Nicole took the bus to work the next morning; it was the first time since she got home that she hadn't driven. She had been avoiding Patrick and everyone since she returned from New Mexico, but she felt that today was as good as any to get back into the normal routine. Patrick entered the bus two stops after hers and smiled broadly when he saw her seated in the back. He sat down next to her, placed a soft kiss on her cheek, and said nothing for the entirety of the 50-minute ride. Nicole was grateful, and when Patrick exited the bus, he turned to Nicole and asked, "See you this afternoon?" She nodded.
She did not have running practice today, and the special schedule to accommodate the annual career day event meant she did not require the extra bags of school supplies or graded papers she normally carried. She walked into the office, greeted everyone, signed in, and headed to her classroom to drop off her things before heading to the school's multipurpose room, where the college counselor was organizing the guest speakers over a continental breakfast. She knew that Mr. Sheffield from the Boston Consulting Group was volunteering his time today, and she wanted to check in with him to make sure he was good and had everything he needed.
Before entering the MPR, Nicole chatted with a group of students who were mingling outside. They were organizing folders with schedules and a map of the campus for all the speakers, and would be escorting them to their rooms. The career day event had grown over the years, now comprising an entire day. Guest speakers led three 45-minute classroom workshop/discussions that students signed up for in advance, followed by lunch and then a panel discussion in the auditorium with any of the guest speakers who could stay. Students would then complete a series of classroom workshops, including resume writing, job application, and mock job interviews.
Ms. Antonelli, the college counselor, and the planner of today's activities, caught sight of Nicole as she walked out of the MPR to check on the students. "Hey girl!" she smiled widely. "I had to change your room assignment. Your friend called last week to confirm he'd be here, and we needed more space, so you'll be the moderator, but in the art room, not your room."
"Okay," Nicole replied, confused. She didn't think that many kids would be interested in the CEO of a business consulting company. "I was just coming to see if Mr. Sheffield was here yet." Nicole explained as she followed Ms. Antonelli into the MPR.
"No, not BCG guy. *NSYNC guy." Ms. Antonelli laughed. "Can you get Justin Timberlake next year?"
"What?" Nicole asked; things were not computing.
"How do you even know him?"
Nicole surveyed the room, scanning the faces of the waiting speakers as they mingled, nibbled on store-bought pastries, and poured coffee from Starbucks paper cartons. Her eyes fell upon a wavy, perfectly unbrushed quaff of graying hair, accompanied by an all-black outfit. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she thought. His head was turned, and he hadn't noticed her yet. Perhaps if she moved quickly, she could escape, retreat to her room, and trade moderating assignments with anyone else. She didn't have it in her to spend close to three hours in a room with Josh.
As she attempted to slip away, he turned his head, and his blue eyes locked onto hers. A small smile spread across his face, and he looked at her with anticipation. He had no idea how she would respond, but merely seeing her again made it seem worthwhile.
Nicole turned quickly, attempting to make her way outside, only to be intercepted by the man she expected to see, Mr. Sheffield.
"Ms. Bell!" he greeted, extending his hand. She shook it gently, worry evident in her face. "Are you okay?" he inquired.
"Yeah. Yes, just a busy day, and I have to get to my classroom to organize my kids." She managed an awkward smile, her gaze shifting as she noticed JC walking toward her. "We'll chat at lunch, huh?"
"Absolutely," Mr. Sheffield replied, letting her go on her way.
Nicole reached the door, poised to exit, when JC caught up to her. "Nicole, hey. Wait."
Not wanting to make a scene, she paused.
"What are you doing here, JC?" She asked.
Her tone stung, and she had never before called him JC; that stung even worse.
"I know you don't trust me, but my name really is Josh; you can call my mom."
"What are you doing here?"
"Nicole, I asked Eric to arrange it. You had given him the information. I just wanted to see you again. You don't return my calls, and I didn't know how else to-"
Nicole cut him off, her tone sharp, "You thought Career Day was the appropriate place to track me down?"
He steeled himself, "I just missed you, Nicole. I wanted to talk."
