"Remember when we held on in the rain, the nights we almost lost it, once again, we can take the night into tomorrow, living on feeling, help me bring the feeling back again...."

"....And that ball is heading straight for the wall! It’s back! It’s back! That ball is outta here!" the announcer screamed, as the crowd stood up and cheered rowdily. "Ho-ly crap, that hit had some heat on it, folks! Number 33, Jose Canseco...his fifth homer of the season!"

The announcers in the box cheered, as the scoreboard changed to 4-1, in favor of the Devil Rays. "Folks," he said again, "this is a season you WON’T wanna miss! The Devil Rays are going all the way in 2004!"

The crew switched it to a commercial, and he pushed his microphone away. "They are on fire!" Jim, one of the announcers in the crew, said enthusiastically, "at this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if we see another pennant this year!"

The group nodded, as Nick Carter gazed out onto the field below them. "I’d have to agree with you there, Jimbo," he replied, as he watched the guys in the dugout congratulate each other happily.

"Hey guys!" Randy called out from his booth, "You’re back on in five, four three two....."

"Hello everyone and welcome back to this beautiful Sunday afternoon here at Tropicana Field in beautiful Tampa Bay...I’m Nick, and right now, the Devil Rays are up by three at the top of the seventh; Devil Rays 4, Mariners 1......"

"Brian? Brian! Are you down there?" Leighanne screamed from the top of the stairs, "Brian! I’m talking to you!"

Brian groaned and tried to make himself invisible. It didn’t work, however, because Leighanne kept calling his name. "Yes, I’m down here, and I’m TRYING to get some work done!" he finally answered, glad she couldn’t see him roll his eyes.

"Bri, you promised we’d go out later tonight," she whined from her place at the top of the basement stairs, "are you trying to tell me we aren’t going anywhere?"

Brian heaved a heavy sigh. "Yes, darling, we’re going out," he answered, trying not to let the annoyance show in his voice, "I just need to get this done, all right? I have a meeting tomorrow, and if I show up unprepared, it looks terrible on my part."

"Fine," she grumbled, leaving Brian in the privacy of his basement. He turned back to his music sheet, but he had lost all train of thought. "Shit," he mumbled, tapping his pencil on the paper, trying to remember where he had left off, but it was no use.

His attention turned to his surroundings. Lately, his basement was the only place he could get away from the real world. Sure, the house he shared with Leighanne was huge, but it seemed like there still wasn’t enough space.

"I got it!" he cried out, scribbling down a lyric on the music sheet. "We used to share a love so pure and true, but now all I have is a moment in time..."

"Mr. Dorough, Bob called about an hour ago....he told me to tell you that the new fall line is in, and he wants you to come see it."

"Oh, Mr. Dorough, Jeff stopped by a little while ago....he left a message saying he finally may have found a new accountant."

"Mr. Dorough, one of your models is on the phone.....she says she needs to take a rain check for next week’s show....she came down with Mono."

Howie’s eyes widened, as three of his secretaries came at him at once with this information. "Okay, okay," he answered, flustered, "tell Bob and Jeff I’ll talk to them later, and tell the model that she has to find a replacement...got it?"

The three women nodded. "Good," replied Howie, shooing them out of his office. He sank back into his chair and sighed, rubbing his temples to try to relieve the pounding headache he was developing. For the past week it had been like this: go, go, go. He barely had time enough to stop and breathe.

He picked up the phone and dialed Jeff’s number. "Jeff?" he said, when he heard a voice on the other end, "what’s this I hear about a new accountant?........"

".....Welcome aboard Delta Airlines, flight 314 nonstop to Orlando, Florida. Flying time is scheduled to be approximately two hours and 35 minutes, and once we have reached a comfortable cruising altitude, we will serve a beverage and meal of your choice...."

Kevin leaned back in his seat, trying to stretch his legs. The woman beside him glared at him suspiciously, but he ignored her eyes boring into the side of his head. He reached into his carry on bag and pulled out his laptop computer, noticing already that he had new email. He opened it up, and discovered that it was from Kristen, wishing him a great trip. He smiled to himself, as he shut his computer.

He glanced furtively at the woman beside him, who was still giving him looks. "Do I know you from somewhere?" she asked, "you look kinda familiar....."

