JC

He fully expected Shelby to be up and about, waiting for him to wake up, but when he yawned and stretched his arms out, his wrist brushed against soft hair. She laid next to him, on her stomach, her top half uncovered; bottom half beneath the sheets and thin hotel bedspread. 

He smirked to himself. Must have worn her out.

JC lay next to her and indulged in a few minutes of staring. From the tip of her head--disheveled hair spread around the pillow like a halo--to the long neck his eyes had crawled the first time he ever saw her in the dead of night at Publix. Her bare back, long and smooth and tanned, led to the curve of her bottom under the sheet and twin lumps of her thighs and further down, her calves and little feet. Her sleeping form held his attention for longer than he cared to admit. He was amazed, actually. It was daylight-broad daylight-and Shelby was still sleeping.

If she was anything like him, she hadn't slept well for a few nights. He yawned, careful not to be too loud or move too much, but she didn't budge. Her breaths were long and steady, in and out. In and out.

JC stared at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the ocean, muted through the windows. Thinking about the whole long and drawn out story. Contemplating. 

Today’s the day. For Shelby’s sake, but especially mine, I hope it ends today. I need it to end today.   

The thoughts were nagging and annoying and relentless. Also useless. His brain was telling him to run like hell. His heart wouldn't let his feet move.

He rolled over and eased out of the bed, pulling the sheets and blanket back up, covering Shelby to her neck, then picked up his duffel bag and tip toed into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him.

Minutes later, he emerged, clean and dressed, dropped his duffel bag back where he'd left it before, slid his wallet, keycard, and keys into his pocket. A quick glance over to the bed told him Shelby hadn't moved an inch. He watched her back, saw her take a deep breath in, and then out and then in and out again. Satisfied she was still asleep, he slipped out of the door.

Shelby

Her brain was foggy. A heavy blanket had been laid over her head, filtering everything out and keeping her from being able to think straight.

Ocean. She heard ocean. Peaceful, wonderful, blissful ocean. Had to be a dream, a dream about Miami, about being home, somewhere on the beach, maybe.  The blanket and the fog were lifting inch by inch, her mind was working, clicking and whirring and coming to life. Events from the past few days were starting to come back.

The package. JC. Miami. Robin. JC. The beach. JC. The confession. The hotel. JC.  

JC!

Shelby's eyes popped open and she sat up, springing onto her hands and knees, her eyes darting around the room. She was alone and it was dead quiet. The other side of the bed was mussed and sort of made up, the blankets and sheets merely pulled up. JC's bag sat in the same spot it was sitting the night before, but his wallet and keys were gone.

She flipped over in the bed, scooting back against the head board, pushing her hair back from her face, gathering her thoughts. She brought her knees to her chest, hugging them tight against her as the memory of the days before flooded her cobwebbed mind. She remembered now, telling him the story. Feeling relieved to get it out, feeling guilty for feeling relieved that he wasn't angrier, or that he hadn't stormed out, and he was sticking by her even though he shouldn’t.

A beep sounded outside the door and the handle jiggled before it opened. JC walked in, catching the door before it could click into the lock and pushed it closed. A paper bag rustled in his hand as he stepped lightly into the room and then stopped when he saw her.

"You're up," he said simply. "Finally. I kept watching you sleeping to make sure you were breathing." He set the bag on the edge of the bed and walked around to her side, settling gently on the edge. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead and then pulled back to look at her. His eyes began to cloud, and his forehead grew a few creases that weren't there moments ago. "You alright, Shelby? You feel okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered. "I'm okay. Where'd you go?"

"I was hungry,” he said, reaching for the bag and then opening it, unloading its bounty in her lap. "Got some quick, light stuff. Bagels, cream cheese, some fruit.” He glanced up at her and caught her wide eyes staring at him. “Well, I mean… the meeting starts at 10. We should eat something and then we should probably go.”

 "Thank you," she said, reaching for a mini-bagel, tinted blue from the berries. She ripped it in half and shoved the dry bread into her mouth. "Last night…JC… I wanted to say it..."

