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              He rips it up and then takes my face in to his hands, “That letter is bullshit. You didn’t do anything to deserve whatever he did to you. No one should ever lay their hands on you because you don’t act the way they want you to. Tell me you believe that, Bree.”

              I kiss him because I can’t answer him. It makes sense. But, after the two years that I have spent with Nick, it is so hard to re-program my mind in to thinking that I had nothing to do with it.

              “Do you believe me?”

              “The logical Bree believes you. The other Bree is ashamed that she is a shell of the girl she used to be because she allowed herself to be treated that way. You deserve to know the Bree that didn’t take crap from anyone.”

              “I dunno. I like the Bree I met. I like the Bree I was with last night. And, I like the Bree that is standing in front of me right now.”

              I cuddle in to his chest. “Thanks.”

              “You’re welcome.”

              “Josh, I’m sorry you read those horrible things that Sofie said about you.”

              “Hey, you don’t feel that way. So, don’t you fucking apologize.”

              He opens the door and walks me across the street. We stop at my front door. I reach up and my arms drape around his neck. His head dips and his lips reach mine. His tongue probes my mouth and my body reacts. My fingers pull at his hair as I try to devour him. A guttural groan escapes from him and then I’m completely lost. The effect that this guy has on me is inconceivable. I pull at his shirt burying my hands underneath trying to get a close as possible to him.

              “Ah..Bree. We gotta stop or we are going to give our neighbors a free show,” he groans in to my mouth.

              As much as I don’t want to stop, I know he is right. I’m about to take this too far. I giggle and softly peck him on his lips one last time. “Thank you for everything.”

              “Don’t mention it. I will be seeing you soon?”

              “Text me. We will get together sometime this week. I got a few gigs that I’m working.”

              He quickly pecks me on the cheek and makes his way back across the street.

JOSH

              Wow. That’s the only word that can describe Bree. As I make my way across the street, I can’t help but peek back at her. She’s that alluring. I barely know her but she’s all I have thought about since I have met her.

              I have heard people talk about the pull; that first time you see someone and you just know. Honestly, I thought it was bullshit. That kind of shit doesn’t happen to guys. At least, I thought it didn’t. My theory was you see a hot chick. You find some of things you have in common. You start to care about her because she’s around a lot. Bree knocked that theory right out of the ballpark.

              I am concerned about her douche bag ex-boyfriend. She seems okay with having gone through such a traumatic relationship. But, you never know with that shit. I don’t even know how severe it was. Apparently, it was bad enough to the point she has a restraining order. I’ll have to be patient with her if I want this to last.

              I walk in my door and Eric is still lounging on the couch. I make my way to the fridge to get a drink. “She’s gonna be okay?” he asks.

              “She’s good. I think. She’s probably a little upset about Sofie.”

              “Fuck that. That little bitch is just as abusive as her ex is. Not one word of support came out of her mouth the day she moved Bree in. All she did was nag and boss people around. Don’t get me started about how she blamed Bree for her asshole boyfriend beating her up.”

              Eric was getting pumped up. This isn’t his favorite subject. When we were kids, Eric stayed with my family when his dad tuned his mom up on the occasion. As Eric entered his teen years his dad became an equal opportunity abuser. Every time Eric came to the defense of his mom, he ended up with something broken. Eventually, his dad took his mom’s life. His dad did get caught and is doing time. But, for Eric, it’s not enough.

              Unfortunately, Eric has more experience with domestic violence than any guy I know. His girlfriend was murdered. Her ex-boyfriend murdered her after work one night. To make matters worse, it was my sister. We both struggled with that heavy dose of shit for a long time.

              “You’re right. Bree’s better off without Sofie anyway. I can’t say I’m heartbroken the bitch left.”

              “Did she tell you anything that happened?”

              “Nah, she didn’t want to talk about it. She just kind of hinted that he was all about himself in the bedroom area. I didn’t push her.”

              “So, what’s up with you and Bree? Or is it just a one time thing?”

              “I didn’t tap it...if that’s what you’re asking. I kind of want her to stick around so I can get to know her.”

              “Amy is going to flip a lid when she finds out. You better start damage control now.”

              “Amy’s not going to be a problem. She’s hasn’t shown up lately. Maybe she found a dealer to hook up with.”

              “What if she does show up? What are you going to do about it? I don’t think Bree is gonna stick around when Amy starts cutting up.”

              “Dude. I don’t fuckin’ know. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Right now, I’m more concerned about what kind of damage Bree’s ex left behind.”

              “Good luck with all that. Be careful, man. We’ve been through this before.”

              “I know, man. I know.” I nod my head understanding.

~CHAPTER FIVE~

BREE

              Now that training was over, I was officially initiated in to my career by getting my very own shitty cubicle. My laptop is the only thing new on my desk. My predecessor left the rest of the crap. But, I love it. Visions of me spending time here in hopes of spreading the word of great music dance through my head. In this moment, I know the struggles I have faced to get here were well worth it. My daydream suddenly disappears and I am brought back to reality by the cutest little thing with a bob haircut. 

“You must be Bree!” She extends her hand to me shaking it up and down almost too rough. Ms. Cutie stands about 5’1” and probably weighs no more than hundred pounds. I look like a porker next to her. Her midnight layers fall forward as she shakes my hand to death.

              Her bright red lips curl around her white teeth. As she smiles, her blue eyes kindly crinkle. “I’m Lena. I’ll be partnering with you at the shows. Of course, I’ll only be taking the pictures.” That’s right. They told me I will have someone take the pictures so I can interview the bands and listen to details. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

              Her face is so animated and friendly almost doll-like. The only difference between Lena and a porcelain doll is Lena’s solitary diamond stud in her nose and her left arm sleeve of pink orchids. “The pleasure is mine.” I offer.

