Legal Note: Please don't read this if you are under the age of 18 years or the particular age of permission where ever you live. The story below is in all parts fictional. All portrayal of the Backstreet Boys and other persons mentioned is in no way based on fact. All other characters are completely fictional. All names, songs, events, and other licensed material remains so. Thank you.
Wow!
You guys really do care. You like me! You really like me! Seriously, I am flattered with all of the mail I received urging me to continue the story. So thank you jeff w., gentim, rich and nicky, rod, alain, uberboy, redrumbstd, the mysterious T, greg, david, M, matt, matthew and letshag, (and anyone else I missed to whom I am incredibly sorry).
Thanks to two real cool guys: Numba One: Jeff for bein' his awesome sweet self and supporting my e-mail addiction. Numba Two: DLS who is not only a real cool guy, and my friend, but also my editor, who always help my stuff to be more readable.
Stories To Check Out I really don't have time to read much, but when I do, I read.... Brian&Me, by DLS, which is a story continues to amaze me at the degree of emotion it elicits from my cynical self... Search&Rescue, by Matt, which I just started reading but is really very well done... so check `em both out!
Well, here's the new installment. Hope you like it....Its pretty long and has a lot goin' on. Enjoy!
Write with comments, critiques, suggestions, etc, to bsbwriter@altavista.net
thanks for reading!
take care, EG
"Why love if losing hurts so much ... I have no answers anymore ... only the life I have lived... The pain now is part of the happiness [then]." (Anthony Hopkins, Shadowlands)
Part 42
It was the morning of September eighteenth. I paid the taxi driver and made my way into Dulles Airport. I would be going up early to Newark, New Jersey to do pre-interviews for a documentary on the recent Encephalitis outbreak. Fun. I checked in, and made my way to the terminal. I mused over my relief that I remained a stranger to all airport staff which I encountered. With no Jane, and no Rocky, it was nice to retain anonymity.
I sat in terminal A23 and waited until the flight attendant called for passenger boarding from the terminal desk. I picked up my back-pack, threw away the soda I had been drinking, and made my way down the makeshift hallway to the door of the plane.
It took awhile to get to my row, 12, which, out of 16 rows, was towards the back of the small plane. It didn't help that there were several petite women on their tip-toes trying to stow luggage in the above compartments that were just out of reach. Being the tall, strapping boy I was, (or at least taller and more strapping than the petite women), I aided as many as would accept the help en route to my seat. As a result, the aisles were significantly clearer and I got to my seat quickly.
I had chosen a window seat. I opened the shade, and looked out into the post-dawn morning. The sun was hidden in some dark clouds. After a few minutes of day-dreaming, I picked up the Rolling Stone I had been thumbing through. As I read, I was happier and happier that I saw no mention of the Backstreet Boys-although it troubled me I was paying attention to this.
I peered at my watch, and realized we should have taken off half an hour ago. Just then, the PA system crackled. "Passengers, this is your captain. We've gotten some reports of weather coming into our area. Luckily, it should still be far away as we make our way to Newark. We'll be taking off momentarily, so if y'all just ensure that your seat belts are safely fastened, we'll begin procedure."
The flight attendants went through the safety run-down, and, like always, I didn't pay attention. I knew where the oxygen masks were, the exit locations, and how the seat cushion could be used as a floatation device my heart. You get used to airplanes when you're a diplomat brat, like Zach and me had been.
I braced myself to the sides of the seat as the plane began its trip down the runway. My ears popped during our quick ascent. When we had leveled out, I continued to read Rolling Stone.
It had been about twenty minutes when the plane began to go through some real turbulence. My mind flashed to the time my family and Zach's family had gone on a joint vacation to the Grand Canyon. There had been terrible turbulence, and the plane had almost crashed into a mountain top. Luckily, the pilot had regained control in time and we were able to land safely. During the bumpy flight, Zach and I had played Geography to distract ourselves. Geography is a game in which one person names a geographical location and the next person names one that begins with the last letter of the first place.
A little afraid, I shut my eyes, and muttered, "Newark...Kalamazoo...Ontario...." I reassured myself and went on. "Oswego..." I took a deep breath and searched for a third place that began with `o.' One came to me. "Orlando."
