Bored now that he was awake, Nick turned on the television and started flipping, checking out the channel selection. Being a Friday morning, not much was on. Most of the shows were catered to the little kids, stay-at-home moms, and old people that were home in the mornings. By some miracle, MTV was actually playing videos, something Nick hadn’t been witness to since the early 90’s. As it turned out, so was VH1, but since VH1 was still living in the 80’s, Nick settled on MTV, watching both amusedly and disgustedly as that damn Timberfuck beat-boxed his way around a room of multi-colored lights in whatever his latest video was. Nick wondered vaguely if he’d gone to see the new movie “Malibu’s Most Wanted” yet. If he hadn’t, he definitely should, ghetto white trash wannabe that he was. God, how Nick hated that self-centered, obnoxious, whiny little prick.
When Justin’s video ended, it naturally went to a commercial break (Nick couldn’t understand why there had to be a commercial break after every video), and he was about to flip when the flashy MTV News intro came on. He hesitated, setting down the remote long enough to watch the news brief, in case something actually interesting had happened in the music business.
Some black guy that called himself Sway reported the news, while Nick sat wondering what had happened to Kurt Loder and John Norris (had he really been out of the loop for that long?). He spaced out while the Sway dude rambled about Fifty Cent, but when he heard the words “In other news, Backstreet Boy Nick Carter...,” he immediately looked back up at the TV, his heart racing in trepidation.
“... was hospitalized last night, according to our sources, after passing out in a Tampa bar. The name of the hospital has been withheld, and hospital officials declined comment when asked about Carter’s condition. We will update you on this story as we know more.”
Shit.
How did they find out?
Don’t be stupid; there were lots of people in that club; someone probably recognized you and spilled to the media.
Nick groaned. He knew he could just play it off, say he’d had too much to drink. But that would be lying. Fans would want to know what had happened, and he didn’t want to lie to them. When Brian had had his heart surgery, they had told the truth. When AJ had gone into rehab, they had told the truth. Now Nick had bone cancer.
It was time to tell the truth.
***
As promised, Nick was discharged from the hospital later that morning. He came home to find an answering machine full of messages, which he grudgingly played. Only three really caught his attention – one from Brent, one from Howie, and one from his mother.
“Hey, Nick... dunno when you’ll actually hear this, but it’s 10:00 on Friday morning, and I’ve been trying to call the hospital since last night, but they won’t let me talk to you, so... um... call me if you get home and get this, and I don’t hear from you later today, I’ll come try to visit you at the hospital... if they’ll let me. Damn you for being Mr. Celebrity.” Brent laughed lightly. “Oh well, if you’re listening to this, hope you’re feeling better. Call me.”
Nick sighed. He would call Brent when he was done listening to the other messages. And he would tell him what was going on. What was really going on.
“Nicky, it’s Howie. Listen, I heard on the news that you were taken to the hospital last night, and I don’t know if it’s true or what, but I’ve been trying to call all the Tampa hospitals, and no one will tell me anything – they don’t believe me when I say who I am – and I tried your cell, but it was turned off, so I figured I’d just leave a message here. When you get this, give me a call and let me know what’s going on. I hope you’re all right...” Howie trailed off, his voice worried, and then there was a click, and the message stopped. Nick made a mental note to call Howie back too. Knowing him, he had already called Brian, Kevin, and AJ, and they were probably all worried about him too.
There was a beep, and the last message played. “Nick, this is your mother. Call me the instant you get this; there are rumors going around that you passed out in some club last night and were taken to the hospital. If that’s true, you were probably drinking too much again, weren’t you? You’d think you’d have learned something from AJ’s experience with alcohol. I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but I don’t like it at all. I didn’t raise you and your sister to turn into wild, irresponsible, drug-using, binge drinking party animals.” There was a heavy, irritated sigh, and then she finished, “I mean it, you better call back and not ignore this like you did before, or there will be hell to pay.”
“Thanks, Mom, for your concern,” Nick remarked dryly, deciding to ignore that message. Hell to pay – yeah, right. She couldn’t do anything to him.
He was already in Hell.
***
“I want to have some kind of press conference. It’s time to come clean with the fans.”
Howie’s reply was simple. “Okay, Nick. Tell me when and where, and I’ll make sure the arrangements are made.”
Nick felt an overwhelming sense of relief, though he was not sure why. “Thanks, D. I want to do it soon... this week sometime.”
“I think that’s a good idea. Where should we have it? Tampa?”
“No...” Nick sucked in a deep breath. “I want to do what we did with AJ.”
There was a pause, and then Howie exclaimed, flabbergasted, “Go to TRL?!”
Nick smiled, imagining his friend’s eyes bulging out of his head on the other line. “Yup. Is that a problem?”
“No, of course not! But, Nick...” Howie fumbled for words, “that was so hard then, and this time... it would be even harder. Much harder. Are you sure you want to appear on live TV? Maybe we could just call in... or the guys and I could go ourselves...”
“No, Howie, I wanna go,” Nick said firmly. He really didn’t, not at all, and the thought of just talking over the phone or sending the rest of the group in his place was too tempting. But this was for his fans... he had to be there, live, on TV, and break the news to them. He had to show them that he was okay... that he would be okay... that they weren’t covering up anything.
“Well, okay, Nick,” Howie accepted reluctantly. “I’ll call the other guys and let them know, and then one of us will get in touch with MTV. I’ll get back to you when everything’s set up, okay?”
“Sure. Thanks for doing this for me.”
“No problem!” Howie sputtered quickly. “If there’s anything else you need, let me know.”
“No, I’m good,” Nick replied. But as soon as the words had left his mouth, he did think of one thing... “Oh, wait, Howie?”
“Yeah?”
“There is something... when you call MTV, will you see if they can get Carson to host that day? Or... or John Norris? None of those new weird VJ’s...” Carson got on his nerves sometime, but at least he was a familiar face... he had been there when they broke the news about AJ, when Nick had been sitting there, struggling not to cry on live television... and John, John Norris, he was a good guy... he understood... unlike so many others, he cared.
It was sort of a stupid request, Nick realized as he asked it, but even something small like that might make the horrible experience just a tad bit more bearable.
Howie laughed. “Sure, Nicky. I’ll see what I can do.”
Nick forced a laugh. “They damn well better be able to get one of those two on... after all these years... and all those number one videos...”
Another chuckle from Howie. “Damn straight. Don’t worry, Nicky, I’m sure they’ll come through.”
“Yeah...”
“Well, I guess I’ll let you go then so you can rest.”
Instantly, the amused smile vanished from Nick’s face. There it was again. “So you can rest” – God, how he hated phrases like that. He was not an infant, nor an invalid.
But what he hated worst of all was not those words, but the fact that they were actually justified. A nap sounded like Heaven to him. He was exhausted, fatigued from the previous night’s excitement and from the chemo in general.
In fact, he was sick and tired of the whole rotten deal. Yes, that’s what he was.
Sick and tired.
***
