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Chapter One / 2006


Abbey

I found out later that the "spill" was actually a well-calculated, perfectly-coordinated pick-up line, something that he had been using on unsuspecting women for years. But it was much, much later that I learned that. Halloween night in 2006, I was as unsuspecting as any of the rest of the girls' he's used the move on.

I was dressed up as a zombie bride. I was working on wiping away my make-up little bits at a time as I sweated it off, the atmosphere in the club Melly had dragged me to was too much for it. I fanned myself with a coaster I'd hijacked from one of the tables as she twittered around the room, trying to find a spot where she had a good view of him amongst the riff-raff of fans and clubbers below. I remember looking up and waving the coaster towards my face and wondering what in the hell it was that made them all go crazy just looking at him. Was it the blue eyes? The perfectly sculpted hair? The newly-forming muscles?

He swirled his drink and stared down at the crowd absently, both seeing us and not seeing us at the same time.

Melly had grabbed my arm, frantic as all hell because she'd received a private message from someone on some forum she frequented about Nick Carter being at a club downtown. We'd been at a Halloween party some friends were throwing when she got the message on her cell phone, at which time she'd promptly hauled me to the club. "Aren't we a little old to be stalking boybanders?" I'd asked her as she circled the block for a parking spot that didn't cost an arm and a leg but was within stiletto heeled walking distance to the club (she was Catwoman).

"You're never too old for Nick-Fucking-Carter," Melly answered, and she'd whipped the car into a space, practically giving us both whiplash. We'd leaped out and rushed down the sidewalk, her heels clicking and my Converse sneakers slapping. We were about halfway to the club when she panted out, "Besides - I - might not - get another - chance to - to see him!" she'd wailed.

Now here we were inside and although she'd actually laid eyes on the guy, we hadn't been able to get within a hundred feet of him because he was upstairs in the VIP lounge, which was heavily guarded by beefcakes the size of linebackers. I floated along behind Melly as she tried spying on Nick Carter from various angles throughout the club. "I swear to God if I could just get up there... I'd squeeze his asscheek," Melly said, straining her neck.

I laughed, "You would not."

"Would so!"

"Why would you squeeze his asscheek?" I asked.

Melly clicked her fingers in front of my face, "Hello? Have you seen his ass? It's fucking gorgeous."

I sipped my drink, "He's skinnier than I remember him." I squinted up at him as he leaned against the rail, laughing at something some guy that was standing next to him was saying. His eyes wandered across the crowd and for the splittest of moments, I felt them linger on me, and our gazes locked.

"He lost weight," Melly said. She was looking down, having nearly stumbled over someone's malfunctioning costume. "He, like, does nothing but snort coke."

I was still staring into Nick Carter's eyes from across the club. The corner of his mouth turned up as he grinned, and his eyes twinkled. I felt my mouth go dry.

"They're supposedly releasing a new CD this Spring," Melly was going on, "I heard this track that leaked and - well, I don't know, it's kind of -- Are you listening to me?" She looked at me, waved her hand in front of my eyes, and I blinked. She glanced over her shoulder, following my gaze, but Nick had turned away seemingly the instant I'd blinked, and he was back-to us already. She looked back at me. "See what I mean? Squeezable cheeks." She made a hand motion like she was grabbing hold of his ass, then grinned. "God, we have got to get up there, I need to touch him just once in my lifetime, then I can die a fulfilled woman."

I rolled my eyes, but I have to admit there was something about Nick's eyes that were intoxicating.

Melly grabbed my hand, "Look. There's the stairway up to the VIP area," she said, pointing. She licked her lips and took a deep breath, "Abbey... listen to me... follow my lead and stay cool."

I was possibly the least cool person in the entire room.

Melly led the way, the lights reflecting off her skin-tight Catwoman leotard, her hips moving like she really was part feline, and a demure smile on her face. She reached the guard standing at the base of the stairs, "Happy Halloween," she purred, and started up the first step of the stairwell. The guard eyed her, and I could feel his instinct was to block her off but something about her kept him from jutting out her arm. "Bridezilla here is with me," she said, nodding to me, and she continued on up the steps calmly, like she belonged in the VIP section, as I scurried after her.

At the top of the stairs, she paused and waited for me to catch up. I got closer to her, "You're fucking insane, you know that?" I asked.

She grinned.

Nick was sitting in a booth to our right with a group of boisterous people that were all drunk looking and tipping over shot glasses as they laughed and waved their arms in arcing motions as they spoke. Nick was leaning back, his leather jacket loose around his shoulders, his eyes a little bloodshot, mouth wide-open with a laugh. Melly walked toward the table, her hips still swaying. Nick wiped his eyes as he wound down from his laugh, and his attention flickered away from the table toward Melly, then away and landed on me. An amused expression played across his cheeks.

