Chapter Three
The only thing he could hear in the room, save for his own breathing, was the crackling of the fire across from him. At first, he thought that it was quaint that there was a fireplace in every room except for the bathrooms and kitchen, but now he understood. The temperatures seemed to drop beneath zero every night, and the fires were burning pretty much all day, every day. Each bed had a down comforter, flannel sheets, and extra blankets at the foot, neatly folded. At the moment, Chris was buried under all the blankets, staring at the barely lit ceiling.
Rolling over was almost impossible. Not only did he have to fight with the blankets that seemed to wrap around themselves around his legs, but they were incredibly heavy, and he didn't want to risk letting any of the cool air in underneath his warm cocoon. Yet, he had the strangest desire to stare at the fire. It was always so hypnotizing to him, even when he was a kid. It was the only thing that would stop him from moving. He remembered many nights when he sat in front of the fire, his front becoming an almost unbearable hot, a mug of hot chocolate clutched in his hand. He could even remember the feeling of dipping his finger into the mug and swirling it around the inside to pick up the foam. That had always been his favorite part.
And it was these memories of his past that kept him from sleeping. These memories of his childhood, of much more simple times, that were flooding his mind. They forced his eyes to stay open, forced him to lay there like some sort of insomniac. He was the one that could fall asleep anywhere, anytime, and there he was, like a zombie in one of the most comfortable beds he had ever laid in.
Letting out a soft groan, he pushed the mass of blankets off of him, wincing when he felt the sudden temperature change on his bare arms. As quick as possible, he reached for the sweatshirt that he had left beside his bed on the floor, slipping it over his head and settling the collar quickly. His sock clad feet hit the soft carpet before he stood up, stretching his back.
He walked out of his room and towards the stairs, taking careful measures not to step on any parts of the floor that creaked with protest when weight was put on them. Biting his lip when he did stand on one, he quickly shifted his weight to the first stair, going down in the same zigzag pattern that he had to take when he was a kid in his own house to sneak into the kitchen.
Everyone else was upstairs, asleep, he noted ruefully, as he passed through the living room. The fire in there was still going pretty well, but he reminded himself to put another log on it before he went back up. He snuck into the kitchen and without turning on a light, he found one of the many mugs sitting on the counter, waiting for someone to use it. He filled it with water and made his way over to the microwave, putting it inside and turning it on for a minute on full power. As it started to warm, he went to the pantry, with the light from the inside of the microwave leading his way, and pulled out a packet of instant hot chocolate. It wasn't the real thing, but it would have to do for now.
When his water was completely warmed, he took it out carefully, hissing under his breath when the heat of the handle bit into his hand, tearing the hot chocolate packet open with his teeth before dumping the sweet smelling powder inside, dropping the now empty packet into the open garbage can, going for a spoon.
He sat at the table, stirring his drink slowly, and sighed deeply as he looked towards the window. The sound of someone yawning came from the doorway. "Hey, what are you doing up?" Brooklyn asked quietly, covering her mouth as she yawed again.
His shoulders moved in a shrug without looking at her. "Can't sleep. "The sound of her shuffling towards the sink in her slippers filled his ears before she filled a glass with water. "What about you?"
"JC is bitching about having a dry throat, so I offered to get him a glass of water if he would shut up and let me go back to sleep." She walked over to him, and he felt the pressure on the top of his head as she dropped a kiss on it. "Go back to bed, Chris. You could benefit from a little sleep."
He nodded. "Yeah. You, too. Good night, Brooke." She yawned once more in parting before he listened to her climb the stairs again, a door shutting softly behind her. His head shook as he lifted the mug to his lips, taking a tentative sip of the still steaming liquid.
When was he going to have someone get up in the middle of the night and get him a glass of water when his throat was bothering him. No one had done that for him since he was a kid, and his mom brought him a glass of water when he was stuck in bed with the chicken pox. His eyes closed, lashes resting delicately against his skin as he brought back the memory, a smile spreading on his face involuntarily.
JC didn't realize how lucky he really was, he thought to himself. Brooklyn would do anything for him, and he knew that the favor was returned. Like they hadn't proved that in the past, Chris chastised himself, taking another sip of the hot chocolate. And it was as if God had made a single person, and split them in two, setting them in different places to see if they could find their way back to their other half. They were made for each other, there was no doubt about that. No one could understand them like they could understand each other. They could finish of each other's thoughts, for Christ's sake, and it didn't seem to faze anyone.