"Hey," he interrupted, stopping her with a hand on her arm. Her head shot up and her eyes met his. "Let's just... take this a little bit at a time, okay? Why don't you relax and eat? And then get dressed, okay?"

He dug a copy of the Miami Tribune out of the bag and then tossed the bag away.

“Chop chop, sleepy. We gotta move.” He climbed up onto the bed next to her, grabbed a muffin and bit into it. "By the way,” he said, grinning around a full mouth. “I never thought I would be calling you sleepy."

She laughed a little as she sat next to him, reading the paper over his shoulder, chewing on a bagel, thinking about the day. Me either.

"You know,” he said, turning the pages of the paper, scanning the headlines, “Breakfast was cheap on purpose.”  

She glanced up at him, wearing a confused, quizzical expression.

"I'm just saying. Don't get any ideas about taking my money. I squeeze every ounce out of every penny. I’m as cheap as they come. Maybe I’ll date you for your money.”

Shelby stared blankly at him for a moment. The mirth in his eyes was irresistible. So were the laugh lines around them and the creeping smile across his face and the hearty laugh that came from within him. He was trying.

Shelby appreciated it, more than he would ever know. Still, she elbowed him, stole the Life section from the paper, and muttered, "Shut up, JC. You couldn’t get any coffee?"

The conference room: a large and quiet corner suite. The conference table: long and glossy cherry wood. Eight cushioned leather chairs were seated around the long table in the expansive conference room in the corner suite at the Law Offices of Gold and Farmer. JC and Shelby were the first to arrive, impossibly early due to Shelby's nerves.

The receptionist showed them into the room, poured two delicate China cups of strong black coffee and slipped out of the room. And then there was quiet. JC and Shelby sat next to each other, watching the clock on the wall and waiting.  

After a few minutes of listening to minutes tick away and the traffic twelve stories below rush by, and the tip of Shelby's heel rhythmically tapping against the base of her chair, the door swung open and Robin swept in. She was dressed in black—her usual uniform in her power color—and her hair was drawn to a long ponytail banded at the base of her neck. Elegant and yet professional, Robin flashed a bright smile at the only other occupants in the room.

"Gee, Shelby," she scolded, laying a hand on her back, smoothing her hair down. "You look awfully nervous. You might want to pick up a game face between now and five minutes from now. The Trust Attorneys are on their way up from the lobby." Robin reached over Shelby and smiled brighter, if possible, sticking a hand out toward JC. "I'm Robin. It's a pleasure to meet you, finally."

"Same here," JC said with a nod and a firm handshake.

"Sorry it had to be under these circumstances, but I hope that after today, these circumstances can fade into the past." Robin took a seat at the head of the table and unloaded an armful of folders stuffed with papers, a notepad and a pen. She began sifting, handing copies to JC and Shelby. They turned the stack of pages detailing the history of Melina's antics since the accident, since Lucas' death, since she'd lost out on a portion of a multimillion dollar settlement.

"Do you think she'll fight? I mean, do you think she'll make us take this to court?"  Shelby flipped through page after page of familiar rants and false claims, shaking her head.

"Honestly? I don't know. I'd like to think she'll slink out with her tail between her legs but really there's no tell--" 

The door swung open again and the receptionist ushered in a wall of men in dark suits, white shirts and briefcases. Behind them entered a statuesque woman bearing a strong resemblance to Lucas. Shelby's heartbeat thumped in erratic, staccato rhythm. It had been ages since she'd seen Melina and the old fear was rising within her. If she could, she’d have got up from her seat and bolted down the hall to the bathroom, but it was too late. Melina was in the room.

The passage of time had not been kind. Her once jet black, mid back length hair was stringy and graying. Crow’s feet etched deeply into puffy skin surrounding eyes that used to be bright, despite their dark color but were now dull and listless. Melina made it a point to sit directly across from her, set her mouth in a scowl made an attempt to stare Shelby down.

Shelby laughed. Loudly. Over and over, laughter bubbled up from inside her. She tried again and again to stop herself but it just kept coming. With laughter came an easing of her nerves and dissipation of fear. Melina looked poor and desperate and crazy.

