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.