So where was HIS other half, then. Or was it just another sick joke that God played on him, making sure that he was destined for a solitary life. He had yet to find that other half that everyone looks for. Even if that other half was out there somewhere, he could bet that she wasn't anywhere near, and even if she was, he would probably end up annoying her in the first five seconds.
Just like he had done to Alex. Never before had he had that sort of reaction from a female. They were either politely repulsed, or ready to throw him into the closest bed. There was no middle ground for him, was there? Not like there had been for Brooklyn and JC. Hell, there was TOO much middle ground in their history, and they had still made it through.
And why was he sitting there, comparing himself to the "Super Couple", as all the magazines and shows called them. He was nothing like either of them, and yet he wanted to be like that so badly. He wanted to have someone to lay beside him at night, he wanted someone to laugh with during the day. He just wanted someone to watch and be able to say that he loved someone, and someone loved him in return.
"You're turning into one of those ridiculous romantics that you always made fun of, Kirkpatrick," he told himself, running his finger along the rim of his mug. Without warning, he felt his eyes fill with tears, and he blinked them back quickly, cursing under his breath. He didn't need to do this. He didn't need to break down in a kitchen that he barely knew when his closest friends were upstairs. He didn't need to...
He cursed louder when one tear slipped out and made a trail down his face, stopping at the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away impatiently and turned back to the window, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. He couldn't remember the exact moment that he had turned into a emotional basket case, but it had obviously happened, because he had no control over his thoughts and feelings. Idly, he wondered if this was some sort of depression, and he nodded to himself, confirming his suspicions. It most likely was, and nothing could bring him out of the rut he was in.
The mug went back on the table, and he stared at it for a minute. His mind seemed to be running a mile a minute, and he could barely keep up. And his mind kept returning to the same subject every time. He had ever actually sat there and thought if there really was someone from everyone in the world. All he had to do was find that special woman that seemed to be out of his grasp no matter how many times he tried to get ahold of her...whoever she could be.
"And instead of sleeping, I'm down here thinking. Figures, doesn't it?" With a regretful sigh, he stood up and carried his mug over to the sink, dumping it out before heading back towards the stairs.
Alex sunk down into a chair at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of tea in front of her. Thoughtlessly, her fingers drummed on the surface as her eyes scoured the kitchen. She wasn't even paying attention to what she was seeing. It was almost as if her eyes wouldn't focus, and her mind couldn't identify a single object. She knew that Matchbox Twenty was playing quietly in the living room, and she knew that she should be able to hear it, but she couldn't tell what song it was. For some reason, she couldn't even pick out Rob Thomas's usually unmistakable voice. Everything, the sights, the sounds, the smells of the cabin melted into a comfortable blur, leaving the author only with her thought.
And they were messed up thoughts.
They seemed to hit on everything in her life. Ranging from her newest (and still not started) novel to the small car accident to her mother and father and even her childhood. Especially, however, her mind stopped o the fact that she was alone, just like she had always been. But, she chose that path for her life. It was her choice to be alone.
That was only because she didn't trust anyone enough to start a relationship. There were far too many secrets that she would have to entrust to whoever he may be, and she would have to make sure that he never said a word about what she did. Unless she wanted him to signing a privacy agreement...well, she was still shit out of luck. Eve if she did that, and whoever signed the agreement came out and said Alex M. Colwell was female and not male, what was she supposed to do? Sue him for revealing what sex she was? It was more safe to just live a lonely, pathetic life, wasn't it. That way she could make sure that nothing out leak out and possibly ruin her career as a best selling author. The world wasn't ready to know that the mysterious Colwell was really a twenty eight year old woman that was as cold, callous...and lonely.
But that didn't mean that she didn't deserve someone, damn it. She was a living breathing woman, just like millions of others in the world. She had thoughts, she had feelings...she even had all the curves that made her a woman, but it didn't help. Even when she wasn't trying to push someone away, they still stayed far away. It was as if she sent off some invisible signal that she wanted to be left alone. But she really didn't.
