out his hand to help her out. She took it and threw the backpack over her shoulder as they made their way to the desk. They had flown in on a private plane, but Tim McGraw was using it now, and the three had been forced to buy tickets back home. Not that she minded, Brooklyn thought when she passed her boarding pass to the man, waiting for it to be handed back. Sometimes, it was nice to fly with other people.
She followed Austin onto the plane, and finally found her seat in first class. With a large sigh, she sat down and pushed her backpack under the seat in front of her with her feet. "What am I, the only person on first class with a backpack?" she asked, looking around. It seemed that everyone else was carrying briefcases or purses. "Huh, well, I've always been weird."
"Do you want me to answer that, or are you just talking to yourself, Mrs. Montgomery?" Austin asked, opening up the novel he was holding.
Brooklyn pursed her lips in thought. "I was talking to myself, I suppose. With me, it's hard to tell." He looked over at her and raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, I'll just shut up and go back to sleep." She adjusted her lapbelt and leaned across to put her head on his shoulder. Her eyes drifted shut and she was asleep before the stewardess started to explain about the exits.
When she did wake up, the window shade beside her was closed, and Austin's arm was around her. She opened her eyes and yawned, feeling the pressure of Austin's head atop of hers. She couldn't find anyway out of the situation without waking him up. When these opportunities came, she always did something mischievous.
This time, it didn't turn out as she planned. Moving off to the side quickly, she pulled herself out of his embrace and sat up straight in her chair. Austin's head bounced onto her shoulder and immediately off. "Damn, that hurt," she said, rubbing her right shoulder. "How come these things never turn out like I hope?"
"You're not as smart as me. Damn, I think I have a concussion." They looked at each other and started to laugh, each rubbing their respective aching place. A few people sitting around them turned to look at them with disdainful looks. Brooklyn rolled her green eyes and leaned back in her chair. "All I can say is thank God that we missed their idea of lunch. It may be first class, but their food still sucks."
"That's only because you and I have somewhat expensive tastes. Besides, it helps when you have a brother that makes baked Alaska for a living." She shot him a quick smile. "There's some food in my bag. Your basic meal of potato chips and chocolate, but it works, doesn't it?"
He nodded and reached for her bag, pulling it out from under the seat. He opened it and passed her a bag of Doritos before taking the sour cream and onion chips for himself. "You're a goddess, honey. You always buy my favorite chips."
"I rock. Yeah, we all know." She quieted down and opened the bag like a pro, taking out one chip and examining it. "So, what's your plan for when we get back to Belleview?" she asked, finally putting the chip in her mouth.
Austin turned to look at her with a weird look. "Don't you mean OUR plan? Anyway, I have December off to prepare for the contest, so I was planning on you and I spending more time together. You know, do what we used to. Watch cartoons and eat sugar filled cereal in front of the television, annoy the neighbors, and maybe...pull out the trampoline?" A bright smile lit up her face, and she started to giggle. "Yeah, I know the way to your heart. Frosted Flakes and a trampoline. Now, if JC knew this..." He trailed off and looked out of the corner of his eyes.
The giggle stopped, and she started to shake her head. "Just let it go. I could understand if I had a crush on him or something. Then you would tease me relentlessly, but this? Please, Austin." He laughed and bundled up the empty chip bag, pushing it into the pocket in front of him. "We can do all that, but we've got a whole month of nothing to do. I'm bored, already. I'm not saying that I want to go on tour or anything. That's coming up, but I am just so...dissatisfied."
"With what?" he asked.
Her shoulders moved in a slight shrug. "I'm not sure. Myself, my career...life? Just one of those moods, I suppose."
He shook his head and wrapped it arm around her shoulders again. She leaned into the embrace, placing her head on his shoulder. "I know what it is. They're anniversary is coming up in a week or so, and then in January..." She nodded, willing herself not to cry.
December and January were always her worst months out of the year. It had been widely reported in newspapers and on the Internet that if she was touring those two months, her performances were slightly lacking. She didn't run around the stage as often, she didn't jump out into the middle of the crowd during her concerts, and she didn't play around with the band on stage like she used to. Everything was different, but they admitted that she still put on a show that was worth seeing. They just said to make sure to get concerts in any of the other ten months. "Yeah, that would be it. My God, Austin, this happened years ago. I was sev...eighteen, and I still mope around."
