Chapter Eighteen
"Hello, sexy!" Brooklyn called out from where she was sitting on the window frame of her truck. She waved at JC, who was jogging towards her truck. She whistled a cat call quickly before smiling at him, her chin propped on her hands, which were laying on the top of the truck. "You're looking fine this morning," she said with a grin as he approached the truck.
His eyebrows went up, a la Brooklyn. "Are you comfortable, or should I go and get you a pillow?" he asked.
Her shoulders moved in a shrug. "It's okay. You try having a piece of rubber shoved up your ass. Come on, let's head over to the diner before the lunch rush. Not that it really matters, since they always save a place for me," she said with a laugh, slipping into the driver's seat. JC climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut behind her. "How was your morning?" she asked, starting the engine before pulling out.
Now, he was the one that shrugged. It seemed that he was copying most of her mannerisms. "Very boring, since I'm not staying with you. I watched a little television, made a call and laid there, bored as could be."
"Hm...a pop star laying on his bed. Why are there nasty thoughts running through my head right now." He laughed as he turned down the blaring radio to a more quiet volume. "Hey, that was a good song," she complained. "I can't believe that you turned down 'The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia' by Reba McEntire. In other words, you're no friend of mine."
She started to hum the chorus under her breath as she turned the corner, waving at someone. "My apologies, New York. I didn't realize that you would leave me and forget all about me because of one song."
"One song? ONE SONG? That is one hell of a song. That was one of her best. You should see the video. It's fantastic." Shaking her head, she slowed down and turned into the parking lot of the diner. "One song," she muttered under her breath. "Either you have a lot of nerve, or you're just really stupid to say that in my presence." Laughing, she pushed him towards his door. "Come on, let's get going. I'm starving."
They walked into the diner together and immediately went over to the same two stools that were always available for her. Molly turned around as soon as the bell above the door rang, and her eyes widened, a smile spreading on her face. "Well, if it isn't the cutest couple in Tennessee right now. Come on, you two. You just tell me what you want, and it's on the house. How was the tour so far? I saw you on television saying that you were getting married, and I saw the awards show. You looked so beautiful."
Brooklyn blushed slightly, and JC wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You don't know how many times I've told her that, but I don't think she believes me. She did look gorgeous, didn't she?"
"Gorgeous? You must mean drop dead gorgeous. And the performance was fantastic. It was so nice to see you honor that wonderful man. I remember when he came in here," she started, sighing like a school girl. "He was definitely cute. So, how was the tour? You have a beautiful tan there, sweetie."
She laughed, feeling the back of her hair. She had done it up in the same style as the night before, and she still thought that it looked good, despite what Tim had said. "And for once, it's real. This is from touring around Australia for a month. You should have seen me before I came back. I was even darker. I have never had such a deep tan in my life. It's really beautiful out there, too. I did mostly outdoor concerts, because of the temperatures. The occasional wind was a pure blessing when and if it came." Her hand slipped into her purse and she pulled out five large packets of pictures. "Mia was the official photographer in Australia when I was on stage, so I ended up with quite a few of them."
Molly and JC practically attacked the pictures while she walked behind the counter and ordered for both of them. She came back and sat down, listening to their comments over the pictures. Suddenly, JC whistled under his breath and stared at one photo, a smile starting to spread on his face. "New York, are you telling me that you hide a body like that under all those clothes? I want a copy of this picture," he said with a laugh, showing her which one it was. She groaned when she saw that it was the one of her outside the pool of one of the hotels, sitting with one of her band members. The part that had enticed him was the small black bikini that she was wearing.
"He picks this time to turn into a sick bastard, instead of when he had all the chances in the world and I wouldn't have minded," she said with a smirk, taking the picture from him. "I may give you a copy of this, but from the stories that I've heard, I think Joey might enjoy this more than you will. So will Lance, for that matter. And Justin. I've never talked to Chris, but what the hell, I'll send him a copy, too. Then, all of your friends will have one, and you JC? You're going to be like the little boy on the street, watching all of his friends get brand new bicycles and you know that you're still going to have to ride your old sister's reject of a bicycle that still has Strawberry Shortcake all over it," she finished with a grin, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "I really need a hair cut," she said absently, looking in a mirror across from her.
JC was still laughing on her side. "So, I guess that means that I'm not getting a picture, right?" She nodded quickly, turning to look at him. "It doesn't really matter, considering that I share the tour bus with Joey and Lance. I can just look at theirs and drool like a mad man," he said, pushing her lightly.
She smirked again, turning to look towards the kitchen. Their food was almost up, she could tell. "New York, did you do something new with your hair? You did. It looks fantastic."
Smiling self consciously, she patted the back of it, making it pouf out a little more. She had taken small pieces of her hair and twisted it a little before pinning it so that the ends would create a nice little mess. It took a lot of pins for her full hair, but she liked the effect. "Thanks. Um...can you be honest with me?" He nodded, watching her. "This is almost like asking if I look fat in what I'm wearing," she said under her breath.
He caught it anyway. "Which you don't. You look great, as usual."
"Thanks. I can always count on you for a compliment. No, seriously, it's one of those questions that men hope they never hear but this is a little different. Does this hair style make my neck look too long?" she asked him, her eyes anxious for the answer.
Shaking his head, he propped his elbow on the counter, looking at her. "I can honestly say that it doesn't, New York. You know, it makes you look like a modern day Audrey Hepburn," he said, smiling. "I like it. Why would you even think that?" he asked her, reaching out his hand to touch the mass of hair at the back of her head.
"It doesn't matter. I just wanted to know. I, personally, like it, but I didn't know if it was that flattering."
"This coming from the woman that can wear anything and still look beautiful. She can make a muumuu look beautiful," Molly added as she put the plates in front of them. "Call if you need anything, honey. We're about to be swamped."
Brooklyn grinned, shaking her head. "It's the other way around. If you need some help, just yell for me, because you know that I'll be more than happy to do whatever you need."
JC nodded along with her. "Me, too, Molly. What, you think I wouldn't be able to help?" he asked Brooklyn when he saw her shaking his head. "I swear, I can. You should see me at Christmas dinner at my house. I can set a table for twenty and clear it off in two minutes flat."
"Sure. I can see your nose getting longer, Pinnochio, or are you just happy to see me?" she asked, patting his cheek. "Eat. Enjoy yourself. Never mind, it looks like you already are."
