The following pertains to all files in directory, and material related. 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 portayal 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 liscensed material remains so. Thank you.
To My Readers-beware, because this addition is brutish and short. thanks to DLS, (my informal editor and author of Brian&Me), Rich TonnY, UberBoy, JM, Jim, Matt, Magic, Yuli, Redrum and Kevin P. Thank you all for your comments/compliments/critiques. As always e-mail me with thoughts at bsbwriter@altavista.net Enjoy, EG
Part 16
The conversation Kevin had with Howie was long, and muffled. After saying hello, Kevin turned toward the window and spoke softly. I was dying of curiosity. While I waited, I thought of all the instances that could be happening-were they all junkies that had sucked Zach into their habit? Was Zach caught in some manage-quartre with everyone but Howie? These thoughts and others raced through my mind, as I tapped my fingers on the bed frame.
Finally, Kevin hung up. For a moment, he just stared into space. Then, he spoke. "I found out what's going on, Adam."
"What?" I asked impatiently.
"Nick dropped out of the band. He's hiding out with Zach in some penthouse in the center of Boston. AJ and Brian have been taking it hard-they've been drinking straight through the past two days. Howie's been trying to get them back together, so we can start the Millennium tour on time, but honestly, he doesn't think its gonna happen."
This took awhile to process. "What are you going to do?"
"Well, go and try to straighten things out, if you don't mind, I was thinking we could leave Friday-well, unless-you could stay here if you wanted."
"No, I think it'd be better if you had a support system."
He nodded. "My career fell apart in a week Adam, I just hope we can get back together at the same speed. I'm really glad you're here-this sounds trite-but I don't know what I would do without you-probably be drinking as much as Brian and AJ. " Kevin got up and came over to the bed. As he hugged me, he started to sob. All his cool, his sheen of confidence, and cloak of optimism deteriorated in his tears. I kissed him on the top of the head, and we laid down next to each other. I comforted him until we both fell asleep.
I woke up in the middle of the night to find Kevin gone. I frantically looked all over the room. Finally I found him in the bathtub. He was asleep, and the water, now long cold, was at waist level. I was frightened at the possibility that he could have drowned by shifting in his sleep while I was in the other room out cold.
I lifted him to sit on the edge, and wrapped a towel around him. With a lot of effort, I picked him up, his feet dangling and his head cradled by my hand. He stirred and I placed him gently on the bed. I slept in the alcove cot and did not wake up until Thursday afternoon.
Lemon yellow sunlight streamed through the curtains when I slowly opened my eyes. Kevin was sitting on the bed a few feet away, intently staring at me. "Good morning," I said groggily.
"Good afternoon-its two o' clock. Did you have a good sleep?"
"Yeah-except for when I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't find you."
"Yeah-I'm sorry. Thanks, though-for getting me back to bed."
"Well, my back muscles are still sore. Maybe you could give me a massage later?"
"Yeah-maybe." He laughed for the first time in a day and a half and ruffled my hair. "So what are you going to do with you last hours in France?"
"I don't know...Be with you," I giggled.
"I think that can be arranged. Aren't you hungry? You haven't really eaten in a long time."
"Well, I was working off that Chocolate Comfort frozen yogurt."
"What?" he looked puzzled.
"Don't worry about it."
"So, are you hungry now?"
"I could eat."
"Me too."
"Yeah, no kidding-you're the one with the bottomless pit for a stomach." I patted his stomach.
"Oh-shh. Let's go get something to eat."
We walked holding hands down the stairs. Kevin got some ice water and we went into the dining room when we saw Luc comforting Nicola.
"What's wrong?" Kevin asked as he ran up to the couple.
"She is worried about you," Luc said, distressed.
"Why? I'm fine."
"Go into the den. You'll see why."
"Okay-but I don't see-" Kevin broke off as he went entered the doorway of the den. The glass in his hand dropped and shattered on the floor. Water and ice slid across the wooden planks.
I ran to follow him. "What is it??" But he didn't answer me, and he didn't have to. The television was turned to European MTV. Front and center was a familiar scene-Kevin and I on the airplane to France. In the picture, we were both asleep and my head rested on his chest. Ohmigod.
In my head, all hell broke loose. My brain felt surrounded by scalding blood and I could hardly breathe-I began to hyperventilate. My ears were ringing. My entire body went into spasms. There were so many thoughts shooting out of my head I couldn't pick them out.
I felt a hand on my shoulder-it was Nicola. "Adam-please, please calm down. The nearest hospital is too far away. You have to calm down."
Finally, I cooled a little bit. This gave me enough presence to see how Kevin was doing. Not well. He was completely frozen. The hand which had been holding the glass was still in the same position. I couldn't even tell if he was breathing. I concentrated and noticed a shallow intake and outtake which made me feel a little bit better.
