IX: (Not-So-Secret Identity)

"I don't drink, thanks.  Just a water for me," Carla told the waiter with a wave of her hand.  Leaning closer to whisper across the small table to Brian, she confided, "You know, I used to think that Prohibition was pretty serious business, but here in the big city it's like it doesn't even exist."

"Very true," the young man admitted with an abashed smile that set Carla's heart beating faster.  She could scarcely believe that she was here meeting with the musician whose voice graced every radio across America, not to mention one of the dreamiest young men alive. Brian Littrell was classically handsome in a way that made a young lady feel all warm and fuzzy inside—from the boyish curl of his hair, to those warm eyes that promised to never break your heart and that well-sculpted jaw that begged a girl to reach out and curl her hand around it. 

The two of them were seated in the VIP room in large, comfy armchairs with a welcoming fire blazing in the hearth not too far away.  From their vantage point above the supper club's ballroom floor, they had a sweeping view of the couples below dancing cheek-to-cheek to the music of a posh tuxedoed band.  With his elegant clothes and relaxed manner, Brian looked like he was made for a place like this

"I'll just have an iced tea, please," Brian decided, dismissing the waiter.  "So, I'd start with pleasantries, Miss Carter, but the delighted yet slightly bewildered expression on your face tells me that you're dyin' to know the meaning of all this."

"Please, call me Carla.  And, yes, an explanation would be wonderful."

"Well, Carla," he began, "tonight was actually the second time I've heard you play this week.  And I was very impressed after the first performance, so I tried to ask around about you, but it seems that you're something of an enigma.  No one knows a thing about Carla Carter beyond the fact that you arrived in Chicago not too long ago a nobody, and now you're in line to become the next big hit.  No one knows who you are really, where you came from or what your story is.  So, I was curious—if you're so good, then how is it no one's heard of you before Chicago?"

"Oh… well, I—" caught off-guard and highly flattered that Brian had taken such interest in her, Carla fumbled for something to say.  At that moment, however, she was saved by the waiter returning with their drinks.  She took a sip from her glass to recover and when the waiter left gave Brian the speech she had prepared for a situation like this.  Smiling shyly, she told him, "Honestly, Brian, I'm not as mysterious as everyone seems to think I am. Just a small town girl who loves to play and came to Chicago to get my big break.  I'm thrilled that everything's been going so well for a big nobody like me."

"That sounds rehearsed," he grinned.  "How would a small-town girl who's never done this before be a seasoned performer on stage?  How would she know how to pick the right venues and work her connections, so that within just a month or so of arriving in the Windy City she was playing in a club like this?" his arm swept out, indicating their lavish surroundings.  "Listen, doll, I know your secret," Brian said and leaned close to whisper in Carla's ear, so close that his light brown hair brushed against her temple.  "The first time I saw you perform wasn't as Carla Carter, it was the other night at the Chez Paree and you were just the accompanist.  I know that you're the piano player running around with that hotshot Nick Carter, the one that everyone thinks is a boy."

She pulled back, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Hey, no need to look so alarmed," the young man chuckled, raising his hands in a friendly, reassuring manner, "I'm not gonna tell anyone."

"Then why bring it up at all?" Carla eyed him with a touch of suspicion.  "Are you planning to blackmail us or something?"

"Me?!" his chuckling dissolved into laughter.  "Blackmail?  No, I just wanted to talk to you about it.  That's it, I swear!" Brian stopped to take a sip of his iced tea before continuing.  "I think you've got a lotta talent, Carla.  Your piano playing is so moving and you got a lovely voice to boot.  It makes me wonder why somebody so gifted like you, is playing the Chico to Nick's Groucho—you know, the Marx brothers," he added, seeing that she didn't catch the reference.  "Gosh, don'tcha watch the pictures?"

"Occasionally.  Just can't say that I'm a big Marx fan."

Brian laughed again.

His laughter was like a ripple of sunshine across rolling fields of honey colored oats.  Warm and relaxing, it dispelled Carla's suspicions and made her want to open up to him.  Besides, who could ever suspect a sinister motive behind those angelic blue eyes of his?  "Okay, so if you really wanna know why I do what do… Well, I just like playing with Nick.  We've got a good thing going here.  I mean, you've seen us perform together, you have to have felt the spark.  …But," she continued slowly, "at the same time, I'll admit that I have been feeling the itch to play solo.  Chicago seemed like the perfect place to try it out."

