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Nick changed his mind several times about his plan to “out” his relationship with Mel at the Grammys.  He would get his courage up, and then his brain would start niggling at him.  Was that the right place?  Would it seem like a publicity stunt?  Did anyone want to hear stuff like that on that night?  Would anyone even be listening?

And should he tamper with a relationship that seemed to be working so well?  Now that it was an open secret amongst the musicians, they didn’t have to watch what they said quite so much.  They didn’t have to duck out of dinners at different times, so it would look like they were going their separate ways.  Tofu made the most of it.  He used Mel’s room now for his encounters.  After the first time, when Toby walked in on him and his chosen one with Mel’s breakfast cart, they communicated a little better about the arrangements.

Toby had climbed aboard the Nick-and-Mel Train with enthusiasm.  One night on the bus, when Mel was getting ready to climb into her bunk, Toby said, “Why don’t you...?” and motioned with his head to Nick’s room.

“We don’t…we wouldn’t…on the bus…it’s…”  Mel stammered out the words.

“So don’t ‘do’,” said Toby.  “Just ‘be’.”

From then on, Nick and Melody slept together on the bus, cradled in each other’s arms, snatching precious moments of peace.  And Toby and Jeff sat and played dominoes or cards and smiled secret little smiles of conspiracy.  Neither one thought the other was a spy.  It never crossed Toby’s mind once that it would be Jeff…and Jeff was the one person who knew for sure it wasn’t Toby.  Both of them vowed to themselves that they would burn at the stake before they would reveal anything to Rafe about Nick and Mel.

Just when Nick would decide that he shouldn’t say anything, someone would say something or something would happen and he’d turn his thinking the other way, chastising himself for being a coward.  Mel was his woman…he knew better than to phrase it like that to her…and he wanted the world to know it.  He hated having to put on a smile and escort the various beauty queens to whatever cow-milking festival was happening in any given city.  At the end of the evening, he would thank them graciously and turn them down. 

It was amazing!  They always offered.  In some cases, it was more like a demand.  Nick knew that more than one of them thought he was gay, because they couldn’t believe he was rejecting their advances.

But what about Mel?  In all of the discussions, it was all about what treatment the young men were being given in the media.  But what about the women?  He asked Gus if he could see the file again.  Gus hesitated, and Nick promised that this time he wouldn’t throw it around the bus.  And Gus, don’t tell Mel I asked to see it.

Nick read every article carefully.  And it scared him.  Because Mel was right.  They were treating the men very poorly.  The women seemed to be faring better.  They were tainted with a faint whiff of desperation, but other than that, it seemed to be ‘you go, Girl!’ for being able to get a younger man.

Nick laughed to himself at the promise he had made.  If I win a Grammy… that was a laugh.  Do you think you set the bar high enough there, Nick?  Why not…if I become a shuttle astronaut? Or… if I discover a cure for cancer?  Both seemed as likely as the first. 

The oddsmakers in Las Vegas and the people in the know in the industry agreed…this was Michael Stipe’s year.  Blaine hadn’t been wrong…they did tend to give it to the ‘old guy’.  Especially in a year after they gave it to someone young.  And that had happened last year when Norah Jones wiped out Bruce Springsteen.

But what if…?

Nick talked to Mel about it. 

“I know I’m not going to win or anything, but what if…?  Should I plan something to say?  I’m not good ‘off the cuff’ but I don’t want it to look like I prepared something, thinking I was going to win.”

Mel told him to think about what he would say.  He could always use it in an interview.  Instead of “I’d like to thank my producers” or whatever to an audience, he could say to a reporter, “I was fortunate to have great producers on the album.”

“How many speeches do you think I should prepare?” he asked deadpan.  “After all, I’m nominated three times.”

“Oh, I think one should cover it,” said Mel, with a grin.  “You can always improvise the other two.”

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

During the month between the nominations and the awards, life continued as usual.  They played, they sang, they traveled.  The concerts were all sold out now, with the scalpers making out like bandits.  The Grammy nominations had taken care of that.  They still had the most fun when they were on stage.  But it seemed like, when they were offstage, the whole Grammy spectacle intruded more and more.  More reporters pressed for interviews and all they wanted to talk about was the Grammys.  Nick got pretty sick of predicting that he’d be a loser.

