No matter how late they worked the night before, Taylor’s internal clock still woke him hours before daylight. He tried to keep his promise but as much as he tried he just couldn’t seem to fall back asleep. Some mornings Ike would rise early and they would either work in their rooms on lyrics or sneak downstairs into the quiet of the garage to play music. Most mornings though he used the extra hours to catch up on his homework. He also used the time to go over the daily scripts. Although they had started the movie with a completely finished script there were daily alterations. Every evening at about 10:00 PM a courier would drop off a sealed envelope. Sometimes they weren’t even home when the envelope arrived. Every day the script was printed on a different color paper with the altered parts always highlighted in yellow.

Taylor was reading the new script and making notes on 3 x 5 cards that he used to cue himself on the scenes and more important, what emotion level or development his character had reached for each scene. When he heard the first noise he wasn’t sure what it was, but when he heard it the second time he recognized it as a whining cry. He opened the door of his bedroom to find his little sister Avery crying and heading towards their parents’ room.

Taylor knelt down and she circled her arms around his neck.

"Baby what’s wrong?"

Avery mumbled almost incoherently into his chest that she didn’t feel good and began to cry.

"Okay, why don’t we go down stair s and you some ginger ale. That will make you feel better," Taylor promised as he carried the pajama clad little person down to the kitchen. He set Avie down in a kitchen chair and turned to open the refrigerator when he heard her gag. Living in a household where at least three of the children had easily upset stomachs had taught the older boys to respond quickly. Grabbing his sister he whisked her into the bathroom that was between the kitchen and laundry room.

After she lost the contents of her stomach, he wiped her face down with a cold washcloth and tried to calm her down. "Honey, why don’t we sit down for a little while and give your tummy time to settle down," he soothed as he picked her up with one arm and grabbed the empty wastepaper basket with the other, just in case. He carried her out into family room and sat down in a rocking chair with her. Avie curled up against him in a tight little ball while he softly sang little lullabies to her. Avie giggled when he sang a nonsensical little rhymes in a snappy little rap beat that he and his brothers had written for her when she was a toddler. Finally, when his sister fell asleep, Taylor picked up a pad of paper off an end table and began to scratch out some rough cut lyrics in his huge loopy, almost unreadable handwriting. An hour later, he heard some activity in the kitchen but from where he was sitting he couldn’t make how who was moving around. He didn’t want to make any noise and wake up Avery, so he picked up one of Zoe’s stuffed animals that were scattered everywhere throughout the house and threw it across the room and into the kitchen.

Ike was sleepily trying to put a coffee filter into the coffeepot when a flying bunny sailed past him and skidded to a stop when it hit the front of the dishwasher. He ducked his head around the corner to the family room to see Tay sitting in a rocking chair with Avie curled up in his lap. 

"What?"

"Bring me something to drink," Tay demanded in a loud whisper.

Ike nodded his head and returned to his chore of fixing coffee. Then he poured his brother a glass of orange juice and took it to him. 

"Did Avie have a nightmare?" Ike asked.

"No, she got sick a couple of hours ago. I think she feels better now, at least she hasn’t barfed in about an hour," Taylor explained in a whisper.

"Tay, you should have called Mom or Dad or even woke me up. You shouldn’t be around Avie if she’s sick," Ike warned.

"What’s the big deal, she’s just sick to her stomach," Taylor said shaking his head in disbelief.

"Or she could have the flu or a virus or a cold," Ike warned. 

"So?"

"So, you signed a contract remember?" Ike exclaimed.

"To what?" Taylor demanded. "Not help my little sister when she’s sick?"

"Actually, yes," Ike said. "It was part of a disclosure clause that you would stay away from anyone that appeared to be infectious and that includes little brothers and sisters."

"You’re kidding? Right?"

"You didn’t read the contract," Ike said with an accusatory tone.

Taylor looked away. "I didn’t read every sentence, no."

