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“He didn’t say that?” said Mart.

“Yeah…yeah, he did,” said Melody, and she started to cry.

“Oh, Mel…” said Martha Jane.

“No, no,” said Melody, trying to regain her composure.  “Hormones,” she spat out.  “I’ll be fine.”

Martha Jane had serious doubts about that.  “It sounds like he was hurt,” she said.  “Not like he was being mean.”

“I don’t know,” sniffed Mel, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.  “It just got weirder…”

Tom had finally banished the cameras and got them set up for the concert.  It was amazing.  Melody told Mart that it had been the best one yet.  The fans were unbelievable. 

“It was bizarre, Mart.  They knew every word to every song.  And they sang along…it was kind of hard to follow a couple of times, because I had, like, 20 000 people singing back to me…and if it was something that we had changed a little from the album…well, it was just weird.”

“And Alias Me?”

“Ohhh…well, that was…different…I knew it would be…the whole day had been odd.  I mean, anyone watching would have thought it was the same, but his eyes were different…cold…  I kind of made a mistake there…”

The pain in her friend’s voice tore through Mart’s heart.  “Yes?”

“I touched him.  When he did the last one, when he turned away…to the audience…I didn’t mean to…I just…I just…I couldn’t help it.  I just put a finger on his arm.  And then I turned away…Oh, Mart!  I get it that we can’t be together.  I get it that I’m thirty and he’s twenty-three.  I get it that we are professionals and we can’t let anything get between us and the music.  But I don’t get it that he’s so…so…I don’t know…”  Melody dissolved in tears.

Mart knew that Mel didn’t get anything.  All her lofty ideas…that she understood the age gap, that they were professionals…it was just words…just words she was using to try and convince herself that she wasn’t falling in love.  And Mart had heard Mel describe many a relationship…trying to talk herself in and out of love…but Mart had never heard the depth of feeling in Mel’s voice that she was hearing now.   And it scared Mart a little.  Because she knew that Mel was right.  That this relationship had no future…that it could have no future.  The cards were stacked against it, no matter what the participants thought.

So should she talk her friend into it or out of it?

“What did he do?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” said Meodyl.  “I went back to my spot, and I didn’t look at him for awhile.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What he had done was just about friggin’ lost it totally on stage.  Something he hadn’t done in over ten years in the business.  When Mel put her finger on his arm…  Nick had tried to be detached.  He had sung the song…he knew it would be hard, so he tried to concentrate on the audience rather than her…but her eyes…she looked so…aw hell, he didn’t know…but then, when he turned from her and…she touched him…it was almost more than he could stand. 

This whole experience was shaping up to be one of the worst of his life.   And that never happened in Toronto.  It was a given…when he was with the guys…Toronto…always a winner.  You might have a concert in this city, maybe two in that.  You sold out three in Toronto.  No matter what the American press had to say, the Canadians loved you.  MuchMusic wanted an hour, 90 minutes, whatever they could get.  The kids slept out on the sidewalk to be first in line…for three days…in freakin’ February…

Nick didn’t think it was coincidence that they came to Toronto right after September 11.  He thought it was karma.  They had come to a place that was safe…safe from terrorists, safe from anti-American sentiment, safe from rabid pro-American rhetoric. 

Toronto had wrapped its arms around them in a hug that had lasted three days.  Three days that had allowed them to regroup and deal with the loss of Daniel Lee and the close call with Leighanne…Nick thought that Brian might never allow his wife out of his sight again.

And now here he was in Toronto, and he couldn’t get it together.  He worked out and did the interviews and sang the songs.  He ate and slept and breathed. 

And smiled. 

Because Mickey had that damn video crew following him everywhere.  Ignore us, they said.  Just do your thing.  Be spontaneous.  Now, there was a word that Nick was really beginning to hate.

Mickey asked them about the buses.  Toby spilled the beans about the guitar playing. 

Perfect, said Mickey. 

He loaded the band onto Nick’s bus and made Mel and Nick sit knee-to-knee on the sofa with their guitars.  They played Who Needs the World?  At the end, Mickey told them that was great, but what the hell was the wrong with the rest of them.  They were supposed to be playing cards or reading or something…and all they had done was gape at Mel and Nick, like they’d never seen them before. 

The musicians ignored him.  They had other things on their mind.

“Holy shit, Nick!  That was great!”  Tofu leapt to his feet and applauded.

“So there was more than crossword puzzles going on in this bus, I see,” said Rashad with a smile. 

Blaine just smiled and nodded at Nick.  I told you she’d be a good teacher, said his eyes.

Mickey made them do it again…with Mel on the floor at Nick’s feet…then with Nick on the floor at Mel’s feet. 

That was the one, Mickey knew.  For some reason, the two didn’t seem all that comfortable with each other, but by the third time through, the music took over and they gave each other shy smiles and nods.  And when they finished, Mel reached out and ruffled Nick’s hair.  Perfect! thought Mickey.  Just too freakin’ perfect for words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, here we go, thought Nick.  The final concert in Toronto.  And then it’s back on the buses…over to Chicago, then back to Detroit.  He paced his dressing room, doing some stretches and breathing exercises, trying to get his head into the concert and out of the clouds, or wherever it was at these days. 

Rafe and Mel…that was where it was at!  He couldn’t get them out of his head.

He talked to Tom about it.  It was hard to have a private conversation with the video crews around, but today, they had finally packed it in, after that thing on the bus where she…  Nick shook his head.  What the hell had she done that for?

