THIRTY EIGHT: TURN ME ON

The Herald-Sun

15th November

Backstreet Paints the Town

Newly single Backstreet Boy, AJ McLean has been seen cozying at the ‘Smash Hits Winner’s Poll Party’ after-party with former All Saints member, and now solo artist, Louise. McLean was again spotted leaving a London hotel in the wee hours of dawn.

The Backstreet Boys are here for two sold out shows, on tonight and the 20th.


‘Amelieh’ was less than thrilled that I couldn’t hand in my Kylie article on the precise dot of eleven thirty six (ten thirty was ‘morning tea’ and twelve fifteen was when the office did ‘lunch’), but when elusive Belyndah hobbled into the office with one leg bandaged, clutching a copy of the ‘Morning Herald’ in one hand, Amelieh’s initial disgust suddenly melted into gooey, sticky and throat choking ‘arse’ kissing.

“Oh, it must be positively heart wrenching for you to see your former boy seducing his way through the English pop scene” she gushed with just a tad too much sympathy “I mean, I think it’s positively ghastly that he’s canoodling with that Louise” she sounded as though she had been attacked personally. “Would you like to have a bit of a chat about it? Tea? Coffee?”

Canoodling with Louise? I’m just thankful they didn’t catch him with me! “No, I don’t think-“

“I mean, after all-“

“I’d just like to get my article done. I need to use one of your computers”

She looked crestfallen and a little irritated when she returned, carrying two steaming cups of tea, which ‘accidentally’ drenched my shirt.

“Well, I s’pose you can use Marc’s; he’s out this week, got the flu”

“Thanks” I muttered before I grabbed my jacket and headed toward the door.

“You forgot your tea”

Turning around, I grimaced “Don’t drink tea, only coffee”

So I typed my way through ‘morning tea’, the little interlude between that and lunch, where Belyndah managed to ‘model’ the latest Gucci dress, despite her ailing limbs.

I finally polished off and stamped my name on the piece at lunch when ‘Amelieh’ bid me farewell and ‘g’luck’.

Luck. Ha.

I walked into another Backstreet concert; it was weird, deja vu with the same sort of girls, all shrieking as soon as one of the Boys did anything, but without the security and mad crowds surrounding me. I made it through most of the concert without flinching and cursing, but when I tried to get backstage- that was a whole different story.

“Can’t let you through, sweetie, no way”

“Quincy, you know me. I traveled for three months with AJ here”

But he remained adamant “Look, I’m just instructed by their management” he jerked his finger backstage “That no one gets through tonight, only Leighanne and Kristen, that’s it” he pushed me abruptly beyond the door, causing another round of excited chatter amongst a throng of girls.

“Scuse me” A petite girl with tomato red hair in a yellow jumpsuit type ensemble addressed me as I began to retreat. I scowled, causing her to give her friend beside her a furtive glance. “Are you and AJ going out?”

I looked toward Quincy who had his arms folded firmly across his chest, looking steely eyed and more than cold than well, steel “Not n’more ” I assured her with a tight smile before I turned on my heel.

Was I going nuts again? How stupid was I to believe he would be there for me? Sure, he bloody ‘felt’ me (up, I might add), but was I stupid enough to believe he could think past himself and be there? It’s always implied that once someone ‘cares’ so to say, it’s assumed that they might just want to see you.

Was I wrong to be presumptuous about living just a little of a Mills & Boon reality?

I had just managed to throw my non descript, no brand pair of black pumps across the ragged green carpet, before a knock was heard at my door.

“I didn’t order room service”

But they knocked again, just as I began to unbutton my shirt.

“Go away” I muttered. I grabbed my pump and hurled it at the door.

Still they knocked. Okay. They asked for it.

“Look, I didn’t order-“

I looked down to find a curious looking brown cardboard box on the floor. I lifted it up and peered inside.

My laptop!

There was a post-it stuck on the fine grain plastic top and scrawled in some non descript hieroglyphics, it read;

Turn me on.

Hmm… I unlocked the door and peered outside; there wasn’t a person in sight, except for the elderly janitor vacuuming the hall.

Should I? But it’s my own laptop!

So I held it, as far away from myself as possible before I placed it carefully on the scratched pine table and pushed the power button.

The usual computer jargon loaded onto the screen, then the sky blue Windows intro and finally, the desktop interface.

I was relieved that nothing had been deleted, but more intrigued by the fact that there was an extra folder, named appropriately enough ‘open me’.

By this time I was no longer mad, but rather nervous, thinking he had downloaded some porno onto my hard drive and conned me into viewing it with the full intent that I was to perform some sort of imitation service for him.

 But instead, I found a solitary audio file, named simply ‘Minna’.

My heart thumped; why did he name an audio file ‘Minna’? Was it some sort of blackmail warning? Did he record something I said intending to hold it against me?

I had no idea, and there was only one way to find out.

One. Two. Three-  

© sayamaru and 'Bittersweet Rhapsodies' 2001-02

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All ideas, graphics and layouts and backgrounds and stories are copyright of sayamaru and Bittersweet Rhapsodies. I am in no way affiliated with the Backstreet Boys, their management wives/girlfriends or the girls used in these stories.