* * * * *
“I'm serious. Hack it off.” Malia faced the mirror at a last minute haircut. “All of it. I want it short and layered!”
“No!” Susan moaned. “You’ve got such long, thick hair. No!”
“Yes!” she said forcefully, in no mood for games. “Dye it too. Something a lot lighter. I need to look nothing like myself.”
Susan began working deftly with the shears. Long locks of her hair began to fall to the floor in a quick rhythm. “Why? You trying out to be someone in a movie or something?”
“Yeah . . . the of the life of an average college student.”
* * * * *
“As we prepare to land we ask that you please turn off all electronic devices, such as portable music players, cell phones, and laptop computers. We will be landing at Gate 9A. Thank you for flying United . . . "
Brian leaned his head back. He hadn’t finished the tape yet, but he wasn’t about to jeopardize the lives of 215 other people. Shit, he thought. Nick’s going to be there to give me a ride. So I guess I won’t know for a little while. She never could do things the easy way could she? he thought as he yanked his bag out from under the seat and stood up. He hustled his way through the crowds until he saw Nick playing a Gameboy and slouching on a wall.
“Hey!” he said, and waved Brian over.
“Hi,” he replied in monotone. “Be right back.” He walked off at a fast clip, barely giving Nick a chance to follow him. A row of payphones were located at the intersection of the terminal, where he was headed. He shoved in a quarter and quickly dialed her number.
We’re sorry, but number you dialed has been disconnected. Please check with the operator and try again . . .
“Goddamn it!” he swore, louder than he intended, slamming the phone back down. As he spun around he came face to face with Nick. “Goddamn it Malia!”
He looked at Brian curiously. “Girl trouble?”
“If I ever was not in a good mood the time would be now. Don’t even think about it, okay? No!” He dodged the masses of people to get to baggage claim with Nick tagging along after him.
* * * * *
Perfect, Malia thought with an evil smile. Her hair was cut to her chin now, and a light-auburn color. The layers swished as she shook her head. She could have been a completely different person, between the gleam in her eyes and the cut. She looked like someone with goals . . . someone smart. And someone who was not going to let their past stand in their way.
* * * * *
Brian threw his bag listlessly onto the hotel bed. It all was the same. The same boring, monotone color scheme, the same arrangement of twin beds, the same high-rise buildings in the background, and the same familiarity without association to anything in particular. Nick flopped onto a bed, still playing with the damned game. His face looked slightly hurt when Brian had yanked the keys out of his hand and insisted on driving.
He’d just wanted some control over something; he hadn’t meant to hurt Nick. But damnit, couldn’t Nick try to see that something was wrong? Was it really that hard to read his emotions?
Maybe Malia’s rubbing off on me, he thought with a sickening feeling. Or maybe she learned from the master, Leighanne. Both are such great liars. I should’ve known that the two being alike would be a curse, not a blessing.
“Brian?” Nick asked hesitantly, like he was scared.
“What?” Brian sighed, hoping he would just fall asleep so he could play the rest of the tape.
“What happened?”
“I don’t wa-“
“Well, how can anyone know what not to do if you don’t tell me what the heck went wrong?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong, okay? I don’t know how to fix it, and until I know how to fix it, nothing’s wrong.”
“Whatever,” Nick replied, pulling down the rim of his hat. “Dang! Lost this level talkin’ to you. Kevin, Howie, and AJ are in the room next door. I'm going to bed.”
Thank you God, Brian praised silently. He pulled out his Walkman, anticipating Nick to fall asleep within a few short minutes. He did, and Brian fell asleep to Malia’s gently sung cover of Mariah Carey . . .
* * * * *
Malia watched into the choice hangout for students. Less than six hours into her first day and already at least twenty people had asked her if she was ‘that brunette girl who went out with Brian Littrell’? And if she was, could she get them an autograph? She had spent ten minutes patiently explaining to the girls that she was just an average student, trying to learn like the rest of them, no, she had no connection to the Backstreet Boys, and sorry, no, no way for her to get them an autograph. What a great start.
She sipped on her water. So far, no one had approached her as she nibbled at her lunch, and she made no move to look for a new friend. The table she had taken projected a solitary atmosphere and her icy stare took care of the rest.
