Chapter One

The young man gazed out of the window, watching the circling December snowflakes fall lightly on the New York City sidewalks, coating everything in a soft, white blanket, as if masking the world's sins and covering up the hatred, conflict and wrongdoing that went on so much in modern society. Everything looked pure, clean and innocent. But he knew that the purity and the cleanliness wouldn't last for long. Once the City began to waken and people left their high-rise apartments, the heavy pedestrian traffic would turn the crisp, white blanket into a muddy-brown, wet slush. Just like everything nowadays. All the good in the world would be turned into something bad. What a gyp.

Shaking his head slightly, the young man turned away from the window. Here he was, eighteen years old and debating the goodness of the world and thinking back to when everything was kind and well-meaning. Not that he'd been alive then, of course, but it was nice to think that somewhere back down the line, there had been a safe, clean, idealistic world, where everybody knew and loved everybody else and people could leave their doors unlocked without fear of returning and finding everything they ever owned gone. Not like this year, where you could barely leave your house without somebody trying to pick it up and load it into the back of a removal van.

"What you here for, son?"

"Sorry?" The young man turned to the elderly man sitting next to him. He'd been already sitting there when he had gotten on the bus at eight o'clock the previous evening. Now it was five-ten the next morning, and these were the first words he'd spoken.

"What you comin' to New York for?"

"Oh, I work here."

"What d'you do, sonny?" The man suddenly burst into a fit of coughing, shaking his huge body vigorously, making the younger man's eyes widen.

"I'm in the music business. Are you okay?" he asked, concern creeping into his voice.

"Oh, I'm always fine, boy, don't you worry. I should just cut down on the smokes, know what I'm sayin'? In the music business, eh? Alright for some, innit?"

"It's fun," conceded the young man. "Why are you here?"

"Don't have no place else to go. I'm staying with my daughter. She don't want me though. I'm just gonna be a burden. But I ain't got no place else."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Where in the City does your daughter live?"

"Oh, she don't stay in the City." The man scratched his face, a three-day beard growing on his multiple chins. "Not the right environment for bringing kids up in, she says. She's in Long Island."

"How many grandchildren do you have?" asked the young man politely, simply for the sake of making conversation.

"Three. Julia, Kendra and Hannah. They're spoilt, I tell you that. One of 'em looks about your age, son. How old are you?"

"I'm eighteen."

"Ah, well, Kendra's seventeen. Julia's fifteen and Hannah's twelve. You wanna see them?"

"Sure."

The man shifted heavily forward, digging in his dirt-encrusted khaki rucksack. He rummaged in the separate front pocket with his dirty hands, which were covered in filthy green gloves with the fingers cut off. "Here!" he announced triumphantly.

Feeling slightly sorry for the dirty old man, the young man took the photograph from him and looked closely at it. He had to admit that the girls were good-looking. In the photo, their arms were all around one another, a bit like the photos that they used to take of him and his brothers. "Are they close?" he asked.

"Not at all," replied the man. "They fight constantly…y'know…where's the love? You got any sisters?"

"Three," replied the younger man, smiling slightly at the unknowing reference the man had made to one of his songs. "One's almost four, one's ten and one's thirteen." He took out his wallet from the pocket of his coat and showed him a family photograph.

"Wow, how many kids are in your family?"

"Seven. There's three girls, four boys."

"How old's your brothers?" The old man looked interested.

"Well, Isaac's just turned twenty-one, Zac's sixteen and Mackenzie's seven."

The man shifted again in his seat, extending his hand. "Bill Honeyman."

The young man shook his hand. "Taylor Hanson."

"Nice to meet you, Taylor Hanson."

"Likewise," smiled Taylor. Glancing at his watch, he noticed it was now six o'clock. People were starting to appear on the streets. Joggers, early-morning workers, mailmen, people walking dogs... And sure enough, they were turning the beautiful white snow into disgusting sloppy slush.

"It's a crying shame, ain't it." Bill leaned past Taylor, gazing out of the window.

"What's that?"

"The snow. They're makin' it all dirty and horrible. It's like life, Taylor Hanson. Starts off pure, clean, white…innocent, even." His watery blue eyes took on a faraway look. "Then, sooner or later down the line, you end up like me. Dirty, homeless…having to scrounge off your kids…it's a crying shame, it is."

Taylor nodded in agreement.

"And when you're in this sort of state, people judge you on what you haven't got rather than what you have. I mean, I bet you've felt sorry for me at one point during this bus ride."

Taylor reddened. He usually prided himself on being very non-judgmental, but Bill was right. He had felt sorry for him.

Bill sighed. "But I'll tell you this, Taylor Hanson. Once, I had it all. I wasn't always some down-and-out senior citizen. I had a beautiful wife. A nice house. I was one of the best lawyers in the state of Illinois. Then my wife died. Cancer. I got depressed, lost all the will to live. I lost my job, couldn't pay the mortgage. The house was repossessed, and I had to live rough for five days before catching this bus to Long Island to see my daughter."

"I'm sorry." Taylor knew it sounded stupid, it wasn't his fault, but he was sorry, and anyway, he was at a loss for anything else to say.