"I have to go. I am at work. I have to be in my classroom." She turned and walked away.
Nicole sat at her desk, the classroom door open, as she waited for her first-period students to file in. She shuffled through their career day schedules, glancing down to see which of her students had signed up for the "Music Producer" session. Having kids she knew in the room seemed a strange comfort. The bell rang, morning announcements went off, and Ms. Antonelli's voice buzzed through the intercom with directions for both faculty and students. Slowly, students piled out of their classrooms and wandered the campus to find the rooms they were assigned to. Ms. Flores, the Art Teacher, crossed paths with Nicole; they traded keys as they were swapping rooms for the first half of the day, and Nicole reluctantly walked across the campus and entered the art room.
JC had a table set up with a laptop projecting an electronic mixing board on the screen. He had two microphones plugged into the computer, a keyboard set up on one side of the table, and an acoustic guitar set up on the other. Nicole sat silently at Ms. Flores' desk. She tried not to look at him, but she couldn't help it. He would press keys on the computer, then turn and look at the projected screen.
"So this is what your work is like?" She asked suddenly.
Excited by the fact that she was even speaking to him, JC looked up and smiled. "So this is what your work looks like?" His eyes scanned around the classroom.
Her eyes narrowed, a mix of longing and hurt playing across her face. "You can't just barge into my life like this, Josh. It's not fair."
"I know, I know," he sighed, looking genuinely remorseful. "I shouldn't have done it like this, but I didn't know how else to get to you."
Before he could continue, a small group of teenagers bounded into the room. Nicole escorted them into the front seats, not allowing them to congregate at the back. In a matter of minutes, the room was full. Nicole stood by the teacher's desk and read a short bio off a card in the most monotone of cadences:
Today, we have the honor of Mr. JC Chasez joining us. He began his career in the entertainment industry on the Disney Channel, then leveraged that success into a famous early 2000s pop group, *NSYNC...
A small burst of chatter erupted from the students; no one knew who he was, but the name was definitely familiar.
After releasing a solo album, he ventured into music production, and he joins us today to talk a little bit about what that career is like.
The bio concluded to a silent room of blinking teenagers. JC suddenly felt very nervous.
"Thanks for that warm introduction, Ms. Bell. But she left off one very important thing: Ms. Bell and I are friends." He looked back at her. Nicole remained unmoved.
JC smiled at the silent audience and gestured toward his setup. "Hey, everyone! Welcome to the world of music production. I'm JC, and today, I'm going to take you on a journey into the behind-the-scenes magic of the music industry."
He began by explaining his role as a music producer, the person responsible for shaping and molding the sound of a song. The students listened intently, some with genuine interest and others with a hint of skepticism.
Suddenly, a hand went up in the air. "How did you become a music producer?" the student asked. JC continued, anticipating the question, responding comfortably, "Well, I started as a performer. I was part of a group. We spent a lot of time all over the world making records, so I got to work with a lot of producers. Watching them work is kinda like watching a painter, but with sound. I started to help produce our own music, and when our group stopped, I knew producing was my next step."
Curiosity sparked in the eyes of the students, and another hand shot up. "Who have you worked with?"
JC listed names of artists that the students, who grew up on a hearty mix of Nipsy Hussle and corridos, were definitely unfamiliar with, but he assured them that each collaboration had left a mark on the music scene. As the questions continued, JC could sense the students' losing some interest and wanted to take things a step further.
"You know what, instead of me just talking about it, how about I show you?" JC proposed, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I've got this whole setup here: microphones, instruments, and a world of possibilities at our fingertips."
He attempted to coax volunteers to join him in the front of the room to sing, assuring them that the more off-key, the better. Shy glances were exchanged among the students until finally, JC took matters into his own hands. He stepped up to the microphone and let out a comically exaggerated, off-key note, earning laughter from the crowd.
"I told you, it's not that scary!" he exclaimed. "Now, who's brave enough to give it a shot? Ms. Bell, how about you?"
