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“I see your guitar player is a woman.”

Nick resented the question.  Why always Mel?  He always answered it politely.  “Her name is Melody Jones.  She’s the best rock guitarist around.  We’re lucky to have her.”

Nick didn’t mind saying these things about Mel, but he wanted to say them about the others as well.  And he tried…but he always got cut off.  Because the reporters weren’t really asking about the music…they were asking about the interaction between the two on Alias Me.

Toby resented the question, but he couldn’t get rid of it.  The reporters never said they were going to ask it, when they had their pre-interview chat.  The one or two times that Toby had brought it up, saying it wasn’t an issue, had been a mistake because it turned it into an issue.

Toby suggested to Nick that maybe Nick should stop bringing Mel forward to him for that song…that maybe she should stay in the background and sing.  Nick considered it, but as things got hotter and hotter between them in the days leading up to Ottawa, Nick found he couldn’t.  Because when they shared the music, it was almost better than making love.  And in the days after Ottawa, it was all he could have of her.

The question was asked in the television interviews…every single time.  Because there was hot footage to go with it.  If it was a magazine-type show or an item for the entertainment portion of the local news, they would show a clip.  If it was a talk show, the band would perform it live. 

Mel and the guys didn’t hear the question that often.  They never heard any of the radio interviews.  They only heard it if it was on a talk show.  They would stand in the green room and shake their head at the monitor.  They resented the question on Mel’s behalf.  They knew that she was up front with Nick because of the sound – the music.  If it had been Tofu’s voice that had blended the best, then Nick would be leaning over the keyboard to sing those lines.  Gawd Almighty!  Look at Bruce Springsteen!  He and Little Stevie Van Zandt sang many songs in their concerts into the same microphone, their mouths less than an inch apart.  No one ever tried to make anything of that!

Nick’s improvement at interviewing really showed in the talk-show situations.  Whereas before, he had slouched in the chair with his legs spread out in front of him, laughing and pointing at things in the audience and paying scant attention to the host, now he sat up straight and turned his eyes and his full attention to the interviewer.  He acknowledged the audience with smiles and shy ‘thank you’s, but he focused on the questions…and his answers.  He rarely lost his cool even with the truly stupid questions like ‘what size are your feet?’

But he was feeling cranky one night.  He was doing Leno, and there was a guest host – a giggly starlet who only seemed interested in tossing her hair and flashing smiles at the camera.  She mispronounced the name of the song when she introduced the band…called it Alliance Me…and when Nick slid into the chair when the song was over, she leaned her ample bosom toward him and asked, “Can I call you Nicky?”

Nick started to laugh and then realized she was serious.  He picked up the CD from the desk and showed her the title.  She pouted and then said, “I guess not then.”

She asked a series of ridiculous questions that irritated the hell out of Nick because there was no way to give an intelligent answer and he knew he would come across as stupid.  Finally, she said, “I see you have a woman on guitar.”

“I do?”  Nick looked confused.  He glanced over to where the band had stood a few minutes before and squinted his eyes as if trying to picture them.  Then he brightened.  “You’re right.  I do!  And you know what, I’ve got a black guy on bass.”

“I beg your pardon…” stammered the starlet.

“And the keyboard guy…” said Nick, with delight in his voice.  “I think he’s Latino.  Yes, I’m sure he is.”  Then he pouted.  “No Asians, though…”  He sounded disappointed.

“Are you trying to make a point here?” asked the starlet through clenched teeth.  Nick was making her look foolish, and she wasn’t sure how.

“Yeah,” said Nick.  “She’s not a token woman.  Rashad’s not a token black.  Chris isn’t a token Latino.  They are the best…the very best in the business.  So’s Blaine…the drummer.”

Melody stood in front of the monitor in the green room with her mouth hanging open.  Rashad dropped a hand on her shoulder.

“I like that kid more every day,” he said.

“Rafe will kill him,” said Melody.

But Rafe didn’t kill him.  He actually liked the answer.  He’d been waiting months for something ‘grown up’ to come out of Nick’s mouth.  Yes, Nick was finally on the path Rafe had set for him.  Rafe did suggest, however, to both Nick and Tom, that it was time to start singing Bridge to Nowhere on these shows.

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

All of this practice and polish paid off in Toronto.  Because by the time Nick got there, he had it down pat, and he was able to get through all the interviews and things on auto-pilot.  His mind was definitely somewhere else…somewhere like the Nation’s Capital…Ottawa.  He sat for an hour at MuchMusic and talked seriously about music with Rick Campanelli.  The fans were polite and listened…mostly because Rick told them that, if they would be quiet during the interview, Nick would get to as many of them as he could during the commercial breaks.

