He stood, hands cupping her pale cheeks, forehead to forehead, the tears welling up in his eyes, willing her to stay. His entire body quivered as his blue-eyed gaze searched her brown, not knowing what was left to say.
Before him stood what he never knew he wanted and never wanted to need. She was the embodiment of his missing piece. He didn’t even know he was incomplete until she made him whole.
Her hands traveled up his biceps, moving to cast another layer over her rapidly warming cheeks. As she placed her hands, miniature compared to those possessed by the man before her, on top of his, she leaned in and placed a tender kiss on his trembling lips. Her tears flowed freely, soaking his fingers and palms.
“Let me go,” she whispered, her voice strained and hoarse.
“I can’t,” he shook his head against her own.
She laced her fingers with his and pulled his hands down from her face, kissing each of them before letting go and walking away.
6 Months Earlier
“Foul! Foul!” Chris Kirkpatrick called out, falling backward onto the asphalt.
“What are you talking about, gramps? I didn’t touch you!” Justin Timberlake countered, tucking his basketball protectively under his arm.
“I was talk about you, Junior,” Chris said climbing to his feet, a look of visible disgust gradually forming on his face. “Dude, you smell foul!” he blurted out, swatting the ball from Justin’s grasp and making an easy lay-up. “Game!”
“No way, you freak! You cheated!”
“All’s fair in love and fake-outs, my friend,” Chris said passing the ball back to the irate 19-year-old.
“No way, did you beat me!”
“Children, so I have to separate you, again?” JC Chasez remarked sarcastically, walking from the sidelines onto the court.
“I beat Justin and he won’t admit it,” the 28-year-old whined.
“You cheated,” Justin shot back.
“Jesus, guys, it’s a game not a duel to the death.”
“Maybe not to you. Do you know how longs its taken me to get within two points of Curly over there? I’m not going anywhere until he concedes to my glorious victory.”
“Not gonna happen, old man.” Justin smirked, bouncing the ball off Chris’s head.
“ Justin, please just tell him he won so we can go eat,” JC pleaded.
“Fine,” Justin ground out, bitterly.
“What was that? I didn’t quite catch that?” Chris prodded.
“You win,” Justin admonished, the spite evident in his voice.
“Did you just hear what I did just heard?” Chris questioned JC, sarcasm dripping from his tone.
“Yes, can we go now?”
“I beat Justin! I beat Justin!” Chris exclaimed, running up and down the court. JC let out a laugh while even Justin’s bitter attitude was softened by his cohort’s antics.
“C’mon, you big freak! Let’s go eat!” Justin laughed, shaking his head ruefully.
“OK!”
“So what’s everyone doing for the next week or so?” JC questioned the other four members of the pop group *Nsync, as he inhaled a handful of seasoned fries.
“Just chillin’,” Justin said wiping a blob of ketchup off his thumb. “We only have a week or so left, right Scoop?” he continued turning to Lance Bass.
“Yeah, then we ship off to LA to start promoting again.”
“What do you have in mind, C?” Joey Fatone asked, nodding toward JC.
“Well, I was thinking that since I didn’t have any plans and since I keep promising Bridget that when I get some free time I’d go up to see her and Maeve, and since that hasn’t happened in almost six months,” JC took a deep breath and continued, “I thought I’d go up to New York for the next few days.”
“That was a mouthful,” Chris remarked.
“Some best friend you are,” Justin smirked. “Haven’t seen her in six months? And didn’t she come to you last time?” he chuckled shaking his finger accusingly at JC.
“You just turn that finger right around, little boy,” JC countered. “I’m sure that could be said of all of us. Our lifestyle isn’t exactly quality-time friendly to any of our friends.
“I was just kidding, C,” Justin said holding his hands up in defense. “So how old is Maeve now?”
“Four. Just old enough to give her parents hell since they know *Nsync and she’s never met them,” JC laughed. “Kinda scary to think of someone my age, that I grew up with, having a kid as old as Mae. I know Bridg married young but it still makes me feel old.”