"Cute, New York. I know why you keep me around, why do I keep you around?"
"Because I'm made of sugar, and spice, and everything nice?" He just shook his head.
"What do you do, keep the air conditioning on its coldest setting?" she complained during a commercial break. "And, another thing, I've noticed that you're quite into Days. You've been watching it when you're on tour, haven't you?"
He shrugged. "I have nothing better to do around this time. It's just something to pass the time. Besides, I got to see what happened before you did in Australia. I spoiled it a few times for you, didn't I?" he asked, laughing. "Do you want a sweater or something?" he asked her, as she turned back to the television when the show came back on.
She waved her hand as she watched Marlena and John having another fight. "Nah, I'll be fine," she said, smiling when she heard Marlena sticking up for herself for once.
"You've got goose bumps on your arms. Come here," he said, reaching towards her. She moved back on the bed until she was leaning against him, feeling a little warmer instantly from his body heat. He wrapped his arms around her small waist and rested his hands on her arms. She snuggled a little closer to him and rested her head against the side of his neck, watching the show go on.
JC wasn't. He couldn't help looking down at the warm body beside his, starting from the top of her head. He admired the way her hair shone in the light, her blonde streaks looking like gold to him. He let go of her with one hand and reached behind her head to tuck in one of the pins that was coming loose. "Thanks," she murmured. He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering what that murmur sounded like. Pure music, really. It was probably the sexist thing he had heard in his life. Just the way that her voice lowered a little bit and took on a softer tone.
He tried to watch television, Lord knows that he did, but it was a little harder to follow with Brooklyn pressed up against him, her eyes drooping a little bit from the heat she was enveloped in at the moment. It was one of the most adorable things he had ever seen.
Forcing himself to follow what was happening between Shawn, Belle, Philip, and Chloe, he tried his best to ignore Brooklyn. Harder than it sounded, he realized. It worked somewhat, and when he looked down at her after the soap opera had ended, he saw that she had fallen asleep, her eyes closed peacefully. He moved one hand to turn off the television so that she wouldn't be woken up by it, and put his hand back on her arm, not wanting to lose contact with her for a long time. He couldn't believe that he was this blessed to be holding one of the most beautiful women in the world, even if they were just friends. In her mind.
He watched her sleep, how she breathed lightly, how her eyes fluttered a little during her dream. Ten minutes after she had fallen asleep, her eyes opened cautiously and she yawned. "There must be something about you, Jace, because you put me to sleep like that," she said, snapping her fingers.
"I'm that boring and since when do you call me by a nickname? You've always called me JC," he asked, pretending to be hurt. He blinked his cobalt eyes a few times.
She smiled back at him, before resting her head to where it had been before. "It had to happen sometime. I'm blaming Lance for it, since he rarely used your real name when we went to the awards show. Would you rather that I go back to calling you JC?" she asked him. He shook his head quickly. "And that was pretty funny. No, it's hard for me to fall asleep around people, for some reason. You're a different story." When she craned her neck and saw his confused expression, she started to chuckle under her breath as she rubbed her eyes. "Well, I can't fall asleep with someone unless I feel safe, almost secure around them. Believe me, sweetie, I feel more than safe with you than I have with some people in a very long time...for some reason." She laughed again and sighed. "Oh, did I tell you? I decided that since I can't get ahold of Allie, and since she seems to be avoiding me like I have some sort of weird disease, I thought of someone else to take her place, if need be. LeAnn Rimes is still a friend of mine, even though she's trying to get out of a contract with Curb. Not that I blame her, because her father, who's her manager, kind of screwed her over with the deal, but she'll work it out eventually." Her shoulders moved in a shrug. "Oh my God, I totally forgot! I have something super important to tell you," she said, smiling at him.
He tightened his arms a little before he looked down at her. "All right. I'll bite. What is it?"
"Well, Tim and I had a wonderful dinner last night...you already know that part, but we did a lot of talking, too. Mainly about the wedding. He totally surprised me with this," she said, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again. He loved the way that they sparkled at him. "He told me that he wanted to put this whole fight thing behind him. I really respect him for that, but he said more than just that, JC." She broke off and pulled away from him, turning so that she was facing him, sitting on her knees. "JC, I can't believe this. He wanted to know if it would be all right if he asked you to be at the wedding."
His brow furrowed. "Wonderful, but you already invited me to the wedding, New York."
She laughed, shaking her head. "No, it's more than just that. I know that I invited you, but he wanted to apologize to you and part of that apology is asking you to be his best man. Can you believe it?"
"No." The word came out very dry and flat. Her eyebrows raised. "New York, you can't be serious."
"I'm dead serious. I think it's fantastic. It was such a good idea. He should ask you...tomorrow, I think. You are going to say yes, right?" Her expression was so curious, so earnest.
She was actually falling for his string of lies, JC realized. "Brooklyn, it's not a good idea," he said and got off the bed. He walked towards the window and opened the curtains, looking out to the street. There wasn't a hell of a lot to look at, but it was better than watching her face. It was about to fall, and he was going to be the cause of it.
He heard her stand up and come over to him, putting her hand on his shoulder. He looked at the perfectly manicured nails, obviously still from her tour. Normally, Brooklyn kept her nails short and neat, not that long. Then again, he knew that for a female performer, it looked better. "What's the problem? I thought that you would be happy about this. I know that I am."
"And I can tell that you are, but you have to understand, Brooklyn, I..." He couldn't finish. He didn't know how to finish.
Her hand was removed and she walked around him to stand at his side. "This must be serious. You're using my full name. You rarely do that. I prefer you calling me New York to Brooklyn."
"That's because this is serious," he said, turning to look at her. He leaned against the closed window and regarded her silently. Her hand came up and toyed with her necklace, running a single finger over the letters. "You don't get it, do you?" he asked, becoming angry. He wasn't mad at her, but at what Tim was doing. He was trying to turn them against each other, he could see that plain as day, but she couldn't. He wasn't happy about being the one to tell her, though. "This is all part of his plan. Do you really think that he's going to allow you and me to hang around each other like we do now? No. As soon as you're married, that ring that's on your finger turns into a hand cuff, and he's going to be with you, every single step that you take. Not only that, but he's the one with the key. He doesn't like me, he doesn't want me around, and he doesn't want me anywhere near you. At all."
