This tour had to be brief because as soon as it was over, he would be getting together with Brian, AJ, Howie, and Kevin to work on the next Backstreet Boys album, which they hoped to put out sometime that summer. After a two-year hiatus, it would be nice to get back into the studio with the Boys. Nick only hoped things wouldn’t be... different... between the five of them. After all, so much had changed since Black and Blue. Brian had a baby, AJ was engaged (and would have been getting married in less than a month, but the wedding had been postponed), Kevin had been on Broadway, and, of course, there was Now or Never. They had done so many things separately lately that Nick just had to wonder, would they be successful in working together again? He hoped so. Though he had to admit that once in awhile, he almost hated being a Backstreet Boy, he loved the guys, and he loved the group, and he didn’t want to call it quits. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. He just hoped his bandmates felt the same way.
However, tonight was not a night to be worrying about the future of the Backstreet Boys. Tonight was a night of celebration and friends. And not AJ, Brian, Kevin, and Howie either. His old gang, his Florida friends – Brent, Lane, James, and Frank. They were taking him out that night for his birthday, and the only thing he was worried about was hitting all the best clubs and getting drunk off his ass. Just as long as he didn’t go overboard and get himself arrested again, things would be just peachy.
Though the guys had offered to take him out, it was Nick who had somehow gotten roped into driving. (“You got the best ride, man, so you get to drive,” Brent had told him over the phone.) So, climbing into his Durango, which would be big enough to fit the five of them, he set off to pick up the gang.
***
Hours later, after some club-hopping, heavy flirting, and drinking, Frank suggested, “Hey, I heard Big Al’s is having a drink special tonight. Whaddya say, Nicky boy? Shall we head on over?”
“Whatever you say, bro,” replied Nick with a grin. Big Al’s was a local “gentlemen’s club.” “Yo, Lane, here.” He handed his car keys to Lane, the designated driver of the night. (“I got a tour coming up in two weeks; if I get in some car crash, management’ll kill me,” Nick had insisted, forcing Lane to take that position. “All right, but only cause it’s your birthday, man. And next time, you’re the DD,” Lane had replied grudgingly.)
“’Right, let’s go.”
The five men piled into Nick’s Durango, four of them laughing drunkenly over no particular reason. They sang loudly and tonelessly to the blaring radio as Lane drove them safely to the strip club.
Inside, they were ushered to a table right in front of the stage, a prime location. A young Asian woman was pole-dancing in front of them. They ordered drinks and sat back eagerly to watch the show. When the Asian girl finished, another woman came out, this one with dirty blonde hair. She danced, and they drank and watched. After another performer went, Nick stood up.
“I’m gonna hit the bathroom,” he said to his buddies, making his way out of the crowded room and to the restrooms down a short hallway. He went into the men’s room and did his business. Then he went out again, hoping to hurry back to his table unnoticed. He preferred not to be recognized in a strip club; what would the younger fans think if it got out? He didn’t like the fact that many of them seemed to think he was perfect, but he also knew that, like it or not, he was a teen idol, and management sure wouldn’t be happy if his reputation suffered damage again (as it had after his arrest the previous year).
Bursting out of the men’s room, he collided right into another body. “Sorry!” he sputtered, stumbling uncoordinatedly backwards. It was a young woman he had run into; she had been coming out of the ladies room.
“Oh, that’s okay,” she replied, offering him a small smile. “Nick Carter, right?”
“Uh... yeah.”
“Thought so.” She smiled again, and suddenly, Nick realized she was the same girl who had just been on stage dancing, the blonde. Without her scanty costume and heavy makeup though, she was nearly unrecognizable. She was still pretty though; in fact, he thought she looked better this way, makeup-less and in street clothes (though he had to admit he had rather enjoyed the ensemble she had been wearing earlier).
“I... uh... liked your... performance,” Nick stammered, not sure of what else to say.
“Thanks,” she said flatly. “And just so you know, this isn’t my career of choice. I just do it ‘cause it’s good money.”
“Oh. That’s cool,” Nick said lamely, feeling rather uncomfortable.
There was a pause, and just when Nick was about to say goodbye and hurry back to his friends, the girl said, “I guess you don’t recognize me, huh?”
Nick stared. “Huh?”
***
