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Cary


I thought the car ride to the studio would give me a chance to talk to Nick in private, but as it turned out, Conway Recording Studios was just down the street from the restaurant. AJ and Rochelle wanted to walk, but Nick said he’d rather drive and told them to get in the backseat; they could walk back. I had a feeling he was too tired to make the trek, though he’d never admit it.

“We laid down some tracks for This Is Us here,” said Nick, as he led the way into the building. He’d brought his acoustic guitar with him, and I carried my ukulele.

“Yeah, a lot of famous people have recorded here,” added AJ, and he started listing off names for my benefit, not failing to impress me. I felt overwhelmed, hearing the names of artists I admired, like Barbra Streisand, Ray Charles, Diana Ross, Patti LaBelle, James Taylor, Christina Aguilera, Jewel, even one of my idols, Etta James. To be walking in their footsteps - with two Backstreet Boys, nonetheless - felt surreal and incredible.

They gave me a little tour, and then we went into the smallest of the three recording studios, which Nick had reserved for our use that afternoon. I had sung in a real studio just twice, for American Idol, to record my songs for the Top 12 and Top 11, which were now on iTunes. Still, I felt like a kid in a candy store as I looked around at all of the sound-mixing equipment in the control room and the microphone and keyboard set up in the recording booth.

Just to warm up, I sat down at the keyboard, turned it on, and started tinkering around, playing a few scales and the beginning of “Chopsticks” to get a feel for how the keys fit beneath my fingers. Keyboards, just like cars, all handled a little differently. Some had eighty-eight keys, just like a real piano; others had less. Sometimes the keys were stiff, and you had to really push down hard on them to get a sound; other times, the keys felt so light and loose, they flowed like satin under your fingertips. When the keys were as big as a piano’s, my hand had to stretch to play some of the chords, but when the keys were smaller, my fingers stumbled over each other, trying to adjust to the difference in scale. I could read music, but when I played my own songs, I played from memory, played by feel. This keyboard was a perfect fit; it had all the bells and whistles of a professional piece of technology, yet felt and sounded almost like a real piano. Nothing could beat the piano I’d learned to play on, my mother’s old Baldwin upright, but this was certainly fancier than the keyboard I had at home.

I tested out the pedal, my foot pumping it lightly as I played a few arpeggios. The progression of broken chords was familiar - F sharp... D flat... E... B... I smiled to myself as I played it a second time, sure Nick and AJ would recognize it. It was one of my favorites to play on the piano. Sure enough, right on cue, I heard AJ start singing, “Empty... spaces... fill me up with holes...” His husky voice was so soulful, it gave me goosebumps. I nearly stumbled over the notes I knew by heart, but managed to keep playing beneath him, as he continued, “Distant... faces... with no place left to go.” Nick had gotten out his guitar by then, and he started strumming along, right in tune. “Without you... within me... I can’t find no rest. Where I’m... going... is anybody’s guess...”

When Nick launched into the chorus, I made the mistake of looking up. “I tried... to go on like I never knew you...” he sang, his face all scrunched up, just the way it got when he sang that song on stage. “I’m awake... but my world is half asleep...” AJ’s voice joined Nick’s in harmony, gliding smoothly beneath it. It was then that I hit my first clunker and looked down at my fingers, scrambling to catch up to the guys, who had gone on without missing a beat. “I pray... for this heart to be unbroken, but without you all I’m going to be is... in-come-puh-lete...” Nick’s voice rang out, hauntingly beautiful.

He and I kept playing, so AJ kept singing. “Voices... tell me... I should carry on...”

“But I am... swimming...” I added, a third above him, taking the harmony that was usually Howie’s to sing.

“In an ocean all alone. Baby, my baby... it’s written on your face. You still... wonder... if we made a big mistake...”

“I tried...” sang Nick, and this time, we both joined him in harmony, AJ taking the low, while I took the high. “...to go on like I never knew you. I’m awake... but my world is half asleep. I pray... for this heart to be unbroken, but without you all I’m going to be is... incomplete...”

It sort of fell apart after that; Nick hit the wrong chords on his guitar, which messed me up on the keyboard, and I didn’t know the right notes to sing on the bridge, so our harmony sounded disjointed. By the time we hit the chorus again, we were all laughing too hard to keep going.

“Aww, you guys, that sounded great!” said Rochelle, clapping. “I wish I knew drums or something so I could join in!”

“Aww, my Monkee,” cooed AJ. “Nick can teach you!”

“Yeah - hell, if this Backstreet thing don’t work out, we could start our own band,” Nick joked, winking in my direction. “Cary can play piano as well as Kev could.” I smiled; it was nice to see him happy, playing around, doing what he loved. And just as before, the little jam session helped me loosen up, work out the kinks and get over my nerves before I sang solo.

