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They worked until one o’clock and then stopped for lunch.  Nick just did not want to go through the whole discussion of his weight again, so he grabbed a bottle of water and went to one of the conversation areas.  Toby Gray followed him over and offered to get him a plate of lunch.  There was pasta, said Toby, it looked good.  Or he could make Nick a sandwich.  Or what about salad?  Toby had seen a bunch of different varieties.

“He can share mine to start,” said the voice that had whispered in Nick’s ear earlier. 

Toby and Nick turned to see Melody standing behind them, balancing a guitar in one hand and a plate of vegetables in the other.  A can of Coke rested precariously on the edge of the plate.

Nick stood up and reached to take the plate from her.  Melody shifted her shoulder slightly and handed him the guitar instead.  Nick looked over her shoulder and saw other people watching them.  He was glad he hadn’t reached for the food.

“Yeah, Toby,” he said, “We’re just gonna graze here.  You could maybe bring some more veggies in a bit.  He turned to Melody.  “And what about a dip?”

Melody’s eyes slid sideways to Toby and then ingenuously back to Nick.  “That’d be good,” she said with a smile.  Then over her shoulder to Toby, “and maybe some of those whole wheat crackers if you’re making a trip.” 

Melody stepped in front of the personal assistant and set the plate down on the table.  “I wanted to ask you about the chords in Bridge to Nowhere,” she said to Nick, dismissing Toby from her life.

Toby pressed his lips together and headed for the catering tables.  What a bitch! he thought.  He didn’t mind fetching stuff for Nick.  That was his job, after all.  But for her?  Whole wheat crackers, indeed!

“What about the chords?” asked Nick.  He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to know how to answer the question.

“Nothing,” said Melody, smiling.  “I just wanted to get rid of him.  I hate people that talk about food all the time.”

Nick wasn’t sure what she meant.  He felt he should defend Toby.  “Well, I’m kind of outta shape,” he said, patting his stomach.

“That’s your business.”

“Well, I should be more fit for the tour.”

Melody shrugged.  Up to you.

“Are you on a diet too?” asked Nick, motioning to the plate of vegetables.  He wondered what you would have to do to be as thin as she was.

Melody laughed.  “I hate to tell you, but I could eat every scrap of food on that table and I wouldn’t gain an ounce.”

Nick looked longingly at the food table.  “I wish I had your metabolism,” he said with a sigh.

“Yeah, well, I wish I had your eyebrows,” said Melody, reaching for a carrot. 

Nick held the plate out to her, then he took one himself and sat back in his chair.  “So Geordie’s in rehab?” he said.

“Yes,” said Melody, wondering why Nick didn’t know that.  Not that he should know that, it was a private thing, after all...but you would think Rafe would have… She sighed.  More evidence of the rift between the two men.

Nick was staring at a point in space.  Melody wondered if he was reliving the bad times of AJ’s downfall.  But that's not what Nick was thinking about.  He was wondering why Melody knew all this stuff he didn’t.  He wondered whose side she was on.  He wondered if there were really sides to be on or if he was just making trouble. 

“Tell me what you think of the album,” he said.  “Honestly!”

Toby stood by the food table watching the two of them.  He couldn’t hear what Nick said to her, but suddenly, Melody sat up straight and started talking with her hands.  The words were still coming out of her mouth, but her hands got involved too, swirling through the air.  Nick sat forward in his chair, hanging on her every word, nodding and smiling and making the occasional comment.  His hands started dancing too.  Toby watched Rafe watching them out of the corner of his eye. 

“Hurry up,” Toby hissed, and he grabbed the plate from the server.  He headed back to the sofa.  He saw Rafe heading in the same direction.

Both of them were forestalled in whatever it was they were going to do by the arrival of Chris Sandoval, who swept into the room and immediately attracted the attention of everyone.  Blaine and Rashad had been heading to Nick and Mel anyway.  They could see they were talking about music, and they wanted in on the conversation.  Chris spotted them and then the blond head and made a beeline for them.  Everyone arrived at the same time.  Rafe immediately tried to take control but was brushed aside by Tofu.  He knew who he was working for, and it wasn’t Rafe Ariando.  It was Nick Carter.

Rafe stepped back and let the musicians bond.  He knew when to push and when to step away.  He cursed Geordie Baker for his weakness for Jack Daniels and nose candy.  Rafe knew he could control Baker, even with his problems.  Chris Sandoval was a wild card.  He had a reputation for being a real fun guy on tour but not a big fan of management.  That was not what Rafe wanted.  He didn’t want someone out there whispering in Nick’s ear that maybe Rafe wasn’t God after all.

Rafe let them chat for a bit while he watched the caterers clean up.  Not bad for a first day, he thought. All the wiring was in; the mikes and instruments were set, and Scott seemed satisfied with the soundboard.  All the furniture had been set up; Tom and Murray had questioned the need for the conversation areas, but Rafe just waved them off, telling them that was why he was a genius and they were not.  The workout room was ready to go.  He’d get Nick started on that tomorrow.  Jeff Blackwell was going to double as a personal trainer as well as Nick’s bodyguard.