Nicole tried to wave off the volunteer request, but half of the kids in the room knew her, or had her class, and cheered, urging her to respond to the embarrassing request. She walked to the front of the room. JC placed a hand on her shoulder. She was almost transported to the past, a few weeks ago, when JC's touch was an ever present sensation on her skin, and she was reminded of the butterflies it would elicit in her stomach as they once again began fluttering. She wanted more than anything to shake his hand off, but thought better of it in front of a room of people.
"What do you want to sing?" He asked her. "Just need a few lines."
Nicole suddenly felt like she needed this to go well. This would make or break JC's presentation. He couldn't be more disconnected personally and professionally from this classroom of South LA teenagers, and she didn't want that for anyone. She cleared her throat and held the microphone up, "Came through drippin'. Drip, drip." JC cocked his head to the side, eyes wide; this felt very random. "Came through drippin'. Drip, drip. Came through drippin'. Drip, drip." Many of the students in the classroom joined her in the final line. "Diamonds on my wrist, they drippin' ice!" Then the class, wailed in laughter and applause.
JC thanked her and then played back the recording. The class laughed as they also heard themselves on the audio track. He then began to demonstrate the magic of music production.
He clicked away on the computer, isolating the vocals from the background noise. He added different sounds and effects, and even threw in a bit of auto-tune for fun, which then turned Nicole's Cardi B song into a serenade. Ms. Bell turned from bad rapper to professional singer in one click, and the students were in awe.
"Now, here's where it gets fascinating," JC announced. "What kind of background music should accompany Ms. Bell's vocals?"
Shouts of suggestions filled the room, everything from heavy metal to mariachi. After some deliberation, the students settled on reggaeton. With a grin, JC explained how you look at the markers on the vocals, and you try to match up a music track to the same markers. The result was a hilarious and surprisingly catchy tune that had the students cheering and clapping along.
Emboldened by the success, JC turned to the students. "Who wants to give it a try? Come on, don't be shy!"
After a brief hesitation, a volunteer emerged from the crowd, eager to test their vocal skills. The students cheered her on as JC worked his magic, turning her untrained voice into something that resembled a professional recording.
Next, a soft-spoken boy who played guitar volunteered to help JC demonstrate how the software worked on musical instruments as well. He plucked at the guitar strings in a standard Spanish melody, and with the help of some additional volunteers, they used JC's software to apply different effects, loops, and tweaks to transform the simple guitar chords into something that sounded like a symphony from a grand concert hall.
The session, filled with laughter, music, and experimentation, and it left the students wanting more, but the first session was ending, and they had a fifteen-minute transition period before a new group of kids filled the room. Kids filed out slowly, stopping to ask him questions. But eventually, they were alone again.
"I think that went well, don't you?" He asked her, walking toward her seated at the desk.
"Yeah, and they are hard to impress," she reassured him, then turned her attention to a roster of students who would be attending the second and third sessions. "You're gonna have some serious musicians in the third session. Octavio and Ansel are in a Norteño band. Octavio plays the accordion," she smiled.
He missed that smile. He was suddenly very close to her. He was half seated on the edge of the desk, looking down at her. "The kids really like you."
She wanted to tell him to move or step back, but couldn't seem to muster up the strength. She could smell him, and it was strangely familiar and comforting. "Just gotta ham it up, I guess."
He placed his hand on top of hers on the desk, "I miss you," he confessed, but she pulled away from him quickly.
"Josh don't." Her stony expression wavering. "I know this is all a good deed and shit, but that doesn't make it okay. You can't just override my boundaries because you miss me."
JC's expression softened, "I'm sorry, Nicole. I just needed a chance to explain."
She shook her head, torn between the anger and the residual affection. "Explain what?" She stood up. "You explained enough. I'm tired of your explanations."
He looked at her, his eyes pleading. "I messed up, I admit it. But I needed to talk to you. Please, let me make it right."
Nicole hesitated, battling the conflicting emotions within her. "You can't just sweep everything under the rug with a grand gesture. It doesn't work like that."
His shoulders slumped. "I know. I just... I didn't want to lose you without trying."
A heavy silence hung in the air before Nicole finally spoke, her voice tinged with vulnerability, "Pretty sure the next group of kids is at the door." Nicole walked past him and opened the classroom door, allowing a new group of teenagers to file in.
