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Nick and Jo ate silently, digesting the contents of their whirling minds along with their casserole.

Jo wasn’t sure she’d gotten through to Nick, but she was willing to accept the fact that he was, at least, helping her.  She was safe aboard the Lenore, feeling better physically with each passing hour; Bernie was on the case, and the police were involved.  Jo could no longer do anything about that end of things.  Mickey would be found, or she wouldn’t.  She would be safe, or she wouldn’t.  Jo had no control over that.  She had done all she could do.

What she did have some control over, or at least she hoped she did, was the situation with the man across the table from her.  Jo had meant what she said about Mickey being in love with Nick.  Jo smiled to herself as she remembered the hopeless attempt Mickey had made at explaining it to Pete without seeming like some crazy person.

Mickey told Jo that when she tried to explain it to Pete, his eyebrows just went higher and higher and then sailed off the top of his head.  So Mickey promised to put away all her Backstreet Boys memorabilia and remove the framed picture of Nick that stood on the table beside her bed.

Pete thought about it and came back the next day and told her that he guessed he understood, but not really.  But he did understand that it was important to Mickey, so if she wanted, she could keep the picture of Nick on her night table.  Pete’s only request was that she turn the picture around when they were making love.

Nick picked up another forkful of casserole and watched Jo.  She was obviously thinking of something in the past.  Her eyes were far away.  Mickey, he guessed.

Mickey.  His number one fan.

Nick shook his head.  It was indeed a weird world he lived in.  Jo’s frantic attempt at explanation was still ringing in Nick’s ears.  If she couldn’t convince him that Mickey wouldn’t leave her best friend behind, could Jo convince him that she wouldn’t leave her…her what?  Her idol?  Her fantasy lover?  Her…?

Nick didn’t really know what to call it.  And it wasn’t Mickey’s adoration so much that freaked him out, but more Jo’s acceptance of it, that it was a normal way of living to have a framed picture of a celebrity sitting beside your bed, to know his every move, to care vehemently about his life and relationships.

“Who’s your favorite?” he asked.

Jo twitched and then looked at him.  She blinked a couple of times, almost as if she’d forgotten he was there.

But Nick noticed that she knew exactly what he was asking her.

“Brian,” she said softly.

“Ah,” replied Nick, with a smile.  “B-Rok.  Good choice.”

“Frick and Frack,” said Jo.

“Mickey and Jo,” whispered Nick, suddenly understanding.

“Yeah,” murmured Jo, and tears formed at the corners of her eyes.  She swiped at them with the paper towel she was using as a napkin.  “You finished?”

Nick nodded and passed Jo his plate.  She got up and carried the dishes to the kitchen counter.  With her back to him, she was able to talk.

“You guys came into our lives at just the right moment.  We were fifteen or sixteen at the time, completely boy crazy and into music.  There wasn’t a square inch of our bedroom walls that wasn’t covered with posters.  And little by little, it was all you guys.”

She turned back to Nick with a smile.  “And Mickey fell for you in a big way.  I, of course, was more mature and went for an older man.”

Nick laughed.  “If you wanted someone mature, you should have gone for Kevin.”

“Nah,” said Jo, “too old.  I mean, we were fifteen, and he was…what?...24?...25?  Senior citizen time!”

Nick laughed again.

“And of course, there was the whole Frick and Frack thing.  Best friends.  Doing everything together.  Having secret codes and stuff like that, you know.”

Nick raised an eyebrow.  He and Brian had never had a secret code.  Probably a damn good thing. They’d gotten into enough trouble without one.

Jo smiled and went on, “We even tried to get people to call us Frick and Frack, but it never caught on.”

“Did you get to any concerts?” asked Nick.

“Millennium…February 18, 1999,” said Jo, without hesitation.  “Man, when you guys came floating into that stadium, we just stood there and screamed and screamed and screamed.  We couldn’t help ourselves.  We were in the same building as you at last.”

“Cool,” said Nick.  “Did you have good seats?”

“Didn’t you hear me say we were in the building?” laughed Jo.  “That was good enough for us.  I guess you wouldn’t call them good seats, but it was the best we could do.  We almost didn’t get to go at all.  Our parents…”

“What?” protested Nick, getting up from the table.  He held up the bottle of wine.  Jo nodded, and he poured them each another glass.  “Your parents didn’t like us?  How could that be?  We were squeaky clean.  I thought parents loved us.”

“Oh, it wasn’t that,” said Jo.  “It’s just that you had somehow forgotten to put Fayetteville on your tour schedule.  In order for us to see you, we were going to have to travel.  You were in Charlotte, Raleigh and Greensboro, all within four days.  Mickey and I had big plans.  We were going to go to all three shows, drive all over the state, sleep in the car…meet you, marry you…that kind of thing.”

“And your parents had a problem with that?” asked Nick, with a grin.

“Yeah, a little one,” replied Jo.  “Let’s see…what part didn’t they like?  Oh yeah, I remember now …all of it!!” 

She shook her head and laughed.  “Mickey and I were so full of plans.  We had lists and strategy and ideas.  And our parents took the wind out of our sails and said two 17-year-olds were not ‘going on the road with any rock group’.  Finally, we managed to get to them to agree that we could go to Raleigh to the concert.  My mom drove us, and we stayed in a motel and then drove home the next day.” 

Jo paused, thinking back.  “That was the best day of my life to that point.”

Jo turned on the tap and began filling the sink with water.  “Of course, that concert just made us love you guys even more.  Seeing you in person…”  She squirted some dish soap into the water and began piling in the plates and cutlery.  “I think if we’d actually met one of you, we would have fainted…or peed our pants…or some other cool move.”

“Well, you seem to have grown out of it,” said Nick, pretending to pout.  “I mean, when I met you in Calabash, there was no fainting or screaming...or any loss of bodily functions.” 

Jo smiled.  “Well, I’ve grown up a little, and besides you weren’t really you.”

“What the heck does that mean?” asked Nick.

“Well, it was just ‘Jordana Miles…meet Nick Carter’.  A guy, you know, just a guy.  Not like it was 'Ladies and Gentlemen…from the Backstreet Boys…Nick Carterrrrrrrr.'” 

Jo swept her arms out to the sides in a broad gesture, as she exclaimed the final words.  Soap bubbles flew off her hands.

“Hey! Be careful!” sputtered Nick, wiping a blob of soap from his face.  He picked up the dish towel and began drying the plates.

It didn’t take long before the dishes were put away and the kitchen was tidied.  Nick and Jo picked up their wineglasses and walked the few short steps to the living room.  They sat down on the sofa, together but apart. 

Nick picked up Jo’s hand and started playing with her fingers.  “So,” he began haltingly, “when we…um…before…today…when we…”

Jo squeezed his hand, indicating her understanding.

“…it wasn’t…you know…because I’m…who I am?…”  Nick sighed and licked his lips.

Jo set her glass down on the table.  “It was exactly because of who you are,” she said, sliding close to Nick.  She ran her fingers down his face.  “You are a good, kind man.  You’re caring and strong…and beautiful and sexy…’

Nick set his glass down and pulled her into his arms.  “But I don’t have to sing?”

“No,” said Jo, slipping her arms around his neck.  “No, you don’t.”