chapter one
-Felicity-
"Sorry about the teeniness of the place. I have a decent job, but you know where my money goes." I laughed as I pulled the bags out of my bra and put them in a small wooden box on my kitchen counter.

"It's no problem. My room at home was smaller than this."

"Home? You still live with your parents?" I asked as I went into the kitchen to prepare some coffee.

Zac scoffed. "Oh, God, no. I couldn't stand that place. So many kids, my parents always hounding me about everything…I moved out the day I turned eighteen." He nodded.

"And how long ago was that?"

"Three years ago. Really, I don't have much reason to stay in Tulsa anymore." He said sadly.

"No reason? What about friends, family, all that?" I watched him as he fiddled nervously with the salt and pepper shakers sitting on my kitchen counter, twirling in the barstool he sat in.

"I don't really have many friends. The friends I have don't mean anything to me, really, anyway. And my family…Well, they don't really approve of anything I do…Ever." He looked at me and smiled that sad smile again. I set a cup of coffee in front of him with some packets of sugar I had stolen from a diner. "Thanks."

"No problem." I poured myself a cup, leaning on the kitchen counter so that I was facing him. "So…What's your deal?" I asked him, a smile on my face.

"It's a long story." He replied. "I told you, I'd need at least three hours."

"Why do you think I brought you here? Did you think I wanted to fuck your brains out? Sorry, there's no way." I laughed. "Seriously. I know what it's like when you need someone to talk to, and there's no one there. It's like you're screaming in a crowded room, and no one can hear you, as cliché as that is."

"It's everything. My brothers. My family. My friends."

Suddenly there was a click of realization in my head. "Holy shit. Zac…Zac Hanson? Formerly of the pop supergroup Hanson?" I laughed.

"Zac Hanson, drummer and neglected brother, at your service." He replied bitterly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize…" I stammered. It had been awhile since I had put a Hanson album in my CD player, but at one point in my life I had been quite a fan.

Zac shrugged. "It's all right. Not many people realize nowadays."

"Can't really blame them. Let me tell you, Zac, the coke hasn't done much for your physique." I sipped at my coffee.

Zac laughed. "It'll do that to you, I guess. Good stress reliever, though."

"That's true."

We got to talking about everything - his family, his friends, his fame (or lack thereof). It all sounded like a bad episode of VH1's Behind the Music. He asked me about my life, but I really didn't have much to tell him.

"Wow. Six o'clock. Pretty late, huh?" I said when there was finally a lull in the conversation. I awkwardly stirred my cold cup of coffee (we had already gone through two pots of it). The more I talked to Zac, the more I wanted to know him. He wasn't the Zac Hanson I thought he would be. I remembered the days when my walls were plastered with Hanson posters, when I would watch them on TV and just dream about seeing them, much less speaking to them, and even less sitting in my house drinking coffee with them.

Zac looked up at the clock. "Shit." He stood up, stretching. "I should probably go."

"Yeah…Yeah, it's…Really late. Or early, depending on how you look at it." I looked out the window. "Sun will be coming up soon." I followed him to the door, unlocking the three locks. "Listen…You know, if you ever want to hang out or anything…Feel free to drop by. I work nights, but I'm usually home by midnight or so." I smiled at him.

"Sounds great."

We quickly exchanged numbers, and I watched him walk down the hall of the apartment building, one hand stuffed in his pocket, and the other giving me a feeble wave as he glanced back at me before heading down the stairs and out of sight.

-Zac-
I got back to my apartment after spending the night with Felicity, which was a strange name for her. The name 'Felicity' means happiness, and that's one thing that she definitely wasn't. She hadn't told me every detail of her life - she preferred to spend the time listening to me get my feelings out. I don't know why I trusted her, really. She was a girl I met at my dealer's house; does that really equal trust? I wasn't sure, but she didn't make a single move on me, and just sat and listened. Then again, she was a bartender - that was her job, to listen.

I turned the key in the lock and twisted the knob, but the door wouldn't open. That happened sometimes here - the doors would stick. I wasn't sure why, I just knew that it was annoying. I pushed against the door with my shoulder, and it opened, allowing me to hit my elbow on the doorframe as I entered my apartment. I cursed softly as I shut the door behind me, turning both locks. The light on my answering machine was blinking, and I saw that I had two new messages. I pressed play, and listened to the messages as I took off my shirt and threw it in the makeshift laundry basket lying on the floor.

"Hi sweetheart, it's Mom. You know, I haven't seen you in almost four months, and we live in the same city. It would be nice if you would come over for dinner sometime this week, but I'll understand if you don't want to. You're 21 years old, you have your own life now. Isaac will be there…He has a lovely fiancee, and he would like for you to meet her. Call me back whenever you can, all right? Bye!"