Let's get this show on the road. I have a life to get back to.

"If Ms. Coster is quite finished, I think we're ready to call this meeting to order." What must have been the lead attorney for the Samuels Trust spoke strongly and with confidence, but was obviously unamused. Shelby didn't blame him, so she stifled her laughter and folded her hands together in front of her on the table.

"I'm quite finished, thank you. My apologies, and nice to see you, Peter."

He nodded but didn't smile; rather, he turned his attention to Robin.  "Let's get down to brass tacks. Your client won a settlement, a rather large one, as a result of the death of Mr. Samuels. His heir, Ms. Samuels--" he gestured toward Melina, who made a good show of sorrowfully casting her eyes down toward the table. "-- feels that the Trust should have received a portion of said settlement. In fact, there was an expectation of such. This payment never came to fruition. Instead, your client fled the city and lived under a pseudonym for six months, where we can only assume she was hoping to evade attempts to collect."

Robin was not flustered in the least. "We’re assuming, now? Then can I assume that you have an agreement detailing the terms of the split of the settlement, signed by my client, myself, your clients and the Trust Attorneys?"

Peter faltered—they had to know Robin was going to ask for that! "Our understanding was that the agreement was verbal and that your client failed to sign--"

"Then can I assume that you have an audio or video tape of my client agreeing to the split, and a notarized, signed transcript... yadda yadda... you see where I'm going with this, right?"

"Certainly, Ms Gold, we’re aware that no paper trail exists, however, Ms Coster was directly involved in the death of Lucas Samuels. She received an inheritance from his estate, then sued the tire manufacturer and because of his death, received quite a large sum in settlement. It's virtually a slap in the face to the Samuels family for her to not at least repay the portion of an inheritance that should have gone to his ex-wife, his children, his charities."

Peter's ocean blue eyes moved from Robin and focused on Shelby, staring her down the way lawyers stare down the opposing counsel's witness. "At the very least, Shelby-- Ms Coster-- you owe it to the Samuels family to return what you never should have inherited."

"I owe the Samuels family nothing," Shelby said, calmly. "I sued the tire manufacturer because I bought a faulty, shoddily manufactured set of tires. Those tires were installed on my car and hours later, were the cause of a fatal accident. Even if Lucas had..."

Shelby swallowed, almost stumbling over her words, but regained her footing easily. "Even if Lucas hadn't have died, you and I know well that he would have done the same. And he wouldn't have distributed a settlement among the family. I took what Lucas left for me, just like every other member of the family—“

A scuffle came from across the table. Melina was standing, pointing across the table at Shelby, screeching, “You were never family, you slut! Money hungry, gold digging whore!”

Shelby reared back. Peter stood, gripping Melina’s forearm tightly and leaned over her. He whispered something coarse and gruff. Whatever he said made her sit, yank her arm from his grip and huff a breath, arms folded across her chest.  Peter sat again, nodding at Shelby.

“Like I was saying, I didn’t take anything from anyone. I accepted what Lucas wanted me to have, because he thought enough of me to want me taken care of. I won’t apologize that my fiancé loved me. You want to talk about undeserved, though? Some light reading." Shelby slid the stack of pages across the table toward him. He stopped the slide with the palm of his hand and flipped through a page or two.

"A working history of every lie, every deceitful word Melina has spread about me and my family since Lucas died, since I was named in the will, since the settlement came in. Copies of the intrusive note that she sent to Mr. Chasez--” Shelby nodded toward JC. JC nodded, shyly, at the men across the table. Melina’s eyes grew to the size of saucers once she realized the man sitting next to Shelby wasn’t another attorney, but the celebrity she’d tried to use to bring Shelby down.

“In her haste to destroy and defame me, she involved a high powered household name in something that was not his concern, and dropped him into the middle of a controversy. That was dirty warfare. This isn’t his fight. And if the Samuels family felt they deserved part of that settlement, there should have been less assumption and more motion filing, more contract writing. The time for begging for what must amount to a penny in the pockets of the Samuels Enterprise was back then. If you think you can force my hand now, think again. Not now, not ever.”

