Early the next morning, Cary and I took a cab to LAX. I left her at one of the car rental counters to pick up a car to get her around for the next few days. She was going to check into a hotel before her father arrived for the American Idol finale and pretend she’d been staying there all along. Then, in a few more days, she’d fly to Miami, where the guys and I would be waiting.
“See you Thursday,” I told her, as she hugged me goodbye.
“Okay. Take care of yourself until then,” she replied, giving me a serious look.
I gave her a goofy smile back. “I will, Nurse Cary,” I said in a sing-song voice, making light of the situation. But neither of us could forget that I’d just gotten out of the hospital. I wasn’t back to one hundred percent, and as long as the war between cancer and chemo was going on inside my body, I never would be.
I felt it as I headed off for the check-in counter, pushing a luggage cart heaped with all my crap. Even though it was on wheels, the cart felt heavy. My body felt weak. Just hoisting the suitcases onto the counter for the attendant to weigh and tag left me short of breath.
“Have a nice flight, Mr. Carter,” said the woman behind the counter, smiling as she handed me my boarding pass.
“Thanks,” I grunted, continuing on to the line to get through security. It was already long, but fast-moving, and soon I was through the metal detectors and heading towards my gate.
AJ was already there. He was sitting alone in a corner, but he still stood out in his dark sunglasses, his hoodie pulled up over his cap. “Goin’ for the Unabomber look there, Bone?” I asked, as I walked up to him.
He grinned and flipped up his shades as he stood. “Nicky, my boy. How’s it goin’, dude?” He shook my hand and pulled me into a one-armed hug. I felt my body stiffen as I held back a little, afraid he would feel the hard little lump of the portacath if we got too close.
“Eh, been better. I’m gettin’ over some bug,” I said. It was the truth, and I also hoped it would explain why I pulled out of the hug so quickly. I’m a big hugger, usually, so I knew he would think that was weird.
“That sucks, man.” AJ took a step back, looking at me warily. “Don’t go spreading the plague before the tour’s even started.”
I chuckled; it was surprising even to me that, of all of us, he was the biggest germaphobe. “It’s okay, dude, I’m on antibiotics. I’m probably not even contagious anymore.” And what I’ve really got, you can’t catch, I added in my head.
“Oh, good. Hope you’re feelin’ better by Saturday. You gonna be okay for the show tonight?”
“Oh yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I lied casually, eager to change the subject. “So when’s Rochelle coming out?”
“Not till June. She’s gotta work,” said AJ, looking bummed. “She’s doing makeup for the Glee tour this weekend...” I knew all I had to do was bring up Rochelle to get him talking. I sat back and half-listened while he rambled on about Rochelle and her makeup classes and their wedding plans and all of that. Before I knew it, they were calling us to board the plane.
I was dreading the flight. I hated flying anyway, but more than that, I was dreading being shut inside that cabin with AJ for five-and-a-half hours. Don’t get me wrong; I love the guy, and normally when we’re together, we never shut up. But that was the problem: How was I going to have a five-and-a-half hour conversation with him and not tell him I had cancer? I could avoid saying the words easily enough, but there was more to it than that; I had to avoid letting him see that something was wrong. And not just for the five or six hours we were on the plane, but for the rest of the day, and the rest of the week, and the rest of the tour.
All of a sudden, I felt completely overwhelmed. I broke out in a cold sweat, as the gravity of what I was about to do really sunk in. I had to hide a life-threatening illness from the three guys who knew me better than my own brother. AJ, Brian, and Howie could all read me like a book and know right away when something was wrong.
Kevin was worse than all three of them combined, and for the first time, I was truly glad he wasn’t touring with us. In some ways, touring was more fun without him anyway; we were a lot more laidback. But I still missed the guy. I still felt the hole whenever three of us tried to center ourselves behind the one who had stepped forward to sing lead, or whenever Howie sang one of his solos. A part of me had always wished Kevin would come back to us, so things could go back to how they used to be, but now I was glad he was gone. I never could have kept this from Kevin. He would have seen right through me and talked it out of me within a day or two.
