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The reason Melody didn’t find the ladies room was because there wasn’t one. 

“I’m telling you, Mart, it’s the friggin’ dark ages with these men.” 

Melody was unwinding after the long day with a glass of wine and the telephone.  Her best friend since kindergarten, Martha Jane Hanratty, now Martha Jane Connors, lived on the other side of the country.  The two women had researched every long distance phone plan there was and had come up with one that allowed them to get the most talking done for the least amount of money.

Martha Jane had two small children and a husband she adored.  But she didn’t adore her husband’s job, which uprooted the family every three or four years and placed them somewhere else, someplace where Martha Jane had to start all over again, building friendships and social structure for herself and her children.  She thanked God every day that she had maintained her ties to Melody Jones. 

“You mean they didn’t see that there needed to be a ladies room,” asked Martha.

“No,” said Melody, “they didn’t see that there didn’t need to be one.”

Martha Jane expressed her confusion, and Melody explained.  She had finally located the bathrooms.  They were unmarked.  She had walked past them twice, thinking they were closets.  There were two…each one with a toilet and a sink and a lock on the door.  So what the hell difference did it make who went into each room?  Tom Wilson had tried to fill the space left in the air after Nick and Rafe’s initial confrontation by fussing…fussing over Melody and her toileting needs.  He talked about reserving one of the bathrooms, getting a sign for the door. 

"Not necessary," said Melody, "It’s a bathroom.  There’s a lock on the door." 

Toby Gray, who had followed Nick over to them, jumped on the Bathroom Bandwagon.  Maybe they could have a sign that she could flip over when she wasn’t in there, and then people would know the men could use it.

“Or maybe the fact that the door is open and I’m not in there will be enough of a clue,” said Melody, losing patience.  Was this the way it was going to be? she wondered.  Every time there was tension, it would be deflected by pointing out that Melody was a woman?

Martha Jane laughed.  “I can just see you, Mel, your little fists clenched at your side, all ready to do battle.”

Melody laughed.  “Well, you know how it is…and then, of course, there’s the whole height issue.  I’m not just the woman, I’m the little woman.”

“The little, scrawny woman,” added Martha Jane.

They laughed together.

“Tell me about Nick,” said Martha Jane.

Melody sighed and started talking.  Martha Jane listened carefully to the seemingly random musings and put together a picture of Nick from Melody’s viewpoint.  He was a nice kid, tried hard, wanted people to like him.  He wanted to be grown up, but he wasn’t sure what that meant.

“And you can tell that he’s used to getting what he wants by acting like a kid.  He’s trying to break the habit, but he’s got a ways to go on that.  He was dressed a little better today, though.”

And he was talented.  From what little they had been able to do, Melody could see that Nick had a great voice and a good ear for the nuances of music.  And he was willing to listen to what other people said.

“Well, other people but Rafe Ariando.”  Melody described the initial meeting of the two that morning. 

It hadn’t gotten any better during the day.  Rafe fussed around, checking out all aspects of the operation.  Nick hung with the musicians, and they set up microphones and did checks.  As long as Rafe and Nick were in different parts of the building, everything went smoothly.  But when they were together, neither could resist angling for higher ground, trying to prove who was the boss here…who was the star…

“Rafe’s not going on tour, is he?” whispered Melody to Rashad, at one point. 

Rashad shook his head.  “No, we just have to hope we can all survive the next month and then we’ll only see him occasionally.”

Melody thought Nick could handle himself for a month.  And they would all be there to back him up.  Because if Rafe kept going the way he was, he would alienate everyone in the place.  Everyone except maybe Toby Gray. 

“Watch out for that one,” Martha Jane warned. 

“You know it,” countered Melody, and then she went on to describe Nick’s sense of humor and his boyish eagerness to make music.

“And he’s a boob man,” she finished, laughing.

“Every man is a boob man when you’re in the room,” said Mart.  “You got a great rack on your bony, little frame.”

Melody laughed along with her friend.  She knew Mart was right.  Sometimes Melody couldn’t decide whether she liked her breasts or hated them.  Finally, she just learned to live with them.  Learned to live with the fact that very few men she met could describe her face.  Learned to live with the fact that foreplay for men meant playing with her breasts like they were the only part of her body.  Learned to live with the fact that men thought women could have brains or breasts, but not both.  Learned to live with the fact that less-endowed women thought Melody had an unfair advantage in the dating game and held her responsible for anything lacking in their social life.

“And what about his hands?” asked Martha Jane. 

Nick might be a 'boob man', but Melody was a 'hands girl'.  It was the first thing she noticed about a man. If you didn’t have nice hands, it didn’t matter how rich, good looking, smart or well-hung you were - Melody Jones wasn’t interested.  Martha Jane already knew that Melody thought Rafe had nice hands – long, slim fingers and well-manicured nails.

Melody gave a slight gasp, which Martha Jane didn’t miss.  “Mart, he has the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen on a man.  They’re perfect.”

Martha Jane bit her lip.  Uh oh! 

“Don’t worry,” laughed Melody.  “He’s just a kid.”

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

The kid was talking over the day with Tamara.  They had spent the weekend together, and then she had flown out this morning for Vancouver to do a photo shoot for a photographer that was considered ‘difficult’.  She was going to be gone for two weeks.  They had spent Friday night at a club, and they had spent Saturday and Sunday in bed, interspersing rounds of lovemaking with discussions of their apprehensions for the near future. 