Shelby sat back, aware of the stares in the room, all eyes on her. Robin toyed with her pen, a slight smile on her face.  "So what we're saying here today is... it's not happening. There will be no disbursement of funds from the Bridgestone vs. Coster settlement. Ever. Furthermore…"  Robin opened a folder and slid another stack of pages across the table, distributing copies down the line to Melina and every lawyer.

"This is a Cease and Desist order, signed and sworn before the Honorable Judge Henry Farmer, barring Melina from mentioning the settlement, the inheritance, or my client, ever again. No interviews, no internet postings, no public rants. No TV shows, no radio shows, no blog posts. Ms Samuels will simply fade from Ms Coster's life. Effective immediately.”

“Not on your life, fucking whore!” Melina spat. “I’ll take you to court and sue you blind. Your great grandchildren will owe me money!”

Robin smiled. “I anticipated that to be your next move. I’d rethink it. We’ll countersue for harassment. You provided all of the evidence by being stupid enough to identify yourself, even when you sent the package to Mr. Chasez. And the Pièce de résistance… "

She reached into the folder once more, pulling out yet another stack of pages.  She handed a set to Shelby and JC, a set to Melina, and a set to Peter. Shelby glanced at the top page and nearly jumped out of her seat when she read it.

THE STATE OF FLORIDA

PLAINTIFF

VS.

MELINA SAMUELS

DEFENDANT

COMPLAINT FOR THE CRIME OF THEFT

The date on the document showed that it had been filed with Florida Courts nearly a decade ago. Behind the top page was a long, detailed description of every item that Melina had been accused of stealing from an upscale department store. And behind that, several more stamped official court documents:

COMPLAINT FOR THE CRIME OF CHECK KITING, THEFT

COMPLAINT FOR THE CRIME OF FORGERY

COMPLAINT FOR THE CRIME OF FRAUD

Smug, Robin said, “Feel free to skip to the end of the story. I love happy endings.”  A flurry of pages rose as everyone flipped to the last set of documents, stapled together. It was the most recent, filed almost a month prior to the arrival of the FedEx package on Shelby’s doorstep and into JC’s hands.

UNITED STATES BANKRUPTCY COURT

DISTRICT OF FLORIDA

CHAPTER 7 ORDER RE: DISCHARGE AND ORDER DISCHARGING TRUSTEE AND CLOSING CH.7 “NO ASSET” ESTATE.

Shelby’s draw nearly dropped to the table. Her head jerked up toward JC, who was still reading, but his eyes were growing bigger and his brows were drawing closer together and the lines across his forehead sank deeper and deeper. He tossed the pages down, the stack hitting the table with a satisfying thunk. So much proof that Shelby was doing the right thing.

“Lucas was paying off your debts, off the books,” JC said, giving a cold, hard stare to Melina. She turned a crimson red and stared back. “He paid off the courts system to shuffle this through without any fanfare-- he didn’t want this to hit the press. You were paying restitution, but he was giving you money to live on and to make the payments until every creditor was paid back for what you stole. Am I close?”

Melina swallowed, but didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Each of the five suits at the table stared down at the glossy surface of the table.

“Let’s see if I can fill in the blanks.” Robin stood and clasped her hands behind her back. She began a slow pace across the front of the room as she laid out the story.

“We can see from the multiple court filings that magically fell through some huge crack in the justice system, as well as a forensic analysis of Lucas Samuels’ finances that Lucas was the only thing standing between Melina and prison time, for everything from theft of merchandise to forgery to trying to cash checks from her father’s account. In fact, a review of the Last Will and testament of Lucas Samuels shows that not only did he recently add Shelby to his will, but he removed you. Didn’t he, Melina?”

The stricken expression across Melina’s face said everything. Robin had stumbled upon a gigantic Lucas family controversy. “And he wouldn’t add you back until you proved you were trustworthy, by taking the money he gave you and making the restitution payments. Only… when Lucas died, your source of income dried up. Your creditors came calling and when it was time for the disbursement of the Estate, which you must have been eagerly anticipating, you learned that you got nothing. It must have burned you up to know that your dad’s fiancée got something, but Lucas left you nothing.

