The little shop was bustling. It sat on the corner of the intersection of two very busy streets in the trendiest part of Los Angeles. Those that met there wore designer clothing, carried designer bags, and spent vast quantities on the exclusive coffees, pastries, and lunch foods that the small shop was known for.

He sat patiently waiting for the person he was meeting to arrive. The coffee, black, that sat in front of him was cooling, but he didn’t really want it anyway. He’d been early for the meeting, but he didn’t mind the waiting too much. He’d grown up patient, and someone had once told him he would’ve been a saint a thousand years earlier. Considering that same person had told him he could play the role of Jesus in any play or musical about the religious figure, he took the comment good-naturedly and none-too-seriously.

As it was nearly time for lunch, the coffee shop was a hive of activity, and he’d been lucky to find the perfect spot to sit. It was tucked in the back corner, next to the windows. He could see everyone who walked into the shop, but he was secluded from most. For too many years to count, even if he knew exactly how many down to the day, he’d struggled to find anonymity. Today was no different.

There was a table full of women nearby that were avidly discussing which celebrities they’d run into at a local hotspot. He grinned as he overheard his name followed by other friends and acquaintances of his. When one of the women, a pretty redhead, claimed that she was jealous of his wife for landing such a marvelous piece of man, he couldn’t quite control the foolish grin that spread across his face.

Yes, indeed, he mused. His wife may have agreed with them, but he knew that he was the truly lucky one to have her by his side.

Tuning the women out, he studied an elderly couple sharing a meal, and his heart warmed as he noted the man reach over and lace his gnarled hands with his wife’s equally wrinkled ones. The look that passed between them was so full of love, and he could only hope to experience what they had at such a seasoned age. One day, he thought.

Others strolled in and out of the shop, stopping long enough to order and pick up their sandwiches, desserts, and drinks. High-powered businessmen and women in their high-powered suits, speaking hurriedly into their high-powered cell phones waited impatiently for their orders to be filled. Teenagers rushed in, grabbed up their lunches, and fled back to their cars to return to school. Other teens, most assuredly skipping class, ambled in and lazily ate with their friends. Laughter and easy conversation flowed through the room.

When the man he’d been waiting for walked in, he sat up a little straighter and studied his friend. His blond hair stuck out under a hat at all angles in a style that, apparently, was fashionable, and his blue eyes scanned the room impatiently beneath the low-brimmed hat. His shirt was a little too long and a little too wide. The shorts he wore were baggy and the color of Spanish olives. When the blue gaze sharpened on the man he’d been searching for, he made his way over to his patient friend.

“You couldn’t have picked a busier place?” The question, full of sarcasm, came first as he managed a one-armed hug before plopping into a seat.

His answer was a shrug. “I like their coffee here. Did you want something to eat?”

“Eventually.” He pulled the hat off and ran his fingers through his hair in a useless attempt to straighten it. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Good. Pretty good. You?”

“Every day’s got it’s ups and downs, right?” But a flicker of doubt and worry showed briefly in blue eyes.

Green ones sharpened. “I’ve heard rumors. You’re working on a second season?”

“They want us to do one, and, of course, I’m the only one who wants to bother to sit down and work it out with Legal. Honestly, I wonder what they’d do without me sometimes.”

“Now you know how I felt.” But the comment was tempered with a reassuring smile. “You do what has to be done because you love them. I don’t think I ever told you how proud I am of you for doing all of it and being so patient and caring.”

Surprise bloomed and was replaced with a slight look of bafflement and shock. “You, uh, you never said that before.”

“I know.” He laid a hand over his friend’s. “I’m sorry that I never said that before, but I am. Maybe I was too annoyed and irritated by your antics in all those past years to say that, when it came to the sticking point, you made me proud. You’re not a product of your upbringing, little man. You’re what you’ve made yourself. That man makes me proud to call him friend.”

Tears threatened to fill the bright blue as he stared through them at the man he’d considered his brother. “I don’t…God, I don’t know what to say that. I always thought you were pissed at me for being like them. Especially when I was arrested. I thought I was like them, was a product of that shitty upbringing.”

“Well, you were wrong.” The sight of tears always made him a little teary, too, and he’d never been ashamed to cry. “Look how well you’ve handled your siblings.”

“Yeah, well, when they all act like I did, it’s not hard. Sometimes,” he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper, “I can hear your words and voice coming out of my mouth when I lecture them. It freaks the crap out of me.”