No sooner than I had finished my syllable, the P.A. system crackled again. "This is your captain. I'm extremely sorry folks, but the ground people have informed me, that, due to a severe thunder storm in Newark, it'll be impossible to land. Now, I've radio-ed back to Dulles, but they don't have a terminal free. So...We'll be landing in Regan National." Regan National is one of two other D.C. metropolitan area airports. There was a din in the cabin as the passengers gasped and groaned. "We will, of course, be giving you all ticket vouchers as well as car rental vouchers as needed." As he said that, I knew I'd have to rent a car and drive all the way up to Newark. "We appreciate your understanding, and we'll be looking to land at National in approximately sixteen minutes." I put my head back on the seat and closed my eyes.
I guess I fell asleep, because I woke up to all the passengers slowly making their way off of the plane. I got my back pack from underneath the seat in front of me and stood up. Finding my neck and back stiff, I took a good, long stretch and made my way to a place in the line to get off.
About five minutes later, I made my way into the terminal waiting area and received my flight and car rental vouchers. I got stuck in a three-person-across line on the escalator to the car rental desks. By the time I got to one which accepted the voucher, I waited in yet another line, consisting mostly of fellow passengers from my own flight.
I waited in line wearily, until finally, I got to the desk. "Hello, may I help you?" a way-too-perky woman in a red blazer asked.
I fought off the urge to say something sarcastic and not-quite-polite, and instead answered, "Yes, I'd like to rent a car for two weeks."
"What kind?" she asked.
"Really, whatever's easiest. Anything two or four passenger is great, but whatever's available."
She nodded, and typed it into her computer. "Manual or automatic?"
"Either one," I shrugged.
"Okay...color?" she asked, typing more.
"Whatever is available would be great."
"Okay..." she paused and wrinkled her forehead. "I don't see anything available."
I got a bit ticked-off, to say the least. "What do you mean? What were you asking all those questions for then?"
She bit her bottom lip and shrugged. "Just curious."
I took a deep breath. "Well," I asked, "Will you have anything available in the near future?"
She typed some more, and then read the screen. "Well, I have one care left-"
I interrupted her. "Great."
"But--its reserved. If the customer doesn't show up in an hour, I can give it to you."
"Great, can I wait here?" I asked, already leaning on the counter. She nodded, and motioned for the next in line to come forward.
I thought this was a little disturbed, given the fact that she had told me she didn't have any more cars to rent. It was only to my dismay when the next customer piped, "Hi. I have a car reserved for the weekend?" as soon as the male voice finished I shot my neck around and inspected him. He was early-middle-aged-but not a family man type. Instead, he appeared to be a sort of bachelor lost in cooperate paper stacks, with a sort of gruff, five o'clock shadow streak throughout. In short, this guy did not look easy to persuade. But can you blame me when I tried anyway?
"Sir," I addressed him, politely tapping him on the shoulder.
He turned and said, "Yes?"
"I just wondered if you absolutely needed that car," I ventured.
"Well, actually, yes, I do," he answered, sincerely apologetic.
"There's no possible way you could let me have instead? Its just that I have this brand new job and I had to fly to Newark but the plane almost crashed in a thunder storm and it had to land here and if I want to keep my job I really have to get to Newark by tonight and I just don't know how I would get there otherwise."
"Whoa there. Well, I'm real sorry buddy, but the car's not even for me-its for my boss. And if I don't get this car to them, its not gonna be pretty." I felt my face fall. "Well, can I give you ride to a bus stop or something? That is, if you wouldn't mind me picking up the boss first. I promised the car would be there in half an hour." he said, with real sympathy. This guy was one true gentleman.
"Well," I thought out loud, "Could you give me a ride home? Its not that far from here..." I asked. I figured I could take my car to Newark. I realized I should've thought of this before, but having already convinced this man to help me, I remained silent.
"Absolutely. By the way, I'm James Hutton. And you are?"
"I'm Adam Miller. Pleased to meet you," I said, shaking his hand.
He signed out the proper forms and led me out to the lot to pick up the SUV he had rented. I stashed my bags in the back and jumped into the passenger seat.
Part 43
Traffic was heavy, and only got worse as the rain began to pour down. We were still witnessing the after-effects of Hugo. The previously semi-cloudy sky had turned furiously dark. Water dumped in sheets over the late morning rush hour. Still, I was happy to be sitting in the SUV with James, rather than in Newark with the Encephalitis sources.
He'd turned out to be a nice guy, and we talked, as he traversed the streets. I found out he was a native Washingtonian, who had taken a job in L.A. after college. James knew exactly where my neighborhood was, and promised he'd get me there as soon as he picked up his client.