But the other three weren’t that intense, and I knew I could hide it from them, if I was careful not to slip up. It would be the biggest acting gig of my life. I just wished I were a better actor.
The one thing I had going for me was that the guys would have their families - or in AJ’s case, fiancée - on the road with us for most of this leg of the tour. That meant we’d have separate buses and hotel rooms and wouldn’t spend much time together, outside of the venues. I’d only have to keep my act up for a few hours a day.
Today would be the longest. Today would be the real test.
AJ and I boarded the plane and found our seats in first class. I wished we hadn’t bought our tickets together, so we could have sat separately. That would have made it a lot easier. But there we were, side by side. I hoped he would sleep. If he didn’t, maybe I would.
I closed my eyes when I heard the engine start rumbling beneath me and kept them firmly shut, not wanting to look out the window when the plane left the ground. It always kinda freaked me out to see the ground falling out from under me, everything getting smaller and smaller as we got higher and higher. I always imagined the opposite, seeing the ground hurtling towards me as the plane lost control and plummeted in a death spiral. I know they say flying is safer than driving, but with as much as I flew, I’d always figured my odds of dying in a plane crash were higher than the average Joe.
But having cancer must put it all into perspective, or maybe it just made me really tired, because I somehow managed to relax enough to fall asleep. When I woke up, all I could see out the window were clouds, and AJ was zonked out beside me. Well, that was easy, I thought, wondering how long I’d slept. Judging by the drool on AJ’s chin, we’d both been out for a while. Sweet.
It was already three in the afternoon when we landed in New York, though it was only noon California time. “Hope they’ve got some good grub backstage,” AJ said as we walked off the plane. “I’m starved.”
Oddly enough, I wasn’t even hungry, but I agreed with him, anyway. It would have looked weird if I didn’t; everyone knows I love food.
We had just enough time to check into our hotel and drop off our luggage before it was time to head over to the venue for soundcheck. Since we were staying three nights in the city, I did a little unpacking, throwing some of my crap in the dresser drawers, and changed into a fresh t-shirt. The shirt was white, so I threw on an open plaid shirt over it, paranoid of the portacath showing.
I was still scrutinizing my reflection in the mirror when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I dug it out and found a text from Howie: Are you almost ready? Meet us in my room. 514.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I muttered, stuffing the phone back into my pocket. I took a sweeping glance around the room, not that I was forgetting anything, and then I left it, wandering down the hall to find Howie’s.
They were all there waiting for me; even AJ had beat me. Howie grinned widely as he opened the door. He always looked glad to see me after a break; I guess he forgot how I drove him nuts during tours. He had always been my favorite target, but once Kevin wasn’t around for me to annoy, Howie got it double. I grinned back. “Hey, Howie.”
I got away with a quick man-hug with Howie, grasping his hand and pulling him into a one-armed embrace. No such luck with Brian. For such a little guy, he was a fierce hugger. My only saving grace was that he was so short, there was no chance of him feeling the hard spot under my collarbone as our chests pressed together. At least he didn’t jump into my arms, like he would for a laugh in front of fans.
“How are ya, Frack?” he asked, and I couldn’t help but smile when he used my old nickname. Frick and Frack... those were the days.
“I’m alright. How’s the fam?” I asked in return, looking over his shoulder for Leighanne and Baylee. I didn’t see them.
“They’re good. Leighanne’s at home, and Baylee’s spending the weekend with her mom. They’ll meet us in Miami at the end of the week,” Brian replied. He looked pretty bummed about being away from them, even though he’d just left and would be seeing them in a few days. But then, he and Leighanne had been basically attached at the hip for the last thirteen years, so I guess it would be pretty rough on him. I couldn’t relate.
“And yours?” I asked Howie.
He grinned just thinking about Leigh and James. “Same. Doing great. Waiting for us to make it back to Florida.”
