When you had money, the internet could be easily manipulated to give any information you wanted. Hell, even without money it was pretty easy to manipulate. And after searching a few websites and narrowing his search continuously, he finally found a total of three Christina Boones in California.

The first call was an answering machine, and he hung up without leaving a message. The second one had no idea who he was. The third phone number was a man demanding to know why he was calling “his baby momma.” And no, there was no apostrophe ‘s’ after baby. Jones hung up on that one in complete distaste.

His search wasn’t thwarted though. He looked up the publishing company next, deciding that if he’d waited thirty years to see Astra Lai, he could wait as long as need be to get her phone number.

“Star Fresh Publishing. How may I direct your call?”

“I’d like to speak with the editor in charge of the recent publication My Night With Jones Aimes.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t disclose that information. I can give you the fan P.O. Box if you’d like to send a letter to the author.”

“Maybe I’m not going about this the right way. You see, I am Jones Aimes.”

The woman snorted. “Yes, I’m sure you are. Mr. Aimes, we are a very busy publishing company. Let me give you-”

“If I wanted to prove to you that I was Jones Aimes, what would I have to do?” Jones asked, annoyed.

“You could try singing a song,” the woman said, her annoyed voice suddenly changing into amusement. “I’d like to hear you sing a song, Mr. Aimes.”

“Very well.” Jones sang the opening lyrics to his most recent song released to the radio. “Would you like me to get my guitar out and do a solo just to be sure?”

“Oh, my god,” the woman breathed. “Either you’re a very good impersonator, or you’re Jones Aimes.”

“I’m afraid it’s the latter. Can you please connect me with the editor in charge of the publication of the book?”

“Yes, of course. Hold for just one moment, sir. Mr. Aimes. Er . . . I love you!”

Jones smirked when he heard the click and then another dial tone. That was funny enough that he didn’t mind the impatience he was currently feeling.

Another couple seconds passed, then: “This is Nancy Edwin of Star Fresh Publishing. How may I help you?”

“Yes, this is Jones Aimes. And before you question whether it really is me, I have just had to sing a song to one of your secretaries, and I would not like to do it again. If you firmly believe I am not the real Jones Aimes, you may go down to the secretary and listen to her gush about how much she loves me.”

There was a pause, and his smile grew. “Er, no. That won’t be necessary,” Nancy said quickly. “This is the famous Jones Aimes, eh? I’ve heard quite a bit about you from your manager. If you’re calling in regards to the representation of your character in-”

“I’m not calling to ask about anything like that. I’ve been in the business for thirty years, ma’am. I know that when it’s signed, it’s signed. I just want the phone number of Christina Boone.”

“Wh-what?” Nancy paused for another minute. “Christina? You wish to speak to the author?”

“She is the author of the book, isn’t she?”

“Well, yes. Hold on just a moment. I have it in my address book somewhere . . .” There was the sound of shuffling, then Nancy came back on the phone and recited a number.

Jones wrote it down with the pen and paper he’d had out ready. “Thank you so very much, Ms. Edwin. Have a nice day.” Jones hung up before he could listen to her protests that he stay on the line.

Jones turned on the dial tone and attempted to dial the numbers. Suddenly his daring failed, and he shut the phone off. It shouldn’t be so hard to call her, should it? Christina Boone . . . what a plain name for someone so . . . so . . .

Jones sighed and picked the phone up. None of it mattered. He had waited all this time to talk to her, and he wouldn’t waste another minute. With a quick burst of courage, he dialed the number.

A few rings later, and a woman’s voice came on the line. “Hello?”

“Hello,” Jones greeted. “Is this Christina Boone?”

“. . . Yes,” she said, her voice coming out a little breathy. “Who’s this? If-If I might ask, that is.”

“This is Jones Aimes.”

There was a long pause. “I knew it! I could tell by your voice . . . I’ve always remember your voice.” Then she added quickly, “I mean, from my dream.”