Letting my head lean back on the soft head rest of the passenger's seat, I was half-asleep. I realized all the sleepless nights of sitting in the kitchen of the guest house, staring out into the ruddy city-light pseudo-darkness, and thinking about Kevin were now dragging me down. I was still in this state when James pulled up to a hotel round-about and put the hood of his rain coat up to open the door for his client.
From the open door, I heard the rain getting louder, and mixing with car horns and screeching tires. Somehow, I managed to keep my eyes screwed shut and body scrunched down towards the window while James and his client exchanged greetings. James explained my presence and the client replied with a non-descript and hardly audible but accepting response.
Everyone got settled and the SUV began to move again. I maintained my half-slumber for the next five minutes. It was only, when all of a sudden, the car jerked to a stop and skidded a few feet. My body was flung toward the dashboard, but I caught myself and was slammed back into the seat.
Luckily, the car hadn't hit anyone. Once this was seen, James searched both me and the client sitting in the back, to make sure we were all right. I straightened up, as I watched him make his way back to the client.
The client, I saw, was none other than Brian Littrell. We made eye contact.
I freaked out.
What happened in the next few moments will be lost to me forever. In a surprising deftness on my part, I was able to escape the car and run across the street to a deserted alley. It was only as I stood propped against a wall, behind the dumpster, catching my breath, I was able to think.
Despite my surprising skill in the escape of the car, I could not, however, escape the feelings rushing back to me that I had worked so hard to ignore so many days since I left Orlando.
I didn't know why I was running, but I did anyway, through the alley and down nameless streets. It made no sense. I could have just stayed in the car, said a mature hello, and left for Newark as soon as James got to my house. Maybe it was the fact I knew Brian would never let me get away with that-and I wouldn't let myself get away with that either. Every emotion I had attached to Brian was directly linked to Kevin. And I couldn't let myself go through that again.
I ran aimlessly-the location should have been familiar, but the tears in my eyes marred my vision. I kept running until I was forced by a cramp in my side to stop.
I sat on a bench of a bus stop and pressed my knees into my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a form coming towards me.
I didn't have to look to know it was Brian.
I watched as his boots stopped about a foot away.
"Hello Adam," he said.
I raised my head slowly. I saw Brian's face dripping wet. I watched a droplet trace down his nose before I replied. "Hey."
"You okay?" I nodded. "Why'd you run?"
"I don't know. I just didn't want to deal with it."
"Deal with the situation?"
"Yeah."
"Oh," Brian paused and closed his eyes for a moment. "Come back to the hotel with me?"
I shook my head. "Why?"
"Kevin."
"I can't-" I started, but he cut me off.
"He misses you. He hasn't been the same without-god, I know that sounds corny, but its true. Its like some one took away his favorite thing in the world. He doesn't care about the group-he just does it without emotion. He gets moody. He cries a lot. Your leaving essentially destroyed him."
I almost started to cry again but I stopped myself. "Guilt trip me, why don't you," I attempted to joke-but it hurt to laugh.
"Yeah guilt trip you, bribe you, anything. He wants you with him-and for him, I want you with him."
"Why hasn't he called then?"
"Because he's a proud, stubborn, stupid man. But you could have called too."
"No. I left for his safety. Listen to me. Rejoining him would just bring all of those issues back."
"No, you listen to me. He knows what's good for him. And so do I. You."
"I just don't think-"
"He's useless without you. And you can't pretend to be perfectly fine either. Because if you were perfectly fine, you wouldn't have bolted like you just did."
"You're right," I said, starting to cry again. "But I can't compromise Kevin's physical well being by being part of his life again."
"You just don't understand, do you? Let me tell you one more time. His emotional well being is compromised by your absence. He is falling apart. Love does that. I should know."
"What do you mean?" I looked up at him, despite the water dripping onto my face and seeping into my eyes.
Brian waved it off. "Never mind." He paused and took a deep breath. "Please say you'll come and see Kevin."
I remained silent for a few moments, breathing in and out deeply. Finally, I said, "Maybe. Let me call my boss first and tell him what's going on. I was supposed to be in Newark tonight, but my plane got canceled." I stopped and thought for a moment. "Why don't you hang at my house for a bit until I get this straightened out?"
"Yeah, I guess. Long as you have food there."
"Yeah, I'll get Oly to make you something. Is that why you were going out?"
"Yep. Must feed my hunger, ya know. Who's Oly?"
"Our maid. She's sweet. You'll like her." Brian offered his hand and helped me up.
Brian smiled and answered, "Long as she makes macaroni and cheese we should get along just fine." He guffawed-something that only semi-southern adorable pop stars can pull off.
