Note: Ok, this is where OTH screwed up. The Wreckers are signed to the Maverick as is Tyler Hilton. So naturally you'd think they would send the character Chris to oh, say LA, where Maverick is ACTUALLY located. That way, the Wreckers management etc., would well, be there? Anyway, we'll have to make an office in New York as some division of Maverick (which there has to be in real life, right?). Sorry kids…

"This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time."

Stepping off the bus, Chris felt lost in the bustle of people at the Port Authority. He was in New York, his dream city. A city filled with people, but he was more alone than ever. With his one small duffle bag in one hand, and guitar in the other, he stepped out into the city. It was 5 am after his almost 9 hour long bus ride. His long limbs hurt after being cramped in such an uncomfortable position for that amount of time. He was in no mood to sleep, but then again he had three hours before he could show up at the Maverick office.

New York was living up to its city that never sleeps reputation. Everything seemed open. He wandered into the Starbucks across the street, surrendering to corporate America. Walking up to the counter, he was dying for something that would just keep him awake. He stared at the menu listing every coffee on the planet. He had never been to Starbucks, as Tree Hill had remained local. "Can I just get a plain regular coffee?" he asked the way too awake barista.

"Surely sir, would you like Hazelnut, Caffe Verona, Coupage Del Sol, Guatemala Antiqua, Sumatra, or today's house blend?" she asked in an energetic tone. She was insanely annoying, but he decided to deal with it as she was kind of hot. The shoulder length blonde hair, t-shirt and jeans type.

"A regular coffee would be just great," he replied somewhat mockingly.

"Well which blend, sir?" she asked again with an even bigger smile.

"A coffee," he replied this time getting somewhat annoyed.

"House blend it is I guess," she mumbled, somewhat defeated.

"Thank you!" he replied, fully mocking her earlier tone this time. He could tell New York was going to be a blast already.

Staring at his beat up watch, it was now 5:15 am. He stared out the window, people walking by with briefcases so early in the morning. He was getting ready to pull out the spare notebook he had brought along but their was something about writing about nothing that he couldn't deal with at that point. He picked up his guitar case and leaned it against the window. He took a sip of the coffee, still not sure if it was worth four dollars. As he was setting the cup back down he saw out of the corner of his eye someone sit down right across from him. The table shook and he almost spilled coffee all over himself. He recognized the green apron from just minutes before.

"Hey, I'm on break. I noticed you have a guitar case with you, do you play?" she asked, still just as cheery as she was the five minutes before. However, he decided to be nice, seeing as he didn't want the first person he met in New York to hate him.

"Yeah, I do," he replied. "I have a meeting with some of the record execs at Maverick in a few hours."

"So you must be pretty good, huh?" she asked.

"I'm ok," he replied in his usual cocky attitude when it came to women.

"I have a friend who plays at the Bitterend, a local club. Usually on weekends, but I know their always looking for weekday talent. I haven't heard ya play, but if Maverick wants to meet with you, you've got to be at least okay," she stated.

"Thanks for the tip," he replied, somewhat feeling like he did not need advice.

"Your want the address? It's in Greenwich, a bit of a ways from here. Do you know where that is?" she questioned.

"Well, not really," he replied, suddenly feeling sort of lost in a big city.

"Well, SOHO, Upper Manhattan? Do you know where any of that is?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I've heard of all of that of course, but I couldn't tell you how to get there," he replied somewhat ashamed.

"Small-town boy in the big city, I can tell," she laughed. "Do you even know where you're staying?" she asked.

"Well," he stuttered. "Not yet, I don't even know if I'm gonna be here long."

"Let me give you my number, just incase you get lost. Which kind of sounds inevitable," she giggled. "Do you have a pen?" she asked.

"Yeah, I do. The trials of being a songwriter, what can I say?" he replied. He handed her the pen, and set his hand down on the table next to his coffee.

Reaching for the pen, she took his hand somewhat flirtatiously and started writing her number.

"Oh wait," quickly interjected. "Why don't you put it on paper, or a napkin or something, because I'm sort of a clean freak. Ya know, constantly washing my hands and stuff…" he rambled on. He was having flashbacks to the day before, already Tree Hill was creeping up on him again.

"Oh, ok. Sure," she replied. She wrote her number down on the paper napkin from the table. "Here ya go," she handed him the napkin.

Taking it from her, he read the number. She had also written her name next to it, "Julianna, what a pretty name," he stated.

"Most of my friends just call me Julia or Jul. Most say it doesn't fit me, then again my hair really isn't blonde and isn't exactly naturally straight. Someday I'll have to go back to the brown, curly hair look, then maybe my name would fit better," she replied. She'd finally lost that over attentive sales girl voice.

"I think it fits you, I like it," he replied smiling.

"Thanks," she smiled back. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Chris," he answered. "I know, boring."

"It's not, I like it. It fits you very well," she replied. "Anyway, thank you for making my 5 am break much more enjoyable than it has been in the last 6 months. 5 am conversations are not usually this enjoyable," she stated.

"No problem," he laughed. "Thanks for making me feel even more lost in a big city."

"Your welcome, call me sometime, maybe. If you want, ya know," she replied as she turned around, heading back to the counter.

"I think I will," he replied quietly, knowing Julianna probably didn't hear him.

He stared out the window until six or so. He enjoyed just watching the people walk by. He had the urge to write something down, but he wasn't the raw emotions type of guy, so he figured he'd rather not waste his time writing something he knew he'd think was crap later on. He grabbed his guitar case and threw his still half full, but cold, cup of coffee in trash can a few feet away. Grabbing his guitar case he headed for the door, smiling at Julianna as he left.

Maybe New York wasn't going to be as bad as he had thought…No matter what, Tree Hill was behind him.