Bill smiled uncomfortably. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this. I mean, you're just some kid I met a few hours ago, and I've been talking to for less than an hour. But you just have one of those faces; you seem like the kind of person that's easy to talk to."

"People say that."

"So, what about you? You got a girlfriend?"

Taylor shook his head sadly. "No. Not for a while now."

"Someone hurt you, didn't they?"

Taylor looked taken aback, wondering how this man could tell his life story through a simple conversation. "I guess you could say that," he confirmed guardedly.

"How long ago?"

"I was sixteen. She was nineteen."

Bill nodded his head knowingly. "An older woman, eh? What happened? If you don't mind me asking, like."

"She already had a fiancé back in Ohio."

"And where was she when she met you?"

"Tulsa, Oklahoma. They're probably married now," he murmured wistfully.

"I'm sorry to hear that, son. But don't worry. You'll find the right person."

"I thought Gabbie was the right person." Taylor smiled sadly. He too had no idea why he was pouring his heart out to some stranger he'd met on a bus, but it just felt right. It felt good to finally talk about it to someone other than his family. Someone objective. Without fail, every time Taylor spoke to Isaac or Zac about it - which he hadn't for a long, long time - it would end in tears and a hug, which didn't allow him to sort out what he was really feeling. He knew he wouldn't cry in front of a stranger, and he certainly didn't expect a hug, so in some ways, it was a lot easier.

"Things happen for a reason, Taylor Hanson. Just you remember that and you'll be fine."

Taylor got to his feet. "This is my stop. It's been nice meeting you, Bill." He shook his hand again.

"You too, Taylor Hanson."

Taylor smiled and picked up his bag, making his way down the gangway.

"Taylor Hanson!"

He turned round to see Bill grinning at him from the seats.

"Don't let your life turn to slush. Keep it as snow."

Taylor's small smile broadened and he nodded at Bill before stepping outside into the chill December morning.

Gasping in the cold air - it couldn't have been more than twenty-five degrees - Taylor pulled his gray woolen coat tighter around himself and swung his bag over his shoulder.

As he walked the five blocks to work, he pondered the conversation with Bill in his mind. It surprised him how easy it had been to talk about Gabbie. Could it be that he was finally getting over her? He'd dated since they'd broken up, but nothing serious. He found that he was scared to commit now; scared that everyone out there had a secret partner in another state and was just stringing him along. It was a thought that didn't sit easily with him, along with the thought that there was one person for everyone in the world; a perfect partner. That was a scary thought. There were 57 million people in this world, and only one of them was right for Taylor. She could live right here in New York City or she could live in Darkest Peru. How was he even guaranteed of meeting her?

As he reached the offices of HITZ Records, Taylor searched in his bag for his key; nobody would be there, it was only six-forty in the morning.

He unlocked the glass door, punching the security code into the alarm box before it had the chance to go off and entered the lobby of their company, gazing round at the new blue décor scheme. He hadn't seen it yet; the decorators had only just finished the night before. He liked it, though. It looked professional, but welcoming at the same time. Plush dark blue carpeting and chairs and sofas for clients to sit on whilst waiting, lighter blue and cream wallpaper. The coffee machine stood in the far corner. April Valasko, their receptionist's desk stood in the front corner of the room, made of solid dark wood, topped with a Toshiba PC. April wouldn't be in until eight-thirty; they didn't open until nine.

Taylor walked through the large lobby and into the office he shared with Isaac and Zac. Slinging his coat over the back of his desk chair, he collapsed onto the leather couch against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Tay, you can't sleep there."

Taylor snapped his eyes open. "Ike! What are you doing here?"

"I work here, remember?" teased Isaac, his eyes dancing.

"At a quarter to seven in the morning?"

"Stop with the Spanish Inquisition and come give me a hug!"

Taylor heaved himself out of the couch and walked across to Isaac, arms automatically going round his older brother.

Isaac returned the embrace. "Oh, God, it's good to see you again, buddy."

Taylor pulled away. "I've only been gone a few days! What're you gonna do when I go to Darkest Peru to meet the love of my life?"

"Huh?" Isaac looked suitably confused.

"Never mind. God, you should see the snow out there!" Taylor sat back down on the couch again; Isaac perched beside him. "There's like a foot!"

"Serious? Well, we're expecting another five inches today, and three tomorrow, I think."

"Brilliant!" snorted Taylor sarcastically. "I hate snow!"

"Since when?"

"Since I can't have snowball fights in it without looking really dumb."

Isaac shook his head.

"How come you're here?" Taylor asked again. "And where's Zac?"

"Well, I'm working on the paperwork for our new signing…" Isaac grinned slyly.

"You didn't!" gasped Taylor.

"I did! Kindred Spirit are our new clients!"

"No way! Oh, Ike, you're a genius!" Taylor threw his arms round him again.

Isaac laughed, patting Taylor on the back. He was like an overgrown excited puppy. "I know, I know. They're coming in to talk terms at ten o'clock!"

