DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING.

CHAPTER THREE

"I'm terribly sorry that I can't go," Sharon was saying. "Robert is just adamant that we go to see his family that weekend."

"It's not a problem, Sharon, really," I replied with a smile. "You go, have fun. And we'll go have fun. I'm sure we can find someone to take the extra ticket."

"Let me pay for it." She began to pull money out of her purse and I gave her my own version of a mom face, which was a bit hard to pull off since I had no kids of my own. It was less than a week before the show, and we were enjoying as quiet of a lunch as we could in the hospital cafeteria.

"I won't take it," I said defiantly. "And you can't make me."

"Can I comment for the millionth time about your amazing mood?" I laughed and shrugged. Almost every night…or morning, depending on how you looked at it… Not John had called. Our conversations varied from the philosophical to the completely insane, and I looked forward to 2:35 am to roll around.

The job was the same, the friends were the same, but somehow I…wasn't. Things didn't bother me the way they had before, even with my severe lack of sleep. I was smiling more, laughing often, and enjoying life for the first time in so long. It made girls night out that much more fun, and made the trivial things that had gotten me in the worst of moods seem minute.

Not John and I could talk about almost anything, and we did. We exchanged opinions on religion and politics, and sometimes talked complete nonsense. He told me of the people he would meet, although we didn't really speak about what either of us did for a living. Some forms of anonymity were still observed, and that was fine with me. It didn't matter what his name or occupation was, all that mattered was he brought some light into my life. I'd like to believe I was doing the same for him.

With the show coming closer, though, my attention was straying more and more. I'd waited two years to see Troy Bolton live, and the fact that I was going with the girls made it that much better. There was the slight, but I stress slight, dilemma of finding a person to take the fifth ticket, so as soon as I got home that evening, I called Taylor.

"Hi, Gabi," her oldest daughter, Moira, said when she answered. Gotta love Caller I.D. "Mom's coming, just give her a sec."

"Thanks, Moira. How are you?"

"Still not speaking with any of you, since you're going to see Troy without me." I laughed at that comment, and Taylor took the phone from her.

"Isn't she just evil?"

"She is the spawn of you."

"Very true. So, what's up?"

"Sharon can't go. I knew she couldn't, but I was kinda hoping."

"So, we have an extra ticket, hmmm… oh, OH! Nah… I don't think it's such a good idea."

"Since when have you come up with a bad idea?"

"Flattery, how nice. Remind me to thank Not John when I finally pry the phone away from you when he's on it. Anyhow….um, I think I should run this by everyone… what about Moira?"

"Perfect!" I exclaimed.

"Are you sure?" She sounded a little worried, but I was being completely honest.

"Just like I said, she's the spawn of you, she'll have a blast! And she's 13 now, it's kind of a rite-of-passage."

"I don't want to say anything to her yet. I want to talk to Sharpay and Kelsi first. Are you sure, Gabi?"

"I think this is the best one you've come up with. And I know Sharpay and Kelsi won't have a problem with it."

And I was right; everyone was ecstatic with the idea of joining in on Moira's first grown up adventure. Not just any adventure…it was one that involved the epitome of rockstardom. After receiving the news that it was official, and arguing a bit with my mother about my lack of visitage, I settled in for the evening. I knew that Not John would be calling that morning. I hadn't talked to him in a few days; he'd had a couple of days off and wasn't able to call.

I was dreading the day, if it came, when he told me that he wasn't going to be on the road anymore and wouldn't be calling me to keep him company…or the day when he found someone to actually be by his side. I don't know…is it really possible to care for someone you don't know? And for someone I didn't know, how was it that I knew so much about him? His quirky sense of humor was infectious, his wit sharp as a tack, and yet for such a fun package he certainly seemed burdened with an older soul.

I still had my alarm set, just in case he either didn't call or we lost complete track of time. That had happened only once before, and I couldn't afford for it to happen again. I had my vacation coming up, thank you very much, and wasn't going to spoil it by having to make up missed time. So I curled up in my bed, radio playing softly in the background, and the receiver close enough to me to grab it at a moments notice.

My dreams had also begun to be more vivid, and leaning towards the sensual nature. I realize that it had been so long for me that if it were humanly possible there'd be cobwebs up there, but these dreams were becoming so explicit that I'd swear I was blushing when I woke up. The setting was always dark, I could never see his face, but I could hear his whispers in my ear…and doesn't it figure he'd have that damn soothing, soft voice I heard night after night over the phone?