Another stroke of genius, thought Rafe.  He had been interviewing for both positions, and when he went to talk with Jeff, he met him at the gym.  Rafe liked to interview people on their home turf.  He felt like he got a more accurate read on them.  People were always nervous in his office.  But he liked that too, when he needed to use it.  Jeff had been working out, and just as an ice-breaker, Rafe asked him to describe his routine.  They got talking about that, and Rafe was impressed with Jeff's knowledge and skill. 

"I don't know what position I'm interviewing you for anymore," Rafe laughed. 

Jeff said that it didn't matter, he could do both.  That seed germinated in Rafe's head overnight, and when he called the next day to offer the bodyguard job to Jeff, he asked him to be the trainer as well.  The substantial increase in salary made Jeff accept with alacrity. 

Rafe was delighted to have got two positions filled for the price of one and a third.  He also thought Nick might be more inclined to work out, if he had someone who was going to be there all the time, not just ride his ass and listen to him whine for an hour and then go away until the next day.  And someone needed to ride that boy's ass!  He was sloppy and out of shape, sporting a paunch that no one in their mid-twenties with an ounce of self-discipline should have.

Rafe wandered over to the now-empty food table.  He signaled to Tom and his gofer, who started putting boxes up on it.  He called everyone to attention and motioned to Tom, who reached into one of the boxes and pulled out a t-shirt.  It was beige, and in big, bold, dark brown letters on the front, it said DCMN.  A name was embossed on the left breast.  In the three business days since Melody had first suggested the album title, Rafe the idea genius had Murray the detail man arrange for personalized t-shirts for the crew. 

“This is the rehearsal t-shirt,” said Rafe, “and it’s your pass into this building.  Don’t sell it on e-bay until rehearsals are done.”  Laughter greeted this remark.  “We’ve done good work today,” he went on.  “We’re all set up and ready to go.  It’s a great beginning to what I know will be a great tour.”  Then Rafe raised his coffee cup.  “Don’t Call Me Nicky,” he said, toasting the tour. 

Any of the crew who still had cups or bottles raised them.  The rest raised a hand.  “Don’t Call Me Nicky,” they repeated.

“Let’s get to work,” said Rafe, nodding at Tom to start handing out the t-shirts.  The gofer handed them one-by-one to Tom, who called out the names.  The crew edged forward in anticipation.

Melody looked over at Nick.  Hadn’t he wanted to say anything?  She thought maybe he had.  He was glaring at Rafe, and there was a flush on his cheeks.  Melody picked up his water bottle and hers and walked over to him.

“You’re smart,” she told him, tipping back the bottle and taking a drink.

Nick looked at her.  That wasn’t a sentence he heard very often.  “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Letting Rafe do his little thing here by the coffee,” explained Melody, waving her hand at the area like it was nothing.  “Saving your opening remarks for the stage.”

Nick looked at her.  Was she making fun of him?  No, she wasn’t, he decided.  She was supporting him.  He nodded at her and smiled and thought, oh crap, now I have to think of something to say.  He stood up and turned for the stage.  “Okay, let’s rock and roll.” 

Behind him, he heard Melody say, “Perfect.”

The musicians followed Nick to the stage.  They wanted to make some music today, even just a bit.  Tom came up to them and presented them all with their t-shirts.  They weren’t expected to wear them, of course, but Murray thought they might like them as souvenirs.  He was sorry about Mel’s, it was a little big, but it had been kind of a rush order, and so they had just ordered X-Large for everyone.

Rashad held up the t-shirt in front of Melody.  “Put a belt on this and some high heels, and you’ve got yourself a nice, little cocktail dress,” he said, laughing.  Blaine and Chris joined in and after a moment, so did Tom.

“What are high heels?” asked Melody.  This brought even more laughter. 

Nick grinned at her and started to laugh too.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rafe watching them.  “Um, can we do one song…just to kick the whole thing off?” he asked.

His musicians nodded.

“Do Alias Me,” said Blaine.  “We can all keep up on the melody for that.” 

They all nodded again.  Alias Me was going to be Nick’s tour de force, this album’s Do I Have to Cry For You, a slower song, but definitely a rock song, an emotion-packed soul barer that showcased his range.  It would let them all know that Nick Carter was in the building.

The crew looked up from trying on their t-shirts when they heard the tuning of the guitars.  Tofu ran his fingers down the keyboard, and Scott Thornton moved like the wind to his soundboard.

“Um…” Nick took the microphone from the stand.  “I’d just like to say a few words.”  All eyes turned to him.  “Um…Rafe said all the stuff you really needed to hear, I guess…” 

He scratched his head.  There was a pause.  Everyone waited.  Nick looked around at his musicians.  They were ready. 

“So I just want to say…Let’s rock and roll.”  He raised his hand and sliced it down through the air, signaling the music to begin.

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

“Yeah,” said Nick to Tamara, “we got to make music.”