Prologue:

“So that’s it, then?” Kevin asked, just to double check for the twentieth time.

It was weird to hear Kevin leading the conversation in the boardroom again. It seemed appropriate though. The Backstreet Boys somehow started with him as the anchor, it should end that way too. We all felt it was only right to invite him back for this one last decision.

“I guess that’s it,” Brian said, heaving an awkward shrug.

“Yeah,” Howie agreed.

AJ didn’t say anything, but he nodded.

When they all looked at me I just shrugged. I mean, what was there to say? The Backstreet Boys had seen their prime a decade ago and we all knew it. We were lucky to get any radio play at all with our last CD. The only reason we sold any albums this time around was because our fans were loyal. But even their interest was fading. Honestly? We probably should have done this a couple records ago.

That doesn’t mean that I had to like it.

Getting out of the meeting after that was just painful. Kevin didn’t seem to care much either way, and Howie looked almost excited. Brian just looked relieved. AJ seemed a little bummed, which made me feel a little better, but even he was clearly okay with it.

The sad thing was, they never even said goodbye. They all got up and walked out of that room, none of them noticing that I didn’t get up, and then they were gone. One of the suits from our label asked me to shut the lights off on my way out, and that was it. That was the end of the Backstreet Boys.

Chapter One

Two months. That’s how long it took me to crack. We’ve taken hiatuses way longer than that, but it was different knowing that we weren’t coming back. At first I thought about picking back up with my solo career. That was what AJ was planning on doing. Brian too—he was already underway with recording his second gospel album. I played around on my guitar and wrote a couple songs, but I just wasn’t feeling it. I was sick of the pop.

I thought about getting a rock band together. Not even being the lead singer or anything, I’d just play the guitar and do back-up vocals—let someone else worry about the spotlight for a change. But when I approached my label about it they didn’t think people would be able to get past my boy-band pop image. They didn’t think people would take me seriously. They were probably right.

Then I thought about acting. I’d done a couple of movies before. It wasn’t bad work. But apparently when you’re a twenty-nine-year-old ex pop star the only roles you can land are celebrity cameos and reality game shows that are designed to make you look like a washed-up, pathetic, asshole. Well according to the tabloids, Conan O’Brian, The Soup, and that douche Ryan Seacrest, that’s exactly what I was. I didn’t need to prove them all right.

For like two seconds I thought about going to college. But if I thought people would have fun with me going on Celebrity Survivor or whatever, imagine what they would say if I suddenly enrolled at Santa Monica Community College? Maybe I am just a washed-up, pathetic, asshole.

I finally decided to do nothing. I fired my publicist, agent, lawyer, and anyone else who “worked” for me. After all, I didn’t need an entourage to play World of Warcraft all day. Eventually I stopped going out to clubs and things because I got so sick of people asking me, “What now?” How the hell should I know?

Next I stopped answering my phone. The less I seemed to go out, the more it seemed to ring. It started with my family, and my friends mostly. But eventually even the guys started calling. Brian told me I should find God. Howie told me I needed to find a good woman and pop out a kid. AJ told me to forget the kid and just find the woman. Kevin actually told me that I was depressed and that I should find a shrink. Screw him.

Screw them all.

I got in my car and drove. Ended up in Vegas. But it only took ten minutes before some hooker was trying to blow on my dice and a couple of fans were asking me when I was going to do a follow up to Now or Never, so I got back in my car. I didn’t stop again until I got to Aspen Colorado. I spent a few days snowboarding, which was nice, but then I went to a bar to have a drink and it happened to be karaoke night. Some chick bought me a beer and told me we should sing a duet. She said she was thinking about trying out for American Idol next season. I told her to give Ryan Seacrest a message for me, grabbed me nutsack, and walked out of the bar.

I drove all night after that. I would have stopped to sleep except somewhere around three a.m. I started seeing signs for a barbed wire museum. Well if there was ever a place for a pathetic, washed-up, asshole, it was a freaking barbed wire museum. I had to go.