Today, they exchanged small talk about her flight and hotel accommodations.  She wasn’t going to meet 'the prick' until the next day.  Nick had tried to counsel her on the weekend to withhold judgment and condemnation until she had actually met the man, but Tamara had heard many horror stories from other models.  When Nick wondered why anyone would work with the guy if he was such a creep, Tamara had just looked at him in astonishment and said, “Because he’s the best.”

At the moment, Tamara was asking about the thorn in his side.  “How was Rafe?  Bad as you expected.”

“Yeah, he was a complete asshole,” said Nick.  “You know, he’s just got to get the message across to everyone that he’s the boss.”

“Is he the boss?” asked Tamara.  She knew that Nick didn’t like Rafe, that he was afraid of him in some way.

“Well, he can think he is, if he wants to,” replied Nick, laughing.  “He can organize the world if he wants to, but he can’t make music, and eventually we’ll get down to that.”

Eventually. 

When would that be? wondered Nick.  He didn’t even know why the musicians had been told to come today.  Most of the day was spent moving out of the way of the techs who were setting everything up. 

He finally found out about the keyboard guy, which was at least a step in the right direction.  They’d been on the stage, stuck there like a bunch of Muppets waiting for someone to shove his hand up their ass and make them talk.  Every few minutes, Scott would say one of their names and they would say ‘Test, test, test…’ until he signaled for them to stop.  Then someone would move a microphone a fraction of an inch, and they’d do it again.  Nick knew it had to be done, but hell…it was boring.

And then Rafe came striding up to the stage, tucking his cell phone into his pocket and grinning from ear to ear.  He beckoned all the musicians in around Nick, as if he had a great secret to impart that only they could hear.  Nick remained seated on his stool, while the others came to him. 

“Great news,” Rafe announced.  “I got Chris Sandoval for keys!”

“You got Tofu?!  Cool!” said Rashad.

“I thought he was doing Justin this summer,” said Blaine.  This was great news, thought the drummer.  Cristofol Sandoval, known as Tofu to his friends, was a great player and a fun guy to have around. 

“He only signed on for the first bit of that,” put in Tom Wilson, who had followed Rafe to the stage.  “He thought there might be artistic differences…and apparently, there were.” 

The musicians kept their poker faces on and didn’t comment.  They knew better than to be indiscreet about major artists.  Who knew when they might be working with them!

Nick knew who Chris Sandoval was, but he’d never heard his nickname.  “Why do they call him Tofu?” he blurted out.  He was pissed that he was getting this news at the same time as everyone else. Shouldn’t Rafe have said something to him first?

“It’s a play on his name,” said Rashad, “and he’s also big into vegetarianism.  He’ll try and convert you.”  He and Blaine exchanged a glance and laughed.  They had both been subjected to the nutrition gospel according to Tofu.  It hadn’t made one whit of difference to their lifestyle.

“Great!” said Nick.  “Another person lecturing me on food.”

Rafe could not let an opportunity like that slip by.  “Well,” he said, eying Nick’s midsection,  “couldn’t hurt.”

“What about Geordie Baker?” Nick flung back.  He was angry that everyone else seemed to know this guy Tofu.  He was sick of being out of the loop, the little pop singer trying to knock on the door of the rock world.  And if Rafe made one more reference to his weight…

“He’s unavailable,” said Rafe, flicking his wrist at Nick, wiping the question from the air.

Nick was just about to say something, when a soft voice whispered in his ear, “Rehab.”

Nick looked over his shoulder.  Melody was studying her thumbnail intently. 

“Can we make some music soon?” said Nick, rising to his feet.

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

“Did he get there today?” asked Tamara, bringing Nick back to the present.

“Yeah, he did.  Right before we left.  Nice guy.  Funny,” said Nick and he told Tamara of their initial meeting.  Of how Rafe had tried to be the boss again and make formal introductions but had been brushed aside by Tofu as he hugged Blaine and then bumped bellies with Rashad.

“Hey, Green Eyes,” he said then, sweeping Melody into a hug and lifting her off her feet. 

Then he set her down, and ignoring Rafe completely, stuck out his hand to Nick.  “Chris Sandoval,” he said, “Call me Tofu.”

“Nick.  Nick Carter.  Nick.”  Nick felt like he was babbling. 

“But never Nicky, right?” grinned Tofu, cocking his finger and thumb like a gun and pointing them at Nick.

Nick nodded.  That was right. 

“Her eyes are brown,” he said and wondered where the hell that came from.

Chris Sandoval threw back his head and roared.  Then he turned to Melody and did the same little gun motion in her direction.  “Score one for the good guys,” he said.

Melody laughed, shaking her head at his antics.  Nick was confused.  Was someone making fun of him again?

Chris explained, “Most guys never notice what color her eyes are…they can’t get past the great set of lungs.”  He swept his hand sideways, as if introducing Melody’s chest to the world. 

Nick blushed beet red and didn’t know what to say.  I never noticed.  Yeah, right!  They’d believe that. 
But it didn’t matter.  Because the next words out of Cristofol ‘Tofu’ Sandoval’s mouth made him a friend of Nick’s forever.  “So when do we get these suits out of here and start making music?”

“So did you get to make music?” asked Tamara.

“Just a bit, but we’re going to do that tomorrow, for sure.  This was kind of a bonding experience, I guess.  We got to meet and get a vibe going.  We got to see everything getting set up, see each person doing their thing.”  Nick paused and then admitted reluctantly.  “I guess Rafe knew what he was doing there.” 

And the little bit of music that they had managed to make had been perfect.  Nick felt that at the end of the day, he had come out ahead of Rafe, after all.  And he thought he had Melody Jones to thank for that.