Chapter Fifteen
Nick
Mike texted me first thing in the morning. Rise & shine.
I groaned and rolled off the bed and grabbed a t-shirt from my suitcase without looking to see if it was one I’d worn yet or not. It was wrinkled really bad, but I didn’t really give a damn, so I kicked on my sneakers and shoved my wallet and my phone in my pockets and headed into the hallway. Mike was leaning against the wall beside my door with a couple Starbucks cups in his hand. He waved one at me.
“You are a mother fucking savior,” I said, taking the cup.
Mike laughed, “I thought you’d like that. You won’t like what I have for you next, though.”
I frowned.
He led the way down the elevator to the lobby and out to the sidewalk where a van waited. Some fans were already pooled around the van, knocking on the windows, calling Brian’s name. I stopped in the doorway and took a deep breath. Mike looked back at me, “C’mon,” he said, “You gotta face him again sometime.”
I followed Mike across the sidewalk. Fans turned and squealed when they saw me, a couple of them shrieked shrilly. Mike held my coffee cup for me while I signed a few CD covers and took a couple pictures, then Mike whisked me into the van and I slid into the seat next to Brian. I turned to get my cup back, “I definitely need this,” I said taking another big sip.
“Hey Nick,” Brian said. His voice cracked. He pursed his lips, “Damn it,” he muttered.
I said nothing.
The van pulled away from the hotel slowly so as not to mow down any of the ladies, and we zoomed through London toward the morning talk show’s studio. I focused on my coffee, though I could feel Brian fidgeting in the seat next to me. We’d been in the car a good ten minutes, stuck in morning traffic on a roundabout, when he looked over. “I’m really sorry.”
“I don’t wanna hear it,” I said.
Brian looked down, “I know you don’t wanna hear it, but you need to hear it,” he said. “I only wanna do what’s best for you --”
I shook my head, “No. Just stop. Just stop saying bullshit things to me. I don’t need anything from you, especially not excuses. The bottom line is that you lied to me about our friendship. I know now that it means nothing to you.”
He stared at me.
“Look, if you wanna quit, just be honest, that it’s what you want and it’s what makes you happy. You aren’t quitting because you think it’s what’s best for the band,” I said, “Which, by the way, it is.”
Brian nodded.
“We’ll be able to finally sing what we want without you getting on our ass about keeping it clean. We can get some nasty beats going on that shit, funk it up a little bit. We’ll drop a hit single in no time without you there in the A&R meeting to fuck it all up with your I don’t like the chorus and whatever. And we’ll be able to perform live without sounding like shit.”
Brian was still nodding.
“How’s that for fuckin’ honesty?” I finished.
“It’s good,” Brian said, his voice thick, eyes watery, threatening to cry.
“Good.”
The car pulled up to the studio and I shoved the door open, practically tripping in my rush to get the fuck out of the car. I could not handle it if he cried. So I stormed by the cluster of fans pressing against the barricades leading into the building, Mike rushing after me as I ignored their calls. I heard them freak out as Brian got out of the car, and I didn’t slow down even a little bit.
Mike took a deep breath, “You know you didn’t mean even half of that bullshit you just said to him,” he said as we walked down the hallway.
“I meant every word,” I snapped.
Those were the last words that we said to each other on the trip. The next three days in London went by exceedingly slow, between being in the hotel room alone and being toted off from place to place with Brian by my side. We didn’t even talk to each other during interviews, we only talked to the host. It made for some extremely awkward moments and tension so thick that people were commenting on it on all the social media networks. Fans were trending #TeamFrickAndFrack on Twitter to try to get us talking again, but I refused to be the first one to break and Brian stayed just as silent as ever.
The flight home I demanded to be seated somewhere away from Brian, so me and Mike ended up on one side of the crowded airplane and Brian and Drew on the other. I felt bad for Mike and Drew, getting stuck in the middle of all the bullshit. They looked tired and who could blame them they’d spent two weeks trying to get oil and water to mix, basically.
The plane landed in New York for our connecting flights. Mike waved as he bolted away for his connecting to Florida and I stood on the concourse with my carry on bag, a good two hours before I needed to hunt down my flight to Los Angeles. Drew came up behind me, “Hey,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder.
“What’s up?” I asked. I looked around - Brian must have already walked off to his flight to Atlanta because he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
Drew took a deep breath, “I know what Brian did was really screwed up and I know you’re hurt, but you should really think before you completely throw what you two have away over it.”
