“Thanks again, Nicole, for everything,” the station manager of Star 94 in Atlanta, Roger Hammond, told me as I made my way toward the exit. I had been hired by Roger to completely reinvent the Star 94 image. I was an independent graphic designer – the best in Atlanta, if not the entire Eastern seaboard – and the station had been suffering from a massive decline during the last ratings quarter. I had just completed a six week contract with them where I had come up with a new logo and had given their whole station a fresh twist – including their website and their station truck.

             “You are more than welcome, Roger!” I smiled, proud of the job I had done with the station. “Anytime you need any more work done, you know who to call!” I added, unashamedly self-promoting myself. Like I said, I am an independent contractor, meaning I have to get work any way I can.

            “You bet. We’ll be in touch,” he promised, sending me off with one last hug and final goodbye.

            As soon as Roger was out of sight, I continued my retreat out of the station, in a hurry to get back to my son. I had been sacrificing time with him in order to finish my contract with Star 94 on time, and I knew that he had been deeply hurt by my actions. After all, with an absent father, I was all he had left. In my rush to get home, however, I ended up crashing into a handsome man, spilling all of my belongings across the lobby floor – with the exception of my lap top which I went out of my way to save.

            “I’m sorry,” we both apologized at the same time, as we both scrambled to pick up my fallen materials. I looked up, momentarily stunned by the shining blue orbs that returned my stare. I offered him a shy smile as I returned to the task at hand, trying to shake the feelings his eyes stirred in me.

            “No really. It’s my fault. I was in such a rush to see my son that I wasn’t even paying attention to where I was walking,” I explained, desperately trying to gather up my things so that I could get out of this embarrassing situation as quickly as possible.

            “I can relate,” he chuckled, his laugh sending shockwaves down my spine. “I was just on my way to pick up my son from daycare. I’m Brian, by the way.”

            I looked up at his introduction, catching his eyes as he waited for my response. His smile was so contagious that I automatically felt the corners of my own mouth curving into a smile. “Nicole. But my friends call me Nicki,” I returned the introduction, suddenly shy.

            “I’ve never seen you around here before. Are you new?” he asked, immediately destroying any attraction I had toward him.

            In my head, I laughed quietly at this guy’s lack of class. Great. Just what I needed. Another too-hot-to-handle DJ hitting on me, I thought. Since my first day on the job, I had been asked out, hit on and propositioned more times than I cared to admit, and I was really not in the mood for another one thinking he could get into my pants.

            “Look, Brian. I appreciate you helping me pick up my stuff, but I’m not interested. I don’t date pseudo-celebrity DJs – or anyone even remotely close to being famous,” I told him as politely as possible, wanting to let him down easy. Whereas a lot of the other DJs had been downright crude, Brian was at least charming. I didn’t want to be rude or hurt his feelings.

            “Whoa, wait a second. I’m not a DJ. I don’t even work here. I was just trying to be polite. I wasn’t trying to hit on you or anything. I just recently got a divorce. Trust me, I’m not looking for a relationship right now,” he corrected, making me feel like a first-class bitch.

            I looked down, ashamed that I had allowed myself to jump to conclusions so easily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” I apologized, unable to meet his gaze.

            “Hey. It’s fine. No harm done,” he consoled, handing me the last of my belongings before reaching out a hand to help me up. When he didn’t release his grip on my hand, I looked up into his smiling face, once again caught up in the beauty of his shining blue eyes. “Let’s try this again. I’m Brian,” he introduced, wiping the slate clean.

            “Nicki,” I responded, laughing at his antics.

            “So, I’ve never seen you around here before. Are you new?” he repeated, shooting me a mischievous smile, causing me to smile at his persistence.

            “Actually, I just finished up a job. I’m an independent contractor for graphic design,” I explained, handing him one of my business cards.

            “Impressive,” he admired, smiling at me as I blushed at the compliment. I couldn’t understand what was wrong with me. I had never been the type to get embarrassed or shy easily, and here I was blushing at a simple compliment from a guy I had met less than ten minutes ago. “Would you like some help getting your stuff to your car?” he offered, his Southern accent coming out strong.

            “Actually, my car is in the shop, getting repaired. My ex-husband was supposed to be here 30 minutes ago, but I got held up in a meeting. I don’t know where he could be,” I confessed, my brow wrinkling in confusion.

            “Why don’t you give him a call? I’ll wait with you until he shows up,” he encouraged. I looked up at him, studying his face for any sign of an ulterior motive. What I found was a genuine smile and a desire to help.