“Then came the settlement, which I bet you were excited about, because while you were removed from the will, you weren’t removed from the family. Whatever came to the Samuels family would be split evenly and you’d get your portion. When that didn’t come and Shelby came up missing, you must have lost your mind.”

“It wasn’t fair!” Melina slapped a hand loudly against the table, her puffy face beet red. “I was working hard to get back in my dad’s good will. That whore spent a couple of years under him and took what was mine. Then got rich off of his death and didn’t even have the decency to share with the family she took him from!”

“You can stop your client from calling my girlfriend a whore any time, now.” Shelby blinked, then blinked again, then smiled in JC’s direction. He looked irritated, his jaw twitching and eyes sparking.  “Feel free to jump in.”

Peter leaned over to his client and mumbled a few words to her. She cut her eyes at him and then rolled them, tossing her head away. Robin was behind Melina, talking over her head, hulking around her. Melina had shifted in her seat several times, finally swatting at Robin to get her to back up. The wall of Attorneys looked on in awe and – Shelby was just guessing—surprise. Shelby wasn’t surprised in the least. This was how Lucas Samuels worked—several irons in the fire and none of them knew about each other.

“Get real, sister,” Robin said, her words raining down around Melina. “If anyone thought Shelby killed Lucas, she’d be in jail right now. With no money coming in, you were forced to file bankruptcy. You thought Shelby was in the wind, but then got word that she was in Orlando. Your greed reared its ugly head and you scraped together enough money for a private investigator, who found her living under an assumed name. You located the man she was dating, Mr. Chasez, and saw that he, too was worth millions. You figured you’d expose Shelby to him and shame her into giving you what you want and then you could live on that money, since your creditors couldn’t come after you for it. Considering Mr. Chasez is sitting on Ms. Coster’s side of the table, and you still have no money, that didn’t quite work out for you, did it?”

Shelby gulped, almost audibly, and glanced at JC. His head turned slightly, a glint in his eye. I told you, he seemed to be saying. She would have won. Shelby unclasped her hands and slid one under JC’s arm. He covered her hand with his, adding a few soothing pats.

Melina fidgeted, breathing heavy. Her eyes darted from Peter, at whom she shot daggers, to Shelby and JC across the table. She couldn’t hold her gaze, though and her eyes dropped again.

“What this amounts to is another Melina Samuels scam. We’re not falling for it.” Robin made her way back to her seat and settled into it. “Melina agrees to drop this fruitless effort, and we won’t go public with this entire story. How many people would do business with Samuels Enterprises if they knew his daughter was a white collar felon with a rap sheet as long as my arm?”

Peter rolled his chair from the table, turning his back to Robin. Three other attorneys stood and huddled around him and a blushing, fuming Melina. Peter whispered, Melina hissed back, Peter seemed to threaten her, pointing and then throwing up his hands, shaking his head at her.

Shelby glanced at JC and he shrugged, quietly watching the exchange. She didn’t know what those signs meant, but hoped they signaled something good. After a few minutes of hushed conversation, he wheeled back to the table.

“Considering all of the facts—or lack thereof, we think your proposal is reasonable. We only ask that the gag order go both ways. This meeting should be deemed to be on the level of a Grand Jury hearing and is therefore strictly confidential. It cannot be discussed, so Ms. Coster is not to speak on the proceedings, the topics of conversation, or the outcome at any time.”

Robin glanced over at me. I glared at Melina. “I have no problem never mentioning Melina or the Samuels family ever again. Deal. But if Melina talks, a whole stack of unmentionables will hit the press. I’ll definitely make sure nothing is swept under the rug. Control your client.”

Peter stood, picking up his briefcase. Robin stood as well, shook hands with him and walked him to the door. They mumbled details to each other about faxes and agreements and signatures. Peter led the trail of attorneys with dark suits and briefcases back out of the office. Melina followed like a defeated black sheep—head down, shoulders sagging, slow plodding steps out of the room and down the hall out of sight.

 “Wow.” JC leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, rubbing his eyes with his thumbs. “That was intense.”

