The baby-faced, blue-eyed Backstreet Boy was in the process of settling down in the chair in front of me.
“Just give me five minutes, yeah?” he asked when he walked in almost fifteen minutes ago.
He had talked to his bodyguard for a while about what to get for lunch.  Then the huge, line backer-looking guy dutifully walked out to get some Mickey D’s after asking me if I wanted anything.  I had said no.  Then he made what seemed like twenty calls on the his cell phone all of which ended with him saying, “Peace out.”
I didn’t think that people actually said that.
But I waited patiently.  Actually, I had grown used to waiting for Nick Carter.  The newspaper had submitted an interview request to his management when the band was in tour through Los Angeles last year.  There had been no answer.  The current tour had brought him through LA again, but once again, there had been no answer to our request.  Then, one day,  my editor got a call saying that Mr. Nick Carter was spending time with his family in California, and he would like to grant an interview to our small, community newspaper.  We were flattered.  I was in shock.
I was in shock because it had been my idea to request the interview.  I was a big Backstreet Boys fan and had been since I heard All I Have to Give.  It was a guilty pleasure that I kept hidden for a long time until this year, when they made it so big that it seemed okay for adults like me to like them.  I was inevitably teased and frequently asked who my favorite boy was.
“Nick Carter,” I always said with a smile because it was true.
Then I went back to work because I was 22 years old and not allowed to get giddy over my secret crush.
But here he was, and my palms were damp.  I had conjured up all the professionalism that I had learned in college to make it through the interview because I expected him to be distant and snotty.  It would have made things easier on me.
I had no such luck.
We had decided to meet at a restaurant last week, but he canceled at the last minute.  His representative called with a million apologies from Mr. Carter, and we rescheduled for today at the newspaper offices.  I had expected another cancellation or that he’d be late. But he was surprisingly on time, surprisingly polite, charming and exceptionally handsome.
I had gotten teased at the newspaper when we received a positive response from his management.  Last week, I had received a job offer from the LA Times, but hadn’t yet accepted.  Rumor had it that I wanted to accept after I had interviewed Mr. Nick Carter.  Rumor was far off the mark, but it was better than the real story.
“Okay,” he said and seemed to have turned off the cell phone.  “Sorry about that.  I just promised my mom I’d take care of some stuff, and I couldn’t put it off anymore.”  He smiled.
I cleared my throat.  “Okay, um, well, I got your press kit, so I have the basics.”
“Yeah?  Can I see it?”
I handed him the photos and information sheets that his rep had mailed me.
He chuckled looking it over.  “Favorite color, green.  How can anyone have a favorite color?  Do you have a favorite color?”
I shrugged.  “I like blue.”
“Me too.  But sometimes, I really like black or white.  I don’t know why I should pick a favorite.  Let’s see, what else?  I don’t even watch Mad About You anymore.”
“It’s not on anymore,” I said.
“Yeah!  I heard that.  Well, even if it was on, I doubt I’d have time to watch a show about married, whining people who live in New York.  If I wanted to listen to people whine, I’d watch the Blair Witch Project,” he said handing me back the sheets.
“You didn’t like that movie?”
“The movie was okay,” he said.  “But those people were annoying.  Didn’t you think so?”
“I got to see it at a film festival here in town before all the hype started.  I got the creeps when I watched it.”
“Really?  I got annoyed.”
“Okay,” I said and glanced back at my notes to begin again.  “You want to correct any of this basic stuff.  I wasn’t going to write about your favorite color.  But your name, birth date, birth place, etc., are correct.”
He nodded.  “Yeah.  That looks good.  Where were you born?”
I looked up at him from my notes in surprise. He was smiling, blue eyes shining like bright, blue Christmas lights.
“Actually, I’m from Texas--.”
“I thought I heard a twang,” he said.
“I don’t have a twang.  I’ve been living here for a while now.  I never had a twang.”
“Yes you do.  Where in Texas?”
“You’ve probably never heard of it,” I said.  “It’s a relatively small town on the border with Mexico called El Paso.”
He nodded.  “We were discussing taking the tour through there.  I know where that is.”
“Speaking of the tour,” I said, trying to get back to talking about him.
He chuckled.
I continued.  “You’ve been touring practically straight through since September.”
“Actually, since July.  We took off to Europe in July and did a bunch of dates there.  Then we came back here for the first leg of the tour, finished that in early December, and we start up again in February.  It’s been more than a million cities.”
“A million?”
He nodded.  “It’s felt like it.  I mean, there’s only so many times that you can get up early, go through the day a million miles a minutes and stay up all night.   It’s tiring.  I’m actually very tired.”
“What do you do to relax?” I asked trying to get him to talk about something interesting.
“I spend time with my family.  That’s why I decided to stay in California for the break rather than in Tampa.  I live in Tampa, did you know that?”
I nodded.  “It says so on the sheet.”
“Well, I like it there, but I’m alone.  And I liked being alone for a while.  It was cool for about a week, then I started climbing the walls.  So, I came out here right before Christmas,” he looked up.  “What did you ask me again?”
“What do you do to relax?”
“Oh, yeah.  Well, I go sailing to Catalina Island with my family. They actually like going shark fishing, but I don’t think it’s okay to kill a shark.”
“Why?” I asked, happy he was finally saying something.
“Well, have you ever studied anything about sharks?”
I shook my head.
“They’re amazing animals.  People think that they’re really dumb and brute-like, but they’re not.  They’re just really strong animals that have to eat a whole lot to survive.  Not all of them are vicious.  And besides, they are really beautiful animals.  I’ve swam with dolphins, and seen sharks at aquariums.  I think sharks are more beautiful.  They’re lonely and misunderstood.”
“You must be a good friend,” I told him but regretted the words as soon as I uttered them.
He looked confused.  “Why?  Why would you say that?”
“I guess for someone to notice the inner beauty of a well-known killer and to understand it as being lonely, it must be easy for you to find the good in people, too.  But anyway--.”
“No wait,” he said.  “I have to say that I don’t agree with you.  Animals are animals because they live solely on instinct, and that’s why sharks kill, maim and eat tires.  But people have to reason, and if they’re lonely, then it’s their own fault.”
“You really think so?  You don’t think that society creates outcasts, sometimes?”
He looked up like he was thinking really hard.  “Well, I guess if you go back and consider that we’ve probably created most of the conditions that make people outcasts:  disease, poverty, social class, racism, then it’s true.  But what I mean is that, as people, we can change our conditions.  Sometimes, we can even change who we are,” he smiled.  “Wow, that was deep.  Did you write it down?  I’d like to show it to the guys.”
I laughed.  “Yeah.”