"Judging by how far you've come already, I'd say that you made the right call."  Brian's smile was encouraging.  "Listen, the reason I asked Mr. Bradbury to arrange this meeting is because I wanna make you an offer.  I've got a show in two days, and I want you to come play.  Open for me, Carla, at The Blue Room on Sunday," he asked, grasping her hands gently in his and giving her his most charming and entreating look.

"Well…" she said slowly, "Nick and I don't have a show scheduled for this Sunday. But, I have to be upfront with you—not even Nick knows that I've been playing solo… and I haven't figured out how to break it to him yet."

"Really, and Nick doesn't suspect a thing?  I'd think it would be hard not to have heard about Carla Carter by now—which reminds me, I wanted to ask you about the name.  Are you two…?"

"Oh no, we're not relations or involved or anything like that.  I'm afraid I just wasn't very clever in picking a stage name for myself.  But to answer your other question, no, Nick doesn't have any idea what I've been doing in my spare time.  I'm sure you've heard that he's a bit of a playboy.  Entertaining lady friends keeps him quite busy these days."

"I'm sure you're not thrilled about that," Brian said with an inquiring look.

"Not terribly," Carla admitted, "but maybe not for the reason you're thinking. Nick and I are just friends.  It's just that it used to be about me and him playing shows to make enough money to get by.  Now that we don't have to worry about money anymore, he doesn't seem to care as much about the music either."

"I take it that's another reason why you started performing solo.  Okay, I get it.  But Carla, if you can be straight with me about all this, then why not with Nick?" Brian asked.

"I don't know… Maybe if I had told him right away, it would've been all right.  But this thing has gotten so big and out of hand that I feel like I've been keeping a huge secret from him.  I just don't know how to tell him at this point."

Brian rubbed his chin.  "Yeah, I see your point.  Hmmm… why don't you be upfront and tell him just like you told me?"  Brian gave her an encouraging smile.  "If I were Nick, I'd be happy for you that you're branching out and trying new things.  Why don't you give it a shot tomorrow, then come by and see me.  I'll be recording in the studio at this address," he said, handing her a business card.  "Feel free to drop by and let me know how it went."

...

"That last bit didn't sound very together.  Let's do it over again, from the key change."  Nick announced.

They were in the studio rehearsing for their show later that night and were trying to learn a few new songs.  This one, in particular, was a last minute addition that Carla wanted to include in the set because it had recently gotten very popular.  She had reworked the song into a guitar and piano arrangement, but the two of them were having some trouble getting the timing right.

"Sorry." Frustrated, Carla wiped her forearm across her brow.  "I can't seem to concentrate.  My mind is elsewhere."  She rifled through a few pages of sheet music, trying to find her place. 

"I know what's the matter.  That Brian Littrell's got you all distracted, huh."

"What?" Carla straightened in her seat.  How did Nick know?

"I hate to break it to you, Carl, but I wasn't able to get any tickets for his secret show.  My buddy and I ran all around town last night—guess our connections just aren't as good as we thought they were.  The concert is very hush-hush and nobody's forking over their tickets.  Sorry to disappoint you.  I know that I built your hopes up."

"Oh, well that's okay, Nick." This seemed as good an opportunity as any to tell him about her encounter with Brian the night before.  "Actually, to be honest—"

At that moment, however, the door to their studio creaked open, and a golden-haired young woman peeked her head in.  "Coo!" she exclaimed, opening the door wide.  Carla stopped mid-sentence, wondering who was interrupting them.  Nick had made it clear to the studio's staff that they were not to be disturbed during rehearsals.  It just wouldn't do to have someone walk in and hear the supposedly mute pianist speaking.

"Here you are, Nicky! Of course you would be in the very last studio.  I'm afraid I've interrupted quite a few other rehearsals trying to find you.  Now, I know you said you couldn't meet until later, but since you told me where you and your buddy practice I just had to tell my driver to swing by and see how you were doing.  Oh, is this Carl?"  The young lady rushed across the room and offered a dainty, gloved hand to Carla.

Bewildered, Carla looked at Nick. 

"Oh." Setting his guitar aside, he hurriedly rose to his feet.  "Carl, this is Miss Lillian Vance.  Lil, I've told you about my buddy, Carl."  He made a gesture at Carla and, realizing what it meant, Carla awkwardly took Lillian's hand.

