Okay, so nothing happened. Not really. We hung out. We ordered room service for dinner and a movie for entertainment, and we spent the evening watching it in Nick’s suite (yes, his was a suite, and yes, it was fancy).
I know that, at some point, I went back to my own room long enough to change into my pajamas so I’d be more comfortable, and I remember Nick inviting me to stretch out on his bed, since it was huge and a lot more comfortable than the little loveseat I’d been sitting on. It was completely platonic; we lay on top of the covers with at least two feet of space between us. And the next thing I knew...
I woke up to the sound of knocking. Someone was knocking on the door.
In that moment when I became conscious of my surroundings, of the fact that I was sprawled out on my stomach on Nick’s bed, in Nick’s hotel room, Nick got up and went to answer the door. “Hey, so you were in there,” a familiar Kentucky twang drifted into the room. “’Bout time, Sleepin’ Beauty; I’ve only been knockin’ five minutes...”
“Sorry, dude, I friggin’ overslept,” I heard Nick answer. He sounded flustered, which immediately put me in panic mode. What time was it?? I rolled over and sat up, looking around for a clock.
I heard Brian joke, “Ever hear of a wake-up call?”
I would have started spouting excuses, explaining that we hadn’t really meant to go to bed; we’d just fallen asleep during the movie. But all Nick said was, “My bad.”
“Well, we’re headin’ to rehearsal in ten minutes. You gonna be ready?” Brian’s voice got louder, as he came into the room. Realizing I was still in Nick’s bed, in my pajamas, my face bare and my hair probably looking like a rat’s nest, I scrambled off the bed and looked around for a place to hide. “You know Mark’s gonna flip if you make us late the first-” Before I could duck into the bathroom, Brian rounded the corner. “-day...” He stopped, and so did I. Sheepishly, I turned around. Brian Littrell was standing there, staring at me in surprise. His eyebrows shot up, his forehead creasing underneath his wavy bangs. “Well, hello,” he said. “You must be Cary.”
My face was on fire. I could only imagine what I must have looked like, what it must have looked like to him. The new opening act, already sleeping with one of the headliners. I grimaced and nodded. “Yeah,” I rasped, in a voice like a bullfrog’s, all clogged up with sleep. Ew. I cleared it quickly and tried again. “Yeah, I’m Cary.” At least I sounded human that time.
“Nice to meet ya, Cary; I’m Brian.”
I stood there, wishing I could sink through the floor, thinking, Trust me, Brian, I know who you are. You’re my favorite Backstreet Boy, and this is so not how I envisioned myself meeting you for the first time.
After a pause, he added, “I see Nick’s already welcomed you to the tour, but on behalf of all of us... welcome.” He grinned easily enough as he said it, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. They didn’t sparkle and crinkle up at the corners the way they did in interviews, when he was genuinely smiling, and I could see the disapproval in them.
I looked over at Nick, waiting for him to explain, but he didn’t say anything to defend my honor. I wanted to tell what had happened, but all I managed to say was, “Thanks. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
Brian nodded and turned back to Nick. “Get yourself together and meet us down in the lobby in ten.” To me, he offered a distant, “See ya later,” and then he walked out again.
As soon as the door closed, I rounded on Nick. “What was that?!” I cried, my voice rising shrilly. “Why didn’t you tell him we just fell asleep watching a movie? He thinks we slept together!”
Nick grinned sheepishly. “Well, technically, we did sleep together. We were on the same bed.”
I exhaled with exasperation. “You know what I mean!”
“Yeah, so? AJ already thinks we hooked up in LA. If they’re all convinced we’re sleeping together, they won’t wonder what you’re doing in my room or on my bus. It’ll make things a lot easier for us.”
“Yeah, for us to sneak around and hide your cancer. Awesome.” My voice was thick with sarcasm. “So not only am I helping you lie to your best friends, but now I have to look like a slut to do it?”
“Not a slut,” Nick corrected quickly, then flashed another impish grin. “A groupie.”
“Ugh!” I felt like crying. Maybe Nick could treat it like one big joke, but I didn’t think it was funny. I am not easy, and it bothered me that Brian and the other guys were going to think I was. I didn’t want to be viewed as just another groupie, another marginally-talented skank to open their show and open her legs afterwards. I wondered how many of those Girlicious girls Nick had slept with, for Brian to make that comment. “I see Nick’s already welcomed you to the tour...”
I glared at Nick, tears threatening. “Well, what if I don’t want to look like your groupie? What if I don’t want to sneak around behind their backs? Maybe I’ll just go explain to Brian myself, tell him the truth about everything.” It was an empty threat; even though I wanted to do just that, I knew I never would.
Nick seemed to know, too. For a second, the smile dropped off his face, and his eyes blazed with anger and a flash of fear, but then the smirk was back. “You wouldn’t,” he said, his eyes narrowing as they looked into mine. “You care about me too much.”
His attitude irked me. He was a stupid, selfish, pompous, pig-headed ass. “If I really cared about you, I would tell them,” I shot back. “I wouldn’t be here, helping you keep secrets, helping you kill yourself to do this tour.”
“You know, you’re cute when you’re mad,” he said, still grinning at me, acting like he hadn’t heard a single word I’d said.
I’d had enough. I turned without another word and stalked toward the door. He chased after me.
“Cary, wait! Hang on.” He caught my arm and wheeled me around to face him again. “You know I’m just messin’ with you, right?” He looked me in the eye, his face serious again. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to embarrass you or nothin’. I can tell the guys we’ve never hooked up, if you want me to. I just don’t think they’ll believe me, and if they start asking too many questions...” He trailed off, and I could see the uncertainty, the fear, in his eyes again.