"AJ, that’s it! That’s the final straw! I’ve put up with you this long, but that’s it....no more! I’m leaving!" Jessica screamed, as she picked up her suitcase and stormed out the front door. AJ shrugged to himself and downed his last shot of tequila. "She was a bitch anyway," he snorted to himself, admiring his new tatoo on his left arm.

He laughed, and stood up. His two dogs, Panda and Bear, yapped at his feet, but he just ignored them. He glanced at the clock and realized he was already late for the date he was supposed to have with Amanda. Ever since they finalized their break up a couple years ago, things had been on and off with her. AJ could always count on her for his sexual relief.

Despite the fact that he had had a little bit too much to drink, AJ got in his new car and started the engine. He laughed again, as he repeated, "She was a bitch anyway..........."

"Didn’t we almost have it all, when love was all we had worth giving, the ride with you was worth the fall, my friend..."

The baseball game ended, and Nick made his way through the employee parking lot. Final score: Devil Rays 6, Mariners 2. "That was one hell of a game," mumbled Jim, as he and Nick walked together toward their cars, "the Rays are going all the way this year! I swear, and mark my words Nick, that we WILL see another pennant this year!"

Nick snickered and shook his head. "Ya know, Jimbo, as much as I hate your on going enthusiasm, you may just be right about this one," he said, punching Jim playfully on the shoulder. Jim snicked back at Nick. "One day, you’ll see it from my view, kid....you’re just a rookie in the business....you’ll know what I’m talking about one of these days," he said, smiling. And with that, he got into his car and started the engine.

Nick climbed into his green Durango....his pride and joy. When all else had failed, that car had been with him through it all. It was his baby.

He started the car and immediately was flooded with the sounds of Limp Bizkit. He tapped the steering wheel to the beat, as he drove off.

"That’s strange," the woman mused, "I could have sworn you looked familiar."

Kevin shrugged and looked at his hands. It was a possibility he knew this girl from school (assuming she was from Lexington) but more likely it was the other option. The option that he hadn’t liked to talk about since it happened. The option which had changed his life forever.

"Yeah baby, I’m fine," he answered, his eyes shifting around the café where they were sitting, "why do you ask?"

"Because you look incredibly fucked up," Amanda hissed, trying not to let the people beside them hear, "did you lie to me, AJ? Did you lie to me when you promised never to take that stuff again?!"

"Relax, baby doll, I’m not using it anymore! I swear! You know you can trust me..." he replied.

Amanda raised an eyebrow, but smiled. "I know...and I know you know I hate it when people lie to me," she said, putting her hand on top of his, smiling slyly. "You know it," he answered, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

"Where the hell am I gonna find three models in less than a week?!" he said to an empty office, the pounding in his head returning, "someone my age shouldn’t have to deal with such stress!"

Howie racked his brain for ANYONE he knew who had previous modeling experience, but couldn’t think of a single person.

Brian was on his way to the record company’s office...the company with whom he hoped to sign with. He hadn’t slept much the night before, nervous that his brand new songs weren’t good enough for the big shot execs. He was just so thankful that Leighanne hadn’t bugged him too much to come. When he was nervous, she was just an annoying addition.

He pulled into the parking lot and made his way through the entrance of the building, up to the 24th floor. He found the room, and waited in the waiting room until the secretary told him he could go in and see Mr. Walters.

"Good morning Mr. Walters," Brian said, smiling, holding out his hand and shaking it.

"Good morning Mr. Littrell, how are you?"

"Fine, sir, and yourself?" Brian asked, not sitting down until he was invited.

"Fine," Mr. Walters replied, "please, have a seat, make yourself comfortable."

Brian sat down nervously, trying not to wring his hands together. "Well," Mr. Walters began, "I received a copy of your demo CD by courier yesterday, and I had a chance to listen to it last night."

Brian nodded, trying desperately not to show his anxiety. "And, well, the songs were quite good, I must say...." Mr. Walters trailed off.

Brian nodded again, but knew from experience that there was still more to come.

"However," Mr. Walters continued, "as good as they are, they aren’t quite we’re looking for....you’re not quite what we’re looking for, Mr. Littrell....I’m sorry."

