April 19th, 1998
Montreal, Quebec, Canada

I don’t think I’d ever been so happy to see my dad in my entire life. To know that he was healthy enough to come, to see that same sparkle in his eye, to see that same shining smile…to see that big, shiny bald head of his. It caught me off guard at first but as he held me at arm’s length to get a good look at me (honestly, like I’ve managed to grow in the past few weeks) I couldn’t help but reach up and touch where his hair used to be. His thick, dark hair…

“You’re bald,” was the only thing I could think of saying and then I cringed. Well, of course he knew that. And he wasn’t bald bald, he still had some hair but it could only be considered a light dusting.

“Yeah,” he replied, rubbing his head. “If I stand beneath a light, the beam that bounces off could rival a spotlight.”

I laughed and then quickly covered my mouth. Was it tacky to laugh at his circumstances? But then I saw the smile on his face and I relaxed. “You’re not funny,” I stated, lightly slapping his arm. I didn’t miss the feeling of soft skin through his sleeve. He had lost some weight. “Was it…did the chemo…?”

“Not yet,” he replied, rubbing his head again. “Preemptive strike and all. It was bound to happen to happen sooner or later…I chose sooner.”

I nodded and reached over and grabbed his hand. He smiled and squeezed mine in return and I lead him over to the bench in the foyer of the restaurant. Once sitting, I snuggled up against his side and just took him in. It sucked not being able to see him much anymore and knowing that he was taking one of his rare good days out just to see me was awesome. But he should be resting. My stomach twisted at how torn I felt. Was it selfish to want him here despite knowing how sick he was? What if he got some sort of infection while out or worse?

“You’re going to hurt your brain thinking that hard,” he commented. I sat up straighter and looked at him. What was he talking about? “The muscle in your eyebrows was working overtime. You know, you used to do that same thing when you were a baby. Whenever you saw something new your eyebrows would get all wrinkly and you’d get this really serious look on your face. It was adorable. Now when you do it it’s because something’s bothering you.”

“You’re bothering me,” I blurted out.

He snorted. “Sorry. I’ll try not to exist next time.”

“Daddy! That’s not funny!” I gasped. How could he say something like that in his condition?

“Sweetie, relax,” Dad said while looking at me as if I were crazy. Maybe I was. “That was a joke.”

“But how can you make a joke?”

“Because thinking about my mortality day in and day out only puts me in the dumps,” he replied. “There are more things I’d rather do with my time.”

I twisted my mouth to the side. “Maybe you should be slowing down at least. Not that I’m not happy that you’re here, I am. I love having you here but maybe you shouldn’t be exposing yourself to other people. You could get sicker and…and your body’s already weak enough as it is and—“

My words halted when Dad heaved a large sigh and he looked off in the distance. He twisted his fingers and his tongue darted out briefly to lick at his lower lip. He sighed again only this time it was shaky. His eyes crinkled in the corners and not how they usually did whenever he was laughing or smiling. The sides of his mouth turned down and he swallowed thickly. I didn’t have to say anything to probe a question; he started speaking on his own. “As I grew up, I had been taught that a man was the head of the family. He protected the family, cared for the family, helped nurture it and make it thrive. He’s supposed to hold it all together, be the rock, the glue. He’s supposed to take care of the family.

“I’m supposed to worry about you. I’m supposed to make sure you’re okay and you’re happy and you’re healthy. You’re not supposed to worry about me. You’re not supposed to keep checking on me and taking care of me. You’re not supposed to live your life for me.”

“Dad, I’m not,” I protested, my voice quiet.

He turned to look at me, his eyes watery. “Your mother told me, and I already knew anyway. About you doing all of this for me. You shouldn’t be working like this for me. I don’t want you to.”

“But the bills, Dad—“

He cut me off with a firm shake of his head. “You shouldn’t be worrying about that either. I understand, with the way your mother and I work, we haven’t been the best at…shielding you from everything but this isn’t something you should be concerned with either. We’ve been in worse scrapes and we’ve gotten past it, we’ll get past this too.”

“But how are you so sure?” I cried out, grabbing onto his arm. “How are you so positive about it all? I just…I need to know these things. I need to be involved; it’s my family too.”

“You need to be a kid,” he corrected me, “because you’re not going to get another chance at it, not with your line of work. Have fun with your friends and explore the world. You’re putting unnecessary pressure on yourself.” He brushed at his eyes with the back of his hand. I noticed a bruise on the inside of his forearm. “I failed at that too, I guess.”