Sandra eyed Malia sitting there. Although she had built up a tough reputation in the thirty seconds that she had seen ‘Nat’ Sandra sensed a deep vulnerability in her eyes. She was told she was a people person, and, on a blind guess, she decided to try.
“Hi,” she said, placing her hand on the chair opposite Malia. “Mind if I sit here?”
“Um, no, I guess not . . . “ She swept her books back into her bag. “Hello,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
“You’re Malia, aren’t you?” she asked, unpacking her lunch. “I remember you from orchestra rehearsal. You can play some mean cello!”
Malia admired Sandra’s confidence. She had no problem walking up to a strange girl and striking up a conversation. “Oh, you’re our pianist!” she said, recognizing. “I know you. Gosh, I wish I could play like that!”
“You can,” Sandra said, her blue eyes shining. She bent over and one of her ringlets grazed the tabletop. Malia suddenly realized how alike they were. Both sat the same, one leg extended diagonally into the aisle, one foot hooked around a chair leg, torso hunched over. It’s like looking into a mirror, Malia thought. If I hadn’t cut my hair.
“What do you mean?”
“Look, I know you’re a History and English major. My two weak spots. Wanna play ‘Let’s Make A Deal?’”
“Look, I don’t give answers . . . “
“No, and it’s not my thing to cheat. It’ll get me booted off of orchestra, not to mention it’s just wrong. But here’s my idea,” she leaned forward again. “I teach you piano. Two nights a week. Free. You become my study buddy and let me be your friend. Deal?” She placed one arm on the table as though she was going to arm-wrestle her.
Malia coped her motion exactly. “Deal.”
* * * * *
“Don’t tell me you’ve never been to one of Todd’s parties!” Sandra squealed later that afternoon. “Ohmigod girl, you have no idea what you’re missing right now!”
“Who’s Todd?” she asked, tired, and in need of some peace and quiet. She and her ‘newfound friend’ had eventually made their way through the first week, and that Friday night they were performing a ritual usually done with Megan. They were just sitting around talking and dishing over the weeks events. Malia’s head was overloaded with information from Sandra’s childhood friends, the ‘coolest’ people on campus, and other social ties.
“Todd’s my ex. I see him once in awhile. He may suck at commitment,” she giggled, “but I’ll say one thing: he can throw a great party. I'm going over later. Want to go?”
“Yeah,” Malia said, surprising herself. “Count me in.”
* * * * *
Please don’t try and contact me Brian, trust me, it won’t work . . .
Trust, Brian thought. There’s a funny word. Didn’t I trust her enough to leave her? Didn’t she trust me? Apparently not! He rolled over to look at the clock. It was 7PM and he had nothing to do. Dance had been dance: grueling and sweat-filled. His heart wasn’t in it, and it was obvious. No matter how many times Fatima had yelled at him nothing had improved. She’d just chalked it up to the usual ‘being-out-of-shape-because-he’s-been-sitting-on-his-ass-for-a-month’ problems.
“Brian?” Kevin called from the hall. “Can I come in?”
He looked at the door handle. “Why?”
“We need to talk.”
Brian silenced a groan. The last thing he wanted was Kevin’s big brother concern, despite his good intentions. All he wanted was to be left alone from the high-pitched noise of Nick’s games, the furious choreography of the tour, and the well meaning sympathetic gazes of the group.
“Thanks,” Kevin said, sitting down on Nick’s bed. Brian resumed staring at the ceiling. “So what’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. I saw you the day before you left and you perfectly fine, couldn’t be happier. Now you resemble a slug, just lying there.”
“I'm mentally writing a novel.”
“Call me when you make the bestsellers’ list,” he replied sarcastically. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing! Would everyone just leave me alone?”
“Hey my friend, it seems your eyes are troubled, care to share your time with me? Would you say you’re feeling low and so a good idea would be to get it off your mind?” [Author’s Note: The lyric is the opening of the song The Best Of What’s Around by Dave Matthews Band, from the Under The Table And Dreaming CD. It’s definitely worth a listen!]
“What’s that?”
“A lyric I heard once.” No need to point out I heard it from Malia, he thought.