Shelby exhaled a long, loud breath, wilting from the stress and strain of the past week. “Wow is right. I’m in… just… shock. You were right… she was penniless.”

“Did you know all that? All this?” JC pointed toward the now dog-eared pages. There were several documents Shelby had marked to read.

“Bits and pieces. Lucas was very protective over private family business. We almost never discussed it. I see why, now.” Shelby glanced through the stacks again, her eyes roving page after page. “You did a great job, Robin.”

Robin shrugged with a small but proud smile. “All in a day’s work. I had to figure out what made Melina tick. I always knew it was money, but she sank her teeth in just a little too deeply. She was too passionate and crazy. Once I reviewed Lucas’ accounts, I pieced things together. I think the Trust attorneys knew there was no case. They just hoped we were too dumb—and scared to figure it out. And I bet Melina promised them a nice payday once she got her money.”

“Popped a hole in that balloon,” JC said. Shelby and Robin laughed, staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing, JC. Just… nothing. ” Shelby wrapped both hands around his arm and laid her head on his shoulder. “Is it over? Really over?”

“Seems like it,” JC said softly, leaning down to brush his lips across her forehead. He looked up to find Robin watching them. “Is it? Can we go home?”

She nodded, gathering papers and folders together and stood, heading toward the door. “There will be an agreement coming over the fax to seal the deal. I’ll need Shelby to sign it, but I can send it by messenger anywhere. If I were the two of you, I’d get the hell out of Miami. Go live your life, Shelby. You’re free.”

JC

No one could have been more relieved than JC. As brave as he was trying to be, Shelby—and he—had dodged a bullet. It would have been nasty, had Robin not dug deeper and found everything she’d found out Melina, her past, and what Lucas had tried to hide from not only his fiancée, but the world and possibly himself.

Suddenly, and almost unbelievably, it was over. Or it seemed to be. Time would tell, if Melina would really fade, or if she was crazy enough to keep going. JC was betting she was off her rocker, but not that crazy. That was a big bet that he hoped paid off.

Life was a flurry of activity, after leaving Robin’s office. To the bank, to redeposit the check she’d withdrawn. To the hotel, to check out. And back to Hollywood, to the quaint Spanish style stucco home where Shelby was more herself than anywhere… to pack up her clothes and say goodbye to her parents.

“But we hardly saw you,” Renee whined, watching Shelby pile clothes into her suitcase. “And we didn’t get to spend any time with JC…”

“I need to get back to class if I’m graduating in June. And it’s not like we’re never coming back.” Shelby shook her head and surveyed her suitcase and then the room, making sure she didn’t forget anything.

“Yeah, like I said, I’m down here for New Year, every year. We’ll be back in a few weeks.”

“And you’ll stay here, not some hotel?”  JC glanced at Shelby. Shelby glanced at JC. They grinned at each other. Renee rolled her eyes. “Whatever, you two. Here is better than the backseat of the car, isn’t it?”

“But it’s not better than the hotel. This bed is small. We’ll see, mom. We’ll see.” Shelby closed her suitcase and whipped the zipper around. JC moved in to grab it, slid it off of the bed and headed toward the door.

“I’ll let you two have your moment.”  He made his way down the narrow staircase with Shelby’s suitcase. At the landing, Bob was waiting on him. JC set the suitcase down and extended a hand. Bob shook it, his grip strong.

“Pleasure meeting you, son.”

“You too, sir.”

“Got a lot of respect for you. Shelby…” His eyes rolled upward, as if he could see her through the ceiling above them, in her room. “She can be difficult. We made her that way, I suppose. I appreciate you seeing through the things that she’s done to the woman she is. She’s an incredible person. I want you to know that. I want you to know her.”

“I’m gonna do my best to dig in and do that. If she’ll let me.”

Bob clapped him on the shoulder, letting out a garbled chuckle. “She may not let you do very much. Push her. It’ll be good for her.”