"Oh, wow, that's fantastic!" Taylor was grinning from ear-to-ear. Kindred Spirit could be HITZ Records' first big signing. "Does Zac know?"

"He wasn't quite as enthusiastic as you are."

"Where is he?" asked Taylor.

"He's in the apartment. He's coming in later."

"On his own?"

Isaac closed his eyes momentarily. "Tay, he's sixteen years old. He can drive from the apartment to the parking lot by himself, then get the subway down here. We can't mollycoddle him. Even Mom said so. You know what he's like these days."

Taylor sighed. "I know. What time'll he be in?"

"He said around eight."

"Wait a minute. How did you get in without the car?"

"I didn't go home," replied Isaac simply.

"You've been up all night?"

"I crashed on the couch."

"Oh. I'm so happy!" Taylor grinned again.

"Aren't you tired?"

"Not any more."

"Did you sleep on the bus?"

"A little. Ike, you're not Mom."

Isaac smiled. "Does she know you're back here yet?"

"Nope. I'll call her." Taylor reached for the phone, but Isaac took it back off him.

"I don't think she'd appreciate a call at six o'clock in the morning."

"Oh, yeah. Time zones, right?"

"Uh-huh."

Taylor ran his hand through his hair. "I might go freshen up then."

"You do that." Isaac walked over to his own little partitioned-off part of the office.

Sighing, Taylor heaved himself off the couch and headed into the bathrooms, closing the door behind him.

***

"Where's Zac?"

"I don't know, but if he doesn't get his sorry ass in here now, there'll be hell to pay," growled Isaac. "They're here!"

"I thought he said he'd be here by eight? It's ten-oh-five!"

Isaac sighed. "Taylor, I'm perfectly aware of that. You acting as the freakin' talking clock won't help things! Kindred Spirit have been waiting for fifteen minutes already, and now we're five minutes late!"

"So what do we do?" Taylor walked over to the large window, staring out into the snow-covered street, but there was no sign of Zac anywhere.

"April!" Isaac barked down the intercom.

"Yes, Isaac?" her voice floated back.

"Have there been any calls from Zac?"

"No, not today. I figured he was ill."

"Well, he will be when I'm through with him! Could you call our apartment please?" He raked his hand through his curly hair, kicking at the desk in frustration.

"Sure, Isaac."

"Thanks, April. Let me know if you get a reply." He clicked off the phone and turned to Taylor. "He hasn't called you, has he?"

Taylor shook his head, still staring out at the snow. "Nuh-uh. I've been on a bus."

Shaking his head, Isaac sat down, massaging his brow. Where the hell was he? It was just typical Zac, right now, to try and mess everything up for them. He didn't know what was wrong with his brother, but his attitude was terrible. Zac was always right, never wrong, and the whole world should bow down to him.

Isaac remembered Taylor being a bit like that at sixteen, sneaking out to nightclubs, crawling in the bedroom window drunk, falling hopelessly in love with an older woman… He'd been a bit of an ass, but nothing compared to what Zac was doing. Zac didn't seem to be rebelling against anything in particular, Isaac had never had to haul him in the window, which he was grateful of, since they lived on the fifteenth floor and Zac was kinda heavy, but he'd been so sullen, so distant from everyone. Maybe it was a different kind of rebellion, but it was one that Isaac was finding increasingly difficult to deal with. He just couldn't seem to get through to his brother.

"Isaac?" April's voice crackled through the intercom.

"Did you get him?"

There was a pause, then she replied, "There was no answer."

"Oh, I don't believe this!" muttered Isaac. "I'll kill him!"

"I'm sorry." April sounded helpless.

Taylor stopped staring at the hypnotising snowflakes and put a restraining hand on Isaac's shoulder.

Isaac sighed, shaking his head again. "April, just send the band through, okay?"

"Sure." There was a click as the line went dead.

"What about Zac?" asked Taylor. "We can't just leave him out of this!"

"Why not?" muttered Isaac wearily. "We can't keep them waiting any longer. If Zac can't tell the time, it's not our fault." He clapped his hands, seemingly springing back to life. "Okay, sit here!" He pulled Taylor down beside him. "And look professional!"

Taylor arranged himself in his seat, adjusting his shirt so it sat properly. Isaac had dressed in a shirt and tie, in honor of signing their potentially most successful clients to date, but Taylor couldn't be bothered with fancy suits. Instead, he'd dressed himself in a smart pair of black slacks and a red button-down.

There was a tap on the door, and Isaac quickly straightened the papers in front of him. "Come in!" he called.

The door pushed open, and three nervous looking girls crept around it.

Isaac stood up, pulling Taylor roughly with him, and they shook hands with each of the girls in turn.

"Where's Rachael?" asked Taylor, noticing for the first time that the band were missing a drummer.

"Rachelle," corrected Niamh O'Shaughnessy in her lilting Irish accent, tossing her soft red curls over her shoulder.

Taylor reddened. "Sorry," he apologized, squirming in the harsh stare Isaac was giving him. His brother wanted this to go so well; he wanted everything to be perfect, and, for his sake, Taylor did too. But calling the drummer the wrong name wasn't exactly a great start.

