Friday night, Tasha was busy fidgeting with her pearl necklace in front of her dressing room mirror when the knock sounded. She’d just finished another three set performance for an almost full bar, and she was drained.

"Come in," she called out softly, her mind preoccupied with work problems she'd encountered earlier that day. Her boss down at her day job had taken her aside and basically told her that she needed to shape up or she was going to be one of the first to go when the company started restructuring next month. By the time she left his office, she was trembling, because she couldn’t possibly afford to lose her day job. The commission she got here at the hotel hadn’t been enough, even if she was pulling serious overtime.

"Tasha?" An unfamiliar voice lifted her from her thoughts. She turned.

It was Nick Carter, looking ridiculously perfect in a dark suit. He was back again tonight and that made her feel like the most important person in the world.

He came here to see her, fifth night in a row.

She stood up immediately, unable to disguise the breathlessness in her voice. “Ni---Mr. Carter. Hello.”

His smile made her toes curl. “Please, call me Nick. Can I come in?”

In her nervousness, she tightened the belt of her robe. “Of course, of course, have a seat.”

All six foot, two inches of him walked into the tiny dressing room, with a few dozen flowers in hand.

“I come bearing gifts.” He offered her the flowers—a massive bouquet of tulips—and a big cup of hot mint ginger tea.

She was surprised as she looked at the cup. “How did you know I was--?”

He sat across from her and leaned back. “Your voice got a good workout out there. I figured it needed some TLC.”

Her favourite post-show drink and now these flowers. Tasha felt a blush slowly creep up her cheeks.

“Thank you.” She placed the flowers and tea on the table beside her. “Did you…did you enjoy the show tonight?”

He smiled as he nodded. “I thoroughly enjoyed the acoustic treatment for ‘I Want It That Way’.”

When he’d told her yesterday who he was, she’d felt her knees buckle and almost give way as she watched him walk away. She couldn’t believe he was there and she hadn’t recognized him. Fifteen years ago, she would’ve known the back of his head from five miles away. She’d been THAT fanatical over the Backstreet Boys.

But since they’d retired from the boyband game, and she’d started working to keep her family taken care of, that particular obsession was forgotten.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I made sure I included it in my set for you.”

He smiled. “The Backstreet Boys thank you.”

She smoothed the fabric of her robe distractedly. “What can I do for you, Nick?”

“I keep having the strangest feeling that I’ve seen you before, heard your sound.” He leaned back against his seat and looked at her curiously. “I’ve been trying to figure it out all week.”

Tasha blinked and tried to control her embarrassment. “Oh?

"So have I?" Nick drawled as he leaned forward, looking straight at her.

"Uh…Have you what?" Good lord, this man made her fluster easily.

"Met you. Or seen you sing somewhere. Your voice isn't something a guy like me forgets."

She couldn't help but smile giddily at his suave pronouncement. "If you've come into the lounge in the last year, you might've."

He shook his head. "No, I think this is actually the first time I've been here. I'm thinking years ago…"

Tasha cringed involuntarily. Crap, he probably remembered that awful talent search eight years ago, when she and her then punk band "Metal Gyros" came out to California to audition for an up-and-coming record label. It was an experience she'd soon forget.

He caught her frown and smiled knowingly. "I have, haven't I? Tell me." He stared at her brown eyes expectantly.

She wanted to groan out loud but barely managed to keep it in. "I'm sure you don't want to know. I sure don't want to remember."

"Humor me."

She regarded him with barely concealed exasperation and thought about what she'd actually say.

"I promise I'll still respect you in the morning," he'd offered with a half-smile.

Tasha had to laugh in spite of herself. "Cute.”

He sat back, folded his arms over his chest and waited.

Uncertain as she was, Tasha had been bowled over by his smile to do anything else but what he asked.

"Eight years ago," she started hesitantly, not daring to look at him in the eye. "I was in a band called 'Metal Gyros' and if you laugh, I swear I'll dump this tea on your lap," she warned with a decidedly firm look.

It was the half-smile again. She thought she was going to have a heart attack. "Go on."

"We flew to California because we heard there was this record label looking to sign an unknown rock act. I had no idea it was you guys, but I was there, and you were there with the rest of the Boys…and I was terrible."

Nick's brows furrowed as he tried to remember. "Define terrible."

"I forgot most of the words the first time you asked us to sing. The second time was much better, but I guess we'd already made a bad first impression. Y'all didn't call."

He was still trying to remember. "Was it during the holidays? Coz I don't remember me doing general auditions any other time that year."

"Oh no, it was summer. We sent you a demo and you asked us to fly on over to audition. We were with, I think five other bands." She smiled at the memory. "When I was a kid, I was this big fan of yours and then seeing you from the stage like that…it just made me a little too nervous. If it wasn’t for this woman who talked to me backstage, I would've choked the second time around."

"Which woman?"

"Oh, this lady who came up to me backstage after I screwed up the first song. At first I thought she was this model, right? She was so beautiful. She had long dark hair and had the most amazing green eyes, and when she saw me crying by the bathroom, she sat down beside me and talked to me."