            “Thank you,” I smiled my gratitude, pulling out my phone and dialing Ryan’s number.

            I listened to the monotonous ring before I finally connected with his voicemail. “You know who it is. Leave a message, and I’ll call you back.”

            “Ryan, it’s Nicole. Where are you? I’m outside the radio station and it’s 3:30. Give me a call back when you get this,” I left my message before hanging up.

            “No answer?” Brian asked.

            “No, but I’m going to call his assistant, Liz.” I quickly dialed Liz’s number – a number I was a lot more familiar with than my own ex-husbands. I talked to Liz more than I talked to Ryan – or anyone else for that matter.

            “This is Liz,” she answered on the second ring.

            “Liz, it’s Nicole. Where’s Ryan? He was supposed to be at the station 30 minutes ago,” I complained. I didn’t care if it sounded like I was whining. I didn’t care if I came off as a bitch. I was pissed. This wasn’t the first time Ryan had let either me or our son down. In fact, it happened more often than not. No matter how many times over the years he had promised to change, he never had. And it was me and DJ that got hurt in the end.

            “He got called in for a last minute photo shoot. A photographer in the area called him after a last minute cancellation. He’s been trying to hook up with this photographer for while, and he knew this was his only chance,” Liz defended my ex, once again caught playing mediator in one of our post-marital spouts.

            “Damnit! I am so sick of his bullshit. Damn celebrities never have time for their own fucking kids. They can never keep promises. They don’t care about anyone but themselves. I am through dealing with his shit. You can tell him that the next time he calls the house, I won’t be picking up,” I ranted, taking my frustrations out on whoever would listen. I knew it wasn’t Liz’s fault, and I didn’t mean to yell at her, but Ryan just drove me so crazy I didn’t care who got caught in the crossfire. “Where is DJ this time?” I asked, calming down, my energy spent after my angry tirade.

            “We dropped him off at that daycare by your house. We can send a car to come and get you if you’d like,” Liz offered, feeling helpless knowing that almost 4 years after our divorce, Ryan was still causing me pain.

            “No. I’ll just call a cab or something. Do me a favor, Liz? Tell Ryan I said he can go fuck himself next time he wants to talk,” I said, my voice cold and emotionless.

            “Nicole –” she started to protest, but I just hung up the phone, cutting her off mid-sentence. I didn’t have the energy to fight any more. I didn’t even have the energy to keep standing, as I fell to a sitting position, using one of the steps as a chair.

            I just sat there, fuming about my ex-husband and the man that he had become. I didn’t even want to think about how upset my son was going to be. Ryan had spent his life making and breaking promises to MY son, and I was the one left to pick up the pieces and try to repair his fragile, 4-year-old heart. In the last 4 years, ever since the divorce was finalized, I think Ryan had seen DJ maybe three times. And every time Ryan broke a promise to my son, my heart broke watching my son learn early-on that people only disappoint you if you count on them. The longer I sat there, thinking about my son, the harder it became to hold back my tears. Before long, the tight rein I had on my emotions broke, and tears involuntarily fell from my eyes. I felt stupid for crying in public, in front of a complete stranger, but I couldn’t contain my tears.

            “Are you alright?” Brian asked, hesitantly placing a comforting hand on my shoulder as it shook with the intensity of my sobs.

            It took me a moment to regain control of my emotions, but when I did, I finally decided that he deserved an answer. After all, he had just witnessed my impromptu breakdown and he was still standing there, concerned about me. “I’m fine. I’m just so sick of being let down all the time. I always end up placing my faith in the wrong people. But, is it really too much to ask for my ex-husband to spend time with his own son?” I asked, desperate for reassurance.

            “No offense, but your ex-husband sounds like a jerk,” Brian offered.

            “He is. But he wasn’t always. Before he became famous, he was the sweetest man I had ever met. It was only after he got a true taste of fame that he changed. And ever since, it has always been about him. I stayed for awhile, hoping this phase was just temporary, but it wasn’t. And then, I got pregnant with DJ, and I continued to stick it out for his sake. Eventually, though, I realized it wasn’t worth it any more – and it wasn’t a good life for DJ either. So, I filed for divorce and full custody, and Ryan didn’t even try to object. He didn’t want it to get out that he was a father and have his precious image tarnished. He promised that he would always be an active part of DJ’s life, but as you heard, that didn’t happen, either. It has gotten to the point that I’m afraid to tell DJ his dad’s coming because I know that 9 times out of 10, he won’t come or even call. And then I’m stuck picking up the pieces,” I told him my sad story.