"Tay, you’re supposed to read and understand every single thing you sign," Ike said shaking his head with disbelief. "If Dad finds out you didn’t read the contract he’s going to skin you alive."

"Dad read it. Mom read it. Christopher read it, even you read it. It seemed kind of redundant for me to try to pick it apart too," Taylor admitted. "They’re not going to let me sign anything that would be wrong."

"We are supposed to read everything we sign. You know that," Ike warned in his older brother ‘I’m telling you for your own good’ tone.

"Since when have you become my conscience?" Taylor demanded.

"I’ve always been your conscience," Ike claimed with a superior smirk as he looked down on his brother. "You just ignore me most of the time."

"Well, are you going to rat me out?" Taylor smirked with a grin.

"Not me," Ike denied but he nodded his head to his sister that was curled up in his lap with her eyes wide open and listening intently to everything they were saying.

"Ah, Avie," Taylor sputtered.

"I won’t tattle," Avie’s small voice promised.

Taylor breathed a sign of relief but it was short lived because everyone in the family knew that Avie was the one child that couldn’t keep a secret. She was also the first to tattle on anyone else if she got into trouble herself.

Avie did have a flu or virus and it systematically worked its way through the entire Hanson family. Individually, for each member it would last from eight hours to two days. Taylor did try to distance himself from his family somewhat because he knew that if he did catch it, it would cause a delay in the filming schedule, but that was difficult to do when everyone was sick. After a week, Ike and Taylor were the only two holdouts. Ike had a remarkable immune system. He rarely caught any of the colds and viruses that traveled through the family, but that also make him the perfect nurse when his siblings were sick. So for a couple of days, only Zac and Taylor reported to the studio set in a limousine that the studio provided after Taylor had called in and explained that all the drivers in his family were sick. 

Zac with his ever abundance of energy often got bored just watching the slow process of filming a movie. He learned that with his picture ID he could get access into almost every set on the lot. Security guards were rigid about checking for the ID pass but what they were not rigid about was checking their personal set lists. He made his way around the lot watching the progress of a half dozen films and television shows being rehearsed and filmed. 

Zac got back Studio 12 just as filming of a short segment was to take place. He made it inside the door just before the lock snapped into place, a precaution the studio used against unwarranted interruptions during actual filming. This particular scene had taken over four hours to set up and the filmed scene only lasted a little over a minute. The scene was repeated twelve times before the director called cut and final print which meant that the actors and staff could relax because it was the final take. 

It was physical scene of confrontation between Taylor and Tom Scalaria who played his father. The movements had to be choreographed perfectly or the actors could get hurt. The scene called for Taylor to be literally screaming at his film father and for Tom to be yelling back and at one point for him to grab him by the forearms and shake and push him backwards against a cabinet. Taylor was outfitted with a padded undershirt and a loose fitting flannel shirt over it. 

They practiced the segment over and over again until the director was sure that it was going to work. Then they began to film it. The forty-five seconds of film were filmed and then filmed again. After each take, Phil would ask one of them to move slightly different for the next take or to change the inflection of a word here and there. He would film the scene and then watch it though the monitor and then make another suggestion. During these times, Taylor had tendency to pace back and forth and refer to cue cards in order to keep in character. At this point in the film, his character had been though a lot and he had changed from a shy, somewhat naive person to someone who was struggling to find himself. The character at this stage was edgier and angry and when Phil gave the quiet cue of action, Taylor had to be in character. On the tenth take, the dialogue and interaction between the actors was working. Then in the last seconds when Tom grabbed his arms and shoved him, Taylor got tangled in the hundreds of cables that ran across the set and were taped into place. To his and everyone else’s surprise he fell backwards with the force of the shove landing against a glass front cabinet and it shattered and caused a cascade of shattering glass to fall around him as he fell to the floor. Tom or no one else had expected that to happen and he was shocked. He gasped and moved to help him, causing Taylor to look up and he improvised for the first time. " Don’t touch me. Just leave me along!" Tom immediately jerked himself back into character, and improvised on his own. "Jesus, Casey, I didn’t mean to do that. You know I wouldn’t hurt you!"

