Nick:    

 

            “You can stay in here, Nick,” Lauryn said, opening the heavy oak door to what I assumed was the guest room of her and Kevin’s glorious Manhattan walk-up. She showed me inside and I set my luggage at the foot of the bed, gazing around the room and taking in my surroundings. A fireplace with an oak mantle and trim mounted in the farthest wall. A giant, oval-shaped area rug in complimenting hues of green and blue covering the hard wood floor. Lace curtains hanging over large windows, allowing immense light to fill the room and spread across the double bed.

            I glanced at the row of pictures that line the fireplace mantle. Four glossy pewter frames shimmering in the evening sunlight. I picked up one frame with gentle fingers and stared into the biggest blue eyes. Blue eyes of a tiny infant lying on a pale blue blanket. “That’s Tristan,” Lauryn whispered, sliding her arm around my waist.

            “I figured,” I muttered, setting the frame back in its place with the others before picking up the next. Four happy, smiling faces stared back at me. Brian, Lauryn, Shea, and me.

            “Do you remember when this was taken?” Lauryn inquired.

            “No,” I answered shortly.

            “I do. The exact moment. Howie took it in the Studios’ garden right after Shea and I found out we’d made it to the third round of tryouts. You and Brian were happier than we were, I think,” she explained with a giggle.

            I had to smile. I did remember. Vividly. Right after the flash, I captured Shea’s lips with mine. I still remembered the taste of her lip-gloss. The scent of her hair. I placed the frame back on the mantle.

            “Happy times,” I sighed, lugging my suitcase to the bed and popping the locks.

            “Need any help?” Lauryn asked, lifting a shirt from inside and coming across a framed picture of Reagan. “She’s pretty,” Lauryn commented, studying the perfect face gazing back at her. “She nice?”

            I took the frame from her hands and set it on the night table at the bed’s side. “She’s wonderful, Lauryn. Beautiful. Nice. Talented,” I answered.

            “I’m glad. You deserve that,” she stated, lifting more clothing from my suitcase.

            “I can do this, Lauryn. Thanks though,” I said, taking a few more shirts from her outstretched hands.

            “Okay. I’ll go make dinner and let you get settled,” she replied with a warm smile.

            I nodded as she left, closing the door behind her. I picked up the picture of the four of us in the Studios’ garden once again, looking at it carefully as quiet tears stung my eyes. Those were happy times. And I wished I could have them back again. I glanced up at the tiny infant captured on Kodak paper. “But it’s your fault!” I muttered, knocking the frame to the hard floor with a sweep of my hand. The glass shattered on impact and I knelt down to pick up the broken pieces.

            “Nicky, are you okay? What happened?” Lauryn’s concerned voice asked as she opened the door.

            “I bumped it. I’m sorry, Lauryn,” I apologized with a lie.

            She knelt at my side. “That’s okay, Nick. I can get another frame,” she said, picking up the large chunks of splintered glass.

            I jerked my hand away from the mess I’d created as a small shard embedded itself in my fingertip. “Jesus, Nick. Come with me,” Lauryn ordered gently, eyeballing the slivered glass and the accompanying cut that oozed crimson blood. “Let’s clean this up,” she stated, ushering me to the bathroom, closing the door behind us.

 

Shea:

 

            I sat on the cold plastic chairs in the desolate airport waiting for the next flight back to New York. Tristan slept in my lap, oblivious to everything that had just happened. I’d lost my best friend and it broke my heart. Why did he say such hurtful words? And could I honestly believe he didn’t mean it when he said it with such conviction and determination? “Is this seat taken?” a quiet voice asked.

            Without looking up, I shook my head solemnly, not wanting to reveal my tear-stained face to anyone. A small, yet manly, hand tenderly caressed the golden curls atop my son’s head. “Excuse me? Don’t touch my child!” I snapped to the stranger.

            “I’m sorry, Shea,” the “stranger” whispered. I raised my blue eyes to greet his. “I’m so sorry,” he mouthed, not able to speak through the tears that choked up his throat.

            “Sorry for what, Brian? Sorry for saying it? Or sorry for feeling it?” I questioned with heated emotion.

            Brian sat there, his mouth moving but nothing coming out, as the tears streamed from his baby blue eyes. Tristan fussed in my lap and Brian reached out to comfort him. “Don’t touch him, Brian!” I shouted, my voice echoing throughout the nearly empty airport terminal. “How do I know you won’t run off with him?”

            “Shea,” he squeaked, “I didn’t mean it. I never felt it. I don’t know why I said it,” he murmured through ragged breaths. He clutched my hand in his. “I can’t lose you. You and Tristan are all I have,” he whispered.

            I yanked my hand free from his death grip. “It’s too late for that, Brian. I don’t know you anymore. You’ve changed otherwise you wouldn’t have said that at all,” I spat, rising to my feet and throwing my bag over my shoulder. “Stay away from us. I never want to see you or hear from you again.” I walked away briskly, ignoring the agony-filled, heart wrenching call behind me.

            I paused long enough to turn around before turning the corner to look back at the crumpled form on the plastic chair, his grief stricken face buried in the palms of his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

 

Nick:

 

            “That should do it,” Lauryn said, wrapping a band-aid around my forefinger, kissing it like a mother would her child’s. She caressed my cheek and rose from her kneeling position before me. “Dinner?” she asked.

