Unbreakable.
It's kind of funny when you think about it. In a way, the Backstreet Boys are broken. I mean, Kevin's gone. We're at least cracked, if not full on broken.
The four of us hadn't been wild about the album name, but Jive had pushed us to use it to assure fans that we weren't going anywhere. Of course, we weren't. Going anywhere, I mean. But unbreakable? The jury was still out on that.
Five months. That's how long the guys and I had been on the Unbreakable tour. We had survived as a Kevin-less quartet through Asia, Europe, and South Africa. Now that we were back in North America, it still felt weird without big Bert around. I kind of thought of myself as that kid from Home Alone. Papa Kev was gone. I was unleashed. I could shave, slap some aftershave on my cheeks and just scream my lungs out.
Not that I did. Shaving was too much work. Howie called it a blonde turd, but I thought my 'stache was pretty dignified.
It didn't seem to be hurting my rep with the ladies.
Speaking of ladies, I had just fallen in love for the third time today. The first time was with our waitress at IHOP. She had given me an extra dollop of whipped butter on my pancakes. In my mind, that was practically like a marriage proposal. The second time was while watching Lara Croft: Tomb Raider. I really liked how Angelina looked in that tight body suit.
Now, I was watching a busty blonde slide my boxing robe onto a hanger and I swear I've never seen anything sexier in my life. She turned and I got a glimpse of her ass in tight, low-slung blue jeans. She gave Lara Croft a run for her money. Only nature made long legs like that.
I had never seen the girl in my life. She had a pass slung around her neck. The laminated pass nestled right between her breasts. I just wanted to take it, swipe it in her cleavage and see if she would pay out.
I refrained. I had learned years ago that wasn't the proper way to say hello to a new member of your staff. Brian tells me it's sexual harrassment. I think he's just worried that someday we'll run out of willing female staffers.
But my track records not that bad.
At least I don't think it is.
I watched the new chick grab Brian's robe and shake it out. She had long nails. I was a sucker for nails. They felt good on my back. They felt good on my...
As my thoughts went south and my tongue stayed tied, AJ walked into the room. I could tell that he had just gotten done in the 'pretty boy' chair. That meant my turn was next. I didn't mind the hair styling, but the makeup...
Ugh.
“Your turn, pretty boy,” I chided Nick as I stepped into the wardrobe area backstage. Nick pulled a face, and, glancing back over his shoulder, reluctantly left the room, with a wistful expression. I rolled my eyes. “Little bit of make up never hurt anyo-Ohhhh.” I’d turned the corner and come face to face with an angel of sex.
“Sweet Jesus,” I muttered.
Starting at the foot, my eyes passed, lets see, stilettos… legs… legs…legs… holy shit, still legs… ass… (paused on ass, I gotta admit)… tight waist, huge breasts, long neck, big sexy mouth, wide fuck-me-fuck-me eyes and brilliantly honey-comb blonde hair.
AKA, my Angel of Sex.
I was salivating. I swear to God.
Sex Angel looked at me. “Hey,” she said.
“Huhhhh--- “
Dee, my stylist, came up behind me and rapped me on the back of the head with a pencil. “Hurry up,” she said, “You’ve got sound check in like fifteen minutes.” She looked at her clipboard.
I looked at Dee. Does she not realize I’ve just found the utopia of sex and I no longer need fans or a job or money or pretty much anything else? Well, maybe just a lifetime supply of condoms would be good, but that's all, thanks.
The Sex Angel grinned at me as Dee muttered something about checking on the progress on Nick’s face. “You’re the wild one right?” she asked.
“Huuhhhh---“ I tried speaking again. Yeah, no, still no words coming out of that throat.
I stared at her, feeling stupid.
She stared back, probably thinking I was stupid.
“Your band mate was just giving me the same look,” she mumbled, “Do I have something in my teeth or something?” she asked, leaning towards me. Her breasts practically fell out of her tight t-shirt.
“I- uh-“
“Hallo!” Brian bounced into the room. “Oh hun, you’re – you’re coming out,” he said, turning red and covering his eyes.
What the fuck is wrong with you BRok? You don’t TELL them when their breasts are showing, you enjoy the show! Fucking married people… Just ‘cos they get sex when ever they want doesn’t mean the rest of us are so fortunate…
Actually it’d been awhile. It’d been too much of a while. We’d all been so damn busy working and stuff that I’d somehow managed to lose track of my social life altogether. I pretty much ate, slept and dreamt Backstreet Boys.
Hopefully I’d be eating, sleeping, and dreaming with Hot Wardrobe Girl.
She stood upright and blushed, “Oopsies,” she muttered and turned away.
Brian raised his eyebrow at me. “What a piece of work she is, huh?” he asked under his breath, not amused by the breast show.
“She’s a piece of work all right,” I said. A masterpiece of artwork, that is, I added in my head. And soon she’s gonna be mine.