"Oh yes," the young woman nodded fervently.  "I've heard ever so much about you. Nicky invited me to your show tonight at the Aragon Ballroom, and I can't wait!  It's terribly exciting.  Now, I'm sure you two have been working all morning, so I've come to steal Nicky away for a bit of fun.  You know, so that he's nice and relaxed for your big show tonight.  You boys work far too hard!"

Carla rose from the piano bench and nearly objected but Nick shot her a look, reminding her of her cover.

"Don't worry," he said, reading her thoughts. "We sound great, we're more than ready for tonight.  Except for that last song.  We'll nix that one and work on it some more later.  Promise."

It was quite unlike Nick to shirk on a rehearsal.  Despite the fact that he was turning into a notorious playboy, he still took their music quite seriously—or so Carla had thought. She didn't care that they had company in the studio and opened her mouth to object.

Quickly, Nick intercepted her and went to Lillian's side. "Be a doll and meet me outside, Lil.  I've gotta pack up my guitar, but I'll be out in just a minute."

Once she was out of the room, Carla started in on her partner immediately.  "Now, I know you're a real lady killer, Nick Carter, but this is a bit ridiculous.  You can't just abandon rehearsal for a romp on the town!"

"I know, I know.  I hate to run out like this but I'll explain everything later.  You gotta understand, I'm setting something up and this could be our big break."

"What are you talking about?"

"Like I said, I'll explain later.  See you tonight at the Aragon—oh, and take care of my guitar, will ya?" he asked, heading out the door.

"But—" As the door slammed shut behind him, Carla didn't know whether to put Nick's guitar away or maybe throw it on the floor, she was so annoyed with him.  She had finally gotten up the nerve to tell Nick about her solo shows and about Brian, and he had abandoned her and the rehearsal to go galavanting.  Carla wondered when had Nick's social life become more important to him than their music?  He was certainly beginning to live up to his reputation.  Not knowing what else to do, she went back to their hotel to change and to drop off Nick's guitar and then grabbed a street car to the address on the business card Brian had given her.

...

The posh Banner Records was leagues above any of the two-bit studios Carla and Nick had ever rehearsed in, and security was far from lax.  "Your name and business please, miss," said a stern-looking guard clutching a clipboard.  He was a big man with broad shoulders posted there to look imposing.  In his neatly pressed and starched uniform with shiny brass buttons and a big shiny badge, he seemed very, very official.

Carla had assumed that she would be able to walk right in and meet Brian, but that did not seem to be the case.  "Carla Carter," she told him.  "I came to see Brian Littrell, he's recording in the studio today."

"I can neither confirm nor deny that we have anybody by that name in the studio today," the guard said, then added, "If you don't have an appointment, I will have to ask you to leave the premises."  

Crestfallen, Carla sighed.  Of course security wasn't going to let her inside; in the grand scope of things she was just a nobody.  "No, I don't have an appointment," she admitted and was about to turn away when she had an idea.  "But Brian did give me this business card. He said to meet him here at this studio where he would be recording today."  She furnished the card, which the security guard took from her.

He read the card carefully and then picked up the desk phone and dialed, turning the rotary dial with great deliberation.  "This is Stenson.  I have a Miss Carla Carter here to see Mr. Littrell…  Yes, she has his business card and says she was instructed to meet him here… All right."  They waited for several minutes, during which time Carla guessed that they were figuring out what to do with her.  "Okay, thank you."  The man set the phone down and turned to Carla.  "Someone will be out shortly for you, Miss Carter."

A few minutes later, an aide came to escort Carla into the building.  "Right this way, please."  They went through a set of double doors and headed down a long corridor with shiny plaques and sconces lining the walls.  "You're Carla Carter, right?  I saw you once in a showcase at the Vic Theatre.  It was just an amateur showcase—you were easily the best performer there."

"Oh, thank you," Carla blushed.

The corridor branched off into another, which they headed down before stopping at a door, which the aide knocked on.  There was no answer, and the room turned out to be empty.  "He must be in the live room."  The aide indicated a door against the opposite wall with a glowing red light bulb above it.  "Mr. Littrell is in the studio there.  Hold on just a second, they're still recording.  Why don't you take a seat?"

Carla sank down onto a chaise, one of several comfy-looking pieces of furniture in the room, which seemed to be some sort of lounge that led into other rooms.  It was rather luxurious with a gleaming parquet floor, thick Turkish rugs, and tall brass lamps scattered about the room.

