July 11, 1998
Orlando, Florida
“How are you feeling?”
Jackie Littrell might be the cutest mom in the whole world. Her brown hair with a reddish tint is held perfectly in place with what smells distinctly like Aquanet.
“Very well, thank you. It’s nice to meet you.”
I want to say more, but I can’t. Meeting normal parents has never been my strong suit.
“You take care of my grandbabies, okay?”
This request comes from Harold. I always debated who Brian looked more like, but up close and personal I can tell that the genes in the Littrell family are male dominated. His receding hairline reminds me of Brian’s, but more importantly the smile is all Brian. I can’t not smile looking at the man.
“They’re my top priority, Mr. Littrell.”
“Call me Harold.”
I just nod. Harold looks like he might cry. Jackie wraps wraps her arm around Brian’s and squeezes.
“You were fantastic tonight, honey.”
“Thanks momma.”
“Damnit, lay off, okay? Just lay off. And while you’re at it, leave Aaron alone. If you love us at all, stop milking us for all we’re worth!”
I see Nick tear through the crowd, walking right between AJ and Denise. His face is red all the way to his ears. Jane is dragging Aaron, trying to catch us.
“Nickolas Gene Carter this is no way to talk to your mother! I’ve been your manager for--”
“Well, you’re fired. You’re FUCKING fired! Brian’s done more for me than you have.”
“Is that why he knocked up your girlfriend? If you want to complain about a money grubbing woman, I think you better just look at that huge belly she’s showing off all over!”
The whole backstage area turns quiet, so quiet you can hear a pin drop. Nick’s hands curl into fists and he stops.
I see Leighanne hovering by a large curtain. She actually looks smug, as if Jane has taken the words out of her own mouth.
“Jane--” Brian steps forward. Nick throws out his hand.
“Not your fight,” he hisses.
Brian looks between mother and son. He looks back at me.
“Courtney, why don’t we get you out of here…”
He keeps talking, but I don’t comprehend what he’s saying. A fuzzy memory of being backstage is stirring around in my brain and it’s so overwhelming that I feel like crying. I am terrified. My body tenses, preparing myself…
Preparing myself to faint.
July 12, 1998
“Babies are fine. I think you just have too much excitement for the day. I want you to go home and rest.”
“Bedrest?”
“No, we won’t go that far yet. She just needs to stay calm.”
I almost laugh. Calm? My life is anything but calm. I am flanked on either side by a Backstreet Boy. I watch the lines on the fetal monitor.
“This is all my mom’s fault,” Nick grumbles.
“I didn’t help matters much either.”
“Both of you are going to kill me,” I declare. I watch the nurse remove the monitor. I almost wish I could stay hooked up to it 24/7. That would help alleviate at least one of my worries.
“Why don’t you stay at the apartment?” Brian asks. I shake my head.
“No, I want to go back to the inn.”
“But the apartment’s close to the hospital,” Nick argues. “That’s why we leased---”
He stops. Brian groans.
“We?” I repeat. “Who’s we?”
“No one,” Nick says quickly. I look at Brian.
“I thought you said it was your apartment.”
“It is,” he says, not meeting my eyes. He’s lying. “Kinda.”
“It’s yours,” Nick says. “Brian and I decided to lease it together. We made a whole gameplan while we were sitting in the clink.”
“Seriously?”
I don’t know whether to be furious. On the one hand, at least the two of them are working together. But, on the other hand…
“I’m thinking one of us should stay here for a couple days,” Brian says.
Nick sees the look on my face. I know it’s the only reason he says what he does. He sinks back in his chair.
“I think we should do what Court wants.”
Brian looks at him and then at me. I smile.
“I’ll be fine. You can’t blame me for fainting. I don’t do the whole meet the parents thing. And then having Jane on top of it….” I shift on the bed. I fully believe better beds would heal people a million times faster. Then again, maybe the beds are so uncomfortable to get people to leave sooner. “I’m going back to the inn…”
“You guys are both going. I’ll call if I need you.”
Both of them look like they’re going to argue.
Both of you,” I amend. “I promise.”
