A week later, Marshall was in Boston, headed back to his hotel after his concert that night. He leaned his head back on the soft leather of the limousine seat, ignoring the banter going on around him between the other members of D-12. He closed his eyes and drifted off for a minute, the toll of the last few days finally catching up with him.

Hailie and Kim had been on the road with him for the past couple of days, and that meant him needing to spend time with his daughter. Not something he considered a chore by a long shot, but something that required him to move a few other things on his schedule around, namely his work on the 8 mile soundtrack that he had been doing and some appearances. Top that off with sound checks, rehearsals and concerts, and essentially speaking, his days had gotten very full, very fast.

Finally the limousine came to a halt. Marshall opened his eyes and realized they were back at the hotel. Peering out, he sighed at the throng of fans waiting in front of the hotel. He wasn’t in any mood to deal with signing things and getting his picture taken, but resigned himself to the fact that he would have to sign at least a few before he escaped inside.

A tap on his shoulder caught his attention and he turned to find Harry looking at him questioningly. “Everything alright? Want the driver to pull around back?”

Marshall shook his head. “Nah, they already know it’s me. It’ll just mean pissed off fans if we do that now. I’m fine.” With that he opened his door and exited the vehicle, stepping out into the crowd of fans.

Harry watched him go with a frown on his face. There had been a time when Marshall wouldn’t have given a rats ass about the fans being pissed. If he hadn’t been in the mood to sign stuff, he would have just told them to fuck off and went on his way. But now…now it was like he was too emotionally drained to even do that. He just went along with whatever was happening, looking for the path of least resistance to get him from point A to point B.

Most people might consider that an improvement, but Harry knew Marshall long enough to know it was not a good thing at all. Marshall only got that way when he was headed into a bad depression. The last time he had headed into one of those, he had ended up in a hospital with a bottle of painkillers being pumped out of his stomach. Harry prayed something gave soon, or he wasn’t sure what the other man would end up doing this time.

Later that night, Brian stood in the elevator, staring at the open doors, trying to gather his courage up. He wasn’t sure if he was about to do something monumentally brilliant, or monumentally stupid. Finally, he worked up the nerve to step off the elevator. Looking up and down the hall, he located a guard outside a set of doors and figured those had to be Marshall’s rooms. Heading in that direction, he took a deep breath, trying again to convince himself he was about to do the right thing.

When he reached the guard, he said, “I need to see Marshall.”

The guard snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s original.”

Brian stiffened, but reminded himself the man was just doing his job. He obviously didn’t recognize him. “I know him. Just tell him Brian’s here and needs to talk to him, okay?”

Again the guard rolled his eyes. “Do you know how many times in a day I’d be bugging Mr. Mathers if I bought that line from everyone who tried it?”

Brian sighed. “Look, if you’ll just…”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as one of the doors beyond the guard suddenly opened and a couple of guys came out, talking animatedly. From what Brian could gather, they were arguing about some girl at the concert and who she had been making eyes at.

Harry noticed Brian first, and came to a halt, tuning out Denaun. There was something familiar about the guy…and then it hit him. “You’re a Backstreet Boy, right?”

Brian smirked slightly at the way Harry made that sound, like it was his species instead of what he did for a living. “Yeah, I am. I’m Brian. I um, need to talk to Marshall. Is he in?”

Harry studied him for a moment, wondering what he should do. On the one hand, he doubted very much that Marshall wanted to see one of AJ’s band mates, but on the other hand, Marshall was depressed as hell, and if this guy had come looking for him, there must be a reason.

Making his decision, he nodded and said, “Come on in.”

Denaun wasn’t sure what to make of Harry inviting Brian in. Marshall wasn’t in there in the first place, and second, if he had been, he sure as fuck wouldn’t want to see him. Watching Brian step forward and follow Harry into the suite, he shrugged and followed, figuring he’d find out what Harry was up to soon enough.

After the door was shut and they were out of earshot of the guard, Harry asked, “So, why are you here?”

“I need to talk to Marshall.” Brian repeated, not sure how much the men knew about AJ and Marshall.

Harry, realizing his dilemma, asked, “About AJ right?”

Brian looked surprised for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. You know?”

Harry smirked. “He didn’t tell you about Marshall’s coming out party we threw after we found out?”

Brian shook his head and said awkwardly, “I wasn’t exactly…supportive of him and Marshall for a while, so he didn’t really talk much about him around me.”

Denaun snickered at that. “Yeah, you could say Harry wasn’t real thrilled about it either.”

“Shut the fuck up, Denaun. I got over it didn’t I?” Harry said, only mildly irritated. It was the truth after all, he just didn’t like to think about how much of an ass he had been, and some of the things he had said.