“Oh, wait!  Wait!”  He pulled out the cell phone again and started dialing many digits.  “Hey, it’s me...  Yeah...  Yeah...  Well, I got her to laugh...  She did.  She laughed...  I said something smart,” he looked at me.  “Right?  What’s your name, again?”
“Rebecca,” I said trying to keep my composure.
“Becky laughed at something smart that I said,” he said into the phone.  “I told you that she’d laugh.”
“Actually, it’s Rebecca,” I told him.
He smiled even bigger.  “Yeah, Becky who is from Texas and has a twang... Yeah, it’s worse than yours.”
I bit my lip, finally, and started to think that this was just a disaster.
“Okay, I’d better go.  I’m frustrating her... All ready... Can you believe that?  Bye.”
I was flipping through my notebook when he put the phone on the floor.
“Sorry,” he said.  “I just had to call Brian.”
“Why?”
“Well, he bet me that I couldn’t make you laugh.  He said that you were going to be very serious and question me about the validity of our music.”
“What?”
He shrugged.  “I don’t know, that’s what he said.”
I was back to trying to make sense out of my notes.
“Well, it’s just that you don’t exactly work for the LA Times,” he said.
I looked up at him.  “What?”
“Well, whenever we give interviews to those big newspapers, they always try to question us.  So, Brian said that things would be worse if I gave an interview to small newspaper because--.”
“We’d want to look as good as the big guys?” I asked cutting him off.
He nodded.
“Well, he’s right.  But honestly, I’m a big fan of you guys, and I don’t see your music as lacking validity.  I think there’s a big place in the world for a great love song or a happy pop song.  I enjoy playing those songs on my Walkman when I ride the bus to work or go for a jog.  I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with it.  Disappointed?”
He looked up at the ceiling then down back at me and shook his head.  “Nope.  Not all.”
I took a deep breath.  “And for your information, I just got a job offer from the LA Times.”
“Wow, great.  Congratulations.  When do you start?”
I shrugged.  “Probably never.  But anyway, we were talking about the tour,” I reminded him.
He sat up.  “Yeah, that.  The tour’s been great.  I mean, there’s nothing like performing in front of thousands of people and having them enjoy themselves listening to you perform.  It’s really what we live for.  Recording’s great.  Making videos is great.  But the best, most important part of being a performer is performing live.  It’s what we--,” he stopped.  “Why?”
I looked up at him.  “Why what?”
“Why won’t you be working for the LA Times?”
I hesitated, regretting the fact that once again, I had something that I shouldn’t have.  But if I didn’t like him so damn much, I probably would have kept my mouth shut.
“It’s  a family thing,” I said.
“Husband won’t let you?”
I laughed.  “I’m not married.”
“Good.  But you know, it’s a big newspaper.  Just that they’d want to hire you is a big deal.”
“I know,” I said.  “But you were saying that you love to perform.  What do you want your audience to walk away remembering most from one of your concerts?”
He laughed.  “Um, that they had a good time.  I know that sometimes, they have to stand in big lines to get tickets.  And that in some cases, they have to save up for awhile just to buy the tickets.  So, more than anything, I want them say, ‘Hey, that was worth my forty bucks.’  We know that our fan base is young.  And when you’re young, it’s tough to come up with forty bucks sometimes.  So for two hours, we work as hard as we can to give them their money’s worth.”
“You do.  I saw you guys in town,” I told him.  “Twice.”
“Twice?”
I nodded.  “I went once to review the concert.  And once to just go enjoy myself.  It was cool.  I can tell you for certain that everyone got their money’s worth.”
He grinned, and his skin turned a light shade of pink.  “Thank you,” he said.  “That means a lot.”
“You’re welcome.”
I had to shuffle through my notes again to find my place.  He waited patiently, watching me with that familiar smile on his face.
“What do you think of all those groups of young guys coming out to imitate you guys?”
He seemed to think.  “Well, I personally don’t care.  I think we’re light years away from any of them.  We’ve already gone through many of the personality, financial, family and personal hardships and problems that they will barely encounter.  And I don’t think most of them have the stamina to make it through.  I just wish it wasn’t so talked about in the industry because it tends to get us lost in the shuffle.  But that’s okay because we’ve had to fight to get to where we are.  And I mean fight with everyone and everything just to make a record or start our tour.  We’re not going to give up now just because some guys think that they can jump on our bandwagon.  It’s not gonna happen.”
“So, you see the Backstreet Boys as something that will be long-lasting.  Every couple of months someone else starts a rumor that one of you guys is going solo,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said.  “And they said that about me when Brian was having heart surgery.  Can you imagine?  He really is my best friend, and to think that I was off making plans while he was having surgery just really made me mad.  But it’s not true.  It’s never true.  AJ just had that whole Johnny Suede thing for his birthday, and that’s just something that he enjoys.  Plus, he did it for charity.  And I can envision us doing stuff like that.  Howie and Kevin would like to act, and they should, on our breaks.  Our breaks are ours to do whatever we want.”
“What do you want to do?”
He grinned.  “Sleep.  I love to sleep.  I hardly get to do it as much as I’d like anymore, so on my breaks, I sleep.”
“No movies for you?”
He shook his head.  “No.  I love going to movies.  Except right now, I don’t really have anyone to go with,” he said looking at me.  “Plus, I don’t think acting is something I’d be really good at.  I’m a singer.  It’s what I love.  I’m learning to play guitar.  I’ve always played the drums. I’d like to develop my skills as a songwriter, so music’s where it’s at for me.  Definitely.”
“That’s great,” I said.  “I’m glad to hear it.  It’s already being said that you have a record coming out in September.  Why so soon?”
“Well, that’s just a target date, but it’ll probably be more like October,” he said.  “And why not?  I mean, after this break, we’re back on tour for a couple of months, then we’ll go to Latin America for awhile.  We’ll probably release a couple of more songs from Millennium and make a couple of more videos.  But after that, time will be right for something new.  And by that time, you’ll see something very different in Backstreet Boys,” he said a touch of mystery in his voice.
“What?” I asked.
“Well, we will be writing more songs and producing them as well.  Brian and Kevin are great songwriters, and AJ has surprised us all with his song writing talent.  I’m not saying that we’re ready to take on the entire record ourselves, but we’ll definitely have much more to say in what will be on that record.”
I was smiling watching him talk with ease and excitement.   It was a dream that I never thought would come true.
I glanced down at my notes.  I was down to my last question.
“Is there anything else, that I didn’t ask you, that you would like to say?”
He looked up at the ceiling again and seemed to think really hard.  “Wow.  No one has ever asked me that question before.  I don’t know.  I guess I want the fans to know that we’re there for them.  We do everything for them.  We keep down the ticket prices for them.  We tour intensively for them.  We contribute to charities and do meet and greets for them.  It’s all for them.  And--,” he stopped.  “Wait no.  That’s not what I wanted to say.”