The only time he faltered was when Rick asked him about his personal life, said he guessed it was hard to travel so much and have a social life.  Nick said that, yeah, it was hard. 

“There have been rumors about you and a certain supermodel,” suggested Rick. 

“Nah,” countered Nick, “we’re just friends.  She’s got a boyfriend.  She’s just someone I like to…go bowling with.  And it’s nice to have a friend to go to award shows and things…you know.  It’s hard to take a real date to those things because…like, if you’re presenting or something…or performing… then you’re up and down and she’s getting ignored…not a good way to impress a girl.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Rick, “I’d have to think a girl would be pretty impressed to get invited to the Grammys by Nick Carter.”  The girls in the audience let Nick know that they were all available…eager to help him out with that.

Nick grinned and shook his head, causing a sigh to run through the crowd.

“But what about off the stage?  Anyone special in your life?”

Nick’s brain froze.  He opened his mouth to talk and actually got the first letter out before he stopped himself.  “M…”  Then he just sat there.  He didn’t know where to go, what to say.

Rick Campanelli was not an interviewer who went for the throat.  He was a genuinely nice guy who was very popular with musicians because he always tried to bring out the best in them.  He could see that Nick was in trouble, and he helped him out.  “Let’s give away a couple of tickets to the show tonight.  Anyone interested in going?”  The crowd squealed its interest, and they moved off the subject.

After the show, when Rick said goodbye, he shook Nick’s hand and looked into his eyes.  “Good luck with the ‘someone special’ thing.”

Nick laughed and shook his head.  “Thanks for helping me out there, Man,” he said.

“Any time,” said Rick.  As he watched the tall blond walk away, Rick wondered who M… was.

It was the only hitch, and they got through Toronto and on to Chicago.  On to the first photo op.  Marisa Tang.  She wore an off-one-shoulder jersey knit dress that emphasized all her curves but didn’t show a lot of skin.  She looked sensational, and so did Nick.  The pictures were great and burned up the wire services.  Rick Campanelli noticed that Marisa’s name began with ‘m’.

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

“You know what Nick asked me yesterday?” said Tofu. 

He and Blaine and Rashad were playing dominoes in the dining area of their bus.  They were on their way from Chicago to Detroit.  Gus was up in the front doing something with his computer.  He had his back to them, and they could hear the clicking of the keyboard.  They didn’t think he could hear them.  They were wrong.  Gus could hear them, and he was listening.  He listened to everything.

“What?” said Blaine.

“He asked me if I thought there was anything going on between Mel and that snake from head office – Rafe what’s his name?”

Rashad and Blaine looked at each other.  They knew that ‘that snake from head office’ was Tofu’s term, not Nick’s.  They also thought it was a pretty good description of Rafael Ariando.

“He said something like that to me too,” said Rashad, lowering his voice and leaning in over the table. 
“Me too,” said Blaine, who had finally been pinned down by Nick.  “I don’t know where he got the idea, but he seems to believe it.  I told him I didn’t think it was true.”

Rashad nodded.  “He didn’t come right out and ask…just sort of hinted around…asked if I knew anything about Mel’s social life.  I figured he wanted to know because…well, because he and she…they…I thought they’d…”

“Oh, they did!” said Tofu.  “No question about that.  In Ottawa.”

The other two gaped at him.  Gus’ fingers stopped typing for a moment.  Then they started up again.

“Trust me,” said Tofu.  “I can tell when someone has had sex.” 

Blaine and Rashad had no doubt about the veracity of that statement.

“Well, we figured they were headed toward it,” said Blaine.  “Ottawa, huh?  Is that why things got weird in Toronto?  I mean, while we were there, they hardly spoke to each other.  You’d think if…”

“Yeah, you would,” said Tofu, “especially after that bone-rack model buggered off.”

“Don’t forget, though.  Rafe took Mel to that fashion show.  Man, she hated that!” said Rashad.

The three men cracked up.  Mel’s description of the whole event, complete with impersonations of the models and designers had had them laughing until their sides ached the day after the fashion show.

“So what did you tell him…Nick, I mean,” asked Blaine.

Tofu shrugged.  “I told him that I didn’t think Mel had been seeing anyone since she and Jason Simons broke up six months ago.”

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

Gus smiled to himself at his computer remembering how funny Mel’s impersonations had been.  It was too bad that Nick hadn’t been there to see it.  Gus knew more about this than the other three.  He knew about the pictures.  He knew what Nick thought, and he knew what Toby thought, and he had a sneaking suspicion that it could all be laid at the feet of Cousin Rafe.