Denaun, utterly unrepentant, shrugged. “Yeah, still trying to figure out that one-eighty.”

Harry turned back to Brian, ignoring Denaun’s last comment. “He’s not here. And I don’t think he’d wanna see you if he was.”

Brian nodded. “Yeah, I figured as much, but I have to try. There’s some things he should know.”

“Will it fix things between him and AJ?” Harry asked.

Brian thought about it for a minute. “I really don’t know. Don’t know him well enough to even guess. I just felt like I had to try something.”

Harry thought for a minute, still trying to decide what to do. Finally, he sighed, and said, “I’ll probably regret this, but Em’s in the basketball court in the basement. He paid the hotel to let him use it alone for a while. If you want to talk to him down there, I can call the guard and let him know to let you in.”

“Harry…” Denaun started.

Harry turned to Denaun. “He’s fucking miserable, D. It can’t hurt to just let the guy talk to him.”

Denaun stood silently staring at Harry for a moment, before nodding his consent to that point.

Harry turned back to Brian and said, “The court’s in the basement, on the left when you get off the elevator.”

Brian nodded and turned to go. When he got to the door, he paused and turned back, saying, “Thanks.”

Harry shrugged. “I just hope it helps. Nothing else is.”

Marshall eyed the basket as he dribbled the ball, trying to concentrate on the shot. His mind just wasn’t in it though. On top of all the constant thoughts he had about AJ all day long, he was now stuck on one of the songs for the 8 Mile soundtrack, Loose Yourself. He was pretty much done with it, all except for the very beginning. Before the lyrics started, there was a musical build up that was just begging for something, a narration or just…something. He just couldn’t come up with anything that felt right. He was totally blocked.

Sighing, he finally made the shot…and missed. Cursing, he jogged forward to get the ball. Grabbing it as it bounced off the floor, he turned around to dribble it back to the free-throw line, intent on trying again. Instead, he froze, catching the ball in his hands as he found himself facing Brian.

After a minute, he recovered enough from the shock of finding the last person on earth he expected to see right then standing in front of him and asked, “What the fuck you doin’ here?”

Brian tensed, recognizing the defensiveness in the other man’s voice, and realizing he had his work cut out for him. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“So you flew to Boston? Ever heard of a fucking phone?” Marshall snapped.

Brian bristled, but forced himself to stay calm and not snap back, instead asking quietly, “And you wouldn’t have hung up on me instead of hearing me out?”

Marshall snorted. “Uh yeah…sure.”

Brian shrugged. “Well, there you go.”

“Yep, got that right. Here I go. Right out the fucking door. Sorry you wasted a trip across the damn country for nothing…oh, wait, I’m not sorry. Serves you right for not calling to ask if I’d even want to talk to you if you did.” Marshall said, starting for the door.

As he brushed past Brian, Brian shot out his hand without thinking, and grabbed Marshall’s arm, halting him. Marshall jerked away and turned to glare at Brian. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Brian fought the urge to turn and walk away at the cold glare directed at him. He reminded himself that underneath the asshole exterior, there was another side to the man. He had seen it every time the rapper was around AJ.

“Just give me five minutes.” Brian all but pleaded.

Marshall pretended to think about it, then shook his head. “Nope. Don’t wanna. I’ve got shit to do, and it doesn’t include conversations with my ex’s friend.”

Brian watched him turn away and start to walk away again, and his hands clenched into fists. God Marshall irritated him. His eyes dropped to the ball Marshall was holding at his side against his hip as he walked, and an idea suddenly popped into his head.

“Okay, if you don’t want to talk, how about a game?”

Curious in spite of himself, Marshall paused, turning to face Brian, quirking an eyebrow. “Come again?”

Brian motioned to the ball. “Basketball. How about a little one on one?”

Marshall snorted. “I’d wipe the fucking floor with you.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “Yeah. That free-throw just now really convinced me of that.”

Marshall clenched his jaw. “I had shit on my mind. Wasn’t concentrating.”

Brian just shrugged, as if saying, ‘So?’. After a few seconds of silently staring at each other, he asked, “Well?”

Marshall studied him speculatively. “What’s the catch?”

Brian smiled slightly. “You win, I leave you alone. I’ll never bother you again.”

Marshal nodded. “Okay, and if you win…which you won’t…”

Brian interrupted. “When I win, you have to sit and listen to what I have to say.”

Marshall thought about it, then said, “We’re talking street ball, right? None of that no contact, sissy NBA shit.”

Brian smiled, a confident, I’m-gonna-kick-your-ass smile. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Twenty minutes later, they were both panting for air, sweating, shirtless and staring each other down as Marshall dribbled the ball between them at a safe enough distance that Brian couldn’t steal it away. Brian watched the other man intently, poised and ready to pounce when he made his move.