She stared at him blankly for a few moments before her eyes cleared. Shaking her head, she stared at him again. He could tell by the way that the blood was rushing to her cheeks and filling them that she was starting to get angry. Not only that, but if she didn't speak within a minute, she was going to be livid. Luckily, she started before that. "Joshua Scott Chasez, I can not believe you! What the hell are you talking about? Look, you may have a problem with Tim, that's fine, but this is the man that I'm going to marry. You cannot tell me what to do. Neither can he. He can't stop me from seeing anyone, but you're definitely making me think otherwise. I don't know if I want to be around you when you act like this. What the hell is your problem?"
Oh, you mean besides falling in love with you, he thought. There was no chance in hell that he was going to say anything remotely close to that. "Listen to me. Why do you think he would ask me to stand up for him? Not only can I not ruin the wedding, which is what he was thinking, but he's giving me a chance."
"Damn straight he's giving you a chance. He's giving you a chance to become friends and instead, you turn around and make this into some sort of personal attack. Where the hell do you get off?" She was screaming now, and he was pretty close.
"He's giving me a chance, but not the chance that you think it is. He's giving me a chance, one last chance, to be near you. In a way, he's telling me that after this, you'll be his and I have no claim on you at all. He's telling me that I'm not allowed to be around you. It's like he's drawing a line in the sand in front of you and telling me that I can't cross it. You really don't get it. New York, I don't know if you're stupid or just acting that way," he spat out, staring at her. His eyes glowed with anger. He was practically radiating with it.
What he wasn't expecting was to see tears rising in her eyes. "You know, because I know that you're tired because you don't sleep well in hotels, and because I'm tired, I think I'm just going to leave before this gets any worse. Just...I need some time to cool down. I'll be sure to call you before you go. I'm warning you, if you call me before, I won't answer it. Caller Identification works wonders in this century." She turned and stalked towards the door, picking up her purse and putting it over her shoulder. "You know, out of all of my friends and everyone that I care for and love, I thought that you would be the last person to do something like this."
"Me, too," he said quietly as she walked out the door.
Her feet hurried across the carpeting of the hotel towards the stairs. The elevator would take far too long to get there. Instead, her feet pounded through the fire escape down three flights before she pushed out of the lobby and into the bright sunlight. Her eyes looked around the parking lot, still burning with tears before she found her truck. Before she started running towards it, though, she looked up to what she knew was JC's room. She wasn't surprised to see him standing there, looking down at her. Her eyes narrowed and she turned her head, walking towards the truck. She took her time unlocking it and pulling herself in.
She didn't want him to see how much it affected her, what he had said. This was a big deal to her. Tim wanted to put this whole thing behind him, and JC did nothing but ridicule him and come up with stupid excuses. She couldn't believe him. This wasn't the man that she had met, the one that she had become friends with. Still, for some unknown reason, she thought about what he had said, and wondered if even a little part was true.
"No, it can't be. Tim's not like that," she told herself as she pulled out of the parking lot, not looking back. She turned up the radio so that she was distracted from her thoughts and turned the corner. She may have told herself that, but her mind was screaming at her that this was the same man that had once put his hands on her in a way that she didn't like. "Damn it, that's over. There's nothing to worry about. It's just...JC being an ass. That's all," she said over the radio.
With a sigh, she turned it down and pulled her cell phone out of her bag. Dialing quickly, she held it up to her ear, cursing the piece of technology in her hand as she did so. The phone rang a few times before it was picked up. "Hello, Turner residence," Tim said, the sound of the television in the background.
"Hey, sweetie. I'm coming home around now. Do you want to do me a favor?"
His voice, the same one that she had fallen in love with, answered her back. "Sure. Why are you coming home so soon? I thought that you were spending more time with JC today."
No malice in his voice, no nothing. "I was, but we got in a fight and I just had to leave. He was being an ass, and unfortunately, I was being a bitch. Look, would you mind seeing if there's any ice cream in the house? I need some fattening food. I think I ate all of it last time."
"Hold on, I'm not on the cordless."
She waited for him to walk into the kitchen and check out the freezer. While he did that, she tapped one finger on the wheel, staring blankly at the traffic at the red light. Why did it seem that whenever she wanted to get away, all the traffic lights she encountered were red? "Tim?" she asked when the phone was picked back up.
"There isn't, but I'll run down to the store before you get back if you want. What kind?"
"I can do it. It'll just be a quick stop for me, I guess."
He chuckled lightly. "No, I have to go pick up the newspaper anyway. It wasn't delivered today for some reason. Vanilla or chocolate?"
"Let's hit the heavy stuff. Cookie dough, if they have any."
"Wow, there really is something wrong. Okay, your ice cream will be here when you get back. I love you, Brooklyn."
She smiled softly and stepped on the gas pedal. "I love you, too. Thank you." She hung up and tossed the phone on the seat beside her. Her eyes searched for the exit to her town, and she turned towards it, catching her reflection in the rear view mirror. She had forgotten to adjust it after Tim had borrowed her truck last time, she realized but what she saw was that her hair was up the same way as it had been last night. With a grumble, she started to pull out the pins with one hand, dropping them in her purse. There was no way that she was going to let Tim mention how long her neck looked again. "Stupid comment anyway," she muttered to herself, running her hand through her now loose hair. It was slightly curled from her shower that morning, and landed on her shoulder in waves.
The ride home didn't take as long as she thought it would and as soon as she walked in the door, she saw that Tim's car was parked in the driveway. She hut off her engine and opened the door, remembering to grab her cell phone just in time. It was thrown back in her bag before she slammed her door shut. She walked up the drive, rubbing her eyes tiredly. This was turning out to be the day from hell, she realized as she opened the door.
The first thing she did as soon as she was in the house was head to the kitchen after taking her shoes off. She grabbed the ice cream and two spoons from the drawer, before walking into the living room in her socks. "Hey," she said tiredly, looking over at Tim. He never so much as moved from where he was looking at the paper. "Okay, great," she said to herself, sitting down on the couch beside him. Her eyes closed as she leaned her head back and her feet were propped up on the coffee table. She stayed like that for a few moments before she opened the ice cream and stuck her spoon in it. "Thank you, so much, for going to get this," she said after she had swallowed her first mouthful. It was pure heaven.
His eyes finally left the paper and he stared at her for a long moment. She didn't like the look in his eyes. "Brooklyn, is there something that you want to tell me?" he asked.