“How do you think it makes me feel?” Chris quipped.
“So,” JC said, eyebrows raised, “Wanna come?”
“I got nuthin’ better to do,” Joey shrugged.
“Well thank you for your enthusiasm,” JC smirked. “What about the rest of you?”
“I’m in,” Lance confirmed.
“Me too,” Justin added.
“Well I’m certainly not letting you guys go off alone, getting in all sorts of trouble,” Chris started, perfectly serious, “without me.”
Friday Morning, New York “Regan! You left you toe shoes!” Bridget Costelloe called to the brunette bounding out the door.
“Jesus, where’s my head today?” Regan Costelloe mumbled, a hint of a brogue still inflected in her accent. She made her way to Bridget who was standing in the kitchen doorway, her “World’s Best Teacher” mug in one hand and Regan’s shiny pink pointe shoes dangling from the fingers of her other.
“Thanks Bridg,” she smiled harriedly. “I swear if I had half I brain I’d be dangerous.”
“Anytime sweetie,” Bridget smiled warmly. “I’ll tell Mike you said good bye if he ever drags his lazy butt out of bed.”
“Thanks,” Regan chuckled glancing at her watch. “Jeeze, why do I let you talk me into staying the night when every time I’m always late the next morning?”
“Well, by the time you and brother are done beating the emotional crap out of each other it is far too late for you to be trekking back downtown all by yourself,” Bridget countered matter-of-factly.
“We don’t beat the emotional crap out of each other. We tease each other until he gets stupid and starts taking it seriously.” Regan glanced down at her watch, again. “Dammit! Stop talking to me!” she said snatching her shoes from her sister-in-law’s fingers. “Love you, bye,” Regan said kissing Bridget on the cheek and bolting for the door.
“Regan, Regan!”
The high-pitched squeak stopped Regan in her tracks. “I’m really late, piglet,” she sighed, bending down to catch the bundle of red curls running her way. Her niece flew into her arms with such force that the two toppled over.
“Mae!” Bridget called setting her coffee on the kitchen counter and preparing for battle. “Leave Regan alone! You’re going to be late for school, too, if you don’t hurry.”
“I want to go to school with Regan!” Maeve whined, still clutching her aunt. “All she does is dance all day!”
“Well all you do is color all day, piglet,” Regan said sitting up and standing Mae on her feet. “And I don’t get a nap or cookies.”
Bridget walked over and picked up her daughter. “Let’s go finish getting ready.”
“Bye, bye piglet!”
Regan finally made her way out the door. As it shut behind her, the phone rang shrilly, startling Bridget. “I’ll get it!” Maeve cried, squirming out of her mother’s arms.
“Ok, Ok,” Bridget sighed, too exhausted to argue. It was only 8 AM and she was already ready for bed.
“Hello, Costelloe residence,” Maeve squeaked.
“Hi there, sweetie. Is your mommy home?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I speak to her?”
“Mommy, it’s a man for you!” Maeve said dropping the phone on the floor and running towards her bedroom.
“Maeve!” Bridget called, exasperated as she bent down to pick up the phone. “Put your socks and shoes on, please! We’re gonna be late!” She brought the phone up to her ear, eager for a conversation with an actual adult. “Hello? I’m sorry about that.”
“Hey Chicks!”
“Josh! Oh my God! How are you?”
“I’m good. Real good. It’s great to hear your voice.”
“I wish I could say the same. You sound like you’re at the bottom of the sea! Where the hell are you?”
“I’m in an airplane en route to the Big Apple, as we speak.”
“Oh really? You calling to let me know you’ll be blowing me off again?”
“No ma’am. This is a special Bridget-Visiting trip. All for you, Chicks!”
“C’mon… You’re pulling my leg, ain’tcha, superstar?”
“I kid you not. The only catch is that it would make our lives a lot easier if we could stay with you. We just don’t want the fans and media to show up and the second we check into a hotel it might as well be telecast on CNN.”
“A… we?”
“Yeah, all the guys are coming plus Dave and Mark, our trusty, neck-less bodyguards.”