Tom had been apologetic about the ‘Mel is gay’ thing.  He’d just backed up Rafe, he said. 

“Yeah, but why did Rafe say it in the first place?” asked Nick.  He’d heard Rafe’s side of it.  He wanted to hear what Tom thought. 

Tom didn’t want to say.  Heaven only knew how Rafe had explained it and Tom didn’t want to contradict his boss.  He chose his words carefully.

“Well, Rafe was concerned…that you might…um…”

“Hit on Mel?”

“Yeah, like that.  You know what a tour is like…close confines…and with her being the only woman around…”

Nick was insulted.  “…I would just have to take a run at her.  Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, no, that’s not it at all,” said Tom, although that was exactly what it had been.  “It’s just that…well, you’re attractive, she’s attractive…music does stuff to people…”  He knew he wasn’t explaining this well at all.   At least, he hoped not!

Nick could see that Rafe might think he’d take a run at Mel.  He obviously had a very low opinion of Nick.  That had been clear from the beginning.  But what about Mel?  Why didn’t he trust her?  If she was Rafe’s ‘woman’…  And if he didn’t trust her, why did he put her in the tour in the first place?

“And what did Rafe think Mel would do?” persisted Nick. 

Tom recalled those words very clearly…take his head off or fuck his brains out… 

“I don’t know,” said Tom, “but he didn’t want it to interfere with the tour.”

“With the tour?” 

“Yes,” said Tom, slowly.  What else would there be? he wondered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nick wanted to ask more, but there wasn't time.  The conversation with Tom left him more confused than ever.  And Rafe himself?  Nick tried to pinpoint where he was and figure out if Mel was with him. 

That was easy enough during the day...Mel was with the band, and Rafe wasn't...who knew where he was?  Who cared?

But the night after the first concert, Rafe was at the after-party.  So was Mel but she didn’t stay long.  Rafe left a few minutes later.  Were they going their separate ways or just being discreet?  Nick wanted to go and pound on Mel’s hotel room door to set his demons at rest, but he was afraid of what he would find. 

Last night, the crew went out to a club after the show.  Mel didn't go with them, and neither did Rafe.  Nick didn't stay long either.  When he and Jeff got back to the hotel, Nick tried to slow his pace as he went by Mel’s door.  He strained his ears.  He didn't know what he thought he'd hear.  He guessed he was hoping he'd hear her guitar.  He didn't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The show was going great.  Nick loved doing more than one concert in the same city.  You started to feel like you were home.  They finished My Confession.  Nick took a sip of water.  “And now…” 

He got no further.

Rashad said, “Hey, Nick, can we take a break for a minute?  I have to go to the bathroom.”  He unstrapped his guitar and left the stage.

“What?!”  Nick looked around, bewildered and laughing.  What the f…?

“Yeah, Nick,” said Blaine from behind him.  “That third coffee really did it to me.  I’ll be right back.”  Blaine set down the drumsticks and walked into the wings.

“When you gotta go, you gotta go,” said Tofu, dragging a hand down the keys with a flourish.  He walked off.

Nick’s head spun from right to left.  What the hell was going on?  He looked out at the audience.  “Um…folks…we appear to be having a bit of a delay.”  He burst out laughing.  “Now this has never happened before.”  He turned to Melody, “What about you, Mel…?” 

And then he stopped.

Mel had taken off her guitar but she hadn’t left the stage.  She was standing in front of him, holding out his acoustic guitar.

“Maybe you can find a way to cover for us,” she said.

Nick looked down at her.  He wiped his hands down the sides of his pants. 

Mel held up the guitar.  “Take it,” she said softly, nodding at the stool that Darryl was setting down behind him. 

Nick took the guitar and turned back to the audience, where the fans were screaming their approval.  He looked over into the wings, where the musicians were grinning from ear to ear and nodding at him. He turned back to the audience.

“Well, um…I guess…” he laughed nervously, sitting down.  “I guess maybe we’re going to have to take another look at the beverage service.” 

Nick looped the guitar strap over his head.  The fans screamed some more.  Darryl glided out and set a microphone stand at Nick’s feet and adjusted the mike to his guitar.  He pulled another mike over and lowered it to Nick’s mouth.

“Um…well, this is a song from Now or Never.”  Nick strummed the guitar and then played with one of the tuning keys.  “It’s called Who Needs the World?”

He began to play.  Nothing could be heard over the roar of the crowd.  The first two lines of the song were drowned out.  The third was lost in a chorus of people shushing everyone else, telling them to be quiet and listen.  But the fourth line came through loud and clear and so did the rest of the song.

Nick was lost in it, just as Melody hoped he would be.  All the hours on the bus paid off.  He was totally focused.   By the end of the song, there was no sound at all from the audience.  The people just held their breath and listened.  And when he put his head back and closed his eyes to sing the high notes ‘who needs it…I don’t know…’, Blaine put his arm around Mel and hugged her.  When Nick’s hand glided down the strings for the last time and the notes died away, there was a pause.

Then he lifted his blond head and flashed his toothy grin.  He shrugged.  How was that?  The fans yelled and clapped their hands. 

Nick stood up and took off the guitar.  He looked around.  Mel stood there with her hands out, waiting to take it.  He gave it to her with a grin, then did a double take with the audience. 

“So, is pee break over?” he asked.  “Can we get back to work now?”

“Yeah, we’re good, Boss,” said Rashad.  He played the opening riff for Run for Cover.

“Let’s rock,” yelled Nick, and he grabbed the microphone out of the stand.