"I hate this generation...." Berkeley muttered to herself. With her elbows propped onto her desk, she massaged her temples, as her head began to throb. Glancing at the bottom right-hand corner of her computer screen, she saw that it was only 3:30. She still had an hour and a half on the clock. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she picked her phone up again, and continued browsing through TikTok, searching for the next phenomenal talent.

"Knock, knock!" A voice rang out. Berkeley looked up to find Delaney standing in the doorway with a Styrofoam cup in each hand. "I come bearing a mid-afternoon pick me up!" Delaney smiled, waltzing into the room, her long flowing, auburn hair bouncing side-to-side.

"You are a Godsend!" Berkley exclaimed. The familiar smell of her favorite black and white latte wafted through the air as Delaney placed the cups down on the desk.

"Oh my gosh, I cannot thank you enough for this," Berkeley said, picking up the cup that Delaney had set directly in front of her. Taking a sip of her latte, the steaming liquid coated her tongue with the rich flavors of Colombian coffee, dark and white chocolate, and the rich, creamy smoothness of oat milk. The coffee warmed her insides, like a comforting hug, and she could begin to feel the pounding in her head dissipate.

"I was over at Lavender's and figured you might want a black and white," Delaney replied.

"I can Venmo you."

Delaney dismissively waved a wand and shook her head. "Don't even worry about it. Besides, you look like you need it."

Berkeley frowned. "Geeze, I look that rough?"

"No," Delaney shook her head. "But you do look irritated."

"It's ‘cause I am," Berkeley responded.

"What's up?" Delaney asked her, scooting toward the edge of her chair.

Berkeley picked up her phone and displayed the screen to Delaney. "I'm supposed to find the next big thing from TikTok... TikTok!"

"Oh boy," Delaney rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, exactly," Berkeley agreed. "I could get on board with YouTube, I thought that was actually a great way to find talent. But then came Instagram, and Vine, and all these other platforms, and now it seems like people are just making up things to go viral!"

"I am so glad I don't have your job right now!" Delaney said, taking a sip of her own drink.

Berkeley pouted. "I never thought I'd envy data and analytics." She hated math. Loathed it. She almost flunked stats in college, but with the way her day was going, she wouldn't mind trading places with Delaney. "Not to sound ungrateful. I love my job. I busted my ass for this position, and to prove that I'm more than just Rashaad Hamilton's daughter."

"You are more than just Rashaad Hamilton's daughter," Delaney reminded her.

Berkeley offered her an appreciative smile. "Thanks, Del." Even though she'd been with the company for almost fourteen years now, working her way up from interning for two summers in college, and then starting out as an administrative assistant in Strategic Development post-grad, eventually working her way up to becoming an A&R manager. Still, with all the work she'd put in for almost a decade and a half, there were still whispers and accusations of nepotism, because after all, her father was CEO and President of the label. "I just... Worldwide Records needs a new artist. One that's talented as hell, can sell records, and has the IT-factor, and I'm just not finding that in these wannabe social media influencers!"

"Yeah, everyone just wants to be famous these days," Delaney said.

"You know what I want?" Berkeley asked. "I want to find someone who makes me feel something. Like the way I felt when I first heard The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill! I don't want the next Dixie D'Amelio or Addison Rae! I want the next Prince! The next Michael Jackson! The next Nirvana or Pearl Jam or Tupac or Mariah Carey! I need to find someone real."

"I hate to break it to ya Burke," Delaney frowned. "But I think you're in the wrong era. Those days are gone."

"Ughhh... I think you might be right," Berkeley groaned. "And please do not take this the wrong way Del, and again, thank you for the coffee. But may I ask why you're in here? Don't get me wrong, I desperately need the company, or I'm gonna go crazy, but did you come in here to tell me something?"

"No," Delaney shook her head. "My work is done for the day, and based on your texts, I figured you could use a little morale boost."

"I so appreciate it" Berkeley smiled, before turning her attention to her computer.  

"What do you have planned for the rest of the day?" Delaney asked her.

"Fuuuuuccck..." Berkeley groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. When she logged into her email account, she was immediately alerted of the invite in her calendar.

"What's up?" Delaney asked, curiously.