I pressed 'delete', not wanting to be reminded of my failure as a son. Taylor had knocked up a girl and gotten her pregnant, but Mom and Dad hadn't said anything about it when it happened. Isaac was engaged, and a successful record producer. Me, I was living in a shoddy apartment, snorting cocaine every day just to get by. I had the money, I just didn't want to use it on a nice living area, when I could spend it on other things…Like drugs.

"Zac, it's Taylor. Just wondering if you could actually take some fucking responsibility for once in your life. You were supposed to come over and take care of Ezra yesterday, remember? Natalie and I were late for our dinner reservations because we had to find a sitter. Where the hell were you, man? Whatever, I'll talk to you later."

I was supposed to take care of Ezra? Well, shit. I'm sure it was such a horrible thing, too, being late for their dinner reservations. All Taylor had to do was flash that shit-eating grin and he got whatever he wanted. I deleted his message and fished the plastic bag of cocaine out of my pocket, putting it in the drawer on my old, dirty coffee table before throwing myself on the stained couch. I had just closed my eyes and started to drift off when there was a loud knock at my door.

Maybe if I ignore them, they'll go away, whoever it is.

No such luck. "Zac! Open the goddamn door, I know you're home." Great. Taylor. Just what I needed.

I got up and opened the door, blocking his entrance into my apartment. "The fuck do you want? I got your message, you know, I was going to call you back." I was a damn dirty liar. I had no intentions of calling him back.

"Where the fuck were you?" Taylor demanded.

"I was over at a friend's, Mom, is that okay?" I replied sarcastically.

"Don't get that snippy attitude with me, asshole." He sneered. "I know you were probably shooting up heroin in some back alley somewhere."

"And we all know you'd care if I was. Listen, I'm sorry about Ezra, all right? It just slipped my mind." I apologized, not necessarily sincerely, but the words came out of my mouth, at least.

"Your nephew slipped your mind?" Taylor demanded. "Seems like all of your family has slipped your mind lately."

"Ugh, let's not get into this again. Just tell Mom to call me whenever she wants to have that family dinner, and I'll be there, okay?" I closed the door and locked it again. Taylor knocked on the door a few more times before finally leaving. This was going to be a fun week, I could already tell.

-Felicity-
"Fuck!" I exclaimed as I burnt my fingers on the empty light bulb I was using to smoke out of. I set it down for a moment to refill my lighter with more fluid. I glanced up at the clock. 8:15. I had to be at the restaurant in fifteen minutes to meet my mother for breakfast. I quickly took a few more hits off my makeshift ice-pipe to keep me at least somewhat coherent, and put it back in my box, which I placed in a cabinet on the top shelf of the kitchen. I grabbed my car keys and checked the mirror one time to make sure I looked presentable for my mother.

When I arrived at the restaurant, my mother was sitting at a table near the window. There were already two menus sitting on the table, and a carafe of orange juice in the middle. I sat down opposite her. "Sorry, there was traffic." I lied.

"Of course, dear." I could see her look directly in my eyes to see if I was fucked. I averted my line of vision quickly and opened my menu. She did the same. "So, how have you been?"

"Fine. You know, fine. I'm getting by, at least." I scanned the menu quickly. Nothing I really wanted to eat. This was one of those restaurants that was just too fancy for me, especially this early in the morning, but my mother liked to be sophisticated, and wanted me to be a carbon copy of her.

"Have you thought any more about going back to college?"

I sighed. Both of my parents had been adamant about me going to college immediately after high school. I had gone for a semester, and then dropped out and started tending the bar at a local dive. I moved into my tiny apartment, and tried to keep minimal contact with my parents at all times. Lately, however, they had been pushing me to go back to college, making sure that I was aware that a college education was necessary for me to live past the age of 25 or something.

"You know, college is very important. A lot of potential employers-"

"I know, Mom, you've told me…Like a million times. I'm not going back until I'm ready. Which will be about two days after never." The waiter returned, and I ordered two eggs, scrambled, with dry toast.

"Why aren't you eating?"

"Listen, you don't have to worry about me. I'm 20 years old, I'm fine. I can take care of myself. I know what I'm doing." I snapped at her.

"Of course. So maybe you can explain to me why you've been avoiding my calls and refusing to come over for family dinner. Thanksgiving is coming up, and I would like for you to be there." She took a dainty sip of her orange juice, making absolutely sure not to smudge her lipstick.

"I'll see what I can do." I replied. Aren't holidays just the best?

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