But then I remembered: "How are we gonna find James?"
Brian motioned towards the road ten feet away. James had followed us and had probably been sitting their the entire time. "He's a good chauffeur, that James," Brian said and led me back to the SUV.
part 44
It was a short ride to my house. I ushered Brian, and with a little convincing, James, into the main house. Inside, Oly had obviously just cleaned. There was a note on the end table in the foyer letting anyone who came in that she was in the pottery studio.
I led the two into my kitchen and sat them down on the stools around the counter island. When Brian and I started involving ourselves in polite conversation, James began to look uncomfortable and a little lost. Making several futile attempts to include him, I felt like a bad host, but then had an idea.
"Come on," I said to James, and he followed me across the backyard. It had stopped raining. I zeroed in on the pottery shed where I could hear Oly's wheel turning and some opera shouting in the background.
"I love that piece!" James said, "La Vie Boheme is my favorite!" He began to sing under his breath.
With that encouragement, I introduced James to Oly. Luckily for me, and for them, they hit it off. Not being an opera fan, I excused myself and rejoined Brian in the kitchen.
"Nice place you got here," he said politely. I mumbled in gratitude. "So, will you come back to the hotel with me?" Brian asked, with raw hope in his tone.
I didn't like this newly found directness. It made me squirm. "Let me call my boss, first, okay? Before I make a decision?" A part of me sincerely hoped that Don would rescue me from ever having to make a decision.
I got the phone from beside the fridge and dialed Warren Productions.
It rang, until Naomi, my favorite receptionist picked up. "Hello, Warren Productions. How may I direct your call?" She was the weekend receptionist, and got paid double wage for fielding calls from clueless clients and confused employees on Saturdays.
"Hi Naomi, this is Adam, may I please speak to Don?" I asked.
"Don's out business golfing, Adam. Can I do anything for you?"
I sighed. Business golfing was a code for "out-with-the-mistress." This was painfully obvious given the recent torrent of showers. I liked Don-he was a good boss-but he was by no means a man without vices. I thought about telling Naomi she should get a new excuse, given the rain, but thought twice. It wasn't really my business. "Not really. My flight to Newark got canceled and I can't get up to the job in time. Any suggestions?"
"Hmm, that is a problem," she said. "Lemme see if I can get in touch with the Encephalitis people to see if they can reschedule."
"Okay, do you want me to call back?"
"Nah, lemme just put you on hold."
"Thanks," I said, as the line went silent. I put the phone on speaker phone and turned back to Brian.
"Well?" he said.
I shrugged. "The receptionist is calling the clients to see what I should do. I should know in a few moments....So what else is up with you and the guys?"
"Not much, you know, we're still getting into the groove of the tour. We're off to Boston after this. I don't think any of us are real excited about revisiting that little town of misery, after the junk that happened last time we were there."
"Yeah, I hear ya," I said. Boston in the summer had been Zach and Nick holed up in the honeymoon suite and AJ and Brian drunk into oblivion. It hurt me to think about it. It hurt Brian too, judging by the grimace on his face. I was about to add something, when I heard Naomi back on the line.
"Adam?" she ventured.
I picked up the phone and turned the speaker off. "Right here. What's up?"
"Bad news. The story's gonna have to be canceled. The producers can't get up there either and the client can't reschedule."
"Okay," I said. I wasn't sure what I thought of this. I meant I would sooner or later have to make a decision regarding Kevin. "I appreciate it. Tell Don when he's back from `golfing' to call me."
"Okay, Adam. Have a nice day off!"
"I will, have a good weekend! Bye!" I hung up and looked at Brian directly.
"So?" he asked, tracing his finger tips across the side of the slate counter.
I took out two glasses and answered, "The job's a no-go. Do you want something to drink?" Brian nodded and asked for some orange juice. I filled one glass with OJ and one glass with Perrier. I placed Brian's glass in front of him and sighed. "So this means I have to make a decision now, right?" I said jokingly.
"Yeah, yeah that'd be nice," he joked back. Laughing was the only thing that kept us from dwelling on the dramatics of the situation.
I took a long sip from my glass. It wouldn't hurt to see Kevin just once, would it? Just dropping by the hotel didn't translate to a long term commitment, right? Wow, I reflected just how knee-deep in denial I was. After a little more thought, I decided to throw all my doubts behind me and go full force ahead with reckless abandon. A guy only gets a chance at love, once, maybe twice in a lifetime, right? I wasn't about to screw this up and resign myself to seventy years of loneliness.
