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He arrived at LAX early that Monday morning. He adjusted his hat, as he stepped into the terminal, his carry on bag over his shoulders. Too many years he has had to protect himself from the public, it was a force of habit to try to conceal his identity. He discreetly looked around for cameras on his walk to baggage claim. They were always here, although he wasn’t photographed as much as he used to be, he still secretly wanted someone to spot him, he liked the attention. While waiting he pulled out his blackberry and sent Renee a text. He always notified her when he landed. The screen read “message sent” before he tucked his phone back into his pocket, not expecting to hear from her.

He shuffled his feet while waiting, he was anxious to go outside and smell the air. To feel the sun on his face, to hear the ocean waves, to be free in his home away from home. He needed to be himself this week, to clear his mind from recent events. Things were tense between him and Renee that weekend. Even though he hated it, he couldn’t fully blame her for her concern or rather her anger. He suspected she’d be upset; he would be too if she had hid her condition from him, but he didn’t expect her to feel so strongly about it. He didn’t have a condition; he was healthy. And yet he couldn’t shake the thoughts that ran through his mind: Why couldn’t I control it? Why is it getting harder to breathe? Exercising is supposed to help with that, maybe it’s my body’s way of coping with the changes? What if Renee’s right? What if it is serious? The thoughts were too much for him to deal with. He was fine. Everything was fine.

He watched his luggage come around on the conveyor and excused himself as he stepped forward to pick it up. When he turned around he saw A.J. walking towards him, cameras following him, photographers asking him questions. Nick shook his head, and laughed to himself. A.J. stood out amongst the crowd of people, wearing a black beanie with one of his many vintage t-shirts, showing off his tattoos, and a pair of tight blue jeans with black sneakers. Nick could tell by A.J.’s unsmiling face that he was annoyed by the paparazzi.

“Did you bring this all for me?” Nick joked when he walked up to him.

“Shut up. I need a cigarette. Come on.” A.J.’s tone further depicted his annoyance. Nick laughed again; he knew he could have fun with this.

“You don’t want to pose for a picture? Like old times?” He grinned.

“Don’t make me regret picking you up.” A.J. forced a smile at a camera, and sped up his pace.

“But I wanna stay! We need a real picture. Come one A.J. Please??? Let’s give the public what they want.” Nick started nagging.

“One fucking picture and we’re out.” They stood by each other and smiled for the cameras. They took a couple pictures and A.J. bolted for the door. Nick chuckled as he followed him out. He loved picking on A.J. It was too easy to push his buttons. Once outside, A.J. pulled out a cigarette and got in his truck, leaving Nick to load his own luggage.

“You picked me up in this?” Nick joked about his range rover (even though he found it did suit him well) as he closed the passenger door, “We need to get you a new car.”

“No way!” He exclaimed as he took a drag, flicking the ashes out the window. “This beats all your fancy cars. Could you see me in a Mercedes?” He put the car in drive and left the terminal loading zone.

“You use to own one! You’re just jealous you don’t have one anymore.”

“Different time, different person.” A.J. took another drag while changing lanes.

“Thanks for picking me up Alex.” Nick changed the subject, recognizing the change of tone in his voice. They didn’t talk much about the past with each other; it was better to be left alone.

“You getting soft on me dude?” A.J. teased.

“I can go back to being annoying.” Nick threatened.

“When are you not annoying?” A.J. laughed, “Glad you called me; although I’m surprised you didn’t let the company send you a driver. You know how much I hate airports now a day.”

“I didn’t want to miss out on our quality time,” Nick smirked, “Besides 8 miles isn’t worth a driver.” They merged onto 405 North towards Santa Monica when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out and sighed as he ignored the message. A.J. saw the disappointment in his expression as he put the phone back into his pocket.

“Not who you wanted to hear from?” He asked curiously.

Nick shook his head, “Just nothing important.”

“Ah, you and Renee fighting?”

“What? No. We’re fine.” A.J’s assumption took him by surprise. How did he know? He hadn’t once mentioned her.

“I may not see you much Nick, but you can’t bullshit me.”

“It’s nothing.” Nick commented. He didn’t want to rehash everything right now. He knew he would eventually tell A.J. but talking about it would only make it more real and right now he didn’t want to think about the possibilities. But A.J. prodded.

“Come on Nick, spill it.”

Nick hesitated before answering, choosing his words carefully with little hint to what was going on, “She’s mad at me.”

“When is she not?” A.J. joked, trying to lighten
the mood.

“No, never mind. It’s nothing.” Nick changed the subject, “God I’ve missed this place.” He watched the palm trees and the buildings pass as they drove along the freeway, the Santa Monica Mountains in the distance.

“It’s been awhile bro. The weathers fucking nice, I bet you loved stepping out of the airport.” A.J. followed suit, he knew better than to push things any further.

“I can’t wait to be on the beach. I fucking miss it.” The beach was what brought Nick to Santa Monica. His love affair started with his first visit in his early twenties. He surfed frequently there and soon began to love the city. It was an ideal location for work being close to downtown L.A.

“You’re the one who moved to the Midwest and wanted to play daddy.” A.J. teased.

“Like I had a choice,” Nick smiled, “it’s not that bad, just makes me love this place even more when I come.”