“Dream?”

“Y-Yes. Maybe we shouldn’t get into it right now. What . . . I mean, forgive me for being blunt, but why are you calling me? Besides the obvious because I’m sure this has to do with my book.”

“Yes, it does. I am calling you . . .” Jones closed his eyes. “I’m calling you because I want to see Astra Lai again. You have to know her - are her - I don’t really give a damn.”

“I . . . um . . . the book? It was correct? You-you remember that night?”

“You are Astra, aren’t you? I can tell by the way you speak. You always got so embarrassed. I presume you’re blushing right now?”

“Trembling, too,” she murmured.

Jones laughed delightedly. “Do you know how long . . .” He trailed off. “We can get into that later. I’m coming to California, and we’re going to have lunch. Then we’re going to have dinner, and possibly go out for drinks after that.”

“You-you’re . . . coming . . . here?”

“I will have a plane ride within the hour.”

“I live in-”

“I know where you live. It was rather hard trying to track you down - again. Don’t run again, Astra.”

“I-I won’t. I swear.”

“Good. I’ll call you back when I have finalized plans to get to California.”

* * * * *

Christina sat at her kitchen table, sipping a mug of tea bemusedly. Things had happened so fast in the past few hours that she wondered if she was just dreaming again.

Jones Aimes had called her up that morning to ask to see her. Her. Christina shook her head again, disbelieving. Three years she firmly believed in her dream, and then at the premier of her book, when Mib had treated her so unfamiliarly, she’d stopped, listened to her friends when they told her it was all her imagination. But . . . why had Mib lied to her? Or had she lied? Christina sighed and downed the rest of her tea. In another hour or so Jones would be here - here - in her living room.

Unless, of course, this was all some devious plan put on by a prankster who’d read her book and decided to poke some fun. Christina desperately wished this wasn’t the case.

And so for the next hour Christina sat at her table, drinking mug after mug of tea, waiting for Jones - if indeed it was Jones - to come to her house.

The incredulousness of the situation did not escape Christina.

When the doorbell chimed, she stood up shakily on her legs. “This isn’t really happening,” she whispered to herself. “That’s just Denny or Jennifer or Rachel or . . . hell, it could be your mother.” The attempt at a joke brought a smile to her face and a slight showering of courage.

Christina reached the door and opened it with wide eyes. They proceeded to widen further when she laid eyes on . . . “Jones,” she whispered, a hand coming up to her chest like they used to do in old movie.

Jones looked her up and down with a puzzled expression.

“Um, come in. Please,” Christina said, suddenly remembering her manners as she stepped aside, let him in, and shut the door. “You can sit down if you like,” she offered, gesturing to the furniture decorating her living room.

Jones chose the couch and sat down awkwardly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. When she noticed his hands shake slightly, she felt less stupid for being so nervous. “Um . . . I’m Christina Boone.”

“How is this possible?” Jones demanded, looking her over again. “You haven’t aged a day . . . unless . . . are you her daughter?”

Christina sighed and shook her head. “This is going to be very complicated and wild and unbelievable.”

“I think I might believe anything you say. You’re standing before me almost as you were thirty years ago.”

Christina crossed her arms nervously and sat down on the love seat. “If you’ve read the book, then you know I had the young woman think it was all a dream.”

He nodded. “Yes, I remember.”

“I was that girl.”

Comprehension dawned in his eyes. “You mean . . . you . . . dreamed yourself into the ‘70s?”

“I honestly don’t know what happened that night,” Christina whispered. “I was joking around with my friends and wished that I could meet you back in the ‘70s . . . and I dreamed that I was there. I dreamed in vivid detail, and it was all so real. When I woke up, suddenly there was a song written about Astra Lai, the name I’d used in my dream. There were websites . . .”

“So you were originally in a time where I didn’t have the song Astra Lai?”

“Yes. I think . . . I don’t know. Maybe that was the dream.” She laughed unevenly. “I’m ready to believe just about anything.”