"You're lucky she's not here!" giggled Jennifer Thomson, the bassist. "She'd kill you!"

"I'm sorry," repeated Taylor. "Where is she?"

"She wasn't feeling too great," explained Jamie Jenkinson, the lead guitarist. "I think she went outside."

"Can we do this without her?" asked Niamh. "I mean, I could fetch her."

Isaac walked over to the window. "I can see her, it's okay." He watched as Rachelle Owen lowered herself onto the bench outside the offices. "She looks pretty ill. Leave her; she can sign later, okay?"

"Are we really gonna do this?" squealed Jennifer. "I can't believe this! It's so cool!"

Jamie rolled her eyes. "Ignore her. She's addicted to caffeine."

Isaac chuckled. "We're excited too. We really have high hopes for you guys."

"So do we," added Niamh in her soft voice.

Taylor laughed. "You would think."

"Anyway," interrupted Isaac, sensing that Taylor was about to go off at a tangent. He knew his brother found tiny, Irish Niamh attractive, and if Taylor was trying to impress someone, they'd get no work done. "Let's talk terms." He laid out the contract in front of him. "Basically, what this says is that we have you guys for a three-album deal at first. I know it doesn't sound much, but it can always be renewed. And we'd like to start recording as soon into the new year as possible, as you can see."

He handed the contract to the girls and watched as they crowded together, eyes flashing with excitement, as they realized that their dream of a recording contract was about to come true.

Taylor nudged Isaac. "Remember when we first got our contract?"

"Of course I do, Tay." His face broke into a grin. "You were almost as excited as Jennie."

Taylor rolled his eyes. "Are you done?" he asked, flashing Niamh his most winsome grin.

Jamie, who seemed to be the band's spokesperson, answered, "Yeah."

"And you'll sign?" Isaac raised his eyebrows. If these girls bottled out now…

"Of course we'll sign!" exclaimed Jennifer. "Just give me a pen!"

Laughing and shaking his head, Isaac threw her a pen, and watched as the three girls signed. "Okay, well, we'll have to get Rachelle to sign… Oh, of course, when will Peter be coming in?" he queried, referring to Peter McWilliams, Kindred Spirit's manager.

Jamie wrinkled her nose. "I have no idea," she confessed, tossing her head, making her chin-length, dark brown hair swing from side to side. "We haven't heard from him in a while. Not since he set up this meeting, actually."

"We'll try to contact him," offered Niamh.

"Okay, that would be great." Isaac checked over the contract. "Okay, I think everything's in order. Kindred Spirit, welcome to HITZ Records!" he announced triumphantly.

"Yay!" cheered Jennifer in a baby voice, prompting snorts of laughter from everyone, and an exaggerated eye-roll from Jamie.

"I'll have to call me mam," Niamh told them, green eyes sparkling.

Taylor smiled. "You can use my phone if you like."

"No, thanks," replied Niamh shyly, ducking her head. "We'll have to get going."

"She's right." Jamie got to her feet, dragging Jennifer up with her.

"Jamie!" grumbled Jennifer, adjusting her jeans. "You nearly made me moon!"

"That'd be pretty," muttered Jamie. She turned to Isaac and Taylor. "Thank you." She extended her hand.

Isaac grasped it warmly. "It's our pleasure."

After the band had left, Isaac turned to Taylor, a ridiculous grin on his face. "We did it!" he laughed. "We really did it!"

Taylor smiled, squeezing his arm. "We did, didn't we?"

As Isaac began to flip through the information sheets, looking for a recording studio to book for Kindred Spirit, he felt the butterflies flitting round in his stomach. He just knew these girls were going to be big. The next Spice Girls, only with real talent. There was only one thing stopping him from being completely ecstatic. And he had no idea where the hell it was.

***

Zac thrust the polystyrene cup underneath the label reading WHITE COFFEE and pushed the button, watching the frothy liquid fill the container. He added three spoonfuls of sugar, then wound his blue scarf round his neck again, zipping up his dark green jacket and pushing his way back through the glass doors of HITZ Records.

As soon as he'd entered the blue lobby, April had warned him that Isaac and Taylor were furious at him for being late, and they'd had to go ahead and sign the deal without him. He had no desire to go rushing into the office and listen one of Isaac's lectures.

He'd thought that living in New York with his brothers would have been fun. He had been so happy when his parents had finally agreed to let him go live in the City with Ike and Tay, rather than just being a silent partner in HITZ Records. It hadn't been working out back at home, anyway. Without Isaac and Taylor there, Zac had felt totally alone. He couldn't concentrate on his schoolwork, he just moped around the house, and a month ago, it had been arranged that Zac get a private tutor to get him through the rest of High School, and on the side, he helped his brothers with the business.

He'd thought it would be like the old days, but Isaac and Taylor had suddenly turned all responsible on him. Making sure he did classes, making him go to bed at a decent time, giving him orders… They were worse than his parents.

He sipped at his sweet coffee, perching on the windowsill in the alcove under the roof, and pulling his scarf up further. Ever since he'd got his hair cut last week, his ears practically froze off every time he left the house. But it had been good to get rid of his long hair. He hadn't hated the hair while he'd had it, but now it was gone, he didn't know why he'd put up with it for so long.

