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After Chicago had come Detroit and an emotional reunion between Melody and Martha Jane.  Mart was waiting in the hotel lobby, and the two women hugged so long and so tightly, it made the men present uncomfortable.

They finally stepped back from each other and Melody introduced her.  “This is Martha Jane Connors,” she said, wiping a bit of moisture from the corner of her eye.  “My bestest, bestest friend since kindergarten.”

The men acknowledged the introduction and then left the women to it.  Mart had left the kids with Bob and was spending the night at the hotel with Mel.  She shadowed her throughout the day and stood offstage at the concert.  She spent the whole next day with her.  Nick had another event to attend that night, and his bus wasn’t leaving until that was over, so that gave the two friends a whole extra day.

If Mart thought that she would get any great revelations about the relationship between Nick and Melody by watching them together, she was wrong.  They were rarely together, and they were never together alone.  Mart didn’t think her presence was the reason for it.

Nick was kept busy.  He barely had time to see his hotel room before he was whisked off by Jeff and Toby.  They went to a radio station and then on to a television facility.  From there, they headed to The Palace, this stop’s venue, where Jeff put Nick through his aerobic paces. 

There had been so many requests for interviews that Nick had even allowed one during his workout.  He thought it was for a newspaper and was surprised when the reporter started setting up a microphone and tape recorder.

“This won’t work,” he said.  “I’ll be puffing and panting and grunting and groaning.  I’ll sound like an animal.”

“It will be okay,” said the reporter, a woman who figured tape of Nick groaning would be downloaded so often it might crash the whole Internet.  “I’ll say at the beginning what you’re doing.”

Nick agreed reluctantly.  “If it doesn’t work out…” he said.

“It will,” said the reporter, confidently, “but if you’re not happy with it, I won’t use it.”

So Nick acquiesced, and the reporter did a sound check and then pulled up a chair.  She opened her notepad and then spoke into the microphone.

“I’m backstage at The Palace, where busy rock star Nick Carter is preparing for tonight’s sold-out concert.  Mr. Carter has been kind enough to allow me to interview him while he is working out with his trainer.  So Nick, do you enjoy working out?”

“I hate it,” grimaced Nick, “with a passion.  But you gotta do what you gotta do.  And if I didn’t have this routine built in, man, I’d be a…”  He couldn’t think of a word, so he tossed his head and shrugged.  Little beads of sweat flew off his forehead and made the reporter squirm in her seat.

“So life on the road is carefully orchestrated for you?” she asked.

“It has to be,” puffed Nick.  “I don’t give a…I don’t care about anything but the music…and performing…getting out there with the fans.  So if someone didn’t take care of the details, I’d either eat junk food 24/7 or I’d starve to death.”

The reporter asked a couple more questions about the music and wrapped it up, knowing she had a good interview and wishing she worked in television – because this interview on video would be a classic – the tall blond man with the boyish grin, in a pair of grey sweatpants and a tiny navy tanktop, moving his arms up and down and forward and back as he manipulated the pulleys and bars on the exercise machine, his muscles rippling and making his tattoos dance.

The reporter knew the image was going to feature in her dreams for awhile and that the image, combined with the sincere, self-deprecating responses Nick had given to the questions, would make anyone lick their lips and hit ‘replay’.

Rafe was so bowled over when he heard the tape that he clapped his hands in delight and immediately tried to think of other ‘natural’ areas of the tour he could get Nick interviewed in.  The little grunts and gasps that had accompanied Nick’s answers were earthy and manly, and Rafe knew that women…and men…were creaming themselves all over the Internet.

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

Mel and Mart knew nothing of this.  They spent the day ‘seeing’ Detroit.  They took a bus tour, and Mart learned as much about the city as Mel did.  “I should do this in every city Bob moves me to,” she laughed.

They filled the spaces between highlights with non-stop conversation…about Bob and the kids, about Mart’s work with the PTA, about the concerts, about Rashad and Blaine and Tofu and Gus and Toby…about everybody but Nick.

Finally, when they were seated in a restaurant and had sent the waiter off with their order, Mart broached the subject…and immediately wished she hadn’t.  She hadn’t spoken with Mel since the second day in Toronto.  Mel had been absolutely silent so far today on the subject of Nick.  The last thing Mart knew about them was the estrangement in Toronto.

Mel’s eyes filled with tears, but before they could fall, she shook her head determinedly and regained control.  “It’s like I said, Mart.  We just had to get it out of our system.”

“And it seems to have worked for one of you,” ventured Mart, tentatively.

Melody sighed and then shrugged ruefully.  “Yeah,” she said, “One of us has definitely got the other out of his system.”

“And the other?”

“Time will do that.  It has to.  I can’t let this get in the way of the music.  There’s only a few more weeks to go on this leg of the tour.  Then I can go back to California and regroup…and sleep with every single man I can find until I get this one out of my head.  And then, we’ll start again.”

“Can you hold on until then?” asked Mart.

“I’ll have to,” laughed Mel.  “There’s never a Jase Simons around when you need him.”

Jase Simons showed up in Seattle.