“So am I.” Jones stared at her hard again. “What was I like when I hadn’t met you? I mean, as I would be at now.”

It took a second for Christina to realize what he was asking. “I . . . I don’t know that there’s much difference. I did know quite a bit about you, you know. I’m . . . a big fan.”

“Yes. I do believe there was some mention of hot monkey sex?” He grinned at her. “When you blush . . .” He trailed off, staring at her as if enraptured.

“Yes, well. Why do you, um, think there would be a difference?”

“Because you changed me that night. That’s why I’ve had to find you, why I wrote that song. I was in a state of depression. I wanted to leave the tour and go wallow in a hole somewhere. I was so sick of what I had been, what people expected me to be, and the fact that Katie was gone.”

“Your ex-wife,” Christina acknowledged.

“Did I make up with her before - in the other lifetime?”

“I . . . I don’t recall. I think you two had some bad blood between you or something. It was mentioned briefly a few times.”

Jones nodded, smiling. “See what you did? In this time . . . I called her the day after Astra Lai - you - left. We’re on speaking terms, and I still consider her a distant friend.”

“You’re accepting this all unbelievably well,” Christina commented. “No one has ever believed me, even when I showed Denny the proof.”

“Proof?”

“That night I snorted coke with you and your band. When I woke up, I had traces of cocaine in my system.”

Jones sat backwards suddenly and threw a hand over his eyes. “Okay, now this is getting a little scary.”

“I felt like that for weeks afterwards,” Christina said. “I can understand why no one believes me. But . . . what about Mib - your manager? I saw her at the premier of my book, and she told me the book was a piece of fiction. She didn’t recognize me . . .”

Jones sat forward again with a cold look. “Mib . . . I don’t know what the hell happened there. She tried to hide the publication of this book from me. From what I gathered, she didn’t want me to get upset when I tried to find you again.”

“Are you upset?”

“Not in the least.”

“And why did you want to find me? I only knew you for one night,” she said softly, looking down at her lap.

“I told you. That night changed my life. And at the very least . . . I would like to thank you. At the most, I would like to get to know you again.”

Christina looked up at him in surprise. His voice was low and intimate just like that night when she’d been shocked by his advance. “Would you . . . would you have kissed me if I hadn’t disappeared in the bathroom?”

Jones smirked slightly. “I think, Astra, that I would have done more than that if you’d let me.”

A smile spread across her face. If he felt that way then, could he feel that way now?

“But,” he said, sighing, as if he’d read her thoughts, “I am not the same man you talked with that night. I have had a few decades, as compared to your few years, to change.”

“I understand,” Christina said seriously. “I just wish that I would never have left that night.”

“I don’t. If you had stayed with me, you would probably have lost the innocence that I found intriguing about you and still am fascinated by.” He smiled softly as if remembering. “Did you ever think about the double meaning of your name? Astra Lai. Lai and Lie.”

“I didn’t,” Christina said quickly. “Astra Lai . . . was going to be my stage name. Sometimes I would imagine being a glam rock star, even though it would have been impossible since I’m a woman. Astra means star. Lai means eternity. In a way I was trying to say eternal rock star.”

“On the inside,” Jones agreed. “I told you then that you have the soul of a singer, and I hope that soul hasn’t changed.”

“I told you then that I can’t hold a tune.”

“That can be fixed.” Jones smiled warmly at her as he stood up and offered his hand. “Let us have that lunch I promised.”

“Okay.” Christina felt like a little girl with a crush again as she stood up and accepted his hand.

“I think our time to be lovers has passed, but I would like to be your friend.”

“I can’t honestly say I’d mind being friends with a famous rock star,” Christina teased as they started walking to the door.

“I’m glad you mentioned my stardom, because I was thinking that our first activity together as friends would be me teaching you to play the guitar.”

“When I already play the bongo so well?”

“Oh, soon you will be a mastermind of music.”