It wasn’t until dawn that I reached the town of La Crosse, Kansas. Barbed Wire Capitol of the World! My head ached, my eyes burned, and I had to piss, but I was finally there. The one place that was more depressing and pathetic than me.

When I got to the actual museum, it was closed for the winter. Of course.

That’s when I lost it. I don’t know why, I mean it’s not like I gave a shit about learning the history of barbed wire. I just lost it. “Damnit!” I shouted and then followed that with a much worse string of profanities when I punched the side of the building, most likely breaking my hand in the process.

“Hey!” a voice suddenly called out from behind me.

I quit hopping up and down and turned to see a teenage girl staring at me with wide eyes. Great. That’s just what I needed—some girl telling the whole world how she saw Nick Carter going crazy in front of the Barbed Wire Museum.

“Are you on drugs or something?” she asked me.

Nick Carter the crazy, barbed-wire-loving, drug addict. Even better. “No,” I answered.

“You look like you’re on drugs.”

I couldn’t believe I was getting the third degree from a stupid fourteen-year-old. On the bright side, she didn’t recognize me. “I don’t do drugs, okay kid? I just haven’t slept in a couple of days.”

Her eyes narrowed and her face flashed bright red for an instant but then all she said was, “Oh. Why didn’t you sleep?”

“Just because!” I snapped, then immediately felt bad for being so cranky. I blew out a breath and much more calmly asked, “Don’t suppose there’s a motel in this town?”

The girl nodded. “La Crosse Motel. On Main Street.”

“Right.” I said, nodding a thank you. “Later.”

As I headed back to my car, the girl met me by the driver’s side door. She was still staring at me with these big curious eyes. “Can I have a ride?”

I hadn’t realized until then that this girl was all alone out here and wherever she came from, she was walking. I didn’t see any houses anywhere and there was like two feet of snow on the ground. This struck me as odd. “What are you doing out here?”

“I’m on my way to town. So, can I have a ride?”

“You would get into a car with a strange man who you thought was on drugs?”

“You just told me you aren’t on drugs.”

“I’m still a stranger.”

“Are you going to kill me?” the girl asked flatly.

“No.”

“Are you going to rape me?”

“What? No!”

“I don’t suppose you’re my prince charming, here to rescue me from this shit hole and whisk me off to someplace cool like New York City?”

Was this girl for real? “Uh… definitely not.”

“Well then. It’s like twenty degrees out and we’re a good two miles from town. So, yeah. I’d get in your car.”

“Whatever kid. Just buckle up.”

As soon as the car was moving, the girl folded her arms tightly across her chest. “What?” I asked when I saw her scowling.

“I’m not a kid,” she grumbled. “I’m fifteen and a half.”

“That’s a kid,” I laughed.

“Like you’re so much older! What are you, like, twenty-two?”

“Wrong.”

The girl looked at me curiously. “Twenty-five?”

“I’ll be thirty in a couple weeks.”

“Whoa!”

The tone in her voice mad me laugh again until she said, “That is pretty old.”

“Thanks,” I said jokingly, but my frown was real.

The girl was quiet for a minute but then looked at me again and smiled sheepishly. “You don’t look it.”

I cracked a smile again despite myself.

“What’s your name?”

“Nick.”

“Nick what?”

I glanced at the girl. She may not have recognized my face, but she could still recognize my name. I was pretty sure that would be a nightmare. “Just Nick,” I laughed.

“Just Nick?”

“Yeah.”

She got quiet again, and I knew she was waiting for me to ask her name, but it was kind of fun to annoy her. She waited about thirty seconds and then huffed, “I’m Celia, by the way.”

“Well, Celia,” I said, stopping in front of the five-room motel on Main Street. Main Street seemed to be the only street. “It’s been… interesting.”

She frowned and then got out of the car. “Thanks for the ride.”

Instead of saying goodbye, Celia pushed open the motel door ahead of me and called to the woman behind the counter. “Hey Mags, look what I found over at the museum!”

“My, my, my!” a grey-haired lady in a muumuu gasped. She took off her glasses to smile at me and they fell around her neck on a chain.