"Cut," Phil Montrose shouted. "Don’t move Taylor!" he ordered as his young star started to shake off the glass fragments. "Don’t move!"

Taylor stopped and looked up around him. Everyone on the set had stopped what they were doing. Some of crew was running towards him. 

The stunt director knelt down beside him, his shoes crunching in the glass. "Don’t move," he warned as he carefully picked some of the sharp edge glass off of his clothing. "Are you cut?"

"I don’t think so," Taylor answered feeling kind of stupid to still be sitting in the wreckage. He looked up Phil. "I’m sorry, I tripped. I didn’t mean to bust up the set?"

"Tay, are you okay?" Zac asked from a loud speaker from the sound booth.

Taylor waved as he spotted his brother. "Yeah, just clumsy."

Phil Montrose was busy rewinding the tape. He played back on the monitor and a smile lit up his face. "I think, that’s the perfect take," the directory exclaimed. "I knew that habit of yours’ to overrun the take would pay off sometime. As soon as they get you out of that mess, come over and look at the tape."

Taylor waited patiently while several members of the crew disposed of the shattered glass. The stunt director put his hand over his eyes and make him shake his head to dislodge any glass shards from his hair. When he was sure that he was unharmed, he offered his hand and he pulled him straight up and off the floor and out of the glass. Then before he could take a step, someone was running a vacuum hose all over him from head to toe. The makeup person stepped up and pulled off the wig and cap and shook it to remove any fine glass particles.

Taylor hated it when someone removed the wig from his head. It left his own hair a matted mess, slicked down with a special product that kept it damp and compacted close to his scalp. Usually, as soon as the wig was removed it was time for him to take a shower, change clothes and go home.

"Taylor, come here," Phil ordered waving at him from behind the camera.

"Remove your shoes," the stunt director ordered. "We want to keep this accident contained. As soon as you can, get showered and if you feel any pricks or cuts, we need to know about it."

Taylor nodded in agreement as he stepped out of his shoes and someone started vacuuming them immediately. He was kind of impressed and at the same time amused by all the attention the accident had caused. When they broke something at home, his mother certainly didn’t vacuum them. She was more likely to order them to clean up their mess.

Taylor joined Phil Rosemont behind the camera and Phil gave him an enthusiastic hug. "Watch this." He played back the scene and when he got to the part where Taylor fell back against the cabinet he pointed at the film. "That was perfect! I couldn’t believe you stayed in character! Damn, Taylor don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not an actor. That was amazing. You even pulled Tom back in when he broke. That’s terrific, just terrific. We’ll pick this up exactly where we dropped off tomorrow."

"You mean I have crash into the cabinet again?" Taylor questioned.

Phil laughed. "No, we’ll pick it up exactly where we stopped with you sitting in the glass. But, this time it will be a controlled situation. The glass will be replaced with a plastic look-a-like. You could roll around in that stuff and not get cut. That way no one is likely to get hurt."

"Movie magic," Taylor said with a grin.

"You didn’t get cut did you?" the director asked looking at him critically.

Taylor shook his head and headed off to the trailer for a long shower and clean clothes. He’d been at this acting business for two months now but for the first time he really felt good about.

* * * *

The first part of the scene had taken nine bad takes and one good one by accident to complete it, the second part of the scene took the better part of the next morning. Every single time Taylor had to redo the scene he had to sit on the floor, where now instead of cables was a plush carpet, while the crew painstaking placed the pieces of glass, now plastic, around him in exactly the same positions where they had been before so the film could be spliced together with continuity. It was a ridiculously slow and tedious process and any movement on his part would cause them to start all over again. Finally, on take thirty-one, Phil was satisfied. Taylor was stiff and uncomfortable although at least this time he able to simple shake off the remaining pieces of plastic and didn’t have to worry about ‘containment’ of the accident.