Rethinking, he realized he did know. It was because he hadn't wanted to get it cut at the same time as his brothers, back in 99. They'd all been set to get the chop, but only Isaac had gone through with it. Taylor, chickening out, had settled for some girly jaw-length cut, and Zac, being totally stubborn, had just had a trim. Now, all of their haircuts were short ones, almost in the same style, and that bugged Zac. He didn't want to look the same as his brothers. But save getting a skinhead or dying his hair green, he didn't know what he could do.

"Excuse me?"

Zac's head snapped up, the icy wind immediately whipping at his cheeks. "Yeah?" he asked, staring at the girl of about his age who had appeared in front of him. She looked vaguely familiar.

"Did you see a group of three girls leave here?" When he stared at her blankly, she tried to elaborate. "Um, one's got an Irish accent, one was probably giggling and the other one probably looked ready to throttle her."

"You mean Kindred Spirit?" Zac shifted his weight, trying to regain some of the feeling in his buttocks.

The girl raised her perfectly arched eyebrows. "Yeah. How did you know?"

Zac shrugged, not really wanting to engage in a conversation with anyone at the moment.

Leaning closer, the girl peered at him, tucking a strand of her long, silky black hair behind her ear. "Aren't you Zac Hanson?"

"What's it to you?" he mumbled sullenly.

"Mind if I join you?" She gestured to the empty space on the large windowsill.

Zac shrugged again.

"Don't say much, do you?" she asked, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.

Zac stared at her. She seemed so familiar, but until now, when she'd lit that cigarette, he hadn't realized that he actually had seen her before. Now it was coming back, albeit fuzzily. "Do I know you?" he choked out, waving the cigarette smoke away from his face.

"We've met before. I'm Rachelle."

His eyes widening, Zac knew exactly where and when he'd seen her before. That name had stayed etched in his mind since that day. November 1999, after he'd run out of Corey Price's funeral. He could hear her screaming after him in his head: I'm Rachelle! Now you can listen! He shook his head. "You look different."

She blew a smoke ring. "The whole Goth thing, you mean? I still do it, but not so much now. You know, phases… Besides, I had an important meeting today. First impressions, ya know…" She exhaled again, making Zac cough.

"Those things can kill ya, you know," he told her, blinking as his eyes began to smart. Smoke irritated his eyes; it always had, and he could remember that day, under the tree, when she had lit the Marlboro, blowing smoke in his face to taunt him.

To his amazement, she inhaled deeply, one last time, then stubbed out the cigarette on the window-ledge. "I know. Cancer sticks, right? But it's a lot easier to say you'll quit than to actually do it."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't know." Zac hugged his knees up to his chest in an attempt to keep out the biting cold.

"Yeah, I'll bet you wouldn't," Rachelle replied quietly.

"Oh, and what's that supposed to mean?" demanded Zac, his guard raising a little higher.

Rachelle shrugged. "Just that you're hardly the kind of guy I'd expect to smoke."

"Just where do you get off?!" Zac exploded. "Who the hell do you think you are, making all these judgments about me?! You don't know me! You don't know anything about me, except stuff you've read in dumb magazines! It's the same as that day at your tree, judging me, telling me what you think about me… Well, let me tell you this, Rachelle, I don't give a shit what you think! I don't know a thing about you; you don't know a thing about me. I don't judge you; you don't judge me…" He trailed off, as Rachelle started to laugh. "What's so funny?" He scowled at her, caramel eyes flashing and resisting the urge to flip her off.

"You sure like to argue, don't you?"

Zac balled his freezing hands into fists. There she went again, making her stupid little superior judgments. "What are you doing here anyway?" he muttered. "Don't you live in Tulsa?"

"Nuh-uh," she replied. "I live in New Jersey with my cousin. But I'm from Ohio."

"Why were you in Tulsa that day?"

"Why do you care?"

"I don't."

"Well, then."

Closing his eyes, Zac wished that she would just disappear and go back to where she came from. He didn't know why she was interested in Kindred Spirit and he didn't give a fig. He just wanted her off this windowsill and out of his life. And she could take her crappy little theories about him with her.

"It's real pretty, isn't it?"

"What is?" As soon as the words left his lips, Zac cursed himself for answering. Why was he even letting himself get into a conversation with this stupid girl? All that would happen would be that he'd get mad and she'd get smug.

"The snow. It's like we're in a snow globe. Or the rest of the world is."

"The rest of the world," decided Zac absently, staring out into it. She was right; it did have a snow globe effect. They were sitting in the alcove under the roof of the offices, shielded from the whirling snow, and it looked as if somebody had come along and tipped the world upside down, sending the snow flying in wild patterns everywhere.

"Yeah, and we're watching."

"Whatever," replied Zac sulkily. He didn't need this girl thinking that he wanted to be her friend. "It's dumb."

"You said it, too," Rachelle pointed out.

"I say a lot of dumb things."

