"So, I'm in love," I declared as I sat in the makeup chair. Lyndsey, my stylist, rubbed some moisturizer into my face. This was the only part that ever felt good.
"How many times does that make today?" she asked. I wrinkled my nose.
"Four, but that's not important. This last time was real. She's all that."
"Is it the Sun Maid Raisins girl again? Because, Nick, I gotta tell ya...she ain't real. You can't hump a computer."
I snorted. "Who would do that?"
Okay, so there was that ONE time...
I saw her give me a look in the mirror.
"No. We have a new wardrobe chick. She's my new girl. We're like this," I explained. I held up two fingers.
Lyndsey made a face. "Rhoda?"
"Is that her name?"
Lyndsey grabbed the huge bucket of makeup that she smeared all over me every night.
"You're in love with her and you don't know her name?"
"I was just thinkin' of calling her legs. Or tits."
I made a squeezing motion in the air. That elicited a grunt and a rough smack to my face of the thick goo.
"Men."
"Tell me about it."
I looked in the mirror. Dee had just walked in. Even though all the stylists were really supposed to be on equal footing, Dee seem to have an edge up.
"What's wrong with men?" I complained.
"Don't move your mouth," Lyndsey said. My eyes widened, but she motioned to her hand.
"I don't want you eating makeup this time."
I clamped my lips shut. Dee watched Lyndsey work on my face.
"McLean's drooling out in wardrobe. Have you taken a look at that new girl?"
Lyndsey smiled. "Nick and I were just talking about her. Obviously she's his flavor of the day."
Dee snickered. "Funny. I think McLean wants a scoop of that too."
Now they had my interest. Their feminist mumbo jumbo had taken on a great deal of importance. I turned my head to look at Dee and Lyndsey let out a cry of protest.
"We have ten minutes before soundcheck!" she complained. I waved my hand in the air.
"We're always late. Backstreet time," I said. "What's this about AJ?"
Dee smirked. "I'm not getting in the middle of this. I know nothing."
She tapped her pencil against my forehead.
"Now sit here like a good boy and get your makeup on."
She got up and headed off to parts unknown. I plopped back in my seat, spread my legs wide, and pouted.
While I was trapped in the chair, AJ was probably putting his 'bad boy' moves on her. And checking out that great rack. We both had a similar appreciation for a jiggle parade.
I looked at myself in the mirror. The 'stache was going to help me in this battle. What AJ didn't realize was that pretty boy beat bad boy every time.
"Alright," Lyndsey declared ten minutes later. "You're free. Go rock soundcheck."
I was wearing my Celtics jersey. Of course I was going to rock soundcheck. And the concert.
But after all that, I was going to get Rhoda up to my hotel suite. I'd order up some room service, lavish her with some wings and wine and then...
I was so going to rock her world.
Sex Angel was kneeling in front of me changing the buckle on my belt for the fourth time. We were having a hard time choosing between the one shaped like a skull and the one shaped like a cassette tape. Well, that was the excuse anyways.
Nick suddenly came buzzing out of the make up room, his face all covered with goopy crap and his hair super gelled. He looked like he just got out of bed. “Yeah, it’s soundcheck time, so you’re done in wardrobe now!” he called excitedly as he ran in. He stopped short when he saw Sex Angel kneeling in front of me, touching my belt region.
I beamed.
Sex Angel stood up. “Wear the skull,” she said. With a smile and a wink, she turned away and disappeared somewhere backstage.
I looked at Nick. He was scowling. “I see you met Rhoda,” he commented.
“Is that her name?”
“Yeah-huh,” Nick responded.
“Rhoda, huh?” I asked, glancing in the direction that her impossibly long legs had carried her. I snorted, “Rhoda, I’ll ride her!” I grinned and looked back to Nick. His face had darkened.
“C’mon you chuckleheads,” Howie called from the side of the stage.
“Oh look, hair number 247 got perfectly set finally,” I joked. Nick and I had this thing about Howie spending too much time with his hair and the whole numbering of each strand on his head thing… but today Nick didn’t look amused.
I followed Howie onto the stage, Nick on my heels. Brian was already out there, toddling around after Baylee, who was playing catch with a fan. The fans laughed as Baylee beamed from under the mop of curls that graced the top of his head.
The kid looked like an overgrown poodle.
Nick shoved around me and bounced across the stage energetically, his shoulder accidentally banging into mine with force. The fans in the room squealed as Nick shot by them, arms spread wide like he was a bird. He hooked around and dropped to his knees, slid across the stage floor toward Baylee and wrapped his arms around the kid.
“He’s such a show off,” Howie muttered.
“No shit,” I answered.
Then I noticed Rhoda sneaking around from the backstage door to our left. In the time it had taken for us to get on stage, Rhoda had pulled on one of our tour shirts. She’d cut the neck out of the shirt and rolled the sleeves up so it looked like a low cut tank. My face, I noticed, was plastered on one of her breasts.
That. Is. Fucking. Hot. As. Hell.
Nick looked up, saw me staring, and turned to see Rhoda. He looked back at me as he stood up, then turned back to her.
Rhoda waved.
Nick and I both waved back.
“Is that Rhoda?” Howie asked.
“Yeah,” I answered.
Howie laughed, “Oh no,” he said, “Do I detect lust in your voice?” he joked.
I looked at him, “Oh hell yeah you do,” I answered, “Did you see the rack on that? Mm-mmm,” I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively and licked my lips.
Howie laughed, “Yeah, Leigh noticed her and told me if I looked too much she’d put me on a hiatus.”
“A hiatus?” I asked. Howie smirked. “Ohhh,” I snorted. “Don’t expect me to feel bad for you. It’ll be a lot quieter without you two going at it in the next hotel room every night like you were in friggin’ Japan…”
“We didn’t know the walls were so thin, you should’ve said something sooner,” he reprimanded me.
“What good would that’ve done?” I demanded.
Howie smirked, “We would’ve screamed more interesting things.”
“Sick D,” I said, pretending to be disgusted.
Then I realized Nick had disappeared. Where the fuck was he?
Justin came out from backstage and started handing us our microphones. The fans were screaming. I looked around the auditorium as Brian rounded up Baylee and handed him off to Leighanne, who was hovering by the sidelines of the stage. Howie and I made our way to our microphone stands, but Nick was still MIA.
He better not be anywhere near my Sex Angel… I thought bitterly.
Justin pointed, counting us. “What the hell, this group keeps getting smaller and smaller… Now there’s only three of you? Where is Nick?” he looked around.
“He’s over there.” Brian pointed to the back of the room, where Nick was standing with Sex Angel. He was gesturing to the crotch of his pants, running the sides of his hands along the seam line.
You little rat bastard, I thought, Don’t waste your time… She doesn’t want you. She wants me.