Her head shook slowly, her hair moving with her. "No...not that I know of. Why?"
"Are you sure?" he asked, his tone very icy.
"Tim, I'm not in the mood for Twenty Questions or some sort of guessing game. Believe me, the last thing I want to do is play around. I've had the worst day today. I just want to relax, watch a little television and take a very long bath. VERY long." Sighing she ate another spoonful of ice cream before looking back at him. He was still staring at her. "Okay, what is it that I haven't told you, even though I can't think of a thing."
His shoulders moved in a little shrug. Soon after, his voice filled the living room. "At the American Country Music Association awards, Brooklyn Turner, 25, announced that she was engaged to Tim Croft, 27, her long time boyfriend. Yet, she came to the award show with Lance Bass, singer for the pop group NSYNC. According to unnamed sources of both parties, both had a "very good time and wouldn't mind doing it again." Though Turner swears that they're just friends, you have to wonder.
"But that isn't the end. Croft does not only have to fight Bass for the country singer's hand, but he has to fight JC Chasez, also of NSYNC. The two collaborated on a track on Turner's new album, If I Didn't..., on the track Holes In The Floor Of Heaven, a cover of the Steve Wariner song. Chasez and Turner have also been spotted around Boston, Mass., and Nashville together. So, which is she going to choose?
"In my opinion, Lance Bass is a little young for her, but after all, they're just 'friends'. I wouldn't be surprised if, one day, there's a duel between Croft and Chasez for Brooklyn Turner's love and affection. Looks like our good little country girl isn't so good after all." He looked up and closed the paper. "There's a few pictures to go along with this, if you want to see them."
Her eyes rolled and she slammed the ice cream container on the table. "My God, how can you believe this crap? Let me see this." She reached for the paper when he threw it at her, and opened it to the entertainment section. She found the article about her pretty quickly and her eyes looked over the photos. One of her and Lance posing for pictures on the red carpet, her hand firmly situated on his arm. One of her and JC the day before, of him with his arm around her waist and her smiling up at him. The last was the one with Tim, the same one that had been printed in the paper before, and had made it to The National Enquirer. "I don't believe this. You think that I would cheat on you? Thanks for the support, sweetie," she said sarcastically, slamming the paper down on the table.
She stood up quickly and headed out of the living room. "Excuse me, but I think I'm going to go take my bath now. You can stay here if you want, but I don't want to hear one more word about this crap," she told him before she walked out. "Damn it, first a fight with JC, and now with you. Yeah, this is turning out to be the best day of my life."
The words that her mother had told her so many times bounced back at her. Things always come in threes, she had told her. The fight with JC was number one. The fight with Tim was number two. What was number three going to be? She was going to find out in about a minute.
In a flash, he jumped up and took three long strides towards her, his hand closing in around her arm. "How do I know that the story's not true?" he asked, his voice lowering as he looked at her. "Damn it, Brooklyn, you're marrying me, not some loser pop star that'll dump you the first chance that he gets. Why don't you think about it for once?"
Her eyes filled with anger, warning him not to say another word. "You should know because I'm telling you." She wrenched her arm away from him, and grimaced when she felt the pain of it. He did have a very tight grip. Backing up, she stared at him hatefully. "Tim, I'm going to say this once, and only once. If you so much as lay one finger on me in a manner that I don't like...I will call the wedding and the engagement off. I don't care. I love you, but I will NOT be somebody's punching bag, and I will NOT let this happen anymore. I'm SICK of it."
It almost seemed like there should have been applause when she said that. It's almost like she should have had someone handing her an Oscar and telling her to make an acceptance speech. Tim realized this, also, and grinned suddenly. Slowly, he lifted his hands, watching Brooklyn shrink back before he started to clap slowly. "Bravo, Miss Turner," he said over the sound of his own hands, "that was terrific. I've only heard stuff like that on soap operas. You didn't copy something that was said on Days of our Lives, did you, because that would be copyright infringement. I'm sure that they copyright every script they write."
"No, you ass! It's what I mean." She started walking closer to him, even though her mind was screaming not to do this. Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own. "I will do that, Tim, and I'm not afraid to. I don't care about the bad publicity that I would get, I don't care what people would think. I don't even care if my career ended the moment that happened. I will not marry you IF you keep up this caveman, Me Tarzan, you Jane sort of attitude."
"Again, congratulations. Are you waiting for your award, because you're not going to get one."
She let out a frustrated scream and turned her eyes back to him. As she got more and more angry, the green seemed to intensify, until they were practically glowing. While it was said about many women jokingly, Brooklyn really was more beautiful when she was angry. "Would you shut your freaking mouth and listen to me? You don't seem to understand or care. I do, Tim, and I won't let this happen. I'm not afraid to tell someone."
His head cocked to the side and he regarded her carefully. "Really? You're not afraid to tell someone," he said in a wondering voice. "That's really...wonderful, Brooklyn, but you seem to forget that you haven't told anyone yet. This is like playing cribbage, sweetie. You played a five, making it twenty five, but you didn't realize that I was holding the six to make it thirty one. That would be two points for me, I believe."
"This isn't some sort of game. This is serious!"
"Oh, I believe you that it's serious. In fact, it's very serious. I'm still ahead though, according to the board. As far as I can tell, you're still at the start, and I've almost won. Yeah, that seems to be appropriate." He broke off and looked at her. Slowly, his hand came out and he lifted her chin, looking in her eyes. "So, you won't tell anyone, right?" he asked. "Then, you wouldn't tell anyone about this." Before she had a chance to recoil, his hand came out and struck her against the side of her face. The hit was so hard she could hear a buzzing in her ears, and her vision was swimming. The pain itself was so intense that she just wanted to lay down and cry. "Or this." His hands touched her shoulders before he pushed her hard, making her fly across the room.
She hit the wall with her back, and slid down, tears forming in her eyes. She couldn't believe the pain that she was feeling. It was the most in her lifetime. Her back was already throbbing, and when she put her hand back there to see if she had cut herself on the edge of the entertainment center, which she had grazed, it hurt so bad and felt so warm that she jerked her hand away.
Her eyes raised to look at him, and even though they were filled with tears, he could see the determination and strength that was rarely seen. Her hands were trembling as she touched the ring on her left hand before she yanked it off, staring at it. Her arm came back and she threw the ring as hard as she could, bouncing it off of his face and letting it fall on the ground. She saw where the edge of the diamond cut him slightly on his right cheek. "There, take your stupid ring back. I don't care. Just get the hell out of my house and get the hell OUT OF MY LIFE!"