The guest speakers were treated to a boxed lunch by Corner Bakery. The student council escorts flocked around JC in the MPR, asking him question after question about the software he showed them. He played back the audio recordings of all three sessions he hosted, so they could hear what each group had recorded. Only one escort was in the first session, so the others were tickled by Ms. Bell's operatic sounding version of Cardi B's "Drip." He explained that he would share the recordings with Ms. Antonelli so that they could access them again. And they were excited that he would be participating in the panel discussion.
The bell rang to end lunch, and as kids piled into their classrooms, eight of the day's guest speakers were ushered into the auditorium. JC hadn't planned on spending an entire day at a high school, but so far Nicole had shot down every attempt he made at reconciliation, so he figured he would just stay as long as he could. Maybe his presence could wear her down.
The high school auditorium buzzed as students filed in. The eight panelists, including JC, sat at a long table up on the stage, side by side. Ms. Antonelli moderated and kicked off the discussion by introducing each panelist and their respective fields. Among them were a software engineer, a journalist, a healthcare professional, an environmental scientist, and an entrepreneur. Students, one at a time, came up to a microphone stationed in the center aisle of the audience and asked their questions.
The software engineer, Sarah Thompson, faced the first inquiry: "What inspired you to pursue a career in software engineering, and what skills are essential for success in the field?" Sarah smiled, her eyes reflecting a passion for her work. She delved into her journey, emphasizing the importance of problem-solving skills, creativity, and adaptability in the ever-evolving world of technology.
The journalist, Mark Rodriguez, fielded a blunt question about fake news. Mark emphasized the crucial role of critical thinking, research, and fact-checking in ensuring the integrity of journalistic work.
Dr. Emily Hayes, a healthcare professional, was asked, "How do you balance the emotional demands of your job?" To which she explained the importance of empathy, resilience, and a strong support system in coping with the emotional toll of healthcare professions.
JC was asked about the role of education in the music field, and he explained that there is a mix of very formally educated music producers, and guys like him, who were lucky to break into the field. He said, "It really shows you how important it is to follow your passions down any road you might take, whether it takes you to college or elsewhere, when you are passionate about what you do, it makes doing it even better."
There were only two students with questions remaining in the audience; the panel would end soon. JC scanned the crowd for Nicole. The auditorium was filled with over 500 people, but he felt confident he could spot her. His eyes roamed the audience before his name was called.
"Mr. Chasez, we have a final question for you?" Ms. Antonelli mentioned and JC smiled and nodded his head.
"Do you think you could perform a song for us?" asked a young girl with a very squeaky voice. It was hard to believe she was in high school.
"I don't think. I mean, I didn't bring my guitar or anything in here."
"Oh, we can get it for you," Ms. Antonelli explained, a little too excited. A smattering of students, most who had attended one of his three sessions, cheered and clapped in approval of the request.
JC nodded reluctantly. Ms. Antonelli pulled her microphone away and asked one of the student escorts to run and grab his guitar from the multipurpose room. "Let's take the last question, and then Mr. Chasez can perform."
Nicole sat low in her seat. Her class was seated near the back. Most of them had attended one of his sessions and began whispering excitedly. "Ms. B, is he good?" a girl leaned over and asked her." Nicole pressed her finger to her lips, trying to shush them while the last panelist answered a question.
After some transition time, moving around tables and microphones, a student reunited JC with his guitar, and he stood at the center of the auditorium stage. The auditorium hushed into a curious silence, all eyes fixed on him.
"I didn't plan on singing for you today, so forgive me. I haven't warmed up. And I unplugged my autotune," the auditorium laughed softly.
With a few casual strums of his guitar, JC teased the chords, a hint of recognition lingering in the air. The students watched on, and many of the teachers, old enough to remember, exchanged excited glances as the opening notes of a familiar tune filled the auditorium. JC explained, "This is one of the more popular songs we had in the group I was in. Maybe you've heard of it."