Melly had gone by and turned around, a confused look on her face. She'd clearly expected him to notice her sashaying and say something, but he hadn't, so she paused and then walked back toward me, but Nick still didn't seem to take notice for but a moment. She approached me. "Is he looking at my ass?"

I looked over her shoulder. He was looking alright, but not at her ass. "I uh --"

She sighed, "What is he, like, blind? God damn, I'm doing some of my best shaking for him."

Nick winked at me.

"I..."

"Maybe I should walk by again?"

"Uh-huh."

Melly laughed, "You okay? Getting starstruck?"

I shook my head.

"You remember when you and me used to sing I Want it That Way while we rode our bikes to the Baskin Robbins?" she asked, grinning.

"Yeah," I stammered.

Melly smiled. "We should both walk by him," she suggested. I didn't really have any desire to walk by him, but I followed Melly as she turned on her heels and we walked toward the table. "Pretend we're in a conversation," Melly suggested, "And that I'm ridiculously funny or something."

I laughed.

We passed by the table and headed for the bar in the corner. Melly leaned against it. "God I wish it was kosher to turn around, I'd kill to know if he was coming after us or not."

"I'm guessing not," I replied.

But I no sooner got the words out of my mouth than a shower of alcohol went down my spine, dousing me. I let out a shriek and turned around, spraying the amber liquid all over the place as I went. "Who in the fuck can't hold onto their damn glass well enough to keep it from going down my back?" I yelled, and as I turned, my eyes met his and I froze mid-motion.

Melly turned, too, and her eyes widened as they landed on him.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," he said, and he waved for napkins from the bar tender. Melly's jaw dropped as he reached in front of her and grabbed hold of the stack the tender was holding out and he started sopping the liquid off my dress, his hand dangerously close to my ass. "Really I'm sorry," he said, wiping the small of my back with the napkins. "Let me buy your next round to make it up to you." He waved at me, "Whatever she's having, put on my tab."

"I -uh -thanks," I stammered. "I'm not drinking, though."

"Course you are, you can't have a party without a little alcohol." He grinned. "C'mon back to our table, we have an unending bottle of tequila." He waved that direction.

"I'm okay," I replied. "Really. I don't want tequila." My dress was sticking to my skin, whatever drying efforts he'd put into getting the alcohol off it. "All I want right now is to take this off," I said. I looked at Melly. "Will you squeeze his asscheek already so we can go?"

Melly blinked, "Oh God." Her face was the color of cinnamon.

Nick barely even glanced at her, "I can take you home, if that's what you need. I feel awful, I didn't mean to --"

"It's fine," I interrupted him.

"I insist," Nick said. "Let me take you to get fresh clothes at least. I'll buy you clothes."

"I'm fi--"

But Melly stepped on my foot, interrupting me. "Yes," she said, grinning, "She says yes."

Nick smirked.

"Excuse us just a second," I said to Nick, and I grabbed her and pulled her to the side. "Melly, I can't go with him," I hissed under my breath. "Are you insane?"

"Are you?" she demanded. "He's a Backstreet Boy - God knows where you could end up tonight."

"Exactly my point," I whispered, "A gutter -- the bottom of a well -- his basement..."

"His bed."

I don't know how it happened but from that moment went from zero to a hundred miles an hour like lightening. We turned back to him, though, and if he'd heard our conversation he didn't say a word. Instead, he put his palm across the small of my back and led me past his table, leaving Melly behind. "I'll be back guys," he said to the people in his booth, and his friends barely noticed as we walked across the VIP area, down the steps past the guard that had let me and Melly by, and snuck out the door, somehow without any of the other Melly-like fans in the crowd spotting us go.



Nick

"So what're you supposed to be?" she asked as we stepped outside.

"A Backstreet Boy," I replied.

"Clever."

I shrugged.

She was nervous, I could tell that much by looking at her. She was obviously not the kind of girl that went to clubs and got picked up my guys very often. This was going to be a very delicate process, I realized. I pulled my cigarettes out of my pocket and lit one as we walked to my car.

She stared at the cigarette.

"You want one?"

"I hate the smell of cigarettes."

I put the pack back in my pocket and stared at the one I'd been about to smoke. It was going to be a delicate process involving sacrifice, I thought, if I was gonna get what I wanted. And I always got what I wanted. So I tossed the cigarette to the ground and stamped it out with the ball of my foot. She raised an eyebrow and I wondered what her sex-face would be like. "You didn't have to put it out," she said.

"Sure I did," I replied. If I want to know what your sex-face looks like, then I definitely do, I thought.

I showed her to my car. She was impressed I got a parking space so close to the club. "You tend to get stuff like that when you're a pop star," I replied.