"I forgot that my sister invited me to this thing." The only thing Berkeley wanted at that moment was to go home, whip off her bra, wiggle out of her pencil skirt, soak in the tub until fingertips wrinkled, and then crawl into bed with a glass of Merlot while watching The Sopranos.

"What thing?"

"It's this," Berkeley clicked on the event, and squinted her eyes. "This Ojai Playwrights Conference thing. Some writers are showcasing their work, performing scenes from plays and singing songs from musicals."

"Ojai?" Delaney crinkled her nose. "That's over an hour away- not counting traffic."

"I know, but Blair is driving, so I don't mind," Berkeley replied. "I mean it shouldn't be too bad, but I'm just not in the mood today."

"So don't go," Delaney said. "Tell her you're not up to it. Besides, why would you go to a playwright's conference?"

"Because Blair is on the Board of Directors, and this is really important to her. Plus, I promised her I'd go like a month ago, and I don't wanna disappoint her by flaking just hours before. And they are raising money to help make art accessible for kids, and I just can't say no to that!"

"You're a good sister," Delaney mused, draining the contents of her cup. "Couldn't be me. I could not sit through showtunes"

"How do you work in the music industry, but hate musicals?" Berkeley chuckled.

"Easy," Delaney said standing up. "This is the music industry, not Broadway!"

"One of these days, I will introduce you to a musical that you will fall in love with," Berkeley promised her.

"Eh, if it hasn't happened in 33 years, I doubt it will," she said as she walked toward the door.

"You still haven't seen In the Heights!" Berkeley called.

"And I likely never will," Delaney teased, as she tossed her empty coffee cup into the trash bin by the door. On her way out she turned to face Berkeley, and wiggled her fingers, making jazz hands. "And ya can't make me!"

"I will make you love musical Delaney Willis, if it's the last thing I do!" Berkeley joked.

"Ha! Good luck with that. The day I start belting out showtunes is the day you become a Marvel fan!" Delaney quipped.

"Yeah, nooo," Berkeley frowned.

"That's what I thought," Delaney said, lingering at the door. "Anyway, I better get going. I have a date tonight."

Berkeley's jaw dropped. "With who?"

"Some guy I matched with on Raya," Delaney answered. "He's a lawyer."

Deciding to keep her unfavorable opinions on dating apps to herself, Berkeley simply smiled. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Delaney frowned. "Well damn, that means I can't do anything!"

Berkeley gasped and reached for her legal pad. After ripping out a blank sheet of paper, she wadded it up and tossed it at Delaney, who ducked just in time. The yellow ball of paper hit the door then landed onto the floor. "I resent that comment!"

"You know it's true!" Delaney giggled. "Anyway, I really should be going. But try to loosen up and have fun tonight. I'm sure it won't be that bad."

"Thanks Del, it probably won't," Berkeley said feigning optimism. "Let me know how the date goes."

"Of course," Delaney replied. "Bye, doll."

"Bye," Berkeley waved, as she watched her friend and colleague disappear down the hall. Once again, she decided to switch focus and respond to some emails. Glancing down at the clock on her computer screen she realized it was only four o'clock. Only thirty minutes had passed by. "Nooo..." She groaned, laying her head down on her desk. "I just need for this damn day to be over already!"

*~*~*~*

"Thanks so much for coming with me," Blair whispered to Berkeley as they settled into their seats in the dimly lit theatre.

"No problem, B," Berkeley replied. As it turned out, being out of the office, and getting a little food in her system did wonders. She was far less stressed and irritated than she had been at work.

"Everyone else bailed on me," Blair said to her. "Brian and Braxton both promised they'd be here and then texted me last night to tell me they had other plans," she explained.

"Brian and Brax both had totally legit reasons for not showing up tonight," Berkeley replied, referring to their older twin brothers. "You can't blame Brax for getting called into the OR last night."

"Yeah, well I guess spinal cord injuries are pretty urgent," Blair groaned.

"B nice B!" Berkeley hissed, nudging her sister. "And it's not like Charlotte got sick at camp on purpose. You can't fault Brian for being super dad."

"That is true," Blair conceded, letting out a heavy sigh.

"And I mean come one, he is doing it alone," Berkeley added.

"Fine, fine," Blair nodded. "But still, Brynn could've at least showed up! That brat had no excuse."

"Brynn is a rising college Freshmen. Do you think she really wants to spend the last days of her summer with us. Two old ladies?!"