Project Mel was complete.  The shoes, the jewelry, the dress…had all been purchased.  Makeup and hair stylists had been booked.  Her performance outfit had been decided on, rust colored leather pants and the vest Nick had given her for Christmas.  Gus and Toby ran mock drills with Mel and Nick’s clothes to make sure that they packed everything they needed for the changes. 

Rafe almost threw a monkey wrench into things when he suggested that maybe Mel wanted a second dress to change into after the performance.  Rafe got the message quickly that that was a no-go.  No one even mentioned it to Mel.

Nick was going for the grown-up but casual look.  There would be no tux…just a shirt and tie and leather jacket.  Gus called it the ‘Just got off the tour bus’ look. 

“It’s perfect,” he told Nick.  “It looks like you cared enough to dress up and come, but that you’re in the middle of a tour and don’t have time for stuff like stylists and designers.” 

Mel was envious of Nick’s simple, comfortable attire, but she laughed when he whispered to her that she could get into his pants after the ceremony.

Rafe was on the phone to them nearly every day.  There were many things to be discussed.  Would Nick present an award?  The Academy asked.  Rafe declined on Nick’s behalf, saying that it was going to be difficult enough to get them there to perform, let alone other things.  They were on tour, after all. In reality, Rafe was afraid to put Nick before the mike.  He’d seen Nick’s performance on other award shows, and he hadn’t been impressed.

The director of the show phoned Rafe and told him that Nick would sing Alias Me…exactly the way it was done on the album.  He understood that there had been some changes on tour…the girl was singing part of it with him.  The director didn’t want that.  This song was nominated as Record of the Year, and he wanted it to sound exactly like it did on the album.  Nick bristled when he heard that, but Mel just shrugged.  It’s one night, she said.  Do what they want.  So Nick agreed.

They flew in the day before.  A three-day break had been built into the tour schedule just for this event. Even if Nick hadn’t been nominated, it was a publicity opportunity too good to miss.  They arrived in time to go to the auditorium for sound checks and rehearsal. 

They laughed when they saw their seats.  There were cut-out pictures of the stars pinned to the back of the seats.  The directors used these to map out the evening…who would have to be retrieved from where…to present or to perform.  It also helped the emcee, comedian Chris Rock, when he practiced his monologue.  He could tell where people would be seated and could plan his movements around the stage.  Mel was a blank head with a question mark on it.

They rehearsed the song.  Mel had to really concentrate to keep her mouth shut.  They had done it together so many times that it was ingrained.  The director seemed pleased with the performance.  There were many other acts to rehearse, so they were moved quickly along.  Gus and Toby staked out their dressing room and brought in the performance clothes.

That night there were pre-Grammy parties.  Nick attended one of the most prominent ones with Howie. Mel went to a different one with Tofu.  Blaine and Rashad brought their ladies to that one.  It was Stevie Ray’s party at Pineapple Ranch.  Mel told Tofu that, when he’d picked out his woman for the evening, he should let Mel know and she would grab a cab back to the hotel.  Tofu told her that he already had his woman for the evening, thank you very much, and that he would escort her home.

Nick got back to the hotel before Mel.  The party had been great, lots of good vibes from people.  He felt accepted as one of them…on his own merits.  There were lots of photographers and reporters.  He was gracious and polite to all of them and tried not to have a drink in his hand when his picture was taken.  But he felt an emptiness inside.  He wanted Mel with him.  Several times, he had turned to say something to her, to comment on someone or something, and then he remembered that she wasn’t there.

So he didn’t stay late.  He and Howie glided through the party, doing all the necessary schmoozing.  Howie was so good at it!  Nick marveled at the ease with which he talked to people.  Nick made noises about turning in early.  Howie suggested that they go for a drink somewhere private.  So they went to the bar in Nick’s hotel, and he spilled his guts about Mel. 

Howie listened carefully.  Nick stated all of Mel’s concerns and how he could sort of see her point but he loved her and he hated the fact that she wasn’t with him tonight.  Howie nodded thoughtfully.

