A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! I love them. =) For the readers that have actually watched 'Autumn's Concerto', I really hope I do the drama some justice.

Xxxxx

After dropping Andie off at her condo, Moose headed to his home. He drove up the winding driveway and parked his car in the spacious garage. He whistled contentedly, while walking inside. Though he was familiar with a jail cell, that place could never compare to his house. The five bedroom, three and a half bathroom home that spanned six thousand square feet with a large pool and guest house in the backyard and grandeur riddled throughout was located on top of a hill that overlooked Baltimore's downtown.

He just couldn't wait to grab a cold brew and head to bed. By morning, he would formulate his plan to meet with her again. He was even thinking about recruiting his best friends, Luke and Jason, to join in. He laughed, knowing the bet was going to involve her, this time around. A smile was plastered on his face.

He walked into the kitchen, and he was met by his stern looking father. He mildly jumped in shock. "Huh, dad..." he stalled for a bit, "what are you doing here?!"

"Oh, I don't know... last time I checked, this was my home. I am the one that pays for the bills and whatever else you need, including that shiny M Class BMW and Nissan Skyline GTS that was imported from Japan, specially for you," he answered lengthily for a specific purpose. "I just talked to Andie."

"When haven't you spoken to her," Moose retorted angrily, while bypassing his dad and heading right for the refrigerator. He grabbed a Bud Light and screwed off the cap. He began to drink, ignoring the heated stares coming from his dad. He loved the pained expression on his face.

At seven years old, Moose began to detest his father. Chase Robert Collins was the name of his father, and he had the prestigious job of overseeing an elite school that catered to the fine arts. His position allowed the family a substantial income, guaranteed housing, and Moose's admission, when he turned the appropriate age, to the school. Unfortunately, tragedy struck when Moose's mother, Nora, the gorgeous, graceful dancer that gave him his dark features and signature curly hair, passed away suddenly. On that day, he remembered his mother being taken away via stretcher, and then seeing his dad escape to a room with Andie West, long time friend of his parents and legal adviser for all matters professional and personal.

Andie West was about five years younger than his dad, and she's been a constant factor in their lives. A real looker, she had long, auburn hair, expressive, hazel eyes, and, he had to admit, she possessed a killer bod. Several times, Andie has accompanied the Collins boys on trips to exotic places like Cabo San Lucas. He's witnessed her in a two piece bikini plenty of times, but just because she had a nice body that didn't change the fact he despised her and the close, intimate bond she had with his dad.

Due to that, Moose constantly gave his dad a hard time, rebelling against his rules, causing scenes at important, scholastic dinners, and getting in trouble with the law. He knew his dad and Andie would bail him out regardless, and to add a cherry on top, he would get something of great monetary value as a bartering chip to try and prevent any other instances like that from recurring once more. Yet, he was a young man, 19 years young, who was going to continue to push the boundaries, since he knew it got under his dad's skin.

"Moose, what do you think you're doing," Chase admonished his son authoritatively.

"Drinking."

"I can see that," he replied, his tone raising an octave. "You are underage drinking! I will not condone that."

"Psh, yeah right; you see me drink all the time," Moose countered and ignored the fact his dad still wanted to talk. His bottle of beer was flushed against him, and he headed to his room.

"Moose, you get back here right now," the dad ordered, practically seething at the mouth. He watched his son stroll away until he was no more. He banged his hand on the opulent granite top. He didn't know where he went wrong with his son, but he knew one thing for sure, his son absolutely hated his guts.

Chase, the man responsible for giving his son his boyish good looks, Caucasian genes that fueled his son's veins and the charming personality his son often used to womanize, wanted the best for his son. That's all. Maybe, he shouldn't have been so easy on his son, acting as a friend rather than a parent. He thought his son would give him respect, even kiss his butt because he always saved him. That wasn't the case. His son treated him like shit. Who his son treated even worse was Andie, which he allowed. He supposed this was his son's way of venting over issues that were beyond his control.

The patriarch begrudgingly sighed. One day, he would surely teach his son a lesson.

Xxxxx

It was the following morning.

Camille rose out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom—the only bathroom in this apartment. She made sure to securely lock the door, double checking just in case. She also placed a board, that she hid below the sink's cupboards, in between the crack, which ensured extra security. For her aunt's boyfriend to be such a master carpenter, he didn't think to fix the door that gaped so easily. Once she felt like she had some privacy, which was often never, she began to take a shower.

Eddy awoke upon hearing the water fill the pipes of this place. He turned to his girlfriend, and she was comfortably sleeping away. He carefully placed her hand off of him and got out of the bed, making sure not to wake her up. He surreptitiously began to tip toe, looking back twice. He stopped at the part of the hallway that also served as the back wall to the shower. He moved a board he strategically broke down a year ago and fibbed that he was going to fix.