Taylor took off for the back door for a quick walk around the parking lot. 

"Hey, Tay," Zac shouted, following his brother.

"Where have you been. I’ve been looking for you for hours," Taylor complained.

"I was over on Lot 7. They’re filming a civil war flick over there," Zac exclaimed.

"Don’t run off without telling someone where you’re going, Zac. With Ike not here that makes me responsible," Taylor exclaimed.

"Like, something’s going to happen here," Zac scoffed. " Come on Tay, you were busy. Besides guess who I ran into?"

"Heather Locklear?" Taylor guessed

"We both know she works over on Lot 3," Zac exclaimed. "Come on, guess!"

Taylor shook his head.

"Larry!" Zac reported with a triumph.

"How’s he doing?" Taylor asked interested. "Is he clean?"

Zac shook his head. "I don’t think so. He’s got a part as an extra playing confederate solder and he looks the part. He’s bony and he’s got big black circles under his eyes. When I tried to talk to him he was real jittery and he tried to bum twenty dollars off me."

"Did you give it to him?" Taylor asked.

"Didn’t have it, all I had was eight bucks."

"But you gave it to him," Taylor concluded and watched his brother nod his head. 

"He’s a friend," Zac said soberly.

"He’s a drug addict. I wish it wasn’t true, but it is," Taylor warned. "Stay away from him unless you’re with me or Ike."

"It’s Larry, Tay," Zac protested.

"He’s not the Larry we knew from the beginning. If he’s still taking drugs, he’s not someone you should be hanging around with by yourself," Taylor warned. "I’m serious, Zac!"

"Okay," Zac agreed. "Why are you so cranky?"

"Sorry," Taylor mumbled. 

"Let’s go get something to eat. Not those sandwiches that are on the catering table. A pizza with extra hamburger," Zac suggested and his eyes widened as Taylor turned an alarming shade of white right before him.

"You’ve got it!" Zac accused.

"Yeah," Taylor admitted. "But, you can’t tell anyone. I have to keep working."

"That’s going to be real hard with your head in the john," Zac warned ominously having already lived through the virus a couple of days before.

Taylor rolled his eyes but a few hours later he found that his brothers prophesy was true. You couldn’t work, if you had to stop and make a run for the bathroom every few minutes. Finally, in the late afternoon, Phil Montrose finally took notice of his young stars’ predicament and he sent them home. By morning the virus hadn’t finished running its course and Taylor had no choice but to call in sick. Eddie Grant assured him that the production team would find plenty to do during his absence.

Taylor spent his sick day sacked out on the couch with a cold cloth on his head, sipping warm ginger ale. It was a lousy day from beginning to end. He couldn’t watch T.V. because his head hurt and that same malady excluded him from reading, and playing video games and anything else that would have kept him busy. So instead he laid on the couch and complained to anyone that would listen. The rest of the family having already been through the same misery for the most part ignored him and went about their business. By late evening the worse was over and by morning Taylor claimed he was well enough to return to work. 

Nothing fazed the movie crew. Taylor showed up for work, the make-up artist added a little more color to his face and they continued filming. They were filming at an accelerated rate and Phil Montrose and Eddie Grant were determined that they were going to stay on schedule and on budget. 

The album was also progressing but they were having some snags in their schedule and they were having some difficulty with the record label. Since the Polygram had been taken over by Seagram the individual labels were in flux. Rumor was that Mercury was going to be absolved and if that happened their own management didn’t know what was going to happen. No one seemed to want to make any decisions and those decision delays were causing delays in Hanson’s progress. Christopher kept assuring them that with 15 million unit sales and with three albums hitting the top ten list that Hanson’s future was in no jeopardy but they couldn’t help feeling like they had been cast adrift in the corporate turmoil. The only thing they could do was continue to work and hope everything fell into place.

