Summary: Originally Found On: madame.homestead.com
Summary: It's Nick's second chance at a solo album. A new tour, new guitar player, and a new respect for his music.
Categories: Fanfiction > Backstreet Boys
Characters: Nick
Genres: Dramedy, Romance
Warnings: Sexual Content
Challenges: Series: Archived Author: KS Angel (Brenda)
Chapters: 69
Completed: Yes
Word count: 153567
Read: 99752
Published: 08/14/08
Updated: 08/14/08
1. Chapter 1 by old_archive
2. Chapter 2 by old_archive
3. Chapter 3 by old_archive
4. Chapter 4 by old_archive
5. Chapter 5 by old_archive
6. Chapter 6 by old_archive
7. Chapter 7 by old_archive
8. Chapter 8 by old_archive
9. Chapter 9 by old_archive
10. Chapter 10 by old_archive
11. Chapter 11 by old_archive
12. Chapter 12 by old_archive
13. Chapter 13 by old_archive
14. Chapter 14 by old_archive
15. Chapter 15 by old_archive
16. Chapter 16 by old_archive
17. Chapter 17 by old_archive
18. Chapter 18 by old_archive
19. Chapter 19 by old_archive
20. Chapter 20 by old_archive
21. Chapter 21 by old_archive
22. Chapter 22 by old_archive
23. Chapter 23 by old_archive
24. Chapter 24 by old_archive
25. Chapter 25 by old_archive
26. Chapter 26 by old_archive
27. Chapter 27 by old_archive
28. Chapter 28 by old_archive
29. Chapter 29 by old_archive
30. Chapter 30 by old_archive
31. Chapter 31 by old_archive
32. Chapter 32 by old_archive
33. Chapter 33 by old_archive
34. Chapter 34 by old_archive
35. Chapter 35 by old_archive
36. Chapter 36 by old_archive
37. Chapter 37 by old_archive
38. Chapter 38 by old_archive
39. Chapter 39 by old_archive
40. Chapter 40 by old_archive
41. Chapter 41 by old_archive
42. Chapter 42 by old_archive
43. Chapter 43 by old_archive
44. Chapter 44 by old_archive
45. Chapter 45 by old_archive
46. Chapter 46 by old_archive
47. Chapter 47 by old_archive
48. Chapter 48 by old_archive
49. Chapter 49 by old_archive
50. Chapter 50 by old_archive
51. Chapter 51 by old_archive
52. Chapter 52 by old_archive
53. Chapter 53 by old_archive
54. Chapter 54 by old_archive
55. Chapter 55 by old_archive
56. Chapter 56 by old_archive
57. Chapter 57 by old_archive
58. Chapter 58 by old_archive
59. Chapter 59 by old_archive
60. Chapter 60 by old_archive
61. Chapter 61 by old_archive
62. Chapter 62 by old_archive
63. Chapter 63 by old_archive
64. Chapter 64 by old_archive
65. Chapter 65 by old_archive
66. Chapter 66 by old_archive
67. Chapter 67 by old_archive
68. Chapter 68 by old_archive
69. Chapter 69 by old_archive
“But why does it have to be a girl?”
Murray Bishop looked at Rafael Ariando. Help me out here, said his glance.
Rafael leaned back in his chair and crossed one black pant leg over the other. He waved his hand through the air. You’re on your own here, Murray.
Murray sighed. “We’ve been over it, Nick. She’s not a girl, she’s a guitar player.”
“Why can’t we get a guy to be the guitar player?”
Rafael, Rafe to his friends, crossed his arms and shook his head behind Nick’s back. They had been going around and around, and Nick was getting more whiny and petulant with every revolution. Rafe was determined not to interfere, but if Nick said one more time, why can’t we have the guys from Tampa…
“Why can’t we have the guys from Tampa?”
“Because you can’t,” barked Rafe, rising to his feet.
Nick jumped. He had almost forgotten Rafe was there.
Murray looked from one to the other. Night and day. Salt and pepper. Rafael Ariando and Nick Carter.
Rafael Ariando was a corporate guy. Not even a music corporate guy. Just a bottom line corporate guy. No one who had any power whatever in the corporate world gave a shit about the music. They cared about the money.
Rafe Ariando cared about the money. He had lots, and he wanted more. Because money was power. And Rafe wanted power. He was born and raised in Spain, the son of a wealthy businessman and a society maven, who both had some faint connection to the now-defunct aristocracy. His father sent him to Oxford for his college degree and then to Harvard Business School. Then he got Rafe a job in a multi-national corporation and told the head of it to start him at the bottom and make him work his way up.
Rafe didn’t exactly start at the bottom. He was second to the Vice-President of Development at Jive Records, which was pretty good for someone just turned 30. But it wasn’t where he wanted to be. The record company was one small part of Unitel, a multinational corporation that controlled more companies than an ordinary citizen could imagine.
Jive was their toy. All the big corporations had one. A movie company. A record company. A television network. Because all the big wheels were blinded by stars. Any of the other companies in the corporation that walked so close to the profit/loss line would have been shut down long ago. But the guys at the top, the men who had more money and power than all of the Heads of State put together, were prouder of their Grammys and Emmys than their billion-dollar deals. And if you got an Oscar, well…that was the sun and the moon and the stars.
Nick Carter was a music guy. He didn’t care about the money. He had lots, and it let him live the way he wanted. Oh, he knew he wouldn’t like to be without it, but he never focused on it, never even thought about it really. That’s what Sam was for. Samuel Coleridge Taylor (he would never forgive his mother for that!) was Nick’s accountant. He paid the bills and watched the bottom line. Nick didn’t spend a lot – well, the odd million-dollar racing boat here and there, but that had turned out to be a spectacular success, so… No, Nick wasn’t looking to have the best clothing or jewelry or the biggest house or the fanciest car. He just wanted to rock.
Rafael Ariando had decided to let Nick Carter rock him to business stardom. Rafe had carefully analyzed the acts under contract to Jive. He wanted one with potential, one that could really go someplace, one that Rafe could get the credit for, if it did. And Nick Carter was perfect. The Backstreet Boys wouldn’t have been right at all. They were too big. There was nothing to be gained by making them a success. He was glad his predecessor at Jive had let Nick destroy them, by giving him his solo album and his paltry little tour. Because now he, Rafael Ariando, was going to orchestrate Nick into a solo megastar.
If he didn’t kill the little bastard first.
“But…” Nick protested. He shifted in his seat, stretching out his long legs. Why did they always make these chairs so damned uncomfortable, he wondered and then answered his own question. Because they make them for people half my size. He shifted again and crossed one denim-clad leg over the other and started playing with the lace on his sneaker.
“Listen up, Nick,” said Rafe.
Murray moved silently behind his desk. Good. Let Rafe do it. He sat down and waited for the dark-haired man to tell the blond one what was good for him. Murray Bishop was neither a music guy or a corporate guy. He was middle-level management, a corporate gofer, happy to spend his days arranging the nitty-gritty details that someone else thought up. He liked having a medium-sized office and medium-sized responsibilities. He didn’t like dealing with stubborn young stars, and he didn’t like dealing with head office hotshots…and he was just plain scared of Rafael Ariando. He knew that Rafe was ambitious, and Murray just hoped he wouldn’t be one of the ones who got trampled by Rafe’s polished leather loafers in his climb to the top.
“It’s about respect,” said Rafe. “You don’t get any.” He looked at the young blond, slumped in the chair.
Nick was wearing a pair of baggy jeans that didn’t look all that clean. His t-shirt was faded and shapeless. He had that scruffy chin hair that seemed so popular with young people these days, but that made Rafe want to sandpaper their face. Rafe’s face was always clean-shaven, except for the impeccable moustache that sliced across his upper lip, reflecting his elegant European ancestry.
Nick blinked. “I have lots of fans,” he said, raising his chin defiantly.
“Who gives a shit about the fans?” asked Rafe. “I’m talking about respect in the industry. Who would you rather have show up at your concert – 50 000 screaming teeny boppers or the Rolling Stones?”
Nick stared at him.
“What would you rather hear, ‘Oh, I love you so much, Nicky, can I blow you?’ or ‘Hi, I’m Bruce Springsteen. Good job on the album.’?”
“Don’t call me Nicky.” Nick set his lips.
Rafe made a mental note to remember that hot button. He softened his tone. “You’ve got talent, Nick. Lots of it. And there’s no reason why you can’t have both – legions of fans and industry respect. But you can’t get either if you don’t change your strategy.”
“I don’t care about strategy,” said Nick. “I just want to sing.”
“That’s right. That’s what you do. What I do is the strategy part. So let me do my job so that you can do yours.”
“But why does it have to be a girl?”
Rafe’s hands clenched into fists. He leaned back against Murray’s desk. Murray wondered if he should move the letter opener out of Rafe’s reach.
“It’s not a girl. It’s Melody Jones. She’s 30 and the best in the business. And we’ve got Blaine Hawkins and Rashad Williams – also the best. And we’re looking at Geordie Baker for keys. We are getting you the best in the business. It was nice what you did last time, giving the guys from Tampa a break, but you’re beyond that now. This is your second album. This is where you have to make your mark. You know Now or Never was…”
Nick cut him off. “It was exactly what I wanted.”
Rafe spread his hands in a placating gesture. “And you got it. But now you have to want more. You have to grow, or you’ll be little Nicky Carter forever.” Rafe tested the hot button once more.
“Don’t call me Nicky,” Nick said between clenched teeth. Then he sighed. “It’s not like I have anything against girls. It’s just that…shit happens. Look what happened last time. And there wasn’t nothin’ goin’ on.”
Murray sighed. Yes, that had been a problem. The guitar player had been a girl, and everyone tried to make something out of her and Nick, even though they insisted they were just friends and she had a fiancé back in Tampa. It got so bad that she left the group and went home and married the guy.
“This isn’t a girl,” said Rafe, for what he hoped was the last time. “She’s 30, so she’s what…six, seven years older than you. She’ll just be one of the guys. Look, just meet her. You’ll see.”
He nodded to Murray, who pressed a button on his desk and said, “We’ll see Ms. Jones now.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Mr. Bishop will see you now, Ms. Jones.”
About time, thought Melody. She closed her crossword puzzle book and slipped it into her bag. She hated waiting. She thought it was a sign of disrespect to keep someone waiting. If someone said, ‘come at eleven’, she did, and she expected that she would see someone at eleven. It was now 11:45. If the meeting went long, she’d be late for lunch with her mother. Never a good thing. Melody was not in a good mood.
She was not in a good mood because she didn’t even know what the hell she was doing here in the first place. She was a studio musician, not a tour player. She made good money at that, so why was she even considering this?
She knew the answer. Because she was going to make a shitload of money from this tour. Because Rafe Ariando had made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. She furrowed her brow. What she still didn’t know was why.
Nick Carter? A Backstreet Boy, of all things! Melody was a rocker, not a popper or whatever the hell the term would be.
Melody stood up and followed the receptionist down the hall, not even glancing at the pictures and framed albums that lined the walls. The receptionist rapped twice on the door and then opened it without waiting for a reply. She stood aside and motioned Melody through.
“Ms. Jones,” announced the receptionist, pulling the door closed as she left.
Nick lumbered to his feet and turned to the door. What the…? In front of him stood…well, he didn’t know what, but it sure as hell wasn’t a rock guitarist. It was a girl…woman, Nick corrected himself…of 30, but she didn’t look it, although Nick wasn’t really sure what 30 looked like.
She was small, not just short…Nick figured maybe 5’3”, 5’4”…but small all over. She had small bones and was very thin, not scrawny but…tiny. Nick felt like an ox standing beside her.
She was wearing a skirt! It was kinda pretty, one of those loose Indian cotton things…but a skirt!? And a blouse…peasant-style, Nick thought they called it…sleeveless. Her arms were thin, but well-muscled. The only thing remotely “rock” about her was her hair. It was black, cut short and spiky. It didn’t go at all with the outfit, which looked better suited to a lunch date with your mother, than to rock and roll.
“Melody Jones…Nick Carter,” intoned Rafe.
“Call me Mel,” said Melody, offering her hand. Nick was surprised by the firmness of her grip. He hadn’t gripped her hard. He didn’t want to hurt her.
He shakes hands like a girl, thought Melody.
“Rafe. Murray.”
Mel nodded in their direction. They nodded back. Nick made a note of the fact that she called Ariando ‘Rafe’. Not everyone got to do that. Nick wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.
Rafe motioned them to chairs. Melody took one, happy that it wasn’t some big boxy thing that would swallow her up. She hated it when her feet didn’t touch the floor. Made her feel like a little kid.
“So we were just telling Nick here how lucky he is that you’ve finally decided to ‘take it on the road’…” Murray was awkward using jargon, and he had a bad habit of making finger quotation marks around it. “People have been trying to get her to do it for years,” he said in an aside to Nick.
Well then, why hasn’t she, wondered Nick. Why now? Why me?
Rafe stepped in smoothly before Nick could voice his question. “Luckily for us, she just felt that the time was right for a little change, right Mel?” There was no way Rafe wanted Nick to know how much money he’d offered Melody for this tour.
Melody looked at Rafe and then nodded. Obviously, he didn’t want her to mention the money, and until she figured out why she was worth so much, she wasn’t going to bring it up. “Sure, Rafe. Who else you got?”
“We got Blaine Hawkins on drums,” said Murray.
Melody nodded and smiled.
“…and Rashad Williams for bass…” added Rafe.
Melody grinned broadly.
“We’re looking at Geordie Baker for keys,” put in Nick.
The grin fell from Melody’s face, replaced by a deadpan expression. Mmm, was all she said. No one said anything for a moment.
Murray spoke into the silence. “So do you have any questions?”
Nick opened his mouth, but Melody got there first. “Yeah, did you work out that thing about Christmas?”
“Sure did,” said Rafe. “Changed two of the dates around and it worked perfectly.”
Nick couldn’t believe his ears. What the fuck? They were changing tour dates to suit her?
“What happens at Christmas?” he asked.
“Oh, you know, Santa, elves, that kind of stuff,” answered Melody, with a smile.
Rafe and Murray laughed. Nick blushed and narrowed his eyes. Melody sobered.
“Family is important to me,” she said. “Christmas is a big occasion for us. I don’t want to miss it.”
Nick nodded, but he was still pissed off. Why did he feel like the kid again? Even if she was older, he was willing to bet he’d been in the business as long as she had. And he’d never run across her.
“I’m surprised we’ve never met,” said Nick. “Who have you done?” He threw out the double-entendre on purpose to see what she would do with it.
Mel raised her eyebrows at him. So it was going to be like this, was it? “I’m not surprised,” she answered. “I don’t live in Boybandland.”
Murray sucked in a lungful of air. Rafe pursed his lips to keep from laughing. Yes, this was a feisty one. This one could take care of herself.
“Mel’s worked on a lot of albums…with a lot of good people,” Murray assured Nick.
“Do you have a list…or a résumé or something?” asked Nick.
Melody’s back stiffened. She looked at Murray and then at Rafe. “Does he understand who is being interviewed here?” she asked them, ignoring Nick completely.
Nick straightened up in his chair. What the…? She was there to approve of him? Not the other way around? No way! No fucking way!
Rafe interceded before there was violence. He put a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Now, now, it’s nothing like that. We just wanted the two of you to meet before rehearsals start next week.”
Murray shuffled through some files on his desk. “Here you go, Mel,” he said, handing her a sheet of paper.
Melody took it from him, glanced at it and slipped it into her bag. “Okay, good, thanks.” She turned back to Nick. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Carter. I’m looking forward to working with you.”
Nick didn’t believe her. “Call me Nick,” he said.
Melody nodded to Rafe and Murray and left the room. There was a deep silence left behind her. Rafe and Murray waited for the explosion.
But when Nick spoke, his voice was quiet. “Why?” was all he said.
“Because people who wouldn’t come to see you will come to see her,” said Rafe, glad that Nick was catching on at last. “She’s worked with a lot of people…I mean, a lot!! And people like her. Murray wasn’t kidding. They are always trying to get her to tour with them. Up to now, she’s said ‘no’. Now they will want to see who got her to say ‘yes’. They will come to see her, but they will see you too. And that’s all you need, Nick, is to get them in the building.”
Nick sighed. Okay. He’d give in on it now. But he didn’t like it. And she had better play one hell of a hot guitar.
She played one hell of a hot guitar.
Nick stood at the side of the room, watching Melody jam with Rashad. They looked funny together. Rashad Williams was a tall black man, so big he made Nick look small. Beside him, Melody looked like a doll. They would look funny on stage, if they stood together, Nick thought. It’s a good thing they’ll be on opposite sides.
Nick had gone over this whole thing in his head several times during the last week, and he wasn’t sure he was any happier about it now than when he first found out about it. He’d checked around. Murray was right, Melody Jones was very well-respected in the industry, and people expressed surprise that she had finally decided to tour after so many years of refusing. And they seemed very surprised that she was touring with him.
Nick was surprised too.
He thought he understood Rafe’s motivation in getting Ms. Jones, but he wasn’t sure what hers was. The people he spoke to told Nick that Melody did studio work and club gigs…always in the background…did some backup vocals, played a mean guitar… They told Nick that she could work every day and every night if she wanted. So why was she giving all that up to tour with someone she didn’t respect? Boybandland, she’d said. Nick grimaced to himself. He’d be hearing that shit when he was fifty.
Nick watched Melody make music with Rashad. She was dressed differently today – tight denim jeans and a t-shirt stretched over her breasts. She had good boobs, thought Nick, for someone who’s thirty, and for someone who’s so thin.
Knock it off, he told himself, here you were worrying about her coming on to you and now you’re thinking about her boobs.
“Hey, Nick! What’s shakin’?” Blaine Hawkins came up behind him.
“Yo, Blaine!”
Nick touched his fist to the other man’s. Here was the one person involved with all this that he knew. Nick had been a fan of the drummer for a long time, even copied his style for awhile until he developed his own. Blaine was always in demand, in the studio and on the road. He’d been part of Aaron’s band for his last tour. He and Nick had become friends and even spent time together socially.
Nick felt that Blaine was Rafe’s gift to him – that he could have Blaine if he would accept Melody. Nick didn’t know why he felt that way. As for Rashad, everybody wanted Rashad. He was just the best bass guitarist on the planet, the very best. They were still looking for someone for the keyboard. Geordie Baker had apparently been unavailable.
Nick and Blaine listened to the other two work magic from their guitar strings. When Rashad and Melody finished the song, both Nick and Blaine began to applaud. The other two looked over. They hadn’t noticed them come in.
Rashad flashed a toothy grin. “Nick! Blaine! Hey there, y’all!”
Melody nodded at them. The four met in the middle of the room and exchanged handshakes. Melody noted that this time Nick’s was a little firmer. They made small talk for a few minutes, but not long. They were here for the music.
“Who we got for keys?” asked Rashad, nodding to the setup in the corner.
“I heard Geordie Baker wanted it,” said Blaine, looking at Nick.
Nick was surprised. Rafe had told him that he had asked Baker and been turned down. He looked over at Melody. He recalled her reaction to Baker’s name and wondered if she had anything to do with this.
They were in a small rehearsal studio in Burbank. This was their first meeting with them all together. Everything about this tour was topsy-turvy. The album wasn’t even done yet, and Rafe was going to start prepping the tour. The songs were all recorded, and the final selections had been made. The order of the album had been decided. There was art work and liner notes. The only thing missing was a title.
Melody didn’t know that this wasn’t the usual way of planning a tour, and Rashad and Blaine were too happy with the money they were getting to ask questions. Besides, they liked Nick. He was a laid-back kind of guy…and his needs were few. He didn’t do drugs, although he consumed a fair amount of alcohol in party settings. He got laid regularly… but never with fans on tour. And he stayed the hell out of everyone else’s business.
“Okay,” said Rafe Ariando, coming up behind them, “let’s get down to business.”
Nick thought he hated Rafe. Yep, he was pretty sure he did. In the past week, Nick had attended several “strategy sessions” with Rafe and Tom Wilson, the so-called tour manager. Nick thought ‘so-called’ because it was pretty clear who was calling the shots. Every meeting seemed to be full of ‘dos and don’ts’ for the tour…for Nick…mostly for Nick. He was beginning to feel like he was nothing but the front man for the other four, that he was the one most easily replaced. Nick wasn’t used to being treated that way, and he didn’t like it. No sir, he didn’t like it one bit.
Nick got it that it was make-or-break time for him as a solo artist. He couldn’t count on Backstreet fans any longer. He had to get his own. He knew that his first effort was not a success in many people’s eyes. Nick didn’t care. He loved it and it would remain a big part of him for the rest of his life, but he knew that he wouldn’t be allowed another self-indulgence like it.
Rafe hustled them all into a small meeting room and settled them around a table. A tray of drinks sat in the middle. Nick reached for a Coke but settled on a bottle of water instead. No need to start the whole thing off with a discussion of his weight. The others picked up water or fruit juice. Melody took the Coke. Nick looked longingly at it.
Tom sat at Rafe’s right hand, taking notes. Like a secretary, thought Nick. Rafe started talking, laying out ‘the strategy’. You would think we were fucking going to war, thought Nick.
“It’s like going to war,” said Rafe.
Nick snorted.
Rafe turned on him. “It’s true, Nick. There’s only so much money out there, and there are a lot of artists making albums and having tours. We have to grab everyone’s interest, or we’ll never grab their cash.”
Nick felt like he’d been talked down to, and he resented it. He snuck a glance at the others and saw that they were all looking down, embarrassed for him. All except Melody. She was looking right at him, wondering what he was going to do about the slight.
“I thought that was what the music was for,” retorted Nick. He saw a ghost of a smile flit across Melody’s lips, but he was unsure whether she was laughing with him or at him. He took a sip of water.
Rafe sighed. It spoke volumes. It put Nick in his place completely. It said that he would tolerate the young man and his attitude, even though it was going to be difficult. Tom sighed along with Rafe and shook his head.
“Of course, it’s the music, Nicky,” said Rafe in a placating tone that made Nick want to choke him. “But it’s important that we use that good basis and build a dynamite show around it.”
“Don’t call me Nicky,” Nick blurted and realized, as he said it, that he had fallen into Rafe’s trap, that he was appearing troublesome and juvenile. His opinions would count for nothing for the rest of the meeting. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, a sullen scowl on his face.
Rafe went over the songs that they would play. Most of the stuff from his new album, plus some from Now or Never. Did anyone have any preferences?
“Well, the rock song, of course,” said Melody, not realizing that she’d said it out loud. All eyes turned to her.
“Which one would that be?” asked Tom. “They were all supposed to be rock songs.”
Nick wanted to take the word ‘supposed’ and shove it down Tom’s throat.
“Well, they weren’t,” said Melody, matter-of-factly. “Most of them were pop songs with some electric guitar thrown in.”
They all waited.
“Do I Have to Cry for You?” she said finally.
“That was a ballad,” said Tom.
Melody shrugged. “Still a rock song.”
They all looked at her. She looked straight at Nick and said, “Which song on that album can you picture Aerosmith singing?” Nick wanted to say ‘all of them’, but he knew that wasn’t true. Melody had a point, and she had said it in a way that kind of made it a compliment, so he just nodded.
“Any others?” asked Rafe.
“What about Help Me?” said Tom. It was standard practice to include the hits.
“No,” said Nick, “I’m past that.” A quick glance around the table showed him that the musicians agreed with him.
Rafe conceded gracefully. “Okay, scratch Help Me. Any others?”
Blaine mentioned My Confession, and Rashad suggested I Stand for You. They all looked at Melody.
But she only looked at Nick. “Everything that you wrote. Plus…” she gave a silly smile, “I Got You.”
They could only stare at her. A Max Martin song? The evil popmeister that true rockers loved to hate?
Melody shrugged. “I like it. It’s a good song. And it’s got some real potential…if we rock it up.”
“I did. We did. On the tour. Before.” Why can’t I make a fucking sentence, Nick wondered.
“It was the last song they did in the show,” said Tom, finally speaking without Rafe having to pull a string in the back of his neck. “He did. He rocked it up.”
“Well, there you go,” said Melody.
“Okay,” said Rafe, dragging their attention back to him. “So mostly the new album but with the songs Nick wrote and I Got You from Now or Never. Any Backstreet?”
The silence was deafening. Nick had been forced to include a medley of Backstreet songs in his Now or Never tour. He hadn’t wanted to, but his tour managers had told him that he had to, that the fans coming to see him were, in essence, Backstreet fans. And those songs got the loudest reaction of any during the show…and Nick hated that. He looked around the table but said nothing. He waited them out. He wasn’t going on record first.
No one said anything for the longest time. Finally, Nick looked at Melody and lifted his chin. What did she think?
“You don’t need to,” she said softly and then shrugged. But if you want to…the unspoken words sent it back to him.
Nick shook his head. “I don’t think so. We’ll see how it goes, but I don’t think so.” Take that, you fucker, he thought, glaring defiantly at Rafe.
Rafe just nodded and motioned to Tom to write it down. No Backstreet. Rafe thought they were making a mistake but he was going to let them make it. He could always correct it later on; it would consolidate his authority. He sighed again.
“Now, if we could just come up with the name for the album…”
Oh, fuck! thought Nick. He was so sick of this. It was so easy the first time. Someone asked him about the timing of his solo album, and he said, ‘It’s now or never,’ and everyone knew that was the perfect title. But this time, thought had to be put into it. It had to be analyzed and discussed and turned over. Nick was so fucking sick of fighting about it.
“Round Two,” he said, laughing. They all looked at him. “Well, ‘cause it’s the second one…and we’re always fighting about the title,” he explained to the musicians.
“No,” said Rafe thoughtfully. “That would make the fans think that you’re still fighting the group or…”
“Forget it,” said Nick, with an edge to his voice. “It was a joke.”
Rafe held up his hands. “Okay, okay. We have developed quite a list. We have…”
“Don’t call me Nicky.”
Everyone looked at Nick. No one had…but wait a minute, it wasn’t Nick who had spoken. They looked down the table at Melody.
She said it again. Only this time it was a title. “Don’t Call Me Nicky.”
Nick stared at her. Was she making fun of him?
Then he thought about it. Don’t Call Me Nicky. Yeah, don’t, ‘cause I’m not a Backstreet Boy any more. I’m a rocker. I’m Nick. So respect me. Yeah! Don’t call me N…
“Perfect!” said Rafe. “Absolutely perfect. Melody, you’re a genius.” He beamed at them all. “Don’t Call Me Nicky. I love it.”
Nick bristled. Now he wasn’t sure. “It makes me sound like I’m whining. I…”
“No, no…it’s perfect,” said Rafe.
“Yes, perfect,” chimed in Tom.
Melody was embarrassed. She had just been thinking out loud. They had asked, after all. And it summed up this young man perfectly, as far as she could see. He was trying to break the mold, trying to fly free. Trying to be Nick. And in his vulnerability, all Melody could see was…Nicky.
Blaine and Rashad looked at each other. There were way too many vibrations going on in this room that they didn’t understand. Once they got the suits out of it, once they got into the music, then they would figure it out, then they would get it. Man, they hated the suits.
Melody thought about the meeting, as she made her way back up the hall to the studio. Some strange vibrations there… Was she doing the right thing here? Why couldn’t she make up her mind about that? Too bloody late, she told herself, you’ve signed the contract.
Melody had thought long and hard about Rafe’s offer. She guessed it was a mid-life crisis. Thirty was a little young for one, but what the hell…she’d always been precocious. She had turned down so many requests to go on tour. It was hard enough to be a woman in the studio. She did not want to tackle the complexities of being a woman on the road. The most she would ever agree to was to go to New York to record there. This offer had been too good to refuse, however. The money was phenomenal. It was going to be invested…a retirement fund. But still she hesitated.
The real decision maker for Melody was her nephew. At her family birthday party, they had all been laughing and joking about the old lady of thirty. Melody had received gag gifts, all related to old age. Her brother Ben had made a joke about her being old and feeble and not being able to get around.
Her eight-year-old nephew, Benjamin Jr, Ben-two to the family, had piped up with, “Aunt Mel never goes anywhere anyway.”
Melody had filled the stunned silence with the words, “I’m going on tour,” thereby creating an even greater stunned silence.
“On tour?” Her mother didn’t like the sound of that…when did the ‘get married and have kids’ scenario kick into effect?
“Who with?” asked Chrissy, her 12-year-old niece, who worshiped her aunt and wanted to be just like her but who had enough sense to never, ever say that in front of her very staid mother.
“Nick Carter,” replied Melody.
“Who?” From Benjamin, his wife Louise, and Melody’s mother Elizabeth.
“OOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGOOOOOODDDDDD!” from Chrissy.
That had started an uproar as they all tried to focus on their own agenda, tried to get Melody to listen to them.
“But honey, isn’t that kind of a hard life?” From Mom. When am I going to get grandchildren?
“What kind of life will that be…hanging out in hotels with druggies?” From Louise. Why can’t you just settle down and set a good example, for once?
“Cool!” From Ben-two. Cool.
“Isn’t that a bit risky at your age?” From Ben. I wish I had enough nerve to do something like that.
“OOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGOOOOOODDDDDD!” From Chrissy. I wonder if I’ll get to meet him.
Melody suddenly found herself apologizing for causing a fuss. Well, it wasn’t going to be a very long tour, she didn’t think. And she wouldn’t miss Christmas. And she could send lots of postcards. She looked at Chrissy and smiled. Neither of them said a word but Chrissy knew that, if that tour came anywhere near them, she would get to meet Nick. Louise knew it too, and it pissed her off enormously. She announced that it was time to go and dragged her brood off in a matter of minutes, chiding Melody’s mother, Elizabeth, to no, no, stay seated, I’ll just pick up my dishes from the kitchen. I can wash them at home.
Ben and Melody looked at each other. No one ever left before the washing up. The ‘washing up’ was as much a part of family birthday party tradition as the cake and presents. It didn’t matter who hosted the party…at some point, Elizabeth Jones would rise to her feet and say, “Well, I wonder if the dish fairies have worked their magic.” Then the women would all go into the kitchen and discover that, in fact, the dish fairies had not put in an appearance.
This was a good bonding time for the women. It was the only time that Melody could tolerate Louise, and sometimes even then, she had to bite her tongue. Louise was a good person, but she was very narrow. She liked her life, and she was good at it, and she really didn’t see why everyone didn’t want the same things – PTA, volunteer work, a spotless house, a good husband. And it galled her that every single person she met was in awe of her spiky-haired, guitar-playing sister-in-law, who didn’t own a house or even a condo after all these years, just rented an apartment. There was certainly no husband on the horizon. Louise didn’t allow herself to think about what Melody did in that department.
“I guess this tour will be a good thing for you,” said her mother, as she was filling the sink. “You’ve never had a taste of the road, or whatever they call it.” Her mother didn’t sound like she believed her own words.
“That’s right,” said Melody, who was becoming more firm in her resolve by the minute. “I’ll get a chance to see if I like it.”
“Oh, I was thinking more like ‘one last fling’ before you settle down.”
Melody sighed. Here came the subject of grandkids. It was the one area where Louise excelled over Melody. She had produced two beautiful, well-mannered children who were the delight of their grandmother’s eye. Since Melody’s dad had passed on a couple of years ago, her mother devoted all her attention to Chrissy and Ben-two. But she had room in her life for more…lots more!
Elizabeth Jones wondered where she had gone wrong…well, not wrong, exactly. She was very proud of her daughter. She just didn’t understand her, didn’t understand her choice of life. It was such a contrast to her brother. Benjamin was three years older than Melody. But he wasn’t as smart. All through school, her marks had been much better than his. But somehow he had turned out to be a college graduate who now ran his own accounting firm and was a pillar of the community, while Melody had spent a decade hanging out in studios with God knows what.
Elizabeth had a collection of all the albums Melody had worked on – she never listened to any of them, of course – and proudly showed the latest addition to the collection to any visitors. Ben and Louise had dragged her and Hank to a club once where Melody had a ‘gig’. Elizabeth and Hank had applauded politely, but they had agreed on the way home that it had just been too loud for them. And the people there! Stuff sticking out of all parts of their body…and the tattoos!
Elizabeth dried her hands on the dish towel. “No tattoos,” she admonished her daughter.
“No, Mom, no tattoos.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Melody picked up her guitar and sighed. Mom had eventually come around, and Melody knew Ben was jealous. She really didn’t care if she won over Louise. And she really didn’t have time to think about them right now.
The whole touring process was turning out to be quite different from what Melody had assumed. When you were a studio musician, it was easy. You went in, you played, you left. Even when you worked a club…in, play, out, home to your own bed…or sometimes maybe not.
This touring thing, however, concerned so many more aspects of her life. Melody had to fill out a questionnaire the size of a bath towel for Murray. What kind of food did she like to eat? Did she have an exercise regimen? Would she like one? Health insurance information, family information, allergies, emergency contacts, stuff she didn’t even know the answers to. What brand of shampoo did she use? Soap?
Melody answered as best she could, but in truth, the answers were that she would eat just about anything, she’d be happy to follow anyone else’s exercise routine, or forego one altogether for that matter…she just didn’t care. Soap? Shampoo? Whatever was cheapest.
Was this how rock stars lived on the road? Their every whim catered to? It was okay, Melody guessed, but there were some things she didn’t want everyone knowing.
Murray had stuttered and stammered through that part. “This is a standard questionnaire…um… we…we don’t really have one…um…just for women…”
Omigod! Melody rolled her eyes. “I’ll buy my own shampoo,” she said, looking directly at him.
Murray didn’t get it and continued to stammer. “No…it’s more…it’s fem…”
That was as far as he got. Melody took his chin in her hand.
“Listen to me, Murray. I will buy my own…shampoo.”
“That’d be great, Mel,” he said, catching on. “Shampoo,” he repeated, putting finger quotations around it. He chuckled. “Good, good.”
Melody smiled at the recollection of the conversation.
Blaine came up behind her. “What’s so funny?”
The meeting had ended without bloodshed, and they had taken a break. Now they were going to noodle through some songs, just fiddle with it, get a feel for each other. The real work would begin in a couple of days. They had rented a warehouse. They would set it up like a stage and start working out the show.
“Tampons,” replied Melody.
Nick had been halfway in the door. He turned on his heel and went out. Neither Blaine nor Melody saw him.
Blaine raised an eyebrow at Melody. She laughed. “Murray’s questionnaire,” she said. “It didn’t cover the topic, and he had to find a way to bring it up.”
Blaine laughed and made finger quotations. “Oh, no!” He chuckled at the image of Murray in his three-piece suit trying to ask Mel about feminine hygiene products.
“Henceforth, they will be referred to as ‘shampoo’…and I’ll be buying my own, thank you very much.”
They laughed together, and then Melody sobered. “Is that the way it is? That everything like that is done for you?”
“Pretty much. It’s pretty intense out there. You play, and then you travel, and then you play. You’re always on top of each other, and it’s just best if the little irritations are taken care of by someone else, so that they don’t become big irritations.”
Melody nodded. She could see that. It was going to be difficult enough being in close quarters with Nick Carter…talk about a mood swing with legs. She didn’t want to see him in a hissy fit over his brand of toothpaste. Although, thought Melody, from the look of him, personal care isn’t a big priority.
Today, Nick was dressed in baggy cut offs in a camouflage pattern. There was no way they could be dignified with the word ‘capris’. He was wearing beach sandals, the flip-floppy kind and a t-shirt with a food stain on the shoulder, like he’d wiped his hand there.
At least, he’d washed his hair. It was clean, but just hung straight around his face. He spent a great deal of time brushing it out of his eyes with his hand. Melody couldn’t decide if it was a nervous gesture or just habit, but it made her want to grab a pair of scissors. He had a baseball cap on backwards that he removed and replaced every time he fiddled with his hair.
“Yeah, so it’s good to know that you don’t have to worry about laundry and shit like that…”
Melody turned to him. “Laundry? Someone’s going to do my laundry?”
“Yessss…” said Blaine cautiously. Was there a problem with that?
“Well, why the hell didn’t someone say so before? If I’d known someone else did the laundry, I’d have been on the road years ago! I hate laundry!”
“Hey, guys! Ready to go?” Rashad joined them.
“Did you know, Rashad, that they do your laundry on the road?” This was the best news Melody had had all day.
“Sure,” he said with a grin. “The PAs take care of it...personal assistants.” He looked over at Blaine and laughed. “Man, she’s got a lot to learn.”
Nick’s voice came to them suddenly from the doorway. “Can we make some music?”
Rashad turned to him and grinned. “That’s what we’re here for,” he said.
They spent two hours playing with each other…like a bunch of kids…getting the feel of the vibrations from each other. And they knew very shortly that they were going to get along fine. There wasn’t a lot of conversation between Nick and Melody, but that would come with time. At the end of the session, they packed up their instruments carefully. Tom came in and told them that the equipment would all be transported to the warehouse and please, could we keep the location a secret. They looked at him like he was beneath contempt. No one said a word.
Rafe came in at the end for a little pep talk, which none of them really listened to. At the end, he paid special tribute to Melody, welcomed her aboard, her first tour, how excited they all were, blah, blah, blah…Nick actually turned his back on him at that point.
“We’re all going to get along just fine,” Rafe finished.
Well, fine, thought Blaine, if Rafe and Nick would just stop butting heads at every turn.
Well, fine, thought Rashad, if the suits would just stay the hell out of the room.
Well, fine, thought Nick, if someone could arrange to have Rafe Ariando transported to another galaxy.
Well, fine, thought Mel, how bad could it be? And someone’s going to do my laundry.
Tampons!
Nick knew what they were, of course, but he didn’t really want to talk about them…or even think about them.
He was just beginning to get his head around having a girl…woman, he corrected himself, sarcastically…on tour and now this. That was the kind of thing that made him uncomfortable, embarrassed. He didn’t know why.
It had been an endless source of amusement to the guys when they were on tour. Hey, Nicky! Look what’s on TV, every time there was one of ‘those ads’. AJ told him he figured the reason Nick’s relationships never lasted long, was because Nick wanted to get out of it before the girl got her period. Nick had blushed at the word ‘period’ and that had sent the other four into gales of laughter, and they had tormented him for the rest of the day.
Nick sighed. There were days when he missed the fellas terribly. But then there were days… Nick threw down the controller for his x-box and headed for bed. He lay awake for awhile, propped up on his pillows with his arms behind his head, trying to make sense of his life.
Did he like where he was right now? Yes, yes he did. He was very proud of the new album. Don’t Call Me Nicky. The more he thought about the title, the more he liked it. And he was happy that Rafe hadn’t been the one to think of it. The less Rafe had to do with anything, the better Nick liked it.
Rafe Ariando was an interfering asshole, but at least, he had been smart enough to lay off the music. He had hired experts to take care of that. Nick guessed that was what Rafe did…hired experts. He’d gotten the best musicians for the tour, that was for damned sure. Nick just wished that he didn’t always have the feeling that Rafe was surrounding him with all these experts because he thought Nick was going to screw up!
It would be better when they actually started to perform. Even the rehearsal time would be wonderful. And then getting out on the road. Getting with the fans. That was always great. Of course, then you had all that personal interview shit that had to be got through. And this time, they wouldn’t ask him about the group every friggin’ time. At least, he hoped not. If they did, he was just going to say, Backstreet’s gone…get over it! He wondered how many teenyboppers would commit suicide on the Internet if he did that.
Nick’s hand wandered down under the sheet, and he caressed himself idly. When would Tamara be back? Friday, he thought. What day was it today? Wednesday. So a couple of days. Then they would have the weekend. Then rehearsals started on Monday. Nick grinned. Back to making music.
And he still hadn’t answered Murray’s question about “guests on tour”. Nick didn’t want Tamara around for the first couple of weeks, he knew that. Not until they got going. But then maybe… He’d have to ask her about her schedule.
Nick had been seeing Tamara Vance for a couple of months now. She was a model, tall and slim, with long blonde hair and ice-blue eyes. Nick smiled. He’d had a couple of people ask him if she was his sister. He wasn’t sure how to define this relationship. He thought maybe they were friends first, and lovers second. He laughed. He knew how Tamara defined it.
They’d met during Awards Season. That’s how Nick thought of it, like it was one of the seasons in a year. In late winter and early spring, there was a flurry of award shows for different media – movies, music, charity things, etc. There seemed to be one every week. Publicists loved to get their clients out there on the red carpet and, if not there, then at least seen at the various parties that preceded and followed the events. Having your client present an award was considered a coup, and if he or she were actually asked to perform, well then, your job was secure for quite some time.
Nick hated it. He wasn’t good at impromptu speaking and he always seemed to get blindsided. When they were the Backstreet Boys, it was no problem. Kevin answered everything anyway. All Nick had to do was smile and wave to the fans. But now…
Nick sighed. Nope, he told himself, not going there. I’m happy on my own.
He hadn’t been happy the night he’d met Tamara. It had been a last-minute thing. He was into recording, and he didn’t want the distraction, but his publicist pushed him into doing it. Nick didn’t know that Howie was going to be there, and Howie didn’t know about him. It was a big mob, and it was quite some time before either realized that the other was in the room. They realized it when the reporters started asking them why they were ignoring each other.
Nick looked around the room in confusion. Howie was here? Cool. He loved seeing Howie. When Nick finally found him, he scooped him up in his arms in a bear hug. Howie laughed and said, “Put me down, you big idiot, and feinted a punch at his arm. They laughed and shared a drink and then went their separate ways.
An hour later, Rafe Ariando appeared before him, his face stony. “What the fuck is going on?” the Spaniard hissed through pinched lips.
“What?” Nick was already sick of Rafe treating him like shit, and they had barely started working together.
“Your fight with Howie,” he said. “It’s all over the room.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” said Nick. “I didn’t have a fight with Howie. I hugged him.”
Rafe had heard a whisper here and a rumor there. Howie and Nick had ignored each other. They weren’t speaking. Then when Nick spoke to Howie, Howie wouldn’t talk to him. And then he took a swing at him. Rafe put two and two together and got seventy-eight.
Rafe was still suspicious. “Howie didn’t punch you?”
Nick fell apart laughing. “Howie punch someone?”
Rafe Ariando was not a man who liked to be laughed at. And he did not like to be wrong. He gave Nick a little lecture on behaving himself and appearances being important and blah, blah, blah… Nick stopped listening.
When Rafe paused to draw breath, Nick moved away from him. “Why don’t you go fuck up someone else’s life for awhile?” he snarled, “I’m here to party.”
He walked away from Rafe and headed out of the ballroom. He strode across the lobby to a small dark bar and perched on a stool.
Two drinks later, he heard, “Don’t you think you ought to at least breathe between drinks?”
Nick looked sideways. “Wow!” he said, without thinking. There was a seriously beautiful girl sitting beside him. Seriously beautiful. And serious. She was not smiling.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked.
“Oh, are you willing to share?” she said. “I thought maybe you wanted it all for yourself.” Then she smiled and held out her hand. “Tamara Vance.”
“Nick Carter,” he said, shaking her hand. He’d seen her picture on magazine covers. She was just as gorgeous in person.
“You okay?” asked Tamara. She’d watched Nick storm from the room, and when he hadn’t come back after a few minutes, she’d gone looking for him.
Nick nodded and grimaced. “Yeah. Just p.o.’d at management.”
Tamara smiled. “I hear you on that one. I didn’t even want to come here tonight. Which one is it tonight? Favorite Cat Awards?”
“Yeah,” said Nick, laughing. “I’d rather be bowling.”
“Me too,” laughed Tamara.
“Not in those shoes,” said Nick, motioning to her stiletto heels.
Tamara examined her feet. “Hmmm…I guess not. But I thought they provided the shoes.”
“You wearing socks?” laughed Nick. “They don’t provide those.”
They each thought for a moment about sticking their bare feet into used bowling shoes. Then they grimaced together. “Yuck!”
They talked for awhile and then went back to the party. They danced a couple of dances and then were absorbed into different groups.
The next day, Nick had flowers sent to her with a pair of sports socks tucked into the arrangement. Tamara called to thank him, and they began seeing each other. They started with bowling and moved up to movies and dinner. It was very casual and very spread out. Tamara was all over the country doing modeling, and Nick was back and forth to New York finishing up the CD. Whenever they were in town together, they would do something.
One night, the something they did was to rent a movie at her place and make out on the sofa. It was friendly, and it was fun, and neither one was sure they wanted it to go any further. Except that they both did, and so they went into the bedroom and made love.
The next morning, all Tamara could talk about was her ex-boyfriend and how she was just getting over that relationship and she didn’t want to get into another one and she really liked having Nick for a friend.
Nick couldn’t believe it. Did people really say that? “Let’s just be friends.” He thought that was only in the movies. He was just deciding whether or not he should get his feelings hurt when Tamara added, “Friends that fuck, of course.”
Nick was taken back. He wasn’t a prude, far from it. At least, he hadn’t thought he was. But this was a little blunt for him. Tamara shrugged at the shocked look on his face and said, “Or we can just stick to bowling, if you’d like.”
Nick decided that bowling didn’t have the same appeal as sex, and so they began “seeing” each other. They were on each other’s speed dial, and they emailed on a regular basis. But Tamara took someone else to the West Coast Fashion Benefit, and Nick went dateless to the Humanitarian Distinction Awards. They had their picture taken together a couple of times and answered the inevitable question with, “We’re just friends.” Nick was afraid that Tamara might tag on the ending to that, but thankfully, she didn’t.
Nick wasn’t really sure how ‘friends that fuck’ would translate in the close confines of a tour. He thought back to the Black and Blue tour. Leighanne and Kristin had visited here and there, but they’d put almost as many years into Backstreet as the Boys had, and the appeal of a tour was not there for them. They knew that being on tour meant hard work for the Boys, and they didn’t like to interfere. Sarah had been there with AJ at the end, and that had been crazy, but no one was going to say anything. The drive to get AJ through the tour alive was what kept them all going, and if Sarah Martin was what it took, then so be it. Howie had brought a girl along on the Japan leg at the end, but she didn’t fit in all that well. Of course, mused Nick, by the time they were finished with Japan, they were all sick of each other.
Nick thought about the other people on this new tour. Blaine had a steady girlfriend, but she had a real job, something not in the business. She would be able to come and see him occasionally for the weekend. Rashad was married and had two little kids. His wife wouldn’t bring them anywhere near the tour. Nick laughed to himself. Big, hulking Rashad turned into the meekest man when his wife was in the room. Talk about whipped… Nick wondered if the new keyboardist would be single. He might be looking to hook up. Maybe he and Nick could do some clubbing together. And what about Ms. Jones, he wondered. Did she have anyone? Nick pictured her in his head for a moment.
Nick couldn’t really get a handle on Melody. One minute, she was polite, and the next minute, she was snarky. Nick was still smarting from her Boybandland comment. But she had said he should sing all the songs he wrote. So she knew he wrote them. But then she said they weren’t really rock songs.
And like today…they’d been jamming and goofing around...and in one of the breaks, he’d asked her what she would wear for performing. He didn’t care…he was just making conversation …he’d hated the whole coordinated look of BSB because it always emphasized how much bigger he was than the others, so now he wore whatever the hell he wanted and so did the band. Melody had looked him up and down and said, “Well, not The Little Rascals look, that’s for sure.” Rashad had busied himself with his guitar, but Blaine had laughed out loud. Nick felt like he was ten years old.
As Nick thought about it now though, he decided that maybe Melody had a point. Not that he was going to start dressing in those pants with the razor-sharp creases that Rafe sported, but maybe he should give a little more thought to wardrobe…especially for so-called business meetings. Yeah, if you’re not allowed to call me Nicky, maybe I’d better stop acting like him.
Nick’s thoughts turned back to Melody. The jeans and t-shirt that she had on today would be cool for touring. Maybe he’d suggest it. Yeah, right, give your head a shake, he told himself. Don’t suggest anything to her! At least, not until you know her a lot better than you do now.
Nick rolled over and pulled a pillow down under his head. He was going to make music again. That was all he really cared about. He closed his eyes and went to sleep with a smile on his face.
Melody was the first to arrive at the warehouse. She was glad that she had specific directions because it wasn’t easy to find. That was a good thing, she guessed. If she couldn’t find it, neither could the fans.
From what they said, that was going to be a serious issue. Melody had never heard so much talk about the ‘fans’. It sounded a bit over the top to her. But what did she know? When you were in the studio, the fans weren’t part of the equation. Going on tour was a whole different thing apparently. Maybe she was too old for this, she mused.
Tom Wilson had laid it on pretty thick. More than was necessary, Melody thought. He talked about how the caterers had been vetted and all the sound and stage crew. People were virtually under penalty of death if they leaked the location. Melody didn’t worry about telling anyone. No one would ask her. The only person who would be remotely interested was Chrissy, and she knew better.
Melody parked her car and walked up to a small people door beside a much larger truck door. She knocked, then noticed a small bell at the side. She pushed the button and could hear the ringing from inside. But there was no answer. She tried to peer in through the small window, but it was dark inside, and she couldn’t see anything. She looked around her, then at her watch. She was half an hour early. But shouldn’t someone be around, the people that set things up? If the musicians were to arrive at ten, wouldn’t other people be here even earlier?
Melody got back into her car. I know what you’ll do now, she told herself. You’ll start second-guessing yourself. Am I in the right place? Do I have the right date and time? Have I screwed it up totally? Well, you are in the right place, you have the address right in front of you. You do have the right date and time, it’s written right there on Tom’s handout. You have not screwed it up totally. Now get out your puzzle.
Melody pulled her crossword puzzle book from her bag and bent her head over it. She always had it with her. She hated wasting time doing nothing. Whenever there was a break of any sort, a stand-around-and-wait kind of thing, Melody would pull out her crossword book. She had tried reading a novel, but waiting around was often a sporadic activity, and she found herself reading the same paragraph over and over. With a crossword puzzle, you could just pick it up where you left off. She did her crossword puzzles in ink, and she had done so many in her life that only the most challenging would work for her now. Many a person had picked up her book and looked at it and set it back down, shaking his head. And people quickly learned that no one, no one at all, was allowed to fill in an answer.
Melody inked in the letters, trying to keep her stomach calm. I won’t even look at my watch until I’ve filled in five clues. …four, five. Okay.
She looked around. Hers was still the only car in the parking lot. She looked at her watch. Two minutes had gone by. Okay, she told herself, you are going to finish this puzzle. You are not looking at your watch until you are finished.
She bent her head and worked away at the puzzle. When it was done, she looked up. Still no sign of anyone else. She looked at her watch. 10:03. Shit! They were supposed to be starting at ten. So where was everyone? Was she in the right place? Did she have the right date and time? Melody could feel her stomach starting to churn. Here we go!
She checked the address again. No, she was in the right place. She pulled her cell phone out of her bag. Who are you going to call? she asked herself. Ghostbusters? She checked the sheet of instructions to see if there was a phone number. There was nothing for the warehouse. Only Tom’s cell was listed.
Melody hesitated. Did she want to do this? Did she want to make herself seem like such a bag of nerves right from the start? She looked at her watch. 10:06. She sighed and punched in the number. Just as she was about to hit Send, she noticed a car enter the parking lot down at the other end and drive around the side of the building. Melody set down the phone and started the car. It wouldn’t hurt to have a look. She drove down the side and turned slowly around the end of the building…into a beehive of activity. There were trucks backed up to two loading docks and a row of cars by a small door. Crap! said Melody to herself. She hated being late.
Melody parked the car and went into the building. People bustled back and forth, laying electrical cable across the floor, setting up speakers and soundboards. Off to the side, she could see the catering staff setting up coffee urns and putting out trays of bottled water and juice. She didn’t see any of the other musicians yet. Good!
Tom and Rafe had their heads together over a clipboard up by the “stage”. Melody headed in that direction…slowly, looking around, taking it all in. She recognized a few people and gave them a wave. They smiled and waved back.
This was where she would be virtually living for the next month or so, she thought. She wondered where the ladies room was. Or if there even was one. There must be two parts to the warehouse, she thought. The room she was in now wasn’t big enough to stretch as far as the first room she’d looked in. She wondered if anyone else had made the same mistake.
“Hey, Mel!” Tom called her over.
“Morning, Tom. Rafe,” she nodded.
The two men nodded in reply.
“Did you have any trouble finding the place?” asked Rafe, glancing sideways at Tom. Melody knew by the look on Tom’s face that his directions had confused more than just her.
She smiled brightly. “Nope. Easy as pie.”
Tom looked relieved, and a shadow passed over Rafe’s face. He excused himself and went to check out the caterers.
“Thanks, Mel,” said Tom. Melody Jones was always the first one to arrive at a session, and when she had not appeared by 10:00…
“No problem,” said Melody, “But you might want to station a guy in the parking lot…just for today, just to let people know what side of the building we’re on.”
“Good plan,” said Tom. “Looks like the coffee’s nearly ready. Why don’t you grab yourself a cup?” He moved off to find a gofer.
It was after ten o’clock in the morning. That meant that Melody’s caffeine need had shifted from coffee to Coke. She watched Rafe talking to the catering manager as she approached the food table. Rafe was a detail man, that’s for sure. She pitied the poor chef that didn’t pack the right kind of donuts. She was glad there was someone like Rafe around. You couldn’t leave it to the musicians. They’d just stand around and play until they dropped dead of starvation.
Rafe Ariando. He was a handsome man in a cosmopolitan, European kind of way. His dark coloring gave him a bit of a sinister look, and he used it to his advantage, keeping people on their toes around him. But when he laughed, his whole face lit up, and it took your breath away. And he did laugh. Melody knew that the people he worked with didn’t see it too often, but she had seen him in a social setting once or twice, when he had been more relaxed.
Today he was dressed in charcoal gray pants, with tiny pleats which emphasized his slim waist. The creases were so sharp you could slice tomatoes with them. His white shirt was crisp and clean, and there wasn’t a wrinkle in it anywhere. He wore a grey tie with a fleck of red through it. A thin leather belt and shiny leather shoes finished the ensemble. Melody wondered how he had managed to drive here without creasing anything.
Melody grabbed a Coke from the table and looked at the food offerings. There were all kinds of bagels, breakfast pastries and fruit trays. Wow! What a lot of food. Of course, she thought, looking around her, there’d be a lot of people…She grabbed a strawberry Danish to go with her can of Coke and continued exploring the space.
She found people setting up an office area with a couple of computers; she found a workout area being put together behind some curtains; she found some sofas and armchairs being placed in conversational groupings; she found the stage. But she didn’t find the ladies room. Shit! Now she was going to have to ask someone, and she didn’t want to do that.
“Hey, Mel!”
“Scott! You’re running the board?!”
Scott Thornton grinned at her and nodded. Melody held out her arms, and Scott moved his arms between the Danish and the Coke and hugged her, lifting her off her feet.
“I heard they got you, Mel. Finally dragging your sorry ass out onto the road, are they?”
“Yeah, they’re sick of me in L.A.”
Melody was very pleased by this turn of events. Scott Thornton was a great board man, and they had worked together a number of times. They ‘clicked’ and were able to communicate with each other with very few words. They had clicked on another level once or twice as well. It had been satisfying for both of them…and totally recreational.
They chatted for a few minutes, and then Melody continued on her prowl of the building while Scott went back to setting up the board. When she returned to the stage area a few minutes later, still without having found the ladies room, Rashad and Blaine had arrived.
Now when you put three musicians in the same breathing space, it isn’t long before music starts to happen. Even while the grips and gaffers worked around them, the three got down to it. Rashad pulled sheet music out of his guitar case, and Blaine grabbed his drumsticks. Melody took her acoustic guitar out of its case and beckoned the others over to one of the conversation pits. They sat down together and tuned out the world. They noodled over one of the songs from the new album, Melody playing the lead, Rashad adding in the bass line vocally, and Blaine tapping the beat on the coffee table with his sticks.
“What do you think of it…the CD?” asked Blaine, when they finished the song.
“It’s good,” said Melody. “Really good.”
Rashad nodded his agreement. “Yeah, the kid’s going to be a star, no question.”
“The kid’s already a star,” said Melody. “Let’s see if we can make him into a musician.”
There was a flurry of activity near the main door. Heads turned, and people stopped what they were doing for a moment to take a look. The kid had arrived. And he was not alone. He was accompanied by two people – both closer to Melody’s age than Nick’s. The first was obviously a security guard. His stance and the way his eyes kept traveling proved that. The second was someone Melody figured Rafe would love. He was wearing a tie and carrying a clipboard.
“Jeff Blackwell,” said Blaine. “Security. Good. He knows his business. He’ll make Nick toe the line.”
Melody raised her eyebrows. She thought security was there to protect the star from the fans, not from himself.
Blaine shrugged. “Youth of today,” he said, rolling his eyes.
Okay, thought Melody, filing that away. It didn’t surprise her all that much. Nick hadn’t impressed her so far as a together sort of a guy. He seemed more like someone who just let stuff happen and then dealt with it, rather than having any kind of plan…in the event of…
Rashad offered his information. “And the other guy is Toby Gray – he’s Nick’s P.A.”
Melody nodded. She’d already met him. And it hadn’t gone all that well. Toby had called her on Friday to say they had to have a meeting. Fine with her. Let’s meet for coffee, she said.
They went to a Starbucks near her apartment. Toby had his clipboard with him. By the end, Melody couldn’t decide if she felt like she was undergoing a police interrogation or if she’d been sent to the principal’s office, but she knew one thing. She didn’t like Toby Gray and he didn’t like her.
Personal assistants! There were going to be two on this tour. One for Nick’s exclusive use and one for the rest of them. Toby Gray did not look like a personal assistant. He looked like a model. He had even tried that for awhile, but had lucked into a P.A. job while he was waiting for his own big break. He figured he’d spend a few months doing that and then make enough contacts to break into the film world. At least, that's what he figured ten years ago, when he had started doing this kind of work. It turned out that he loved it and he was good at it. He got to travel all over the world and hang out with rock stars, and he didn’t need any talent to do it.
Toby would work for Nick. The other assistant had yet to be hired. He would work for Toby and take care of the rest of them. Toby had a series of questions that made Murray’s questionnaire look puny…and superfluous as well. Melody couldn’t figure out why Toby didn’t just ask Murray for the required information.
When they got to “that” question, Melody rolled her eyes. “It’s not a problem,” she said. “I can take care of it myself.”
Well, said Toby, he liked to be on top of things, make sure everything went smoothly for Nick.
Melody couldn’t see how her personal hygiene needs had anything to do with the guys, especially the one who didn’t even know how to wear socks and shoes at the same time, but she bit her tongue and just repeated that Toby shouldn’t concern himself with it.
Toby wouldn’t let it go, however. He said that maybe he would try and hire a female assistant, maybe that would work better.
“I can buy my own fucking tampons,” hissed Melody. The counterman paused in the act of wiping down a nearby table and retreated to the safety of his coffee urns.
Toby sat back in surprise.
Melody sighed. “Look,” she explained, “living in a world of men is no big deal to me. And I don’t let my ovaries interfere with my job. I don’t wear a sign that says, ‘Hey look, I’ve got my period’ and I don’t suffer from PMS. No one has to know I’m even a woman. Okay?”
Toby nodded, thinking to himself that he didn’t ever want to see this woman with PMS, not ever!
“Okay,” said Toby, “I guess that’s just about it. I have everything I need. There’s just the…” He hesitated. “I probably don’t even need to say this…what with you being so much older and all…but…um...”
Melody didn't know whether to be insulted or amused. She just stared at the assistant blankly, as if she had no idea what he was getting at.
“…um…so like, when you’re on the road, it’s a different kind of atmosphere…very close quarters, sometimes…you know…people misread…” Sweat had broken out on Toby’s forehead.
Melody decided to give him a break. “I should keep my hands off the kid?”
Toby exhaled with relief. And then he proceeded to undo all the goodwill he had built up. “Yeah, like that. I mean, I’ve checked you out. I don’t think there’d be a problem. You don’t have a reputation for that…but you know, looking after Nick is my job…and I don’t want any… complications.”
Melody’s lips were white, and her fists were clenched in her lap, but her voice was calm and even. “Is Nick concerned? Should I speak with him?”
”No, no,” said Toby, a little too abruptly. “It’s nothing, it’s no big deal; he knows it won’t be a problem. I just wanted to say it once and get it out of the way.” He erased the air with his hands. There! It was done. Over. Forgotten. No need to talk about it any more.
Now, Melody watched the three men make their way through the warehouse. Jeff had relaxed a little but was still vigilant. You could see him matching faces and names and checking them off some kind of mental list. Nick gave handshakes and high fives to people he recognized and ignored the people he didn’t. Toby took in the whole scene in one sweeping glance and then directed the little party straight to Rafe, who was still standing by the coffee talking to the head caterer.
Blaine, Rashad and Melody watched carefully. The vibes between Nick and Rafe at the meeting had been strong and unmistakable. The two men didn’t like each other. But they were the two men who had the most control over the musicians’ lives for the next few months, and everyone wanted to know where he stood.
Rafe looked up from his clipboard. He looked at his watch dramatically. “Hey, Nick! Nice of you to drop by. And I see you made straight for the food.” Then Rafe turned back to the chef and continued his conversation.
Melody gasped. The insult was too blatant to be ignored. Nick’s face turned beet red. But he recovered pretty well. “Already ate, thanks! Just wanted this.” He reached out for a bottle of water. Then he turned and walked away, his eyes searching for and finally finding the three musicians. Nick approached them, and they stood up. He took in the sheet music, the drumsticks and the guitar. He relaxed visibly.
Melody joined in the nods and smiles and greetings, but her mind was elsewhere. There was a lot going on here…a lot to be learned…about routines and procedures and personalities. She was going to have to take in a lot in a very short time. But what she had just taken in was the slight curve at the corner’s of Toby Gray’s mouth when Rafe insulted Nick and the glance the two men with clipboards exchanged behind the young man’s back.
Yes, it had already been quite the morning. And they still hadn’t made any music. And she still hadn’t found the ladies room.
The reason Melody didn’t find the ladies room was because there wasn’t one.
“I’m telling you, Mart, it’s the friggin’ dark ages with these men.”
Melody was unwinding after the long day with a glass of wine and the telephone. Her best friend since kindergarten, Martha Jane Hanratty, now Martha Jane Connors, lived on the other side of the country. The two women had researched every long distance phone plan there was and had come up with one that allowed them to get the most talking done for the least amount of money.
Martha Jane had two small children and a husband she adored. But she didn’t adore her husband’s job, which uprooted the family every three or four years and placed them somewhere else, someplace where Martha Jane had to start all over again, building friendships and social structure for herself and her children. She thanked God every day that she had maintained her ties to Melody Jones.
“You mean they didn’t see that there needed to be a ladies room,” asked Martha.
“No,” said Melody, “they didn’t see that there didn’t need to be one.”
Martha Jane expressed her confusion, and Melody explained. She had finally located the bathrooms. They were unmarked. She had walked past them twice, thinking they were closets. There were two…each one with a toilet and a sink and a lock on the door. So what the hell difference did it make who went into each room? Tom Wilson had tried to fill the space left in the air after Nick and Rafe’s initial confrontation by fussing…fussing over Melody and her toileting needs. He talked about reserving one of the bathrooms, getting a sign for the door.
"Not necessary," said Melody, "It’s a bathroom. There’s a lock on the door."
Toby Gray, who had followed Nick over to them, jumped on the Bathroom Bandwagon. Maybe they could have a sign that she could flip over when she wasn’t in there, and then people would know the men could use it.
“Or maybe the fact that the door is open and I’m not in there will be enough of a clue,” said Melody, losing patience. Was this the way it was going to be? she wondered. Every time there was tension, it would be deflected by pointing out that Melody was a woman?
Martha Jane laughed. “I can just see you, Mel, your little fists clenched at your side, all ready to do battle.”
Melody laughed. “Well, you know how it is…and then, of course, there’s the whole height issue. I’m not just the woman, I’m the little woman.”
“The little, scrawny woman,” added Martha Jane.
They laughed together.
“Tell me about Nick,” said Martha Jane.
Melody sighed and started talking. Martha Jane listened carefully to the seemingly random musings and put together a picture of Nick from Melody’s viewpoint. He was a nice kid, tried hard, wanted people to like him. He wanted to be grown up, but he wasn’t sure what that meant.
“And you can tell that he’s used to getting what he wants by acting like a kid. He’s trying to break the habit, but he’s got a ways to go on that. He was dressed a little better today, though.”
And he was talented. From what little they had been able to do, Melody could see that Nick had a great voice and a good ear for the nuances of music. And he was willing to listen to what other people said.
“Well, other people but Rafe Ariando.” Melody described the initial meeting of the two that morning.
It hadn’t gotten any better during the day. Rafe fussed around, checking out all aspects of the operation. Nick hung with the musicians, and they set up microphones and did checks. As long as Rafe and Nick were in different parts of the building, everything went smoothly. But when they were together, neither could resist angling for higher ground, trying to prove who was the boss here…who was the star…
“Rafe’s not going on tour, is he?” whispered Melody to Rashad, at one point.
Rashad shook his head. “No, we just have to hope we can all survive the next month and then we’ll only see him occasionally.”
Melody thought Nick could handle himself for a month. And they would all be there to back him up. Because if Rafe kept going the way he was, he would alienate everyone in the place. Everyone except maybe Toby Gray.
“Watch out for that one,” Martha Jane warned.
“You know it,” countered Melody, and then she went on to describe Nick’s sense of humor and his boyish eagerness to make music.
“And he’s a boob man,” she finished, laughing.
“Every man is a boob man when you’re in the room,” said Mart. “You got a great rack on your bony, little frame.”
Melody laughed along with her friend. She knew Mart was right. Sometimes Melody couldn’t decide whether she liked her breasts or hated them. Finally, she just learned to live with them. Learned to live with the fact that very few men she met could describe her face. Learned to live with the fact that foreplay for men meant playing with her breasts like they were the only part of her body. Learned to live with the fact that men thought women could have brains or breasts, but not both. Learned to live with the fact that less-endowed women thought Melody had an unfair advantage in the dating game and held her responsible for anything lacking in their social life.
“And what about his hands?” asked Martha Jane.
Nick might be a 'boob man', but Melody was a 'hands girl'. It was the first thing she noticed about a man. If you didn’t have nice hands, it didn’t matter how rich, good looking, smart or well-hung you were - Melody Jones wasn’t interested. Martha Jane already knew that Melody thought Rafe had nice hands – long, slim fingers and well-manicured nails.
Melody gave a slight gasp, which Martha Jane didn’t miss. “Mart, he has the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen on a man. They’re perfect.”
Martha Jane bit her lip. Uh oh!
“Don’t worry,” laughed Melody. “He’s just a kid.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The kid was talking over the day with Tamara. They had spent the weekend together, and then she had flown out this morning for Vancouver to do a photo shoot for a photographer that was considered ‘difficult’. She was going to be gone for two weeks. They had spent Friday night at a club, and they had spent Saturday and Sunday in bed, interspersing rounds of lovemaking with discussions of their apprehensions for the near future.
Today, they exchanged small talk about her flight and hotel accommodations. She wasn’t going to meet 'the prick' until the next day. Nick had tried to counsel her on the weekend to withhold judgment and condemnation until she had actually met the man, but Tamara had heard many horror stories from other models. When Nick wondered why anyone would work with the guy if he was such a creep, Tamara had just looked at him in astonishment and said, “Because he’s the best.”
At the moment, Tamara was asking about the thorn in his side. “How was Rafe? Bad as you expected.”
“Yeah, he was a complete asshole,” said Nick. “You know, he’s just got to get the message across to everyone that he’s the boss.”
“Is he the boss?” asked Tamara. She knew that Nick didn’t like Rafe, that he was afraid of him in some way.
“Well, he can think he is, if he wants to,” replied Nick, laughing. “He can organize the world if he wants to, but he can’t make music, and eventually we’ll get down to that.”
Eventually.
When would that be? wondered Nick. He didn’t even know why the musicians had been told to come today. Most of the day was spent moving out of the way of the techs who were setting everything up.
He finally found out about the keyboard guy, which was at least a step in the right direction. They’d been on the stage, stuck there like a bunch of Muppets waiting for someone to shove his hand up their ass and make them talk. Every few minutes, Scott would say one of their names and they would say ‘Test, test, test…’ until he signaled for them to stop. Then someone would move a microphone a fraction of an inch, and they’d do it again. Nick knew it had to be done, but hell…it was boring.
And then Rafe came striding up to the stage, tucking his cell phone into his pocket and grinning from ear to ear. He beckoned all the musicians in around Nick, as if he had a great secret to impart that only they could hear. Nick remained seated on his stool, while the others came to him.
“Great news,” Rafe announced. “I got Chris Sandoval for keys!”
“You got Tofu?! Cool!” said Rashad.
“I thought he was doing Justin this summer,” said Blaine. This was great news, thought the drummer. Cristofol Sandoval, known as Tofu to his friends, was a great player and a fun guy to have around.
“He only signed on for the first bit of that,” put in Tom Wilson, who had followed Rafe to the stage. “He thought there might be artistic differences…and apparently, there were.”
The musicians kept their poker faces on and didn’t comment. They knew better than to be indiscreet about major artists. Who knew when they might be working with them!
Nick knew who Chris Sandoval was, but he’d never heard his nickname. “Why do they call him Tofu?” he blurted out. He was pissed that he was getting this news at the same time as everyone else. Shouldn’t Rafe have said something to him first?
“It’s a play on his name,” said Rashad, “and he’s also big into vegetarianism. He’ll try and convert you.” He and Blaine exchanged a glance and laughed. They had both been subjected to the nutrition gospel according to Tofu. It hadn’t made one whit of difference to their lifestyle.
“Great!” said Nick. “Another person lecturing me on food.”
Rafe could not let an opportunity like that slip by. “Well,” he said, eying Nick’s midsection, “couldn’t hurt.”
“What about Geordie Baker?” Nick flung back. He was angry that everyone else seemed to know this guy Tofu. He was sick of being out of the loop, the little pop singer trying to knock on the door of the rock world. And if Rafe made one more reference to his weight…
“He’s unavailable,” said Rafe, flicking his wrist at Nick, wiping the question from the air.
Nick was just about to say something, when a soft voice whispered in his ear, “Rehab.”
Nick looked over his shoulder. Melody was studying her thumbnail intently.
“Can we make some music soon?” said Nick, rising to his feet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Did he get there today?” asked Tamara, bringing Nick back to the present.
“Yeah, he did. Right before we left. Nice guy. Funny,” said Nick and he told Tamara of their initial meeting. Of how Rafe had tried to be the boss again and make formal introductions but had been brushed aside by Tofu as he hugged Blaine and then bumped bellies with Rashad.
“Hey, Green Eyes,” he said then, sweeping Melody into a hug and lifting her off her feet.
Then he set her down, and ignoring Rafe completely, stuck out his hand to Nick. “Chris Sandoval,” he said, “Call me Tofu.”
“Nick. Nick Carter. Nick.” Nick felt like he was babbling.
“But never Nicky, right?” grinned Tofu, cocking his finger and thumb like a gun and pointing them at Nick.
Nick nodded. That was right.
“Her eyes are brown,” he said and wondered where the hell that came from.
Chris Sandoval threw back his head and roared. Then he turned to Melody and did the same little gun motion in her direction. “Score one for the good guys,” he said.
Melody laughed, shaking her head at his antics. Nick was confused. Was someone making fun of him again?
Chris explained, “Most guys never notice what color her eyes are…they can’t get past the great set of lungs.” He swept his hand sideways, as if introducing Melody’s chest to the world.
Nick blushed beet red and didn’t know what to say. I never noticed. Yeah, right! They’d believe that.
But it didn’t matter. Because the next words out of Cristofol ‘Tofu’ Sandoval’s mouth made him a friend of Nick’s forever. “So when do we get these suits out of here and start making music?”
“So did you get to make music?” asked Tamara.
“Just a bit, but we’re going to do that tomorrow, for sure. This was kind of a bonding experience, I guess. We got to meet and get a vibe going. We got to see everything getting set up, see each person doing their thing.” Nick paused and then admitted reluctantly. “I guess Rafe knew what he was doing there.”
And the little bit of music that they had managed to make had been perfect. Nick felt that at the end of the day, he had come out ahead of Rafe, after all. And he thought he had Melody Jones to thank for that.
They worked until one o’clock and then stopped for lunch. Nick just did not want to go through the whole discussion of his weight again, so he grabbed a bottle of water and went to one of the conversation areas. Toby Gray followed him over and offered to get him a plate of lunch. There was pasta, said Toby, it looked good. Or he could make Nick a sandwich. Or what about salad? Toby had seen a bunch of different varieties.
“He can share mine to start,” said the voice that had whispered in Nick’s ear earlier.
Toby and Nick turned to see Melody standing behind them, balancing a guitar in one hand and a plate of vegetables in the other. A can of Coke rested precariously on the edge of the plate.
Nick stood up and reached to take the plate from her. Melody shifted her shoulder slightly and handed him the guitar instead. Nick looked over her shoulder and saw other people watching them. He was glad he hadn’t reached for the food.
“Yeah, Toby,” he said, “We’re just gonna graze here. You could maybe bring some more veggies in a bit. He turned to Melody. “And what about a dip?”
Melody’s eyes slid sideways to Toby and then ingenuously back to Nick. “That’d be good,” she said with a smile. Then over her shoulder to Toby, “and maybe some of those whole wheat crackers if you’re making a trip.”
Melody stepped in front of the personal assistant and set the plate down on the table. “I wanted to ask you about the chords in Bridge to Nowhere,” she said to Nick, dismissing Toby from her life.
Toby pressed his lips together and headed for the catering tables. What a bitch! he thought. He didn’t mind fetching stuff for Nick. That was his job, after all. But for her? Whole wheat crackers, indeed!
“What about the chords?” asked Nick. He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to know how to answer the question.
“Nothing,” said Melody, smiling. “I just wanted to get rid of him. I hate people that talk about food all the time.”
Nick wasn’t sure what she meant. He felt he should defend Toby. “Well, I’m kind of outta shape,” he said, patting his stomach.
“That’s your business.”
“Well, I should be more fit for the tour.”
Melody shrugged. Up to you.
“Are you on a diet too?” asked Nick, motioning to the plate of vegetables. He wondered what you would have to do to be as thin as she was.
Melody laughed. “I hate to tell you, but I could eat every scrap of food on that table and I wouldn’t gain an ounce.”
Nick looked longingly at the food table. “I wish I had your metabolism,” he said with a sigh.
“Yeah, well, I wish I had your eyebrows,” said Melody, reaching for a carrot.
Nick held the plate out to her, then he took one himself and sat back in his chair. “So Geordie’s in rehab?” he said.
“Yes,” said Melody, wondering why Nick didn’t know that. Not that he should know that, it was a private thing, after all...but you would think Rafe would have… She sighed. More evidence of the rift between the two men.
Nick was staring at a point in space. Melody wondered if he was reliving the bad times of AJ’s downfall. But that's not what Nick was thinking about. He was wondering why Melody knew all this stuff he didn’t. He wondered whose side she was on. He wondered if there were really sides to be on or if he was just making trouble.
“Tell me what you think of the album,” he said. “Honestly!”
Toby stood by the food table watching the two of them. He couldn’t hear what Nick said to her, but suddenly, Melody sat up straight and started talking with her hands. The words were still coming out of her mouth, but her hands got involved too, swirling through the air. Nick sat forward in his chair, hanging on her every word, nodding and smiling and making the occasional comment. His hands started dancing too. Toby watched Rafe watching them out of the corner of his eye.
“Hurry up,” Toby hissed, and he grabbed the plate from the server. He headed back to the sofa. He saw Rafe heading in the same direction.
Both of them were forestalled in whatever it was they were going to do by the arrival of Chris Sandoval, who swept into the room and immediately attracted the attention of everyone. Blaine and Rashad had been heading to Nick and Mel anyway. They could see they were talking about music, and they wanted in on the conversation. Chris spotted them and then the blond head and made a beeline for them. Everyone arrived at the same time. Rafe immediately tried to take control but was brushed aside by Tofu. He knew who he was working for, and it wasn’t Rafe Ariando. It was Nick Carter.
Rafe stepped back and let the musicians bond. He knew when to push and when to step away. He cursed Geordie Baker for his weakness for Jack Daniels and nose candy. Rafe knew he could control Baker, even with his problems. Chris Sandoval was a wild card. He had a reputation for being a real fun guy on tour but not a big fan of management. That was not what Rafe wanted. He didn’t want someone out there whispering in Nick’s ear that maybe Rafe wasn’t God after all.
Rafe let them chat for a bit while he watched the caterers clean up. Not bad for a first day, he thought. All the wiring was in; the mikes and instruments were set, and Scott seemed satisfied with the soundboard. All the furniture had been set up; Tom and Murray had questioned the need for the conversation areas, but Rafe just waved them off, telling them that was why he was a genius and they were not. The workout room was ready to go. He’d get Nick started on that tomorrow. Jeff Blackwell was going to double as a personal trainer as well as Nick’s bodyguard.
Another stroke of genius, thought Rafe. He had been interviewing for both positions, and when he went to talk with Jeff, he met him at the gym. Rafe liked to interview people on their home turf. He felt like he got a more accurate read on them. People were always nervous in his office. But he liked that too, when he needed to use it. Jeff had been working out, and just as an ice-breaker, Rafe asked him to describe his routine. They got talking about that, and Rafe was impressed with Jeff's knowledge and skill.
"I don't know what position I'm interviewing you for anymore," Rafe laughed.
Jeff said that it didn't matter, he could do both. That seed germinated in Rafe's head overnight, and when he called the next day to offer the bodyguard job to Jeff, he asked him to be the trainer as well. The substantial increase in salary made Jeff accept with alacrity.
Rafe was delighted to have got two positions filled for the price of one and a third. He also thought Nick might be more inclined to work out, if he had someone who was going to be there all the time, not just ride his ass and listen to him whine for an hour and then go away until the next day. And someone needed to ride that boy's ass! He was sloppy and out of shape, sporting a paunch that no one in their mid-twenties with an ounce of self-discipline should have.
Rafe wandered over to the now-empty food table. He signaled to Tom and his gofer, who started putting boxes up on it. He called everyone to attention and motioned to Tom, who reached into one of the boxes and pulled out a t-shirt. It was beige, and in big, bold, dark brown letters on the front, it said DCMN. A name was embossed on the left breast. In the three business days since Melody had first suggested the album title, Rafe the idea genius had Murray the detail man arrange for personalized t-shirts for the crew.
“This is the rehearsal t-shirt,” said Rafe, “and it’s your pass into this building. Don’t sell it on e-bay until rehearsals are done.” Laughter greeted this remark. “We’ve done good work today,” he went on. “We’re all set up and ready to go. It’s a great beginning to what I know will be a great tour.” Then Rafe raised his coffee cup. “Don’t Call Me Nicky,” he said, toasting the tour.
Any of the crew who still had cups or bottles raised them. The rest raised a hand. “Don’t Call Me Nicky,” they repeated.
“Let’s get to work,” said Rafe, nodding at Tom to start handing out the t-shirts. The gofer handed them one-by-one to Tom, who called out the names. The crew edged forward in anticipation.
Melody looked over at Nick. Hadn’t he wanted to say anything? She thought maybe he had. He was glaring at Rafe, and there was a flush on his cheeks. Melody picked up his water bottle and hers and walked over to him.
“You’re smart,” she told him, tipping back the bottle and taking a drink.
Nick looked at her. That wasn’t a sentence he heard very often. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“Letting Rafe do his little thing here by the coffee,” explained Melody, waving her hand at the area like it was nothing. “Saving your opening remarks for the stage.”
Nick looked at her. Was she making fun of him? No, she wasn’t, he decided. She was supporting him. He nodded at her and smiled and thought, oh crap, now I have to think of something to say. He stood up and turned for the stage. “Okay, let’s rock and roll.”
Behind him, he heard Melody say, “Perfect.”
The musicians followed Nick to the stage. They wanted to make some music today, even just a bit. Tom came up to them and presented them all with their t-shirts. They weren’t expected to wear them, of course, but Murray thought they might like them as souvenirs. He was sorry about Mel’s, it was a little big, but it had been kind of a rush order, and so they had just ordered X-Large for everyone.
Rashad held up the t-shirt in front of Melody. “Put a belt on this and some high heels, and you’ve got yourself a nice, little cocktail dress,” he said, laughing. Blaine and Chris joined in and after a moment, so did Tom.
“What are high heels?” asked Melody. This brought even more laughter.
Nick grinned at her and started to laugh too. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rafe watching them. “Um, can we do one song…just to kick the whole thing off?” he asked.
His musicians nodded.
“Do Alias Me,” said Blaine. “We can all keep up on the melody for that.”
They all nodded again. Alias Me was going to be Nick’s tour de force, this album’s Do I Have to Cry For You, a slower song, but definitely a rock song, an emotion-packed soul barer that showcased his range. It would let them all know that Nick Carter was in the building.
The crew looked up from trying on their t-shirts when they heard the tuning of the guitars. Tofu ran his fingers down the keyboard, and Scott Thornton moved like the wind to his soundboard.
“Um…” Nick took the microphone from the stand. “I’d just like to say a few words.” All eyes turned to him. “Um…Rafe said all the stuff you really needed to hear, I guess…”
He scratched his head. There was a pause. Everyone waited. Nick looked around at his musicians. They were ready.
“So I just want to say…Let’s rock and roll.” He raised his hand and sliced it down through the air, signaling the music to begin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Yeah,” said Nick to Tamara, “we got to make music.”
Yes, they got to make music. And they did it very well. Nick’s performance of Alias Me blew them all away and put them in the frame of mind to rock and roll. During the next few days, Nick was receptive to all suggestions, but there were a few they were afraid to make. Melody thought he looked silly jumping around on the stage, and she thought he should dispense with the guitar altogether – either that or learn how to play it and sing at the same time.
The musicians arrived by ten every day. This was actually a late start for them. They were used to getting to it much earlier. Studio time was expensive, and it was not uncommon to have a six or seven o’clock call. Nick was used to later starts, and it took him awhile to get going. But by the end of the first week, he was there by ten, ready to sing.
Nick was always accompanied by Jeff and Toby. Toby hovered around, making notes and handing Nick an endless supply of water bottles. Jeff did a tour of the building, checking doors to make sure they were locked and that no groupies had intruded anywhere. Then he headed to the workout area.
It seemed to Jeff that it was a waste to have all that equipment sitting there idle for most of the day, so he encouraged other crew members to make use of it. There was lots of time during the day when people had waiting time, so Jeff filled it with sit-ups. For the first week, two o’clock was reserved for Nick. Jeff put him through his paces privately for an hour.
It was bad timing. Nick was tired from rehearsing and didn’t want to work out. He didn’t like exercising in the first place, and he didn’t like doing it on a full stomach, so he had a very small lunch. After he worked out, all he wanted to do was shower, chill out and eat something. He didn’t want to sing anymore.
He bitched about it to Toby, who suggested Nick tell Rafe he wanted the time changed. They talked over alternatives, and as much as Nick hated the thought, he decided early morning was best. Toby pointed out that the shower was still an issue. Maybe he could arrange to have Jeff do the workout at home with Nick. Nick argued that that wouldn’t work. Jeff had worked out a program that used a lot of the machines. Nick didn’t have any of that shit at home.
“Well,” countered Toby. “We could get them to dismantle the equipment and bring it to your place. There’s lots of room for it.”
”But what about the other guys?” protested Nick. “They’re all using the equipment too. Jeff’s working with a bunch of them.” Nick didn’t feel that it would be right to take the equipment away from people who actually enjoyed using it to save it for the one person who hated the sight of the damn stuff.
Toby sniffed. He knew what Jeff was doing, and he didn’t approve. Personal trainer, indeed! What was personal about it if he was doing every guy who came through the door? “I guess it comes down to the shower then,” said Toby. “Rafe will just have to have one put in.”
So Nick told Tom who called Murray who called Rafe.
“No problem,” said Rafe. “Tell him we’ll have it for him by Monday. Make it sound like a big deal – the guys worked all weekend – that kind of crap.”
Then Rafe Ariando hung up the phone and started to laugh. It had taken the stupid, little prick a whole week to get to it. Rafe had deliberately scheduled the workouts at an inconvenient time. He wanted Nick to react to it somehow.
It was a win/win situation for Rafe. Either Nick whined and bitched and annoyed the shit out of everyone (at which point, Rafe would have stepped in and ‘fixed’ the situation, thereby putting Nick and the whole crew in his debt) or Nick would finally show some balls and demand a change – either moving the equipment to his house (Rafe would have talked him out of it, making himself a hero to the crew), or having a shower installed at the warehouse.
At this point, Rafe would open up the locked room which already contained a shower. He had kept it locked and unmarked all week. He had parked a skid of boxes in front of it, so no one would go near it. He’d had a tense moment the first day when Mel had been prowling around, but she had never asked.
So, over the weekend, Rafe would get Murray to have an independent crew paint the door, re-point the bricks around the outside of it to make it look new and make the shower room look newly installed…a perfect example of a hard-working executive doing his best to satisfy the demands of a temperamental, young star.
Yes, Rafe Ariando covered all the angles. Of course, he chuckled to himself, he had underestimated how long Nick was willing to tolerate his own stench. The ‘construction crew’ had been on standby since the first day, ready to do an ‘overnight’ renovation. Rafe stood up from his chair and stretched his arms. He looked at his watch. He guessed it was time to get the weekend started.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rafe spent the weekend doing business/social. He never really did anything just for fun. He was always looking for the angle that would get him ahead in business. So if he jetted off to Paris with a woman for the weekend, you could bet that she was either some corporate hotshot or she was related to one. This weekend, Rafe had a cocktail party on Friday, a dinner party on Saturday and Sunday brunch. He was a welcome guest at parties because he was that rare commodity hostesses loved to get their hands on – an unattached male.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rashad was definitely an attached male. He spent the weekend mowing the lawn and playing with his kids. As much as he loved the performing and the traveling, the sweetest word he ever heard was ‘Daddy’. The only reason he was going on this tour at all was that the money was just too good to turn down.
His wife, Keshia, had been the one to make the final decision. Think of the things we can use that money for, she said. If we put it in the bank, it’ll be ready to pay for college when they’re ready to go.
Rashad had looked at his beautiful babies, so far away from college and yet so near. It made him sad to leave them and miss even one precious moment when he knew they would grow up too fast, but with a sigh, he had agreed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blaine spent the weekend with his girlfriend, Cathy. Blaine thought he was in love with her and was going to use the time spent away from her on tour to decide if he couldn’t live without her. They spent the weekend going over the tour schedule and making a list, matching the time zones, so that he would know the best time to call in each city. It would be his most precious possession on tour.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chris Sandoval spent the weekend with a girl too. Three different ones, in fact. He liked to spread the Tofu largesse around. When Toby had questioned him about his needs on tour, Chris had replied succinctly, “Condoms! Lots of ‘em!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick spent the weekend tidying up loose ends before he went on tour. He spent Saturday morning with Sam, going over the finances, signing some cheques and getting the word on his investments. Everything looked rosy there. Sam had looked at him askance when Nick suggested that maybe he’d buy another boat then, but he soon realized the young man was just kidding. Sam found that very interesting. Six months ago, Nick wouldn’t have been kidding. The kid was definitely growing up.
Nick went to a private party with a group of non-industry friends on Saturday night. As always, there were several tanned and gorgeous young women who tried to catch his eye. Sometimes he’d choose one of them; sometimes he wouldn’t. It depended on his mood. It didn’t depend on Tamara. He knew that she slept with other people too, when she felt like it.
This Saturday night, Nick didn’t feel like it, however. He talked to a bunch of people, danced with one or two, had a couple of beers and went home. Sunday, he slept in until noon...not because he’d been out that late the night before, but because this was going to be his last opportunity to sleep in. His workouts, he shuddered at the thought, were scheduled for eight o’clock in the morning now.
Jeff had promised Nick that he would love it, that working out would energize him for the day. They’d have to see about that. Nick couldn’t really see exercising energizing him for anything. And besides, he thought he got enough exercise doing his thing on stage.
Nick thought about that as he lay in bed Sunday. He crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the picture on the wall opposite the bed. It was one he’d brought back from Japan. It wasn’t exactly a picture, more patterns, a bunch of graphic images. He loved it. Every time he looked at it, he saw something different.
Jumping around on stage.
While they had been rehearsing this week, Nick had watched the musicians out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge their real reactions to things. Sometimes, he’d just sit on a stool at the edge of the stage and sing the melody softly while they worked their instruments, getting in tune with each other and the song. Invariably, at the end of that, they’d look at each other and smile and then look at him. “Good,” they’d say or else make a suggestion on how to make it better.
But when they rocked it, when Nick would strut across the stage and wail, playing with the microphone and jumping around, he didn’t get the same reaction. They never looked at each other after one of those numbers. It was almost as if they were afraid to make eye contact, in case…in case what?
Nick was afraid that it might be in case they laughed. He had seen the corners of Rashad’s mouth twitch once or twice, while Nick was doing his thing. And he had come back from the washroom once to hear Melody say to Blaine that “…had to get over the difference between what he thinks a rock star is supposed to be and what a rock musician really is…” Nick couldn’t say for certain that she was talking about him, but he had a sneaking suspicion that she was.
Nick decided that maybe he would try a little less of the mike tossing and jumping this week and see what their reactions were. He wasn’t giving up the guitar, though. He loved that part of the show, even though it wasn’t very much.
Sunday afternoon, he went out on his boat. That centred his being totally. Being on the water brought him peace. He’d loved making the I Got You video because it was on the water. He wished they hadn’t made him have that stupid girl in it, though. Nick didn’t think she fit in. He wanted it to be a desert island/pirate kind of atmosphere…man against the elements kind of thing.
The director had sneered at Nick when he’d suggested it and asked him if he’d actually listened to the words of the song. It was about having someone, wasn’t it? Well, there had to be someone. Nick thought staring off into the distance was enough…let each fan think he was thinking about her…but he had been overruled. That was one thing he was going to be forceful about this time – the videos.
Nick talked to Tamara on Sunday night, but mostly he just listened. Tamara hadn’t met Terence – he didn’t have a last name – until Wednesday, after cooling her heels in the hotel room waiting for the call.
“It was torture,” she said, “and I think he did it deliberately. I couldn’t go anywhere. His assistant kept telling me that he would send a car around to get me when Terence was ready for me and that I shouldn’t leave the hotel. Terence was preparing himself for the shoot. I finally asked the assistant if it wouldn’t be easier to prepare if he actually knew what I looked like, and the guy gasped.” Tamara laughed. “He actually gasped in horror. ‘Don’t say anything like that to Terence,’ he said.”
“Did you?” asked Nick. He knew that Tamara didn’t like to be kept waiting. The only serious fight they’d ever had was over him being late picking her up.
The willowy model sighed. “No. When I finally got there, he was totally prepared. Everything moved very quickly. I was in and out of clothes so fast, I had to keep looking down to see what I was wearing.”
Tamara went on to explain that Terence didn’t do all the shots for one outfit and then move on to the next. He shot what he wanted to shoot. The model was like one of the outfits for him, just a piece of clothing, not a human being. Her one attempt at conversation had been greeted with a brusque, “Shut up!”
“And my hair! My Lord, if I’m not completely bald by the end of this…it’s been pulled and shaped and colored and teased.”
Nick made what he hoped was an appropriate murmur. He had tuned her out and turned on a video game with the sound off.
“And then suddenly, he stopped. After all that activity, he just stopped…froze in place. He stood there like a statue for almost a full minute and then he said, ‘well, that’s it, then’ and walked out the door.”
“Was it like that every day?” Nick asked, when he realized that Tamara was waiting for him to speak.
“Yes, except that when I came in on Thursday, much earlier this time, he tossed an 8 by 10 at me from the day before and said, ‘you’re brilliant, exquisite, beyond belief’ and then he proceeded to treat me like a piece of cloth again for the rest of the day.”
“A little easier to take, I guess,” said Nick.
“Oh, decidedly,” laughed Tamara.
They talked for a few more minutes and then rang off. Nick went to bed early. Tomorrow he had to get up early to work out. But then he’d get to make music.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Melody spent Saturday morning doing household chores and making lists for packing. They were going to be touring for about six months, she’d been told, first Europe and then the U.S. At that point, they would decide whether to expand the tour or scale back. They were doing mid-size arenas this time. With seats. Nick certainly wasn’t ready for a stadium tour, but Rafe felt he had outgrown the small warehouse standing-only crush-up-against-the-stage thing.