He took a deep breath, and thought about how to respond. "That's because you're a better person that I am. You still care about them, after everything that happened, but...hell, you always know how to make me speechless." She chuckled softly and sat up when she saw the flight attendant coming towards them. "So, you probably have a lot of practices coming up, huh?"
Joe peeked over the seats from his paperwork. "More than you would like to know. Brooke's going to bust her ass." She groaned, falling into her seat. "No, we just have to work on where she's going to be, and see if we can get everything in that we want to."
"In other words, I'm going to be putting on a concert for no one. Oh, happy, happy, joy, joy." Her green eyes rolled as she asked the flight attendant for a glass of soda. She sipped it and leaned back, sighing. "You want to know something? I actually can't wait to start the actual tour." Austin turned towards her, a dubious expression on his face. She giggled and sipped her drink again. "No, seriously. I mean, I want to be on stage again. It's just one big party for a few hours, and then you sleep and do it all over again. Sure, it's not all that fun, and not all glamorous, but I love it."
"Brooke, I forgot to tell you, the nominations for the ACMAs are coming out soon. You're eligible for Beaches of Cheyenne, and for the last album. From what I heard, you might be fighting yourself for song of the year." She shrugged, but no one could miss the happy smile on her face.
"Home, SWEET home," the two proclaimed in unison as they collapsed in the living room. "I hate flying. My legs are killing me," she said, stretching out her arms. "Besides, all that recycled air can get to a person. I love this couch, did I ever tell you that I love this couch? It's almost as comfortable as my bed." Brooklyn pushed a piece of hair off of her face and smiled.
Austin groaned from where he was laying on the loveseat. "Why do you always get the big couch, and I get stuck with this little one?" he asked. "Never mind, don't answer. I don't want to hear your reasons."
"Aw shucks," she said, snapping her fingers in disappointment.
"Brooklyn, here's a little piece of news that you need to know. The world does not revolve around you. Faith Hill, yes, but not you."
Her head raised and her eyes opened in dismay. "It doesn't? How could you make my life end like this?" she asked in a small voice before smiling. "So, Austin, wonderful big brother I am, I need a big favor. How would you like to escort me to the ACMAs this year? Faith will be there...with Tim, but she'll be there," she said in a sing-song voice.
Austin groaned. "You would ask me. You would bring up Faith Hill, wouldn't you? I can't. I'm going back to work and I can't get anytime off. I'm saving the rest of my vacations for when you're on tour, and need me to come out and protect you like the good brother I am." He grinned. "Brooke, I'm sorry. I really wish I could, but if I did go, I would lose my job."
She held up a hand. "I understand. Disappointed, but I understand. I guess I just have to come up with a date for the night. I don't want to go alone. Especially to the after party."
He grimaced from where he was sitting. "I really hate to say this, but why don't you take Tim?"
Her head shook, hair flying off her shoulders. "No, I really don't want to get him into the public eye. The poor guy would never be left alone, and I don't want that. There's some parts of my life that should stay private, and that's one of them." She sighed, and ran one hand through her hair. "Maybe I'll go talk to one of the guys that are opening for me or something. Not all of them could have dates, if they're going." Noting his look, she explained. "Rascal Flatts and Sons of the Desert are my openers for the tour. We're not doing the two or three legs of it. One long tour, small breaks, and then I hook up a big name for the last show. I'm going for George Strait this time. I have to top Tim and Faith from the last tour."
He nodded quickly. "Okay, then why don't you ask JC to go with you? I mean, you collaborated with him, so why wouldn't you take him with you."
"Hey, that's not a bad idea. I'll think about it, and ask him if he's free. Speaking of which, I should go call him. I'll be up in my room." Austin waved her away, watching as she climbed the stairs. She disappeared into her room and fell down on her bed, reaching for the phone. Out of all the times that she had called him, she had the number memorized by now. She punched the buttons deftly and waited for him to pick up.
"Hello?" a voice said.
She smiled. "Hi, there. Is JC around?" she asked.
The person on the other end hesitated for a moment. "Yeah, he is. If you wouldn't mind talking to me for a moment, I'm sure he'll be back in a second. He just ran down to get something from his car." The person paused again. "This might help if you knew my name. I'm Justin and you would be...Brooklyn, right?"