I flipped to clean page.  “Okay.  What was it?”
“What I really wanted to say, Becky, was well...,” he trailed off.
“What?” I asked again.
“My birthday party is in a couple of weeks, you wanna go?”
In an instant, my throat and mouth dried up and sealed up.  All of my hard-fought reporter’s professionalism flew out the window as I actually started fixing my hair.
I made myself put my hand down and swallowed hard.
“Um, well, I ...,” I stopped talking before saying something really stupid.
He sat up and leaned toward me.  “It’ll be fun.  My parents have this huge house, and it’s really gonna be just a family thing.  The guys will probably all go, and we’ll just sit around and eat and drink and talk.  They’ll probably want to go to club afterward, but we don’t have to.   What do you say?”
“I’d love to go,” I told him, finally.  “I just can’t even believe that you asked me.”
He shrugged and settled back into the seat.  “I liked talking to you.  Do you know how hard it is to hold down a conversation with anyone of the opposite sex anymore?  The girls who don’t start screaming start crying.  Those who don’t are just trying to get me to ask them out.  I don’t know, you just seem nice enough.”
“Thanks,” I said.  “You seem nice enough too.”
The bodyguard had returned almost as if on cue.
“Food’s in the car, Nick.  You all done?” he asked.
Nick looked at me, the same question in his eyes.
“Yeah.  Yeah.  I’m all done.  Thanks,” I told him.  “I’ll send your management the article when it’s published.”
“Well, just bring it to the party,” he said.
I swallowed hard.  “Oh yeah.”
The bodyguard chuckled and smiled at me.
“Oh,” Nick said. “This is Rebecca--?”
“Rebecca Diaz,” I told him.  “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Mike,” he said as he shook my hand.
“But she likes to be called Becky, huh?” Nick teased.
I shook my head, and Mike just laughed.
“You coming to the party?” he asked.
“Yeah.  Yeah, I am.”
“It’ll be fun,” Mike said.  “His parents throw good parties.”
Nick rolled his eyes and shrugged.  “They’re okay.  Well, Becky.  I mean, Rebecca, to take you the party, I have to pick you up.  To pick you up, I have to call you.  To call you, I have to have your--.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said.  “I’m sorry.  And here, you thought you could converse with me.”
He laughed and took a step closer while I got a card for him and wrote my home number on the back.
“Is it okay to call you at any time?” he asked.
“I’m an early riser, so I’m usually knocked out by ten.  But call me whenever you want.  If I’m not home, I’m here.  The number’s on the front.”
He smiled and put it in his pocket.  “Thanks.  And I’ll call you.  It was really nice meeting you.  Thanks for the great interview.  It was fun.”
I nodded.  “Thank you.  It was fun.”
He followed Mike out the door and waved as he exited.
I waved back.  “Bye.”
I had to sit down.  My legs were shaking under me and my hands were soaked with sweat.
Oh my God.  Oh my God.  Oh my God.
 

I didn’t tell anyone that Nick had asked me out and it wasn’t because I was protecting him.  I was more like I was protecting myself.  If I told everyone that he had asked me out, then he never called, I would never be able to show my face in the office again.  It was bad enough that I was already teased daily for being a Backstreet Boys’ fan and for reading up on them on the internet, I didn’t need to be accused of making up fantasies about Nick Carter.
The only person I told was my mother.  She just smiled at me as if she knew what I was talking about.  I knew that she didn’t.  For years now, she’d lived in the throes of Alzheimer’s disease, and sometimes, couldn’t even remember who I was.  The fact that I was going out on a date with someone famous, pasted a smile on her face because she was having a good day, not because she knew what I was saying.
Almost a week later, I kissed her on the cheek as I did everyday before heading out to the bus stop.  She stayed with Connie, our neighbor, who took care of her own sick mother.  Between the two of us, we looked out for both of them.
Nick hadn’t called.
I was halfway to the bus stop, when one of those huge SUV’s stopped next to me.  I didn’t turn immediately because I lived in one of those neighborhoods where you don’t talk to people who hang out of their vehicles.
“Becky!  Hey, wait!”
I’m not even sure why I looked, but I did.  If it wasn’t for God’s good grace, I probably would have fallen over.  But He was good.
“Nick?” I asked in shock.
He smiled.  “Wanna ride to work?” he asked leaning over to open the door.
The person in the car behind his was already honking, so I had to decide fast.  As if I even had a choice.  I hurried into the truck.
He looked incredible even just wearing a baseball cap, jeans and a gray T-shirt.
“Um hi,” I managed to say.  “I, I...,” but I had no words.
“This is bad, I know,” he said.  “Mike had to take the bus with you day before yesterday to figure out where you lived.  I lost your phone number.  I’m sorry.”
I looked at him as he picked his way through the inner-city traffic to get to the freeway.
“Really,” he said.  “I tried to call the newspaper and ask them for it, but they wouldn’t give it me.  Mike followed you.  Didn’t you see him?”
I shook my head.  “No,” I said.  “I didn’t.  I...,” once again, there was nothing for me to say.  Plus, I didn’t want to admit that I never made eye contact with people on the bus.
He smiled.  “Well, I’m glad I found you.  I didn’t think I would.”
“I’m glad too,” I finally said.  “I just thought that  you weren’t going to call me.”
“Well, I was.  But I lose important stuff all the time.  Everyone hates me for that.”
He had finally found his way onto the congested freeway.
“Like once, I lost a copy of the schedule before we started a tour.  I mean, that’s everything to me,” he said.  “Without the schedule, I have no clue what time I’m supposed to be where or what.  Luckily, Mike had a copy, and he called me right before I had to meet up with the other guys.  He just knows me too well.”  He laughed.  “And you don’t know how lucky I am there’s such a thing as ticketless travel.  I used to lose plane tickets all the time.”
He settled into a lane of stalled traffic.
“I don’t know why they call it a freeway,” he said, then looked over at me.  “You look nice.”
“Thanks,” I said and found myself pushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
He had the radio set on an alternative radio station.  Nirvana was followed by Pearl Jam, then they played Godsmack.
It struck me then that he had said that he liked me because we could talk, and I had been quiet for way too long.
“Um, it’s a nice day,” I said.
He squinted at the sun.  “Yeah, but you know it’ll be covered in smog in no time.  Are you nervous?  You weren’t nervous around me the other day.”
I tried to laugh casually.  “I was at work then, Nick.  Believe me, I was nervous, but I get paid to act like I’m not.  And if anyone had told me that I was going to end up here today, I never, in a million years would have believed them.”