Brian laughed mirthlessly. “It fits all right, it fits . . . “ He laughed again. He didn’t care how strange his behavior seemed. It was better than thinking on Malia. That hurt just too much. “Sing that again.”
“Hey my friend . . .” he repeated, hoping Brian would just open up.
“Have I really been acting all depressed?”
“Do you really want to hear exactly how much of an ass you’ve been?”
“Sure, hit me with the truth.”
“Let’s see. You completely blew Nick off, yanked the keys right out of his hand, and muttered some less than kind words under your breath. You screwed up rehearsals horribly so far, it was pitiful to watch. You won’t tell anyone what’s going on, and you’re being caustic to all. Want me to stop?” Kevin eyed him, hoping he would just snap out of ‘it.’
“If you were in my shoes . . . “
“How can I be in your shoes if you won’t tell me what they are?”
Brian aimed his hand at the table in between the beds and felt for his Walkman. He placed the headphones between them and turned the volume up as far as it would go. They could hear the tape clearly. “Welcome to my own custom created hell,” he said, and walked out of the room as Kevin sat listening, with a sad smile.
* * * * *
As soon as Sandra opened the door to Todd’s place Malia immediately knew she was out of place. The smoke from cigarettes and the smell of alcohol almost knocked her out. She’d never been exposed to anything ‘bad,’ as she was known as the school’s ‘goody-goody’ no one had ever suggested she do anything remotely wild.
“Here,” Sandra shouted over the music and the noise of the crowd. She shoved a can into Malia’s hand. Assuming it was soda she opened it. Looking down, she saw it was a beer.
“Sandra! I'm underage, you know . . . “ she replied, trying to put it back.
She laughed. “No one here is legal. Just drink it. Maybe you’ll loosen up.” With that, she disappeared.
* * * * *
“Brian?” Kevin asked softly the next day. They were both early to rehearsals, and Kevin was glad for the quiet. He needed to try to talk to Brian again.
“Yeah?” he replied, slouching down the wall to the floor. He leaned his head back and shut his eyes.
“I understand now.”
“Good for you,” he said, yawning.
“That doesn’t sound like her. It was cold. Vacant of feeling.”
“Well, that’s not what I remember her by.”
“What do you remember?”
“I remember about two weeks before we left. We ‘danced,’ if you want to call it that, to a stupid ballad. We shared the most perfect kisses. It was perfect. She was perfect. God, she had me fooled,” his eyes shot open. “But you know what? I don’t care. She isn’t worth it.”
“If you don’t care then why are you crying?”
* * * * *
As quickly as Malia Collins had been given the chance to become herself she lost it again.
The night of Todd’s party the carefree, dark-haired brunette girlfriend of Brian Littrell completely died.
And to replace her? An introverted chestnut with no past, no problems, and a love to party, of course. A girl who was dedicated to her cello and her writing to appearance of the public, and to those in “Todd’s crowd” she was the “mover-shaker” of the clique. She was known for liking to drink a beer or two with the guys, and then making Alan dance with her till the dawn came.
And she still made it to class.
And no one ever knew she was underage as she drank her pain away.
And no one ever knew what Sandra, Todd, and the rest did or said.
They were the golden kids . . . all with great grades, scholarships, and perfect reputations.
Who would have guessed?
* * * * *
A week later . . .
Leighanne watched the boys bow and thank the crowd of shrieking females again the night of their first concert. They smiled, the girls screaming reached the level of noise heard when a shuttle took off for space. As Howie winked they grew even louder. Leighanne’s head hurt, but it was nice to be part of the herd. She couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the guys. She watched “We’ve Got It Goin’ On” flop (comparable to a dead fish, really) and then become the hottest thing going in Europe. With a beyond loyal following there success was just a hop, skip, and jump away.
Not a bad show either, she thought. The boys sang through every song on their American debut (Author’s Note: I went to one of the first concerts, and I am one of the one stinkin’ million people without “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back) Extended Version” on their CD. So, as I didn’t get to see it, it’s not a part of the show in the story, kay?) The dance moves were edgy and synchronized to perfection. Touring in Europe had blended their voices together into one, hopefully proving to critics that they were indeed a vocal group first, and teen heartthrobs second.