"Well, give the man a cigar," she said, teasingly. "That would be me. Wow, I'm short one member of your group, and then I've talked to you all. So, what's up?"
She made herself more comfortable on the bed, and pushed the pillows together under her head. "Not much, really. I'm more interested in you. I stole one of your CDs off of Lance, and I finally saw a picture of you. What I'm more interested in is the fact that you're from Belleview. How long have you lived there?"
Brooklyn liked him almost instantly. He had a very easy voice to listen to, and seemed to be very friendly. All her preconceptions of the group flew out the window right then and there. She thought that she may have lucked out with three members of the group, but four was damned good, and she was sure that the last member was just as friendly. "Not that long, really. Since I was seventeen, eighteen. I used to live in Nashville, but I moved out here around then. Cute little town. Why?"
"I'm from Tennessee, girl? You can't tell from the accent?"
"It's there, but it's not as thick as mine. So, you're the one that all the girls scream over. No offense, but I would pick Lance's voice to yours any day." A mischievous smile spread on her face as he chuckled. "I'm a sucker for a deep voice, usually. So, is this a guys night that I'm interrupting?"
She could hear the grin in his voice when he started to talk. "Not at all. I'm sure that Jace would be more excited to get a call from you rather than me hanging around his place."
"Low self-esteem is not good, Justin. You can just tell him that I called and that he can call me back. It's not that important." She was about to say goodbye when another thought popped into her mind. "Oh, and can you tell him thank you from me? I was in California for the past few days and didn't get a chance to thank him."
The grin was back, but it was more devilish, like her smile had been before. "And just what did my boy do for you?"
"No way. That tone of voice makes it sound like you're going to use it against him. Just tell him thank you from me, and I'll talk to him soon. Thanks, Justin."
He sighed deeply. "Fine. Good night, Brooklyn."
"Brooke, and good night."
"Who was that?" JC asked, a notebook in his hands when he came back in. Justin turned to look at him, his blue eyes following him as he put the book down, took off his jacket, and sat across from him in the recliner. "Justin, are you going to say anything? Who was it?"
A bright smile went over his face, and one eyebrow slid up. "You sent her flowers, didn't you? Since when are you the hopeless romantic?" JC looked at him, confused. "That was your dear Brooke Turner, and I just had a nice little conversation with her. We talked about her, me, Nashville...and you. She asked me to thank you for something, because she had been in California for the past few days. It just hit me, when she wouldn't tell me what you did. You sent her flowers."
He shook his head. "No, I didn't. Why didn't you just keep her on the phone until I came up?"
"She said that you could call her back. Sweet girl. When are you asking her out?" JC groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. You NEVER send a girl flowers unless you want her, and want her bad. So, was it roses or just a small bouquet of daises or something."
"Roses," he said unconsciously, his eyes flying open when he realized what he said. "Fine, I sent her roses, okay? It was meant as a thank you for working with her. Just that, nothing else."
Justin nodded, standing up. "Sure, I'll believe that for now. I'm going to run. My mom wanted me to move around a few things for her, but do me a favor? Call Brooke and talk to her for a little while. She sounded kind of...down."
An immediate look of protection went into JC's eyes. Justin tried not to laugh as he picked up his jacket and pushed his arms through the sleeves. He waved goodbye before slamming the door shut behind him. JC was already on the phone before he was even out the door. "Hey, New York," he said, smiling.
Her groan came through the receiver. "I told Justin to tell you to call me sometime later, not tonight. He doesn't listen, does he?"
"He's gone, is what he is. So, what's up?" He pushed back the recliner and relaxed. The phone was transferred to his shoulder, and his eyes shut.
"Not much. I just got back from sunny California, where we shot the first video, and I just got home, about a half hour ago. You can tell how my request for vacation ended up."
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Sounded like fun. Umm...New York, is there anything wrong, other than you being tired? You sound sort of..."
She was silent for a moment, and that concreted his thoughts even more. There was something wrong with her, and he had a pretty good idea of what it is. The biggest part of it would be finding out if Brooklyn would tell him about it. "No, not...not really. I'm just tired, but sort of hyped. You know how it is."