I hesitated. My throat ached.
“Just think on it, okay? That’s all I’m saying.” Drew let his hand slide away from my shoulder, then turned and started walking away. “Safe flight, Nick,” he called with a wave.
I waved back.
Brian
I had dropped my bag by the terminal door and I was pulling it back onto my shoulder. I scurried to get to the concourse, but Drew and Mike had been in a hurry and they were already gone. I looked around for Nick and saw him a ways down, back-to me, carrying his bag and reading his phone. I thought about going after him but why? It wasn’t like we were going to say anything to each other. So I just stood there and watched him until he disappeared among the scramble of travelers ahead of me.
The flight from New York to Atlanta was long, I couldn’t sleep, so I did the crossword puzzle in the in flight magazine and played Candy Crush on my cellphone until we landed at Hatfield Jackson. Leighanne was waiting by baggage claim. I’ve never been so glad to see her in all my life. I rushed over, dropping my carry on to the floor and wrapping my arms around her, pressing my face into her shoulder. She patted my back, “Aw husband. C’mon, we’ll get you home.” She helped get my bags off the carousel and we piled them onto a trolley and headed out to the car, where we loaded them up into the backseat.
I wondered if Nick had gotten home yet, if he’d made it safely, if Lauren had picked him up from the airport, if he’d told her yet what happened, if she hated me now, too.
We drove north through the city, stuck in traffic for about forty minutes, but it didn’t matter, I was just glad to be somewhere familiar to me. The Christian music station played quietly on our car stereo and Leighanne talked about how the last two weeks had been for her and Baylee. She’d made sweet tea for me and had dinner all planned and a myriad of other things, I’m sure, but the jet lag and the emotional exhaustion of the week took over and I fell asleep, slouched in the seat.
It was raining by the time we got home and the weather forecast was saying possibly an ice storm could hit by the morning. I felt like the crappy weather was following me around the world, like I had a permanent black cloud hanging over me. We ran across the yard, splashing through the rain to the front door and before she opened it I leaned over and I kissed her. She looked up at me, “What was that for?” she asked with a trill in her voice.
“For being the only person that doesn’t hate me for quitting Backstreet Boys,” I told her.
She stared up at me, “So you’re really done? You really quit?”
I fought with the depths of my guts for just a moment, then said, “Yes, I think so.”
Leighanne wrapped her arms around me. “You’re very brave,” she said.
“Brave?”
“Yes.”
“For quitting?”
“For making a choice that wasn’t easy,” she replied. “You would’ve been brave either way, just so you know. This isn’t me endorsing either particular direction over the other. I’m just saying I’m proud of your bravery.” She smiled sweetly up at me.
“I feel like parts of it was made up for me,” I admitted, “Because of my voice and because of the contract being sent out prematurely…If Nick and I had stayed getting on like we were for a bit of it there, I might’ve reconsidered.” I shrugged.
She studied me a moment, “Well how do you know y’all won’t get along again?” she asked. “What if he shows up right here on this doorstep asking you to be his friend again, it’s not like you’ll say no. What of the contracts then? What if you regret your choice? Is there a clause to get you back into the group if you decide that?”
“Besides AJ’s perpetual open door reminders that will start the moment it’s official?” I joked, referring to AJ’s early daily reminder to Kevin that the door was always open if he wanted to return. Unlike Kevin, I thought, I would not be needing AJ’s open door policy. I wasn’t ever going to turn back once I left.
Especially now that I knew Nick thought the band would be better off without me. Deep down, that had been my biggest fear, the force that was driving me to consider leaving. I didn’t want to hold the guys back. Nick had confirmed for me that it was true. It was no longer about what I wanted, it really was about what was best for everyone.
I realized as I followed Leighanne into the house, both of us wet from the rain, that maybe I didn’t believe in miracles anymore.
Nick
AJ picked me up at the airport.
“Lauren,” I joked, “It’s been awhile but your looks went to shit, Boose.”
AJ snorted, then in a high pitched voice that was meant to mimic Lauren’s, “Bitch don’t make kick you in the balls.” He paused. “Would Lauren say that?”
“No. But she could so beat me up if she wanted to, I swear to God,” I laughed. “So what the hell man, I was supposed to get me some after plane love and I get you? Where’s Lolo?”