"We are not old!" Blair retorted. "Take it back!"

"Well, I'm not," Berkeley said. "But you're forty!" She teased, putting extra emphasis on the word forty.

"Shut up, you're not that far behind!"

"Thirty-five is not old, you're almost middle aged," Berkeley argued.

"You're only thirty-five for another month. You're officially closer to forty than you are thirty," Blair replied.

"Can we drop this conversation?"

"Doesn't feel so good, does it?" Blair glared at her. "Besides, theatre is an all-ages event."

"I happen to agree with you, but Brynn is a teenager after all, and hanging with her friends is more important," Berkeley replied. "You remember what it was like at that age."

"Yeah..." Blair muttered. "Sue me if all I wanted was a night out with all my siblings."

"Well, we're officially all adults now, and life is pulling us in different directions," Berkeley stated.

"That just sounds so sad," said Blair. "Speaking of family, did Bubbe text you about Shabbat?"

"No," Berkeley shook her head. "She's not speaking with me right now."

"What?" Blair asked incredulously. "Why?"

"She's still upset about me breaking things off with David," Berkeley explained. "He was a nice Jewish boy, and I was her only hope, since Brian and Brax married out, and you and Aaron are no longer together. Now she's banking on Brynn to meet a nice Jewish boy at UCLA and marry him. And I mean, we're not even really Jewish!"

"I mean, technically we are, because ya know, matrilineally. Bubbe's Jewish, so therefore Mom is Jewish-well Blewish- so therefore we're Jewish," Blair clarified

"Blewish?"

"Yeah, ya know, Black and Jewish," Blair explained.

"Blai-"

"I mean we're more Black than we are Jewish, so I don't know why Bubbe's so upset," Blair interrupted. "I mean she's the one that married out when she married grandpa!"

"Yeah, but grandpa did convert for her. And I mean I can understand why she's upset. Preserving a Jewish legacy is important." Berkeley loved her Bubbe, and she loved being (a quarter) Jewish. However, they weren't raised as practicing Jews, and she couldn't see spending the rest of her life with someone just to make her grandmother- who realistically only had a few years left in her- happy. "I love Bubbe, and I hate disappointing her, but David and I had absolutely no future. He's an amazing man, and he deserves a nice Jewish wife, and I can't give him that."

"You did the right thing," Blair told her. "Take it from me, you do not wanna get married for the wrong reasons. Divorce isn't something I'd wish on anyone."

After watching both Blair and Brian go through brutal divorces and custody battles, she knew that was something she wanted to avoid at all costs. Perhaps it was why she was so cautious when it came to dating. She wanted to marry once, and once only. She wasn't willing to settle or compromise, for the sake of being married, even if she was (almost) thirty-six.

"What time is it?" Berkeley asked, changing the subject. Talking about their family drama was killing the mood.

Blair checked the time on her phone. "7:50. We still have ten more minutes."

"Can I see your program?" Berkeley asked. "I forgot to grab one."

"Here," Blair said, handing her sister a program. "I accidentally grabbed an extra on the way in."

"Thanks," Berkeley replied, reviewing the program. "So, these are all pieces written by the interns?"

"Some, yes," Blair answered. "Some of the playwrights are acting in their work, while others have actors performing their work."

"Ahhh, okay," Berkeley nodded, as she flipped the program over.

"There's this one artist who is particularly incredible! He let me sit on rehearsals and-"

"Shit!" Berkeley shrieked, attracting attention from the crowd around them.

"Shhh!" Blair shushed her. "Burke, what's wrong with you? Are you out of your mind?!"

"B! This says JC Chasez!" Berkeley exclaimed, pointing to the bottom of the program.

"I know, I have eyes," Blair said flatly.

"This is thee JC Chasez? Oh, who am I kidding? Who else on earth has the name JC Chasez, but JC Chasez!" She looked around the venue, her heart racing. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"He's working on a new musical, apparently," Blair responded.

"And you didn't tell me?" Berkeley scoffed. Had she known she'd be seeing JC Chasez, she would've been a lot more eager to come!

"I didn't think it was important?" Blair said, her statement sounding more like a question.