Again, he browsed around. He crouched lowly, shut one eye and peered into the hole. He purposefully watched the movements of his step-niece. The suds of soap covered her lower body so nicely. He licked his lip, wishing he could be in there. He would definitely make sure she wasn't a dirty girl. A bulge in his pants formed, as the sponge caressed her private area. He undid his pants and began to pleasure himself, while imagining she was doing this for him. He continued to watch, his hand going up and down in a rapid pace over the way her ass just looked right in front of him. He couldn't believe how sexy she was; it was just too much for him to handle. He came, a heavy grunt escaping his lips.

Camille gasped over the sound she heard. She turned off the shower, peaked her head in between the opening of the curtains and bobbed her head left to right. The steam from the shower still filled the room. She alleged the sound she heard was from a stray animal outside. She ignored it and went back to taking a shower. She let the water splash all over her body and thought back to last night.

Aunt Claire gave her a big lecture about how to choose the right guy. She blabbed, 'find a guy like Eddy, I never knew love until I found Eddy, you cannot allow that curly headed kid to ruin your life'... blah, blah, blah. After a few minutes of speaking, she tuned her aunt out by listening to her Ipod. The events of the night were torturous enough.

Returning home, she headed straight for her room. She couldn't sleep though. Not only did she hear the wretched sounds of Aunt Claire and Eddy having loud sex, Moose's face popped into her head several times. No matter what position she was in, his strapping face and curly hair would make an appearance. It was aggravating! Sleep did claim her, in due time.

Camille shut the water off and exited her shower. She grabbed for her pink towel, and she wrapped herself around it. She left to her bedroom, but was met by Eddy. "Ah," she screamed, her chest elevating at an abnormal pace due to fright.

"Good morning, Camille," he greeted, while staring at her up and down. Water droplets were still sliding down her body. The thought of licking her dry, north to south, definitely crossed his mind. He's always wondered what she tasted like. He became aroused over the thought.

Feeling really uncomfortable, Camille held onto her towel tighter. "Well, I should get going to my room," she tried to go right.

He stopped her, using his body as a barrier. He propped himself against the wall with his elbow. "What's the rush," he asked.

"Well, I'm freezing, for one," she answered worriedly. This looked to be a compromising position, and she knew her Aunt Claire would go ballistic if she thought the two were doing sexual deeds behind her back. "And two, I need to cash my check. You know my bank is on the other side of town. Plus, it's Saturday, and I need to catch the bus," she rambled, pleading her case.

"Cam, you don't need to do take the bus," he reminded her. He stood upright. "You know I can take you." He touched her elbow in a comforting way.

Like acid to her skin, she instantly flinched and shook off the hand. "Thanks, but I really like walking. I enjoy taking the scenic route," she attempted to walk away for the second time.

He wasn't going to give up that easily. Eddy rushed towards her, grabbing the bottom of the towel and pulling it down. In all of her glory, his eyes lit up like it was Christmas. "Wow," he muttered under his breath in awe. He finally got an unobstructed peek; her body wasn't a disappointment either.

"EDDY," Camille yelped, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, as she picked her towel up from the floor. She protectively covered herself. She couldn't believe him. "How dare you!" Tears welled in her eyes.

Since her Aunt's dated Eddy, she's always felt like he touched, looked, and spoke to her inappropriately. At first it was subtle, but it's been more obvious and frequent lately. She's confronted her Aunt about it, but Claire dismissed the thought. Apparently, Eddy had her aunt under some spell, but Camille saw right through it. This instance proved he liked her in some creepy way. Pedofilic was more like it, but she was of age now.

Claire exited her bedroom. She groggily yawned, while wiping her eyes to get rid of the weariness . She looked at the two people in front of her. "What's with all the yelling," she queried, disgust evident on her face. In her opinion, her niece was practically throwing herself at her boyfriend. "Shouldn't you put clothes on, Camille?"

"Babe, you look so beautiful right now, even without makeup on," Eddy walked to his girlfriend and brought her in for a strong and loving embrace. She immediately giggled, feeling like she was on top of the world. Complimenting her always did the trick; he evilly smiled. "Oh, and there's nothing wrong," he replied with deceit. "Right, Camille?"

Unable to speak, Camille simply nodded.

"Great," Claire naively beamed, and she looked at her boyfriend admiringly. "You got a long day ahead of you, sweetie. I'm going to make you a hearty breakfast, iron your favorite dress shirt," she rambled about the big interview that could change their living situation dramatically. "Oh, I just can't wait. You know, I'm glad this guy is so flexible. He was willing to meet with you on a Saturday," she spoke of her boyfriend's potential boss.

