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Chapter Twelve

Even though everyone was preoccupied with thoughts of the video shoot, the Boys had one of their best sound checks yet. With only a small skirmish with a frantic fan desperate to get a lock of Nick’s hair, it was practically uneventful. In fact, Brian even sang Masquerade without looking like he was sitting in the dentist’s chair. The enthusiasm was palpable.

I sat fanning myself with some scribbled notes as the guys walked out of the dressing room, AJ leading the pack.

“It’s going to be a hot evening for those jackets,” I said.

“The more clothes we have on, the better chance we have of making it out alive,” AJ quipped.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Nick said from behind him. My eyes widened.

“What the hell is on your head?”

In direct contrast to the t-shirt, dress coat, and black pants he wore, Nick sported a red and white striped fishing hat.

“Protecting the locks, protecting the locks,” he answered, tugging it farther down on the forehead.

“You look like a dumbass,” Brian added.

“It’s better than being bald,” Nick replied. “No offense, AJ.”

AJ rolled his eyes.

I turned on the camera. Doing a horrible imitation of Joan Rivers, I zoomed in close on Nick.

“Nick Cah-ter, tell the fans are home what you’re wearing.”

With hand on hip, Nick smiled, lisping rather effeminately.

“Oh, where do I begin? The t-shirt is Ed Hardy and the pants and jacket are Dolce & Gabbana.”

“And the hat. Tell us about the hat.”

“The piece de resistance!” he said with flair, giving it another tug. “Walmart. Three-fiddy. Clearance.”

“You paid three dollars and fifty cents too much man,” Howie said. “You can’t wear that thing on stage.”

At that moment we heard the sound of the announcer’s voice rumbling through the anxious crowd. “Give it up for…THE BACKSTREET BOYS!”

The crowd went wild. Quickly Nick sent the hat flying in my direction. It seemed to stay airborne for a minute, before falling to the ground. I kicked it under a
chair.

“I’ll burn it later,” I teased. With a laugh he ran onto the stage.

The concert was amazing. Towards the middle of the show, Kevin bounded onstage to join the guys in Shape of My Heart and Drowning. The crowd went nuts. I got a warm fuzzy feeling; I couldn’t help but remember the thrill of seeing the Boys’ Millennium tour. I had always laughed when I saw girls bawling their eyes out on TV, but that was the night at sixteen years old when I finally understood what it was all about.

When Kevin came backstage after the songs, he was absolutely beaming. Kristin gave him a huge hug; after so many years it was easy to see they were still madly in love with each other. My heart gave a sad little pang at the thought that Hunter and I hadn’t looked at each other that way in a long time.

“Just like old times?” I asked, smiling as he wiped the sweat off his face with a towel.

“I still get the rush,” he admitted. “But then I think of all the things I’d be missing going back out on the road. As amazing as the experience is, seeing my little boy say kneeling by his bed saying his prayers is enough to keep me home.”

I smiled at the sentimentality. “I can’t blame you,” I said softly. “But you do a hell of a job out there.”

“I guess so. Not bad for an old man,” he laughed.

“I know twenty year olds that can’t move it and belt it like you,” I countered. Kristin smiled.

“I tell him that all the time.”

I left them backstage, heading back into the crowd. I had a secret goal in mind to create a montage at the end of the tour with the best concert moments for the fan club. I loved how every city showed their love in unique ways, whether by clothing, signs, or crazy acts like trying to rip Nick’s hair out of his scalp.

After the show, the guys sat around catching up with Kevin. I sat back, enjoying the camaraderie and listened to stories of the road.

“Remember,” Kevin said laughing. “When we were in Europe? Nick was about fourteen and we ended up in the red light district?”

“Oh, not this again,” Nick groaned, putting his face in his hands. Brian barked with laughter.

“Dude, it was priceless,” Howie added. “Why don’t the fire stations have doors for the trucks?” Howie said in a horrible imitation of Nick.

“It was an honest mistake. I thought the red lights indicated a fire house.” Nick shook his head. “That was before you guys corrupted me. I was still innocent.”

“Remember when we sang Tell Me That I’m Dreaming in Germany?” AJ said, his eyes sparkling. “After the performance we were supposed to say Danke Shein. And Nick,” AJ paused. The Boys laughed, already knowing the punch line. “I was standing by Nick and all I heard was…DONKEY KONG!”

“I was like twelve,” Nick argued. “C’mon, give me a break. Remember the first time a girl threw her bra onstage?”

It was Brian’s turn to groan. Leighanne smiled; I could tell she had heard the story more than once.

“He held it up,” Nick said, miming the action. “And his eyes grew absolutely huge; it must have been like a triple D or something. Well, he looked at us as if asking what he should do. We just kept on dancing. So Brian tries to put it in his back pocket and continues dancing. Well he’s moving and the thin is bouncing up and down and all I can do is stare at Brian’s ass throughout the whole song; I’m cracking up. Finally we make it through the song, I think it was Get Down, and then the crew brings out bar stools so we can sing As Long as You Love Me. So Brian starts to sit down, forgetting that this silky bra’s cupping his ass cheek so it basically turns him into a human slip and slide. He didn’t know what hit him. One minute he was sitting down, next minute he was on the floor.”

“And instead of just taking the bra out of his pocket and tossing it to one of the crew,” Kevin added. “He holds it up and says—“

“These things are dangerous,” Brian concluded, shaking his head. Leighanne had already started laughing. Brian nudged her playfully with his elbow. “Leave me alone. I conquered my fear, didn’t I?” he said teasingly, pulling her shirt away from her chest and looking down. She swatted at his hand, but grinned.

“This is fun,” Kevin said, stretching his arms above his head.

“It is,” AJ said. He glanced at his watch. “Shit. It’s midnight. If we’re going to make New York and Regis, we better get going.”

With a scrape of chairs and a chorus of goodnights, we disbanded.