Tasha was so into telling the story that she missed the imperceptible hardness take over Nick's face.

"She said she knew you and the boys and that I shouldn't be nervous about performing on that stage. She was so sweet, she told me my voice was amazing. She was so sure you'd like me too if I'd loosen up."

Tasha's mouth quirked to a grin. "Then she said something about you that I'd never forget."

At this point all color was lost from Nick's face. "What?"

"She said that the first time she met you, she threw up on your shoes. Later, I figured if she can still be friends with you after that, I can certainly get past my first fuck up and perform the second song better." She gave him a quizzical look. "I'd been meaning to thank her afterwards, but I couldn't find her anywhere. I didn't even get her name."

She saw Nick swallow and frown fiercely. Concerned, she leaned closer. "Are you alright?"

"Faith." His voice was strangled, almost as if he was forcing himself to speak.

"Excuse me?"

"Her name." He looked up, his baby blues crashing into Tasha's deep brown. "Her name was Faith."

"Seriously?" Tasha couldn't have been more surprised. "So she really knew you? She wasn't just pulling my leg?"

He nodded and gave her a weak smile.

"Was she, you know, a producer or something? Or a singer? Does she work for you?"

He shook his head.

"Then who was she?"

His answer was so soft she had to strain to hear.

"She was my wife."

*********

"Daddy looky!" little James shouted from the next room. Howie groaned and dropped his head against the magazine he was reading. Was it too much to hope for some peace and quiet this late at night? Wasn't James supposed to be sleeping?

"Yeah James?" Howie called out, his tired voice mirroring the condition of his body. He didn't want to get up from the bed, nor did he want to drop the New York Times he'd only started reading.

He heard the patter of excited feet from outside his open door and sighed. Oh boy. His son was up and running.

"Daddy! Mommy found pi-tures!" James's high pitched squeals made his father cringe. Did Leigh forget and gave James sugar anyway? She knew how he got when he was on a high…

"Daddy!" James's dark hair flew around his face as he quickly made his way to his Dad's lap. From Howie's lips escaped a loud 'oomph' when James managed to settle his weight more forcefully than intended.

"Pi-tures, Daddy! Looky you!" he gave his father a toothy grin.

"Oh James, honey," Leigh called as she rushed to the doorway, a sleepy Matty in her arms. "Daddy's resting, babe. Come on, show him tomorrow."

"Nah, it's alright," Howie said, ruffling his son's hair. "He's already here. Watcha got there, dude?"

"Pi-tures," he answered proudly, holding up two 8x10 glossies…OLD 8x10 glossies. "Wanna see?"

Leigh walked over to the bed and sat beside her husband, with Matty on her lap, his thumb stuck in his mouth. "I was looking for James's old teddy bears for Matty in the hall closet and I found those press shots on the floor."

Howie smiled as he saw the photos he knew quite well. "Oh man, I haven't seen these in YEARS."

The first was a photo of all five Backstreet Boys performing onstage during the ‘Backstreet’s Back’ tour back in the day. With them clad in leather, the main focus of the shot had been Howie, his shirt half ripped and half drenched in sweat. His hair was a non-flattering perm then, and his mouth was wide open, a microphone clutched near it.

James giggled. "Daddy weird."

"Yeah, I looked so odd back then. Man…" Howie laughed and gave Leigh a smile.

The second photograph was a picture of Nick during their early days: longish blond hair down the side of his face, his face thin, awaiting the onset of adolescence. His eyes were closed, giving the impression that he was intensely concentrated on what he was singing. He had a death grip on the microphone after all.

"I can't believe Nick ever looked this skinny." Howie chuckled, showing Leigh the picture. "Look at that, he was all bones. We never DID get why the girls went gaga over him when he looked like a beanpole."

"He had THE SMILE, babe," Leigh pointed out, handing the photograph to Matty, who'd reached out for it. "The smile did it all."

"Daddy sing?" Matty asked in a shy voice, looking up at his Aunt Leigh.

She nodded. "Yep, that's Daddy singing there, honey."

Matty frowned. "Daddy no sing." He then shook his head to emphasize his point. "Nooooo sing."

"Of course your Daddy sings, Matty," Howie countered as he pulled James off him. "Me, Uncle Kev, Uncle AJ, Uncle Bri-bri, and Daddy used to sing together. We had a band and everything."

Matty still looked doubtful. "Why?"

"Well, coz we were good and we just rocked." He grinned. "Right babe?"

Leigh rolled his eyes. "You don't need me to inflate your ego any more honey…"

Matty finally pulled out his thumb from his mouth and pursed his lips. "Daddy no sing now."

Howie opened his mouth to answer then closed it again. How did he explain to Matty that Nick long since retired from singing because of the guilt he felt over his wife's death. He glanced over at Leigh.

Leigh smoothed the hair on the little boy's head. "Well, Matty, Daddy's taking a break from singing right now." She smiled. "But trust me, sweetie. Your Daddy's got the voice of an angel."

"Doesn't Daddy sing to you, Matty?" Howie asked curiously.