Nick had insisted that that was the atmosphere he liked, but apparently, he hadn’t got his way on that. The list of things Nick hadn’t gotten his way on grew longer every day, Melody thought. And the young singer didn’t like it, she could tell. There was an explosion coming, that was for sure.
Saturday night, Melody went out with her friend, Jack. She and Jack had been good friends for years and had seen each other through any number of relationships with other people. They slept together occasionally, when the mood seemed right. This time, the mood wasn’t right. Jack talked enthusiastically about the new lady in his life and asked a million questions about what women really thought. Melody had no answers because she was pretty sure every woman thought differently. Men didn’t get that, though. She guessed it worked the same, the other way around. She and Jack had a marvelous time, however, lots of laughs and some great pasta.
“Jack’s got a new woman,” Melody told Mart during their weekly Sunday afternoon phone call.
Mart laughed. “Let me guess. This is one is a year younger than the last one.”
The two women laughed together.
“I don’t think so. This time, he sounds pretty serious. And when he was talking about her, it wasn’t physical. It was all about what she said and what she thought, stuff like that.”
”Whoa, sounds serious,” said Mart. “Sounds like Jack might be coming off the market.”
And maybe you’ll have to go out and look for a real relationship then, she thought. She didn’t say it out loud. She knew better. Mart had encouraged Melody in any number of ways to be more proactive in the dating scene, to get out there and look for Mr. Right, not just sit waiting for him to come calling. But she didn’t get anywhere. Melody would just listen patiently and then say, Alone doesn’t mean lonely. Which was her way of telling Mart to shut up and mind her own business.
Melody told her about the week’s doings at the warehouse, and they discussed her packing list. They laughed over the tampon issue. Did they have the same kind in Europe? Should she take enough for the whole time they were over there? She was on the pill, she could figure out what she’d need. Or should she get Toby to do the complex mathematical calculations?
“Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hasty in saying that I could handle this myself,” Melody choked out, the tears running down her face. God, she loved laughing with Mart. She hoped that by the time the tour got to Detroit, which is where Mart lived now, her husband wouldn’t have uprooted her and moved her somewhere else.
“Oh, don’t be such a ‘little woman’,” said Mart. “Just fill up your guitar case. You don’t need all those picks and extra strings and things. And they’d make good packing around the guitar.”
“Omilord, can’t you just picture it…me snapping open the case and having little paper-covered cylinders fly around the stage!?”
The two women pictured it and laughed some more.
“So what’s coming up this week? More of the same?” asked Martha Jane.
“Yes, rehearsals during the day. That’s working out pretty well, I think. We’re all getting along. And we seem to all have the same distrust of management, so that’s a bonding thing too. Then I think the third week, the rehearsals are cut back because Nick has to go do a video for the first release.”
“Alias Me?” asked Martha Jane.
“Yes,” said Melody. “It’s going to be huge.”
They rang off with the promise that they would talk soon and that they loved each other. Mart gave her standard admonition about not working too hard. Melody accepted it with grace. She could never make Mart understand that, when she had a guitar in her hand, it wasn’t work. It was joy. She was never happier than when she had a gig.
“Thanks, but I’ve got a gig,” said Melody.
Nick nodded. It was the same answer he’d received every day for the past two weeks, when he’d offered to take the guys out for a beer. Each day, he’d finished off the session by saying to the whole crew, “Let’s go to the Fox and Fiddle. The first one is on me.”
Different people had been able to attend the small gatherings, which consisted of one round of drinks and a bunch of appetizer platters paid for by Nick. Anyone who wanted to stay after that was on their own tab. Nick was scrupulous about inviting everyone, and everyone had attended at least once.
Except Mel. Each time she had responded the same way – by looking at her watch and then saying, “Thanks, but I’ve got a gig.”
“Where?” Nick asked on the second Friday.
Melody looked surprised. “At Pineapple Ranch,” she said, naming a club in downtown L.A.
Nick nodded but didn’t say anything more. Over his beer, he brought the subject up to Blaine. “So Mel’s got another gig tonight.” He said it matter-of-factly, as if he already knew all the details and was just making idle conversation.
“Yeah, said Blaine, reaching for some nachos.
“At Pineapple Ranch,” added Nick.
“Yep,” said Blaine, “backing up Carly Hyndman. Her guitar player had a death in the family and had to go back East.”
Nick nodded. Okay, so it was legit. Mel wasn’t just avoiding the social gatherings. She wasn’t just avoiding him. He signaled the waiter for the bill.
“I see Mel bailed again,” said Toby in Nick’s ear.
“Yeah, she’s got a gig,” said Nick. “She’s backing up Carly Hyndman at Pineapple Ranch.”
“Really?” said Toby. “And that’s allowed?”
“Why wouldn’t it be allowed?” asked Nick.
“No reason, I guess,” said Toby. “I just assumed she was under contract to you…exclusively.”
Nick thought about that on the way home. Yeah, wouldn’t Melody be under contract? Exclusive contract? Nick knew what he had to go through to do something even remotely professional that wasn’t set up by Rafe or Tom.
Nick grimaced as he remembered that particular meeting – humiliation on a platter, he thought. It had been one of their first meetings, and Rafe was determined to let Nick know from the outset just who was in charge. He had begun by trashing every aspect of Nick’s solo effort – every aspect except the music. But the rest of it went under the gun and came out riddled with bullet holes. Rafe was careful to blame George Walsh, his predecessor at Jive, and not Nick, but there was an overriding air of contempt that Nick was not in control of his own destiny.
“But all that is going to change with this album.” Rafe finally got to the point. Well, almost. There were still a few ‘don’ts’.
“You will not be making any more appearances on those ridiculous shows, like Baby American Idol or whatever the hell it was called.”
“American Juniors,” corrected Nick.
“Yeah, whatever. It was garbage, and you shouldn’t have done it. Walsh shouldn’t have let you anywhere near that. Those ‘guest judges’…” The contempt in Rafe’s voice was chilling. “…are nothing but has-beens. That’s what you do on the way down, not the way up. And you won’t be showing up on Sesame Street in the near future either, so I hope you got your Big Bird fix last time.”
“I did that with Aaron,” protested Nick.
“Good for you,” said Rafe, sarcastically. “Well, you will not be doing it again. You will only be seen with bona fide rock stars, not baby pop stars.”
“He’s my brother,” said Nick, indignantly.
“Well, see him at Sunday dinner,” replied Rafe, dismissively.
By the time Nick got home from the Fox and Fiddle, he had developed a healthy indignation about the situation. He couldn’t even be seen in public with his own brother or drop into a radio station to visit a deejay he’d known for years without all kinds of permissions and directions from Rafe. But Melody got to do private gigs? What was up with that?
Nick got on the phone to Toby. “Get me Rafe! I don’t care how you do it.”
He was surprised to hear Rafe’s voice when he answered his phone five minutes later. He figured it would be Toby with an update and excuses.
“Yo,” said Nick into the phone.
Rafe rolled his eyes. Would this kid never learn? “It’s Rafe. What’s up?”
Nick could tell that Rafe was not happy. He didn’t like to be summoned. Nick began to regret being so impulsive.
“Yeah, I was just wondering…Mel said she had a gig tonight.”
“Yes,” said Rafe, impatience seeping into his voice.
“Well, I just wanted to be sure you knew…like…were…aware of it…like it wasn’t some kind of…I don’t know…breach of contract or something…” Nick pulled the legal term out of the air. He hoped it was the right one. He could practically hear Rafe rolling his eyes.
“Now, don’t you worry about things like that, Nick,” said Rafe. The condescension in his voice was so obvious that Nick’s ears turned red. “Everything is just fine. I look after things like that.”
“So it’s in her contract?” persisted Nick.
“Yes, it is,” answered Rafe. “It’s all on the up-and-up.” He gave little Nicky a mental pat on the head.
“She can do independent gigs?”
“Yes, on her own time, she can do what she likes. But Nick, it’s only for the rest of the month. Then we’re on tour.”
“But it’s in her contract?”
“Yes, it is. What’s the problem?”
“I’m just wondering why she has a better contract than I do,” said Nick, trying to rein in his fury. He clenched and unclenched his fist and paced up and down the living room.
Rafe sighed. Because she’s a grown up, and you’re not, he thought. Because I can rely on her, and I can’t rely on you. Because she doesn’t make the same stupid, fucking mistakes you do, Nicky.
Rafe thought all these things but wisely didn’t vocalize any of them. Instead, he decided to turn it on Mel. Let her deal with this adolescent.
“Because that’s the way she wanted it. It was a deal-breaker for her. And we wanted her. You’ve seen how good she is.”
Nick couldn’t dispute that. “But…”
“No buts. She’s got a proven track record. She’s thirty years old, and she’s never fucked up once. Hell, I don’t think she’s ever even been late for a rehearsal. So if she says she wants to do private gigs for this month, she can do it. It’s not like she wants to go sing with Elmo, for Christ’s sake!”
A very charged silence filled the air. Rafe waited to see if Nick would blow. Nick took two deep breaths and then two more.
“Okay, thanks,” he said in a dull voice. “Like I said, I just wanted to make sure everything was legit.”
“That was good of you, Nick. That’s good that you’re thinking of things like that, getting the whole picture.”
Don’t patronize me, you fucking asshole, thought Nick, but he used some of his new-found ‘maturity’ to swallow the words and leave them unsaid.
“Have a nice weekend,” he said, and rang off after hearing Rafe say the same. “I hope you choke on your fucking quiche or whatever the fuck you eat for Sunday brunch,” yelled Nick at the dead phone.
He paced up and down. Goddammit! Why was he always the last to know? Goddamn Rafe! He was always keeping secrets. Like Nick was too stupid to grasp the, what did he call it?...oh yeah, the whole picture. Goddamn Tom! He was nothing but Rafe’s lap dog. He couldn’t think for himself. None of them could! Everyone kowtowed to Rafe. Fucking high and mighty Rafe Ariando! Everyone but Melody Jones. Who apparently didn’t answer to anyone. Who apparently was writing her own fucking ticket.
Nick picked up the phone and punched in a number.
“Executive Car Service,” said a perky voice, “Suzy speaking.”
“This is Nick Carter. I need a car for tonight. 9:00.”
“Yes, Mr. Carter.” Nick could hear a keyboard clicking. “We can do that for you, Sir. Pickup at your home?”
“Yeah. Yes, please.”
“Do you have an initial destination?” asked Suzy.
“Yeah, I do,” said Nick. “Pineapple Ranch. It’s a club. I don’t know the address.”
“That’s okay, Sir, we’ll take care of it for you. How many people will be in your party?”
“Just me,” said Nick. “And it’s a private thing. Don’t send anything big or fancy.”
“Yes, Sir. How about a nice black sedan?”
“Yeah, yeah, perfect, whatever.” Nick heard more buttons clicking.
“Okay, then Mr. Carter. You’re all set: Pickup tonight at nine, at your home address, initial destination Pineapple Ranch. Your driver will be Andre. Is there anything else I can help you with this evening?”
“No,” said Nick, “that’s it.”
“Well then, you have a nice evening, Sir. Thank you for calling Executive Car Service.”
Nick rang off. He looked at his watch. Okay, get something to eat. He patted his stomach. He shouldn’t have eaten those nachos at the bar. He knew they gave him heartburn. He rubbed his chest and went to the kitchen. He got a glass out of the cupboard and poured himself some milk. He used to drink it right out of the carton, but the day he slugged back a mouthful of sour milk got rid of that bad habit forever.
Nick put the milk back in the fridge and looked for something to eat. There was a nice well-balanced meal sitting there looking at him. His housekeeper was under orders to make one every day – a salad, some chicken or fish and vegetables. It appalled her how much good food got thrown away because he didn’t eat it. She had tried to stop buying the junk food that did get eaten, but Nick had given her hell for that.
Nick closed the fridge and opened the cupboard. Potato chips, tuna, cans of soup… He opened the freezer. Frozen macaroni dinners…Lean Cuisine…he’d need about three of them to fill him up. He could hear the voice of his last trainer, talking about preservatives and shit like that, extolling the virtues of fresh vegetables and fruit.
Goddamn Melody Jones!
Nick could hear the trainer’s voice again, telling Nick that he was the one who controlled his life and what he ate, nobody else. A bad mood was no excuse. Nick made his own choices. Fine! He opened the fridge and pulled out the plate. He shoved it in the microwave and stabbed at the Reheat button. He dumped some dressing on the salad and munched on it while he waited for the microwave. There, he was eating healthy. Was everybody happy? He was making his own choices. He wasn’t blaming anyone else!
Goddamn Melody Jones!
Chapter 10 by old_archive
“Thanks again for filling in for Dex.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Carly,” said Mel, with a grin. “Stop thanking me. You know I love to do club gigs.”
“Yeah, but you got tour rehearsals during the day.”
Melody shrugged. “So? I used to have studio sessions during the day.”
“I guess that’s true,” said Carly. “So you’re going on tour? Man, that’s so hard to believe…after all these years.”
“Jeez, Carly, do you have to make me sound like such a senior citizen? I’m only 30. Cripes, look at Keith Richard.”
“I’d rather not, thank you,” grimaced Carly. Both women laughed. “I’m just saying,” said Carly, “you’ve been at it a long time.”
A long time.
Yes, she had, thought Mel. Her whole life, in fact. She had made music almost from her birth. Her mother told her that, when she was a baby, she hummed. When she was in her crib drifting off to sleep or sitting propped up in her baby chair, she hummed. And it wasn’t long before she was humming real tunes.
Melody ignored the television for the most part, but every time there was music – a commercial jingle or a program theme song – she would stop whatever she was doing and turn her head toward the TV. When the music ended, she would go back to chewing on her plastic blocks or whatever she’d been doing. Her favorite pre-school toys were her xylophone and her Playskool Music Maker.
Melody’s parents were aware of the joy that their daughter found in music and thought they had named her most appropriately. (Melody agreed, especially since the alternate choice was Gladys, after some distant ancestor.) Elizabeth and Hank Jones gave her every opportunity to further her love for music. She sang in the church choir from an early age and started piano lessons when she was seven. She attended some sort of music camp every summer.
It was at one of these camps, when Melody was twelve, that she was handed her first guitar. And it was love at first sight. During the two-week session, she made remarkable progress, prompting her camp instructor to call her parents and recommend private lessons.
There were several arguments about it. Melody’s mother wanted her to continue with her piano lessons. Her father said it was up to Melody but he could only afford to pay for one kind of lessons. And it was hard enough to find a good piano teacher in Chino Hills, let alone one for guitar.
The discussion went back and forth, ending when Elizabeth Jones broke down in tears and began chanting the litany of all she had done for her daughter and how she didn’t deserve the treatment she was now being given.
No one could fight back against Elizabeth’s tears, so the piano lessons continued for six months, until the day Melody dragged home a battered guitar. She had saved every penny of her allowance and combined it with babysitting revenue and birthday and Christmas cheques from out-of-state grandparents. She had secretly taken the bus 35 miles into Los Angeles to a pawnshop she’d found in a phone book in the public library. She’d bought the best guitar she could find for the money she had. It only had five strings and she had no idea how to attach a sixth.
At dinner that night, Melody announced her intention to clean out a corner of the garage for her use. She proudly displayed her new purchase and informed them all stubbornly that she was going to teach herself how to play, since they wouldn’t give her lessons, and that she would do it in the garage so that her mother wouldn’t be inconvenienced by having to listen to her.
Her mother was apoplectic at the thought of the thirteen-year old wandering around seedy L.A. by herself and promptly grounded her for two weeks. All that did was make her brother Benjamin laugh. His younger sister never went anywhere anyway. Melody told him to be quiet. Her mother told her not to be such a smart mouth. Her father looked at her thoughtfully and said nothing. But the next day, he helped her clean out the garage. And he came home from work the next day with a ‘teach yourself to play the guitar’ book and a set of new guitar strings.
Melody hid herself in the garage for the next week, only coming out for school and meals…and even then, only at her mother’s insistence that Melody was enough of a stick already and if she didn’t eat properly, Elizabeth was going to confiscate the guitar.
At the end of the week, her father asked her how it was going. Was the book easy to follow? Melody told him that it was easy to follow and the years of piano lessons made it easy to pick out notes.
“Play something for us,” said her dad, expecting Row, Row, Row Your Boat or Happy Birthday to You. Melody’s mother harrumphed that there were dishes to be done and Ben laughed at her and asked her if she thought she’d be the next Eddie Van Halen, but her dad shepherded his wife and son into the living room and lined them up on the sofa.
“I can’t do many chords yet,” Melody apologized in advance, “but…”
She picked out the melody to How Great Thou Art, her father’s favorite hymn. Tears shone from his eyes and her guitar lessons started the next day.
Melody’s mother acquiesced finally, when Ben stepped in on his sister’s side. “Let her, Mom,” he said, “She’s really good.”
Elizabeth Jones couldn’t fight them all. Her dreams of a classical pianist in the family were replaced by ones of a classical guitarist. And Melody was playing hymns, after all. Harmony reigned in the household until Melody was fifteen and then all hell broke loose because two things happened. Melody hit puberty and she went electric!
She had always been small-boned. She looked fragile but she wasn’t, a fact Ben would attest to. He had sported many bruises, tokens of battle from wrestling matches with his little sister. Her friends all said how lucky she was that she didn’t have to diet, that she could eat whatever she wanted and as much as she wanted. But Melody eyed their slimming waists and burgeoning breasts with envy. She listened to them talk about cramps and pads and wished with all her heart that she knew what it was really like. She longed to be one of the girls, rather than one of the guys.
And then, the summer after grade nine, it all changed. She shot up three whole inches…to 5’4”. And she blossomed. Almost overnight. Sprouting full-grown breasts. The rest of her stayed pretty much the same. She was still thin and she didn’t have much of a butt but that didn’t matter, because no one was looking at that side of her anyway.
Melody spent the summer hanging out with her guitar teacher. She had outgrown the first two who were used to working with children that decided they wanted to be rock stars when they were ten and gave up on the whole thing after a couple of years, when other less-challenging interests came along. The teachers crammed as much basic theory and skill into them as they could. Melody soon outdistanced both the other students and the teachers.
She was now working with Stevie Ray Latimer, a studio musician who supplemented his income by giving music lessons. It was a painful way to make extra money and he was getting ready to give it up, when Melody Jones came into his life, recommended by her former teacher, his mother. Stevie Ray recognized her talent immediately and also that she was a musical soulmate. He never once regretted the weekly drive to Chino Hills to get a home-cooked meal from his mother and much musical satisfaction from working with Melody.
So under the guise of extra lessons, Stevie Ray let Mel hang out with him that summer when he went to the studio. At first, the other musicians teased him about having to baby-sit but they soon came to enjoy having the eager young gofer around. Melody used the opportunity to learn how a studio worked – what the equipment was for, what the different technicians did, how tracks were laid down, etc.
The week before school started, she was at the studio with Stevie Ray. He was doing a session with Gary Madison, a temperamental rock star with a reputation for arriving late to sessions and in questionable states of sobriety. Stevie Ray had not really noticed the physical changes in Melody. He still thought of her as a skinny, little kid.
But Gary Madison noticed her the moment he stumbled through the door.
“Let’s get this thing started,” he bawled, as if it were he and not the rest of them who had sat around for 45 minutes.
Gary pulled his guitar strap over his head and picked at the strings. A screech of feedback tore through the studio.
“What the fuck?” he yelled. “You’re supposed to have all this shit done by the time I get here. I don’t have time for this crap. I’m here to play.”
“Sorry, Gary,” said the technician. Everyone else looked at the floor. Everyone but Mel.
“What are you looking at?” Gary growled at her.
“I’m not sure,” answered Mel but she stopped, when she saw Stevie Ray shake his head in warning. She dropped her eyes.
They started a song but Gary was too ‘under the influence’ to be effective. He kept messing up and blaming someone else. Everyone just took his turn when he got blamed and muttered, “Sorry, Gary.” Someone distracted him – sorry, Gary; someone started too soon – sorry, Gary; someone came in too late – sorry, Gary.
Melody got more and more outraged but didn’t say anything and didn’t make eye contact with ‘the star’. Until he turned his fury on Stevie Ray. When Stevie Ray said the obligatory, “Sorry, Gary”, Mel could contain herself no longer and muttered, “Asshole” under her breath.
Gary turned to her, his eyes blazing. He stared at her for almost thirty seconds waiting for her to break eye contact. But Melody didn’t look away. She held his gaze.
Finally, Gary licked his lips very slowly and leered at her. “Hey, little girl,” he said, “if you give me a blow job, I’ll teach you how to play the guitar.”
Melody stood up from her chair in the corner and walked slowly and deliberately toward the rock star, never taking her eyes from his. When she reached him, she unsnapped the guitar strap and snaked it across his neck. Then she lifted the guitar from his hands.
Gary looked around at the other guys, grinning. Was she going to do him right here? He turned back, one hand on his belt and the grin left his face. Melody was perched on the edge of a stool, holding the guitar like it was part of her. She grabbed a pick from a nearby amp and played the section of the song that Gary kept screwing up. She played it perfectly and she played it without taking her eyes from his.
When she was done, Melody handed the guitar back to Gary and said, “Thanks, but no thanks.” Then she turned her back on him and walked back to the chair in the corner.
No one moved. No one breathed. Stevie Ray was trying to decide if it was worth his career to kick the shit out of Gary, if he laid a hand on Mel. Stevie Ray decided that it was and carefully set down his guitar in preparation. But the musician in Gary overcame the asshole.
“Holy shit, kid!” he exclaimed. “What’s your name?”
Melody just looked at him. She couldn’t speak – not because she was ignoring him or because she was afraid of him, but because he wasn’t even there. The only thing she could see or feel was the power – the power of that electric guitar.
“Her name is Melody Jones,” said Stevie Ray, “and I guess we’re going to have to get her one of those.”
Chapter 11 by old_archive
And so they had.
The original pawnshop guitar was long gone, replaced by a much higher-quality model. Once Hank Jones realized the depth of Melody’s talent, he spared no expense. The greatest joy of his life was to listen to her sing and play his favorite hymns in church on Folk Sundays. It was getting to the point where Melody was being asked to accompany the choir more and more during the regular services. And it was the only time that there was applause in church.
“Clapping in church! My goodness! What is the world coming to?” said her mother. But the pride shone out of her eyes. Hank knew that Elizabeth was as proud of Melody as he was.
But electric!?
Hank didn’t know about that. His wife had very strong opinions. No way! That led to drugs and debauchery, to…well, Elizabeth Jones wasn’t even going to utter the ‘s’ word in the same sentence as her fifteen year old’s name.
“But Mom, it’s just music,” Melody pleaded.
Of course, it wasn’t to her mother. It was screeching. You couldn’t understand a word those rock people sang. And the way they moved on stage…just shocking! Melody’s protestations that they had said the same thing about Elvis and the Beatles fell on deaf ears. A month of sulking and pouting on Melody’s part and sighing and praying on her mother’s brought them no closer to a compromise.
Melody was using Stevie Ray’s guitar during her lessons now and was going totally electric. He was overwhelmed by what she was doing and knew that he could get her studio time whenever she wanted it. He also knew that Melody was an underage juvenile and that he was going against her parents’ wishes. He wanted to tread very cautiously.
It all came to a head at dinner one night. Hank Jones asked Melody what song she was playing during the next Sunday’s folk service. Melody announced that she would no longer be participating in the music activities of the church. A stunned silence followed that remark. It was too shocking for Elizabeth to even react.
Ben’s eyes got big, and he stared across the table at his sister. Careful there, Sis, he tried to tell her silently.
“What do you mean?” asked her father.
Melody tried to read his voice. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or hurt or just surprised.
“I can’t make music on command,” she replied with the haughtiness that only fifteen year olds with no idea of what the world is really like can muster. “If I can’t make the music I want, I won’t make the music you want. Until I can save enough to buy an electric guitar, I will not play my acoustic one.”
“And where do you think you will play this so-called electric guitar?” said her mother with ice in her voice.
Ben tried to warn Melody with his eyes. He knew that tone. It was dangerous.
“In the garage. Like the last time,” said Melody.
“Well, the last time, you were still living in this house,” said her mother, speaking through lips pressed so tight they were white.
Ben looked at his father. Uh oh, this was serious.
Before Hank had a chance to react, Melody threw her napkin down on her dinner plate and rose to her feet, knocking her chair over behind her. “You’ve never believed in me,” she shouted at her mother. “You hate me because I won’t be…because I won’t be…just a girl.” She ran from the room and flung herself on her bed, weeping.
Melody spent a few minutes feeling sorry for herself and believing that her life was over. But adolescents are resilient, and it wasn’t long before she began developing a plan. She’d phone Stevie Ray, that’s what she’d do. He’d help her. She could find an apartment. Or maybe he’d let her move in with him. He had two bedrooms. She could take care of the place for him. He was always saying he was a lousy housekeeper. She had no money, but she could get a job. She could quit school.
Yeah, that was it. She’d quit school and get a job at 7-11 – she really wasn’t qualified for anything else – and then she could arrange her shifts so that she could go to the studio with him – yeah, that was it, that was a good idea. And soon, they’d all see that she was as good as he was…well, not as good, she thought guiltily, but close…and then she’d get studio work and she could make it on her own. Yeah, that’s what she’d do. She’d call Stevie Ray.
Melody jumped off the bed and started throwing clothes into her backpack.
Ben spoke to her from the doorway. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Don’t think about what?” asked Melody, with a toss of her head.
“Calling Stevie Ray. He won’t help you, you know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know him, and he’s not a stupid man. Do you think he’d be crazy enough to take in a juvenile, especially a girl, especially one who…”
“Especially one who what?” demanded Melody defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest. Especially one who doesn’t look so much like a kid anymore, she thought.
“Especially one who’s out of her friggin’ mind,” said Ben, although he had been thinking along the same lines as Melody. “Look, just let Dad handle it. Give Mom some time. She’ll come around.”
“Well, she hasn’t so far,” retorted Melody, biting on the edge of her thumbnail. “This is really important to me, Ben. This is what I want to do. This is all I want to do. I don’t even want to go to college. I just want to get through high school and play.”
“Okay, a word to the wise,” said Ben. “Never, ever say that sentence to Mom. That you don’t want to go to college. She will lock you in your room, and you will never see another guitar as long as you live. Hey, I know…” His voice softened. “I know what this means to you. At least, I think I do. I wish I had a passion for something like you do. The best I can come up with is that I’m good at math.” He laughed bitterly. “The folks don’t seem to brag about that too much to the relatives, now do they?”
Melody’s heart went out to him, and she felt ashamed. She was being very selfish. She never thought about Ben. “Trust me, Big Brother, you are the one they are going to be bragging about for years to come. I’m going to be the black sheep of the family, whispered about in secret corners at family reunions, while you will be the favored child, the success story, the happy family man with the great career.”
Even though Melody spoke a little enviously and even though it was exactly what Ben wanted from life, he still thought that maybe he would be happier being her. He also knew that she would never be happy being him.
“Leave it to Dad,” he repeated, “and I’ll see what I can do. But…” he shook his finger at her, “…be prepared to eat a little crow and apologize.”
“I’ll lick her shoes if it will get me an electric guitar,” said Melody.
Ben laughed. This proud, stubborn little girl? Licking someone’s shoes? He didn’t think so.
Between Ben and her dad, it all worked out. Melody had to spend a lot of time making it up to her mother – doing household chores without being asked, paying very close attention to her mom’s appearance and complimenting any changes, playing guitar and singing in church – but she was willing to do it. Because she got her electric guitar. Melody laughed now when she looked back on it. The big promise she had to make, the ultimate sacrifice…that she would not give up the acoustic guitar. Like she ever would! It went with her everywhere. She was taking it on tour, in fact.
And it was what she was playing tonight with Carly Hyndman. Carly was a bluesy-folk-sort of rock singer along the lines of Sarah McLaughlin. She would have fit in perfectly in the Lilith Fair lineup and in fact, had played the show when it passed through L.A. She sang a mixture of songs she had written herself and others by such people as Jann Arden and Amanda Marshall.
Nick stood in the doorway of the club. He had been here twice before – once to hear a rock group that had been really bad and once to hear an R & B duo that had been really good. At Pineapple Ranch, it was all about the music. There was no VIP section, no personal waitresses, no fancy décor, no preening by the customers doing star turns on the dance floor – there was no dance floor. You came to Pineapple Ranch because you wanted to hear the music. You sat and drank and listened. And you’d better get your drinks between sets because the waiters wouldn’t serve you while the musicians were playing.
It wasn’t the most financially sound way of conducting business, but Stevie Ray Latimer didn’t care. It was his club, and for Stevie Ray, it was always about the music. Stevie Ray didn’t do studio sessions any more. He ran his club and scouted for new talent to showcase there. And any time someone needed a guitar player, he knew who to call.
At Pineapple Ranch, there was no star treatment. Nick Carter stood in line like everyone else. Which was okay with him. He didn’t want star treatment tonight. He wanted to be anonymous, invisible even. He looked down at his clothes. He was wearing dark pants, a light blue shirt and a leather jacket…grown up clothes, he thought to himself.
“Just one?” said the doorman.
“Yeah,” said Nick, “I’ll sit at the bar if there’s room.”
The doorman looked over his shoulder. “Yeah, there’s room.”
“Can you see the stage okay from there?” asked Nick.
The doorman raised an eyebrow. “You can see the stage from everywhere in Pineapple Ranch.”
Nick nodded and headed for the bar. He chose a stool which afforded him a good view of the stage. He pulled the stool sideways a little so that he was partially hidden from the stage by the tap handles for the draft beer.
Nick wasn’t sure if he wanted Mel to know he was here. He didn’t know what she would think. Would she think he was spying on her? Well, he thought guiltily, you kind of are. He tried to plan it in his head what he would say.
Heard you were here. Wanted to come and support you.
Maybe not ‘support’. That might sound condescending.
Okay, what then? See what you’d sound like.
No, that sounded like he wasn’t sure she was any good.
Further thought was forestalled by the dimming of the lights. Stevie Ray came out on stage and introduced Carly Hyndman. He also introduced the drummer and the guitarist. Melody gave a slight nod at the mention of her name.
Nick thought Melody looked great. She was wearing navy pinstripe trousers, like from a man’s suit. And the vest to match. And that was all. She had bare arms and cleavage. Very sexy, he thought, and wondered if she would wear something like that on tour.
The trio began playing. Carly ran through a few numbers. She had good patter between the songs, humorous. Nick sat at the bar, nursing a beer. Chick rock, he thought, not really what he liked. He watched Melody and saw that she was basically the same as at the warehouse – really good at what she did. He was fascinated by her playing of the acoustic guitar. Her whole body language was different from when she played the electric one.
The set ended, and Nick decided he would leave. He guessed he’d seen what he came to see. He still wasn’t sure what that was. But his anger seemed to have dissipated.
Melody didn’t leave the stage during the set break, however. She did some things to her guitar and then she sat on the edge of the small stage and talked to a couple of people who approached her. Nick didn’t think he could get out of the club without her seeing him, and he didn’t want to try. So he hunkered down behind the draft taps and ordered another beer.
The second set was more of the same. After the third song, Carly apologized, “I’m sorry, folks, I’m sounding a little raspy tonight. I think I might be coming down with something. Good thing I’ve got the weekend off.”
Stevie Ray brought out a glass of water and set it on the piano. Carly sang one more song and then stopped.
“Mel, come and help me with this next one,” she said.
Nick looked over at Mel. Was this a setup? Part of the act? Some cutesy way of getting her to sing? No, it wasn’t, he decided. Mel looked genuinely surprised and concerned.
“You okay?” she asked Carly.
“Yeah, I think so.” Carly took a sip from the glass of water. “Grab a mike.”
Melody placed herself by the piano and waited while Stevie Ray positioned a microphone for her. “What do you want me to do?” she asked. Nick smiled to himself. He thought the two women had forgotten all about the audience.
“Just sing with me,” said Carly, “but you take the high notes.”
Carly played the opening chords and started to sing. Melody blended her voice with Carly’s but took the higher notes herself, as Carly rested her vocal chords. When they finished the song, Carly announced a short break. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go gargle.”
This time, Melody followed her from the stage. Nick threw two twenties on the bar and walked out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On Monday at rehearsal, Tom announced the song schedule for the day.
“No,” said Nick, “we’re going to start with Alias Me.”
They all looked at him. They had practiced this song to perfection already. There was really nothing to it – the musicians played, and Nick sang. It was all about his voice – there were no flourishes or musical embellishments. It was a straight melody line with Nick singing his guts out. So why did he want to start with that?
Nick turned to Scott Thornton. “Put a mike on Mel,” he said.
Everyone looked at Melody, who shrugged. She didn’t know what he was talking about. She figured it might have something to do with Friday night. Nick’s presence at the club had not gone unnoticed, of course. But he hadn’t mentioned it to her this morning, and she wasn’t bringing the subject up if he didn’t.
‘What?” Scott didn’t know if he’d heard right.
Tom was halfway onto the stage to interfere or protest or something – he wasn’t sure what.
Nick turned to Melody. “Sing Alias Me,” he said. “Not the whole song – just the line, ‘Alias me’. Every time I sing it, I want you to sing it with me.”
“This is crazy,” said Tom.
The phrase ‘alias me’ was repeated numerous times throughout the song, emphasizing the theme of Nick’s estrangement from people’s perception of him. It was his vocal triumph. It did everything Rafe wanted it to do. It was a rock song, no doubt about it. And it was also sort of a ballad, not slow, but gut-wrenching. This song alone would make every Backstreet fan buy the record…and it would get the word out to the rock world that this album was a force to be reckoned with. Tom was under strict orders from Rafe not to let Nick change the song at all.
“Trust me,” said Nick, “and get off the stage.”
He turned back to Melody. “Sing all the ‘alias me’s,” he repeated. He looked at the rest of the band members and gave the signal to start. They played the song, and Nick sang it. And Melody sang along. She sang every ‘alias me’ and nothing else. And when it got to the end – a descending scale of tension leading from wailing to calm to sad and accepting – she sang two of them but left the third one to Nick alone.
Nick sang the song to the phantom audience, as he always did, but this time, every time he sang ‘alias me’, he looked over at Melody, and at the end of the song, he walked over and stood in front of her. And when she pressed her lips together at the end and sang nothing, leaving the last plaintive notes to him, Nick knew that he had been right. The sound of the instruments died away, and still they stared at each other.
Then Melody grinned. Good job.
Suddenly, the sound of applause filled the air. Nick turned to see everyone – techs, catering staff, janitorial staff, everyone – applauding. He ignored them and turned to Tom. “That works, don’t you think?”
Tom did think it worked. But how the hell was he going to sell it to Rafe?
Chapter 12 by old_archive
“So how was week three?” asked Martha Jane.
“Kind of hard to say,” answered Melody. “It got all confusing near the end of the week.”
Martha Jane settled herself into her chair, her cup of tea beside her. The kids were playing outside and her husband Bob was keeping an eye on them. They all knew not to disturb Mom when she was talking to Auntie Mel.
“Did he say something about the club?”
They had discussed this on the previous Sunday. Melody had told her about Nick coming to the club. They had kicked around various motives for him – Was he there to spy on her? Didn’t he trust her playing? Did he want to see her ‘in action’? Why hadn’t he acknowledged her when he was there?
“No, he never did,” said Mel, “but…” She went on to describe Monday morning’s session.
“Wow!” said Martha Jane. “How did Rafe react to Nicky taking over like that?”
“Don’t call him Nicky,” said Melody, absently. “Rafe wasn’t there. Tom went running to him, I guess. But it doesn’t matter. It kind of…I don’t know…liberated Nick.”
Melody described how Nick started to take charge. Songs that they had worked on for two weeks were now being changed. Not a lot. It was still all about Nick, but now he wanted Blaine to sing this line or even just this word. Tofu should come in here. Rashad, how about an ‘oh, yeah’, here? Melody, you and Blaine do this line together with me.
Nick had had ten years experience working every note until it was perfect. He had an incredible ear for music. And so far, he hadn’t been wrong. Melody could see that Tom was dying to protest, that he was just waiting for a chance to say ‘no, let’s stick with the original’.
The musicians loved it. Now they were into it. They weren’t just covering the songs from the album. They were a cohesive group, and they were performing. None of the musicians had outstanding voices, not even Melody. But somehow, when Nick put the voices together, it enriched the sound.
“Sounds stupid to talk about enriching the sound and harmony and stuff when we’re wailing away on electric guitars, doesn’t it, Mart?” she asked her friend.
“Not at all,” replied Martha Jane. “And speaking of guitars, is he still…?”
“Yeah,” sighed Melody. “He’s still doing it. It’s going to be the weak spot in the show. He’s going to get hammered for it with the critics, but…what can you do? He’s the star.”
“Maybe you could drop a little hint,” suggested Martha Jane.
“Nooooo, I don’t think so,” said Melody. “It would not go down well at all. He’s defensive about it. I guess, deep down inside, he knows he’s not really ready, but he just wants to so badly. He thinks that’s what makes him a rocker.”
Melody described the rest of the rehearsals from Monday and Tuesday. She talked about the songs and the music and told funny stories about Tofu’s antics and Nick’s silly side. What she did not describe was the feeling in the core of her being, the tiny little vibration that had electrified her when Nick was standing right in front of her and they were singing the same words. She didn’t describe it because she didn’t know what it was and she didn’t want to admit that it existed.
“So when did it get weird?”
Melody sighed. “Rafe came over on Tuesday afternoon, just as we were packing up. He never said anything about the music, but he and Nick started talking about the video for Alias Me. Nick’s shooting that this weekend. It was kind of strange because Nick was the one doing all the talking. Rafe didn’t like it, and they ended up yelling at each other. Then we had Wednesday off because Nick had some stuff to do for the video, I don’t know what.”
“Yes?” said Martha Jane. She couldn’t identify it but there was something in Mel’s voice.
“Then on Thursday, he was different. Not to everyone…just to me. It was kind of strange. He didn’t come over to me at the end of Alias Me anymore. He stayed at the front of the stage. And he didn’t seem to want to joke around with me anymore.”
“Did you do something or say something? You can be…um…blunt at times.”
Melody laughed. “No, I didn’t get all up in his face. I don’t know what happened. It’s not like he’s mad at me or anything. He’s just…different. I know that the other guys noticed, but no one said anything. It got a little better on Friday.”
“Maybe he’s getting a crush on you.” Martha Jane floated the suggestion out very carefully and listened intently for the reaction. Crushes could work both ways.
“I hardly think so, Mart,” laughed Melody. “He’s just a kid.”
Interesting, thought Martha Jane. Mel had reacted as if Mart had suggested Melody were the one with the crush.
“Kids get crushes,” said Mart.
“No, I don’t think that’s it. I’m just one of the guys. Really. Maybe Rafe said something…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rafe had indeed said something. Rafe had had quite a lot to say. He received daily reports from Tom. It had taken a while to get Monday’s report out of him. Tom seemed reluctant to put things into words.
“Oh, for God’s sake, spit it out.” Rafe was a busy man and didn’t have time for waltzing in circles.
Rafe’s first reaction to Nick's changing the song was surprise. He didn’t think the kid had it in him. His second reaction was anger, but he quickly sat on that. He knew he was just miffed that someone had gone against him.
“How did it sound?” he asked Tom.
“It sounded great,” admitted Tom, reluctantly. “He really knew what he was doing. There was spontaneous applause from the crew.”
Who gave a rat’s ass about spontaneous applause from the crew? Rafe leaned back in his chair and swiveled his neck. “Okay, so he made a suggestion that improved a song. We’ll let him have this one. He wrote the song, after all.”
“Um…” Tom took a deep breath.
Rafe sat forward in his chair, bracing himself. “What?”
“He’s making a few other changes as well.”
“Such as?” Rafe picked up a pen and started to make notes.
Tom began to describe the changes. A word here, a line there, nothing dramatic. Tom knew he could never get Rafe to understand this in terms of the music. Rafe just didn’t get the music part.
“How does it sound?”
“It sounds great,” admitted Tom. “He knows what he’s doing.”
“Okay,” said Rafe, decisively. “We’ll let him do it…until he fucks up. Let me know the instant that happens. Anything else?”
“Toby hired his assistant…Gus somebody.”
“Okay, that’s good.” Rafe smiled to himself. He was way ahead of Tom on that one. “Then that’s everybody. Sounds like everything’s shaping up great.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tuesday’s phone call from Tom was a different story. Nick had informed him that he wanted Tom to get the director of the video on the phone. He had a problem with the concept.
“I’ll be right there,” said Rafe.
Rafe sailed into the rehearsal and virtually yanked Nick off the stage. They were close to finishing up for the day anyway, and it was just Rafe’s way of asserting his authority. But it pissed Nick off.
“What’s this about the video concept?” Rafe demanded, walking to the back of the warehouse where they would not be overheard.
“I don’t like the girl,” said Nick. “She’s not right for the song.”
“What the hell are you talking about? She looks just like Tamara.”
“Exactly,” said Nick. “I don’t want the whole thing to be about whether or not that’s Tamara, or gee whiz, it sure looks like her…and all that crap. I want a different look.”
“What do you want? I didn’t think tall, blonde and beautiful would be a problem for you.”
“Well, it is. I want a real person…I mean, it will still be an actress or whatever, but I want her to look real. I mean, that’s what the song is about, that I’m not one of the ‘beautiful people’, that I’m a real person…”
Rafe waved his hand in the air to shut Nick up. He didn’t care about concept or song meaning. He just wanted the best video made, so that it would help the song tear up the charts. He and the director had planned the concept carefully. And now little power-tripping Nicky was sticking his nose into it.
“Tough,” said Rafe. “She’s hired.”
“Well, now she’s fired,” said Nick. “I want someone different. I already told Mickey.” Mickey Donahue was the director.
Rafe was livid. “You did what?”
“I called him. I told Tom to do it, but I guess he had to check with you first.”
If Rafe had known Nick well, he would have realized that the set of his mouth and the fire in his eyes were indicators that he was about to lose control. But Rafe didn’t, and he pushed all the wrong buttons.
“Look, Nicky…Nick… it’s all settled.” Rafe raised his voice slightly, trying to regain command.
“In fact, it’s not,” hissed Nick. “I’m meeting Mickey at 9:00 tomorrow. He’s going to have some new girls for me to choose from.”
“Where’s the meeting?” demanded Rafe.
“None of your fucking business,” said Nick. If Nick had known Rafe well, he would have seen the narrowing of his eyes as a danger signal. But he didn’t.
“Listen, you little pissant. This is not up to you. Don’t try and grow a brain. Thinking is not your best thing. Just do what you’re supposed to do. Sing.”
Nick clenched and unclenched his fists. Tom hovered in the background, slowly making his way over to them, trying to remain invisible but ready to jump between them at the first sign of violence. Toby Gray and Gus Deloro watched from the conversation area. The musicians busied themselves with putting away their instruments, talking more loudly than necessary, pretending they weren’t hearing the fight. The crew disappeared to somewhere.
Nick took a deep breath and calmed himself down. “I’m meeting with Mickey tomorrow at nine o’clock. Be there if you want. I don’t give a fuck. But we’re changing the girl.” He turned to walk away and then turned back. “And if you ever call me Nicky again, I will tear your fucking head off.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“He’s going to do it, goddammit,” said Rafe to Tom on Wednesday after the meeting. They were in Rafe’s office.
“He’s going to do what?” asked Tom.
“Our little Nicky is going to take a run at Mel,” said Rafe. “Look at this.”
He threw a folder full of pictures on the desk. Tom started to leaf through them. They were 8 x 10 glossies, portfolio shots.
“These are the girls that Mickey picked for Nick to look at,” explained Rafe. “He wanted a good cross-section.”
Tom continued to look at the pictures. “He seems to have done that. There’s a real variety here.”
“Guess which one Nicky liked,” said Rafe, sarcastically. “Guess who he thought looked most like a ‘real girl’.”
Tom had reached the last photo. He looked at it for a moment and then up at Rafe. He held up the picture. It was a dead ringer for Melody Jones, a tiny girl with dark hair, cut short, spiky on top.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” sighed Rafe.
Mickey Donahue had thought Nick’s choice was perfect. But Mickey had never met Melody. He didn’t know that there was way more going on here than just choosing someone for the video.
Rafe shook his head. “You said it yourself, he can’t take his eyes off her boobs, and now he’s singing to her…or with her, or whatever. So it’s only a matter of time until he pulls out his dick and points it at her.”
“She’ll take his head off,” said Tom.
“Yeah, or else she’ll fuck his brains out. But either way, it’ll mess with the tour. We have to nip this in the bud.”
Tom didn’t have any idea how to do that.
But Rafe did.
Chapter 13 by old_archive
Toby Gray was trying to figure out what was wrong with Nick. The young singer had changed his mood and his attitude a number of times over the past week. It seemed to be more than just mood swings, but Nick wouldn’t talk about it. Toby knew that once they got out on tour, he would become Nick’s confidant and get all the inside scoop but, at the moment, Nick didn’t know him well enough, wasn’t dependent enough on him yet.
Nick had been positively euphoric on Monday. He’d made the change to his song over Tom’s objections. And it had turned out that he was right. Everyone could see that. Then Nick kicked it into overdrive and started changing everything. Toby had watched from the conversation area where he was briefing his new assistant, Gustavo Deloro.
Gus Deloro was very impressed with his new boss, and also a little intimidated. Toby had a pile of file folders in front of him. He handed Gus the first one – a list of the entire crew, complete with pictures and pertinent information...one page for each crew member. Toby would handle Nick personally, of course, he told Gus, but would work closely with him to handle the others.
“The pages are numbered,” said Toby, “in descending order of importance. Requests will be honored according to that order.”
Gus flipped to the back of the folder – poor Jimmy Long, a lowly stage hand. Gus hoped Jimmy was self-sufficient; he wouldn’t be getting too much from them.
“This is a shopping list,” continued Toby, handing Gus another folder. “We’ll co-ordinate this every day. If someone requests something, fill in the name of the person and the item, and be sure to mark down the time of the request.”
I know, I know…” he said, holding up a hand to Gus’ raised eyebrows. “It sounds like overkill, but trust me, we are the ones who’ll get blamed if stuff doesn’t happen the way they like. We’re just covering our ass with that one.”
There were more checklists and instructions. Gus figured he’d be doing as much paperwork as “assisting”. Toby handed over another folder. This one had a page for each city on the tour.
“I’ll be giving you updates for this one as we go,” he explained. “This is all the clubs, restaurants, tourist spots, etc. for each city. Shopping, that kind of stuff. It saves a lot of aggravation for us if we can make suggestions, point them in the right direction.”
Gus nodded solemnly.
“But remember,” added Toby, “we’re not pimps. There are some things we’re not responsible for. Although,” he laughed, “never run out of condoms!”
Gus gathered up the folders and wondered if Toby was always such a pedantic prig. He hoped not. He really wanted this job. It was a chance to prove himself a little and have fun doing it. He was thankful that Cousin Rafe had got him this job, instead of some boring office thing.
Gus cautioned himself to stop thinking of Rafe as Cousin Rafe. Rafe had told him that he was never, Rafe had said it three times, never, never, never to let on that they were related or even knew each other. Gus would lose the job immediately if he slipped up. And Gus couldn’t afford to slip up again.
“Do you have any questions so far?” asked Toby and then held up his hand, forestalling any that there might have been. He heard Nick say, get off the stage, and he turned to watch. He did not look back at Gus until the song was over.
Gus watched Nick and the musicians, but he also watched Toby and he wondered why the PA’s eyes narrowed when Nick walked over to the woman – something Jones, Gus thought – and sang with her.
Toby joined in the applause half-heartedly when the song ended and then turned back to Gus. “Sorry, where were we? Oh, yeah, any questions?”
Hundreds, thought Gus. “No, nothing yet, Mr. Gray,” he said aloud.
“Call me Toby, Gus,” Toby extended his hand, and Gus shook it. “I think we’ll make a good team. And we have to. We’re the glue that holds it all together. Out there on tour, we’re the last line of defence.”
Gus smiled and nodded, but he wondered if maybe Toby didn’t have an inflated opinion of his own importance. Time would tell.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tuesday had been a different story, thought Toby, reflecting on the changes in Nick. Toby had been giving more information to Gus, orienting him, trying to get him to know people, quizzing him a little to see if he’d studied the information the night before. He had, Toby was pleased to learn.
Then Rafe came storming in, and he and Nick had the fight…about the video, Toby thought. He tried to listen to the argument but not look like he was listening. The musicians packed up their stuff and very obviously turned their back on the discussion. The crew just disappeared. God knows where they went. Smart of them, Toby thought. Just get the hell out of Dodge.
Toby couldn’t decide who had won the argument. Both men were very angry when it was over, but both walked away as if they had won. They both showed up at the meeting on Wednesday, though. Toby volunteered to go with Nick, saying he wanted to go over some things and they could do it in the car. Nick agreed, seemed relieved, in fact, thought Toby. Having an ally or something. This pleased Toby. This was exactly the way he wanted Nick to think of him.
Toby sat outside the meeting, working his phone and his file folders. He couldn’t hear much through the door, but he only heard voices raised once. He thought it was Nick’s voice, but he couldn’t be sure. And when Nick came out of the meeting, he was all smiles. Rafe Ariando was a completely different story. He was not happy at all.
Thursday, Nick was a different person again. But this time only with the woman. Toby didn’t know if the others had noticed. She had, Toby knew that. Toby wondered if her feelings were hurt. Nick was ignoring her; well, not really ignoring her, just…it was hard to pin down…it was like he was suddenly uncomfortable with her. He didn’t walk over to her to sing any more, and he didn’t have any private conversations with her. By Friday, he’d loosened up a little, but he was still different. Toby wondered what had happened.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What had happened was Rafe Ariando. He had called Nick in for a meeting on Wednesday afternoon. Just you, me and Tom, he told him. It’s not a big deal, and we’re not going to fight. We’re just going to go over some things, make sure we’re on the same page. Rafe was positively affable with Nick.
“I was just a little blindsided by the whole video thing,” he explained to Nick. “You know me, I’m a detail person. I like things worked out in advance, no changes. So maybe we need to go over a few things, just to make sure I know what you’re thinking…in case you want any changes made.”
Nick was surprised by the change in Rafe. If he had known what the word ‘obsequious’ meant, he would have used it to describe the older man. Instead, he thought of it as ‘kiss ass’. Nick liked the new Rafe, but he didn’t trust him any more than he trusted the old one.
They met late Wednesday afternoon, and as far as Nick could see, it was a complete waste of time. He showed up late on purpose, just to see if that would piss Rafe off. He knew Rafe hated that. But Rafe didn’t mention it, just ushered him into a chair and offered him a bottle of water. The things Rafe talked about were piddling things, stuff that had been settled months ago.
Rafe gave Nick an update on the album. It was ready for release in a month. Once they got the title, everything fell into place. Alias Me would be released first as a single, then the video and then the album. No big news there. Maybe Rafe was just burying the hatchet or something. Nick began to relax. Maybe Rafe was starting to get it – that Nick was the boss here, not him.
Then Rafe talked about the musicians, wanting an appraisal from Nick. Nick figured Rafe wanted him to tell him how good they were, that Rafe had indeed hired the best. That wasn’t hard for Nick to say. He believed it. Yes, Blaine was a wizard on the drums; Nick wished he could play that well. And Rashad, yeah, he played the bass like it was part of him. Tofu Sandoval? Good choice there, great keys guy and funny dude, to boot. And Melody Jones? Yeah, she was great. She could really play that guitar.
“So there’s no problem there for you, what with…?” Rafe made circles in the air with his hands.
“Her private gigs? Nah, that’s fine,” said Nick, with a shrug.
“No, I meant…” Rafe hesitated.
Nick tilted his head sideways. Meant what?
Rafe pursed his lips and then said, “Well, because she’s gay.”
Tom’s head snapped up.
Nick didn’t notice that, though. His eyes were glued to Rafe. “She’s what?!”
“She’s gay.”
Nick turned to Tom. “Is she?”
Tom had recovered his equilibrium somewhat and followed Rafe’s lead. “You got a problem with that, Nick?”
“No, no, I…” Nick was speechless. He didn’t think he’d ever met a gay woman before. He’d had lots of gay guys come on to him, though. He looked back at Rafe. “But…I never…no one said… do people know?”
“I think people know; well, in fact, I’m sure they do. But they respect her. They don’t talk about it. It’s her business.” Then Rafe paused. “Can you respect her, Nick? Can you not talk about it?”
Nick thought about it for a minute. “Yeah, sure, it’s her business. Does she have a…a…?”
Tom helped him out. “Significant other?”
Nick nodded. Yeah, he guessed that was the right word for it.
“She did,” said Rafe, “a long-term one. But they broke up. Not too long ago. Maybe that’s why she decided to come out on the road.”
Nick nodded, turning it over in his head. Gay, huh? You wouldn’t know it to look at her. Maybe the hair…
Rafe wrapped up the meeting and sent a bemused Nick on his way. He had barely closed the door behind him when Tom exploded.
“What the fuck was that? Mel’s not gay…is she?” Tom had actually wondered if Rafe and Mel had…
Rafe laughed. “No, she’s not. But who cares? Remember, he was the one that was worried about having a girl around. It answers his concerns…and ours too. He won’t worry about her coming onto him, and he won’t come onto her. He’ll treat her like one of the guys because he thinks she is. What can it hurt?”
Tom thought it could hurt in a big way if it wasn’t kept a secret, but he knew better than to argue with Rafe.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick wasn’t even sure how he made it home. His mind certainly wasn’t on his driving. Melody Jones was gay. Nick wondered how he felt about that. He was pissed that, once again, he was the last to know something. But then again, it wouldn’t have been right to bring that up, would it? Meet Melody, she’s gay. Hi, pleased to meet you! Want to arm wrestle?
Nick laughed to himself and then sobered. You’d better knock that off, he said. No offensive comments. Pretend you don’t know, that’s the ticket. Just treat her like one of the guys, like you’ve been doing. Only maybe you’d better stop admiring her chest when you think she’s not looking. She might not like that.
Nick thought about it off and on all night. He was fascinated by it. Should he have been able to tell? She didn’t look butch or whatever the word was. Call me Mel. He remembered that from the first meeting. That was kind of masculine. And she had a good firm handshake. Or maybe she was…like…the other half or whatever…the girl in the relationship. Or did they even do it that way? Nick wished there was someone he could ask. But he couldn’t. He had to respect her and not talk to anyone about it. Because if Rafe found out he’d blabbed…
And then Nick got mad at Rafe. Was this some kind of test? To see if he could keep his mouth shut? Why did Rafe tell him that anyway? Shit, he would have been better off not knowing. But then again, he might have said something inadvertently.
What about Carly Hyndman? Was she gay? Nick had actually heard rumors about that. And who was this significant other that was so recently departed from the scene?
The next morning, Nick found that he couldn’t look at Mel. He was afraid that he would stare, trying to spot some sign that he had missed. So he ignored her for the most part. And, when they sang Alias Me, he sang the last bit to the ‘audience’.
That would be better, he guessed, during the shows and stuff. If all these people who knew her were supposedly coming to the show, it would look dumb if they sang it to each other. Although when you thought about the words, it kind of made sense. Aw crap! Nick wished he was better at stuff like this.
Friday was better. Nick found he could smile at Melody and talk to her without watching every word, in case he said something wrong. When he relaxed, everyone relaxed. And Rafe didn’t show his ugly face, so that made everything okay.
At the end of the day, Nick issued his usual invite to the crew, and this time, Melody accepted. Nick had a feeling that Rashad had something to do with that, but he wasn’t sure. Mel sat with Rashad and a couple of the stage crew in a booth at the back of the bar.
Nick circulated and wished everyone a good weekend, thanked them all for their good work. He felt very grown up about it. He didn’t feel like he was being…well, like Rafe…he meant it sincerely. Nick was just getting to Melody’s group when she and Rashad stood up. Nick knew that Rashad never stayed long…wanted to get home to the wife and kids.
“Have a good weekend, you guys!” said Nick, walking up to them.
“Thanks, Nick. You too!” said Rashad.
Melody nodded her agreement to that. “Thanks for the drink.”
“Any time. Got a gig tonight?” Nick was reluctant to let her go for some reason.
“Nope, not tonight…or this weekend. It’s housecleaning weekend…and laundry. I can’t wait to go on tour and get my laundry done for me.”
“Yeah,” said Nick, who had never done his own laundry in his life. “I’m not good at tidying up after myself.”
“I hate housework,” confided Melody. “You know what I need, a wife! Someone to do all that. Right, Rashad?”
Rashad laughed. “You all just say that to Keshia’s face, Girl, and watch what happens! You all just tell her that laundry and housework are her jobs. You all just go ahead. I’ll stand by to pick up the pieces.”
Melody and Nick laughed along with him, and the two guitarists waved their farewells and left. And Nick’s final impression as he headed into the weekend was that Melody Jones wanted a wife.
Chapter 14 by old_archive
The final week of rehearsals was busy and chaotic. Rafe was around the whole time, and people walked on eggshells around him and Nick. They were having complete show rehearsals, going from setup to takedown. Tom and Rafe walked around with clipboards and stopwatches. Each of the unit directors took notes and gave instructions.
Murray manned the desk in the office area and fielded requests for various things, producing them quickly. His finger quotation marks worked overtime, and the crew thought if he said “well-oiled machine” one more time, Rafe would kill him.
Nick was in a good mood on Monday, even with Rafe’s presence. The video shoot had gone very well. It had been an intense two days, but they were done. Nick really liked the concept. And the girl. It had been the right thing to do. Mickey agreed with him. Rafe probably did too, but Nick knew he’d never get him to admit it.
On Wednesday, Rafe tried to talk to them about wardrobe. Nick didn’t want to hear it. “I’ll wear what I feel like wearing,” he insisted.
That was fine, Rafe said, but he just wondered about the overall look of the whole group. And he didn’t want any t-shirts with logos for commercial products or other groups.
“They can wear what they want,” Nick insisted. “It doesn’t have to co-ordinate…everyone in shades of blue or all that crap. I’m so done with that.”
Murray tried to help out. “Yes, but everyone should look like they’re on the same page…like they’re…”
“Rock musicians?” asked Tofu, using finger quotation marks. That broke up Nick and the others.
“Well,” spluttered Tom. “We just want to have a look-see. What if Rashad decided to wear a tux or Mel wore a dress?”
“Mel perform in a dress?” Blaine exclaimed. “Not much chance of that.”
All of the musicians laughed again. Including Mel. Excluding Nick.
Rafe thought they were acting like schoolchildren. He decided to put his foot down. “Tomorrow you will dress like you’re performing for an audience. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir.” Tofu snapped off a salute.
Rafe pressed his lips together and glared at the keyboardist. Then he turned on his heel and stalked away, Tom and Murray trailing behind him.
“Man, I hate that crap,” said Nick, narrowing his eyes at the departing men.
“Don’t sweat the small stuff,” said Blaine. The others nodded in agreement. He turned to Melody. “Hey, Mel, gonna wear that frilly pink dress with all the bows on it?”
Melody laughed. “Yeah, right! Give your head a shake. I think I’ll stick with my leather, thanks anyway.”
“Yeah, go for butch!” said Tofu.
Nick was horrified. He wheeled around and looked at Chris, then over at Mel. They looked at his expression with raised eyebrows. What? Nick shook his head and reached for his water bottle. So it was kind of out in the open, he guessed. It was kind of okay to talk about it. But not him, no sirree, he wasn’t saying a damn word about it…to anyone!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day, Nick dried himself off after his shower. He looked in the mirror. Not bad. He guessed he could see a difference. He turned sideways. Still had that gut, though. Had to keep working on that. Man, he hated sit-ups.
Jeff had let him know that there were a gazillion sit-ups in his future. They weren’t going to be dragging all the exercise machines and crap on the tour. There would be one kinda all-in-one monstrosity that Nick thought wouldn’t look out of place in a horror movie torture chamber. But it was going to be mostly sit-ups and aerobics.
Nick toweled his hair. He had to admit that Jeff was right. When he exercised in the morning, he did feel energized for the day. But he wondered what they would do on tour. When he performed, he was so high after a concert that he didn’t come down for hours, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be getting up for any eight o’clock workout.
The diet was going okay, Nick figured. He just stayed away from the catering table and had Toby bring him food. That was the only way that it worked for him. If someone brought him food, he’d eat it. So the trick was to get someone to bring him healthy food. If someone brought him donuts, he’d eat them. No self-control, he told himself, not a drop. Of course, Tofu was always commenting on the food, praising him for eating veggies, shaking his head at meat.
Nick had noticed something else too. It had taken him awhile to pin it down. He’d noticed that no one ate any of the donuts or pastries or crap like that around him. They ate it, but not around him. The whole food thing was kind of fluid anyway. You ate when you had time. The crew would eat while the musicians were playing, and the musicians would eat while the crew was working with setup and take down. So it wasn’t obvious at first. Nick wondered who was behind it. He appreciated it – that they would take the effort. The whole crew. That showed they respected him. He laughed to himself. Or maybe they thought he was such a big pig that he’d tear the food right out of their hand if they got too close.
Nick pulled on his clothes. The temptation to wear the rattiest things he owned was almost overwhelming. Or some orange and pink Hawaiian shirt with green and blue plaid pants. But he had settled for jeans with only a couple of rips in them and a black t-shirt with a silver picture of the Rock of Gibraltar on it and the blood-red phrase, “Let’s Rock”.
He stepped out into the warehouse and counted silently under his breath. …three, four… Toby appeared out of nowhere and handed Nick a cup of coffee. Nick said thanks and smiled to himself. He had never been able to make it to five before Toby appeared.
“Would you like cream cheese on your bagel today, Nick?” asked Toby. “They’ve got strawberry.”
“Sounds good,” said Nick. Toby scurried off to the catering table, and Nick walked over to the sound board. “Mornin’, Scott.”
“Mornin’, Nick,” answered Scott. “Nice outfit,” he added with a wink.
“Do you think it’ll pass inspection by the Almighty Ariando?” asked Nick, with a laugh.
Scott snorted. He was the only one who didn’t have to worry about Rafe interfering with his work. The executive didn’t have the first clue how to run the board, and he didn’t really want to know. If he hovered too close, Scott would just start explaining things in highly-technical terms, and Rafe would move away. The area around the sound board had become a little Rafe-free oasis for them all.
“I think that will pass inspection too,” said Scott, nodding over Nick’s shoulder.
Nick turned to see Mel standing on the stage, fiddling with her guitar strap. She was wearing black leather pants and a matching leather vest and nothing else, just like at the club. Bare arms and cleavage.
“She looks hot,” added Scott.
“Yeah, for a…” Nick bit the end off the phrase.
“For a what?”
“Nothing, just hot. Yeah, she looks hot.” Nick could feel his ears reddening. “Does she always wear that kind of thing?”
“Pants and a vest? Yep. She says it gives her freedom of movement, and if she always wears the same thing, she never has to think about it, picking out clothes and stuff.”
“You seem to know her pretty well,” said Nick.
“Yeah, we go back a long way,” said Scott, and he changed the subject. Nick didn’t need to know how well Scott and Mel knew each other in the past. “Here come Blaine and Rashad.”
Blaine and Rashad looked no different than they did any other day. But that wouldn’t be a problem. Rashad always wore dressier pants, never jeans, and a long sleeved shirt, usually in some pattern. Rashad never wore jeans because Keshia wouldn’t let him. She said they made his ass look like a big denim dump truck.
Blaine was wearing jeans and a striped t-shirt. He could wear what he wanted. He sat behind the drums, and nobody could really see what he was wearing anyway.
“So do we have to line up for inspection?” asked Blaine, with a laugh. He held out both his hands in front of him. “I’ve got clean fingernails!”
“Did you wash behind your ears?” laughed Melody.
Blaine snapped his fingers. “Damn! I knew I forgot something.”
“Glad to see everyone’s in a good mood,” said Toby, handing a bagel to Nick. “Here comes Rafe.”
Nick picked up the bagel and looked at it. At the strawberry cream cheese. Then he looked down at his black t-shirt. Then back at the bagel. Then at Rafe.
“Don’t do it, Kid,” said Mel, in a Mae West imitation that wasn’t bad. “It ain’t worth it.”
Nick laughed. “I wasn’t going to, Mommmmm,” he said in his best six-year old voice, scuffing one sneaker on the other.
Rashad and Blaine cracked up. Toby looked disapproving.
“Okay, so we’ve got everyone but Senor Sandoval,” said Rafe, looking them over. He seemed a little peeved that there was nothing to complain about.
“I’m comin’, I’m comin’” called Tofu from the back of the warehouse. He approached the stage. He was wearing a trench coat.
What the hell? thought Nick.
“Omilord, what’s he up to?” whispered Melody to Blaine.
Nick looked at them. They just shook their heads. Anything was possible with Tofu.
Chris Sandoval turned his back to them and unbuttoned his coat. He took it off as he was turning back, and the musicians snorted with laughter. Nick was glad he wasn’t drinking coffee. It would have shot out his nose. Tofu was wearing a powder-blue tuxedo with royal blue velvet lapels. He had on a white ruffled shirt with blue piping along the ruffles. It was the worst lounge singer suit they’d ever seen. Even the shoes were blue.
Rafe smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Very amusing, Tofu. Very amusing.” He turned to the others. “Since you all seem to like it so much, maybe we can get you all one.” He laughed at his little joke. Only Toby laughed with him.
Tofu Sandoval looked over at Melody and Blaine and winked. “Aw crap, he’s not done,” whispered Blaine.
“I’ll just get out of this then and get into some real working clothes,” he said, taking off the tux jacket and unbuttoning the shirt. “Picture these as jeans,” he told Rafe, motioning to the pants. He pulled off the shirt and handed it and the jacket to Toby. “Hang these up somewhere for me, will you, Toby?” he said and stepped up onto the stage. “Shall we make some music?”
The other musicians made little noises and bit their lips trying not to howl with laughter. They busied themselves with their instruments and almost got under control…until they looked at Tofu again. He was wearing a t-shirt with a devil’s head on it, complete with little red horns. And the devil’s face, God knows how Chris had managed it, the devil’s face was an exact caricature of Rafe Ariando. Tofu gazed back at them blandly and then flexed his muscles in a move that made the devil seem to blink.
That was too much for Nick, who roared with laughter. Right behind him were the others. They all laughed until tears streamed down their face. People started wandering over from other parts of the building to see what was so funny. It certainly wasn’t the look on Rafe’s face which glared them right back to where they came from.
“So, get to work,” he said, and turned on his heel for the office area.
“Fucking suits,” said Tofu, under his breath, as he played the intro for Bridge to Nowhere.
Chapter 15 by old_archive
“Why so quiet, Blaine?” asked Mel.
They were at the Fox and Fiddle. It was the last day of rehearsals, and it looked like they might party well into the night. They had the whole show timed down to the second. The construction crew could set it up and take it down in a couple of hours. The set list was complete. Everyone was pleased with the order of the songs. A couple had been eliminated but Tom’s suggestion to replace them with something Backstreet had been quickly rebuffed.
Tom called them all over for a meeting at the end. Rafe had disappeared somewhere. Tom told them all how wonderful they were and how this was going to be a great tour. He told them that they had the next week off and then the musicians were meeting in New York City for some press stuff. The construction crew and the equipment would be heading off to Holland, where the tour would kick off. Rafe was hoping to get Nick on the European Music Awards, either as a presenter or a performer.
Nick sat in the corner and sulked for the entire meeting. He knew why Rafe had disappeared. Because he knew that Nick wanted to talk to him. Nick was pissed. He had been after Rafe for a month to talk about opening acts for the tour. Rafe kept putting him off, and then, earlier in the day, he had presented Nick with a list. No discussion, no input. Just – here’s the list, it’s all final, live with it.
Nick had not been impressed with the list. On his last tour, he had tried to get local bands and give them some exposure. That had worked out very well in some cases and had been totally disastrous in others. And now this! Rafe had handed him a list that was similar – mostly local bands – but this time, it was not new, young talent. It was…well, has-beens, Nick thought. Groups that he had vaguely heard of. Groups that had had a hit or two twenty years ago. Guys in their forties now, maybe even older.
Nick could just hear the critics now! How was he supposed to prove he was grown up, if that’s what he was compared to? He would always be younger. Even if he were compared favorably, it would be ‘young Nick Carter’.
When everyone left for the Fox and Fiddle, Nick told Tom to start a tab in his name and that he would be along later. Then he went looking for Rafe. Everyone else headed out to the bar and had a boisterous time, sharing funny moments from the past month, doing imitations of Rafe and Murray and even Nick. The people at Tofu Sandoval’s table were laughing so hard they could barely breathe. They had taken over the pub. The couple of late-afternoon drinkers that were there on their arrival had quickly downed their beer and gone elsewhere.
“Blaine?” Melody repeated the question.
Blaine looked at her. “Just wondering who the spy is,” he said.
“Spy?” Melody looked at the assembled group. “What do you mean, ‘spy’?”
“Someone is spying for Rafe. He finds out what’s going on way too fast.”
“Well, that would be Tom, wouldn’t it? Isn’t that kind of his job?”
Blaine laughed. “Yes, but that’s too obvious. First of all, we never tell Tom anything. Rafe knows stuff before Tom does, even when it happens right in front of him. Nope, there’s somebody else.”
Blaine looked at the smiling faces. “But I think we can eliminate Tofu,” he suggested with a grin.
“Ah yeah, I think so,” said Melody. “Rafe couldn’t get the time of day out of him.”
“He really hates the suits, doesn’t he?” said Blaine.
“Well, we all do,” said Melody, “But Chris has got a good reason.”
Blaine nodded. He already knew this story. Christofol Sandoval had had a difficult time breaking into the business. Because he was Mexican. Pure and simple racism. That’s what it came down to. Born in Mexico. Latino-American maybe they would accept, but born in Mexico? Never! He was asked for his immigration papers at every job interview in the beginning. He had been an American citizen since he was six years old, but it didn’t seem to matter.
Oh, he got offered jobs, he was too good not to - but they were always for Latin music, playing with mariachi bands. He couldn’t break into the rock scene. He persevered, however, and was making a name for himself. He formed his own group and was close to getting a record contract. He had written some songs, and so had his bandmates.
Then the suits got involved. They dangled the record contract out there and then demanded that almost everything about the group be changed – the name of the group, the kind of music they played, the number of members in it. Every time they thought they had it settled, another suit would say, “Just one more thing.” And then one of the biggest of the suits propositioned the lead singer, Tofu’s girlfriend, and told her that if she didn’t sleep with him, the deal was off.
The girl went straight to Tofu, who stormed into the suit’s office, threatening him with a variety of tortures before a slow, painful death. The suit rose to his feet and looked from one to the other. Then he calmly informed Tofu that the girl had, in fact, come to him and offered to suck his dick for a solo contract. But it didn’t matter, he said, he really didn’t have the time or patience to deal with sluts and wetbacks. And he picked up the contract from his desk and tore it in two. “Now get the fuck out of my office,” he replied.
Tofu was beside himself with anger. He ranted and raved to his bandmates and talked about lawsuits and sexual harassment. They tried to calm him down. They felt like they were watching their careers dissolve before their eyes. The girl begged him not to pursue it. It’s my word against his, she said. Guess who’s got the power.
So Tofu calmed down. They started over again and six months later had a recording contract with another company. They learned from their mistakes and their innocence the first time around and got a pretty good deal. The group and the girl were long gone by now. But Tofu’s hatred and distrust of the suits was still with him.
“What about Toby?” asked Mel. She had never been able to get over her initial distaste for the man. And she knew that, for some reason, he didn’t like her either.
“Could be,” mused Blaine. “Or maybe Gus-Gus.”
Melody snorted, spitting a little wine on the table. “Jeez, Blaine, warn a girl, would ya!?”
Gustavo Deloro had jumped into his job with both feet. He followed Toby everywhere, making notes, leafing through the file folders, copying his every move. If Toby handed a bottle of water to Nick, Gus handed one to the rest of the musicians. Tofu had remarked to them all once that they might as well move the rehearsals into the bathroom, they were spending so much time there…
But it was Rashad who had given him his nickname. He had spent some quality time with his kids, watching the Disney video, Cinderella. There was a character, a mouse, who followed another mouse around all the time, but didn’t really seem to know what he was doing. It was a visual memory that they all had stored from their childhood, and when Rashad had said, “Gus-Gus”, it evoked it for them all.
“Gus-Gus can only be the spy if Toby tells him to,” said Melody.
“True,” said Blaine. “But it has to be somebody close to the band. It wouldn’t be Scott…” His voice trailed off, but there was a question in it.
“No, it wouldn’t,” said Melody matter-of-factly. She sighed. “It will probably end up being me.”
“What?”
“Because I’m the woman. Just you wait and see. If everyone starts thinking there’s a spy, eventually they’ll point the finger at me.”
“Well then, I’ll shut up about it. I haven’t mentioned it to anyone else, and I won’t. But I’m keeping my ears open and my mouth shut.”
“Good plan,” said Melody. Then she winked at him. “I’ll tell Rafe.”
They laughed together. Suddenly, Blaine sobered. “Uh oh.” He nodded at the doorway.
Uh oh, indeed! thought Melody. Standing in the doorway was a very upset Nick Carter. “I guess he didn’t find Rafe,” she said.
“Or maybe he did,” countered Blaine.
They watched as Tom and Toby descended on Nick from different directions. Tom started talking really fast in a low tone. Toby handed Nick a beer and bobbed his head up and down, nodding at whatever Tom was saying. Some of the fire started to leave Nick’s eyes. Melody looked around. Everyone in the place had one eye on the doorway. Conversations dwindled and then stopped. Tom kept talking. Finally, they saw Nick mouth the words, “Aw, fuck it,” and then he tipped up the beer mug and drained it. He handed the empty mug to Toby and waded into the party.
People relaxed and conversations started up again. Toby put another beer in Nick’s hand and followed him around the party. They stopped at each table and chatted for a few minutes before moving on. Nick had had four beers by the time he got to Blaine and Melody. He had Rashad and Tofu with him.
Nick pulled two pages out of his pocket and threw it on the table. “What do you think?” he demanded.
Tofu picked up the pages and looked at them. Then he passed them on to Rashad. Rashad didn’t say anything, just read the pages and passed them to Blaine. Blaine and Melody put their heads together and looked at the papers. It was the list of opening acts.
“Well?” said Nick.
The musicians looked at each other.
“This seems to have you upset,” said Rashad, cautiously.
“Well, nobody had any say in it,” said Nick. “And I want us to have some say. All of us. So does anyone have a problem with this?”
Besides you, they all thought.
Tofu went next. “I can kind of see where Rafe is coming from on this…I know, I know…” They were all gaping at him. It was a sentence they never thought they’d hear out of his mouth. “…but didn’t he say he was trying to find rock fans instead of…” He hesitated. No one said Backstreet Boys around Nick any more. “…you know…younger fans?”
“Yeah,” said Nick. “That’s what Tom says too. But what do you guys think? Do you think people will compare…?”
“Sure, they’ll compare,” said Blaine, “But so what? It gets the fans in the building. They get a bit of nostalgia, and then they get their asses rocked off by us. It works for me.”
They all turned to Melody. She was the last one.
Nick stared into her eyes. “Mel?”
Melody felt very small with Nick looming over her. She stood up from the table. It didn’t come close to making them eye-to-eye, but it was better. “Listen, Nick,” she began. “Blaine is right. I don’t care if they put the friggin’ Rolling Stones up there ahead of us. You are so good…we are so good…it won’t matter.”
Nick stared at her. Then he looked at the rest of them again. Finally, he relaxed. “Shit,” he sighed. “I hate it when Rafe is right. Okay, if it works for you guys, I’ll make it work for me. Thanks.” He picked up the pages from the table and turned to Toby. “More beer!” he shouted.
Chris Sandoval looked at Nick’s departing back and then at Melody. “The Rolling Stones, Mel?”
Melody laughed. “Well, maybe not the Stones.”
“I really don’t see any problem,” said Rashad. “Do you guys?”
Nope. None of them did. They were the best, and they knew it. And the kid had impressed the hell out of all of them over the past month.
Rashad said his goodbyes and told them all he’d see them in New York next week. Blaine stood up to follow him. He was taking Cathy to Vegas for the weekend, going to spend some quality time, just the two of them.
Melody looked at her watch. It was still early, but she didn’t feel like staying. She was tired and frankly, she’d had enough of these guys. She wondered if she would get time alone on tour. She sure hoped so. She made the rounds and said goodbye to everyone.
“Don’t let him drive,” she whispered to Toby as she went by. Toby nodded at her. Taken care of.
“Hey, Mel!” Nick followed her to the door.
She turned back. “Yes?”
Nick had a silly grin on his face. “The Rolling Stones?”
“Okay, maybe not the Stones,” she laughed.
Nick got serious. “But we’re that good, like you said?”
Mel nodded.
“Everything’s perfect?” he asked and watched a shadow cross her face before she could stop it. “What?”
“It’s going to be great, Nick,” she said. “Go back to your party. I’ll see you in New York.” Melody went out the door.
Nick followed her out. “What’s not perfect?”
Melody sighed. She so did not want to do this now. “Nick, go back inside. You’ve had a few. Now is not the time to…”
“Now is the time. You got a problem with something, I want to know about it. How come you never brought it up before?”
Melody kept walking. She turned into the parking lot at the side of the pub. She was not having this discussion. But apparently, she didn’t need to. Nick was still talking, almost to himself.
“I asked. I’ve been asking for a month. ‘What do you guys think?’ I asked it about every song. And you guys told me what you thought…so what’s the problem?”
Melody reached her car. She unlocked the door and then turned to Nick. “Not every song,” she said. She stared at him, and he stared at her. For a long moment.
“You don’t think I should play the guitar,” he said finally.
Melody took a deep breath. “No, I think if you’re going to play the guitar, then you should play it.”
“What’s that mean?” Nick swayed a little on his feet.
“It means that you don’t play a song. You play a little bit, and then you sing a little bit. You don’t do both at the same time. If you can’t…”
“I can!”
“Listen, Nick. Why don’t you pick a song, an instrumental, and learn it? Then you can rock your brains out on the guitar, and you won’t have to worry about singing at the same time.”
“I can do both!” he said.
“Okay, whatever. It’s all good. I gotta go now.”
“Going out with the girls?” sneered Nick.
“Sure, why not?” answered Mel, although she wasn’t really sure what he meant. She nodded her head at the pub. “It’ll make a nice change.”
Nick felt bad that he had made the remark. His feelings were hurt by what she had said about the guitar, but that was no excuse.
“Go on,” he said. “Have fun. I’ll see you in New York.”
He turned and staggered back to the pub.
Chapter 16 by old_archive
“What do you mean, you don’t have a dress? How can anyone pack for six months and not put in a dress? I swear, Mel, sometimes…”
“Look, Mart. I’m going on the road with a rock group. Who knew there’d be a cocktail party?”
“Rafe Ariando knew,” retorted Martha Jane.
“Yes, he did,” said Mel. “I wonder why he didn’t tell me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The cocktail party was in New York City. It was a corporate-benefit kind of thing, but there were going to be lots of musicians there. The charity that was to benefit was one of those ‘let’s give violins to the underprivileged’ things. Corporate sponsors paid big bucks to rub elbows with the music stars they imagined themselves to be when they sang in the shower or made love to their mistresses.
Rafe Ariando invited Melody Jones to attend with him. Well, actually, he commanded her to. When Mel got her travel package from Murray, she saw that her arrival date in New York was two days earlier than when Rashad had said he was going. She didn't think anything of it, just figured that Rashad was trying to squeeze out the last possible minute of family time.
Her first inkling that something was up was when she boarded the plane and was seated in the First Class section. She was impressed and was wondering if she had somehow got Rafe’s tickets by mistake, when he dropped into the seat next to her.
What the hell? Melody immediately looked around for others. But it was only the two of them. “What’s going on?” she asked bluntly.
Rafe grinned at her. “Good morning to you too, Melody.” Then he explained that he needed her to do something for him in New York, and he would have felt silly flying in First Class with her back in Coach. “And I always fly First Class,” he added.
The thing he wanted her to do was to accompany him to a cocktail party and subtly ‘talk the kid up’ to any of her music cronies she might run across.
“Does Nick know about this?” inquired Melody, when the plane was in the air.
She found it interesting that would-be corporate baron Rafael Ariando was not a good flyer. During take-off, he gripped the armrest until his knuckles were white and stared straight ahead. He watched the video safety instructions as if he were trying to memorize them, and he turned around to check when the video told him where the emergency exits were. Melody pulled her crossword puzzle book out of her bag and ignored him. Rafe didn’t like to admit to any weaknesses. He sure wouldn’t want her witnessing one.
“No, Nick doesn’t know. He can’t know, you see. It has to all seem spontaneous.”
“C’mon, Rafe, there’s nothing spontaneous about promoting an album.”
“Trust me,” he said, as the flight attendant offered champagne or orange juice. They both chose orange juice.
Trust him? No way. Rafe had managed to put Melody into a situation, without her knowledge or permission, that separated her from the others and seemed to make her complicit with management. And he wanted her to keep it a secret! That was a non-starter, she knew. Oh, she might be able to keep it a secret from Nick, but the other guys knew the same people she did, and it wouldn’t be long before they found out.
Melody looked down at her puzzle. 36 across. Horns of a ________. D-i-l-e-m-m-a, she inked in the squares.
That was for damn sure, she thought. Either she did what Rafe said and didn’t tell the others up front, risking their distrust (she remembered Blaine’s theory of a spy in their midst) or she told them right away, thereby going against what were essentially her boss’ orders. And what would they think if she told them? That she was bragging? Complaining? Reporting in?
Melody didn’t even want to think about Nick’s reaction. He was mad enough at her as it was.
At least, she guessed he was. Their last conversation at the Fox and Fiddle had not been a pleasant one. Having a week go by between that and the next one probably wasn’t a good idea, but it couldn’t be helped.
‘I don’t have a dress.”
“No problem,” said Rafe. “There are stores in New York.”
“I hate shopping.” Melody felt like a stubborn child refusing to eat her broccoli.
Rafe gave a small sigh. Then he looked her up and down. “You’d be what – about a size 4?”
“Yes,” Melody replied cautiously.
Rafe looked down at her feet. “Shoes are…?”
“Size 5,” said Mel.
“Okay, I’ll take care of it.” Rafe sat back in his seat and pulled the in-flight magazine out of the pocket in front of him.
“Take care of what?” said Melody.
“I’ll have something sent over to the hotel,” he said. “An outfit…dress…shoes…”
“You’re kidding?” said Melody.
Rafe set the magazine down in his lap. “Unless you’d prefer to go shopping yourself.”
“I hate shopping…especially by myself.”
“Okay, then,” Rafe said patiently, although his lips were pressed together. “I will have something sent over. Trust me. I have good taste.”
“But…”
“It’s a cocktail party, Mel. It’s movers and shakers. It’s my world and yours combined. I need you to work your half of the room, but I can’t afford to have you reflect badly on me. So, as fetching as your leather pants and vests are, they are not suitable for this function. I’ll make sure the shoes aren’t too high.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Rafe. I know how to walk in heels. I do have a life outside the studio.”
“I know that,” he said. And he did. There was very little about her life he didn’t know. Rafe Ariando covered all the angles.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So what’s it look like?” Martha Jane wanted details.
Melody looked over at the dress, hanging in plastic in the hotel closet.
“It’s black,” she said. “Donna Karan. Short, sleeveless, the skirt is a bit fuller. But not poufy.”
“Cleavage?”
Mel sighed. “Oh yeah, it’s pretty low-cut. Anyone over 5’2” is going to get a good look at my chest tonight.”
“What about the shoes?”
“Strappy, sandal-things. Heels.” Melody was certainly going to get her chance to prove she could walk in high heels.
Some kind of domestic crisis intervened, and Martha Jane had to ring off. Melody figured she’d save the rest of the description for their next conversation. Because she knew that Mart was going to want to know that, along with the dress and shoes, Rafe had sent stockings, very sheer (he’d sent three pair, almost as if he knew she’d wreck the first pair before she had them on) and underwear – a black satin thong and black lace bikinis. Mel had decided that if he asked her which pair she was wearing tonight, she was going to deck him.
But no bra. No push-up, strapless, wonder-shaper contraption to go with the dress. Mel didn’t assume for a moment that Rafe thought she had her own. He had sent panties, after all. No, Rafe wanted Mel’s chest right out there tonight. She glanced again at the sleeveless dress. He’d probably have the air conditioning turned up, so that his corporate buddies could get a flash of nipples as well.
Melody was no stranger to this kind of behavior. Behind every person who actually did something musical in the music world was a host of ‘businessmen’ who called the shots and wrote the cheques. And thought they could buy anyone.
Gary Madison had been the first to proposition Mel, but he had certainly not been the last. She remembered with gratitude the lecture Stevie Ray had given her on the ride home from the studio that day.
It had been embarrassing for both of them. They stared out the window ahead of them and didn’t make eye contact. Once Stevie Ray ascertained, to his infinite relief, that Melody was already aware of the basic facts of biology, he talked to her about life in the music world – how there were way more men than women, how almost everyone in a position of power was a man, how every man would want to have sex with her and how she should stay away from all of them. They would promise her things, but they wouldn’t deliver, and they wouldn’t respect her when they were done with her.
“You have a huge talent, Mel, and you will make it in this business. You will, I promise you that, so don’t go selling yourself to some guy.”
Melody was hotly indignant. “I’d never do that!”
“I know,” said Stevie Ray, “but I felt it was my responsibility to tell you…to let you know what’s out there.”
“Okay, that’s cool.”
They drove in silence for awhile. Then Melody spoke. “But what if…you know…what if I want to…not with someone who wanted something from me, like you were saying, but what if I just liked someone and…wanted to.”
Stevie Ray was way out of his element on this one, but he tried his best and just hoped he didn’t do any harm. “Well, first of all, you’re only fifteen, so don’t even think about it for at least three years!”
“I’m not!” said Melody, “I’m just asking, that’s all.”
“Okay. Well…um…okay, there’s birth control. You want to see your music career go up in flames, just get yourself pregnant! And don’t rely on the guy – guys lie! They’ll say anything to get laid.”
“Okay,” said Mel.
“And…um…safe sex…condoms. That’s not a birth control thing, that’s a disease thing. Promise me, Mel, that you’ll never have unprotected sex. Promise me!”
“No glove, no love.” Mel held up her hand and made a solemn vow.
There was another period of silence while both digested his remarks. Stevie Ray prayed he was putting her on the right track. He also prayed that she would never mention this conversation to anyone.
Melody sounded sad when she spoke again. “So then, how will I know?”
“How will you know what?”
“Well, you said that guys will say anything to get laid…”
“Yes, I did.” He wasn’t going to lie to her about that.
“So I’m guessing they’ll say that they love me.”
“Yeah, they’ll say they love you; they’ll say they respect you; they’ll say they’ve never done it before either; they’ll say it’s a way to prove your love, that if you love them, you’ll do it…”
“Have you said all those things, Stevie Ray?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” he admitted sheepishly.
“Then how will I know…who the right one is?”
Stevie Ray took a deep breath and chose his words carefully. “You won’t know for sure about them, so decide for yourself – what you want, how you’re feeling. If you’re going to do it for him, because you think you’ll be pleasing him or because he wants you to, don’t do it. Do it for yourself, because you want to, because it’s right for you. Does that make sense?”
Melody nodded. “Yeah it does. Thanks, Stevie Ray.”
“But not for at least three more years!”
“Right. Okay.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence and never mentioned the subject again.
Stevie Ray could see that Melody had listened to his advice. As she matured, she got a lot of propositions from guys around the studio, who listened to her work magic out of her guitar and just assumed she was older than she was. She turned them all down, usually with good-natured humor that got the message across clearly but left no hard feelings.
And every guy she turned down, along with those who hadn’t even asked, became her big brother, watching out for her. So the occasional jerk who didn’t want to take ‘no’ for an answer got the word from more than just Mel.
She dated in high school. Every guy there wanted to gets his hands inside her blouse. For some of them, that’s all they wanted. Mel had her own personal rule. If a guy tried to feel her up on the first date, he didn’t get a second. And if he couldn’t talk about anything but himself, if he had no interest in music, then forget it.
Some guys figured it out and lasted for a little while, getting to the point where she would let them play with her breasts, fondle them and suck them. But that was it. When they pressed her for more, using the phrases that Stevie Ray had warned her about, she just moved on. Her response to “if you love me, you’ll do it” was “Well, I guess I don’t love you.”
Not that Melody didn’t want to go further. She did. She had urges that she wanted satisfied. And she wondered how she was ever going to get that satisfaction. She had a career building in the music world, and she didn’t want to endanger that. And if she did it with one of the boys from school, well then, she’d be doing it with a high school boy, and she wasn’t sure it would be her satisfaction that would be uppermost in his mind.
Melody wasn’t going to go to college. There’d been many long battles with her parents over that until Stevie Ray told them how much she was making for studio work now and how she would be able to work full time, as soon as she was available. There was no point in threatening to kick her out of the house. She was already planning to move to L.A., as soon as she could afford it.
The whole sex thing was starting to occupy way too much of her thinking time, so Melody decided to get it out of the way. She celebrated her 18th birthday with a visit to the gynecologist and came away with a clean bill of health and a prescription for birth control pills. She shoplifted a box of condoms from the pharmacy. She felt so guilty about it that the next day she went back and slipped an envelope onto the druggist’s counter when he wasn’t looking. It held the end flap from the box of condoms, complete with price tag and the full amount of money, tax included.
She was ready. Now all she needed was the guy. And he showed up in the form of Bradley Duggan.
Bradley Duggan was a college boy, the cousin of Patty Monroe, one of Mel’s school friends. He and his mother had arrived for a two-week stay with the Monroes. Bradley’s father had just left his mother, and she was not handling it well. To tell the truth, Bradley wasn’t handling it all that well either, especially after he met the reason for it, a blonde cupcake only two years older than Bradley himself.
Patty prevailed upon Melody to go on a date with him. The Monroe household had been turned upside down by Mrs. Duggan’s vacillation between hysterical sobbing and icy threats of revenge. Patty wanted to get out of the house, to spend some time with her boyfriend David, to have some fun! But she couldn’t leave Bradley behind.
The four young people drove out to the lake. They swam and ate sandwiches. Patty and David spent the first couple of hours with Mel and Bradley, but once they saw that the two weren’t totally incompatible, they disappeared into the bushes to make out.
Bradley Duggan was in his second year of college. He wasn’t that tall, but he was gangly. His arms and legs seemed to move independently of his brain’s wishes. He wore horn-rimmed glasses but still squinted to see things in the distance. But he had a good sense of humor, and he knew how to listen.
Melody and Bradley sat on a log on the beach and talked. Since Bradley didn’t really like his life right now, he was more than interested in talking about hers. Melody talked about music. Bradley told her that he had no musical aptitude but that he liked to listen. They talked about genres and groups.
When he mentioned his favorite group and Melody confessed shyly that she had worked on the album, Bradley didn’t express surprise or doubt. “You must be very talented,” he said simply and then asked her if she wanted to walk for a bit. He kissed her goodnight at the end of the evening and said, “Thanks for getting me out of the house.”
Patty called early the next day. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well, did you have a good time? Did you like him?”
“Sure,” said Melody. “He’s a nice guy.”
“Well, I know he’s not much in the looks department…”
“He’s not that bad,” said Melody. “He just hasn’t grown into his face yet.” Melody thought Bradley was one of those guys who would get better looking with age.
“Will you go out with him again?” asked Patty. She sure hoped so.
“Sure,” said Melody. “If he wants to go out with me.”
“Oh, he does. He does.”
So Melody and Bradley became a couple for the next week and a half. The first few dates, they went along with Patty and David, but that got awkward fast. By the end of the week, Bradley started picking Mel up in his mother’s car. They explored the surrounding terrain, often finding an out-of-the-way spot to sit and talk.
The first time he picked her up, Bradley opened the compartment between the seats and pulled out the CD they had discussed on their first date. He pointed at her name way, way down in the list of credits and said, “You’re a star.”
Melody laughed and said, “No, I’m not. Maybe some day, but not yet…”
“Well, you’re my star,” replied Bradley, and he proceeded to treat her like one. He never made a move until he was sure Melody wanted it.
And she wanted it. She wanted it bad.
