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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.