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Rafe watched it all from the wings.  Getting Melody Jones to come out on tour was turning out to be his biggest stroke of genius yet.  There would be no question now that Nick could sing and play at the same time.  With his friggin’ eyes closed!!

They were getting on the buses and heading out as soon as this concert was over.  Rafe was flying back to L.A. tomorrow.  As far as he could see, everything was great.  Too bad about Tamara, though.  He’d have to arrange for something else.  Rafe made a note to look up opportunities in the various cities for Nick to get out and about…be visible…get his picture taken.

With a lovely young lady. 

And if the lovely young lady wanted to sleep with Nick at the end of the evening, fine with Rafe.  He didn’t care.

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The band came off the stage and climbed onto the buses.  Mel was careful to make sure that Nick’s guitar made it onto the bus.  They were going to have to think about that in the future.  It was obviously going to be part of the show from now on.  But it wouldn’t be loaded on the equipment truck with the others.  The ‘lessons’ weren’t going to end now.  They were going to ratchet up a notch.

Melody smiled to herself.  The performance had been perfect…from the first note to the last, both the music and the vocals…  Nick hadn’t been assailed by nerves; they didn’t give him the chance.  When the other three musicians saw on the bus what Nick could do, they immediately started making noises about it being in the show.  Mel had sliced her hand across her throat in a ‘shut up’ gesture.

Fortunately, they did but didn’t waste any time getting her alone to talk about it.  They cooked up their little scheme and then went to Scott and Darryl.  Everyone was sworn to secrecy.  They didn’t want Rafe to find out, and they didn’t want Nick to find out. 

So, for God’s sakes, don’t say anything to Toby, muttered Tofu. 

Melody smiled again at the memory of Nick, with his head back and his eyes closed and twenty thousand people in the palm of his hand.  Perfect, Mr. Carter, just perfect!

There was the usual flurry of activity of people getting settled on the bus.  Toby fluttered about Nick, offering to get him things, complimenting his performance, trying to somehow section him off from Jeff and Mel. 

Jeff pulled his book out of his bunk and sat on the sofa.  It didn’t matter what time it was or how long the bus ride was going to be, Jeff read for 30 minutes every night before he went to sleep.  Nick accepted the compliments and a bottle of water from Toby and then disappeared into his bedroom and closed the door, muttering that he’d be right back.  Mel wanted to get into her bunk as fast as she could and hide from Nick.  She didn’t want to go to the back until he came out or until she was sure he wasn’t coming out.

Finally, she could wait no longer.  She stood up and stretched and said, “Well, I guess I’ll turn in.”  She raced to her bunk and grabbed her pajamas.  She nipped into the bathroom and changed.  She washed her face and brushed her teeth in record time.  She opened the door and sped around the curtain into the sleeping area.  She ran right into Nick.

“Goodnight,” she mumbled, brushing past him and shoving her clothes hastily into her bunk.  She looked back. 

Nick was still there.  He stepped toward her.  He took her chin in his hand.  “Thank you, Melody Jones,” he said, and then he kissed her on the forehead.

“You’re very welcome,” she replied, forcing her hands to remain at her sides.  “You were perfect,” she whispered to his back as he turned and disappeared around the curtain. 

Melody climbed into bed and tried to sleep.  She tossed and turned and had fitful dreams.  When she woke in the morning, she knew one thing for sure.  She had to get off this bus.  She couldn’t do this any more.  Somehow, she was going to have to come up with a plan…something that sounded reasonable… some good suggestion about why she should switch buses.  She didn’t think Nick would mind…and she knew Toby wouldn’t.

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Nick didn’t sleep well.  His mind was like a pendulum…swinging back and forth…over here to where he’d played the guitar on stage…back here where Rafe was insisting Mel was his woman…back to the audience…that had been wild and wonderful…man, when they got quiet and listened…that was just too amazing…Toronto!  

Mel had given him that… 

Nick’s stomach flipped over at the thought of her.  He had to decide what to do there.  He was sorry for what he had said to her about ‘getting laid in Ottawa’.  He had been hurt, and it just came out.  But he knew that he’d insulted her.  He wondered if he should apologize…or maybe just let the whole thing drop.

Okay, think this through.  There are two possibilities. 

One, Rafe is telling the truth.  Two, Rafe is lying. 

Let’s start with the first one.  Rafe is telling the truth.  He and Mel are…together.  Well, they were certainly together in New York.  Mel said they weren’t, but they flew in together.  They went to that party together.  Nick remembered the pictures.  They were sure having a good time there.  Mel didn’t look like she’d been coerced into it.  And then in the club the next night…  Some of Mel’s words came back to him.  “I’ve been told more than once to keep my hands off the kid.  Right, Rafe?”

At the time, Nick had believed she was gay and thought it was an odd thing to say. 