It had been so many years...ever since she started her career...that she felt what it was like to be held at night, and what it was like to have someone even slightly dedicated to her. For some reason, that didn't seem to be in the cards for her. "Screw the cards. I'll go and buy a new deck of them if that's what it takes," she grumbled, staring into the depths of her cup of tea.
Her head shook as she stood up and carried her mug over to the sink, dumping the now cold tea down before slowly heading towards the living room. The least she could do was try and work, considering that failing to be able to write would take her mind off of her maudlin thoughts.
Still, she couldn't help wondering if there was someone out there, anywhere in the world, that was doing the same thing that she was, because that person...that person would be the one that she had been looking for all her life.
A humming interrupted Chris as he was reading and he looked up to see Brooklyn gliding across the room, a smile on her face as she headed for the kitchen. Everyone else watched her in amusement as she came back in with a mug of coffee and sunk down on the couch beside Chris before stretching out and putting her legs across his lap as she continued to hum.
With a smile, he pushed her legs off of him. "Is there a reason why you're humming the American National Anthem, Brooke? I think that's a first for you."
She broke off in mid song. "Well, pardon me for feeling patriotic once in awhile. Would you rather that I started to sing 'Oh, Canada'?"
Chris couldn't help laughing. These were the moments that he valued their friendship, when they would have conversations that seemed so abstract it wasn't even funny. "That's all right. We all know that you couldn't carry a tune if it was handed to you in a bucket." Her legs raised again and she slammed them down across his thighs, grinning when he groaned. "Why don't you aim a little higher next time. You're a little off today, sweetheart."
"Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, you made me stop, and now I'm going to have to start all over again." Sticking out her tongue, she took a sip of coffee and started to hum again.
He caught onto the tune and grinned brightly over at her before opening his mouth to sing with her. "Jose, can you see, any fly shit on me-" His messed up version of the anthem stopped quickly when she started to laugh, hitting him at the same time. "What? Mia taught me that version one day, so if you want to beat up on someone, beat up on her. She's the one that has no sense of patriotism."
Her head shook slowly. "My dear Lord, must you butcher the song? Talk about not being able to sing." Threateningly, he held up his hand. "Oh, don't you even think of slapping me. My boyfriend likes to be my bodyguard, and friendship just doesn't count when it comes to any of you." With a cocky smile, she blew on her nails and rubbed them on her shirt. "Trust me, I'm the most important thing in his life," she said in a haughty tone.
"Where is the over-protective bastard, anyway? Normally, he's attached to your hip, Brooke. Are you losing your touch?"
Her eyes rolled. "For your information, he's stealing all the hot water in the shower, and to top it off, he kicked me out to get him a cup of coffee. I was being incredibly nice when I offered to get him water last night, because the little baby's throat was bothering him, but this is pushing it a little. Not only did he not ask nicely, he very RUDELY shoved me out of the bathroom when I was reaching for a towel, because, apparently, as the man, he's supposed to have the first shower."
A laugh sounded from the other side of the room. "Aw, is the honeymoon over?"
"Honeymoon? HA! It never started to begin with. And, for the record, he doesn't need coffee, the bastard needs a swift kick in the-"
Chris raised his eyebrow with a chuckle. "Uh...Brooke? You might want to look behind you, because that coffee wanting, shower stealing, bastard of a boyfriend is standing right behind you and he looks rather...what's the word for it...amused? Curious?" He laughed harder when he saw his best friend turn red and very slowly, look behind her. A smile immediately appeared on her face. "So, you were saying?"
Still looking at JC, she gave him the finger and laughed tightly. "Christopher, as much as I love you, if you value your life at all, and you want to have children one day, you might want to rethink whatever your mind is telling you to say." The smile stayed on her face. "How was you shower, sweetie?" she asked, trying to sound as genuine as possible. Her eyes went down to her coffee mug, and she lifted it. "You said you wanted coffee?"
"You know," Chris started, "usually, it's the man who ends up in the proverbial dog house, but I think this time, the woman is going to be sleeping on the couch. Oh, this is far too good." Clapping his hands together a few times, he laughed gleefully, watching the couple with interest. She continued smiling up at JC, holding her coffee mug up to him.