He smiled at me and inched the truck up the lane.  “I’m just a regular guy, Becky.  Really.  I just have a strange job.”
“It must be a great job,” I told him.  “You’re very lucky.”
He shrugged.  “I’ve worked very hard.  But isn’t that what life is about?  I mean, why else would anyone work hard except to succeed in what they love?  Isn’t that why you work in a newspaper?  Because you love to write?”
I glanced out the window and sighed.  “Yeah.  I love to write, Nick.  I always have.  And that’s why I do it.  It’s just...,” I stopped, not wanting to bring him down with my problems.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“C’mon tell me.  It’s not like we’re going anywhere,” he said with a chuckle.
“It’s just hard to get a good paying job as a writer.  I just graduated from college, and I’m lucky to be where I am,” I told him, hoping he wouldn’t ask anymore questions.
“Well, didn’t you say the LA Times had offered you a job?”
“Yeah, but I can’t take that job,” I said.
He fell silent, maybe finally realizing that I wasn’t going to tell him my pathetic life’s story.
“So, when’s your birthday?” I asked.
He made a face at me.  “I thought you were fan.”
“I am!  But I don’t know your birthday.  I’m sorry.”
“It’s next Friday,” he said.  “I’m going to be twenty.  You’re still coming to the party, right?”
I nodded.  “I’m looking forward to it.  Is it a dressy party?”
“Naw,” he said.  “I probably won’t even wear my shoes.”  Then he laughed.  “Not really.  Just wear whatever.  I’m sure you’ll look great.”
That was twice he had complimented me.  I was actually at a loss.
“Thank you,” I managed to get out.
We finally hit a point on the freeway where traffic sped up, and he made it downtown quickly enough as we continued with the small talk.
He pulled out his cell phone after he parked in front of the office.  “Okay.  This is a sure way that I won’t lose your number.  Let me just program your name.  B-E-C-K-Y,” he said smiling.  “Right?”
I smiled at him.  “Okay.  You can call me Becky.  But only you.”
He returned the smile bright and confident.  “Thank you.  Backstreet Boy membership has its privileges, I always say.  Now, tell me the number.”
I recited my home phone number then the office number.
“You’re really just as likely to find me at either place,” I told him.  “I spend a lot of time here.”
He nodded and looked at the building over my shoulder.  “Okay,” he said.
I felt awkward suddenly, like that moment after a date when you don’t know whether to hug someone or shake their hand.
“Thanks for ride,” I said reaching for the handle.
“Oh, I’ll walk you,” he said and glanced at his watch.  “But it’s not even nine yet.  Are you going in?”
“I’d better,” I told him.  “I have a bunch of stuff that I need to do, and I don’t really have a schedule.  I go home whenever I’m finished for the day.”
“Oh, okay, then wait.  Don’t move.”
He looked out for the traffic and hurried off the truck.  He came around to my side and opened the door.  He even took my hand as I made my way off the truck.
He walked me inside the office while the mouths of those who recognized him fell agape.
He smiled, embarrassed for the first time.
I shrugged.  “They know I’m a fan,” I told him quietly.  “They never thought I’d be able to interview you.  This must just shock them to death.”
His smile grew.  “Well good.  I think they’re going to have to get used to seeing me.  Is that okay?”
My heart skipped.  “I think that’s great.”
“Okay.”  He touched my shoulder and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek.  He smelled of cologne and shampoo.  “I’ll let you get to work now.  Have a good day.  I’ll call you.”
“Okay.  Thanks Nick.  Bye.”
“You’re welcome.  Have a good day, Becky.  Bye.”
“Bye.”
I watched him as he walked out the door and was actually on the sidewalk.  I bit my lip and turned to my heel toward Roger, my best friend at work.
“Oh.  My.  God.  Rebecca Diaz, what on Earth--?” he stopped.  “Heads up girl.  He’s back.”
I turned back around to see him coming back inside.
I hurried toward him.
“What’s wrong?  Everything okay?”
He nodded.  “I was just wondering something.”
“What?”
“You think you’ll need a ride again tomorrow morning because I’m not doing anything, and I can pick you up.”
“No, it’s okay,” I began.  “The bus is--.”
“The bus is filthy,” Roger said from his desk.
Nick looked up at him surprised.
Roger smiled.  “Sorry.  It is.”
“He’s right,” Nick said.  “It is.  Let me pick you up.  I’m not here all the time, but I’m here now.  Let me do it.”
I nodded.  “Okay.  Okay, but I’m going to get used to it, and when you’re not here I’m going to be mad.”
Nick smiled.  “It’s okay.  You probably look good mad.”   He kissed me on the cheek again.  “Bye.”
“Bye,” I said, but I had no voice, so I had to clear my throat and repeat myself.  “Bye.”
“Bye,” Roger said.
Nick chuckled.  “Bye.”
Needless to say, that day, I had a hard time concentrating on what I needed to do.  But eventually, I did get to work.
 

The next morning, I was prepared to be much more composed when I found the huge, black truck waiting outside my house.  I was by no means a quiet person who didn’t know what to say around guys.  But this was Nick Carter, and I decided to work hard to be myself.
Nick was outside, leaning against the passenger door with his arms crossed.  He was watching the kids making their way toward school, smiling and waving at girls who stared at him with wide eyes, and screams caught in their throats.
“You could have come in,” I told him after greeting him with a kiss on the cheek.
He shrugged and got the door for me. “It’s a nice day, and I didn’t know if it was okay.  Believe it or not, I’m kind of shy.”
I half laughed.  “No.  I don’t believe it. Shy people never admit to being shy.  They just are.”
“Okay,” he said as we climbed inside.  “You’re probably right.  But I still get nervous knocking on a girl’s door for the first time.  That makes me shy.”
“That makes you normal,” I said putting the seat belt on.
“Hmm, you’re right,” he said an turned off the radio.  “You get a lot done yesterday?”
“The usual.  I spent the morning watching the wire for any good stories and editing other people’s stuff.  I went to see a movie in the afternoon and wrote a review for it.”
“Not that Blair Witch thing, right?”
“No.  It was End of the Affair.  It was a very, um, interesting movie.”
“Interesting good?”
“Well, it was kind of like reading a book.  You had to do a lot of the work.  I don’t know.  I liked it,” I told him as he expertly headed toward the freeway again.
“So, you’re like the entertainment reporter?” he asked.
“Feature writer,” I said.  “That means they use me for anything that’s not hard news.  It was my idea to ask you for an interview.  I never thought we’d get it.”
He smiled and shrugged but didn’t say anything.
“Why did you say yes?” I asked.