“Lolo was asked to film a TV spot for that sports drink shit she’s been working with,” he started.
“Fitmiss? She got a Fitmiss TV spot? Holy shit that’s fuckin’ awesome! Why didn’t she tell me about it?” I asked, excitement for my woman building up in me.
“Because you were feeling like shit or whatever, she didn’t wanna brag all over your sorry ass,” he replied. AJ watched one of my suitcases go by on the carousel. “Dude you gonna grab your shit or what? I’m not a fuckin’ valet.”
“Oh. Right. Yeah.” I grabbed the next one and lugged it to the trolley. “She shouldda told me about it anyways,” I whined, going back to the Lauren-got-a-Fitmiss-tv-spot conversation.
AJ shrugged, “What can I say? She’s batshit crazy about you. Anyway, she told me to come pick you up and to bring you home and she’ll meet us there.”
I nodded, “Well. Thanks,” I said.
“Yeah.” He paused, “OK so seriously, also it was kind of that I volunteered. She asked Howie to do it really. I told Howie to punk off cos I wanted to talk to you about this Brian shit.”
“AJ,” I grunted, lifting my biggest bag, “I don’t want to talk about this.”
We pushed the trolley, walking toward AJ’s car. “I know you don’t, but -- I mean, shit man. We gotta talk about it. Do you really think we could keep going without Brian in the band? He’s kind of the core voice. What about we are five and all that?”
“Howie was originally supposed to be the Brian of the band,” I pointed out. “Howie can get the vocals he wants this way. It’s actually better for the dynamic. And we don’t have to be all like worried about what the Christians will think of us. None of the rest of us give a damn what people think. Brian’s been holding us back that way. We can get dirty. Our fans like dirty.”
AJ shrugged.
I chewed my lower lip as we walked across the street to the parking garage and paid the parking fee. We loaded my shit into the trunk of AJ’s SUV and I paused, leaning against the suitcases. I looked at him. “I really miss the old days.”
AJ paused, his hands on the hatchback door over our heads. “Me, too,” he answered. “Before all of the bullshit we caused.” I knew he meant literally we, me and him. Because at the root of all of the fighting, of all of the anger, all of the brokenness, lay the pieces of bombshells of the drugs and the drinking and rebelling and things that we’d done. He drew in a deep breath, “You and me, we always have been, like, the ones that cause problems, then we’re the ones that kinda… kinda fix’em together. That’s why I thought you’d go in with me on the Operation: Keep BRok idea, but…” he let all that deep breath he’d taken in out in a heavy rush. He shrugged. “I dunno, I mean he’s your best friend, I just thought you’d want him to stay.”
I stared at the ground, telling myself not to cry again. I’d done too much of that already, mostly when nobody was looking but it was still emasculating even when I was by myself. I shook my head, “No, AJ, he isn’t. He hasn’t been for a long time, we were just really good at pretending for the cameras is all.” I backed out from the trunk of the SUV and pushed the trolley away to a little corral as AJ slammed the hatchback door.
He stood there watching as I walked back to him.
“How long were you pretending for?” he asked when I was almost there.
I stared at him.
“How long were y’all pretending?”
My mouth was dry. I shrugged.
“Tell me. Seriously, man, I need to know ‘cos I gotta know how much of my life is a fuckin’ mirage. ”
“Like 1996,” I said.
AJ looked like I’d just cut him open and ripped out several of his intestines and stomped on them on the ground. “‘96?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck.” He turned away, pulling cigarettes from his pocket as he went and got into the car, slamming the door without even waiting for me. The engine roared to life and I walked slowly over and climbed into the car, too, as AJ was unrolling the window to let the smoke out. I stared out the passenger window as he backed up.
“So it’s all been a lie?” he asked. “All this time?”
My throat hurt so much. I felt tears falling down my cheeks. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t do anything but sit there crying as Los Angeles loomed into view.
Brian
I’d printed out my copy of the contract and I was sitting in the office room of our house, behind the mahogany desk that Leighanne had furnished it with, staring at the lawyer’s letterhead and the crisp contrast of black letterforms on sharp white paper. I’d been there for an hour or more, just staring at it, going over everything in my mind.
I was remembering the first time I met the guys… I’d landed in Orlando after leaving Kentucky in a pretty big rush and Kevin had picked me up to bring me to the old warehouse that Lou Pearlman had been holding rehearsals at with them. “I gotta stop by the bus station,” Kevin told me, “Nicky had to take the bus over ‘cos his mother had to work today.”