The dream that night was no exception. His caresses were long and seeking, knowing just where to touch and just where to apply pressure to have me moaning in ecstasy. And his kisses… what is it about those soft kisses that gradually build into more? You know what I'm talking about; the kisses that end up leaving you gasping for breath, doing any and everything to remove all barriers between you.

"Don't make me wait," I managed to whisper against his lips, and he laughed softly, deep in his throat.

"Just a little while longer."

I whimpered as he held me steady. "Please…"

"You have to do something first."

"Just tell me…just tell me…" My voice trailed off as his kisses trailed down my neck, nibbling and sucking his way back towards my ear.

"Answer the phone."

I woke with a start, and realized my phone was ringing. I shook my head to clear it and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"You sound a bit breathless."

'You have no idea,' I thought, but kept that to myself. "I…had to get up to get the phone," I lied. "I didn't want to miss your call."

"Good save, good save." He didn't sound as happy as he had the last time I'd spoke with him.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Talking to you, of course. How are you?"

"I should be asking that question. What the hell is that clicking sound?"

"Just this pen I've been failing miserably to write with."

"So you click your pen incessantly when you can't write? And what are you writing, or not writing, anyhow?"

"It's just nerves. Well, nerves and boredom," he said with a laugh, avoiding my more intrusive question.

"Well, that's nice to know since you're talking to me."

"No putting words in my mouth," he scolded. "You know I wouldn't call you if I didn't want to." Again with the butterflies in my stomach.

"And a good save for you. Now, how was your time off?" He sighed at that question. "What? Most people enjoy a little 'r and r'."

"I still had stuff to do, just not… um, yeah, so… I'm sorry, it's just been a bad day. And no, before you ask, it's not something I am wanting to talk about, so just tell me how your day was."

"Invigorating and frustrating at the same time."

"How so?"

"My mother's angry with me for not going to see her lately. I mean, I would go, but she pries into my personal business and that just gets on my nerves. Oh, and I haven't seen my brothers or sisters, so apparently I'm avoiding the whole lot of them."

"Gets on your… do you have any idea how lucky you are?" he snapped at me, catching me completely off guard. Without missing a beat, he continued, "They're… there for you, right there, and they're your family. You're obviously not hundreds of miles away, and there's nothing stopping you."

"I…know this, and I'm sorry that I've made you angry…"

"I'm not…. I'm not angry…ok, that's a lie, yes I am." He had made his tone much softer, though, and somehow that was reassuring to me. "Promise me that you'll go and you'll visit her."

"I'm going to," I promised. "I just was putting it off."

"Well don't." He took a deep breath and paused, which he normally did when something aggravated him. "You don't know what could happen day to day, don't waste this time you have. And enjoy it, because some day you may need them there and they may be too busy for you, or just.. not there anymore."

"What about you?" I asked.

"What about me? I don't want to talk about me, I've already told you that. I want an answer from you."

"What answer?"

"Not…Telling…Christine…" he stopped short with a laugh. Words cannot begin to describe what it felt like to hear him use my middle name for the first time since that phone call where I'd mentioned it to him. "I'm not meaning to be so hateful, really. Please, just appreciate what you have."

"I will." I reached for bottle of water, having the feeling this was going to be a long night. "So long as you promise you'll stop being angry with me."

"I miss them."

"Miss who?" I asked, not quite following his conversation.

"Anyhow, so I met these people from Australia today, and they were just fascinating, as most Australians are…"

He was famous for changing the subject on me, but this one seemed to haunt me. I had no idea if he missed friends, family, girlfriends, a wife, kids… he never elaborated on who the 'them' was. It actually bothered me more than it should have, like having just a glimpse at the real person and having it taken away. Changing the subject did help to lighten his mood, so I humored him. The time went by much quicker than either of us thought it would, and soon my alarm clock was screaming an old eighties tune that should have died with the decade.

"Aaaah, noooooo!" I exclaimed, running over to the alarm clock before any one else could build any more cities on rock and roll.

"How could you not like that song?"

"Because it's dreadful," I replied with a mock shudder, and he laughed.

"That it is, and I see I'm beginning to rub off on you. Dreadful, shesh." He laughed again at the remark.

"You're…mocking me."

"No, no…" he cleared his throat and stifled his last bit of laughter. "We both know you wouldn't have said that word a few weeks ago."