Slowly the girls became to filter out of the venue and into the parking lot. The wise ones headed over to where they might be able to catch a glimpse of ‘their boys’ as they boarded the bus. Leighanne hid a smirk. She had sweet-talked James, their driver and an old friend, into letting her aboard to wait for Brian. She knew their schedule from Europe: ten minutes changing, or less, take at least half-an-hour for the fans with backstage passes, and then jet out. She was left with approximately forty-five minutes to kill.
Leigh smiled at a few fans, signed a few autographs, and climbed on board the bus. Same as last time. Twelve bunks, in two double rows, made up the middle sector. In the front, a door led to a tiny kitchenette. In the back, the entertainment room was equipped with Nick’s Nintendo, a small TV, and a VCR to help pass the time. Like they had any free time. Judging by the neatness and cleanliness of the bus Leighanne assumed that they hadn’t had a chance to be on there long. Just enough to throw down their bags.
She sat down Indian-style on Brian’s bunk to wait. Five minutes later she was bored. She knew her lines, and she was confident that if the rumors of his separation with Malia were true, then she had nothing to worry about. He was going to melt into her arms. Still bored, she was ashamed of herself, but she started snooping through his bag.
“Clothes, clothes, shoes, a basketball, ah, what’s this?” she muttered aloud. A packet of photos was clutched in her hand. “I wonder if they’re any of him and Nat!” She felt evil, but she just had to know.
No, none of them. But three of Leighanne, and four of the two of them together. In one, she had her head leaned on his shoulder as he kissed the very top of it and clutched her hand. The others showed the same sort of romantic feelings. “Hmmm,” she said. “I guess it wasn’t as over as he wanted to believe.”
Still that only passed seven minutes of her time. Putting the photos back she saw his Walkman. Guessing it was Brian McKnight or the like she opened it to put in something ‘funkier.’
“Butterfly?” she read. “Why copy it when you can just buy the CD?” Noticing the tape was already played she flipped it over to hear, what she thought, was the second half of ‘the CD.’
“Hello Brian. If you’ve found this then I guess you know it’s over,” Malia’s voice started. Leighanne’s eyes glazed over slightly as she listened to Malia describe some of the details of the relationship (she gathered that it had been serious), talk about separating for a year (yeah right!), and then that she loved him (sure, sweetheart.). By the time it was over Leighanne was ready to laugh. If Brian had actually believed anything that girl had said . . .
What she had said had actually been very simple. She loved him, but . . . well, isn’t that the way love goes? Malia’s idea had been to separate for a year; to see other people. “I fully expect you to start seeing Leighanne again. I won’t be mad, I won’t be happy. It’s like we’re going to erase the past for a year Brian. If you do want to still try a relationship in a year then I guess we’ll know it’s true. That what we had was love, not just attachments to each other because of a certain blonde who shall remain nameless. If it’s love, we’ll end up together. If not, oh well, it was nice knowing you. That’s more than most people can say!”
Leighanne sank back against the wall of the bus, pulling her knees up. She almost felt guilty for prying. But then, she thought, Brian shouldn’t leave things out he doesn’t want seen! Or heard. She couldn’t decide between rages directed at Malia or ’sympathy’ for Brian. Eventually, decided on choice two.
There was an estimated twenty minutes until Brian’s return. She knew exactly what she would do with them. And so, the perfect plan was formed . . .
* * * * *
Same night . . .
The rain was beating down in a comforting rhythm on the roof of Malia’s apartment. All but one of the lights was turned off. Malia sat on the floor, wrapped in a blanket, quietly sobbing into the soft material. A mug of tea was someone on the carpet near her, but her hands were clenched around her knees, which were pulled up under her chin, supporting her head.
Technically, she was supposed to ‘make an appearance’ at Todd’s usual Friday night party. Alan was planning on her being there. She didn’t care. For once, she felt like being fully conscious, being alert and alive, and actually having emotions. A strange sense of relief and pain haunted her; relief that she could still be human and be away from ‘the booze,’ and pain for what she had lost.
It’s over, she thought, but what can I expect? I broke up with him! I sent the tape, I disconnected my number, I chose this path. I did this to myself! She raised one of her fingers to brush a tear away. Freezing and alone she returned to crying.