I turned my attention back to the television where Kurt Loder was talking about me. "A man, of about 18 to 22 years age, known as Adam is said to be the second man in this picture. Reporters from the Star Inquirer propose that `Adam' is the Backstreet Boys' own Kevin Richardson's gay lover." I was being described like a criminal. "Many speculations on this relationship have sprouted after the cancellation of the group's Independence Concert and several P.R. dates on the east coast. The other members are believed to be finding at safe haven somewhere in Boston. That's the news for now, check back every hour, ten the hour for more. Remember-you heard it here first." Immediately I knew who must've taken the pictures-our "friend" Al from the plane.
I was sick with so many emotions-sadness, anger, hate, worry. Kevin looked like he had been shot in the chest. He uttered monosyllabic words- "Ho-how?" He shook his head and shut his eyes tight. I led him to a chair and sat down beside him.
For the rest of the afternoon, we flipped between the channels-MTV, CNN, NBC, ABC, and CBS. The British Sky Network was even worse and reinforced the rumors with misguided opinions and pompous speeches. I sat by Kevin, holding him as our whole world came crashing down.
"We're not going back to the states," Kevin turned and looked at me. "We can't now."
Long into the night, I stayed up, red eyes, letting Kevin sleep on my lap. Even the Daily Show had something to say. "And now, Headlines," Jon Stewart said. Above his right shoulder was a graphic with the picture of us, and a caption reading Kevin Takes the Backstreet.' "In the Star Inquirer today, a picture of pop music star Kevin Richardson of international sensation the Backstreet Boys and an unidentified man now known as Adam' is the topic of a variety of rumors that apparently, Kevin Wants It THAT Way." The audience hooted and clapped. "Well, you know," a picture of Kevin shirtless from a concert popped up on the graphic, "Who could resist that bod? Whoo!" This was terribly painful and it made it even more so to think that if it wasn't me and Kevin, I would have laughed.
It was only seven in the states, so I called Howie. He didn't pick up, so I left a message. "Hi-um could you call us back?" I said, hoping he'd know who it was and not really wanting to give my name for fear of a crazed maid out to make some money would record it.
Howie picked up just as I finished the message. "Hey-I can't talk now-but I'll call you-okay?"
"Okay."
"Bye."
"Later."
I hung up. I switched on MTV and saw Kurt Loder once again. "Silence from the Backstreet Boys, volumes from millions of fans-after the break." Several commercials played, one of which was for the Sears Shopping Spree With Your Favorite Backstreet Boy-the one where they sing Larger Than Life. Two commercials later, they were on the promotion for the Video Awards. Then, Kurt Loder came back. "Hello, I'm Kurt Loder. Many of you have probably heard of the rumors of homosexual relations surrounding Kevin Richardson of the Backstreet Boys and a man known only as Adam. Never has such a large star's image changed in such a short period of time. Let's go to Ananda Lewis for some of the reactions."
Ananda came on the screen. "Thanks Kurt. Here in Times Square, feelings of the scandal surrounding Kevin Richardson are definitely mixed." It went to a bunch of interviews of 13, 14 and 15 year old girls.
The first one said, "Its really not the same thing anymore, to see the videos."
The second one said, "It sorta kills the sex-appeal factor.
The third one said, "It doesn't really matter to me-Nick's my fave anyway."
I sighed when she said that, little did she know.
Then a young guy-maybe about 18 was on the screen-he looked really familiar. "I admire them both. It takes a lot of courage, you know?" I realized who it was-a former classmate from Anslem's Cross. He had been the only guy who was out in the entire school-probably in the entire history of the institution. I'd really admired-even had a crush on him, once, in ninth grade.
Ananda came back on screen- "That's it for now-I'll return with more reactions later on tonight, back to you Kurt."
Kurt was back at his 1515 desk. "That's all for now, but remember, we'll have hourly updates and bring you the newest developments on the story, about Kevin, Adam, and the future of the Backstreet Boys." They played some commercials, and then videos, but I couldn't take it, so I went to sleep.
Part 17
When I woke up, it was late morning. I found myself draped across the couch where Kevin used to be. He was gone, again. I looked up though, and there he was, staring at me. This wasn't the kind, curious stare I had witnessed before-it was brutal and pained. His blue-green eyes pierced into me, and didn't stir even after he must have saw I was awake. "Hey," I said, with sore throat.
"Hi." Kevin looked past me at nothing in particular.
"Are you okay?"
"I need some space, my god, my life's been ruined."
In a stupid, defensive mood, I replied, "And what about me?"
"You're the one who gets to say I fucked a Backstreet Boy."