He dove into an acoustic version of "Bye Bye Bye," a classic from his past life as a performer. Students and teachers alike cheered as they recognized the song. JC's voice was raw, but he still sounded great, his guitar providing a stripped-down backdrop to the iconic tune.
As he reached the end of the first verse and launched into the chorus, the auditorium transformed into a collective sing-along. The energy was infectious, and even those unfamiliar with the song couldn't help but bob their heads along and join in on the fun.
With a final strum, JC brought the song to a close, halfway through. Applause erupted through the auditorium; he was received far better than anyone would have anticipated, considering the generational divide. "Thank you, thank you!" he grinned. "Now, that's a blast from the past. I can play one more. I'll share something new."
He adjusted the tuning of his guitar, his fingers gracefully dancing over the strings. "So, I produce music, but I also write songs. Mostly for other people, so hopefully someone will pick this one up, and you'll hear it on the radio one day. Before I start, I just wanted to thank one of your teachers, Ms. Bell, for having me out here today. I had a great time with you all. So this is a song Ms. Bell actually helped me with. Hope you like it."
Nicole felt hundreds of eyes turn toward her. Her students, her coworkers, all with questioning glances. She hated being the center of attention. Her heart sank. What was he even doing? She never helped him write a song.
The auditorium fell into a hushed anticipation. The melody was slow and haunting, and rang familiar in Nicole's ears. She had heard it before. She tried to remember when or how. His fingers gently cradled the strings of his guitar as the melody progressed. Then the verse began,
"I've been standing in the shadows, where every day feels like night," JC sang, his voice carrying a raw vulnerability. His eyes scanned the faces in the crowd, searching for the face his heart was connecting to.
Nicole sat even lower in her seat. She tried not to look up at him, but it was too impossible to look away. Her emotions swirling like a tempest within her. Recognition finally sinking in. It was the same song he had played in her living room on Jason's guitar, a memory from only a month ago that flickered in her mind like an old film. The lyrics echoed through her, stirring the remnants of the feelings she had for JC.
"It's like trying to watch the wind blow, I just need to feel your light," JC continued, each word imbued with a yearning that seemed to transcend the confines of the auditorium.
The memories flooded Nicole's mind, but those memories were overshadowed by the months of deceit and betrayal. She hesitated between the desire to believe in the sincerity of the song and the painful reality of the lies she had endured.
"Your heart surrounded by a wall you've built there, and every time you hurt, it gets so high," JC sang, as if each word carried the weight of a plea. The chorus swelled, a plea for redemption and a fresh start. "Let's tear it down and build some love," JC sang, his voice reaching a crescendo. The audience transfixed on him, but, for Nicole, the conflicting emotions threatened to consume her. She wanted to run from him and to him all at the same time.
The second verse unfolded, "We both have some reservations, a couple fears, a couple doubts," he sang, acknowledging the complexities of their relationship. "The insecurities can scream like thunder, but I'll hold you close to me, and then somehow," JC continued. The vulnerability in his performance palpable, but for Nicole, the battle between trust and betrayal raged on.
"We'll tear it down and build some love," JC sang, repeating the chorus with an intensified urgency, as if the fate of their relationship rested on the power of his words. As the final chords echoed through the auditorium, JC's scanned the crowd for Nicole, his eyes pleading for understanding.
Nicole, torn between the past and the present, couldn't bear the internal conflict any longer. She rose abruptly from her seat, exiting the auditorium. Tears welled up in her eyes as she stormed out, the heavy doors closing behind her.
JC, left alone on the stage, felt the weight of his song hanging in the air. The applause from the audience served as a bittersweet backdrop as he grappled with the uncertainty of whether the song had reached the one person who mattered the most. Ms. Antonelli thanked JC for sharing his time and music with them, and then dismissed the students to their classrooms.
JC packed his guitar and returned to the multipurpose room to gather the rest of his gadgets. He was escorted to the parking lot, where he loaded up his Mercedes. He scanned the cars in the lot, searching for Nicole's Jeep, but he did not see it. She probably took the bus, a thought that made him simile. Disappointed, he turned over the ignition and pulled out of the lot, heading for home.