Rachelle laughed, unsure as to whether Zac had meant it to be funny or not. She looked down at her black-polished nails, examining them distractedly, at a loss for anything else to say.

Zac took a deep breath, the cold air a strange sensation on the back of his throat and glanced sidelong at the girl sitting beside him. Her hair was long, straight, black and incredibly shiny, falling to just below her shoulders. Her eyes were dark, so dark Zac thought that if he looked into them, he might drown in them, they were so dark and so deep. She looked like she might be Hispanic; her skin was olive, with dark undertones. She was dressed all in black, yet not Gothic black, just plain black bootleg pants and a black shirt. Her swing coat was also black, and she pulled it tighter around her slim body, trying to keep in some warmth. She looked like she might be thinking, and Zac found himself wondering what she was thinking of.

Then he got a hold of himself. He didn't care what she was thinking about. This girl was beginning to annoy him. He had to leave.

But she beat him to it. "I should go now. I have to catch a bus." She slid gracefully off the windowsill, only skidding a little in the slippery snow.

Zac just stared straight past her, blowing on his hands.

"Look, Zac. I think maybe you should wake up to yourself. You're not the only person in this world. There are about 37 billion others. Once you realize that, maybe you won't be such a lonely little boy." And with that, she turned and began to run.

"Stupid bitch," muttered Zac. The girl didn't have a clue was she was talking about. They'd barely even had a conversation and she was telling him what to do. Shaking his head, he lifted each one of his legs onto the window ledge, turning sideways and leaning his body against the window. She really didn't have a clue, he thought angrily, shivering in the chilly December air. But even he couldn't deny the feeling of isolation that was washing over him as he watched the people in his "snow globe" go about their business.

***

Isaac clicked on the drop down menu and changed his search location to the United Kingdom and Ireland. Maybe he'd have more luck with finding a recording studio there. Maybe they could even go back to Sarm Hook End in Berkshire, England, where they'd recorded "Snowed In" back in 1997. It would be an experience to record in Britain, that was for sure. And, he guessed, it would take Niamh O'Shaughnessy a little closer to her family in Waterford, Ireland.

Shaking his head, Isaac wondered how Niamh could cope with being separated from her family at such a young age. He was a little fuzzy with the details, but he knew that two years ago, Niamh had left Ireland to live in Maine with her aunt and uncle when she was fifteen. There, she'd met Jennifer, who had a cousin called Jamie in New Jersey, who had another cousin in Ohio called Rachelle, who she occasionally sang with. They'd all met up one time, discovered that they all shared the love music, and that they all could sing, and had tried their hand at forming a band, then called Eye II Eye. They'd realized that they were good, and decided they wanted to do it professionally, but thought they'd need a better name. Hence, Kindred Spirit was born.

Isaac remembered listening to the demo tape when it had appeared on his desk. He'd been blown away by their tight vocals and interesting bass parts. And Jamie, who'd been singing lead on the first track he'd heard, had the sharpest voice he'd heard in a long time. They were all such talented girls. It was hard to believe that the oldest of them, Jamie, was only nineteen.

He was reading up on a recording studio in Edinburgh, when the intercom buzzed, making him jump. "Go ahead, April."

"Isaac, your other half is on line three."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Geez, you're funny. Is Tay back yet?"

"Not yet. He said he'd be back around two."

"Any sign of Zac?"

"He appeared, but I think he's chasing that new intern from the publishing company upstairs." April chuckled. "You know the one. Blonde, legs up to her armpits…"

"Okay, thanks, April," sighed Isaac resignedly, clicking off the intercom and picking up the phone. He punched the number three. "Rhia?" he asked.

"Ike!" Her voice flooded down the line to him, and instantly, he relaxed, his tension flying out the window. It was so good to talk to her again.

"Hey, sweetie. How are you?"

"I'm good. How are you?"

"Lonely," replied Isaac. "I miss you so much."

"I miss you, too, honey. I wish I could be out there with you. Maybe I could just skip my last exam…"

"No way!" Isaac slammed his hand down on the desk. Rhia was at college in Pennsylvania, majoring in biology and also studying chemistry and psychology. "Rhia, these finals are important, baby, you know that."

"Yeah, I know. I was just kidding. I think. But, hey, semester ends Friday, and then I'll come see you."

"And we can all fly back to Tulsa together for Christmas."

"Ike, are you okay? You sound tired."

Isaac sighed heavily. "I'm just tired, sweetheart. Zac…"

"What's he doing now?"

"Nothing, that's the problem."

"When I see him, I'll sort him out."

Isaac smiled. Maybe Rhia would. She had always been great with Zac, not putting up with any of his stupid attitudes. "You can try. Oh, hey, we signed Kindred Spirit!"

"That's great!" Rhia sounded genuinely happy.

"Yeah, Tay thinks so," Isaac told her, laughing.

"Why's that?"

"He likes Niamh."

"Knee?" Rhia repeated. "What sort of name is Knee? Is that like Left-Eye from TLC or something? Does she have a scar there?"

"Niamh." Isaac stressed the 'eve' sound on the end of her name. "Kinda like Neve Campbell. She's Irish."