"Kevin-I would never-it'll all blow over, the press'll find something else to occupy their immoral minds and I'll still be here-I promise."
"How can you be so sure I still want you here?" he said.
The wind was knocked out of my lungs. "I don't understand what I did-we did wrong-yesterday we were a couple getting to know each other better, today you want to throw me out. Nothing's different, nothing's changed-why can't you see that? Kevin-just say the word and I'll go." "No, you're right-you don't understand. I'll always be the fallen gay popstar-the one all the teenage girls used to like, but then their pious parents threw out our CDs and told them it was wrong to be gay-that I am a criminal. They'll go on to obsess over `N Sync, 98 Degrees, 5ive, whoever else comes after. I'll be erased."
"Kevin-that's how the music business is-you put in your hits, and then you take an exit-you must have known that's how it was when you guys all started. As to the other stuff, I can't say it won't happen, but just don't let it bother you-please." I said in earnest honesty, but Kevin wasn't listening. "I think you do need space," I said making a big, rash decision that would probably end up being stupid, "I'm going to Paris. I'll stay there until you say the word. Then I'll come back. I'll go, and fade into the masses, and be invisible for a while until the rumors disappear. Do all your Backstreet Boys duties, tell the public I'm just a friend, go and pull the group back together, pull Brian and AJ out before they're in too deep, support Howie, support Nick. I'll be waiting for you-and when you're ready, we can try all of this again." Kevin nodded, and we both started to cry. Unfortunately, this was not a time when we could be there for each other-after all, it was my fault we!
were crying-I had written the stupid letter that started it all.
I went upstairs, changed, and got my luggage together. Luc drove me to the TGV station. On the way, Luc tried to convince me to stay. "He loves you-he wants you to stay, in his heart. You're deserting him now, both of you will be happier if you stay." I shook my head and purchased a ticket for a train leaving in ten minutes for Paris.
The train approached, and I loaded my luggage, thanked Luc, and boarded. There were tears in my eyes as the train pulled out of the station. In all other circumstances, my mind had raced with thoughts-but now, as I left my love, my mind was numb and vacant.
Part 18
When I arrived in Paris, I went to a small hotel near the Champs-Elysses and got a room with no view but the street and the people racing below. I began to write a lot, in a journal which I purchased at the Louvre gift shop a little while after my arrival, and to develop a routine.
Every morning, I would awake at seven, an hour of which Kevin would be proud. I went to the cafe across and read the paper until I finished two cups of coffee. Then I would go to the newsstand on the corner and buy out any tabloid that bore a story about Kevin-every copy. Then I threw them in a dumpster behind the hotel. After that, I went for long, aimless walks. I was usually never recognized-and when I was, the reaction was still one of indifference. The rumors were about Kevin Richardson's proposed homosexuality, not me-I was just an accessory to the "crime."
I only had a few run-ins with the press. The first week I was there, paparazzi worthy of a press conference stormed the hotel door. I thought the owner would mind, but on the contrary, he enjoyed the free advertising. They stopped after a few days of my silence and invisibility. Another time, I saw Al in a chocolate shop downtown. I stifled the urge to assault him knowing it would only make matters for Kevin worse.
I continued like this, calling my parents every once in awhile to give them news of my so-called well being. I never called anyone else-not Nick, Zach, Kevin and I never thought once about returning to the states. I thought about Kevin often, but only in the detached way my mind had invented to keep myself from succumbing to depression.
Once, on a Thursday evening, Brian called. "Hello," he had said.
I knew instantly who it was. "Brian?"
"Yes"
"I would really like to avoid speaking with anyone until Kevin calls."
"Both of you-you're too proud-you stumbled onto something great and your just walking away from it. Not everybody gets a chance at love. You two did. Why can't you see that? Kevin is a wreck. The only reason he's still in the group is because managment threatened to sue him for breach of contract-same with Nick. He never sleeps, or eats-makeup has to do job on him to get him looking like a human being. He needs you."
"Thank you for calling. Goodbye," I said coldly, with tears in my eyes. I hung up, and pushed all my doubts far away.
I avoided watching Kevin lie to the world by not watching TV or listening to the radio. Only once did I catch a press conference, which I regret. A happy Kevin, back in the band, along with a content Nick, sober pair of AJ and Brian, and a seemingly rejuvenated Howie, lied in very glossy voices to all the reporters. And it worked. Soon, the story died down and was one more addition to the pile of tabloid stories surrounding tampered with pictures and shoddy sources. The Backstreet Boys went on, and went on to more success than ever-unprecedented record sales and number one spots on Billboard. It had been a month and a half since I had last seen Kevin.
I was getting used to loneliness and living off my parent's credit cards when the phone finally rang.