Track ONE

The phone on the bedside table rang. Shelby considered letting it ring. It would be so easy to ignore the shrill sound and when it finally stopped, she would then be able to sleep the day away in peace.

Instead, with eyes still closed, she reached out from under her blankets and picked the receiver up on the fourth ring. "Hello?"

There was a quick laugh and then the playfully reprimanding voice of her best friend, Kaye Munson, sounded on the other end of the line. "Shelby Powell, you're still in bed, aren't you?"

Opening one eye, Shelby glanced at the red numbers on the clock beside her bed and grumbled, "It's only two-thirty. I've still got plenty of daylight to waste."

"Wrong." Kaye announced in her decisively forthright manner. "You've got twenty minutes before I pick you up."

"For what? I'm quite happy where I am."

"It's a surprise."

"Just get up, get dressed, and brush your teeth. I'll tell you about it over a late lunch, my treat." Kaye didn't wait for a reply, but hung up the phone.

Briefly, Shelby wondered how long Kaye would beat on the front door of her house if she didn't answer immediately answer her beckoning thuds.

Then, Shelby remembered that her best friend had a spare key and, knowing Kaye, Shelby realized that if she didn't do as requested, she would very likely be dragged outside in the scraggly tee shirt and sweatpants she had worn to bed the night before. Wouldn't that be the cookie-cutter development hot topic of the week?

Rolling into motion, Shelby walked sluggishly into the master bath. Stripping off her clothes, she brushed her fingers through her waves of reddish-brown hair and chanced a look at her reflection.

Looking back was a woman Shelby barely recognized anymore.

In just eight years, she had gained almost forty pounds and though she still boasted D-cup breasts, they weren't as boastful as they had once been. Skin that had once glowed from regular exercise and fun in the sun now looked splotchy and strained.

Of course, with some attention, she would be presentable and with some exercise, the weight would shed, but was it worth the effort? Who was there to celebrate the work with her?

Disgusted, Shelby stepped into the hot shower.

Maybe this new feeling of dissatisfaction was good. At least it was different from self-pity. It was different from feeling as physically drained as she had after fifteen hours of hard labor to deliver her sweet daughter, Summer. Maybe now this feeling of disgust would give way to determination, determination to hope and hope to—dare she think it—happiness.

It was funny how the world could change, an entire life shift and affect so many lives around it. Once upon a time, Shelby's life changed with marriage, a child, a family. It changed with signed-and-sealed divorce papers.

Chad Powell—Shelby's husband of eight years—with his blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes, athletic build and wonderful smile had been unfaithful. Of all things to shift her world, he had decided to leave his family for Dr. Toni Ellenwood, the veterinarian that cared for Summer's new puppy.

Shelby turned off the shower water. She didn't want to begin this thought process again. Grabbing two fluffy white towels, she wrapped her body with one and twirled the other around her hair. Opening the bathroom door, cool air wafted over her skin and Shelby breathed in the scent of coconut—Kaye was here.

Kaye and Shelby had been friends since the seventh grade, when Kaye's healthy obsession for seasonal scents first brought them together. Shelby could clearly remember standing behind Kaye in the cafeteria lunch line and telling her that she smelled like candy canes. That Christmas, Kaye had given Shelby a bottle of apple-scented shampoo and the silly gift-giving tradition had bonded them for life.

Like many female friends, they shared the connection of weight-woes. Throughout their twenty-two year friendship, they struggled between the degrees to which they allowed this issue to matter. Sometime between February and March, the concern was great; August to September tapered to moderate and not at all came wrapped up for the tasty holidays. Then, they would start the New Year fresh and ready to run the gamut again.

No matter her current weight, Kaye was adorable. Her face was heart-shaped and her eyes soft green, topped by fine eyebrows that never missed a waxing appointment. Kaye's yellow-blonde hair was thick and though she could pull off just about any style she chose, Kaye kept it cut stylishly short to match her courtroom business attire. All of this was accented with a warm smile, perfect dimples and a contagious laugh, creating an overall package of independence that Shelby often envied.

Now, if only Kaye would slow down from her law-career long enough for a man without a court appearance to approach her, she might be able to start a family life of her own. But until then, Shelby was happy to share hers with this soul-warming sister-like friend.

Turning from the self-appointed task of straightening Shelby's rumpled bedding; Kaye faced her friend and grinned. "There, now don't you feel better?"

Shelby wasn't quite ready to give in to her friend's obvious desire to sway her mood, so answered stubbornly, "I smell better."

Fluffing the last pillow, Kaye walked to the other side of the room, drew open the burgundy-colored curtains and ushered sunlight in through the windows. "I'm betting you look better too."

While Kaye continued piddling through her room, Shelby moved to her walk-in closet and dressed in a sky-blue, sleeveless button-down shirt and a pair of white-denim shorts.