“Got any good advice, D?” asked Nick. 

“I got advice, sure,” replied Howie, “but I don’t have a magic wand.  I mean, I can’t make it all perfect with a flick of the wrist.  You have to decide…decide what’s most important in your life.”

Nick nodded.  “Yeah, I know.  I guess I just want it all.”

Howie laughed and punched his friend playfully on the arm.  “Who knows, Nicky?  Maybe by this time tomorrow night, you will have it all!”

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

Nick was surprised that Mel wasn’t in the room when he got there.  There was no reason she should have been.  She was out at a party too.  Nick would have preferred to go to Stevie Ray’s party, but Rafe wouldn’t let him.  He had to be more visible than that.  Stevie Ray wouldn’t let the press into his private party, even if they had wanted to be there.

Nick paced the floor, waiting.  He turned on the television and flipped through the channels.  Then he turned it off and paced some more.  He thought about getting a drink from the mini-bar but decided against it.  He’d already had a couple this evening.  Finally, he decided to take a shower and go to bed.  He’d have a nice cozy nest built for Mel when she got home, just as she had done so many times for him.

Nick didn’t hear her come in, but he felt the draught of cold air when she opened the bathroom door. 

“Hi, Honey, I’m home,” she said in a teasing voice.

“You’re late,” said Nick.  “Past your curfew, Young Lady.”  They laughed.  “I’ll be right out,” he said.

“Au contraire, mon ami,” said Mel, sliding the shower curtain open and stepping into the tub.

“Hey there,” said Nick, kissing her.  “Welcome home.”  He moved so that she could get wet.

“Soap me, Baby,” she said. 

Nick complied with enthusiasm, running his hands over her body, spreading the soapy lather over her.  “Is this where it gets a little dirty?” he asked.

Mel laughed.  “We’re not very bad, are we, if ‘getting a little dirty’ to us means ‘soap’?”

Nick laughed and used his hands to rinse the soap from her body.  He stopped laughing when she dropped to her knees.  He braced his hands on the wall and tipped his head back, relishing the sensation of her mouth on him.  When he felt himself getting close, he put his hands in her hair and pulled her upward.

“It’s okay,” said Mel, but Nick shook his head.  He wanted to be inside her.  He turned off the water, and they wrapped themselves in towels.  When they opened the bathroom door, the chill of the air conditioner made them both shiver.

“Come on,” said Nick, and they jumped into the bed, still in their towels.  They huddled together until they were warm and dry.  Then they threw the towels out of the bed and made love until they were hot and wet.

“I love you,” whispered Nick, when they lay together afterward.  He didn’t say it very often, because he knew Mel didn’t want him to.  It was a sign of serious commitment and wasn’t part of the ‘game plan’.  She rarely said it to him, but Nick knew that she felt it.

“I love you, too,” Mel whispered back.  She raised herself up on an elbow.  “I have to say this now.”  She traced a finger down the side of his face.  “I love you.  You are the most precious thing in my life…so precious that I would give you up if I had to.”  Her eyes bore into his until he nodded in understanding.  “I had to tell you that tonight…that I love you…”  An impish grin crossed her face.  “…because tomorrow night you’re going to be this big Grammy-winning star, and I’ll just be one of the little people…so I had to let you know while you were still just a nobody.”

“Sure, sure,” laughed Nick, “and if I called you one of the little people, you’d take my head off.”

“I’m not talking ‘height’,” growled Mel playfully, hitting him with a pillow.  “You…gargantuan!”

“Don’t be throwing your crossword puzzle words at me, Lady,” Nick retorted, rolling her onto her back and pinning her arms over her head.  “I know words too…like ‘nuzzle’…”

Melody gasped as his mouth descended to her breast.

“…and ‘lick’…”

Nick raised his head and gave her a devilish grin.  Then he ran his tongue down her body from her neck to her navel.  Melody twitched and moaned.  She jerked her hands out of his grasp and twined her fingers in his hair.

“…and ‘ecstasy’…” he whispered, lowering his mouth over her center and showing her that he, indeed, did know the meaning of the word.