"Slept too long on the plane, and even though you're tired, you can't sleep. Yup, I know it enough." Now, both of them were silent. "Are you sure that there's nothing wrong, New York? I mean, you're telling me that there's nothing wrong, and I know that I should believe you. The problem is, I can't, because I don't really know you well enough."
The words that bounced back at him were a surprise. "Damned right you don't know me well enough, and...damn. JC, I'm sorry. I'm just...flying usually makes me irritable, especially long flights."
"Uh huh."
"'I'm serious. I didn't mean to snap at you like that, but...okay, so that's not all that's wrong. I've got a lot on my mind, and it's been weighing down on me for a little while."
His eyes were open now; they had been open ever since she had snapped at him. He slouched further into his seat. "So, tell me what's wrong. I can't promise that I have the answers, but the least I can do is listen, and maybe offer some advice." When she didn't say anything, he could feel a strange wave of emotion settle over him. "Take a chance, New York. Open up to someone. You can't keep it all hidden forever and from everyone."
"It's really nothing, JC. It's just a little stress and the addition of filming a video so quickly. We did it all in one shot...at first. You know, one time through and that was it. I was happy, but then the director decided to make it a little more difficult by adding another shot. Late night, no less. He decided to use Austin, and we thought that it would be another one shot sort of thing. Let me tell you, it's not as easy as it looks to break a glass against the door. THIRTY shots later, and they used it. I am so tired. That's it."
He took a deep breath, looking forward in disbelief. She was still holding out. He could tell, and it was beginning to make him upset. He knew that Brooklyn was a very quiet person, someone who kept everything inside, but this was becoming a little much. He could wait, though. It wouldn't be that long until she finally gave up. "Okay, if you say so. Wait...did you say that Austin is in the video? As in your brother, Austin?"
She chuckled in the middle of a yawn. "Yup, that Austin. We needed a male on short notice for one shot, and that was it. All he had to do was walk out of the bedroom with a suitcase, and all I had to do was throw a glass at the door. Talk about your girl power."
He laughed softly. "Sounds like you had a blast. Did Tim go with you?"
"Uh, no. He doesn't...care for long days like that. I'm sure that if it had something to do with the planning of an album, or something to do with my contract, he would have been interested. Other than that, I don't even think that he likes to come to the concerts."
"New York, concerts have to do with your life. Videos have to do with your life. He doesn't like those? That's who you are, as an artist."
The groan came through, loud and clear. "Please, JC, don't remind me. I'm sick of people thinking of me as Brooklyn Turner, the artist. I want to be known as...as..." She trailed off, uncertain of what to finish with.
A smile started to spread on his face, and it became brighter as he finished off her sentence. "You mean, you want to be known as New York, right? Just another person in the world, that happens to have a very cool nickname." She laughed at that. "Seriously, I know how you feel. I don't want to be known as JC Chasez, the pop singer, all the time. It can get a little tiring. I would rather be known as Josh, the way my family sees me."
"Yeah, that would be it. I want to be a normal, small person, in a big, big world. Just someone that doesn't matter, someone that no one knows, someone that could be perfectly happy just to be a nobody. A person who no one stops on the street for an autograph or a picture. It's not that I don't mind or like it. I love it."
He nodded, closing his eyes again. "It just becomes a little much. You want to escape the hysteria and the persona and just become yourself again. You don't want to always smile for the camera, you don't always want to be nice."
"Sometimes you just want to pull the covers over your head and ignore the world. Just sleep the day away and not worry if you have to be at the studio, or if you have a concert that night."
"You want to be able to just walk into a club, or wait in line for a movie without someone watching your every move, to make sure that you aren't going to be mobbed or attacked."
"We're a sad bunch, JC. All of us famous people, all of us well known people, we're a sad bunch. No privacy, no nothing. Not many people would give up their privacy, given the choice, but we have NO choice."
Sighing, he opened his eyes and looked around. He was never a person that strived to have the latest and best stuff around him, but the whole apartment screamed that he had money. Everything told someone that he had enough money to get such a big television set. He had the money to get one of the best telephones on the market. He had the money to have leather covered furniture. In his opinion, it was almost sickening. "Tell me about it, New York. Can we please get off the depressing topics? I'm not really up to sitting here and complaining about my life. That's not the sort of call that I expected. You're supposed to keep me happy over here."