"Yeah, babe, I just can't wait either," Eddy agreed, while his eyes were planted on an almost naked Camille. He seductively licked his lips and blew her a kiss.

Camille left to her room hastily, instantly locking her door and she sorrowfully broke down. Her living situation was a complete mess, and she wished her parents and big brother were still on this Earth. She believed they wouldn't be so damn oblivious to their surroundings like her Aunt. She regained her composure, and she began to get ready. Finally done, she looked into her purse for her paycheck. It wasn't in there. She went to the clothes she wore yesterday and rummaged through the pockets. She panicked. Her paycheck wasn't anywhere. For the second time, Camille cried.

This wasn't the greatest start to her day.

She made a decision. Since she didn't have work today, she went to see her best friend. He always made things better. She grabbed for her purse and left, hoping she wasn't noticed.

Xxxxx

Camille arrived at her best friend's house. He lived about three blocks away. She made sure she didn't have any remnants of tears on her eyes by looking into her makeup compact. There was some puffiness, but she could possibly attribute that to tiredness. After a couple more seconds of looking, she knocked on the door.

An older man, aged 63, with salt and peppered hair answered the door. He smiled warmly at the young lady standing on his porch. "Camille," he heartily greeted.

"Hola, Papi Ricardo (Hello)," she addressed with a gracious hug.

"You know to call me Ricky," he reminded her; he often had to.

"Lo siento (Sorry). Um, I know it's early, but is Sean home?"

"Por supuesto (Of course)," he responded, and he opened the door wider. He escorted her to the kitchen and sat her down. "Would you like a cup of Abuelita Hot Cocoa," he prepared even without an answer. For her to be here this early and asking for his grandson, he knew there was something harboring her mind. Unless she confronted him, he knew not to ask. That's what his grandson was for anyway."Abuelita makes everything better." He placed the piping hot, chocolate flavored beverage in front of her.

"Gracias," she thanked sincerely, while inhaling the aromatic scent.

"I will get him, okay." He left to fetch his grandson. He traveled up the stairs of his home, singing to himself on the way, and knocked on his grandson's door. "Sean."

Sean rolled over in his bed miserably. So far, he's only slept for two hours. All last night he was at the Dragon, a local dance club, battling against ten dudes, winning every match. Since bets were placed, he walked out of there with a nice chunk of change. That would surely help him, since he was currently attending the Maryland School of the Arts, or MSA for short, that cost a pretty penny. Initially, he was accepted on a scholarship, but funding became scarce. In order for him to keep attending, he paid out of pocket.

Furthermore, he was a stubborn man, and he insisted on doing everything himself and didn't plan on asking for help. His dad was never involved in his life, and his mom was a crack addict. One day, she put Sean in a precarious situation—he was left at a crack dealer's house, while his mom went with her pimp boyfriend to trick. That was the last straw for the fed up grandparents. They were sick and tired of having to pick up the pieces of their daughter's jumbled life. Until she got help, they distanced themselves from her and petitioned the courts for guardianship of Sean. A judge agreed. Since living with his grandparents, Sean's been on the right path. He was determined to make a career in dance and secure a well paying job, so he could help his grandparents like they've helped him.

He kept hearing his grandfather's knocks on the door.

"Go away," he grumbled in frustration. He grabbed for a pillow and placed it over his ears.

"Camille está aquí (Camille is here)," Papi Ricardo, as Camille called him, notified.

Sean opened one eye, wondering if he heard his grandpa correctly. "Camille está aquí (Camille is here)," he repeated. He heard his grandpa say yes. He shot out of his bed like a bullet. He fished through a pile clothes for a clean shirt. The pungent smell almost knocked him out, so he abandoned that. He shook his head, trying to regain consciousness, while crossing over his room to the closet. He picked out a shirt and pair of jeans, and even put on cleaner socks. He rose his right hand in front of him, breathily exhaled, and, once again, almost passed out. He couldn't believe it. He went to his dresser and erratically looked for a piece of gum. He exited his room and was met by his wise grandpa.

Knowing very well about his grandson's crush on the young woman downstairs, he just smiled. "Are you ever going to ask her out," he questioned earnestly.

The young man glared at the inquiry. "Camille's just a friend," he responded and dodged any other questions that could come his way. He smoothly slid down the banister. Before meeting with Camille, he watched her sitting at the table. The way the sunlight hit her, it was absolutely perfect, and he wished he could capture this moment. He dumbly left his phone upstairs, since he came down here in such a huff.