Brian’s eyes widened at the words which stung his ears. "I’m....I’m...not quite what you’re looking for?" he repeated softly.

"We just aren’t in the market for this kind of music....surely you understand! Rap is what’s selling now....alternative is also up there in the music market.....we just aren’t looking for a pop solo artist," Mr. Walters explained.

"But...but..." Brian sputtered, not knowing what to say. This was his third try at a record label, and his third rejection.

"Mr. Littrell, you are a very talented young man....anyone can plainly see that...but I’m just afraid that pop isn’t selling like it used to anymore....you know that, right?" Mr. Walters continued.

"Of course I know that," Brian retorted, trying not to raise his voice, "I know that better than anyone! Don’t you know who I am?! What I did?!......" He trailed off, catching himself in the process. ‘Who I was,’ he corrected in his head.

"I’m sorry Mr. Littrell," was all Mr. Walters could say.

Brian hightailed it out of that office as fast as he could. He made his way to his car, and was at his house in less than 10 minutes.

He breathed in deep, as he grabbed his package of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up, inhaling the smoke as it billowed around him in thick circles. His head began to feel light, and he collapsed on to his bed with a content sigh. These pills always made him feel wonderful.

"How could I not be what he’s looking for?!" he shouted, stomping up the stairs to his room, "I’m the EXACT person he’s looking for! I’ve ALWAYS been the person he’s looking for!"

"Jesus Christ!" he screamed, smashing everything he came in contact with, "I’m a Backstreet Boy! How can they not want me?! I RULE this industry!"

He opened up his walk in closet and went to the very back where he rarely ever went. He started tearing through his stuff in a fit of rage. He knew he was out of control; that he was having something that his psychiatrist called an "episode", but he couldn’t control himself. He knew he also had medication he should be taking, but he was beyond that point now.

"How can they reject me?!" he screamed, tearing through the hard work and sentiments, "how?!"

He tore through old newspaper articles, pictures, certificates, demo tapes....memories. Memories of the past. Brian stopped suddenly, as the horrid memories came flooding back to him as they had so often done.

"...Yo! Yo, Brian, dude, we gotta get up....we have to be at MTV in less than an hour!" Nick exclaimed, shaking Brian violently to try to wake him up. "Fuck off, Nick," he groaned, rolling over, "how did you get in here anyway? I thought that was the reason we got separate rooms?!"

Nick rolled his eyes and backed away. "Fine," he said, heading for the door, "make your own choices...see if I care."

Nick dashed down the hallway of the hotel, back into his own room. He yanked open the door to the mini bar and grabbed the mini sized bottle of vodka. "Bottoms up," he said to an empty room, as he downed the whole bottle in one gulp. "Yech!" he exclaimed, making a face and wiping his mouth, but he was already beginning to feel the effects.

He grabbed another bottle and did the same, before popping in a piece of gum and heading down to the lobby where the limo was supposed to be waiting.

Brian shuddered as he stood up shakily, fresh tears falling down his cheeks. He stumbled over to his medicine cabinet and swallowed two of the red capsules his doctor had prescribed him a while back. The pills were supposed to suppress anxiety and control nervous breakdowns.

He ran his finger down the list of R’s. "No, no, no....no! I can’t use any of these people!" he exclaimed. Then his finger came to a familiar name. Kevin Richardson.

Howie bit his lip and tried to avert his eyes, but they didn’t steer away from the name. His eyes bore into the name like it was in a foreign language.

"Kevin, where are you going?" Howie asked, looking up from the Sports section of the newspaper.

Kevin smoothed out his shirt and checked himself in the mirror for the third time. "I have an appointment with the representatives from Donatella Versace this afternoon," he answered.

Howie nodded, his eyes furrowing in concern. "But....but...we have that interview today! Remember? That woman from Entertainment Weekly is interviewing us," he said.

Kevin nodded, trying not to look Howie straight in the eye. "I know man, I’m gonna have to duck out on that....this came up last minute, and it’s really important...you understand, right?" he asked.

"Sure....sure thing," Howie answered, lowering his eyes to the newspaper again. ‘What could be more important than the promotion of our new album?’ he thought to himself.

Howie snapped out of his daze. He looked at the name again, but immediately turned the page, moving on to the S’s.