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

The tour left Detroit and headed for Minneapolis.  It was a long bus ride – nearly twelve hours.  They left directly after Nick’s event in Detroit.  It was a corporate-sponsored benefit for a charity – a bunch of business people who threw in a lot of money so they could look philanthropic and have a good excuse for a party at the same time.  Tonight, Nick’s date was the daughter of some big deal in the auto-manufacturing sector.  She was pretty and used to being farmed out as a date for these events.  She had escorted some real creeps in her time and was delighted to be paired this time with such a beautiful, charming specimen as Nick Carter.  She enjoyed the evening thoroughly and flirtatiously offered to extend it.  Nick said apologetically that the bus was waiting to take him on to his next tour stop. 

The daughter expressed her regret at the news and whispered another suggestion in his ear.  Nick declined with thanks, although he was tempted.  Just shows how mature I’m getting, he thought.  The old Nick…Nicky…would have been in a back room in a flash, with his pants down and his hands in her hair.

When he boarded the bus, Mel and Toby were already asleep.  He said goodnight to Jeff and headed for his bed at the back.  He’d only had a couple of drinks, so he was able to resist the temptation to crawl into Mel’s bunk and claim her for his own.

In Minneapolis, he went with Miss Twin Cities to the opening of their Autumn Arts Festival. 

In Calgary, he squired the mayor’s niece to the Cattlemen’s Association Gala.

In each city, the young lady in question inquired politely as to Nick’s intentions and was disappointed to find that they were benign.

Toby took great delight in downloading the photos of Nick and the ladies and showing them to everyone, especially Mel.

Nick was kept so busy he rarely saw Mel.  And when they did see each other, it was all about music.  He kept meaning to ask her about Rafe, but the time never seemed right.  He had mentioned it to the others, and only Toby seemed to think there was any merit to it.  Tofu had mentioned Jason Simons.  Nick hadn’t known about that.  It made him re-think the whole New York club scenario and wonder if Mel was as innocent as she claimed to be.

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

It was in Seattle that Gus made his play.  The long bus rides kept them all separated and there hadn’t been much of an opportunity.  But they were going to be in Seattle for a couple of days.  They arrived early in the morning and went straight to the venue.  Gus and Toby took a car to the hotel and made sure everything was arranged there before they headed back.  They found the stage crew hard at work setting everything up and the musicians backstage watching Mel give Nick a lesson on the electric guitar.  Everyone was laughing and having a good time. The tension between the two seemed to have dissipated a little since Toronto.

When Nick set down the guitar, Tofu and Gus looked at each other.  They nodded slightly.

“Hey Mel, come and try this,” called Tofu.

“What?” she said.

“It’s one of those personality things…Gus found it on the Internet.  You answer questions, and it tells you something about yourself.”

“What did it tell you?” asked Mel.

“It said I have a problem with commitment,” answered Tofu.

Mel laughed.  “Commitment?  You have a problem with a second date.  But we didn’t need any test to tell us that.”

“C’mon, it’s fun,” said Gus.  “All you have to do is choose between two words.  I’ll say ‘table or chair’ and you pick one.”

“What’s the difference?” asked Mel.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Gus.  “You just pick one.  You say the first thing that comes into your head.  You don’t even think about it.  We go really fast.”

“Okay,” said Mel.  “What the hell…might as well.  Where do we do this?”

“Sit here,” said Gus, pointing to a chair.  “Now relax and close your eyes.”

Melody folded her hands in her lap and tipped her head back.  She closed her eyes.

“Now, empty your mind,” said Gus.

“That’s not such a difficult task,” laughed Mel.  “Not much in there to start with.”

Gus told her to take a couple of deep breaths, and then he started.

“Remember.  Just pick one.  Don’t think about it.  Green or blue?” 

“Blue.”

“Peas or carrots?” 

“Carrots.”

“Tall or short?” 

“Tall.”

“Pavement or park?” 

“Park.”

“Black or white?” 

“Black.”

“Sweet or sour?” 

“Sweet.”

“Cats or dogs?” 

“Dogs.”

“Ocean or forest?” 

“Ocean.”

Gus looked over at Tofu.  Tofu nodded.  Everyone had stopped talking and was listening to Mel’s responses.  She was in a trance, unaware of anything but the sound of Gus’ voice.  He peppered her with questions.

“Roses or daisies?” 

“Daisies.”

“Radio or TV?” 

“Radio.”

“Morning or evening?” 

“Evening”.

“Blond or brunette?” 

“Blond.”

“Table or chair?” 

“Chair.”

“Nick or Rafe?” 

“Nick.”

“Metal or paper?” 

“Paper.”

“Cake or pie?” 

“Pie.”

Gus kept asking the questions, but no one was looking at Mel any more.  They were looking at Nick.  Tofu spread his hands in question.  Does that clarify matters for you?

A commotion at the door made them turn.

“Where’s my girl?” shouted Jason Simons.  Tall, blond Jason Simons, who was carrying an armful of daisies and dragging a dog behind him.

Mel blinked and opened her eyes.  She had been mesmerized by the sound of Gus’ voice.  It took her a moment to come back.  When she did, the first thing she saw was a cocker spaniel standing at her feet, wagging its tail so enthusiastically that it looked like the dog was having a seizure.

“Grover?” said Melody in a bewildered tone, and the dog leapt into her lap.

Aw shit, thought Gus, as Nick turned on his heel and left the room.