Bradley was a very good kisser. He used his tongue very well, not just attacking hers with it, like the high school boys did. And he realized that there was more to the experience than a straight line from mouth to neck to breasts. He kissed her face, all over it, forehead, eyelids, cheekbones. He nibbled her earlobes and licked her collarbone. He made love to her neck like it was a separate person.
In an ironic twist, Melody was left to wonder if he would ever get around to moving lower. He did, slowly but surely, and each night, they went a little further. By Tuesday of the second week, they didn’t even bother driving around, just drove out to a secluded spot they had found and spread a blanket on the grass. Bradley taught Melody a lot, showed her how to receive pleasure and to give it. And on the final night, he entered her body fully and turned her into a woman.
Bradley Duggan. Melody smiled to herself. She hadn’t thought about him in years.
Chapter 17 by old_archive
A knock at the hotel room door interrupted Mel’s reminiscence.
“Yes?” she said, through the door. She was in her bathrobe, just getting ready to do her makeup. She hadn’t ordered room service. Who could this be?
“It’s Michel. From Salon Dupre. I’m here to do your makeup.”
What the…? Melody opened the door. Standing before her was the oddest man she had ever seen. He looked like a pixie – a pixie in orange velour trousers and a see-through black shirt. He had multiple earrings in both ears and a tattoo of an elephant head on his neck. His hair was – well, avant-garde didn’t begin to describe it. He had a large suitcase at his feet.
“I can do my own makeup. Thanks, anyway.”
Melody moved to close the door, but Michel swished by her into the room. “No can do, mademoiselle. Monsieur Ariando was very specific.” He grinned at her. “He said you’d refuse.”
“But…” Melody was not leaving this room looking like a clown, no matter what Rafe wanted.
Michel held up his hand. “He also said to tell you that I am the master of subtlety. Your makeup will be so understated as to almost not exist.”
“Then why bother?” asked Melody.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” clucked Michel. “Non-believers.”
He looked around the room. Hotel lighting was always so bad. He opened his bag and pulled out a lamp, a student’s-desk lamp with a flexible coil neck. Before Melody could protest further, he dropped to the floor and peered under the desk. Then he crawled under it on all fours and plugged in the lamp. He re-emerged and went to the window where he began heaving on an armchair. Melody helped him position it in front of the desk. He waved her into it.
Michel applied powders and creams, eye shadow, blush and assorted other products. Melody couldn’t see how this much of anything could be called subtle. And while Michel worked, he talked. Melody’s one attempt to join in the conversation was cut off with a “No, no. Keep still, please.”
So she just listened. And she got the idea that she was not the first of Rafe’s “girls” to get this treatment. She wondered if Michel thought she was a whore, or a mistress or a…she really wasn’t sure what.
“There!” announced Michel with satisfaction, standing back and clapping his hands. “Voila!” He gestured to the mirror.
Melody turned and looked. Omigod, she looked fantastic! She looked back at Michel. “Wow!” she said.
“Am I not a genius?” he said. “An artiste!”
“I look great,” she admitted.
“More than great. Divine! Put on the dress!” Michel plopped himself down on the end of the bed. “Oh come on, I want to see the whole package.”
Melody slipped the dress from the hanger and disappeared into the bathroom. She returned a minute later.
“Shoes!” said Michel.
Melody slipped on the heels.
“Turn!”
Melody obeyed.
Michel rummaged in his bag. “Monsieur Rafe sent this too.”
He pulled out a velvet box and opened it to reveal a silver chain. It had a loop at one end and a two-inch long thin, black onyx cylinder on the other. The cylinder went through the loop and hung down at the base of her throat. Like an arrow pointing to my breasts, thought Melody.
“Well?” she said.
“It’s wonderful,” said Michel. “Except for the hair.”
Melody raised a hand self-consciously to her hair and took a step backward.
“No, no, don’t worry. We’re not allowed to touch the hair. Monsieur Rafe’s orders. ‘Don’t touch the hair.’”
Melody laughed. Yes indeed, Rafe! If she was supposed to schmooze all her associates, she guessed it would be good if they could recognize her!
Michel looked at his watch. “Okay, Cherie, it’s time to go. Monsieur Rafe said to have you in the lobby by 8:00.”
Melody wondered what she should do for a purse. She looked around.
“Purse?” asked Michel, succinctly.
Melody nodded.
“Are you on your period?”
Melody shook her head, somewhat taken aback.
“Then you don’t need one.”
“My room key…” Melody held up the plastic card.
“Leave it at the front desk. Put it in an envelope and have them keep it for you.” Michel rummaged through the desk drawer and came up with some hotel stationery.
“I guess I could ask Rafe to put it in his pocket,” mused Melody.
“This is a better idea,” instructed Michel. “It is not my experience that one always comes home from these affairs with the person one went with.”
“Good advice, Michel,” said Melody, “but highly unnecessary tonight. Although…” She reached for the envelope, “…still good advice.”
Michel packed up his magic potions, and they went down to the lobby. Melody wondered about tipping him, but she didn’t have any money on her, and she had no idea of either the protocol or the appropriate amount.
Michel read her mind. “It’s taken care of,” he said, as they stepped off the elevator. “But if you felt like talking me up, that wouldn’t hurt.”
“My pleasure,” smiled Melody, who wondered how her life had changed to one where her job now seemed to be to ‘talk people up’.
She dropped the key at the front desk and felt warmed by the appreciative glance from the desk clerk. I’m Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, she thought. Yeah, right!
“Melody.”
She turned to find Rafe Ariando standing two feet away from her. “Wow!” she said without thinking.
Rafe looked amazing. He was wearing a suit, but it didn’t look like a business suit. It looked like a dressy suit, not a tux, but a jacket and pants in a dark, dark grey. There was a texture to the jacket, so subtle Melody couldn’t even tell what it was, but when he moved, it flowed. He was wearing a light grey silk shirt and no tie. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him without a tie. He’d even worn one on the plane. He looked incredible! And she knew that somehow he had chosen her outfit to compliment his. He looked great. She looked great. Together, they looked phenomenal.
The cocktail party was fun. At first, it was quite a formal atmosphere, very stiff. Rafe moved her around the room, introducing her to business associates as ‘Melody Jones, the lead guitarist for Nick Carter’. Melody smiled and sipped a glass of wine and made selections from the trays of hors d’oeuvres offered by circulating waiters.
Melody thought Rafe sure knew a lot of people who were in business business, not music business. But he knew a lot of those too, and by the end of the second glass of wine and a dozen canapés, she was finished meeting the CEO of this and the Executive Vice-President of that and Mr. and Mrs. Moneybags and was being introduced to the head of this label and the agent for that group.
Then the musicians started to arrive. Some people had been looking at their watch impatiently, but Rafe and Melody knew that musicians didn’t always live by the clock, but they would show up eventually.
“Melody Jones!”
She heard it more than once that evening as musician after musician recognized her. After the initial small talk – you look good…who are you here with?...yeah, the wife and kids are good – they always asked her what she was doing in New York and if the rumors were true, that she was finally getting her butt out on the road. And then every conversation came down to two words.
“Nick Carter?”
This was where Rafe wanted her to jump in and ‘talk the kid up’. He was quite disappointed the first time when all Melody did was nod and say, “Yep. Nick Carter.”
Rafe drew her aside a moment later and tried to talk to her about it. She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “You do your job, and I’ll do mine. Trust me.” Neither one of them noticed the photographer taking their picture.
So Rafe backed off and let Mel circulate on her own, crossing her path occasionally to ask if she was having a good time, but really just checking to make sure she wasn’t having too much to drink.
“We make a good team,” he said to her at one point.
“That’s great,” she retorted. “But next time you get to wear the heels!”
Rafe threw his head back and laughed. It was infectious, and Melody started laughing too. They didn’t notice the photographer that time either.
After the party ended, Rafe asked if she wanted to go out to a club – go dancing or something. Melody was tired and her feet hurt and she didn’t think Rafe really wanted to anyway. But she was touched that he offered.
“Thanks, but no,” she said, with a smile, “I’m pretty tired.”
“Okay,” said Rafe, picking up her hand. “This was great of you tonight, Mel. And tomorrow night…”
Oh no! thought Mel. Again?!
“Relax,” said Rafe. “Nick will be there this time. We’re going to a club. Wear…whatever.” He squeezed her hand and let it go.
Melody retrieved her key from the front desk and said goodnight to Rafe in the lobby, brushing aside his offer to see her safely to the door of her room. He said he had a few phone calls to make and he was going to have a nightcap in the bar.
“And Mel…um…”
She looked at him. Yes?
“You can keep the clothes. They’re yours now.”
Melody nodded at him and got on the elevator. Very interesting, she thought. It was the first time she had ever seen Rafael Ariando blush.
She washed her face and brushed her teeth and climbed into bed. She turned off the light and lay back on the pillow, running over the evening in her mind, bringing herself down to sleep mode. And as she drifted off, the ghost of a smile on her face, she was totally unaware that her last thought, the one that made her smile, was that she was going to see Nick again tomorrow.
Chapter 18 by old_archive
“What do you mean you’re not in New York?” Nick said into the phone. “Where are you? We’re supposed to be going out tonight.”
“I know, Nick, and I’m sorry,” said Tamara. “But something came up.”
“What’s his name?” asked Nick and was accorded a stony silence. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, after a moment. He knew he wasn’t allowed to ask that.
Nick hadn’t seen Tamara Vance for nearly three weeks. She had come home from Vancouver for the weekend after the second week of rehearsals, but Nick’s head had been full of Melody Jones’ voice and ideas about what he wanted to do with the music. He hadn’t paid a lot of attention to Tamara’s description of her sojourn in Vancouver, other than to note that the ‘prick’ was now the ‘genius’. They’d had sex, but it was perfunctory. Both of them seemed to have their mind on other things.
Tamara went to Denver for a week and planned to get back to L.A. for the weekend. But weather conditions forced them to delay shooting for two days and she didn’t make it. That was okay with Nick – he had his video shoot that weekend and wanted to concentrate fully on that.
They had tried to arrange some time together during the few days between the end of Nick’s rehearsals and his flight to New York, but it didn’t work out. Tamara had promised to come to New York and spend some time with him before he headed for Europe.
Nick wasn’t sure why he wanted to see her so badly. Yeah, he wanted to get laid, there was that. And with Tamara, there was no guesswork. They knew what each other liked. And since they were just friends, there was never any of that other crap to interfere – none of that ‘you never talk to me’ or ‘where is this relationship going?’ nonsense.
Nick guessed maybe he just wanted to have a friend in New York. He was going to be doing a couple of personal appearances – two radio interviews and one performance, Monday on Letterman. It was Nick’s least favorite part of his job – doing interviews. He was getting better at it – he used to be flat-out pathetic – but he still got a queasy feeling every time he thought about it.
“Are you okay, Nick?” asked Tamara.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. When are you getting in?”
“Tomorrow…late.”
“Okay, call me when you get in.”
“Sure, and Nick…cheer up.”
“Yeah, okay. I know I’ll cheer up when I see you.”
“That’s because you know I’ll…” and she gave him a graphic description of what she intended to do with her mouth the next time they were together.
Nick laughed and rang off. But he was blushing. He still wasn’t completely comfortable with Tamara’s totally open attitude toward sex. He punched number two on his speed dial.
“Toby Gray.”
“Hey, Toby. It’s Nick.”
“Yes, Nick. Is there something you need?”
“No, nothing. I just wondered…well, if there was stuff I had to go over with you…I’ve got some free time now.”
“No, there’s really nothing…”
“Okay, then, no problem.”
Toby could hear something in Nick’s voice. He’s lonely, thought the personal assistant. “Well, there are a couple of things, but they’re minor. I didn’t want to bother you with them, but…”
“No, that’s cool. Come on over. I’ve got time.”
Toby disconnected and smiled to himself. This is exactly what he wanted, for Nick to depend on him, to call him when he was feeling down or wanted company. Toby knew that none of the others was in town yet – well, Rafe, but Nick would drive a nail through his hand before he’d call Rafe – so maybe Toby wouldn’t have been his first choice, but that didn’t matter. Toby was here and he was going to set the precedent. He grabbed his New York folder and headed across the hall.
Nick Carter was a pretty low-maintenance kind of guy, thought Toby. It was a refreshing change after some of the prima donnas he’d worked with. My God! The stories he could tell! But Nick didn’t seem to be a ‘brand name’ kind of person. Bottled water was bottled water. He didn’t rant and rave if he didn’t get Dasani. Toby doubted if he even noticed the label.
It made Toby’s job easier but it made it harder for him to be indispensable. He had to find a way to make Nick need him, to rely on him. And if conversation was it, Toby would be happy to supply it.
Toby went over a few things with Nick. None of it was new or urgent, but Nick didn’t seem to mind. “So I’ve ordered a car for you and Tamara tonight,” Toby said. “For nine o’clock.”
“Tamara’s not coming today. She got held up,” said Nick.
Ah, I see! thought Toby. “Well, you’re supposed to meet Rafe at Ziggy’s at 11:00. Do you want me to change the car?”
“No,” said Nick. “We’ll go out. Do you want to go out for dinner?”
“Sure,” said Toby, “I don’t have any plans. What about Jeff? Did he get in?”
Jeff Blackwell’s sister lived in upstate New York. She was expecting her first child any day now. Nick told Jeff he didn’t need a bodyguard until people knew he was in New York. He wasn’t doing Letterman until Monday, so really Jeff didn’t need to be there for the weekend. Even though Letterman would make announcements about upcoming guests, the Nick-spotters wouldn’t really be out in full force until Sunday. Not if Nick kept a low profile. And he intended to do just that. Especially since Tamara wasn’t coming tonight.
“Jeff’s not getting in until Sunday. So it’s just you and me. What do you say, we’ll get some dinner and then hit the club?”
“Um…”
Toby didn’t know how to say this, but he was under strict orders from Rafe not to go to the club with Nick. Rafe hadn’t even wanted Tamara along, which made Toby wonder if Rafe had anything to do with the delay in the model’s arrival.
“What? You don’t want to go, that’s cool,” said Nick.
“No, it’s not that.” Toby explained that Rafe wanted Nick to make an entrance at the club…alone.
Nick digested the thought. He had come to realize that Rafe had a good reason (or at least what Rafe thought was a good reason) for everything he did, and just because Nick didn’t know what that reason was, didn’t make it any less valid. But he sure wasn’t telling Toby that.
“Up to you,” said Nick, saving face. “I don’t give a shit what Rafe wants, but…”
“No sense in making waves unnecessarily,” shrugged Toby.
“We can still do dinner, though,” said Nick.
“Where do you want to go?” asked Toby, picking up his New York folder.
“Whatever. You pick a spot,” said Nick. “Something low-key.”
Toby nodded. “Sure. No problem.”
He was thrilled. Here was a chance to really prove himself. They chatted for a few more minutes, but Toby was now anxious to go, to research and pick the perfect restaurant. Low-key. Laid back. Just a perfect place for a couple of friends to hang out and get a bite to eat. Some place that didn’t serve a lot of fried food, so that Nick could order what he wanted, but it would still be nutritious.
Nick moved around the room fiddling with stuff for a couple of minutes and then he flung himself on the bed. “I think I’ll have a nap and then a shower,” he said.
“Good idea,” said Toby. “The car’s coming at nine.”
“Better hammer on the door at 8:30 then,” laughed Nick. “Make sure I’m awake.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back in his room, Toby made the reservations and went over his notes for the next day, coordinating flight arrivals and car services. He was a little pissed at Murray. He had not been very forthcoming on the details for New York. People’s arrival times were very sketchy. Murray was a detail man, and this was the kind of information he usually had at his fingertips. His shrug and his comment about people “making their own plans” was a blatant lie, and Toby knew it. And since Murray never did anything on his own, that meant that it was Rafe’s lie. And Toby wondered why.
He’d managed to pin down some of them. Innocent-sounding phone calls “just to make sure you have everything you need” got departure times out of Blaine and Rashad. Chris had been less interested in sharing the information, saying he didn’t really remember, Murray’s package was around here someplace.
No problem, said Toby, zeroing in on what he knew everyone’s weak spot to be – a ride in from the airport. I’m just trying to coordinate transportation in from the airport, he told Chris. I can always check with Murray. If he’s in the office. But no big deal, Chris (Toby would not call him Tofu until invited to do so, and so far he hadn’t been), you can always catch a cab in by yourself.
Tofu became a little more amenable and found the papers. Toby thanked him for the ‘confirmation’ of the information and promised there’d be a car and driver waiting for him. Toby hung up the phone and wondered what the hell Rafe was up to. None of the men was on the same flight. Everyone was arriving at a different time. It made no sense, from either an organizational or financial standpoint. Well, Gus was going to have his work cut out for him, ferrying them back and forth.
And what about Melody Jones? He hadn’t been able to contact her at all. Murray’s response that he had “absolutely nothing to do with it”, when asked about her flight arrangements, made Toby suspicious.
He was still smarting from her comment the other night. Don’t let him drive. As if he would. As if Toby Gray didn’t know how to do his job. And she’d said something to upset Nick too, Toby knew. When Nick staggered back into the bar after following Melody out, he didn’t look happy. When Toby asked him if everything was okay, Nick said, “Sure, sure” and disappeared into the men’s room. When he came out a minute later, he told Toby to call him a cab. “Keep the party going,” he said. “Put it all on my tab. But I’m done.”
Toby wondered if Nick had put a move on Mel or if she’d put one on him. He didn’t know how to ask that so he just said, “Sure Boss, I see some people have already gone – Rashad, Blaine. Chris said he was going downtown to pick up a chick.” He looked around dramatically. “Melody’s gone too, I guess. I don’t see her.”
Nick snorted. “Probably doing the same as Chris.”
Which confused Toby even further.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Toby and Nick had a nice dinner out. Toby kept the conversational ball rolling because Nick didn’t seem too interested in doing it. He told anecdotes from some of his previous jobs, without mentioning any names of course, and made witty observations about the food and the other diners. Nick nodded and smiled but didn’t add much.
“Are you okay, Nick?” Toby asked at one point. “You seem a little distracted.”
“Nah, I’m okay.” Nick waved the comment off, but then he saw the hurt look on Toby’s face and realized that the guy was just trying to be nice to him. “I just hate the middle bit – the bit where there’s no music. I love the recording and the touring, but I hate the promoting bit, answering the same questions all the time, trying not to offend anyone or say something stupid. They expect that from me, you know, that I’ll say something stupid.”
Toby was very pleased. Nick was opening up to him, sharing his anxieties. “Well, do you know the questions in advance? Can you prepare the answers before you go in?”
Nick shrugged. “I guess I have kind of an idea what they’re going to ask. I sure as hell knew one question last time. Every goddamn time.”
Toby nodded. The Backstreet question. “Do you think they’ll ask that one this time?”
Nick sighed. “They’ll be asking that one until I’m dead.”
“What are you going to say this time?”
“I dunno. I wore out ‘I’ll be a Backstreet Boy for life’ last time.”
“Well, we’ll just have to think up a good answer,” said Toby. To all the questions, he thought. He could really prove his usefulness here, he figured. Helping prep Nick for interviews. Yes, things were falling into place nicely, Toby thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick had Toby drop him at the club. Keep the car, he told his assistant. Go out on the town. I’ll get Rafe to bring me back. Nick watched the long, white limousine glide away, then turned to the non-descript entrance of one of the hottest clubs in Manhattan. He wondered why there wasn’t a line-up.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” said the doorman, when Nick walked up. “There’s a private party here tonight.”
Nick looked confused. “I’m supposed to meet someone here. Rafael Ariando. I’m Nick Carter.”
“Oh, yessir.” The doorman brightened. “Yes, go on down. They’re expecting you.”
They? Who was they?
Nick descended the stairs into the dimly-lit room. He could hear the loud music – it sounded good. When he stepped through the doorway, he stopped and looked around. Every eye in the place was on the stage.
Nick recognized the group – Satan’s Offspring. The lead singer and guitarist, Jason Simons, was standing with his back to Nick, jamming on the guitar with someone behind him, someone Nick couldn’t see, someone who was really good, someone who had the audience on their feet.
Jason moved to the side, letting the someone play for the crowd. Nick grimaced. The someone was Melody Jones, someone who didn’t think Nick Carter could play the guitar and sing at the same time.
Chapter 19 by old_archive
Melody was feeling a little pissed with Rafe. She wondered if that was just going to be a way of life for her from now on – being pissed with Rafe. He had told her that he’d pick her up for dinner at nine but that she should wait in her room. Don’t go down to the lobby, he told her. I’ll call up when the car arrives. He didn’t call until 9:15, and then he rushed her through her dinner, looking at his watch every five minutes. He discouraged her from ordering dessert and asked the waiter for the bill when he brought the main course.
Mel wondered if Nick would join them for dinner, but Rafe said no, he’d meet them at the club later. They got to the club by 10:20. It had been taken over for a private party, a birthday celebration for Lester Layne, a big shot music producer in New York. Melody recognized many of the faces – some from the party the night before. They arrived during a set break and greeted people on the way to their table.
Lester accepted birthday greetings and introduced them to two women, “my wife and my girlfriend”. Melody didn’t know if he was kidding, but neither woman seemed upset with the phrase.
They sat down at a small table by the stage, which had obviously been reserved for them. The band came back out and played a couple of songs. Melody enjoyed this group. She’d worked with them in the studio and had even filled in for them a couple of times when one of their guitarists was on a rehab vacation. Jason Simons had wanted to replace him with Melody for their last tour, but Melody had refused. By that time, there was too much history between her and Jason.
“Hey, fellas, look who’s here,” said Jason, after one of the songs. “It’s Mel. Mel Jones.” The rest of the group peered over at her. Melody grinned and waved.
“I see you finally got your ass on the right side of the country. You here for business or pleasure?” Jason shot a glance at Rafe and then darted his tongue in and out several times.
“Just play some music, Jase!” called Melody.
“Avec plaisir,” replied the lead Offspring and they broke into one of Melody’s favorite songs, one that she knew Jason had written about her. When it ended, Mark Logan, he of the rehab stint, walked over and said something to Jason. Jason nodded.
“Hey, Mel,” he said into the microphone. “Mark wants to take a break. No, not that kind…come on up and play a song with us.”
Melody shook her head and shot a glance at Rafe. If he had set this up… But Rafe turned innocent eyes on her.
Jason spoke to the crowd. “What do you think, Folks, want to hear a little Jones magic?”
The room was full of musicians and singers. An awesome display of talent. But there weren’t more than one or two who could play the guitar like she could. The applause was loud. Melody knew she had no choice. To hang back now would make it seem like she was preening.
She stood up and took off her jacket, handing it to Rafe. She was wearing the navy pinstripe suit Nick had seen her in at Pineapple Ranch, but tonight she was wearing a thin blouse under the vest. She wished there was a way to get it off. She liked to play with bare arms. As she stepped up on stage, she unbuttoned the cuffs and then rolled up her sleeves. She accepted the guitar from Mark and made a face at him, but he just grinned at her.
“So what are you up to these days?” Jason asked to fill in the time while Mel was strapping on Mark’s guitar.
“Going on tour,” she said with a grin.
Jason repeated it into the microphone for the benefit of the audience. “Going on tour? Who with?” He was obviously surprised by this news.
“Nick Carter,” called out someone from the crowd.
Jason laughed and pointed at the guy. “Funny!” He turned back to Mel. “No, really, who?”
“Nick Carter,” she affirmed with a nod.
Jason couldn’t believe it. “The Backstreet Boy?”
“Not any more,” said Melody. “He really rocks now. And speaking of which…” She played a riff.
“Let’s do Sunshine State,” said Jason.
The audience applauded their approval. It was a liberal crowd, and the song about the bungled Florida election results was a favorite.
Melody nodded. Good choice!
“And let’s jam it before the last chorus,” he said to the other members of the group.
That’s where Nick came in – when Mel and Jason were ripping up the atmosphere. When they finally stopped, and Jason sang the last few lines, no one was even listening. They were too busy cheering.
While Melody was taking a bow and the applause was dying down, Nick made his way over to Rafe’s table.
“Hey, look!” Jason spotted the tall blond taking a seat beside Rafe. “It’s the guy who finally got Mel out on the road. Nick Carter.”
There was a smattering of applause, mostly from the women present. Nick looked confused. He glanced over at Rafe. What did I miss?
“Mel says you really rock,” continued Jason, with a slight edge to his voice.
Nick looked over at Mel, who nodded and grinned. He looked up at Jason and shrugged. He sure wished he knew what the hell was going on here.
“Why don’t you come on up here and give us a little something?”
Now a hush fell over the crowd. They were as confused as Nick. Was Jason making fun of the kid, or was he serious? His opinions on ‘boy bands’ were pretty well-known. But so was his respect for Melody Jones. Everyone looked at her.
Melody looked at Jason and then at Rafe and then at Nick. Then a slow smile played over her face, and she picked out the opening line of Alias Me.
“My voice isn’t warmed up,” said Nick. “I…”
“Get up there,” hissed Rafe.
Nick looked at Mel who gestured with her head. Come on. Nick rose to his feet, and without looking at the audience, he stepped onto the stage. He nodded at Jason and went straight to Mel.
“Warm up your voice while I give the melody to the drummer,” she said.
They walked to the back of the stage. Jason told the audience to give them a minute. It was an unnecessary statement to make to this crowd. Melody stood by the drummer and played the tune. He picked up the beat. The bassist started adding some notes. Melody nodded at him. Yeah!
“Seems fairly simple,” said Jason to no one in particular.
They stopped playing and looked at Nick. He walked to the front of the stage and took the mike out of the stand. He looked at Melody and nodded. She started playing, and he started singing.
And he blew them away. All of them. His voice was perfect, and so was the song. He was halfway through the first verse when he realized that Mel had no mike, so for the ‘alias me’s’, he moved beside her, bending down to her, holding the mike to both their mouths. Mel stretched up as tall as she could to reach him, and they sang their words into each other’s eyes. When Nick reached the final phrase, he slowly backed away from her, leveled a glance at the audience and then lowered his head, singing it to himself. Mel played the last notes and lifted her hand from the guitar.
Nick raised his head and shrugged. Then he looked over at Rafe. “Now can I have a beer?” he asked with a grin, setting the mike back in the stand. He knew he’d done well. Two seconds of silence were followed by thunderous applause. They all knew when they’d heard a hit, and they’d just heard one. Nick gave a little wave and said, “Thank you” and sat down.
Rafe reached over and clapped him on the back. Nick smiled at him and said, “You fucking asshole” through clenched teeth.
Melody took off the guitar and handed it back to Mark. On her way back to the table, she stopped to give Jason a kiss on the cheek. Jason said into the microphone, “Who wrote it?” Melody nodded over at Nick, which prompted more applause.
“Are they all that good?” Jason continued.
Melody spoke into the mike. “Every one of them.” She said it with conviction.
“What’s the album called?” Jason asked her. She told him. He thought about it for a moment and then told the audience. “Don’t Call Me Nicky. Good title.” Melody could see heads nodding in the audience as they thought about it.
“Sounds like a winner, Man.” said Jason, generously. “Thanks for sharing. Nick Carter, Ladies and Gents, and Melody Jones.”
Melody gave Jason one last hug during the applause and then said into the microphone. “You’re the ones we came to hear tonight. Would you mind playing something?”
Jason kissed her cheek and whispered, “Miss you” in her ear and let her go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The young hustler watched the limousine glide up to the curb beside the park bench, like a long, white ship docking in the harbor. The back window slid silently down a few inches.
“How much for a ride around the park?” came a male voice through the small space.
“How many of you are there?” asked the teenager. He hoped it wasn’t too many. He really wanted to see inside the car. But he didn’t like multiples. Two was okay, but more than that and it got dangerous. He was nineteen and pretty well built, but still…
“Just me,” said the voice.
The hustler named his price. The door opened and he climbed in. He looked around. Wow! This was cool! There was a bar on one side. On the other was a television with a VCR and a DVD player. Soft music was coming from hidden speakers. The car seemed to go on forever.
“Man, I could live in here.”
The older man chuckled in amusement as he watched the boy taking in the wonders of the car. “What’s your name?”
“Bobby.”
Bobby looked at the man. Hey, not bad. Late twenties, early thirties at most. Not like most of the old geezers who bought his services. And a pretty good-looking guy. He had a drink in his hand. Bobby licked his lips.
“Well, Bobby, pleased to meet you. Would you care for a drink?”
Sure would, thought Bobby. It always made it a little easier.
“Help yourself.” The man waved at the bar.
“Thanks,” said Bobby, moving along the bench. Man, this car was huge. The driver seemed a block away. “Can he hear us?” asked Bobby, gesturing with his head to the driver, whose silhouette was visible through a tinted glass screen.
“No,” said the man simply.
“Can he see us?”
The man pushed a button on a console in the door beside him. A black screen slid up to block the driver completely. “No.”
Bobby took a swig of his drink and turned back to the man. The man was holding out some bills. Bobby set his drink carefully in the holder and reached for the money. As he stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans, he counted it rapidly and saw that it was twice his asking price. He hoped this wasn’t going to get weird. The john was a seriously handsome dude – looked like a model or a movie star. And he had a limo. So why was he cruising when he could probably order it take-out?
Bobby pulled a condom out of his pocket. “Um…like I insist…”
The john reached into his jacket pocket. “As do I,” he said, pulling out one of his own. “Enjoy your drink,” he said, with a grand gesture.
Bobby sipped the Scotch and looked around the car. Man, he could get used to this. A sound brought his attention back. The man had set down his drink and was unbuckling his belt. Showtime, thought Bobby, setting down his glass and moving to his knees. He reached for the man’s zipper.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“You can call me Nick,” said the man, lifting his hips.
Chapter 20 by old_archive
Satan’s Offspring started pumping music into the atmosphere again. Melody, Nick and Rafe sat at the table and listened. It would have been rude to talk, and it was way too loud anyway. And their minds were whirling with thoughts that had nothing to do with the song they were hearing.
Melody thought Rafe looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary, and she wanted to wipe the smug smile off his face. He had blindsided both her and Nick tonight. He hadn’t told her who was playing. Melody didn’t know if Rafe knew that she had a history with Jase Simons or not. Rafe didn’t miss much, and she bet he did know. But he had dropped her into this without a word.
Melody could see that Nick also had no idea what he was walking into. He hadn’t even known she was going to be there…the look on his face when he saw her…playing guitar… She recalled their most recent conversation and knew that they were going to have to find a way to talk about it.
Melody looked over at him. Nick was staring at the stage, but his mind seemed far away. He had really done it, she thought. He had rocked their socks off. She looked around the room. There were a lot of impressed people here tonight. The word was going to go out. Melody looked back at Rafe. Yes, he was a genius. He was a conniving, controlling bastard, but he was a genius.
Melody reached over and gave Nick’s knee a reassuring squeeze. He jumped and stared at her. She mouthed the words, “Good job!” Nick gave her a weak smile in return and swung his gaze back to the stage.
Nick couldn’t have told you one thing about what was happening on that stage. His mind was spinning. The adrenaline rush that always went with performing was surging through his body. He would never get tired of applause, never! And from this crowd!
That turned his mind to Rafe Ariando and thoughts of murder. What the hell did Rafe think all the rehearsals were for? So that Nick could be thrown up on a stage before a potentially hostile audience with only the guitar player knowing the song – the rest of them trying to muddle along? They’d been good at it, no doubt about that, but that wasn’t the point.
And as he’d started to sing and looked out at the audience, he got more frightened with each face he recognized. Rafe had put all Nick’s eggs in one basket tonight, that was for damn sure!
Nick had calmed down with the first ‘alias me’, when he looked into Melody’s eyes. Then he got into it, and it was all about the music. He was fine. Damn fine! He knew that. He had rocked the house! Yes, indeed! Yes, indeed!
Melody squeezed his knee, and he jumped. He smiled back at her ‘good job’ and turned back to the stage. And wondered if there was something wrong with him because, even knowing what he knew about her, on that stage, when they were singing, their mouths so close, almost touching, he was lost in her…lost in her eyes, her mouth, her voice…lost.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When the next set break came, they still didn’t get a chance to talk. Well-wishers dropped by the table to say ‘hi’ and to congratulate Nick and Melody on their performance and Nick on the writing of the song.
“That song is gonna be huge.”
“Sounds like a great album.”
“Good luck with the tour.”
And over and over again “Great song, Man”.
Nick basked in the glow. “Thanks, Man,” he said over and over again.
And not one of them said the word ‘Backstreet’.
Nick knew these people didn’t really hate the Backstreet Boys, just the idea of where they came from. They respected their success – seventy million records is seventy million records, after all. And they were five very likable guys, who had managed to spend ten years in the industry without making any enemies - other than their own management and record label! They were starting to get respect for their songwriting abilities, especially Howie. And Kevin had certainly proved that he could sing, dance and act at the same time.
They were all getting out there on their own now, but Nick had been first…and Nick had taken the biggest step away from the Backstreet image. It had been a risk, and he had stumbled a bit in the beginning. But things were going to be great now. He hoped he would be accepted by the people he admired so much.
But in the rock world, so often, it came down to one thing – could you play the instrument? He looked over at Mel. She could sure play the instrument, no doubt about that! She had more respect from the people in this room than he would ever have, even if he sold another seventy million records.
P. Diddy Combs leaned over the table. “Boy, you guys were sure generating some heat up there!”
Nick looked confused. Was he talking about the music or…? Diddy ran his tongue over his lips and raised his eyebrows twice. Both Nick and Melody blushed.
“Well, hardly,” said Nick, with conviction. “I mean…”
Everyone looked at him. Yeah, what did he mean?
Melody was embarrassed and tried to cover it up with humor. “Yeah, no heat there. I’m an old lady, remember! I’ve been told more than once to keep my hands off the kid. Right, Rafe?” She gave a lascivious leer.
Rafe and Diddy laughed, and Diddy moved on, after dropping a kiss on Mel’s forehead. Now Nick was really confused. Why would Rafe tell her to keep her hands off the kid? He looked at the dark-haired man who gave a slight shake of his head and narrowed his eyes in warning. Maybe everybody didn’t know, thought Nick. Maybe it was a secret on the East Coast.
“Hey Babe, you really rocked it.”
Nick looked up to say ‘thank you’ but realized the remark was not directed at him. Melissa Etheridge was leaning over Mel, one hand squeezing her shoulder.
“Thanks, Liss,” said Melody. “You play a bit of a mean guitar yourself. Hi, Julie,” she added, acknowledging the woman over Melissa’s shoulder.
“Hey, Mel. Good job! You too, Kid!” Julie nodded at Nick, who nodded back.
“Just wanted to say ‘hi’. We gotta go,” said Melissa. “Babysitters and all that.”
“Old married people, you know,” said Julie with a laugh. They both kissed Melody and waved goodbye to Nick and Rafe.
Suddenly, Melody yawned. “Oh my,” she said. “Speaking of getting old.”
“Would you like to go with them?” asked Nick.
“Why?” asked Melody. “They’re going home.”
“Um…that’s what I meant…would you like to go home…like back to the hotel…?”
Melody looked at her watch. It was just past midnight. “Oh, I think the old lady can stay up for one more drink. But if you guys want to go on, do something else…go ahead. I can find my way home.”
Melody wondered if maybe she was cramping Nick’s style. Maybe he wanted to pick up a girl. But wasn’t his supermodel supposed to be arriving tomorrow? All of this was disconcerting Melody, and she didn’t know why.
“Hey Mel, nice to see you again. Twice in two days! Nick, good job. Sounds like the album’s gonna be great.”
“Hey Mel, you look good. Not as hot as last night, though! Ha! Ha!”
“Good job, Nick. Nice playing, Mel! Little easier to play in tonight’s outfit than last night’s, I’ll bet!”
“You got a hit on your hands, Kid. Way to go! Hey, Mel! Where are your heels tonight?”
“What happened last night?” asked Nick, when there was finally a pause in the parade of Mel-admirers.
Melody looked over at Rafe. You take this one, hot shot. You set it all up.
Rafe stood up and pulled out his cell phone. He said a few words into it, then disconnected. “Okay, the car’s on the way. Let’s go say goodbye to the birthday boy. And keep smiling, both of you. Remember, we’re just one big, happy family.”
Nick looked over at Mel, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. Something was up, and he was going to find out what it was.
Here I go again, thought Melody. I’m pissed at Rafe. Why didn’t he just tell Nick where we were last night? Why make it into a big thing? Because it was a big thing now, she knew. The look on Nick’s face told her it was a big, big thing. And when that limo door closed behind them, she had a feeling she’d find out just how big.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bobby stood on the curb, watching the lights of the limo fade into the darkness. He could go home now. He’d made enough off that guy to cover the whole night. The guy had thrown in a generous tip at the end. And, Bobby thought, he hadn’t even had to do anything too weird. Just a straight-up blow job, which the guy stopped before he blew, and then a change of position. Which Bobby didn’t mind it all. He’d much rather take it up the ass than swallow it.
Yes, it was a pretty ordinary date. The only slightly weird thing was that, as Bobby’s face was pressed into the soft, leather seats, the john made him say his name with every stroke. “Nick, Nick, Nick.”
Still, a pretty easy night’s work. Now he could maybe score a hit of something good and go home.
“Hey, Kid.” Another car pulled up to the bench.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” demanded Nick crossly, as soon as the car door closed. “What was all that in there? Why didn’t you tell me what to expect? What happened last night?” He turned to Mel. “And why are you even here? The other guys aren’t getting here until tomorrow…today…whatever…Saturday!”
Melody leaned back on the leather seat and folded her hands in her lap. She was not going to say one damn word. Go ahead, Rafe, you explain it.
“Now Nick, calm down, there’s nothing to be upset about.” Rafe’s tone was mollifying, but slightly condescending.
Did he do it on purpose? Mel wondered. Did he say things to push Nick’s buttons deliberately? Because that sure as hell had. Nick’s face was beet red, and Melody wasn’t sure she didn’t see steam coming out his ears. Rafe couldn’t have pissed him off more if he’d called him Nicky.
Nick glared at Rafe for a full twenty seconds. When he spoke next, his voice was icy. Melody thought maybe she preferred the steam.
“Okay, I’m calm. But I want some answers. We’ll take it one question at a time. What happened last night?”
Nick directed the question at Melody. She was the one that everyone had mentioned. She met his gaze but didn’t say anything.
Rafe finally answered. “We went to the ‘Music for All’ thing.”
Nick pressed his lips together. “The ‘Music for All’ thing?”
Rafe nodded.
“The cocktail party?” asked Nick.
Another nod.
“The one I wanted to go to and you said I couldn’t?”
“Uh huh, but Nick…”
Nick cut him off. “But you went, Rafe.” He turned to Melody. “And you.”
“He made me.” Melody quickly slipped in her defence.
“He made you?” Sarcasm dripped from Nick’s voice. “You didn’t want to…but he made you?”
“I didn’t even know about it. He told me on the plane.”
“On the plane?”
Oh shit, thought Melody. Why didn’t I stick to the plan to keep my mouth shut? That was a good plan. Why didn’t I stick to it?
“You two came together?”
Melody tried again. “I didn’t make the arrangements. Murray did.”
They both looked at Rafe. They knew who gave Murray his orders.
“Are you two finished now?” Rafe asked. “Can I explain?”
Like we’re a couple of squabbling kids, thought the other two.
Rafe explained patiently that he had asked Melody to go to the party with him so that she could spread the word about Nick. She knew a lot of people there, and they all wanted to know what she was up to. It was a perfect opportunity to talk him up, and Rafe wasn’t going to let it go by. But they couldn’t do it if Nick was there.
“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” demanded Nick.
“Spontaneous is better,” said Rafe, who had never done a spontaneous thing in his life.
Nick turned back to Melody. “And you just happened to have a spontaneous hot dress in your luggage? With heels?”
“Is there some reason I shouldn’t?” she demanded hotly.
“I didn’t think you people did cocktail parties.”
“Who’s ‘you people’?” What the hell?
Nick paused and took a breath. “Um…I don’t know…rockers…”
Melody was thoroughly confused now. First he was mad because he was missing a party full of rockers, and now he didn’t think rockers did cocktail parties!!
Nick grasped at straws. “All our clothes have been sent on to Europe. All I have with me are clothes for the weekend. If you didn’t know you were going to this party, how did you know to bring a dress?”
“Stop trying to make me the bad guy,” yelled Melody.
“I bought her the dress,” said Rafe, quietly.
“You took her shopping!?” Nick couldn’t picture that – Rafe Ariando cooling his heels outside a dressing room while Ms. Jones made up her mind about a dress.
“I hate shopping,” said Melody, weakly.
“I had it sent over.” Rafe waved a hand through the air. “I have a service. I gave the sizes, and they sent some over. I picked one out.” No big deal, said his tone of voice. I do it all the time.
The car pulled up in front of the hotel. Rafe pushed the intercom button. “Once around the park.”
As the car pulled away from the curb, Nick began again. “Okay, let’s see if I’ve got this straight. Rafe, you decide you need Mel to go to this party to…what was it?...talk me up, right? So you arrange for her to fly in with you, and you provide her with a hot, little outfit and off the two of you go, spreading the good word on Nick.”
Rafe nodded.
Nick turned to Mel. “And you didn’t know anything about this?”
Mel shook her head. No, I didn’t.
Nick turned back to Rafe. “Because you wanted it to be spontaneous? Unrehearsed?”
Rafe nodded again.
Nick pursed his lips. He had his hands folded in front of him, in a prayer position. He has beautiful hands, thought Mel, hoping the worst was over.
“Okay, let’s talk about tonight then, since we’re on the subject of spontaneous and unrehearsed.” Nick dashed Melody’s hope of a quick and peaceful resolution. “You told me to meet you at the club at eleven.”
Rafe nodded.
“Did you know it was a private party?”
Nod.
“Did you know all those industry people would be there?”
Another nod.
“Did you know that Mel would be asked to play?”
A half nod/half shrug. It was a possibility.
“Did you think I might be asked to sing?”
Another nod/shrug. Also a possibility.
“Then why the fuck didn’t you warn me?” Nick screamed it so loudly that Melody jumped. Nick turned on her. “Did you know anything about this?”
Melody shook her head. I know nothing. She much preferred the role of ‘innocent dupe’ to ‘co-conspirator’.
Rafe stepped in. “I didn’t warn you, Nick, because I wanted it to be…”
“Yeah, yeah, spontaneous. I get it. But what if I’d blown it? What if it hadn’t been any good? Did you see those people there? I could have sunk my whole fucking career!”
“But you didn’t blow it,” said Rafe, mildly. “You knocked them on their ass.”
“That’s not the point.”
“That is exactly the point. If I had let you prepare in any way, it would have shown. It would have looked like a set-up. You wouldn’t have fooled that crowd. But it was obvious you weren’t expecting it. Hell, the smartest words out of your mouth tonight were ‘my voice isn’t warmed up’.”
“You took a big fucking risk with my career,” said Nick. His lips were pinched and white.
“That’s my job. That’s what I get paid for. And it worked out perfectly. So where’s the problem? Jesus, didn’t you hear that applause?”
“But I could’ve…” Nick’s voice was weakening, his anger fading.
“Yeah, if you’d been on your own,” admitted Rafe. “But you weren’t…” He nodded over at Mel. “…you had her.”
Chapter 21 by old_archive
“So do you think it was all a set-up?” asked Martha Jane.
“I really don’t know, Mart. I don’t see how he could have. I think he must have just been playing the odds.”
“Maybe, but from everything you’ve told me, Rafe doesn’t sound like a guy who plays the odds.”
”I know,” said Melody, “but it couldn’t have been a set-up. Jase Simons is not for sale.”
“What about Mark Logan? Is he for sale?”
Melody thought about that. It had been Mark, after all, who had suggested Mel come up on stage. She remembered Rafe racing her through dinner, looking at his watch. “You might be right, Mart. I’ll have to give it some thought.”
“What are you going to do about it, if you decide he did?” Martha Jane knew that Melody didn’t always choose the quiet, tactful path.
“I’m going to file it away for another time and hope it all blows over.”
“Is Nick still mad?”
“That’s hard to say. He was friendly enough with everyone yesterday. Greeting people as they arrived. High fives and stuff. And then we all went out to dinner last night. I met Tamara.”
“Yeah, what’s she like?”
“Tall. I mean, a freakin’ skyscraper. And she was wearing these heels, high heels. She was as tall as Nick.” Melody paused. “They make a great looking couple.”
“Are they a couple?” asked Martha Jane, making a note of the wistful tone in her friend’s voice. “They’re always saying they’re just friends.”
“I don’t know,” said Melody. “They’re sleeping together, I know that.” Tamara had not left them in any doubt about that.
“Oh, I see, so sleeping with someone makes it a relationship now, does it? My, my! How times have changed!”
“Oh, har-de-har, Mart. Just because I haven’t found Mr. Right doesn’t mean I can’t have a little recreation now and then.”
“Speaking of Jase Simons…”
Melody wasn’t sure if Mart was speaking of Jase as ‘Mr. Right’ or ‘recreation’. “He was good. It was nice to see him…and to play with him…guitar!!” she said to Martha Jane’s snort.
Martha Jane changed the subject. She was very good at dropping little seeds into her friend’s head. But she was smart enough to let them germinate for awhile and not overwater them by belaboring the point.
“So how did the other guys react to the events?
“Well…”
Melody described the dinner the night before. Rafe had been smart enough to pass on it. It was just the band, Toby and Gus, Scott Thornton and Darryl Wells, the token stage crew for the flit through New York. Nick insisted they all go out to dinner. He told Toby to pick someplace expensive. It was on Rafe’s tab, after all. He made a big deal of it at dinner. Darryl thanked him for including him in the party, and Nick went on at length about how no one would be left out, there’d be no surprises, everyone gets to know everything. He finally stopped when Tamara put her hand over his.
Everyone looked at each other. What the hell was that all about?
“Did I miss something?” asked Chris Sandoval.
Toby wondered the same thing. The only response he could get out of Nick today, when he asked him how last night had been was, “Fine. Did you know Mel was in town?” Toby had said that he didn’t, and Nick hadn’t said another word.
Nick let out a sharp yelp of laughter. “Did you miss something!? Well, you surely did. Tell them what they missed, Mel!” He pointed his fork down to the other end of the table at her. All the heads swiveled in her direction.
So Melody told them about his performance of the night before at Ziggy’s, how Nick had brought the house down, how great he’d been, the nice things people had said.
The heads swiveled back to Nick. Okay. That sounded good. Why did he sound so pissed?
“No, I meant tell them about the night before, when you and Rafe went to the party together.”
The heads swung back in Melody’s direction. It was like watching a tennis match.
So Melody described the party and explained that Rafe had asked her to go and talk Nick up to her friends.
Back to Nick. So? They couldn’t understand why Nick was so bent out of shape. It all sounded reasonable to them.
Nick was getting very frustrated. It did sound reasonable the way Mel explained it, but Nick knew that it wasn’t. And last night, she had seemed angry at Rafe too, but now she was making it sound like he’d done things righteously.
“Tell them about the dress,” he said.
Heads moved back to Mel. Yes, a tennis match with a live grenade.
Melody explained that she hadn’t known about the party and didn’t have anything suitable to wear. “I’d already sent my tiaras on ahead to Europe.”
Nick scowled at the ensuing laughter, and Melody decided not to make any more jokes but to just get through it. So she said that Rafe had had an outfit sent over.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“That’s when Tamara’s ears perked up,” said Melody to Mart. “She wanted details. And the more stuff I mentioned, the madder Nick got.”
Mart laughed. “Because, of course, he figured it was just a dress.”
“Of course,” sighed Melody. “What guy wouldn’t?...besides Rafe, that is. You should have seen Nick’s face, Mart. Tamara peppered me with questions. People’s heads couldn’t turn fast enough.” Melody laughed at the memory.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Who by?”
“Donna Karan.”
“Color?”
“Black.”
“Sleeves?”
“No.”
“Cleavage?”
“Yes.”
“Shoes?”
“Prada.”
“Stockings or bare legs?”
“Stockings.”
“Black or sheer?”
“Sheer.”
Melody prayed she wouldn’t ask about the underwear. Fortunately, Tamara switched to accessories.
“He bought you a necklace?” Nick was outraged. The others couldn’t understand why.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Tamara misinterpreted it completely. She put a hand on his arm and said, ‘but of course, Dear, you must always accessorize’. It was hilarious! Everyone cracked up. It relieved some of the tension. I don’t know if she did it on purpose or not, but I’m glad she did.”
Martha Jane was laughing hard. “What did Nick say to that?” she choked out.
“He said another one of those weird things that didn’t make any sense.” Melody had told Mart the odd comments that Nick kept making, and they had puzzled over them together. “First, he said, ‘Who knew Rafe had to buy a date?’ People were shocked, like he was accusing me of being a whore. I don’t think he meant it that way, because he got red in the face and backtracked. ‘I didn’t mean like that,’ he said, and then – here comes the weird part – he said, ‘Mel wouldn’t be interested in anything like that’. Now what’s that supposed to mean?”
Martha Jane gave it some thought. “Maybe he meant that you wouldn’t be interested in Rafe.”
“Then why didn’t he say that? Mel wouldn’t be interested in Rafe. Why did he say it like that? He meant sex. It was obvious he meant sex. Mel wouldn’t be interested in sex. Why would he say I wouldn’t be interested in sex?”
“I don’t know,” said Martha Jane. “What did the others think?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Melody. “There was an awkward pause, and Tofu jumped in, God bless him, and asked Nick about his performance the night before and we got talking about music again, so it was okay.”
“So is he over being mad?”
“I guess, at least at me. He’s still mad at Rafe. Fortunately, we’re putting an ocean between them on Tuesday.”
Chapter 22 by old_archive
Letterman didn’t turn out at all like they expected. It was so much better. It put them in such an elevated state, they could probably all have flown to Holland under their own power.
Nick did two radio interviews over the weekend. Alias Me was being released nationwide as a single on Tuesday. But it was being played during these two interviews, which meant that, thanks to the Internet, it would already be one of the most requested songs on the various ‘Top 6 at 6’, ‘Top 7 at 7’, etc.
That didn’t surprise them. In fact, they were counting on it. What surprised them was that, in each interview, the DJ mentioned a different well-known rocker and said that the person had seen Nick perform at Ziggy’s and had been blown away. Rafe Ariando was looking more like a genius every minute.
The guest preceding Nick on Letterman was P. Diddy Combs, there to promote his latest venture, a line of clothing. “Diddy Duds,” teased Letterman. At the end of his segment, Letterman thanked him for coming and said he’d let him get back to his regularly scheduled task, working his way through all the women in New York.
“First you take Manhattan…” joked Diddy.
“Next up,” said Letterman with a chuckle, “his first single off his new album, Don’t Call Me Nicky, is going to be released tomorrow.” Letterman held up the CD for the camera to pan in on. “After the break, we’ll have Nick Carter.” He turned to Diddy. “Thanks for coming, Man!”
“I’m staying,” said Diddy. “I don’t want to miss this.”
Letterman looked confused. What was going on?
“I saw this Friday night,” said Diddy. “Trust me. This is going to blow you away.”
“Maybe I’ll take out some extra insurance during the break,” joked Letterman, winking at the camera. “We’ll be right back.”
After the commercial break, Letterman said, “According to this fellow,” he motioned to Diddy Combs, who hadn’t moved, “we’re about to see a performance of the Song of the Year. So strap yourselves in. Ladies and Gentlemen, with his first single from his new album, Don’t Call Me Nicky, here is Nick Carter with Alias Me.
The band watched the Combs interview from the green room. During the break, they were hustled on stage.
“No pressure,” Blaine whispered, as they made their way up the hall.
“I live for pressure,” retorted Tofu.
“Let’s do it,” said Nick.
He had learned from his television appearances for his first album. Stuff that worked when he was in a packed warehouse didn’t work in a small studio. So he wasn’t going to jump around. He was just going to belt it out. He hadn’t decided what to do about Mel. At the last minute, when Darryl went to put a mike on her, Nick said, “Never mind.”
“Just like Friday,” he said, and he pulled her forward on the stage, closer to him.
Except it was better than Friday. Nick didn’t take the mike out of the stand this time. He sang most of the song making love to the mike stand with his hands. But when he got to an ‘alias me’, he swayed sideways, leaning the mike stand down to Mel’s level. She stretched up to meet him, with the added bonus that her chest pushed forward…and they sang it into each other’s eyes again.
The rest of the band had never seen it, and the first time they did it, Tofu almost stopped playing. But he recovered and kept going. He snuck a sideways glance at Blaine, who was grinning from ear to ear. Rashad Williams was too much of a professional to let anything distract him from the music at hand, but Tofu thought he detected a wink from the big man when he glanced in his direction.
They finished the song like they always did. Melody stepped back. Nick had the last lonely notes, and the musicians all looked down. But the pause tonight was only one second, and then the screaming started. It startled Melody. Man, she was going to have to get used to this!
Nick bowed to the audience and then looked over at the desk. Both Diddy and Letterman were standing. Letterman had his fingers in his mouth and was whistling. But past that was the band – Paul Schaefer and the band. And they were standing too.
“We’ll be right back,” yelled Letterman, in response to some frantic handwaving by an assistant director.
During the break, the band was moved quickly offstage and back to the green room. Nick was deposited in the chair beside Letterman and handed a bottle of water.
“Awesome, Man, just awesome,” said Diddy Combs.
Letterman nodded. “Anything in particular you want to talk about – or not?” he said, giving Nick the biggest reward of all.
“I’d rather talk about the future than the past,” said Nick.
“You got it,” replied Letterman.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Okay, we’re back.” David Letterman shook his head. “Phew! If you’re just joining us, then I hate to tell you, but you just missed something phenomenal. Nick Carter…” he had to pause, waiting for the screams to stop. “So Nick, that song is called Alias Me, and it’s the first single off your new album, Don’t Call Me Nicky, which incidentally,” he looked down at a cue card, “will be released on the 29th of this month.”
Nick nodded and grinned, which set the fans screaming again. The audience was full of fans. All the stops had been pulled out; all the favors called in; get me a seat for that show, pleeeeeeeeasssssssse Daddy!!
“So Nick, that’s a pretty good song. Who wrote it?”
Nick ducked his head shyly. A moan moved through the front rows of the audience. “I wrote it,” he said.
“Yeah, Man!” said Diddy Combs, giving him a high five.
They talked for two more minutes, and then Letterman wrapped up the show. But in that two minutes, Nick managed to get out the information that he had, in fact, written eight songs for the album, that he thought he was being backed up by the best musicians in the world, that he couldn’t wait to get out on tour and that he loved his fans. All of these bits of information were given in short bursts, interrupted by fits of screaming from the aforementioned fans.
After the sign-off, Nick got up to leave. He shook hands with the host. “Thanks, Man,” he said.
“No problem, Kid. Come back any time. And here, thought you might like this…” Letterman picked up a cue card from his desk and showed it to Nick. Then he tore it in half and handed the fragments to him.
Nick took them and grinned. “Yeah. I’ll take them.”
Offstage, he ran into Diddy in the hall. Nick began to express his thanks. Diddy waved him off. Nick persevered. “So like, did they have to sign over Jive to you for that or what?”
Diddy laughed. “Hell no, Man! No one asked me to do anything. That was from the heart.”
Nick blushed. “Well, thanks.”
“It’s gonna be a great year for you, Kid. Enjoy the ride.”
The band was waiting in the green room with hugs and high fives. A couple of minutes later, Jeff came in. “Okay, the cars are here…let’s get this organized.”
“How many?” asked Nick.
“Couple hundred,” said Jeff.
Couple hundred? Couple hundred cars? What was that? wondered Melody.
“Fans,” explained Tofu in her ear. “Waiting for a piece of him.”
Melody pictured all the screaming girls from the audience. “What do we do?”
“We don’t have to do anything except get out of the way. They won’t even recognize us and won’t care about us if they do.”
”What will he do?” asked Melody.
“Depends. If there’s a barricade set up, he might stay and sign a few autographs. But if he’s surrounded by a crowd, Jeff will move him straight to the car.”
Barricades? My Lord, thought Mel.
“She’s a rookie,” Tofu explained to Jeff.
“Okay,” said Jeff. “Here’s how it goes. The first car has Blaine, Rashad, Scott and Gus. The second will have Tofu, Darryl and Rafe.”
Heads snapped up. Rafe was here?
“Yes, Rafe is here. You didn’t think I’d miss this, did you?” Rafe strode into the room. He walked straight to Nick and held out his hand. The two men shook hands without a word. Just nods and smiles. Then Rafe turned to Jeff. “I thought Mel was going with me, I mean, in that car.”
“No,” said Jeff, “she’s staying with me. It’s her first time. You can have Toby.”
“Okay, whatever,” said Rafe. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
They all trooped out. Toby was seething. His place was with Nick. And this woman was getting his spot because she was…what?...a crowd virgin?
Melody thought they were making a big deal over nothing, but she didn’t want to waste everyone’s time by arguing about it. She didn’t miss the look Toby bestowed on her, however, and she made a mental note never to turn her back on him.
When they got to the entrance, Melody could hear the hum of anticipation from the crowd. It pitched a little higher, as she heard Tofu say, ‘he’s coming, he’s coming’ as he made his way to his assigned car.
“Listen to me, Mel” said Jeff, when it was just the three of them left. “My place is with Nick. When I say ‘go’, I want you to walk straight to the car. I want you to get in and move all the way over to the far side, and I want you to stay there. Do you hear me? Can you do that?”
Of course, I can do that, thought Melody, but she merely nodded her head.
Jeff turned to Nick. “You ready?”
Nick took a deep breath. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
Jeff nodded to the CBS security man, who opened the door. Jeff stepped out and surveyed the crowd. Then he motioned Nick out and to his left. Melody followed right behind and then stopped short. Excited squeals and cries of ‘Nick! Nick!’ came at her from all sides. Teenage girls, and quite a few older women - probably their mothers, thought Mel - were standing four deep around a section of the sidewalk that was barricaded by heavy metal dividers. The girls reached over the barrier, thrusting their hands forward, hands that held pictures or clothing or other memorabilia that they wanted autographed. Some had nothing to be signed. They just wanted to see Nick or touch him. There was a constant clicking of cameras. Melody could see cell phones raised high in the air. People were sharing the precious moment with friends.
Nick started at one end and made his way around. He signed his name quickly and said, ‘Thank you’ often. Jeff made sure he didn’t step too close to the barricade. Once Nick was underway, Jeff turned to Mel and mouthed, ‘Go!’ She slipped quietly around the end of the barricade and made her way through the crowd to the black limousine that was parked half up on the sidewalk.
“Could I have your autograph, please?”
Melody looked up into the eyes of a young woman.
“Mine?” said Melody.
“You’re the guitar player, aren’t you? The one who sang with him.”
Melody nodded.
“Well,” said the girl, “I’ll never get through that mob to get close enough to him, so you’re the next best thing. Will you sign?” She held out a picture of Nick and a Sharpie pen. Melody took them from her.
“Could you sign on the back, please?” asked the girl.
Melody smiled. ‘The next best thing’ didn’t sign on the front.
“My goodness, yes,” said Melody, turning the picture over and writing her name carefully. “Who would want to deface that face?”
“Thanks,” said the girl, moving away.
She was immediately replaced by another girl and then another. The people at the back of the crowd realized that they were never going to get near Nick, but maybe they could get a piece of her – the next best thing.
Melody signed a few things and said that, yes, she was looking forward to going on tour, and yes, she was lucky to be working with Nick and gee, I never really thought about it. This answer followed the question, how did she feel having her mouth so close to Nick’s? She might never have thought about it, but the crowd around her obviously had because a low moan went through it.
Melody looked over at Jeff, who motioned toward the car with his head. Get going!
I’m trying! Mel edged closer to the car. The driver stood beside the door, ready to open it for her. Finally, when she was just about there, she looked over in Nick’s direction and said, ‘oh my’. Every head turned away from her, and she dove into the car. She scuttled over to the far side and looked out the back window.
“They’ll be along soon,” said Tamara.
Melody turned. She hadn’t noticed the model sitting on the facing seat. Although how she had missed those long legs, she didn’t know.
“They’ll have to,” explained Tamara. “Those girls aren’t following the rules.”
Rules? There were rules?
The driver got in the car and started the engine in preparation for take off.
“It’s kind of understood,” explained Tamara. “Once you get your autograph or your hug or whatever, you’re supposed to step back and let someone else have a turn. They’re not doing that.”
The sound of the car motor turning over raised the level of desperation, and the girls started pushing forward. Melody could hear frantic cries of, “Nick. Over here! Please!” Finally, Jeff pulled the plug. He motioned to the security guard who moved the barricade enough for Jeff to step through. Jeff moved quickly to the car, Nick one step behind him. Melody could see his lips moving. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.
Then the door opened, and Nick tumbled into the car. Jeff was right behind him. As soon as the door closed, the car started moving…very, very slowly. This was the tricky part. This was where the driver earned his money. Girls surrounded the car. The network security guard stepped into the street and stopped the traffic. The driver slowly made his way off the sidewalk. Once the car was in the street, it moved forward and the girls moved away.
Melody looked over at Nick. He was grinning from ear to ear. Melody grinned back at him. “You loved that, didn’t you?”
“Yep,” he nodded. “I love getting out there with the fans. I just don’t like the end bit…having to leave…having to disappoint someone.”
“You would have been there for hours,” said Melody.
Nick shrugged, but Tamara snorted. “At least. There’s always one more fan. He could be standing in the pouring rain starving, but there would still be one who wanted ‘just one more picture’.”
There was a pause in the conversation after that. Melody looked out the window and watched New York roll by.
“Um…Mel…”
She turned back to Nick.
“I haven’t said it yet, but…um…thanks…for doing this, I mean, for going with me…and for…” Nick didn’t even know what he meant by ‘and for…’
Melody smiled, including them all in it. “It’s adding whole new dimensions to my education,” she said. “I’ll think of it as a college course – Touring 101.”
“I never went to college,” said Nick.
“Me neither,” said Melody. “I never wanted to do anything but make music.”
They looked over at Tamara.
“Vassar,” she said.
Melody turned back to Nick. “What did he give you, there at the end, Letterman, I mean?”
Nick pulled the two pieces of cue card out of his pocket and handed them to her. Melody put them together and then smiled and nodded. “Cool,” she said and handed the pieces to Tamara who glanced at them and handed them on to Jeff.
“It’s the question he didn’t ask,” explained Melody to Jeff, who looked down at the card. So what about the Backstreet Boys, it read.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You told me I’d be invisible. You said I didn’t have to do anything.” Melody hurled the accusation good-naturedly at Chris.
They were in Rafe’s suite, celebrating the success of the show. Rafe had Toby order up food and drinks. The mood was euphoric, with each of them reliving the scene. I just about died when Diddy said… I thought those girls were going to rush the stage… what about that crowd outside?...
Everyone joined in but Nick and Rafe. Tamara had chosen not to attend the gathering but rather to wait for Nick in his room. Nick sat in the corner with a beer grinning at them all. Rafe sipped from a glass of wine and looked on with a paternal eye.
“Well,” said Tofu, answering Mel’s complaint. “I forgot how you stand out in those vests of yours.” He cupped his hands in front of his chest and bounced them.
“Yeah, like that attracts the girls, you twit,” she retorted.
They all looked over at Nick, who seemed to be choking. “Went down the wrong way,” he gasped, holding up his beer bottle and clearing his throat.
“Anyway,” continued Tofu to Melody. “You survived, and now you’re not a virgin any more.”
Yeah, you can get back in the other car where you belong, thought Toby.
“Tofu!” Nick’s voice cut across the room. They all looked at him. What?
“Oh, come on Nick,” said Melody, with a lazy smile. “I’m thirty years old. Surely you don’t think I’m still a virgin.”
Nick’s ears burned. He knew they were turning red. “I guess it depends on your definition.”
“More beer, anyone?” said Rafe.
Chapter 23 by old_archive
“He thinks you’re a what?”
“A lesbian, Mart. He thinks I’m gay.”
“No!!”
“Yes! I finally put it all together.” Melody leaned back in the armchair and looked out her hotel room window. They were in London.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The euphoria of the Letterman Show was replaced by the mundane boredom of transatlantic travel. Nick was one giant mood swing, Melody decided. He sulked in the car all the way to the airport. Maybe he was missing Tamara already, she guessed. When they all met up in a private lounge, he became positively giddy with excitement. Going to Europe, he kept repeating. Going to Europe. The excitement immediately turned to anger when they started comparing seat locations and Nick discovered that he was in First Class and the rest of them were back in Economy.
“I specifically told Murray…I’m going to kill Rafe…”
The others told him not to sweat it but Nick wouldn’t be mollified. He tried to talk each one of them into changing seats with him. Each of them refused.
“Enjoy the extra leg room,” they told him.
That turned him to Rashad. “You’re bigger than me, you take it.” Rashad declined with thanks.
“Melody?”
“Leg room is not a problem for me, Nick.”
Laughter.
“Tofu? You want to ride in First Class?”
“No, Senor Neek,” replied Chris, in a broad Mexican accent. “Dey don’ ‘llow no wetbacks in de Prima Classa.”
Toby? Gus? Blaine? Nick spread his hands. Please.
“I guess you could just order one of us to do it,” said Melody, finally.
“Would you obey me?” asked Nick, surprised.
“No,” replied Melody simply, and they all cracked up again.
Finally, Nick laughed too. He held up the ticket. Anyone? Going once, going twice…Aw crap!
When they were in the air, Melody settled in with her crosswords. She was in an aisle seat with Tofu next to her and Darryl by the window. Ahead of her was Rashad, whose legs took up most of the aisle. Squeezed in next to him was Blaine and then Scott by the window. Across the aisle from Melody was Toby. Gus was in the seat across the aisle from Rashad.
Jeff wasn’t with them. He was flying over in two days. His sister had had the baby, and Nick had given him a couple of days. We can hook into the EMA security if we need it, he’d told Jeff.
The seatbelt sign was barely off, when Nick appeared.
“Everybody okay back here?” he said in a wistful voice. He looked at the big bassist. “C’mon Rashad. You’re squished in here like a sardine. Wouldn’t you rather have my seat?”
“Go on, Rashad,” said Blaine. “None of us will hold it against you. And I might get the feeling back in my arm.”
Rashad said, no thank you, and shifted in his seat away from Blaine, hitting his knee on the armrest. “Damn.”
“Yeah, Rashad, you might as well be comfortable,” said Tofu.
Rashad sighed and was halfway out of his seat when Tofu added, “We won’t think you’re Nick’s boy.”
Gus snickered. Toby reached forward and poked him on the arm to silence him.
Rashad stepped into the aisle. He looked over the seatback at Melody. What did she think?
“It’s a six-hour flight, Rashad,” she said reasonably. “You and Nick are the tallest. Why don’t you do it in shifts?”
Rashad nodded and turned to Nick. He opened his mouth to accept when Melody added, “Teacher’s pet.”
Now everyone was laughing openly. Go on, Rashad. Go ahead.
“Okay,” said Rashad. “But I’m coming back here in an hour and claiming my seat.”
“It’s 4A,” said Nick, stepping aside to let the man pass. “It’s a window seat.” Nick slid into the seat beside Blaine and Scott.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Here he comes,” whispered Gus. Toby swung out into the aisle.
“Okay,” said Rashad, “an hour’s up. I want…”
“Sssshhh…” A chorus of voices shushed him.
Rashad’s voice dropped to a whisper. “What?”
“He’s asleep,” whispered Toby, who stood in the aisle blocking Rashad’s view of Nick.
Rashad looked past the assistant. Nick was sitting with his seat tilted back. He was covered in a blanket, and a small airline pillow was tucked under his head.
“But…” Rashad didn’t want to take advantage of the situation. “They’re going to serve the dinner.”
“You go ahead and eat it,” whispered Blaine. “I’m sure Nick wouldn’t mind. He’s right out of it.”
“Jes’ sleepin’ lak a leetle baby.” Tofu mimicked Prissy from Gone With the Wind.
Rashad heard a snort. He looked around Toby again, but it was just Scott coughing and patting himself on the chest. Rashad looked at Melody. Please be the voice of reason, his eyes begged her.
“Go on, Rashad,” she said softly. “I’ll come and get you when he wakes up. Okay?”
Rashad looked down at Nick again, but the blond man hadn’t moved. “Okay,” he whispered and disappeared up the aisle. Once he was gone, the snickering and chuckling began in earnest.
Nick’s head appeared at the top of his seat. “So you’re gonna rat me out to the big guy, are you, Mel?”
“Hey, I’m sitting behind you, Blondie. How will I know when you wake up?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Knock it off, Tofu.”
Nick listened to the voices from the seat behind him. Melody was trying to do her crossword puzzle. Tofu was bored. He’d read through the in-flight magazine and gone through the channels on the headset twenty times, finding nothing he liked. So he decided to amuse himself by pestering those around him. Darryl didn’t have much to say at the best of times, and he'd gone right to sleep after the meal was served. So that left Mel.
“What’s 86 across – a New Zealand parrot?”
“Kea,” said Melody. “K-e-a.”
“How do you know that?” Tofu had never heard the word. Neither had Nick.
“Because I’ve done thousands of these,” said Melody, pulling the book away from his view.
“Why do you keep doing them then?”
“Because every one is different,” she answered and then added, “and it keeps me from having to listen to boring little shits like you.”
“Ah, you love me,” Nick heard from behind him and then what sounded like a kiss.
Nick shifted in his seat. They had fooled Rashad twice more, and he hadn’t appeared again. Nick guessed he’d gone to sleep. At least, he hoped he had. Nick was a tall man, and he wasn’t comfortable in the economy-class seat. He couldn’t imagine Rashad crammed into it for the whole overnight flight.
Nick loved the way the whole thing had gone down. Everyone laughing. Everyone getting along. Everyone making fun of everyone else, even him. Just one of the guys. That’s what he wanted to be, just one of the guys.
“44 down. Bacchanalian cry. What the hell is that?”
“Evoe,” said Mel. “E-v-o-e.”
“Great,” said Tofu. “What the hell is ‘Bacchanalian’?”
“Tofu, leave me be. Go to sleep.”
Nick looked around the cabin. The lights had been turned off. Mel’s was the only one still on. Most people were asleep. He stood up and made his way to the washroom. When he came back, he leaned in and said, “Tofu, switch places with me.”
“Why?” asked Chris.
“Because it’s my turn to annoy the hell out of Mel. It’s not fair that you get all the fun.”
A couple of funny ripostes came into Tofu’s head, but he decided against both of them. Instead, he stood up and swung his way past Melody’s legs.
“Scoot over,” said Nick. Melody clicked the seat belt open and moved to the middle seat.
“Here,” said Tofu, picking up the pillow and blanket from Nick’s seat and shoving them at him.
“Aren’t you going to sleep?” said Nick, half to himself.
Mel’s voice whispered in his ear. “Once we’re all asleep, he’s probably going to go nail one of the flight attendants.”
Nick chuckled to himself. Man, if Tofu got half the chicks he said he did… He turned to Mel. “Are you going to go to sleep?”
“Yes, in a bit. Do you want me to turn off the light?”
“No, it won’t bother me. I’ve learned to sleep just about anywhere.”
“Okay, goodnight then. See you in Europe.” She smiled.
Nick smiled back and closed his eyes. Both of them had trouble breathing for a moment. Melody worked on her puzzle. When she finished one, she looked around. Everyone else was asleep. She looked over at Nick, and he took her breath away. He was beautiful, His blond hair fell over his eyes, and his face in repose was that of an angel.
Melody reached over and smoothed his hair off his face. Nick sighed in his sleep, and she pulled her hand back. She reached up and turned off the tiny light. She lowered her seat back and pulled her legs up under her. She shifted her pillow slightly and curled her body so that her back was to Nick. She was almost immediately asleep.
Nick shifted in his sleep. He opened his eyes for a moment and was aware of Mel sleeping next to him. She might be cold, he thought, and turned his body, throwing part of his blanket and his arm over her before sliding back down into oblivion.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Toby was the first to wake up. He checked on Nick immediately and was surprised to see Chris in his seat. He looked around, and a frown came over his face when he saw Nick with his arm over Mel. When had that happened? How? And why?
He kept an eye on them as they woke up. But he couldn’t see anything unusual. They just did what all the passengers did. Woke up. Made their way to the bathroom, their complimentary toothbrush gripped tightly in their hand. Tried to shake off the sleep and wake up in a personal space slightly smaller than a phone booth. With 300 roommates.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So was it on the plane? Did you figure it out on the plane?”
“No, Mart,” said Melody softly. “That’s not what I figured out on the plane.”
Chapter 24 by old_archive
“So tell me!” said Mart. “What were the big clues?”
Melody laughed. “That’s exactly it, Mart. That’s what gave him away. Clues.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They arrived in Amsterdam, at Schiphol Airport. They were bedraggled and skuzzy. All they wanted was a private bathroom with a shower. Even Rashad. First Class is First Class, but it’s still recycled air and airline food and the guy next to you, who might be a really nice guy, but is just too damn close.
Tom met them at the airport. His little speech of welcome dissolved quickly after his initial comments about how wonderful they had been on Letterman. He had them ushered to the waiting cars and then to the hotel.
Showers and naps, he instructed, as if it were the furthest thing from their mind. We’re meeting at two – he made everyone synchronize their watches – in the area off the lobby. Get some lunch from room service when you wake up. Or there’s a restaurant on the main floor.
The Amsterdam Hilton was right on the canal. Nick wandered off from the car for a moment to stare down at the boats and the water. Then, with a weary sigh, he got back on track. He followed Toby down the hall to his suite. Yes, a suite. He had had the fight with Rafe, and he had lost. He was to have a suite while everyone else had a room. In fact, except for Melody, everyone else shared a room.
When Nick tried to argue about equality, Rafe talked about entertaining. Look Nick, he had said. Sometimes, there are going to be on-the-fly interviews and stuff like that. A suite just makes perfect sense. You can be interviewed or meet with other musicians or just have the guys over for a drink if you want, without it being in the middle of your bedroom. And face it, Nick, you are the star. You should act like one.
When they started gathering in the lobby, they were surprised that Mel wasn’t there. She was usually the first to arrive. As it got closer to two o’clock, they began to be concerned. Blaine phoned up to her room, but there was no answer.
“I wonder where she could be,” said Nick.
Gus walked up to the group. “Who? Mel?” The others looked at him and nodded. “She’s on a tour,” he said, “She’ll be back by two.”
“What do you mean, ‘a tour’?” asked Chris.
“A bus tour. Of the city. She said she wanted to see the city. She’s never been to Amsterdam.”
The other musicians looked at each other. They’d been all over the world. They suddenly realized that they’d seen none of it.
“Well,” said Toby, “she’d better get her sightseeing in early on because once we get going, she’ll be too tired to be off looking at statues.”
Chris opened his mouth to say something scathing to Toby but was stopped by Mel’s arrival.
“Hi, guys! I’m not late, am I?” Mel looked at her watch. She still had ten minutes to spare.
“No,” said Rashad. “Tom hasn’t arrived yet. What’ve you got there?”
Melody opened a plastic bag with tulips on it and pulled out an array of postcards and tourist brochures. She began showing them the places she had seen on her tour. “Gus arranged for me to go on a bus tour. In all these cities, they have a fairly comprehensive bus tour, so I can see everything in a couple of hours. Then if I have any extra time, I can go to a museum or tour a palace or something. Do you know that they have a whole museum here just for Van Gogh?”
Her excitement was contagious, and they all caught it. They passed around the postcards and commented on the brochures.
“We’ll have some time tomorrow,” said Blaine. “What are you going to go see?”
“I’d like to see the Anne Frank house and the Van Gogh museum, but I don’t know if I can fit both in.”
“I’ll check it out for you,” said Gus.
Melody gave him a beaming smile. “Thanks, Gus. You’re the greatest.”
Toby stepped in. “Anybody else wants to do anything like that, just let me know. Gus and I will coordinate it.”
Tom didn’t arrive until nearly quarter past two. When he finally entered the room, he was breathless. “Okay,” he said, panting. “Change of plans. Daniel Bedingfield has some sort of stomach flu and can’t perform at the EMAs tonight, so they want you guys instead. We’re heading over there now for a quick rehearsal. Not that you need it, but you know, sound check. This actually works out because it’s the same building you’ll be performing in tomorrow night, so you’ll get a good feel for it.”
“I wonder how Rafe managed to poison Daniel Bedingfield,” said Tofu under his breath to Rashad.
“Any questions?” said Tom.
“Yeah, I have one,” said Nick. “Could someone explain to me why, at the same time that Alias Me was being dropped as a single, I was over the Atlantic Ocean. I still haven’t been able to figure out the answer to that.”
They all looked at Tom. They had discussed this amongst themselves. Next week, when the video debuted on MTV, Nick was going to be in Berlin. It was kind of an odd way of promoting the album, they thought. Rafe had actually turned down a request for Nick to be on TRL for the debut of the video.
“Rafe knows what he’s doing,” said Tom, which wasn’t really an answer. Tom knew why Rafe was doing it, because he’d wondered the same thing himself. Rafe had told him finally that they were starting the tour in Europe because he intended to have that frigging guitar out of Nick’s hands before he set foot on an American stage.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So, it was at the EMAs? What did he say, EMGays?” Mart was curious.
“No, the EMAs were great. It was mostly in English, so that was good.” Melody was a little nervous about her lack of language skills. The only foreign words she knew were crossword puzzle words and a few swear words in Spanish.
The group had given another solid performance at the EMAs and had received a good reaction from the crowd. Nick’s performance wasn’t announced until the last minute, so there wasn’t a contingent of Nick fans there to cheer for him. It was industry people and general fans. There was no standing ovation but much appreciative applause and some screaming from the upper seats. They were all very pleased with it.
And the concert the next night had been great! It also took place at the Beurs van Berlage, a large building right in downtown Amsterdam that was used for concerts, special art exhibits and conferences. The Dutch royal wedding had taken place there in the Great Hall the previous year. The EMAs were also in the Great Hall. Their concert the next night was in the Goederenbeurszaal, the hall that was going to be used for the newly-formed Amsterdam Symphony Orchestra. The acoustics were great. The audience was quite sedate in the beginning, but got into it as the evening went on and was still screaming for more, long after the musicians were back in the hotel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So did he say something in the car?” Mart was dying of curiosity. “On the bus?”
“No buses yet, remember.”
The tour was hopping back and forth across water. Amsterdam to Stockholm, over to London, back to Berlin. It had been decided that it would be more financially feasible to fly the personnel. The equipment would go by trucks, but it would be faster and cheaper to use planes and hotels than specially outfitted buses. If they came back to Europe on a second, longer leg, the bus issue would be revisited.
“No, it wasn’t there. It was in Stockholm.”
Nick had said something in Amsterdam, or rather done something, but Melody hadn’t figured out how she felt about it, so she wasn’t going to tell Mart just yet. It was in the afternoon, just before they left for the Beurs van Berlage. Melody had spent the morning touring the city, against the advice of Toby Gray, who told her that she would wear herself out if she tried to do this in every city and then what good would she be to Nick.
“Let me know when he complains about my performance,” she retorted, “and then I’ll stop.”
She was standing by the canal looking out over the houseboats but not really seeing them. Nick came up behind her.
“Wouldn’t that be a cool place to live?” he asked and then stopped. Melody’s face was tear-stained. “Mel? Are you okay?”
She nodded. “The Anne Frank house,” she whispered, looking away from him. It had been a heartbreaking experience but one that she knew she had to do. She could not come all this way and then not see it. She had loved the story as a child, the diary of the innocent young Dutch girl hiding in an attic with her family to escape the hideous anti-Semitic wrath of the Nazis. Only they hadn’t escaped.
But the house was still there, preserved as a memorial to Anne and her family and a reminder to the world that genocide had a face. The pictures of movie stars that she talked about in her diary were still tacked to the wall, the words she described writing were there in her childish scrawl. All under glass now and protected by security but still very powerful.
The men had all admired Mel’s courage in going and had all agreed that they didn’t have it. They looked at the pictures from the brochures and read the descriptions of how powerful the experience was and opted for a canal boat ride instead. Nick had done a radio interview and a TV promo for his video for EMTV.
Melody felt his arms move around her. Nick held her face against his chest and rubbed her back. Melody leaned into him, seeking comfort in a warm, real person. Nick held her until she had the strength to step away. Then he used his thumbs to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“Never be sorry,” he replied.
Melody gave him a weak grin.
“Now you owe me one,” he said.
Huh?
Nick glanced over both his shoulders dramatically, looking for eavesdroppers. “I cry all the time,” he confessed with a smile. “Next time I do, I get a hug from you. Okay?”
Melody reached out a hand and shook his firmly. “Deal! And Nick…thanks.”
He shrugged off her words, and they turned back to the hotel. Watching them from the entrance was Toby Gray. He didn’t look happy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“If you don’t tell me soon, I’m going to come right through that phone!”
“Okay, okay. We’re sitting on the stage at the venue in Stockholm - the Arenan Fryshuset. They were having trouble with the sound system, and every so often we’d get this screech of feedback. Very annoying. Anyway, the guys were asking me if I’d had a chance to go for a bus tour, and I said yes, and told them a few things I’d seen. So Tofu starts talking about nightclubs and how he’s heard they have some really good ones in Stockholm and he found this brochure in his hotel room for one called Lash. Didn’t we think that sounded exciting? Sort of avant-garde, leathery kind of thing. Maybe he’d go there and pick up a girl after the show.”
“Yes?”
“Well, Gus just about blew a vein laughing. He was handing out water to everyone, and he actually stopped breathing for a moment, he was laughing so hard. Then he informed Tofu that Lash was a leather club all right, but for gay women. He didn’t think even Tofu would get lucky there. Everyone laughed, and Gus went on to explain that there are quite a number of gay bars and clubs throughout the city. Stockholm is very welcoming to gay people. I was watching Nick at this point, and he was getting very uncomfortable with the whole discussion. For a moment, I even wondered if he was gay, but then I remembered Tamara!”
“So what was the clue?”
“The subject got changed, and we moved around, testing stuff and waiting for the sound to get fixed. Tofu picked up my crossword puzzle book and started leafing through it. He said, ‘Hey Jones, what’s a five-letter word for Thespian?”
“Uh oh.”
“Yep. And when he said it, there was this screech of feedback, so it sounded like he said ‘Jones is a five-letter word for…”
“Lesbian.”
“Right.”
“Did everyone take it that way?”
“No, because not everyone thinks I’m gay. Only Nick. I was looking right at him. He nearly swallowed his teeth. And add that to the previous discussion and all the other clues we’ve talked about, and I think it’s pretty clear.”
“But why? Why does he think that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe someone told him. Maybe he thinks I look like one. I have no idea what one looks like, but who knows?”
“What are you going to do about it?” asked Mart.
Melody sighed. “I haven’t a clue.”
Chapter 25 by old_archive
Melody hung up the phone and stared out the window. Yes, what was she going to do? About the whole gay thing…and also about the guitar. Because Tom had finally got around to asking her opinion about it.
They hadn’t seen any reviews because, by the time the newspapers came out, they were in a different country. They were going on audience reaction alone. The audience didn’t seem to mind when Nick played the guitar…or didn’t play it, as was more the case. But to Melody’s professional ear, it didn’t fit, and it weakened an otherwise awesome show. It took all of the incredible songs and his beautiful voice, and it negated all of it, making him seem like a boyband rockstar-wannabe…Nicky trying to play with the big kids.
This was their second day in London. Yesterday morning, they had flown over from Stockholm. Now that was a quiet flight, laughed Mel to herself. She had gone back to the hotel after the concert, as had Rashad and Blaine, but the others went out clubbing. The three had a nightcap in the hotel bar and turned in early. Toby had said he wasn’t going to go out, but Melody had seen him getting into a taxi, as she was coming out of the bar. And he looked more tired than the rest of them the next day.
They spent the day quietly, except for Nick, who had radio interviews and television appearances, promoting tonight’s concert. Melody listened to Toby prepping him with questions. Toby was good at it. He made good suggestions to Nick. Melody thought she’d mention it to the assistant when she had a chance – maybe it would make him less hostile toward her.
Melody took a bus tour, and Scott accompanied her, enjoying one of his rare days off. They took pictures and pointed and gaped and enjoyed each other’s company thoroughly. Over lunch, they discussed the tour and cautiously gave opinions on things. Neither wanted to come off as unprofessional, but by the end of the lunch, Melody knew that Scott’s opinion on the guitar issue was the same as hers.
By the end of lunch, Melody also knew that Scott would be willing to have sex with her if she wanted. Boy, talk about a dance! That conversation went round and round and changed key several times before Scott managed to spit out what he wanted to say – which was that he wasn’t interested in Melody emotionally, but that he had enjoyed their previous physical encounters, and if she ever needed to get her ashes hauled on tour, he would be happy to help her out with it and be totally discreet.
Melody accepted the offer with a thanks, but I don’t think so, Scotty.
Suit yourself, he told her, but you’re on a whole other continent and you might need someone you can trust.
Melody laughed to herself. They were only going to be in Europe for a few weeks. If Scott thought she didn’t go that long without sex, then he didn’t have a grasp of her real life. How long had it been, she wondered. Let’s see, she and Jase had finished their little tempest in a teapot nearly six months ago. That had been like a flash fire. They came together quickly, set each other ablaze for awhile and then turned to ashes.
Melody knew that Jase had wanted it to be more, but it just got too intense too fast. Then when he asked her to go on the road and she refused, he got hurt. But it was the right thing. Melody would have been fulfilling two roles, and in her first time on the road, she thought it would take all her attention just to fill one.
Since then, there’d been a couple of casual encounters, one with Jack when he was between women and seeking solace, and one with the bartender at Pineapple Ranch. They’d been flirting with each other for nearly a year during her occasional gigs and had finally succumbed a couple of months ago. It wouldn’t happen again, she knew that. It hadn’t lived up to expectations for either of them. Melody just hoped Stevie Ray never found out.
She looked at her watch. Almost time to get going to rehearsal. Now, she wondered, how did one go about telling someone she wasn’t gay?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So what do the reviews say?” Rafe picked up a pen and prepared to take notes.
“The Amsterdam review is pretty good. The guy liked the songs, loved Alias Me and Bridge to Nowhere, mentioned that there was no Backstreet but said it wasn’t missed. Liked the band.”
“Did it mention Nick and the guitar?” Rafe mentally crossed his fingers.
“Um…yeah, it said, wait a sec…yeah, here it is…I quote, ‘Carter’s voice is so strong, and his songs are so powerful that he doesn’t need anything else. He doesn’t have to prove himself on the guitar, he has fine backup musicians for that.’ End of quote.”
“That’s it?”
“Yep,” said Tom. “That’s it.”
“Shit. Okay, what about the Swedish one?”
Rafe could hear Tom shuffling through papers. He rolled his eyes and tried to be patient.
“Okay, this is from the Dagen Nyheter.” Tom tried three times to say the Swedish words, while Rafe gritted his teeth and waited. “Same kind of thing…liked the music…band is good…Nick’s voice is wonderful…no mention of Backstreet at all…”
“And the guitar?” What the fuck did Tom think Rafe wanted to hear about?
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Nothing at all?”
“Nope, but in the other one, the other newspaper, the Dagen…weird, isn’t it, how the newspapers have almost the same name…”
Rafe wondered if Tom had any idea how much transatlantic phone calls cost.
“…it mentions it. It’s says it’s…I quote, ‘if there is a weakness in the show, it is when Carter sets aside his marvelous voice and picks up the guitar. It’s not that he’s bad at it, it just isn’t necessary.’ End of quote.”
There was a silence. Tom knew better than to interrupt. He could practically hear Rafe’s wheels turning.
“Maybe we were wrong.”
Tom was stunned. Boy, there was a sentence he never expected to hear out of Rafe Ariando’s mouth!
“Melody doesn’t think so.” Tom cautiously floated the sentence out into the airwaves.
“How do you know?” asked Rafe.
“Because I asked her. She didn’t want to say, but I kind of made her. The others feel the same way too, you can tell when they’re on stage. During every other song, they’re into it with him and they’re laughing and grinning at each other and just having a great time. But as soon as he straps on that guitar, they stop making eye contact…with him, with the audience, with each other. It’s like they don’t want to be part of it.”
“Okay, so we weren’t wrong!” Rafe’s universe was back in the right order.
“Yeah, but what are we going to do about it? These reviews won’t be enough to convince him to give it up.”
“Well then, I guess we’ll just have to get some more reviews.”
Rafe hung up the phone and leafed through his Filofax. He stopped at a card and looked at it thoughtfully. Then he picked up his phone and told his secretary to get him an overseas number..
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Melody closed the drapes on her hotel window and climbed into bed. She scrunched down into the pillow and thought over the day. Melody loved London. She had used every available second to explore it and was determined to come back here on her own sometime. She might bring Chrissy and Ben-two, if she could ever pry them away from that stick-in-the-mud mother of theirs.
Tomorrow she was going to do another exciting thing. She was going to go on a train. She’d never been on one, other than a subway train. They were going to Liverpool. She knew what spots she wanted to visit there! They all did! The Cavern Club and all the other Beatles landmarks!
Maybe she’d get an opportunity on the train to talk to Nick. She hadn’t got one today, but there had been another enigmatic comment, which convinced her that she was right – that he did think she was gay. Blaine had noticed that one too and had given Nick a strange look. Yes, she had to talk to him about this before anyone else found out. It would make Nick look foolish.
Melody had had an opportunity to talk to Toby. It was hard to say how that had gone. She asked how Nick’s interviews went – he’d done two more today before the show – and Toby said fine. Melody told the P.A. that she thought he was really helping Nick be prepared for them. Toby gave her a curt ‘that’s my job’, but Melody thought he was pleased.
The show had been wonderful…except for the, no, she wasn’t going to go there…the show had been wonderful, period! Nick was still experimenting with how he was going to introduce the band. He had so far called her the Lady with the Guitar, the First Lady of the Guitar and the Guitar Lady. He had blushed over that one.
Nick had also stumbled a couple of times over Tofu, not really sure whether to call him Chris or Tofu or what. Tonight he had settled on Senor Christofol Sandoval. After the show, Tofu told him that his middle names were Enrique Jesus, if he wanted to add them too. Nick rolled it around his mouth…Senor Christofol Enrique Jesus Sandoval. Nah, maybe not!
They laughed. They always laughed. It was great. Now that Rafe was on the other side of the world and the whole thing was about making music, they were all having a great time. Nick was becoming more confident with each interview and performance. Melody was starting to get the hang of the whole touring thing. And she was getting her laundry done!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The train bumped along the rails. It was noisy and wobbly. It was hard to have a conversation, and it was hard to walk down the aisle. But Melody loved it. The rest of them watched her acting like a kid. Not all of them had ever been on a train either, but they weren’t admitting it. They had a couple of rooms, and they moved back and forth between them. Melody bounced up and down the train, checking out the snack car, the washrooms, everywhere she could get to. There was a hallway down one side of the train where she could stand and look out the window. And when she wasn’t moving around, she stood there and watched the English countryside roll by.
That’s where Melody finally got up the courage to talk to Nick. They were in the hallway together, and no one else was there. They stood side by side looking out the window, commenting on the scenery. When she didn’t have to look at him, Melody found it easier to talk to him.
“Look at those fields. Isn’t it interesting how they don’t have fences like we do?” Melody asked.
“Yes, those are stone and hedges. Those are very permanent fences. They look like they’ve been there for hundreds of years,” replied Nick.
Melody pointed at a small village as they passed it. “They sure love roses in this country, don’t they? They’re in front of every single house.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, and do you notice how the gardens are all in the front of the house?”
“Who told you I was gay?”
“That was…” Nick halted just in time. “Um…why?”
“I just wondered. Someone told you, right? You didn’t figure it out for yourself?”
“Um…no…but it doesn’t matter…I mean, it’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with it…I mean, of course, there’s nothing wrong with it…I mean…I don’t have a problem with it…but I don’t know if I should tell you who…we’re weren’t like gossiping or anything…”
“Okay.”
Nick turned to walk away.
Melody’s voice stopped him. “There’s just one thing.”
“Yes?”
Now she turned from the window and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not gay.”
Nick blinked. “What?”
Melody grinned at him and repeated it. “I’m not gay.”
“Well, then why would Rafe say…?” Aw crap!
“Rafe?” Melody was astounded. “It was Rafe?”