I nodded. So it was just the four of us guys. That didn’t happen very often these days, and normally, I would want it that way. But this time, I actually wished their families were there. They would be a distraction, something to keep the guys from sensing that something was off with me. I hoped the crazy schedule of appearances we had in the city over the next three days would keep them all busy enough not to notice.
We went downstairs to the lobby to meet Jenn, our manager. “Oh good, there you guys are. Ready to go?” she asked briskly, wrangling the troops together. She was the youngest manager we’d ever had; she could easily pass as one of our girlfriends or even a fan. But she was married, thank god, so there was no awkwardness, and she was good at her job. She kept us in line.
We headed out to the cars that were waiting to take us to the venue. The Highline Ballroom was the perfect place to hold our fan event. It was an intimate venue, with a House of Blues kind of vibe - small stage, standing room in the middle, tables around the edges, and a bar in the back. I was glad our first show was going to be chill; I was still feeling pretty run down, especially after traveling all day, and not up to dancing, even though I knew I’d be doing plenty of it later in the week. I was relieved all I had to do that night was sit on a stool and sing. That much I could do.
There was already a long line of fans waiting outside when we got there. It was crazy to think some of them had probably been there since before I’d woken up in LA that morning. We didn’t stop to chat; we were already running behind schedule. We had just enough time to do our soundcheck before they started letting fans in. The meet and greet would take place after the show, so there was no soundcheck party, just the four of us messing around onstage with our guitarist, Jimmy, while Jenn and our bodyguards watched. When the doors opened, we hid out backstage. AJ finally got his lunch, and the rest of us nibbled on the munchies that were set out for us.
Suddenly, Jenn burst into our dressing room. As usual, while we kicked back and stuffed our faces, she’d been running around like a madwoman, making sure everything was ready to go. “You will not believe what went down outside!” she fumed. “Someone’s been egging your fans!”
“What?!”
“Yeah! Some poor girl out in the line got hit with an egg!”
“Who threw it?” Brian wanted to know. He was frowning, a deep crease in his forehead.
“Whoever did, they’re gonna get their asses kicked if we find them!” AJ sounded outraged. I was, too. I had my phone out already, so I got on Twitter and started tweeting just that.
“Is the fan okay? What can we do?” asked Howie. Leave it to D to be concerned for the poor girl, while the rest of us just wanted revenge on the douchebag who egged her in the first place.
“She’s actually got a bruise on her arm - that’s how hard it hit her - but she’s okay,” said Jenn. “Some other girls outside helped her get cleaned up. You’ll see her after the show.”
She left us to talk shit about whoever had thought it was funny to egg Backstreet fans. It was a crappy thing to have happen before one of our shows, but in an odd way, I was sort of glad it had - not because I thought it was funny or anything, but because it gave us something to talk about and took my mind off the secret I was keeping from the others. Before I knew it, the fans were all inside, and it was time to start the show.
For such a small venue, the screaming was intense as we took the stage. Normally, we jumped through a screen and started in with “Everybody,” with crazy light effects to match the high-energy choreography. But on that night, we simply walked out onstage under the regular stage lights and perched on the four stools that had been set out for us. Cameras flashed like crazy in our faces, as Howie gave an introduction. As the oldest, he’d been our unofficial leader ever since Kevin had left, so he got stuck doing stuff like that. After his little speech, we launched straight into “Shape of My Heart.”
I sat on my stool, bouncing my knee and bobbing my head in time to the guitar strumming, tugging at my clothes to make sure everything was still in place while I waited for my turn to sing. “Looking back on the things I’ve done, I was trying to be someone... I played my part and kept in the dark... Now let me show you the shape of my heart...”
The shrieks in the audience crescendoed, as they always did, when we got to my solo. “I’m here with my confession...” I sang, pulling the mic stand closer to me. “Got nothin’ to hide no more... I don’t know where to start... but to show you the shape of my heart...”
I didn’t fail to notice the irony of the lyrics. Even as I sang about confessing the truth, I was hiding a devastating secret.
***