“Well, I suppose you guys could stay in the third floor loft. We just re-did it to rent out and there’s plenty of room. I only have one favor to ask.”
“Name it and its yours.”
“Don’t send my daughter into cardiac arrest.”
“Ha, ha. I promise not to cause any heart conditions of any kind. I can’t speak for Justy the Boy Wonder, though.”
A muffled “Hey!” was barked in the background caused Bridget to giggle.
“Ok, well I suppose we’re set then. Do you need to be picked up at the airport? I’m in school till 3:30 or so but Michael could probably-”
“No, no. We’ll get ourselves there. I’m sure we’ll find a way to occupy ourselves and give you time to get home from school.”
“Ok, well Mike will be in all day, probably. He was up all night fighting with his baby sister. You, of course, remember Regan.”
“Ah, yes. Sassy little ballerina. I don’t imagine Mike won an argument with that one.”
“Never does and they do this every time they see each other. The amazing part is that no matter how heated things get they can stop at any point and be perfectly normal. Last night I thought they would finally come to blows and they just pecked cheeks and went to bed.”
“Sounds familiar. I find myself the referee in a fight between two of these guys and just when I think we’re going to be explaining a black eye to Entertainment Tonight, they bust out laughing.”
“Oh, damn. Josh, I really have to get Maeve to nursery school. It’ll be hell getting her out the door as it is and we’re running really late today.”
“No problem, Chicks. I’ll be seeing you soon.”
“Can’t wait, babes. Bye.”
“Bye.”
“Excellent extension, Regan, but you’re not feeling the motion.”
“Any suggestions?” Regan chuckled, her heart sinking. In her day, Camille Loree was one of the most incredible ballerinas the American Ballet Theater had ever seen. She was Regan’s idol and having her as an instructor was as close to nirvana as Regan could get.
“Come with me,” Camille smiled, warmly. “Everyone, please work on your arabesques and I’ll be back in a minute,” she called to the rest of the class. She led Regan to the physical therapy room in the back and closed the door. “Sit down, dear.”
Regan sat down, relieving the stress on her aching ankles, careful not to show her relief too much. Her ankles had begun giving her trouble over the past few weeks. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to that fact.
“Regan, you, by far have the best technique in the Studio Company. I’ll even venture to say that you’ll be part of ABT by the end of this year. You can make the moves look effortless. That is why you are a principal dancer of the ABT Studio Company. At your audition, you were music, personified. None of us could take our eyes away. You are one of, if not the most, promising young dancer in the country right now.”
“Wow, if your trying to boost my ego, it’s working,” Regan smirked. “However, I feel a ‘but’ coming.”
“But, you’ve been slipping. Your technique hasn’t suffered but you don’t feel the music anymore. I can see the effort behind the art. I remember seeing you perform at the School of American Ballet Workshop. You were 10 and on par with most of the fully matured ballerinas of ABT. Now here you are, part of the Studio Company, and on your way to American Ballet Theater. Don’t tell me you haven’t waiting most of your life to hear those words. But something is missing and I want to know what. Its as though you don’t have the passion for it anymore. Are you feeling ok? Is everything alright at home?”
Regan was stunned silent. She knew she was slipping but she didn’t know how obvious it was. She didn’t know what would happen if she told Camille about her ankles. It was entirely possible she’d be cut and she couldn’t let that happen.
“Camille, I don’t know what to say. I know I haven’t been completely there lately but I’m having some personal problems,” she lied. “My brother’s wife has been sick, and, uh its been really tough on him and I’m really all he has to lean on right now and its been really draining for all of us.”
“I see,” Camille empathized. “Well, all I can say is that you need to get your personal life in order. I understand that an illness in the family isn’t something readily dealt with but maybe if you took some time to sort out your time and to get your thoughts together, it would make all the difference.”
Regan’s blood ran cold. “What are you saying?”
“I want you to take some time away from the company.”