Slowly, JC took the cup of coffee away from her and took a long drink from it, still looking amused. "Chris, stop picking on her, please."
He threw his hands up in the air. "I can't even get her in trouble anymore. Something is wrong with this. You're not supposed to be able to do this to me." He picked up his book again and focused on the page as he began to mumble. "As if it wasn't bad enough that the Wicked Witch down the road picked on me yesterday, my own friends decide to do it today."
Brooklyn and JC looked at each other for a moment before back at Chris. She pushed his book back down. "Wait, what are you talking about? You never told me about this." Feigning a hurt expression, she sniffled. "I feel hurt."
"And I think you've had too much caffeine this morning. It was nothing big. I asked her to turn down the music, and she threw a snowball at me. It's not like it was the end of the world. Just pissed me off a little." He was met with their disbelieving looks. "Oh, come on, guys. I know what you're thinking, but honestly, I didn't do anything."
JC rolled his eyes as he sat down, handing back the cup of coffee. "Uh huh, like we believe that one. Chris, in all the time that I've known you, you've almost always been the cause of the mass destruction, and I'm guessing that you are again. Let me guess, you threw the first snowball."
His face flamed slightly. "Well...it's not like I, you know, threw it AT her. I threw it at the window to get her attention. She wouldn't have heard me shouting anyway. Still, that's no excuse for beaning me in the back of the neck with an ice cold snowball."
"They usually are ice cold, genius," the country singer said, a sarcastic lilt to her voice. "You know, if my wallet was down here, I'd put some money on the fact that he's going to end up with the Ice Queen before Christmas." It was then that a look of remembrance covered her face. "Nah, flashbacks to the Vegas bet. I don't think so."
"Good idea," he said. "Look, it'll never happen, anyway. My mom would probably slap me upside the head with a cast iron skillet if she found out that I was dating someone like that. And what Mom says, goes."
Her head shook. "I have no intention of setting you up with her, so don't worry. I can barely stand to be around her, and I can tolerate some of the worst people in the world." At that moment, Justin and Joey jumped onto the couch that Lance was sleeping on, waking him up suddenly. "There's your example right there."
The ringing phone woke up Alex, making her groan as she turned over in bed, reaching for the handset blindly. "Yeah?" she asked in her normally groggy tone before she looked over at the clock. "Uh...the way this works is that I say something, and then you say something, and then it comes back to me. One big circle of saying something. So why haven't you...whoever you are...said anything to me, yet?"
"Sorry about that, Alex. I dropped the phone. I didn't wake you up, did I?"
"No, I sound like this all day," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Is there something that you need to tell me, Sophia, because I just woke up, and I'm not in the mood for the wonderful small talk that everyone but my mother prefers." And she's the only one that I want to engage in small talk with, she thought to herself, it might actually get her off my back for writing.
A choked huff and sigh sounded from the other end. "I'm sorry to tell you this, Alex, but you don't really have a case or anything with this accident of yours. Neither one of you were hurt, and neither of the vehicles were damaged. Besides, even if there was a case with this, I would tell you to settle out of small claims court. Do you have any idea who you ran into?"
Gritting her teeth, Alex rolled onto her back. "Ran into me. I did NOT cause the accident. Mr. Big Shot was too concerned with talking to his girlfriend or whoever the hell she was."
"Well, I don't know who the hell she was, but I do know who the other driver was. Have you ever heard of Chris Kirkpatrick?"
"Of course I have. I had his name on the piece of paper with his insurance information. What are you going to tell me, that he's some heir to a royal fortune in Ireland?"
This time, the sigh was loud and pronounced from her editor's wife. In the mood that Alex was in, if she could have reached through the phone and put her hands around her throat, she probably would have. "Alexandra, would you drop the sarcastic attitude for once? Chris Kirkpatrick isn't the heir to any throne or fortune, but by the way his life is going, his great great great grandchildren are never going to have to work."
"If you tell me that he's one of the many idiots who jumped on the dot com train, I'm going to scream. I hate those dot com-ers."
"He's not a dot com-er, either. He's a musician, or rather, a singer. And I have great joy in telling you that he sings pop music." Alex groaned loud enough for the people in China to hear. "I knew you'd like that. He's part of the group NSYNC, and they're rather popular. You know...if you wanted, I could sell this report to something like the Enquirer, and bring you a couple more bucks in."