"Or when you park illegally and get a ticket," she said, pointing at the yellow paper tucked under my windshield wiper.

"Or that," I conceded, picking it off.

She got in and I started the process of wooing her. "Your make up is smearing off," I said. I reached into the glove box and pulled out small container of Wet Ones and peeled the top towelette out. I reached across and swiped my palm over her cheek, wiping away the layers of zombie make-up that covered her skin. When I'd revealed a bit of her, I smiled, looked her in the eyes and said, "You're even more beautiful under there than I'd imagined."

She turned red. "Oh God."

"It's true," I replied, and I worked at unveiling the rest of her face.

Really, I just didn't want any of that make-up shit in my car.

Or worse, on my bedsheets in the morning.

I drove her to Walmart - the only store still open at midnight on Halloween - and we rushed inside. Without the make-up, she was now just a disheveled looking bride. I tucked my hands into my leather jacket's pockets and followed her through the store. Despite our mismatched appearance, nobody really looked at us. It was Halloween, after all.

"You really don't have to do this," she said as we approached the women's clothing section. "I can just go home and change."

"You can't go home," I said, "I only just met you."

Again with the blushing.

I looked around at the clothing selection. It's Walmart, so it was all shitty cloth sewn together by machines operated by ten year olds in Malaysia for twelve cents a month. She picked up a pair of pants and a t-shirt. I leaned close, "That'll look really good on you," I said.

She laughed nervously.

I bought the clothes and she changed in the ladie's rest room at the front of the store, coming out carrying her bride's gown smashed into the bag. "I'll have to have it dry cleaned," she said, "It's my sister's from her first marriage."

"Can't settle down?"

"Falls in love with military boys," she replied.

Outside, the parking lot lights glowed orange against the black sky and some kids were parked in a circle under one of them far off across the lot, music blasting out of their car stereos, dressed up in crazy costumes and shouting at the top of their voices.

"I love Halloween," I said, watching them - the vampires of Halloween night, the stragglers that kept the party alive long after everyone else had gone to bed and given up on the night.

"Why's that?" she asked. We were leaning against the side of my car, watching the revelers across the lot.

"It's just nice to have one night a year that you aren't fucked in the head for wanting to escape your reality, for wanting to be someone else entirely than what you've always been," I replied.

"Ironic, considering your costume is a Backstreet Boy," she commented.

I smiled. "Well, who knows, this could be the last chance I get to be one, so."

"Are y'all breaking up or something?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I dunno," I said truthfully. "Things are shaky without Kev." I looked up at the bugs swarming around the light overhead. I took a deep breath, "It was a rocky departure, that's all. And it was largely my fault, I guess."

It was entirely my fault, actually. "I went through this once with AJ already, I can't go through it again with you," Kevin's voice echoed in my mind. "Call me when you're sobered up and we'll talk about me coming back."

It would be awhile before I was sober enough to face Kevin.

"You've been together for so long," she said, "You'd think something like that would be unbreakable." She closed her eyes.

"Unbreakable," I scoffed. "Everything is breakable."

She shrugged, "Depends what you call broken."

"Me," I laughed but it wasn't a real laugh, it was the kind of laugh when you say something as a joke but you mean it with all your heart, you just don't want the person to know because you're afraid they'll contradict you and you'll have to argue your reason for believing it's true.

She looked up at me, "I don't think people can be broken. Broken spirits, sure; but I think people crack and chip and age for a purpose and that everything we perceive as being broken about a person is actually just another step in the process of them becoming who they were meant to be." Her breath hung in the air, crystallized in the chilly temperature. I stared down at her. "If you think you're broken right now, Nick, just know that you're not. You're just changing and becoming a different person - the person you were supposed to be. You, though, are unbreakable."

It was strange, how quickly it went from a conquest - a challenge to fuck her - to something I wanted for other reasons. Staring at the way the parking lights reflected off her hair and hearing the strains of music floating across the lot, I pictured myself falling in love and becoming a better person for being with her. I imagined it the way a person imagines themselves using something they're debating on buying in the store - how everything in life could change if they just buy that one thing they hold in their hands...

I leaned down into her face and pressed my mouth against hers.

She'd managed to crush my breath right out of my chest with her words. I felt like a lemon being made into lemonade and I thought about that whole if life gives you lemons phrase and it made sense as her mouth moved against mine.

"I really wanna take you home," I whispered, "To my place."

She stared into my eyes, and something was stirring in there.

"Okay," she whispered.