He shrugged again.  “I dunno.  I guess I just wanted to do something different.  We’re always getting interviewed by TV stations, magazines and newspapers.  But it’s not often that you get to talk to a reporter from a community newspaper.  I guess I just...Well, I’m not....,” he sighed.  “Really Becky?  I don’t know why I said yes.  It just sounded like a good idea at the time.  I’m the kind of person who is always looking for something different to do.  So, talking to a small newspaper just seemed like something no one else had done.”  He looked at me.  “I’m glad I did, though.”
“I’m glad you did, too,” I said but didn’t meet his gaze.  It was just too hard because he still made my palms sweat.
He went back to watching the road as the traffic grew heavier.  Just as with regular guys, I could sense that he was doing the whole ball-is-in-her-court thing.  He’d done all the work until then, so it was up to me to keep things interesting.
“You gonna be in town long?” I asked.
“Just until the beginning of February.  We start up on tour again.  I actually hadn’t had this much time off in a while.  When do you get a day off?”
I half-laughed because I was always asking my editor that question.
“Whenever I’m finished working, which is never.  They do owe me some time off, though because they never give it to me.  Why?”
He shrugged.  “Just making sure that you’ll be able to make the party on Friday.”
“Oh, I never work late in the evening.  I try to be home by five or six the very latest.  My mom’s kind of sick,” I said.  “So I try to home to help put her to bed and spend a little time with her.”
He glanced at me for a second.  “What’s wrong with her?”
I felt my stomach tighten.  I hated talking about my problems, but he was really making an effort, and it wasn’t fair not to even try to open up to him.
“She’s had a really long, hard life, Nick.  I’m second to the youngest and my oldest brother is nearly forty.   So, by the time I came along a lot of bad stuff had happened to her, but she got us through.  I mean, I was lucky to just have grown up with just her and not my father.  But about the time I started college, she started getting sick all the time.  She was always tired and never felt good.  She had headaches and dizzy spells.  We thought it was all just catching up with her, you know?  But it was the early onset of Alzheimer’s.  And it’s gone through her really fast.  She’s not totally lost all the time, but she doesn’t know what’s going on either.  I guess I’ve gotten used to it, and I notice the good days more than the bad ones.  I try to be home as much as I can because I know she doesn’t have a lot of time left.  My neighbor’s mom is terminally ill.  Well, my neighbor is kind of old herself, but she still manages.  So, my mom stays with her during the day.  But I’m there every night and as much as I can on the weekends.  That’s why I like the little newspaper.  At least I don’t have a load of pressure on my back that keeps me from helping my mom when she needs me.”
He didn’t say anything for what seemed like a long time.  I saw his grip tighten somewhat on the steering wheel, then he looked out at the roads.
“But is it just you?  Isn’t there anyone else in your family?” he asked.
“Well, I’m the only one who can be there all the time.  The rest of my brothers and sisters have families and careers, and--.”
“You have a career.”
“I’m trying to have a career.  And--.”
“And that’s why you’re not taking that job LA Times job, huh?” he asked.
I shifted to face him.   He looked completely serious for the first time.
“Yeah,” I said.  “I think my mom needs me more than I need that job.”
He shook his head.  “Wow.  You realize most people would take that job and put their mom in a nursing home or something, right?  I mean, I’m not saying that you should.  But most people would.”
“I’ve thought about that.  But if the table’s were turned, my mom wouldn’t do that to me.  She put up with a lot of stuff to get my brothers and sisters and me through college.  This is the least I can do for her.”
“Well, what about them?”
I laughed.  “Nick, if I had the answer to that question--.”
He laughed.  “Okay.  Okay.  I know what you mean.  But you’re selfless,” he said.  “You really are.”
“Family means everything to me,” I said.
He nodded and changed lanes carefully as the downtown buildings came into view.
“Me too,” he said.  “I think sometimes, I forget how easy I’ve had it.”
I smiled at him this time looking at him because suddenly, he didn’t seem so different from me.
“So are you really looking forward to your party?”
The bright smile returned to his face.  “Oh yeah!  It’s going to be a blast.  All the guys are coming, and my parents are getting some great food.  They have a beach house, so maybe we can build a bonfire or something when it gets dark.  Just yesterday, we were talking about getting a band, but I think that would be a bit much.  I just want to relax and have a good time with my family, the guys and you.”
“Well, hopefully I won’t get so nervous that I embarrass you, okay?”
“Naw,” he said.  “You’ll be great.  You already are.”
I had to smile.  “Thanks.  So are you.”
He made it to the office a little later than the day before.  So he quickly made his way off the truck and got the door for me.  He walked me all the way inside again.  Only this time, he held my hand.
“Tomorrow, I have to help my little brother with some stuff, so I can’t pick you up.  Is it okay if I call you tonight?” he asked as we stood in the lobby.
“Yeah,  I’d like that.  Please call me.”
“Okay,” he said and leaned down to kiss me on the cheek again.  At least I thought he was going to kiss my cheek when I felt his lips brush mine.
I actually flinched in shock.
He chuckled.  “Sorry.  Well, I’m not sorry, but,” he shrugged.  “You know.”
“No, it’s okay.  You just surprised me.”
He nodded.  “And you’re at work,”  he said in a lower voice than he had been using.  “Sorry.”
I laughed.  “It’s okay.  Really.”
“Well, I’ll call you, and we can make plans for Friday night, okay?”
I nodded.  “Okay.”
He smiled and took a step back.  “Bye.”
“Bye,” I said but didn’t let go of his hand.  So, he stood four steps away from me laughing.
“Becky,” he started.
I hurried up to him, pulled his shoulder down and gave him a quick peck on the lips.
“Bye, have a good day,” I told him walking away quickly.
He was laughing.  “Okay.  Okay bye.”
 

He was late.
It was his birthday, and we had agreed that he’d pick me up at six-thirty so we could be at his house before seven.  It was six-thirty-five.  And granted that he was only a little late, but he was late.
My mother was staying at Connie’s house.  I had gotten ready there and stayed with her until six-twenty-five.
So, he was late and that made me nervous.
Up until then, I had stopped being nervous around him, or about him, because he seemed like such a guy.  When he called me Thursday night, we had stayed up talking about movies, music and past relationships.  He had just gotten out of a very serious one.  I hadn’t had a real one since my mother got really sick.  But we talked for awhile about the guys I had dated.
I’d even bought him a present: a thick silver ring with a big, black onyx stone.  I had bought it on impulse from a little shop downtown where I bought many silver things for myself.   This who was born in the same town in Mexico as my mother designs the rings.  And when I saw the really cool ring, I had thought about him.  I often looked at his hands when we were together, and he didn’t wear any rings.  So, when I got home, I sat and contemplated it for a long time.  I was afraid he’d read much more than my intention of giving him something cool.  Or that he wouldn’t like it.  But I’d known him for so little time, that I wasn’t sure what to get him.  I knew of him from being a fan.  I knew he liked Nirvana, video games, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and The Simpsons.  But I wanted to give him something more personal then was struck by thought that I didn’t know him that personally.
