Nick
"She's gone MIA. The florist said no one was home to accept the delivery."
I was frowning at the phone, giving it my sultry death glare, hoping it would give me answers. Instead, Lauren's arm wrapped around my neck; her head pressed against my shoulder.
"She could be out shopping or something."
"She's not answering her cell."
I ducked out of Lauren's hold and twirled my IPhone around in my palm. It wasn't like Heath to just disappear. I couldn't remember a time when she hadn't answered on the first or second ring.
"Dude, the feed's coming through!"
Andrew was waving at me furiously. I was exhausted. I had done two morning shows and an impromptu performance the day before. Now it was ten o'clock in the morning and I was being forced to go through the NKOTBSB routine.
"Dude, can't we just DVR it? I promise I'll do it later."
"Donnie already warned me you'd suggest that. He said you always tell him you DVR Bluebloods to watch it later, but he doesn't think you've watched an episode."
"Fucker," I muttered under my breath. The worst part was that Donnie already knew me too well.
I scratched my ass through my 'Winning' sweatpants as I walked towards the large TV set up in the unoccupied dance studio. Even though I hadn't hopped on the Charlie Sheen bandwagon, I got a kick out of his random slogans. My 'Tiger Blood' tank top completed the attire. I saw D and Joey chillin' in the corner. A second later, J's bald dome pressed right against the lens.
"You better be up and ready to do this! Do you know how fucking late it is here?" He paused and turned around. "What the hell is the time?"
I didn't hear the answer. I was shitty with time zones. As soon as AJ stepped away from the camera, I did a mental boyband inventory. Someone else was missing...
"Where's Bri?" I asked.
"They can't hear you. You can only hear them," Andrew said. He looked up from the computer apologetically. "Sorry, man."
I leaned down, stretching my leg muscles while I tried to get my fingertips close to the ground. "No problem. Let's just get this over with," I sighed.
"If it makes you feel better, I swapped out my SLR today," Lauren said. She squatted down next to the widescreen TV, cupping an old 35 mm in her hand. I smiled. "Dark room?"
Her eyes sparkled. "Maybe."
Andrew looked up. "Dark room? It better not be right next to my room. No offense, but I don't need to see your wanker again," he said, waving his hand at me. His expression changed when he glanced at Lauren. "Now, you..."
"Shut up," Lauren and I said at the same time. My attention was pulled back to the TV as the choreographers came into view. Music began to flood the room and for a second it was like I was really in Cali.
Except for the fact that no one but Lauren and Andrew could hear the curses fly from my mouth every time I missed a step.
Singing came natural. Dancing?
I was never destined to be a swan.
Heather
Gone to Kentucky for a few weeks to think about things. Maybe you should try thinking about what you want too??
I stared at the screen of my phone and for the umpteenth time I erased the message. All around me, people were getting their bags down and heading towards the plane's exit. I had just landed; for hours I had struggled to figure out the words I needed to let Nick know I was tired, hurt, and scared. And yet, nothing worked.
Some writer I was, right?
Sliding my phone back into my purse, I grabbed my duffel and trailed after the last stragglers on the plane. The stewardess gave me a bright, sunny smile that I returned, if only because it just came so natural. I cared about what other people thought about me.
That was why, as if my own problems with Nick weren't enough, ever since Brian had finally let me in on his own issues, I couldn't get him off my mind. More than anything else in the world, I wanted to see him again. He had spent weeks in California before Nick had left for Germany, and I hadn't seen him once. The tour was consuming their lives just like it always did.
But this time things were bad enough that Brian couldn't put work first. The last time we had talked he had mentioned going to a studio in Lexington to practice the choreography via video feed, but other than that our conversations were consumed with going home and seeing our families again.
I couldn't think of anything I needed more than my mom. Except for homemade chocolate chip cookie dough. California bakeries tried to imitate the real deal, but nothing beat Midwestern desserts from a home kitchen.
Just the thought of the gooey batter sent my thoughts back in time. I couldn't count the times that Brian and Chris had come stampeding through the back door of the house as mom was getting ready to drop large spoonfuls of dough onto cookie sheets. Early on, I'd be sitting on the counter; later on, I'd be standing by mom on a stepstool. It was as if my brother and his buddy had a sixth sense that sent off an internal alarm at the slightest inkling that milk chocolate chips were in range.
It was this memory, this mental picture of Brian with his face covered in melted chips that made me smile again. The smile only widened when I heard two words that always made me feel welcome. I whipped around, the tails of my pink flannel shirt slapping against the top of my denim shorts and held out my arms instinctively.
"Hey, kiddo!"
Brian
Heather wrapped her arms around me and I felt at home at last. I grinned as I held her tight and smiled into that thick, wonderful-smelling hair of hers. I squeezed her tight before letting her go and stepping back to take a long look at her. “Wow, kid,” I said, laughing, “California’s done you good, huh?”
She giggled, “It’s insane what a difference Kentucky Tan and California tan is!” she winked and lowered the edge of her shirt so I could see her tan line.
“What’d you do, try to bake yourself like your momma’s cookies?” I twanged, teasingly poking her in the abs.
She giggled, “I was thinking about my mom’s cookies just now, funny you should mention them.”
“Funny? Aw nawh,” I drawled, “It ain’t funny – it’s just that it ain’t home ‘til those Toll house chips are in my belly.” I rubbed my stomach and Heather laughed heartily. I grinned down at her, “You know it’s true.”
“HEY! Look what the cat dragged in!”
We both looked up to see Heather’s real brother – Chris – come walking towards us. He high fived me over Heather’s shoulder even as he pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. He lifted her off the ground and spun her in the air once, her legs flailing. “Let me down,” she giggled, “Or Brian’ll give you a thing or two, like Dean.”
Chris laughed, “Oh Lordy! Brian do you remember pummeling that punkass?” he asked, “That was the best day.”
I smirked, and winked at Heather. Of course I remembered that day. It was the first time I realized I --- well, nevermind. “He was crying like a Betsy Wetsy doll by the time I was done with him.”
“Pretty sure we should’ve checked his britches for Hershey swiss,” laughed Chris.
I laughed, “Gross!”
I swear, it was like I was eleven again.
Fifteen minutes later, our bags were chucked into the back of Chris’ truck and we were on our way to their mom’s house. When the truck pulled into the drive, I recognized my Dad’s old blue pick-up already parked and on the porch sat the droopiest looking dog I’ve ever seen -- Barrett.
Heather gasped and leaped from the truck the moment it had stopped, racing to greet the dog. I smiled stupidly, watching her. Chris adjusted his rearview mirror to stare at me without turning. He smirked. “You’re impossible.”
“How’s that?” I asked, glancing forward at his eyes in the mirror.
Chris laughed, “You just are,” he answered, and he pushed open the door.
“It’s just nice to see her smiling,” I answered, “She’s been so down the last couple days, cos of Nick and all…”
“Remind me if I ever bump into that guy, I’m taking his balls off with a pair of rusty pliers, okay?” Chris asked, almost growling, “Cheating on my sister, what a fucker.”
Chris jumped out of the truck and spit on the ground before walking around to join Heather on the porch with Barrett. I took a deep breath. Exactly I thought, Why I don’t wanna get mixed into this.