When the light finally switched off, the aide knocked on the door.  "Mr. Littrell?  Miss Carter has arrived."

Carla entered the room and found Brian sitting at a piano with microphones and some recording equipment that she didn't recognize placed around him.  His face lit up instantly when he saw her.  "Take five, guys," he said into what appeared to be a two-way intercom then rose from the piano and crossed the room to meet them.  "Carla! So glad that you could make it."  He warmly took her hand and then turned to the aide.  "Thank you.  Could you do me a favor and see if Lou's finished his meeting with Mr. Banner yet?  I really want him to meet Carla."

As soon as the aide was gone, Brian started in on business.  "Since you're here, I hope this means that you're accepting my offer then.  You'll open for me tomorrow night?"

Carla hesitated for just a second then smiled.  "Sure, Brian.  It would be a real honor and a pleasure to open for you."

"No, really, the pleasure's all mine," he replied in true gentlemanly fashion.  "So how did Nick take the news?  Okay I hope?"

"You know…" Again, just a moment's hesitation on her part.  And then she recalled how Nick had taken off from rehearsal to go play with little Miss Lillian Vance.  "I think he'll live."

"Why don't we have a seat in the lounge?" Brian suggested and escorted her back into the other room.

Before he could ask any more questions about Nick, there was a knock on the lounge door and in walked quite possibly the fattest man Carla had ever seen.  She didn't want to be rude, but it was difficult not to stare: he had huge jowls, several chins, and a rotund belly so big that it strained at the buttons of his enormous tailored suit vest.  His arms and legs were the size of huge ham hocks.  She wondered how anyone could possibly be so fat and also how much it must have cost for a suit big enough to clothe him. 

Brian introduced them.  "Carla, I'd like you to meet my manager Lou Pearlman.  Lou, this is Miss Carla Carter, the fantastic performer I was telling you about."

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Carter.  Brian has told me we have a real starlet on our hands here.  I'm dying to hear you for myself."  He took her tiny hand in his massive pudgy one and gave it a squeeze.  As he looked at her with small beady eyes behind wire-frame glasses, his mouth twisted into a lop-sided smile.  Carla found that his palms were damp and sweaty.

"It's nice to meet you, too," she said, trying to beam back.

"Lou here has been with me since I was singing in my church choir back in Kentucky," Brian told her.  "Heard me in the balcony singing over the old church organ, and after the service he came up and asked me how would I like to be famous." As he recounted the story, Carla could hear Brian's voice slipping into a comfortable Southern drawl.

"I was in Lexington visiting my sister," Lou explained.  "And at that Sunday church service I truly heard an angel sing. I knew I had to sign Brian to my talent agency because that was a voice that America needed to hear.  And just a few short years later, I don't think there's anyone in this country who doesn't know about my boy."  He patted Brian on the back.

"Lou has the best connections; he knows all the people in the business.  I would never have gotten to where I am today if it weren't for him," Brian said humbly.

"You must be just as talented on the business end as Brian is at singing, Mr. Pearlman," Carla remarked.

"A starlet and a charmer!" Lou guffawed.

"So, why don't we show you around a bit."  Brian stood and opened the door to the studio.  "This is the live room.  Have you been in an electrical recording studio before, Carla?"

"No," she admitted.  "Just an acoustic one, and to be honest we never used it for recording, only as a practice space."

"Well, in an electrical studio you don't need to crowd around a big ol' phonograph to record.  You know which ones I'm talking about, right?  The one's with the giant horn that you've got to practically stick your whole face into as you sing.  Instead, we've got microphones here that take the sound from all the instruments and singers and send it electrically into the control room next door."

"Thanks to this new technology, phonographs are completely outdated," Lou remarked.  "They'll be obsolete in a year, two max."

Fascinated, Carla walked around the room examining the different instruments and microphones that were set up for recording there.  /So this is how the pros do it,/ she thought in awe.

"So, whaddaya say?" Brian asked. "Want to try it out?"

"Huh, really?" Carla's eyes grew wide.

He chuckled.  "We're just gonna record and play it back for you in the control room.  It's not like we'll be cutting any records or anything.  Not yet, anyway," he winked.

"Oh," Carla ducked her head in embarrassment.  "I know.  I don't mean to get so excited, it's just that I've never been recorded before—or even been in a studio this nice!  Nick and I could never afford to..."  She trailed off, noticing that Lou was eyeing her curiously with his beady eyes.