Nick’s brain was reeling. He tried to take it all in. Melody Jones wasn’t gay. He put his hands to his head trying to stop the whirling mass of thoughts. “But you said you wanted a wife?”
“Who wouldn’t? I meant for housecleaning and laundry, like a maid. I didn’t mean…”
“Yeah, I get it. But you said…”
“Are you trying to talk me into being gay, Nick? Because I’m not.”
“No, no, I don’t want you to be gay. I mean, if you are, that’s okay, I don’t have a problem with it.”
Melody reached up and grabbed his jaw in her small hand. “Focus, Nick! I’m…not…gay!” She said it very distinctly. “I like sex with men!”
Gus was halfway out the compartment door when he heard that statement. He beat a hasty retreat back inside, informing the others that Nick and Melody were having a bit of a discussion in the hall and maybe they should all just stay put until it was over. No one asked. Each of them had his own ideas about what Nick and Melody might be discussing. Many of them thought it might involve a guitar. A couple of them thought it might involve sex. None of them thought it involved her being gay.
Nick finally managed to do the paradigm shift and focus on the real issue. Why had Rafe lied to him? “Why would he lie?”
Melody shrugged. “Who knows why Rafe does anything?”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, but he usually has a reason. No, not usually. He always has a reason.”
Melody shrugged again.
“Well, I’ll bloody well ask him,” said Nick. “Right before I tear his head off.”
Melody laughed and then sobered. “No.”
“No…don’t tear his head off?”
“No. I mean, no don’t ask him. Don’t mention it to him at all.”
“Why not? He’s an asshole for doing something like that. Telling me that.”
“Yes, but Nick, think about it. He doesn’t know we know.”
Nick thought about that. He wasn’t sure how he could use that to his advantage. But knowing something Rafe didn’t know had to be a good thing.
“So I have to keep pretending I think you’re gay?” Duplicity was not Nick’s strong suit.
“Only around Rafe, please! Otherwise, you can dispense with the ‘it all depends on your definition of a virgin’ comments.”
Nick blushed to the roots of his hair. “I’m sorry. I…I… And um…Tom too.”
“What? Tom said that?”
“Well, he just kind of backed Rafe up when Rafe said it. I’m really sorry about this, Mel. How can I make it up to you?”
She almost said, sleep with me. She would only have been joking, and she thought Nick would take it that way, but she wasn’t completely sure, so she didn’t say it.
“Forget about it,” she said instead. “Just wipe it out of your mind. I only wanted to clear the air. I didn’t want any lies or misunderstandings between us.”
Nick nodded. “Because it would get in the way of the music.”
“That’s right. Nothing should get in the way of the music.”
The other compartment door opened, and Rashad emerged. He headed up the hall to the bathroom. Nick and Melody quietly went in opposite directions. Melody had gotten a lot off her mind. And Nick had just had a lot put on his. He had some thinking to do.
Chapter 26 by old_archive
“Omilord, what happened?”
Melody arrived at the venue to find Nick sitting in a chair with his hand in a towel. Toby was wearing rubber gloves and dabbing at a spot on Nick’s forehead.
They were in Berlin.
The concerts in England had gone well. Melody had worried about the fan adulation thing. She wondered what thousands of fans would do. She had seen the results with a couple of hundred. Of course, there were never any autograph sessions after the concerts. The band was whisked out of the venue and back to the hotel as quickly as possible.
Momentum was building, the fans were out in force, looking for Nick, checking hotels, carrying pictures of the band members. Melody had been told to wear a hat when she was sightseeing to cover her distinctive hairstyle. Two weeks ago, she would have argued with them, told them they were silly, but not after New York. She wore a hat.
The interviews were a different story. Nick couldn’t hide from them. Radio stations promoted the interview well in advance, offered contests where the winner could call in and ask Nick a question personally. It was after these sessions that Jeff had his work cut out for him. Fans gathered at the station, hoping for a glimpse, an autograph, a hug. And they knew that the chances were good they would get one.
It was kind of a vicious circle. If Nick had been a stand-offish kind of guy who ignored the crowds or signed two autographs and left, he wouldn’t have drawn the crowds. But because the fans knew – they’d had ten years of knowing what these guys would do - they came out. It was worth their while to come out. Nick wouldn’t just brush past them into a waiting limo. So even if they didn’t get the autograph or the picture or the hug, they might get to see him. They might get to see Nick. Up close and personal. Nick.
Alias Me was taking Europe by storm. Nick had written it as a reflection of himself, his wanting to separate himself from the world’s perception of him… frankly, from Nicky. It was his coming-of-age song. But it turned out to be an anthem for disaffected youth everywhere. And nowhere was youth more disaffected than economically prosperous, older-generation-driven Europe. By the time they hit Germany, they had added a second show to Berlin and two more to Hamburg, the industrial heart of the country.
Melody persisted in her determination to see the places she was in. She caught the earliest available bus tour, no matter how late she’d been up the night before. She took in all the sites. She started keeping a journal – what she had seen and what she wanted to see more of. It gave her a focus. It made her able to do the touring thing. She realized that she could never be one woman in that crowd of men, if she didn’t have something on the outside. Her guitar and her crossword puzzles took her away partially, but she needed more. And she didn’t see why all the major attractions of Europe shouldn’t be it.
Then the video dropped.
None of them had ever seen it. Even Nick had only seen the rough version. When it debuted, they weren’t even aware of it. They were en route from Liverpool to Munich. It was after the Munich concert that Tom gathered them all backstage and said, “I guess you’d better see this.”
The crowd in Munich was totally different from England. They started screaming from the moment Nick set foot on the stage and were still screaming when he left. The band wondered if they were even listening to the music. But they knew they were. When Nick said, in his intro to Alias Me, “this song means a lot to me; I hope you’ll listen to it”, they got deathly quiet. The whole thing scared the hell out of Mel, especially since, in that song, she was front and centre, right along with Nick.
They gathered around the television backstage. Tom popped in the video. They stood silent for the next four minutes and twenty-eight seconds. And then they stood silent some more. It was a masterpiece.
It was so simple and yet it said so much. It was just Nick, walking along a road…could be anywhere…looking off into the distance and wanting to be accepted for who he was. Cut into these scenes was the girl…everyone who was gathered around the television, except for two people, recognized her as a younger version of Mel…who sat huddled on a porch swing, her arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees, looking down a road. Finally, during the final three ‘alias me’s’, the girl spots Nick and runs out to meet him. But they don’t embrace; they stop three feet away from each other and tentatively put out a hand. The final scene is their fingers barely grazing each other’s and then a shot of Nick, with his eyes closed, home at last.
Of course it was Tofu. “I guess it’s a phenomenon,” he said, in a plaintive voice. No one got it but Nick, who laughed so hard the tears rolled down his cheeks. He bent double and looked like he was in pain.
Tofu laughed right along with Nick. “Hey, I checked you out. I watched the videos.”
None of the others had seen the Around the World video and had no idea what the two were laughing about, but they all used the repartee as an excuse to step away from the television.
Jeff and Tom had a serious talk about more security. Tom said it might be an option; they would decide after Berlin.
And now they were in Berlin. And Nick was sitting in a chair with his hand in a towel and Toby dabbing at his forehead.
“Fans,” said Nick succinctly, and then he sucked in a breath, as Toby swabbed some antiseptic on his forehead.
“Omigod, what did they do?” said Melody.
“One of them wanted his hair,” said Toby, “and she got some of it.”
Melody peered in closely. “Jeez! That had to hurt.”
“And one of them wanted all of him…wouldn’t let go,” said Jeff. Melody looked over at him. Holy crap! Gus was tending to him. He was in worse shape than Nick. His nose was bleeding, and one eye was almost swollen shut.
Nick winced and shifted his hand in the towel. “I think I might need more ice.”
“Twenty minutes is all for ice,” said Melody and Toby at the same time. They looked at each other. Then Melody unwrapped the towel.
“Oh no,” she whispered softly to herself.
His hands, she thought. His beautiful hands. The middle finger on his right hand was swollen and distended. In answer to her unasked question, Nick flexed it slightly, showing her that it wasn’t broken, only bruised.
“She wouldn’t let go,” he said softly.
Melody looked into his eyes. Then she gently drew her fingers along his hand. “What does the doctor say?” She looked at Toby.
“He said it’s not bad; just a bruise, not even a sprain. But, of course, he can’t play the guitar for a couple of days.”
Toby favored Melody with a poisonous look and shifted his body in a way that moved her away from Nick.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Aw shit!”
“What now, Rafe? I thought you wanted him to stop playing.” Tom was confused.
“Yeah, I wanted him to stop because he knew it wasn’t any good. This doesn’t work.”
“Well, what do you want me to do? I didn’t attack him,” Tom said defensively. He was already taking the heat where he was for not authorizing more security earlier. He sure didn’t need it from across the ocean as well.
“I want you to read him the reviews…from England.”
“Do I have to? It’s kind of like kicking him when he’s down.”
“No better time,” said Rafe. “Read him the reviews privately, convince him to use the finger as an excuse and everybody’s happy.” Rafe didn’t really care if everybody was happy, but apparently it mattered to other people, and he was willing to throw them a bone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Accepting a bone from Rafe Ariando was so far down Nick’s to-do list that it was almost non-existent.
“Read it!” he yelled at Tom.
They were backstage in Hamburg, getting ready to do their third sold-out show. Then they were moving on to Zurich. No one was really sure why. The Swiss city was associated with staid banking. If they were going to Switzerland at all, they figured Geneva would be the place.
But apparently, all those wealthy bankers in Zurich had kids – teenagers trying to measure up to their parents and beginning to hate those parents because they couldn’t. The show had sold out in hours.
Nick had given up the guitar due to his injured finger. Against Nick’s wishes, Tom had it bandaged up for the first show. He even wanted Nick to wear a sling on stage, but Nick had drawn the line at that. He said in his interviews that he was fine, just a little too much fan love, that was all.
In each of the interviews, the reporter had said, “So that’s why you’ve given up the guitar?” Nick replied ingenuously by holding up his hand and showing the bruised and swollen finger, but there was something in the way that they asked the question that bothered him.
He mentioned it to Tom on the way back from one of the interviews. Tom had disobeyed Rafe’s orders because he didn’t think Rafe was doing the right thing. He hadn’t shown Nick the English reviews. Rafe wasn’t here, on the scene. It was easy to give orders from a desk in L.A. when you didn’t have to see the results. And besides, Tom didn’t have the courage.
But then Nick asked.
“Read it,” he screamed again.
They were in the band dressing room. Nick had all the band members there. And no one else. Toby and Jeff waited outside the door.
So Tom read the review from the London Daily Express. It was a glowing description of the concert until the last paragraph.
“…the only flaw in an otherwise perfect performance is Carter’s insistence that he can play the guitar. He can’t. At least, he can’t play and sing at the same time. And with a voice like his, this reporter knows which one he should be doing. Put down the guitar, Nick, and pick up the microphone.”
There was silence.
“Now the other one,” said Nick.
“Look, Nick, I think they got the idea…” Tom was sweating profusely.
“I said, read it!!” Nick yelled.
Tom sighed and turned to another sheet of paper. “…um…okay…here it is…this one’s from Liverpool…the Daily Post…’Carter’s determination to be a rock musician is the only fly in the ointment here. It was bad enough on his last tour, when he was playing at being a garage band and his back up musicians were his buddies from Tampa, but it is totally out of place here when he is standing between such world-class guitarists as Rashad Williams and Melody Jones. Someone around him needs to get up the courage to tell him so.’”
They all looked at the floor. There was a long silence. Finally, Nick took the pages from Tom. He walked over and stood in front of Melody.
“Someone did get up the courage to tell me,” he said quietly. “I just didn’t listen.”
Melody looked up at him. She wished there was something she could do or say to soothe those pain-filled eyes.
Nick shook the pages at her. “Happy now?” he whispered and walked out of the room.
They sat silent for another few seconds and then heaved a collective sigh. Okay, so what now? They looked at each other and at Tom.
“It’s for the best, don’t you think?” he said. “I know Mel wasn’t the only one who thought it. Now was she?”
Rashad, Blaine and Chris looked at each other, and then they all shook their heads slowly.
“No,” said Tofu. “We all did. She just had the balls to say so.” He flashed a grin at her. “So to speak.”
Everyone laughed weakly.
Melody stood up. “I’ll be back,” she said, with a sigh. She went out into the hall. Jeff and Toby were standing outside Nick’s dressing room. “Is he in there?” she asked.
Jeff nodded. “He doesn’t want company.”
“Open the door,” said Melody.
Toby held up the pages. “Haven’t you done enough?” he asked.
Melody ignored him. “Open the door, Jeff,” she insisted.
Jeff opened the door, and Melody stepped inside. She looked around. The place was a mess. Three days in the same place made for a lot of clutter. She could guess what Toby would be doing during the performance.
Nick stepped out of the bathroom. “What do you want?”
Melody shrugged. “Just wondered if it was my turn.”
“Your turn for what?”
“In Amsterdam, when I was upset. You…hugged me. You said I owed you one. I’m here to pay it back.”
“Yeah, well, thanks but no thanks. I don’t need a hug. I’m fine. You can go.” Nick turned his back on her.
“Okay,” said Melody softly. “Just checking. Just didn’t want anything to get in the way of the music.” She left the room quietly.
When they went out on stage for the final sound check, Melody found her amp moved back. Scott came up to her. He was holding a headset mike. “Nick says to put this on you tonight.”
“Okay,” said Melody.
Usually, she had a mike stand near her amp. When she did her vocals, she wandered over to sing into the mike and then wandered back when she was just playing the guitar. During Alias Me, she moved to the front of the stage and shared Nick’s mike.
In case she hadn’t gotten the message, Nick drove it home during the song. He turned his back on her and walked to the other side of the stage when he sang ‘alias me’. Tofu, Blaine and Rashad exchanged glances. Melody looked down at her guitar. She played and sang, but she wasn’t totally into it.
And when Nick made the introductions at the end, he called her “that world-class guitarist, Melody Jones”, in a voice dripping with sarcasm. Melody’s only response was to dip her head slightly to the audience. Her eyes never left Nick’s. The three male musicians sighed. This could be a long tour.
Chapter 27 by old_archive
Nick’s anger lasted through the stay in Zurich. Mel didn’t go out sightseeing. She just stayed in her hotel room. Whenever one of the others walked by the door, he could hear the faint sound of her guitar. Blaine finally took matters into his own hands. He knocked on the door of Nick’s suite.
Toby opened the door. “Yes?”
Like a flipping butler, thought Blaine. Like I should be presenting a calling card. “I’d like to talk to Nick.” He half expected Toby to say, who shall I say is calling? “Alone,” added Blaine.
Toby opened his mouth…to protest, to invite him in…Blaine wasn’t sure, but Toby never got a chance to say anything.
“C’mon in, Blaine. Want a beer? Thanks, Toby. I guess we’re done here.”
Toby accepted his dismissal gracefully and closed the door behind him. Nick got two beers out of the fridge and opened them. “What’s up?” he asked, handing the frosty bottle over to Blaine.
Blaine turned the desk chair backwards and straddled it. “Get off Mel’s back,” he said. “It’s not her fault.”
“I’m not…” Nick began hotly, but Blaine cut him off.
“Look, just let me say this, and then you can do what you gotta do. Okay?”
Nick nodded, but he narrowed his eyes. He took a swig from the beer bottle and then leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.
Blaine took a deep breath. He had volunteered to do this. Tofu had suggested that they draw straws, but Blaine had said, no, I’m his friend, I’ll do it.
“You’re mad at the wrong person. You want to be mad, go ahead and be mad. But pick the right target. And Mel isn’t it. She’s the only person you shouldn’t be mad at. Because she told you the truth. She was honest and up front with you. The rest of us thought the same way she did, we just didn’t have the guts to say anything to you. You want to be mad? Be mad at us. Or be mad at Rafe or Tom or whoever the hell you want. But not Mel. Stop being mean to her. You owe her an apology.”
Blaine stopped, wondering if he’d gone too far. He tipped the beer up to his mouth and took a long pull.
Nick slowly uncrossed his arms. He took another drink from his beer. He stared at Blaine. Then he broke into a grin. “Well, I haven’t had a Kevin moment in a long time. Thank you for that.”
Blaine was relieved. Maybe he would get out of this room and still have both his life and his job.
“You forgot to say ‘grow up’, but other than that you pretty much nailed the standard Big-Brother-to-Nick speech.”
“Aw, Nick, I just…”
“No, it’s okay, Blaine. You’re right. Of course, you’re right.” Nick stepped away from the wall and dropped into an armchair, spreading his long legs out in front of him. He gave a deep sigh. “You’re the one I should be mad at. You’re right. So, you’re fired. Get the hell out.”
“Screw you,” said Blaine. “I got a contract.”
The two men laughed. They drank their beer in silence for awhile.
“Was I really that bad?” asked Nick, finally.
“No, you just need to play a whole song…put on the guitar, play a whole song…take it off…so it doesn’t just look like a prop.”
“I meant, was my treatment of Mel really that bad?”
Oh shit! Blaine looked at him wide-eyed. Nick burst out laughing. “But I guess you answered my other question first.” He sobered. “I’ll find a way to apologize to Mel. Although I’m not too good at that.”
“Well, maybe you don’t have to actually say anything, just stop treating her like she’s invisible.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that. Man, I’m not sure I like all this honesty shit. I’m a very flawed person.”
Blaine laughed. “We all are, Nick. Well, thanks for the beer.” He stood up. “And Nick?”
“Yes,” said Nick, slowly. He wasn’t sure how much more honesty he could take.
“She is a world-class guitarist…and I bet she’d make a hell of a teacher.” Blaine closed the door behind him, not waiting for Nick’s reaction.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day, they were in Lyon. At rehearsal, the first thing Mel noticed was that her mike stand was back.
Okay… They played a few songs, were really getting into it, Nick was joking around with Blaine and Tofu.
Okay, maybe he was getting over his snit, thought Melody. They started Alias Me and after a few bars, everyone stopped. Melody look around. What? They were all looking at her. What?
“What are you doing, Mel?” asked Nick. “You know you’re supposed to be out here for this song.”
She stared at him.
Nick gave her a sheepish smile. “Please.”
The sigh of relief went through the whole crew.
That night during the introductions, Nick saved her for last. Usually, he mentioned her first. “And last, but not least,” he said, “a truly world-class guitarist and a good and honest friend as well, Ms. Melody Jones.”
Then he bowed to her, sweeping his arm out to the side in a courtly gesture. Melody bowed her head to him in acceptance of his apology. Nick's eyes held hers for a moment, and then he turned back to the crowd.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I don’t think you’re going to like this,” said Gus.
“What?” said Toby.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Gus came on tour, he brought his laptop computer with him. It was state-of-the-art. Toby wondered more than once how Gus could afford such an expensive piece of equipment. Toby could use a computer, but he wasn’t into it. He liked to write things by hand and have the hard copy in front of him. No searching through cyberspace for the correct file for him. He wanted it in its appropriately-colored folder sitting right in front of him.
Gus showed him the wonders of the Internet. And it wasn’t long before that became part of their morning routine. Gus and Toby shared a room. They took turns in the shower in the morning. Gus went first and by the time he got out, Toby would have a list by the computer of the things he wanted Gus to look up today.
At first, it was just information on the cities they were in. Airline flight schedules. Were there any cancellations? Anything that would gum up Toby’s carefully structured timetable. But after the English review fiasco, Gus had given him an important piece of information…that most newspapers were online and they could get the concert reviews, even though they had moved on to another city or country. So that was added to the list.
The reviews were all good now, and Toby had bought a printer so that Gus could print them off. Toby kept them in a special folder that he was going to give to Nick at the end of the tour. Nick wasn’t interested in hearing any of them now. Toby had tried a couple of times, “Wow! The Berlin critics were really blown away!” But Nick just held up his hand and said he didn’t want to know.
To complete the collection, Toby had Gus go back and get the reviews from the earlier concerts. And that’s when they made the discovery. The only two bad reviews were from England. The first few had barely mentioned the guitar. And now that they read them over, the English reviews had been glowing…except for the scathing bits at the end.
“I can’t believe how the guy could go from one end to the other like that,” said Toby.
“Almost like it was written by two different people,” mused Gus.
Toby looked at him, perplexed. “What do you mean?”
Gus pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Read the first bit to me…from the Liverpool one…”
Toby picked up the printout. “’Liverpudlians were treated to a stunner of a performance last night at the Royal Court Theatre. A blond bloke from America stole the heart of every girl in the place by batting his baby-blue bulbs at them and singing his guts out! Scousers, beware! If you’re missing your girlfriend this morning, look in the vicinity of one Nick Carter…’ So?”
“Now read the part where he nails Nick…” Gus waved off Toby’s protest at his phrasing. “Go on…just read it.”
“Um…let’s see…’It was bad enough on his last tour when he was playing at being a garage band and his back up musicians were his buddies from Tampa, but it is totally out of place…’”
“Hah!” Gus stopped him in mid-sentence.
Toby looked up. What?
“…garage band…buddies…”
“So?”
”Don’t you see, Toby? Those are Americanisms. The British don’t use those terms. And look at the beginning of the article…bloke…scousers…stunner. Someone added that last bit in. An American.”
“No way,” said Toby, wondering if it was possible. “Who would do such a thing?”
“Someone who didn’t want Nick to play the guitar. Of course, that doesn’t really narrow down the list of suspects, does it?” laughed Gus.
Toby opened his mouth to defend Nick, but Gus waved it away. “Want more proof?”
Toby’s mouth dropped open. There was more?
“Read the sentence again. The bad part…”
Toby picked up the paper. “It was bad enough on his last tour when he…”
”And there you go,” said Gus, triumphantly.
“What?”
“’On his last tour…’ Tell me, Toby, did Nick come to England on his last tour?”
The two men stared at each other.
“Who could do such a thing?” wondered Toby, although he had a good idea.
“Who knows?” said Gus, although he had a very good idea. This had Cousin Rafe’s fingerprints all over it.
“We don’t say a word to anyone,” said Toby. “Not one word.”
“Deal,” said Gus, holding out his hand for Toby to shake. “We are way too far down the food chain to get involved in this.
Both men filed it in the back of their head. This might be a handy piece of information to have later.
“You have a devious mind,” said Toby. “Were you a spy in your past life?”
“I’ve had a bit of a checkered past,” admitted Gus. “But really, I think it just runs in the family.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I don’t think you’re going to like this,” said Gus.
“What?” said Toby. He looked over to where Gus was sitting at the computer in just his boxers. Toby wished he wouldn’t do that – parade around half-naked.
“I’ve checked a couple of message boards.”
Message boards were a wonder to Toby. He could not believe how information could move so fast. Gus had explained how they worked, and he said he was keeping an eye on a couple of American ones, fan sites for Nick. Gus had originally checked it out when Toby had wondered how the single was selling. Gus had shown him in an instant. It was a whole new world to Toby, but he was a fast learner and knew exactly how he could use the information.
Toby enjoyed being able to say to Nick, “Here’s your interview schedule for today; here’s clean workout clothes; the car will pick you up at two; you were number one on TRL again.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What’s up?”
”Mel is.”
“What do you mean? What now?”
The release of the video had prompted the European girls who had seen a concert to wonder if the girl in the video was the same as the girl who played the guitar. It was all over the American boards within a day. Grainy concert shots of Mel had been compared to captures from the video.
The verdict? They were not the same person. The girl in the video was younger, although there had been hot debate about how much younger. But wasn’t it interesting that Nick had chosen a girl who looked so much like her? Because remember, in the interview he gave in Munich, he said that he had a lot of control over this video.
Toby shook his head in amazement. These girls were scary. “What’s going on?”
“The bow.”
Gus swept his hand out to the side. Toby had been backstage packing up at the time of the bow, but had it described to him numerous times by delighted crew members who were glad that they were one big, happy family again.
“What about it?”
“It’s got them all going again. They’re talking about them singing together. Looking into each other’s eyes. And now the bow.”
“They’re trying to make something up that isn’t there, that’s all!”
”Sure they are,” said Gus. “They’re teenage girls. They’re living their lives vicariously through their music idols. They want excitement and scandal.”
“Where’s the scandal?” asked Toby.
Gus turned the computer. Toby looked down at the screen. What about Tamara? it said.
Chapter 28 by old_archive
Blissfully unaware that her name was becoming a household word in the Nick Carter Internet Neighborhood, Melody prowled the streets of Lyon. One more concert here and then it was off to…she wasn’t sure where. Barcelona, she thought. And then somewhere else. And then home. She sat at an outdoor café and enjoyed a cup of coffee. She did a crossword puzzle and thought about being on tour.
She liked it…well, except for the bit where the big star hated her and she was trapped with him in a foreign country. But other than that, it was fun. She was getting to see lots of cities she’d only read about. She was going to come back here some day, she knew that for sure.
Melody thought she’d like to learn a little French first, though. She had found all the other countries very inviting to someone who only spoke English, but the French seemed a little… superior was a good word, she guessed. They took pity on her when she pulled out her little phrase book. After a word or two from her, they switched to English. They probably didn’t want to hear her butchering their language, and that was understandable. But they had an attitude about it.
Melody furrowed her brow. Speaking of attitude, what the hell was up with Toby Gray? Man, he thought he owned Nick. He was always hovering around him…like a gnat, thought Mel. Buzzing in his ear, trying to anticipate his every wish, handing him stuff before he thought to ask for it. Melody guessed that’s what a personal assistant did, and Nick seemed to take it all in stride, but it made Melody want to swat Toby like a fly.
Okay, maybe it’s my attitude, she thought. She knew that Toby had rubbed her the wrong way from the first interview. She had tried a couple of times to be nice, at least she thought she had. Sometimes, Toby seemed to be coming around. And sometimes he wasn’t.
This morning, he had been downright frosty. She had knocked on their door to get some tourist information from Gus that he had promised her. Gus had handed it over and then done a sweeping bow. Mel had laughed. It was a gross over-exaggeration of what Nick had done the night before. Over Gus’ back, she could see Toby glaring at her.
Melody gathered up her things and signaled for the check. She figured out the money and mumbled ‘Merci’. Thank goodness for the Eurodollar, she thought. She couldn’t imagine having to learn a new currency every two days! She carefully pocketed the receipt. She liked to pay for things herself, but Nick insisted that the cost of any food or drink they bought be reimbursed to them. You bought souvenirs or gifts, you paid for them yourself. But snacks, meals, sundries…all that got billed to the tour.
Melody chuckled to herself as she walked. Toby could wait until hell froze over before he was getting any receipts from her for ‘sundries’.
Back in her room, Melody had a shower and got her bags mostly packed up. They were coming back here after the show and then flying out early tomorrow morning for Barcelona. She wanted to have as much done as possible before they left for the venue. She looked at her watch. There were still a few minutes left. She picked up her guitar and played a few of the songs. She smiled to herself. Nick loved to rock, but when she played his songs at a slower, softer pace, they were just plain beautiful music.
Suddenly, Melody heard the pounding of feet outside her room. People were running up the hall. Screaming. Hammering on doors. What was that? Melody didn’t hear any fire alarms. She sniffed the air. She didn’t smell smoke. And the screaming didn’t sound panicky. It sounded excited. She put her ear against the door and listened. She jumped back as someone pounded on her door. She was just reaching to unlock it when she heard a female voice say, “Nick!” Melody’s hand froze on the handle.
Fans! Had to be! Looking for Nick. Crap! They’d found the hotel.
This was the big worry, Melody knew. They said it over and over…what do we do if they find the hotel? Melody hadn’t thought too much about it. It hadn’t happened so far.
So far.
Melody pressed her ear against the door. Now, she heard male voices…speaking French. Hotel security, maybe. High pitched laughter and more squealing…and then silence.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at her door. Melody tiptoed over and listened.
“Mel?” said a familiar voice.
“Gus!” Melody threw open the door. “What happened?”
“Girls,” he replied, “They were looking for Nick. Come on.”
“Wait until I get my bag!” Melody turned back into the room.
“Come on!” urged Gus.
Melody grabbed her bag and her guitar and went past him out into the hall. He closed the door and took the guitar from her. He signaled with his head. Follow me. They went to a stairwell. Gus put a finger to his lips and then eased the door open. He listened for a moment and then beckoned her forward. They tiptoed down the stairs together, stopping at every landing to listen. Melody suppressed a giggle. It was all too James Bond for her.
They went past the main floor and continued downward. At the bottom of the stairwell was a door that was locked. Gus gave two sharp raps and then three more. The door opened immediately to reveal Toby on the other side.
“Got her!” said Gus, triumphantly.
“Okay, that’s it. The others are waiting. Let’s move out.” Toby glared at Melody. “And get your hat on!”
Melody looked around her as Toby hustled them along. They were in the hotel kitchen. Melody smiled and waved at the workers as she went by. This was quite the adventure.
Out the back door of the kitchen, past a delivery truck and there it was. A van, a mini-bus…it looked like an airport shuttle to Melody. She climbed aboard and looked around.
“Hurry up,” hissed Toby.
Melody moved quickly to an empty seat. Toby and Gus climbed aboard, and Toby said to the driver, “Okay, go, go!”
The bus pulled out into traffic. Melody looked around. Rashad. Blaine. Tofu. The crew stayed at a different hotel, and Nick was at an interview. Melody looked out the window but didn’t see any hordes of screaming girls.
Toby moved from one side of the bus to the other, looking out the window, scanning the sidewalks. It was just too over the top, and Melody had to put her hand over her mouth to hide the smile.
Toby noticed the movement, and he wheeled on her. “This is all your fault,” he hissed, pointing at her.
“What is?” asked Mel.
“They’ve found the hotel.”
“How is that my fault?” she demanded. Or is every little thing that happens going to be blamed on Mel? she wondered.
“They followed you back to the hotel.” Toby’s tone was scathing.
“How do you know that?” Mel was losing patience. So far they had done a lot of skulking and sneaking about, and she hadn’t seen one fan. This whole thing seemed like a power trip on Toby’s part.
“I’ll deal with you later,” sneered the personal assistant. “We’re there.”
The van pulled into the underground parking garage of the venue. Mel was half out of her seat to kill the little prick, when she felt a hand on her arm. She looked around. It was Blaine. He shook his head.
“Not now,” he mouthed.
Mel was shaking with anger so much that she could barely make it off the bus. Rashad put a hand on her elbow to steady her.
Toby quickstepped them all along a corridor and into the backstage area. He walked up to Jeff and Tom and said, “All clear.” Melody thought he was going to salute. She didn’t see Nick. Then Toby jerked a thumb over his shoulder at her and said, “It was her.”
That was it for Mel. “What was her? Why am I getting all the blame? And what the hell for, anyway?”
Toby wheeled on her. “They followed you to the hotel. Did you take a direct route?”
“Do you mean did I change cabs three times and adopt a disguise? No, I didn’t. I wandered along by the river; I bought some postcards, I changed a travelers cheque and I had a cup of coffee. And I wore my friggin’ hat while I was doing it.” Melody’s voice rose with each sentence, and by the end, she was yelling.
“Calm d…” That was as far as Blaine got. The look Mel gave him silenced him and made him back up a step.
She glanced over at Tofu. You want some? Tofu just grinned at her. He hoped she killed the little Gestapo freak.
“Even with the hat, you are very…distinctive,” said Toby slowly, as if he were talking to a six-year old.
“And I’m the only one?!!” said Melody, waving her arm in Rashad’s direction.
“Rashad didn’t leave the hotel,” said Toby triumphantly. He paused, “And he’s not the one that’s all over the Internet.”
Now Melody was really confused. “All over the…what?”
“Educate her,” said Toby to Gus, and he went over to Jeff and Tom.
They stood apart, conferring in low voices, while Gus brought Melody up to date – how they were all talking about how the girl in the video looked like her and there were a lot of pictures of her out there now…and how she played her guitar in the room..and you could sometimes hear it in the hall…and if the girls had followed her…
Melody’s head was spinning. The Internet? What the…? And following her? And her guitar? And who cared anyway? They were leaving the country tomorrow morning.
“So this is the way it is,” said Toby. “Henceforth, you will not leave the hotel unless you are accompanied by either Gus or myself. You will follow our directions. You will not play your guitar in the hotel room any more. If you do, it will be confiscated.”
That was the trouble with the Gestapo, thought Tofu. They never knew when to quit.
“Listen to me, you…you…” Melody couldn’t think of anything bad enough to call Toby. She advanced toward him. “I don’t work for you, and I don’t obey your orders. I will do what I please, when I please, and the only person who will tell me differently is Nick. And if you think you will ever…EVER! get my guitar away from me, then you have another think coming.” Mel grabbed the cap from her head. “And you can take this hat, and you can…”
She stopped as she felt strong arms wrap around her from behind and lift her off her feet. “That’s enough, Mel,” a voice said into her ear.
“Put me down,” demanded Mel, struggling to free herself. She looked down and saw the bruised finger. “Nick,” she said, and she stopped struggling.
Nick set her on her feet. “Come with me,” he said, and put his hand in the small of her back, guiding her away.
Mel glanced over her shoulder to where Toby stood, smirking at her. She went to turn back – the man really needed killing, she thought – but the pressure of Nick’s hand propelled her forward. He moved her along a hall and into a room.
“Now, breathe,” Nick said, stepping away from her.
“If he ever…no one…I won’t…”
“I said, ‘Breathe!’” He spoke sharply, trying to break through to her.
“Sorry.” Mel stopped and held her hands up in front of her. “Sorry.” Tears filled her eyes. “No one touches my guitar.”
Nick softened his voice. “I know, I know. He won’t.” Then he laughed. “But if I let you beat the crap out of him, then who’s going to bring me my bottles of water?”
Melody gave a tremulous smile. “I didn’t mean to…I didn’t know…” Melody wasn’t even sure what she was apologizing for.
“It’s okay.” Nick shook his head. “It happens. It’s no big deal.”
Melody looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. It was a pretty big deal to someone. She picked up his hand and lightly stroked his bruised finger. “Yeah, but what if…?”
“What if…nothing. It’s nothing.” Nick took his hand back and turned away. A moment later, he turned back. “Listen, Mel. I’m sorry…about the whole Internet thing. I guess I’m just used to it. I can’t change my socks without it being big news somewhere.”
“Maybe you should change them more often then,” replied Melody, with a smile. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so newsworthy.”
Nick grinned at her.
Melody had to look away. He was too beautiful. She took a breath and then looked back. “I’ll behave,” she promised. “I just…I’ve never…”
”Stop it,” said Nick. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Who knows if they followed you? Who cares? So they found the hotel. We’re leaving in the morning anyway. And Mel, listen to me good now, you can do whatever you like on your days off. Your free time is yours. No one can tell you what to do. Although I did kind of like that whole ‘I’ll only take orders from Nick’ part.”
“When do you get a day off?” asked Melody.
“What?”
“I feel selfish,” she said. “Here I am, screaming about my free time, and you don’t even get any. When you’re not rehearsing, performing or traveling, you’re doing interviews and promotions. When do you get a day off?”
Nick shrugged. “I’ll get some time when we go back home. Before we start again. I’ll go out on my boat. I’ll be okay.” He was touched by her concern. “Now, come here.” He opened his arms. Mel stepped into them. Nick hugged her and rubbed her back. He whispered in her ear. “And no one will ever touch your guitar. I promise. No one will ever get between you and the music.”
Melody returned the hug and whispered, “Thank you.”
Nick stepped away from her and grinned. “Now you owe me two!”
Melody grinned back at him. “Any time, Boss!”
Nick sighed. “Well, now I have to go rip Toby a new one.”
Melody shook her head. “No, don’t.”
“Are you sure? ‘Cause he was totally out of line.”
“It’s okay,” said Mel. “Let him have his little victory, or whatever the hell he thinks it is. As long as you and I are on the same page…” She shrugged.
“Okay, that’s cool. As long as he doesn’t do it again.” Nick sighed. “Well, I guess we’d better get to work.”
Melody turned for the door.
Nick’s voice stopped her. “Hey, Mel!”
She turned back. “Yeah?”
“Call me ‘Boss’ again.”
Nick’s boyish grin melted some of her circuits. Mel couldn’t speak, so she just stuck her tongue out at him and left the room.
Chapter 29 by old_archive
“So it all blew over?”
“Yeah, Rafe. I don’t know what Nick said to her, but he didn’t seem mad, and neither did she. It all seemed to work out okay. And the hotel laid on extra security, so no girls got through the door. There was a small crowd outside, but they left when they realized they weren’t getting anywhere.”
“Does he still think she’s gay?”
Tom rolled his eyes. He knew who was going to lose his head when that particular excrement hit the fan. “Yes, I think so.”
Tom wasn’t sure about that. Nick had stopped making the stupid comments, but Tom wasn’t sure if Nick had figured out that it wasn’t true, or if he’d just gotten comfortable with the idea, gotten politically correct all of a sudden. But Rafe didn’t need to know any of that.
“Okay, good. Everyone’s getting along, that’s good.”
Tom laughed. “Well, Tofu has a tendency to say ‘henceforth’ every time Toby comes anywhere near him, but other than that, everything is cool.”
“Now what about this Internet crap?”
“Well, you’d know more about that than me. I’m not near a computer. Gus and Toby do that. It’s like we figured. The girl in the video looks like Mel. You think the fans weren’t going to figure that out? And when they sing Alias Me…”
“Yeah,” said Rafe. He quoted from one of the message boards. “’They look like they’re swimming in each other’s eyes.’ What the hell is that all about?”
“It’s just the music,” said Tom, for the hundredth time. He could never explain it to Rafe. Rafe didn’t get the music part.
“Well, anyway, you’re in Barcelona now. And then on to Rome.”
“Yes. We just got in from the airport. There are no interviews scheduled until late this afternoon, after the sound check, then the performance…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Gus, I need your help.”
“Yeah, Mel. What can I do for you?”
“I need someone who speaks Spanish. Can you spare me a couple of hours?”
”Sure Mel. That’s what I’m here for.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “And Toby will be so pleased!”
Melody opened her mouth to say to suggest what Toby could do with himself but thought better of it. “Yes, I’m sure he will,” was all she said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hey, Tofu!”
“Yeah, Nick. What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you had some time this morning. I’ve got an errand to do, and I need someone that speaks Spanish.”
“Cool!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hello?”
“Can you talk now?”
“Yeah, hi Rafe!”
“So, what’s up? Anything I should know about?”
“Well, let’s see. Barcelona was good. Good crowd. It really rocked.”
“I don’t pay you to give concert reviews. Get to the rest of it. Is everyone getting along? Is there anything I need to know?”
“Well…”
Rafe listened for a few minutes to his undercover man, his ace-in-the-hole, his secret agent. Nothing much new. Everyone was getting along, it seemed. Nick was starting to look a little worn out. Oh yeah, and…
“She WHAT!!!???”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You WHAT!!!???”
“Settle down, Mart. It was long overdue. I was getting a little old for the punk Goth look anyway, don’t you think?”
”Yeah, but to dye your hair…and in a foreign country?!”
“They have competent hairdressers in Spain, you know! And Gus was there to help me explain what I wanted.”
“So what did you get?”
Melody looked in the hotel mirror. She still didn’t recognize the person who looked back at her. Who was this person with, she smiled to herself, caramel hair?
“Car-a-mel,” said Mel, in a Spanish accent, separating the syllables into three separate words and putting the stress on the third one. “Car-a-MEL!” she sang.
“Cara…what?”
“Caramel,” Mel repeated. “It was actually kind of funny. Gus was telling the hairdresser what I wanted, and the guy was showing me color samples…holding the bits of hair up to my face… I picked one and Orlando…that’s the hairdresser…gayer than gay…he was so light on his feet, I thought he’d float away…anyway, he says, ‘caramel’. Gus says to me, ‘is that okay, Mel?’, and Orlando says, ‘caramel’, and Gus says, ‘okay, Mel?’ I nearly peed myself laughing.”
Mart laughed. “And doesn’t ‘cara’ mean sweet or something like that in Spanish?”
“Yes, it means ‘dear’. Gus did this whole thing on my name and how it must be the perfect color…ordained…blah, blah, blah…”
“So caramel…I’m picturing brown…with a hint of reddy-blond.”
“Yes, exactly! Darker than butterscotch. Lighter than chestnut. Oh, and I got highlights, too! Just three little blonde strips. You can hardly notice them.” Mel looked in the mirror and fluffed her hair with her fingers.
“What did Nick think?” asked Mart.
Good question, thought Mel. What did Nick think?
She and Gus had lunch out in a lovely little café after the big hair adventure. They had a great time discussing the tour, talking about the passers-by, sharing childhood stories...although Mel thought she had done a lot more sharing than Gus.
They went straight to the venue from the café. Gus checked in with Toby twice by phone but would only tell him that he and Mel were 'shopping'. No way was Toby stealing Gus' thunder on this one!
When they arrived at the hall, the Palau Sant Jordi, Mel got suddenly nervous. Gus took her hand and squeezed it. “Listen to me, Melody Jones. You look wonderful. You look different, that’s for damn sure, but you look wonderful. So don’t interpret looks of surprise as looks of…”
“Dismay? Horror?”
“Exactly, Cara-Mel. You look wonderful.” Gus kissed her on the forehead for luck and then pulled her into the stage area. “Look who’s here,” he called out. He put a hand in the small of her back and pushed her firmly forward.
Tofu was the first to notice her. “Omigod!”
Melody looked at them all. Blaine’s mouth hung open. Rashad cocked his head to one side and stared at her, trying to figure out who she was, she guessed. Scott and Nick looked up from where they were conferring at the soundboard. They simply stared. Toby stood frozen in the doorway, a bottle of water in each hand, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Jeff gaped at her from the front row of seats.
Tom’s eyes bugged out of his head. Rafe was going to shit!
“Hi, guys!” said Melody, weakly.
Tofu leapt off the stage and ran up to her. “I love it!” he yelled.
Mel’s forehead was covered with soft, feathery bangs. The top was smoother…no more spikes. “Turn,” Tofu commanded. Mel did. “Shake your head,” he said, and when she obeyed, the light bounced off the highlights and made her glow.
Slowly, the tableau dissolved. The men all shook their heads to clear them, telling their brain to rreconfigure their mental picture of Mel to this new look. Then they all made cooing sounds of approval. Looks great. Nice color. But she couldn’t really tell what they thought. Hell, she didn’t know what she thought about it yet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“He likes it,” said Mel.
“That’s good,” said Mart.
“Well, either that or he’s the most well-mannered kid on the planet.”
Melody told Mart more about the rehearsal. They started doing the sound checks and walking through it. They didn’t sing every song at every rehearsal. They did a little bit of this and a little bit of that when they were checking the mikes and equipment, just so they wouldn’t get bored. Then they would pick a song or two and run through them completely.
Nick always let the others choose the songs. He’d say, “Pick one, Rashad.” Or “What should we do, Blaine?” Everyone got a turn to pick. Even Scott and Toby. Even the stage crew. Nick would yell out a name. “Hey, Jake! What should we do?” And Jake would yell back a title. Today he asked Tom. And Tom said, “Alias Me.” Which surprised everyone because Tom never asked for that song.
Tom wasn’t the slightest bit interested in hearing the song. He heard it in his sleep, for God’s sake. What he wanted to see was the interaction between Nick and Mel. He wanted that out of the way before it was on a stage in front of twenty thousand girls, all making a report for the Internet press!
They sang the song. Tom thought the girl on the Internet was right. They were swimming in each other’s eyes. At the end of it, Nick didn’t turn away from Mel for his final ‘alias me’. He sang it right to her. Then he put his fingers up to her face and stroked her bangs lightly.
“I like it,” he whispered. “It’s pretty.”
Melody blushed and ducked her head. “Thanks, Boss,” she said, nervously tugging on her bottom lip with her teeth.
Nick turned away. “Okay, what’s next? Jake! Give us one!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“He said it looked pretty,” said Mel.
Mart closed her eyes and shook her head at the tone of her friend’s voice.
“And guess what?” Mel continued. “I’m not the only one who had a surprise today.”
“What? Don’t tell me. Nick’s gone for the jet black, spiky look.”
Melody laughed. “Oh, that would have been too funny! No, he got something else.”
When they finished the sound checks, Nick had some interviews scheduled. There were reporters there from three separate media outlets. Tom was trying to hurry him along, kept looking at his watch. But Nick had something he wanted to do first.
“Hey, Mel. Come here. I want to show you something. I went shopping today. I got myself a little something.”
“C’mon, Nick,” said Tom. “Show her later. They’re waiting.”
Nick ignored him. “It’s in my dressing room.” He cocked his head in that direction.
“I helped him,” said Tofu. “I speek dee Spaneesh for heem.”
Mel followed Nick off the stage and down the hall to his dressing room.
“Close your eyes,” said Nick. He took her by the hand and led her into the room. She heard him rustling around. “Okay, open them.”
“Oh, Nick!! It’s beautiful!!”
In his hands, Nick held a guitar, a beautiful six-string acoustic guitar, made out of a dark rosewood, with a very Spanish-looking rosette design etched into the neck by the tuning keys and also around the soundhole.
“Luthier?” she asked.
“Yes,” he nodded. “James Olson.”
Mel ran her hand over it lightly over the mahogany neck. “It’s beautiful,” she said.
They both knew what was the real beauty of a guitar.
“Play it,” Nick said.
Melody took the guitar from him, gently, as if he were handing her a baby. She ran her fingers down the strings, turned one of keys a fraction of an inch and then began plucking at the strings. She played a few bars – not even a song, just a warm up exercise that would tell her everything she needed to know about the guitar.
“Awesome,” she said, handing the guitar back to him.
“Teach me,” said Nick.
Chapter 30 by old_archive
“He wants you to teach him how to play the guitar?” asked Martha Jane.
“Yes,” said Melody. “Apparently, he thinks he could learn something from me.”
“But how? When? Where?”
These were all questions that had gone through Melody’s head as well, but she hadn’t voiced any of them to Nick. She had merely looked into those earnest blue eyes and nodded.
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll work it out. When we get back to the States. On the buses or something.”
“Or in hotel rooms?”
Melody missed Martha Jane’s skeptical tone. “Sure, whatever. I don’t think he’d want it to be a public thing. Not with everything that’s happened. Most people are afraid to say the word ‘guitar’ around him.”
Martha Jane said no more, but she was thinking that ‘guitar lessons’ might shortly become a euphemism for a much steamier pursuit. Mart didn’t think Mel realized it, but her voice changed whenever she talked about Nick. It got softer. And she mentioned his hands at least once in every conversation. Her voice changed when she talked about Toby too, but in a much different way.
“So how’s the Toby Monster?” asked Martha Jane.
“Grrrr,” growled Melody. “Talk about a control freak. I’m breaking seven kinds of rules right now, just by talking to you. I mean, hell, we’re at the airport, we’re safely in the departure lounge, the flight doesn’t start boarding for half an hour, and he’s glaring at me like I’m plotting to overthrow the government.” She paused, then added, “Okay, Mart, this is for his benefit only. Ready?” Melody threw back her head and gave a dramatic laugh. “NO! You don’t say? Really? On the Internet?”
“You’re an evil woman, Melody Jones,” laughed her friend. “Is he scurrying for the computer?”
“No, but I bet he’d like to! Poor Gus is going to be searching away, as soon as he gets plugged in at the hotel. Okay, one more time...” She shook her head and said loudly, “A picture of what??!! You’re kidding!!”
Mel laughed along with her friend and then told her she’d call her when she got home from Rome. She rang off and slipped her phone into her bag.
“You’re a bad girl,” said Tofu, dropping into the seat beside her.
“Why is that?” asked Mel innocently.
“Oh, don’t go all innocent with me,” he laughed. “I know you were just pulling Toby’s chain. Henceforth, I shall call you the Queen of Mean.”
“Well, good thing I can play the guitar then, if my acting is so bad.”
“Yep,” he responded. “Trust me, there is no Oscar in your future!”
“Well, he deserves it, sort of,” she pouted. “He’s always treating me like…I don’t know…like I’m doing something wrong.”
Tofu laughed. “He’s just jealous.”
Jealous? Huh? Melody raised her eyebrows.
Tofu leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “Because you have a better chance of getting into Nick’s pants than he does.”
Nick stood on the far side of the lounge and watched them. He didn’t know what Chris whispered into her ear, but Melody went beet red. She slapped her hand at him and said, “Don’t be silly.”
Then she reached into her bag and pulled out her crossword puzzles, turning in her chair slightly so that her back was to Tofu, who stood up and whispered something else to her and then moved away after kissing her forehead. Nick watched Mel staring at her puzzle book. She wasn’t filling in any of the squares.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Melody wasn’t the only one with a cell phone. Tom was huddled in the corner with his, one finger in his ear to block out all sound. When he talked to Rafe, he didn’t want to miss one word, one nuance.
“Okay, Tom, it sounds like everything is finishing up great. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
“Yeah, Rafe, that’s great. We’re all looking forward to getting home. Nick has worked really hard.”
“Yeah, well Nick’s got a couple of days to put in yet,” said Rafe, enigmatically.
“And…again…I’m sorry about the ‘hair’ thing. I had no idea she was going to do something like that.”
“Don’t worry about it, Tom. It’s just a couple of streaks. It’s not like she shaved her head.”
Tom said goodbye and disconnected. He sat for a long moment, looking very thoughtful. Now that was an interesting conversation! When he first told Rafe about Melody’s new look, Rafe expressed surprise, but he took it in stride. Almost too well, knowing Rafe.
Now Tom knew why. Because Rafe wasn’t surprised at all. He already knew. Because Tom never mentioned streaks. He only said that she had changed her hair color. Tom drummed his fingers on his leg and looked around the airport lounge. Someone else was reporting to Rafe. He wondered who it was. Yes, indeed, there was a spy among them. And Tom wondered what he…or she…was saying to Rafe about him.
He didn’t have any more time to think about it just then, as the flight was called.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Aw crap! Look at that!” Gus pointed out the window of the mini-bus.
They had just turned into the Piazza Barberini. Melody looked out the window. Clustered in front of a building that looked like an old palace – she guessed it was the hotel – was a crowd of girls – maybe fifty or so. They were being watched over by two amused carabinieri. A couple of the girls held signs – Ti amo, Nick! and Bacilo, Nick! Mel got Ti amo – I love you. Gus helped her with Bacilo – Kiss me!
“You can’t blame me for this one,” said Melody, throwing up her hands. “I didn’t even know what hotel we’d be at.”
Jeff talked to the driver, asking him if there was a way around to the back of the hotel. They were in a square with a fountain in the middle of it. The driver drove halfway around the fountain and then turned into a street, so narrow that the passengers wondered if the bus would fit down it. They all mentally drew in their elbows as the driver negotiated the cobble-stone road.
Suddenly, he turned into a lane, even smaller than the street. He stopped the car and pointed at a stone archway. “Benvenuto all'hotel Bernini Bristol,” he said. “Welcome!”
“Stay here,” ordered Jeff to the passengers. “Toby, make it fast!” Jeff ushered Toby off the bus and then stood in the doorway, his eyes sweeping up and down the lane.
“So what happens now?” asked Melody in a low voice. “Do we switch hotels?”
Tofu shrugged from the seat beside her.
“This is nothing,” said Nick. “You should see some of the crowds I’ve had to work my way through. The fellas and me, we had some interesting times. Howie once got his shirt ripped right off his back.”
”Yes, I know,” laughed Tofu. “Remember, I’ve seen the video. I know about Rio.”
He began to describe the scene to the others. Mel’s eyes got wider and wider. She stared at Nick, who grinned at her and shrugged.
Toby stepped back onto the bus. He held up a handful of room keys. “Okay, people. Grab your stuff and be ready. When we get in the elevator, don’t go directly to your floor – go one up or one down and then take the stairs. And check the hall first. If there are girls hanging around, don’t go to your room.”
Tofu snorted, but the rest of them sat politely. They had discovered that it was easier just to let Toby have his little speech than to interrupt it or ask questions. He’d toned it down somewhat since Mel had come within a hair of killing him in Lyon, but still he spelled out the instructions every time.
They clambered off the bus and scooted through the kitchen. It smelled heavenly, thought Mel.
At the elevator, Jeff took charge. “Okay, me, Nick, Mel and Toby in the first one. You guys get the second one, okay? I’ll be around to check on you all as soon as I have Nick safely behind a locked door.”
The elevator door slid open, and the four boarded it. Melody waggled her fingers at the guys as the doors rattled shut. There was a disconcerting bump, and then the car creaked upward. Toby held his finger on the ‘6’ button, as if by doing so, he could turn it into an express elevator. He couldn’t. The doors opened on the main floor.
Jeff had positioned Nick in the front corner of the elevator, but it did no good. The mirrored walls reflected his blond image, and the scream, “Nick!!” echoed through the lobby. A teenage girl tried to get on the elevator.
Jeff put his arms across the doorway and said, “No.”
The doors began to slowly close. The girl put her hand in the gap, and when the edge of the door hit it, the fail-safe mechanism kicked in, and with a clang, the door clattered back open. This time, four girls scrambed to get aboard. Jeff formed his body into an ‘X’, trying to cover as much of the doorway as he could. Three more times, the doors started to close, and three more times, the girls succeeded in stopping them.
“Okay, help me, Toby,” said Jeff. “We have to push them back. We’ll get off.” He looked over his shoulder. “Both of you go to Mel’s room,” he said. “I’ll meet you there in a minute.”
“Right,” said Nick.
Toby and Jeff linked arms and stepped off the elevator. They pushed the perimeter back far enough that the girls could no longer reach the gap, and slowly the doors rattled shut. Nothing happened for a moment, and then with a lurch, the elevator started upward. Melody was halfway through a sigh of relief when, with another thud, the car ground to a halt.
Nick and Melody looked at each other. What the hell…? They glanced up at the lighted numbers above the door. The ‘2’ was lit up. Then with a wheeze, the fan motor stopped running.
“Are we stuck?” whispered Melody.
“I think so,” said Nick. “We don’t seem to be moving.”
They edged closer together. They peered at the control panel. Along with the floor numbers, there were some buttons with letters on them and one with a pictograph of a bell. They looked at each other. Nick reached his finger out, but hesitated.
“Should I?” he asked.
Mel shrugged. “Jeez, I don’t know, Nick. I guess so.”
Nick reached to the button again. They looked at each other, grimacing, preparing for the worst. Nick pushed the button. A ringing sound filled the elevator. They laughed nervously. Nick removed his finger, and the ringing stopped.
“What now?” he said.
“Got me!” answered Melody. “I’ve never been stuck in an elevator before.”
Nick pushed the button again. When he stopped, they both listened. Nothing!
Then the lights went out.
Poof! They were standing in darkness. It was pitch black. Involuntarily, they stepped toward each other. Nick slipped his arm round Melody.
“You okay?” he whispered.
Melody nodded and then realized that was a silly thing to do. “Yes, I’m fine,” she whispered back, and then, “Why are we whispering?”
Nick laughed. But still he whispered. “I don’t know.”
They stood together, silent, straining their ears to hear any sound, any indication that the outside world knew of their predicament.
Suddenly, they faintly heard Jeff’s voice calling, “Nick! Mel!”
“Jeff!” shouted Nick, startling Melody. She jumped.
“Sorry,” said Nick quietly, tightening his arm around her. Then he let her go and said, “Cover your ears.”
Melody huddled in the corner with her hands over her ears while Nick and Jeff shouted back and forth. The elevator was old and in need of repair, they discovered. Workmen were on their way. Just sit tight!
Yeah, right! thought Melody. Like we have a choice!
Nick sighed in the darkness. “Mel?”
“Yeah?”
“Uncover your ears. I’m done shouting.”
“Okay, but warn me if you’re going to start up again.” Melody tried to put humor into her voice since Nick couldn’t see her face.
“I guess we just wait,” said Nick. “We’re not in any danger. We’re only just above the first floor. Even if the whole thing fell, we wouldn’t be killed or anything.”
“And this comforting thought was brought to you by Nicholas Gene Carter, rising young rock star and elevator maintenance man.”
The two of them laughed together, but it was nervous and forced.
“Well, let’s look on the bright side,” she continued, “although that’s a little hard to do here in the pitch dark. At least, Jeff got what he wanted.”
“What’s that?” asked Nick.
“He got you on the other side of a locked door.”
They laughed again, and this time it was a little less forced. It’s just another adventure, said Mel to herself. All part of the great touring experience.
Chapter 31 by old_archive
They stood in the dark for a couple more minutes, their ears straining to hear any sounds There were none.
Melody sighed. “Well, if all we can do is sit it out, then that’s what I’m going to do…sit.”
“Good idea,” said Nick. “Where are you? Put out your hands.”
They groped together through the dark until their hands found each other. They sank to the floor side-by-side against the back wall of the elevator. They let go of each other’s hand, but Melody rested her leg against Nick’s, needing the contact. He needed it too and didn’t move away.
“I wish I had my guitar,” said Melody.
“This would be a great opportunity for a lesson,” said Nick, “except for the total darkness thing we’ve got going on here.”
For the next twenty minutes, they talked about music. Melody reassured Nick that he knew how to play the guitar already, he just needed some practice and polish. They talked about artists and groups they liked and their musical influences.
Melody shifted uncomfortably. “Okay, my bony butt isn’t enjoying this. And you know what…I don’t know why I’m sitting on this hard floor when I’ve got a nice comfy chair right next to me here.”
“What do you mean?” asked Nick.
“Spread your legs,” said Melody.
Nick complied and Melody felt her way carefully until she was sitting sideways between them. She put her legs over his right one and told him to bend his left one. This gave her a back rest.
“There! Much better!” she said. “Let me know when your leg gets tired, and I’ll switch around.”
“When do I get my turn?” asked Nick.
“Oh, just take one for the team,” laughed Melody. “Besides, I don’t think I’d be all that comfortable.”
“Yeah, you don’t have all this padding that I do,” he said. Melody could feel his hand move down to pat his mid-section.
They spent the next fifteen minutes talking about exercise and working out.
Then Nick shifted his leg. “Okay, switch,” he said.
Melody carefully shifted around so that she was facing the other direction. Nick stretched out his left leg and bounced it a couple of times to get the kinks out. Then he raised his right knee for her to lean back on. They sat in silence for a few minutes, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
After a bit, Melody asked him about the fans. Was he ever nervous or scared? Nick talked about his experiences. Underlying it was a sense of disbelief that, even after all these years, he really couldn’t understand why people would be so desperate to see him or touch him.
“What’s the weirdest thing that a fan has ever done?” she wanted to know.
“Well, I’ve never seen it, but the rumor has been out there for years that there’s a girl in California who gets all the same tattoos as AJ.”
“Oh, my,” said Melody.
“Yes, indeed,” replied Nick. “That’s kind of weird, but since a picture of her has never shown up, it kinda makes us think it’s not really true, just one of those – what do you call them…?”
“Urban legends?”
“Yeah. Like that.”
“What tattoos do you have?” asked Melody. She’d seen the ones on his arms. She was surprised to learn that he had them on his back, chest and leg as well.
“What about you? Got any?” Nick wondered.
“No,” said Melody. “My mother won’t let me.”
“What?” Nick laughed.
“Hey, don’t laugh,” said Melody. “That’s what got me out of college.”
She explained how her mother had six kinds of conniptions when Melody announced that she was not going to college but instead would be pursuing a career as a full-time rock musician. Even Melody’s dad wanted to draw the line at this. Surely, she could do both. Melody brought Stevie Ray in to explain that she would have no trouble working full-time. Artists and producers were already clamoring for her.
“She’s only eighteen,” protested her mother.
“Why don’t you come and see her work?” Stevie Ray suggested.
Now it was Melody’s turn to protest. She’d never live it down, she said. Mel brought her mommy and daddy to work.
Trust me, said Stevie Ray. He set up a session with the help of a producer and some friends. He explained what they were doing and why. All the guys agreed to do it and to keep it a secret. ‘Make it real, and keep it clean’ was the watchword for the day.
So Hank and Elizabeth were given a tour of the studio, ending in the booth from which they could see their baby girl doing what she loved to do most.
“And all my mother could see were the tattoos,” Melody said to Nick. “That’s all she talked about on the way home. ‘Next thing we know, you’ll come home with one of those tattoos’, ‘which one was that – the guy with the rose tattoo or the snake?’” Melody sighed. “Finally, I said – Mom, I’m not going to get a tattoo. And that was part of the compromise we reached – they would let me have a year to ‘do this music thing’ and at the end we’d discuss it again. But that I would never get a tattoo.”
“And you never did?”
“No. It wasn’t a big deal. I don’t really want one. But my mom still brings it up.” Melody laughed. “When I said I was going on tour with you, the first thing my mom said was – no tattoos!”
Suddenly, they heard Jeff’s voice faintly.
“Yeah, I hear you,” shouted Nick, making Melody jump. He pulled her into his arms and leaned her head against his chest to muffle the sound. She covered her ear with her hand and he placed his hand over hers.
A couple of shouted bits revealed that the workmen had arrived, that there might be some clanking and banging, but that they would soon be out. When Nick stopped shouting, he removed his hand from Melody’s head, but he kept his other arm around her, holding her against his chest. He lowered his right leg. Melody stayed where she was.
“I thought you were going to warn me before you yelled again,” she said.
“Oh yeah, right! Sorry about that!”
Melody moved her face. Something was poking her. “What’s that?” she said, moving her hand up to his chest and outlining the foreign object with her index finger.
“It’s…um…it’s a…a nipple ring,” he said.
“Ow!” said Melody. “Bet that hurt!”
“Yeah,” admitted Nick. “Do you have any piercings?”
“Not even my ears,” said Melody. “And that’s not my mother’s doing either. It’s just me.” She paused, then continued. “But I hear it only hurts for a minute or so. Is that true?”
“Yeah, they really, really hurt, but only for awhile.”
“They?” Melody moved her hand across his chest. She felt the second ring and moved her fingers over it. “Why?” she asked simply.
“Oh, I was just in a mood to do something crazy, and I’d heard that it was very stimulating…you know…sexually.”
Melody could feel his nipple hardening under her fingers. She tugged lightly on the ring with her fingernail. “And is it?”
“Yes,” said Nick, and he felt her hand disappear into the darkness.
They sat in silence again, both trying to sort out their jumbled thought processes. And then they both went to speak at once. It was completely accidental. Melody leaned her head back to say something at the same time that Nick leaned forward. Their mouths came together.
They kissed each other softly, reveling in the other’s touch, even though they both knew they shouldn’t be doing this. And they both knew they would have to deal with this when they stopped.
And they didn’t want to deal with it.
So it just seemed simpler to keep kissing.
They didn’t make any sound, but in the recesses of their mind, they were aware of the sounds of the workmen. They knew in a vague way that rescue was at hand, but mostly, they were conscious of the feel of each other’s lips.
They were both just reaching the point where they thought they really ought to stop when simultaneously they opened their mouths.
And now there were sounds…because it was so hot and so wet, and it thrilled both of them to the core. They couldn’t resist moaning. It went on for a long time, because they really, really didn’t want to deal with this. They only stopped when Jeff’s distant voice cut through the haze of passion.
“Just another minute or so.”
Their mouths finally broke apart. Nick held Melody’s head against his chest as they both panted and tried to regain their equilibrium. They didn’t say a word, and both silently blessed the darkness. One thing at a time.
Melody could feel Nick’s hardness against her hip. She shifted slightly away. He relaxed his arms, but just as she was moving away, there was a resounding thud, and the elevator car dropped a few inches and threw them back into each other’s arms, holding each other in fear.
Suddenly, the lights came on, and that broke them apart. They scrambled to their feet as the fan started whirring again and the elevator climbed slowly. Nick quickly pressed ‘2’ and seconds later, the doors opened and they came hurtling off.
They stood against opposite walls, their heads down, their hands on their thighs, breathing in the fresh air, offering silent prayers of thanks, wondering what the hell they were going to do about…
The doors of the second elevator opened, and Jeff and Toby stepped off.
“Are you okay?” they asked as one.
Melody and Nick both nodded, but they didn’t look at each other.
Jeff and Toby exchanged a glance. Both Nick and Melody had flushed cheeks and were breathing heavily.
Nick caught the glance. “It was dark,” he said. “The lights went out, and so did the fan. There wasn’t much air.”
“Are you okay?” Toby wondered if they needed to be checked out by a doctor.
“I need a drink of water,” said Melody, “that’s all.”
Jeff and Toby took them to their rooms and got them some water. The others all arrived to hear the story, but there was no tale to tell. The elevator stopped, the lights went out, they fixed it, here we are, no harm done.
Attempts to get further details only gleaned that they had sat on the floor and talked about stuff – mostly music. And neither one was really interested in talking about it any more. They just wanted to forget it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night when they were sitting around backstage waiting to go on, Tofu picked up Melody’s crossword puzzle book.
“29 down…” he said. “…’osculate’. What’s ‘osculate’ mean?” He ran his finger over the filled-in squares. “Oh, it means ‘kiss’.
“For God’s sakes, Tofu, why can’t you leave other people’s things alone?” snapped Melody, snatching the book from his hands. She stuffed it into her bag and stormed away.
Nick went red as a beet, muttered, “I just want to check on…” and headed in the opposite direction.
The others exchanged looks.
“Has there been some osculatin’ going on here that I don’t know about?” asked Tofu.
The others shrugged and shook their heads. But they all thought to themselves that, if there hadn’t been yet, there was certainly going to be in the near future. At least, that’s what they thought for the next five minutes. That was how much time remained before Tamara Vance showed up.
Chapter 32 by old_archive
It was Tamara, it turned out, who had publicized the name of the hotel. She told a reporter that she was going to Rome to visit a friend and asked him if he’d ever stayed at the Bernini Bristol Hotel. “I usually stay at the Hilton,” she informed him. Avid Nick-watchers put out the word and that explained the gaggle of girls that awaited them outside the hotel.
Tamara had not been planning to visit Nick, but then a scheduled photo shoot fell through. She ran into Rafe Ariando the same day on Rodeo Drive, and when she told him what had happened, he generously offered to fly her to Rome.
“Nick’s finishing up the tour,” he said. “I’m sure he’d love to see you…spend a couple of days together in Rome…”
Tamara accepted because…well, because it was a free trip to Italy. She hadn’t seen Nick since New York. She had been busy working, and their schedules hadn’t meshed that well for phone calls. And there was something she wanted to talk to him about. So yeah, it sounded like a great idea. Thanks, Rafe!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Melody and Nick returned to the backstage area and prepared to go on.
“Hey, Nick,” said Tom, “Look who’s here.” Tom Wilson was a short man with a figure tending to pear-shaped. He looked incongruous on the arm of the statuesque blonde model.
“Tamara!” uttered Nick in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you. Rafe sent me. Wasn’t that sweet of him? We’re going to have a couple of days to see Rome before you go back. Rafe arranged it all.”
Since they were standing in front of a lot of witnesses, Nick couldn’t really say what he felt. And what he felt was that he wished Rafe would mind his own business. And that he didn’t want to spend a few days in Rome. He was tired, and he wanted to go home. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about Tamara. Because he wasn’t sure how he felt about…
Nick didn’t get to think much after that because Tamara glided over and pressed her body against his. She kissed him thoroughly, unmindful of the presence of the others, or maybe because of it. When she finally let him come up for air, he looked around. The others were all studying their hands or fiddling with their instruments.
Except Mel.
She wasn’t there any more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Melody was in the bathroom, sitting with her head between her knees. Her equilibrium was shot. She was dizzy, and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t put a coherent thought together because of the refrain looping through her brain…what have you done?...what have you done?...what have you done?...
She straightened up and sat with her hands over her mouth to hold in the scream that she felt welling up inside her. She took some deep breaths and splashed some cold water on her face. She looked in the mirror.
“It was one little kiss,” she told herself. “It meant nothing. It was because of…circumstances. It would not have happened if the elevator hadn’t got stuck. And it…will…not…happen…again. He’s a kid. He’s a kid with a girlfriend. Now get out there and be a professional.”
Nick and Melody avoided each other’s eyes for the rest of the pre-concert time. When they had their little prayer huddle just before going on, they made sure they weren’t standing next to each other, and when they all put a hand into the middle, Nick’s was on the bottom and Melody’s was on the top.
They made it through the performance. Of course, they did. They were professionals. And it really was only one kiss. And Tamara’s arrival had prevented them from finding out if it would ever be any more than that. And there was the age difference, after all.
No one else noticed that there was anything different. Well, everyone noticed the change in Alias Me. It was just a little thing…they did the same looking-into-each-other’s eyes bit…nothing new there. A close observer might have noticed that they were both trying so hard not to blink that they almost lost track of the song, but no one was really observing that closely.
No, the only difference was there at the end…the bit where Nick sings the last ‘alias me’ to the audience instead of Mel. Only this time, he didn’t. And he didn’t really sing it…he kind of whispered it, almost just mouthing it. Of course, the crowd was screaming at that point, so he could have been singing it out loud. Only the musicians with their earpieces tuned to his voice knew that he hadn’t. No one heard Mel’s tiny whimper either, because it was way too loud in the place, and she didn’t have a mike on anyway.
After the performance, they gathered backstage. The European leg of the tour was over. They were going home. But first, they were going to party hearty in Rome. Toby had arranged it all at a nightclub. Band, crew, everybody.
Except that Nick didn’t want to go now. And neither did Mel. Each waited to see what the other would do. Nick started to make noises about being tired and maybe not going. Mel told Blaine that she’d be happy to have a drink or two.
“C’mon Nicky, I want to party.”
Everyone else froze at Tamara’s words. The pouting, petulant tone was something they weren’t used to hearing, and of course…
Nick didn’t even seem to notice. He was distracted. He didn’t even feel her fingernails running down the front of his shirt. But when her index finger circled his nipple and tugged on the ring, he recoiled like she’d set him on fire, flicking her hand away.
“You know what,” said Melody to Blaine. “I think I’m going to bail on the party. I’m getting a headache or something…” She walked over to Toby. “Hey Toby, would it be too much trouble for you to get me back to the hotel instead of the party? I’m getting another headache, and…I…uh…I don’t want to leave a trail or anything…you know, for the fans…”
Toby looked at her oddly. Another headache? As far as he knew, she’d never had one in her life. “Sure, you can come with me. I’ve got some stuff to do there before I head out to the party.”
Everyone expressed regret that Mel wouldn’t be joining them but they could all see that she was out-of sorts. A headache will do that to you. Nick’s enthusiasm for the party increased, and they all trooped off in a festive mood to celebrate the successful conclusion of the tour.
Toby got a cab for him and Mel. At the last minute, Gus joined them, saying he’d help Toby with the final details and then they could get to the party faster. Toby assured him that it wasn’t necessary, but Gus insisted.
“I’m going to have a bottle of wine sent up to your room,” Gus told Melody. “A nice Pinot Grigio.”
“Wine won’t help a headache,” said Toby. “It will make it worse. I’ll give you some Tylenol instead.”
They arrived, and while Toby was paying the driver, Gus leaned over to Melody. He picked up her hand and squeezed it. “I’m sending the wine up anyway,” he said. “Sometimes oblivion is the best place to be. You decide which remedy you want, that or the Tylenol. But don’t take them both together.”
Gus’ astuteness and his kindness were almost the undoing of her. She had been holding it all in. Now she just had to make it across the sumptuously-decorated lobby of this beautiful hotel. It dated from 1870 and was quite luxurious – more luxurious than they usually stayed in, but it had been decided that a treat was in order at the end of the tour. Of course, Melody thought, a plain old Holiday Inn with a working elevator would have been a better choice! Nope, not going there, not going there.
She turned to Gus. “Send the wine,” she said. “And do you have any bubble bath?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What are you doing?” asked Toby a few minutes later.
“I’m making a Mel repair kit.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I’ve got wine, bubble bath, some scented candles…”
Toby looked over at his protégé. What was he doing?
“Look,” said Gus, “she’s had to spend the whole tour being one of the guys. That’s the way she wanted it, and that’s what she got. No problems with her being a woman, right?”
Toby conceded the point with a nod. Any problems he’d encountered with Mel had been because she was stubborn and strong-willed, not because she was a woman.
“So maybe she just needs to…find her feminine side again. There, how’s that?”
Toby looked at the tray. It was very pretty. Gus picked it up and headed for the door.
“Wait,” said Toby, and he began rummaging in one of his bags. “I bought these for my mom,” he said, holding up a box of Belgian chocolates, “but I can always get her some more tomorrow at the airport.”
Toby tore the wrapping off the box and selected four chocolates. He took one of the paper lids that hotel maids put over the glasses to assure the guests that they’re clean and turned it upside down, making a little dish of it. He positioned it on the tray.
“There!” he announced with satisfaction.
“You want to come with me?” said Gus.
“No, no, you go ahead.” Toby waved him off. As Gus was going out the door, he heard over his shoulder, “Tell her I said, ‘enjoy’.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Melody put her head back on the edge of the tub. She smiled to herself. Oblivion. She was getting there. Gus and Toby had made a wonderful gesture. Gus had made sure she understood that Toby had contributed to it as well.
Gus had sailed past her when she opened the door for him.
“Sit!” he commanded, as he set down the tray.
Melody was already in her bathrobe. She perched on the edge of the armchair and watched his movements. He handed her a glass of wine and placed the dish of chocolates at her elbow.
“I’ll just be a minute,” he said, and then he disappeared into the bathroom.
Melody could hear water running. Every couple of minutes, Gus poked his head out and make a funny face at her, saying, “Almost there.” Once, he came out and refilled her glass before he went back into the bathroom taking the wine bottle with him. Finally, he announced that everything was ready.
“Milady,” he said, reprising Nick’s sweeping courtly bow. “Enjoy!” And he was gone.
Melody pushed opened the door of the bathroom and gasped in delight. The tub, an old-fashioned claw foot monstrosity, was long and deep and full of bubbles. Tiny candles burned here and there filling the air with an herbal scent of some sort – lavender, she thought. Where the hell did they get lavender candles this time of night? she wondered as she shrugged the bathrobe off her shoulders and climbed into the tub.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Melody shook her head. Omilord, she thought. She had nearly fallen asleep. The wine and the warm water had combined to relax her totally, purge her of all the anxiety…damn near drown me, she thought. She climbed out of the tub and wrapped herself in the thick towel. She staggered slightly and looked at the level of the bottle. Oops, she giggled. Oh, what the hell, she thought and she emptied the last bit of wine into her glass. She blew out the candles and drained the tub. She carried the glass to the bed and set it on the night table. She let the towel drop away from her and climbed into bed without putting on any pajamas. She snuggled down under the covers and was asleep before she could even turn off the light.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Out at the club, the band and crew were having a loud and boisterous party. Everyone was having a good time. Tofu hadn’t yet selected his lady of the evening from the pretty Italians, but he had narrowed it down to three. Blaine watched Tofu in action and decided that he was going home to propose to Cathy. Nick got drunker than he had ever been in his life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Up the hall from Melody, Gus and Toby put the finishing touches on the tour. They made sure all the arrangements were in place for Nick and Tamara to stay three more days. Jeff would be remaining as well. Nick felt bad asking him to, but Jeff laughed and said it would make up for the three days in the beginning, when he’d been with his sister. Toby offered to stay as well, but Nick had told him it wasn’t necessary.
Toby and Gus tidied up the folders and packed them away, keeping out the one with the airline information for the next day. They set out their clothes for the next day and packed up the rest of their luggage.
Gus zipped his bag shut with a flourish and said, “Well, last night in Europe. Want to go out and get laid?”
Toby looked startled. “No, no, that’s okay,” he said, turning away. “You go ahead.”
An arm went around him, and a voice very close to his ear said, “Well then, do you want to stay in and get laid?”
Chapter 33 by old_archive
Breakfast the next morning was a very quiet affair. Nick and Tamara didn’t even put in an appearance. No one was surprised by that.
“Nick won’t be surfacing until well into the afternoon,” Blaine remarked to Melody. “Not if he’s smart anyway. He’s liable to have a serious hangover.”
“Yes,” interjected Rashad. “He was really tying one on last night. Hoo – ee! The bartender couldn’t serve him fast enough.”
“End of tour jubilation, I guess,” said Melody. “What about the rest of you, you all okay?” She was pleased and surprised to find that she wasn’t suffering any ill effects from last night’s ‘jubilation’. Gus had raised his eyebrows at her while he had been handing out Tylenol to anyone who wanted it. Melody just smiled at him and shook her head. Not necessary, thanks!
Melody had awakened refreshed, although a little stiff from having slept in the same position the whole night. She hadn’t moved once. There was one bad moment when she was carrying the half-full wine glass to the bathroom to empty it. She got a whiff of the wine, and her stomach did a little flip-flop, but soon she was into her morning coffee, and she was fine.
“What about Tofu?” she asked. He hadn’t made an appearance yet. Neither had Toby, oddly enough. He was usually the first one there.
Blaine and Rashad looked at each other. The tall black man shook his head. “It’s gonna fall off. I’m tellin’ ya, it’s just gonna fall right off!”
“More likely wear off,” said Blaine.
Melody laughed. That answered that, she guessed. She wondered where Tofu had spent the night. He was roommates with Jeff, who had let him know early on that, if Tofu wanted to do it in the hotel, he’d better make the arrangements for a separate room…in advance. Jeff wasn’t going to be ousted from his room in the wee small hours of the morning to accommodate Tofu’s voracious sexual appetite. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to lie there with a pillow over his head while the shenanigans went on in the next bed. It had become one of Gus’ duties to arrange for Tofu’s alternate accommodation.
Toby bustled in then and herded them all through the kitchen to the mini-bus. They wanted to get out of town without being seen, mostly because they wanted people to think Nick had left town with them. That might give him some measure of privacy for his extended stay in Rome…if he ever left the hotel room, that is.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They settled themselves into their seats on the plane. It was ironic, Melody thought. Nick had been so upset with the seating arrangements on the way over that he had yelled at, first Murray and then Rafe, over the phone until the return transatlantic flight had been booked with all of them in First Class. The short hops around Europe were on planes where there wasn’t much discernible difference, and they had all ridden Economy then, even Nick. But they were going home in style.
Without Nick.
“Hey, this is quite the ride,” said Tofu, who had shown up in the hotel dining room at the last minute with a leggy Italian draped over him. They had exchanged a good-bye kiss that had made Blaine suggest under his breath that they might want to see if Tofu still had his tongue. “Boy, Rashad, you should have shared this last time! Gee, if we had only known what First Class was like!”
“Don’t you start with me, Boy,” muttered Rashad. “Any of you!” He knew what they had done on the flight over. Keshia had wised him up in his first phone call home. Be forever grateful, had been her advice, but never let them know it!
Blaine and Melody held up their hands in mock innocence. Us? Rashad glared at them and then laughed.
They settled themselves in for the long flight. Blaine and Mel were sitting together. Mel gave Blaine the choice – window or aisle – she didn’t care, she said. He chose the aisle. Across from them was Tofu and an empty seat. It would have been Jeff’s but he stayed behind in Rome. No one had any doubt that some lovely young lady in Economy would be invited to partake of the pleasures of First Class after the seat belt sign went off and Tofu went on a scouting trip.
Rashad sat behind Blaine. The seat beside him would have been Nick’s, but it was filled by a last-minute passenger, a middle-aged American woman who had fulfilled a life-long dream by coming to see Italy. She always traveled stand-by, she told him. You saved a lot of money that way. She was a retired nurse and had the freedom to make her own schedule. The only thing she had to get home to was her dog, Lucky – she had a picture – who was looked after by her elderly aunt. She had a lot of postcards and souvenirs in her handbag and a lot of stories to tell. By the time they landed in New York, Rashad knew more about Italy than he thought he ever would.
Across from them were Toby and Gus. Toby took the window seat, which surprised them. On the way over, he’d insisted on the aisle and was up and down constantly, checking on everything. Maybe that meant the tour really was over, if Toby was relaxing.
The flight attendants bustled about offering them drinks, pillows, etc. On the flight over, they had left in the evening from New York, slept their way through the time difference and arrived in Europe the next morning.
Going back was different. They left at 1:00 pm Rome time and would arrive at JFK just after 5:00 local time. By the time they did baggage and connecting flights, it would be nearly 7:00. They would hit LA at 11:30 pm and if they were lucky it would put them in a cab by midnight local time. Their internal clock would be telling them that it was 9:00 the next morning. They would all sleep on the last leg but right now, they weren’t tired. That gave them a lot of time for crossword puzzles and reflection.
Melody reflected on how she always seemed to leave Nick on a bad note. Like in L.A. outside the pub… and now this…the elevator…the…
“You okay, Mel?”
She looked at Blaine. “Yeah, sure.”
“You made a little sound.”
Melody shook her head and shrugged. No, it’s nothing.
Oh good Lord, girl, she told herself. You’d better get a grip. It never happened. Okay, let’s go with that. It never happened. By the time Nick gets back from Rome, he’ll have forgotten all about it, and then we have a couple of weeks before we start up again, so yeah…it never happened.
Melody reached into her bag and, with a fierce determination, she attacked her crossword puzzles. Blaine and Tofu took out one of the magazines Gus had brought along for them and leafed idly through it. Rashad listened to the lady tell her Italy stories, putting in the odd ‘how interesting’ and ‘that’s nice’. Soon he realized that she was a really good story-teller, and he found himself asking questions about the scenery and monuments.
Toby stared straight ahead. Somehow he had lost control of his life in the past twelve hours, and he wanted to get it back. He concentrated fiercely on lists and itineraries and errands. Then he would remember the feel of Gus’ hands on him, and a thrill would move through him. He turned his face to the window.
“Well, then, do you want to stay in and get laid?”
Panic. That had been Toby’s first reaction. Panic. How did Gus know? What did Gus know? Then a bit of calm. Maybe the arm around him was just a friendly gesture. Maybe Gus was saying, let’s phone out for some broads.
But then Gus’ next words. “It’s okay, Toby. No one knows but me.” And then Gus’ lips on his neck.
Toby tried. He stepped out of Gus’ embrace and turned to him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you do,” said Gus with a smile, and then he put his lips on Toby’s. He kissed him softly, waiting for the other man to respond. Toby didn’t at first, but he didn’t move away either. This encouraged Gus to put his arms around him and pull him close.
Toby wanted to flee, but he was frozen in place, held there by those strong arms and soft lips. Then Gus ground his pelvis against him, and Toby was lost. He moaned and could feel himself hardening. Gus used his tongue then, and Toby responded in kind. They stood there for a long time, kissing and grinding their pelvis’ together.
Toby’s head began to spin. They shouldn’t be doing this…not here. What if someone…?
Gus reached between them and began undoing Toby’s belt. This made Toby step back.
“I’ve never…I don’t know…”
Gus raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never…?”
Toby shook his head. How could he explain?
When Toby was a kid, he’d been part of his church choir. There were always rumors flying around about the priest, Father Frank. Never let Father Frank catch you in a corner. Watch out for Fumblin’ Frank. Toby had never seen any evidence of this, but he had kept his distance from the priest. Then one day, when he was thirteen, he’d been given the task of tidying up the hymn books after rehearsal. By the time he was done, everyone else had left. He retrieved his jacket from the peg in the robing room and turned to find Father Frank behind him. The older man had a look on his face. Toby knew that he was a good-looking boy, but he was interested in girls.
“I ain’t interested, Father,” he told the priest, in a strong voice.
“You’re not interested in what, My Son?” asked Father Frank, putting his hand on Toby’s arm.
Toby didn’t flinch. He just removed himself from the older man’s grasp and moved toward the door. “I ain’t interested in what you got under that robe,” he said over his shoulder.
“Oh, you mean this?” said the priest.
Toby couldn’t help but turn around. In the priest’s outstretched hand was a fifty-dollar bill. Toby froze…visions of what he could do with that money raced through his head.
“What would I have to do?” he asked cautiously.
“Nothing,” said the priest, removing his robe. Toby could see the bulge in Father Frank’s black pants. “It’s just that you’re at an awkward age…not sure if you’re interested in girls or not.”
”I am…interested in girls,” said Toby.
“Well, then no harm done,” said Father Frank. “You just watch me for a bit, and if you don’t get turned on, then we’ll know…and you can have the fifty. Close the door.”
Toby was suspicious. “And I don’t have to do nothing?” He closed the door but remained standing with his hand on the doorknob.
The priest undid his belt and dropped his pants to the floor. Through the gap in the boxers, Toby could see flesh. Father Frank lowered his boxers, freeing his erection. Toby had never seen an erection on an adult male. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. His mouth went dry. He tried to lick his lips, but he had no saliva. Father Frank slowly caressed himself. His penis grew harder, and the end became engorged and purple.
“Undo your pants,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Let’s see how you’re doing.”
Toby shook his head. “You said I didn’t have to do anything.”
“You don’t,” said Frank, “just let me look.”
So Toby dropped his pants and under Father Frank’s gaze, his penis stiffened and grew. The priest took a step toward him. Toby backed up against the door.
“You don’t have to do anything,” the older man reassured him. “Just let me do something for you.” And the priest dropped to his knees and took the young man’s penis in his mouth. It didn’t take more than a couple of sucks before Toby ejaculated. He whimpered, and his knees went weak. Only his grip on the doorknob kept him upright.
The priest backed away and sat in a chair. He spread his legs and used his hand to make himself come. Toby couldn’t take his eyes off it. When the priest was done, he pulled out a linen handkerchief and cleaned himself up. Toby pulled up his pants and turned for the door.
“Don’t forget this,” said the priest, handing him the fifty.
The money burned a hole in Toby’s pocket all the way home. How could he ever explain the presence of so much money? They were not a wealthy family, and he would have to have saved every penny of his allowance for weeks to get this much. And it was a fifty-dollar bill. How could he break that without questions being asked? Toby thought about the money because he didn’t want to think about the act. But every night for a week, when he closed his eyes, he saw Father Frank’s erect member. And every morning, he had to rinse out his pajamas.
At the next choir rehearsal, it was Jimmy Blake’s turn to put away the hymnals. Toby told him he’d do it for him, he knew that Jimmy wanted to get to his ball game. He did it slowly, making sure everyone had left before he went to the robing room.
When Father Frank appeared, Toby laid down the rules…two twenties and a ten, Father, a fifty is too hard to break…I’m not doing anything to you, and you aren’t sticking it in me…deal?
Father Frank agreed because he figured it wouldn’t take long to seduce the young man into further actions. He was wrong. The most he could ever get Toby to do was give him a hand job after the priest had ministered to him orally.
At the end of three years, Father Frank was transferred to another parish. Toby had a substantial secret bank account waiting to get him the hell out of this town when he was ready. He decided that he was ready for girls. They were certainly ready for him. He was a good-looking young man. Toby had no trouble getting dates with girls that were willing to have sex with him.
Toby had a lot of sex over the next few years. The only thing he didn’t have was a lot of satisfaction. No matter what he did to the girls, no matter what they did to him, he never achieved the heights that he had with Father Frank.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You’ve never…?”
“Not with a real person,” said Toby. “I mean, not everything…just some things.”
Toby eventually gave up on girls when he went into modeling. There were just so many beautiful boys around. But Toby was beautiful too, and he was strong-willed, so he only picked the ones that would let him do things to them. He was amazed at how many there were. When he started in the PA business, he gave that up. He locked himself firmly in the closet and threw away the key. He only ever did it with hustlers, paying for it. He found it amusing that even the hustlers seemed to want to do it with him, considering themselves lucky to have a good-looking, fit man for a change.
“Well then,” said Gus, slowly undoing the buttons on Toby’s shirt. “You have a lot to learn.”
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Gus watched Toby out of the corner of his eye. Gus was very pleased with himself. He had taken this job because it was the last at the end of a long line of family handouts. He was twenty-five and they were sick of him drifting. If he lost this job, he was on his own. No more help from the family.
Gus had sized the position up and tried to figure out which would be the easiest way to do the job. He decided on the simple-minded servant, following his master’s orders to the letter, but slightly confused about the whole thing and needing lots of help. He figured that a control freak like Toby would gradually take more and more of Gus’ jobs onto his own plate, rather than see them not done properly.
Gus always maintained a charming, obsequious demeanor with Toby that would make it impossible for the older man to fire him. Gus knew that he was being successful with his persona when he heard Blaine refer to him as Gus-Gus.
Gus was looking forward to a trip through Europe with nothing to do but hand out water bottles. Then he discovered two things. He liked this job, and he was good at it. He got a great deal of satisfaction from arranging Melody’s bus tours in each city. And translating for her in Barcelona, when they’d had their secret hairdressing mission, that had been a real kick. When he’d presented her at the venue, he felt personally responsible, as if he’d mixed the color himself.
So the job was good. And now there was Toby.
Gus had spotted Toby for what he was the instant he met him. Takes one to know one, he guessed. Gus had followed Toby twice – once in Amsterdam and once in Stockholm – so he knew he was right. He just waited for the appropriate moment. He had drawn Toby in, by getting more and more intimate in their shared accommodation, walking around in his boxers and t-shirt and eventually, just the boxers. Introducing Toby to the computer had been an inadvertent stroke of genius. That gave lots of opportunity for closeness, their heads together peering at the monitor.
Gus knew that Toby wanted Nick. He also knew there was no way he was going to have him. And he knew that Toby knew that too. So if Toby wanted to close his eyes and pretend that he was with Nick, that was fine with Gus. Because when Gus closed his eyes, he pretended he was with Cousin Rafe.
Chapter 34 by old_archive
The sound of the drapes being whisked open was shrill in Nick’s ears. He pulled a pillow over his head to shut out the light. The insides of his eyelids scraped roughly over his eyeballs.
“Come on, Nicky…are you going to stay in bed all day?”
Tamara.
It took Nick a second to figure out who was talking. “Don’t call me Nicky,” he mumbled into the pillow.
“Really? I thought that was just for the fans. I thought you liked it when I called you that.”
Tamara used her little girl voice, soft and wheedling. It was like fingernails on a chalkboard to Nick. He mumbled something unintelligible and started doing inventory of his body.
First, his brain. It was pretty much dead. He had a blinding headache. His throat hurt too. He had a vague recollection of throwing up the night before. That might explain that. His stomach… that didn’t seem too bad; he’d be able to judge that better, when he stood up. But he didn’t want to do that for a few hours yet.
“Water,” he croaked.
Tamara made a disgusted sound and stomped across the room. Nick heard the fridge open.
“Here,” she said, laying the cold bottle against his cheek.
That felt good. Nick opened one eye. He took the bottle and sat up. “Thanks,” he murmured.
Tamara opened her hand to reveal two white capsules. Nick took those from her too.
“God, Nick, you stink,” said Tamara, with a scowl. “Get in the shower.”
“In a minute,” said Nick. Going from horizontal to vertical was going to be a slow process, he realized. He’d already done the first stage too quickly by sitting up. He waited for the room to stop spinning before he tipped his head back for a drink. He blinked his eyes and looked at the other bed. It was rumpled. “You sleep there?” he mumbled.
“Yes, I did,” said Tamara. “There was certainly no point in getting into bed with you. There was no way you were going to be able to get it up.”
Thanks for your bluntness, thought Nick. Tamara’s ‘refreshing candor’ was wearing a little thin. A person didn’t have to say exactly what she was thinking all the time, did she?
Nick watched Tamara walk back to the armchair. She was wearing jeans that rode so low on her hips, Nick couldn’t figure out how they stayed up. She had on a tank top that didn’t quite reach the top of her jeans. When she moved, Nick could see little flashes of skin. Her long blonde hair was in a pony tail.
“What time did we get back?” Nick took a swig of the water. His mouth tasted like shit. He lumbered to his feet and headed for the bathroom. He was dressed in his boxers.
“It was getting on for three,” said Tamara, critically examining her fingernails. She found one of them wanting and began to rummage through her makeup kit in search of a nail file. “That’s how long it took you to drink Italy dry. Jeez, Nicky…Nick, you were on a mission last night.”
Nick could barely remember any of it. He took another swig of the water and swished it around his mouth before spitting it into the marble basin. Then he threw the white capsules into the back of his throat and swallowed some more water. He hoped his stomach would keep the pills down long enough for them to help his head.
He looked at his face in the mirror. Holy crap! He looked awful. His skin was pasty, and his eyes were bloodshot. And Tamara was right. He did stink. He pushed the door shut and relieved himself. Even his piss smelled awful this morning. He flushed the toilet and grabbed his toothbrush. He brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth, trying not to swallow any of the water from the tap. He ran his tongue over his teeth and then he brushed them again. Why did he do these things to himself?
