Greg was running his fingers over the keys. They had break, once again. To Greg's opinion, they had had too many breaks. Hell, they were about to do MTV unplugged just in four days. And they all knew it wasn't just MTV unplugged. It was a concert that would set a new direction to Backstreet Boys. But all Greg could do was try to keep his fingers warm for next rehearse. Going out didn't feel good, word had spread and streets were full of screaming girls. Previously building had been restricted area but somehow it had turned into a great dance studio. Greg heard vague screams but didn't pay any attention to those until the door opened.

Cara had walked trough several halls until she heard anything. Corridors were silent, she saw rooms filled with clothes, electronics, other equipment but no man. Until she heard faint piano music. She stood still for a moment and then followed the sound. Maybe it was some of the boys. Maybe they could take back everything Be-Bob had just said. Cara was worried. If they wouldn't go to Europe with Boys, then what? She didn't know and she didn't want to imagine. She just wanted to stay in the only world she felt safe in.

-Hey you, Greg said when he saw Cara's face peaking in to the room.
-Hey, Cara said shyly. -Can I come in?
-Sure.
Greg had no idea of new policy. And he could use some company.
-Have you played piano lately? Greg asked.
He stood up and offered chair for Cara. She went there, but didn't sit down.
-No, not much.
-But I told you to keep it up!
-It's hard to find new pieces. I don't know what I can play and what is too hard.
-Oh. That's true.
Because Cara didn't sit, Greg did.
-You know this one?
He played for a little while. Cara closed her eyes again, concentrated on listening.
-I've heard it. It's Chopin, right?
-Correct.
Greg looked satisfied and nodded.
-I can give you notes for it, if you want to.
-Sure.
-I don't have those with me.
-Oh.
Greg noticed disappointment that spread over Cara's face.
-But you're coming to concert, right?
-You mean unplugged? I'm not sure.
-Hell, why not?
Because we don't have tickets and Be-Bob just told us to stay as far away as we can, Cara wanted to say but just shrugged.
-Here's the deal. You come to concert and meet me after it. I'll put your name on the list. OK?
-OK.
-Band on stage in five minutes. I repeat, band on stage in five minutes, metallic voice cracked trough speakers. Greg smiled, it was his time to go. Cara approached the door.
-Hey.
Cara turned when she heard Greg's voice.
-I can't put your name on the list if I don't know it.
-Cara, she said. -Cara Castillo.
-Like in Godfather? Greg asked with respectful voice. Cara nodded.
-But no one calls my father don something.
-For a minute I was worried, Greg laughed. -So you're Italian?
-Totally American, but half Italian and half Irish.
-That explains the color of your hair.
Cara glanced a smile and touched her hair. It was still flaming red.
-I guess so.
Greg stood up and came with her to the hall.
-You know your way out?
-I think so, yes.
-OK. I'll see you after concert.