            I smiled. “Sure. But let me help,” I said softly.

            Lauryn eyed me skeptically. “When did you learn how to cook? Without setting the place on fire that is?” she questioned with a laugh.

            “There’s only so much pizza and take-out a person can eat before he breaks down and buys a cookbook,” I returned, my eyes glinting laughter.

            We walked to the kitchen where Lauryn poured each of us a glass of Chardonnay. “What we having?” I inquired, sipping his wine.

            “Tomato-basil Parmesan,” she replied, tossing a handful of steak into the simmering pan.

            “Very nice. So sophisticated,” I said, licking my lips in hungry anticipation.

            Twenty minutes-and two glasses of wine-later, we sat down at the small oak table in the center of the kitchen. Our conversation was easy, filled with laughter and reminiscing. I didn’t realize just how much I did miss my older sister. The food vanished, every morsel devoured by unquenchable appetites. The wine flowed like water. The hours ticked by. Until only the soft light from the dinner candles illuminated our faces enough for conversation.

 

Lauryn:

 

            The candle burned down to nothing, waxy blobs dotting the polished tabletop. “Great dinner, L. Didn’t know you were such an acclaimed chef,” Nick complimented.

            “Ha! Far from acclaimed!” I chuckled, clearing away the dishes in the final glow of the fading candlelight. “I’m really glad you’re here, Nicky. I could use the company since both Kevin and Shea are gone,” I said softly, rising the tomato pan with warm water. “Oh, and I missed you too,” I added playfully, my lips parted in a wide smile.

            “I missed you too, L.” Nick leaned back in his chair and stretched his long arms over his head, yawning deeply. “I didn’t realize it was so late,” he commented, glancing at his watch.

            I yawned loudly, laughing as it drew to an end. “Me either.” I glanced at the stack of dishes by the sink. “Shit. These can wait. I’m bushed,” I stated with a wave of my hand.

            “Sounds good to me,” Nick sighed, rising on his long, lean legs. He leaned down and blew out the remainder of the candle’s flame, darkness descending upon us.

            “Good night, Nickolas,” I said, opening my bedroom door. He crossed to me and engulfed me in a bear hug.

            “Thanks again, L,” he whispered in my ear. I stroked his ivory cheek affectionately before retreating to my room to nestle in the warm blankets and watch TV.

            Only a few moments later, a timid knock sounded at my door. “Come in,” I called. Nick’s blond head poked around the door, his hand shielding his eyes.

            “You decent?” he asked.

            I had to laugh. “Nick, I wouldn’t have said, ‘Come in’ if I was sitting here in the nude.”

            He blushed slightly, a very charming characteristic. “Do you need something? Blankets? Pillows?” I questioned.

            “No,” he stated, entering my room fully. The soft light from the TV flickered off his naked torso. “Just wasn’t as tired as I thought.”

            “Well,” I began, “I’m watching reruns of Cheers if you care to join me,” I finished, gesturing to the empty place beside me.

            “You sure you’re not too tired?” Nick asked shyly.

            “Get over here!” I ordered gently, accompanied by a grin.

            He crawled on the bed, slipping his boxer clad half under the thick blankets and leaning back against the pillow. We only watched for a couple minutes before I heard gentle snoring beside me. “Not as tired as you thought,” I murmured. I sighed, pulling the blankets over him and brushing the strands of blond locks away from his eyes. I clicked off the TV and made myself comfortable beside him, my arm draped across his mid-section as sleep took over me.

 

AJ:

 

            The phone rang shrilly, jerking me awake from a restful slumber. “What? Hello?” I answered, my brain not fully functioning as a result of the rather rude awakening.

            “AJ,” a muffled voice said.

            I sat up suddenly. “Shea? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” I questioned, one right after the other firing from my now wide-awake body.

            “I’m okay,” she said meekly, although I couldn’t believe her due to the tone in which she said her words. “I just needed to hear your voice. To hear you say you love me,” she added.

            “I love you, Shea.” She sighed heavily. “Now, tell me what’s really wrong,” I demanded softly.

            She spilled the entire scene between her and Brian and I couldn’t help but feel the anger rising in my veins. He said I was unstable. He kissed my girlfriend. He threatened the safety and well being of Tristan, who hopefully someday would think of me as his father. “It’s okay, honey. Brian wasn’t thinking straight. Women do that to men,” I assured her, which elicited a quiet laugh from her.  “When you get home, we’ll straighten things out. Brian is our friend. Sometimes, now that Nick is gone and Kevin and Howie are so preoccupied with their label, I think we are all he has. We’ll work this out so we don’t lose one more person we all love. Okay?” I said softly.

            “Okay,” she whispered.

            “Just get yourself a hotel room tonight and leave on your scheduled flight. I’ll see you tomorrow by lunch,” I stated.

            “I love you, J.”

            “I love you too, Shea.” I heard the phone click in my ear so I hung up the receiver. But I couldn’t go back to sleep. Everything she told me echoed in my ears. I hated Brian for what he said about me, what he tried to do to Shea and Tristan. But he was my brother. And he had forgiven me for what I had done. How could I not forgive him?

            I picked up the phone and dialed the number Shea had given me before she left. “Holiday Inn,” the receptionist answered.

            “Room 318,” I stated gruffly.

            “Hello,” a weary voice answered.

            “Brian, we need to talk.”