“How do you like it, Ms. Stone?” The makeup artist stands back to appraise her work in the mirror as she ruffles her pink-tipped pixie cut with one manicured hand.

“I love it. Thank you.” I don’t even bother to correct her that my name is Calliwell, because it’s no use.

We both turn to look as a boisterous knock sounds on the door. “Five minutes!” The P.A. vanishes and just as the door is about to shut, fingers I instantly recognize, appear, holding it open. Alec peeks in with his left-sided smirk.

“Can I come in or is this ladies-only?”

Jumping off the chair, I catch both the hair stylist and Ms. Pixie Cut looking at Alec with longing. I can’t blame them. Those jeans would make any woman weak. “No, the makeup trailer is co-ed. Jack and Sean just left.” I smile up at him as we meet each other in the middle of the room. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He leans back holding onto my hips as he gives me a once over, and shakes his head. “You’re too pretty, that’s what you are.” He turns to the stylists. “Can you add some shadows and bags under her eyes or something? Maybe a wart right…here.” He kisses the tip of my nose and the girls swoon.

Laughing, I chide him, “Okay show off. We get it. You’re perfect.”

He laughs and slips his arm around my waist, guiding me out. “Later, ladies.”

“Bye!” “Nice meeting you!”

Posters of famous moments that occurred on Laney Turner’s show pass by us as we make our way to the stage: Lady Gaga confessing all she really wants is to be a cowgirl. Steven King admitting all his books are based on true stories, some he’s witnessed personally. Drew Barrymore kissing the band-leader with him dipping her over a dropped tuba. We don’t even notice them as we walk, because Alec knows how nervous I am and he’s doing his best to distract me with the look in his eyes and the slow strokes of his thumb against my lower back.

“You’re going to be fine. She’s on your side, but if she says something I don’t like, I’ll be on the sidelines ready to punch her like I punched Jack,” he says in a soothing voice.

Despite my crazy nerves, I chuckle at the image. “Will Sean pull you off her, too?”

“He can try. The surprise advantage he had over me is gone now, so…”

“Ah, I see.”

As we pass a door on the right, Sean leaps out of it and yells, “Boo!” Alec and I both crack up. I don’t point it out to him, but Alec definitely jumped.

“Oh, I can still surprise you,” Sean smiles and asks me, “You ready?”

“No,” I sigh.

* * *

“So, Jack, when the plane was going down, what were you thinking?” Laney’s eyes are alight with the desire to please her studio audience as she leans in, her tiny microphone sticking out of the collar of her yellow blouse, her cream-colored slacks crossed at the knee. Every seat in the risers is full and when we came out, the uproar was insane. Extra security had been hired and men in all black with batons stood in between us and the audience to make sure nothing got out of hand. But it was unnecessary (or a publicity stunt; Laney’s that smart). The crowd of mostly teenagers and some early twenties like us, were just happy to see that the brothers had survived. If there was ever a lull in their popularity, the plane crash wiped that away.

Laney is in her own chair, and on the sofa next to it is Jack, me and Sean, in that order. Jack, having done these kinds of interviews before, looks as comfortable here as he did last night when we were lounging around after dinner watching The Blacklist. He and Sean are both wearing their trademark tailored suits–Sean’s in light blue and Jack’s in navy–-and they both look like stars. I don’t know if I can say the same about myself–ever–but Sean helped me pick out a dusty-blue pencil skirt and pretty white blouse with a couple gold dangling necklaces that go to my waist, and the effect is appealing next to them. We look like a family.

“What was I thinking? Honestly? I was thinking, there goes a lot of good scotch,” Jack smirks, making the audience giggle. Sean and I exchange a smile, rolling our eyes.

“He won’t tell you this himself,” Sean volunteers, his arm over the back of the sofa, “but…”

“Sean,” Jack warns, and I can see the seriousness hiding behind his green eyes. But Sean’s not listening.

“…he smashed the bar open so he could take some with us. The co-pilot was over there in agony, and here’s Jack, sucking down whiskey.” The crowd laughs again, louder this time, and Jack relaxes. He’s not comfortable in his new role as hero. He’d rather be the class clown or the devil incarnate.

Laney’s smile is almost real as she soaks in the audience’s reaction, loving that the boys are putting on a good show. “Well, the way I heard it, Jack saved everyone. Now, are you just being modest?” He bites on his cheek, holding back a smile as she leans toward him. Shifting her little, beady eyes to me, she asks, “And what about you, Rue?”

Here it comes. The focus is on the bastard child with everyone now getting their chance to poke at it live and in person. Anxiously, I glance to where Alec’s standing next to one of the cameramen, hidden from view. He nods encouragement and I shift my focus to Laney with too many of my teeth showing.

“Yes?”

“When you heard their plane went down, what did you do? You just became aware that you were a part of their family, how did it impact you to hear they were in danger?” Laney’s somber face is all an act. She’s trying to get a reaction, and it’s working. The whole studio is so silent I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. Sean and Jack are waiting for my answer, too. I don’t know if they’re hoping I’ll be funny like they were, but that’s just not possible with this subject for me.

Quietly, though my mic catches it, I swallow against the lump of emotion in my throat. “It was the longest night of my life. I would never have forgiven myself for not being on that plane with them, if they didn’t make it.” I look to my brothers. “I love the fuckers.”

The whole place goes berserk. Laney’s shifting and bouncing and shifting in her seat some more, looking up at the control room to see if that can be bleeped. But we’re Live, so I am soon to become one of those iconic posters in the hallway. Jack and Sean are cracking up. The audience of teenagers is whooping and hollering and screaming, “Fuck yeah!”

I stand up and yell out to the crowd, “Would you all like to see Alec Gabriel?”

They go nuts! He laughs and walks out, giving the ecstatic crowd a little wave as he joins us on the stage. He kisses me to cheers, sits down and pulls me onto his lap since there’s only room on the couch for three. He fist-bumps Jack, and Sean’s grinning at me for doing this. Laney isn’t sure whether or not to be happy for the press this show is going to get, or upset she didn’t orchestrate it.

And just when it starts to get quiet, Sean speaks, his stoic face and somber voice hushing everyone’s blood. “I just want to say thank you to Steve Lathem and Terence McAllister for their incredible skill. If they hadn’t landed the plane successfully on the water, we wouldn’t be here.” The crowd claps enthusiastically, and you can feel the weight of his words in the room. He leans back and adds, “And come and get me, guys. I’m gay.”