He ignored the aches and pains in his body from the hits he had taken from the other man. What was supposed to be street ball, a slightly more aggressive form of basketball than the pro’s where you could shove and some of the rules were more lax, had quickly turned into an all out survival of the strongest contest.

To an onlooker, it might have appeared they were trying to play full contact football on the basketball court. Neither of them cared however. They were finally getting to work out some of their aggressions towards each other without actually getting into a fist fight, and the game was turning out damn good. They were playing to twenty-one and were currently tied at eighteen.

Marshall stared directly into Brian’s eyes, trying to unnerve him before he made is move. He admitted grudgingly that Brian was good. Damn good. AJ had mentioned one time that Brian rocked on the basketball court and that was where he got his nickname, B-Rok, but Marshall hadn’t given the comment enough credit apparently. Brian was giving him a run for his money, and he wasn’t all that confident he’d come out the winner the way he had been before the match had started.

Finally, impatience got the best of him, and Marshall faked left, then moved right. It was his fatal mistake. Brian surged forward, not even bothering to go left, just heading right while Marshall faked the left. He had anticipated the fake and as his reward, was able to steal the ball away from a cursing Marshall.

Quickly, he turned and ran away, dribbling the ball until he was at the three point line. Seeing Marshall coming at him out of the corner of his eye, he looked up, eyed the basket, and made his shot. Just as the ball sailed through the net, sealing his victory, Marshall plowed into the side of him, knocking them both to the ground in a grunting mass of aches and pains.

Pushing himself off Brian, who he had landed on top of, Marshall sat back on his butt and stared at the net in shock. “I don’t fucking believe it. A boyband bitch beat me at street ball. There outta be a law.”

Brian chuckled. “Sure, right after they make the law that blond rappers can’t call anyone in Backstreet ‘boyband bitch’s’.”

Marshall snorted. Then he realized he and Brian were having something of a bonding moment. He tensed. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Say what you’ve gotta say. I’ve got a Jacuzzi waiting in my hotel room that my muscles are begging me to climb into.”

Brian sighed. He had hoped they could each grab a quick shower, then sit down somewhere and have a civil conversation. He supposed that had been too much to ask. Twisting around so he was sitting cross-legged in front of Marshall, he grabbed the basketball that was rolling across the floor toward them and laid it in his lap. He sat silently for a moment, choosing his words carefully.

“Kevin left AJ a note, when he tried to kill himself.”

Marshall tensed slightly, but otherwise showed no signs he had even registered the statement.

Brian looked at Marshall for a second before looking down at the basketball in his lap and sighing again. “Look, you said you’d hear me out if I won. I’d appreciate it if you at least pretended to listen.”

Marshall didn’t say anything for a minute, then finally relented, saying, “Yeah, okay. I did, I will. Keep talking.”

Brian nodded, and looked at Marshall again. “When I locked them in that room together, Kevin asked AJ what he could do to make it up to him. AJ told him that the only thing that would make it better would be if Kevin disappeared and AJ never had to worry about hearing from him again.”

Brian watched as the implications of what he had said sunk in, recognizing the moment Marshall put it all together.

“You mean the asshole tried to kill himself to give AJ his wish?”

Brian nodded. “That about sums it up. He left a note too. Told AJ he was sick of living, sick of seeing how what he had done had affected AJ, and that he just wanted to make things right, and that he couldn’t think of another way.”

“In other words, he laid a big ass guilt trip on Alex, with no intention of sticking round to see the consequences.” Marshall bit out, immediately feeling protective of AJ and the guilt he must have felt when he found out Kevin had tried to kill himself because of him.

Brian shrugged. “For what it’s worth, Kevin’s head was so twisted up at the time that he honestly believed what he was doing would help AJ, not hurt him.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter. In the end, he still hurt Alex…again.” Marshall said furiously.

Brian studied Marshall’s face for a minute, until Marshall finally asked, “What?”

Brian stole himself from his thoughts, thoughts that had him wondering if Marshall’s feelings ran even deeper for AJ that he had previously thought. Marshall’s instant defense of AJ had peeked his curiosity.

Shaking his head, Brian said, “Nothing. Anyway, you should have seen AJ’s face after he read that letter. He was in bad shape. That was when he decided to go in and talk to Kevin. Before that, he had no intention of seeing him.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter. He didn’t know why Kevin had done it when he jumped out of my bed like there was fire under his ass after your call. We had just fucked…” Marshall paused, clenching his jaw for a second, feeling inexplicitly bad for calling what they had done in that bed that night fucking. It had been so much more, things had been said and almost said, feelings had flowed between them, but there was no way he would say even a fraction of that to the man sitting in front of him. Finally he went on. “And he just got up and left to go see a man who had tried to rape him.”