He opened the bathroom door. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said. “What time is it?”
“It’s nearly one o’clock. Jeff and I had breakfast ages ago. Do you want me to order something for you?”
“Yeah, that’d be great…coffee and toast or whatever…something breakfasty…NO EGGS!” Nick knew instinctively that that would be a bad idea. “And juice. Orange juice, if they’ve got it. A large one…no, a pitcher.”
“Feeling a little dehydrated, are we darling?” said Tamara sarcastically, rasping away at her fingernail with the file. The sound went straight to Nick’s brain…like a red-hot wire.
“Did I throw up?” he asked. He looked around the bathroom. If he had, he’d been neat about it, or… the alternative was too embarrassing to think about. He should have known better.
“Jeff took care of you. You owe him a bonus,” said Tamara. “He practically had to carry you up the hall, you were so drunk. And you wouldn’t shut up…just kept singing ‘alias me, alias me…’ You okay, Nicky?”
Nick lost what little color he had. Alias me.
“He got you in here and put you on the bed and you said ‘sick’ and he had you in the bathroom in no time. He held your head for you and made sure you were okay. Hey, he gets paid for it, not me. I guess it’s actually Toby’s job,” said Tamara, nastily. “He would probably have loved doing that for you.”
“Well, I’m going to get in the shower then,” said Nick, wondering what Jeff must have thought of him. He was going to have to apologize, that was for sure. He wondered what had made him drink so much.
Tamara enlightened him without knowing it. “I’ll order your food. Let’s hope it doesn’t get stuck in the elevator.”
Nick closed the door and stood with his back against it, staring at his face in the mirror as the memory of the elevator incident washed over him. Aw crap! he thought. Someone else to apologize to. Although, when he thought about it, Mel hadn’t seemed to mind too much. If it was one o’clock, she was either at the airport or already in the air, so he wouldn’t see her for a couple of weeks. He couldn’t do anything about it now.
Nick climbed into the shower and let the hot water cascade over him. His mind pushed Mel to the back. He couldn’t deal with that now. He’d think about it later…maybe when he was on his boat. Which is where he damn well had wanted to be twenty-four hours from now. But instead, he was stuck in Rome with Tamara.
C’mon now, Nick, he chastised himself. Stuck? In Rome? You’re always saying you never get to see any of the places you go, and now, here’s a chance. Make the most of it. He turned the tap so that the water became colder.
And stuck with Tamara? What’s up with that? When did you ever feel ‘stuck’ with Tamara? It’s not her fault. Blame Rafe if you’re going to blame anyone. Nick wondered why he felt he should blame Rafe instead of thanking him, but that’s how he felt. He flipped the shower back to hot water and soaped his body all over.
He couldn’t remember if it was three or four days that they would be here. Jeff would know. Toby would have given him all the information. Toby had done a mad scramble while they were on stage last night and had arranged for the hotel rooms. He’d made some reservations at some restaurants and provided a list of events and theater offerings.
Yeah, thought Nick, like I want to go to see a play in Italian!
Toby had also included a list of hot night spots, but Nick knew he was going to have to feel way, way better than he did right now before he could face another drink.
Tamara rapped on the door. “Nick?” She sounded worried.
Nick turned off the water. “Yeah, I’m coming.” He toweled himself off and then wrapped the towel around his waist. He opened the door and stepped from the steamy bathroom into the air-conditioned bedroom. He liked the coolness.
“The food’s here,” said Tamara. She handed him a glass of orange juice. “You smell way better,” she added.
“Thanks. I feel better.” He sat down on the edge of the bed.
“I know what will make you feel even better,” she said. “A nice massage.”
Tamara climbed onto the bed behind Nick and started kneading his muscles in his neck and shoulders. It did feel good, and he gave out little whimpers and moans of contentment. Tamara moved her hands up and down his back. Nick swiveled his neck and sighed. He tried to listen as she prattled on about the night before, but he found it took all his strength to pick a spot on the carpet and stare at it. Because he knew that, if he let go of that spot, he was going to throw up again.
He took another sip of orange juice. He wondered if it was the right thing to be drinking…acid and all that…but it tasted good…soothing and cold.
“…and then you just passed out. I would have worried about you being dead except that you snored like a bloody bull elephant the entire night.”
“Sorry,” muttered Nick, holding his gaze tight on the spot on the carpet.
Tamara wrapped her arms around him and kissed his neck. Her hands slid down inside the towel and she caressed him. “It’s okay, Baby. We’ve got time.”
Nick straightened up and moved away from her. “I’m not ready for that yet,” he said half-apologetically.
Tamara sighed in frustration. What the hell did he think she had come all the way to Italy for? It sure wasn’t for the pasta. She wasn’t allowed to eat any. And it sure wasn’t for his sparkling personality. That left a lot to be desired at this moment. Tamara sighed again. She wondered how long it would take Nick to recover enough for a serious conversation. By the look of him, it might be quite a while.
Nick chewed on a slice of Italian bread. It was crusty on the outside and soft in the middle. It was delicious…maybe the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten. He poured some more orange juice into his glass.
“Well then, Nicky,” said Tamara, filling the name with all kinds of meanings, none of them complimentary, “what do you want to do?”
“I want to take a bus tour,” he said. “I want to see Rome.”
Chapter 35 by old_archive
“Hey, Mel. Over here!”
Melody looked up to see Gus waving to her. She waved back, smiling. “Am I the first to arrive?” she asked him.
“Aren’t you always?” he laughed. “Welcome to Tampa. Have you ever been here?”
Melody shook her head. “Never been to Florida at all.”
They stood together at the luggage carousel, waiting for Mel’s bag to appear. Then they went to a counter where special items – over size or fragile – were delivered. Here, they picked up her guitar case and then headed out to the waiting limo.
“I’ll drop you at the hotel and then come back for the others. They’re on a later flight.”
Melody wondered why she hadn’t been booked on the same flight as them and hoped this wasn’t going to be New York all over again, with Rafe engineering some sleight-of-hand.
“Is Rafe here?” she asked.
Interesting question, thought Gus. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Do you think Rafe Ariando would share his plans with a lowly gofer like me?”
Hmm, thought Melody. Interesting reaction. “Do you know him well?” she asked.
“Hardly at all,” said Gus, recovering smoothly. “But I picked up this and that on the tour.”
Melody laughed. “’This and that’, my ass. You never miss a thing, Gustavo Deloro! That Gus-Gus act might still be fooling some of the people, but I’ve figured you out!”
Gus gave her a quick hug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But it’s good to see you. You look great.” He brushed his fingers across her bangs. “Hair still looks good. Growing out a bit.”
“Yeah, I think I might let it grow a bit, see what happens…but if it starts being a pain…” She made a scissors motion with her fingers. “…off it comes.”
They climbed into the limo.
“So,” said Gus. “What have you been up to the last two weeks?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rafe Ariando sat in the armchair of his hotel room. He had his shoes and socks off and his long legs stretched out in front of him. His fingers were tented at his mouth, and he was deep in thought. This was the start of the American tour – the main event. The European leg had been a warm-up, a way to get the kinks out without the American press getting wind of any problems. And it had gone very well.
They’d managed to get the guitar out of Nick’s hands. Rafe wished that could have gone more smoothly, but what the hell…whatever worked. And Nick had gotten over his anger with Mel. It was interesting, Rafe thought. He, himself, had had no idea, none of them had really, that Mel had mentioned her concerns to Nick about the guitar. Rafe wondered when that conversation had taken place. It hadn’t done any good obviously; Nick was still playing the damn thing…until the English reviews, that is. Rafe chuckled to himself. It was good to have friends in high places…and low.
Rafe had come to Tampa for the opening of the American tour. He intended to stay in the background as much as he could and just observe. Rafe really wanted to observe the interaction between Nick and Mel. He’d seen concert footage from Europe. Tom had explained to him that the way they reacted to each other in Alias Me was…well, not even to each other, if Tom were to be believed, but to the music. Rafe was the first to admit he didn’t get the music part. Music did nothing for him. Sure, he liked it on in the background, but it didn’t seem to reach to his heart.
Rafe had watched the footage carefully, all of it. Nick had a magic on stage that he didn’t possess off it, as far as Rafe could see. Nick wasn’t tongue-tied and constantly questioning himself on stage. He owned that audience, and he knew it. The kid could do more with a toss of his head and a lop-sided grin than many Oscar-winning actors. It seemed so natural, but when Rafe saw the same move at the same time in each concert, he knew it was calculated. Calculated to make the girls scream and then scream some more.
And they did. Some of the footage of the crowd showed people near hysteria…and they weren’t all teenagers either. That was another thing Rafe wanted to check out…the audience…what kind of people were they drawing?
The Tampa concert was sold out, as were the next five. The ones after that were selling well – the reviews from Tampa would help or hinder. Rafe figured ‘help’, but you never knew what the press would do.
That would be the tricky part. Rafe had a major media blitz planned for the next few days. Nick’s face was going to be everywhere…all the television entertainment shows, radio interviews, fan meet-and-greets and mentions in magazines.
Teen People had done an interview, and the editor had promised Rafe that, if Nick hit in the States like Rafe seemed to think he would, then Nick would get the cover as well. The news that Toby was helping Nick with his interviews made Rafe nervous at first, but when he saw the improvement, he relaxed.
Other than the intimate moments in Alias Me, Rafe could see no attraction between Nick and Mel in the footage. Tom had said that he thought Nick was still convinced she was gay. That kind of made Nick the stupidest person on earth, Rafe thought. He had always thought that Mel exuded a sex appeal that would drop any man in his tracks. But on the other hand, Rafe wouldn’t have looked twice at Tamara Vance, and she seemed to be Nick’s style.
Sending Tamara to Italy had been Rafe’s master stroke. At least, he hoped so. Whenever he talked to Tom or his undercover guy, Rafe tried to get a handle on relationships among the crew, without mentioning any names or specifics. He heard all about the problems and disagreements amongst them – not just the band, but the myriad of people swarming around them doing all the necessary things to put them in the spotlight…and feed and clothe them, and transport them from here to there. Rafe kept on top of all of them. He was most concerned about the performers, of course, but he also didn’t want to be blindsided by a lighting guy with a bad habit.
Toby was a big source of information, simply by the amount of paper that he generated. Details upon details upon details. He faxed in his reports, as Rafe had asked him to do. Just as a check on finances, you understand. Just to see if we’re sticking to the budget. Toby had laughed at that. Rafe knew the P.A. wasn’t fooled, but that was okay. Rafe loved a co-conspirator.
Toby hadn’t had much to say on the subject of Mel and Nick. He didn’t care for Mel, Rafe thought. Bit of misogyny there, thought Rafe. He doesn’t like her because she’s a woman who doesn’t know her place. Toby was also very upset about the whole guitar thing because it had upset Nick. Tom told him that Toby had referred to her as ‘that woman’ right up until Nick apologized to her with his dramatic, sweeping bow in Lyon.
Rafe had worried about Chris Sandoval and his reputation for nailing any woman that crossed his path. Apparently, that was, in fact, what Tofu had been up to in Europe, but he had been discreet, and there had been no fall-out. Rafe laughed to himself. Big surprise! he thought. Rock stars get laid! And according to Toby’s shopping reports, Tofu was certainly practicing safe sex. Gus now knew how to buy condoms in several different languages.
Gus. Gustavo. Cousin Gustavo. Rafe had not wanted to hire him, not based on his track record. He had threatened Gus within an inch of his life about what would happen to him if he screwed up; if he ever let on that he was related to Rafe – or even knew him; and that Gus would follow his orders to the letter or else!
According to reports, Gus was doing a great job. Everyone liked him. He was good at what he did. Rafe breathed a sigh of relief. These people thought it was hard being the one to report to Rafe. They should try being the one who had to report to Tia Rosa!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Over here, Guys!”
“Hey, look! It’s Gus-Gus.” Tofu motioned with his head. Blaine and Rashad followed the motion with their eyes.
“A little louder, Tofu,” said Rashad. “I don’t think the entire airport heard you!”
“Ah, he doesn’t mind,” said Tofu. “I think he likes it.”
Gus pushed the luggage cart over to them. “Let’s go get your bags. I got a cart.”
They walked up the concourse together.
“How many little old ladies did you have to mug to get that cart?” asked Blaine.
“Only two,” said Gus, cheerfully.
They loaded all the luggage into the limo. As soon as they were en route, Gus turned to Blaine and said, “So…how did it go?”
Blaine smiled and said, “It worked out fine, Gus. Thanks for asking.”
On the flight home, Blaine had mentioned to them all that he was going to ask Cathy to marry him. He asked them for suggestions on how to go about it. He wanted to make the proposal memorable. He was thinking of taking her to a restaurant and ordering champagne. When the champagne arrived, the ring would be in her glass. What did they think of that?
Melody and the nurse snorted at the same time. The men looked over at them. Melody shrugged and said, “That sounds great, but then she has to dip her fingers into her champagne and pull out a sticky, wet ring.”
They looked at the nurse, who said, “That’s assuming she doesn’t swallow it and choke to death first.”
Rashad’s deep guffaw rumbled through the cabin. Good one, Nancy! he said. He liked this woman. She was no-nonsense. He wished Keshia could meet her. She would love her.
“Okay,” said Blaine. “What did you do, Rashad?”
The big, black man bowed his head shyly. Melody undid her seatbelt and got up on her knees. She looked over the seat back. “Yes, Rashad. How did you ask Keshia?”
“Well,” Rashad began, “we’re all about family. So, everyone wanted to be there…my folks, her folks, brothers, sisters, etc. Keshia knew I was going to ask her. It wasn’t like the question itself would be a big surprise. It was just a matter of how and when. So I teased her a little. I took her out to dinner to a restaurant. We didn’t do that very often. I think she was expecting the ring in the champagne glass kind of thing. But we just ate dinner, and then I took her home. When I was leaving, her dad said in this offhand way that the family was having a barbecue the next day… why didn’t I come by. I told him that no, I kinda had a family thing of my own to do. Bring them along, he said. I said, okay, I’ll ask them.”
“You sneaky bugger,” said Nancy.
Rashad grinned. “Yeah, first and last time in my life I ever put one over on Keshia.”
“So what happened?” asked Gus.
They were all interested in the story…even Toby who had spent the last three hours staring out the window.
“Well, we’re all there, and we’re milling around and having dinner, and then I got down on my knees at Keshia’s feet and started pawing through the grass like I’d lost something. It was great. Both families are standing there, taking it all in, cameras carefully hidden, trying to look like they’re not paying any attention. Finally, Keshia gets annoyed. She says, ‘What the hell are you looking for, Rashad?’”
He looked up at them and a sweet smile crossed his face. Both Nancy and Melody bit their lip.
“I said, ‘The rest of my life,’ and then I looked up at her and said, ‘oh, there you are,’ and I opened my hand, and the ring was in it.”
Melody’s hands flew up to her mouth and tears brimmed in her eyes. “Oh, Rashad,” she whispered. There was a lot of coughing and clearing of throats from the men. Nancy punched Rashad on the shoulder. Good one, Rashad.
“See, that’s what I want,” said Blaine. “I want something Cathy willl never forget.”
Tofu suggested that Blaine rent a horse and dress up in armor. ‘Be careful getting down on one knee though.” He stiffened his body slightly and tilted sideways. They all laughed at the vision of Blaine, encased in metal, lying in the street on his side, unable to move.
“I can’t ride a horse,” said Blaine.
“What about a carriage ride – you know like with a driver – then you wouldn’t have to ride. It could be like Cinderella going to the ball.” Gus threw out his suggestion. They pondered that for awhile. It was an okay suggestion, they guessed.
“Does she like sports?” asked Mel. “You know sometimes at games, you see marriage proposals on the big Jumbotron scoreboards.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Tofu.
Blaine shook his head. Nah, that’s not me and Cath.
They tossed around a few more ideas. Finally, Rashad asked Nancy what she thought.
“Look into her eyes, and ask her to marry you,” she said. “That will be the memorable part for her. The rest will just be decoration.”
“Was that the memorable part for you, Nancy?” asked Rashad.
“All three times,” she laughed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So?” said Gus. “How did you ask her?
Blaine laughed. “It’s a good thing the plan wasn’t too elaborate because it backfired completely. I decided to take her out to dinner and then go for a walk on the beach and just look for a good moment.”
“Sounds simple enough,” said Gus.
Rashad and Tofu chuckled. They had already heard the story on the plane.
“You would think. I tried to introduce the idea slowly, so I talked about some good times we’d had and nice memories. Only…” he laughed, “Cathy realized I was building up to something, but she didn’t think it was a marriage proposal. She thought I was trying to break up with her.”
“What?”
“Yeah, so every time I brought up the subject of ‘us’, she changed the subject. When I said, ‘I did a lot of thinking in Europe’, she said, ‘okay, what looks good on the menu?’ After awhile, I started to think that she knew that I was going to propose and that she didn’t want me to, and that’s why she kept changing the subject. I almost gave up.”
“But you didn’t,” said Gus.
“No,” said Blaine. “We finished dinner and went walking on the beach. We stopped talking, which is probably what saved us. We just held hands and walked, and then we just watched the waves for awhile. I picked up a stick and drew a heart in the sand and wrote ‘Marry me’ inside it. Cathy said, ‘what does that say?’ because she couldn’t really see it. It was too dark.” Blaine sighed. “So I told her.” He shrugged.
“Cool,” said Gus. “Here’s the hotel.”
Chapter 36 by old_archive
“Hey look, there’s Nick and Jeff. Hey, Nick, over here!” Tofu shouted across the bar.
Nick turned his blond head in their direction. His face lit up, and a grin spread across his face. . He had cut his hair. It was short and it changed his face from a boy to a man.
A thrill ran through Mel’s stomach. Aw, crap, she thought!
Mel had spent the last two weeks talking herself out of that thrill. She had decided on the plane home from Rome that the kiss in the elevator never happened. It couldn’t have. Way, way too many complications, if it had…so therefore, it hadn’t. She knew Nick would be thinking the same thing…if he thought about it at all. A few days in Rome with Tamara should have driven it from his mind completely.
It had taken Mart all of three minutes to get the story out of her. Melody tried to downplay it as much as she could but, when she said, ‘and then his mouth…my mouth…we…’, Mart had moaned out loud.
Well, Melody Elizabeth Jones, get out your poker face, she told herself, as the two men made their way across the room, you can’t afford to lose this game.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick picked his way through the tables, telling his stomach to settle down. He was kind of glad that the first time he was going to see Mel was in a group. He’d be able to see how things were, her reaction, his reaction, etc. Well, his reaction was pretty clear. He felt like his stomach was trying to escape his body through his nostrils. Aw crap, he thought!
Nick hadn’t thought about Mel at all in Rome. After he recovered from his hangover, he had delighted in Tamara’s company. At least, at first…after awhile, sharing the same bedroom just got really, really annoying…Nick didn’t blame Tamara…he was sure he had tons of annoying habits, just like she did. It was just that they had never spent more than a day or two together before, and the conversational well ran dry fairly quickly. Thank goodness for Jeff. By the end of their stay, they were each saying more to him than they were to each other.
When they were alone together, they didn’t have much to say, so they just had sex instead. Lots of it. Nick made up for his behavior the first night by staying away from alcohol and making love to Tamara until she squealed.
Then he had come home and finally got to go out on his boat. He stocked it up with supplies and headed out. He didn’t take anyone with him, just relished the silence. He took along his guitar, and played until his fingers were stiff. And whenever he picked up the guitar, he thought of Mel.
Nick came to the same conclusion she had…it never happened. Strenuous circumstances…he thought that’s what it was called. When people are in danger and they come together like that. Except, of course, that we weren’t in any danger, said an inner voice.
Nick hoped Mel wouldn’t make a big deal of it. Surely, she knew enough not to expect anything. After all, he’d gone from that to spending four days with another woman. Nick decided that, if Mel said anything at all, he would just apologize…although he wasn’t sure what he would be apologizing for…she had given as good as she got, and she’d been the one to start up about the nipple ring…
It was all too confusing for him, so Nick had a beer and went below to bed. He replayed some of his sex scenes with Tamara in his head and decided to relieve his tension by hand. But when he got to the end, the scene he had in his mind was in an elevator in the dark.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Where’s Toby?” Blaine asked Jeff.
“He and Gus are in their room. Probably going over file folders,” chuckled the security man.
In fact, the two men were engaged in a very stilted conversation. Toby was extremely uncomfortable.
He had spent the last two weeks trying to take control of his life. The first thing he had done was to go shopping for a computer. He now had many more file folders…all of them electronic. He had researched Nick thoroughly. He knew everything there was to know about him.
Then Toby had researched everyone else on the crew. He thought some of them might be surprised by how much information he had been able to ferret out about them. And he had ferreted out something very interesting about Gustavo Deloro.
The night they spent together in Rome had been illuminating for Toby. Gus had been gentle and patient, but determined. Toby got nothing from him until he was willing to reciprocate. So ever so slowly, Toby learned the joy of giving. And when Gus finally entwined his fingers in Toby’s hair and pushed his head down, Toby put his mouth over him and knew that his life was changed forever.
And he didn’t like that thought.
He had enjoyed the act. Gus had been so pleased at what he called ‘Toby’s progress’ that he had allowed Toby to penetrate him without demanding similar privileges. ‘Later’, he had said.
Toby had spent the last two weeks unable to think about anything else. He did not know why he was afraid of Gus, but he was. Toby was the boss, he was the master, he should be the one telling Gus what to do, not the other way around. But somehow, it wasn’t like that. Toby knew that for sure.
He had to get the upper hand. He had to get control back. That was his biggest fear, that he wouldn’t be able to get control back. Actually, that was his second biggest fear – his biggest fear was that Gus would have lost interest in him.
“So, I just wanted to go over a couple of things,” Toby began. “Everyone’s in the bar downstairs. Nick’s invited us to join them, so I won’t take very long at this.” Toby began babbling out instructions and information.
Gus leaned against the wall with his arms folded and listened to the river of words, a bland expression on his face. When Toby finally stopped talking, Gus pushed off from the wall and approached him.
“So are you ready to go for that drink?” asked Toby.
“Not just yet, Boss,” said Gus and he reached for Toby’s belt.
He lowered Toby’s pants and pushed him back into the armchair. Then he knelt between his knees and welcomed Toby back into his world with his mouth. Toby gripped the arms of the chair and put his head back. When he came, it took all his concentration not to howl. As Toby sat there, sweating and panting, Gus got to his feet and went to the bathroom. Toby could hear him brushing his teeth.
And they both knew that, even though it appeared that Toby was the master, in fact, Gus had just made him his slave.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So Tofu, how was your break?” asked Nick. “Variety still the spice of life?”
“Yeah,” said Tofu. “It was nice to get with someone who spoke English for a change.”
“You talk to them?” Mel asked, in mock surprise.
Everyone laughed. It was great how easily they had slipped back into their comfort zone with each other, laughing and teasing. Blaine had been forced to share his story again and accepted heartfelt congratulations from them all. He knew that they were genuinely pleased for him. Tofu told him on the plane that he was jealous of him…that for all his screwing around, he was just looking for that special someone. Rashad had remarked at that point that perhaps Tofu would have better luck if he went out with one of them twice.
They shared a drink and swapped stories about their break. Nick’s response to ‘How was Rome?’ was to describe the scenery and the food, and that was all. When he talked about getting out on the boat, however, something changed in his eyes. They became peaceful.
“I’m surprised you managed to get time to yourself,” said Tofu. “I figured ol’ Rafe would be dragging you from interview to interview, flogging the CD.”
Nick sighed. “That starts this week. You should see my schedule. I’m not going to have time to breathe. Things better go smoothly. I don’t have time for a traffic jam.”
“You’d better stay away from elevators then,” remarked Rashad, and was gratified by the tiny grunt that came from his left. Without looking, he knew that Mel had reacted in some way. He was also pleased to see Nick’s ears turning a delicate shade of pink.
“Here comes Rafe,” announced Toby, as if he were heralding the entrance of a king.
“Don’t everybody bow at once,” said Nick.
When everyone turned to look at Rafe, Rashad glanced over at Blaine and raised his eyebrows. Blaine nodded and silently slipped a ten-dollar bill into Rashad’s palm. While they had been waiting for Tofu at the airport, Blaine and Rashad had had a conversation about Nick and Mel.
Rashad had told Blaine that Keshia thought there was something happening there. Rashad had described their behavior. Blaine said that made it kind of hard to explain four days of Tamara. Rashad pointed out that Rafe had sprung that on Nick, that he’d had no say in it. And if he hadn’t enjoyed the rest of it any more than he’d enjoyed the first evening… They talked it over and finally wagered ten dollars on it.
Easy money, thought Rashad. Keshia was never wrong.
Rashad figured it was obvious from the second they were in the same room. They never said a word to each other beyond the initial hello. And even then, their eyes met and then slid quickly away. They participated in the conversation with everyone else, but they never directed another word to each other. And yet...well, it was obvious to Rashad that they were hyper-aware of each other.
Rafe greeted everyone in the group with smiles and nods. He asked them how their break had gone, but he really wasn’t interested in the answer, and they knew it, so they simply said, good, fine.
“Is everybody ready?” he asked.
They were going to see the buses. There were a bunch of them. Melody was amazed by how many were needed. Buses and trucks. Big trucks, full of all the equipment. Buses for personnel. Two buses for the performers. The buses and trucks didn’t always travel together. After a show, the musicians would be in their buses and on the road before the audience had risen from their seats. The stage crew would dismantle the stage and equipment and head out hours later. Once the tour got rolling, the performers rarely saw the others any place other than the venue.
Nick and Tom had discussed the arrangements. Nick wanted Mel to work with him on the guitar, so he wanted her on his bus. Also, Toby and Jeff. That left Gus, Blaine, Rashad and Tofu for the other one. Tom realized that putting Mel anywhere was going to be a problem, but he figured putting her with the kid and the bodyguard was a much better bet than putting her with Tofu.
Tom had laid it out for Rafe, who surprisingly hadn’t reacted. Maybe his spy had already clued him in that there was nothing going on between Nick and Mel.
Good! thought Tom. Maybe the spy can convince him. He sure doesn’t want to believe me. Tom looked around and wondered again who it might be. Probably Toby. Or maybe Gus. Sure not Tofu.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Omilord.”
Melody knew that she had said that way too many times, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She was completely blown away by the bus. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting but certainly not this hotel on wheels. The back of the bus was Nick’s bedroom. It had a double bed and some built-in cupboards. Ahead of that, on either side of an aisle, were two bunks…not directly across from each other…on one side it was a bunk and then cupboards and on the other it was cupboards and the bunk. This meant that Melody and Toby were not going to be directly across from each other. Both were relieved by the news.
The bunk space was about four feet high. Quite roomy, thought Mel, who had been afraid it would be confining and claustrophobic. Below it were drawers built into the wall and above it were storage cupboards. A privacy curtain separated the sleeping area from the rest of the bus. Nick’s room had a door that slid into the wall.
Forward from the sleeping area, there was a bathroom – pretty big, actually, thought Mel – and a kitchen, with a fridge, a microwave and a coffee maker. The kitchen was designed for snacks and breakfasts, not full-scale meals. There was a small table with a bench around three sides of it. The cushions on the benches lifted off to reveal more storage space under them.
Forward of the kitchen was a living room with a couch along one side. It turned into a bed, if necessary, Mel was told. There were two armchairs and some small tables that folded down against the wall when they weren’t in use. Along the front of the bus was another curtained bunk. This one was for Jeff. There had been some thought that Melody should have that one, but Jeff was reluctant. He wanted to be near the door if anything started up. Melody ended the discussion by saying that she was an early-to-bed kind of gal and preferred to be in the back.
The bus driver was in a separate compartment. His bunk was behind his seat – back-to-back with Jeff’s almost. There was a sliding window in the part of the compartment near the passenger door, through which instructions could be relayed.
Melody walked around the bus three times. She couldn’t believe it. From the outside, it didn’t look that big.
“It won’t seem that big when you’ve been crammed on it for eighteen hours,” said Blaine. “People tend to get on each other’s nerves after awhile. Good thing you’ve got your crosswords.”
Melody laughed. “You mean to hit people with?”
Blaine laughed, and Melody asked him about the other bus. Who got the big room at the back? Blaine explained that it was different on their bus. The layout of bunks and cupboards was similar except that it was more of a U -shaped area with bunks along the back. There were actually five of them. Other than that the layout was similar. Their sleeping area took up more room, but they didn’t have a bunk in the front like Jeff’s so it all sort of worked out the same.
“Good to know there’s an empty bunk on your bus, in case I need to throw a hissy fit,” said Mel.
“You ever thrown one?” inquired Gus.
“No,” said Mel, “But if this touring thing is all you say it is…”
They wandered on and off the buses for a few minutes, while Rafe and Nick had a discussion away from everyone else. It didn’t look angry, but no one was going over there anyway. Toby took the opportunity to corner Mel.
“Um…Mel…you know on the bus, on our bus…the bathroom…”
Melody raised her eyebrows. “We’re not going to have the shampoo discussion again, are we Toby?”
Toby blushed. “It’s just that, well…there’s certain things that aren’t supposed to go down…the drain…get flushed…”
“I know that,” said Mel.
“So…um…I put a…a little garbage can with a lid in the cupboard under the sink. And um…there’s some plastic bags…” He couldn’t go on.
Mel stared at him for a long moment. Then she reached over and squeezed his arm. “You’re good at your job, Toby. And you can be very sweet. Thank you.”
“Well, I just…” he stammered, “…I just didn’t want anyone to be embarrassed by anything…not just you…well, you, but me…Nick…Jeff too. I just didn’t want anyone to be embarrassed.”
“I know, Toby,” said Melody with a smile. “That’s what makes you sweet.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So does that really make him sweet?” inquired Martha Jane.
“Yes and no,” said Mel. “It was a sweet thing to do. The old Toby would have come across more controlling, would probably have made a public announcement or put a big sign on it.”
“But the new Toby…what made old Toby into new Toby anyway?”
“Who knows?” said Mel. “Maybe something happened over the break. “I’m just going to enjoy it while it lasts.”
“Don’t turn your back on him,” cautioned Martha Jane.
“You know it, Mart!” exclaimed Mel. “You know it!”
Chapter 37 by old_archive
“I don’t get it,” said Mel, looking up from the paper in her hand. “Why? What’s different?”
“American press,” said Nick, with a shrug that didn’t fool anyone. They knew he was hurt.
They were in the hotel lobby waiting for the limos to take them to the buses. They were hitting the road. The concert in Tampa had been a sell-out. The fans had been enthusiastic, and Nick had put on a great show for the hometown crowd. Melody thought it was the best one they had done so far. But the review was lukewarm.
“He didn’t want to like it,” she said, surprised at the realization. She looked down at the paper.
“They never do,” said Nick. He sighed. “Even with the fellas. Especially with the fellas. And the more popular we got with the fans, the worse the critics were.” He laughed. “Do you know what the guy in New York said about Kevin? He said, ‘once I got over my initial obligatory revulsion at the thought of a Backstreet Boy on Broadway’ or ‘instinctive repulsion’ or something like that… That was his first thought – a Backstreet Boy didn’t belong on Broadway. By the end of the article, he ended up saying that Kevin was the best guy to play that part ever. But he had to start it out by saying how it made his skin crawl to even think of it.”
Melody was glad she was holding the paper. It was the only thing that stopped her from reaching out to stroke his face.
“It will get better,” she said.
And it would. She would make it get better. Because now she knew why Rafe had hired her.
“Has anyone seen Gus?” she asked.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The week in Tampa was hectic. Toby and Gus were kept on the hop by the thousands of details that needed to be taken care of before the tour hit the road. Melody had the feeling that, as hectic as she thought Europe had been, she really hadn’t seen anything yet. She also thought that if Toby gave her one more checklist, she was going to make him eat it.
Nick spent the entire week with a microphone in his face. He went from interview to interview, answering the same questions over and over. The radio interviews were the easiest; it was like sitting down with an old friend, and in some cases, that’s exactly what it was. There were no cameras, no fans – just a conversation and a cut from the CD, usually Alias Me, which was fighting its way up the charts. And the radio DJs didn’t seem interested in blindsiding him or looking for scandal.
The television interviews were more difficult, mostly because Rafe hovered in the background like a mother hen. Shows like Entertainment Tonight and Access Hollywood shot the interview in a conference room at the hotel. Rafe had chosen some clips from the concert footage for the television interviews. You never really knew how it was going to turn out. They shot a half-hour interview and then turned it into three minutes of actual program, including the clip.
Nick had been trained to answer each question independently, not referring to others he’d already answered. Don’t say, ‘as I was saying’ or ‘in your last question’, because when the editors were finished, the last question might not even be there.
Nick tried to vary his answers a little from interview to interview, and he tried to give good sound bytes. If he had something witty to say, that made it a better chance that that question would get put in the segment. The inverse was also true. So when they asked about the Backstreet Boys, he looked bewildered and said, “What about them?” as if maybe there was some news he hadn’t heard.
The interviewers generally got flustered and stumbled over the response. “Well…um…like have you broken up…are you still a group?”
Nick answered that with a blank stare that went on for several seconds and that he knew would be edited. Then he didn’t bother answering the question. He started talking, as if it were a different question altogether. “The tour starts in Tampa. I always like to start in Florida, my home state, you know.” Big, toothy grin…
Rafe gave him shit after the first one. Don’t piss off the interviewer, he told him.
Fuck off, Nick told him back. The interviewer doesn’t make the final decision. The film editor and the director do.
When all three segments aired without one reference to the Backstreet Boys, other than the obligatory, ‘next up, former Backstreet Boy, Nick Carter, is going on the road again…’, Rafe had to admit that Nick was right. He didn’t admit it out loud, of course, but he stopped giving Nick grief about it.
Nick and the band performed at a charity thing that was being taped by VH-1 for airing at a later date. They sang Bridge to Nowhere because they figured that, by the time the program was shown, that would be the single. Both Nick and Mel agreed with Rafe’s suggestion about that. They weren’t ready to do Alias Me yet.
They had gotten over their initial discomfort with each other. Once they realized that the other one was not going to refer to the elevator incident, they pushed it firmly to the back of their mind and got on with business.
That didn’t mean that they didn’t have to take special pains to keep their hands to themselves in each other’s presence, but they did it, and so no one knew anything about anything. Rashad and Blaine laughed about that and wagered another ten dollars on when the whole thing would go nuclear.
Nick was scheduled to visit a children’s hospital. “I love it, and I hate it,” he told them all. They were having a breakfast meeting. This was the last day of publicity. Tomorrow would be rehearsal…a complete runthrough…and then the next day was the concert. “I love being able to touch their lives, but I hate seeing them suffer.”
“Want some company?” asked Rashad. “Want one of us to go with you?”
Nick was touched. “That’s very nice, Rashad.”
“Well, not me. I’m a big, ol’ black man. I’ll just scare the poor things.”
“What about Mel?” put in Blaine, innocently.
Nick and Mel did their ‘pinball’ move. That’s what Blaine and Rashad called it when they looked at each other and realized the other one was looking and their eyes bounced away.
“Um…”
Mel didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t refuse. It was a children’s hospital, for God’s sake. And what could she say she was doing instead? Shopping? She hated shopping.
“Um…”
Nick didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t refuse. That would look awful. And besides, he did want someone else there. “Would you?” he asked, because he suddenly knew that he wanted her there.
“Sure,” she answered with a shrug. “What do I have to do?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It nearly broke her heart. She told Nick later she didn’t know how he did it without crying.
“I don’t,” he told her.
Rafe was pissed, of course. He had come down to the limo to find Mel there with Nick and Jeff. He watched the two of them for the whole morning while Jeff watched him watching them. Mel was good with the kids, Rafe had to admit that. She was a natural, talking to them about things that interested them, touching their hand. He and Jeff stood in the doorway with the ward supervisor and watched the two musicians work their magic with the sick youngsters.
Mel was nervous at first, but then she realized they were just kids like Chrissy and Ben-two. So with every child, she said a little prayer of thanks that this was not her beloved niece or nephew going through the pain, and then she smiled and started talking.
They moved through the ward, separately but together. They were supposed to be there for half an hour. After forty-five minutes, Rafe coughed and motioned to his watch. Nick just shook his head and turned to the next child.
“Will you sing for me, Nick?” asked a child. She was probably the oldest one in the room – fourteen, maybe fifteen. She wasn’t even in a wheelchair, but in a bed, too sick to even be propped up. She had dark circles around her eyes, and her skin was so pale, it was translucent.
“Um…” Nick’s voice broke a little. He felt a hand slip into his. It was Mel. She squeezed his hand tightly, sending courage coursing through his veins.
“I have a guitar,” said the supervisor, reaching behind a curtain. She smiled sheepishly. “I thought, you know, just in case…”
Mel took the guitar from the nurse and strummed it. Then she turned the keys, tuning it.
Nick looked at her. “What should I do?”
“Let’s do Alias Me,” she answered. “The way you wrote it.”
Nick sat down on the edge of the youngster’s bed and picked up her hand. Mel stood beside him and propped one foot up on the metal rail of the bed, balancing the guitar. Nick started to sing, his voice clear and smooth. He sang the song as a ballad, slow and sweet. Mel joined in softly on the ‘alias me’s.
When they finished, there was silence.
“Thank you,” whispered the girl in the bed.
Nick nodded. He couldn’t speak.
Melody looked around. All the nurses were wiping tears from their eyes. She smiled, and then the children started to clap. Nick and Mel headed for the door. Mel handed the guitar to a nurse, and there was a flurry of good-byes and thank you’s.
“You coming, Rafe?” asked Jeff. The tall Spaniard hadn’t moved.
“What? Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”
Rafe followed them out, deep in thought. He wished he had the whole thing on videotape. It was a moment that money couldn’t buy. He hoped that one of those nurses had a video camera hidden on her, or at least a tape recorder. Then it would get out there. Rafe knew that. He knew something else too. He knew that there was no way in the world that Nick Carter believed that Melody Jones was gay. Now Rafe had to decide what to do about that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick and Mel were different when they came back from the hospital. Blaine and Rashad talked it over after the rehearsal, which had gone amazingly well. You wouldn’t even have known we took a break, said Tom. Everything just clicked.
And everything had. There had been no awkwardness at all between Nick and Mel. And they didn’t seem so hot for each other, except that in another way, they seemed even hotter…Rashad had a theory. Well, Keshia had a theory which she shared with Rashad and then he told Blaine that night at dinner.
“You know how you go along, and you’re attracted to each other, and it’s all hot and sexy and stuff?”
Blaine nodded. Yes, he remembered how it was with Cathy when they started going out.
“And then,” said Rashad, “your heart jumps into it.”
Blaine nodded.
“Keshia thinks maybe their heart jumped into it,” continued Rashad.
Blaine thought about it for a moment. “You got yourself one smart woman there, Rashad.” And then he added, “do you think they know?”
Rashad laughed. “Hell, no!!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The concert was amazing. Talk about home-field advantage. This was a crowd that came to party with Nick. And he gave them his all. At the after-party, he was so high, he didn’t even have a beer, just drank water and floated from group to group. The atmosphere was electric. Crowds of his friends and what Mel figured was every tall blonde in Tampa swarmed around him, as he waded through the party. Tofu could barely focus his eyes at the smorgasbord of loveliness and legs that paraded before him.
Nick made his way to every musician to have a personal word. He thanked every technician, every gofer - anyone who was involved got a big ‘thank you, man’ and a hug if they crossed his path.
And when he crossed Mel’s path, after an intricate dance of avoidance by the two of them that had Blaine and Rashad giggling like schoolgirls, Nick lifted her off her feet and hugged her. Then he set her down, and cupped her jaw in his hand. “You’re the best,” he whispered and kissed her on the cheek.
Then he moved on quickly, and so did she. Mel was sure that there was too much noise for him to have heard her tiny gasp when his lips touched her face. Nick was sure that he must have imagined it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And then the reviews.
“Gus,” called Melody.
“Yes, My Sweet,” grinned the dark-haired PA. “What can I do for you?”
“I need you to massage some information out of that computer of yours.”
“Oooooh, sounds sexy,” he crooned, raising his eyebrows. “What do you want me to do?”
Melody told him.
Chapter 38 by old_archive
They left Tampa and headed north. Next stop Atlanta. Eight hours up I-75. A good first run. Not too long, but long enough to give the sense of tedium and claustrophobia that went with a bus trip.
Nick got out his guitar almost immediately. He looked expectantly at Mel. She opened her guitar case and handed him the sheet music to Who Needs the World, a song from Now or Never.
“Play this,” she said.
“Cool,” answered Nick. “Then what?”
“Then play it again.”
“How long do I keep playing it?” he asked.
“Until you can play it with your eyes closed,” was Mel’s response.
Nick looked startled.
“You can play whatever you want when you are playing for the pleasure of it,” said Mel. “But when you pick up that guitar to practice, I want you to play this song and only this song.”
“Play it with me,” said Nick, wondering if she would.
“Sure,” replied Mel, and she took her guitar out of the case.
They played the opening chords. Nick started to sing.
“No,” said Melody.
“No what?” asked Nick.
“No singing. Only playing.”
“But I…”
“Trust me,” said Mel.
Nick did trust her, so he started again. And this time, he only played. It was hard not to sing. A couple of times, he caught himself humming but quickly stopped. Mel pretended not to notice.
The two musicians were so into it that they forgot all about Jeff and Toby, who were playing chess in the dining nook.
“You ever done a tour on the buses, Jeff?” asked Toby, moving a pawn forward.
“Just one,” said Jeff, with a shudder. “Heavy metal band.” He didn’t mention which one. “I spent more time protecting them from themselves and each other than from the fans.” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “Man, that was one filthy bus.” He shook his head. “What about you, Toby?”
“I’ve done a couple. Nothing this upscale.” He laughed. “Of course, this is scaled down for Nick. On his last Backstreet tour,” he lowered his voice when he said the word ‘Backstreet’, “they each had their own bus. Can you imagine?”
Jeff shook his head. It was hard to imagine. He moved his bishop diagonally and took Toby’s knight.
“What do you think of having to listen to that for hours at a stretch?” asked Toby, nodding his head toward the living area.
Jeff listened for a minute. “Sounds like heaven to me.”
“No kidding, huh?” replied Toby, with a smile.
They moved the pieces around the board for a few more minutes. The guitar music stopped, then started, then stopped. They heard soft laughter, and then the music started again. Both men had exactly the same thought. Neither of them expressed it. It pleased one of them. It did not please the other.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The buses pulled over after a couple of hours. For this first leg, all the trucks and buses were traveling together. People poured off the vehicles. They stretched their limbs and talked in groups while the drivers filled the gas tanks. Even though the buses were completely outfitted with snacks and drinks, there were lineups in the convenience store area.
Nick watched Mel make a beeline for Gus, with her cell phone in her hand. They put their heads together over some sheets of paper. Gus talked, and Mel nodded. Then she folded the sheets of paper and shoved them in the pocket of her jeans. She gave Gus a hug and walked quickly away. Nick watched her leave, wondering how much longer he could go without actually touching her.
The guitar lesson, if that’s what you wanted to call it, had been torture…and bliss. Bliss and torture. Bliss to be playing music together, to be so into it…together…just a couple of musicians playing guitar. Torture because Nick wanted so badly to set the guitar aside and sweep her into his arms.
Mel wandered over to the picnic area. She sat down on a table cross-legged and watched the others. Toby was talking to Gus – probably finding out what Mel wanted from him. Jeff was shadowing Nick in his usual unobtrusive way. For a big man, Jeff had a way of making himself…well, not invisible, but unnoticed. When you saw Nick and Jeff together, you didn’t immediately think ‘there’s a man and his bodyguard’, you just thought it was a couple of guys. But when Jeff went into protective mode, you noticed him then. Melody remembered his stance in the elevator in Rome.
The elevator.
Melody sighed. Dammit! How was she going to get through this? It was a damn good thing she could play the guitar with her eyes closed because when she watched Nick’s beautiful hands move over that guitar, watched his forehead crinkle up in concentration, watched his eyes flutter shut when he really got into it… Melody shook her head to clear it. Damn! Damn! Damn!
She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the pages. She smoothed them out and read them again. Man, Gus was good! In a little more than two hours, he’d found out a lot. She punched a number into her cell phone.
“Hey, Tofu,” said Nick, “did you manage to make a date with the counter girl?”
Chris Sandoval laughed. “Well, sure. You know…if I’m ever passing back this way…”
Nick shook his head. “I don’t know how you’ll survive. You know, sometimes we’ll be on these buses for twelve…eighteen hours…that’s a long time for you to go without.”
Tofu grinned, “Ah yes, my son, that is true but eventually, we get off the bus. Then I just have to make up for lost time. It’s a complex mathematical calculation…”
“Maybe Gus can do it for you on his computer.”
“Maybe. He sure works that thing. He was going at it the whole time we were driving here.”
“Really?” said Nick. “What was he working on?”
“I don’t know. Probably some shit for Toby. Making another check list or something.”
“Yeah, probably,” said Nick. He looked over at Mel, who had finished her phone call…or calls, maybe. She folded the papers and slid them back into her pocket. “Well, I guess we’d better get back on. Tom’s giving us the high sign.”
Nick watched Mel out of the corner of his eye, when they got back on the bus. She pulled the pages out of her pocket and slipped them into her bag. Then she took out her crossword puzzle book.
“What are you going to do now, Nick?” she asked.
“I thought I might watch a movie. Why?”
“I’ll sit here, then,” she said, indicating the end of the sofa that didn’t have a good view of the television.
The television hung from the ceiling by the wall that separated the kitchen from the living area. There was a DVD player and a video game set-up attached to it.
Jeff popped in a movie and the three men sat down to watch it. Nick was totally aware of Mel’s presence at the other end of the sofa. He was also aware of the bag at her feet. He wondered what was on those pages. He knew it was none of his business, but he wondered anyway.
Partway through the movie, Jeff cleared his throat. Nick and Toby looked at him. Jeff smiled and nodded over at Mel, who had leaned her head sideways on the padded arm of the sofa and was fast asleep. Her hands were folded under her chin, and her knees were pulled up. The puzzle book had slipped to the floor.
Nick got up and tiptoed to the back of the bus. He came back a minute later with a blanket and gently spread it over the sleeping woman. The men went back to the movie, but Nick couldn’t tell you how it ended. He wasn’t paying any attention. His eyes were focused on the screen, but his brain was focused on Mel and how much he wanted to pick her up and carry her back to his bed and lie down beside her and wrap his arms around her…
“What do you want to do now?” whispered Toby. “A little Nintendo, maybe?”
“No,” said Nick. “I don’t want to wake her. You know, a nap doesn’t sound like a bad idea. I think I’ll go lie down for a bit. When are we stopping again?”
Jeff slid open the window and exchanged some words with the driver. “George says another hour or so, unless you want to stop sooner,” he replied.
“No, that’s good,” said Nick. “That will do me just fine.” He got to his feet and headed to the back of the bus. Jeff put his hand into his bunk and came out with a book – the latest spy thriller. He settled back in the armchair.
“I guess I’ll do some paperwork,” said Toby. He went to the dining nook and spread his folders out on the table. Goddamn Mel! Just because she went to sleep that meant the whole world had to stop!
Nick had not been the only one who wondered what Gus had given to Mel. Toby had the same questions…only he asked them. Gus was cagey and said it was just something private for her.
In Europe, Gus wouldn’t have answered that way…he would have told Toby the truth immediately. But since Rome, things had changed. Gus didn’t tell Toby, and Toby didn’t press him on it. But as soon as Jeff went to use the washroom, Toby was determined to get a look in that bag.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Melody opened her eyes and stretched out her legs. There was a blanket over her. She blinked twice, and Jeff came into focus.
“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, smiling.
“Oh, my,” said Melody, sitting up. “I guess I nodded off. What time is it?”
“Close to six,” said Jeff, checking his watch.
Melody never wore a watch. She said it interfered with her concentration when she played the guitar, and she had lost so many watches over the years by taking them off to play and then forgetting to put them on again, that she eventually just gave up and stopped wearing them. There was always someone around who knew what time it was.
“Six!” Melody did the calculation. They’d had an early lunch at the hotel and been on the road by noon. They had stopped at two and then she had done a puzzle or two before nodding off. That meant she’d been sleeping for…omilord.
“Yeah, you’ve been out for almost three hours.”
“Please tell me I don’t snore,” she begged.
Jeff laughed. “No, you don’t. I’m sure Toby is relieved to know that.”
Melody nodded. She was relieved too. That was one less thing that she could do to annoy Toby. Everything she did or said seemed to make him sigh or roll his eyes or shake his head. Having her sawing logs in the bunk next to him would be an over-the-top irritation.
“Where’s Nick?” she asked.
“He’s napping too. You looked so peaceful there that he thought he’d join you. I mean…”
Melody knew what he meant. She stood up and made a big production of folding the blanket with her back to Jeff.
“Thanks for the blanket,” she said.
“Don’t thank me, thank Nick. He’s the one that spread it over you.” Jeff was doing it deliberately now because he liked the delicate shade of pink that her ears were turning.
“Yo, Sleepyhead.”
Melody turned to see Nick standing in the doorway of the kitchen area. His hair was tousled, and his eyes were only half-open. He had a red crease down the side of his face. He was beautiful.
“Takes one to know one,” Mel threw back at him.
Nick grinned at her and turned back to the kitchen.
“Okay,” said Toby, bustling back into the living room. “Now that you two have been raised from the dead, we can get back on schedule.”
“What do you mean?” asked Melody. “Coke, please,” she said to Nick who reappeared in the doorway, holding up a bottle of water in one hand and a Coke in the other.
Nick nodded. “Jeff? Toby?”
Jeff said he’d take the water, thanks. Toby sighed and said he was okay, thanks. Nick tossed the bottle of water to Jeff. He disappeared for a second and came back with a second bottle of water. He handed the Coke to Mel and sat down on the sofa, as far away from her as he could get.
“Okay,” he said, “that’s better. Now, what about the schedule, Toby?”
The convoy of trucks and buses had been scheduled to stop at five o’clock for another break. George had radioed the others and said that Nick was sleeping and so he was just going to keep going. A quick check with the other drivers showed that they, and their passengers, were happy to do that as well. Apparently, Nick and Mel were not the only two that were unconscious. Last night’s after-party was catching up with them all.
Toby didn’t care if the whole crew was unconscious. He didn’t like schedules messed with. And this one only got messed with because of Mel.
Toby put the question to Nick. “So…do you want to stop for dinner somewhere, or do you just want to keep going?”
Nick looked at the others. He didn’t care. What did they think? This was the kind of decision that he hated making. It didn’t matter what he decided. The law of averages told him that someone wouldn’t like the decision. Jeff? Jeff just shrugged. Mel?
“I don’t care one way or the other about dinner. I’ve got a date in Atlanta, but it’s not ‘til much later. Whatever you want…”
‘Whatever Nick wanted’ was to ask a whole lot of questions about her date in Atlanta.
Chapter 39 by old_archive
“Read it, Gus,” said Blaine.
They were in Raleigh, North Carolina.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They had arrived at the hotel in Atlanta in good time for Mel’s date. Toby had phoned ahead and made sure the dining rooms in the two hotels would accommodate them for dinner. Nick and the musicians went to their separate rooms to freshen up and then met in the dining room at 9:30. For once, Mel was not the first to arrive, but the last. When she approached the table, the men all stood up out of instinctive good manners.
“Jeez, Mel, you clean up good,” said Tofu. “Nice shirt!”
Melody was wearing loose black pants and a black lace top. The top was deceiving. The background was flesh-colored and gave the impression that she wasn’t wearing anything but lace. It was stretchy and showed off her chest nicely.
“Thanks, Tofu,” she said, taking a seat.
They ordered dinner. All the men sat there waiting for Nick to ask Mel where she was going. They knew he wanted to. Actually, he wanted one of them to do it, but they waited him out. They enjoyed the meal and talked about other things. At the end, Melody declined dessert, something she never did.
“I’ve got to get going,” she said, after Jeff told her what time it was. “I’m meeting a friend.”
Then she winked at Gus and sailed from the room. All eyes turned to Gus, who just smiled at them all blandly. If they wanted to know, they were going to have to ask, and even then, he wasn’t sure he would tell them. There was a stubborn set to Nick’s jaw, but he didn’t ask.
The next night, he guessed he had the answer anyway. Before the show, Charlie Burke and Leo Cummings came bursting into the backstage area. They were members of the group Scorched Earth, one of Nick’s favorites. They were sporting backstage pass tags and made directly for Mel.
After hugs and high fives, she brought them over to Nick. They were very complimentary to him, said they really enjoyed his CD, were looking forward to the show, looked like he was going to have a good year… Shit like that. Nick listened carefully to see if they made any reference to having seen Mel the night before, and eventually they did.
Nick thought about it later and wondered why it bothered him so much. It was what Rafe had said would happen, that people would come to see her that wouldn’t come to see him. Get them in the building and then you’ll do the rest. That’s what Rafe had said. Knowing that Rafe had been right once again did nothing to improve Nick’s mood.
He tossed and turned in his bed, listening to the hum of the bus wheels chanting ‘go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep’. Was he bothered that Mel hadn’t asked him to go with her? No, that was none of his business. She was allowed to have her own life.
Toss. Turn.
Mel didn’t have to report to him. But she could have said something… And there it was.
She never said anything.
Like it was a secret.
Like she didn’t want him to know.
Deep down, Nick knew that he wasn’t being fair…that Mel hadn’t tried to keep it a secret. If he’d asked her, she probably would have told him. Deep down, Nick knew that he was connecting a lot of facts that quite possibly had nothing to do with each other. He knew all of that deep down, but he went to sleep before his thoughts were able to get down that deep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick had a rule about reviews. He didn’t want to hear about them. He tried to get that across to people, but somehow, they just didn’t get it. In Europe, Toby tried to tell him about every review, even though Nick stopped him every time. He knew that Toby was just trying to share good news but the opposite side of that coin was that the bad news had to be shared as well. If Nick let Toby tell him about the good reviews, he would go crazy wondering about the ones the PA didn’t mention.
Nick did not want to go seeking bad news. So don’t tell me about any of it, he said.
It hadn’t been Toby in Tampa. It had been Mel. She had been genuinely bewildered, Nick knew. Well, welcome to my world, he thought. I’ve been bewildered by the American press for years.
When Nick got on the bus, he was in Atlanta, but when he woke up the next morning, he was in Memphis, Tennessee. The bus was parked in the underground garage at the venue. Cars were waiting to take them to the hotel. Nick could smell coffee brewing.
He smiled to himself. Coffee. Mel’s lifeblood. She couldn’t function in the morning until she had some. She set the coffee maker up before she went to bed. Even if they were going to be rushed in the morning, she knew that she had a couple of minutes at least, while three other people used the bathroom. That was enough to get some caffeine flowing through her.
Melody managed to soak up enough caffeine to make her coherent, and they climbed into the cars. Breakfast would be served at the hotel. The musicians gathered in a small private dining room and served themselves from the buffet.
They were quietly discussing the performance of the previous night and the plans for Memphis, when Gus burst through the door and made a beeline for Toby. The two men huddled together looking over a printout that Gus had brought with him.
“Must be the checklist of the century,” muttered Tofu, watching the two men, who were grinning from ear to ear.
Nick stabbed a forkful of scrambled eggs and tried to get into a better mood. He wasn’t sure why he was out of sorts today, but he was feeling…well, crabby was probably the best description. He wanted to hit something, or hit out at something. He kind of wished Rafe was here so he could pick a fight with him.
Toby and Gus approached the table. “You guys have got to hear this,” said Gus.
Toby corrected him. “Maybe not everyone wants to hear it, Gus.”
Gus was bursting. “But…it’s so…”
“Not everyone wants to hear the reviews,” said Toby, rebuking Gus. He turned to the others. “But if anyone would like to know what Sean Hughes of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution had to say about last night’s concert, we’d be happy to tell you.”
“More than happy,” said Gus. “We’d be delighted to tell you…excited…enraptured…”
“Okay, we got it,” said Blaine, looking sideways at Nick, who was studying his scrambled eggs as if they were a new species, “it’s a good review.”
“Good doesn’t even come close...” began Gus.
Nick shot to his feet. “Toby…” he said. There was a warning in his voice.
“Save it, Gus,” said Toby, abruptly. “Anyone who wants to know can see us later.”
“A little late for that, wouldn’t you say?” said Nick. He was scowling. “You might as well read it.”
Nick tipped his chair back on two legs and crossed his arms. He glared at Toby. Toby would have worried about Nick’s reaction, if he wasn’t so certain that the review would melt his mood. He nodded at Gus.
“I wasn’t a fan of the Backstreet Boys…” began Gus.
People stared at him wide-eyed. Wait for it, his eyes begged them.
“…and I wasn’t impressed with Nick Carter’s first solo effort…”
No one made eye contact with anyone at this point.
“…but…” Gus grinned at them all. “…I decided to go to last night’s concert with an open mind. And I’m glad I did. Because Mr. Carter and his band put on one hell of a show.”
Sighs of relief were heard all around as Gus continued reading the review, which extolled the virtues of every song, the band, the audience, the venue, but especially…Nick. Nick as singer, Nick as songwriter, Nick as ‘newest rock phenomenon’.
“The only suggestion I can make,” finished Gus. There was a collective intake of breath. “…is that when Mr. Carter returns to Atlanta for the second leg of his tour, he consider doing two shows. That way twice as many Georgians can experience the Nick Carter magic.”
Gus lowered the paper and grinned at them all.
They all looked at Nick.
He shook his head. “It’s one review,” he shrugged.
“No, it’s not,” said Gus. “I checked him out. Sean Hughes hates everybody. And he really, really hated the…your group.”
They all basked in the glow of the review. Nick had nothing to say and left the dining room almost immediately. He had a day full of interviews, a day full of other reviewers to deal with. He couldn’t afford to become complacent about one good review.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And so the days rolled on. They performed…the best, the very best part for the musicians. The rest of it, even getting laid for Tofu, was just stuff that happened between performances.
Blaine made daily phone calls to Cathy, and they talked about wedding plans. He was afraid that her mother was taking over to a degree he wasn’t all that comfortable with and spent many hours reminding his beloved that it was all about them…but that he would do whatever was necessary to get through what was promising to be a horrendous day, and then get on to what was important, being with her. This gave Cathy the strength to go back to her mother and say, no, they thought an eleven-tiered wedding cake was a little much, maybe three would do. They settled on five.
Rashad sent three postcards from each city they visited – one for Keshia and one for each of his daughters. There were three separate scrapbooks being kept. He sent one weekly letter to his wife that was essentially a journal that he kept all week. He phoned them on Sunday for a long chat, where he got filled in on the news of their week.
Nick worked the hardest of any of them offstage. He had daily workouts with Jeff, guitar practice with Mel, and endless interviews, appearances and meet-and-greets. He flashed his bright smile during all of it (well, maybe not the workouts!), but he was tired. He spent most of the time on the bus sleeping. It helped him recharge his batteries. And it helped him keep his hands off Mel.
Melody spent a lot of time sleeping on the bus as well. She was spending her off evenings out with musician friends whenever she could, talking over old times and catching up on recent events. She always carried a purse full of backstage passes and VIP tickets. All they had to do was ask.
They asked.
Like Nick, Mel was recharging her batteries. Also, like Nick, she was deliberately spending time away from him. It was becoming harder and harder not to react to him. Whenever she put her hand over his to show him something about the guitar, her universe would freeze for a second. When they walked past each other in the narrow aisle of the bus, she had to concentrate all her efforts on just breathing him in, and not touching him. Her nightly refrain to send herself to sleep was to remind herself that she was thirty. You’re thirty. You’re thirty. You’re thirty. And he’s not.
The others found it highly amusing to watch the two of them avoid each other. Blaine and Rashad started dropping little hints. Nick and Mel ignored them, and Toby sniffed at every one. On the road between Pittsburgh and Syracuse, the musicians were all on the same bus, planning the lineup for a charity gig they were squeezing into the tour.
There was a lot of joking and sexual innuendo. There always was when Tofu was around. The atmosphere was heating up a little, and finally, Tofu said, “At least I’m taking care of business, so I can concentrate on work. Not like those two.” He jerked his thumb at Nick and Mel. “I’m afraid that I’m going to get burnt to a cinder if I get caught between one of the smoldering glances they’re always throwing back and forth.” He turned to them. “When are you just going to go ahead and do it?”
Nick blushed, and Mel blinked. She stood up and looked around her slowly.
“Well, I guess…let’s see, yeah, this should do it.” She looked over at Blaine. “Yeah, right here’s good. We can use the sofa…or even the floor, if you don’t mind moving that chair out of the way.” She looked around again, nodding. Then over at Tofu. “Are you guys staying to watch or…?”
Rashad cracked up. God, he loved her sense of humor.
Melody grinned at them all. “All this sex talk is making me thirsty.” She started toward the kitchen. “Anybody else want anything?”
“I’ll have a Coke,” said Tofu, who laughed along with Rashad, until he saw the look on Nick’s face.
As Melody went past Nick, she ruffled his hair and tossed back over her shoulder. “Sorry to disappoint you guys, but you’re wrong about us.”
When she left the room, the others looked at Nick.
“Are we?” asked Rashad. “Are we wrong?”
Nick chewed on the inside of his mouth. He looked at them all and then slowly shook his head.
“Then go for it, My Man,” said Tofu. “What are you waiting for?”
“Just don’t let Rafe find out,” warned Blaine.
In the kitchenette, Melody stood with her forehead against the cool metal of the refrigerator. She thought she had handled that pretty well, making a joke out of it, but not hurting anyone’s feelings. My Lord, if they had all noticed how hot she was for him…
Melody sighed. Goddamn elevator. She would have been fine except for that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And now they were in Raleigh. The reviews had all been good. Some of them had been outstanding. The album was selling well. Alias Me was on its way to number one. They were trying to schedule a time for Nick to make the video for Bridge to Nowhere, the second single, a hard-rocking number that was one of the favorites of the musicians. They could really get into it with that number. Nick even jumped around on stage, and it didn’t seem out of place.
It had become a routine that Gus would collect the reviews from the city they had just left and read them to those who wanted to hear them. Nick rarely stayed for them. He only listened to this one because he was distracted and didn’t even notice what was going on, until Gus was halfway through it. Suddenly, his head snapped up. The others looked at him. What? Gus stopped talking.
“Read that again,” said Nick.
Gus read the review again. Nick stood up from the table and headed for the door. “Toby!” he called. The PA scurried out the door after him. The others exchanged looks. What happened?
“I want a copy of every review,” Nick told Toby. “Now!”
“Sure, Nick,” said Toby. “I have them all in a folder.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After rehearsal that day, where the atmosphere and been awkward and strained, Jeff took Melody aside. “Nick wants to see you in his dressing room. Now.”
“Sure,” said Mel, snapping her guitar case shut.
Jeff put a hand on her arm. “He’s not happy about something,” he warned.
Mel took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “Thanks for the heads up.”
She walked up the hall and stood in front of the door. She traced her fingers over the sign. Nick Carter. Then she knocked.
Chapter 40 by old_archive
Nick was sitting in an armchair, his long legs out in front of him, casually spread apart. On his lap was a file folder. A blue one.
“Jeff said you wanted to see me,” said Melody.
Nick tapped the file folder with a finger. “Yes, I wanted to go over some reviews with you.”
Oh no, thought Mel. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach that she knew what this was about. A sound from her left made her look in that direction. Gus was sitting in a chair with his head down.
Nick handed Melody the folder. She leafed through the pages. Nick had highlighted some spots. Mel knew that he knew. She looked up from the papers and into his eyes.
“You been pimpin’ me, Mel?” he asked quietly.
She couldn’t tell if he was angry or hurt.
“It’s not like that,” she said. “I was just…I…” She paused. “Gus didn’t do anything. I only asked him to…he just did what I asked.”
“Well, that’s his job, isn’t it?” said Nick. Then, after a long look at the PA, he said, “You can go, Gus.”
Gus stood up and left the room, giving Mel’s arm a quick squeeze of reassurance on the way by.
Nick waited for Mel to talk…to explain. Gus had told him that she had asked for a list of music critics - the toughest one in each of the cities they would be visiting. That was all he knew.
“It wasn’t fair…” she began. She spoke softly and looked at the floor. Nick had to strain to hear her words. “They had their minds made up before you ever got there. I just wanted them to give you a chance.”
“To have an open mind about things?” asked Nick. This was the phrase that had jumped out at him…the one he had highlighted in several of the articles.
Mel nodded. She handed him back the folder.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She had phoned Charlie Burke from the rest stop. They made small talk for awhile and arranged to meet that night at a club. Melody asked him what he knew about Sean Hughes. Charlie told her. Melody sighed and said she wished there was some way to convince people to give the kid a chance. Charlie suggested he invite Sean along for a drink.
Charlie introduced him as a music critic. Sean said ‘pleased to meet you’ to her chest.
“Are you a real music critic or just an MTV-wannabe?” asked Melody, shifting in her chair to give him a good side view.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sean asked. He dropped into the chair beside her and signaled for the waiter.
“Well, do you go to a concert with an open mind and listen to the music, or are you one of those who has the review all written out beforehand…churns out the same crap as everyone else?”
“I’m a serious journalist,” Sean replied.
“Good to know,” said Melody, reaching across him for a cocktail napkin. She blotted some drops of water on the table and twisted the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. “So Mr. Hughes, tell me about yourself.”
“Sean. Call me Sean.”
They chatted for a bit, and then he asked her to dance. He held her a little too close, and she retreated a step. She excused herself to the ladies room, after the music stopped. He went back to the table.
“So, I understand we’re going to be seeing each other again tomorrow night,” said Sean when Melody returned to the table. Charlie had obviously filled in the blanks for him.
Melody smiled at him. “I guess we are, if you’re covering the concert.”
“Is that what this is about, Ms. Jones?” said Sean, in a frosty tone. “Are you trying to butter me up for a good review? Get me to say something nice about the kid?”
“On the contrary, Mr. Hughes,” replied Melody, in an equally frosty tone. “I am a professional musician, and my work stands on its own merits. You say the same about yourself. All I would like is for you to keep an open mind. Tell the truth…but make sure you’re willing to see it first.”
The two engaged in a staring contest at that point that made Charlie start to get nervous. Just as he was deciding to step in, Sean threw his head back and laughed.
“Okay, Charlie, I’m gonna have one more dance with Ms. Jones, and then I’m going home to write the review for tomorrow’s concert.” He laughed at Mel’s wide-eyed look and chucked her under the chin. “I’m just kidding.” He took her hand and led her out onto the dance floor. This time, he kept a respectable distance.
“You gave me something to think about,” he said, when he was leaving. “I promise you…I’ll keep an open mind.”
“It’s going to be worth it,” she promised. “It’s a hell of a show.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I want you to stop this,” said Nick. He had listened to her explanation carefully, without moving, without reacting. She had never asked for anything, Mel insisted. She had merely challenged them to have an open mind.
“Yes Sir,” she replied humbly.
Nick laughed. Melody looked down at him. “I mean it,” he said, shaking his finger at her. “When you say, ‘yes sir’, I know you’re not going to. You’re just shining me.”
Melody shook her head. “No, really, I’ll stop. I don’t have to do it anymore anyway.”
“Why not?” said Nick. “I mean, if it was such a good plan…”
“Yeah, but…all the reviews are good…so even if the critic is a hack, he’ll probably follow the crowd and say it’s good. And of course, if he’s honest…” Mel shrugged, “…he’ll say it’s good.”
They looked at each other for a moment. Nick rose to his feet. Mel’s heart rose to her mouth. “Did Rafe put you up to this?” he asked softly.
Melody shook her head. “No, it was just me. It just…it just wasn’t fair.”
Nick took a step toward her. Melody told her feet to run, but they wouldn’t move.
“You owe me a hug,” he whispered. “I think I need one now.”
Melody stepped into him and put her arms around him. She squeezed him quickly and went to move away. But his arms had gone around her and were holding her tight. Melody whimpered softly, as she felt Nick’s lips on the top of her head. Help me, her brain cried silently to some unknown rescuer.
Her savior turned out to be Toby, who chose that moment to knock on the door. She and Nick sprang apart.
“Come in,” said Nick hoarsely, grabbing the file folder and holding it in front of him.
Toby looked from one to the other. Mel walked past him to the door. She turned back to Nick. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was just trying to…”
Nick nodded at her but didn’t say anything.
Well, good! thought Toby. Mel had obviously gotten shit for something. And about time too!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rafe hung up the phone and swiveled his chair around to look out the window. He had a corner office and a nice view, befitting his status in the company.
What an interesting conversation that was, he thought. Why the hell didn’t Tom know any of this stuff? Didn’t he have a clue about anything other than the show? Jesus, didn’t he know that backstage was where the intrigue was?
Melody Jones was turning out to be the choice of a lifetime. Imagine! Having the cojones to take on Sean Hughes, of all people! And Ellis Morton from the Memphis Commercial Appeal, and…well, the list went on. It was exactly the kind of thing Rafe would have engineered, if he’d thought of it.
Because she thought it wasn’t fair.
Rafe laughed at that. Little Pollyanna Jones. It wasn’t fair. They were picking on Nicky. And little 5’4” Mel strapped on her armor and rode to the rescue!
And Nicky!...Nick. Getting pissed with her when he found out. That was the most mature thing he’d ever done. The kid was growing up, that was for sure. Nick hadn’t said a word to Rafe about giving up the guitar – not one word! But Rafe knew about the purchase in Spain…and the lessons on the bus. He knew that Toby didn’t like Mel and that Gus would kiss her ass in a heartbeat.
Gus.
He seemed to be keeping his nose clean. Rafe couldn’t ask his main man too many direct questions about Gus. He wasn’t supposed to know him, after all.
His main man.
Another Rafe Ariando tour de force. Backstage was where it was at…where the problems developed. Once the stage show was set, it ran itself. If there were alcohol or drug problems, they didn’t happen onstage, they happened before the show…or after…or on the bus… If there were disagreements, or resentments, or love affairs…also offstage.
And Rafe couldn’t find that out from a review or an interview. It had to be an insider. And Rafe’s insider had provided a wealth of information. The insider had no idea that he was a spy, of course. He thought he had much loftier motives.
Rafe frowned.
His insider hedged a little when he talked about Nick and Mel. Rafe still couldn’t figure out why Nick hadn’t said anything to him about his little ‘Mel is gay’ twist of the truth. He hadn’t said anything to Tom either. But Nick knew it wasn’t true. Rafe saw that at the hospital appearance. Nick knew he was looking at a woman who might want him, who would at least look back. And she had looked back. Rafe didn’t know if it was just the music thing that Tom always talked about. It could have been. Rafe only noticed it when they were singing. But still…
Rafe turned from the window. He flipped open his daybook to this month’s calendar. He picked up the tour schedule. Maybe it was time for a visit. He picked up a second page from the folder. Tamara Vance’s schedule. Rafe didn’t think he could interfere with another one of her photo shoots. He had done that twice already, once to keep her out of New York and once to get her into Italy.
His finger moved across the page. Yes, here we go. Nick and Tamara’s schedules crossed paths here. Maybe Rafe would join the party, give Melody something to do while Nick and Tamara went at it behind closed doors.
Toronto. Canada. Yes, that was it. Tamara was doing a fashion show. Nick would have zero interest in attending that but maybe Mel would like to go. Maybe Rafe could pick her up another little dress.
Rafe picked up the phone and called Murray.
Chapter 41 by old_archive
“So how mad was he?” Martha Jane waved her hand at her husband. Get the kids out of the room. This is going to be a long one.
“Well, I don’t know if ‘mad’ is the right word…”
“Uh, yes it is, Mel. It’s the exact, perfect word.”
“Okay, at first, he was mad. He thought I’d gone behind his back…”
Martha Jane snorted.
“Yeah, I know I did…kind of…but it wasn’t something I could tell him about…it wasn’t supposed to be planned…it was supposed to be…”
“Spontaneous?” The sarcasm in Mart’s voice was unmistakable.
“Oh, shit! That makes me sound like Rafe.” Mel’s voice rose and threatened to become hysterical. “Do you think he thought I was like Rafe? He asked me that, you know. He said, did Rafe put you up to this?”
“Is that how he said it, ‘did Rafe put you up to this?’” If he had, that wasn’t good, thought Mart.
“Um…yeah…no…I don’t know…let me think…” Mel tried to pull the words back. Did Rafe ask you?…did Rafe tell you?…did Rafe…? “No, that’s what he said,” she said. “’Did Rafe put you up to this?’ Oh, God, Mart!”
“Now, calm down…calm down…” Mart tried to send reassurance down the wires. “You explained it, right? He was okay at the end?”
At the end. Right before Toby knocked.
“Yeah, he was okay.” Melody paused. “Aw, shit, Mart…” and she explained the hug and the kiss on the hair and the whole knee-buckling, stomach-flipping omilord feeling. “What am I going to do?” she asked weakly.
Mart didn’t have the answer. She knew what she should say. Don’t do it. You’re so much older. You’ll just end up getting hurt. But she didn’t say any of those things. She knew that Mel had already said those things to herself a hundred times.
“I’m going to tell you a baseball story,” said Mart. “A long time ago, Don Drysdale and Sandy Koufax were sitting around the Dodger dressing room in Los Angeles with the rest of the pitching staff.”
Mel smiled to herself. Martha Jane Connors was the biggest baseball fan she had ever met. Martha Jane believed that baseball was more than the national pastime. She believed that it was a metaphor for life. Some of the best advice Mel had ever received from Mart had been in the form of a baseball story, so she listened carefully.
“Yes?” she said.
“They were talking about opposing batters. What was the best way to pitch to them? They tossed around some names…people threw out suggestions…they talked it over…this guy’s a sucker for low and inside…that guy will always swing at the first pitch…”
“Uh huh,” said Mel.
“Then one of them said, ‘Hank Aaron.’” said Mart. “There was a silence. They all looked at each other. Finally, Don Drysdale said with a sigh, ‘Try not to have too many men on base when he hits it out of the park.’”
Mel digested the story silently. “So,” she said at last, “what you’re saying is that I can plan for most things…” She paused. “…but I should try not to have too much of my heart invested in this…”
“…when he hits it out of the park,” finished Mart. She didn’t have any idea what she was talking about. She was just trying to protect her friend from…from herself, mostly.
Melody gave herself a mental shake. “I’m not going there, Mart. I’m not putting my heart into it. It’s just a physical thing…that goddamn elevator! I’m thirty, for God’s sake. He’s twenty-three. There’s no way this is going anywhere. It’s just…proximity…that’s what it is…we can’t get away from each other…we’re together on the bus…we’re together at rehearsals and during the show…”
Mart’s heart broke for her friend. The bases were loaded.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick had waited long enough. He knew that Mel wanted him too. They all knew it. He didn’t care how old she was, and he was going to freakin’ kill Toby, if the PA didn’t stop mentioning her age in every sentence.
Nick wanted her in a way that he had never wanted Tamara. Maybe it was because he’d never had to want Tamara. She’d been right there. Always willing. Eager, in fact. Nick had never gotten past, ‘Do you want to…?’ before Tamara started taking off her clothes.
Maybe that was what this was about…the fact that he couldn’t have her made him want her more. Shit, he hated thinking through stuff like this. He never made any sense. But what made sense to him was that they were two adults, who could do what they wanted. And he wasn’t going to pretend anymore. If Mel was going to say no, she was going to have to say it to him, not run away and hide.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“He wants to see you,” Jeff whispered in Mel’s ear, as she went past him out the door.
She stopped and looked at him.
“In his room,” he murmured.
Mel gave a slight shake of her head.
“He said I shouldn’t take no for an answer,” Jeff continued.
They were in Montreal.
Melody sighed. Might as well get it over with. She squeezed Jeff’s arm and smiled. “I won’t shoot the messenger,” she said.
Jeff raised his eyebrows. “But you’ll go?”
Mel nodded. This had been going on for days. Every time he came near her, Nick stroked her arm or touched her hair or…looked at her…
The bus rides had been almost unbearable. Melody pleaded fatigue and spent the entire time in her bunk with the curtain drawn, only coming out when she was sure Nick was asleep. When he insisted on a guitar lesson, she sat across from him with her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped tightly around them. She made him practice with his eyes closed so that he couldn’t look at her.
The concerts were excruciating. The warm-up bands turned out to be a bunch of great guys…all of them excited at the chance to perform for a sold-out crowd…thankful to Nick for giving them a chance for a reunion. They had a lot of fun at rehearsals, and every one of them had been impressed enough to say something during their performance. You’re in for a real treat now. This guy rocks the house. Stuff like that. There was a party atmosphere surrounding the concerts. Mel heard one of the crew say, “Can you believe we get paid for this?”
But Mel couldn’t get away from it. She knew some of the guys in these bands and had to be sociable. There was also the occasional friend who dropped by that she had to introduce to Nick. Nick took these opportunities to torture her…to drop an arm around her shoulder and say, we’re so lucky to have Mel with us. Then a tiny squeeze on her arm…or a fingernail run down her back. She damn near passed out when he did that.
Alias Me had become so hot that Tofu said he was thinking of getting asbestos underwear. The last ‘alias me’ didn’t go anywhere near the audience. As far as the band could tell, at that point, Nick and Mel didn’t even know there was an audience out there.
And when Nick introduced her, he saved her for the end, and he walked slowly, so slowly toward her. The whole crew wondered what he was going to do. Melody stood rooted to the spot, her wide eyes pleading with him not to touch her.
“And last, but not least, the most talented lady I know, the incomparable Melody Jones…”
Nick nodded at her, and Mel did her guitar riff for the crowd. Nick stood with his back to the audience and ran his tongue over his lips. Mel was the only one who wasn’t aware of the fact that she did it back to him.
She started hanging around Toby. She knew Toby didn’t want her anywhere near Nick, so if she hung around with him, he found things to do that weren’t near the six-foot blond with the crooked smile and those hands that…Damn! Damn! Damn!
But she couldn’t hang with Toby at the hotels. He and Gus pleaded paperwork and disappeared into their room, after making sure that everyone had everything they needed. Jeff saw what was going on. He tried to decide whether it was a good idea or not. In the end, he decided that it was none of his business. He figured he’d just sift through the ashes when they were done.
Melody walked up the hall to Nick’s suite. She knocked on the door. She could see that it was propped open with a shoe. She laughed. What a goof! She pushed the door open and knocked again. “Nick?”
“Come on in,” he said.
Melody kicked the shoe out of the way and closed the door behind her. She walked past a closet and peered into the room. Nick was sitting on the sofa holding his guitar. He was barefoot. His feet were propped up on the coffee table, his legs spread apart. Melody looked around. Nice place. Not much different from her room except for the furniture. A door on her left led into the bedroom.
Nick grinned at her and beckoned her forward with his head. His fingers continued to idly pick out notes.
“Ah, the inner sanctum,” she intoned, reverence in her voice. She thought she might throw up.
“Yeah, the big star suite,” laughed Nick.
“Nick Central,” offered Melody, with a smile.
Nick set down the guitar and stood up. Melody stopped smiling. Her stomach turned over. Nick walked toward her.
Melody cleared her throat. “You wished to see me, Sir.”
“Ah, I like that attitude,” he said, stopping in front of her. “A little humility from the peasants.” He traced his index finger down the side of her face.
Melody inhaled sharply.
“It makes me think you might do what you’re told, for once,” whispered Nick.
“And what would that be, Mr. Carter, Sir?” asked Melody, biting her lip.
“This,” he answered, and he put his mouth on hers. Mel whimpered, and Nick scooped her into his arms. His soft lips covered hers and made her want to stay there forever.
“No,” she said, moving her head away from him. “We can’t. Nick, don’t.” His lips had moved to her neck.
“Yes, we can,” he murmured into her throat.
“No,” she said, in a firmer voice and found her resolve. “No,” she said a third time, and he let her go.
“Why not?” he asked. Nick took her face in his hands. “I know you want me. You can’t say that you don’t. I know you do.”
“That’s not the point,” said Melody, gently prying his fingers from her face and stepping away from him.
“That’s exactly the point,” said Nick. “I want you. You want me.”
“…we’re a happy family…” sang Melody, doing the Barney song. It broke the tension.
Nick laughed. “C’mon, Mel.”
“No, Nick. It won’t be good for the tour. People will notice.”
“Oh, like people haven’t noticed how hot we are for each other already.”
Point taken, thought Melody.
“It’s not the same thing,” she said. “Now it’s just sparring back and forth. We haven’t always gotten along. Could be heat, could be hate.”
They stared at each other.
“I’m thirty,” said a pain-filled voice.
“So what?” said a voice seven years younger.
Mel shook her head. So everything.
She turned to go.
“Give me five minutes,” said Nick. “Just five minutes. Okay? Please.”
Melody’s shoulders slumped. “Okay,” she said. “Five minutes. But I don’t know what you’re going to say in five minutes that you think will change my mind.”
“I’m not going to say anything,” said Nick, and he swept her into his arms, moving his mouth down over hers.
Melody moaned, and her brain gave way to the rest of her. There were several moments of temporary insanity before reason fought its way back to the fore. She put both her hands on his chest and pushed.
“You know what,” she said, backing away. “This is just hormones. We’re just horny…maybe not even for each other.”
Nick shifted his groin, belying the accuracy of her statement.
“Hell, I’m the only woman around,” she continued. “Maybe you don’t even want me.”
“So what are you suggesting?” asked Nick in disbelief. “That I go out and get laid…find someone else, just to see if I really want you…”
Melody nodded. Yes, that was what she was suggesting. She couldn’t believe it, but that was indeed what she was suggesting.
“Tamara,” she said.
“I have to do it by tomorrow?” Nick wasn’t following.
“No…Tamara. She’s going to be in Toronto, right?”
Nick nodded. He couldn’t believe this. Mel wanted him to prove he wanted her by sleeping with someone else. Women!
“I will if you will,” he said finally.
“What?”
“That’s only fair. Otherwise, I’m like…the guy who cheated or something…”
“Nick…”
“No.” He held up his hand. “That’s the way it has to be. If we are going to get each other out of our system, then it has to be both of us. I’m sure there’s lots of guys around that…”
“Oh, I wouldn’t have any trouble, don’t worry about that,” said Mel. She couldn’t believe this conversation.
“Okay, then…before Toronto.”
“We’re in Ottawa next,” said Mel.
“Okay, Ottawa it is.”
Ten minutes later, Melody sat in her room wondering what in the hell had just happened. Nick sat in his room and wondered who she would pick.
Chapter 42 by old_archive
From Montreal to Ottawa is only a two-hour bus ride. It was the longest two hours of Melody’s life. She didn’t want to be with people, but what could she do? She could hardly hide in her bunk. It was ten o’clock in the morning! She buried her head in a crossword puzzle, but every clue seemed to have a double meaning.
Nick picked up his guitar and played Who Needs the World? He was almost at the end when it filtered through to Melody’s brain that he was playing it perfectly. Melody looked up. He was playing it with his eyes closed.
“Now, sing,” she whispered when he finished. She knew it would be the end of her, but he was ready.
“Really?”
“Yes, but don’t forget that the music comes first. You can’t stop playing just because you want to put some emotion or whatever into the words. If you’re the only guy playing, that would be impossible, right? So, if you do that when you have a backup band, it makes people think you’re not really playing.”
Nick nodded and started singing the song. He had to stop several times. But he kept at it.
They arrived at the Corel Centre in Ottawa. In the flurry of getting everything unloaded and set up, Nick kept his distance from Mel, but he never took his eyes off her. He watched her interact with various men and wondered each time, if that was the one. Toby had hinted broadly in the past about Mel and Scott Thornton. Nick kept a special eye on him.
Melody decided to torture Nick. She seemed to have completely forgotten that this whole thing was her idea in the first place. She had talked herself into believing that it was right, though. It was hormones. She hadn’t had sex in a long time, and Nick was a very sexy guy. But giving in to her urges would compromise the tour, even if neither of them wanted it to. So she was just going to get it somewhere else and move on with her life. Nick would have his time with Tamara in Toronto, and they could get back on track. And they were damn sure never getting in the same elevator again!!
So Melody wandered from man to man, talking about equipment or songs or the weather, whatever came into her head. She laid her hand on their arm, smoothed their hair off their face, offered them drinks of water. She threw her head back and gave a sexy laugh when they said something amusing. She gave Scott Thornton a backrub that made him think he’d never be able to stand up from the console.
Nick watched it all through pinched lips. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten into this situation. He’d called her to his room to make love to her, and somehow, it ended up that he told her she had to go sleep with someone else.
The media arrived, and Nick tried to do his interviews and pay attention to the questions while keeping an eye on Mel. Even though it was none of his business who it was going to be, he just somehow had to know. And when he saw Mel slip a folded piece of yellow paper to Scott, he guessed he knew.
Scott read the note and raised his eyebrows at her. Mel smiled at him and nodded and then walked away. Scott stuffed the note in his pocket and then looked around the room, checking to see if anyone had been paying attention. When he looked at Nick, Nick was looking the other way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He stood in the hallway, looking at the crumpled-up yellow paper in his hand. He wondered what the hell was going on. The note was crumpled up because he’d opened and closed it a dozen times, trying to make sense of it.
Mel opened the door at his knock.
He gave a small smile. “You wanted to see me?”
She nodded and motioned him into her room. She wondered if she could really go through with this. He perched on the edge of the armchair and waited for her to begin. She offered him a soft drink, water, beer. No, he was good, thanks.
There was a long pause. Then she took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I was wondering if you would…” Aw crap! She couldn’t do this.
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if you would have sex with me.” There! It was out! She’d said it. She couldn’t take it back now.
He rose to his feet. “Say again.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Do I have to?”
“No, it’s okay. I think I heard right. You want me to have sex with you.”
“Yes, please. But only for tonight. Just recreational.”
He gave that some thought. Then, “do you mind me asking you why?”
She didn’t say anything for a full minute. Finally, she said, “So I can get over my Nick jones.”
He chuckled. “Melody Jones has a Nick jones?”
“Yes, yes she does,” said Melody with a sigh. “It would just be one time. No one would ever know. Just tonight…” She wanted to flee from the room. She took a step toward the door.
He stopped her with a hand. “Do you want it to be a little dirty?”
She took a deep breath and grinned at him. “A little dirty would be good.”
He pulled her hand toward him and placed it on his crotch. She could feel his interest. She rubbed his erection and stepped toward him.
“Are you sure?” he asked, cupping her chin in his hand. “Melody, are you sure?”
She looked into his crystal-blue eyes. “Yes, Nick, I’m sure.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She lay with her head on his arm, her fingers playing with his nipple ring. He lay on his back with his eyes closed. They waited for their breathing to get back to normal and some kind of rational thought to return. The only thought that Melody was able to process was that she would never, never think of Nick again as ‘the kid’.
Nick hadn’t hesitated, when she said, ‘I’m sure’, but had picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He lay down beside her and then kissed her. It was hot and slow and deep, and it went on forever. His fingers traced over her skin and undid buttons and snaps and zippers. She kissed him back and did the same.
It is awkward for two people to lie horizontally and get undressed. There has to be a moment where they separate to get a t-shirt off over a head, or socks and shoes off. Jeans can be especially tricky. Mel couldn’t figure out for the life of her why that hadn’t happened here. There was just this haze of bliss…of kissing and touching…and then, they were naked. They couldn’t take their mouths away from each other, and they couldn’t keep their fingers still.
Nick stroked her and caressed her. She wrapped her hands around him and stroked him slowly. She could feel the pulse of his heartbeat in her fingertips. When he felt her get close, Nick took his mouth from hers and put it on her breast. He sucked her gently for a moment, and then he flicked his tongue roughly over her nipple. Melody moaned and writhed under him. He used the same rhythm with his tongue as he was with his hand, and moments later, Melody went over the edge and tumbled into the abyss.
Nick didn’t give her a moment to recover but moved his mouth to her neck and her collarbones and then back to her breasts. His hands traced lines up and down her thighs and across her stomach. Her caresses were getting him closer than he wanted so he removed her hands from him and shifted his weight sideways. Melody transferred her attention to his back and arms and neck and…oh, why were people only born with two hands?! She traced her fingers over his tattoos and then did the same with her tongue.
Nick’s soft mouth on her upper body and his skilful manipulation of the lower half pushed her over the edge one more time, before he would allow himself to let go. But Mel’s whispered, “Please, Nick, please…” was more than he could handle. He positioned himself over her and gently pushed himself into her. She threw her head back on the pillow and moaned.
Then they looked into each other’s eyes as he entered her slowly, so slowly that she wanted to slap him for torturing her. But then he said, “you’re so small” in a tiny whisper, and she knew he was afraid he would hurt her. She wrapped her legs around him and dug her heels into his buttocks, pressing him forward. She shoved her hips upward and took him into her. She started to tremble with the thrill of having him in her, filling her body, touching her soul with those eyes that stared into the very centre of her.
Nick knew he was close. He wondered if he could make this last forever, if he didn’t move. Because he wanted this to last forever. He wanted to look into those brown eyes and be part of this woman. Mel licked her lips and nodded at him, and he knew he could only please her now by pleasing himself, by hurtling into the abyss after her. So he moved…slowly and gently, he moved in and out of her, and only when he was absolutely certain that he was not hurting her, did he pick up the pace and the intensity. He came with a shudder and a roaring in his ears that he hoped wasn’t his own voice. Melody trembled and shook and dug her fingernails into his back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With a tiny sigh, Nick opened his eyes. Melody looked up at his face from her nest in the crook of his arm and sighed as well. Then she trailed her fingertips lightly down his chest and across his stomach. He covered her hand with his, stilling it.
“Am I tickling you?” she asked lazily, her voice still husky with passion.
“No,” he answered softly, “It’s just…you know…my stomach…I’m not…”
Melody looked up at him, shaking her head. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “You are who you are.” And she shifted his hand off hers and continued caressing the rounded flesh of his tummy.
“Well, what I’d like to be is one of those guys with the six-pack abs and hard stomachs.”
Melody raised herself up on one elbow and looked into his eyes. “Yeah, well what I’d like to be is 5’9”,” she laughed. “But to quote a friend of mine, ‘you can’t always get what you want’.”
Nick smiled at her and picked up the line. “…but if you try sometimes, you just might find…”
They finished it together. “…you get what you need.”
Melody laughed and put her head back down on his arm.
Nick spoke so softly, she almost didn’t hear him. “Did you get what you need, Mel?”
Did she get what she needed? What Melody thought she needed was to get this man out of her head, to be able to process some other mental image than his mouth or his hands. Had she done that? She wasn’t sure. But she also didn’t think that was what he was really asking. She smiled up at him and nodded her head.
“But it wasn’t very dirty,” she said, taking his nipple ring in her teeth and tugging on it gently. He made a small sound and cupped her breast in his hand, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “It was exquisite,” she murmured, “but not very dirty.”
Nick rolled her onto her back and raised himself up on one elbow. “Well, maybe next time, it can be a little dirty,” he said.
“There is no next time,” replied Melody. “We agreed, we would only do this once. Just one time.”
“Just one night,” Nick corrected her. “You said ‘just one night’.”
They stared at each other for a moment. Melody opened her mouth to protest, but there was no point. Nick covered her mouth with his own, and then they were making love again.
When they were done this time, he turned her away from him and cradled her in his arms from behind.
“Still not very dirty,” he whispered in her ear.
“Still exquisite,” she responded.
They lay there together for a few minutes. Melody could feel herself falling sleep. “You have to go,” she managed to murmur.
“In a minute,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder.
A few minutes later, Melody felt him stir. He eased himself out of bed. She could hear him getting dressed. She wasn’t sure if she should turn over and talk to him or stay where she was. She was sliding down into sleep and had lost the power to move, so she stayed where she was.
“Goodnight,” she heard a soft voice.
“’Night,” she murmured. “And Nick…don’t forget what this was…” and then she drifted away.
Nick smiled down at her. “I won’t,” he said, but he didn’t think she heard him. He eased himself out the door, checking the hallway first to make sure it was empty. He tiptoed up the hall, his shoes in his hand, and entered his own room. He dropped the shoes and stripped off his clothes as he made his way to the bed. He fell into it naked and was almost immediately asleep, cradling one of the pillows in his arms.
Chapter 43 by old_archive
“ullo…”
“Good morning, Ms. Jones. Are you sleeping in?”