Bending down, he picked up the ring and looked curiously at it. "It doesn't matter. It's a stupid piece of junk that wasn't worth very much to begin with. Even the settings are real." Finally, he looked back at her. "It doesn't matter how much the ring is, but it does matter where it is. You better put this back on your finger."
"No, I won't," she ground out, staring back at him.
His eyes narrowed and he continued to watch her before he took two steps towards her. "You put this back on your finger before I come over there and put it back on there for you. You're not calling off the engagement."
"I won't put the ring on, I'm calling off the engagement, and if you come anywhere near me, I'll scream until I'm blue in the face, and I guarantee that at least one of the neighbors will hear me. I can scream pretty damned loud. They'd probably hear me down the road."
There was no doubt that she wasn't telling the truth. He remembered the night that he had taken her to a party that some of his college friends were throwing. Someone had decided to have a screaming contest, and Brooklyn had beat them, hands down. She couldn't talk much the next day and singing was out of the question, but she could scream. That was the last thing that he wanted right now. "Fine," he said. He turned around and started to back up. "Fine." The word was repeated as he put the ring down on the small table beside the couch.
She closed her eyes with relief and took a deep breath. What she didn't see was Tim wrap his hand around a crystal ornament on the table, and she didn't see him turn around. It flew through the air and just before her eyes opened, she heard a dull thud against her head. Groaning, she put her hands up there and bent her head, trying to remember how to breathe. This was something knew. She had been hit in the head before, by a football when she had been fooling around with some of her band backstage one night, but this was completely different.
Her eyes traveled downward and she saw the heavy crystal candlestick that he had hit her with. Already, tears were streaming down her face and when she looked up at him, she couldn't help letting out a sob. In her mind, it was one of the stupidest things to do, because it showed him that she was scared of him, which she was.
"There is going to be a wedding, Brooklyn," he began, in a strange tone. She was still clutching her head and whimpering whenever she felt the bump. Bringing her hands down in front of her eyes, it registered dully that her hands were practically covered with blood. There was no doubt that she had a concussion, but she wasn't worried about the blood. "Believe me, Brooklyn, there will be a wedding, and it will be the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You'll be standing up there with your bridesmaids...except for Alyssa, of course. She won't be able to make it."
Groaning, she looked over at him. Keep him talking, her mind told him. Keep him distracted, because he might actually be able to get away. All she had to do was get out the door. That was it. As soon as she was out the door, everything would be all right. "I don't know why you would think that, but I can't get ahold of her." Just make him believe that she was giving in, and he might go away. It was a stupid plan, but it was the only one that she had.
"No, she won't be able to make it. I know this, sweetie. See, there's something that you don't know about Alyssa. I've known her for quite a few years, longer than you've been alive, really. Do you know how I know her?"
"I'm sure you're going to tell me, even if I don't want to know."
His head moved in a nod and he chuckled lightly. It was an evil chuckle that sent a shiver down her battered spine. "I will tell you, Brooklyn. I don't know why, but I think you deserve to know. I know that the two of you were pretty close. All she ever did was gush about this wonderful Brooklyn Turner that she had met while she was working one day, and how nice she was. That surprised me, because she didn't know that I was dating you. Isn't that funny?"
Her voice was very dry and brittle. "Hilarious."
"I never told her that I was dating you, until the last night. She deserved to know, just as you do. See, Brooklyn, Alyssa Cholt was her married name. Of course, her husband died, but he wasn't good enough for her. I knew that, but she couldn't see that. I MADE her see that." Her mouth dropped open in horror as she realized what he was saying. She uttered the words 'oh my God' before she closed her eyes. She really didn't want to hear the rest. "Her name before she was married was Alyssa Croft."
Her head shook slowly, even though it caused her more pain, and made her more disoriented. "She is your sister."
A smile covered his face. "My older sister, actually. I'm only twenty four, not twenty seven. That's all right, though. Age doesn't really matter, does it?" When Brooklyn didn't utter a sound, his head whipped around to look at him. "DOES IT?"
"No," she croaked out. "It doesn't."
"I didn't think so." He smiled again, very slyly. "Yeah, she was my older sister. All those times that I went out to California, I went to go see her. She was the sweetest woman, wasn't she?"
She had already figured out what had happened to Alyssa's husband, but she didn't like how he had said that she WAS the sweetest woman. There was something wrong with how that sounded. Alyssa was supposed to be very much alive, at least to her. "You...you...oh, God, I think I'm going to be sick. You killed her?"
"No, no, Brooklyn, you have to all wrong. I didn't kill her. I just...showed her the way. Brooklyn, as far as anyone knows, I didn't kill her. Someone did, but it wasn't her dear younger brother. I was already questioned."
More tears fell from her eyes as she heard this. What kind of man was she going to marry? This was incredible. She didn't know if she believed all of it, but looking in his eyes, it looked to be the truth. This was sick. "Oh, God, Allie. How could you? Was that what you were going to do to me? Did you have some sort of plan to kill me, too?" she asked in a frantic voice. Sure, just give him some ideas, the practical part of her mind yelled. She couldn't help it.
His head shook. "How could you even think that? I love you, Brooklyn," he said sarcastically. As he was speaking, Brooklyn took her chance. It was all fueled by fear. She jumped off of the ground and started towards the doorway out of the living room. "Oh no you don't," he said, grabbing her quickly. He pulled her back by the waist, and Brooklyn started to fight. This was definitely the fight of her life.
She squirmed as much as possible and tried to claw at him. Soon, Tim grew impatient and tossed her to the ground, on her back again. As she groaned, he bent down beside her and wrapped his hands around her throat. "You're not going anywhere, sweetie. You're going to be with me until I say so. Do you understand?"
Choking, she reached towards his hands and tried to pull them away from her throat. She couldn't say a word, because it would just come out in a long groan. Little black dots started to appear before her eyes as he tightened his hold on her neck. In a last effort, she curled her fingers and dug her sharp, manicured nails into the sensitive skin of his wrists. One of her nails snapped off in his skin, and the surprise and small amount of pain was enough to make him pull back and look at the small trickles of blood coming out of his hand. Slowly, he dug the nail out of his hand.