He remembered the first day he met Camille. He was attending a hip hop dance class at the YMCA. He noticed her mopping away the scuff marks in one of the rooms, and he quickly introduced himself to her. She ignored him. He was a little offended by that. Before he left to go home, the two crossed paths again. A snobby, bitchy ballet dancer blamed Camille for her failed ballet performance because the floors were too waxed. He intervened, amicably defending Camille, who did her job flawlessly, and danced on a floor she had just cleaned. He didn't have any problems and actually accused the ballet dancer of just being clumsy. Camille graciously thanked him, and the two bonded over smoothies afterward. From that point on, they became the best of friends, almost like brother and sister. They did everything together, knew each other inside and out, and they genuinely got along with one another.

Somehow, Sean did fall in love with her. He just didn't have the guts to tell her.

He smoothed his clothes nervously, but sedately walked to her. "Morning," he greeted with a bright smile.

"Good morning, I'm surprised your grandpa didn't have to use the jaws of life," she jokingly stated, feeling safe in the confines of her best friend's home. She drank some of her hot chocolate. "You look tired."

"Yeah, I was at the Dragon all last night," he replied, while making his cup of Abuelita hot chocolate. He sat across from her and deeply stared at her. He looked closely. "Were you crying before you got here?"

"Huh, no, why would you think that," she stuttered over her worlds, as she played with her almost empty cup in a fidgety fashion. Subtly, she began to wipe her eyes, avoiding his unrelenting look.

He leaned back in his chair. "Come on, Cam, we're best friends; you can tell me anything," he reminded. "Is it Eddy? If it is, I'll teach him a lesson," he promised.

One thing that she disliked about her best friend was that he let anger get the best of him. She has mentioned several times about how she felt uneasy around her 'uncle'. Each instance that she spoke about flared his anger. The last thing she needed was her best friend to get a battery charge. She changed the subject. "Oh my gosh, I need to tell you about what happened last night," she spoke, elaborating about her cockamamie encounter with Moose. "I was so scared, but thankfully Moose's mom, guardian or whoever she was bailed me out," she finished. When her friend didn't say anything, she quirked her brow. "Sean, hello, are you there," she waved her hands in front of him.

Oddly, that named sounded really familiar to Sean. He scanned his brain, so he could pinpoint exactly where he heard it from. "Was his real name Robert," he thought about the trouble making son to the dean of his school. "Tall, skinny, funny looking nose with crazy, frizzy curls," he vividly described.

"No," she thought about last night some more. "I didn't hear Robert. All I heard was Moose this and Moose that. I'm just glad I never have to see him again."

"That's true. Why didn't you call the cops?"

"My phone doesn't have any minutes."

"Camille, what did I tell you?! Where you work now, the neighborhood isn't safe. You really need to keep your cell phone on. This is one instance in particular."

"I know," she admitted, "but you know me, you're like my only friend, and you and your grandparents always welcome me... I feel like I don't have to call when I need to come over. It's not like Aunt Claire cares what I'm up to anyways. She rarely checks on me. I don't see the purpose of wasting money on cell phone minutes," she pointed out.

"Still, it's always good to have a cell phone for emergencies," he educated sincerely, since he wouldn't know what he would if something malicious happened to her.

"But, every penny counts," she argued. "You know I'm saving money to move out. Whatever I could spend on a prepaid cards can go to an a nicer apartment far away."

He agreed, and he knew how much she wanted to leave the hell hole she was in now. "Okay, how about this," he was willing to compromise. "I'll pay for your cell phone cards," he stopped her from contesting with a firm hand raised, "so you can save all the money you need to get out of your aunt's place."

"I can't let you do that," Camille quickly denied, since she knew he was paying for school. "Sean, you have to school to think about."

"I can handle it. Trust me," he relayed. "Come on, let's get your cell phone turned back on." He assisted her in getting up. He ran back upstairs to get his things. Then, he walked to the front door. He placed his shoes on. "I'll be back," he yelled to his grandpa, "going out with Camille!"

As the two walked to the nearest corner store, Camille remembered that she needed to head to her job too. Hopefully her boss would issue her another paycheck, since she lost hers. "Hey, can you come with me to my work," she queried.

Sean nodded, while practicing moves he learned at school. He danced around, his feet shuffling crazily, hopping side to side and breaking off into some b-boy moves. "Yeah, of course, but I thought you didn't work today." He jumped to a complete stop and opened the door. He escorted her inside.

"I don't. I lost my paycheck yesterday," she replied, as she entered. She saw that look on his face. "What?!"

"Why don't you just go back to the jail? I bet you it's there."

"I would rather not... too many bad memories."

"You're a mess, you know that," he chuckled at her and went to pay for her phone card, a can of Red Bull and a bottle of iced, Mocha coffee.

After they were done, the two headed off to the Camille's work.