"At least you aren't medicated." Kaye called out with characteristic bluntness. "I really expected you would be by now."

Stepping back into the room with a pair of white canvas sneakers in hand, Shelby replied dryly, "Thanks for the boost of confidence."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Kaye replied, "Well, you haven't exactly been yourself lately." The look Shelby threw Kaye as she picked up a hairbrush and pulled it through her wet hair, spoke volumes. Reading her expression, Kaye assured, "I know it's not your fault. I just don't want you to waste anymore time crying over that asshole. He really doesn't deserve it."

Part of Shelby was desperate to cling to her self-brooding. Trying to excuse her recent behavior, she corrected, "No, but I do. I need to get over every little detail of our life together."

Kaye shook her head, having trouble with the fact that Shelby would require this reminder. "What you need to do is another man so that you can forget that Chad ever existed in your life."

"A bit difficult considering we share a child." Shelby remarked sardonically, while silently she panicked at the mere thought of such a possibility at this time in her life.

Kaye shrugged. "So on the weekends that he's obligated to play Daddy, you need to do a little playing of your own."

Making a noise that was a combination of humor, incredulity, and horror, Shelby declared, "For crying out loud, Kaye, our divorce has only been final for three weeks."

"This is really sad considering that you've been separated for a year longer than that while he was out having fun with the veteri-tramp." Throwing her a don't-even-think-about-lying-to-your-best-friend look, Kaye finished, "So I can venture a pretty fair guess as to how long it's been since you had sex with him."

"I hate it when you sound like a lawyer," Shelby pouted.

She wasn't truly angry with her friend. She had known Kaye long enough to realize she meant well, but had never been able to completely control what came out of her mouth, particularly when speaking to someone she was close to. In a strange sort of way, Kaye's brutal prying was how she showed love.

Returning to the main reason for her visit, Kaye suggested, "Let's go downstairs and eat and I can tell you about the divorce-celebrating surprise I have for you."

"We're not going out?" Shelby didn't do well at hiding the relief from her voice.

Kaye smiled, "I thought you'd rather stay in."

Shelby grumbled, "Then why'd you make me get dressed?"

"So I wouldn't have to smell your B.O. and dragon-breath while I eat."

"You say the nicest things."

"I brought pizza." Kaye's voice was a singsong apology.

Shelby stopped walking toward the door and looked back. "But you don't like pizza."

Kaye smiled again. "No, but it's your favorite and I love you."

Shelby tilted her head to the side, studied Kaye a moment and then a slow, sincere smile—the first she could remember expressing in more than a month—covered Shelby's mouth. "You're the best, Kaye."

"And don't you forget it," Kaye replied happily. She then waited while Shelby kicked off the shoes she had recently slipped on and together they walked downstairs toward lunch.

One—okay, two—slices of mushroom and sausage pizza later, Shelby slumped back on the couch with a sigh. "I feel a slumber party coming on. Did you bring movies?"

Kaye smiled and set her glass of diet soda on the coaster-protected coffee table. "Better."

Shelby rolled her eyes. "Am I going to need one-dollar bills?"

Kaye laughed. "No, but you are going to need to tell Chad he has to keep Summer for the weekend of August second."

"Kaye, that's just a week away. She's already been with Mom and Dad for three days this week while I . . . reorganized myself. I don't want her to be more effected by the divorce than she already is."

Kaye offered Shelby a sympathetic look. "Hey, I know you're worried about her, but like-it-or-not, Chad gets visitation; Summer needs to get used to her new life. Plus, if you go ahead and set up a rotation, it will look better for you when the custody hearings really start." With a mischievous grin, Kaye added, "Just wait until you see where we're going. That should inspire you to make the arrangements." Sliding off the couch, she moved toward the television and turned on the VCR.

"You need a VCR and not the DVD player to give me a hint? This ought to be good." Shelby teased, though she was becoming more curious by the second.

"Just hush," Kaye demanded, then moved back to the couch, and picked up the remote control.

Despite her recent foul mood, Shelby felt a rush of adrenaline at the distantly familiar sound. When the picture she anticipated colored the screen, the feeling doubled. Memories flooded her mind and not bad ones now, but great ones, fun ones. Memories of the youth that she and Kaye had shared, along with dreams only the truest of friends understood about each other, even if they were silly teen-girl dreams.

Boys from the Blockwere an original in the boy-band genre. To many women part of the same generation as Kaye and Shelby, the recent news that they were going on a reunion tour after a sixteen-year break was invigorating. It was a chance for hundreds-of-thousands of people, fans and band members alike, to relive their youth, even if it was only for one night at a loud concert.

Smiling broadly, Shelby looked at Kaye and asked, "You're kidding? Did you really get tickets?"

"Oh, yeah." Kaye said with a bit of bad-girl gravel in her voice. "And not just that, we're going behind the scenes too."