She sat straight up in bed, looking like someone resurrecting themselves. "You will NOT do that under any circumstances," she practically shouted.
"Don't tell me that you're trying to protect his identity while he's on vacation. Are you a closet listener or something?"
"God no, but what would you put in this little report?"
There was a slight pause before Sophia started to talk again. "I was thinking something along the lines of saying that famous writer Alex M. Colwell ran into famous singer Chris Kirkpatrick and an unknown female who's supposedly his girlfriend. Give out the location, and there would be a big media frenzy over this. It would put your name out there a little more, and if you knew where they were staying and could provide pictures of their vehicle and cabin, every teenybopper from California to South Carolina would be out there, hunting for him."
She nodded. It was rather close to what she thought would be released, and there were only a few problems with that. "I want you to listen closely. If my name is put out with that report, not only will you have every pre-teen idiot that doesn't know the meaning of deodorant out here, but you'd also have a rash of Alex M. Colwell fans, wanting a peek at the hidden identity of the author. Then, it's discovered that Alex M. Colwell is really a female, and everything gets all screwed up. And let's try a different scenario here, because I know how your mind works. Say that I skip town and this Kirkpatrick guy hears about the report. Not only does he have a piece of paper with MY name on it, but I'm damned sure that he would say, 'Oh, that was Alex M. Colwell? Wow, I never knew that SHE was FEMALE.' Not happening."
"We'll deny any reports like that."
"And you expect people to believe? Just drop it. I don't need the trouble. I'm trying to write a book, not cause a media explosion in my 'secret hideaway'." She flopped back down, her head hitting the pillow. "I can't believe that you would even consider doing this. Not one of your smarter plans, Sophia."
"Well, excuse me. I just thought that your name could use a little attention, since you're not exactly writing much of anything, and you're definitely not putting your name out there. The newspapers can only speculate for so long before they get bored and move onto something else. Besides, if you take forever, chances are that people, YOUR READERS, are going to lose interest in you."
Alex knew that wasn't true. She just knew it wasn't. She had been around the business long enough to know what happened, what worked and what didn't. "Nope. They're still interested, and they will remain interested until I put the series to an end."
"You know, speaking of writing, Kevin wanted me to bring up the biogra-"
"NO! It's not happening. Different subject. What should I do about this little accident thing?"
The sound of papers rustling in the background filled her ears before she heard a mechanical whirl. She knew Sophia well enough to know that she had already written up a report to send to a magazine or newspaper, and it was now being put through the paper shredder. "Apologize. Even if it isn't your fault, apologize for your actions, for being such a bitch to him and his girlfriend, and then get the hell out of there before they can ask you questions. You just better hope that they didn't put two and two together."
"Huh?"
"The name Alex M. Colwell, and the name Alexandra Marie Colwell on the piece of paper. You know damned well that your full name is on the insurance papers, and you had to write out your full name. In other words, this Chris Kirkpatrick is the only one that has a link between you and the name that you write under. Be careful. Tell him that you're a college student or something. Hell, tell him that you work as a lawyer, and if he wants to check on it, he can always call me."
"Whatever." She hung up the phone and looked around her room. "I'm sorry, but I've done enough lying in the past few years. I'm not going to lie about my profession if I'm asked." A smile started to spread on her face. "But I'm not going to tell the exact truth, either."
Chris looked up when he heard a knock on the heavy wood door that led to the front yard. It didn't seem like anyone else was running from another room or down the stairs to open it, so he got up with a sigh, holding his book in one hand as he walked to the door. Unlocking it, he hoped to hell that it wasn't some fan with a camera that had caught on to their vacation plans. As much as he loved the fans, he needed a break every now and then.
Instead, he was faced with a short woman that was wearing a black ski cap and heavy jacket, looking down at her feet. "Can I help you?" he asked politely.
Her head raised, and he immediately recognized the light brown eyes that had been flashing with anger at him just a little while ago. "Hello, Mr. Kirkpatrick. Do you mind if I come in?" Alex asked, her hands dug into her jacket pockets.