“You have a pretty voice, too,” AJ complimented me. “I wanna hear one of your songs.”

“Um, okay...” I got up from the keyboard and took my ukulele out of its case. Perching on a stool that had been left in the room, I said, “This one’s called ‘Sweet Sunrise.’”

I took a deep breath, then started to strum my ukulele. It was an upbeat song, which was good, since I tended to play fast when I was nervous. I watched my fingers just long enough to make sure I had the right chord; then I focused on a spot just above their heads, so I could look up without actually looking them in the eye. It was a trick I’d learned a long time ago, in my nursing home performance days.

“Broken hearts are on the mend. She’s been hurt one time too many. It’s another day, another end... to the same old story...” I sang. Without their voices beneath it, mine sounded shaky. How was it I could sing on the big American Idol stage in front of a full studio and millions of TV viewers, yet clam up in front of two Backstreet Boys and AJ’s girlfriend? “You know how this goes...”

I sucked in another huge breath, trying to strengthen my voice for the chorus. “Up in the morning with the sweet sunrise; takes her time getting ready, then she’s off and running. She skips out on lunch, to no one’s surprise. There’s so much to get done, so little time... been a long day, but ice cream makes it better. Now the sun is setting, and it feels like a crime...”

It was crazy how different my life was from the life I’d been living when I’d written this song. It was about a year ago, right after I’d broken up with my boyfriend of two years. I’d dealt with the pain pretty much the same way as I had my Idol elimination, by throwing myself into my job by day and drowning my sorrows in Ben & Jerry’s by night. I gained twenty pounds and a good deal of experience writing songs about heartbreak; now I was ten pounds lighter and just brave enough to sing any of them in front of an audience.

“She lies in bed, unable to sleep. She tries to count the tiles on the ceiling. But all she can do is weep for the love she’s lost; it’s such a pity. She’s forgotten the other fish in the sea, and that it’s a big city...” My eyes darted from Nick to AJ; they were both smiling, and that made me feel more confident. “Yeah, you know how this goes...”

“Up in the morning with the sweet sunrise; takes her time getting ready, then she’s off and running. She skips out on lunch, to no one’s surprise. There’s so much to get done, so little time... been a long day, but ice cream makes it better. Now the sun is setting, and it feels like a crime...”

When I got to the end of the song, the three of them all clapped. “I think the fans are gonna love you,” said AJ, nodding at me with approval. “They’re used to seeing pop acts open for us, with lots of dancing and lip-syncing. It’ll be nice to have a real singer-songwriter type of artist on our stage.”

“Plus, some of them will already know of her,” Rochelle pointed out, looking at AJ. “You know, from watching American Idol.”

“Exactly,” said Nick with a smug grin, taking credit for his idea. “She’ll be perfect.”

“Thanks, guys.” I blushed, smiling awkwardly. I was flattered by their praise, yet worried about what AJ and the other guys would say when they found out the real reason Nick had gotten me on the tour. He could talk me up all he wanted, but I knew it had very little to do with my musical talents and far more with my other skills. I felt like I was lying, even though I didn’t say a thing.

We messed around in the studio for a couple more hours, and when we walked out, I had a CD in my hand of tracks I’d recorded, my original songs and a few Backstreet Boys covers for fun. The recordings were pretty rough, but when Nick popped the CD into his car stereo in the parking lot, it still gave me chills to hear my own voice singing through his speakers.

AJ and Rochelle had walked back to the restaurant to get AJ’s car, so it was just Nick and me. “Did you have fun?” he asked, as he drove me back to his condo.

“Are you serious? I had a blast!” I gushed. “Thank you so much for letting me do that.”

“Sure,” he said casually. “Next time I’ll try to find you a stage, so you can rehearse your act for real.”

I nodded eagerly. “That would be great. The next couple of weeks are gonna go by so fast, between rehearsals for the Idol finale and getting ready for tour.”

“Yeah, you better get used to the crazy schedule, cause once we’re on the road, there’s no turning back. You ready for it?” He looked over at me, playfully cocking one eyebrow. “Think you can handle it?”

I giggled at the look on his face, but my smile quickly faded. “I’m ready,” I said seriously, “or, at least, I will be. I like to be busy. I can handle the crazy schedule. My question is, can you?”

As he drove, I studied his profile - the drooping eye, his hollow cheek, his frown. He didn’t look happy about his question being thrown back at him. When he answered, he sounded as stubborn and cocky as ever. “Oh yeah. I can handle it.”

I had my doubts, but I really hoped he’d prove me wrong. I wanted him to be right. And if his body was as strong as he was stubborn, maybe he would be.

***