When I was little, my whole life plan was getting out. I didn't care how, or doing what, just. getting as far away from my childhood as possible.

Chris understands what I mean.

Not many escape our world, and most of those do it the way I did -- letting go entirely, never looking back. It takes a certain kind of person to go back, give back, and not get sucked back in.

Somehow, Chris manages. He sings, dances, smiles, and behind the scenes, he sneaks out those he left behind. He even gets the other four to help him.

They're good boys, those four, but they don't know what they're doing. Not really. Chris makes sure of that. JC got a glimpse of it, in LA, I think, but he left before it caught hold of him.

It was born into Chris and me. Or we were born into it. Sometimes I forget which way that goes.

All I know is, I like what I do, and it doesn't kill me to do it. I don't have to sweat and strain and break my back before I can buy a car, or put my kids through school. I don't have to watch loved ones die, knowing that I could help them better if I were dead myself, than if I stayed by their sides forever. My parents, my wife, my children. They're taken care of.

Thanks to Chris.

I have friends in the business who tease me, sometimes. They roadie for the heavy metal bands, the rappers, the icons. They don't get why I would stay here, stage managing year after year. They work for the fun of it, and move on when the tour is done. Me, and most of the roadies who work under me? We've finally found a home we want to keep.

Chris is one of those special people, the ones who always go back, always bring others back out with them.

He takes care of our brothers.

I take care of him.