Abbey

My back hit his bed as he fell on top of me. His mouth and hands were everywhere, every thing I could sense was Nick Carter. His pillow was soft, but not as soft as his mouth on my breast, softly sucking on my skin. Shock waves tingled through my body, like electricity. I clutched the bedsheets as he expertly played me, like an instrument that he had mastered. His hands were just the right size as he slid them down my bare abdomen, lower and lower to the apex of my thigh and just to the left and -- "Oh God," I moaned. He breathed against me, the feeling of his hot breath meeting the cool of his saliva on my skin sent a shiver through my nerve endings and I tensed. I couldn't breathe.

"You've got an amazing body," he whispered.

"You've got amazing skills, oh my God," I moaned back.

He chuckled again and I wiggled beneath him as he dove back into working on me, slowly moving back, slowly kissing lower and lower across my body, leaving a trail of kisses along the way. My body was on fire, I was sure of it. He put his hands on my hips and slid them beneath me, slid them to my bottom, and lifted me up to his face, his mouth meeting my body and I let out a whimper of excitement as he pressed his lips against me, as his tongue snaked out into a figure eight pattern on my body. I wrapped my legs around him to steady myself because I felt like I was going to fall apart at the seams.

He licked and kissed me until the world shattered, and then he leaned over me, staring down into my face as my body shivered with euphoria. I stared up at him, silhouetted in the dark, and tried desperately to comprehend where I was. I'm in Nick Carter's bed. The thirteen year old in me was extremely jealous, although a bit furry on the details of what being in his bed would mean. He leaned closer and kissed my face as my body still trembled with sensitivity. Then there he was, pressing against me, pushing into me, arching his hips to maximize the thrust...

Afterward, in the dark, laying there, staring up at the ceiling, the world spinning beyond so fast I could feel it, the sun coming up in the edges of the west-facing window... I said, "You're definitely not broken."

He laughed a laugh like freedom ringing, like he hadn't been able to laugh like that in a very long time.

Maybe he hadn't, I don't know.

"I'm gluing myself back together," he said.

"When did you fall apart?" I asked.

"When was I ever in one piece?" he laughed.

"You're probably the happiest depressed guy I've ever met," I answered. Our fingers touched on the bed and I felt his knuckles, all big and bony in my fingers and I thought of Melly's words the night before, staring up at the balcony, at him standing, looking down at the dance floor. "Do you really snort coke?" I asked.

"I did until the ice cubes started getting stuck up my nose."

"Oldest joke in the book," I laughed.

"And it's still funny," he replied. I looked over at him staring up at the ceiling. The sunlight was starting to stream through the window stronger and brighter and as it did, there seemed to be a glowing rim along the edges of him, outlining him in gold. I laced my fingers through his. "Brian used to tell that joke a lot," he said, "Then one day it stopped being funny because nothing about cocaine was funny anymore."

"So that's a yes, then."

"I'm young, I'm a celebrity, I think it's as mandatory for us to go through a phase of snorting coke as it is for regular people to go through puberty." He shrugged.

"Do you still do it?"

"I'm a week clean," he answered proudly.

"A week?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I was a couple months clean," he said, "But then I was goofing off with some friends and --" he stopped there, letting the words hang between us. "That's why I moved here," he said, "Because I wanted to get clean and stay clean. Seems like every time my friends from LA come around I fall back down."

"Who were you hanging with tonight?" I asked.

He was quiet.

"You should send them back to LA."

"I should," he replied, "But they're my best friends."

"They aren't very good friends if they're getting you high every time you see them, even though you're trying to quit," I commented.

"They're the only friends I've got." His voice was heavy with the meaning of the words.

We lay there in silence and I listened to his breathing. It was so strange, being so close to someone and feeling their fingers wrapped around your own, knowing nothing about them, but knowing too much at the same time. I wanted to believe that maybe this - whatever it was that was between us - would become something more, but I knew that it wouldn't. He was too resigned to a world I couldn't ever understand. I closed my eyes.

He said he'd call me. When he brought me home later that morning, as I got out of the car he asked for my phone and he put his number in and took a goofy contact photo - a selfie on the fly. He promised he'd stay in touch. But he never called me. I thought about calling him a couple times.

I came really close once, a month and a half after our encounter. It was in December, and I was sitting in a public restroom stall taking deep, gasping breaths, my pants around my ankles and my heart in my throat... A pregnancy test I'd just taken mellowed on top of the little metal trash bin that was bolted to the wall. I stared at the picture, at his straight teeth and brilliantly blue eyes staring up at me from the phone, and my hands shook over the call icon on my phone...

Then the test results faded into view and I closed out of his contact listing because there was no way I could tell him that.



Nick

I really wanted to call her. But I think some part of me didn't believe I was good enough for her. So I wrote her phone number down on the inside cover of an old book that Kevin gave me and I told myself that if I was ever good enough to call Kevin up, then I'd give her a call, too, while I was at it.

But like I said before, it'd be awhile before I was good enough for that.