I wrapped the ring in a little box and put it on the coffee table with my purse.
But right around six forty, I was actually getting angry at him and mumbling things I had only allowed myself to think.  He was strange.  He thought I was easy.  He was some kind of lunatic.  He was playing with me because he could.  He was slumming.
Then when the truck pulled up, I felt immensely guilty.
“I’m sorry,” he said when I opened the door.  “I’m late, I know.  Mike gave my present at his place, and I opened it.  I couldn’t wait.  Look,  you like my jacket?  Isn’t it cool?”
It was a nice black, leather jacket of which I was sure he had many.   But he smiled with so much enthusiasm that it seemed like he’d never owned one.
“You look great,” I told him.
“No.  You look great.  Are you ready to go?”
I grabbed my purse from the table.  “Yeah.  Let’s go.”
“Mike’s in the truck,” he said.  “I made him sit in the back.  But that’s okay.  He loves me.”
“And it’s your birthday,” I added.
He took my hand.  “Yeah.  It’s my birthday.”
 

He drove quickly though the streets and onto the freeway.  Before I knew it we were heading into Malibu.  I had been there many times taking visiting friends for a cruise to check out the celebrity homes.  It was the first time I actually had anything to do there.
“And there’s so much food in the house that we’re already talking about what to do with the leftovers,” he was saying.
Mike chuckled.  “You can donate them to the bodyguard cause.”
“What cause?  I’ve seen you, you eat better than I do,” Nick said glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
Mike laughed.  “Yeah Nick.  Sure.”
“And I saw the cake.  I wasn’t supposed to, but I did.  Aaron and I were snooping around, and we found a huge, chocolate cake in the back of the walk in freezer.  I don’t know they got such an enormous cake.  Kevin and Howie don’t even eat sweets, much less their girlfriends.  You eat cake, right Becky?”
“Whenever I can,” I told him.  “There’s this Mexican bakery by my house where the make the best, moistest chocolate cake you have ever tasted.  Sometimes, I stop by on my way home from work and buy a couple of slices.  It’s so good.  They put fresh strawberries on top.”
“Stop,” Nick said.  “I haven’t really eaten today because I was saving my appetite for tonight.  Don’t make my stomach growl.”
“Okay, sorry.”
“And when I went to pick up Mike, they were putting balloons all over the place.  It looked like a party for Aaron.  I guess it’s because it’s the first time that I’ll be home for my birthday in a long time.  I’m usually touring or recording or something.  I guess that’s why my parents are going all out for the big twenty.”
“Big twenty,” Mike echoed.  “I remember when you turned sixteen.  You’re not a little kid anymore,” he added, sweetly.
Nick laughed.  “I don’t think I’ve ever had much of a chance to be.  At least not as much as I should have. But we are going to enjoy this party. It’s going to be a blast.”
When he stopped the truck, all I could see was a rock wall and a gate.
“Everyone’s here,” he said after punching in a security code that opened the gates to a huge house.  “You’ll like the guys.  They’re cool.”
I swallowed hard.  “Yeah.”
He hurried off the truck to get the door.  Mike was getting his jacket.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said quickly.  “Just be yourself.  The other guys are a lot like Nick.  They’re just guys.”
“Okay.  I’ll try.”
Nick opened the door, took my hand, and we walked toward the spectacular house.  He looked around as if he expected to see people outside.  He glanced back to Mike.
“I can’t even hear them,” he said.
“They’re gonna surprise you,” Mike said.  “It’s your birthday, man.”
“But I know about the party.”
“Just act surprised,” he said.
Nick turned back to me before reaching for the door knob.
“You okay?  Not nervous, right?”
“Right.  Wrong,” I said.  “I’m nervous.  Sorry.”
“It’s okay.  Just stay with me okay?”
“Okay.”
The house was dark when he opened the door, so I guessed Mike had been right.
“Mom?” he said tentatively.
“SURPRISE!!”
The lights came on, but they were very bright.  I saw faces and flashes.  We were still on the porch.  Nick tugged at my hand, and Mike pulled my elbow in the other direction.
“Happy birthday, Nick!”
“Hi Nick!  I’m Mary Hart from Entertainment Tonight!  You surprised?”
“Yeah,” I heard him say.  “I’m surprised.  Thanks.”
“Well, thanks to you and your mom who allowed us to come to your party and share it with all of America,” she said.  “Okay cut you guys, and let him get in the house.  Let’s get some shots of the family and Nick with the cake.”
Finally, he turned back to us.
“It’s okay,” he said softly to Mike.  “Stay.”  He looked down at me.  “I didn’t know.  I’m sorry.  Let me do this, and hopefully, they’ll leave.  Stay close to Mike, okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
“Nick!  Happy birthday!” I recognized Aaron coming through the small crowd of reporters and camera men toward Nick with a huge box.
“Hey little buddy.  Thanks,” Nick said taking it from him and giving him a hug.  “Say hi to my friend Becky.”
“Hi Becky.  Hi Mike.”
“Hi,” I said.
“Hey kid,” Mike told him.
“What are those people doing here?” Nick asked softly.
“Mom wanted to surprise you.”
“Oh you guys are so cute!” Mary Hart said.  “Can you give your brother the present again on camera?”
Nick looked shocked.  “No, I...  Okay,” he said.  “Okay.”
Mike and I stepped out of the way as much as we could.
Aaron dutifully took the present back and repeated his actions.  They both smiled brightly at the camera and at each other.
I looked at Mike.
He shook his head.  “Poor Nick.  All he wanted to do was have fun on his birthday.  Now, he’s working.”
“Mike,” I heard a voice call.
“C’mon,” he said pulling me toward the next room.  It looked like an airy dining room emptied of furniture.  There was a huge table full of brightly wrapped presents and another with a buffet table and a chef in a hat.
“We shouldn’t leave him,” I protested.
“He’s fine.  Trust me.  Let me introduce you to the guys.”
Two of the Backstreet Boys milled around in the room.
“Shit.  What is all that?” Mike asked.
Kevin shrugged.  “It’s Nick’s mom.  We all brought the girls.”
“Really?  They gonna be on this too?” Mike asked.
“Who knows?  They said they were just here for Nick’s birthday, but who knows?  If I had known, I wouldn’t have come.”
“Neither would have Nick,” Mike said.  “Look, this is Rebecca.  Nick’s date.”