And then it happened. Shelby felt something crack inside her as she burst into a hoot of laughter and squealed like she hadn't in sixteen years. This would be her eighth time seeing this group in concert, but neither she nor Kaye had ever gotten the opportunity to meet them. "How did you manage to get a meet and greet?"

Kaye shook her head negatively. "Not a meet-and-greet; we're going to party with them after the show in Boston."

If anyone had asked Shelby how old she was at that moment, she would have sworn that she was seventeen and the scream she let out proved it. "Their hometown; how did you—?"

"Confidentiality, sweetie," Kaye informed smugly.

"Confidentiality my foot," Shelby exploded with laughter in her tone. "I don't need names, I just want the basics."

"All I can tell you is that a recent client of mine is . . . connected to Boys from the Blockand when I made him very happy by saving him a busload of money, he wanted to show me his appreciation. Naturally, besides my regular fee, I casually mentioned the fact that my dear friend and I were huge fans and the rest is history."

"We are definitely having a slumber party tonight!" Shelby informed. "This is great."

Kaye laughed with her friend. "So is seeing you smile."

"You ain't seen nothin' yet, honey." Jumping to her feet, Shelby dashed to the nearby basement door and tore down the steps. Thanks to Shelby's fairly anal labeling system, it didn't take long for her to locate the dusty box marked BFTB. Dragging the veritable treasure chest from under the steps, she was back and seated beside Kaye again in a matter of minutes.

Pulling up the tucked in flaps holding the container closed, Shelby anticipated, "This is going to be like Christmas."

The first item she pulled out was a black and white silk-screen poster of Boys from the Block. The five teens were standing on railroad tracks with the band name labeled overhead in its signature lettering.

"Niiiice." Kaye complimented insincerely.

"Oh and I'm sure all of your memorabilia is tasteful."

"What makes you think I have memorabilia?" Kaye asked with mock disdain.

Shelby chuckled, "Maybe the grocery bag full of videos you brought over to use for your surprise presentation."

"A grocery bag, not a box big enough to hold a television." Kaye admonished prudently.

"Please; am I really getting attitude from the girl who was almost twenty before she took down her wall-to-wall, ceiling-covering posters?"

Kaye huffed, "I had good reason."

Shelby's laughter came out like a hoot. "Oh, yes I remember, you had to be prepared on the off chance Boys from the Block needed to park their tour bus in the church parking lot beside your house. And, despite their fortune, the phone and/or toilet on that bus was broken. Obviously, it would be your front door they would chose to knock on. Then, after they'd each called to check in with their mother's, then flushed and washed necessarily; Granny would treat them to cookies and milk. With their tummies full, they would naturally ask to see your bedroom, only to discover that you were their last true fan for keeping their faces plastered around you into adulthood."

Kaye's green eyes narrowed. "A slight exaggeration, I believe." Still brooding, she demanded, "Now, shut up and show me what else you have in that damn box."

"Okay." Shelby intoned, not put off in the least.

Next, she pulled out some twin size sheets, decorated with gray-and-black close-ups of each of the boys' faces, encased in teal and bright pink squares. The same colors were used for their signature letter to display their names and that of the group. "I wonder if Summer would like these."

"I can't imagine why not," Kaye replied with sarcasm.

Three different tee shirts with pictures and tour dates printed on them were the next box reveal. There were a few "I love . . ." pins, a pair of red lettered shoe-strings and a black jacket with blue eyes painted on the back replicating, one that Dean had worn. There were VHS tapes—some mass-produced and two that contained programs recorded off of the television—every bit of it was a treasured memory.

Randomly choosing one of the home-recorded tapes, Kaye slid it into the VCR, then returned to the couch saying, "Between the two of us, I think there's certainly enough entertainment to get us through the night."

"Sounds like the best offer I've had in months."

"That's pathetic." Kaye stated sorrowfully and turned her attention toward the television screen. A talk-show host did her best to be heard over the excited fans before turning the show over to the energetic performance of the five boys who danced, sang, and flirted all around the studio.

Shelby couldn't resist the urge to laugh. "Did we scream like that over a group of boys we didn't even know?"

Kaye nodded. "Yeah and we're going to do it again real soon."

Shelby smiled brilliantly, though her eyes never averted from the television. "I can hardly wait."

Shelby had just helped Summer into her bath the next evening when the phone rang. Turning the water off before the child was covered in apple-scented bubbles; Shelby went to grab the receiver by her bed.

"Kaye Munson, please." Since Shelby had half expected the call to be from Chad, the matter-of-fact male voice on the other end of the line took her off guard.

"Kaye does not reside here. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Is this—," there was a rustling sound while the gentleman looked for her name, "—Shelby Powell?"

"It is."

"Ms. Munson left your number as a secondary contact."

"For?"