"Neve Campbell's Irish?"

"No, our Niamh is. Niamh O'Shaughnessy."

"Oh. Well, it's still a weird name."

"Yeah, well, Tay seems pretty smitten. But I bet he won't do anything about it." He never does, Isaac thought. Not since Gabbie, anyway.

"What about you?" Rhia asked, what she hoped was nonchalantly.

"Nah, I don't deal in his business. He'd get mad."

"No, I mean what one do you have a crush on?" she explained quietly.

Isaac laughed. "I have you, Ree."

"Yeah, you've got me. But do you want me?"

He couldn't believe he was hearing this. "Rhia, please don't go there. Not today, honey."

"But, Ike, you have to understand... I'm stuck in a school in Philadelphia, studying my guts out so I can do something with my pathetic life. You're in the fast lane. You have this glamorous job, surrounded by all these beautiful girls and I mean, of course you're gonna forget about me. I'm just me…"

"And I love me."

"Well, there's no reason to get big-headed," snorted Rhia.

"Ree… You know what I mean."

"Yeah, but can't you see where I'm coming from?" Rhia sounded frustrated. "It's like… God, you're gonna be working so closely with this band…"

"Well, yes," Isaac admitted.

"And I'll bet they're all like these really tiny, gorgeous girls, with names like Courtney or Melissa or something…"

"Their names are Jamie, Jennifer, Rachelle and Niamh," Isaac told her. "No Courtneys or Melissas in sight."

"Yeah, well, I bet they're beautiful."

"They're not bad looking." Isaac wasn't going to lie to her.

"And you're beautiful… And you'll want to stay with your own species…"

Isaac rolled his eyes; Rhia went way overboard sometimes. "Okay, which one of us is not the homosapien?"

"Isaac, will you listen to me?!" Rhia sounded near to tears. "Just…you'll want to go join the beautiful people."

"I'm with a beautiful person. And that's you," he added quickly, before she could start any accusations of affairs. "Get a grip, Rhia. I love you."

He could hear her swallowing at the end of the line. "I love you, too, Ike. It's just… Well, I have this imagination…"

"Yeah, I know," he replied, the smile back on his face.

"I'm sorry." She giggled. "God, I feel so stupid."

"So you should!" admonished Isaac teasingly. "Imagine thinking I'd leave you for some rock chick…"

She laughed. "Okay, Ike, I gotta go. I have a lecture."

"On what?" he asked.

"The finer details of photolysis and the Calvin cycle."

Isaac grimaced. "Ooh, have fun."

"I will."

"I love you."

"I love you, too!" she sang back. "Okay, gotta jet. Bye!"

Smiling, Isaac hung up the phone.

"Ugh, you two make me sick."

He spun round. "Tay! When did you get back?"

"Right at the whole 'and I love me' part. I waved." Taylor perched himself on the edge of his brother's desk and began to peel an orange. "Didn't you see me?" he mumbled around a segment of fruit, spitting the pips into his hand.

"No. I guess I was too involved in Rhia."

"For a change," replied Taylor sarcastically. "Was she doing the whole wounded wife thing again?"

"She's not my wife."

"Well, she might as well be." Taylor waved his hand airily. "Anyway, was she? You know, Little Miss Insecurity?"

Isaac slapped his brother's leg. "Don't talk like that about her! She's just… I think she's scared of being alone. You know, she's lost her dad, lost her twin brother, her mom's totally spaced… I just think she wants to make sure I'm still there."

"Yeah, I guess." Taylor spoke softly. "Can't she contact her dad and Neil for Christmas?"

"They've moved. Didn't leave a forwarding address."

Taylor shook his head sadly. "It's tragic. D'you remember our Millennium party? It looked like they'd made up? I saw you and Neil watching them kissing."

"Yeah. It's weird to think that the next month, they were divorced." Isaac shuddered. "I hope nothing like that happens to our mom and dad."

"It won't," Taylor assured him. "Is she coming down when school ends?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. When do we fly home?"

"Sunday 23rd."

"Okay. Maybe Mom can knock a little sense into Zac." Taylor raised his eyebrows.

"I sure hope so, Taylor. I sure hope so."

***

"I'll kill him. I mean it this time, Taylor. I'll kill him!" Isaac stormed into their apartment block, arms swinging wildly by his sides.

Taylor jogged after his furious brother and caught him by the arm. "Ike, Ike," he gasped breathlessly. "Calm down. Maybe there's a good excuse."

"A good excuse?" repeated Isaac, laughing bitterly. "A good excuse? Taylor, how many good excuses can you think of for leaving us stranded in the middle of the city, while he takes off in the car?"

Pressing the button for the elevator, Taylor shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe he was ill. Maybe he felt sick and he had to go home."

"Well, he could have told us!"

Taylor fell silent. He couldn't argue with that. Sighing, he stepped into the elevator, glancing at Isaac. He could practically see the steam billowing from his ears. There was going to be a big argument; he could sense it. It was probably in his interests to just go straight to his room and avoid the conflict, but at the same time, he didn't want to leave Isaac to deal with Zac all alone. Why did Zac have to make everything so difficult? It was like it was his main purpose in life or something. Shaking his head, Taylor wondered how much more Isaac could take. He was always complaining to him how he wasn't ready to be a father to a sixteen-year-old boy. Right now, Isaac looked ready to pack Zac back to Tulsa without a second thought.