Kevin shook my hand and smiled.  “Nice to meet you.  Bet this freaks you out, huh?”
I nodded.  “Well, sort of.  I didn’t think there would be any press here.”
“Welcome to our world.  Sorry about the rude awakening.”
I turned around to recognize AJ sitting in a chair.
“That sunny guy is AJ,” Mike said.
He got up and walked toward us.
“Hi.  It’s nice to meet you.  Frack okay over there?”
“He’s fine,” Mike said.  “He’s smiling and talking like nothing.  You know him.”
“Well, we got ambushed,” AJ said, shaking his head.  “This sucks.”
Kevin shrugged.  “Grin and bear it, man.  Next year, we’ll plan his birthday, or we’ll go back to work right after the holidays.”
“Good idea,” AJ said and pressed a smile at me.  “Where was Nick hiding you?”
“We just met a couple of weeks ago,” I said.  “I work for a newspaper in Los Angeles, and--.”
“You’re one of them?” AJ asked.
“Yeah, sort of.  It’s a real small newspaper.  I interviewed him, and he ended up asking me out,” I shrugged, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“That dog,” AJ said.  “Because he’s a full-fledged dog now, you know?” he said looking at Kevin.  “He’s all but left puppy-hood.”
Kevin laughed.  “Yeah.  Thank God.  Hopefully he’ll finally get rid of the fake vomit and fish-tasting gum.”
I looked up at him, surprised.
“Yeah.  It’s true.  He’s into all that crap.”
I had to laugh.
“I’m gonna go check on him,” Mike said.  “Stay here.”
“C’mon,” Kevin said.  “Let me introduce you to everyone else.”
We went out to the back of the house which faced the beach. Howie and Brian were out there with their girlfriends.  Kevin’s girlfriend was there as well.  Apparently, AJ had gone alone.
They all expressed the same sentiments as the other two, only not as colorfully as AJ.
“How long you think they’ll be here?” Brian asked.
Kevin shrugged.  “God knows.  It’s not just Entertainment Tonight, you know.  It’s some other shows too and some newspapers.”
Brian blew out a long sigh.  “Well, so much for this party.  What do you say we just go?  Nick’ll understand.”
“We can’t,” Howie said.  “I haven’t even said happy birthday to him, yet.”
“Well, here’s your chance, D,” Mike said stepping back outside.  “They want some shots with you guys.”
“No,” AJ said.
Kevin sighed and rolled his eyes.
Brian was the first one up.  “The sooner we this over with, the sooner they will leave. Or the sooner we can leave.  C’mon.”
Only Howie got up to follow him.
“C’mon,” Brian repeated.  “C’mon.”
Kevin followed first with AJ reluctantly getting up after about a minute.
“Just wait here,” Mike told me.
“Is he okay?”
He shrugged and followed the guys back inside.
“It’s always like this,” Leigh Ann, who was sitting next to me, said.  “Don’t worry about it.  If it’s not the press, it’s the fans or the schedule.  He’ll be fine.”
“He really just wanted to have a good time.”
“He will.  I can’t believe he didn’t expect this would happen.  His mother loves having the press over.  It’ll be okay.  You known him long?”
“About two weeks,” I said.  “Not long at all.”
“He’s so nice,” she said smiling.  “He really is just a nice kid.  But you know, he’s pretty tough, too.  He’s had to be.  They’ve all had to be.”
“I can imagine,” I said.
She smiled.  “Don’t worry.  Just give it another little while.  It’ll be okay.”
It took about an hour for it to be okay.  From where we were, we could hear the laughter, questions and requests from the reporters.
Can Nick pose with his siblings?  With Aaron?  Can he pose with the guys?  With his parents?  Just with Brian?  Just with Kevin?  Etc.
And it turned out that all that food and cake was for the reporters as well.  It sounded like it took Nick twenty minutes to blow out his candles because they wanted to get shots of him from every angle.  Kevin and Brian were the first to exit and go get their girlfriends.  Twenty minutes after that, Howie escaped.  Last, but not least came AJ.
“I didn’t have the heart to just abandon him,” he admitted.  “They’re wrapping it up.  Can’t you hear the song?”  He went on to hum the opening song for Entertainment Tonight.
I laughed.
“They’ll be showing the party tomorrow night.  Probably for about ten seconds, and they ruined the whole night,” he said.  “Whatever.  You gonna stay here?”
“I don’t have a ride back,” I said.
He nodded.  “I can take you.  I was gonna meet the guys at a club, but I can take you home.”
“It’s okay.”
We looked up to find Nick at the door.  He ran his hands through his hair and plopped down next to me.
“You okay?” I asked.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It wasn’t your fault.  You didn’t know.”
“I should have known,” he said.  “And they’re not gone yet.  Now, they have Aaron singing over there.”  He shook his head.  “I just wanna bail.”
“Then go,” AJ said.  “You can meet the guys at the club.”
Nick made a face.  “I hate clubs.”
“Then just go somewhere.  You guys can still have dinner or something.”
“Can’t, Bone,” he said.
“Go,” AJ repeated.  “I’ll take Mike home later.  You just go.  It’s still your birthday for another little while.  Salvage what you can.”
He looked at me.
I smiled.
“We can go,” I said.  “It’s up to you.”
He looked at AJ, then at the house, then back at me.
“Go,” AJ said.  “Just get the hell out of here.  Go.”
He pressed a smile at AJ.  “Thanks, Bone.  Thanks for coming and staying this long.”
AJ smiled.  “It’s cool.  The guys had dates to get to.  C’mere.”  AJ gave him a huge hug.  “Happy birthday, baby.  I hope you get all you want.  And don’t worry, we’ll do something just us guys, later.  Okay?”
“Okay,” Nick said.  “Thanks.”
He let him go and pulled my hand as we hurried around the house.
“Bye guys.  I’ll stall them,” AJ said, then laughed.
We hurried around the huge house and press vans and trucks.  We could still hear the sounds of laughter and conversation as he opened his truck.
He didn’t look back once.
 

He was quiet the whole way back into town.  It was then that I realized how hard it must be to be him.  My birthday had been spent exactly the way that I wanted:  with my mother and eating chocolate cake from the nearby bakery.
I remembered then that old movie Sixteen Candles when Molly Ringwald thought that everyone had forgotten her birthday.  That was kind of his problem but backwards.  People had remembered his birthday, but they had forgotten all about him.
“We going home?” I asked as I recognized my neighborhood.
“Still wanna do something?  Wanna go to the club with the guys?”
I shrugged.  “Not if you don’t.  Let’s go to my house.  Just make a stop first, okay?”
“Okay,” he said.  “Sure.  Where?”
“I’ll tell you.”
