How are you? I am fine. Please tell Terence that I am eating well and drinking lots of fluids. Daddy picked me up last night and took me home for dinner. Mrs. Smith had lots of care packages there for me to bring back, so I’ll have plenty to eat and won’t have to cook...just reheat. I lost a couple of pounds over this, and have to ‘put some meat on my bones’, to quote a friend. I must say, the Ear Infection Diet is very effective, but I don’t think it will be a best-seller. LOL!
Even though I’m on the mend, Mother said that I looked ‘ghastly’. LOL!! She acted as if I’d gotten sick on purpose, muttered ‘young people’ under her breath, like the drawn, haggard look was the new style. LOL!! As if I’ve ever done anything in the latest style!!
It was good to see you
It was good to hold you. It was good to smell you. Come back. Come back.
Abby got up and went to the kitchen to make tea before she did something stupid like actually writing those words. It was Tuesday. She had written a short email yesterday telling Nick she was fine. She had kept it short because her emotions were too close to the surface. His reply had been equally short. She knew she had to say more today, though. She had to find a way to ask Nick about the committee request. She wanted everything settled before the next meeting when Ronni ambushed her.
She cursed Ronni under her breath. She had put Abby in an awkward position with Nick, having to ask him to do something that she knew he couldn’t do. Of course, he couldn’t come and do a benefit. He was on tour. He couldn’t just say ‘excuse me, fellas, would you mind doing a couple without me?’
Abby stopped. Of course, he couldn’t.
She raced back to the study.
In my absence, due to the aforementioned ear infection, the Symphony committee decided that a good fundraising event would be to have you come and sing with the orchestra when you are here in June. Of course, I’m going to tell them that you can’t, but I want to make sure that I don’t say something foolish. So how does this sound…you are under contract and while you are on tour, you are not allowed to do any solo performances…does that work?
Hug Terence and Patrick for me and tell them ‘thanks’ again.
Take care,
Abby
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Hey, Abby!
How are you doing? Eating lots, I hope and getting back to your old self.
And for the record, I do not hug Terence and Patrick! LOL!! I passed on your thanks, though.
All the fellas send you good wishes and are glad you are getting better. They have been giving me shit for saying you looked awful (Terence ratted me out!) and they think you can do way better than me and you should dump me. LOL!! Please don’t!! LOL!!
About the benefit. You’re right. I’m not allowed to do any solo performances, but…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“Okay, I guess we can get started.” Miles Fenton called the meeting to order. “First of all, I want to say that we’re glad to see Abigail back with us. We missed you at the last meeting. I understand you were a little under the weather.”
Abigail smiled. “I’m much better now, thank you. I’ve had a couple of weeks to recuperate.”
“Yes, well, that’s good. Now, on to business…”
Miles droned on about finances and gave a little speech about the importance of the arts. Preaching to the choir, thought Abby. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t agree with that. She tuned him out and instead concentrated on what she was going to say.
She had not heard from Ronni once in the two weeks since the last meeting. That didn’t surprise Abby and it didn’t displease her either. She knew that Ronni was avoiding her so that she wouldn’t have to bring up the subject of the committee and ruin her little ambush.
“…fundraising event.” Miles was getting to the point finally. He turned to Abby. “There was a suggestion at the last meeting, Abigail, that perhaps your husband could help us out with that, maybe give a concert with the orchestra.” Miles didn’t sound all that hopeful.
“Yes, I was informed of that suggestion,” said Abby. From the corner of her eye, she could see Ronni narrow her eyes and look around her, trying to figure out who had squealed. Candace Walker stared down at her hands. “I asked Nick. You know he’s on tour, of course, and he’s not allowed to perform as a solo artist during that time.”
“Yes, of course. We understand,” said Miles. “It was just that we knew he was coming back here in June for your big celebration and we thought maybe…you know, that’s when we usually do our big fundraiser and we just thought…the timing and everything.”
Ronni glared at her father-in-law. For God’s sake, stop fawning over the woman.
“Yes, I understand. The timing was perfect…is perfect, in fact.”
All heads turned toward her.
Abby smiled at them. “Nick can’t perform as a solo artist, but he can perform with the group. And they have all agreed to come and do the benefit concert for the symphony.”
There was pandemonium. The whole group? The Backstreet Boys? Performing with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra? They’d make a fortune.
Abby waited until the noise died down. She had more. It had been a very busy two weeks. She took out a folder and referred to her notes. “Their record label and management group have given the go-ahead. They’ve rearranged two concert dates so that they can be here for a whole week to rehearse. The Boys are already in contact with Mr. Barenboim about the music. The record company has got A & E involved. They’re going to film the concert and release it to video after it’s been shown on television, if the symphony agrees. The symphony will get all the profits from that, as well.” She turned to Miles. “There are details, of course. The network gets to show it a certain number of times per year, but I think you’ll find that it’s a satisfactory deal for the symphony.”