I gave his arm a squeeze. “Dad, you didn’t fail at anything.”

“Yes I did,” he said while nodding. “I failed at being your father when you started doing all of this for me.”

“Well, who else am I supposed to be doing it for?”

“You’re supposed to be doing it for yourself,” he replied. “You shouldn’t be living your life for me or anyone else but yourself. You love to dance; you’re getting paid to do it and you get to travel the world because of it. And yet you don’t seem to enjoy it because of me. I can’t let you put me in the way of it. So it stops now. Enjoy it while you can and let me be the parent while I can. Okay?”

I nodded and gave his arm a squeeze. “Okay,” I conceded, curling into his side when he pressed a kiss to my forehead. Father knows best, right? And...and he said he was going to be okay. He wouldn’t say that if the doctors didn’t give him a good prognosis, would he?

“By the way, I heard your song,” he commented.

My eyes widened. “You did?”

“I did.” He nodded and smiled only to lean forward and kiss the top of my head again. “I loved it. Thank you. It means a lot to me.”

“They’re ready to seat us now,” Momma said as she walked over.  She placed her hand atop of my head and smoothed down some hair while surveying the both of us. “Is everything alright?”

“Just fine,” I replied, holding onto the crook of Dad’s elbow as he stood.

“And getting better,” he added. Then, with an exaggerated bow he added, “May I escort you to your seat, mademoiselle?”

With a laugh, I curtsied and let him lead me back to the table. My smile slowly fell the closer we got back to the table that had been set up for our large party. For the last few minutes I talked with my dad I could easily ignore my other problem—okay, problems—but now that I was staring them in the face again I wasn’t so sure this whole dinner thing was a good idea. Especially with Lou Pearlman being here.

My stomach churned at the mere sight of him; that beady-eyed look, that smarmy smile, that creepy laugh. I just didn’t get how they could fall for it all: the air of importance and the flash and grandeur. Well, okay if someone went around throwing money in my vicinity I’d get blinded by the lights too, just not the ones bouncing off of Lou’s nearly-bald head.

And guess who the lucky lady was that got to sit next to him all because of their oh-so-awesome manager? I get networking and connections and all but damn! Couldn’t Liam be on my side for once? Okay, so for that to happen I’d have to explain to him everything that was going on and I didn’t want to do that and I knew there was no point. It’d be Lou’s word against mine. Oh well, I got to sit next to my daddy so maybe, hopefully, he wouldn’t be sick enough to try anything with so many people around.

I carefully sat down in the chair Dad pulled out for me and glanced around the room. Where was…ah ha. Servers at eleven o’clock. Perfect! They don’t make us wait around here long, thank God. A smile twitched at the corner of my mouth and I took a sip of water to hide it as I zeroed in on the conversation going around the table.

I nodded my head here and there, pretending to be engrossed in the topic of some basketball game that had been on earlier in the week. Sports always went over my head; I knew a few of the terms and the stats on some players because of Justin’s obsession, but anything past that bored me. But it was an easy topic, a safe topic. And as long as everyone stayed on it maybe then they wouldn’t notice the elephant in the frilly dress and the sky-high stilettos in the room.  She was quite the looker.

“How’s your stomach? Think you can handle this food?” I asked Dad as I surveyed the menu sitting in front of me.

“If not, I’m going to force it down anyway. It’s not every day we get to come here,” he replied, looking over the menu himself. “And they even have filet mignon. Can’t pass that one up. Even if it comes back up a few minutes later, it’d be worth it.”

“Well, don’t get too much just in case,” I warned. “We can always bag some up to eat later if you feel sick.”

He rolled his eyes and closed his menu. “The only thing that’s going to make me feel sick is not getting any of their cheesecake for dessert. I flew all the way out here; I’m going to eat like a king.”

I pushed his arm. “Fine, but don’t run up Liam’s bill okay? I still have to work with him and I don’t want to put him in the hole.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Lou spoke up, making me stiffen in my seat. “With how much Liam here believes in your talent, you’ll be making him plenty of money in no time.” He smiled at me, his eyes nearly sinking right into his doughy face. “Now, if he wasn’t so greedy—” he directed at Liam.

Liam waved him away from his side of the table and took a sip of his wine. I didn’t miss the triumphant smile on his face. “Can’t have everyone in the world under your thumb, Lou.”