I looked straight into them. “You need to tell them the truth.”
“I will, eventually. Just not yet. C’mon, Cary,” he pleaded, “we’re here; we’re so close. Let’s give this a shot and see how it goes. I got you this gig; now it’s your turn to help me.”
Had he forgotten the three weeks I’d spent being his live-in nurse, maid, and cook? I’ve been helping you, Nick, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud. I knew what he meant. He’d given me the opportunity of a lifetime to tour with him, and in exchange, I’d given him my word. I couldn’t back out now. And truthfully, I didn’t want to bail. The first show was tomorrow night. I wanted to be there. But afterwards... the next day... when he was due to start his next cycle of chemo... that’s what I was dreading.
“Caaaaaawee...” Nick sing-songed in this weird, high-pitched baby voice. “Pweeeeeeeeaze?” He gave me a big, cheesy grin that showed all of his teeth. He was trying to be cute again. It was endearing and obnoxious at the same time, but in the end, I guess it worked.
I sighed. “Fine. Whatever. But even if you’re not gonna tell them the whole truth, at least tell them the truth about us - that we are not sleeping together.”
“Right. We just... fell asleep... together...” Nick grinned again.
I gave him a playful push. “You’re an ass.”
“You know you love me,” he replied, still grinning. “You better go get dressed if you wanna come watch our rehearsal. You got five minutes, or we’re both dead.”
Five minutes? Five minutes to make myself presentable for the Backstreet Boys? Wonderful... just wonderful. But there was no way I was missing out on that rehearsal, so I scurried back to my own room and got ready in record time.
***
Okay, so it took me more like fifteen minutes than five, and Nick and I were ten minutes late getting downstairs. I primped in the elevator, trying to fix my hair, which I’d been forced to pull back into a messy bun, and my makeup, which I’d smeared on in a matter of minutes. At least I looked better than I had when Brian had walked in on me, but that didn’t make me feel much better; I was still incredibly self-conscious when I stepped out of the elevator.
It didn’t help that everyone else was already in the lobby, waiting for us. “Everyone else” included not only Brian, AJ, Howie, and their tour manager, Mark, but Brian’s and Howie’s beautiful wives and their boys, too. Even with a diaper bag slung over her shoulder and baby James on her hip, Leigh Dorough managed to look polished and put-together. And Leighanne Littrell was so petite and cute, I felt like a giant troll in her midst. They were both incredibly sweet, though, and made me feel welcome, which took some of the awkwardness away.
AJ came over to say hi and introduce me to Howie, the only Backstreet Boy I hadn’t met yet. Howie immediately put me at ease with his warm handshake and friendly smile. His whole demeanor was welcoming, rather than judgmental, and when he said it was nice to meet me, he sounded genuine. I completely understood why the fans had always called him “Sweet D.”
After everyone had finished razzing Nick for being the one to oversleep and make them late, we all went outside. There was a bus waiting to take the guys to their rehearsal space and another car for the two women, who were taking the kids out for a day at the beach. I rode with the guys to the rehearsal hall, where their stage and tour set were ready to go. The four back-up dancers were there, too, and I was introduced to them as well.
It was cool to get a sneak peek of their show, but my favorite part was just watching the four guys together as they ran through their set list and practiced their choreography. Howie was focused and very serious; he rehearsed as if he were performing for a real audience. Brian was just the opposite: laidback and silly. He went through the motions and kept the crew entertained with impressions of the other guys while they sang their solos. AJ was a natural; he made everything look effortless. But I watched Nick the most. He started out strong, and the way he danced, no one could have guessed at what was going on inside his body. His moves were smooth; he oozed sexuality.
As the day wore on, though, I could see him wearing down. He tried to cover it up by messing around with Brian when he was supposed to be dancing, but even if he fooled the rest of them, he didn’t fool me. “Are you okay?” I asked him in a low voice, handing him a bottle of water, when the guys came off the stage for a break.
He was out of breath and sweating profusely, but he nodded. “Fine. Just need to catch my breath.” He chugged some of the water and poured the rest over his head. Between that and the sweat, he ended up looking like he’d just stepped out of the shower.
“Don’t push yourself too hard,” I warned him.
He just shook his head. “I’m not. Chillax, girl; I’m fine.”
You’re not fine, I thought, noticing the denial again, but I knew better than to say anything else.
Nick must have known he was pushing it, too, even if he wouldn’t admit it, because the next thing I knew, he was calling out to their tour manager, “Hey, Mark, how ‘bout letting Cary rehearse her set while we take a little break?”
“Yeah, let’s see the opening act,” Howie agreed almost instantly, shooting me an encouraging grin.
Thank you, Howie, I thought, smiling back. In more ways than one.
So I took the stage next. It wasn’t much different than rehearsing for Idol, but it was still intimidating to look down from the stage and see the four Backstreet Boys sitting there, staring up at me. I forced myself to focus on a spot over their heads as I ran through my three songs, afraid that making eye contact with any one of them would completely throw me off.
When I was done, they whooped and hollered and applauded, Nick the loudest. I felt myself beaming as I bounded down from the stage, flushed from the heat of the stage lights and the nervous thrill of performing in front of them. Tomorrow night, I realized, I would do this for real. I would have a whole amphitheater of people applauding me, as I cleared the stage for the Backstreet Boys to take it.
And tomorrow night, I thought, eyeing Nick, we would all see if he was really “fine” enough to do a whole show... or not.
***