The elevator chimed, and Isaac marched angrily out of it and down the hall to their apartment, Taylor watching helplessly as he burst through the door.

"Zachary Walker Hanson, get yourself out here NOW!" yelled Isaac, slamming the door, oblivious to the fact that he was hitting Taylor right in the face. As he waited for Zac to appear, he rubbed his face with his hands. Sometimes, it scared him to realize just how much like a parent he actually sounded.

"What?" Zac appeared in the doorway to his bedroom. He'd obviously been asleep; his clothes were rumpled and his hair in disarray.

"Did you just say 'what'?" demanded Isaac.

Zac shrugged. "Yeah. So? You're not my dad, Ike, you can't tell me how to speak."

Eyes blazing, Isaac stamped over to his brother. "What the hell are you playing at, Zac?"

"Ike…" Taylor uttered helplessly, hand nursing his bashed nose. Trust him to manage to get hurt before the argument had even started. He should have known not to get between an angry Ike and a slamming door.

Both of his brothers ignored him, as he expected.

"What do you mean?" asked Zac, flopping down onto the couch and zapping the remote control at the TV set.

Isaac grabbed it from him, blacking out Kelsey Grammar's face before it'd even had a chance to speak. "You left us stranded at the office."

Zac stared at him. "This is New York City, Ike. All you have to do is sneeze and a cab appears."

"Oh, you think so, do you?" Isaac threw his hands up in the air. "Well, Zac, can you tell me why Tay and I just spent forty minutes trying to hail a cab?"

Zac rolled his eyes and focused on the blank screen of the television.

Sighing, Isaac sat down on in the armchair. Zac was impossible sometimes, totally impossible. It didn't look like he had any chance of ever getting through to him.

Taylor sat down beside Zac and put his hand on his brother's arm. He was blatantly very angry inside, and Taylor felt that he at least had to try to disperse the bad feeling welling up inside of Zac.

Shooting Taylor a dirty look, Zac shrugged off the contact.

Unfazed, Taylor asked gently, "Where were you all day, buddy?"

Zac didn't answer, merely curling up and falling over sideways.

"Hey, we signed Kindred Spirit."

Zac nodded curtly, turning on the TV again.

Sighing, Taylor raked his hand through his hair. This wasn't easy. He was happy, and wanted his brothers to be happy to, but they were both so angry with each other. "Look, guys," he began. "Today we signed a band who are really going places. I can't wait to tell Dad, and I thought you guys would be really happy, too. Instead, you're sitting here looking like you've lost a shilling and found a sixpence-"

Isaac interrupted. "Taylor, you really have to stop spending so much time talking to Niamh. The things you're coming out with…"

But his remark went either unheard or ignored. "My point is, why can't we be happy?" Taylor sank back into the soft cushions of the sofa, closing his eyes. It had been a long day; he really didn't need all this as well.

"Because we have an ass for a little brother," retorted Isaac.

"Ike!" Taylor brought his hand to his forehead. That wasn't going to help.

"Can you guys shut up? I have a migraine."

"Oh, look who's decided he wants to talk to us!" spat Isaac. "Is that why you left the office, Zac? Migraine?"

"Yeah," muttered Zac. He just wished they would all shut up. His head felt like it was about to burst.

"Oh, and here was me thinking you were just chasing the intern from upstairs! God, how silly of me!" Isaac laughed, a short, sarcastic, bitter laugh. "The thing is Zac, you were the one who wanted to be an active partner in this. You were the one who pleaded and begged to come out here and join us, and you've done screw all since you've got here! Could you even tell Kindred Spirit from the Spice Girls?"

Now that he thought about it, Zac realized that if he didn't know who the Spice Girls were, he couldn't. He'd never met any of the girls in the band, only heard Isaac and Taylor talking about them.

"It's not good enough, Zac," Isaac said quietly.

Taylor bit his lip, debating whether or not to speak up. Deciding that he should, he added gently, "We just wish you would let us know where you were. We were worried. New York City, Zac, have you any idea what happens to people in New York City? Especially little kids like you." As soon as the words left his lips, Taylor could have kicked himself.

Zac stood up. "I'm not a little kid, Taylor. Don't treat me like one." Slowly, he walked out of the room and into his bedroom.

Taylor sighed. "What do we do, Ike?"

"I really don't know," replied Isaac wearily. "How can we get through to him if he won't listen?"

"That's the thing that scares me, Ike." Taylor spoke quietly, shaking his head. "For the first time in our lives, I don't think we can."

"Well, Tay, you scare way too easy," mumbled Isaac. "I'll turn Zac back into a human being if it's the last thing I do."

Taylor raised his eyebrows. "Sure you will, Ike, sure you will. May I just ask how?"

Isaac sighed. "That, my dear brother, is the sixty-four thousand dollar question."

Chapter Two
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