On Friday, Ike, Taylor and Zac were in the trailer working on a song when their father arrived. It hadn’t been a particular productive day on the film set but it had been productive in the trailer. They all looked up instantly when Walker entered the trailer. Although their father was an ever present force behind their success he’d always kept to the background. Since they had come to California he’d gotten into the habit of leaving them alone more and more.

"Hey, Dad!" Zac exclaimed. "Want to hear our new song?"

"Yeah, I would," Walker agreed. "But, I need to talk to you guys first."

Ike set his guitar down. Taylor propped himself up on the stool behind the keyboard, the one he never used to sit on. Zac closed his fist around his drumsticks and hit them against his leg to keep himself from twirling or hitting them on the drums or something.

"I got some bad news from Steve today. There isn’t any easy to say this," Walker said stumbling over his words. "Larry Wagaman died of an drug overdose Wednesday night."

Zac and Taylor looked at one another in surprise.

"I just saw him Tuesday. He was working on the movie that they’re filming down on Lot 3. He was an extra," Zac said. "Taylor and I were talking about him."

"Word spreads quickly in this business. Everyone knew about his drug use and he was pretty much being black listed in music. This isn’t the sixties or seventies. With so much on the line, no one wants to take a chance on a drug addict. According to Scott who’s tried to keep in touch with him, Larry’s been on a down hill spiral for the last several months. He talked to him about a month ago and tried to talk him into getting some help, but Larry wasn’t interested." Walker informed his sons.

"When is the funeral?" Taylor asked.

"So far, no one knows. His sister has claimed the body but there’s no information available yet. There is a rumor that his sister also has a drug problem. I don’t know that for a fact. There doesn’t seem to be any record of any other family."

"If it’s true, and his sister is messed up, who will take care of arrangements?" Ike asked.

"That isn’t up to us. As a member of the actor’s guild he’ll automatically be qualified for burial expenses. It isn’t much, but again that isn’t up to us. Hanson management has extended an offer of help. So far there hasn’t been a response," Walker explained. "I want all of you to remember that this isn’t your fault. We tried to help Larry. We went way beyond what was expected of us. We sent him to rehab over and over again. We tried our best to help him. Unfortunately, some people are self destructive and Larry was one of them."

All three of the brothers were starring at the floor with sorrow and grief on their faces.

"If there is a funeral or a service or something, I’d like to go," Taylor offered.

"I’ll try to find out," Walker promised and he gave each of his sons a reassuring hug.

Walker did try to get information but by the time he got an answer it was over. Larry was cremated, his ashes turned over to his sister. There was no service, no funeral, no good-byes. He simply ceased to exist. The only specter that remained of him was the memories locked into the minds of those who had at one time counted him as a friend.

Routine prevailed. Schedules continued. Ten weeks into shooting the film Taylor celebrated his sixteenth birthday. He begged, he pleaded and he grumbled endlessly, but his Dad steadfastly refused to allow him to return to Tulsa to get his drivers’ license. Taylor had continued his practice driving whenever he got a chance since going to California but most of his driving experience was reduced to driving the golf carts around the studio lots. With only three weeks left on the shooting schedule, Walker was planning a mini vacation/break as soon as the movie wrapped. With his fatherly vision of practicality he didn’t remember how important it was to a sixteen-year-old boy to get his license exactly on the day it became legal. California had different criteria for driver license requirements than Oklahoma so trying for his license out-of-state was out of the question for a whole host of legalities. Taylor complained to his brothers but he finally just gave in and realized that he would just have to wait out the four weeks until they returned to his home state. He wasn’t happy about it but he accepted it. 

With only a few weeks left on the schedule to complete the movie, the tension level began to rise noticeably. Everyone was continuing to do their jobs, but retakes were taken a more seriously. The one who blew their lines, or missed their mark was sure to feel the unspoken censure of the other actors and crew. Taylor became more conscience about reporting on time as soon as he was called instead of trying to finish whatever he was working on musically in the trailer.