"B! You know how much I loved *Nsync as a kid!" Growing up with a supermodel mother, and a record executive father, and now working in the industry herself, it was rare that Berkeley ever got starstruck. However, there was one moment in her life where she'd been so awestruck in the presence of pop superstardom. She was twelve years old, it was the summer before eighth grade, when her father surprised her by taking her to see *Nsync at Madison Square Garden. She still remembered the meet and greet like it was yesterday.  

"Hey honey, what's your name?" JC asked as he signed her copy of No Strings Attached.

"B-b-b-" she stuttered, having been too stunned to speak.

She'd been so embarrassed, she spent her teen years convinced she'd never be able to live it down. But as they say, time heals all wounds, and now she can look at that picture of her frizzy-haired, brace faced, preteen self with the five pop superstars with much fondness.

"B! It's JC from *Nsync! Here! Singing!" she exclaimed, squeezing her sister's arm. "I can't believe you're not like totally freaking out right now!"

"Eh... you know I was a Backstreet girl," Blair said dismissively.

Berkeley glared at her sister. They'd always been extremely close, but the one thing that threatened to tear them apart was a boyband rivalry. It was intense when they were kids, and the teen pop phenomenon of the late 90's and early 2000's was at its peak. But every now and again, the dividing line would rear its ugly head. "So, he is singing, right?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he is," Blair nodded.

Just as Berkeley was about to bombard her sister with questions, the houselights dimmed, and the emcee stepped onstage.

"Good evening, everyone." An older man with a bald head, and grey beard addressed the audience. "Tonight, I want to welcome you to the Ojai Playwrights Conference." There was applause from the audience, and he continued to give a brief history of the organization and an overview of the performances.

 As the show started, Berkeley shifted anxiously in her seat. Her mind was racing. It was the year 2023, and she was about to see JC-freakin'-Chasez?! Yes, the artists she was about to watch, she was sure were all talented, and worked very hard. She respected them and their craft. That was all good and well, but JC being last felt like torture. But she understood they had to save the best for last.

Sitting at the edge of her seat, her eyes fixed on the stage as each playwright's workshopped material came to life. As the show progressed, she forced herself to focus, and pay attention to all the hard work that every artist put in to showcasing their scenes. Yet, amidst the captivating performances, her attention kept drifting to the corner of the stage, her impatience growing with each passing act. Her foot tapped a restless rhythm on the floor as she discreetly checked her phone, silently urging time to move faster. Her excitement was almost palpable in the air.

As the second to last act drew to a close, Berkeley's focus sharpened, her eyes fixed on the wing of the stage, her anticipation reaching its peak. As playwright, Madeline Sayer exited stage left, the emcee walked on stage right. "Once again ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm round of applause to our writer-in-residence, Madeline Sayer!"

As the audience applauded, Berkley reached over and grabbed her sister's arm. "This is it, B!" she whispered. "This is it!"

"Take your claws out of my skin you wildebeest!" Blair hissed, snatching her arm away.

Undeterred, Berkeley rolled her eyes, and focused her attention on the stage.

"Please give a very warm welcome to singer-songwriter, and music producer, JC Chasez!"

As JC stepped onto the stage, he was met with thunderous applause from the crowd, and even a few screams. Berkeley's eyes remained locked onto JC as he stood under the spotlight, a mix of admiration and awe etched across her face. Her heart raced, and a dreamlike sense of disbelief washed over her- the man whose music had been the soundtrack to her childhood was now standing before her.

As the emcee continued to engage JC in conversation, Berkeley gradually shifted her attention from her own excitement to the words being exchanged on stage.

"Yeah, so, when he was like ‘would you say something about arts education and how important it is to you? And I'm... a living thing from it, right? I started singing when I was 11 or 12 years old, and found my people around that time, and that's pretty lucky, actually, pretty early. But you know, we talked about you know, what it- what it does, you know? And it's, what it is, is you're cultivating, and you're inspiring people to be themselves, and be those creative thinkers, those thinkers."

JC's charismatic presence commanded the stage, and Berkeley found herself hanging on to every word, every nuance of his expression. Her fingers tapping restlessly now clutched the armrest of her seat, grounding her in the reality of the experience. His words resonated deeply, bridging the gap between artist and audience. She was in awe of him as he continued to speak.