JC laughed along, nodding his head, reaching for the handle of her suitcase. “I’ll keep that in mind, sir. And when she gets mad at me, I’ll just tell her…”

“I didn’t say a word…”

He walked away, his hands up, mumbling and laughing to himself. JC wrestled the suitcase out the door on his own and dropped it into the trunk of Shelby’s car. Right behind him, the door opened and Shelby came out. Bob and Renee followed her. JC laughed to himself. They were so clingy—but it was beautiful to see.

“Drive the speed limit, now. None of this going ninety miles an hour, like when you drove down here. And call me when you get to Orlando. And let me know when you’re coming back.”

Shelby turned when she reached the car, dumped her purse in the driver’s seat and opened her arms. “Mom… hug me and go back in the house before you start crying.”

JC looked on, amused as Renee and then Bob and then Renee again hugged Shelby, showering her with kisses and strokes to her hair until she got flustered and ducked into the car. He took his cue to slide into the passenger seat next to her. He’d just closed the car door when she turned the key in the ignition, yelled, “Bye!” out of her window and began to back out of the driveway.

“Ye gods. It was like I was leaving for college, or something.”

JC laughed. “They love you. I think they’re great.”

Shelby rolled her eyes, ran a hand through her hair, and adjusted her sunglasses. And then smiled. “They’re pretty great, huh? I love them back.”

JC reached toward the CD player and pressed play. “What do you have in here?”

“The Greats,” Shelby answered. “Not that what you do isn’t real music, but this…” She smiled, wistful as the smooth, silky voice of Frank Sinatra poured from the speakers, seeping into the air. “This is real music, to me. Passionate and big. Instrumental. It’s one of the things Lucas and I had in common.”

“And you and I do. This is the stuff that makes it even possible for me to do what I do. I owe my career to some of these cats.”

JC turned the music down, very slightly, and settled into his seat. The drive to Orlando from Miami would be an easy one. He had Shelby by his side and a few weeks of peace before he would have to think about Rod and the band and work and a tour. It felt good to be going home.

Yep. Orlando was home. LA would soon become a distant memory.

“JC…” Shelby stared ahead, watching the road, but behind her shades, her eyes blinked rapidly. She swallowed, over and over.

“Hunh? What’s wrong? Shelby?”

“Just…nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Why does something always have to be wrong?”

“Well, you called my name and then you look all… like something’s wrong. What?”

“I just… I love you, okay? That’s it.”

He stared at her profile for a few seconds before a flippant, “I knew that,” fell out.

“Well, good.” Shelby exhaled, her shoulders dropping the tension, her chest relaxing, her fingers loosening in their white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. “Now I know it, too.”

JC directed his attention ahead of them, at the road and began to smile, bobbing his head to the music. After a few minutes, Shelby let one of her hands drop from the steering wheel and land in his lap. He grabbed it up like it was a prize, wound his fingers between hers and clutched the jumble of hands to his chest.

“Love you too, you know.”

“Yeah.” Shelby smiled and nodded. “I knew that, too.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are you… are you in love with me?”

Shelby inhaled, deeply. He waited, almost holding his breath. She answered, finally. “More than you might ever know, JC.” She shook her head, lost in her thoughts, not even realizing how much relief she’d just given him. “More than you’ll ever know.”

The following year, mid-summer

JC

“What do you think, boss?” JC stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, a thumb working his bottom lip. Deep in thought, he barely heard Rod’s question until he repeated it. “JC? Whatcha thinkin’? We did every song. No big mistakes. Sounds good. Feels epic. But you’re the boss. We ready?”

JC paced from one end of the room to the other, in front of the makeshift stage. He’d taken a leap, with this job. A huge one. He had no idea what he was doing, no idea what a Music Director was even supposed to do, or be. Rod gave him full reign and all of his trust and a year later, there was an album with his songs on it and in a few weeks, a tour that he’d put together. Things were falling into place and if JC hadn’t have been so calculated, planning every step, every move, every note, he’d have been scared shitless.

Hell, he was still scared shitless. But they were ready.

He pulled his thumb from the corner of his mouth, lifted his eyes to the four band members staring at him, waiting for an answer. “Well,” he said, approaching his music stand, slapping the pages together in a jumbled stack and then climbing down from the platform. “I think it’s time for a drink. Let’s celebrate.”  