Melody blinked her eyes. Whose voice was this? ”Rafe?”
She tried to focus on the clock, but she couldn’t make the red numbers mean anything.
“Turn on the coffee maker,” he said. “I’ll wait.”
Melody set down the phone and stumbled from the bed. She pushed the button on the coffee maker that she had set up the night before and listened to it start to hiss and gurgle. She looked down at herself and realized she was naked. That made her uncomfortable somehow, and she grabbed the sheet from the bed, wrapping it around her. Then she picked up the phone.
“Mornin’, Rafe…” Her voice was still groggy. She heard him laugh. She blinked the clock into focus. It was 8:30. That was late for her to wake up. Then she remembered what she had been doing the night before. She felt the flush start at her toes and warm her whole body on its way to her face.
“So, I heard last night’s concert went well,” said Rafe, conversationally, trying to fill in the time needed for Melody to get her coffee. Melody gave an unintelligible grunt in response. “The kid is really doing a great job,” he added.
“He’s not a kid,” whispered Melody. There was a silence as Rafe digested that remark. He was just about to speak when Melody said, “Coffee. Be right back,” and set down the phone. Rafe could hear her moving around. Then he heard a tiny “aaahhh…” and he knew she had her coffee.
Everyone on the tour got a good laugh out of Mel in the morning. Jeff and Nick and Toby did imitations of her that kept the others in stitches. Mel was the first to admit that she wasn’t herself without coffee. On the bus, she went from bed to bathroom to coffee maker. She did that mostly with her eyes closed. Any attempt to engage her in conversation was rebuffed by her holding up her palm. Not that that ever stopped Toby, said Jeff.
Once she got some coffee into her, she would look around, taking in who was there. “Mornin’ Toby,” she’d say, as if she had just noticed him.
Recognition came with the first cup. Coherent conversation came with the second. The first cup was consumed like fuel, quickly flooding out to all parts of her, forcing her eyelids to open, giving her the power of speech. The second cup was savored, sipped slowly as she eased herself into her day. She’d sit on the sofa in her pajamas, usually a long t-shirt and boxers and talk quietly with whoever was up…usually Jeff and Toby.
Then she’d set down the coffee cup and pick up her guitar. At first, she’d been reluctant to disturb them and had hunkered down in a corner, with her back to them. If Nick was awake, which was rare, she’d head to the back of the bus. After Jeff, and even Toby, assured her that they didn’t stop talking because she was disturbing them but because they enjoyed listening to her play, she stopped hiding, and it became part of the morning routine. First coffee, then music.
“Got your coffee?” Rafe was getting a little impatient.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it…”
“Well, then, I’ll start again. Good morning, Ms. Jones.”
“Good morning, Mr. Ariando. You’re up early. It must be…what?...5:30 where you are.”
Why are you calling me? wondered Melody. She pulled a t-shirt over her head, an awkward maneuver that almost made her miss his answer.
“No, it’s 8:30 where I am. I’m not in Los Angeles.”
“Where are you, New York?”
“No, I’m in Toronto.”
Melody’s stomach dropped. Rafe was in Toronto? Omigod! What if he noticed something! He’d kill them both if he found out.
“Mel? Are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here. Just having a sip of coffee, trying to wake up. So what are you doing in Toronto? Come to check up on us?”
Melody grabbed her jeans from the floor and pulled them on, not even bothering with underwear. She had to be dressed. Somehow, she just couldn’t do this naked.
Rafe didn’t answer for a moment. He was busy trying to figure out why Melody was so tired at this time of morning. He had already talked to his insider and knew that she hadn’t stayed very long at the after party, had said she was tired.
“No, nothing like that. I just thought I’d come for a visit, that’s all. You okay, Mel?” There was genuine concern in his voice. “You sound tired. Is the tour getting you down? Is it harder than you thought it would be?”
Melody slapped herself awake mentally and chose her words carefully. “No…well, yes and no…I mean, of course, I didn’t really have a clue what a tour was like, did I? Talk about leading a sheltered life in the studio!” She laughed. “But I’m enjoying it. It could never be my full-time job, but I’m enjoying it.”
“It’s a bit wearing, though, isn’t it?” Rafe hoped she’d hang in there. He didn’t want to get another guitarist at this date.
“A little bit,” admitted Melody. “But it’s no big deal, Rafe! Toronto will be nice, though. Four whole days in the same place.” She laughed. “I think I’ll do something ‘girly’. Maybe even go shopping.”
Rafe laughed. “I doubt that! But I might be able to help you with that…the girly thing, I mean.” Rafe went on to explain that there was a big charity fashion show happening and that he had two tickets to it. Would she go with him? It would be a chance to promote Nick.
Melody couldn’t see how her going to a fashion show would promote Nick. She also couldn’t see that he needed it that much. Toronto had sold out three shows in a matter of hours. But she also didn’t see how she could politely refuse, and it would, after all, give her a couple of hours break from the testosterone-laden atmosphere she was living in at the moment. So she said yes. And then she wondered out loud what she should wear.
“Why don’t you wear the outfit you wore in Atlanta?” said Rafe. “The loose pants and the black lace blouse.”
“Okay,” said Mel, who wanted to get off the phone and go to the bathroom. And then get more coffee.
“That’s great,” said Rafe. “Okay, I’ll see you guys when you get in. I’ll leave details for you at the hotel, in case I miss you.”
He rang off, and Melody raced to the bathroom. As she sat on the toilet, she wondered how Rafe Ariando knew what she’d worn when she went out in Atlanta.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Mel…” The word slipped from Nick’s lips, as he became conscious. He tightened his arms around the pillow. Then he rolled onto his back. Mmmm… Last night had been beyond incredible.
At first, he’d been confused. When he got the note. Just her room number and the word, ‘please’. She’d slipped it into his hand, when she was leaving the after-party, telling everyone she was tired. He’d waited for half an hour…opening and closing the note, afraid that the writing would have disappeared.
And then…
Nick stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. He relieved himself and then reached for his toothbrush. He grinned at himself in the mirror. And then…
Nick had no idea what had made Mel change her mind. And he didn’t care. He knew that she said it was only for that one night. He knew that she tried to make it sound like she was getting him out of her system. But no way…uh uh…no sirree! She had to want to do it again. She just had to!
Nick turned on the shower and climbed in. As he soaped his body, he relived the previous night. Mel was so little, he was afraid he would hurt her. Nick looked down at himself. He guessed he was fairly well-endowed – Tamara always told him he was the biggest man she’d ever had, but who knew if she was telling the truth – but Mel had such a small frame…she seemed fragile somehow, and Nick was afraid he’d break her.
But he hadn’t. She had taken all of him into her tight, perfect center and…Nick looked down again and laughed. Good morning! He wondered if he should take care of this himself or if he should see if Mel was awake.
Mel! Nick sighed, and a thrill ran through him. He flipped the shower to cold and brought himself down to earth. He didn’t even know what time it was. He might even be running late. And Tofu would be sure to say something like ‘jerking off in the shower again?’, and Nick knew that he would blush if it were true.
He dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist. Back in the bedroom, he squinted at the clock. 9:00. He had slept in a bit. They were getting on the road early today. Good thing he hadn’t spent more time in the shower. The flashing red light on the phone caught his eye. He had a message. He pulled on some clean underwear and his jeans. He picked up the receiver and punched in the appropriate numbers.
A metallic sounding voice said, “You have two messages. To hear your first message, press ‘1’ now.” Nick hit the button.
Tamara’s voice brought him starkly down to earth. “Hi Babe! How was the concert? It’s pretty late. You must still be at the party. I hope you’re not tiring yourself out too much. I’ll see you tomorrow. We need to talk.” Her words sounded a little slurred.
The metallic voice came back. “Time of message…1:45 a.m.”
Nick hadn’t been at the party. He’d been with Mel.
“…to hear your next message, press ‘2’ now.”
Nick sat down on the bed. Shit! What did he do now?
When he and Tamara were in Rome, she had started making noises about relationships…how everyone had to settle down some day…how, as nice as it was to have a fuck-buddy, sometimes you needed more than that. Nick had trouble getting his head around what she was saying…either she was telling him she wanted more of a relationship, or she was telling him she wanted less. He couldn’t figure out which. Finally, he just asked her. She had equivocated and said she was just thinking out loud. And then she’d taken him to bed and confused him even further.
During the three conversations they’d had since he’d been back in the country, she’d made reference to it once in each conversation, once saying that her mother was making grandmother-type noises, once saying that the travel was wearing her down and she didn’t know how he did it all the time, and once saying that a friend of hers was a fool for breaking up with her fiancée because, when you found a good man, you should never let him go.
And now she wanted to talk.
Nick hit ‘2’ on the phone pad.
“Me again,” said Tamara’s voice. “It’s…um…let me see…8:45 in the morning. You are either in the shower or not home from the party yet. In which case, you will look like shit, and Rafe will kick your ass. I saw him, by the way. He’s here in Toronto. Anyway, I’ll see you tonight. I’ve got that charity thing…yeah, yeah, I know you don’t want to go…but we can have dinner after. Okay?”
Nick heard a click and then “Time of message: 8:46 a.m. End of messages.”
Nick stared at the phone. Rafe was in Toronto? Was Nick supposed to know that? He didn’t think so. Nick sighed. Whenever Rafe showed up, trouble wasn’t far behind. Trouble for Nick!
He thought about Mel again. There was no way he wanted Rafe finding out about that. It was none of Rafe’s goddamn business, but… He recalled Rashad’s advice from the bus, “Just don’t let Rafe find out.”
He pulled on a shirt and some socks, and when Toby knocked on the door a few minutes later, he was ready. Ready to go to breakfast…in the hotel dining room…with the band…with Mel.
Chapter 44 by old_archive
No one in the room had had more sex in their life than Christofol Sandoval and Gustavo Deloro. Tofu would do it with any reasonably attractive woman, and Gus didn’t limit himself to one gender. And they both took one look at Nick and Mel and knew exactly what had happened the night before.
Mel was already at the table, when Nick walked in with Toby and Jeff. She was listening to Rashad tell a ‘proud papa’ story and twitched visibly, when Rashad said in mid-sentence, ‘Yo, Nick!’ Her head swung slowly and deliberately around.
The two lovers made eye contact and nodded slightly to each other. Then both turned carefully away.
“You were saying?” said Mel to Rashad.
Nick asked Toby about orange juice. Gus and Tofu looked at each other and grinned.
“Hey, did anyone know that Rafe’s going to be in Toronto?” asked Nick, suddenly.
Melody twitched again. Only Jeff noticed this time.
“Are you sure?” asked Toby. He liked to be in the loop on these things, and this was a surprise to him.
“Yeah, I just found out myself. Tamara told me she’d seen him there. Surprise inspection, I guess.” Nick shrugged and wandered over to the buffet table to make his selections.
Rashad continued his story, and Mel listened, a bright smile on her face. But she wasn’t hearing a word. Her brain couldn’t get past the word ‘Tamara’.
Nick had talked to Tamara. This morning. After being in Mel’s bed last night. Mel knew that she was being…well, she guessed ‘insane’ was the best word for it. She had told Nick that they would only have one night together. Hell, she had insisted he sleep with Tamara in Toronto. But couldn’t he have waited? Did he have to phone the model so soon…?
“Mel?”
She blinked. The story was over, and still she sat there, beaming like an idiot. Some kind of comment was called for. She sure wished she knew what it was.
Once again, Gus saved her. “You should write a book, Rashad. You should write down all these stories about your kids. You’re a great storyteller, right Mel?”
Mel nodded and agreed with Gus. She was seated at the back of the table, and she suddenly felt very hemmed in and claustrophobic. She needed to get up. She needed to get out of this room. She needed to do it now! She could feel panic setting in. She twisted her hands together in her lap, and her breathing became labored.
Suddenly, she felt a hand over hers. She looked to her left. Tofu leaned into her and whispered in her ear. “Did I ever tell you that I want to suck your toes?”
Melody stared at him for a second and then burst out laughing. “You’re too much, Tofu,” she said and then threw her arms around her lifeline.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Somehow Melody made it through the rest of the meal and all the details of departure. They boarded the buses, ready to head out. Tom rushed in at the last minute and begged Nick to do a phone interview with a local radio station.
“They couldn’t say enough good things about the concert last night,” said Tom. “A surprise phone call would be great.”
Nick made some notes, and then Toby dialed the number Tom had given him. After a couple of words of small talk, he handed Nick the phone.
“Hey, Mike, how’s it going?”
Jeff and Melody pressed their ear to the radio that was playing on low in the background. They heard Mike almost pee his pants on air, when he made the announcement that he was talking to none other than Nick Carter, the subject of his recent glowing remarks. Mike told Nick how great the concert had been and how the phone had been ringing off the hook and the emails were piling up.
“That’s great,” said Nick. “I really like coming to Ottawa. The fans are great here.”
Nick had learned to stop saying ‘the Canadian fans’. That pissed them off. After all, he didn’t say, ‘I love coming to Milwaukee. The American fans are great.’
Well, the fans sure loved him, insisted Mike, and then he told Nick a couple of stories about what some fans had been willing to do to get tickets to the concert. Mel was horrified, and it showed on her face. Nick laughed at her expression and then told Mike that really, he didn’t understand that, that people would do that. He sure hoped that no one had done anything too dangerous. He would hate it if anyone got hurt. Mel could hear the swooning all over Ottawa at that comment. Oh, Nickkkkkkkkkkkkk…
Mike talked about a few of the things that happened at the concert…different songs…the band. Nick gave the stock answers, referring to the page in front of him, so that he wouldn’t do something stupid, like not know the name of the venue.
These days it was hard…it was always some corporate thing…the Corel Centre in Ottawa, the Staples Centre in L.A. Chicago had Bell Cellular Field. Rochester had the Blue Cross Arena. Nick was waiting for the day that he played a concert in Kleenex Park or Charmin’ Stadium.
Then Mike referred to Alias Me. He talked about how the song had been number one in Ottawa for several weeks now, and that it was one of his favorites, but somehow when Nick did it live, with the guitar player singing along…um…
Nick helped him out. “Melody Jones.”
“Yes, yes, that’s it. Thanks, Nick. Well, that was a moment, I can tell you. The harmony. And the way the two of you blend together. Amazing!”
Nick and Melody stared at each other.
And then Jeff knew too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They arrived in Toronto six hours later. An accident on Highway 401 slowed them down. They lost nearly an hour. Nick and Mel were so twitchy that Jeff wanted to get out and push the wrecked cars off the highway himself.
It was impossible for them to avoid each other on the bus, and for some reason, they wanted to. Jeff didn’t get it. He figured he knew what had happened between them. Maybe it had been a mistake, but if they both realized that already, then they had set some kind of world record. Finally, when it reached the boiling point, Jeff grabbed at the only straw he thought might work.
“Music,” he said.
Toby had no idea what was going on between Nick and Mel, but he had sensed the tension as well. Toby figured Mel had done something else to piss Nick off but that he was too polite to tell her off in public.
“Yes,” said Toby, agreeing with Jeff. “Let’s have some music.” He didn’t care if they turned on the radio to AM. He just wanted the oppressive silence to end.
Nick and Melody both reached for their guitar. Then they looked at each other and grinned. Nick ran his fingers over the strings.
“Play with me,” he said, and he started Who Needs the World? He didn’t sing. Melody played along with him.
“Sing with me,” he said when they were done, and then he played it again.
Melody didn’t. They both played, and he sang. She merely added the syllable ‘Ahhh…” in harmony where she felt like it. It wasn’t often. It was enough, however, to make him fall in love.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hey, Nick. Over here!”
Nick turned to see Rafe striding toward him and Jeff. He was dressed for going out somewhere, Nick thought. No tie. The Spaniard was wearing a black suit with a white shirt. Crisp cuffs peeked from the bottom of the sleeves. The shirt had no collar and was made of textured linen. The girls would be all over him, Nick figured.
The men shook hands. Rafe invited Nick to join him in the bar for a drink. They leaned on the bar and made small talk for a few minutes, discussing the tour and the new video, which they were going to shoot while they were in Toronto. So much for a day off, thought Nick. Jeff got himself a club soda and sat at a table by the door.
Nick set his empty beer glass on the counter and looked at his watch. Because of the accident, he hadn’t got to the city in time to talk to Tamara before she went off to her fashion show. He was meeting her afterward for dinner at Sassafraz. He had the name and address written down. It would be some trendy place, Nick knew, probably with overpriced mediocre food, but lots of ambience. The kind of place Rafe would probably like.
Rafe looked at his watch too. He chuckled. “The amount of time we spend waiting on our women!” Then he looked at Nick. “But I guess maybe you missed Tamara.”
Nick nodded and wondered who Rafe was waiting for.
Rafe drank the last of his Scotch and then blew Nick’s world apart. “I told Mel seven. She’s never late, so that gives me another few minutes. Another beer?”
“Mel?” Nick wasn’t processing.
Rafe signaled to the bartender and circled his finger over the two glasses. Another round.
“Yes,” he said, and then he added, “You know, Nick, I’ve been wanting to apologize for that little ‘Mel is gay’ story that I told you. Obviously, it isn’t true.”
Nick didn’t say anything.
“It’s just that…well, to tell you the truth, I guess I was a little jealous. You’re a pretty hot guy, and if Mel was going to…well…um…turn to anyone, shall we say…I figured it would be you. I thought if I could keep a little distance between the two of you until you were into the tour, then you would just be…I don’t know…pals, buddies, whatever…” Rafe’s voice trailed off.
Nick thought Rafe sounded almost humble.
“Don’t blame Tom,” said Rafe. “He was just backing me up. I told him it was about the music. That nothing…”
“…should get in the way of the music,” finished Nick.
Suddenly, he was on a train looking out at the English countryside. That was what Mel had said when she told him she wasn’t gay. When she told him not to talk to Rafe about it.
“So you and Mel…?”
“…are going to the Fashion Benefit tonight. The one Tamara’s in. Say, why don’t you tell me where you two are having dinner. Maybe Mel and I could join you.”
“I…uh…I don’t know…we’re…uh…we’re meeting here…we…uh…we might not even go out.”
Rafe gave Nick a knowing nod. “Gotcha. I guess it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You’ll want to make up for lost time. I hear you on that one.” He signaled for the bartender and slid his credit card along the bar. “I told Mel I’d meet her at the elevator, and you know how punctual she is. I’d better get my ass out there.”
“Thanks for the drink,” mumbled Nick. And the kick in the stomach.
Rafe patted him on the back as he went out. Then he walked to the elevator with a smug smile on his face. If this bullshit story held up as well as the last one, he could keep them apart for the whole tour. Rafe asked himself if he was willing to fuck Mel to give the story verisimilitude. He decided that he was.
Nick watched from the bar. The elevator doors opened, and Mel stepped off. She was wearing that hot outfit she’d had on in Atlanta. She looked around and spotted Rafe. She smiled at him. Nick couldn’t get anything out of the smile. It wasn’t a big, beaming grin or a sexy leer. It was just a smile of recognition.
The kiss, however, was something altogether different. Rafe approached her and touched her hair. Then he kissed her…on the mouth. She looked startled and backed away. She looked around.
No, not startled, Nick decided. Guilty. She looked guilty. And she looked around like she was afraid someone would see her. And then she said something. Nick read her lips. Hi, Lover. Then they turned and headed for the door, Rafe’s hand in the small of her back, almost on her ass.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Melody couldn’t believe it when Rafe kissed her. What was up with that? She spotted him when she got off the elevator. Melody was never late for anything, but she sure as hell kept her eye on the clock this time. She was a bit rushed, what with the accident and all, but she knew better than to be late for Rafe.
Rafe walked up to her and touched her hair. She knew he liked the new color. He’d said so more than once in Tampa.
“It’s getting longer,” he said, with a smile. “It looks good.”
“Thanks,” she said and got no further because he kissed her…on the mouth. He startled her, and she stepped back.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
Mel looked at him. What?
“Your hair,” said Rafe, as if the kiss had never happened.
Mel nodded. “I love it.”
“Let’s go,” said Rafe, and he put his hand on her back to guide her to the exit.
His hand was a little low, thought Mel, but she didn’t say anything. If he moves it one inch lower, though, she decided, he’s going to lose it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Did you tell him yet?”
Tamara turned and wrinkled her nose at him. “No, Terence. I didn’t get a chance yet. His bus was late getting in. There was an accident on the highway.”
“Really? Anyone get hurt?”
“They weren’t in the accident. It only slowed them down. You’re a bad boy.”
Terence laughed. “Hey, I don’t want him hurt or dead. I just want him out of your life.”
Chapter 45 by old_archive
“I just want him out of your life,” said Terence, the photographer with no last name.
“I know that, Baby. I’m going to tell him. He’s going to be okay with it. He knows we’re just friends who…”
“Yeah, yeah, so you’ve said,” replied Terence, pulling a curl out of the mass on Tamara’s head and draping it down the side of her face.
Terence had been smitten with Tamara the moment he met her. He thought she was enchanting, and the pictures he took of her in Vancouver were breathtaking. But it was only after she left Vancouver that he realized the impact she’d had on him.
He began calling her and even flew to L.A. to show her the photos he had taken. They went out to dinner together, and by the end of it, Terence was completely in love. He stayed in L.A. for a week and courted her. Everywhere they went, he took pictures of her…the beach…the park… Disneyland… At dinner one night, he said that he would love to photograph her nude.
“Go ahead, take your clothes off,” laughed Tamara.
“I meant that you would be the one who would be nude,” said Terence, with a grin.
“No reason we both can’t be,” retorted Tamara.
They went back to her place and took their clothes off. Terence didn’t take any pictures, though.
The relationship started just after Tamara got back from New York. It became hot very quickly. Terence was very possessive and was soon pushing for exclusivity. Tamara told him about Nick. Terence had real trouble with her ‘friends that fuck’ theory.
Tamara told him that she was sick of the double standard, and if a man could get it whenever he wanted, why couldn’t a woman? And it wasn’t like she slept with a lot of guys…just Nick. Seriously, Terence, we’re just friends. Friends that…
Terence didn’t want her to be friends with Nick anymore. Well, he didn’t want her having sex with him. He didn’t care if they were friends. But he couldn’t believe that Nick would settle for that. Terence began courting her in earnest, flying her up to Vancouver to meet his family, talking about the future, about what a team they would make together…until the babies started to arrive. Then she might want to retire.
Babies? When would that be? Tamara wondered.
Whenever you want, said Terence, and Tamara started to do something she’d never done in her life. She started thinking about the future. And the more she thought about it, the more she wanted it to be with Terence. She was in love with him. When she worked with him, he was a tyrant, and she wanted to hit him with heavy, blunt objects. But when they were alone together, he was a sweetheart.
She finally took him to meet her family. Watching him interact with her sister’s kids was all Tamara needed. She agreed to tell Nick that they had to drop the last two words from their description of each other.
And then Terence cancelled the photo shoot. He didn’t even call her. He had his assistant do it. Something had come up, he had to leave town, he’d be in touch. No, she shouldn’t call him. She should just wait for him.
Tamara didn’t feel like waiting, so she went shopping. And ran into Rafe Ariando. Who offered to send her to Italy.
On the flight over, Tamara began to have second thoughts. Maybe she was jeopardizing her relationship with Terence. She called him when the plane landed in New York. There was no answer. She left a message telling him to call her. She checked when they landed in Rome. He hadn’t replied.
When she got to the venue, she was angry with Terence, and so she came on to Nick in a big, public way. She would have her four days in Italy, and then she would go back to Terence. Or maybe not. She’d just wait and see.
She spent the four days vacillating. The first night, Nick had gotten incredibly drunk, and they hadn’t done anything. When she woke up the next morning, Tamara decided that she would tell Nick about Terence and go home. While Nick was in the shower, she checked her messages again. Still no word from Terence. She phoned him and left another message.
When Nick came out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around him, Tamara decided ‘to hell with Terence’. But then Nick hadn’t wanted it either. Tamara was frustrated and ready to swear off men for life. Instead, she decided to see Rome.
Tamara tried to bring the subject up a couple of times over the next couple of days, but it was awkward. And besides, Nick made up for his behavior of the first night by making love to her a lot! So she put off the discussion for another day. The next thing she knew, they were flying home and she hadn’t told him.
When she came home, Terence was waiting for her. He was furious. They had their first big fight. He was angry that Tamara hadn’t done what his assistant told her. Stay home and wait by the phone.
I’m not good at that, she retorted. And why the hell should I be?
They got angrier and angrier and louder and louder and finally Terence yelled at her, “And then you went to Italy to fuck him!”
“I went to Italy to tell him I wouldn’t fuck him!” Tamara screamed back at him. Then she started to cry. “And I tried, but you didn’t call me, and I didn’t know where you were, and I was afraid I’d lost you…”
That melted him enough to end the argument, but they agreed that she would tell Nick that their days of sex were over. Tamara led up to it slowly, mentioning different things in their phone conversations. She wasn’t sure that Nick was catching on.
When Terence found out that they would be seeing each other in Toronto, he insisted on accompanying Tamara. One way or the other, Nick Carter was getting the word. If Tamara didn’t have the guts to tell him, Terence would!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Melody sat through the fashion show wondering what the hell she was doing there. She thought the clothes looked stupid. Did anybody really wear these things? Tamara Vance was beautiful, of course. Mel felt a twinge of jealousy. She remembered telling Nick that she wanted to be 5’9”. Then she remembered where she was when she told him that. And what they’d been doing. She sighed.
Rafe picked up her hand. “You okay?”
Melody nodded at him. “Just trying not to laugh out loud,” she whispered.
Rafe grinned at her but didn’t let go of her hand.
Mel didn’t want Rafe Ariando holding her hand. But she also didn’t want to be rude. She watched Tamara come down the runway again. Good Lord, there’s not enough material in that dress to make a handkerchief, she thought. Melody removed her hand from Rafe’s and did a little finger wave. Tamara acknowledged it with an arched eyebrow.
There was a cocktail party after the show, where the guests could chat with the models and designers. Rafe suggested that they hang around there for a bit and then go out for dinner. It would be nice to say hello to Tamara.
The last thing Melody wanted to do was engage in pleasant conversation with the woman who would be in Nick’s arms tonight, but she couldn’t see a way out of it. She didn’t know why Rafe had asked her here. Neither one of them had mentioned Nick to anyone. Rafe only knew one or two people here and didn’t seem interested in meeting any more. They were just Canadians, after all, he said. They couldn’t do him any good in the business world.
When Tamara appeared, wearing a simple silver sheath that ended just below her crotch, she was with a guy. He was not all that tall, shorter than Tamara in her stiletto heels, and not nearly as good-looking as Nick. But he was obviously somebody important to her, because she never let go of him once. She kept her hand on his arm, and she stroked him as she talked to people.
“Uh oh,” said Rafe. “Looks like Nick’s plans for the evening might change.”
Melody never said anything. Her head was spinning. Poor Nick! He maintained that they were just friends, but… Melody tried to push down the sense of relief that maybe Nick wouldn’t be sleeping with Tamara tonight, after all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The hardest part of his job, Jeff had decided long ago, was protecting the client from himself. More damage was done to person and property, more messes made - more blood, more sweat, more tears, more vomit - when the client was miserable…mad at the world, mad at himself or, what was more usually the case, mad at a woman.
As Rafe left the bar, Jeff eyes followed him. When he saw Rafe kiss Mel at the elevator, his eyes swung back to Nick. Jeff didn’t like what he was seeing. This could be a long night! Nick drained his glass and set it down on the bar. Then he headed for the door. Jeff intercepted him. Nick looked at him like he’d forgotten Jeff was there.
On the elevator, Nick said, “So…Rafe and Mel, huh?”
Rafe and Mel what? thought Jeff and then saw where Nick was going with it. “Nope,” replied the bodyguard, shaking his head. “No way.”
Nick thought about that, as he sat in his room playing his guitar. Jeff didn’t think there was anything going on, but Rafe had come as close to saying it as he could without having it be legally binding. “…our women…” That’s what he said. Meaning Tamara for Nick and Mel for Rafe.
But Jeff said, no way. He seemed pretty sure.
But what about that kiss by the elevator? Nick had asked Jeff about that, as nonchalantly as he could. “Well, you say ‘no way’, but they were kissing. Didn’t you see that?”
“He kissed her,” said Jeff. “She didn’t look all that thrilled by it, if you want my opinion.”
Nick wanted to pursue it but he was afraid Jeff would figure out that he was interested in Mel. He shrugged instead. Whatever. “So, I’m meeting Tamara at eleven at this Sassafraz place.”
“Toby’s arranged for the car,” Jeff told him.
He explained that the restaurant was small, actually a house that had been made over. There wasn’t a bar area where bodyguards could hang out. It was also a very expensive, very trendy spot, not somewhere Nick’s fans would likely be. So once Jeff got Nick settled in the restaurant, he was going to hang in the pub across the street, until Nick called him.
“Sounds like a plan,” said Nick, and he went to his room to play guitar and torture himself.
Rafe and Mel?
Yes or no?
And if no, then what was Rafe playing at now?
And if yes, then what the fuck was all that last night? Nick closed his eyes and remembered Mel’s hands on him, her soft kisses against his skin, her… He opened his eyes. He shook his head and pounded his fist against the sofa cushions. Goddammit!!
There was a knock on the door. It was Toby. He just wanted to confirm all the plans for the evening with Nick.
Toby wasn’t in a great mood. He and Gus had come as close to an argument as they ever had. Gus was all giggly-stupid over Nick and Mel, insisting that they had ‘done the nasty’. Toby wouldn’t believe it, had told Gus he didn’t know what he was talking about. If there was anything like that going on, surely Toby would know. After all, he rode the same bus they did.
Gus had laughed and shrugged and said, okay Boss, whatever you say. Toby knew that it would be an interesting night. Whenever Gus called him ‘Boss’, he went out of his way to do things in bed that made Toby know exactly who was the boss.
“So…um…did Rafe get you to get him a car too,” asked Nick, “or did he arrange it on his own? You know, for him and Mel.”
“Uh…no,” said Toby, slowly. Rafe and Mel? What? “I only got the one for you.”
“Okay,” said Nick. “That’s cool. Thanks, Toby.” And then as Toby was heading for the door... “Um…Toby…have you ever noticed…I mean, is there like…I don’t know…some connection between Rafe and Mel?”
Toby stopped and turned back. What did Nick want him to say? “Well,” he said cautiously, “they went out together in New York…”
“Yeah,” said Nick, “but that was just business.”
“Oh, okay,” said Toby, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“Do you know something I don’t know?” asked Nick.
“No, no, I’m sure it was just business. Those pictures can be so deceiving.”
“Pictures? What pictures?”
Toby shrugged. “It was just a couple of pictures…you know, those online photo services.”
“I’d like to see those,” said Nick. Toby raised an eyebrow. Nick blushed and bumbled on, “Um… I’d like to see the famous dress. But never mind…if you don’t have them…” Nick waved his hand through the air, dismissing the matter as beyond inconsequential.
Toby, in fact, had them in a labeled folder in his briefcase across the hall, but he just shrugged. “I’ll have to see if I can find them.”
Toby went to his room and paced up and down nervously waiting for an opportunity. He fiddled with things in his briefcase until he had the folder on top. Then he went to the bathroom, hoping it would make Gus feel the same need.
Gus lay on the bed with his arms folded behind his head and stared at the television. He had CNN on, with the sound off. He read the headlines along the bottom of the screen and watched Toby out of the corner of his eye. Man, he was jumpy tonight. What was he up to?
Gus knew the contents of Toby’s briefcase even better than Toby. He went through it on a daily basis when Toby was in the shower. He knew what the folder contained that Toby had moved to the top of the pile. If Toby wanted to be more secretive, he shouldn’t have different colored file folders.
Finally, Gus swung his legs off the side of the bed. “I’m going to go get ice,” he said, grabbing the plastic bucket from the desk. “We can have a drink while we decide what we want to do for dinner.”
Toby nodded nonchalantly. Good idea. As soon as the door closed behind Gus, Toby grabbed the photos from the folder and went across the hall to Nick’s room.
“I did have them, after all,” he said to Nick, thrusting the photos into his hand. “They were at the bottom of my briefcase with some other junk.”
Nick was almost afraid to look. He had worked himself into such a frenzy, that the most innocent of pictures would have made him jealous. And these certainly did the trick. They were very intimate shots, not posed at all. There were two of them. In one, Mel was stretching up to whisper something in Rafe’s ear; he was bent down to hear her. They looked very serious, very intense. In the second one, they were laughing, but it still looked pretty intense.
“It is a nice dress, I guess,” said Nick, handing the photos back to Toby. There was a block of ice in his stomach.
Toby took the pictures back and headed across the hall. He hoped that he would beat Gus back to the room, but he didn’t.
“What’s that?” asked Gus when Toby entered the room.
“Just a couple of pictures,” said Toby, shoving them into his briefcase.
“Let me see,” said Gus.
“It’s nothing,” said Toby.
“Let me see,” said Gus, in a tone that made Toby look up. Those dark eyes meant business. Toby held up the pictures.
“And what, in the name of heaven, were you doing with those?” Gus wanted to know.
“Nick wanted to see them,” said Toby.
“How did Nick even know they existed?” asked Gus.
“It came up in conversation,” said Toby, trying to regain the upper hand. “Look, he’s my boss. If he says he wants to see something, he gets to see it. You’re just pissed because it ruins your little theory about a romance between him and Mel.” Toby waved the pictures. “She’s out with Rafe right now!”
“Rafe and Mel? No way. Not a chance in the world.”
Toby shrugged and tossed the pictures into the briefcase. “So says you.”
“Rafe Ariando wouldn’t dally with the hired help,” said Gus. “Not for one second.”
“Well, I guess you’d know,” said Toby, sarcastically. “What with being family and all.”
Chapter 46 by old_archive
Toby regretted the words the second they were out of his mouth. The look on Gus’ face positively frightened him for a moment. And besides, it was Toby’s ace in the hole…his information -that no one else had. He had discovered it on his journey through the Internet after his return from Europe. He had held the secret close, not even writing it down.
Gus stood up. Shit, he thought. This isn’t good. Okay, think this through. Things have changed somewhat since you got hired. Think!
He slumped his shoulders and adopted a humble tone. “Aw jeez, Toby, you’re not going to tell on me, are you?”
“Tell on you?”
“I really need this job,” said Gus quietly, sneaking a peek at Toby from beneath lowered eyelids. Gus wondered if he could work up a couple of tears. “Rafe said if anyone found out, I’d be fired.”
“Well, Rafe doesn’t have to know I know,” said Toby, coming up to Gus and putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “But why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you trust me?”
Because you’re a sneaky, little weasel, thought Gus. But instead, he chose to say, “I wanted to impress you on my own merits. I wanted you to believe in me, that I could do the job, not just think I was someone foisted on you by Rafe.”
Toby put his arms around Gus and kissed his forehead. “There, there, it’s okay. I won’t tell.”
Gus put his arms around Toby and leaned his head on his shoulder. He looked at the clock on the bedside table. He guessed they’d be having a late supper. He reached for Toby’s belt.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick made up his mind that he would have one more beer and then he was leaving. He hated the snooty atmosphere of the place he was in, and he hated being stood up. And it looked like that was about to happen. He’d arranged to meet with Tamara at 11:00 for a late supper. It was now 11:20, and she still hadn’t appeared. The other tables had filled up with people coming from the benefit, so Nick knew the show was over. He felt like an idiot sitting there by himself. He’d called her cell phone once, but there was no answer, and he’d be damned if he’d do it twice.
Suddenly, she was there…and she wasn’t alone. Nick stood up.
“Nicky, darling,” said Tamara, in her fake model voice that he hated. She air-kissed both his cheeks, which she also knew he hated. Then she motioned to the man behind her. “This is Terence. Terence, this is Nick Carter.”
The two men shook hands.
“Terence is joining us, if you don’t mind,” said Tamara.
Nick didn’t mind. He shrugged and called the waiter over to ask for another chair.
“Terence is a photographer,” continued Tamara. “From Vancouver.” She gave Nick a pleading look. Tamara had referred to Terence as the Prick from Vancouver a number of times in the beginning.
Nick looked at the photographer, at his hand that rested on top of Tamara’s, at the challenging look in his eye. “Tamara says you’re brilliant,” said Nick. “A bit of a prick to work with, but amazingly talented.”
Tamara laughed nervously. Terence smiled.
“I like to do things a certain way,” said Terence, pompously.
The waiter came and took drink orders. Nick watched the two people across from him. He had never seen anyone so nervous. He thought if he said ‘boo’ suddenly, that they would both jump at least three feet in the air.
Nick was no dummy, he knew what was happening here. He tried to figure out how he felt about it. He decided that what he felt was an overwhelming sense of relief that he didn’t have to sleep with Tamara tonight. He also wanted to get back to Mel. Then he remembered that Mel wasn’t there. She was out with Rafe.
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” asked Nick, after the drinks arrived.
“Um…” began Tamara. “I…um…”
“Me,” said Terence, abruptly. “She wants to talk about me.”
Nick nodded. He looked dramatically across the table at Tamara’s left hand. “Are congratulations in order?”
“Well, we haven’t got quite that far yet,” stammered Terence. “But we’re talking about it.”
Nick stood up. The other two twitched. Nick almost laughed. He reached out a hand to Terence. “Congratulations,” he said. “She’s a great girl.” He leaned down and kissed Tamara on the cheek.
They made small talk for awhile and sipped their drinks. Tamara talked about the benefit, the people that were there…designers and other models. The names meant nothing to Nick. He was dying to ask about Rafe and Mel but didn’t know how to bring it up.
The waiter came back for food orders. Nick announced that he wasn’t hungry and that he thought he would leave the two lovers alone.
“Dinner’s on me,” he said, with a smile that let Terence know that there wasn’t going to be any threat here.
The photographer guessed that Tamara was right. She and Nick were just friends. And Nick didn’t look like he’d have any trouble finding someone else to sleep with.
Nick made arrangements to cover their tab, and he called Jeff on the cell phone. Jeff said he’d be right over and he’d call for the car.
Nick returned to the table to say his goodbyes. As he was getting ready to leave, Tamara said, “Tell Melody I like her hair longer.”
“Who’s Melody?” asked Terence.
Tamara explained that she was the short woman in the black lace shirt who'd sat in the front row, 'the one who waved at me'.
"Oh," said Terence, "the one that was holding hands with the guy in the black suit?"
Tamara nodded. Yes, that was the one.
Nick mumbled his goodbyes and made his escape. Rafe and Mel had held hands in public. Nick wanted to throw up. He had spent most of the evening convincing himself that Rafe was full of shit, but now…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hey, Mart…”
Martha Jane had never heard her friend sound so sad.
“Hey, Girl! Girl that I’m seeing in less than a week’s time!”
Melody perked up. “Yeah, I can hardly wait. You’re not going to move before next week, are you?”
The two friends laughed and started the journey of small talk that would eventually lead to the centre of the maze. They would talk about friends and family and the past and the future and eventually get to the middle…the heart of it. And in the heart of it lately, stood a tall blond rock star.
They were still in Toronto. It had been a very confusing few days. First, there had been Ottawa…Mel had carefully explained the theory to Mart. The ‘we’re going to sleep with each other once, just to get it out of our system and then we’re going to go back to being mature and professional’ theory.
Martha Jane just shook her head. Hank Aaron wouldn’t just hit this one out of the park. He’d send it sailing into the next county!
“And?”
The problem with the theory, it seemed, was that it was working. Nick was supposed to sleep with Tamara but that fell through when she showed up with another guy.
“How did Nick take that?”
“He seemed okay with it. He always said they were just friends.”
But then Nick had not come knocking on her door.
The first night in Toronto, she had been at the fashion show with Rafe.
“Talk about boring! And I felt like a dwarf. There wasn’t a woman there under 5’8”.”
Mart laughed. “And you didn’t wear heels, did you?”
“No!” sniffed Mel. “I wore heels in New York, remember? That’s pretty much it for this year. Unless I get invited to the Grammys.”
Mel and Rafe had gone out to dinner after the benefit. Mel didn’t like starting dinner at a time when she was usually ending a concert and getting ready for bed. She had been ravenous beforehand and had eaten enough canapés at the cocktail party following the show that Rafe was actually embarrassed. When it came time for dinner, she was cranky…and angry with herself, because she couldn’t get Nick out of her head.
“Rafe was his usual charming self?” inquired Mart.
“I kind of felt sorry for him, actually,” laughed Mel. “I mean, he’s such an arrogant prick, so sure of himself…everything so organized. I bet he’s got all the stuff in his medicine cabinet lined up tallest to shortest… And then to have to deal with me…who was so NOT fashion show material. I don’t know why he asked me in the first place.”
Martha Jane thought that the answer to that question could be the answer to them all. But she said nothing. She didn’t want to interrupt the flow of words.
“So we’re at this really trendy restaurant. I’ve developed a theory, Mart…the further away the décor gets from the crayon box, the more trendy the spot. If you can’t describe the place by saying red or blue or brown, then you’re upscale. This place was terra cotta…and azure…and saffron.”
Mart snorted. She knew exactly what Mel meant. She and her husband had gone to a business dinner at just such a place recently. “Good thing you stocked up on hors d’oeuvres at the party,” she laughed. “’Cause I’ll bet the portions were pretty small!”
“You better believe it! Honest to God, Mart, from the description on the menu, you’d think you were getting a full-course meal…’striped sea bass on a bed of basmati rice with an array of market-fresh vegetables’…and then it comes and there’s barely enough to fill a saucer, but they’ve served it on a flippin’ turkey platter…”
“Lots of parsley flakes sprinkled around the outside of the plate?” suggested Mart.
“There you go! You’ve got it. It was all just too pretentious…the whole evening. I just wanted to get back to the hotel and…” Melody paused and there was a long silence, while she searched for the words. “…play my guitar,” she finished feebly.
Mel had been polite and pleasant and so had Rafe. But they really didn’t have much to say to each other. He asked her about the tour, how things were going, but the stuff that was important to her was not what was important to him. She talked about the concerts and the music and the audience. He wanted to know about the buses and the hotels and the reviews. She never mentioned Nick’s guitar. Neither did Rafe.
Martha Jane ended the silence. “And the next day?”
“Well, that’s when all the video stuff started happening…”
Mickey had flown in from L.A. He was as excited as could be. He’d seen some of the concert footage and wanted to build the video for Bridge to Nowhere around it. He wanted to film the backstage stuff, get a flavor of what being on tour was really like. Tofu said that Mel’s crossword puzzles were about to be immortalized on film.
Everyone laughed, but Mickey zeroed right in on it. Exactly! That’s what we’re looking for! They tried to film it, but Mel wouldn’t…or couldn’t…co-operate. As soon as she knew the camera was on her, she stiffened up and couldn’t concentrate on the puzzle. She never made it past eight seconds before she stuck her tongue out at the camera or crossed her eyes or something. The rest of the crew was in stitches.
Except for Nick.
“Look, leave me out of it,” said Mel, finally.
There was no way Mickey was doing that. Because he’s seen all the concert footage. He’d seen Alias Me. And he wanted to get Nick and Mel in the same shot. He figured that might be difficult, since they hadn’t gone within ten feet of each other but… He pulled back his crew and told them to go for candid shots…be unobtrusive…we’ll get the staged shots later.
The only tape they had of Nick and Mel by the end of the day wasn’t usable. It was a tiny bit, just a few feet. Nick had shared Tamara’s good news with them all, making them understand that it really was good news, that he and Tamara were just friends, that people shouldn’t start reading things into it.
Melody had managed to find a few seconds to speak with him afterward, which wasn’t easy, since Nick seemed to be avoiding her. She said in passing that she hoped everything was good with him and Tamara.
Nick looked at her for a long moment and then said, “Well, it’s a good thing I got laid in Ottawa, I guess.” And then he had walked away.
The camera hadn’t caught the words, only the look on Mel’s face. Mickey decided it wasn’t what they were looking for.
Chapter 47 by old_archive
“He didn’t say that?” said Mart.
“Yeah…yeah, he did,” said Melody, and she started to cry.
“Oh, Mel…” said Martha Jane.
“No, no,” said Melody, trying to regain her composure. “Hormones,” she spat out. “I’ll be fine.”
Martha Jane had serious doubts about that. “It sounds like he was hurt,” she said. “Not like he was being mean.”
“I don’t know,” sniffed Mel, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “It just got weirder…”
Tom had finally banished the cameras and got them set up for the concert. It was amazing. Melody told Mart that it had been the best one yet. The fans were unbelievable.
“It was bizarre, Mart. They knew every word to every song. And they sang along…it was kind of hard to follow a couple of times, because I had, like, 20 000 people singing back to me…and if it was something that we had changed a little from the album…well, it was just weird.”
“And Alias Me?”
“Ohhh…well, that was…different…I knew it would be…the whole day had been odd. I mean, anyone watching would have thought it was the same, but his eyes were different…cold… I kind of made a mistake there…”
The pain in her friend’s voice tore through Mart’s heart. “Yes?”
“I touched him. When he did the last one, when he turned away…to the audience…I didn’t mean to…I just…I just…I couldn’t help it. I just put a finger on his arm. And then I turned away…Oh, Mart! I get it that we can’t be together. I get it that I’m thirty and he’s twenty-three. I get it that we are professionals and we can’t let anything get between us and the music. But I don’t get it that he’s so…so…I don’t know…” Melody dissolved in tears.
Mart knew that Mel didn’t get anything. All her lofty ideas…that she understood the age gap, that they were professionals…it was just words…just words she was using to try and convince herself that she wasn’t falling in love. And Mart had heard Mel describe many a relationship…trying to talk herself in and out of love…but Mart had never heard the depth of feeling in Mel’s voice that she was hearing now. And it scared Mart a little. Because she knew that Mel was right. That this relationship had no future…that it could have no future. The cards were stacked against it, no matter what the participants thought.
So should she talk her friend into it or out of it?
“What did he do?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” said Meodyl. “I went back to my spot, and I didn’t look at him for awhile.”
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What he had done was just about friggin’ lost it totally on stage. Something he hadn’t done in over ten years in the business. When Mel put her finger on his arm… Nick had tried to be detached. He had sung the song…he knew it would be hard, so he tried to concentrate on the audience rather than her…but her eyes…she looked so…aw hell, he didn’t know…but then, when he turned from her and…she touched him…it was almost more than he could stand.
This whole experience was shaping up to be one of the worst of his life. And that never happened in Toronto. It was a given…when he was with the guys…Toronto…always a winner. You might have a concert in this city, maybe two in that. You sold out three in Toronto. No matter what the American press had to say, the Canadians loved you. MuchMusic wanted an hour, 90 minutes, whatever they could get. The kids slept out on the sidewalk to be first in line…for three days…in freakin’ February…
Nick didn’t think it was coincidence that they came to Toronto right after September 11. He thought it was karma. They had come to a place that was safe…safe from terrorists, safe from anti-American sentiment, safe from rabid pro-American rhetoric.
Toronto had wrapped its arms around them in a hug that had lasted three days. Three days that had allowed them to regroup and deal with the loss of Daniel Lee and the close call with Leighanne…Nick thought that Brian might never allow his wife out of his sight again.
And now here he was in Toronto, and he couldn’t get it together. He worked out and did the interviews and sang the songs. He ate and slept and breathed.
And smiled.
Because Mickey had that damn video crew following him everywhere. Ignore us, they said. Just do your thing. Be spontaneous. Now, there was a word that Nick was really beginning to hate.
Mickey asked them about the buses. Toby spilled the beans about the guitar playing.
Perfect, said Mickey.
He loaded the band onto Nick’s bus and made Mel and Nick sit knee-to-knee on the sofa with their guitars. They played Who Needs the World? At the end, Mickey told them that was great, but what the hell was the wrong with the rest of them. They were supposed to be playing cards or reading or something…and all they had done was gape at Mel and Nick, like they’d never seen them before.
The musicians ignored him. They had other things on their mind.
“Holy shit, Nick! That was great!” Tofu leapt to his feet and applauded.
“So there was more than crossword puzzles going on in this bus, I see,” said Rashad with a smile.
Blaine just smiled and nodded at Nick. I told you she’d be a good teacher, said his eyes.
Mickey made them do it again…with Mel on the floor at Nick’s feet…then with Nick on the floor at Mel’s feet.
That was the one, Mickey knew. For some reason, the two didn’t seem all that comfortable with each other, but by the third time through, the music took over and they gave each other shy smiles and nods. And when they finished, Mel reached out and ruffled Nick’s hair. Perfect! thought Mickey. Just too freakin’ perfect for words.
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Okay, here we go, thought Nick. The final concert in Toronto. And then it’s back on the buses…over to Chicago, then back to Detroit. He paced his dressing room, doing some stretches and breathing exercises, trying to get his head into the concert and out of the clouds, or wherever it was at these days.
Rafe and Mel…that was where it was at! He couldn’t get them out of his head.
He talked to Tom about it. It was hard to have a private conversation with the video crews around, but today, they had finally packed it in, after that thing on the bus where she… Nick shook his head. What the hell had she done that for?
Tom had been apologetic about the ‘Mel is gay’ thing. He’d just backed up Rafe, he said.
“Yeah, but why did Rafe say it in the first place?” asked Nick. He’d heard Rafe’s side of it. He wanted to hear what Tom thought.
Tom didn’t want to say. Heaven only knew how Rafe had explained it and Tom didn’t want to contradict his boss. He chose his words carefully.
“Well, Rafe was concerned…that you might…um…”
“Hit on Mel?”
“Yeah, like that. You know what a tour is like…close confines…and with her being the only woman around…”
Nick was insulted. “…I would just have to take a run at her. Is that what you’re saying?”
“No, no, that’s not it at all,” said Tom, although that was exactly what it had been. “It’s just that…well, you’re attractive, she’s attractive…music does stuff to people…” He knew he wasn’t explaining this well at all. At least, he hoped not!
Nick could see that Rafe might think he’d take a run at Mel. He obviously had a very low opinion of Nick. That had been clear from the beginning. But what about Mel? Why didn’t he trust her? If she was Rafe’s ‘woman’… And if he didn’t trust her, why did he put her in the tour in the first place?
“And what did Rafe think Mel would do?” persisted Nick.
Tom recalled those words very clearly…take his head off or fuck his brains out…
“I don’t know,” said Tom, “but he didn’t want it to interfere with the tour.”
“With the tour?”
“Yes,” said Tom, slowly. What else would there be? he wondered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick wanted to ask more, but there wasn't time. The conversation with Tom left him more confused than ever. And Rafe himself? Nick tried to pinpoint where he was and figure out if Mel was with him.
That was easy enough during the day...Mel was with the band, and Rafe wasn't...who knew where he was? Who cared?
But the night after the first concert, Rafe was at the after-party. So was Mel but she didn’t stay long. Rafe left a few minutes later. Were they going their separate ways or just being discreet? Nick wanted to go and pound on Mel’s hotel room door to set his demons at rest, but he was afraid of what he would find.
Last night, the crew went out to a club after the show. Mel didn't go with them, and neither did Rafe. Nick didn't stay long either. When he and Jeff got back to the hotel, Nick tried to slow his pace as he went by Mel’s door. He strained his ears. He didn't know what he thought he'd hear. He guessed he was hoping he'd hear her guitar. He didn't.
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The show was going great. Nick loved doing more than one concert in the same city. You started to feel like you were home. They finished My Confession. Nick took a sip of water. “And now…”
He got no further.
Rashad said, “Hey, Nick, can we take a break for a minute? I have to go to the bathroom.” He unstrapped his guitar and left the stage.
“What?!” Nick looked around, bewildered and laughing. What the f…?
“Yeah, Nick,” said Blaine from behind him. “That third coffee really did it to me. I’ll be right back.” Blaine set down the drumsticks and walked into the wings.
“When you gotta go, you gotta go,” said Tofu, dragging a hand down the keys with a flourish. He walked off.
Nick’s head spun from right to left. What the hell was going on? He looked out at the audience. “Um…folks…we appear to be having a bit of a delay.” He burst out laughing. “Now this has never happened before.” He turned to Melody, “What about you, Mel…?”
And then he stopped.
Mel had taken off her guitar but she hadn’t left the stage. She was standing in front of him, holding out his acoustic guitar.
“Maybe you can find a way to cover for us,” she said.
Nick looked down at her. He wiped his hands down the sides of his pants.
Mel held up the guitar. “Take it,” she said softly, nodding at the stool that Darryl was setting down behind him.
Nick took the guitar and turned back to the audience, where the fans were screaming their approval. He looked over into the wings, where the musicians were grinning from ear to ear and nodding at him. He turned back to the audience.
“Well, um…I guess…” he laughed nervously, sitting down. “I guess maybe we’re going to have to take another look at the beverage service.”
Nick looped the guitar strap over his head. The fans screamed some more. Darryl glided out and set a microphone stand at Nick’s feet and adjusted the mike to his guitar. He pulled another mike over and lowered it to Nick’s mouth.
“Um…well, this is a song from Now or Never.” Nick strummed the guitar and then played with one of the tuning keys. “It’s called Who Needs the World?”
He began to play. Nothing could be heard over the roar of the crowd. The first two lines of the song were drowned out. The third was lost in a chorus of people shushing everyone else, telling them to be quiet and listen. But the fourth line came through loud and clear and so did the rest of the song.
Nick was lost in it, just as Melody hoped he would be. All the hours on the bus paid off. He was totally focused. By the end of the song, there was no sound at all from the audience. The people just held their breath and listened. And when he put his head back and closed his eyes to sing the high notes ‘who needs it…I don’t know…’, Blaine put his arm around Mel and hugged her. When Nick’s hand glided down the strings for the last time and the notes died away, there was a pause.
Then he lifted his blond head and flashed his toothy grin. He shrugged. How was that? The fans yelled and clapped their hands.
Nick stood up and took off the guitar. He looked around. Mel stood there with her hands out, waiting to take it. He gave it to her with a grin, then did a double take with the audience.
“So, is pee break over?” he asked. “Can we get back to work now?”
“Yeah, we’re good, Boss,” said Rashad. He played the opening riff for Run for Cover.
“Let’s rock,” yelled Nick, and he grabbed the microphone out of the stand.
Chapter 48 by old_archive
Rafe watched it all from the wings. Getting Melody Jones to come out on tour was turning out to be his biggest stroke of genius yet. There would be no question now that Nick could sing and play at the same time. With his friggin’ eyes closed!!
They were getting on the buses and heading out as soon as this concert was over. Rafe was flying back to L.A. tomorrow. As far as he could see, everything was great. Too bad about Tamara, though. He’d have to arrange for something else. Rafe made a note to look up opportunities in the various cities for Nick to get out and about…be visible…get his picture taken.
With a lovely young lady.
And if the lovely young lady wanted to sleep with Nick at the end of the evening, fine with Rafe. He didn’t care.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The band came off the stage and climbed onto the buses. Mel was careful to make sure that Nick’s guitar made it onto the bus. They were going to have to think about that in the future. It was obviously going to be part of the show from now on. But it wouldn’t be loaded on the equipment truck with the others. The ‘lessons’ weren’t going to end now. They were going to ratchet up a notch.
Melody smiled to herself. The performance had been perfect…from the first note to the last, both the music and the vocals… Nick hadn’t been assailed by nerves; they didn’t give him the chance. When the other three musicians saw on the bus what Nick could do, they immediately started making noises about it being in the show. Mel had sliced her hand across her throat in a ‘shut up’ gesture.
Fortunately, they did but didn’t waste any time getting her alone to talk about it. They cooked up their little scheme and then went to Scott and Darryl. Everyone was sworn to secrecy. They didn’t want Rafe to find out, and they didn’t want Nick to find out.
So, for God’s sakes, don’t say anything to Toby, muttered Tofu.
Melody smiled again at the memory of Nick, with his head back and his eyes closed and twenty thousand people in the palm of his hand. Perfect, Mr. Carter, just perfect!
There was the usual flurry of activity of people getting settled on the bus. Toby fluttered about Nick, offering to get him things, complimenting his performance, trying to somehow section him off from Jeff and Mel.
Jeff pulled his book out of his bunk and sat on the sofa. It didn’t matter what time it was or how long the bus ride was going to be, Jeff read for 30 minutes every night before he went to sleep. Nick accepted the compliments and a bottle of water from Toby and then disappeared into his bedroom and closed the door, muttering that he’d be right back. Mel wanted to get into her bunk as fast as she could and hide from Nick. She didn’t want to go to the back until he came out or until she was sure he wasn’t coming out.
Finally, she could wait no longer. She stood up and stretched and said, “Well, I guess I’ll turn in.” She raced to her bunk and grabbed her pajamas. She nipped into the bathroom and changed. She washed her face and brushed her teeth in record time. She opened the door and sped around the curtain into the sleeping area. She ran right into Nick.
“Goodnight,” she mumbled, brushing past him and shoving her clothes hastily into her bunk. She looked back.
Nick was still there. He stepped toward her. He took her chin in his hand. “Thank you, Melody Jones,” he said, and then he kissed her on the forehead.
“You’re very welcome,” she replied, forcing her hands to remain at her sides. “You were perfect,” she whispered to his back as he turned and disappeared around the curtain.
Melody climbed into bed and tried to sleep. She tossed and turned and had fitful dreams. When she woke in the morning, she knew one thing for sure. She had to get off this bus. She couldn’t do this any more. Somehow, she was going to have to come up with a plan…something that sounded reasonable… some good suggestion about why she should switch buses. She didn’t think Nick would mind…and she knew Toby wouldn’t.
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Nick didn’t sleep well. His mind was like a pendulum…swinging back and forth…over here to where he’d played the guitar on stage…back here where Rafe was insisting Mel was his woman…back to the audience…that had been wild and wonderful…man, when they got quiet and listened…that was just too amazing…Toronto!
Mel had given him that…
Nick’s stomach flipped over at the thought of her. He had to decide what to do there. He was sorry for what he had said to her about ‘getting laid in Ottawa’. He had been hurt, and it just came out. But he knew that he’d insulted her. He wondered if he should apologize…or maybe just let the whole thing drop.
Okay, think this through. There are two possibilities.
One, Rafe is telling the truth. Two, Rafe is lying.
Let’s start with the first one. Rafe is telling the truth. He and Mel are…together. Well, they were certainly together in New York. Mel said they weren’t, but they flew in together. They went to that party together. Nick remembered the pictures. They were sure having a good time there. Mel didn’t look like she’d been coerced into it. And then in the club the next night… Some of Mel’s words came back to him. “I’ve been told more than once to keep my hands off the kid. Right, Rafe?”
At the time, Nick had believed she was gay and thought it was an odd thing to say.
But let’s look at it now, he thought. “I’ve been told…”
Told by whom?
Obviously Rafe.
“…more than once…”
Did that mean she’d been told by different people…or more than one time by the same person? Nick couldn’t believe it was more than one person. Mel had been one of the guys…she didn’t strike him as someone who…went after men…certainly not enough to need multiple warnings. And he couldn’t see her tolerating a bunch of people telling her what to do with her personal life. Nick smiled to himself. And he couldn’t see either Murray or Tom having the courage to say it to her.
So it had to be Rafe.
And if Rafe kept telling her that, maybe it wasn’t because he was afraid of what Mel would do, but because of what he thought Nick would do! That sort of fit with what Tom had said. That made Nick angry and insulted all over again.
He tossed and turned and punched his pillow. By the time he fell asleep, he had himself worked into such a state, that he forgot to look at the second possibility…that Rafe was lying.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick looked at that the next morning. In the light of day, he could see things more rationally. Because what he couldn’t explain away was Mel…in the elevator…in his hotel room…in his arms… If Rafe was telling the truth…if Mel was ‘his woman’…then how did you explain Rome? How did you explain Ottawa?
Hormones! That’s how Mel wanted to explain it. “We’re just horny and maybe not even for each other.” That’s what she had said. But if Mel thought she was going to be with Rafe the next day, would she have indulged herself with Nick the night before?
Nick didn’t think so…but he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he was giving himself a headache.
Nick couldn’t leave it alone. He got Rashad off by himself just after they arrived in Chicago. Seemingly meaningless conversation eventually got to the point where Nick suggested that Mel must surely have a man…I mean, after all, she’s a great girl…there must be somebody…
Mel does her thing, said Rashad, which told Nick exactly nothing!
When Nick pursued the line of thought, he got a mini-lecture from Rashad on being a minority in the world of rock – be it female, or be it black, it’s all the same! Five minutes of rhetoric from Rashad left Nick with his brain in a whirl but with one well-defined thought. The person who hurt Melody Jones would have an enemy in Rashad Williams.
Nick attempted to engage Blaine in a similar conversation but was interrupted by Tom, who informed him that there was a charity event happening in Chicago that was too good a publicity opportunity to miss…there’d be loads of photographers there, all the major magazines and even the entertainment television shows. Oh, and Marisa Tang was going to be in town. Maybe she and Nick could team up.
Marisa Tang was an ‘up-and-coming’. That was what the industry called a young performer, whom they were putting lots of money into…in hopes of big returns. Gone were the days of the Backstreet Boys…going from high school auditorium performances…to Seaworld…to Europe…to hone their skills and build a fan base before stardom. Cheap hotels and lousy food and work, work, work! Now it was ‘throw a million dollars at it. It pays off or we cut it loose.’
Jive was throwing a million dollars at Marisa Tang. She was an Asian-American. Actually, she was an American-Asian. You had to go all the way back to grandparents to reach the ‘Asian’ part. Both Marisa and her parents (and even one set of grandparents) had been born in the good old U.S. of A. But Marisa had the ‘look’. And if there was a minority who was totally unrepresented in the world of popular music, it was Asians.
Marisa had an okay voice and a phenomenal body. Once the men started seeing her videos, they wouldn’t care about the sound. It was J-Lo with epicanthic folds.
Nick didn’t know how to refuse. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to refuse. If there was a reason he didn’t want to go, it was that he was tired. It had nothing to do with either the event or Marisa Tang. He had no feeling about either of them. But he understood what it meant to be on tour. He had to be out there. He had to get the pictures taken, the blurbs written, the records sold.
Marisa Tang was a hot-looking woman. Nick told Tom that he had to see a picture of what she was wearing before he would go with her. He didn’t want to be blindsided by some dress that was nothing but a couple of belts with well-placed buckles. Because in every picture, it would look like he was scoping out her body.
“I’m taller,” said Nick. “I can’t help but look down. I don’t want it to seem like I’m looking down her dress the whole time.”
Tom assured him that he would check that out. He was impressed that Nick was thinking things through like that. The kid was growing up. He reported that to Rafe, said that he hadn’t even thought of that. Rafe gave him the name of Marisa’s stylist and where they were staying in Chicago. He pulled out the list of girls he was compiling for future cities and drew a line through one name. Bibi Lawson. You couldn’t even count on her to wear the buckles with the belts!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick’s evolution into mature man was evident in other aspects of his life as well. His interviews had a lot more meat to them. He used less slang, and he didn’t giggle. He discussed the interview beforehand, if he could, or he had Toby do it, so he had some idea of what the questions would be. Toby began screening out the inane ones and offering more serious suggestions instead.
They worked first on the radio interviews. These were usually short bits – just a couple of questions. Nick would do three or four of these in half an hour – usually at the venue. The radio station ‘sponsoring’ the concert would usually get an in-house visit, where Nick would chat on air for up to half an hour, talking to the host and taking phone calls from fans.
At the beginning of the tour, the questions were always the same. What about Backstreet? What do you think of our fair city? So Alias Me is a big hit. What do you have to say about that? I see you have a girl on guitar.
They dealt with the Backstreet one first. Toby explained to the interviewers that the Backstreet Boys maintained, separately and together, that they were still a group, but that they were, at the moment, focusing on individual projects. Toby went on to say that if they asked the question, Nick would answer it that way, but would feel compelled to detail what each of the others was doing and comment positively on it.
Kevin was touring with Chicago. Nick had seen it and thought it was great. Kevin really turned into that skuzzy lawyer on stage, and that was just good acting, because Kevin wasn’t like that in real life at all.
Brian was making a pop-gospel album that Nick was sure would be a hit in that genre. He wouldn’t be surprised to see one or two of the songs be cross-over hits on the pop charts as well.
Howie’s solo CD was going to have a Latin influence to reflect his heritage. Nick hoped there’d be some songs sung in Spanish, because Howie’s soul really shone through when he did that.
AJ was also making a solo CD. Nick knew that it would be the last one released because AJ would work it to perfection, doing every song over and over, until every note and nuance fit his vision of it.
And that, said Toby, is the answer you will get if you ask about Backstreet. And that is all the answer you will get, because it will take up all your allotted time.
Toby would then look them straight in the eye, his look telling them that it would also be the last interview they would ever get. Most of them got the message right away and didn’t ask. One or two tried and got exactly the answer they were told they would. And nothing else.
“But we haven’t had a chance to talk about you,” protested one of them.
“Yes,” replied Nick. “I guess that’s true. Maybe next time.”
The reporter went away knowing there would be no next time.
There was one enterprising young man who thought he was a serious journalist with at least one, and probably more, Pulitzer Prize in his future and was only doing music interviews until his in-depth exposé of something or other (he hadn’t yet found a suitable cesspool to investigate) made him a national force to be reckoned with. He saved the Backstreet question until last. No little personal assistant was going to tell him what he could and couldn’t ask!
Nick responded without even mentioning the group’s name. “Do we have enough time left…I mean enough time for me to really answer that question? Because there’s a lot to say and I really don’t want to start talking about them unless I have time to talk about all of them. Do we have time for that?”
Not since you used up all the time talking about time, thought the reporter, but gave it one last shot anyway. “But you’re still in contact with them? You’re still friends?”
“They’re my brothers,” said Nick, succinctly, and that was the end of that.
Gus and Toby charted the impact of all this on the fans. When Nick had first given the complete answer, relief surged through cyberspace. Look, he said it, howled the message boards. They’re just on a break! And wasn’t that sweet of him to mention them all!?
The die-hard Nick fans jumped in at that point and said scathingly that they had all said it a hundred times and why had that idiot reporter wasted all the time talking about something they already knew instead of what they really wanted to hear about? Which was Nick!!
As the weeks turned into months, Gus noticed something else. Daily, he would type two things into his search line – Backstreet Boys and Nick Carter. He would look at the number of sites listed for each one and take a cursory glance at a few of them. There were still nearly two hundred thousand sites listed for the Boys, but many of them had not been updated in months. The Nick sites were usually current, and there were more of them every day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What do you think of our fair city?”
This question was occasionally difficult to answer because there were days when Nick was so tired he didn’t even remember what city he was in.
Toby and Gus worked the answer to this question into an art form. They researched each city thoroughly and gave Nick a series of choices, so he wouldn’t say the same thing to every reporter.
“Yes, I love coming to _______. It’s too bad I missed the Tulip Festival. That would have been fun.”
“Oh, I always enjoy _______. I’m glad you got that garbage strike settled. This city is too pretty for that.”
“I’ve been to _______ three times already. It’s changed since last time. That town square redevelopment wasn’t here then.”
He gave a one-sentence answer every time, and it was enough. He said he liked the city and proved he knew something about it. And the reporters didn’t want to talk about tulips or garbage or redevelopment. So they would move on to the important question – the music.
Sometimes the question would be about the album as a whole, sometimes just about the hit single. Sometimes it was about the stage show. But it didn’t seem to matter what the question was or how Nick answered it – Toby drove himself crazy trying to find the right phrasing – it all came down to Alias Me…and the concert…and Mel.
“I see your guitar player is a woman.”
Chapter 49 by old_archive
“I see your guitar player is a woman.”
Nick resented the question. Why always Mel? He always answered it politely. “Her name is Melody Jones. She’s the best rock guitarist around. We’re lucky to have her.”
Nick didn’t mind saying these things about Mel, but he wanted to say them about the others as well. And he tried…but he always got cut off. Because the reporters weren’t really asking about the music…they were asking about the interaction between the two on Alias Me.
Toby resented the question, but he couldn’t get rid of it. The reporters never said they were going to ask it, when they had their pre-interview chat. The one or two times that Toby had brought it up, saying it wasn’t an issue, had been a mistake because it turned it into an issue.
Toby suggested to Nick that maybe Nick should stop bringing Mel forward to him for that song…that maybe she should stay in the background and sing. Nick considered it, but as things got hotter and hotter between them in the days leading up to Ottawa, Nick found he couldn’t. Because when they shared the music, it was almost better than making love. And in the days after Ottawa, it was all he could have of her.
The question was asked in the television interviews…every single time. Because there was hot footage to go with it. If it was a magazine-type show or an item for the entertainment portion of the local news, they would show a clip. If it was a talk show, the band would perform it live.
Mel and the guys didn’t hear the question that often. They never heard any of the radio interviews. They only heard it if it was on a talk show. They would stand in the green room and shake their head at the monitor. They resented the question on Mel’s behalf. They knew that she was up front with Nick because of the sound – the music. If it had been Tofu’s voice that had blended the best, then Nick would be leaning over the keyboard to sing those lines. Gawd Almighty! Look at Bruce Springsteen! He and Little Stevie Van Zandt sang many songs in their concerts into the same microphone, their mouths less than an inch apart. No one ever tried to make anything of that!
Nick’s improvement at interviewing really showed in the talk-show situations. Whereas before, he had slouched in the chair with his legs spread out in front of him, laughing and pointing at things in the audience and paying scant attention to the host, now he sat up straight and turned his eyes and his full attention to the interviewer. He acknowledged the audience with smiles and shy ‘thank you’s, but he focused on the questions…and his answers. He rarely lost his cool even with the truly stupid questions like ‘what size are your feet?’
But he was feeling cranky one night. He was doing Leno, and there was a guest host – a giggly starlet who only seemed interested in tossing her hair and flashing smiles at the camera. She mispronounced the name of the song when she introduced the band…called it Alliance Me…and when Nick slid into the chair when the song was over, she leaned her ample bosom toward him and asked, “Can I call you Nicky?”
Nick started to laugh and then realized she was serious. He picked up the CD from the desk and showed her the title. She pouted and then said, “I guess not then.”
She asked a series of ridiculous questions that irritated the hell out of Nick because there was no way to give an intelligent answer and he knew he would come across as stupid. Finally, she said, “I see you have a woman on guitar.”
“I do?” Nick looked confused. He glanced over to where the band had stood a few minutes before and squinted his eyes as if trying to picture them. Then he brightened. “You’re right. I do! And you know what, I’ve got a black guy on bass.”
“I beg your pardon…” stammered the starlet.
“And the keyboard guy…” said Nick, with delight in his voice. “I think he’s Latino. Yes, I’m sure he is.” Then he pouted. “No Asians, though…” He sounded disappointed.
“Are you trying to make a point here?” asked the starlet through clenched teeth. Nick was making her look foolish, and she wasn’t sure how.
“Yeah,” said Nick. “She’s not a token woman. Rashad’s not a token black. Chris isn’t a token Latino. They are the best…the very best in the business. So’s Blaine…the drummer.”
Melody stood in front of the monitor in the green room with her mouth hanging open. Rashad dropped a hand on her shoulder.
“I like that kid more every day,” he said.
“Rafe will kill him,” said Melody.
But Rafe didn’t kill him. He actually liked the answer. He’d been waiting months for something ‘grown up’ to come out of Nick’s mouth. Yes, Nick was finally on the path Rafe had set for him. Rafe did suggest, however, to both Nick and Tom, that it was time to start singing Bridge to Nowhere on these shows.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All of this practice and polish paid off in Toronto. Because by the time Nick got there, he had it down pat, and he was able to get through all the interviews and things on auto-pilot. His mind was definitely somewhere else…somewhere like the Nation’s Capital…Ottawa. He sat for an hour at MuchMusic and talked seriously about music with Rick Campanelli. The fans were polite and listened…mostly because Rick told them that, if they would be quiet during the interview, Nick would get to as many of them as he could during the commercial breaks.
The only time he faltered was when Rick asked him about his personal life, said he guessed it was hard to travel so much and have a social life. Nick said that, yeah, it was hard.
“There have been rumors about you and a certain supermodel,” suggested Rick.
“Nah,” countered Nick, “we’re just friends. She’s got a boyfriend. She’s just someone I like to…go bowling with. And it’s nice to have a friend to go to award shows and things…you know. It’s hard to take a real date to those things because…like, if you’re presenting or something…or performing… then you’re up and down and she’s getting ignored…not a good way to impress a girl.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Rick, “I’d have to think a girl would be pretty impressed to get invited to the Grammys by Nick Carter.” The girls in the audience let Nick know that they were all available…eager to help him out with that.
Nick grinned and shook his head, causing a sigh to run through the crowd.
“But what about off the stage? Anyone special in your life?”
Nick’s brain froze. He opened his mouth to talk and actually got the first letter out before he stopped himself. “M…” Then he just sat there. He didn’t know where to go, what to say.
Rick Campanelli was not an interviewer who went for the throat. He was a genuinely nice guy who was very popular with musicians because he always tried to bring out the best in them. He could see that Nick was in trouble, and he helped him out. “Let’s give away a couple of tickets to the show tonight. Anyone interested in going?” The crowd squealed its interest, and they moved off the subject.
After the show, when Rick said goodbye, he shook Nick’s hand and looked into his eyes. “Good luck with the ‘someone special’ thing.”
Nick laughed and shook his head. “Thanks for helping me out there, Man,” he said.
“Any time,” said Rick. As he watched the tall blond walk away, Rick wondered who M… was.
It was the only hitch, and they got through Toronto and on to Chicago. On to the first photo op. Marisa Tang. She wore an off-one-shoulder jersey knit dress that emphasized all her curves but didn’t show a lot of skin. She looked sensational, and so did Nick. The pictures were great and burned up the wire services. Rick Campanelli noticed that Marisa’s name began with ‘m’.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You know what Nick asked me yesterday?” said Tofu.
He and Blaine and Rashad were playing dominoes in the dining area of their bus. They were on their way from Chicago to Detroit. Gus was up in the front doing something with his computer. He had his back to them, and they could hear the clicking of the keyboard. They didn’t think he could hear them. They were wrong. Gus could hear them, and he was listening. He listened to everything.
“What?” said Blaine.
“He asked me if I thought there was anything going on between Mel and that snake from head office – Rafe what’s his name?”
Rashad and Blaine looked at each other. They knew that ‘that snake from head office’ was Tofu’s term, not Nick’s. They also thought it was a pretty good description of Rafael Ariando.
“He said something like that to me too,” said Rashad, lowering his voice and leaning in over the table.
“Me too,” said Blaine, who had finally been pinned down by Nick. “I don’t know where he got the idea, but he seems to believe it. I told him I didn’t think it was true.”
Rashad nodded. “He didn’t come right out and ask…just sort of hinted around…asked if I knew anything about Mel’s social life. I figured he wanted to know because…well, because he and she…they…I thought they’d…”
“Oh, they did!” said Tofu. “No question about that. In Ottawa.”
The other two gaped at him. Gus’ fingers stopped typing for a moment. Then they started up again.
“Trust me,” said Tofu. “I can tell when someone has had sex.”
Blaine and Rashad had no doubt about the veracity of that statement.
“Well, we figured they were headed toward it,” said Blaine. “Ottawa, huh? Is that why things got weird in Toronto? I mean, while we were there, they hardly spoke to each other. You’d think if…”
“Yeah, you would,” said Tofu, “especially after that bone-rack model buggered off.”
“Don’t forget, though. Rafe took Mel to that fashion show. Man, she hated that!” said Rashad.
The three men cracked up. Mel’s description of the whole event, complete with impersonations of the models and designers had had them laughing until their sides ached the day after the fashion show.
“So what did you tell him…Nick, I mean,” asked Blaine.
Tofu shrugged. “I told him that I didn’t think Mel had been seeing anyone since she and Jason Simons broke up six months ago.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gus smiled to himself at his computer remembering how funny Mel’s impersonations had been. It was too bad that Nick hadn’t been there to see it. Gus knew more about this than the other three. He knew about the pictures. He knew what Nick thought, and he knew what Toby thought, and he had a sneaking suspicion that it could all be laid at the feet of Cousin Rafe.
But what he didn’t understand was Mel. Gus agreed with Tofu. Nick and Mel had definitely connected in Ottawa. But then they had ricocheted apart in Toronto. Did they think that they had made a mistake? If they did, they were only the ones who thought that.
Well, almost. Toby and Rafe would be dead set against it…Toby because he was jealous and Rafe because…yeah, why would Rafe be against it? He had no interest in Mel. Gus knew that for a fact. If Rafe had been interested in her as a woman, he would have pursued her by now – pursued her, won her and discarded her. The only other interest he would have in her would be business, and Gus didn’t see how Melody Jones could help Rafe get ahead in business…or hinder him, for that matter.
Except by doing something to wreck the tour. And she wouldn’t do that. She was a consummate professional. Music was her life. Look at all she’d done for Nick so far…with the guitar and everything…what would it hurt if they enjoyed each other’s bodies for awhile? Who cared? Who even had to know? Gus wanted to do something about it. He wasn’t really sure what. He knew he couldn’t talk to Toby about it.
Toby.
Gus heaved a sigh and counted the days until the tour ended. Gus had initiated Toby into the joys of sex. Toby was an apt pupil but still found giving difficult. He didn’t like to be submissive – he wasn’t used to it. Gus didn’t care about the sex aspect as much as he cared about the head game part. He intended to be the master there. So he let Toby decide who would do what until he thought Toby was getting too confident, and then Gus would give him a night that would leave no doubt who was calling the shots.
That had changed somewhat in Toronto. After Toby’s revelation that he knew of Gus’ relation to Rafe, Gus had had to tread very carefully. He couldn’t afford to push Toby too far or he might let the information out. On the other hand, he couldn’t let Toby think he was gaining superiority over Gus, and that’s exactly what Toby was thinking. The combination of the information about Gus and his newfound closeness with Nick (Toby thought the incident with the pictures showed he was becoming Nick’s confidant) was making Toby dangerously arrogant. He started being bossy, handing jobs to Gus that the Spaniard had gotten rid of months ago.
So Gus shut him down. No one ever got the upper hand on him. He was submissive to Toby for three days…well, three nights – the whole time they were in Toronto. Gus bent his head over Toby whenever there was an opportunity. Toby accepted it as his due but stopped Gus from completing the act with his mouth. He wanted more. He wanted to show Gus who was boss. Gus accepted everything Toby did and didn’t make a squeak about the fact that he wasn’t getting much in return. Finally, Toby relented and gave Gus some satisfaction because, although he wanted to show himself to be the master…he wanted to be a sympathetic one.
Gus let him think that for three days…until they got to Chicago. They did all the required tasks to get everyone settled in and happy. Then they retired to their room. Gus asked Toby if he wanted to shower first. Toby told Gus to go ahead, and then he took his turn. When he came out of the bathroom, he expected to find Gus in bed waiting for him. Instead he found him fully dressed standing at the door with his room key in his hand.
“Where are you going?” Toby asked in surprise.
“Out,” said Gus.
“But I thought…you know…that we’d stay in tonight.”
“Why?” asked Gus, adopting a hurt tone. “So you can treat me like a whore some more?”
Toby was taken aback. “I don’t treat you that way. Gus, what’s the matter? Let’s talk about this.”
“Why?” said Gus again. “So you can throw it in my face that you’re my boss?”
“What? I’ve never…” Toby stammered. “I mean, I am your boss…in name…but I think of us more as partners.”
“Yeah, sure,” said Gus in a dismissive tone, and he turned to the door.
“Don’t go,” pleaded Toby.
“Are you ordering me not to…Boss?” asked Gus.
“No,” said Toby, “Of course not. I’m just wondering why you want to.”
Gus reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out his hand and opened it, showing Toby two condoms. He shrugged and replaced them.
“No,” wailed Toby. He grabbed the room key out of Gus’ hand and placed himself between Gus and the door. “Don’t go. Stay here. I’ll prove I don’t think you’re a whore. I’ll prove it. I’ll show you. I’ll be the whore.”
Gus put his hand on Toby’s face. “Why does anybody have to be the whore?” he asked softly.
Toby moaned and put his arms around him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he said over and over, as he undressed Gus and then worshipped him for the rest of the night.
Yes, Toby would do anything Gus said, but Gus didn’t want to cash any of those chips on the issue of Nick and Mel. So he decided to go to Tofu instead.
Chapter 50 by old_archive
After Chicago had come Detroit and an emotional reunion between Melody and Martha Jane. Mart was waiting in the hotel lobby, and the two women hugged so long and so tightly, it made the men present uncomfortable.
They finally stepped back from each other and Melody introduced her. “This is Martha Jane Connors,” she said, wiping a bit of moisture from the corner of her eye. “My bestest, bestest friend since kindergarten.”
The men acknowledged the introduction and then left the women to it. Mart had left the kids with Bob and was spending the night at the hotel with Mel. She shadowed her throughout the day and stood offstage at the concert. She spent the whole next day with her. Nick had another event to attend that night, and his bus wasn’t leaving until that was over, so that gave the two friends a whole extra day.
If Mart thought that she would get any great revelations about the relationship between Nick and Melody by watching them together, she was wrong. They were rarely together, and they were never together alone. Mart didn’t think her presence was the reason for it.
Nick was kept busy. He barely had time to see his hotel room before he was whisked off by Jeff and Toby. They went to a radio station and then on to a television facility. From there, they headed to The Palace, this stop’s venue, where Jeff put Nick through his aerobic paces.
There had been so many requests for interviews that Nick had even allowed one during his workout. He thought it was for a newspaper and was surprised when the reporter started setting up a microphone and tape recorder.
“This won’t work,” he said. “I’ll be puffing and panting and grunting and groaning. I’ll sound like an animal.”
“It will be okay,” said the reporter, a woman who figured tape of Nick groaning would be downloaded so often it might crash the whole Internet. “I’ll say at the beginning what you’re doing.”
Nick agreed reluctantly. “If it doesn’t work out…” he said.
“It will,” said the reporter, confidently, “but if you’re not happy with it, I won’t use it.”
So Nick acquiesced, and the reporter did a sound check and then pulled up a chair. She opened her notepad and then spoke into the microphone.
“I’m backstage at The Palace, where busy rock star Nick Carter is preparing for tonight’s sold-out concert. Mr. Carter has been kind enough to allow me to interview him while he is working out with his trainer. So Nick, do you enjoy working out?”
“I hate it,” grimaced Nick, “with a passion. But you gotta do what you gotta do. And if I didn’t have this routine built in, man, I’d be a…” He couldn’t think of a word, so he tossed his head and shrugged. Little beads of sweat flew off his forehead and made the reporter squirm in her seat.
“So life on the road is carefully orchestrated for you?” she asked.
“It has to be,” puffed Nick. “I don’t give a…I don’t care about anything but the music…and performing…getting out there with the fans. So if someone didn’t take care of the details, I’d either eat junk food 24/7 or I’d starve to death.”
The reporter asked a couple more questions about the music and wrapped it up, knowing she had a good interview and wishing she worked in television – because this interview on video would be a classic – the tall blond man with the boyish grin, in a pair of grey sweatpants and a tiny navy tanktop, moving his arms up and down and forward and back as he manipulated the pulleys and bars on the exercise machine, his muscles rippling and making his tattoos dance.
The reporter knew the image was going to feature in her dreams for awhile and that the image, combined with the sincere, self-deprecating responses Nick had given to the questions, would make anyone lick their lips and hit ‘replay’.
Rafe was so bowled over when he heard the tape that he clapped his hands in delight and immediately tried to think of other ‘natural’ areas of the tour he could get Nick interviewed in. The little grunts and gasps that had accompanied Nick’s answers were earthy and manly, and Rafe knew that women…and men…were creaming themselves all over the Internet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mel and Mart knew nothing of this. They spent the day ‘seeing’ Detroit. They took a bus tour, and Mart learned as much about the city as Mel did. “I should do this in every city Bob moves me to,” she laughed.
They filled the spaces between highlights with non-stop conversation…about Bob and the kids, about Mart’s work with the PTA, about the concerts, about Rashad and Blaine and Tofu and Gus and Toby…about everybody but Nick.
Finally, when they were seated in a restaurant and had sent the waiter off with their order, Mart broached the subject…and immediately wished she hadn’t. She hadn’t spoken with Mel since the second day in Toronto. Mel had been absolutely silent so far today on the subject of Nick. The last thing Mart knew about them was the estrangement in Toronto.
Mel’s eyes filled with tears, but before they could fall, she shook her head determinedly and regained control. “It’s like I said, Mart. We just had to get it out of our system.”
“And it seems to have worked for one of you,” ventured Mart, tentatively.
Melody sighed and then shrugged ruefully. “Yeah,” she said, “One of us has definitely got the other out of his system.”
“And the other?”
“Time will do that. It has to. I can’t let this get in the way of the music. There’s only a few more weeks to go on this leg of the tour. Then I can go back to California and regroup…and sleep with every single man I can find until I get this one out of my head. And then, we’ll start again.”
“Can you hold on until then?” asked Mart.
“I’ll have to,” laughed Mel. “There’s never a Jase Simons around when you need him.”
Jase Simons showed up in Seattle.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The tour left Detroit and headed for Minneapolis. It was a long bus ride – nearly twelve hours. They left directly after Nick’s event in Detroit. It was a corporate-sponsored benefit for a charity – a bunch of business people who threw in a lot of money so they could look philanthropic and have a good excuse for a party at the same time. Tonight, Nick’s date was the daughter of some big deal in the auto-manufacturing sector. She was pretty and used to being farmed out as a date for these events. She had escorted some real creeps in her time and was delighted to be paired this time with such a beautiful, charming specimen as Nick Carter. She enjoyed the evening thoroughly and flirtatiously offered to extend it. Nick said apologetically that the bus was waiting to take him on to his next tour stop.
The daughter expressed her regret at the news and whispered another suggestion in his ear. Nick declined with thanks, although he was tempted. Just shows how mature I’m getting, he thought. The old Nick…Nicky…would have been in a back room in a flash, with his pants down and his hands in her hair.
When he boarded the bus, Mel and Toby were already asleep. He said goodnight to Jeff and headed for his bed at the back. He’d only had a couple of drinks, so he was able to resist the temptation to crawl into Mel’s bunk and claim her for his own.
In Minneapolis, he went with Miss Twin Cities to the opening of their Autumn Arts Festival.
In Calgary, he squired the mayor’s niece to the Cattlemen’s Association Gala.
In each city, the young lady in question inquired politely as to Nick’s intentions and was disappointed to find that they were benign.
Toby took great delight in downloading the photos of Nick and the ladies and showing them to everyone, especially Mel.
Nick was kept so busy he rarely saw Mel. And when they did see each other, it was all about music. He kept meaning to ask her about Rafe, but the time never seemed right. He had mentioned it to the others, and only Toby seemed to think there was any merit to it. Tofu had mentioned Jason Simons. Nick hadn’t known about that. It made him re-think the whole New York club scenario and wonder if Mel was as innocent as she claimed to be.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was in Seattle that Gus made his play. The long bus rides kept them all separated and there hadn’t been much of an opportunity. But they were going to be in Seattle for a couple of days. They arrived early in the morning and went straight to the venue. Gus and Toby took a car to the hotel and made sure everything was arranged there before they headed back. They found the stage crew hard at work setting everything up and the musicians backstage watching Mel give Nick a lesson on the electric guitar. Everyone was laughing and having a good time. The tension between the two seemed to have dissipated a little since Toronto.
When Nick set down the guitar, Tofu and Gus looked at each other. They nodded slightly.
“Hey Mel, come and try this,” called Tofu.
“What?” she said.
“It’s one of those personality things…Gus found it on the Internet. You answer questions, and it tells you something about yourself.”
“What did it tell you?” asked Mel.
“It said I have a problem with commitment,” answered Tofu.
Mel laughed. “Commitment? You have a problem with a second date. But we didn’t need any test to tell us that.”
“C’mon, it’s fun,” said Gus. “All you have to do is choose between two words. I’ll say ‘table or chair’ and you pick one.”
“What’s the difference?” asked Mel.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Gus. “You just pick one. You say the first thing that comes into your head. You don’t even think about it. We go really fast.”
“Okay,” said Mel. “What the hell…might as well. Where do we do this?”
“Sit here,” said Gus, pointing to a chair. “Now relax and close your eyes.”
Melody folded her hands in her lap and tipped her head back. She closed her eyes.
“Now, empty your mind,” said Gus.
“That’s not such a difficult task,” laughed Mel. “Not much in there to start with.”
Gus told her to take a couple of deep breaths, and then he started.
“Remember. Just pick one. Don’t think about it. Green or blue?”
“Blue.”
“Peas or carrots?”
“Carrots.”
“Tall or short?”
“Tall.”
“Pavement or park?”
“Park.”
“Black or white?”
“Black.”
“Sweet or sour?”
“Sweet.”
“Cats or dogs?”
“Dogs.”
“Ocean or forest?”
“Ocean.”
Gus looked over at Tofu. Tofu nodded. Everyone had stopped talking and was listening to Mel’s responses. She was in a trance, unaware of anything but the sound of Gus’ voice. He peppered her with questions.
“Roses or daisies?”
“Daisies.”
“Radio or TV?”
“Radio.”
“Morning or evening?”
“Evening”.
“Blond or brunette?”
“Blond.”
“Table or chair?”
“Chair.”
“Nick or Rafe?”
“Nick.”
“Metal or paper?”
“Paper.”
“Cake or pie?”
“Pie.”
Gus kept asking the questions, but no one was looking at Mel any more. They were looking at Nick. Tofu spread his hands in question. Does that clarify matters for you?
A commotion at the door made them turn.
“Where’s my girl?” shouted Jason Simons. Tall, blond Jason Simons, who was carrying an armful of daisies and dragging a dog behind him.
Mel blinked and opened her eyes. She had been mesmerized by the sound of Gus’ voice. It took her a moment to come back. When she did, the first thing she saw was a cocker spaniel standing at her feet, wagging its tail so enthusiastically that it looked like the dog was having a seizure.
“Grover?” said Melody in a bewildered tone, and the dog leapt into her lap.
Aw shit, thought Gus, as Nick turned on his heel and left the room.
Chapter 51 by old_archive
Jeff couldn’t believe his ears. It was the first time Nick had ever asked for a workout. He usually had to be bullied into it, and then he groused and complained through the whole ordeal. This time he pushed himself to the limit, his eyes focused on a spot on the wall, never wavering. Jeff was afraid he might hurt himself.
“Take it easy, Nick,” he cautioned, “You’ve got a show tonight.”
“I’m okay,” said Nick, through clenched teeth.
Nick was pissed. He was beyond pissed. And he didn’t even know who he was angry at, but he figured Jason Simons would make an okay target right now.
Nick left the room after Jason’s flamboyant entrance, but he went back after a minute or two. He didn’t know what kind of greeting Jason and Mel had exchanged, and he didn’t want to. He was sick of this roller coaster ride his emotions were taking him on. He was tired, and his nerves were getting closer and closer to the surface. He needed a break.
Christmas was coming, and the tour would be on hiatus for three weeks. Nick intended to go to Florida and bask on the beach. If it was too cold to do that, he’d go out on the boat. He didn’t care how cold it was there.
He hoped Christmas would be okay, and that he wouldn’t spend the whole time refereeing disagreements between his parents. He tried not to take sides, although he felt closer to this dad than to his mother. His main concern was for the kids left at home. He was safely out of it and Aaron could bail whenever he wanted, but the others had to stay there…front row seats for every scene of the melodrama, Disintegration of a Marriage.
Nick sighed. He had finally had an in-depth conversation with Mel. About music, of course. What else would it be? This morning, she’d handed him her electric guitar while they were setting everything up. He played and she coached, showing him small differences in technique between the electric and the acoustic. She even touched him, placing her small hands over his, moving his fingers slightly. It was all perfectly friendly, and it made him want her even more.
Then Toby and Gus came back, and the spell was broken. Nick kept the guitar in front of him until he was sure he wouldn’t embarrass himself, and then he drifted around the room, talking to people and watching her out of the corner of his eye.
He couldn’t find one person besides Toby who thought she was with Rafe. The others scoffed at the idea. Nick decided he was going to flat out ask her. Even if she said she wasn’t with Rafe, it didn’t necessarily mean she’d be with Nick. She had said that the episode in Ottawa was a one-time thing and maybe she meant it, but Nick wanted to take a shot, at least.