I directed him toward the bakery and told him to stay in the truck.
“But why?” he asked.
“Just let me go alone, please?  I promise it’s gonna be fun.  Okay?”
He looked at the seat.  He looked so frustrated like everything he had wanted to do had just gone to hell.
“Okay,” he said softly.  “Just hurry.”
I was able to lay my hands on the last round, strawberry-topped, chocolate cake.  The lady put it in a box for me and everything, and I hurried back to the truck.
He wasn’t anymore talkative the rest of the way to the house.
“C’mon,” I told him when he stopped the truck.  “Come in.”
“It’s okay, Becky.  I’m just gonna go drive around.”
“Alone?  On your birthday?  No.  C’mon.  I haven’t even given you your present.”
“You didn’t have to buy me a present.”
“You didn’t have to invite me to your party.  You didn’t have to give me a ride to work.  You didn’t have to be so nice to me.  C’mon.”
“Really, it’s--,” he stopped and looked at me. “Okay.”
The house was silent when we entered.  My mother was still at Connie’s, so I knew she was okay.  It was a bit embarrassing to take him into my humble home after seeing his amazing house.  But at least, my house was quiet and private.
“Have you ever seen that movie Sixteen Candles?” I asked as we made our way to our small, crowded dining room.
“Yeah.  I love eighties movies.  Why?”
I shrugged as I removed the mail, old newspapers, and general discarded junk from the top of the dining room table.
“Sit,” I told him patting the top of the table.  It was old but sturdy.
He looked shocked.  “What?  On there?  I’m gonna--.”
I shook my head.  “Sit.  Just trust me, and get up there because you’re gonna have to help me up in a minute.”
He raised his eyebrow curiously.  Then, slowly, he smiled that bright smile I was starting to get so used to seeing.
“Um, okay.  Okay, I’ll play along Becky.  But if it breaks, and we get hurt--.”
“Sh!  It’s going to be fine.  When I come out, I expect to see you sitting up there, just like on Sixteen Candles.”
He giggled.  “Okay.”
I grabbed the present I had left behind earlier, stuffed it in my pocket and hurried to the kitchen.  I could hear him laughing and talking to himself while I put candles around the strawberries.  I grabbed a knife, two plates and two forks and hurried back out making sure that I didn’t drop the cake.
“Becky!” he said with a laugh.
He had followed my instructions exactly and was sitting Indian-style on the table.
“Happy birthday,” I told him and placing the cake in front of him.
He looked from it to me, then smiled the first genuine smile I had seen since we got to his house.  He scooted back and pulled the cake toward himself so there was room for me to sit.
“C’mon,” he said.  “Join me before they melt.”
I used a chair to climb up on the table and sat Indian-style in front of him and the cake.  The table creaked once beneath us then settled.  We both laughed.
His eyes sparkled warm blue in the candlelight, and more than anything, glowed with happiness.
“Thanks, Becky.”
“Make wish,” I said.
He smiled.  “It already came true.  All I wanted was to have a good birthday.”
“Then make another one.”
He looked up at the ceiling and seemed to think.  “Okay.  I got one.  Ready?”
“I’m ready.”
He filled his cheeks with air and blew out all the candles in one breath.
I clapped for him.  “Yeah Nick!”
He leaned over and brushed his lips with mine again.  I kept my face close to his and felt him kiss my cheek then my lips again.
I could smell the smoking candles.
He leaned his forehead on mine.  “Well, what do you know?  Birthday wishes do come true.”
“Your wish was to kiss me?”
“Yup.”
“Just once?”
I heard him laugh and felt his lips back on mine.  This time, it was a real kiss that didn’t last as long as I wish it would have.
He pulled away and smiled.  “Thanks.  Thank you for saving my birthday, Becky.  I really appreciate it.”
I shrugged. “It was nothing.  All I did was get the cake and,” I pulled the box out of my pocket.  “Please don’t think that I mean anything serious by this because I just thought it was really cool,” I began my explanation. “And I thought really hard whether I should even give it to you because I didn’t want you think--.”
He put out his hand.  “Just give it me, okay?  I’m not gonna think it’s a marriage proposal.  Unless it is?”
I smiled.  “No.  Not yet, anyway.”
“Okay.”  He carefully unwrapped the small box and pulled out the chunky ring.  “Wow.  This is cool.  Where’d you get it?”
“This little silver shop downtown.  The guy there designs the rings.  It’s one of kind, like you.”
He was sticking it on his index finger but looked up when I said that.
He bit his lower lip and looked around the house.  “Wow.  You are probably the only person who has said that to me.  And I’ve had lots of things said to me.”
“It’s true,” I told him.  “Like the ring?”
He made a fist, showed me the ring and nodded.  “Yeah.  I’ll wear it, okay?  I promise.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “You don’t have to promise.”
“But I will.  Want some cake?”
I handed him the knife.  “Yeah, cut the cake.”
We ate the entire thing that night and stayed up talking until the sun rose.  We ended up on the couch, and he fell asleep with his head on my shoulder. He was heavy, but no way in world was I going to complain.
 

The night before he was set to go back with the group, he picked me up from work.  We had planned a real date that included dinner and a movie, but ended up sitting on my front porch talking.  My mom had had a bad day, and I just couldn’t leave her.
“Sorry about tonight,” I told him for probably the fifth time.
“It’s okay. I already told you that.  I totally understand.  Family comes first, right?”
“Right.  So you excited about tomorrow?”
“Yes and no,” he said with a shrug.  “I love working, and I think I really need to get back to it.  But,” he paused and took hold of my hand.  “I was really starting to like hanging around with you.”
“Well, you’ll be back,” I said.
“Um, not for awhile.  We’re booked straight through to the end of March.  I’ll call you, though.”
“Yeah,” I said.  “You’d better.”
“And even after that, I don’t even know when I’ll be back here to stay.   We have to record, make the videos, tour and promote.  It’s--.”
I stopped the words from coming out of his mouth with a kiss.
“It’s okay,” I said.  “Look, we’ve had this whole time to have a good time.  You had a good birthday, and my wildest dream came true.”
“I’m your wildest dream?” he asked.  “I’m not even wild.”
I laughed then remembered that we’d run my interview that weekend.  “Hey, let me show you something.  Wait here.”
“Okay.”
I hurried into the house and got a copy of the newspaper.  The story about Nick filled up the front of the features section along with some pictures we got from his publicist.
“Hey, it’s me,” he said when I handed it to him.  “Cool.”  He ran over the article with a small smile on his face.  “Do I get to keep it?”
“Of course.  Did you see my by-line?”
He looked and laughed.  “Becky Diaz!   See, I knew you’d come around.”
I laughed too as he pulled me tightly into his arms.