            “You know, not all celebrities are like you ex-husband,” Brian told me, a hint of mischief in his tone.

            “Well, I still have yet to meet the one who proves me wrong. Most of them are self-centered, snobby brats who whine when every little thing doesn’t go their way. Not to mention, they make false promises just because they don’t want to upset anyone, even if they know they will never follow through,” I bitterly added.

            “Like I said – we’re not all like that,” Brian told me, cutting out the subtlety, since it didn’t seem to be working.

             I thought about his words, processing his confession and looking at him closely before finally recognizing where I had seen him before. “Oh gosh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I didn’t recognize you at all,” I apologized, feeling like the world’s biggest fool after everything he had heard. That’s what I get for stereotyping, I thought to myself, berating myself for looking like an idiot twice in one day in front of a member of my son’s favorite group.

             He shot me a sympathetic smile, easing my worries that I had somehow offended him. “Don’t worry about it. From everything you’ve told me, you have every right to think that way. But I just wanted you to know that we’re not all like that.”

             “I really am sorry. I just let my emotions take over sometimes. I should be the last person stereotyping anybody. I mean, after all, I am a part of one of the world’s most infamous stereotypes – that all blondes are airheads,” I told him, shaking my head at my own stupidity.

            “Well, I didn’t mean to listen to your conversation, but…” he laughed, changing the subject to save me from any more humiliation, “I couldn’t help but overhear. Do you need a ride somewhere?”

            “Actually, I guess I could use a ride,” I admitted, “as long as you don’t mind making a stop. I have to pick up my son at the Peachtree Lane Daycare Center,” I clarified.

            “Wait, your son goes to the Peachtree Lane Daycare Center?” he asked, mystified. At my confused nod, he continued. “My son goes there too. I have to stop there and pick him up anyway,” Brian informed me.

            “I live right down the street from there,” I told him, amazed by the coincidence.

            “Me too!” he exclaimed, equally as excited by the crazy turn of events as I was.

            “Maybe this day won’t be so bad, after all,” I whispered, under my breath, sending a silent prayer up to God for the blessing he had shown me just when my hopes had started to dwindle. “Shall we go get our sons, then?” I asked, louder.

            “I bet they’re growing restless,” Brian laughed, leading me to his car and holding the door open for me like the gentleman he is. I was truly impressed by his manners and hospitality – especially after I had practically insulted him multiple times. Yeah. Today isn’t so bad after all, I thought, as Brian pulled out onto the highway, headed for our neighborhood and our sons.

            “Still no luck?” my friend, Marcy, asked as I hung up the phone with a sigh. I held my head in my hands, groaning as I felt the beginning pangs of an oncoming headache. Eventually, I lifted my head, looking at my friend as she munched away at her fries without a care in the world.

             “I’ve never had this much trouble finding a job before. It’s like I’ve been blacklisted or something – which is impossible, because no one would blacklist a graphic designer in Atlanta,” I laughed, not quite sure where that sequence of logic had come from.

             I felt Marcy’s stare burn a hole into the side of my head, but I refused to meet her gaze, knowing that one look into my eyes and she would be able to read what was really bothering me. I had met Marcy my first day in Atlanta, at the daycare I used to use when I had first moved here. We had bonded over a cup of coffee, and we had been friends ever since. Even after I moved away from my old neighborhood and into the house we now inhabited, Marcy and I had remained friends.

             “So… have you heard from Brian again?” she asked, causing me to groan at how well she knew me. It amazed me that she was able to figure out what was bothering me without even trying.

             “No. I’ve seen him almost every day when I pick up DJ, but we haven’t said anything more than ‘Hey,’” I admitted, shaking my head at my situation. “God! I am such an idiot. Why can’t I say anything to him?” I asked, her, begging for answers she didn’t have.

             “Only you can answer that question, sweetie,” she advised, taking another bite of her hamburger, spilling ketchup on her shirt in the process.

             “I swear, half the time I find it hard to decide who is messier: you or DJ,” I laughed, watching as she tried to clean her newly stained shirt with a dry napkin. “Here,” I offered, holding out a baby wipe.

             “Thanks,” she smiled, finally cleaning the stain and balling up her lunch to be thrown away. “You are such a mommy,” she laughed, watching as I put the wipes, coloring books and crayons back into my bag.

             “That’s because I have a son,” I replied back, smirking.

             “Maybe you should call HIM,” she suggested, reverting back to our previous conversation. “If he won’t make the first move, maybe you should.”

