AN: Thanks so much to everyone who commented! I love you all! I hope you are all enjoying this story. I should tell you, however, that I'm saving Angel and Roger for last. I think they deserve to have the most written about them. So sorry if you've been waiting to read their parts. Special thanks to the-Fraulein, your stories are so wonderful and a great inspiration to my work. And, of course, thanks to my wonderful friends for making the friendships I write about come alive.

-Chapter 4: Faces Change, People don't-

Faces may change, but generally nothing changes no matter where one goes in life. I remember when I was only ten and my father first brought our family to New York for a "family" trip. That was back in a time when I idolized my father as though he was Superman. In my eyes, he truly was. Anyway, one morning my father woke me up very early in my small hotel bed shared with my sister, Cindy.

"Come on, scout. Let's take a walk." he said to me in that deep Jewish voice. I smiled and turned to wake my sister up, but my father stopped my hand.

"Just you and me, scout." he said.

No words can explain how great I felt that morning. I never had spent alone time with my father before then. As we walked down the already crowded streets of Manhattan, I took notice to each and every small store we passed. This was no ordinary street. This was a street filled with promise and opportunity. This was a street with no end. What was even more exciting was the fact that this was but one street in the entire city. Imagine the possibilities. Catching up to my father's large footsteps, I confided in him.

"I want to live here someday." I said, assuming it was innocent enough. The immediate look of disgust on his face made me feel humiliated to have even opened my mouth.

"No, Scout." he said. "You don't want to live here. It's great for a vacation, but it's no Scarsdale."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. No Scarsdale? Was he kidding? Don't get me wrong, Scarsdale is an OK little town, but it certainly is no paradise. Everyone knows everyone there. If you even cough the wrong way the entire population knows about it by the next day. So there I was, an impressionable age of ten, already beginning to realize there was something seriously wrong in my father. New York was the center of the universe.

"This city is dead." he mumbled before looking away from me.

Since then, I've matured a bit. I may have gained a bit of sarcasm during my life, but deep down I'm still the same dreamer with a secret love obsession for New York City. This city knocks the shit out of me, sure, but it's always been more than worth it. Here I am free. At least free from types like my close-minded father. Or am I?

"Bohemia is dead." Benny mumbled much like someone I knew all too well on Christmas Eve a few years back. It is still a shock to see someone who was once so committed to his art abandon everything for a feeling of security. It's as if when he moved out of our humble loft his heart died. He certainly is not the fun-loving Benny I became so close to back in our days at Brown. To a certain degree, I've always blamed Allison. She taught him that nothing mattered outside of wealth and property. It's hard to remember the good 'ol Benny, the one with a compassionate heart and talent beyond comparison. A look back through time to our old college days reveals a side of Benny most will never see.

"Where is my dress shirt?" Benny asked me while busied ourselves with packing.

"I don't know. What are you going to do with a dress shirt your first few months in New York anyway?" I asked.

"Well, for my banquet of course." he said with a smug expression on his face.

"What banquet?"

"The banquet thrown for me when I become rich and famous and every single woman in the city wants to marry me." he laughed. I tried to hold back my smile, but even I had to give in.

"You, rich and famous?" I laughed. "Since when did you ever want that?" I sat beside him on his bed beside the open suitcase and folded clothes.

"Ah, you know I don't care about things like that. But it wouldn't hurt, would it Marky?" he joked as he messed up my hair and glasses. I pushed him off but my smile never faded.

"It'd be nice, sure, but it's not what I want. I want people to see my films and really connect to them. I'd never sell out for money. It's so,… so petty and superficial." I replied. Benny grew silent for a minute, looking away from me but at nothing in particular. He breathed in a deep sigh and turned onto his back.

"Are you scared?" he asked in a barely audible whisper.

"Of what? New York? Our futures?" I asked. Another moment of silence ensued. Then I heard him whisper again.

"Everything."

I looked beside me and really noticed the serious look on his face. His eyes were fixed towards the ceiling and his breathing came a bit ragged as his chest rose and fell.

"No, I'm not." I answered honestly. "I love making films, and I have nothing to worry about. It's not like I'll ever be alone. I always have you."

"Yeah," he interjected. "Plus we'll have our other roommates there too. Collins and,… uh,…"

"Roger." I finished. He turned his head and his eyes locked with mine. There was a trust so real in his eyes, I knew no matter what I'd always be able to depend on him.

"So what about you? Are you scared?" I asked. His eyes shut, contemplating his response.

"Terrified."

It's such a shame that Benny turned out the way he did. He had so much integrity and spirit. I know everyone else denies he even has a soul anymore, but I'll always have faith that he'll come back to his friends and ideals. He was once such an inspiration to me. Then again, so was my father. I guess nothing changes after all.