“Oh, don’t worry, Maggie. He’s not on drugs. He just looks like that because he hasn’t slept all night.”

“Well, Sugar, you’ve come to the right place,” Maggie said to me with another excited smile. “Let’s get you tucked away in a nice warm bed.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Just the mention of a bed had my eyelids drooping. I handed the lady my ID and credit card and as she checked me in she asked, “Los Angeles? You’re a long way from home, Nicholas.”

“A very long way from home,” I agreed when she didn’t recognize me either.

Maggie was starring up at me and I realized that I was smiling. Judging from the look on her face, I don’t imagine too many outsiders seem all that happy when they find themselves stuck in La Crosse, Kansas. “How long do we have the pleasure of your company?” she asked.

“Oh, I’ll probably just stay today and check out tomorrow morning,” I said with a giant yawn. I was now about to fall over I was so tired.

Maggie’s face fell a tiny bit. “Leaving so soon?”

I glanced at Celia, who was still standing there watching me check in, and she was trying for an indifferent look, but it wasn’t working. “Just passing through,” I said, but somehow, between the two of them, I sort of felt bad about that.

“Where you headed?” Maggie asked me, handing me a room key—an actual key like the ones I use on my house.

I looked up from the key in my hand and opened my mouth before it occurred to me that I didn’t have an answer to her question. “Nowhere in particular,” I finally said. “Just taking some time off. Exploring the country for once instead of just flying over it.”

“He wants to see the museum,” Celia interrupted with a big smirk on her face.

“Gracious! Hank will be so excited. I’ll give him a call,” Maggie said while I was busy narrowing my eyes at Celia.

Her smile got even bigger and then she very smugly said, “By the way, you should have Rodger look at your hand. It’s turning black and blue.”

I’d almost forgotten about my hand, but the kid was right. And now that she’d mentioned it, I realized my knuckles were throbbing. Maggie gasped in horror, so I quickly shook my head. “It’s nothing,” I assured her.

“Nonsense. I’ll give Rodger a call.”

“Seriously. A couple of Advil and I’ll be fine. I really just need some sleep.”

Maggie eyed me skeptically, but eventually nodded. “All right, Sugar. You go get some rest. Let me know if you need anything.”

I said thank you and headed for the front door. Celia followed me again saying, “Need any help with your bags?”

I raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged defensively. “It’s only polite to offer help since you’re a cripple and all.”

“Celia?” Maggie said. “Shouldn’t you be running along to school?”

“I’ve got plenty of time. Just Nick saved me a two mile walk.”

She was walking to school? More than two miles? I glanced back down at the girl feeling kind of sorry for her all the sudden. She was looking up at me again trying to hide her hopeful expression, but she couldn’t quite manage.

Finally I rolled my eyes, but cocked my head toward the door. “C’mon.” I looked back at Maggie and she winked with an approving smile.

“Thanks, Maggie.”

“Sure thing, Sugar. You let me know if that hand starts bothering you.”

I only had one bag, but it was huge—probably weighed more than Celia. I slung that over my shoulder and handed her my guitar case. “Be careful with that,” I ordered.

Her eyes got really big, but then she casually said, “You play the guitar?” Overly casual. She was trying to hide her excitement again.

“Little bit,” I said trying not to laugh at her.

I walked in my room and flung my bag down on the floor. Celia set my guitar carefully down beside it then finally looked like she was going to leave me in peace. “Thanks for the help, kid,” I teased.

“What, no tip?” she whined.

But she was teasing too, so I said, “Sure. Here’s a tip. Quit bumming rides from total strangers.”

She rolled her eyes, but laughed even though she tried very hard not to. “Quit punching brick walls, Just Nick,” she said and then walked away.

I laughed all the way to the bed, but the second I laid down I was basically unconscious. I only had time to notice that the mattress was old, but a real mattress—not like the thousands of cheap hotel mattresses I’ve slept on over they years—and the hand stitched quilt was really, really warm and soft. After that it was lights out. And about time.