Then Tofu and Gus did their little trick with the word game. It was a total set-up, Nick realized. And it was a good one. Mel would kill them both if she ever realized what they’d done. But she hadn’t even seemed aware of the ‘Nick or Rafe?’ question when it was slipped in. Nick wasn’t aware of anything that was said after her response. His heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest, and his skin tingled.
Then Jason Simons burst in with his stupid flowers and his stupid dog. And Mel recognized the dog…and the dog recognized her. Shit! Shit! Shit! Because even if Mel had been having thoughts about being with Nick, a perfect opportunity to “get him out of her system” had just presented itself.
And Jason Simons made it very clear that he was interested in Mel. He stood with his arm draped over her shoulder. And she didn’t seem to mind! She put her arm around his waist as she brought him over to meet Nick…again. And she had the stupid flowers in her arm. Daisies!!
“You remember Jase…Jason…Jason Simons?” said Mel.
The two men shook hands. Yeah, hello. Nice to see you again. How’s it goin’?
It was going pretty good, actually, they agreed. They were very polite. Jason said nice things about the tour…he’d heard it was wonderful…he was glad he could see it…any chance of a free ticket, ha! ha!
Yuk! Yuk! Yeah, we’ll see what we can arrange…what brings you to Seattle?
My cousin’s getting married tomorrow. Hey, Mel, can you come to the wedding? You’ll know lots of people…pleeeeeeeease…you know how I hate these family things…
Mel was completely out of her element. What the hell was going on? She had been in a trance, answering Gus’ questions…she couldn’t even tell you what he asked…and then, a big commotion and there was…Grover? What the hell was Grover doing here? And then seeing Jase. What the hell was Jase doing here? And then flowers…being thrust at her…’Here ya go, Babe! I know you love them.”
And then Nick.
Nick was not happy about this, Mel could see that. She didn’t really understand why. Oh, he was pleasant enough with Jase, but something was bothering him. She didn’t get much chance to think about it, because Jase had fast-talked his way into seeing the concert, getting her to go to a family wedding and inviting them all to join him at a club tonight after the concert, before Melody could even draw breath. And then he was gone!
And so was Nick. He had grabbed Jeff’s arm and dragged him out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mel still hadn’t figured it out hours later. She sat in the club between the two men. Nick didn’t say much, and Jase didn’t shut up. Mel had her face turned to him most of the time listening to him. But all she could feel was Nick’s presence, and she had to concentrate on keeping her hands tightly clenched in front of her. Her right hand kept trying to steal its way over to touch Nick.
Gawd, thought Nick, Mel’s so mesmerized by what he’s saying she can’t even keep track. She must have said, ‘sorry, what did you say?’ twenty times. Screw this, he thought, I’m going to ask her to dance.
“Let’s dance.” Jason stood up and held his hand out to Mel. Tofu scanned the table to make sure there was no cutlery within Nick’s reach.
Jason and Mel moved well together. It was a fast dance, and they had some good moves. Practiced moves. They had obviously danced together before.
“Why did they break up?” The question was out of Nick’s mouth before he realized it.
“I dunno…but, um…Nick…she was the one who ended it. I do know that.” Tofu thought that he was going to have to slap some sense into Nick Carter one of these days. “And Nick…?”
“Yeah?”
“If you don’t ask her to dance, you’re an idiot.”
With that, Tofu got up and went in search of his nightcap. He had been eying several of them for awhile and thought he had picked out the one he wanted.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick tried three times to ask Mel to dance. The first time he got out “M…” before she stood up from the table and went to the washroom.
The second time, he was interrupted by the waiter asking them if they wanted anything. Nick wanted to yell at him, yes, I want this woman!
The third time, Jason beat him to it again. This time it was a slow dance, but by the time they made their way out to the floor, it was almost over. They stayed for a fast dance.
Nick seethed through the entire thing. He hated seeing her in the other man’s arms, even for a short time. Well, Nick promised himself, if she’s going to be in his arms, she is going to be in mine. Let her remember what that feels like.
When they returned to the table, Nick waited for Jason to take a breath. Man, the guy talked a lot. When he finally paused, Nick reached for Mel’s hand under the table. She turned to him. “Dance with me,” he said in a voice that was half commanding, half pleading.
Mel smiled and stood up. This time it worked the other way around. It was a fast dance when they got out there, but that ended and was replaced by a slow one. Nick had her in his arms before she had a chance to suggest leaving. He held her lightly at first, careful not to press his body against her. She seemed stiff. But as the music moved through them, they relaxed. Melody laid her head on his chest and twined the fingers of one hand through his. Nick pressed on the small of her back with his large hand and pulled her gently against him. Outwardly, they were a couple dancing. Inwardly, they were two people on the verge of an explosion.
The song ended, and they moved back to the table. Melody’s knees were shaking so badly, she was afraid she’d stumble. She excused herself to the ladies room, and on the way back asked the waiter to call her a cab.
She waited until the men ordered another round of drinks, and then she said, “No thanks, I’m going to go.” Both Nick and Jason rose halfway out of their seat to accompany her. “No, no, it’s okay,” she insisted. “Stay. Enjoy yourselves. You’ve just ordered a drink. I’ve already called a cab.”
The two men wanted to argue, but Mel was up and out before they really got a chance to. They watched her walking away through the club. Then they looked at each other.
“Shit!” declared Jason, punching his fist into his palm.
Nick smiled at him weakly.
“Oh, well,” continued the head Satan’s Offspring, “there’s always tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” inquired Nick.
“Yeah, Mel’s going with me to that wedding. Don’t worry. I’ll have her at the bus by the time it leaves. It’s a good thing you’ve got that launch party tomorrow night, it gives me extra time with her.”
“I thought you’d be going to the party.” It was a record launch for a local Seattle group that was reportedly pretty good. Nick had heard some of their stuff and liked it. He had been going to ask Mel to go to the party with him. It made sense…it was about music…
“I’d rather be with Mel,” said Jason.
“Mmhhm…” muttered Nick. “I hope you get fed. You know those weddings, they can sometimes get drawn out with speeches and all…and the bus…”
“Oh, there’s no problem with that.” Jason waved his hand in the air. “It’s a morning wedding. 11:00. Then there’s a breakfast. It’s really a lunch, but they call it a ‘wedding breakfast’ for some reason. We’ll be out of there by three, four o’clock at the latest.”
Nick declined to ask Jason what his plans would be for the rest of the evening.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rafe took notes as his insider reported in. He listened to a bunch of shit that he already knew, but he was patient. He had sensed a growing reluctance on the part of his spy to impart personal information about the troupe. In the beginning, it had all been righteous. Rafe asked for details that were legitimate, that he could ask any of them and no one would take offence. Then he would slip in a personal question here and there. Rafe was very skilled at it, and he knew that the other man had no idea what Rafe was really after. The information he sought was buried in a host of inconsequential items.
“So…Tofu still racking up the broads?”
“Oh yeah…a different one every night. Kinda sad, actually…”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Rafe, “but you know, young guy on tour…”
“I guess so.”
“What about the others? Blaine remaining faithful to the fiancée?”
“Sure, yeah, of course. And Rashad…”
Both men laughed. Didn’t even have to ask about Rashad.
“Of course, it’s none of our business, really…” the insider ventured.
“No, of course not…unless it gets in the way of the tour.” Rafe gave a hearty laugh. “If Tofu starts doing it on the stage or something like that. Ha! Ha!” Rafe baited the hook.
“Right…”
“As long as it’s private, who cares? It’s not like it’s Nick or anything…he’s right out there in the public eye…” Rafe dangled the line in the water.
“Right…”
Rafe reeled him in. “And he’s cool. Right? He’s got his head together.”
“Yeah, I guess. He’s got this weird idea about Mel, though. He seems to think that she’s with you.”
“Oh, really,” said Rafe. “I wonder where he got that idea.”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, best not to talk to him about it,” chuckled Rafe heartily. “You know he doesn’t like to talk about me. Ha! Ha!”
“Yeah, I know. I wasn’t going to say anything to him.”
“Okay, well…that’s great then. Thanks for the report. I’m glad things are running so smoothly. Thanks for all your extra effort. Talk to you later, Jeff.”
Chapter 52 by old_archive
Jeff Blackwell hung up the phone. Yeah, talk to you later, Rafe.
Jeff smiled to himself. Two can play at this game, Mr. Ariando…Sir!
Jeff had originally agreed to report to Rafe on the sly because Rafe made him think that Nick was going to be a problem, security-wise...that he was going to be a drinking, womanizing party animal that would take all of Jeff's strength and energy to corral. Rafe painted a picture of a caged tiger who, if let loose, would ravage the countryside tearing people...make that bartenders and women...limb from limb.
Rafe cunningly suggested that Jeff keep him up to date on Nick's antics so that Rafe could have the lawyers handy if, or when, Nick stepped out of line.
It took a few months...well, all of Europe and part of the U.S. tour...before Jeff realized that Rafe was using him to spy on the backstage antics of all the musicians. And the Spaniard seemed particularly focused on Nick's interest...or lack thereof...in Mel. Jeff didn't understand it all...and he didn't care. It pissed him off that Rafe had used him that way...even though he was being well-paid for it.
Then Jeff saw Nick and Mel come together. They didn’t really want to, but there was an attraction there…something happened in Rome…Jeff didn’t know what… But the music just wrapped around them and brought them together. And then hurled them apart.
Jeff didn’t know what happened between Ottawa and Toronto, but he figured Rafe had something to do with it. And he would be damned if he would be nothing more than a gossip-monger reporting on the love life of the blond singer he was hired to protect.
Because Nick was not a party animal…he was a teddy bear. He didn’t drink himself into the ground…except for that night in Rome…Jeff shuddered at the memory... He was a nice kid, who was turning into a nicer man…and he was a man that Jeff thought might be falling in love with a tiny, perfect guitarist. Jeff was determined that Rafael Ariando would be the last person on Earth to find out about it.
Jeff thought about Mel. He figured he was half in love with her himself. They all were. She was the perfect woman. She didn’t nag or scold. She had a great sense of humor and entered into all the joking around…even if it got a little dirty. She was one of the guys, but she wasn’t just one of the guys. She was a good listener. There had been many times where she had set aside her crossword puzzle to listen intently while someone talked over a problem. She didn’t offer solutions, just a good ear…and a hug. She had an uncanny knack for knowing when someone needed a hug, and she handed them out liberally. Of course, not to Nick…not lately.
There was nothing sexual in her hugs. They were ‘buddy hugs’. Jeff would watch her go up to a crew member and say ‘how’s it going?’ They’d chat for a minute or two, and then she’d lay on the hug. The depth of need that the man had for the hug was evident in whether or not he lifted her off the floor. Jeff thought that was funny. Every time someone came back stage…her rocker friends…they just scooped her up…and usually twirled her around before they set her back down. She didn’t seem to mind though.
And eat…man, could she eat! Jeff had never seen anything like it. She could eat as much as any of the guys. She ate healthy…lots of salad and fruit…Jeff couldn’t recall ever seeing her eat French fries. But she always had dessert…and coffee, of course. She didn’t like those frou-frou coffees like fluffy-mocha-crème-cappuccino crap. She preferred the real stuff – 100% Columbian, and could I have it in a mug, please!
Jeff sighed. Jason Simon’s arrival on the scene had thrown Nick for a loop. Tofu and Gus had done the elaborate stunt to prove to him that Rafe was not an issue in Mel’s life, and almost immediately, Nick had replaced him with another candidate.
Jeff wondered why the two didn’t just talk. When they were out the night before, at the club, there was so much going on. Jeff wanted to stand up and wave his arms and say, “Excuse me…over here…you, Mr. Simons… sorry, your timing sucks…better luck next time. You two, yeah you…the Smoldering Glance and the Burning Desire…would you please pick up your things and head to the nearest bed.”
He hadn’t, of course. But he decided that he was going to find as many opportunities as possible to let them be together…alone. Of course, that meant killing Toby, but what the hell…?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick didn’t see Mel at all on Saturday. She was off to the wedding before he was even awake. Toby reported that she looked very nice – she wore the navy pinstripe pant suit with a sheer blouse. Nick remembered the outfit from the night in New York where he sang at the club. Gus said he wished he’d had more notice. He would have found her something more suitable. Toby replied that Jason hadn’t looked all that unhappy at her choice of outfit.
Nick went to the launch party with the rest of the guys. They were all under strict orders to be at the buses by midnight.
“You hear that, Tofu,” said Blaine. “You won’t have time for a fourth one.”
They all laughed but were startled when Tofu said with a sigh, “You know, maybe I won’t bother tonight. It’s all getting to be just…I don’t know…too much.” He lowered his head.
“You’re kidding?” said Rashad. They all exchanged a glance.
Tofu looked up. “Hell, yeah! Bring on the ladies!” He flashed them all a beaming grin. They shook their heads and were glad they were not him.
Toby had arranged a car to take them all to the party. It would also bring Nick and Jeff back and anyone else who was ready at the same time. If you were going to be earlier or later…get a cab!
The party was in a different hotel than the one they’d stayed at. The record company had booked one of the ballrooms.
There were a lot of people there. This was a big event in the Seattle music world. And either there were a lot of people in from out of town or the band musicians really got around, because they seemed to know a lot of people there. Nick moved through the party, talking to people he knew, accepting compliments and congratulations on his album and his tour…he was surprised at how many of them said they had been at the concert the night before. Women came onto him. He was polite and friendly and aloof.
…until he’d had his fourth drink and someone mentioned Mel…said they were surprised that she wasn’t at the party with the rest of the band.
“She went to a wedding,” said Nick. “With Jason Simons. A cousin of his is getting married.”
“Ohhh,” was the answer to that. The raised eyebrows said a lot. “I thought they split a few months ago.”
“They did,” insisted Nick. “They just ran into each other here, and he invited her. It was just a coincidence.”
The woman…Jennifer something…laughed. “Jase Simons doesn’t believe in coincidence. I’ll bet he’s going to try again. Did he bring the dog?”
Nick’s brain was whirling. “I’m sorry, what?”
“The dog. Mel was a sucker for that dog.”
Nick just shrugged and changed the subject. He complimented Jenny Whoever’s eyes. She smiled and flirted back. Five minutes of conversation brought out the information that she had a room in this hotel. Two minutes more conversation led her to decline Nick’s offer of another drink and invite him upstairs. Three seconds hesitation was followed by his acceptance.
On the way up in the elevator, Nick tried to convince himself that this was a righteous move. Mel had said they had to get each other of their system. That hadn’t worked in Ottawa. It had got her so firmly into his head that he could barely think of anything else. This would tell him one way or the other. Either he could do it, or he couldn’t. And if he could, then…problem solved. And if he couldn’t…
Nick told himself that this was all Mel’s idea. And that she was probably doing the same thing right now with Jason Simons.
He believed himself right up to the point that they were naked and horizontal, and then he knew that he did not want to be here doing this. Jennifer Something used her hands and her mouth skillfully, and Nick’s body responded. But his heart and his head weren’t in it. He felt like crying.
He didn’t want to cause a scene, which he thought might happen if he said, “Excuse me, but I think I’ll just be running along. I’ve changed my mind.” So he performed his duty, made sure she came and then finished as quickly as he could, closing his eyes and picturing Mel. He pressed his lips tightly together at his climax, so that he wouldn’t say her name. He didn’t linger for pillow talk, but cited the need to get to the bus on time and threw on his clothes. He went down to the lobby where a disapproving Jeff was waiting for him.
They rode in silence to the bus. Once there, Nick answered Toby’s “how was the party?” with a curt “Fine” and disappeared into his room at the back. He tore off his clothes and fell into the bed.
Toby imparted the information that Mel hadn’t returned yet, but that it was only 11:30, so she wasn’t really late. The others guys were back on the other bus, and it had departed twenty minutes earlier.
“We’re a little early too,” said Jeff. “She’s still got time.”
At 11:45, Nick heard a car pull up. He raised his head and peered around the edge of the window shade. It was Jason and Mel. They sat in the car for a few minutes. Then they got out. Jason leaned her up against the car and stroked her face. Then he kissed her. Mel ran her fingers down the side of his face and said something. Then she kissed him. She stepped away from the car and disappeared from Nick’s view. Jason said something to her that Nick couldn’t hear. Then he waggled his fingers in a goodbye wave and got into his car.
Nick could hear her get on the bus. The sound was muffled. His door was closed, and they were all talking in hushed voices. He could hear laughter and was willing to bet that Mel was describing the wedding. He closed his eyes and could picture her hands moving through the air as she talked. He really, really wanted to know what she had done in the hours following the wedding. He decided that tomorrow he was going to ask her. He wondered if he had the courage to go through with it.
The bus motor started up. In a few minutes, he could feel it move. He knew the rhythm of the bus would have him asleep shortly…and that he probably wouldn’t cry for more than a few minutes. But right now, the tears were falling. He pulled a pillow over his head and cried himself to sleep.
Chapter 53 by old_archive
“So?” Mart wanted details.
“So…nothing.” Melody was talking to her at a rest stop. The trip from Seattle to San Francisco was fifteen hours, including stops for gas. They were eleven hours into it.
Mart was willing to take it step by step. “So you went to the wedding…?”
“Yeah, it was okay. I got a little sick of his family telling me how nice it was to see me again, and they wished it could be more often, complete with the sighing and nodding and…”
“I guess you broke more than one heart when you dumped him,” said Mart. She had never met Jason Simons, but Mart had thought at the time that he was a very controlling individual, and she had been happy when Melody had got away from him. Mart had more sense than to express it, of course. It would have been the fastest way to push her friend into his arms.
“Oh, ha, ha! You know I always got along well with his parents.”
“And his dog,” interjected Mart.
“Yeah, Grover,” said Melody wistfully. “Grover is a very cool dog.”
“But not cool enough for you to overcome your…reluctance to be with Jason, right?” Mart worried aloud.
“No,” admitted Melody. “Not enough for that. We’re not good for each other. It’s too intense. He wants to…” She paused, searching for the right word.
“Own you?” suggested Mart.
“No, that’s not the word,” replied Melody. “That implies a conscious desire…wanting to possess…I don’t think that’s it. It’s more…”
Mart waited. She knew that a woman who had done as many crossword puzzles as Melody would come up with the word eventually.
“…he wants to absorb me. That’s it, I think. Yeah…absorb…pull me into his world and…”
“Okay, but you’re non-absorbent, or whatever…?” Mart laughed.
“Yeah, I’d make a lousy paper towel.” Melody laughed along with her friend. Then she got serious again. “I tried. I really looked at it, and I thought…you know…maybe…and I tried…”
“But…” Mart knew that the word ‘Nick’ was about to appear in the conversation. She wondered if Melody knew.
“I couldn’t. It would have been so unfair. I like him, Mart…probably I still love him a little…and I couldn’t hurt him like that…leading him on…making him think that there might be a chance… when really…”
Mart waited.
“…oh, it looks like we’re getting back on the bus…I have to go…”
“Oh no, you don’t, Melody Jones. Not until you say it! Don’t forget who you’re talking to! Say it! There was no chance for Jason Simons, because really…”
It was barely a whisper. “…Nick.”
“Yeah,” whispered Mart. “Nick. So what’s happening there?”
“I don’t know,” said Melody in a tone that made Mart wish she was there beside her friend so she could wrap her in a hug. “He…uh…he goes to these things…these parties…and there’s always a girl…a date…some long-legged thing… I don’t think he’s…I mean, I don’t know…I told him to, but…”
She got quiet. Mart waited. Then finally, she said, “Mel?”
“I don’t know. He’s different this morning. First of all, he looks like shit. His eyes are all red and puffy. But that shouldn’t be from drinking. I mean, he was on the bus before I was, and that was…like way before midnight.”
“Maybe he cried himself to sleep over you…”
“Yeah, right. Get a grip, Girl! No, I think maybe he…succumbed…found someone…he won’t look at me…he only came out of his room twice…just to go to the bathroom and grab some coffee…”
“Maybe he won’t look at you because he thinks you were with Jason…” suggested Mart.
“Okay, you know what…I really don’t care. This whole thing is just wearing me down.” Both Melody and Mart could feel her backbone stiffening as she spoke. “Nick and I aren’t right for each other either. We could never be together anyway, considering the circumstances. So yeah, I hope he did do it last night. I hope he does it every night.”
“Mel?”
“Aw shit, Mart! They’re calling me to the bus. I’ll let you know what happens in San Francisco.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
San Francisco. City of cable cars and the Golden Gate Bridge. Land of Rice-a-Roni and Alcatraz.
Nick insisted that they be dropped at the hotel first. He wanted a shower. He wanted to get the smell of Jennifer Whozit off his skin. He wanted strong coffee and a big meal of bacon and eggs and toast and potatoes. He didn’t care that it was after three o’clock in the afternoon. That’s what he wanted…and he was the star…so dammit, Toby, get on it.
“Yes, Sir,” said Toby, in a surprised voice. Jeez, what was up with Nick today?
Nick had stayed in his room on the bus the entire time, not even getting out at rest stops. Two quick trips to the bathroom reassured them all that he was at least alive. Jeff checked on him once to find him cranky.
“Go away,” growled Nick and then, “No…wait…bring me my guitar…” For the rest of the journey, they listened to smatterings of music…a line here…a few notes there.
Toby watched Mel. Every so often, she would turn her head toward the back and listen intently to the music. Sometimes she would smile to herself and give a little nod of satisfaction, and sometimes a sour grimace would skate across her face. She caught Toby looking at her once and she smiled.
“It’s going to be good,” she said.
Toby figured if anyone knew about that, it would be her.
Toby tried to sort out his feelings about Mel. Gus gave him shit regularly about his treatment of her. Gus was becoming more and more outspoken as the days went on. After their contretemps in Chicago, Toby had become completely passive in the bedroom…and he discovered that he loved it! It was nice to be “off-duty” for awhile, to let someone else make the decisions…to just give and receive and be held at the end of it… Of course, outside the bedroom, Toby was still the master. He just had to find a way to get that across to Gus!!
Gus said that Toby was jealous of Mel, that he was afraid she and Nick were going to get together. Toby insisted that Nick’s love life was none of anyone’s business, and Toby hadn’t given it a second thought. But really…Mel? Did Gus really think so? I mean, she’s so much older than he is…and what about Rafe? Or Jason Simons?
Gus didn’t bother to tell Toby that it had already happened. And that given any kind of luck or divine intervention, it was going to happen again.
“There was never anything between her and Rafe,” insisted Gus, “and don’t bother waving those pictures at me again. Look at all the pictures of Nick with those girls at the parties. It’s the same thing. They’re smiling and having a good time. It doesn’t mean they’re hot for each other. Although…” Gus laughed, “…they sure look hot for Nick, don’t they? But that doesn’t mean he did it with them.”
Well, he did it with one of them, thought Toby. He was the guy who picked up Nick’s laundry, and when he had gathered Nick’s clothes from the night before, they had a woman’s smell all over them. There was no way that got there from just schmoozing at a party.
And Mel? She hadn’t. Toby knew that. Not with Jason. She had said goodbye to him with a kiss. Toby happened to be glancing out the window at that moment…and then she had hopped on the bus and started talking about the wedding and stuff. Her clothes weren’t at all disheveled, and she didn’t have that ‘satisfied’ look. She was more like a teenager telling her friends about her first date.
She was a good storyteller, Toby admitted. He and Jeff had laughed a lot, in very quiet voices. No one wanted to disturb Nick. Melody had grimaced and said she should keep her voice down. Jeff said not to bother. Nick had had a few drinks and would probably be sound asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There was a knock on the door. Room service had arrived. Toby laid out the table and then knocked on the bathroom door. “The food’s here, Nick.”
“Okay, good, thanks…I’ll see you later,” called Nick.
Toby figured he’d been dismissed and quietly left the room.
Nick came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around him. He went through the bedroom into the living room area of the suite. He wandered over to the table and lifted the silver covers off the plates. He picked up a glass of orange juice and drained it in one gulp. Then he picked up a piece of crisp bacon in two fingers and munched on it, going back into the bedroom. Toby had laid some clothes out on the bed. Nick pulled them on and went back to the table.
While he ate, Nick went through his options rationally. The big question, he guessed, was ‘was Melody interested in him?’ He thought it over and could not decide. The only way to find out, he concluded, was to ask her.
Now, what would be the consequences of that? Nick was hoping she’d fall into his arms and stay there forever. But he had to consider the possibility that she would say, thanks but no thanks, Ottawa was a lovely experience, but c’mon Kid… Nick didn’t figure she’d get so pissed that she’d quit the tour, but he had to take that into account. Maybe he’d better not show his hand…not let on how he felt until he knew how she did.
And what were the consequences of not asking her?
Not knowing. That was the consequence.
And he couldn’t live with that any more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Nick wants to see you, Mel,” said Jeff. “In his dressing room.”
Melody looked at Jeff and raised her eyebrows. “Why?”
Jeff smiled. “You’re not in any trouble, unless you’ve been getting up to mischief I don’t know about. He’s got his electric guitar out…I think he has a question.”
Melody nodded and headed for the dressing room. Jeff watched her go. He hoped Nick had a question. He hoped he had a damn good one.
Melody knocked on the door. She heard, “Come in” and pushed the door open. She looked around to make sure there was no one else in the room, no Gus sitting with his head down, for example. There wasn’t anyone…only Nick.
“Hey, Mel,” he said. “Show me that thing again…the one…”
Talk about the music. That was how he had decided to begin.
Melody walked over to him. Nick did some things with the guitar and Melody made suggestions… moving her hands over his once.
“Thanks…that’s great…think I’ll be able to play a song in the show soon?”
“Oh yeah,” said Mel, with a smile. “Real soon.”
“I wonder which one I should play…” mused Nick.
“A new one…I mean, a different one…not one that’s in the show…”
“Really? Which one? Have you thought about it?”
Melody grinned. “Yeah, I got a couple of suggestions…”
Nick set the guitar aside. “Well, I can hardly wait. I know I’ll be able to trust your judgment. So, how was the wedding?”
Okay, Nick, that might have been a little abrupt…a little too obvious change of subject.
Melody shrugged. “It was a wedding…The bride was beautiful, the groom was nervous. The bridesmaid dress looked great on the tall, thin girl and hideous on the rest of them…”
“Did you and Jason have a good time…after?”
Melody looked at him. She knew exactly what Nick was asking her. She looked him straight in the eye. “We went out to dinner, drove around, talked… He asked…I declined. I didn’t…” Her voice tapered off.
Nick’s voice was a whisper. “I did.”
Melody turned her back and started fiddling with the guitar. She knew what he was saying; she knew it was the way it was supposed to be; she could live with it…but she could not look at him while he said it.
Nick blundered on. “I thought…you know…like you said…to get you out of my head…”
Melody nodded, saying nothing. Yes, she understood.
And then his hands were on her shoulders, and his lips were at her ear. “It didn’t work.”
Melody tried unsuccessfully to suppress the whimper of relief.
And then she was in his arms, and Nick was holding her head against his chest, swaying back and forth and whispering her name over and over again.
And she wanted to stay that way forever. But she knew that the world wouldn’t let them.
Chapter 54 by old_archive
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” said Nick. “I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean to…I didn’t want to…”
Melody put her fingers over his lips. “It’s okay. I told you to. I figured…Tamara…but then…”
“Yeah,” said Nick. “You figured Tamara…I figured Rafe…”
“Rafe?”
Such a look of distaste crossed Mel’s face that Nick knew he had been a fool to believe what Rafe said.
“He was handy,” shrugged Nick.
And then Nick couldn’t wait anymore…and so he kissed her. For a long time. And Mel let him. For a long time.
And then she stepped away. “Nick…we need to talk…”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, we do.”
A knock at the door interrupted them. Mel walked over to the guitar and picked it up, while Nick called out for the visitor to enter. It was Toby, checklist in hand, ready to go over the details of the rest of the day and evening.
Mel set down the guitar and said, “I’ll tell you about those songs, later…on the bus.”
“Great,” said Nick. “I know I’ll be pleased.”
“Hey, Nick!” Jeff entered the room.
Mel walked past him out the door, giving him a smile. A sound over her shoulder made her turn. “Gesundheit,” she said to Toby.
Jeff looked at Nick and exhaled in relief. Now there was a man at peace. And Mel looked happy too.
Toby sneezed again.
“Out!” said Jeff.
“What?” said Toby.
“If you’re coming down with something, you’re not getting near Nick. Get out.”
“It was just a couple of sneezes,” insisted Toby, but they could hear that his sinuses were filling.
“Well, we’re taking precautions anyway,” said Jeff, authoritatively. “You’re riding on the other bus tonight.”
Toby opened his mouth to protest, but Nick beat him to it. “I hate to say it, Toby, but I think Jeff’s right. Just as a precaution. I sure hope you’re not getting sick…for your sake, I mean.” Nick’s voice was full of concern.
“I’ll tell Gus,” said Jeff, taking Toby by the arm and escorting him out the door. “He’ll get chicken soup from somewhere. It’s okay, Toby, let us take care of you. You always take care of us.”
Don’t lay it on too thick, thought Nick. Toby’s not an idiot, after all. And then the thrill started at his toes and went through his entire body before coming to rest in his heart. Mel! He was going to hold her again. She wanted him too…and he didn’t care what all this ‘we have to talk’ stuff was going to be, he wasn’t giving her up again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The concert was spectacular. Every note was perfect. Nick was so high on life, he almost floated across the stage. When he did Who Needs the World?, he had his eyes closed for nearly the entire song. His voice was plaintive, and half the audience was in tears when he was done. He smiled at them shyly at the end and then ripped into a rock song. They loved it! Alias Me was a triumph of restraint for him. He didn’t touch Mel…he sure wanted to, but he figured it might be the end of him, so he contented himself with melting her with his eyes. The whole crew saw it, and knew that something was different…except Toby and Gus.
Toby was already in a bunk in the second bus being pampered and cosseted by Gus. Even though Jeff’s decision to isolate Toby had been a way of giving some privacy to Nick and Mel, it was the right thing to do. The bug really took hold of Toby, and by the time the concert started, he was achy and feverish. His nose was running, and his skin hurt. Gus tucked him in and gave him aspirin and chicken soup (Jeff was right – Gus did know where to get some). He put a cool cloth on Toby’s head and patted his hand.
Toby kept whispering that he was sorry until Gus wanted to slap him. Then Toby suggested that the rest of the musicians should sleep on the other bus, so he wouldn’t infect them as well. Gus put an end to that thought immediately.
“There’s not enough room for all three of them,” he said, “and I’ve got you back here out of the way. I’ll keep the curtain drawn.” Toby tried to protest, but Gus cut him off. “Nick’s the one that has to sing. The others can stand up there and play, if they’re not feeling well, but we have to protect Nick’s voice.”
Toby continued to protest feebly, trying to push himself up off the bunk. There must be something he should be doing. Gus rolled his eyes and pushed him back down.
“Go to sleep,” he said gently and got up off the edge of the bunk.
“Thanks, Gus,” he heard as he closed the curtain and went out to the front of the bus. He checked his watch. The show still had an hour to go, thought Gus. And then the sparks would really start to fly. The looks that passed between Nick and Mel today, when they thought no one was looking…phew! Jeff might be sleeping with his hands over his ears tonight! But then again, maybe not! Maybe Jeff would be like Gus, who would be listening with both ears wide open, if he were on that bus.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I can’t wait to hold you,” Nick whispered to her as they climbed onto the bus.
Melody shook her head. “Not on the bus,” she answered.
“Why not?”
Melody nodded at Jeff’s bunk. “It’s too small. It’s too…close. I couldn’t…”
“Okay,” said Nick, knowing that she had a point. “Tomorrow, we’re in San Diego. At a hotel.”
“Yes,” she answered. “Yes, we are.”
And that was the end of that. They talked about music…about the concert, about Mel’s thoughts on a song where Nick could play the guitar …he was knocked out by her suggestions.
Finally, Jeff set down his book and announced his intention to retire for the evening. He looked at his watch. “We’ll be getting in around 7:30 tomorrow morning. I’m going to turn in. I’m really tired, for some reason. I bet I sleep like a log. Nothing could wake me tonight.” He gave a dramatic stretch to illustrate his point.
“Better keep the day job,” said Mel, standing up. “Your acting sucks.” She slipped her arms around the beefy security man and hugged him. Jeff resisted the impulse to lift her off the floor. “I’m turning in too,” said Melody. Good night, both of you.”
And she was gone. Pajamas, teeth, bed…she was done before the other two could barely draw breath.
“Goodnight, Nick,” said Jeff, and he headed for the washroom to do his evening ablutions.
Nick went back to his room. When he heard Jeff leave the washroom and head to the front of the bus, he went in there himself, pausing at Mel’s bunk both going and coming. He climbed into his bed and tried to sleep. He tossed and turned and finally gave up. He had to hold her. That was it. That was all. He had to. He got out of bed.
“Mel,” he whispered.
“Mmm…?” she responded.
Nick eased the curtain open. “Can I come in?”
“Nnnn…” She wasn’t really awake.
“Just to hold you…I won’t do anything…I just want to hold you…”
Melody didn’t say anything, didn’t even open her eyes… But she flattened her body out, allowing him to crawl over her. Nick squeezed himself into the space behind her and curved his body around hers. He pulled her back against him and kissed her hair. Then he draped one arm over her and went to sleep, content that his world was coming together and nothing could tear it apart.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jeff opened his eyes and looked at his watch. 5:58 glowed back at him. He smiled at the accuracy of his internal clock. He got up and padded softly up the bus to the washroom. When he came out, he cast a glance around the curtain into the sleeping area. In the dim light, he could see that Nick’s door was open.
Hmm, he thought. Nick never sleeps with his door open. He blinked his eyes and peered down the dark corridor. Oh! Sticking out the bottom of the curtain on Mel’s bunk was a foot, and unless she had mutated overnight, it surely wasn’t hers.
Jeff smiled to himself and headed to the kitchen. He switched on the coffee maker and then went up front to do some stretches and sit-ups. He got dressed and then pushed aside the curtain at the front. He slid open the window.
“Mornin’, George,” he said to the driver. “Want some coffee?”
“Love some,” came the reply. “Thanks, Jeff.”
“How long ‘til we stop?”
“’Bout forty minutes or so.”
“Okay, good. Hand me your mug.”
George picked up his travel mug from the holder and passed it over. “We made good time,” he said. “Not a cop in sight.”
Jeff laughed and went into the kitchen. He washed out George’s mug and then filled it and his own with coffee. “Here you go,” he said to the driver. “I guess I’d better go wake Sleeping Beauty.”
“Yeah,” said George, “She is a pretty, little thing, isn’t she?”
“I meant him,” laughed Jeff. He made his way back to the sleeping area. “Mel,” he said softly, tapping lightly on the wall by her bunk.
“Mmmh…” she responded, sleepily.
“We’ll be stopping in about thirty minutes,” he said. Then, after a pause, “I’m sure Toby will be getting on then.”
“Okay, thanks,” said Mel, coming more fully awake. She listened as Jeff noisily and obviously made his way back up the bus after closing the curtain on the sleeping area. Melody sighed and slid her body back against Nick’s.
Nick had said he just wanted to hold her, and that’s what he had done…just crawled behind her and wrapped his body around hers. They had slept like spoons. Mel had never felt so comfortable and so protected in her life.
But now it was morning. And Toby would be getting on the bus.
“Nick,” whispered Melody. She slid the curtain open and sat up. She saw Nick’s foot sticking out. Rats, she thought. I wonder if Jeff saw that. A glance up the hall to Nick’s open doorway told her that he had.
Melody got out of the bunk and then leaned back in. “Nick,” she said, “go back to your own bed. We’re going to be there soon.”
The answer was a muffled sound that didn’t necessarily indicate consciousness.
Melody went to the bathroom and then headed for coffee. She drained the first cup and then refilled it. She put another pot on to brew and then stepped out into the living area. She stood in the doorway looking at Jeff, who was reading and ignoring her. He knew better than to attempt conversation with her until the caffeine kicked in.
She wouldn’t have time for the guitar this morning, he thought. That was too bad. Jeff really enjoyed that. And he and Toby had found that it was a lot easier to get Nick up in the morning when she played. Twenty minutes of music filtering into his brain usually made him wake up quickly when called, and with a smile on his face.
Jeff wondered if Nick would have a smile on his face this morning. Or maybe just a big ol’ grin.
“We didn’t…” said Melody, hesitantly. “We weren’t…”
Jeff waved his hand at her. “It doesn’t matter,” he said.
“Yes, it does,” she insisted. “We were just sleeping.”
“Okay,” replied Jeff, “I believe you. I believe you.” And he did. “We’ll be pulling in soon. Go make sure he’s back in his own bed before Toby gets on board.”
Melody disappeared behind the curtain. A quick check showed her that Nick was not in her bunk. She heard the sound of water running. Okay, good. He was in the bathroom. She knelt down and pulled out one of the drawers under her bunk. She selected clothes for the day.
“Hey, there!”
It was a whisper. It was a song.
Melody turned around, and her heart told her everything she needed to know. Which wasn’t necessarily what her brain wanted to hear.
“Hey,” she said, softly. She felt the bus slowing down. “Toby’s coming,” she said, as Nick stepped toward her.
He didn’t say anything, just pulled her into his arms and held her. He kissed the top of her head and then tipped her head back, cupping her chin in his hand.
“So what do you say about your theory now?” he whispered.
“What theory?” she asked.
“Your theory that it’s all about sex. That we’re only hot for each other’s body.” Nick kissed her softly on the lips. “See! That’s not true.”
Melody snaked her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers. She kissed him passionately, probing with her tongue until he allowed her into his mouth. He moaned and kissed her back. She ground her hips against him.
The jerk of the bus coming to a halt broke them apart.
“Speak for yourself,” whispered Melody, her voice husky. She stepped away from Nick and picked up her clothes.
“I’m coming to your room tonight,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. He didn’t get one.
Nick moved past her into his room and closed the door. Mel grabbed her clothes and headed for the bathroom. As she closed the door, she heard Jeff’s voice.
“Hey, Toby! How are you feeling this morning?”
Chapter 55 by old_archive
Toby had sweated out the virus overnight and was feeling much better. He was still a little weak but would take it easy today. He slept like a corpse, not moving once. Gus checked on him often, once even placing his hand over Toby’s heart to make sure it was still beating.
Toby slipped out of the bunk silently, leaving the others to sleep. He grabbed some juice from the fridge and sipped it. He felt his forehead…the fever was gone. He blew his nose as quietly as he could. Then he checked his watch. They’d be pulling in soon. He slipped into his clothes and moved up the bus. He sat in the living room in the dark until the bus stopped. He almost fell asleep again but got up immediately when the bus halted. He slid the curtain aside quietly and motioned to the driver to open the door.
“Hey, Jeff!” he said, as he boarded Nick’s bus. “Yeah, I’m feeling better. Man, I went out like a light. Everything okay over here?”
“Oh, yeah, a quiet night. You know, talking themselves down from the performance and then going to bed…to sleep.” Jeff could have kicked himself for adding the last bit.
“Hi, Mel,” said Toby, and then he looked at Jeff. “Is she caffeinated yet?”
“Har de har, Toby,” laughed Melody. “Yeah, I just finished my second cup.”
“I guess it’s safe to come on board then,” said the personal assistant, who really wanted to sit down. His knees were weak, and he was shaking.
“Sit down before you fall down,” said Jeff, indicating a chair. “Shit, Toby, you’re so pale, you’re almost transparent.”
“I’m okay,” said Toby weakly, but he sank gratefully into the chair.
Mel placed her hand on his forehead and the side of his face. “You’re not hot,” she said.
“Yeah, I hear that all the time,” answered Toby, with a small grin.
Mel smiled back at him. It was the first time he had ever joked with her. Man, he must be sick!
“Yo, Toby! How’re you feeling?” Nick spoke to him from the doorway of the kitchen. He wasn’t going near the P.A. until he was sure Toby didn’t have the plague.
“I’m good,” answered Toby, looking around dazedly. “Where’s my clipboard?”
“Okay, that’s it,” said Jeff. “You are going straight to the hotel and to bed.”
“No, no, I’m okay…” Toby protested. “I have to confirm the car for tonight. I need the number.”
“Gus can do that,” said Mel.
“Yeah, but I have to check on Nick’s date…what she’s wearing…”
Nick opened his mouth to say something, but a look from Mel stopped him.
“Gus can do that too,” said Jeff.
“Yeah, but…”
“Gus can do it all. Sorry, Guys, he got past me.” Gus stepped up onto the bus. He looked tired.
“Rough night?” asked Jeff, nodding over at Toby.
Gus shook his head. “Nah, he was okay…slept right through it. I just kinda…kept checking on him…you know…” He yawned. “I just need some coffee.”
“Coming right up,” said Nick, disappearing into the kitchen. He returned to find Jeff and Toby gone.
“Jeff’s putting him back to bed,” said Melody. “He can sleep on the bus until we can check in at the hotel.”
Gus held up the clipboard. “I guess I’ve got a battlefield promotion. I won’t let you down, SIR!” He snapped off a salute.
Nick handed him his coffee, laughing. “You’re a nut, Gus!” Then he added pompously, “But I have absolute faith in your abilities. I believe the troops are safe in your care.”
The three of them laughed and took seats in the living room.
“Seriously…” said Gus, and he started going over the items for the day. The show was tomorrow night. Today would be filled with the usual publicity items…interviews, meet-and-greets and such…and a party tonight…
Nick sighed. “Do I have to?”
Both Melody and Gus nodded at him.
“Let’s see…” said Gus, “who’s the flavor of the month this time? Whoa…Britney’s in town!”
Nick came halfway out of his seat, one hand held up in protest.
“Just kidding, just kidding,” said Gus. He winked at Mel, who snorted with laughter.
“You think it’s funny,” Nick addressed the two of them. “But it’s not. For some reason, they keep trying to put us together…the press, I mean. They once glued together two pictures of us that weren’t even taken on the same continent. What’s up with that?”
“Why, you would just be the loveliest pop duo, now wouldn’t you?” laughed Gus. “The King and Queen of Blond!” He stopped suddenly, realizing that Nick wasn’t amused. “Sorry! I guess she’s not your type.”
Nick waved a hand. “Nah, it’s the whole Backstreet vs NSYNC thing, that’s all.”
“Well, don’t worry about that,” said Gus. “Now that Justin’s got himself an older woman, no one will be comparing the two of you.” He stopped abruptly, realizing what he had said. “Do either of you have a gun?” he asked, “Because I would really, really like to shoot myself now.”
Melody and Nick pretended ignorance and moved on quickly.
“So who is the lucky damsel then?” asked Melody.
Gus lifted a page on the clipboard and ran his finger down the next one. “Ummm…hey, it’s Marisa Tang again! You okay with that, Nick?”
Nick shrugged. “Sure. Whatever. What’s she wearing?”
“No problems, there. She got the word last time. She knows enough not to…flaunt it all. And it’s a society thing…not showbiz… Her stylist will take care of it. Okay, if that’s all, I’ll leave you to your coffee.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I’m not going!”
“Yes, you are!”
They had been arguing for five minutes. Nick was adamant that he was not attending the party with Marisa Tang…or anyone else for that matter, unless it was Mel.
“I’m not going if I can’t go with you.”
“Well, you are going, and you can’t go with me.”
“Why not?” Nick hadn’t received a satisfactory answer to this.
Melody sighed. “Because Rafe will find out.”
“So what?” Why did Rafe’s name have to come into it?
“So it doesn’t fit in with his plans for you.”
“What plans?” As long as the plans were for him and not Mel, Nick was willing to listen.
“The plans to make you a superstar…a young, blond god…a sexy, single playboy…”
Nick thought about it. “He didn’t mind Tamara,” he countered. Hah! So there!
“You and Tamara were just friends. You both said it often enough. And you looked so good together…”
“We look good together,” said Nick, and he knew he was losing the argument. His voice was becoming petulant.
Mel stood up and walked over to him. She leaned over him, placing her hands on his shoulders. “No, we don’t. The best thing that can be said about the way we look is that it won’t be hard for all the Internet fans to cut me out of the picture. And that’s not the point.”
“What’s the point?”
“The point is...” Melody lowered her head and kissed him. Nick put his hands on her waist and held her. “The point is…do you want to come to my room tonight or not?” She kissed him again.
“You know I do…” he murmured.
“Then say ‘hi’ to Marisa for me,” she said, backing away from him.
Nick opened his mouth to protest, but stopped. They heard loud whistling, and then Jeff stepped up onto the bus.
“Thinking of getting yourself a cow bell?” asked Melody, with a laugh.
“Maybe,” countered Jeff.
“Well, it’s not necessary,” said Melody.
“Look, I want to say something here,” said the bodyguard. “I might be totally out of line, but I’m going to say it anyway. Please bear with me and then fire me, if you must…I see something happening here…between the two of you…something that I am totally on board with, by the way. You two do what you want to do, what you have to do… your secret is safe with me. I’ll help you in any way I can. I’ll lie for you…or I’ll shout it from the rooftops, if you want. Just tell me. ‘Cause Nick, my job is to protect you…and I can’t do that if I don’t know where you are.”
Nick nodded solemnly. Melody looked at the floor.
“Okay?” The bodyguard insisted on an answer.
“Okay,” said Nick. He had been down this road before. He remembered the frantic searches for AJ near the end of his long descent into horror.
“Okay, Jeff,” said Melody. “Nick needs you to accompany him to the party tonight…him and Marisa Tang.”
Jeff nodded. “Okay.” He looked over at Nick, who sighed and conceded with a nod.
“And then when I bring him back…” Jeff continued, “…can I break into his mini-bar and eat all the chocolate?”
“Oh yeah,” said Melody, “he won’t be there to stop you.”
The three people looked at each other and nodded. They entered a silent conspiracy. Each prayed that they would all survive it.
Chapter 56 by old_archive
Melody paced up and down her room. She looked at the red numbers on the bedside clock. They moved so goddamn slowly that she wanted to pick the clock up and throw it out the window. She looked down at herself. She was wearing a navy satin something…she wasn’t sure what…a long camisole, a short slip…hard to say…
Gus had dropped it off. Amongst all the things he’d had to do today, he’d managed to go shopping. How did he know? Had he talked to Jeff? Who knew what? My goodness, were they all waiting for this? Rafe would find out for sure.
Nope, she wasn’t going there. Tomorrow, she would go there. But not tonight. She was going to give herself tonight. She was going to give them tonight. But tomorrow…
And navy…interesting…she would have thought Gus would have chosen black…Mel would have chosen black. Hmm…maybe that said something too. But no…navy…satin…but with kind of a swirl pattern… oh, for gawd’s sakes, get a grip.
She picked up her guitar. She sat down in the chair and played. Every song reminded her of Nick, of course. Especially the ones he wrote.
And then he was there.
Melody had left the safety lock flipped across so that the door was open a crack. She didn’t even hear him come in. She finished a song and looked up and there he was, leaning on the wall watching her, his arms folded across his chest. She set the guitar aside and went to him.
Nick waited for her to come to him. Then he held out his arms. Melody put a hand lightly on his chest…just checking to see if he was real. He was real. He slid a hand behind her neck and held her head steady while he kissed her. It was gentle and anxious and urgent and sweet…
“Mmmm…” said Melody. “You taste good.”
Nick grinned. “I stopped off to brush my teeth.”
Melody backed away from him. “How was the party?” She pointed at his shirt and flicked her index finger. Disrobe, please.
“It was boring. I was a lousy conversationalist. All I could think about was getting back here to you.” Nick undid some buttons and pulled his shirt out of his pants.
“What did Marisa wear?”
“Some dress…blue…” Nick removed his shirt. He reached for his belt.
“Uh uh,” said Mel, shaking her finger at him. “I’ll take it from here.”
She ran one fingernail down his chest, tugging gently on one nipple ring on her way down and then undid his belt. She undid the zipper of his pants and dropped them to the floor. She pulled his boxers down carefully, freeing his erection. She pushed him gently back so that he was sitting on the bed. Then she knelt at his feet and removed his socks and pants, brushing against him with her hair and her face as she moved back and forth.
When he was naked, Nick reached for her, putting his hands on her shoulders and pulling her gently upward. But she resisted.
“No, Baby,” she said. “Not yet.” And then she pushed his knees apart and took him in her mouth.
“Aaarrgghh…” Nick made a guttural sound of pleasure, as her hot, wet tongue made lazy circles around the head of his penis. He leaned back on his hands and gave himself up to it. But not for long…he knew he wouldn’t last.
“Mel…Baby, no…” He put his hands in her hair and pulled her head gently away from him. “I want you too much,” he whispered. “I’d never last…”
“I don’t care…” she murmured, and she lowered her head again.
“I do,” said Nick, firmly. He grabbed her under her armpits and pulled her upward, lying back across the bed, her body along the length of his. She could feel how much he wanted her and she pushed herself upright and straddled him. She held him in her hand and rubbed him between her folds, letting go just for a moment when he grabbed the hem of her whatever-the- hell-you-wanted-to-call-it and pulled it off over her head. She reached for him again, but he sat up and wrapped his arms around her.
“I have to slow this down, Baby,” said Nick, holding her head against his chest. Melody used the opportunity to run her tongue over his nipple and tug on his ring with her teeth. Nick closed his eyes and moaned. Then he rolled them both over.
He hovered over her, leaning on his forearms. “I want you so much…” He kissed her all over her face…and then her neck…and then her breasts…
Melody sighed and moaned as the different sensations moved through her. She caressed his back and his shoulders… his chest and his stomach… But Nick resisted any attempt of hers to reach for his manhood.
And then he moved down her body…kissing and licking every inch of skin on the way. The only part of him she could reach was his head and shoulders. She raked her fingernails across his skin, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from him.
“Nick…” she whispered, and the end of the word turned into an unearthly sound as he moved his mouth over her centre. He licked her and sucked her gently, and then he pulled her bud into his mouth in one strong sucking motion. He flicked his tongue rapidly back and forth. And he made her howl.
Well now, howl…that’s a really subjective term…she thought later. She hadn’t sounded like a wolf or a coyote…more like a wounded cat, she believed. But definitely something from the animal kingdom. She had gripped the sheets in both hands and thrown her head back. Her hips had come up to meet his mouth, and she had…well…howled.
Nick moved up and slipped the condom on with a practiced ease that would have impressed Melody, if she had still been on the planet. He used his hand to guide himself to her opening. He pushed inside her just a bit and waited for her to return to Earth.
“Ni…Ni…” It was all she could manage. It was enough.
He pushed himself into her, slowly but steadily. He wasn’t afraid of hurting her. He just wanted to make it last.
Melody shifted her hips and pulled him in. She gripped him with her inner walls and made him moan. “Be with me,” she murmured, pushing her hips up to take him in. She wrapped her legs around him.
“Not yet,” he murmured…
“Now!” she insisted.
And so he moved inside her, deep strokes that sent them both somewhere far away…but together. And when he felt his release…not as long as he had hoped, way too long in her estimation…they hugged each other and moved together and…well, frankly, there was more noise…maybe not howling, but definitely moaning…no, more than that…stifled screaming would probably be the best description.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You okay?”
Nick pushed himself up onto his elbows. They had collapsed into a moaning, sweating heap. Mel was still trembling beneath him.
She opened her eyes and smiled. “Who taught you that?” she whispered. “To be so unselfish.”
Nick smiled down on her and kissed her eyelids. “Are you kidding? Do you know what it does to me to watch you…sail away? That’s not unselfish.”
“Mmmm…” She ran her fingertips up his arms and around his neck, pulling his head down for a kiss. “Mmmm…” she said again a few moments later.
Nick shifted off her. “Be right back.”
While Nick was in the bathroom, Melody got under the blankets. She plumped the pillows and made a little nest for them.
“Kevin and Howie,” said Nick, coming back into the room and slipping under the covers.
“What?” Melody nestled down into the crook of his arm and turned her face up to look at him. God! He was so beautiful!
“…who taught me. I mean, not the actual…physical things…but the attitude…”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it was hard…I was just a kid…I didn’t know anything about girls…and suddenly, there were all these girls who wanted to…do stuff…”
You can add one more to that list, thought Melody. She caressed his tummy, which was getting slimmer by the day.
“Kevin gave me ‘the talk’…about protection and shit like that. And then he just kept talking… that’s Kev…mmm…”
Melody’s fingernail was circling his navel.
“He told me about all the caring part…and you know…making sure the girl got something out of it too…all that stuff…”
“You’re cute when you’re blush,” said Melody, continuing her journey up his chest with her fingertips. Nick rolled his eyes and then bit his lip as her hand swooped down his body in a raking motion that barely touched him and nearly killed him.
“So what did Howie do?”
“Howie…Sweet D…” Nick sighed. “He really is, you know…sweet, I mean. All the stuff that Kevin told me…Howie wouldn’t even have considered that there was another way to do it.”
“He sounds like a nice man,” said Melody.
“He is…you know what he said once…we were talking…guy stuff…and one of us said that it wasn’t fair that women could go all night and have multiple…you know…and men couldn’t…only a couple of times…”
“…and inversely proportional to the amount of alcohol consumed…” suggested Melody.
“Right.” Nick thought he knew what she meant, but he wasn’t sure. “And Howie said he was glad. He thought it was God’s way of protecting men. Because if we never had to stop, we would just keep giving pleasure to the women until we died of exhaustion.”
“Introduce me to him,” said Mel, with a grin.
“No way,” replied Nick.
“What about Brian and AJ?”
“Oh no, we didn’t talk about stuff like that around Brian. He’s not a prude or anything…he just didn’t think it was right…especially after he hooked up with Leighanne. And AJ? Well…it was just a scorecard for him.”
“Like Tofu?”
“Yeah, kinda…but more…desperate somehow…”
“You don’t think Tofu’s desperate?”
“Yeah, I guess. But with AJ, it was more…like, if I sleep with all of them, at least one of them will love me…yeah, you’re right…like Tofu…” Nick stifled a yawn.
“Go to sleep,” said Melody, planting gentle kisses on his chest. She shifted away from him.
Nick pulled her back. “In a minute,” he said softly, and then he took her to the stars again.
Chapter 57 by old_archive
“Omigod…you two must be exhausted,” laughed Mart. “It’s a good thing you’re going to be away from each other over Christmas.”
Melody laughed and then sighed. She was getting tired. The last two weeks had been a whirlwind. Melody didn’t know who knew what…she didn’t think they were fooling anybody…well, maybe Toby. And they hadn’t heard from Rafe, so that was good. Tom knew…he’d told her that much in a hug…and he wasn’t telling anyone else. It was a pretty expressive hug.
Melody knew that it couldn’t go on. She had tried to bring it up to Nick a number of times, but he didn’t want to talk about it. And Melody was so much in love with him that she kept losing her courage. Because it was going to take a lot of courage to give him up.
They didn’t go near each other on the bus. In fact, it was the only time they ever got any sleep; they both tumbled into their separate beds exhausted, and slept the miles away. Even short journeys…four or five hours…found them unconscious. Toby worried about their health, wondered if they were coming down with something. Jeff smiled and told him that the Christmas Break would get them right again.
During rehearsals and performances, they were completely professional. Alias Me still had as much fire, but it wasn’t the leaping, dancing flames any more…more the slow, burning embers… the glowing coals that give the real heat to a fire.
Nick still did all his interviews and publicity stuff. Melody took bus tours of the city and wrote postcards. They had meals together whenever they could…the whole band…Melody insisted on that.
And, in the evening, Nick would go to whatever event had been cooked up by Tom and Rafe, with the latest starlet, beauty queen, local debutante…draped over his arm. Melody would lie in his bed and watch TV and wait for him to come home to her.
They had decided to use Nick’s room after they overslept one morning and nearly got caught by Toby. Since they both figured Toby was a pipeline to Rafe, they didn’t want that to happen. So now they used Nick’s suite, and Nick made sure the bedroom door was always closed.
That meant that Melody couldn’t play the guitar anymore. So she propped herself up in his bed and did puzzles and watched TV…and waited.
Every night when Nick came home, he swore he would never do it again.
“It’s not right,” he would say. “I feel like I’m cheating on you. I don’t want to hide you.”
Melody would sigh and reassure him that it was the only way. There was a game plan. She wasn’t part of it. Nick would sigh and threaten to go public. Then Melody would sigh again and threaten to end it if he did. And then they would both sigh and make love like there was no tomorrow. Because both of them were afraid there might not be.
Christmas Break. Three weeks. This was what they needed. To prove that they could live without each other, thought Melody. Nick was going to Florida, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. They had talked about it one night…Nick talked about his parents’ marital struggles, and he cried…and then Melody talked about her dad and how much she missed him, and she cried…and then they made sweet, sweet love and rebuilt each other.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Got all your shopping done?” asked Mart, knowing what the reaction would be.
“Yuck! You know how I hate shopping. Good thing Gus loves it!”
Gustavo Deloro loved to shop. He didn’t care if it was for himself or not. He just loved doing it. And when Melody expressed her disgust for the activity…especially at Christmas!...he said, “Give me your list.”
“What’s a list?” asked Melody, causing the others to fall apart laughing. Gus shook his head. He’d never met such a creature.
So he sat with her and talked about the people she needed to buy gifts for. And then he went out and shopped. He came back with wonderful things…and bargains too! The family was going to be so impressed, though Melody. Louise’s eyes would fall out.
Melody couldn’t decide what to get Nick. She and Gus danced around the topic, not even using Nick’s name. And then one day, Gus shyly made his offering and it was perfect. It was a small silver box with a dolphin etched on the top. Inside it were guitar picks.
“Aw, Gus,” she sighed. “You’re the best. It’s beautiful.”
Gus beamed with pride. “I can get it engraved for you,” he said, turning the box over and showing her the bottom.
Melody thought about that and then nodded. She told Gus what she wanted him to put there. He smiled at her. Good choice.
“Is there anything else you need?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m afraid there is,” said Melody, sadly.
And then she asked Gus to do one more thing for her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick sat in Florida, with the box clutched tightly in his hand. He was in the middle of a nightmare, and he wanted out. He wanted to go see Mel. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and run away with her…maybe bring her to the boat, and then they could sail away forever…just them and their guitars. He looked down at the engraving on the box.
“For a fellow musician,” it read. He sighed.
He talked to her nearly every day on the phone. Before they parted for the break, Mel made noises about how they should see if they could live without each other…take a break from each other…blah, blah, blah… Nick had no intention of doing that. He didn’t know if he could live without her. What he did know was that he didn’t want to.
At the end of the first conversation, when he said, “I’ll call you later,” she said, maybe that wasn’t a good idea. “Why?” he responded. “I call my friends all the time.” Mel gave in finally, telling him that he was obviously the mature one in the relationship.
Nick was glad he had her to talk to, because, man, there was a lot of shit he wanted to get out of his head. He knew if he kept it inside, it would turn to anger, and the ensuing explosion wouldn’t be good for anyone. The police had already been to this house too often.
He wanted to grab his parents and smack their heads together…try and knock some sense into them. They were both being mean and selfish, he thought. They were trying to put on this face of ‘we’ll be civilized with each other for the sake of the children’, but nobody was fooled. They couldn’t resist sniping at each other…all of it said with a frosty smile and a pleasant tone…but sniping nonetheless.
And they kept trying to put the kids in the middle…especially Nick. Everyone’s loyalties had pretty much already been established, but Nick had been out of town. Both parents tried to curry favor, telling tales on the other with stories that always started, ‘Well, I don’t like to say anything bad about your mother, but…’ or ‘I really shouldn’t tell you this, but your father…’
Nick set down the box and motioned to Aaron. They went for a long walk on the beach and talked about it. They decided the best thing to do was to get their parents in separate houses as fast as they could.
“So…uh…tell me about the box,” said Aaron, tentatively.
Melody had slipped the box into Nick’s carry-on with a message, “Do not open until Dec. 25th”. For some reason, Nick had waited and opened it with the family. He hoped she had done the same with his gift to her.
When he lifted off the wrapping, Nick smiled. He held it up and showed the family. Was there anything inside, they wanted to know? He lifted the lid and then smiled this…Aaron wasn’t sure how to describe it…peaceful, yeah…peaceful and serene smile. He held up a guitar pick to show them. Then he replaced it in the box and closed the lid.
Then Nick turned the box over. And stopped breathing. He made a small sound, kind of a choking gasp. He looked up and his eyes met Aaron’s. Help me, they said.
So Aaron said loudly, “Okay, who’s next?” and dragged the family’s attention away from Nick. Nick got up and left the room for a moment, and when he came back, he was okay.
After the frenzy of gift exchange was over, Aaron found a moment to look at the bottom of the box. Very interesting! He didn’t think the gift was from Rashad.
Nick kicked a lump of sand. “Um…it’s from Mel…Melody Jones…my guitarist…”
“Your…guitarist…” replied Aaron. He waited his big brother out. It didn’t take long.
“She’s…uh…kinda special to me.” Nick gave his brother a goofy grin. “Really special.”
“Tell me about her,” said Aaron.
So the two young men walked on the beach and talked and kicked sand and tossed pebbles into the ocean. And then Aaron asked how old she was. Nick told him.
“Oh.”
Nick was immediately defensive. “What?”
“Nothing. I guess that’s okay. Everybody seems to be doing it.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. But you know, Justin’s going out with Cameron Diaz, and Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore are an item.”
“Yeah, but so are Harrison Ford and Calista Flockhart. And he’s way, way older than her. No one’s making a big deal out of that.”
Aaron just shrugged. It was the way it was.
They walked back to the house in silence.
Nick stood it for two more days. Then he called Toby and told him to make arrangements. “Get me the hell out of Florida,” were his exact instructions.
Nick gave the taxi driver Mel’s address and wondered how mad she would be. He hadn’t told her he was coming. She knew he was coming back to California for New Year’s but not this early. He wondered if she would be happy to see him. He wondered if they would have another argument about New Year’s Eve.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“…Chrissy couldn’t believe it, of course, a present for me from Nick Carter.” Melody imitated Chrissy’s breathless pronunciation of the name.
“What did you tell them?”
“I said it was a present from my boss.”
“Nice boss!” said Mart.
Nick’s gift to Melody had been a suede vest, tan with a Southwestern style to it, rust and turquoise leather inserts and a small fringe…and real turquoise on the snaps. He had included a note that said that even though it was Gus’ idea, Nick had made the final choice.
“Yeah, they wanted to know what I got him. I told them…a box for his guitar picks…they didn’t ask what…oh, hold on Mart, someone’s at the door…” Melody walked to the door and peered through the peephole. She flung the door open. “…um…it appears to be a tall blond who’s supposed to be in Florida…”
“Talk to you later,” sang Mart, and she disconnected.
Melody and Nick looked at each other. Nick wondered if he would get shit. Melody wondered if she should give him shit. But she decided instead to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him. Both were very much satisfied with that response.
Chapter 58 by old_archive
“What are you doing back so early?” asked Melody. The look on Nick’s face answered the question. “Was it very bad?” she asked.
Nick shrugged and grimaced. “Yeah, it was pretty strained. I had to get out before I made it worse by losing my cool. I told them we had rehearsals…for the Japan leg…a new song…”
“Well, we do,” said Melody. “I talked to Stevie Ray. It’s all arranged. We can use Pineapple Ranch during the daytime. But he isn’t expecting us until next week.” She gave Nick a sexy look. “What will we do until then?”
“I want to meet your family.”
This was not the response Melody was expecting. Nor was it one she wanted.
“Is there any way? I mean, I know you’ve done the Christmas thing and all, but…”
Melody sighed. “Actually, you’re in luck. We’re having a family dinner tonight. It’s Louise’s birthday. We always have to make a big deal of it, because she felt ripped off when she was a kid. Her birthday was so close to Christmas that it never got noticed.”
“That’s great, then.”
“Nick…”
“Don’t start, Mel. I’ll make all the promises up front.” Nick started ticking points off on his fingers. “I won’t let on that we’re together. I won’t touch you. I won’t kiss you. I won’t jump up in the middle of the dining room table and declare my love for you…” He stopped. It was the first time the ‘L’ word had been mentioned between them.
“Oh, you’re silly…” said Melody, and they both got very busy talking about inconsequential things. After a few minutes, Melody suggested that Nick go home - he had come straight to her from the airport - and then come back and pick her up for the ‘ordeal’, as she called it.
Nick pulled her down onto his lap on the sofa. They kissed tenderly.
“I’m not going to make love to you right now,” said Nick, “although I want to very much. But I want to show you that there’s more to us than that.”
After some more kissing, Melody answered him. “You are not going to make love to me right now because my mother would spot it the second we came through the door!”
They both laughed. Nick lifted her off him and stood up. One more gentle kiss and he walked to the door.
“And wear a long-sleeved shirt, Tattoo Boy!” said Melody to his back.
Nick turned. “Skinny black tank top it is, Bossy Girl!” He gave her a lop-sided grin that made her heart leap.
Melody closed the door behind him. She leaned back against it. She crossed her arms and hugged herself. Never mind Rafe. Never mind the media. Never mind the voracious Nick-hungry fans. They were about to run the toughest gauntlet…Elizabeth Jones!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Stop! Stop!” cried Mart. “I’m going to hurt myself laughing.” She brushed tears from her cheeks.
Melody laughed. “Hey, we both survived, relatively unscathed…”
They arrived at the house around six. Melody couldn’t decide if she should call ahead and warn the family or just jump into the fire all at once. To warn them would give them time to adjust to the idea, especially Chrissy, but it would also give them time to wonder why he was coming, why they needed warning, etc. They would have questions prepared. To just spring him on them was to invite confusion and hysteria (Chrissy again!) and embarrassing silences all around. Melody decided to go for the silences rather than the inquisition.
They walked into the front hallway.
“Hi, Mom!” called out Melody. “I’m here, and I’ve brought someone.”
“That’s lovely, Dear,” called out Elizabeth from the kitchen. “I’ll be right out. I’m just…” She appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. “…putting the finishing touches on the cake.”
“Mom, I’d like you to meet…my boss…Nick Carter.”
It sounded stupid, even to Melody. And her mother’s eyebrows let her know that it was indeed a stupid thing to say. Melody resolved to think up something better for the rest of them.
“Nick, this is my mother, Elizabeth Jones.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ma’am,” said Nick, extending a hand.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” said Elizabeth, graciously. “Come in, come in.”
Melody’s mother ushered them through a wide archway into the living room and made fussy noises until all three were seated with glasses of cranberry punch in their hand. Then she proceeded to fill every statement she made with double entendres.
Melody was sure it was completely accidental and that she and Nick were just overreacting because they had…well, she didn’t think ‘guilty conscience’ quite described it, but… After the fifth or sixth one, however, Melody began to wonder if it was deliberate.
“So, Melody works under you, then, does she, Mr. Carter?”
Nick was happy he didn’t have a mouthful of punch at that moment. “Please…call me Nick. We work together. She plays. I sing. It’s a good arrangement.”
“Yes, Melody is very talented.” Elizabeth turned a proud mama smile on her baby. Then she turned back to Nick. “It must be exciting when she plays with you.”
Nick carefully set his glass down on the table, moving it and the coaster under it slightly out of his reach. He didn’t want to knock it over. He took a deep breath and answered. “Yes, the fans love her.” He could see Mel on the other side of her mother. Her eyes were bugging out of her head. She was biting her lip.
When Elizabeth turned back to her daughter, Nick gave Mel a wide-eyed glance. Help me out here!
“The whole group is good, Mom,” said Melody, and she began to tell a funny story about Tofu.
“Hmmph,” sniffed Elizabeth. “Tofu! What a silly name! And a vegetarian! What’s wrong with meat?! Good old red-blooded American meat! Do you eat meat, Mr…Nick? I know Melody does. She likes all kinds of meat…steak, hamburger…”
If she says ‘sausage’ thought Nick, I’m running from the room and never coming back.
“And she doesn’t have to worry about it making her fat either. Nothing makes her fat. You can give her all the meat you want…”
“Settle down, Mom,” laughed Melody, nervously. “She gets like this,” she added to Nick. “So, Mom, what kind of meat are we having tonight?”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m having ham,” retorted her mother.
The doorbell saved them. The rest of the family had arrived. Louise always rang the doorbell. If the door had been standing wide open, Louise would have rung the doorbell. Elizabeth went to the door.
“Come in, come in. Happy Birthday, Dear! Melody’s already here. She brought a guest…a young man.” The last was said in a loud stage whisper.
Melody and Nick looked at each other in the living room. “Brace yourself…Boss,” whispered Melody.
Nick rose to his feet as the bodies started pouring through the doorway. Melody stood up too and performed the introductions. “Ben, I’d like you to meet…Nick Carter. Nick, this is my brother Ben…”
Handshakes and muttered greetings.
“…and this is my sister-in-law Louise…”
“Pleased to meet you. Happy Birthday,” said Nick.
Louise smiled crisply and nodded her thanks.
“And this is Ben Jr. Ben-two.”
Another handshake. And then touched fists.
“…and this is…”
Melody looked around. Chrissy was not in the room. She was in the hallway backed up against the far wall with her hands over her mouth. Everyone turned to look at her. Louise made a tsking sound and rolled her eyes. Ben-two snorted. Her father said, “Chrissy? You okay?”
“Excuse me,” said Nick, stepping around the others. He walked slowly to the doorway. “You must be Chrissy,” he said softly. “Your Aunt Mel has told me all about you.” He ducked his head shyly. “She says you’re a fan.”
Chrissy nodded and choked out a gasping sob. Tears flowed down her cheeks.
Nick opened his arms, and she fell into them, soaking his shirt with her tears. “I…never… thought… I’d…get…to…meet…you…” she choked out, one gasp at a time.
Nick rubbed her back and held her until she calmed down. In the living room, Louise had a look on her face like she’d just smelled something really bad. Ben and Melody exchanged amused glances. Ben-Two snorted again. Girls!
Elizabeth took charge. She grabbed the box of tissues from the corner table and headed to the hall. “Let go of Auntie Mel’s young man, Chrissy…and blow your nose!”
Nick released Chrissy, and she stepped reluctantly away. “Thanks, Grandma,” she said, taking a tissue and swiping at her nose. “I’m sorry, Nick.” She said it in the tiniest of voices.
“It’s okay,” he said with a smile. He motioned with his head to the living room and she went in. He followed her, and they all prepared to deal with the phrase ‘Auntie Mel’s young man’.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So?” said Mart. “How did you deal with it?”
“It actually wasn’t all that hard. Because let’s face it, it never crossed anyone’s mind that it would be anything other than innocent, given that I’m so much older.”
The conversation was stilted in the beginning. Chrissy went to the bathroom to wipe away the tears and blow her nose in private. She returned to the living room wearing bright red lipstick, which prompted her mother to send her right back to the bathroom to “wipe that mess off”. A look from Auntie Mel stifled the protest rising in Chrissy’s throat, and she retreated. Nick pretended that he hadn’t witnessed any of it and asked Ben about his job.
Ben said that he was an accountant – nothing fancy, just a number-cruncher. Louise sniffed that he shouldn’t put himself down…there was nothing wrong with being an accountant…it was an honorable profession. Ben shrugged and said that was true, but his clients didn’t throw their arms around him and cry.
“I bet they do if you get them a big tax refund,” said Nick. Ben laughed heartily, and the ice was broken.
A few minutes later, Louise was presented with her gifts, and then they had dinner – ham and scalloped potatoes…Louise’s favorite.
“So why are you here?” Louise asked Nick at one point. It sounded rude and intrusive even to her, and she backtracked immediately. “I mean…your family is in Florida, isn’t it?” Chrissy and Melody exchanged a glance. Wow! Maybe Louise had been paying attention!
“I was there for awhile…over Christmas,” said Nick. “But I have a place here…and we’re going to start rehearsing for the next part of the tour…Japan.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to Japan,” said Ben.
“It’s one of my favorite places,” said Nick, and that topic carried the conversation to dessert.
After cake and ice cream, Elizabeth wondered aloud if the dish fairies had worked their magic, and the women all trooped off to the kitchen. When they returned to the living room, Melody announced that they had to go, Nick had another engagement to get to. Goodbyes and nice-meeting-you’s were said all around. Elizabeth pressed a plastic container on Nick with another piece of cake in it and the two beat a hasty retreat.
“So there you go,” said Mart. “You made it, and no one noticed anything.”
“Well, one person noticed something…”
“Yeah, who was that?”
“Who else?” sighed Melody. “My mother.”
Chapter 59 by old_archive
“Your mother?!”
Melody sighed again. “Yes, when we were getting ready to leave, she dragged me into the kitchen to get a piece of cake for Nick to take with him. She obviously wanted to say something to me. She hemmed and hawed for a bit, and then she said, ‘Melody, do you know that that young man is in love with you?’ and then she saw my reaction, and she said, ‘Oh…oh, I see.’ And then she paused. ‘How old is he, Dear?’ I said, ‘he’ll be 24 in January.’ She said, ‘Hmmm…’ under her breath…you know that way she has…and then said, ‘so…six years’. And then I said in this pathetic, sad voice which I wasn’t intending at all…’six and a half’. And then she didn’t say anything else, but I got a really big hug when we left. I don’t know what it meant, but I’m sure it will get explained to me at some date in the near future.”
Mart decided it was time to change the subject. “So you’re rehearsing again?”
“Yes, at Pineapple Ranch. The new song.”
“The one where Nick is going to play the electric guitar.”
“Yep! He’s going to bring down the house.”
Melody had made some suggestions for a song and was delighted when Nick picked the one she wanted. She had presented them all without comment because she wanted it to be his choice. He picked House Arrest, an old Bryan Adams song from the 80’s. It was a true rock song about a house party, and Nick would be able to wail. There was also a hot guitar solo in the middle where he could really show his stuff. The rest of them would all be able to sing along with the chorus. It would be an incredible finale.
“How’s Stevie Ray?” Mart had had a big crush on Stevie Ray when she was fifteen. He was the closest thing to a rock star she’d ever met…until Nick.
“He’s cool. Miranda’s pregnant again. That’ll be four.”
“A quartet! Tell him I said ‘hi’.”
“I will. He let us in early…no big deal for him, nothing happens there during the day. And it gave him a chance to jam with us. It was fun, and Nick really learned a lot from him. I’m sure he’ll be around next week when the other guys come in.”
“And did Stevie Ray figure it out…you know…you and Nick…?”
“He’s suspicious…he sees the closeness…but it could be the music, right?”
“I guess. So are you keeping the song a secret from Rafe?”
“Not a secret, really. We’re not announcing it, but if he asks, we’ll tell him. We’re going to add it to the show in Japan.”
“Well, I gotta go…the kids are getting bored. Christmas holidays lose their appeal in the second week, at least for parents!”
”Okay then, Happy New Year, Mart!”
“Happy New Year to you, Mel! I’m glad you got that thing all sorted out.”
“Yeah, me too,” said Melody with a sigh. “Bye.”
‘That thing’ was New Year’s Eve. Rafe had wanted Nick to go to New York and do the Dick Clark thing in Times Square. Nick said no, said he was on a break and wasn’t traveling to New York for a five-minute spot of chaos.
Plan B for Rafe was one of the many parties going on in Los Angeles. He offered a number of them for Nick’s perusal and suggested some girls, among them Marisa Tang. Nick bristled at the implication that he couldn’t get his own date, and he almost confessed to Rafe that he was involved with Mel.
That was the cause of their first fight. Mel was livid with Nick. She said that they had agreed to keep their relationship a secret while they were on tour. And the reason they were keeping it a secret was because Rafe would have a stroke if he found out…and now, Nick had almost told him!
“Tell me again why we have to keep it a secret,” said Nick, raising his voice. “Because I still don’t get it.” He threw himself down on her sofa. He put his arms along the back of it and flicked his hands. So, talk!
Mel explained it again…how Nick Carter was being marketed as a rock star. Blond, single, beautiful…with a talent that was out of this world. Nick, the grown up, the mature adult.
Nick thought back to Rafe telling him he wouldn’t be on Sesame Street for awhile. “So why can’t I be grown up enough to have a girlfriend?” This was the part he didn’t get.
“Because of the age thing,” said Melody, with a sigh. “Because I’m so much older, so that makes you so much younger. And you know how the magazines love to put everyone’s age in brackets in those articles.” She made brackets with her fingers as she talked. “’Nick Carter (23) is seen here with Melody Jones (30)…’ You know they’ll be all over it. Just look at what they’re doing to Justin Timberlake and Ashton Kutcher.”
Nick shrugged. So?
“So they’ll never let you be Nick. You’ll always be Nicky. You’ll always be the kid. And that’s what they’ll focus on. When was the last time you read an article about Justin that mentioned his music?”
“I don’t read articles about Justin,” said Nick, with a pout. Then with a sigh, he added, “Okay, so it’s still a secret. But I want to be with you on New Year’s Eve. I don’t want to go to a big, flashy party with some girl I don’t like and then sneak home into bed with you.” He paused. “Well, ‘the sneaking into bed with you’ part, I can go for in a big way, but not the other.”
Mel relented. “Okay, try this. Tell Rafe that New Year’s Eve is not the best occasion for a photo op, in your opinion, because people always assume that everyone is drinking. So you’d rather not take the chance of a weird photo that makes you look drunk, even though you wouldn’t be, and besides you’re tired, so you’re just going to chill at home with your Nintendo and a couple of friends.”
“That’s a great idea! And really, I’ll be here with you. We can have a candlelight dinner and drink some nice wine and…”
Melody cut him off. “And just who is going to be cooking this dinner?”
Nick laughed. “Well, I guess I just assumed you were…”
“Right! A couple of Lean Cuisines and a flashlight…that’s what you’ll get.”
“Come here.”
Nick flashed that lop-sided grin that melted her bone marrow, and he crooked one of those long, beautiful fingers at her. Melody’s stomach flipped over, and a thrill ran through her. She took a step toward him.
“Well, if you think…” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and straddling his lap, “…if you think that this is going to make me cook for you…”
Nick put his hands on her hips and moved her down against him. Melody circled her pelvis on his groin and felt him begin to harden.
“I’m cooking for you right now,” he whispered. He moved his hands up under her shirt and undid her bra.
Melody kissed him and then made love to his mouth, while his hands removed her top and then moved over her breasts, kneading them and pinching her nipples, rolling them back and forth in his fingers.
Nick moved his mouth away from hers and raised her up on her knees so that he could feast on her breasts. He moved from one to the other, licking, sucking, gently biting while his hands caressed her back. Melody moved her fingers through his hair and then massaged his neck.
Nick moved his head away from her and looked up at her face. They stared at each other, saying an awful lot in a short glance. “Can I make love to you now?” whispered Nick, with passion in his voice.
”Yes, please,” countered Mel, brushing his hair off his face and kissing his forehead.
Much later, Melody raised herself up on an elbow in the bed and asked, “So what do you want me to make for the dinner?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She made pasta.
They started the meal in the living room.
“What’s that?” asked Nick pointing to the platter. There was a dip surrounded by three different colors of tortilla chips.
“Spinach-Artichoke Dip,” replied Mel. “Try it. It’s good.”
Nick had never eaten an artichoke in his life. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen one. And he didn’t like spinach. He made a face.
“Trust me,” said Mel pleasantly. “It’s got melted cheese and stuff. You won’t even taste the spinach.”
“What’s the point of it then, if you can’t taste the ingredients?” Nick wondered aloud.
“It’s the blending of the flavors,” said Mel. She picked up a chip and dipped it into the warm mixture. “Here…come on, don’t be such a baby…open up!”
With a grimace, Nick opened his mouth, and Mel slid the chip in. He chewed on it thoughtfully while she watched him expectantly. “It’s good,” he said, reaching for more.
“Told ya so,” said Mel.
“’Told ya so, told ya so. Jeez, how mature,” said Nick in a mocking voice. They both laughed, and Mel told him to put on some music while she checked on the rest of the dinner.
“I think you’ve been holding out on me,” said Nick, when she returned to the living room. “Two Lean Cuisines and a flashlight, yeah, right! I think you know how to cook.”
”Actually, yes, I’m a wonderful cook. I don’t get to do it very often. It’s not really worth it for just one person. But do you think I was going to let on to you guys that I could cook? I’d spend all my free time on tour in the kitchen.”
Nick came up to her and held out his arms. Dance? Mel slipped into his arms, and they moved together. “No way,” he said. “I want you spending all your free time on tour in another room altogether.”
“Mmm…” she said, leaning against his chest and breathing him in.
They danced and ate Spinach-Artichoke Dip. Then they sat across from each other at the table and talked about Japan while they ate pasta and salad. Vegetarian pasta. Nick had never seen so many different vegetables in one place in his life.
“What’s for dessert?” asked Nick. They had moved back to the living room and were finishing the wine, seated across from each other. He knew there would be dessert. There always was with Mel.
“I made something light…Marsala Mousse.”
Nick was afraid to ask what a ‘marsala’ was.
Mel smothered the smile which threatened. “Marsala is a kind of dessert wine. Come on, you can help me serve it. I made chocolate covered strawberries for garnish.”
Nick followed her into the kitchen. “Wait until the guys hear that you know how to garnish,” he said with a grin. The look on her face made him backtrack immediately. “I’ll never tell,” he said quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. Then he leaned in and kissed her because…well, because it just seemed perfectly appropriate.
“I made a bunch of these,” said Mel, nodding at the strawberries. “I thought we might want them… later.”
They stayed up until midnight. They talked and listened to music and flipped through the TV channels watching snippets of the various local New Year’s Eve shows. The New Year had already been rung in on the East Coast. Finally at five minutes to midnight, they found a station that was replaying the Dick Clark Special. They laughed at the thought that they were counting down something three hours old, but they counted it down anyway. Then they shared a tender kiss.
“Happy New Year, Baby,” whispered Nick.
“Happy New Year,” answered Mel. She clicked off the television and stood up. “2004,” she said, holding out her hand. “Let’s ring in the New Year.”
Chapter 60 by old_archive
Japan.
It was one of Nick’s favorite places to be. The fans were adoring but polite. Some of them spoke English better than he did, but they always apologized for their English before they spoke. Nick had insisted that Rafe build in lots of time for sightseeing and enjoying the culture…and showing it all to Mel, sharing such an intimate part of his life with her, made him as happy as he had been in a long time.
Mel had cautioned him about the Japanese fans. They didn’t miss much, she told him. Gus gave her daily reports on what was being said on the message boards. There were Nick-spottings galore, and every item contained almost verbatim reports of what he had said and done, who had been with him, what they had said and done, etc. Toby was blown away.
“See, it’s like this,” Gus told them, while they waited for Jeff and Nick in the lobby one day. “These girls are huge fans. You would be amazed by the number of them that traveled to the U.S. to see the Backstreet Boys when they were on tour…even though they knew the group was coming to Japan. Especially after AJ had his little episode…the fans weren’t sure the Japan leg wouldn’t be cancelled. So they just packed up their t-shirts and headed to America. They’ve got money to spend. And most of the time, they’ve had to sit over here watching the reports from overseas and living vicariously. Whenever the Boys come here, the fans take the opportunity to be part of the whole thing. That’s why the guys keep coming back. Nick was here on his last tour and Howie did one of his charity things here.”
“What’s not to like about the place?” said Toby. “The shows sold out in record time.”
Toby was having a great time in Japan. Nick had included him on every jaunt, the free-time ones as well as the publicity ones. Of course, Mel had been there too and often one or more of the other guys.
Toby wasn’t fooling himself any more about Nick and Mel. It was obvious that the rest of them were a smokescreen on the outings. The two were trying hard not to let on how they felt about each other, but Toby had caught the occasional glance that was very telling. And when he had come into Nick’s suite the morning after their arrival in Tokyo, he had heard Mel’s voice in the bedroom. Toby had backed out quietly and closed the door.
Toby didn’t like it because he didn’t think Mel was right for Nick. But Nick obviously thought she was, so Toby decided to give it a chance. He kept the information to himself and watched the others to see how much they knew. He was a little embarrassed to discover that he was pretty much the last to know…even Tom seemed to be aware of it! And everyone was protecting them…because it was obvious they weren’t making it public. Toby could understand why. Rafe would kill them!
Toby tried to figure out the best way to approach this. Should he act like he’d known all along and just hadn’t said anything? That could get tricky, if Gus got into one of his moods. As far as Gus knew, Toby still hadn’t figured it out. Should he go on pretending that he didn’t know?
…pretending you’re an idiot, you mean, he told himself. Should he tell them that he knew and that he would help them disguise it in any way he could? No, that was bad. They would wonder how he finally figured it out…they might think he was sneaking around spying on them…for Rafe…
Toby knew that the whole crew thought he was a spy for Rafe. It amused him, but it hurt his feelings at the same time. He worked for Nick…and he was loyal. He faxed in the expense reports, and he answered any questions that Rafe asked him directly, because that was part of his job. But he didn’t report on any personal items, just replied that he didn’t know, if Rafe strayed into that territory.
At first, Toby figured Gus for the spy…especially after he found out he was related to Rafe. But Gus was a pretty straightforward guy, considering that he was a conniving con man, and it didn’t seem possible. Toby asked him about it and Gus laughed at the idea, but didn’t confirm or deny it.
Toby hadn’t seen Gus much over the Christmas Break…only at the end, when they were busy with the details for the Japan venture. Toby hadn’t missed him as much as he thought he would. He’d gone out drinking with a couple of friends from his modeling days and he had met a nice man, who had invited him back to his place. Toby hadn’t gone…but he’d thought about it.
Gus spent most of the Christmas Break in Spain, visiting his parents. He ran across Rafe at a family party, and they spent some quality time together walking in the garden of their grandparents’ home. Rafe told Gus how pleased he was with his work. Gus told Rafe not to patronize him. Rafe laughed and told Gus not to be so touchy. Wasn’t he enjoying it?
Gus told him that he was, that he found that he was good at the job. He was good at tracking down information and working with the little details. Rafe told him that, if he kept his nose clean, maybe there’d be a job working with Murray when the tour was over. Gus said that he thought he liked being on the road. That can be worked out too, said Rafe good-naturedly, clapping his cousin on the back. Just don’t mess up on this one! It was all said in a friendly tone, but Gus caught the implied threat.
Rafe went back into the house, and Gus stayed in the garden for a few more minutes. Who would have thought, he asked himself. Colossal Screw-up Gustavo Deloro was finally “making a man of himself”, as his grandfather said. His grandmother was horrified, of course, that Gus’ job was that of a servant. She muttered, “Madre de Dios” and crossed herself every time Gus’ job was mentioned. But they were all pleased that he seemed to be growing up. And it was certainly time. The family had expended a considerable amount of money and effort keeping Gus’ shenanigans out of the newspapers and the law courts.
Gus stood up from the garden bench and stretched. He looked up at the large house. He wanted to go home. This wasn’t home to him anymore. L.A. was home. He wanted to get back to work. His project for Mel was waiting for him. He had managed to keep up with it a bit over the Internet but it would be easier on site. He missed the hustle and bustle of tour life. He missed the satisfaction of watching a situation grow frustrating for someone and then being able to soothe it over with the right information, product or service. He missed the music. He missed the guys. But most of all, he missed Toby.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The concerts in Japan were an entirely new experience for Melody. She had gotten used to the screaming girls in America and Europe, but over here, there was a whole new atmosphere. The girls sat quietly and listened to the song. When the song ended, they screamed and yelled just like the American girls, but then they would settle back in their seats and listen again to the next song. It made Alias Me such an intimate experience for her and Nick that it was almost embarrassing.
They put House Arrest into the show as an extra encore. They rehearsed it once with Scott and the stage crew. It was an immediate hit with the crew. The practicing they had done at Pineapple Ranch paid off. Melody had sent the music to all the guys, and they had come in prepared to play. The four days of rehearsal had been four days of fun. Stevie Ray had joined them, and they had jammed on a few other songs. Nick’s playing was so polished now that he could pick up almost any song with seemingly little effort. Melody knew that he practiced them all later until his fingers were stiff, but it didn’t matter. He had turned into a musician.
Melody and Nick spent every night together between New Year’s Eve and the flight to Japan ten days later. As a kind of mutual New Year’s resolution, they stopped discussing their relationship. But they never went out in public together, and Nick even went to a couple of evening events… and then he went home to her.
Nick wasn’t giving up on it, he just hadn’t figured out a way to do it yet. He finally saw where she was coming from on the whole ‘marketing of Nick’ angle. He didn’t agree with her necessarily, but the tour was going really well, and he didn’t want to mess with success. And she was right. Rafe wouldn’t like it. Nick was prepared to tell Rafe to go fuck himself, but he didn’t think that would be good for the tour. And as Mel kept telling him, nothing should get in the way of the music.
Nick loved Japan. He always had. The parts of his house that he had bothered to decorate were done in an Oriental style. He’d picked up a couple of nice objets d’art on this trip to add to his collection. He was thrilled at how he’d managed to show everything to Mel without raising any eyebrows. He had a feeling that the whole crew knew what was going on and were silent co-conspirators.
Toby knew.
Nick had come out of his bedroom in Osaka to find a room service table laid with breakfast for two. Mel had panicked and said, ‘omigod, the fans are sure to find out’ which made Nick lift the skirt of the trolley to show her that no one was lurking there. He had calmed her down and promised to talk to Toby about it.
Toby explained that he knew Mel liked her coffee and why shouldn’t they be able to enjoy breakfast together.
“But what if someone ferrets it out,” said Nick.
Toby shrugged. “So, we say you and I have breakfast together…a business meeting to sort out the details of the day…”
“But what about you…don’t you get two breakfasts delivered to your room?”
Toby shook his head. Not any more.
“What do you eat?” asked Nick.
Toby laughed and told him that he ate Mel’s breakfast. He had one ordered to her room, and he made sure he was there to intercept it. If anything, he said, they’ll think I’m sleeping with Mel.
The thought of Toby in her room gave Melody the creeps, and she made sure that she locked up anything she didn’t want him to see. But she smiled at Nick when he gave the explanation and she did enjoy the intimate breakfasts. It was their best time together when they were vertical and not onstage.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They were in Kyoto. It was the last week of January. The Japan leg of the tour had been a phenomenal success. Record sales had been good before their arrival, and they skyrocketed in the two weeks they were there. Nick had even had a phone call from Rafe telling him that Bryan Adams said ‘thanks’. Nick’s cover of House Arrest had generated a hot demand in Japan for the album, Waking Up the Neighbors.
Tom wandered into the backstage room where they were all chilling before the performance. He had a piece of paper in his hand and a serious look on his face. “Gather around,” he said soberly, “you all need to hear this.”
They all looked at him…thoughts of family and global tragedy whirling through their heads.
“Um…it’s the Grammys,” he said in a somber tone.
Everyone sucked in a breath. No one looked at Nick. ‘Grammy’ was a word you didn’t say around Nick. He knew that there was buzz that he would be nominated. There was a hot debate going on among the crew about what he would be nominated for…rock or pop. Nick had made the definitive statement that he would rather lose the Grammy for Best Rock Album than win it for Best Pop Album. And that he didn’t want hear the word ‘Grammy’ again. And he hadn’t, but that hadn’t stopped the crew from talking amongst themselves.
Tofu moved behind Tom and read the paper over his shoulder. “Congratulations, Nick. It looks like you’re going to get your wish…to lose a Grammy.”
Nick looked confused. “What?”
“You’ve been nominated for Best Rock Album.”
Nick looked stunned. What? He looked at Mel who had her hands over her mouth and tears in her eyes. He looked around at the rest of them and shook his head. He couldn’t make it sink it.
Finally, Rashad let a roar out of him. He grabbed Nick and whirled him around. “Way to go, Kid! Way to go!”
Then there was general mayhem and shouting as the rest of the crew filtered in, drawn by the noise.
After a couple of minutes, Nick looked over at Tom. “So who am I going to lose to?” he laughed.
“Probably REM,” sighed Tom.
Michael Stipe had recorded an album with his group that was outstanding. It was called Back With a Vengeance. It was a favorite with everyone on the crew. Tom read the rest of the nominees. They all agreed that REM would win the Grammy for Best Rock Album.
“They always give it to the old guy,” said Blaine, waving it off.
Nick shrugged. “I know it’s a cliché, but really…”
“Yeah, yeah, we know…” said Tofu, “it’s an honor just to be nominated.”
Everyone laughed.
“Well, then I guess you’re pretty honored,” said Tom, who was so proud of his straight face, he was almost bursting. He waited until they were all looking at him. “Alias Me was nominated as Record of the Year.”
Nick backed up until he was leaning on the wall. This was too much. His knees told him to sit down.
“And…” Tom savored the moment, “…one more…Song of the Year.”