“Don’t forget the alone time.” What was that? The idea of having time to his self was idealic. Those words weren’t much of his vocabulary anymore, not that they ever were; he was never alone. He was more than just a celebrity now; he had a family that depended on him. The transition had proven more difficult than he imagined. He had to find his self again outside of the group as his roles changed.

“So what’s on your schedule while you’re here?” A.J. asked, curious about Nick’s business.

“Oh, the usual. Meet with the agent; discuss the contract with the record company about my song. Probably listen to what they want to change about it. It was so much easier writing songs for me; less people to please.”

“You do remember how long it took us to get that freedom? And I do remember there still being contracts.”

“Why do you have to ruin it with specifics? If I wanted that I would have called Howie.”

“Lord knows we don’t need that Latino business man running around,” A.J. laughed, “Do you know who your artist is yet?”

“Yes. I meet with them later this week to record the song with the producers.”

“Them? Are you working with a group?” A.J. asked his face glowing with excitement.

"No, I just can’t reveal who it is yet till the song is released. You do remember privacy contracts?” Nick teased.

“Ah, do I ever.”

“I’m excited about the collaboration though. The song should be sick.” Nicks’ excitement rose as they came closer to the condo. He could see it up the road and couldn’t wait to get there.

“I bet it’ll be great Nicky.”

“God help me if I have to hear you call me that all week. I’m not a kid anymore.” They both laughed.

“But you’ll always be younger than me.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Nick rolled his eyes. No matter how hard he tried, he was always going to have that nickname. A.J. pulled into the circle drive lined with palm trees and parked the car near the entrance of the building.

“Do you need help bro?” He asked as Nick stepped out.

“Now you ask me, where was the help when you picked me up?” He opened the back door and pulled out his luggage.

“It interfered with my smoking, besides I didn’t really want to carry your shit anyway.” He spoke through the window.

“You never do.” Nick laughed.

“Alright, alright, don’t forget my show this week. You’re gonna be able to make it right?” A.J. asked. There’s the real reason for his interest in my plans.

“Hell yeah, I’m not going to miss it. This city has missed me long enough.” Nick grinned.

“I’m sure they’ve had enough,” A.J. laughed, “Call me later.”

“You do know people text nowadays?” Nick joked.

“Do you know how hard it is to understand yours with your ghetto language? Crazy is spelled with a ‘y’ not two ‘e’s’.”

“Whatever, see you later Alex.” Nick stepped away from the truck and watched as he drove away. He turned towards the modern high rise building with its steel and glass balconies and smiled. A sense of warmth spread through him, not from the sun, although it did warm his skin, but from the memories of his crash pad by the beach. He was back, and it felt good.


Upon entering he was greeted with the warmth from the sun. The glass curtain wall expanded the length of the unit, letting the light pour in, illuminating the living, kitchen and dining spaces. It was a wide space, somewhat irregular for condo’s which were typically narrow. He had the walls removed from the two rooms, combining them during renovation shortly after purchasing it. The spaces were painted white to further create the felling of openness. The living room was anchored with a gas fireplace, HD TV above, clad in Japanese maple. The same wood was carried onto the floors, except for the bedroom.

He sat down his luggage by the door and walked into the living room. A dark gray sofa visually separates the two rooms, complemented with a pair of mid-century modern chairs. Accessories were minimal, as were pillows chosen in shades of military green and orange. He remembered disagreeing with Renee on the color choices, his argument that the condo was purchased for him and therefore should be a reflection of his taste, won out in the end.

He finally reached the windows and admired the view of the ocean in the distance; one of the features of the building that won him over. He was captivated by its beauty, like it was the first time he saw it. Its sparkly blues and greens called his name. He opened the glass door and stepped onto the balcony. The sounds of the traffic coming from the streets below couldn’t shake his concentration on the ocean. He longed to be on the beach, to feel the sand on his bare feet, between his toes. To skim the water with his hands, but that would have to wait. The smile on his face faded as he remembered his appointments today. He groaned as he forced himself back into the room.

He returned to his luggage and carried it to the bedroom to undress. His travel clothes were not going to suit his business adventures today. One foot into the room and you could feel the difference from the other spaces. The floor was carpet, the walls were painted a light blue, and the windows were covered with a layer of draperies for darkness and privacy. A welcoming king size bed centered the space. He sat the suitcase on the bed and unzipped it. He started setting his clothes aside on the bed, when he removed his hat and scratched his head. The realization that he may have hat head dawned on him and he quickly walked into the bathroom to check it out. He turned on the lights revealing natural stone materials and wooden cabinetry, accented with glass and silver fixtures. He looked at himself in the mirror; his hair was not as bad as he feared. He mentally told himself he could fix it, and returned back to his suitcase for his shaving bag. He sat the bag by the sink, unzipped it and rummaged through it pulling out a comb and hair gel. There once was a time when he felt it was a very girly thing to do, to coif his hair, but it was something he grew accustomed to with his work. Kevin had convinced him at a young age that it was considered grooming. He chuckled at the memory of him showing him how to style it, as he fixed his hair.

Once his hair was in good condition, he checked his phone for the time. He didn’t have much to spare. He carefully lifted his shirt above his head, trying to avoid messing up his hair. He made another mental not to remind himself to undress first then style hair. He changed into a pair of dark blue jeans, a gray t-shirt, and a black jacket. He looked himself over in the mirror, decided he looked appropriate, and gathered his personal affects. He took a deep breath to shake off the nerves in his stomach, and left with the hope that today would end better than it started.