             “I can’t. I didn’t get his number. Besides, he already told me that he just got divorced. He’s not ready for another relationship yet,” I argued. “And I don’t even know if I’M ready for another relationship yet.”

             “So… if all you get out of it is a friendship, isn’t that worth it? You said he’s a nice guy and you had fun talking to him, right? Well, maybe what you really need right now is a friend,” she reasoned, using her unobtrusive ways to gently persuade me.

             “Maybe…” I conceded.

             “Good. Then it’s settled. Next time you see him, you’ll walk up to HIM and start a conversation,” she confirmed, not giving me a chance to refute, as she got up and threw her trash away.

             “Marcy… Marcy… MARCY!” I called, laughing as she continued down her invisible path, ignoring my calls, despite their steadily increasing volume. When I finally caught up to her, I was laughing so hard I could barely walk. Watching my laughter only caused her to join in, and before long, we were laughing like a couple of fools, leaning on one another just to remain standing. I took a moment to collect myself before nudging Marcy. “Next time I see him, I’ll talk to him,” I promised, smiling at her look of triumph.

             She didn’t say anything as we made our way to our cars, choosing, instead, to smile wistfully at me as I got lost in my thoughts about what I would say to him when I saw him again. Just before we went our separate ways, I pulled her into a tight hug, silently thanking her.

             She slowly climbed in her car and started it as I put my bags back into my own car. Just as she was about to drive away, she rolled down her window and yelled one last piece of advice in my direction – “And don’t forget to kiss him!” And then she was gone.

 
            She really is one of a kind.

            “Hello Ms. Jenkins, let me go get DJ for you,” the receptionist at the daycare greeted. “Oh, and Baylee for you, Mr. Littrell,” she added, glancing over my shoulder.

             I turned around, shocked to find him standing right behind me. Usually we only saw each other in passing, one of us leaving while the other one arrived. “Hi,” he greeted, a smile lighting up his entire face.

             “Hi,” I responded back, returning the smile. An awkward silence followed after our one-word greetings, so I decided to take a chance and follow Marcy’s advice. How bad could it be, right? “How have you been? I hope recording is going well.” I felt like a complete idiot. I hope recording is going well. Could I sound any more formal and uncomfortable? I asked, silently kicking myself for being so nervous.

             “Oh! Yeah. Recording is fine. We’ve got a lot of stuff… recorded,” he responded back, just as nervously. I could tell he was having a conversation in his head similar to the one I had just had. I couldn’t understand where all this awkwardness had come from.

             “DADDDY! DADDY!” we heard Baylee’s enthusiastic yells resonate through the hall as he ran into his father’s arms. It was obvious that he was excited about something. “Daddy, can DJ come over and spend the night?” Baylee asked, using his most innocent face to get his father to give in.

             “You want DJ to spend the night, huh, buddy?” he asked, looking at DJ who was nodding his head just as enthusiastically as Baylee. He turned and gave me an amused look before turning back to his son. “Don’t you think DJ should ask his mom for permission, first?” Brian lectured, trying to stay stern despite the cute pout that now covered Baylee’s face.

             “Yes…” Baylee whispered, hanging his head. “But you always told me to ask you first, THEN talk to their mommy or daddy,” Baylee argued, hands on his hips, as he looked up at his father with hopeful eyes. “Isn’t that right, daddy?”

             “That’s right, buddy,” he smiled, ruffling his son’s hair before turning his attention to me. “Well, what do you say? Do you feel like a night off of parent duty?” he offered, giving me his most irresistible smile.

             “Well, with an offer like that, how can I refuse?” I accepted, laughing at myself for being such a total and complete dork. He just smiled at me, as we exchanged information – only to be used in case of an emergency, of course. With one final smile in each other’s direction, we separated and promised to meet up again in an hour.

            “Okay, now DJ, you are to be on your best behavior, do you understand me? I don’t want to hear a single bad thing from Brian, okay?” I instructed, as we made our way up the path to Brian’s front door.

             Looking up at his house, I was left speechless by the size and beauty. It was even better than I had imagined, obviously having been at the mercy of a woman’s touch at some point in time. There was no way I would believe for a second that Brian could have picked out hanging plants to decorate his entryway. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door, waiting for someone to answer.

             I half expected to be greeted by a maid or butler – so I was once again surprised when Brian answered the door himself, a dish towel draped over his shoulder and a wooden stirring spoon in hand. “Hello Mrs. Littrell, is Brian home?” I joked.

             “Ha ha ha. You’re so funny,” Brian sarcastically laughed, before sending me a playful smile. “Come on in. I’m almost done with supper,” he invited, leaving the door open for us to follow him inside.