              “So, I see you got a lot going on here.” Lena points to the mess on my desk.  “I’ll let you get settled and then maybe we can go over our schedule for this week in the afternoon. Do you want to get some lunch?”

              I decide to accept Lena’s invitation to lunch to practice my skills making friends. It’s been years since I had girlfriends other than Sofie. I walk in the sandwich shop only a short walking distance from my work building. Lena is already sitting at a table in the back, sipping a coffee. Her head perks up and she greets me with a smile. “Hey, there!”

              I set my purse and laptop down in front of my seat. “Hey.”

              Lena offers me a menu and begins to educate me on what is ‘to die for’ if I order it.
              “Do you eat here often?” I ask.

              The waiter comes before she can answer. We both decide to get the Asian chicken salad and green tea. “I’ve worked with this publication company for about 3 years so I know the lay of the land. The café in our building sucks so I have made it my mission to find the best eateries around me.”

              “Makes sense. So, you like working here?”

              Lena sips her drink and looks lost in thought for a minute. “I do. I mean…everyone has a dream that just needs to be tweaked a little, right? When I first started my photography career, I imagined myself up front and personal with 30 Seconds to Mars or hell, even Incubus somewhere in LA. Here I am covering Indie bands. At first, I was disappointed. The money is okay. The hours are somewhat shitty. But then, I changed my thinking pattern.”              

              “How so?”

              “I thought to myself...how cool is it that I get to know and work with these bands before the hit it big?”

              I love Lena’s spirit. Lena just glows with an inner joy. She’s refreshing and positive. All of what she is exuding I have been lacking in my life. “Wow. That’s a pretty damn good way of looking at it.”

              “So, Bree. Tell me about you. Who the fuck is Bree Jensen?” Our salads are delivered to our table and Lena takes a quick stab at her plate.

              Normally, I withhold any information about myself but I want to open myself up to Lena. There is something radiating from her urging me to allow her to be my friend. I begin to tell her where I’m from and how I began writing. For the most part, she is really interested in the time I had spent in college hunting down indie bands while most of my friends were out partying. That part of my life is so easy to tell. I was happy then. Fuck...I was me.

              The latter part of my college days seems dull because I leave out most of it. That part of my life just bit the big one. I can tell Lena can see the gaps in my history. She keeps her intrigue at bay but I know she is wondering what happened to me.

              Lena gulps her tea and looks at me. “So, who was the guy?”

              “What guy?” I ask.

              “The guy who turned you in to bore bag while you finished college.”

              I laugh. “Bore bag? His name is Nick. I met him my sophomore year of school. In the beginning, I didn’t really like him. He was too All-American. But, he pursued me like it was his job. I always had flowers, candy, love notes, fancy dinners and presents. He was a romantic.” I start to open up.

              “Hmm..sounds dreamy.”

              “You would think...huh? Let’s just say he had some control issues. So much so that I ended up in the hospital,” I hint.

              Lena drops her fork and stares at me. “He hurt you?”

              “Yes. A lot.” It feels good just to let it out.

              “Fuck. I’m sorry that happened to you. You look so independent and strong.”

              I know Lena doesn’t think I’m a punching bag, but, her comment stings. I am independent. I am strong. “It’s not easy leaving someone who has alienated you from every one you know. See, I was with him for two years. In that time span, I lost everyone I was close to. I only had him. My parents had been gone for a while. They died in a car accident right before I entered college. Like it or not, he was the only family I had.”

              “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...” I cut her off.

              “I know you didn’t mean to offend me. I had to go to counseling right after he put me in the hospital. My counselor said I was going to be asked why I put up with the abuse. She said that people wonder why someone stays in a relationship where they are not being treated well. I get it.”

              Lena scoops a roll from the basket, breaks it, and begins to butter it. “Do you hear from him?”

              “No. I have a restraining order against him. He can’t contact me.”

              “Good.”

              “Yep. Enough talk about me. Tell me about you. Who the fuck is Lena Prioli?”

              She laughs. She begins to tell me where she grew up and where she went to art school for photography. During her schooling, Lena never had a serious boyfriend but she loved to play around. Photography is her passion with music holding it’s number two spot.

              After shooting the shit, we decide to get down to business. We review our schedule for the week. Apparently, we have three shows to attend. I wonder if any of them are Josh’s prodigies. I will have to text him later to find out. But, in the meantime, Lena and I make the arrangements to see the bands and cover their stories.

JOSH

              “Guys, your stage presence sucks. We’ve been over this fifty million times. Get your shit together!” I yell from right below the stage area. I glance to Eric who is wearing the same scowl I’m wearing.

              “Dude. What the fuck are they doing? They are tripping all over themselves up there. It’s like they are playing for a school talent show.”

              The Nora’s take the stage tomorrow night as the opening act for the Leaking Pipe at one of the most popular bars in town, the White Castle. It took a lot of pleading and begging to get them to this point. Since the Nora’s are all girls, I am betting the Leaking Pipes said yes for only that reason. To make matters worse, the girls have a case of the jitters.

              There is a lot riding on this performance. The press is going to cover the concert and hopefully run a piece of the Nora’s in Friday’s entertainment section. They sound great but their stage performance is weak. One bad review could ruin them before they even sign.

              “Fuck,” I sigh.

              At this point, I am making Eric nervous. Nothing rattles him. The Nora’s continue to play but Eric waves to halt the song. “Listen up ladies...you sound great. The problem is this. You got one opportunity to show this town you have what it takes to make beyond a bar band. The press is looking for character. I want you to play like you are 13 years old waving a fucking air guitar in your bedroom. Got it?”