"I'm not?" she asked innocently. "I thought that it was supposed to be the other way around. I thought that you were supposed to be the one to keep me happy. This is ridiculous. WE are ridiculous." They both sighed this time, in unison. "Okay, you want a happy note in my life? There are none."
That brought a small smile to his face. "Nice try, Miss Turner. I happen to know that there has to be at least one happy point in your life."
He could see her shaking her head on the phone, but didn't call attention to it. He didn't like to be wrong. "Not that I can think of. Remember, I just got off the plane and in the door. There's...well, there's something but it would be insignificant to you. Lance would probably understand. We finished up on most of the planning of the tour. All the parts that I had to help with, anyway, and we found out who's opening for me. Like I told Joe, it's country answer to the boyband. Rascal Flatts, a Canadian group, and Sons of the Desert, an American group."
"Really? Have you met them yet?" he asked.
"Nope. I don't meet them until January, but the way that my schedule has been going, it's probably going to end up being tomorrow. Joe has a tendency of surprising me. Anyway, my tour starts in the middle of January, and there should be a few concerts out here before we head off to Australia, for all of February. Goodbye, Valentine's Day."
He grinned brightly this time, and started to laugh. "Something tells me that you're not normally a person that cares all that much for Valentine's Day."
Her words came out in a drawl. "Well, give the man a cigar, and ding, ding, ding. That is correct, Mr. Chasez. I could care less about the Hallmark cards that say everything you wish you could say, but were too embarrassed, because you're not a flowery romantic like them. I also don't need the flowers, the candy, and the sappy 'I Love You' stuff that stores cram their shelves with."
"Oh, someone's bitter."
"Nah, realistic. There's a big difference."
The one squeaky wheel on the cart turned sideways again, and with an impatient sigh, Brooklyn yanked the handle, putting it back straight. "Now I remember why I hate shopping," she said to herself, reaching for a box of crackers. She looked at the box and tossed it in with the jumble of cans and boxes.
"It's not exactly the most fun," Tim agreed, looking at the list in her hand. "Why do you need all of this fancy stuff, anyway?" he asked, his eyes going down the written words. She looked up, her eye glasses reflecting the overhead lights. "I mean, these special potatoes and...caviar? You don't even like caviar."
She made a face and looked at another box. "It's an acquired taste, really. Austin's working on some of his new ideas, and I'm the idiot that offered to pick this stuff up." The box was put back, and she picked up another one. "It's beluga caviar, too, not just caviar."
Shaking his head, he looked around for the next item on the list. "Yeah, like there's a big difference."
"There is. Taste, texture...do we really need to talk about fish eggs? This is making me sick." Sighing, the new box was added, and she pushed ahead to where he was standing. "What, can't find the wheat crackers? I'm going cheap and getting Triscuits," she said with a smile, taking the box from over his shoulder.
The couple went to the next aisle, where Brooklyn was on the hunt for certain canned vegetables that would be fine for dinner, but not Austin's creations. "Okay, no more fish egg talk. What have you been up to?"
"Hmm? Oh, finding a date for the ACMAs. Austin's busy, and I'm trying to decide if I should take JC with me." She looked over and sighed. "Tim, don't start this. You know that I won't take you, anyway. You never want to go to the awards shows, so what's the big deal? Like you said before, it's just a bunch of singers talking about trivial things like notes and riffs, right?" She didn't want to tell him different, that all the awards shows that she had been to were different. The country genre were a close knit group. There usually wasn't just passing pleasantries and "your album sounds great." There was usual "How's the family," and other talk that made them sound like the happy pseudo-family that they were.
He rolled his eyes and passed her a can of corn to look at. "I'd rather that you took me rather than JC. I know, I understand that he's your friend and all, but it weirds me out a little."
"Please, Tim. He's exactly what you said, a friend. If it bothers you that much, I'll ask...Lance or someone."
His eyes narrowed as she picked up a can of green beans and looked at the label. She didn't care for them, but Austin did, which was the only reason that she would buy them. "Just who the hell is Lance, now?" he asked in a loud tone. A woman walking by looked at him strangely and pulled her child along with her.
"A friend of mine that I met through JC. He's in the group with him. All I truly know about him is that he sings bass, he grew up on country music, and he's from Mississippi. Other than that, I'm lost. All right?" Her voice was becoming testy as she threw the few cans she was holding in the cart and pushed it further down the aisle.