"And it's incredibly important- I think it's incredibly important anyway- for people to have a mind and to be, to be creative. You're gonna have to think on your toes in life. And uh- so um... and all along the way people are writing these stories to find connections in our humanity, these stories are finding connections- different ways- painters, or songwriters, or whatever, they're finding a way to be- to express their humanity, and uh, and yet no one is going to see any of that, without the help of someone else. Because everyone along the way has gotten help from somewhere. Maybe not making the thing, but saying ‘hey, you know what? I see something in you, I believe in you, I can do this, to give you the opportunity to better what you're doing, and to share that humanity with the world, so we can all have conversations about it, and reflect.' And so, that's why things like this to me are important. It gives us the opportunity to embrace these young people- or old people like me who have been doing this forever! You know, because I'm trying something for the first time, right? And it's fun. But you know it's also, I'm a very fortunate person, because I've been fortunate in life. But along the way, I had help. I had someone believe in me. You know, just by stepping up. And so, I think it's great that everybody's here and stepping up for these young people, and everybody's who's trying to put their heart on their sleeve and connect."

As the interview drew to a close, Berkeley joined the audience in another round of enthusiastic applause. "Well JC Chasez just told you what to do, so if you haven't hit that QR code, please do!" The emcee quipped, and JC let out a full bellied laugh.

Berkeley made a mental note to donate to the cause. She would have even if JC Chasez wasn't there, but his speech definitely lit a fire under her, and reminded her just how important it was to give back if you were privileged enough to do so. And she was certainly privileged. So much so, that she often felt guilty about it. The sound of the emcee's voice cut through her thoughts, capturing her attention once again.

"Well, without further ado, JC Chasez everyone." He gestured toward JC, before swiftly exiting the stage.

The audience applauded once again, and JC adjusted the microphone stand in front of him. "How's everyone doing tonight?" He asked. The crowd whooped and hollered, and JC flashed a dazzling smile. "This first song is one of four that I'll be singing, from a musical I helped write that's currently being workshopped. It's called Playing with Fire, and it's based off the story of Frankenstein. This one's called ‘How Do You Sleep'."

The anticipation in the theatre reached a crescendo as the crowd's cheers gradually faded into hushed murmurs. Berkely's heart skipped a beat as the atmosphere shifted, the room growing still and quiet. Her breath caught in her throat and a sense of reverence washed over her as she waited in breathless anticipation for JC to begin singing.

The spotlight cast a soft glow on JC, his poised figure exuding a magnetic aura. The first few notes of the piano reverberated through the air, gentle and haunting, setting the tone for the emotional journey about to unfold. Berkeley's gave remained unwavering, her eyes fixed on JC as his voice, rich and soulful filled the space.

Time seemed to stand still as JC's voice wove a tapestry of emotions through the poignant lyrics. Berkeley was captivated by the vulnerability in his performance, each word a brushstroke painting a vivid picture. As the chorus approached, Berkely felt a swell of emotion within her. The raw sincerity of JC's delivery tugged at her heart, making her feel as if he were singing directly to her. She was moved, not just by the melody, but by the depth of the connection she felt to the song and its performer.

This, she thought. This is art! This is what she'd meant when she said she was searching for something that moved her. Something that would move masses of people. Something- someone- who could evoke emotion, who could captivate an audience. Someone who was real and sincere, and passionate about his craft.

As the final note hung in the air, a stunned silence enveloped the theater, followed by an eruption of applause that reverberated like thunder. Berkeley's hands joined the applause. She was deeply moved, her heart touched by the vulnerability and artistry that JC had bared on that stage. For far too long his remarkable talent, his once-in-a-lifetime gift had been hidden in the shadows, hidden from the spotlight that should have embraced him long ago. His voice, his art, were a rarity, a treasure that had remained obscured, unappreciated by the masses.

As the applause continued, Berkeley's mind raced, thoughts spinning like a whirlwind. She was stunned by the sheer magnitude of what she'd just witnessed. The raw emotion, the undiluted passion had stirred something within her, igniting a spark of determination that glowed brighter than ever before.

"Blair," Berkeley whispered, her voice a fervent plea amidst the continued clapping and cheers.

"That was amazing, wasn't it?" Blair replied.

"Yes!" Berkeley exclaimed. "I need a favor. A huge one."

"What's that?" Blair asked, obliviously.

"I need you to introduce me to JC," Berkely requested.

"Why, so you can ask him for a selfie?" Blair teased.

"No," Berkely said, shaking her head. "So I can get him signed."