The electricians were having a problem getting the lighting set up and it was causing a delay. Most of the actors had drifted back to their dressing rooms. Taylor looked at his watch.

"Eddie how much longer before we’ll be needed?" Taylor asked.

"Looks like another half hour or so," Eddie responded. "You can take a break but don’t go far."

"Gotcha," Taylor waved and looked around for his brothers. Zac was no where to be seen meaning he’d probably already gotten bored and taken off to investigate some other movie set. All he could see of Ike was his back, because if Ike wasn’t in the trailer, he was with Jenny. Deciding to get some fresh air, Taylor ducked outside just as Nancy also stepped outside the door.

"Hi, Nanc. Where are you going?"

"I have to go to commissary. We need bread," Nancy offered in her short choppy sentences.

"How about if I drive you?" Taylor offered and he pulled out the keys to the golf cart parked outside the studio door.

"Okay," Nancy agreed.

Taylor whipped the little golf cart around paved pathways between the buildings on the studio lot with ease at its top speed of twenty miles per hour. The main commissary was on the other side of the casting offices, so they had to pass the main gates to get there. There was usually a group of girls camped out at the main gates waiting for various stars. Word of Hanson’s involvement with a movie project had leaked out to the Hollywood gossips but so far the studios hadn’t confirmed or denied it. They were so close to the end of the shooting schedule that at this point they certainly didn’t want to be swarmed with Hanson fans. But the die-hard fans, desperate for any news on their favorite group believed the reports and were showing up at the gates just in case there might be a sighting. Zac was having fun with the fans, often wearing disguises and teasing them so they weren’t quite sure whether they had spotted a Hanson or not. Taylor was much more forthright. If he passed them, he waved. He figured the press releases were going to hit the wire services about the time they headed back home to Tulsa. The PR people could sidestep and tiptoe around the gossip until then.

Just as the little golf cart was passing the main gate, a scream rose from the girls standing outside the mesh fencing and Taylor gave them his usual careless wave. At about that time they were flanked by two forklifts with loud diesel engines, fully loaded taking their loads to various locations. 

"Hanson!" a dark headed woman screamed. Taylor couldn’t hear above the screams and diesel engines. Frantic arm motions caught Nancy attention and she turned toward the screaming woman. She was shocked and frightened by the words she lip read. The gasp from his passenger brought Taylor’s head up.

"What is it?" he yelled over the noise.

Nancy signed a rapid reply but Taylor shook his head and yelled. "I can’t watch your hands and drive. Wait until we get away from these guys!" He turned down a side street and parked the golf cart in a small parking area especially marked off for the golf carts. He turned off the engine and turned to his companion.

"Now what was that all about?"

Nancy looked at the younger boy sitting beside her and she shook her head and decided to downplay the incident. "That woman was screaming bad words at you."

"Is that all?" Taylor said unconcerned.

"She said sick things," Nancy said.

"I’m sorry," Taylor apologized. "We get that sometimes. Usually, though it’s from guys and mostly from people into punk or gothic stuff. I don’t know why they feel threatened by us, but they must otherwise why channel all that energy into hatred."

Nancy was obviously shaken by the heckler. 

"It’s okay, honest. That’s why we rarely go out by ourselves and we have bodyguards when we’re out in public. You’ll notice she was on the outside of the fence, not the inside." Taylor explained with a grin of reassurance. "Come on, I’ll help you get the supplies you need before I get beeped to go back."

"Okay," Nancy agreed, but she couldn’t help looking over her shoulder back towards the entrance. What she didn’t tell her young companion was, that the in addition to screaming obscenities at him, she was also screaming at him that he had killed her brother. The last thing that she had lip-read was the woman’s threat. "I’ll get you. I swear I’ll get you and kill you!"