“He can’t drive?” I’d asked.
“Nawh, he’s only thirteen,” Kevin laughed.
“There’s a thirteen year old in this band?” I asked, “Seriously? Kev, how can you think this is going anywhere?”
Kevin shook his head, “Wait ‘til you hear us. It’s like velvet in your ears.”
He drove through the convoluted streets. I’d only been to Orlando maybe twice in my whole life, both times for Disneyworld back when I was a kid. Not that eighteen isn’t a kid still, but like a real kid. I’d wanted to go the year I had my heart trouble when I was little and we cancelled plans because I’d spent the next like year and a half in the hospital, so the moment I got out my parents had made sure we came down as soon as I was healthy enough.
Kev had pulled up to the bus station. It was about twenty-million degrees, hot even for Florida in April but extra hot for a Kentucky boy who was used to the rainy lukewarm sort of Aprils of home. The sun reflected off the mirrored windows of the station. Out front was a few rows of benches and on one of them sat a gangly mess of a kid wearing baggy clothes and a backwards ball cap over his wildly untamed blonde hair. He saw the car pulling up and he grabbed a backpack off the ground and ran to the car, his sneakers a little too big for his feet and almost falling off. None of his clothes matched properly. He flung the back door of Kevin’s car open and threw the bag in and climbed in behind me. “Hey,” he said. Then he looked at me leaned forward as Kevin pulled away from the curb. “Hey I’m Nick,” he greeted me, staring at the side of my head.
“Hey,” I said, “Brian.”
“Whoa man your accent is like whoa. Say somethin’ else.” He grinned widely.
“What?”
Nick laughed uproariously, leaning back in the seat and holding his stomach, “Oh my God you’re so great.”
I looked at Kevin.
He shrugged.
“Does your accent happen when you sing?” Nick asked.
“Will you buckle your fucking seatbelt please back there before I get a ticket? You’re paying it if I get stopped.” Kevin snapped.
Nick sat up and we heard the belt scrape and click into place. “Does it?” Nick persisted.
“I don’t know,” I replied.
Nick giggled.
I looked at Kevin again.
“Hey Nicky, knock off being annoying before you scare my cousin back to the hills of Kentucky will ya? Christ,” Kevin said, looking in the rearview mirror.
“I ain’t being obnoxious,” Nick whined. He leaned forward, doubled over, making the seatbelt stretch as far as it could, his chin just barely reached the edge of my seat. “I brought my basketball ‘cos Kev said you like b-ball. You like b-ball right? Lou’s got this great hoop, we can play.”
Kevin sighed. “Nick --”
“No, dude, Kev, b-ball sounds awesome,” I said.
Nick had grinned like the sun.
Now, sitting in my office, I stared down at the contract and ran my hand over my chin.
The door opened and Leighanne came in carrying a glass of her sweet tea with a straw sticking out of it. She set down a coaster on the desk, then the tea on top of the coaster, and sat down on the edge of the desk, looking down at the contract for a moment. She pulled her long blonde hair over one shoulder and pushed her glasses up her nose. “How are we doing in here?” she asked.
I sighed, “The same as I’ve been for the last hour.”
She picked the contract up and flipped through the pages, the very corner of her lip caught between her front teeth. I stared up at her and leaned back in the chair, taking the glass of tea with me to sip as I watched her look through it. When she was done, she laid it back on the desk as neatly as I’d had it. She looked at me. “Why don’t you take a break and come downstairs? Baylee was hoping you’d go shoot some hoops with him in the yard. It’s the first really warm day we’ve had in awhile, I think he’s getting cabin fever.” She smiled. “I need to go grocery shopping, is there anything you want me to get while I’m out?”
I nodded. I put the tea down on the coaster, looked at the contract. Then, in a rush of not overthinking things, I grabbed a pen from the holder, flipped the contract open and signed on the line with a flourish. I dropped the pen onto the desk and slid the contract into the manila envelope I’d already pulled out and addressed. I pushed the little metal closures down and handed it to Leighanne. “Stamps,” I said.
She took it and turned it over in her hands, staring down at it. I grabbed my glass of sweet tea and finished it without using the straw. I put the glass back down on the coaster and headed to the door.
“I’ll be outside if you need me,” I said.
She nodded.
There's Us by Pengi