Wordlessly, he stepped aside, opening the door further for her to enter when he heard footsteps behind him. "Hey, Chris, is there any coffee left or did all the...oh, I'm sorry," JC said, plastering a smile on his face. "I didn't realize that someone was here."
Chris turned. "Ja...Josh, this is Alexandra, from down the road. This is a friend of mine, Josh." He emphasized the name twice to get the point across, and JC nodded. It was then that a shout sounded from the kitchen. "Praise the Lord and Hallelujah, there's a full pot of coffee. Better hurry up and get some before the Four Stooges..." Brooklyn's voice trailed off as she stuck her head out the door and saw Chris. "Uh...make that THREE Stooges get some. Alexandra, right?" she asked, coming around the corner. "Why don't we all go in the kitchen and have some coffee, just to piss off the other guys."
Alex nodded stiffly before following Brooklyn into the kitchen, letting the men take up the rear. She took off her coat and cap, leaving them on one of the chairs before sitting down. "Out of curiosity, how many people are staying here?"
"Originally, it was supposed to be me and Joshua here for vacation," she started, flashing a smile at JC and the goofy smile he always had when she started to use his full name. "Then Chris and the other brats found out that I was planning on coming here, and they invited themselves. Altogether, counting me, we've crammed six people in here."
JC came up behind her and reached into the cupboard for his favorite mug. "Crammed isn't the right word. There's enough room in here for the entire Armed Forces, right, Brooke?" She crossed her eyes at the mention of that name, and turned to look at Alex. "How do you like your coffee?"
"Just a half teaspoon full of sugar, please." Soon enough, the mug was put in front of her, and the rest of them gathered around the table. "So, how long are you staying in Colorado...or are you from here?"
All three of them shook their heads and let Brooklyn take over. She had always been the best at covering any interviews with the press that involved them. "No, they're from Florida, and I'm from Tennessee."
"If you couldn't tell by the accent," Chris added with a grin. "We're only here for two months, but Brooke is staying longer."
She smiled and swallowed the mouthful of coffee she had. "My brother and I were planning on spending Christmas here, but then he ended up getting married to one of my best friends, and now she's coming along, too. Gee, the whole family is getting together," she said sarcastically. "So, Alexandra, are you on vacation, too, or are you actually from here?"
Alex smiled inwardly. This woman wasn't too quick, she figured. She had already told them that her truck was a rental, and that should have clued in, but it didn't seem to. "No, I'm from Washington." Let them figure out if she meant Washington state or Washington, D.C. "My boss sent me out here for a small vacation before I get back to work."
"What is it that you do?" JC asked politely, looking over at Brooklyn at the same time. She merely wrapped her hands around her mug and smiled down at the table. They weren't used to having people being so...what seemed to be secretive...around them.
The writer flushed slightly. "Oh, I work in the publishing industry. Not all that exciting, really. And, if you don't mind me asking, what is it that you all do? It can't be very...high paying if you have to have six people living in one house."
Under the table, both Chris and JC kicked Brooklyn, making her stop the blistering comment come out. "Actually, I just bought the place about a year ago, but I haven't had a lot of time off to use it. We're all in the music industry. That's how we met."
Alex knew the truth about that, but she wasn't going to open her mouth about it. "Really? That sounds so much more exciting than looking over edited manuscripts." It was partially the truth. She always did look at edited manuscripts, but they were hers, and she was the one that had to make all the changes.
"Not really. Josh has produced a few tracks, and Chris isn't too bad with a guitar." Brooklyn figured that she was telling part of the truth, as well. JC did produce a lot, and she was teaching Chris how to play the guitar, so there was a semblance of truth in there somewhere.
"And Brooke's even better with the guitar than me, and she can play the fi...violin like a dream." Everyone at the table was picking and choosing little pieces of the truth that would sound all right on their own, but wouldn't give the whole story. Now it was Chris's turn, and he wasn't as good at it as Alex and Brooklyn. The two women would be dangerous if they were playing poker against each other. He had almost slipped up by saying the fiddle instead of the violin. She could play both, but fiddle leaned more towards country music, while the violin had been used for everything from Aerosmith to...NSYNC.
"Like I said, it's more interesting than my job. Have you worked with anyone well known?"