"No, wait a second, Brooklyn. Why would you ask him?"
She turned to look at him with a patient smile, but anyone could tell that it was forced. "I would ask him because, like I said, he's a country fan, and I'm sure that he would get a kick out of the after party. That's all. JC isn't a big country fan, but he's my first choice at the moment. He IS my first choice, because I know him the best, and Austin approves."
His eyes almost bugged out of his head at that moment. "Oh, so it's okay if Austin approves of your dates, but not if I do, huh?"
"That's not the case, Tim. I used the wrong wording or something, okay? What I meant is that Austin wouldn't worry if I went with JC or Lance, because he knows and likes JC. He's never met Lance, but anyone that's my neighbor is considered cool, to him, anyway." She pushed the cart again, heading over to the frozen meat section. She stopped in front of the steaks and began looking through to find a few marbled T-bones.
Tim stepped up beside her and cross his arms across his chest like a little child. "And what if I want to go this time?"
"I'd say no, because you're acting ridiculous. Seriously, it's for your own good. I don't want to have you field phone calls, letters, and requests. I know that I say that country fans are the best ones around, but sometimes they can get a little bad." His eyes bored into hers as she picked through the steaks methodically. She turned her head back to the meat and smiled when she found what she was looking for. "Don't even bother trying. I've told you this before, Tim, I want to keep you out of the public eye. Simple as that."
His arms crossed again, and he leaned over to whisper in her ear. "I'm not bothering to stay around you when you're like this, but I just want you to remember. You can't cover everything up like you did a few years ago. Not everything can be hidden so easily, no matter how popular you are." He turned on his heel and walked out, Brooklyn staring incredulously after him.
"There's no way he can know," she said to herself absently. No one turned to look at her as she stared at the spot where he had walked out. "There is absolutely no...Austin is going to kill me," she added, hurrying through the rest of the meat.
It felt like everyone was staring at her, everyone was whispering her secret behind her back. It was true that she covered up a lot about what happened, but no one was supposed to know, other than Austin and her. No one was supposed to know. Her hands slammed down on a roast, and she picked it up, throwing it absently before heading towards the check out. Her mind was racing with possibilities of how he could have found out. There was no way, she told herself as she handed over a few bills to the cashier, her fingers automatically pulling out the right amount. She was too good at covering it all up. NO ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO KNOW.
Once the bags were placed in the back, she drove over to the specialty shop where Austin usually bought his ingredients. She was in and out in a flash, her purchases being tossed in the back. Sliding behind the wheel, the key was turned in the ignition, and she headed down the road, her eyes seeking out breaks in the traffic to where she could turn off. The break came and she yanked the wheel to the side, using one hand to turn up the radio. Johnny Cash, obviously the radio station's classic play of the day, sang back to her as she made her way down her street.
The truck was successfully parked, and she climbed out, reaching for the bags. Austin came out of the front door to help her, picking up the remainder of what she couldn't. "What's with the face, Brooke?" he asked.
She turned her head, very quickly, to look at him, and sighed. "I don't know. Tim said something really strange today, but...it's impossible, is what it is. It's probably just a suspicion, and he decided to call me on it. I don't know."
Austin could hear the strange tone of her voice, and knew that it could only mean one thing. "Oh, God. What did he say? What did you guys talk about."
"Well," she began, putting the bags on the counter, and turning around to look at him, "we were talking about the ACMAs and who I was going to take. I mentioned JC, and Lance jumped in my head then, just in case. He started to get all defensive, about how I wouldn't take him, how I wouldn't go public with him, and then he said...don't worry about it, Austin. I'm sure that it's nothing."
He raised his eyebrows, looking down at her. "Brooklyn Arizona, you tell me and you tell me now. Okay?"
She sighed again. "He....he told me that I couldn't cover up everything like before. Austin, I never told him about that. Never, but he knows. Somehow, he knows about it. I don't...I don't get it. I mean, we did a good job. It hasn't leaked for years, and it won't leak now, but... God, I hate this."
"What do you mean, he knows? How could he find out?"
