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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.