Now here was where delicacy had to be applied, and that was when they turned to Brooklyn. "A few. Josh has produced for so many different genres of music, it's not even funny. I've worked in country before, and even dabbled in pop music for a song or two." Chris let out a snort of laughter at her choice of words. She had "dabbled" in pop music, all right. Her best friend was a pop singer, as was her boyfriend. "Chris, on the other hand, has done a lot of pop tracks, and I think you did country once, right?" He nodded, remembering back when they had sung on stage with her before. He supposed that meant that he had worked in or with the country industry once.
Alex wasn't sure what to say. She supposed that she could come bursting out with the news that she knew who Chris was, and she had a sneaking suspicion that JC (or Josh) didn't just produce tracks, but she left it where it was for some reason. The story about Brookly only playing instruments seemed real enough, but there was a look in his eyes when he had mentioned what she played. There was another story behind that. She could always call back Sophia and ask if there was any connection between Chris Kirkpatrick and a woman named Brooke, but she knew that they weren't dating from the way that her and JC were looking at each other.
She was about to open her mouth and speak when someone came running into the room, going to hide behind Brooklyn. "See, can't hit me. You KNOW that both of them would go postal on your ass."
JC rolled his eyes and stood up. "I'll take care of the children," he told them sarcastically. "Unless you want to."
Brooklyn raised her hands in her defense. "Hey, right now, they're your friends, not mine. Justin knows that because he tried to get Joe to throw a snowball at me, in the house no less, he's going to get something from me in return." Justin's blue eyes widened innocently before he ran out, followed by JC, who was threatening bodily harm on him. "Remind me again why I ended up going out with someone that has best friends with the combined I.Q. of twenty," she asked the ceiling. "I must have done something in a previous life to deserve this punishment, because I've been such a good little girl in this life."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought that you two were..." Alex trailed off uncertainly, hiding her smile. She was definitely going to get the scoop on them.
Chris shuddered. "I'm offended by that." With a look, Brookly threw a wadded up napkin at him. "No, we're just friends. Brooke and Josh have been together for a few months now, though."
With a smile, she stood up, putting her coat back on, and holding onto her hat. "Well, thank you, Brooke, for the coffee, and thank Josh for me, too. It was nice to see you again." Chris followed her as she started to walk out of the room, and Brooklyn followed to stand beside the door and listen to them talk. Finally, Alex turned to look at Chris as she opened the door. "And it was an absolute pleasure to see you again, Mr. Kirkpatrick. I actually just came over to apologize for our other two meetings."
He paused and leaned against the door with a small chuckle under his breath. "Funny, my lawyer told me to do the same when he told me that it was pointless to take this to court. I suppose yours told you the same thing, and that's the only reason why I could see you coming over here."
Her eyes flashed dangerously back at him. "Let me rephrase what I said, Mr. Kirkpatrick. It was a pleasure to see you, but the truth is that I would get more pleasure out of seeing you burn in hell. I hope you have a good day," she finished before stepping out and slamming the door behind her. Chris looked over at Brooklyn as she walked into the foyer, and both of them whistled lowly.
As Alex stomped down the slightly icy path to the main road, she shoved her hands in her pockets, mumbling into the wind. "Maybe I should just kill you off in a book. It would make me feel so much better, you ass. How dare you even think of saying that to me." Her head shook as she turned onto the road and walked in an old tire mark to her cabin. "Believe me, Mr. NSYNC, you're going to get yours, and I'll be the one to make sure that happens."
Just so that you know, and so that I'm not blasted with e-mails. Some people may have found one piece of a scene offensive. I realize that I wrote the American National Anthem with my Dad's lyrics. I'm sorry if you feel the need to send me a "you're so insensitive" note. I wrote this before the September 11th tragedy, so please, don't call me insensitive. I'm not going to censor every single thing that I write. And, if you think that I was insensitive because I'm not American, all I have to say to that is..."Oh, Canada, our home and native land. True patriot love in all thy son's commands. With glowing hearts we see thee rise, the true North strong and free. From far and wide, oh, Canada, we stand on guard for thee. God keep our land, glorious and free. Oh, Canada, we stand on guard for thee. Oh, Canada, we stand on guard for thee." Thank you, please don't ask for an encore. I can do the American Anthem, too, if you're wondering.
Chapter Four
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