             “Your house is absolutely beautiful, Brian,” I complimented, looking around at the impeccably decorated home as DJ and I followed him into the kitchen. “Who did the decorating?”

             “Thank you. I had an interior decorator come after Leighanne moved out. She redecorated the whole house, making it more masculine, but still keeping that well-kept look going,” he informed me. “Hey DJ, why don’t you go upstairs and tell Baylee supper’s almost ready?” Brian persuaded my son, pointing him in the direction of Baylee’s room.

             “OKAY!” he excitedly exclaimed.

             As soon as he was gone, I turned to Brian, deciding to get all the important parenting stuff out of the way before I forgot. “Thanks for taking the kids tonight, Brian. I guess they’ve grown close over the last week or so, huh?” I asked, smiling at the thought of my son having his first real “best friend.” Every day for the last week had been “Baylee this” and “Baylee that.” I had never seen my son so happy in my entire life, and that, in turn, made me happy.

             “It’s no problem. Really. I’m actually kind of glad Baylee finally has someone he can play with and have sleepovers with. He doesn’t really have a lot of friends because he’s not here long enough to really make friends with the neighbors,” Brian explained, a sad smile crossing his face.

             “I’m sure he loves being able to travel the world with you. But I know where you’re coming from. DJ doesn’t really have a lot of friends, either. Since he’s not in school until the fall, he doesn’t have that opportunity to make friends. And I’m pretty much working all the time to support us, so we haven’t really had the chance to get to know anyone in the area,” I confessed. “It’s going to be weird not have DJ at home tonight. It’s going to be too quiet.”

             I saw Brian contemplating an idea in his head just before he asked me. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?” he offered, giving me his most charming smile. “That way, you don’t have to go home to an empty house just yet, and you don’t have to say goodbye to DJ just yet. I have more than enough food,” Brian suggested.

             “I don’t know, Brian. I really don’t want to intrude. Besides, I’m sure DJ is dying to get rid of me already,” I laughed, just as the boys entered the kitchen.

             “Hey, DJ? Don’t you think it would be cool if your mom stayed for dinner?” Brian asked my son, deciding to use whatever forces necessary to make me give in to his demands. And it worked to. When I looked at all three boys giving me their best pouts, begging me to stay, it was impossible for me to say ‘no.’

             “Alright,” I finally accepted, silently laughing to myself that I was such a sucker for boys and pouty faces. Yup. Marcy was right. I am SUCH a mommy.

Dinner was uneventful, but nice. It had been a long time since I had eaten dinner with anyone other than DJ or Marcy, and it was nice to be able to have a conversation with another grown up who wasn’t my best friend.

I actually learned a lot about Brian and his past over dinner. I also learned that Baylee was just like his father in a lot of ways. He was hyper and mischievous, but he was always trying to find new ways to make others laugh. He told me all about his adventures around the world with his dad, and he even showed me some pictures from his trips – most of which I had already seen on the Backstreet Boys’ fansites.

It was easy to see the love Baylee had for his father, and it made me long to have a father figure for DJ to look up to. That had been one of my biggest regrets in ending my marriage to Ryan. I had feared that DJ wouldn’t have a man to look up to while he was growing up, and that he would, someday, resent me for not staying with his father. I shook my depressing thoughts away, deciding to just enjoy the evening – wherever it ended up taking me.

After a great deal of insistence from my part, I finally convinced Brian to let me help him with the dishes. After all, he was the chef – and guest of not, I was raised never to let the chef clean up after the meal. But of course, Brian wouldn’t let me do it by myself, so we compromised and agreed that we would both help. We had just finished clearing the table when there was a knock on his door. “I wonder who that could be?” he inquired out loud, drying his hands and disappearing to answer the door. “Hey man, what are you doing here?” I heard Brian ask from the entry way as he greeted his guest.

The next voice I heard, I recognized immediately as another member of Brian’s group, AJ McLean. I listened closely as their footsteps drew closer and closer to the kitchen. Not wanting to interrupt their conversation, which sounded important, I concentrated on finishing up the dishes.

“Man, I don’t know what we’re going to do. It’s too late to try to find someone else to fill in. No one would agree to our terms with this late notice,” AJ was telling Brain as they entered the room. “We’re screwed, man.”

“We’re not screwed, Alex. We’ve just got our work cut out for us,” Brian responded, trying to calm his friend’s worries. I started humming softly to myself, trying to stop myself from eavesdropping on their conversation. They both stopped, turning their attention to me. “Oh, Alex, I want you to meet Nicki. Nicole, this is my band mate, Alex,” Brian introduced.