* * * * *
“Leighanne,” Brian said quietly as he climbed on board the bus. He opened his mouth to ask a question.
“Leigh, hey! Long time, no see!” Howie interrupted. The rest of the group said a few quick hellos and then proceeded to stare at their feet.
“Look, um, is there anyplace we can talk?” She looked at Brian pleadingly.
“Yeah. If you’ll excuse us . . . “ He led her into the tiny entertainment room and sat down. “What the hell are you doing?!”
“I know are breakup wasn’t completely amicable-“
“That’s an understatement.”
“and I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she finished lamely.
“What’s going on?” Nick whispered, the last one to get on, as he was detained signing endless autographs. When he walked in, he saw the other three with their ears pressed to the entertainment room’s door.
“Brian and Leighanne are in there,” Howie whispered back, pulling away, and shooting the others a look of disgust. “I don’t think we should-“
“Shut up!” they hissed in unison.
“I’ll take your spot!” Nick leaned against the door. “Aw man, you can’t hear anything!”
“Brian, I never stopped caring about you,” Leighanne pleaded softly, advancing towards Brian. The room was dark and he could barely make out her features. “Never, never, never. I never forgot the way you felt, the way you loved me and the way I loved you. I haven’t forgotten anything. Have you?”
“No,” he admitted against his will. All those nights, even those with Malia, Leighanne was always in his subconscious.
“Then you didn’t forget this?” With those words she threw her arms around his neck and brushed her lips over his gently. He responded, only thinking of chasing away his loneliness.
“I told you “Always Be My Baby” was the perfect song for us,” she sighed as she pulled away.
He cringed slightly. “Leighanne, if you want to have a snowball’s chance in hell, don’t ever, and I mean ever quote Mariah Carey to me.”
* * * * *
“ . . . the second show in the Backstreet Boys’ sold out American tour, which is in support of their debut album. Playing such hits as “Quit Playin’ Games (With My Heart),” the overseas’ smash “Get Down (You’re The One For Me),” and “As Long As You Love Me,” a current TRL favorite, has made them a household name for girls across the nation! And now, here is John Norris with a special report.”
“The Backstreet Boys are one of Europe’s hottest acts--with platinum and gold records in almost every country, a loyal following, and several hits singles. It seems as though the US is just one more country to conquer. Not so, says Brian Littrell.”
“We’d actually tried the US first, but things didn’t go so well,” he laughed. “Touring over in Europe and Asia was great! Canada was also one of the first countries to welcome us. But we’ve always wanted to come here, to have success in our homeland. It’s a natural feeling, and we’re ready for whatever happens now, because if we’re rejected we can console ourselves with the fact that Europe at least loves us.” He laughed again. “I remember sitting backstage in Germany and other places just wanting to be here. And now it looks like we’re finally going to get that success. We’re ready to hit the US by storm!
“And so it seems, they shall. With their album steadily climbing the charts and “As Long As You Love Me,” shooting up both the Adult Contemporary and Hot 100 Singles chart many people are left wondering if they’re simply a group of ‘pretty boys’ with decent voices. Again, a negative response from the boys.”
“We’re out here to prove that we are a vocal group, first and foremost, and that is what we’re here to do: sing,” Kevin said.
“Yeah,” Howie chimed in. “This tour isn’t about the dancing, the lights, or anything like that. It’s pure singing, and that will always come first to us.”
“And do they consider themselves heartthrobs? Although teenage girls have made everyone familiar with their pet peeves, their likes, and their faces, what do they think of all this?”
Nick laughed. “I don’t think I'm particularly attractive. We just take it all in stride.”
“And girls, is your favorite boy taken? We went to get the answers straight from them.”
“I'm single!” AJ cried happily. “No attachments!”
The guys laughed. “I'm seeing someone,” Kevin said.
“Single.” Howie put in his status.
“I date,” Nick added. Unless someone was paying close attention to the guys’ good-natured ribbing of each other’s love lives they wouldn’t have noticed that Brian hadn’t spoken. That’s what MTV was there for.