"How would you know?" I asked, defensive but smiling broadly.

"You probably would have said," He cleared his throat and did his best imitation of me, "Man, this song sucks." I laughed at his comment, and he asked, "How close was I?"

"You do me so well," I teased.

"Ah, you're getting a bit cheeky there, aren't you? And, on that note, you should go get ready for work."

"Don't wanna," I protested, sitting Indian style on my bed, my bottom lip sticking out as if he could see.

"Too damn bad. Besides, I need to get some sleep. Soooooo…when I call tomorrow morning, you're going to tell me all about how your visit with your mother went, got it?"

"I have to go today?"

"Don't whine, it's unbecoming. And you be sure to tell her everything there is to know about your life, got it?"

"Not everything," I disagreed.

"Well, look at the bright side…at least we're actually speaking to one another and didn't meet in some damn chatroom online." I laughed, but again got the butterflies in my stomach. Sometimes he spoke of us as if we were a couple, although it was quite obvious that we weren't. I was also still curious about the "them" he'd mentioned much earlier in our conversation.

"Not John…"

"Don't ask," he cut me off as if he'd read my mind. "Please," he added to soften the harshness.

"Okay, I won't," I agreed. "So you're calling me again tomorrow? In, say, less than 24 hours?" He laughed softly.

"Yes I will. And I expect a full report."

"Yes sir. Have a good sleep and an even better day, Not John."

"You have a fabulous day as well, Not Telling," he said, then we hung up.

Even with him being upset with me, I still floated through the day, getting by on pure momentum of having spoken with him. I was only scheduled until 3 that afternoon, so on my lunch break I pulled out my cell phone and dialed a very familiar number. My mother was ever so pleased when I asked her out to dinner that evening. When I picked her up to go to the restaurant, she was all about the twenty questions.

"How have you been?" she asked cheerfully.

"Tired and fabulous, all at the same time," I responded with a smile. Yes, at times she does get on my nerves, but she's still my mom. I was glad that Not John had insisted that I spend some time with her, and not just because it gave me a funny anecdote for the evening's conversation with him.

While we were enjoying our meal she proceeded to tell me everything there is to know about all of my brothers and sisters, plus aunts and uncles and even a few old neighbors that I couldn't remember to save my life. Then came the question I'd dreaded since picking her up.

"So, what about you, Gabi? Do you have anyone special in your life?"

I took a deep breath before I answered her, and thought to myself 'Okay, here we go.' "Yes, Mom, I…sort of do."

"What's his name?"

"I'm not sure what his name is. And before you interrupt, no we didn't meet on the Internet. We actually haven't met at all; he just accidentally called my number one night and we've been talking ever since. Oh, and he has this unbelievable sexy voice to just die for."

She sat there, with one eyebrow up staring at me for the longest time, then finally said, "Riiiiiight, now why don't you tell me what's really going on."

Bingo! It worked. Every time I told her the truth she never believed me.

"So, you just told her," Not John was saying later that evening.

"Of course! Kind of like when I was a teenager and her and dad would go out of town; they'd ask what we did, we'd tell them. 'Mom, Dad, we had a wild ass party, got drunk, smoked some pot, and had sex with our boyfriends in your bedroom.' They didn't believe us then either."

He laughed then…a real laugh, one that in spite of how silly our conversations would get I hadn't heard from him in quite awhile. "So you had a wonderful evening, then. Other than your mother calling you a liar, how are you?"

"I've basically had no sleep; I just got home about eleven."

"I'm so sorry, do you want me to let you go?"

"No, no… but…thank you."

"For what?" he asked.

"I don't know if I would have gone…"

"What, if I hadn't guilted you into it? I'm good at that, you know."

"I'm being serious, Not John." The irony of that phrase wasn't lost on us, and we both laughed. "Are you…"

"I'm fine, and I'm content to hear about your evening."

"That's not what I was going to ask."

"I'll tell you when I'm ready to, I promise," he said to me, his voice soft and low. "But I wont be able to phone again until Friday…between Friday and Saturday…my schedule is just crammed full. Is that alright?"

I almost asked him not to call, since that was the night that the girls and I were going to see Troy Bolton, but I figured we'd be back in the hotel by then and I'd be able to speak with him no problem. I didn't want to go for too long without speaking with him, as he did seem to put me in quite a good mood.

Perhaps if I'd asked him not to call, things would have turned out differently.