She shrugged, when he pulled up a stool for her to sit on. She perched on it carefully and took a deep breath. "There's hundreds of ways, I suppose. Family, friends, old newspapers, Internet. Either way, he knows, and he called me on it. What am I supposed to do? You know that I can't lie. I'm the worst liar in the world." She raised her head to look at him, and her eyes widened immediately. "No, don't even think that, Austin. You're not going after him. I won't let you."
"That's exactly it, Brooke. You're a horrible liar. I don't like the idea of Tim knowing. This is something that he could hold over your head, you know."
Shaking her head, she forced a smile on her face. "There no way that...damn." Her eyes followed Austin as he got up and answered the phone. Whoever it was, he asked them to call later, and then he came back to sit with her. "Like I was saying, there's no way that he would do something like that. He's probably just mad that I don't want to put him in the magazines with me."
Austin didn't look happy. The look on his face was pure dread. Hiding what happened wasn't something that either of them were proud of, but they had no choice, and now, after so long, it was coming back to haunt them. "You may trust him with the world, but I don't. There's something about him that I don't like, and I don't think I ever will. Tim does not seem like the type of person that you want to tell all your intimate secrets to."
"I didn't tell him," she wailed.
"I know, honey. I know that you didn't. He found out, though, and we're going to have to do something about it. This can't go on, and it's not something that you and I can hide from all our lives."
Her eyes gleamed with anger. "What the hell do you want me to do, huh? Call a press conference? I don't think so. You know that normally I wouldn't care about this, but this could ruin me. We never thought this all the way through. It wouldn't just ruin me, it would ruin you, too. We'd both hit rock bottom, and you know it."
His head nodded up and down very slowly. "Yeah. God, this was stupid. Why did we even do it in the first place?"
Tears filled her green eyes, and made them sparkle like the emeralds they were. "I don't know. We thought it was smart at the time." The breath she took in and let out was shuddery, close to tears. "I just need to be alone, think things through. You weren't really a part of it. It was all me, anyway. I just...I'll be in my room. If anyone calls, just tell them that I'm not in the mood to talk, and I'll call back the next day or something, okay?" He nodded as she turned out of the kitchen and towards the stairs.
Her feet felt like lead as she forced them to lift and hit the next stair. A few times, she thought that she was going to fall backwards and take a long dive, but she managed to hold onto the banister each time. Finally, she was at the top, and looked a little lost. Instantly, she went towards her room and opened the door. She slipped in and closed it behind her before looking at the knob. She hadn't turned the look in ages, wasn't even sure if it worked anymore.
Brooklyn knew that she may shut some people out of her life, but she had never locked her door to her brother. "There's a first time for everything, I suppose," she whispered to herself, her fingers landing on the lock. She didn't turn it, just felt the coldness of the piece of metal. It represented her life, at the moment. The cold metal lock that she turned all the time. It would be just like locking her door shut, she reasoned, and turned the lock with a brisk snap.
She moved over to her bed and sat down, her hands on her thighs as she looked into nothing; looked at nothing. Her hand wanted to head to the phone. She wanted to pick it up and call JC, see if she could make some sense out of the conversations she had just had, but not even he could help her. "That would mean that I have to tell him everything, and if I can't tell Tim..." Trailing off, she fell back on the bed, letting the tears fill her eyes again. "I'm too dependent on him, I guess. I'm too dependent on everyone."
The tears began to fall, slowly at first, but they gathered speed, creating angry rivers on her face. She didn't sob, she didn't sniffle. She didn't even notice that they were falling. Her eyes drifted shut, and listened as the phone beside her started to ring. Her hand came out, but not to pick up the handset. Instead, her fingers brushed the ringer switch and turned it to the side, quieting the phone. The sound of Austin's voice downstairs raised up to her, but she didn't hear much of what he was saying.
She rolled over to her side and moved her pillow around so that she was more comfortable. The afternoon sun was shining in her window, about to turn into a beautiful sunset, but she could care less at that point. Her mind was stuck on three different subjects, and it seemed as if they were going to be stuck there for a long time. Her parents, Tim, and the cover up. Everything that she just wanted to forget for the moment, and ignore as long as she could manage.
Realizing what her mind just told her, she sat up again, looping her arms around her knees. "Did I just think that I want to forget and ignore Tim?" she asked herself in a low voice. "No, I just want to forget and ignore what he told me, that's it." She nodded her head firmly, telling her mind to shut up for just a minute. To give her a moment of peace. That's all she wanted, was a moment of peace.