Brian shook his head. “That’s just it. He didn’t. He didn’t go to see Kevin the rapist. He went to make sure Kevin, the man he had known for nearly half his life, who had been so many different things to him over the years, was going to live. And if he wasn’t, he wanted to be there for his last moments. When I called him, the doctors weren’t sure Kevin was going to make it. AJ had no intention of going in and seeing him if he lived, until he got that note.”

Marshall was silent for a moment, processing what Brian was telling him. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that it made sense, and AJ being who he was, would of course have seen it that way. Still, he couldn’t just drop all his defenses and go running back to AJ just like that. He had still gotten hurt, whether it was intentional on AJ’s part or not, and he couldn’t take a chance on it happening again.

“So, why are you telling me all this?” Marshall asked, trying his best at a bored tone of voice.

Brian studied him for a minute, then decided to take a chance and reply, “Because I was under the impression that you weren’t a coward. My mistake.”

Marshall tensed. “That reverse psychology shit ain’t gonna work on me.”

Brian shook his head. “Not trying to use that on you, just stating a fact. You broke up with him because he hurt you and you couldn’t understand why he did what he did right?” At Marshall’s reluctant nod, he went on. “Now you know why, I can see you understand why, so the only reason left that you wouldn’t want to try to work things out with him is that you’re scared.”

Marshall jumped up and spat, “Fuck you.”

Brian stood and faced Marshall, looking him directly in the eye. “You know, I never got the impression you were a coward before. You survived your childhood, and from what I’ve heard, that’s not something to sneeze at, you survived the place you grew up, pursued a dream to be a rapper, even though you had every prejudice under God leveled at you over that one, and you got over you’re…problems with gay sex to get in a relationship with AJ. So why now? Why are you taking the easy way out now?”

Marshall stood staring into Brian’s eyes, not knowing what to say. As much as it pissed him off, the other man was right. Why was he backing off now? He didn’t do that. If something tried to stop him, he beat on it until it got the hell out of his way and let him have what he wanted. That was how he had gotten where he was now in his life and his career.

Brian studied him for a moment more, then with a sigh, shook his head and turned to go, feeling like his trip had been a complete waste of time. He just hoped AJ could get past his feelings for Marshall before he let it destroy him. When he was nearly to the door, a voice from behind him stopped him.

“How long?”

Brian turned to look at him, confused. “How long what?”

“Have you had feelings for him.” Marshall asked bluntly.

The fact that Brian cared about AJ as more than a friend had all but smacked him in the face during Brian’s impassioned plea for him to understand AJ’s side of things. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before.

Brian tensed, hoping Marshall didn’t mean what he thought he meant. Hedging, he answered vaguely, “He’s been my best friend for years.”

Marshall rolled his eyes. “Best friends try to cheer each other up by taking them out to strip clubs, or watching movies or something, not by flying across the country to try to talk some sense into someone they can’t stand and consider a complete asshole. ”

Irritation flashed in Brian’s eyes but he knew to try to deny it would be pointless. Pulling his gaze from Marshall, he looked off past the other man’s shoulder and admitted, “A few years. It started before Leighanne.”

He paused and when Marshall remained silent, he continued, his eyes glazing over slightly as he thought back to another time and place. “He was too young, and too into Amanda for me to do anything about it, and then there was Kevin, and I met Leighanne, and I just never got around to telling him. Now, it doesn’t matter. I don’t still have feelings that way for him. I love my wife, and I’d never even think of cheating on her, or leaving her for anyone else, not even AJ.”

Brian’s eyes lost the glassy, far off look and he returned his gaze to Marshall as he finished, “You’re wrong though, I don’t still feel that way. Somewhere along the way, it just turned into protectiveness and wanting what’s best for him. He thinks I’m straight. Heck, they all do, and I want to keep it that way. Besides, he doesn’t think of me that way. He’s in love with someone else, and we both know who.”

With that, he turned and walked out, feeling slightly less hopeless than he had a minute ago, taking Marshall’s question about his feelings for AJ as a sign that Marshall was at least thinking about trying to work things out with the other man. Reasoning that otherwise it wouldn’t have mattered enough to him for him to bother asking.

Brian knew it was a long shot, knew he was probably reading too much into it, but it was all he had to hold onto. He wanted AJ to be happy, and he knew for AJ that meant Marshall in his life. He just hoped happiness for Marshall meant the same thing, and that it would drive the blond rapper back to AJ.


Chapter Forty-Seven
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