A sob tore out of Melody. Song of the Year. That was for writing. That wasn’t for performing. She moved across the room and into Nick’s arms. She hugged him tightly, and he hugged her back. And then she felt more arms. Blaine and Tofu and Rashad joined the hug.
“The short chick is smothering,” said Melody, after a moment. The others backed away, clearing their throats and swiping at their eyes.
The crew lined up and gave Nick hugs and high-fives. He thanked them and said how it was great and all, but it was just a nomination, he was sure he wouldn’t win, and we’ve got a show to put on here.
And then Tom’s phone rang. It was Rafe. Tom listened and put in the occasional word. Then he handed the phone to Nick.
“Congratulations, Nick!” said Rafe earnestly.
“Thanks, Rafe,” said Nick. “I’ve having trouble taking it in.”
“Yeah, I can understand that. It’s a big thing.” Rafe then proceeded to give Nick advice about how to handle the media and what to say at his shows. Nick didn’t listen to any of it. His brain was numb.
“…and a date.”
“What? Sorry, Rafe. I didn’t get that last part.”
“A date. For the Grammys. Do you have someone you want to take? You’ll be sitting in the front row, you know. What about Marisa? Or maybe even Tamara?”
“Can we talk about this later?” asked Nick. “I’m still in a bit of a fog.”
“Sure, sure,” said Rafe. “We’ve got nearly a month. I just wanted to say ‘congratulations’, Nick.”
“Thanks, Rafe,” said Nick. “And, uh…thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” said Rafe. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
Nick handed the phone back to Tom. He stared across the room at Mel, who was talking excitedly to Blaine. Nick smiled to himself. He knew who he was taking to the Grammys.
Chapter 61 by old_archive
“I’m not going with you and that’s final!”
The argument had raged for nearly a week. The euphoria of the nominations had quickly faded for Nick when Mel refused to accompany him to the Grammy Awards.
It began when he started talking about dress designers. Mel informed him that she wouldn’t need one, as she was only going to be backstage. Nick was, of course, going to perform Alias Me on the show. The group would be there to play the song, and they would hang out in the backstage area and watch the rest of the show on television monitors.
“You will be sitting right beside me,” insisted Nick.
“No, I won’t,” said Mel.
As many times as she tried to convince him that they couldn’t pull it off in public, Nick tried to convince her that they could.
“And, if you win…you won’t want to kiss me?” she asked.
“Of course, I will, but I’d want to kiss whoever it was…and besides, I’m not afraid to say that you are with me…and I mean WITH me.” Nick emphasized the word.
“You can’t,” insisted Mel, “especially not there. You’ve worked too damn hard for this.”
“For what? What am I working for, if I can’t have what I want at the end of the day? And what I want is you.”
They talked about it on the flight home from Japan; they talked about it in Los Angeles; they talked about it on the bus to Denver. The only time they didn’t talk about it was when Rafe came to town. They stayed well away from each other during that time.
Rafe came away from his meetings in Los Angeles with the distinct feeling that he was missing something. Everything seemed okay – they were all excited about the nominations. Except Nick. He didn’t want to talk about it.
Of course, he’d been there before. The Backstreet Boys had been nominated for Millennium. The hype had been huge, and then they had not won. Maybe Nick didn’t want to get his hopes up again.
That was a good thing, Rafe figured. REM was going to walk away with the Best Rock Album Grammy, and so they should. It was a phenomenal album. And the first single from it, Coming Home, was also nominated for Best Song and Best Record. Industry buzz said it would be a sweep for Michael Stipe. Rafe didn’t care. Winning the Grammy would be beyond awesome, but just getting nominated was good enough for now. The plan was right on track.
Now if Nick would only pick a date for the event. Rafe had suggested several, but Nick had just sloughed him off, said he’d get around to it, but right now, he had his head into getting back on tour. Rafe could hardly argue with that.
Tom said things were going smoothly, and they were. But Tom seemed self-satisfied, if not outright smug, about something. Rafe had tried to delve into it, but Tom would only talk about the music. There was nothing in Toby’s expense reports that raised an alarm, and when questioned, the P.A. gave bland answers that told Rafe nothing. Even Jeff was not forthcoming.
“I’m not really sure what you want me to say,” said Jeff, when Rafe tried to pin down his feeling of suspicion. “I mean, things are going great. Japan was…well, interesting. I’ve never been there before, have you?”
Rafe was not interested in a travelogue on the Orient. “Did anything happen? Did people go out at night?” Rafe hadn’t arranged any ‘events’ for Nick. He didn’t have many contacts in the Orient yet, and he didn’t trust his business to strangers.
“Not too much,” said Jeff. “Not speaking the language and all…and there were so many fans. Nick kinda stands out over there, if you know what I mean. The fans were polite and all…but it was always a crush. Mostly, people just hung out at the hotel.”
“Who did Nick hang out with?” asked Rafe, bluntly.
“Oh, you know, the Nintendo guys.” Jeff had constructed a phantom gang of video game players from among the crew. He had picked a lighting guy and a backstage guy, who he knew liked to play. Whenever he wasn’t sure what Nick had been up to, Jeff would tell Rafe he’d been playing video games. “You know, the Japanese fan club gave him some new equipment when he was there.”
“What about Tofu?” Rafe asked the question as a smokescreen.
“Tofu was Tofu. But even he didn’t party all that much. Mostly, they all did a lot of sightseeing. Nick likes Japan, you know.”
“And Mel?”
“Mel liked it. She said she had finally found a spot where there were people her height.”
Rafe laughed and ended the conversation. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on that he didn’t know about. And that was a feeling he didn’t like at all!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I don’t want to have this conversation again,” said Mel.
They were on the bus to Denver. It was pulling into a rest area. Mel had asked Gus for the information he’d been gathering for her. The folder was thick. It sat on the table between Nick and Mel.
It was no longer a “secret” among the main parties that Nick and Mel were together. Their arguments about the Grammys had made that subterfuge impossible. Gus, Toby and Jeff listened as the two lovers went round and round again.
“Give me one good reason…I said one GOOD reason…” said Nick.
Mel’s patience snapped. “Because I don’t like shopping!” she yelled.
Shopping? All the men exchanged a glance. What the hell…? Only Gus knew what she meant.
“What?” Nick shook his head. Where was she going now?
Melody sighed. She picked up the folder. “Every single article about Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher mentions shopping. She takes him shopping! Every fucking time!!!” The men had never heard her use the word. “Is that what you want? Is that what you want to be? The boy toy that I take shopping? Because I HATE SHOPPING!!!”
Mel slapped the folder against Toby’s chest. “Educate him!” she snarled, and she stalked off the bus. She marched over to the second bus, where the guys were descending. She walked past the musicians without a word and climbed on the bus. She went straight to the back and climbed into the unused bunk. She curled up in a ball and tried to stop the shaking.
Blaine, Rashad and Tofu looked at each other. Then they looked at the door of the first bus. No one else got off. Jeff stepped into the doorway and looked around. Mel? he mouthed. Blaine pointed at the second bus. Jeff nodded his head. He stepped down off the bus and leaned against the side of it with his arms folded. No one approached him.
When it was time to go, Jeff got on the first bus. A minute later, he got off and walked to the second. He came back out with Mel, and they got on the first bus. Blaine, Rashad and Tofu got back on the second bus. They weren’t asking. That was for damn sure!
“Mel?” Jeff had found her in the back bunk. “Come on now, you can come back.”
She made a sound that Jeff couldn’t interpret.
“He needs you,” he said.
Mel turned over. “Does he get it?” she asked in a small voice.
“Yeah,” said Jeff. “He gets it. Gus does good research.”
Mel walked with Jeff back to the bus. She climbed on board and looked around. There were magazine clippings and internet printouts everywhere. It looked like the folder had exploded. Gus and Toby were picking them up from the floor and the furniture. Nick was nowhere to be seen. The two P.A.s stopped what they were doing and looked at Mel.
“Does he get it?” she asked again, in a whisper.
They nodded. Oh yeah. He got it.
”Toby explained it really well,” said Gus. “This is the one that convinced him.”
He handed Mel an article from People magazine, What’s in Ashton Kutcher’s future? It was touted as a serious article…it was framed in the style of questions and answers, but it was sarcastic and demeaning. It put down his work and referred constantly to his relationship with Demi, implied that if the TV show didn’t work out, he could always…well, go shopping.
Mel nodded. She was sorry that the two men had had to do it. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Toby waved her off. His respect for her had grown enormously in the last few minutes. “Someone had to,” he said. “He wouldn’t believe you.” Toby nodded toward the back of the bus. “He’s back there.” He bent down and picked up another paper from the floor.
Mel made her way to the back of the bus. Nick’s door was open. He lay on the bed with his back to her. He was curled up, much as she had been on the other bus. She slid the door closed and crawled onto the bed behind him. She slipped one arm over him and pressed her face into his back, kissing him. They lay together for a minute, absorbing each other, healing each other.
Then Nick turned over. He leaned on one arm and ran his other hand down the side of her face.
“I don’t care,” he whispered.
“You do care,” answered Mel. “You have to.” She reached up and brushed his hair from his forehead. “You’ve worked too hard.”
“I hate hiding you,” said Nick.
Mel could feel the pain in his voice. Nick lowered his lips to hers to stop her from answering. He wanted the last word.
And he got it. Because she curled her body into his and held him tightly and wished with all her might that she was younger or he was older or the world was different or any number of things that would stop her from getting her heart broken. Because for all her well-thought-out arguments, for all her logic and her words about ‘game plans’ and ‘marketing’, Mel knew one thing above all. She loved this man with all her heart, and she knew that doing the right thing for him was going to hurt her more than she’d ever been hurt in her life. And she prayed that she had the strength to do it.
Nick held her. It was all he could do at the moment. He could feel her pain. He knew how much it took out of her to forbid him to acknowledge her. He spent a moment wishing…that she was younger, or he was older or the world was different.
But he only spent a moment doing that. It was a waste of time. It was action that counted. Nick understood that Mel wouldn’t jeopardize his career. He also understood that she was right, that going public with his relationship with her at this moment would indeed jeopardize his career. Toby and Gus had convinced him of that. Man, he couldn’t believe what the press was doing to Justin and Ashton… But…and it was a big ‘but’…BUT, if he got a chance to speak at the Grammys…and Nick knew that the only way he could do that was if he won… BUT, if he won a Grammy, that would put him in a place where he could say what he wanted…it would legitimize him and everything about his new ‘grown-up-don’t-call-me-Nicky’ self.
And so, Nick decided.
If he won a Grammy, in his acceptance speech, he would tell the world that he loved Melody Jones.
Chapter 62 by old_archive
“Well, gee, I don’t know,” said Nick, ingenuously.
He was sitting on the set of Good Morning Denver. He had two and a half minutes, and he intended to make the most of them.
The reporter insisted that Nick must have some idea of who he would take to the Grammys.
“Well, we’ve been so busy. We’re on tour…the Grammys…you know, that’s…gee...I don’t know…what about the band? I could take the band.” A look of wondrous surprise crossed his face.
The reporter looked confused.
“We’re going to be there anyway. We’re performing. Alias Me.”
Nick looked so shy when he said it…the song title. He bowed his head and shrugged. The reporter fell in love and also fell into his trap. She talked about the nominations and Nick grew even more modest. He mentioned REM and said how much he loved their album.
Then she came back to it. “But how could you take the whole band?” she asked. “I think they only give you two seats.”
”Oh,” said Nick, as if this was news to him. “Well, maybe they could take turns. They’ll all be backstage.”
“Why don’t you just take Melody Jones?” asked the reporter. “I mean, she’s the only girl in your band, right?”
Nick brightened. “You know that’s a really good idea…Rita.” He had to stretch his brain to recall her name. “I wonder if she would go with me.”
Rita laughed good-naturedly. She looked at the camera. “Well, if she won’t, I can get you the names of several thousand Denver residents who would be happy to, starting with me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nobody would go near Mel.
She was beyond pissed.
Nick had maneuvered her into a corner. She couldn’t say ‘no’ now. Not only had Nick pulled the stunt on the Denver TV show, but he had insinuated it into two radio interviews three days apart. He was getting very good at this interview stuff! So good that Rafe had called and told Mel that she had to go with him.
“What’s up with that?” Mel paced up and down the bus. It wasn’t a very long distance, but she didn’t have very long legs.
Nick was very pleased with himself. He had managed to get Rafe to order Mel to go with him to the Grammys. He tried not to smirk with satisfaction. He figured Mel would tear his head off if he did.
“I didn’t know he was going to do that,” said Nick, all wide-eyed innocence. “I just told him that it was going to be a very stressful night and I didn’t want to go with someone that needed attention, that I had to be charming to. I wanted to go with someone who would understand my nervousness and not be upset by it. I suggested Rashad.”
He had too. Nick knew Rafe well enough not to suggest Mel first thing. The mental picture of him and Rashad together in the front row was the most incongruous one he could think of. He gave Rafe a moment to picture it and then added, “Or maybe one of the other guys.” Mel was one of the guys, after all.
Rafe suggested Mel. Nick turned him down. “She won’t want to do it. You know how she is about things like that.”
“But would you want her to?” asked Rafe.
Nick pretended to give it some thought. “Well, yeah, I guess. She knows me well enough. She wouldn’t get all bent out of shape when I had to go and perform, because she’d be going too.” Nick gave a hearty laugh.
Rafe thought it over. It seemed like a good idea. Mel cleaned up okay. “I’ll get started on the dress,” he said.
“Whoa, slow down,” said Nick. “I’m not even sure she’ll do it. But, you know, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense to me…it would be like not even having anyone there, if you know what I mean. Not an extra pressure.”
Rafe knew what he meant. “Don’t worry about it, Nick. She’ll be there.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The dress.
Nick thought if he wasn’t careful, he was going to lose Mel…over a dress. The simple fact was that she didn’t want to wear one…at least, not the ones that were being suggested by Rafe.
“Look,” she said. “I’m performing. It’s no big deal for you to take off your tux or suit or whatever and throw on your jeans and t-shirt to perform. If I’m strapped into some designer rig that took four people to get me into it, how am I going to get out of it to perform and then get back into it?”
Nick didn’t know the answer to that. He passed the question on to Gus. Gus admitted that it was a dilemma, along with makeup and hair. If they went too fancy with either, Mel wouldn’t look right when they performed.
“Find out when we’re performing,” Nick told Rafe in what was becoming almost a daily phone call to discuss the dress. “Maybe she can just stay backstage after we’re done.”
Rafe came back with the news that they would be the second-last group to perform. REM would be last.
Nick laughed. “That tells us all we need to know, doesn’t it?”
Rafe agreed that the producers of the show had obviously decided who was going to win big. He also insisted that Mel had to change back into the dress and be in the audience with Nick when the awards were announced. Nick couldn’t be alone. It would look pathetic. And then Rafe reminded him for the four hundredth time that Nick would be on camera constantly and he should watch what he said and did.
Rafe faxed sketches of dresses to Mel. At each stop on the tour, there would be a fax for Toby at the hotel. Toby began to fear for his life, when he saw some of the drawings. He knew that to use the words ‘double-sided tape’ in Mel’s presence would be tantamount to an act of suicide.
Gus, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He spent all his free time shopping. He was determined to be the one. The one to find the dress. It had to be dignified but not old-lady-like. It had to be simple but elegant. It had to be easy to get in and out of. It had to be comfortable. It had to make her look taller or, at least, not shorter. It had to show off her breasts. This last criterion was one Gus had added on. The rest were Mel’s.
Gus was on a mission. He got Toby to get a price limit from Rafe and knew he could come in way under it. He prowled the bridal salons and specialty shops. He visited boutiques and department stores. He came close a couple of times. He found one dress that was perfect, except it had a fringe of feathers on it. Gus knew better than to show Mel anything with feathers.
And then he found it. He was so sure that Mel would go for it that he bought it. It would be easy to get in and out of, and it was simple, so they didn’t have to overdo the hair or jewelry.
Mel was so sick of the discussion that she didn’t even want to look at the dress.
“Just try it on, “ said Nick. “You know you have to pick one eventually. Gus has never let you down before.”
Mel glared at him but acquiesced when he held up the latest fax from Rafe. Each dress seemed to have less and less material in it. Mel figured if she kept holding out, she would eventually get her wish not to wear a dress. She would be wearing a belt.
She disappeared into the bedroom of the suite. Gus had hung the dress on a hook on the bathroom door. She tried it on and looked at herself in the mirror. Then she yelled out, “Get in here, Gus!”
“Yes, Mel,” said a suddenly timid Gus from the doorway.
“Zip me,” she commanded.
He approached her with caution and zipped the dress up the back. Mel turned around and looked at him. He beamed at her. She looked great. “See I figure we’ll do your hair sort of funky and spiky. Not too much, ‘cause it’s longer now…unless you want to cut it.”
“No,” replied Mel. “Nick likes it longer. And I don’t want to change myself too much. It’s bad enough I’ll be…” and she motioned down at the dress.
The dress was a simple sheathe – navy satin, strapless, form-fitting, with a slit up one side. It showcased her shape beautifully. She would fit in with the crowd but she wouldn’t stand out.
“Come on,” yelled Nick from the other room. “What are you two doing in there?”
Mel took a deep breath and walked into the other room. She twirled around and said, “Well?”
Toby smiled. He nodded at her. “You look good,” he said.
She looked over at Nick. He was smiling too. “It looks great. What do you think? Do you like it?”
Mel nodded. Yeah, she did. The three men breathed a sigh of relief.
“What about jewelry?” asked Nick.
“Leave it to me,” said Gus, and they all nodded, including Mel.
“I’ll just get out of this then,” said Mel. “Someone needs to help me with the zipper.”
“I’ll take care of that,” said Nick, standing up.
“Well, we’ll just be running along then,” said Toby, and he and Gus sprinted for the door. They went to their room next door and spent an hour having a great time planning the next phase of Project Mel.
Nick helped Melody remove the dress slowly and carefully. And then she removed his clothes equally slowly and carefully.
Chapter 63 by old_archive
Nick changed his mind several times about his plan to “out” his relationship with Mel at the Grammys. He would get his courage up, and then his brain would start niggling at him. Was that the right place? Would it seem like a publicity stunt? Did anyone want to hear stuff like that on that night? Would anyone even be listening?
And should he tamper with a relationship that seemed to be working so well? Now that it was an open secret amongst the musicians, they didn’t have to watch what they said quite so much. They didn’t have to duck out of dinners at different times, so it would look like they were going their separate ways. Tofu made the most of it. He used Mel’s room now for his encounters. After the first time, when Toby walked in on him and his chosen one with Mel’s breakfast cart, they communicated a little better about the arrangements.
Toby had climbed aboard the Nick-and-Mel Train with enthusiasm. One night on the bus, when Mel was getting ready to climb into her bunk, Toby said, “Why don’t you...?” and motioned with his head to Nick’s room.
“We don’t…we wouldn’t…on the bus…it’s…” Mel stammered out the words.
“So don’t ‘do’,” said Toby. “Just ‘be’.”
From then on, Nick and Melody slept together on the bus, cradled in each other’s arms, snatching precious moments of peace. And Toby and Jeff sat and played dominoes or cards and smiled secret little smiles of conspiracy. Neither one thought the other was a spy. It never crossed Toby’s mind once that it would be Jeff…and Jeff was the one person who knew for sure it wasn’t Toby. Both of them vowed to themselves that they would burn at the stake before they would reveal anything to Rafe about Nick and Mel.
Just when Nick would decide that he shouldn’t say anything, someone would say something or something would happen and he’d turn his thinking the other way, chastising himself for being a coward. Mel was his woman…he knew better than to phrase it like that to her…and he wanted the world to know it. He hated having to put on a smile and escort the various beauty queens to whatever cow-milking festival was happening in any given city. At the end of the evening, he would thank them graciously and turn them down.
It was amazing! They always offered. In some cases, it was more like a demand. Nick knew that more than one of them thought he was gay, because they couldn’t believe he was rejecting their advances.
But what about Mel? In all of the discussions, it was all about what treatment the young men were being given in the media. But what about the women? He asked Gus if he could see the file again. Gus hesitated, and Nick promised that this time he wouldn’t throw it around the bus. And Gus, don’t tell Mel I asked to see it.
Nick read every article carefully. And it scared him. Because Mel was right. They were treating the men very poorly. The women seemed to be faring better. They were tainted with a faint whiff of desperation, but other than that, it seemed to be ‘you go, Girl!’ for being able to get a younger man.
Nick laughed to himself at the promise he had made. If I win a Grammy… that was a laugh. Do you think you set the bar high enough there, Nick? Why not…if I become a shuttle astronaut? Or… if I discover a cure for cancer? Both seemed as likely as the first.
The oddsmakers in Las Vegas and the people in the know in the industry agreed…this was Michael Stipe’s year. Blaine hadn’t been wrong…they did tend to give it to the ‘old guy’. Especially in a year after they gave it to someone young. And that had happened last year when Norah Jones wiped out Bruce Springsteen.
But what if…?
Nick talked to Mel about it.
“I know I’m not going to win or anything, but what if…? Should I plan something to say? I’m not good ‘off the cuff’ but I don’t want it to look like I prepared something, thinking I was going to win.”
Mel told him to think about what he would say. He could always use it in an interview. Instead of “I’d like to thank my producers” or whatever to an audience, he could say to a reporter, “I was fortunate to have great producers on the album.”
“How many speeches do you think I should prepare?” he asked deadpan. “After all, I’m nominated three times.”
“Oh, I think one should cover it,” said Mel, with a grin. “You can always improvise the other two.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
During the month between the nominations and the awards, life continued as usual. They played, they sang, they traveled. The concerts were all sold out now, with the scalpers making out like bandits. The Grammy nominations had taken care of that. They still had the most fun when they were on stage. But it seemed like, when they were offstage, the whole Grammy spectacle intruded more and more. More reporters pressed for interviews and all they wanted to talk about was the Grammys. Nick got pretty sick of predicting that he’d be a loser.
Project Mel was complete. The shoes, the jewelry, the dress…had all been purchased. Makeup and hair stylists had been booked. Her performance outfit had been decided on, rust colored leather pants and the vest Nick had given her for Christmas. Gus and Toby ran mock drills with Mel and Nick’s clothes to make sure that they packed everything they needed for the changes.
Rafe almost threw a monkey wrench into things when he suggested that maybe Mel wanted a second dress to change into after the performance. Rafe got the message quickly that that was a no-go. No one even mentioned it to Mel.
Nick was going for the grown-up but casual look. There would be no tux…just a shirt and tie and leather jacket. Gus called it the ‘Just got off the tour bus’ look.
“It’s perfect,” he told Nick. “It looks like you cared enough to dress up and come, but that you’re in the middle of a tour and don’t have time for stuff like stylists and designers.”
Mel was envious of Nick’s simple, comfortable attire, but she laughed when he whispered to her that she could get into his pants after the ceremony.
Rafe was on the phone to them nearly every day. There were many things to be discussed. Would Nick present an award? The Academy asked. Rafe declined on Nick’s behalf, saying that it was going to be difficult enough to get them there to perform, let alone other things. They were on tour, after all. In reality, Rafe was afraid to put Nick before the mike. He’d seen Nick’s performance on other award shows, and he hadn’t been impressed.
The director of the show phoned Rafe and told him that Nick would sing Alias Me…exactly the way it was done on the album. He understood that there had been some changes on tour…the girl was singing part of it with him. The director didn’t want that. This song was nominated as Record of the Year, and he wanted it to sound exactly like it did on the album. Nick bristled when he heard that, but Mel just shrugged. It’s one night, she said. Do what they want. So Nick agreed.
They flew in the day before. A three-day break had been built into the tour schedule just for this event. Even if Nick hadn’t been nominated, it was a publicity opportunity too good to miss. They arrived in time to go to the auditorium for sound checks and rehearsal.
They laughed when they saw their seats. There were cut-out pictures of the stars pinned to the back of the seats. The directors used these to map out the evening…who would have to be retrieved from where…to present or to perform. It also helped the emcee, comedian Chris Rock, when he practiced his monologue. He could tell where people would be seated and could plan his movements around the stage. Mel was a blank head with a question mark on it.
They rehearsed the song. Mel had to really concentrate to keep her mouth shut. They had done it together so many times that it was ingrained. The director seemed pleased with the performance. There were many other acts to rehearse, so they were moved quickly along. Gus and Toby staked out their dressing room and brought in the performance clothes.
That night there were pre-Grammy parties. Nick attended one of the most prominent ones with Howie. Mel went to a different one with Tofu. Blaine and Rashad brought their ladies to that one. It was Stevie Ray’s party at Pineapple Ranch. Mel told Tofu that, when he’d picked out his woman for the evening, he should let Mel know and she would grab a cab back to the hotel. Tofu told her that he already had his woman for the evening, thank you very much, and that he would escort her home.
Nick got back to the hotel before Mel. The party had been great, lots of good vibes from people. He felt accepted as one of them…on his own merits. There were lots of photographers and reporters. He was gracious and polite to all of them and tried not to have a drink in his hand when his picture was taken. But he felt an emptiness inside. He wanted Mel with him. Several times, he had turned to say something to her, to comment on someone or something, and then he remembered that she wasn’t there.
So he didn’t stay late. He and Howie glided through the party, doing all the necessary schmoozing. Howie was so good at it! Nick marveled at the ease with which he talked to people. Nick made noises about turning in early. Howie suggested that they go for a drink somewhere private. So they went to the bar in Nick’s hotel, and he spilled his guts about Mel.
Howie listened carefully. Nick stated all of Mel’s concerns and how he could sort of see her point but he loved her and he hated the fact that she wasn’t with him tonight. Howie nodded thoughtfully.
“Got any good advice, D?” asked Nick.
“I got advice, sure,” replied Howie, “but I don’t have a magic wand. I mean, I can’t make it all perfect with a flick of the wrist. You have to decide…decide what’s most important in your life.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, I know. I guess I just want it all.”
Howie laughed and punched his friend playfully on the arm. “Who knows, Nicky? Maybe by this time tomorrow night, you will have it all!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick was surprised that Mel wasn’t in the room when he got there. There was no reason she should have been. She was out at a party too. Nick would have preferred to go to Stevie Ray’s party, but Rafe wouldn’t let him. He had to be more visible than that. Stevie Ray wouldn’t let the press into his private party, even if they had wanted to be there.
Nick paced the floor, waiting. He turned on the television and flipped through the channels. Then he turned it off and paced some more. He thought about getting a drink from the mini-bar but decided against it. He’d already had a couple this evening. Finally, he decided to take a shower and go to bed. He’d have a nice cozy nest built for Mel when she got home, just as she had done so many times for him.
Nick didn’t hear her come in, but he felt the draught of cold air when she opened the bathroom door.
“Hi, Honey, I’m home,” she said in a teasing voice.
“You’re late,” said Nick. “Past your curfew, Young Lady.” They laughed. “I’ll be right out,” he said.
“Au contraire, mon ami,” said Mel, sliding the shower curtain open and stepping into the tub.
“Hey there,” said Nick, kissing her. “Welcome home.” He moved so that she could get wet.
“Soap me, Baby,” she said.
Nick complied with enthusiasm, running his hands over her body, spreading the soapy lather over her. “Is this where it gets a little dirty?” he asked.
Mel laughed. “We’re not very bad, are we, if ‘getting a little dirty’ to us means ‘soap’?”
Nick laughed and used his hands to rinse the soap from her body. He stopped laughing when she dropped to her knees. He braced his hands on the wall and tipped his head back, relishing the sensation of her mouth on him. When he felt himself getting close, he put his hands in her hair and pulled her upward.
“It’s okay,” said Mel, but Nick shook his head. He wanted to be inside her. He turned off the water, and they wrapped themselves in towels. When they opened the bathroom door, the chill of the air conditioner made them both shiver.
“Come on,” said Nick, and they jumped into the bed, still in their towels. They huddled together until they were warm and dry. Then they threw the towels out of the bed and made love until they were hot and wet.
“I love you,” whispered Nick, when they lay together afterward. He didn’t say it very often, because he knew Mel didn’t want him to. It was a sign of serious commitment and wasn’t part of the ‘game plan’. She rarely said it to him, but Nick knew that she felt it.
“I love you, too,” Mel whispered back. She raised herself up on an elbow. “I have to say this now.” She traced a finger down the side of his face. “I love you. You are the most precious thing in my life…so precious that I would give you up if I had to.” Her eyes bore into his until he nodded in understanding. “I had to tell you that tonight…that I love you…” An impish grin crossed her face. “…because tomorrow night you’re going to be this big Grammy-winning star, and I’ll just be one of the little people…so I had to let you know while you were still just a nobody.”
“Sure, sure,” laughed Nick, “and if I called you one of the little people, you’d take my head off.”
“I’m not talking ‘height’,” growled Mel playfully, hitting him with a pillow. “You…gargantuan!”
“Don’t be throwing your crossword puzzle words at me, Lady,” Nick retorted, rolling her onto her back and pinning her arms over her head. “I know words too…like ‘nuzzle’…”
Melody gasped as his mouth descended to her breast.
“…and ‘lick’…”
Nick raised his head and gave her a devilish grin. Then he ran his tongue down her body from her neck to her navel. Melody twitched and moaned. She jerked her hands out of his grasp and twined her fingers in his hair.
“…and ‘ecstasy’…” he whispered, lowering his mouth over her center and showing her that he, indeed, did know the meaning of the word.
Chapter 64 by old_archive
The Grammys.
The big night.
The red carpet. A whirling sea of confusion. Over the years, the Grammys had evolved from a music in-crowd thing into a hip version of the Oscars. Ten years ago, even five, it would have been unheard of to ask someone at the Grammys who had designed her gown. Now it was the de rigueur question. There was an eclectic mix of styles, from jeans and t-shirts to Dior originals. It went from beautiful to bizarre. The major difference between the Grammys and the Oscars was that there was a lot less material used to outfit the women at the Grammys.
Mel stayed behind Nick as much as she could. The sun was shining brightly, reflecting off cameras and microphones. The ceremony was to start at 8:00 EST, so that meant 5:00 on the West Coast. The red carpet nonsense got under way around 4:00. They had been given the order of arrival. Their limousine was to pull up in front of the auditorium at the exact minute of 4:13.
They were helped from the car and escorted along the carpet. Screams from the fans greeted their exit from the car. Nick turned and waved, and that caused even more screaming. They were shuffled along from one microphone to the next. There was so much noise, so many people talking at once, that Mel wondered how any of it could be used on television. She kept one hand lightly on Nick’s back, so that she wouldn’t lose him in the crowd. None of the reporters was interested in her, much to her relief.
The only person who spoke to her was someone’s date who was being similarly ignored by the media. She didn’t seem as relieved by it as Mel.
“Are you with the band?” she asked, nodding at a group of scruffy musicians who were accompanied by some rather interesting women.
“I’m in the band,” replied Mel tartly, nodding at Nick.
Inside the arena, the chaos and crush disappeared to be replaced by the hum of anticipation and the cold sweat of fear. Nick and Mel were escorted to their seats. They spoke to the other people around them. Nick went over to Michael Stipe and introduced himself.
“I’ve been a fan forever,” said Nick, extending his hand.
“Well, I haven’t been a fan of yours forever,” replied the talented leader of REM. “But I am now. It’s a great album…and a great song.” The two musicians shook hands.
It wasn’t long before an assistant director came out on stage and called for quiet. He gave some last-minute instructions and told them there were only a couple of minutes, so please, people, would you please take your seats!
Mel had been assured that someone would come to get them in lots of time for her to change. She had had nightmares for the last three nights. Either she was playing naked, or she was playing in the long dress, or…the worst one, she couldn’t find the stage. She wakened from that one sweating and gasping for breath. And when she went back to sleep, she fell right back into it…running from place to place and person to person, trying to find the band, trying to find Nick. She would be so glad when this night was over.
Nick found himself strangely relaxed. He was sitting in the front row at the Grammys. He was nominated for three awards…for a song, for an album and for writing a song. It didn’t get any better than that. And the best part was…he wasn’t expected to win. So there was no pressure. He could relax and have a good time. He thought how awful it would be to be the favorite and then not win.
He remembered when they had been nominated for Millennium. They hadn’t been the favorite, but they had still allowed themselves to get their hopes up. And it had been very disappointing for them all when they lost. Kevin was philosophic about it, as he always was, but Nick could tell he was disappointed. And AJ got drunker than Nick had ever seen him. They actually put him on a suicide watch that night. AJ was not very good at handling rejection.
But Nick didn’t see tonight as either a loss or a rejection. He saw it as an acceptance, and he was thrilled to be there. And he had the woman he loved by his side. He had used every opportunity to touch Mel while they made their way up that endless red carpet. He had “guided” her forward or “moved” her sideways, with a hand under her elbow or in the small of her back. She kept trying to get behind Nick, but the comforting feel of her small hand on his back made that okay too.
Nick couldn’t believe the utter inanity of the reporters’ questions. Who gave a rat’s ass what he was wearing? Wasn’t it supposed to be about the music? He answered the question, “Who are you wearing?” with a blank stare. The reporter rephrased. “What are you wearing?”
“Oh,” said Nick, as comprehension dawned. “Jacket, pants, shirt…oh, and a tie. Do you want to know about my underwear?” And then he flashed that grin! Take that and make it a sound byte, he thought.
Mel was completely invisible to the reporters. They sized her up, didn’t recognize her and moved on to the next one. Which was fine by her. And fine by Nick. But somehow, Nick didn’t think it should be fine by him. And he decided yet again that, given the opportunity, the world was going to discover how he felt about her.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed. A rise in the noise level was followed immediately by a hush. The Staples Center was large enough to accommodate all the musicians and lots of fans! And there were lots of fans there.
The opening music sounded, and a disembodied voice intoned, “And now…live from the Staples Center in Los Angeles, it’s the 46th Annual Grammy Awards, featuring appearances by…” and the voice went on to list every performer and presenter in alphabetical order. When Nick’s name was mentioned, Mel moved her leg against his for a moment. He wished she had some kind of scarf thing with her dress so that they could hold hands under it.
“…and now, your host for the evening, Chris Rock!!!!”
There was loud applause from the audience and a little shifting in seats. Chris Rock was known for saying what he thought. Nothing was sacred. He would go after anything. If you were a public figure, your life was his open book.
Rafe had gone over it all with Nick…the things that Rock might say about him. There was the whole Backstreet Boy thing, of course. There had to be some mention of that. Backstreet Boy was such an obvious punchline.
And his parents’ problems. A look from Nick stopped Rafe from going too far down that road…just be ready for it, he said, and then moved on to the next item. Except that there weren’t too many ‘next items’. Nick had kept his head down. He’d recorded and toured…no scandal…nothing worthy of scathing sarcasm.
“Not like Justin,” said Rafe. “He’s going to get killed.”
Nick changed the subject.
Chris Rock had a daunting task ahead of him. He had to mention all of the major nominees in his opening monologue…and he had to strike a balance between the caustic wit that was expected of him as a comedian and the realization that these were icons he was going to be jabbing at, these were the people they were here to celebrate and that going too far would be a big mistake. Chris Rock was an artist. He knew he could do it.
He opened with a few jokes about the political situation…nailing the ineptitude of the President would go over big with this crowd, he knew. He said that he hoped President Bush had better luck this year trying to contact the big winners. Last year, every time he tried to dial a Grammy winner, his grandfather told him to ‘grow up, George. We lost Grandma in 1994.’
Chris Rock didn’t have a set monologue. It wasn’t a linear thing, but more of a spider web. One of the very best things about him was that he could feel the audience. He could sense when they wanted more of something and less of something. They were mildly interested in the political stuff, so he did a couple more of those.
Then he pulled his focus into the crowd in front of him. “Man, oh, man, look at the booty beauty we got in front of us tonight. Beyonceeeeeeee…” He drew out the last syllable. “Did you know that Beyonce is being sued by the United Textile Workers of America? 845 women have lost their jobs because there’s just not enough material in her outfits. But on the other hand, she’s the calendar girl for the Sequin Manufacturers.”
He moved back and forth across the stage, picking out people, blending compliments and insults. And he seemed to have a theme.
“Ashton Kutcher was going to be here tonight, but Demi grounded him for not finishing his homework.”
“I see Justin Timberlake brought his mom. Isn’t that sweet?” A sideways glance into the wings. “What?” Then a squinting look down into the audience. “Oh! Sorry, Cameron. I didn’t recognize you.”
“J. Lo and Ben…isn’t that sad? And there was one we all thought was going to last. Oh well, they’ve healed and moved on. I think…did I hear right?...is she now engaged to Lil Bow Wow?”
“And here’s Nick Carter.”
Chris nodded at Nick in the front row. There were a few squeals from the upper decks. Melody pressed her knee against Nick’s leg. Careful!
Chris turned to the camera. “For the two of you on the planet who don’t know, Nick is a Backstreet Boy.” He shimmied his shoulders on each syllable. “Yep…a Back…street…boy… He’s the baby.” Chris paused and looked thoughtful. “Man, from kiddie pop to being nominated for Best Rock Album. You’ve had quite a year, Nicky!”
He nodded his homage to Nick, while the audience applauded enthusiastically.
Nick knew it wasn’t the teens in the cheap seats this time. It was his peers. He nodded back at Chris, and a sweet smile crossed his face.
A look of mock horror appeared on Rock’s face, and he threw his hands over his mouth. “I mean, Nick…Jeez, did I say ‘Nicky’? Man, that’s not allowed. Sorry!”
The comedian backed away with his hands in front of him defensively. Then he turned to the audience on the other side. “But hey, what’s up with the bossy title? Don’t Call Me Nicky. Is that what you get now? Fourteen tracks of music and a sermon.” He walked to the other side of the stage, muttering under his breath, “Don’t call me Nicky.” Then he looked back at Nick. “What are you going to do if I do, send your father over to beat me up?”
There was an audible gasp from the upper decks and silence from the crowd below. Nick kept his face perfectly straight, knowing that the camera would be on him. Rock recognized that the joke had fallen flat and moved on quickly.
“Or your brother…Aaron?”
Rock looked at the audience again and kept moving to the far side of the stage. “I can take him.” He strutted and made boxing moves. “I can take him with one of his hands tied behind him. Blondes. I can beat up any blonde. I used to be able to beat up Christina Aguillera, but then she dyed her hair and shoved her weight up to 65 pounds. Yeah…blondes…I can take ‘em. Send Britney out here. I’ll show you. And speaking of Britney…” and he was off on another riff.
Nick and Melody exhaled at the same time and then both realized that they had been holding their breath. They wanted to look at each other, but they could both hear Rafe. “The camera is on you.” So they paid attention to Chris Rock’s monologue and laughed in the appropriate spots along with the audience. Neither one of them heard one word he said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“…and the Grammy for Best Rock Album goes to…REM for Back With a Vengeance.”
Nick was out of his seat almost as fast as Michael Stipe and the rest of his group. He applauded enthusiastically and even whistled, putting two fingers in his mouth and scaring the daylights out of Mel. Let the cameras get a load of that, he thought. Nick was genuinely pleased for the winners, and he wanted it to show.
The show went on. Chris Rock came back again and again to the theme of younger man/older woman. He said that he wanted to jump on that gravy train too, but the only older woman he could find who wanted him was his own grandmother, and she only wanted him to clean up her yard.
For the most part, the musicians behaved themselves. Eminem was positively sedate when he accepted his award. He did a mini-rant about free music downloads from the Internet, but it was nothing new and not particularly scathing.
They came for Mel and Nick about halfway through the show. They escorted them backstage during a commercial break. Mel slipped into the dressing room. Gus followed her. He unzipped her dress and then turned his back.
“Okay, Gus, hand me my bra.”
There was silence.
“Gus?”
“Um…”
Melody whipped around, holding the dress up in front of her. Gus turned from the bag with her clothes. His face was ashen.
“I don’t want to hear this, do I, Gus?”
“We never actually thought about a bra. I guess maybe we should have, what with…” He motioned to the top of her dress.”
“Good thing I got nice firm ones, then,” said Mel. “Hand me the vest.”
Gus handed over the vest and turned his back. He then handed over each piece of clothing until Mel said, “Okay, how do I look?”
Gus’ eyes went right to her chest. He didn’t want to, tried not to, but he couldn’t help it. “They look good…I mean, you look good…I mean…” Gus’ face was no longer grey. It was now beet red.”
Melody laughed. “Okay, let’s do this!” She walked out of the dressing room. The feel of the suede brushing her bare nipples was highly erotic, and they hardened. She crossed her arms over her chest while they waited for their cue. Every time she and Gus made eye contact, they giggled.
A rather harried-looking assistant director came over to tell them to take the stage. They would be up right after the next commercial. They made their way to their spot. They gathered in a little huddle and said their ‘good luck’ prayer, just as they did before every performance.
“Don’t forget…just like on the album,” said the assistant director, who had hovered in the background while they did their prayer. Then he left the stage.
Tofu looked at Nick. “Is that what we’re going to do?”
“Hell, no,” said Nick. “We’re the musicians. The suits can go…” He looked at Mel. “Just like on tour, Baby! Just like that!”
It was only the director and his minions who were put out by the stage performance of Alias Me. It brought the rest of the house down.
Chapter 65 by old_archive
“Nick, there’s someone in our seats,” said Mel, in a whisper. It was a commercial break and they were being escorted back to their spots.
“They’re supposed to be there,” whispered Nick. “They’ll move.”
“Who were they?” asked Mel, when they were seated. She hadn’t recognized them. They hadn’t made a fuss about moving. Boy, that was nerve! she thought. To sneak down to the front row at the Grammys.
“They’re supposed to do that,” Nick explained. “They’re called seat-fillers. They get paid for it. The TV people don’t want there to be empty seats when the camera pans the audience, so they hire people…mostly just let ‘em in for free…and their job is to fill up an empty seat when someone goes to perform or like…to the bathroom or something.”
”You’re kidding,” said Mel, but the conversation ended when the lights went down and the next presenters came out on stage. They engaged in stilted repartee, obviously read from cue cards.
“I’m so glad you’re not doing that,” Mel whispered to Nick.
He leaned his head over to whisper in her ear. “Why not?”
Mel waited for a break to answer…joining in the applause for the winner. “…because it’s all so phony. Who writes that crap?”
Nick laughed. “Well-paid writers. What’s the matter, don’t you like it?”
“No,” said Mel, “they’re trying to make musicians funny…most of them aren’t. They didn’t make Chris Rock sing, did they?”
Nick laughed. He picked up her hand and squeezed it. The temptation to keep holding it…but no, the person on the other side of her could see…oh, shit, he thought and dropped Mel’s hand. He turned his attention back to the stage. Everything was starting to blur together. They had someone come out and read a list of the technical award winners. These had been presented at an earlier ceremony. Those people got a lunch apparently.
There were so many categories, and there seemed to be more every year. Different kinds of music emerged, and each genre wanted recognition. They were still giving out the Best Polka Album, though, Nick noticed. Even though the same guy won it every year. Some hick from Canada.
“…REM for Coming Home…” Best Rock Song.
“…REM for Coming Home…” Best Rock Performance by a Duo or Group.
Meanwhile, over in the pop categories, Tallisa Ellis was wiping up. She was this year’s pop princess, having filled the gap left by Britney’s year off with an album of teenaged love songs with an edge to them. Hillary Duff meets Alanis Morissette!
Nick wondered how Justin felt. To be beat out by REM was almost a compliment. Nick didn’t think Justin would feel the same way about this. He had a lot more nominations too…one in every category he was qualified for. He was also nominated for Song of the Year and Record of the Year for Cry Me a River. Nick thought the media would make something out of that song title when he lost. Nick didn’t mind losing to Michael Stipe, but he didn’t want to lose to Tallisa Ellis. And he really didn’t want to lose to Justin Timberlake.
“…and here to present Song of the Year, a man with seven Grammys and an Academy Award…Bruce Springsteen…”
This was a real coup. Bruce didn’t usually do award shows unless he was nominated, but they were doing a tribute to Johnny Cash this year, and he wanted to be part of that performance. He had agreed to present the award for songwriting.
“…and the nominees are: Nick Carter for Alias Me; Tallisa Ellis for You Can’t Hurt Me Anymore; B. B. Rollins for Whodaman; Michael Stipe for Coming Home and Justin Timberlake for Cry Me a River. And the Grammy goes to…”
Bruce tore open the envelope and looked at the name. He chuckled to himself and said, “Yeah, this is good.” Then he looked at the audience. He leaned into the microphone and said, “Nick Carter.”
Nick didn’t move. Because he was sure he hadn’t heard right and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. He looked at Mel, the question in his eyes. She nodded. He could feel hands clapping him on the shoulders. Finally, Mel grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled. He stood up and looked around. Michael Stipe was standing and applauding. And so was Justin.
Nick made his way to the stage, wishing the electronic force field that was surrounding him would go away, so that he could hear and feel again. There was a loud humming sound in his brain that was cutting off his nervous system.
“Good job,” said Bruce, shaking his hand. Then he handed Nick the award and turned him toward the microphone.
Nick looked out at the sea of faces. He couldn’t make out anyone beyond the first couple of rows. He looked at Michael Stipe and shook his head. Michael just grinned at him and nodded.
“Um…”
The screaming in the back died down when Nick leaned into the microphone.
“Um…man, this is a surprise!” Nick shook his head to clear it. “I…uh…” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “I guess I should…there’s so many people…” C’mon Nick, he told himself, get it together! He looked over at Mel.
She nodded. You can do it.
“…um…there’s way too many people to thank, and I know I’ll forget someone, so I’m just going to thank some people who got me here…” Nick grinned. “They’re the only four people who are still allowed to call me Nicky…Howie, Kevin, Brian, AJ…” He raised the award over his head. “Thanks, Fellas!”
Nick stepped back from the microphone and looked at Bruce. Bruce nodded his head toward the wings. They started in that direction, escorted by a busty blonde in an evening dress. Backstage Toby and Gus were waiting for him. They hugged him and clapped him on the back. Toby looked like he might cry.
“Mr. Carter…”
Nick turned to find one of the gofers. “Would you like to return to your seat or stay here? It’s about five minutes until they do Record of the Year.”
“I want to be with…I mean, I’d like to return to my seat,” said Nick. “Hold this for me, would ya, Fellas?” he laughed, giving the trophy to Toby.
Nick slipped into his seat. Mel leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Every eye is certainly on you now, my beautiful, beautiful man. I’m so proud of you.”
Nick whispered in her ear. “I love you.”
Then the lights dimmed and it was back to the show. The Best Overall Performances. Best Individual Performance – Tallisa Ellis. Best Album – REM. Record of the Year…
Norah Jones took the stage. She talked. Nick knew that. He could see her lips move. But the force field was back, and nothing was getting through. And the nominees are… He read her lips. But he couldn’t hear anything.
Suddenly, his hearing came back, as she picked up the envelope and opened it. She looked at it for a moment. “Alias Me,” she said into the microphone and then looked over at Nick. “Nick Carter,” she added, although no one could hear her over the screaming from the fans.
Nick made his way to the stage. His knees were shaking. Don’t faint, he told himself, that would be such an uncool move. Norah gave him the award and kissed him on the cheek. “Bravo,” she said into his ear.
Nick turned to the microphone and took a step backwards in surprise. The whole audience was standing. It was too much.
“It’s too much,” said Nick, shaking his head. “It’s too much.” He waited until the audience sat down again. Don’t blow it, he told himself. The whole world is watching.
“Um…Record of the Year…Wow!! That’s a little hard to take in. But…uh…I just want to say…and I think you all probably agree with me…making records is great, but the best part is performing…getting out there with the fans…”
Nick had to stop for applause. He could see many heads nodding in the audience.
“So…I’d like to thank the fans…” There was another pause for screaming. “…and I’d like to thank my band. I’m on tour right now, and I’m having the time of my life. I’ve got the best musicians in the world working with me…so thank you to Rashad Williams, Blaine Hawkins, Chris Sandoval and…” he paused and took a breath, “…and to my…our lady…Melody Jones.” He raised the Grammy in the air in salute to the band and turned away from the microphone.
Backstage, there was bedlam. Chris Rock wrapped up the show, and the backstage area filled up with people. Nick was hustled away for press interviews. He was the Man of the Hour. He was taken to the Media Room and grilled for nearly twenty minutes by the phalanx of reporters gathered there. How did it feel? How did it feel? How did it feel? Over and over again.
Were you surprised?
Nick wondered what kind of idiot would answer ‘no’ to that one. He paid tribute to the other nominees and said he was flattered just to be included in the nominations. To win was so far out there, he hadn’t even considered it.
“Who did you think would win?”
Loaded question, thought Nick. I can only answer that by insulting three other people. He paused. Toby’s work with him on interviews paid off.
“I guess you can never tell what will happen…” He paused and held up his award. “…obviously.” He gave a shy grin and shrugged. “But…um…I guess I was sort of pulling for REM. I think their album is wonderful. So are the others, but that’s more the style of music I like to listen to.”
“Do you think Justin is disappointed?”
Man, this was hard! Why did they ask questions like this? “I guess you’d have to ask him that. But I’m willing to bet that he’ll say ‘no’, that being here is enough.” Nick wrinkled his forehead. “Winning is great,” he said, then laughed. “It’s really, really great. But being told by your peers that you are… like…in the top five…it’s not something anyone would ever call ‘disappointing’.”
“Who’s your date?” This came from a reporter who thought he was taking pity on Nick after the tough questions.
“Melody Jones.”
“You mentioned her in your acceptance speech.”
“Yes, she plays guitar in my band. She’s the best in the business.”
“Why did you bring her?”
“None of the other guys could fit into the dress.”
There was much laughter, and they left that topic.
What’s next for Nick Carter?
“Well, we’re finishing up the tour…we’ve got a couple of months to go on that…then I’m making a movie…and then after that…well…” He paused. “…another album…”
“Solo?”
Nick flashed his lopsided grin and raised one eyebrow. “I’m not at liberty to say.” He hoped the Boys would forgive him for this. He could always plead the euphoria of the moment. And he hadn’t really said anything definitive.
The fans would go wild, but that was okay with Nick. He liked wild fans. And maybe it would be enough to get them all back together again…talking seriously, instead of just giving individual interviews about how they all hoped to make another album together…some day.
“Um…could you excuse me?” he said. Toby was holding up a cell phone and waving his arms frantically. “Thanks for your interest,” he added and moved off the podium. The media coordinator ushered in Tallisa Ellis.
The reporters’ eyes followed Nick as he took the cell phone from Toby. They figured it was the president. It wasn’t.
“Hey, L’il Bro. What are you up to? Doin’ anything special tonight?”
“Hey, Kev,” said Nick. Even the most hard-bitten reporters sighed at the look on Nick’s face. He listened intently for a few moments and then said shyly, “Hi, Bri.” Then he turned his back on the crowd of reporters and walked out of the room.
Getting away from the media scrum was difficult. There were so many of them. And well-wishers. Everyone wanted a piece of Nick tonight.
“Great job, Nick!”
“Thanks, Bruce.” He looked around, trying to find Toby. He’d disappeared.
“Congratulations, Nick.”
“Thanks, Michael, but…”
“No buts. It was good to see it shared around. I hate it when one person takes it all.”
“Yeah, it got shared around tonight.”
Where was Mel? Was someone getting her, or was she sitting patiently in the audience waiting for him?
“Oh, Nick, I’m so happy for you.” Marisa Tang slid her arms around his neck and kissed him with more vigor than she had a right to.
“Thanks, Marisa,” said Nick, disentangling himself. He saw Toby by the door. Nick was relieved to see that Toby had Mel with him.
Nick wanted to scoop her up in his arms and walk away from them all. She must have read it in his eyes because she wouldn’t come near him. She hovered on the edge of the crowd, talking to old friends. Nick didn’t realize that she knew Justin, but she spent several minutes talking with him.
Rafe appeared backstage. He was elated but didn’t show it. Two Grammys! This put the plan on the fast track. Now he had to take advantage of it. Ideas were spinning through his mind. He wished he could pull out his miniature tape recorder and get them all down. A duet with Marisa Tang on her album. That was for sure! Rafe wanted to loop Marisa into the plan. He had picked her out as the rising star and taken over her career from a colleague who, although disgruntled at losing her, knew better than to take on Rafael Ariando.
So…a duet with Marisa. Maybe extend the tour…that might be difficult, thought Rafe, because Nick had that stupid movie coming up…Rafe had taken a good, long look at that but couldn’t stop Nick from doing it. Rafe didn’t want him in some schlocky, teenage movie. This was a cut above the usual crap, but not much. If there had been a way to stop Nick from doing it, Rafe would have. He didn’t think Nick was all that good of an actor. Of course, he hadn’t thought he’d win two Grammys either.
Rafe didn’t know that Nick had dangled the Backstreet bait. He wouldn’t know that until morning. He wouldn’t be happy.
Rafe walked over to Nick. All Rafe’s plans would have to wait. Right now, it was time to party…time to put his boy out there. Because this evening was the greatest photo op of all time. Rafe shook hands with Nick and then hugged him. He told him how pleased he was and how Nick deserved it and how all the hard work had paid off.
Nick nodded and said ‘thanks’. He wondered if Rafe was pissed off that Nick hadn’t mentioned him in his ‘thank you’ speech. It wasn’t a deliberate slight. The truth was that Nick hadn’t even thought of him…or anyone else, for that matter. He was going to have to get a tape of the program to see how he looked and what he had said, because he really didn’t have any idea what he’d said.
But he knew what he hadn’t said.
Chapter 66 by old_archive
Eventually, the crowd thinned, as people drifted away to the various parties. Nick and the band had planned to go to one at La Cantina. Toby told the band to go on ahead. Rafe insisted that Nick had to make the rounds of the ‘in’ parties. It meant more interviews and sound bytes, more photos.
Mel wanted to go with the band. Rafe wouldn’t let her. It couldn’t look like Nick had dumped his date for the evening, even if it was just Mel. Mel found it highly ironic that Rafe had spent so much time worrying about her and Nick, when it wasn’t an issue, and seemed totally blind to the facts, now that it was. But it didn’t help her get away from the spotlight.
She spent the next few hours in a whirl of limousines and flashes of light. Jeff did his best to keep her from getting trampled. The media converged on them as soon as they got out of the car. Reporters from local news and less powerful media outlets crowded against the velvet ropes lining the entrance to the clubs, jostling with each other.
Nick! Over here! Just one question! Nick! Smile! Just one picture!
The big guns were all inside the parties, waiting with their cameras and microphones and the same questions. How did it feel? How did it feel? Nick tried to say something different each time. It’s hard to take in. I never expected it. I was thrilled just to be nominated. I’ll remember this night for the rest of my life. Fuck off and leave me alone.
Nick didn’t actually say the last one, but he thought it. He thought it more and more as the evening went on. He wanted to go home. He wanted to hold Mel in his arms and tell her he was sorry… except that he knew she didn’t want him to be sorry, that if she had had any idea of what he had been planning to do, she wouldn’t have gone with him and that, if he hadn’t lost his nerve, she would have been furious with him. So Nick swallowed his disappointment with himself, and it sat in his stomach like a hot coal, smoldering and threatening to erupt into flames that would consume him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Look at this trick I can do,” said Jeff, as the limo pulled away from the curb and headed to yet another party.
Nick and Mel looked over at him. They were holding hands. They held hands in the car and then dropped them when they got out. It was always Mel that let go first.
Jeff put his hands over his eyes and turned his back to them.
“What’s the trick?” asked Nick.
“That’s the trick,” said Jeff. “I can close my eyes and turn my back. Cool, huh?”
Mel looked confused. “Sure,” she said, uncertainly.
“And the best thing is…” said Jeff, “I can do it for a long time. I bet I can do it all the way to the next stop.”
“Prove it,” said Nick, in a whisper. The smile he gave Jeff was full of gratitude.
“Just remember, I can still hear. I haven’t perfected that part of the trick yet.” Jeff turned his back to them and closed his eyes.
Nick put his arms around Mel. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “I love you so much.” And then he put his mouth over hers and proved it.
They held each other tight. They wrapped their arms around each other, but their hands were still. Their mouths communicated silently, their tongues doing a gentle dance of love. Nick thought it was odd that he wasn’t getting hard. He didn’t really care if he did. Let him get out of the limo with an obvious hard-on, he thought. Maybe his penis could tell the world what his mouth wouldn’t! But their kisses weren’t sexual; they were the kisses of pure love, and somehow they both knew it. Nick knew that all he had to do to move the whole thing to another level was to move his mouth away from Mel’s and put it on her neck.
But he didn’t. This little oasis of bliss, provided so kindly by his bodyguard, was going to be enough to get them through the rest of the tedious interviews and photo ops. And then they could go back to the hotel and burn down the night.
They were at a hotel because they were only in town for the awards and then they were taking off again on tour. They were setting out at noon the next day, and it had been decided that it would just be easier if they kept them all in the same place. Rashad went home, of course. Nothing would keep him from his kids.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I didn’t know that you knew Justin Timberlake.”
They were back in the car. They were finally on their way to La Cantina. Nick had talked to every reporter in town. There was a videoclip of him for every television entertainment program and a picture for every newspaper. Every radio station would have a sound byte of him for the next morning’s program. He had shaken hands with every musician in the business and had had sips of a variety of drinks. He was tired, and he was hungry.
Nick hadn’t eaten anything because he hadn’t had a chance to. Too many people wanted to talk to him. He didn’t want to have anything in his mouth when he talked to reporters, and he didn’t want to spill anything on himself. And he sure as hell didn’t want different reporters saying what he ate at each party. He could just picture it: “Nick Carter took a moment out from eating his beef stroganoff and chicken divan…”, “over a plate of tortellini and garlic toast, Nick Carter shared his thoughts…” If they did that at every party, it would make him look like a pig. So he didn’t eat anything and every chance he got, he told that to the reporters. “Oh, I’m too excited to eat anything.”
“Justin? I’ve met him once or twice. Why?”
“You talked to him at the Staples Center…for a while. I just wondered.”
“He was saying nice things about you,” said Mel, squeezing his hand. Then, after a moment, “…and he was trying to steal me away from you.”
“What?” Nick sat up a little straighter.
Melody laughed. “Settle down now. For some album he’s putting together. I think he’s producing it…a bunch of different artists.”
“What did you tell him?” Nick wondered why he was upset about this. He knew that Mel had a career, and that the tour with him only had a couple of months to run.
“I told him to send me the details and I’d check my schedule.”
There was a look on Nick’s face that Mel couldn’t quite interpret. “What’s the matter, Baby? Jealous?”
Nick reddened slightly. “Nah.” He squeezed her hand.
“Well, don’t be,” she said. “He’s already got his older woman.”
Nick gave a weak smile and squeezed her hand again. Then he became silent. Mel waited him out for a few minutes. Then she looked at Jeff and raised her eyebrows. Jeff pulled out his cell phone and became very interested in checking his messages.
“Do we need to talk about something?” Mel asked softly.
She didn’t know if Nick was aware of how many times he had physically twitched when Chris Rock had been doing his ‘older woman’ jokes. She thought that it meant that he was finally getting the message that they’d be better off keeping their relationship a secret. But she wasn’t sure.
“No,” replied Nick, shaking his head. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”
It had been a long day. People on the East Coast clicked off their televisions when the show ended and went to bed, muttering about how late it was and why did they always do this on a night when there was work in the morning?! On the West Coast, the show ended at 8:00. That left a lot of hours for partying. It was after midnight when they finally pulled up to La Cantina.
“I wonder if they all got tired and went home,” said Nick.
“Two words,” said Mel. “Tofu. Sandoval.”
Jeff and Nick laughed. “Yeah,” said Jeff, “I figure there’ll still be a party going on.”
And there was. Hot Latin music was pumping out of the speakers. Bodies gyrated on a dance floor. Two chefs oversaw a buffet table laden with Mexican delicacies. The three tired people stood in the doorway taking in the spectacle - people having fun…eating, drinking, dancing…and not a reporter in sight. It energized them. Mel could feel the tension leave Nick, just ooze out of him and float away, like a swarm of butterflies set free from a jar.
Tofu noticed them standing there. He got the DJ’s attention and sliced his hand across his throat. The music stopped abruptly. Tofu jumped up on a table. He pointed his Corona at the doorway and shouted, “Ladies and gentlemen…Niiiicckkkkkk Carterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!”
All eyes turned to the door.
The place erupted. Not the polite standing ovation of the awards ceremony. Not the feeding frenzy of the crush of reporters, saluting Nick’s achievement by shoving a microphone in his face. Not the phony smiles of starlets and hangers-on trying to squeeze into a picture with him. But the pure joy of the night and the music and the people…and the beer! People rose to their feet and screamed their excitement at him, raising their glasses and bottles. Jeff and Mel took a step back and left Nick alone in the spotlight, buffeted by the cheers. Niiiiiccccckkkkkkkkk!!!!!
Nick laughed and shook his head. He waved at them all and started working his way through the crowd to Tofu. People let him through, clapping him on the back as he went. Tofu jumped off the table and made his way to Nick. They hugged like old friends that hadn’t seen each other for years. They stepped apart, and Tofu waved his hand at the DJ. The music started blasting out again.
“Hungry?” yelled Tofu over the music.
“Starving,” said Nick, with relief.
“I know Mel will want to eat,” said Tofu. “Beer?”
Nick nodded. “Yeah. Beer.”
He looked around the room. Rashad and Keshia smiled at him from the dance floor. Wow! Keshia had some seriously good moves. Blaine and Cathy sat at a table with their heads together. Toby and Gus were making their way toward him. In their hands were the gym bags that held the clothes from the performance.
“Thought you might like to change,” said Toby, with a grin.
“I’m in,” yelled Mel from behind him. “Give me that.” She grabbed the bag from Gus’ hand. “Where’s the ‘ladies’?” she asked.
“C’mon,” said Gus. He took her hand and led her to the ladies room. He lingered outside the door while she changed.
Inside the cubicle, Melody opened the bag and burst out laughing. Sitting on top of the clothes was a bra…not one of hers, but a bra…in her size…black lace…
“How the hell did you do that?” she asked, as she emerged from the washroom.
“Well, shit, Mel! I had four hours!” said Gus, laughing. They looked at each other for a moment and then threw their arms around each other in a hug. “Not that I wouldn’t have enjoyed watching you dance without one,” he whispered in her ear.
“You nut,” she replied, letting him go.
Gus turned serious. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s good,” said Mel. “But all that emotion…it’s all gotta come out. It’s just building up in there like a volcano. He’s probably about to get really, really drunk.”
“Oh, I don’t think he wants to do that,” said Gus with a smile. “I think he’s got plans for later this evening.”
Mel reached up and stroked his face. “I’ll still be there tomorrow, Gus. He knows that.”
They made their way back to the dining room. As much as Nick wanted to strip his clothes off right in the middle of the room and put on his jeans and t-shirt, he declined. Some part of him knew that he had to maintain the image. And it wasn’t like he was strapless and in high heels like Mel. Ah! There she was, coming toward him.
Nick shook his head to clear it. Who was here? Who knew what? What could he do? What couldn’t he do?
“Let’s get something to eat,” said Mel. “I’m starving.”
Mel had been as vigilant about food as Nick had. She figured no one was watching her, but she didn’t want pictures out there of the blond Adonis with some short chick in the background stuffing her face.
They lined up at the buffet and filled their plates. At the end of the line, Nick stopped and looked around. He raised his eyebrows at Blaine, who nodded and waved them over. Blaine introduced them to Cathy.
Nick smiled and shook her outstretched hand. Pleased to meet you.
“Who are you?” asked Mel. “Blaine’s never mentioned you.”
The two men looked shocked, but Cathy got it instantly and burst out laughing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They ate, and they drank, and they danced. Mel watched Nick closely. She circulated through the room, talking to people she knew, meeting new ones. The one thing all the people had in common was a profound love of music…and of course, all the females had slept with Tofu, with the exception of Cathy, Keshia and Mel!
Nick ate and drank and partied. He danced with any woman who asked him. But he didn’t ask anyone. Mel wandered in and out of his line of sight. She was there. That’s all he needed to know right now. She was there for him.
Years of being told what he was and what was good for him had made Nick very aware of who he was and what he was capable of. And he knew that he was a very emotional guy. Kevin had made him that way. No, that wasn’t right…he hadn’t made Nick that way. He had made it okay to be that way. Nothing wrong with tears, L’il Bro, Kevin told him over and over again. Just shows you’re a man with a heart.
Nick knew that his heart was full to bursting at the moment. The excitement and tension of the day would have been enough…going through the whole ceremony…on camera…’older woman’ jokes…watching someone else win. That would have pushed his equilibrium into the red zone. But winning!?
Winning?
Winning!!!
And the ensuing bedlam…Nick knew that he had to let this out at some point. He hoped Mel would understand that crying during sex wasn’t a bad thing.
It turned out that he didn’t have to worry about that.
‘Cause AJ walked through the door.
Chapter 67 by old_archive
AJ walked through the door with Howie. They had been doing the dance all night. Trying to connect with Nick. They had followed him from club to club, just missing him each time.
They had watched the show together at AJ’s place. The odds were that Nick wasn’t going to win, and they didn’t want to be bombarded by reporters wanting their comments on Nick’s loss. The five men were slowly healing their wounds and working their way back together, and they didn’t want some comment taken out of context to hurt someone’s feelings and widen the rift. So they watched the show at home and were then going to join him at La Cantina. They didn't have any girls with them.
AJ had had one the night before at a pre-Grammy party - one of those Playboy bunny types, all high-heel shoes and big breasts and too-small t-shirts. He didn't want her here tonight...she had absolutely nothing of interest to say to him, and he didn't want her beside him when he wrapped his arms around Nick.
“Who’s he with?” he asked Howie, as they watched the opening montage of the red carpet with the sound off…Nick’s face flashed by briefly, but his date wasn’t visible.
“Melody Jones. She’s his…”
”Guitarist. Yeah, I know,” said AJ. Then he noticed the look on Howie’s face. “What?”
Howie sighed. “She’s a little more than that.”
“Really? That’s great!” AJ was pleased. Nick had been looking for someone for a long time.
“Well, it is, and it isn’t,” said Howie. He filled AJ in on the relationship between Nick and Mel.
“That’s crap!” said AJ. “Who gives a shit how old she is? Leigh’s five years older than Bri. Nobody ever made anything out of that.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Howie. “But the timing on this…you know with Justin and Cameron Diaz…and Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore…”
“So, that just shows that everyone is doing it. What’s the big deal?”
“Well, when you’re trying to turn Nicky into Nick…”
“Okay, the show is starting.” AJ tapped the mute button and orchestra music filled the room.
They sat and watched the opening monologue. At the first commercial, AJ turned to Howie. “I see what you mean. Rock played kinda rough there.”
They watched the rest of the show, commenting and laughing about things people did or said…or wore. Every time the camera showed Nick, and it was a lot, they’d smile at each other and say something like “freaking first row at the Grammys…who would have thought?” or “he’s got the ol’ Nick smile working tonight”. They didn’t comment on Rock’s ‘older woman’ jokes, but they looked at each other every time he made one.
When Nick performed, AJ was speechless. Howie had seen Nick in concert in Florida, but AJ hadn’t been to one yet. Howie watched AJ watch Nick.
“Holy crap!” said AJ when the song ended. “How can anyone look at the two of them and not know?”
“Aw, come on now,” said Howie. “If I hadn’t told you, you would have just thought it was the music.”
“I guess,” said AJ, “but I can’t see them keeping it a secret for very long.” He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow in thought. “You know, that’s a great song. You don’t suppose…”
Howie held up a finger to stop the thought. Saying it out loud…just a bad, bad idea. Not that either of them believed in jinxes or curses or anything like that, but still…
They never said a word when Bruce Springsteen read the nominees. They stared at the screen and held their breath, praying hard for their friend.
“Yeah, this is good,” said the Boss and then, “Nick Carter.”
Just like Nick, neither of them moved, afraid that they hadn’t heard right. Then the camera panned in on a stunned Nick, and they leapt to their feet hugging each other and jumping. “He did it! He did it!” Then they broke apart, and still standing, turned back to the television. Nick was walking across the stage.
“I hope he doesn’t faint,” said Howie. They watched Nick take the award from Springsteen and then turn to the microphone.
“Like a deer in the headlights,” muttered AJ.
“Um…um…man, this is a surprise! I…uh…”
“Come on, Nicky,” whispered Howie, under his breath. “You can do it.”
“I guess I should…there’s so many people…um…there’s way too many people…”
Howie and AJ looked at each other and grimaced.
“…so I’m just going to thank some people who got me here. They’re the only four people who are still allowed to call me Nicky…Howie, Kevin, Brian, AJ…thanks, fellas!”
Howie and AJ stared at the screen as Nick waved the award in the air and then left the stage. Then they turned to each other. They were speechless, overcome with emotion. Finally, AJ cleared his throat.
“Well, how about that?” he said.
“How about that!” answered Howie.
The two men took their seats and sat in silence for a few minutes. How about that! They turned their attention back to the television at the end.
This time, they were ready. This time, it was possible. They leaned forward in their seats as Norah Jones read the nominations.
Then, “Alias Me”.
“Yes!!” They leapt to their feet again.
“Yes!! Yes!! YES!!” AJ yelled it over and over, punching his fist in the air.
They looked back at Nick, who was stunned by the ovation. “It’s too much…it’s too much.”
“He’ll cry for sure this time,” said AJ.
Howie nodded. He’d been surprised that Nick hadn’t cried the first time. They listened to Nick’s speech, glancing at each other when he said, ‘my…our lady’.
“C’mon, let’s go find him,” said AJ, grabbing his jacket and clicking the TV off.
“He won’t be at La Cantina until really late now,” said Howie. “He’ll have to do all the media stuff.”
AJ punched buttons on his phone. He talked for a minute. “Give me a paper and pen,” he said to Howie. He wrote down some names. “Okay, thanks Meg!” He disconnected. “Okay, I’ve got the list. Here’s all the big parties where the big media will be. Those are the ones he’ll hit. Let’s go find him.”
“Okay,” said Howie, thinking AJ was like a kid at Christmas. “But I’m driving.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick wanted to put his head down on the table and go to sleep. The adrenaline surges of the evening had left him drained and exhausted. His stomach was upset. Nerves had stopped him from eating early in the day, and then the frenzied media scrums at the various parties had stopped him there. At La Cantina, he finally got to eat, but he consumed too much spicy food too fast and it sat in his stomach, roiling and churning. He tried to put out the fire with beer. He drank three quick Coronas, and they didn’t calm his stomach. They went right to his head instead. He yawned.
“What’s the matter? Can’t party like you used to?”
At this moment in his life, there was no one that AJ was more jealous of than Nick. Nick had done what AJ wanted to do. A solo album. Hell! He'd done two of them! And now he'd won a Grammy! Two Grammys! And AJ hadn't done squat. He'd made lots of noise about marriage and sobriety and music...but he hadn't done anything. And here he was...standing in front of the guy who had done it...who had stepped up and made it real. And all AJ could think was how much he loved him.
Nick looked up. “AJ!” His eyes filled with tears. “AJ!” He stood up from the table.
“I understand I can still call you Nicky,” said AJ.
Nick nodded.
AJ opened his arms. “Well, Nicky…good job!”
Nick threw his arms around his friend. "AJ...AJ..." It was all he could say, but he couldn't seem to stop saying it. Then he noticed the guy behind AJ. The one who had brought him. He reached out and grabbed Howie into the hug. The three men stood there. Nick started shaking, and then they could feel the sobs wracking him. They held him until he got himself under control.
Nick stepped back finally, swiping at his eyes. “Guess you knew that had to come out,” he said.
Howie and AJ wiped their own tears away. “Yeah, we did. We were surprised you didn’t do it onstage.”
Nick laughed. “Yeah, me too. Except that it was all such a shock…it all happened so fast…it was like it wasn’t real…I never even thought about crying…I just…did I say something stupid?”
AJ and Howie shook their heads. “No, Bro,” said AJ, “nothing stupid at all. Did you hear from Kev or Brian?”
“Yeah, they watched the show together in Atlanta. They called me.” Nick laughed. “Kev tried to act like he didn’t know what was going on…asked me if I was doing anything special tonight…”
Howie laughed. “Good ol’ Kev. What did Brian have to say?”
Nick’s eyes filled again. “Ah, you know, the usual…”
“The usual crap you say to a brother when he wins a Grammy?” asked AJ, with a smile.
“Yeah,” said Nick, “like that.”
“Well, we are so proud of you,” said Howie. The moment threatened to become emotional and overwhelm them all, so Howie changed the subject. “Where’s Mel?”
“Yes, I’d like to meet her,” said AJ. Nick looked from AJ to Howie and back again. “It’s cool,” said AJ.
Nick looked around for her. Mel was standing by the bar with Tofu watching the scene unfold. She smiled at him. Nick motioned with his head. Come here.
“I’d like you to meet a couple of my brothers,” said Nick, as she approached him. “This is Howie Dorough. And AJ McLean…or Alex…what the hell are you calling yourself these days, anyway?”
“AJ will do,” smiled AJ, shaking Mel’s hand. He turned to Nick. “Look who’s talking, Mr. ‘Don’t Call Me Nicky’.”
“Mel named the album,” said Nick shyly. “It was her idea.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
Mel smiled at him and then moved away from his grasp. “Yeah well, it was either that or Spoiled
Brat,” she said.
AJ laughed. “That would have worked too. Would you care to dance?”
Mel nodded, and they moved out on the dance floor.
“What did you tell him?” asked Nick, as he and Howie sat down at the table. Blaine and Cathy had headed for the dance floor at the beginning of the reunion and hadn’t returned.
“Just what you told me,” said Howie. “He thinks it’s great.”
“What did he think about…you know…not telling?”
“You know AJ. He said he wouldn’t give a crap what people said.”
“Yeah, right,” said Nick. “Like any of us believe that!”
“Watching the show, though…you know, with Chris Rock and all those comments…”
Nick nodded. Yeah, what about that? Had he been wrong? Had he read too much into it?
Howie continued. “I think he can kinda see where you’re coming from now.”
“Yeah,” said Nick. “Yeah, okay.” It made him feel slightly better, but not much.
On the dance floor, AJ put his arms around Mel and moved her around.
“Boy, you’re a great dancer,” said Mel.
“Well, I’ve had some practice,” said AJ. They laughed. “So,” he began. “So…you and Nick…”
Mel tipped her head back and looked into his eyes.
“It’s okay,” said AJ. “It’s cool. I’ll never tell. I just want to say that I’m happy for you…for both of you. But I don’t understand…”
Nick and Howie watched them dance together.
“I wonder what they’re talking about,” said Nick.
“Probably you,” said Howie.
The dance ended, and Mel went back to the bar. AJ made his way to the table.
“What did she say to you?” asked Nick.
AJ grimaced. “She said that she loves you enough that she would leave you, if she thought it was for your own good.”
The three men sat in silence for a moment.
“So I guess the question is…” AJ sighed, “…how much do you love her?”
Nick thought about it. “I guess I love her enough that I’ll do anything to keep that from happening.”
More silence, as they digested the thought.
Then AJ spoke again. “So…a Grammy?”
“Two,” said Nick, smiling and holding up two fingers. “Two Grammys.”
“Aw crap, there’ll be no living with you now,” said AJ, laughing. Howie shook his head at them.
Mel watched the three men laughing together.
“That’s a nice sight,” said Tofu, coming up to her.
“Yeah,” Mel nodded. “It’s all good.” Even though she had to watch it from the other side of the room, it was still all good.
Chapter 68 by old_archive
“You must have been exhausted,” said Mart.
“Yeah, we were pretty tired. We still are.” Melody looked around her.
It was a tired group of people who sat in the airport lounge. Jeff, Mel and Nick had not returned from La Cantina until nearly three in the morning. Toby and Gus had left much earlier. They had work to do early the next day getting everyone ready to be at the airport by noon. And there would be lots of publicity material to be processed...the Internet would be jumping.
Blaine and Rashad left around one o’clock. Nobody knew when Tofu had left or where he had gone, but he showed up at the hotel at eleven, as promised.
“We fell asleep in the car on the way back from the club. Jeff said he was tempted to tell the limo driver just to keep circling the block.”
“Did you…uh…wake up at all when you got to the room?”
“Why Martha Jane Hanratty Connors, whatever are you suggesting?” retorted Mel, in mock horror.
The two friends laughed.
“No,” said Mel. “We were too tired. It went way beyond the lateness of the hour. It was mind-numbing exhaustion. You know what I mean?”
Martha Jane had walked the floor with a colicky baby many a night. She knew exactly what Mel meant.
Mel went on, “…the whole day, the excitement, the adrenaline…and then, after the show, being taken here and there and…poor Nick! All I had to do was tag along and look like I wasn’t in love with him. He had the hard part, trying to smile and be polite with these relentless reporters.”
“Did they ask about you?” Mart wanted to know. “You know, did they ask about his date?”
“Yeah,” said Melody and she told Mart what Nick had said in the interview about her fitting into the dress. “Gus got that one off a message board. How these people find these things out is beyond me.”
”Probably some contest winner. Be backstage at the Grammys. That kind of thing.”
“Oh, probably,” said Mel, with a yawn.
“You got a show tonight?”
“Yeah, in Dallas. And then it’s onto the bus and off to…I don’t even know where.”
“On the bus, huh?” Mart said with a giggle. “You still keeping to that rule of not doing it on the bus?”
“Yes,” said Mel, crisply. “It’s just too close quarters, if you know what I mean.”
Martha Jane knew what she meant. She had kids. Try making love with them in the next room.
Melody sighed. “And then it’s going to be a few days because…”
“Ah, the old time-of-the-month,” said Mart. “Is he still weird about it?”
Mel giggled. “We just don’t talk about it.” The two women laughed again.
Every month, Mel would tell Nick that she thought she’d sleep in her own room for a couple of nights. Every month, he would look worried and immediately start wondering if she was upset with him.
Then realization would dawn and he would go, “Oh…OH…OHHH…okay…okay,” and his face would turn beet red.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The first night in his bed alone, Nick didn’t think about anything. He was unconscious. They had put on a good show in Dallas buoyed by the audience enthusiasm and the many signs congratulating him. But the fatigue caught up with them. They hit the buses immediately and were asleep before they reached the city limits.
For the next three nights, Nick didn’t do anything but think. He cursed himself for being a coward. He had promised himself that if he won a Grammy, he would tell the world he loved Mel. Well, he hadn’t just won one, he’d won two. He’d had two opportunities to say how he felt, and he’d ducked both of them. He’d had a third opportunity in the press room, and he’d turned the question into a joke. He had let himself be intimidated by Chris Rock and his comments, by the silly jokes and the nasty magazine articles.
So what are you going to do about it, he asked himself on the fourth night. Mel will be coming back into your bed tomorrow night. You’d better have this straight in your head by then. You can’t be tossing and turning like this when she’s here. She’ll have it out of you in a heartbeat. And she won’t be pleased.
There were seven weeks left in the tour. Nick didn’t have to do anything until then. But when the tour ended, there wouldn’t be a reason to see her all the time. So they would either have to go public or not see each other very much. Nick thought back to the folder full of gossip that Toby had shown him.
Shopping, huh?
Well, he would start there.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day, Nick got on the phone to Rafe. He told him that he would no longer attend any functions that were merely parties. Life on the road was tough, and Nick wasn’t going to exhaust himself just to provide a picture for the media. He would only do events that had something to do with children or the environment, especially the ocean.
Rafe listened on the other end of the line. Okay, Nick. Okay, Nick. Okay, Nick. Rafe agreed with all the points. He didn’t see any problem with it. With two Grammys to his credit, Nick didn’t have to go looking for photo ops. They came looking for him. And children and the environment? You couldn’t get more politically correct than that, could you? It looked like Nicky was finally determined to become Nick.
“Maybe you could do more of those hospital visits, you know…like the one you did in Florida with Mel.”
Nick smiled to himself. “Yeah, that’s a good idea, Rafe. We could do a song or two. Unless Mel didn’t want to or something...”
“Mel will do what she’s told,” said Rafe. “Don’t worry about it.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Toby, I want you to do something for me…you and Gus.”
“Sure, Nick, what do you need?”
Nick told him.
Toby nodded thoughtfully. “I like it,” he said.
So Toby and Gus changed their research about the cities they were visiting. Now they looked for environmental issues. They coached Nick on the answers and gave him printouts to read. During every interview now, he answered the ‘how do you like our fair city?’ question with either a compliment about their environmental programs or a suggestion of disappointment that they weren’t doing more. He had Toby research the high schools in the cities and give free tickets to the concerts to any Environmental Clubs he could find. He mentioned that in the interviews too.
It made the local newspaper more than once. It made the Internet on a daily basis. And it made Cosmogirl magazine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nick and Mel spent an afternoon wherever possible in the children’s ward of a hospital. They would visit the children and sign autographs. Then they would sing a couple of songs together. Mel played the guitar. They took Nick’s once but decided it was better if he was free to walk around when he sang.
They didn’t announce these outings. These were from the heart, not for publicity. But nurses had cameras, and they knew how to use the Internet. It made the local newspaper more than once. And it made People magazine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And they never once went shopping.
Toby and Gus went shopping. They went shopping for Nick a lot. Gradually, they overhauled his wardrobe. The overgrown teenager look was out – the torn capris and the baggy t-shirts hit the trash. Now it was a more tailored look. Nick had increased his workouts with Jeff and the tailored look suited him just fine. Women were swooning all over the Internet. And it made Style magazine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So what does he think of your plan?” asked Mart.
Nick was not the only one thinking about the end of the tour. Mel had some thinking to do as well. First, she had to get a job. That wasn’t going to be a problem. She could get lots of studio work. But she had kind of caught the bug of performing live. She could put out feelers about doing some tour work…with anyone but Jason Simons! She didn’t think Nick would tolerate that.
Mel talked to Stevie Ray. He said he’d keep his ears open, and that she knew she had a standing gig with him whenever. He even suggested she think about a show of her own.
“Give your head a shake,” she told him, laughing. “I’m not a singer.”
“Yeah, well, Nick didn’t used to play the guitar, either, now did he?” was Stevie Ray’s response. “You’ve got a good voice. With a little coaching…”
“Hello! Earth to Stevie Ray!” retorted Mel. “I’m not looking for a new career here. I just want some gigs.”
Stevie Ray came through for her. Carly Hyndman was going into rehearsals for a short seven-week tour. The rehearsals would start the week after Nick’s tour ended. There would be two weeks of rehearsal followed by a week at Pineapple Ranch where Carly would be showcasing material that she was going to take on the tour. She would be delighted to have Mel be part of both the week at the club and the tour.
“He thinks it okay.” Mel told Mart. “Actually, the ten-week thing works out because that’s how much time he’s going to spend on the movie. So it…um…lets us…it gives us some time.”
”Tell me, Melody Jones, are you going on the road or on the run?”
“Har de har, Mart! He’s got to be careful about this. The movie thing is a whole new ball game. He’s back to being Nicky, you see. The knives will be out. Sure he’s sold seventy gazillion records…yeah, he’s got a couple of Grammys…but can he act?”
“Can he?”
“Hard to say, but he’s a very determined man.”
“And what will your excuse be at the end of the ten weeks?” Martha Jane was relentless. “Where will you run then?”
Melody looked down at the cover of People Magazine. The front cover showed Justin and Cameron sitting on a surfboard kissing. Has Justin found true love? asked the headline. And in smaller print. Is their age difference a problem?
“We just need some time, Mart. That’s all.”
Chapter 69 by old_archive
The tour ended in Tampa. Home turf. Going out with a bang! The audience stood up when the band came on stage, and they never sat down. Even during the ballads, they stood and swayed back and forth. The screaming for Alias Me drowned out the entire first verse. At the end of the concert, the entire band gathered on stage for a final bow. Nick put his arm around Mel and wouldn’t let go of her. They bowed and waved and left the stage, his arm still firmly around her.
Nick and Mel spent the last week clinging to each other desperately. There was no one on the crew who hadn’t figured it out at this point. Tom was afraid someone would let it slip or accept a payoff from one of the scandal rags for the information. But the people who worked on the crew had been treated well and had had a great time. And they wanted to continue to work in this industry. And if you sold out and got caught… So admiration for the happy couple along with good career planning kept the secret for them.
Nick and Mel spent their nights making passionate love…reaching to the depths of each other’s soul. Neither one would voice the secret fear…that the relationship could not sustain itself over time and distance…that it was a product of the proximity of the tour. Neither one believed it for their own heart. Both feared that it might be true for the other.
“How will I spend ten weeks without this?” whispered Nick, as he cradled her in his arms. They were both spent, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, eyes glazed with passion.
“Only four,” said Mel, her voice husky. “Carly’s tour goes through Seattle in a month.”
Nick was spending the next ten weeks in Seattle making a movie. He had been offered the lead but had accepted instead a secondary role that had a little more character to it. The leading role had been a blond airhead who used his looks to get girls and intimidate other boys. The secondary character was his geeky friend…the guy who starts out being a chauvinist, but sees the light at the end and tries in vain to save the hero from himself. It was a teenage ‘B’ movie. But it was the best Nick could get at the moment.
His part didn’t require him to be there for the whole ten weeks. But Nick wanted to learn everything about making movies, and he had asked if he could hang around. The director wasn’t planning on making teenage movies his entire career and was delighted to show Nick the ropes. This was a guy on the way up, figured the director. It couldn’t hurt to have him for a friend.
“Four weeks? No way,” said Nick. “I’ll never make it.”
“Well, there’s this new invention…it’s called the telephone.” Mel ran her fingernails over all the places that she knew would drive him wild.
“But can the telephone do this?” asked Nick, reciprocating her actions with his hands until she squealed.
Mel pushed him onto his back and raised herself over him. She stared into his eyes as she lowered herself onto him. It was hard for her to do it this way. Nick was so big, and she was so small. He filled her completely, and she was stretched to the limit, unable to squeeze her walls around him, having to settle for swiveling her hips. Nick didn’t seem to mind. He put one large hand on her hips and raised her and lowered her, using the thumb from his other hand to stroke her center.
“I love you.”
It didn’t matter who said it first. All that mattered was that it was said. Over and over again by both of them. And by the end, it was all they said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Do you miss him?” Mart asked the question, knowing the answer was obvious, but trying to break through the wall of silence.
“Yeah.” It was a whisper. “Yeah.” Then a stronger voice. “But we talk on the phone whenever we can.”
“How’s the movie going?”
The two friends exchanged small talk…about the movie, about the plans for the tour. Rehearsals were going well. Carly wanted to involve the musicians more in the show. She had tried to talk Mel into a solo, but the best she could convince her of was a duet with the male guitarist. They practiced it in several different ways. It was hard for two people to sing a duet and play guitar at the same time, especially for the intimate song that Carly had picked out. They were still working on the proper staging.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Did Melody miss him? More than she could ever have imagined. There was a gaping hole in her life. Part of it was coming down after the tour, she knew that. There wasn’t the constant rushing around, the need to be here and then there and then back here again. She could get up early or sleep in, and then fill her day with whatever she wanted. But who wanted to sleep in when you woke up alone?
She missed the people. For the better part of a year, she’d been surrounded by people constantly. Now she was alone. It was hard to do. She kept thinking things like, ‘I must tell that to Blaine’ or ‘I’ll see what Rashad thinks about that’. She actually found herself turning to speak to someone who wasn’t there…Gus, Tofu, Nick…
And of course, she had to do her own laundry again.
Stevie Ray told her to take some time off, but Mel didn’t want to. She wanted to be busy. So she went into rehearsals with Carly after only four days. Four of the longest days of her life.
When she got back to work, Melody talked to Nick less. His schedule and hers didn’t mesh all that well, and they were still trying to work out the best timing for phone calls. Oh, but when those phone calls came through, her heart soared. Nick told her that the publicity people on the movie were trying to encourage him and the female lead to ‘be seen together’ and warned Mel not to buy into any nonsense that she might see in the media. She promised him that she wouldn’t and that the rumors of her affair with Justin Timberlake were just that…rumors. Nick didn’t find that as funny as she did.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was the last night of the gig at Pineapple Ranch. Next week, they would be on tour. And the week after that they’d be in Seattle. Mel hadn’t talked to Nick in two days. He was on a heavy schedule over this weekend.
“Okay,” said Carly. “Next up we have a duet…This is a Faith Hill/Tim McGraw song…called Let’s Make Love*. Take it away, Mel.”
Melody sat on the stool at the front of the stage. She felt funny without her guitar. This was the latest in a long line of ways they had tried this song. Todd still had his guitar and was standing off to her left. Mel didn’t think this would work, but Carly was the boss.
She glanced over at Carly and smiled. Carly nodded and played the opening notes. Melody closed her eyes and saw Nick in her mind. She put the mike up to her mouth and sang the words to him.
Baby, I’ve been drifting away
Dreaming all day
Of holding you and touching you
The only thing I want to do
Is be with you, as close to you
As I can be.
Mel raised her head and looked out at the audience. There was a spotlight on her, and she couldn’t make out any faces in the glare, but she knew there were people there. She gave a lazy, sexy grin and broke into the chorus.
Let’s make love
All night long
Until all our strength is gone.
Hold on tight, just let go.
I want to feel you in my soul.
Until the sun comes up…
Let’s make love.
Mel looked over at Todd, who smiled back at her. She nodded at him, but he slowly shook his head and took a step back.
Do you know what you do to me?
The sound came from her right. Mel snapped her head around and saw Nick walking toward her, a microphone in his hand.
Everything inside of me…
“Nick!” She blurted the word out.
Nick smiled sweetly and kept singing.
Is wanting you and needing you
I’m so in love with you.
He reached her and took her chin in his hand. He put his face close to hers.
Look in my eyes,
Let’s get lost tonight
In each other.
“Sing with me…” he breathed. He ran his fingers down the side of her face.
Let’s make love
Mel could only stare at him.
All night long
Nick smiled and raised his chin. Come on… And the music found her, and she joined in…
Until all our strength is gone.
Hold on tight, just let go
I want to feel you in my soul.
Until the sun comes up…
Let’s make love.
During the bridge, she looked over at Carly, who was grinning from ear to ear. Melody stood up from the stool and put her hand out to Nick. She touched his chest to make sure he was real. He was. And they sang together.
Let’s make love
All night long
Until all our strength is gone.
Hold on tight, just let go.
I want to feel you in my soul.
Mel smiled as Nick did his line solo.
Until the sun comes up
And she threw her head back and sang her line with joy (oh, until the sun comes up).
And they finished the song together. The audience could have gotten up and left. Neither of them would have noticed.
Let’s make love…oh, baby, let’s make love
All night long…let’s make love.
As the last notes died away, Melody gave her head a shake to clear it. She glanced over at Carly, who looked back blandly but said nothing.
Mel looked out at the audience. She cleared her throat. “Ahem. Well, this pleasant surprise is my friend…Nick Carter, ladies and gentlemen.”
There was applause, which stopped abruptly when Nick put his microphone to his mouth and said, “I’m not her friend.”
Melody looked at him. What?
“Well, I am her friend,” he corrected. “But I’m also her lover.”
Mel’s eyes bugged out. What are you doing, Nick?
Nick turned to the audience. “She’s my heart and my soul.” He turned back to Melody. “Oh, by the way, did I tell you, Honey, I’m thinking of going public with our relationship.”
Melody knew her mouth was hanging open. She made a conscious effort to close it. “Um…I see… and in kind of a big way…” She motioned at the audience.
“Oh, you have no idea,” said Nick, with a grin. “Stevie Ray, can we have the houselights up, please?”
The spotlight went out, and the house lights went up. Melody squinted through the change in lighting and could see familiar faces. “Mom?” she said. She looked back at Nick.
“Melody Elizabeth Jones,” said Nick, dropping to one knee. “Will you marry me?”
Melody was frozen. She couldn’t react. Her brain couldn’t process what was happening. There was a long pause, which threatened to become embarrassing.
“Do it, Mel!”
She looked at the owner of the voice. “Tofu?” she exclaimed.
“Yeah,” came another voice. “And remember, I don’t look good in orange.”
“Mart?” Melody ’s voice broke on the word. She looked back at Nick, who had risen to his feet.
“Be with me,” he whispered.
Melody slowly nodded her head.
“Because I don’t know how to be without you anymore,” he continued.
“Then don’t be…” she breathed. She set the mike carefully on the stool and stepped into his arms.
Neither one of them noticed the standing ovation…the cheering, the yelling, the crying. They were lost in each other.
The End
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.