"Ugh," was all either of them could say in passing. Austin rubbed his eyes, dangerously close to falling towards his mug of coffee. Brooklyn was on her feet, trying to stay awake, but it was obvious that neither of them were in the mood to be happy. A frown had found its place onto her face, and it seemed as if it were going to stay there for a little while. Austin, on the other hand, had worry lines etched into his forehead. Even when he attempted a smile, they stayed.
"Can you turn on the radio? It'll be better than sitting her in silence," Austin remarked, watching as she reached over and flicked the switch. Faith Hill sang out to them, but he didn't even notice. Brooklyn moved towards the table and pushed the papers away from her before putting her mug down. She sunk into her seat and sighed, running her finger around the rim on her mug.
She looked over at him, and for the first time, he noticed how tired her eyes looked. "So, what's the plan for today? Are you going to be working in the kitchen, or did you want to head into Nashville, do a little shopping?" she asked. He shrugged, and listened to the radio with more attention.
She turned in her seat briskly when she heard what the DJ was saying. "We've got a little piece of information here, all you Brooklyn Turner fans. I just opened up a copy of the National Enquirer this morning, and the most wonderful picture and article was in there. What is this, the first time that she's been in there?"
"What the hell is he talking about?" she asked in a low tone, but kept her eyes on the radio.
"That's right, SOMEONE finally got a picture of Brooklyn and her boyfriend, Tim Croft. Amazing, huh? Anyway, you'll have to pick up the magazine to see what it says, but if this is true, JC Chasez, who collaborated with her, is going to have a little competition, I think. And now-" She had gotten up before they had even said who was going to be on, and turned off the radio.
Austin stood up and pulled his jacket on over his tee shirt. "Don't say anything. I'm going to go and get that magazine right now. Just...do something," he said, pushing a pair of sneakers onto his feet. He picked up her keys from the counter, and headed outside, to where her truck was parked.
He pulled out of the driveway as quick as he could, and he listened as the tires squealed. He didn't know what he was so worked up about, but he knew that the last thing he wanted to hear was that Brooklyn's relationship was now all over the world. "The last freaking thing that we needed," he muttered, turning the corner to head towards the local convenience store. If anyone had The National Enquirer, they would. "Damn it, I don't want my sister to be seen publicly with that piece of crap," he told himself, pulling into an empty stall.
The truck door slammed after him as he practically ran into the store, heading immediately to the newspapers and magazines. There it was, staring back at him. A picture of when the couple went out for dinner in Nashville. He knew exactly when it was taken by what Brooklyn was wearing. A growl came from his throat as he picked up that magazine, and added a newspaper to his hand automatically, like he did almost every morning. Walking up to the counter, he forced a smile on his face as he made small talk with one of his friends, and paid him.
As soon as he was back in the truck, he stared at the Enquirer with disgust before starting the engine. The ride back seemed much shorter, and he was inside before he realized it. "I haven't looked yet, but you made the front cover, Brooke," he said sarcastically, handing it to her.
Her green eyes scanned the front, a deeper frown on her face. "No one knew about this. Hell, I knew about the date at the last minute. How do these people get this stuff?" she asked no one in particular before opening the paper and scanning for the article. Her eyes opened wider, and she hit Austin with her hand. "Umm...you better look at this," she said, weakly.
The paper was passed back to him, and all the color drained from his face before it turned beat red. "That asshole is dead," he said in a low voice. "So, your Tim gave them an exclusive? Brooke, this is ridiculous. I thought you said that he wouldn't do something like this."
"He wouldn't," she said in his defense. "Besides, we were talking about...you know. Not my relationship with him. These people lie all the time." Her finger jabbed the paper, and she sighed deeply. "This isn't what I needed this morning."
The front door opened, and closed quickly. Brooklyn's eyes flew to the doorway, waiting for the person to make their entrance. Austin caught her look, and his eyes followed herself. The sound of shoes dropping to the floor traveled into the kitchen, and Austin stood up, his fists clenched. She knew that if something was going to happen, there was no way that she could stop it. She wasn't about to get in between two very angry men that wanted to hurt each other.
"Hey, sweetie," Tim said from the doorway, smiling at her, before Austin started towards him.
Chapter Nine
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