But what he didn’t understand was Mel.  Gus agreed with Tofu.  Nick and Mel had definitely connected in Ottawa.  But then they had ricocheted apart in Toronto.  Did they think that they had made a mistake?  If they did, they were only the ones who thought that. 

Well, almost.  Toby and Rafe would be dead set against it…Toby because he was jealous and Rafe because…yeah, why would Rafe be against it?  He had no interest in Mel.  Gus knew that for a fact.  If Rafe had been interested in her as a woman, he would have pursued her by now – pursued her, won her and discarded her.  The only other interest he would have in her would be business, and Gus didn’t see how Melody Jones could help Rafe get ahead in business…or hinder him, for that matter. 

Except by doing something to wreck the tour.  And she wouldn’t do that.  She was a consummate professional.  Music was her life.  Look at all she’d done for Nick so far…with the guitar and everything…what would it hurt if they enjoyed each other’s bodies for awhile?  Who cared?  Who even had to know?  Gus wanted to do something about it.  He wasn’t really sure what.  He knew he couldn’t talk to Toby about it.

Toby. 

Gus heaved a sigh and counted the days until the tour ended.  Gus had initiated Toby into the joys of sex.  Toby was an apt pupil but still found giving difficult.  He didn’t like to be submissive – he wasn’t used to it.  Gus didn’t care about the sex aspect as much as he cared about the head game part.  He intended to be the master there.  So he let Toby decide who would do what until he thought Toby was getting too confident, and then Gus would give him a night that would leave no doubt who was calling the shots.

That had changed somewhat in Toronto.  After Toby’s revelation that he knew of Gus’ relation to Rafe, Gus had had to tread very carefully.  He couldn’t afford to push Toby too far or he might let the information out.  On the other hand, he couldn’t let Toby think he was gaining superiority over Gus, and that’s exactly what Toby was thinking.  The combination of the information about Gus and his newfound closeness with Nick (Toby thought the incident with the pictures showed he was becoming Nick’s confidant) was making Toby dangerously arrogant.  He started being bossy, handing jobs to Gus that the Spaniard had gotten rid of months ago. 

So Gus shut him down.  No one ever got the upper hand on him.  He was submissive to Toby for three days…well, three nights – the whole time they were in Toronto.  Gus bent his head over Toby whenever there was an opportunity.  Toby accepted it as his due but stopped Gus from completing the act with his mouth.  He wanted more.  He wanted to show Gus who was boss.  Gus accepted everything Toby did and didn’t make a squeak about the fact that he wasn’t getting much in return.  Finally, Toby relented and gave Gus some satisfaction because, although he wanted to show himself to be the master…he wanted to be a sympathetic one.

Gus let him think that for three days…until they got to Chicago.  They did all the required tasks to get everyone settled in and happy.  Then they retired to their room.  Gus asked Toby if he wanted to shower first.  Toby told Gus to go ahead, and then he took his turn.  When he came out of the bathroom, he expected to find Gus in bed waiting for him.  Instead he found him fully dressed standing at the door with his room key in his hand.

“Where are you going?” Toby asked in surprise.

“Out,” said Gus.

“But I thought…you know…that we’d stay in tonight.”

“Why?” asked Gus, adopting a hurt tone.  “So you can treat me like a whore some more?”

Toby was taken aback.  “I don’t treat you that way.  Gus, what’s the matter?  Let’s talk about this.”

“Why?” said Gus again.  “So you can throw it in my face that you’re my boss?”

“What?  I’ve never…”  Toby stammered.  “I mean, I am your boss…in name…but I think of us more as partners.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Gus in a dismissive tone, and he turned to the door.

“Don’t go,” pleaded Toby.

“Are you ordering me not to…Boss?” asked Gus.

“No,” said Toby, “Of course not.  I’m just wondering why you want to.”

Gus reached into his jacket pocket.  He pulled out his hand and opened it, showing Toby two condoms.  He shrugged and replaced them.

“No,” wailed Toby.  He grabbed the room key out of Gus’ hand and placed himself between Gus and the door.  “Don’t go.  Stay here.  I’ll prove I don’t think you’re a whore.  I’ll prove it.  I’ll show you.  I’ll be the whore.”

Gus put his hand on Toby’s face.  “Why does anybody have to be the whore?” he asked softly.

Toby moaned and put his arms around him.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he said over and over, as he undressed Gus and then worshipped him for the rest of the night.

Yes, Toby would do anything Gus said, but Gus didn’t want to cash any of those chips on the issue of Nick and Mel.  So he decided to go to Tofu instead.