Brooklyn started to push herself backwards, using her hands and heels, until she hit the wall. There was nothing that she could do to stop him. She was strong, there was no doubt about that, but he was far more stronger than she was. The only this she could do was out smart him, she reasoned. "Brooklyn, you're not playing very nice," he said in a chastising tone.
Without thinking, she spat towards him, and glared. "You asshole," she rasped, rubbing her throat with one hand. Already, bruises were starting to form there. "How could you do that to me?"
"Very easily, and believe me, I'll do it again if I have to."
Shaking her head, she felt more hot tears spilling over her cheeks, landing on her shirt and on the ground. "You sick bastard," she whispered, counting mentally in her head. When she hit three, she pushed herself forward again, this time knocking him down to the ground. Her mind was blank as she started to swing at him, kneeling above his chest. Three of her blows were enough to make him groan, but soon enough, her energy wore out and he picked her up easily, throwing her onto her side. A trickle of blood trailed off of her head and onto her face as she searched around the room vainly for something to use against him.
They looked at each other, both panting and bleeding from one place or another. Tim was the first to stand up, but he didn't come near her. Instead, he stalked around the half of the living room he was in, pushing a lamp off of a table and watching it smash on the ground. "Forget it. You're not worth it, you little slut. Sleeping around with your little superstar friends. What, you think that nobody knows? Everyone knows what's going on."
"I'm not sleeping with JC!" she screamed a final time before he rushed towards her. She rose off of the ground and met him in the center, wanting to get the hell out of there. She tried to hit him, but he grabbed her by the wrists and pushed her ontop of the mess the broken lamp had made. Her foot kicked out and knocked over the table. The sound of everything falling off and breaking filled both of their ears as he turned her face and pushed it into the ceramic shards, scratching her deeply in some places, slightly in others. "Get the hell off of me!" she ground out, before pushing him as hard as she could.
Tim flew backwards and hit his head against the side of the table that had flipped over. It was a sickening crack that made her wince, and she watched his eyes roll back in his head. She sat there for a moment, getting her breath back and staring at him to make sure that he wasn't about to move. When he didn't move for two minutes, she stood up on her shaky legs and started to back up, watching him as she backed out of the living room. Her hand reached out for the keys on the small table in the foyer, scooping them up before she reached down to push on a pair of sneakers that were untied. She wasn't thinking as she picked up a sweater jacket from the hook, and pushed it on her shoulders before picking up her purse, acting almost like she was going to the store or something.
The door slammed behind her and she ran out to the truck, not even noticing if any of her neighbors were looking or anything. They had made enough noise inside to attract some attention, but obviously there weren't a lot of people around. Her hands were still trembling as she unlocked the door and climbed in the truck, pushing the key in the ignition as she closed her door and hurriedly pressed down the lock. Lord help her, she was going to run him over if she had to.
She turned the key and cried out when the engine whined but didn't start. "No, no, not now. You were just in the shop, there should be nothing wrong with you," she cried, hitting the steering wheel with frustrated motions. Taking a deep breath, she tried once more and cried again when the engine roared to life. "You turned the key too hard, you idiot," she said to herself, pulling out of the driveway.
She had no idea where she was going, but the truck obviously did. One hand moved to turn on the radio as soon as she started to yawn, obviously from the hit on the head. A pair of sunglasses spun crazily on the dashboard, and even though it wasn't as bright as before, she pushed them over her eyes to hide the fact that she had been crying.
It wasn't long before she arrived in Nashville and the first place that she stopped was the hotel that JC was staying in. She didn't know why, but she did. Already, a light rain had started to fall, and she had a reason to pull up the hood of her sweater over her head. She walked quickly to the front door and pushed it open, walking straight to the stair well. She climbed the few flights of stairs before she stood in front o his door, taking a deep breath. She raised her fist and knocked quickly, wiping at her eyes.
"Hold on," she heard a voice call, before the television was shut off. Her ears picked up the footsteps that came towards the door before it was swung open and he stared down at her. Instantly, a frown appeared on his face. "What's wrong?" he asked.
There was no anger in his voice at all. When she heard his voice, she practically collapsed, falling towards him. He hurried to grab at her and pull her back up, bringing her into the room. She started sobbing against him and he pulled away the sunglasses she was wearing, putting them on the table so that she wouldn't press them against her face and hurt herself. He kicked the door shut with his heel and moved her towards the bed. "New York, what's wrong?" he asked, holding her as she cried.
She pulled away but kept her head down as she wiped away her tears. "I...I shouldn't be here," she whispered before standing up. JC hurried to get in front of her and block the door.
"Honey, you come here and you've been crying for a while, it seems. Why don't you just tell me what's wrong?" She didn't move, but he could see more tears drop off of her face onto the floor. "New York, just look me in the eye and tell me what's wrong." She was still shaking badly as she raised her head and looked up at him. His mouth dropped open when he saw the cuts and bruises marring her perfect, beautiful face. "Oh my God," he whispered, looking over her face quickly. His hand came up hesitantly and he watched as she flinched away. "I'm just going to take the hood off your head, all right?" he told her in a soft voice.
He pulled back the hood and felt like he was going to be sick. Her honey brown hair was matted to the top of her head, and was red from the blood that was still seeping from the wound ontop of her head. "I think I have a concussion. I probably shouldn't have driven, but I didn't know where to go and...I'm so scared. You have to lock the door. Please, just lock the door. I have your room number written down in my room. He might come here. Oh God," she said, backing up on her trembling legs to sit down on the edge of the bed.
Without even thinking about it, he turned around and locked the door before coming to sit beside her. He took her chilled hands and held them, trying to warm them. He could see that her knuckles were beginning to bruise from hitting something or someone. He hoped that it was a someone. "Who did this to you?" he asked in a hoarse voice. Her head shook slowly before she looked up at him. Her green eyes were filled with fear. "Do you want me to call the police for you, New York? I think you should."
"Not yet. Can you call Mia? I need Mia here." Her voice was small, almost like that of a child.
"Sure. You just wait right here and I'll go call her." He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead before standing up and taking his cell phone and address book in hand. He didn't want Brooklyn to hear what he was going to say and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He pulled himself up on the sink and looked through the book, scanning it for Mia's number. Finding it, he dialed quickly and held the phone up to his ear, hoping that she would answer. "Hello?" he asked as soon as someone picked up.
A frustrated sigh came from the other end. "Yeah, what is it. WHO is it?" she asked.