But let’s look at it now, he thought.  “I’ve been told…” 

Told by whom? 

Obviously Rafe. 

“…more than once…” 

Did that mean she’d been told by different people…or more than one time by the same person?  Nick couldn’t believe it was more than one person.  Mel had been one of the guys…she didn’t strike him as someone who…went after men…certainly not enough to need multiple warnings.  And he couldn’t see her tolerating a bunch of people telling her what to do with her personal life.  Nick smiled to himself.  And he couldn’t see either Murray or Tom having the courage to say it to her. 

So it had to be Rafe. 

And if Rafe kept telling her that, maybe it wasn’t because he was afraid of what Mel would do, but because of what he thought Nick would do!  That sort of fit with what Tom had said.  That made Nick angry and insulted all over again.

He tossed and turned and punched his pillow.  By the time he fell asleep, he had himself worked into such a state, that he forgot to look at the second possibility…that Rafe was lying.

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Nick looked at that the next morning.  In the light of day, he could see things more rationally.  Because what he couldn’t explain away was Mel…in the elevator…in his hotel room…in his arms… If Rafe was telling the truth…if Mel was ‘his woman’…then how did you explain Rome?  How did you explain Ottawa?

Hormones!  That’s how Mel wanted to explain it.  “We’re just horny and maybe not even for each other.”  That’s what she had said.  But if Mel thought she was going to be with Rafe the next day, would she have indulged herself with Nick the night before? 

Nick didn’t think so…but he wasn’t sure.  All he knew was that he was giving himself a headache.

Nick couldn’t leave it alone.  He got Rashad off by himself just after they arrived in Chicago.  Seemingly meaningless conversation eventually got to the point where Nick suggested that Mel must surely have a man…I mean, after all, she’s a great girl…there must be somebody…

Mel does her thing, said Rashad, which told Nick exactly nothing! 

When Nick pursued the line of thought, he got a mini-lecture from Rashad on being a minority in the world of rock – be it female, or be it black, it’s all the same!  Five minutes of rhetoric from Rashad left Nick with his brain in a whirl but with one well-defined thought.  The person who hurt Melody Jones would have an enemy in Rashad Williams.

Nick attempted to engage Blaine in a similar conversation but was interrupted by Tom, who informed him that there was a charity event happening in Chicago that was too good a publicity opportunity to miss…there’d be loads of photographers there, all the major magazines and even the entertainment television shows.  Oh, and Marisa Tang was going to be in town.  Maybe she and Nick could team up. 

Marisa Tang was an ‘up-and-coming’.  That was what the industry called a young performer, whom they were putting lots of money into…in hopes of big returns.  Gone were the days of the Backstreet Boys…going from high school auditorium performances…to Seaworld…to Europe…to hone their skills and build a fan base before stardom.  Cheap hotels and lousy food and work, work, work!  Now it was ‘throw a million dollars at it.  It pays off or we cut it loose.’

Jive was throwing a million dollars at Marisa Tang.  She was an Asian-American.  Actually, she was an American-Asian.  You had to go all the way back to grandparents to reach the ‘Asian’ part.  Both Marisa and her parents (and even one set of grandparents) had been born in the good old U.S. of A.  But Marisa had the ‘look’.  And if there was a minority who was totally unrepresented in the world of popular music, it was Asians.

Marisa had an okay voice and a phenomenal body.  Once the men started seeing her videos, they wouldn’t care about the sound.  It was J-Lo with epicanthic folds.

Nick didn’t know how to refuse.  He wasn’t even sure he wanted to refuse.  If there was a reason he didn’t want to go, it was that he was tired.  It had nothing to do with either the event or Marisa Tang.  He had no feeling about either of them.  But he understood what it meant to be on tour.  He had to be out there.  He had to get the pictures taken, the blurbs written, the records sold.

Marisa Tang was a hot-looking woman.  Nick told Tom that he had to see a picture of what she was wearing before he would go with her.  He didn’t want to be blindsided by some dress that was nothing but a couple of belts with well-placed buckles.  Because in every picture, it would look like he was scoping out her body.

“I’m taller,” said Nick.  “I can’t help but look down.  I don’t want it to seem like I’m looking down her dress the whole time.”

Tom assured him that he would check that out.  He was impressed that Nick was thinking things through like that.  The kid was growing up.  He reported that to Rafe, said that he hadn’t even thought of that.  Rafe gave him the name of Marisa’s stylist and where they were staying in Chicago.  He pulled out the list of girls he was compiling for future cities and drew a line through one name.  Bibi Lawson.  You couldn’t even count on her to wear the buckles with the belts!!

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Nick’s evolution into mature man was evident in other aspects of his life as well.  His interviews had a lot more meat to them.  He used less slang, and he didn’t giggle.  He discussed the interview beforehand, if he could, or he had Toby do it, so he had some idea of what the questions would be.  Toby began screening out the inane ones and offering more serious suggestions instead.