“UNCLE AJ!” a tiny voice exclaimed, the excitement easy to hear, as a blur rushed into his arms. “What’d you bring me?” Baylee asked, his whole face lighting up in his excitement. AJ lifted him into his arms, hugging his “nephew” close.

“BAYLEE! You do not ask people what they brought you. That’s rude,” Brian reprimanded, causing Baylee to look down in shame. “Apologize to Uncle AJ and then greet him properly,” Brian instructed.

“I’m sorry, Uncle AJ. I missed you. I’m glad you’re here,” Baylee apologized, using his biggest weapon to break down his father’s defenses.

“That’s better,” Brian approved, turning his attention to the shy boy who was now using me as a shield from the scary looking stranger in front of him. DJ had never seen tattoos before, so I don’t think he knew what to do or how to react. “DJ, I want you to meet one of my best friends,” Brian soothed, trying to get him to come out from behind my legs.

“Put me down, please, Uncle AJ,” Baylee requested, seeing his new friend’s discomfort. As soon as he was on the ground, he walked over to DJ, grabbing his hand and pulling him to stand in front of where AJ was now squatting to their level. “DJ, this is my Uncle AJ. He’s in my daddy’s band. Uncle AJ, this is my new best friend, DJ,” Baylee introduced.

I looked over at Brian, trying to hold in my tears at how cute our children were acting at that exact moment. I was so touched by Baylee’s introduction, when he called DJ his new best friend. It gave me hope that maybe DJ had finally found a true friend – someone he could count on to be his friend for years to come. Looking at Brian, I could see he felt the same way.

“It’s nice to meet you, DJ,” AJ responded, smiling brightly at my son.

“What is that?” DJ asked, pointing to AJ’s tattoos.

“They’re called tattoos. But they’re only for grownups. I don’t think your mommy would be too happy if I told you about them,” AJ laughed, looking up at me as he spoke to my son. At the shake of my head, he returned his attention back to my son. “Hey! Baylee, why don’t you go look in the living room. I might have left a surprise of two there for you,” AJ bribed, needing to talk to Brian.

“Brian, I think I should go,” I interrupted before they could begin their business discussion again.

“What? Why? We haven’t even finished the dishes yet,” Brian argued, pleading with me to stay a little longer.

“I don’t want to intrude on yours and AJ’s business,” I argued, looking between the two men who were now watching me.

“Oh, no. Don’t leave on my account. It’s nothing, really. Well, I mean, it’s terrible, but – well, it’s just that – see, the new graphic designer we hired to work our websites was in an accident last night, and um, he died – ” AJ fumbled over his words.

“Hey! What about you? You could do it!” Brian interrupted his friend’s continuous mumbling.

“What about me, what? I could do, what?” I asked, giving him a skeptical glance before returning my eyes to the still nervous AJ, who was now rubbing his t-shirt between his thumb and his fingers.

“You could be our new graphic designer! We could hire you. I mean, that is unless you’ve already found your next job,” Brian suggested, his enthusiasm waning during his last statement.

“No, I haven’t found another job yet, but you don’t even know what my work is like,” I stated, unsure of why I was turning down the chance to work with DJ’s favorite group. Quit kidding yourself, I lectured. The only reason DJ is a fan is because YOU were a fan first.

“Well, you have to come by tomorrow to pick up DJ, right?” Brian asked, knowing he had me. “So when you come over, just bring your laptop with you. You can show us your work. It’ll be like an informal interview. We can even get a conference call going with Howie and Nick.”

“Brian –” I started to protest, but AJ cut me off.

“That’s a great idea! What time should I be here tomorrow?” he asked Brian, as they both completely ignored my protests. Finally, I just gave up and listened as they made the arrangements. “I’ll call Nick and Howie tonight and let them know what’s up,” AJ concluded, turning his attention back to me. “Nicole, it was a pleasure to meet you. I’ll see you tomorrow at 8.”

“Tomorrow at 8. Goodnight, AJ,” I responded, not even bothering protesting to the early hour. I may be kid-less for the night, but I still didn’t get to sleep in. The life of a parent – always the adventure.

“Goodnight,” he returned, heading for the door. Just as he was about to close the door behind him, he turned back around with a mischievous smile crossing his face. “Try to keep the noise down, will you? There are kids in the house!”

“ALEX!” “AJ!” Brian and I exclaimed at the same time, our faces turning beet red at the insinuation behind his words. And with that, he was gone, leaving Brian and I to face each other and our embarrassment alone.