Shelby

“Swank-y!”

The loud voice and low wolf whistle behind her was as familiar to her as her own voice, but Shelby was still surprised to hear it. Her first customer, on the first day of Grand Opening Week at Shelby’s was none other than JC and his merry band of musicians—Rod, Duke, Sam and Cole. JC had brought them all, in lieu of tour rehearsal to have a drink at Shelby’s bar. This was a big deal, she realized. JC was all about work.

“Welcome to Shelby’s. I’m Shelby!” 

JC laughed as she came around the shiny, waist high bar. She slid her arms around him, tipped her head up and let JC’s lips drop onto hers. She savored the kiss with a hum from deep inside her while she kissed him back. When they finally pulled away from each other, she waved to the other guys, standing in the middle of the bar and gawking at every little thing.

“I’m so proud of you, honey. It looks great in here. Smells great. Brand new.”

He kicked a toe against the gleaming wood floor, roved an eye over to the tall tables and chairs littering one section and the lounge-like area at the opposite end, lined with comfortable, plush couches and chairs. A fireplace with hearth seating separated the two spaces. In the winter, Shelby imagined people would sprawl around it, soaking in the heat of the fireplace on either side, perched on pillows with their glasses of wine or port, shots of whiskey or bottles of beer while waitresses made their way around with baskets of pretzels and trays of hors d'œuvres.

Shelby’s was her dream. Everything she loved about the place that sparked her vision and everything she’d wished it had been, she poured into her own creation. Building the bar, creating the menu, designing the décor and the drinks and the ambiance did wonders for absolving the long standing guilt she’d held over… everything. Her relationship with Lucas that was so wrong but in some ways, so right. His death and her hand in it. The Settlement, the confrontation with Melina, but most especially how JC made her stand up and fight for herself. All of it gave her strength, strength she’d poured into every floorboard, every tile, every beer tap and every bottle of top shelf alcohol lining the wall of the bar.

She’d made it. And she was proud of herself.  

“What’s a Lucas?” Rod was studying the selection of Spirits, his finger running down the list.

“It’s a scotch,” Shelby answered. “Top shelf.”

The band crowded around a table, laughing and telling jokes to and about one another. More than one joke centered on JC, but he laughed along and took it all in stride. Shelby kept leaving the table because she was working, welcoming each guest as the hostess, making her rounds to see that everyone was taken care of. The background music to the dull roar of conversations going on around them varied from jazz to classic rock to big band to pop. For shits and grins, Shelby put on Evil Side of Me and watched Rod beam with pride during the entire three and a half minutes it played.

“Might have created a monster,” JC said, when the song went off, the music switched back to rock, and Shelby reclaimed her seat next to him.

“How so?”

“Well, I’m just saying. It’s a good thing we leave on tour in a few weeks. You play Rod Phillips in here. Rod Phillips likes to hear Rod Phillips. You’ll never get rid of him, now.”

The table erupted in laughter, high fives slapping all around.

“Hey, if Rod Phillips brings me customers, I’ll play Rod Phillips all day.”

“So is it gonna be weird for you to run this place?” Rod asked, downing his second Lucas of the night. “I mean, a barkeep is pretty much a nocturnal job. Like ours. It’s not unusual for us to be getting out of work when people are just getting up. I mean, you know, from dating JC, here.”

“It’s something we’ve I have always had in common.”  She smiled, glancing over at him, sliding a hand across his lap. “Did JC ever tell you how we met?”

“No, never heard it.”

“Well, it’s the story of how a pop star, doing his own grocery shopping at 5 in the damned morning, was leering at an innocent fellow shopper suffering from insomnia. She was just seeking a little distraction and here was this dirty old man was staring at her ass from behind an end-cap—“

“Oh, here we go,” JC said, rolling his eyes, holding up his hands in defense against the already building laughter. A waitress stopped by to drop a basket of pretzels and a tray of nachos in the middle of the table, gather the empties and take orders for refills. Shelby nodded at her, laughing along with everyone else, enjoying the happy moment.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it until the end of time. I was not staring at your ass...”