"Well go on then!" Brian encouraged.  "Take a seat at the piano, no need to be shy.  How about you do a song or two, then maybe we could do one together?"

"I'll take that as my cue to get out of your way," Lou said, bowing.  "I'll be in the lounge, poring over some paperwork.  Let me know when you two are finished."

Once he squeezed his way out the door, Brian showed Carla how everything worked and then he too left to go to the control room.  She sat there alone at the piano, trying to decided what song to play as she waited for his signal.  It would have to be something she knew by heart because it would be mortifying to mess up on a song in front of him.

Brian's voice came on over an intercom, "Okay, whenever you're ready."

Carla began the intro, pressing the piano's ivory keys lightly and airily, and then sang.  "All of me, why not take all of me... Can't you see that I'm no good without you?"  Her voice filled the room, intertwining with and floating on top of the piano line.

When the last note died away, Brian's voice came on again.  "You sounded great.  How did you like that?"

"I—I'm not sure," she admitted.  "It's different.  Good, but different.  Did you really just record me?"

"Sure did, you can listen to it in a bit here.  Why don't you do another for me?  Oh, and the control guys have a few suggestions," he said and passed on their comments on how to project her voice and use the microphone for the best recording quality.  After the second song, Brian returned to the live room and joined her at the piano.  "Do you know this one?" he asked, adjusting a second microphone so that it was pointed at him.  "I'll play.  See if you recognize it and join in."

You must remember this
A kiss is still a kiss, a sigh is still a sigh
The fundamental things apply
As time goes by

Smiling, Carla took over the next verse. 

And when two lovers woo
They still say, "I love you"
On that you can rely
No matter what the future brings
As time goes by...

As Brian played, occasionally he reached across her to playfully hit the notes at the end of the piano.  His demeanor was one that Carla could only describe as flirtatious, although she was surprised to be the object of his attentions.  She responded by wrinkling her nose at him and giving him a cheeky grin.  By the time the song ended, the two were smiling widely at each other.

"I love that song," she enthused.

"I thought you might."

A voice chimed in on the intercom.  "Will there be any others for you today, Brian?" asked one of the recording staff.  "Not to rush you, but today's only a half-day for the studio."

"Ooh, what time is it?" Carla asked suddenly.  She had completely lost track of the time and wasn't sure how much longer she had until she was supposed to be at the Aragon for her and Nick's pre-performance preparations.

"Four o'clock," Brian said, checking his watch.  "Do you have to go so soon?"  He seemed disappointed.

"I can stay maybe a little bit longer.  We have a show tonight at the Aragon Ballroom."

"Not too shabby.  Well, if you'll follow me, I'll show you the control room."  He pressed a button for the intercom. "Be right over there, boys."

They found Lou sitting in the lounge with a cocktail, reviewing what looked like contracts and official letters.  He joined them, and the three of them entered the control room where two staff members were sitting in front of an array of machinery.

The men played back Carla's first song over the loudspeaker, and her jaw nearly hit the floor.  "Why, that's me!"  They also played the last song that she and Brian had done together, which had Lou nodding in approval.

When it was over, Brian was beaming.  "I know you're short on time so I'll save the other recording for Lou to listen to afterward.  But what do you think, Lou?" he turned to his manager.  "Did I ever find a gem to open for me tomorrow, or what?"

"A real canary," the portly man agreed.  "I can't wait to see her on stage."

"Thank you, Mr. Pearlman."  Glancing anxiously at the clock, Carla added, "I hate to depart so suddenly, but I'm afraid I have a prior engagement for the evening.  Nice to meet you all, gentleman."

"I'll show you out," Brian said and offered his arm.  As they walked back down the corridor to the front lobby, he asked, "So, tomorrow, can you be at the Blue Room around noon?  Do you know how to get there?"

"Yes, it's actually quite close to where I'm staying," she replied.

"You'll check in with the proprietor, Mr. Dunaway.  You should have plenty of time to practice and then relax before the show, which is at 7PM."

"That sounds great."  The arrived at the lobby, where the severe-looking security guard looked as imposing as ever.  Carla gave Brian's arm a squeeze.  "I can't thank you enough for showing me around today.  I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Break a leg tonight.  I'm sure you guys will do great."

In a much better mood than she had arrived in, Carla took a street car back to the hotel to change for her and Nick's show.  Little did she suspect the disaster looming on the horizon.