“My goodness, Abigail, that will give us some income for a good, long time. That’s amazing. We’d better get planning. We have a lot to do in a very short time.” Papers rustled and conversations started up.
“There’s just one more thing,” said Abby. The papers and voices became still. Abby smiled down the table at them all. “Oprah Winfrey has agreed to act as the hostess for the evening.”
Now there was truly cause for celebration. In Chicago, Oprah Winfrey was a goddess. Anything she touched turned to gold. If she were hosting the evening and the Backstreet Boys were performing, the Symphony could name its price and the show would sell out. $1000 a ticket wasn’t beyond reason.
And what about a dinner? Or a reception? Before the concert or after? For everyone or a select few? Yes, there was a lot of planning to do. Oh, Abigail, you’ve pulled off a miracle.
Abby sat back in her chair and let them talk. She snuck a glance down the table, expecting to see Ronni sulking at not being the center of attention. Surely she would want credit for the idea. But Ronni wasn’t sulking. She was smiling. She looked downright smug.
Ronni saw Abby looking at her. You stupid bitch, she thought to herself. You’ve just handed me your husband. Ronni turned to the woman next to her and started talking to her.
Abby shivered.
“Are you okay, Abigail? Are you chilly?” Miles Fenton asked with concern in his voice.
“No, I’m fine,” said Abby. She didn’t know why, but she suddenly had a bad feeling about all of this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~It had been Kevin’s idea. Nick told the Boys what the committee wanted and checked out Abby’s response with them, when they met for breakfast in Memphis. They agreed that her answer was correct.
“It would have to be all of us or none of us,” said AJ.
“Why not all of us?” said Kevin, almost to himself.
“What did you say?” Brian wasn’t sure where his cousin was going with this, but he had that look on his face, the one that meant heavy thinking was going on.
“Abby helped us out, why can’t we help her out?”
“You don’t have to,” said Nick. “She understands. She was just checking to make sure she said the right thing.”
“Well, we’re going to be there anyway,” Kevin continued. “And you know…” He got a faraway look in his eye. Then he stood up and walked away from them, pulling his cell phone from his pocket.
The four men looked at each other. Kevin had gone into Train mode. There was no point in talking to him until he was ready to talk.
By lunchtime, he was ready to talk.
“Okay, fellas, here’s what I’ve got,” he said. “I talked to Johnny and if we rearrange two concert dates, we can have an entire week in Chicago to rehearse with the orchestra. Johnny thinks it’s a great idea, a real opportunity for us to showcase our voices. We can do some of those songs that didn’t make the album. Like Changes. It would sound great with an orchestra behind it.
Kevin’s enthusiasm was infectious. The others started throwing out song titles. Yeah, that one would be good…with all those strings… Kevin let them talk for awhile and then threw out the idea of the video.
“Like A Night Out. The fans love that one,” Howie threw in. It was true. Every time a fan mentioned a video to them, she always said that her favorite was A Night Out. They had talked many times about making another one like that. Maybe this would be that sort of thing.
“Johnny’s working on it. Jive doesn’t like the idea of the profits going to the symphony, of course.”
“TFB,” said AJ. If that’s what we want to do, that’s what we want to do. If we’re doing it for charity, they can’t touch us, can they?” What Jive could and could not do with them was an endless source of contention.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The details got worked out and fine-tuned over the next week. Once it was decided, it was taken out of the Boys’ hands. Abby spent a good deal of time on the phone with Johnny Wright. It was Abby who suggested that she should phone Oprah and see if she would be willing to host the evening. Johnny had agreed and had the thought that if Abby could pick up the phone and get through to Oprah Winfrey, then she must have a serious amount of pull in Chicago. He made a mental note that Nick’s wife might be a handy person to know.
Oprah didn’t do anything for free. Oh, she gave lots of money and time to charities, but she didn’t do favors for free. And the price this time was that the Boys would come on her show. That wasn’t such a big price tag, thought Johnny. They’d be happy for the publicity.
Oprah got her people working on it. She wanted a hook, something different. Yeah, the Backstreet Boys performing with the symphony was good, she guessed, but she wanted more. Backstage stuff, suggested one. She shrugged. Nothing new there. We’ve done the rehab thing, said another. Yes, she replied and I don’t want anything negative. I’m hosting this event, remember.
Get on it and find something, she ordered.
Oprah’s research team turned the Boys’ lives inside out and examined every corner. Not having an answer for Oprah was not an option. At the next meeting with her, they threw out ideas…the charities…maybe a Healthy Heart thing, with a sick kid that had been helped… or maybe the environmental thing…Kevin Richardson was the best talker of them all and he was passionate on the subject…maybe that…
Oprah took it all in and then spoke to a man at the end of the table, a man who’d said nothing for the entire meeting. “You got something, Stan?”
Stan Drabinsky smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I turned up someone I think you might be interested in.”
He’d turned up Princess Penelope.