“My loss,” Lou commented. His stare burned the side of my head but I didn’t dare look at him. I kept my hands clapped in my lap and my eyes on the tablecloth in front of me. I pressed my lips together, doing my best to keep my breath steady. And then my stomach gave a painful lurch when I felt it: Lou’s hand sliding across my bare kneecap. His pinkie brushed against the hemline of my dress. I bit my lip, hard. The pain pulsed in time with my heartbeat. I squeezed my hands together so hard my hands shook. His fingers clenched, applying steady pressure to my knee. I clenched my teeth, sucking in a breath as his fingernails bit into my skin. It was difficult getting the lump in my throat down and breathe at the same time. How could he do this, with everyone sitting around us? With my dad right next to me? How could he be so gross?

“Miss?” The voice was distant in my ear, a faint buzzing. “Excuse me, miss?” A hand clapped down on my table. I jumped and wrenched my arm away, recoiling when something hot brushed against my skin. I jerked my head up and watched as a bowl in the server’s hands tipped over and landed splat on Lou’s lap. He withdrew his hand in a flash and leapt out of his seat. It was the fastest I’d ever seen him move! His chair toppled backwards, landing against the floor with a loud smack followed by a room-silencing crash of the bowl shattering against the floor.

One sweep around the table and I was met with widened eyes and dropped jaws, shock slapped onto their faces. I casually surveyed the server hastily apologizing, the white cloth in his hands fluttering as he tried to decide between giving it to Lou and wiping the soup off of him.

“Oops.” I applied a shocked expression to my face and widened my eyes to mimic everyone else. “I’m so sorry,” I uttered.

“Sweetie, did any get on you?” Dad asked, taking my arm.

I glanced down. “Just a little on my dress, I’m fine.” I pushed against the table, scooting my chair back. “Actually, I’m going to try and get this out. Before it stains. I’ll be right back.” I set my napkin down on my chair, stepped around the mess, and headed in the direction of the bathroom. With every clip-clop of my heels I imagined stepping on Lou’s face and with every step it made my smirk widen.

What they said was true: karma is a bitch. And she works fast. What a winning combination.

Once enclosed in the safe confines of the bathroom, I did my best to lift my leg onto the counter. I grimaced at the bolts of pain that spread beneath my skin like spider webs. Red circles dotted my kneecap, indentations popped in the center like crescent moons. I frowned. They looked bad; I’d probably have bruises tomorrow.

I laughed. Better a bruise than a burn.

Brushing a wet paper towel against the spot on my dress didn’t seem to help much. Little bits of soggy paper broke off and clung to the dampened spot. I tossed it away, dried my hands, smoothed out my dress, and left the bathroom. The scent of fresh-cooked food wafted past my nose and made my stomach grumble. Vengeance sure made a girl hungry.

“Hey.” Even though I saw JC out of the corner of my eye, feeling his hand

“Will you…?” I curled my fingers into fists and then let them drop to my sides. “People need to stop sneaking up on me like that. And don’t touch me!” JC opened his mouth but I held my hand up in his face. “I’m not talking to you.”

“What do you think you’re doing now?” he asked. I glared at him. He didn’t even flinch. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s just soup.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I crossed my arms. My eyebrow popped up as I waited for him to elaborate. He rubbed his hand over his mouth and then shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re…uncomfortable.”

I blinked. Really? That’s all he had to say? No shit, I’m uncomfortable! I’m having a conversation with someone who ignored me pouring my heart out on accident. I pressed a couple fingers to my temple and sighed. “You’re being stupid,” I muttered.

“I can see it on your face,” he pressed, stepping closer. I caught a whiff of his cologne. It slapped around my senses. He was too close. I took a step back. “Is it Lou? Is he doing something to make you uncomfortable?”

The question landed hard on my chest; my heart skipped a beat and it halted my breath. The words were on the tip of my tongue and they almost dove right off but I clamped my lips together. What good would it do to tell him now? He probably wouldn’t even believe me anyway…. I twisted my mouth to the side and shook my head. “No,” I stated, lifting my chin and looking him in the eye. “But what do you care? We’re not friends, right?”

He slowly shook his head, turned on his heel, and walked back to the table. I stared at his back as he retreated. The pain in my knee didn’t compare to the pain in my chest as the canyon between us got wider with each step. And the rest of the guys, my friends, were on the other side with him.

Maybe a break from them wasn’t an entirely bad idea. Maybe it’s what we all needed, some time away from each other. It’d make everything easier, not having to see JC’s face every day. Then I wouldn’t have to feel my heart breaking day in and day out.

Okay, it’s decided: from this moment on I’m over Joshua Scott Chasez.