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“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.