I took a deep breath and answered. "Okay."
"Okay what?" Brian asked, a little unsure.
"Okay, I'll come see Kevin with you."
"Really??!?" Brian said with a huge grin.
"Really!" I said, as he got up to hug me. It felt good to be on the favorable side of Brian again, after so much pleading. It also felt good to think that I would see Kevin again, soon.
"Can we got right now?" he asked, with a little boy's patience.
"Well, when do you guys have to be at the MCI Center?"
"Wait, how'd you know we had a show tonight?" Brian asked, confused.
"Just because I wasn't with you guys doesn't mean I managed to block all Backstreet Boys related media out of my life. When a huge pop act comes to town, regardless what town, you hear about it. Plenty."
"What huge pop act?" Brian asked, playing dumb.
"I don't know...I forget their name....I think one member is about to get his ass whooped, though." I laughed.
"Whoa, wait a minute. I don't think we're thinking of two different bands..." Brian ginned and giggled.
"Yeah, lucky for you," I answered with a wry smile.
"So let's go," he said, taking me by the hand.
"Whoa there, you don't think I'm going like this, do you?" I motioned to my rumpled clothes.
"Hmm. You're right. But I have to be at the arena by four..."
"Yeah, your point being? Its only one-thirty now," I said, looking at my watch.
"Okay so we have a little time."
"What am I gonna do while you spend all that time making yourself look all pretty for Mr. Body Beautiful?"
I stuck my tongue out at him and said, "You can watch TV and eat, since I did sort of delay you from the original object of your outing..." I said.
"Sounds good. Take me to your tube."
I led Brian to my house, the guest house, out the back door. Passing the pottery studio, I heard two voices singing. This gave me a warm smile. Brian was confused for a moment, but then heard it too.
I unlocked my front door and motioned to the couch and the remote control sitting on the arm of the leather recliner. Brian got comfy, watching VH1:Where Are They Now?: One Hit Wonders. I watched as a small frown crept over his mouth when they profiled New Kids On The Block. I went over and patted his shoulder. He looked up and gave me a small smile.
"You know Brian," I started, "just because that boy band ended up the way they did doesn't mean that you guys will end up the same way. Besides, they weren't real artists, at all, were they? They just were good at following choreographers and being coached by voice teachers. You guys all have natural talent. The fans can see that."
"I really appreciate you saying that, Adam. It means a lot coming from you."
I smiled. "Anytime."
"Can I use your phone? I want to call the guys before they get too worried. You know Kevin."
"I do know Kevin," I mused, handing him the phone. "I'm gonna be in the shower. There's take-out menus on the fridge if you get hungry. I'm afraid I don't have much around and Oly seems too happy to be disturbed."
"Yeah, I agree. No prob. See ya in a bit."
I left the room to go to my closet and pick something to wear. I scanned across the rack of clothes. I stopped at a crisp light blue cotton dress shirt and barely worn GAP flat front khakis. I put them on a hanger and hung them in the bathroom so the steam would ease out the creases.
I shut the door of the bathroom and disrobed, letting the clothes fall in pools at my feet and turning on the shower. Soon, when steam filled the room, I stepped into the stall. I leaned face first against one wall of cool tile, letting my back be pelted with the shower and eased out of the long-kept tension.
After about ten minutes, I eased myself into a full upright position underneath the shower head and washed my hair slowly, massaging my scalp with my eyes half closed. I thought about what it would be like to see Kevin. Then, I felt a major sense of deja vu. I remember that night in July after the shift at the diner, taking a shower and thinking of what is would be like to be held by Kevin, to be kissed by him. Look at what a few months did. Not only did I now know what is was like to be held by him, kissed by him, I knew what it was like to love him, to be loved by him, and to be forced to leave that love. And soon I would know how it would feel to re-embrace that love.
I used the soap to wash my body, and then stood motionless in the shower for a few minutes, letting myself detach from all worries and concerns. This was a technique I tried to use when possible-to relax and ready myself for a big event. And this would be, without a doubt, a big event.
I got out of the shower finally and saw the clouded full-length mirror on the door. I saw the same boy I had seen in July-the same piercing blue eyes, tan, lithe body and the brown-black hair fallen across the forehead. So much had happened and still, to me, and to all outsiders, I looked the same. This was admittedly a strange concept.
As I was dressing, I wondered, briefly but seriously, how I would look to Kevin.
So, what'd you think? Write bsbwriter@altavista.net and lemme know. Thanks for reading!