He shook his little blond head. "Leigh-leigh sings," he volunteered, referring to his second favorite aunt, Leighanne. "Sing beddie bye. Leigh sing too." Matty looked up at Leigh and smiled.

She felt herself smiling with him. This boy was going to a heartbreaker one day…just like his father.

"And Aunt Leigh sings pretty great doesn't she?" she said as she cuddled the boy.

"Leigh pretty too!" he giggled as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "I wuv you, Leigh."

Howie grinned as he saw his wife promptly falling in love with the child all over again. "Man, whatever Nick taught you about women, he taught you well."

**********

She wanted the earth to swallow her up where she sat. She can't believe she'd been so ditsy. Of course that beautiful woman was his wife. Someone that beautiful would’ve ONLY been wife material.

I've sunk to the lowest of lows.

"You've what?"

Did I say that out loud?

"Umm…yeah, you have a beautiful wife." Tasha muttered, with a sheepish smile.

"Had," he corrected.

"Oh."

"She died two years ago."

I am an amoeba. I am the most tactless person on earth, in all of history.

"I'm sorry." I'll go kick myself senseless now.

He shrugged. "So am I.”

"So, um…" She took a big gulp from her tea. "Before I embarrass myself even more in the next five minutes, why don't you tell me why you REALLY wanted to talk to me. And I’m sure it’s not just because of Metal Gyros."

"I told you last night. I like your sound." He tilted his head a little to the side. "And I’m intrigued by you. What’s your story?"

"I sing here every other week with a four piece band. I’m not sure what story you’re looking for.” She leaned back and noticed his discerning gaze. “I thanked you last night too. Do you want me to thank you again?" There was an edge in her voice now, born from the unusual turn of conversation in the last few seconds.

"You could, I guess." He smiled. "But what I'd really like you to do is say yes."

She blinked. "Yes to what?"

"I have a proposition for you."

A sinking feeling developed in her chest. She raised a questioning eyebrow.

"How do you feel about doing a private party with me?"

Tasha's jaw dropped in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"It’s a week from tomorrow, in Malibu. I’ll take care of everything. It’ll be you, me, some of my colleagues. How does that sound to you?"

His invitation, delivered in this low, impossibly sensual tone, made her confused. "Look, MR. CARTER," she said pointedly. "I don't know what I did to give you the impression that I'm your average….skank for rent, but I don't sleep with men who watch my shows. Or any man, for that matter, who think they can offer me flowers so I can take my clothes off in front of his friends. Even if you ARE Nick Carter."

She stood up. “I think you should leave.”

Nick caught her arm and quickly shook his head.

"Tasha, wait. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. Really."

She shook his hand off. “And also, seriously? You could have any skinny model on the planet and you choose me? And all this?” Her hands motioned towards her ample curves. She gave him a quelling look and rested her hands on her waist. “Mr. Carter, seriously.”

He stood up and held her arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” he repeated, running a hand through his hair. “I’m seriously out of practice.”

"Then what DID you mean?"

"Sit down and I'll tell you."

Arms akimbo, she regarded him with reservation. "I'd rather stand if it were all the same to you."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Tasha, really. What I meant was that I'll be hosting a private party for a few of my friends and industry executives next week. I'd like it if you were there to sing for us. Can you do that?"

"Just to sing?"

Nick nodded, his blond hair carelessly brushed away from his face. "Just to sing."

"When?"

"Next Saturday."

"Where?"

He smiled. "My house in Malibu."

Her jaw dropped a second time. "Your house in…oh that is SO not funny."

"I wasn't joking."

She didn't know when it happened, but her initial fascination with the man she knew as Nick Carter, suddenly transformed itself to wariness. He now looked like all the other guys who came up to her after her shows, a little odd, a little untrustworthy. Too bad he was so cute.

"I'm in Baltimore, Nick. California is a long way to go for a party."

“I will make it worth your while.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

He smiled apologetically. “This is just…I swear I’m usually a better negotiator than this. Can we start over?” He held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Nick. I’m a record producer-slash-talent manager.”

Reluctantly, Tasha reached out and shook his hand. “I’m Tasha. Office worker bee by day, singer by night.”

“Tasha, I’d like to offer you a chance to perform at the Millennium Records showcase next Saturday. Four songs, tops. And the record company will pay for everything, flying you in, accommodations, everything. Think of it as an audition.”

Tasha blinked. “Audition?”

“We’re looking for a new solo act to sign and I’m putting you forward as my top choice. Especially after what I’ve seen the last few days. Will you come?”

Tasha was hesitant. "I'm not shooting it down. It's just that…California? I have a day job. I need my Saturday pay…and I haven’t been in an audition in years…”

Nick nodded. “Everyone joining the showcase will receive $5,000 just for being there. The one we actually do sign gets a guaranteed contract of 2 albums, a $25,000 signing bonus and a generous royalty package.”

Tasha couldn’t help herself. Her eyes widened. “Did you say a signing bonus?”

Nick’s smile widened. “I told you I’d make it worth your while.”

She knew right away there was no way she could say no.