I heard Brian clear his throat, trying to break the awkward mood that had settled over the house at AJ’s comment. “So, ummm, I guess we should finish the, ummm, dishes,” he nervously stuttered.

“Yeah. Dishes,” I agreed, returning to my previous duty of washing, while Brian returned to his position, rinsing and drying the dishes I handed him. “So, ummm, what would this job include – if I got it?” I asked, trying to make conversation. The mood was nothing like it had been BEFORE AJ had showed up, and the silence was killing me.

“Well, we are completely reinventing ourselves this time around. We kind of have to with Kevin leaving the group. And we wanted to make our official site more interactive – maybe by using more Flash or videos or something. Plus, we were thinking about creating individual sites for our solo careers. Both Nick and I are working on our sophomore albums. Alex and Howie are working on their debut albums. So we thought we would start promoting now, through our websites,” Brian explained, relaxing into the conversation and losing his uneasiness.

“Wow. You weren’t kidding when you said you were screwed if you didn’t find another designer soon, were you?” I kidded, giving him a genuine smile.

“Oh yeah. We’re slave-drivers, you know?” Brian laughed, his eyes sparkling even brighter than normal in his state of amusement. “That’s why no one wants to work with us. We drive all of our employees away with our intense expectations and impossible standards.”

“Oh. I thought everybody was just jumping ship before you tanked on another album, dragging everyone down with you,” I picked, laughing at the crestfallen look that suddenly appeared on his face. “I mean, Never Gone DID get less than mediocre reviews, didn’t it?”

“Oh that’s it!” he exclaimed, throwing down his dish towel and giving me his most threatening stare. “You’re in trouble now,” he taunted, getting ready to pounce. I didn’t give him the chance to attack, though, running out of the kitchen as fast as my legs would carry me. “I can’t believe you insulted our music! Of all the things to pick on, you had to pick the music?” Brian’s shouts followed me down the long, narrow corridors.

“I guess I could have picked on your nose or AJ’s lack of an ass,” I yelled back, not daring to slow down in fear that he would catch me. “But then I figured there was no point in bringing up the obvious.” I finally stopped running when I lost track of the footsteps that had been pounding behind me just moment before. I turned around, a confused expression crossing my features as I searched the empty hallway for my pursuer. “Brian, where – “ I started to question his whereabouts, just before I felt myself run into a warm, hard chest, followed by a pair of arms encircling me, leaving me trapped and defenseless.

“Ah ha! Gotcha!” he crowed, pulling me over to the awaiting couch to commence in his tickle-torture punishment.

“Brian, you don’t want to torture me,” I told him, using my most innocent and persuasive tone of voice to convince him I was right and to avoid the impending agony that comes from a good tickle.

“Oh, I don’t, do I?” he asked, clearly amused by my sense of logic. “And why, might I ask, don’t I want to torture you? After all, you did insult my group’s music – not to mention you insulted my nose. My nose is a very sensitive subject for me,” he argued, letting me know he was not going to give in without a good reason.

“Well, you don’t want to torture me because you need me. I’m pretty much your last hope as far as graphic designers. And how do you think the other Boys would react when I tell them I can’t come tomorrow because, and I quote, ‘Ask Brian. It’s all his fault,’” I threatened, smirking at my captor.

“Well, you do make a good argument,” Brian conceded, releasing some of the pressure he was using to hold me down. Just as I was about to revel in my victory, Brian surprised me by speaking again. “But, it just wasn’t convincing enough,” he smirked before he began his assault on my sides, his experienced fingers knowing just where to touch to cause me to roar with laughter. It seemed that no matter where I turned, he was waiting, his fingers attacking every free inch of my stomach I wasn’t able to protect.

“Ok, ok. You win… just… STOP!” I cried, my breath coming out in short, panting breaths from the lack of oxygen in my lungs. “Please!”

“I don’t know. I don’t really think you’ve learned your lesson, yet,” he chuckled, watching as I tried, in vain, to move my body away from his torturous advances on my side. “Have you learned your lesson yet?” he asked me, wiggling his fingers for effect, showing me that if I answered this question wrong, he would resume his tickling.

“YES! I’ve learned my lesson,” I shouted, willing to do anything to save my precious sides from further torment.

“I don’t know. That didn’t sound very convincing to me,” he teased, giving me a cocky grin as he watched me squirm under his restraint.