They worked first on the radio interviews.  These were usually short bits – just a couple of questions.  Nick would do three or four of these in half an hour – usually at the venue.  The radio station ‘sponsoring’ the concert would usually get an in-house visit, where Nick would chat on air for up to half an hour, talking to the host and taking phone calls from fans.

At the beginning of the tour, the questions were always the same.  What about Backstreet?  What do you think of our fair city?  So Alias Me is a big hit.  What do you have to say about that?  I see you have a girl on guitar.

They dealt with the Backstreet one first.  Toby explained to the interviewers that the Backstreet Boys maintained, separately and together, that they were still a group, but that they were, at the moment, focusing on individual projects.  Toby went on to say that if they asked the question, Nick would answer it that way, but would feel compelled to detail what each of the others was doing and comment positively on it.

Kevin was touring with Chicago.  Nick had seen it and thought it was great.  Kevin really turned into that skuzzy lawyer on stage, and that was just good acting, because Kevin wasn’t like that in real life at all.

Brian was making a pop-gospel album that Nick was sure would be a hit in that genre.  He wouldn’t be surprised to see one or two of the songs be cross-over hits on the pop charts as well.

Howie’s solo CD was going to have a Latin influence to reflect his heritage.  Nick hoped there’d be some songs sung in Spanish, because Howie’s soul really shone through when he did that.

AJ was also making a solo CD.  Nick knew that it would be the last one released because AJ would work it to perfection, doing every song over and over, until every note and nuance fit his vision of it.

And that, said Toby, is the answer you will get if you ask about Backstreet.  And that is all the answer you will get, because it will take up all your allotted time. 

Toby would then look them straight in the eye, his look telling them that it would also be the last interview they would ever get.  Most of them got the message right away and didn’t ask.  One or two tried and got exactly the answer they were told they would.  And nothing else. 

“But we haven’t had a chance to talk about you,” protested one of them.

“Yes,” replied Nick.  “I guess that’s true.  Maybe next time.” 

The reporter went away knowing there would be no next time.

There was one enterprising young man who thought he was a serious journalist with at least one, and probably more, Pulitzer Prize in his future and was only doing music interviews until his in-depth exposé of something or other (he hadn’t yet found a suitable cesspool to investigate) made him a national force to be reckoned with.  He saved the Backstreet question until last.  No little personal assistant was going to tell him what he could and couldn’t ask! 

Nick responded without even mentioning the group’s name.  “Do we have enough time left…I mean enough time for me to really answer that question?  Because there’s a lot to say and I really don’t want to start talking about them unless I have time to talk about all of them.  Do we have time for that?”

Not since you used up all the time talking about time, thought the reporter, but gave it one last shot anyway.  “But you’re still in contact with them?  You’re still friends?”

“They’re my brothers,” said Nick, succinctly, and that was the end of that.

Gus and Toby charted the impact of all this on the fans.  When Nick had first given the complete answer, relief surged through cyberspace.  Look, he said it, howled the message boards.  They’re just on a break!  And wasn’t that sweet of him to mention them all!?

The die-hard Nick fans jumped in at that point and said scathingly that they had all said it a hundred times and why had that idiot reporter wasted all the time talking about something they already knew instead of what they really wanted to hear about?  Which was Nick!!

As the weeks turned into months, Gus noticed something else.  Daily, he would type two things into his search line – Backstreet Boys and Nick Carter.  He would look at the number of sites listed for each one and take a cursory glance at a few of them.  There were still nearly two hundred thousand sites listed for the Boys, but many of them had not been updated in months.  The Nick sites were usually current, and there were more of them every day.

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“What do you think of our fair city?”

This question was occasionally difficult to answer because there were days when Nick was so tired he didn’t even remember what city he was in.

Toby and Gus worked the answer to this question into an art form.  They researched each city thoroughly and gave Nick a series of choices, so he wouldn’t say the same thing to every reporter.

“Yes, I love coming to _______.  It’s too bad I missed the Tulip Festival.  That would have been fun.”

“Oh, I always enjoy _______.  I’m glad you got that garbage strike settled.  This city is too pretty for that.”

“I’ve been to _______ three times already.  It’s changed since last time.  That town square redevelopment wasn’t here then.”

He gave a one-sentence answer every time, and it was enough.  He said he liked the city and proved he knew something about it.  And the reporters didn’t want to talk about tulips or garbage or redevelopment.  So they would move on to the important question – the music.

Sometimes the question would be about the album as a whole, sometimes just about the hit single.  Sometimes it was about the stage show.  But it didn’t seem to matter what the question was or how Nick answered it – Toby drove himself crazy trying to find the right phrasing – it all came down to Alias Me…and the concert…and Mel.

“I see your guitar player is a woman.”