"Uh...I'm sorry, I'm not really thinking right now. I'm JC Chasez, a friend of Brooklyn's."
"Uh huh, like I'll believe that one."
He rubbed his eyes. Didn't Brooklyn and Lance tell him that Mia was supposed to be one of the most stubborn people in the world? Well, she was showing that now. "I'm serious, Mia. Right now, Brooklyn is sitting on my hotel bed, crying her eyes out and about ready to pass out. She wanted you to come over here. She's so scared that she's shaking, and I...I'm worried. Can you just hurry up and come over? She won't talk to me until you get here."
Mia whistled under her breath. "Sounds pretty important. I've never known Brooke to be scared of anything. Give me the address of the hotel and what room you're in. I'm going to call the front desk and ask them if you're registered there. Then, I'll be there as soon as possible." He gave her the name of the hotel and his room number as quickly as he could. "Okay, that's a five minute drive from where I am. I should be there around then. Later." She hung up on him, and he turned off his phone, closing his eyes. The phone was put down beside him and the address book slipped down to the ground as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against his hands. His breath started to become more and more frantic as he thought about what could have happened to Brooklyn in those few hours that they had been away from each other. In fact, he had a pretty damned good idea of what had happened.
Slipping off of the counter, he opened the bathroom door and walked out to where Brooklyn was sitting. "New York?" he asked. She didn't move, and her eyes were closed. "Damn it, Brooklyn, open up your eyes and look at me. Please tell me that you didn't fall asleep."
Her head shook. "I didn't." Her eyes opened and she looked at him. "Is Mia coming?"
"Yeah, she is. She'll be here in about five minutes. Are you okay? Do you want me to get anything for you?" Her head shook. "Are you sure that you don't want some water or some aspirin or something? It looks like you have quite the headache there, sweetie," he said, swallowing thickly as he stood up to look at the top of her head. The blood from the gash had slowed down to a small weep, but it was still bothering him. He didn't like that someone (and he knew who) had done this to her.
"I don't want anything." She peeled off the sweater jacket she was wearing and put it down on the bed. The collar was soaked with blood, now drying from her ride. "I just...I'm scared, that's all."
They sat there in silence for a little while before a sharp knocking came at the door. Brooklyn let out a little shriek and moved back on the bed until she was pressed up against the wall. "Calm down. I'll check and see who it is before I open up the door." She nodded with wide eyes as he walked towards the door and looked out the peephole. "New York, do you know a woman that looks like she's either ready to rip someone's head off or pick up a date for the weekend?"
Her head moved in a nod. "That's Mia."
He unlocked the door with a snap and opened it. "Hey. Thanks for coming."
"No problem, sexy. Where's the problem child?" she asked, walking into the room. He turned around to shut and lock the door again, so that Brooklyn wouldn't freak out and turned back just in time to see Mia's horrified face. "Sweetie, of my God, someone did a real number on you. Are you okay?"
Brooklyn took a deep breath and blinked her eyes twice. "No, I'm not. Thank you, Mia. I really appreciate this. I don't know what to do or...I'm so lost right now."
"Well, I'm not," Mia ground out, turning to look at JC. "You stupid son of a bitch," she muttered before her fist flew out and hit him in the side of the face. He stumbled backwards, holding his eye as he looked at her.
His mouth dropped open as he watched her turn back to Brooklyn and wrap her arm around her shoulders. She was trying to get her to stand, but Brooklyn was like dead weight. She wasn't going to move at all. "What the hell was that for?" he asked incredulously.
"Mia, calm down," Brooklyn said softly. She put out her hand and rested it on Mia's shoulder. "He didn't do this to me. I came here because I didn't know where to go. I just thought of JC and it was the first place that I went." Her eyes filled with tears again. "JC had nothing to do with this. Would you please apologize for hitting him?"
Her furious face turned from superstar to superstar. "Like hell I will."
Brooklyn's eyes snapped back to her. "I've had about enough of everyone today, and I don't need any attitude from you. Mia Michelle Coltrain, if you don't apologize, then you'll have to forgive me for kicking a little common sense and politeness into your judgmental ass."
"Sorry," she muttered. "Really, I am. I just jumped to the wrong conclusion. Now, this is what we're going to do. Brooklyn, I'm going to call the police for you. I'll ask for that friend of mine to come down here. His shift is right now. Is Ti...the person that did this to you still in Belleview?" she asked in a very business like tone. Her head nodded slowly. "Okay, is there any way that the PERSON can find you?"
"JC's room number is upstairs in my bedroom."
Her eyes rolled and she looked towards JC. "Okay, I want you to head down to the front desk and tell them that under no circumstances is anyone allowed up on this floor, unless they have a key. Take this with you and tell them that as soon as they see this person," she said, digging in Brooklyn's purse and taking a picture of Tim out of her wallet, "that they should notify the police that are going to be in the building immediately. Thank you."
JC nodded and headed out of the room. "Brooke, you have a nasty hit on the head. Do you feel like you're going to pass out or be sick?"
"No, I'm just tired," she said in a weary voice.
"Welcome to Concussion City. Sit up here and hold my hand while I call the police, all right? Anytime that you feel like you're going to fall asleep, squeeze. When you do that, I'll keep you up, okay?" She picked up the handset and pressed it to her ear, holding it there with her shoulder as her other hand took Brooklyn's. She was surprised that she was staying so calm through all of this, but she was just waiting for the opportunity to get away and lock herself into a room to let the tears flow.
She dialed the police station direct, knowing the number by heart from the times that she had called to ask about precautions for the concerts in Nashville. "Yes, hello, I'm calling on behalf of another person. She can't really talk right now. I know that this may be a little out of your jurisdiction, but a friend of mine was recently beaten badly by her fiancé. She's in Nashville right now, and she needs some medical attention." She paused and smiled when Brooklyn squeezed her hand. Mia turned her fingers in slightly and dug her nails lightly into Brooklyn's hand. She grimaced slightly before sitting up straighter. Mia knew that it was going to work. "Her name? You have to understand that this has to be under the strictest silence. You can't broadcast her name or anything, all right?" Again, she had to wait. "No, listen to me. If you mention her name, you will have a court case on your ass so fast it's not even funny. I happen to be her publicist and a very close friend. Now, excuse me, but I know that rights that both of us have, okay?" Nodding her head, she smiled and continued talking. "Thank you. Her name is Brooklyn Arizona Turner." She spelled out her name and looked towards Brooklyn.