"Any change to the plans for the evening of August second." He had Shelby's full attention now. "Will you please tell her we'll meet up before the concert? I'll let her know the final details for after the show, then."

Shelby sat down on the edge of her bed. "I'm sorry, who is this?"

The man on the line chuckled. "Sorry, I guess I did forget to mention that; I'm Jared Hite."

Of all the options open to her, Shelby laughed. "Right."

"No, Hite."

"I heard what you said, I just don't believe you. I may be gullible, but not by that much. Tell Kaye she'll have to do better than this."

"Kaye said you would probably react this way if I had to call you. Maybe that's why she didn't answer her cell phone."

Automatically Shelby replied, "No, its Thursday, court day. Kaye never answers her cell on court day."

"Well, that explains that." Clearing his throat, the man asked, "So you'll see that she gets the message?"

Shelby stopped laughing. "You're really serious?" In as laid-back a tone as she could manage, she confirmed, "Let's get this, you want me to tell Kaye we're to meet up with Boys from the Blockmember, the ever-adorably-sexy Jared Hite, before their upcoming concert, you know, just to make some friendly plans to hang out after?"

"You got it," the man agreed with a smile in his voice.

"What, The Right Touch?" Shelby teased, using the title from one of the bands biggest hits. When the caller laughed too, she continued in a mocking tone, "Well, in that case, I have a message of my own to be passed on."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, be sure to let Dean know I've been waiting just about half my life to meet him. He'll have no trouble picking me out; I'll be the one spinning in a constant circle, clapping my hands, giggling like a school girl and blubbering like an idiot."

Now the man calling himself Jared Hite laughed loudly. "Great, he eats that stuff up."

Then, in the background of the phone call, a male voice urged, "Wrap it up, J, we got sound check in five."

Instantly, Shelby's mind stopped, reset, and began to run at about three times its normal speed. It wasn't what was said in the whispered reminder: "we got sound check in five; wrap it up, J" that was anything special to Shelby. Rather, it was how it was the voice that spoke—distincly smooth, tinged by a street-wise New England accent. Shelby recognized it instantly; during her entire adult life, she had been able to distinguish it in a split second if she stumbled across an unexpected airing of her favorite "block boy" either on radio stations or on televisions.

unexpected airing of her favorite "block boy." It was a voice that had infiltrated more than her fair amount of dreams over the last twenty years. It was Dean Walden's voice and it was comepletly understandable that Shelby was currently unable to breathe.

She was sure she was having an out of body experience. It wasn't the words Shelby overheard that brought on her strange feeling, but how they sounded—distinct smoothness, a bit of New England street-wise, blended with an unexpectedly soft-spoken tenor.

Shelby would know that voice anywhere.

It was Dean Walden's voice and—at least for Shelby—made her lack of breathing completely understandable.

Not attempting to hide his off-phone conversation and unaware of Shelby's momentary loss, Jared replied to the unseen speaker, "I got it." Giving his full attention to the call again, Jared met dead silence. "Ms. Powell?"

Instantly falling back into her body, it took Shelby a mere fifteen seconds to convey the exact level of her mortification while delivering the blubbering idiot within as promised. "Um, Mr. Hite, er, Jared? I'm sorry for being so rude. Do you think you might be kind enough to ignore the message that I asked you to pass along? I mean after all, I didn't realize that Dean was actually in the same room with you; not that being on the phone with you isn't great, but Dean is—" Shelby paused took a deep breath and fumbled somewhere between wistful-hope and certain-dread, "It was him wasn't it?"

"Yes it was." Jared chuckled, "You know, it's pretty impressive that you got that just from hearing him speak in the background."

Thinking back over her years of obsession for Boys from the Block, Shelby mumbled, "Not necessarily." Realizing she couldn't embarrass herself more than she had already, she added, "I think I'm going to be sick now."

Seeming to enjoy her discomfort greatly, Jared promised in a teasing whisper, "Your secret's safe with me, Perfect Girl."

With strong chagrin, Shelby begged, "Please don't call me that on Saturday."

Jared's teasing continued, "Do you want Dean to call you that?"

"I'm starting to rethink my fan club membership."

Jared laughed, "I hope you're half as entertaining in person as you are on the phone, Ms. Powell."

Shelby covered her face with her free hand. "If I had any kind of sense, I would tell you we've changed our minds about the party and end this call."

"Don't do that." Jared requested sincerely.

Shelby gave a short laugh. "Lucky for you, my sense, or lack thereof, would never in a million years permit me to pass up the opportunity to meet you guys."

"Good, 'cause I can only imagine what a blast you and Kaye are together. And, for what it's worth, we're used to the giddiness."

Shelby paused, feigning consideration, and then remarked, "Nope, that doesn't help at all, but thanks for trying."

Jared laughed. "Not a problem; see you Saturday." The line went silent and Shelby flopped back on her bed, certain that she had just been through the most surreal experience of her life.