“Although Littrell won’t admit to seeing anyone he was seen leaving the arena with longtime flame Leighanne Wallace, after a brief relationship with an unconfirmed brunette. We’ll keep you posted, and if you want to see the Backstreet Boys in the flesh, check out the dates at the bottom of your screen.” (Author’s Note: This report is the product of my overactive imagination, all right? There are several similar interviews with the boys before they got ‘huge’ at MTV. That’s where I got the overall tone. However, this report is 100% made-up. They didn’t actually say this!) They showed about a minute of concert footage. The camera then pulled away to show the MTV news anchor and the screen from which Norris’ report had been shown. When he launched into a story on a new movie coming out Brian flicked off the TV. He and the rest of the guys only had a few more minutes until show time.
Malia turned the interview off as well. She really needed to get back to studying. It wasn’t like her quiz was going to wait while her ex-boyfriend got back together with her ex-best friend.
Leighanne smiled. She too, had heard MTV’s comments. So far things were looking up. She was planning to meet Brian for a few tour dates in three days so they could spend some time together. For the first time in her life she was one hundred percent sure on something: she had found true love.
* * * * *
On the Backstreet bus . . .
“You might as well, -“ “these foolish, -“ “you spin me right round, -“ “love stinks! -,” “if you wannabe,-“ Nick continued flipping through radio stations.
“Wait,” Brian said. “Go back.”
“If you wannabe my lover, you gotta get with my friends-“ Nick sang along. “You actually want to listen to this?”
“Go back again silly.”
“I’ve been through it all, love stinks! Love stinks, yeah, yeah! Love stinks, yeah, yeah!” Brian sang along. “Love stinks!”
“Um, glad to know how you feel Brian,” Howie said, changing the station again.
“That’s a good song!”
“Yes, it has about one lyric: love stinks!”
“It’s the truth.”
“Right . . . “ Kevin said, flipping through a newspaper.
“Well, if no one has anything to say . . . “
“Love is cool,” AJ declared.
“Okay, let me rephrase that: if no one has anything intelligent to say . . . I thought as much. Night guys.” Brian climbed into his bunk, but not with the intent to sleep.
First, he took out the photo of Leighanne from his wallet. In that picture she was smiling up at him, laughing. He’d felt many emotions towards Leighanne, and not all of them pleasant. But for once, what he was feeling was pure devotion and love. He smiled back at her face. She was incredibly beautiful, and had a sweet disposition to match. Any bad feelings about her had been erased when she had spent the night with him, letting him talk and cry, and telling him that sometimes things aren’t always meant to last, to just cherish the memories. And Brian knew she had pure intentions. People make mistakes. She wasn’t alone.
Feeling peaceful knowing that he would see her in a few days he tuned into a local radio station to help him sleep. Commercial. He tried a new station.
I can't remember why we fell apart
From something that was so meant to be
Forever was the promise in our hearts
Now more and more I wonder where you are
Malia sipped on her Mocha Latte. She’d decided to make a quick run to the late night coffee bar. The place was so quiet many students studied there. That’s what she was supposed to be doing, but instead she was gazing out the window, wishing on the thousand stars.
“I wish I may, I wish I might, that I Brian and I reunite.” Unbelievably disgusted with herself she turned up her headphones and went back to working out a complicated math problem.
Do I ever cross your mind, anytime?
Do you ever wake up reaching out for me?
Do I ever cross your mind, anytime?
I miss you
She sang along softly with the chorus, not really noticing she was singing her own story.
Still have your picture in a frame
Hear your footsteps down the hall
I swear I hear your voice, driving me insane
How I wish that you would call to say
Brian began to sing as well. It was just natural impulse to him.
Do I ever cross your mind, anytime?
Do you ever wake up reaching out for me?
Do I ever cross your mind, anytime?
I miss you
I miss you
I miss you
No more, loneliness and heartache
No more, crying myself to sleep
No more, wondering about tomorrow
Won't you come back to me, come back to me?
Do I ever cross your mind, anytime?
Do you ever wake up reaching out for me?
Do I ever cross your mind, anytime?
I miss you
Malia’s sorrowful cry joined Brian’s final goodbye for the ending chorus.
Do I ever cross your mind, anytime?
Do you ever wake up reaching out for me?
Do I ever cross your mind, anytime?
I miss you
Little did they know they were singing to each other.
| Chapter Fifteen |
"Anytime"/Brian McKnight