“I promise. I really have learned my lesson. I will never again insult your music. Nor will I ever insult your nose or AJ’s ass,” I told him, praying he would let me go and shower me with mercy.

“Apologize to my nose,” he joked, leaning down so said nose was just above my face. At my hesitation, he pulled back, giving me an evil grin. “Apologize to my nose, or I continue punishing you,” he warned, giving me an ultimatum.

“Alright!” I gave in, embarrassed by the situation, but at a point of indifference – as long as it meant getting out of my current position and away from his taunting fingers. He once again returned his nose to its previous position, so I could complete my task. “I’m sorry for insulting you, Brian’s nose. You are a very handsome nose, and I won’t offend you again,” I apologized, going beyond the required instructions and kissing his nose softly after my apology.

Brian finally released me from my human-made confines, and helped me off the couch. He was still laughing softly when we re-entered the kitchen to finish the remaining two dishes we had left soaking in the suds. “You know, you can insult AJ’s ass all you want. In fact, I encourage it,” he told me after a moment of silence, giving me his most serious look. It didn’t take long, however, before both of us were breaking into another bout of laughter, holding onto each other just to keep upright.

“I don’t remember the last time I laughed so much in one evening,” I confessed, wiping the tears that had fallen down my face in my amusement.

“I’m glad I could be of service,” he grinned, the tears of joy in his eyes reflecting the overhead lighting, giving the illusion they were twinkling.

“I really do need to be going. If I have to be back here at 8 in the morning, I need to get home and at least prepare a small presentation,” I told him, trying to convince myself in the process. I didn’t want to leave. Tonight had been the first time I had let loose and truly enjoyed myself in a long time. And I didn’t want it to end.

I watched Brian wage an inner-war, as I fought a similar battle within my own mind. Finally, I met his gaze with my own, our eyes exchanges more in that single glance than words alone could have ever done. “Please stay,” he quietly requested, his eyes pleading his case. “We could tuck the boys in and then just watch a movie and talk. I don’t want this to end just yet,” he admitted, reading the thoughts that had been racing through my own mind.

“Me neither,” I found myself involuntarily confessing.

“Then stay,” he asked again, breaking down my resolve with every gentle touch of his hand on my own – every lingering gaze. “Please.”

“Okay,” I gave in, listening to my heart for the first time in a long time.

No words needed to be spoken as we stood there, caught up in the moment, and just losing ourselves to the feelings surrounding us. However, all good things must come to an end.

“Mommy!” I heard DJ yell, breaking my gaze with Brian as I felt him wrap his little arms around my legs, using me as a shield. “Baylee’s going to get me!”

“DJ!” Baylee yelled, bursting into the room, a toy gun in hand and a bandana wrapped around his head. “I found you!” he exclaimed, trying to get to DJ who was now using me as a barrier between his attacker and himself.

Brian was of no help as he just watched on in amusement, laughing at the scene in front of him. “Brian!” I scoffed, using my best mommy-voice to get him to snap out of his little, carefree world.

“Alright, boys. Time for bed,” Brian announced, coming to my rescue.

“Awwww man! Do we have to go to bed,” Baylee whined, turning to his father with his infamous pout.

“Yes, little man, you HAVE to go to bed,” Brian laughed, not even flinching at his son’s expression, evidently immune to its effects after 4 and a half years.

“Oh, alright,” Baylee sighed, giving in without a fight.

“Go change into your PJ’s and brush your teeth. We’ll be up there in a minute to tuck you boys in,” Brian instructed, as I just stood there in amazement, watching as both boys did as they were told without so much as a single protest.

It hit me then just how much DJ had been missing in his life with the absence of his father. He didn’t have a male role model to look up to and raise him like Baylee did. He didn’t have someone he could go to and ask the questions he was too embarrassed to ask me. I began to wonder if I was doing the right thing in raising DJ the way I was. It’s not like I had been given much of a choice in the matter, but I still wondered if maybe I could have done more – if he would have been better off with a father figure in his life – even if it meant moving in with my parents.

“Hey, you okay?” Brian asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine,” I answered, responding to his concern with a reassuring smile. Well, maybe things weren’t so bad, after all. I mean, here I was, tucking my son into bed at his new best friend’s house, joined by one of the nicest – not to mention most handsome – men I had ever met in my entire life. And on top of all that, I had an interview lined up for the following morning for the opportunity to work for my all-time favorite musical artists. Things could be a lot worse. In fact, things hadn’t looked this good in my life in years. So why was I complaining. “Life is good,” I whispered to myself, following Brian up the stairs, pushing all the troubling thoughts out of my mind.