"You're not falling asleep on me just yet," she muttered and dug her nails in deeper this time. Brooklyn shot back up and rubbed her eyes with her free hand. Mia gave them the address of the hotel and what room number they were in as JC came back in the door. "Thank you." Mia hung up and looked at JC. "Make sure she stays awake. I still have to call the studio and see what bodyguards are available. They're going to be standing outside this door every minute that you're in it, and every minute that she's in it. If she leaves, two go with her and two stay with you. With Tim acting like a mad man, there is no way in hell that either of you are going to be without some sort of protection. It's times like these that I wish she carried a gun or pepper spray or something."
He nodded and sat down beside Brooklyn. "Sure, you make the calls. I'll stay up with her." He made sure she drank some ice cold water to keep her awake and kept talking to her, making sure that her eyes never drifted shut. The moment that they started to, he would pick up her hand and drop it back down in her lap. It seemed to work every time.
Soon enough, another knock came at the door and this time Mia was the one to stand up and look out to see who it was. "It's okay. It's just the police," she said, opening the door. Her friend was already called away, so she had no clue who these guys were. "She's in here," Mia said tiredly, bringing them towards Brooklyn. She raised her head and looked at them.
"Okay, there's an ambulance waiting downstairs. We'll take you down there, and you two are going to have to stay here to make a statement. We'll get Miss Turner's while she's in the hospital." Brooklyn nodded and rose with the help of JC, who handed her the sunglasses on the table. "Let's go, Miss Turner," the cop said, taking her out of the room with his arm around her.
Mia sunk down on the bed beside JC and hid her face in her hands, her shoulders moving in a rhythmic pattern. JC didn't hesitate to put his arms around her and hold her while she cried out all the tears she could. Ten minutes later, she raised her head and wiped them away, mumbling something about going to wash her face as she disappeared into the bathroom. The security guards showed up next and posted themselves outside the door. JC and the remaining cops waited until she came back into the room and sat back down. He handed her a glass of water before they turned to look at the cops. "We've already notified the Belleview police, and they've already headed to Miss Turner's property to see if the man is still there."
"His name is Timothy Croft, he's twenty seven, and he's from somewhere in California," Mia said quietly, looking down at her hands. "She's engaged to him. God, this is all my fault. I knew there was something wrong about him."
JC shook his head sadly, his own eyes filling with tears when he thought about what he was about to say. "No, it's my fault. I normally stay at her house when I'm in town, but because of the engagement and what happened last time I saw Tim, I decided to stay in Nashville. Not only that, but New York and I got into a fight today, and she left sooner that she normally would have. I'm so stupid," he groaned, rubbing his forehead.
"Sir, what happened last time you saw Mr. Croft?"
He sighed and leaned back so that his head hit the wall softly. "I was in town two months ago in Belleview, staying at New York's house...uh, I mean Brooklyn's. Her brother, Austin, ended up getting into a fight in the front yard and I went out there to see if I could stop it. I ended up getting hit by him twice. It was no big deal, really. I never thought that he would...those bruises before," he said quietly.
Mia grabbed his arm and turned him towards her. "What bruises are you talking about?"
"A long time ago. She had bruises on her arm. I thought they looked like finger marks, but she said that she slipped in the bath and hit her arms on the side of the tub. He put them there, didn't he? Damn it."
"She was good at hiding it all. Too good. And it almost got her killed," she finished before turning towards the cops. "Okay, I guess you have some questions for us. Shoot."
By the time that Brooklyn came back, the cops had already finished with Mia and JC and had left. Only the bodyguards and the blood covered sweater she had been wearing were the reminders of the chilling horror Brooklyn had been through. Before the cops had left, however, they had informed Mia and JC that Tim had been taken into custody and was being held in jail until a hearing tomorrow to decide if he was going to get bail and how much.
She walked in the door, very tired and worn out. Looking between the two of them, she spoke the words that they all wanted to hear. "The doctor said that I can go to sleep. I'm out of danger, but I did have a concussion. I also have eight stitches in my head and minor cuts and bruises. JC, can I crash here tonight? I don't want to go back to the house."
"I wouldn't make you go back to the house, sweetie. I'll find something for you to wear tonight, all right?" he said. She nodded before she reached for him and rested her head on his shoulder. "I am so glad that you're all right."
"Thank you," she whispered back, before pulling away and turning to look at Mia. They started to talk as JC went over to his suitcase and dug around, finding a pair of track pants with a drawstring and a tee shirt that would be miles too big on her, but would work for the night. Mia left quickly, telling both of them to have a good night, before she walked out the door. Without a word, Brooklyn went into the bathroom to change while JC changed quickly in the main room.
She emerged, her face pale. The bruises stood out against her skin, which seemed to have lost the tan it had earlier that day, lost by fright. JC was already laying in the bed, looking up at the ceiling blankly. She climbed in beside him, smoothing the covers over her before she turned slightly and rested her head against him, trying not to brush the stitches she had. He leaned over her and turned off the lamp. "Is security going to be out there all night?"
He nodded, before resting his arm across her stomach, being sure not to touch the bruised ribs she had gotten in the fight. "They're going to be out there until you leave, and then they're following you. I think one or two are going to stay with me, too," he said.
"Great. Thank you for everything, JC. If it wasn't for you and Mia..." She trailed off, not wanting to say what was on the tip of her tongue.
She listened to him breathe for a few moments before he began to speak again. "You know that I would do anything for you. Thank you for trusting me," he added, planting a kiss on her temple. "Good night, New York."
"Good night."
It didn't take very long for Brooklyn to fall asleep, considering that she was so exhausted from the day, but it took JC a little longer. He laid there for a little while, watching her sleep. She looked so peaceful, compared to the bruises and cuts on her face. It was almost as if he was watching her sleep again in the afternoon, with that one big difference. He kissed her again before brushing away some hair off of her forehead. "I am so sorry that I wasn't there, Brooklyn," he whispered. "If only I could have done something." He paused and watched her for a few more moments, watching her nose wrinkle slightly as she slept. "I swear, nothing is going to hurt you again. Nothing at all. As long as I'm around, you're going to be safe and you're going to stay my New York, even if you'll never love me the way that I love you. But I'll always protect you."
With that, he fell asleep.
Chapter Nineteen
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