“But—”
“Not long, dear. Why don’t you take the rest of the day and the weekend off and we’ll check back in with you on Monday to see if anymore time is required. You need to get your head clear before you can dance the way you are meant to.”
“But that’s so much time missed! I couldn’t possible keep up—”
“Regan, I’m sure three days off for a dancer of your caliber won’t completely deteriorate your technique.”
“But I’m supposed to perform the Black Swann Pas De Deux with Demitri when we do the West Coast tour. That’s the week after next, and—”
“Regan, your place if safe. You already know that ballet backwards and forwards. Don’t think I don’t see you here practicing every night after hours. You could do the steps in your sleep and you’ll have all next week to polish it up with Demitri after you get some rest.”
“You’re not giving me a choice, here, are you?” Regan questioned, her brogue becoming thicker with her aggravation.
“No.”
“I guess I’ll see you on Monday,” Regan ground out, as she stood. She was absolutely livid on the inside but maybe if she rested her ankles for three days, they’d be good as new when she came back. She tossed a half-heart smile at Camille before leaving the room. She made her way to the locker room amidst a storm of whispers from the rest of the company.
“Hey Regan,” someone greeting her as she walked into the locker room.
“Oh, hey, Judy. Late?”
“As always. Where you going?”
“Forced vacation.”
“Huh?”
“Camille thinks I need a few days off.”
“Wow. I wish I could afford to take time off. Who am I kidding I wish I had your feet, period. You are so lucky, Regan.”
“Yeah, lucky.”
Justin stared out the window of the cab he shared with JC, Joey, and their bodyguard, Mark. Lance, Chris and Dave, occupied anther that was following. While traveling incognito had its perks, Justin couldn’t help but miss the leather seats and slightly more pleasant odors they were used to. The rain beat down and he was thankful to be out of the sky in this weather.
“You ok, man?” JC asked, nudging his friend with his elbow.
“Yeah, why?” Justin asked, shaken out of his thoughts.
“No reason,” JC shrugged. “You just seemed to be in pensive-mode over there. I just wondered if it was anything serious or just the normal everyday craziness that runs through your little Timberlake mind.”
“You’re a riot,” Justin smirked. “I dunno what it is. I just feel weird. Maybe I’m restless. I know I’m always bitching about having no time to relax but I’m itching for something and I can only guess its to get back out on the road.”
“At which time, you’ll start bitching again,” Joey added, a deep chuckle rumbling in his throat.
“Who asked you, you big meatball?” Justin smirked reaching behind JC to smack Joey upside the head.
“Hair, hair!” Joey yelled.
“Do I have tie you all down and gag you guys back there?” Mark jumped in. “I swear, I could be home with my girlfriend if I wanted this kind of mindless babbling and soft-core violence.”
“I’m telling Therese you said that!” Justin laughed.
“And I’ll tell you’re Mama what really happen in Cancun!”
“What? What? What’s happening? What did I miss?” Joey asked eagerly.
“Nothing!” Justin said quickly.
“Not what I heard,” JC chuckled.
“What? What did you hear? Someone tell me what happened in Cancun!” Joey insisted.
“I think you should worry about what happened to you in Cancun and leave it at that,” Mark replied. Joey was silent.
“Shut you up,” Justin laughed.
“How ‘bout you all shut up,” Mark said shooting Justin daggers from the front seat. Kidding or not, Mark had looking forward to spend some time at home with his girlfriend and was not too pleased about the guys little whim to come up to New York.
“Jeeze, cranky bodyguard, down.” Joey mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
Regan sighed, leaning her head against the window. The bus inched forward awaiting the red light to change, causing the standing passengers to be in constant danger of toppling over. The rain poured down outside, making it difficult to see out the window. She’d decided to go back to Mike and Bridget’s figuring even if Mike had dragged his ass outside, there’d at least be food to comfort her there. She chuckled under her breath thinking of the contents of her refrigerator: a bottle of water and a block of soy. She needed chocolate, diet be damned. The light turned green and the bus lurched forward. What the hell am I gonna do for three whole days?