Laughing felt so good and true. “Good to know you’ve learned something.” He leaned back in his chair. “Tell me how recording’s going.”

“It would go better if you were there.” A frown settled on his still boyish features.

The sigh was barely audible. “We’ve been over this a hundred, a thousand times. I couldn’t stay, and I didn’t want to break everyone else apart. This is best.”

“For who? You? Maybe even AJ, Brian, and Howie. I hate it, though.”

“I know.” He shut his eyes briefly and prayed for the right words. “Brian told me you’ve been behind on your recording sessions. He said you’ve been skipping too many of them. That you’re the reason why the process is being held up.”

Bitterness and fury were hard to push aside. They dripped in his voice. “Did you ask him how much it’s held up when he goes off on his Christmas tours and record signings? How much time is wasted because his wife wants him to spend time with her in fucking Georgia? If there’s blame, it’s not all because of me.”

“It doesn’t matter, little man. I’m not asking about what my cousin’s up to. I want to know what’s going on with you.”

The patient tone barely mollified his irritation. “I have professional obligations, too. Brian’s not the only one with outside duties on his plate. Forgive me if it seems that I’m not doing anything.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. Something’s bugging you, and I want to help you fix it.”

“Come back, and I’ll be fine.” It was a challenge, and he wanted it to be taken. He needed his older brother back, badly. Desperately.

“I’m right here, but I know what you meant,” he added as the younger man opened his mouth to retort. “We talked about this for months, and I know it’s going to be tough to get through this. It’s a transition period for a reason, and you need to work through whatever this misplaced sense of anger is. Don’t be mad at the others, little man. They didn’t do anything to you. Don’t take out this anger on the new album. Make it the best album, but don’t ignore it. You’ll regret it.”

“I’m scared.” The words were whispered.

“Of what?”

He took a deep breath and voiced his greatest fear. “That this is the last album there will ever be from us. That your leaving was the first step in us breaking up. The group’s been a constant for me, and I can’t see it fall apart.”

“Do you think that, just because I left, I won’t be there for you anymore? That, if this is the last album, the others won’t call you up and hang out afterwards?” He lay a hand over his little brother’s. “We’ve been a part of each other’s lives too long to lose each other so easily.”

“And the music?”

There was a shrug. “It’ll always be a constant for us, no matter where we are or what we do. If we go our separate ways, we’ll always have music to tie the group together. Besides, we’ve sold enough albums that we’ve got a great legacy going.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Life isn’t simple nor is it supposed to be. It is what it is and messy with it. I’m proud to have been a part of the Boys, and I’m more proud that you four are continuing on. I’m waiting for the new album so eagerly. Every time Howie tries to play snippets of those songs for me, I refuse to hear them. I want to be surprised, but I won’t be surprised if the album is never finished.”

There was a short silence. Then, “I didn’t realize that you’d feel that way about us and the new music. I mean, I know what you always said about wanting to hear the new stuff, but I didn’t really realize…”

“Nick, stop hiding in Florida and record the album. If for no one else than for the other fans and me who are eagerly awaiting it. Make us proud, and don’t fight with Brian,” he added, remembering the way the two friends could so easily turn on each other.

“But he always-” He broke off, seeing the all-too-familiar look appear on his friend’s face. “Yes, sir.”

“Promise me you’ll do your best. It’s okay to miss having my gorgeous face around, but don’t let it get you down.”

He snorted a laugh but had to admit that the weight was lifting off his chest. “Hah. Miss the scary eyebrows and that stare you’ve got? No way, dude.” His eyes widened a bit. “Hey, don’t do that. I told you I wouldn’t miss the stare, and I’m definitely not liking it at the moment.”

“Then don’t make fun of it. If I remember right, you got a hell of a lot done whenever I gave you that look. Nice to see it still works.” But he couldn’t quite suppress the smile. “Things are going to be better.”

There was a small, relieved sigh. “Yeah. I think so. Yeah.” Another short silence, then, “Is Kristin okay with that stare?”

“She’s never seen it because she doesn’t act like you.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He glanced over his shoulder at the virtually nonexistent line at the register. “Maybe I’ll get some lunch now.”

“Get me another coffee while you’re up there.”

When Nick bitched about it for a few seconds, he knew things would be okay. “I’ll pay you back. Go get your food, little man.”

“Jeez, hold onto your pants, old man.” But he pushed back from the table and stood. “And, Kevin?”

“Yeah?”

“I hate it when you call me ‘little man.’”