A few blocks later, Regan signaled for her stop, slinging her bag across her shoulders and attempted to squeeze her slight frame through the mass of passengers.
In trying to make her way past the standing passengers, her pointe shoes, hanging around her neck, caught on the zipper of an old woman’s jacket, almost strangling her and pulling the poor woman halfway down the aisle.
“I am so sorry,” Regan stammered, trying to untangle the ribbons. Once they were free, she attempted to stuff the pink contraptions into the already overstuffed bag to no avail. She hung them across the strap of her bag, figuring they’d dry, not like she was using them any time soon.
As the bus stopped, the motion sent Regan stumbling backward, almost falling on top of the same woman. Christ, I gotta get off this thing before I break that poor woman’s hip.
As she stepped of the bus, she pulled the hood of her Adidas windbreaker over her head and allowed the sleeves to fall down, covering her hands. The windbreaker was a good four sizes too big, having once belonged to her brother… before she stole it, that is.
The street was busy; the traffic moving steadily with gaps here and there. Knowing the lights were ridiculous on this street, Regan decided to make a break for it. She made it safely across the southbound traffic and then, judging the only car coming north bound was a safe distance away, she started across. The bouncing motion of her hurried steps sent her toe shoes flying from her perch.
“Shit,” she spat out as she turned to save the satin bits from becoming road kill. She bent down, not realizing to closeness of the approaching cab or the fact that the driver was daydreaming.
She glanced up to see the cab practically on top of her. Her scream caught in her throat as, out of nowhere, something knocked her out of the way.
The blaring horns and gasping pedestrians all mingled in a dreamlike din as Regan picked her head up from the asphalt. “Oh my God,” was all she could utter as she rubbed to spot on the side of her head where she’d hit Lexington Avenue.
“Are you ok?”
She hardly made the words out as she tried to get her bearings back. She nodded her head, absently, not really knowing or caring what the voice next to her was saying.
“What, are you trying to get yourself killed?”
She didn’t have a chance to answer as a group of men ran towards them. “Justin, what the hell were you thinking?!”
“I was thinking ‘girl about to be run over by cab’, if you really wanna know.”
“I can’t believe you just did that,” one of them said helping the curly-hair man up.
“Um, hello?” Regan sighed getting to her feet.
“Oh sorry,” her ‘hero’ said turning to help her.
“Regan?”
She looked up from brushing herself off to see a familiar face, looking at her in disbelief.
“Josh?”
“Hey kiddo, you are so lucky. Are you ok?” JC said giving her a hug.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Thanks to Captain America,” she chuckled.
“Your welcome, I think,” Justin said extending his hand. “I’m Justin.”
“Regan,” she smiled back taking his hand.
“What are you doing here?” she said turning back to JC and they made their way to the sidewalk.
“Visiting Bridget,” he shrugged. “You’ve got some cut there, sweetie, though. You wanna go get that checked out?”
Regan brought her hand up to her hand, touching the cut and wincing at the contact. “No, I’ll just clean it up at Mike’s. I just talked to Bridget this morning. She didn’t mention you coming up.”
“Yeah, I kinda called her from the air this morning. Oh, let me introduce you to everyone,” JC smiled. “This is Joey, Lance, Mark, Dave, Chris, and you the man your now eternally indebted to, Justin. We’re going to be staying with Mike and Bridg for the next few days or so.”
Regan blushed, slightly as she smiled back at everyone, embarrassed that she’d almost died for a pair of toe shoes that would be worn out in a matter of days and almost taking their friend with her.
“Nice to meet you. Well Bridget’s at school now. Are you going to her place right now?”
“Yeah, she said your brother should be home so we figured we’d just kick back until she was done warping young minds.”
“Well I’m on my way there, now so—”
“Uh, if these were important enough to get killed over, don’t you wanna take them with?” Justin remarked, coolly handing Regan her pointe shoes.
Regan stiffened at his tone but decided to forget it since he did manage to save her life. “Thanks,” she replied softly. This is going to be a fun few days.
Chapter One
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