He picked up the phone and dialed into the voice mail. He didn’t remember telling anyone except management he was in Boston.
“Nick, hey, it’s Howie. I’ve left several messages on your cellphone, but you haven’t answered. I had to call Jeff at The Firm to find out where the hell you went. I have done a lot of work up here and might be heading home earlier than expected. Maybe you and I can hang out.” There was a long sigh. “I...I’m just worried, okay? Call me.”
After dropping the receiver back in its cradle, Nick reached for his cellphone and pressed the button to retreive his voicemail.
You have seven new messages.
Howie had called on Tuesday night and Wednesday afternoon - just to say hello aka checking up on him. Message number three was from his mother saying she had heard the news and was wondering what he was doing with the time off. Message four was Howie again. Message five was Denise McLean.
“Nick? Honey, it’s Denise. I’m going to see Alex this weekend. I know he’ll be asking about you so I figured I’d call, see how you were. I hope you are doing okay. None of the other guys seem to know where you are. Call them or call me. We need to know you’re okay.”
Her son was in rehab and she was still worried about Nick Carter. He smiled slightly, relishing for a moment that someone did, in fact, care. But then he remembered. And maybe, just maybe, she had forgotten that she was no longer the mother hen that had originated in Backstreet’s early days when she traveled as publicist.
Message six. “Nick, it’s Howie again. Dammit, where the hell are you? You know, I called Billy and he hasn’t bothered to call back either. Come on, just pick up the phone will you? Please.”
Message seven. “Mr. Carter, I’m calling from The Firm. Mr. Kwatinetz wanted me to tell you that Mr. Dorough called for you. He wanted to where you were and we gave him the number. Thank you. Have a nice day.”
Message eight. What? He remembered only seven messages when he started. Who else called? “Nicky? Hey, man, it’s A.J. I’m doing good thanks for asking. Hey, Mom said she tried getting an update from everyone before she came out here to visit. No one seemed to know where you were.” There was a lengthy sigh. “Do me a favor? Call somebody. It ain’t good to wait until this stuff takes over your life. Please, Nick,” followed by a sniffle, “don’t be like me.”
Wiping his eyes of yet another round of tears, Nick wasn’t certain whether he was angry or happy to have missed A.J.’s phone call. Once he had better composed himself, Nick dialed eleven digits.
“Hello? Yes, I’d like a one-way ticket for Cleveland, Ohio. First Class if possible...as soon as possible. I need to be there by tomorrow afternoon...Yes, tomorrow morning is fine.” He quickly gave the woman his credit card number then dutifully scribbled down his confirmation on a piece of hotel stationary. “Thank you.”
With a push of a button, he erased all the messages in his voicemail. Coaxing himself out of bed, he dropped the cellphone into the bottom of his suitcase on the way to the bathroom.
~ * ~ * ~
Nick didn’t understand why he had made the decision he had only 24 hours before but it was too late to back out now. He had placed one call on board the plane and someone had arranged for a car to pick him up at the airport. No fans had bothered him en route - thankfully since his last minute plans had forced Billy to try to catch up later.
The Lincoln Towncar was waved through the security gate at the Blossom Music Center. Nick glanced out the darkly tinted windows and realized exactly how much touring could look similar no matter who the artist - how big or how small. He saw the lineup of tour buses in an array of colors with the semi trucks in rows on the opposite side of the fenced parking lot. A variety of people wearing badges around their necks scurried about making certain of last minute details.
Once he stepped out of the car, Nick wandered around backstage. This was exactly what he needed to forget, something to keep his mind busy. Here he could be Nick Carter rather than Nick Backstreet.
“Nick!” He heard Aaron’s voice before he was nearly toppled over. The two brothers shared a hug before the Carter sisters - Leslie, B.J. and Angel - attached themselves to Nick in a dogpile of affection.
“You’re really here?” Aaron asked as he proudly showed off the happenings around his first headlining tour a little while later.
“For a little while yeah. I missed you guys and figured I’d come spend some of the break with you, maybe see what kind of cool stuff you have on your tour.”
“Man, it’s awesome. I’ve got dancers and a band. The coolest thing is that it’s MY tour.”
“Yeah, you paid your dues, A.C. I’m proud of you.”
“Really?”
“Sure.” He ruffled the boy’s blonde hair causing his younger brother to swat at him goodnaturedly.
“You know, Mom thought you’d be coming.” The comment caused Nick to raise an eyebrow. “She said you’d want perform with me.”
Nick disguised the hurt and anger on his face with what he hoped was a big enough smile. “We’ll work on it if that’s what you want.”
“That would be so cool.”
Later, Nick found his mother watching his sister, Leslie’s soundcheck. “She looks good,” he said by way of greeting.
“Nicky!” Jane excalimed as she gave him an all too motherly embrace. “How are you?”
He didn’t miss her distainful glance at his injured hand. “Good.” The two watched as Leslie sang the opening verse of “Like, Wow!”.
“You know, Nick, when Aaron heard you might be coming he asked me if you would do some of those duets with him. I didn’t promise him anything, but it would be nice to see you boys on stage together. The fans would love it.”
And I’m sure it will sell more tickets, too. “Yeah, I’ll think about it.” So much for being Nick Carter. He hadn’t been with his family for more than a couple of hours and he was back to playing Nick Superstar.
~ * ~ * ~
It was the next night in Cincinnati when Nick joined Aaron onstage in front of a very appreciative crowd. His mother had used his brother’s seemingly innocent brown eyes to goad him into performing, but Aaron was probably not as clueless as he seemed.
Jane had already questioned his intelligence. The basketball excuse hadn’t worked with her because he had tried. “What possessed you to hit a wall, Nickolas? Let me guess it was one of your stupid friends. Or no, maybe it was A.J. I always knew that guy was a deadbeat.”
Nick could feel his temper flare but he didn’t surrender to his anger. Instead he replied with a whispered bite. “No, it was just something your STUPID son did because he didn’t know any better.”
“At least, we agree on that,” she answered as she walked away. Nick swallowed the sobs in his throat and locked himself in an empty room with a joint he had begged off one of the crew. Anything to forget.
Once he had regained his composure he found the stylist, who had searched through Nick’s suitcase and the tour wardrobe for a better part of three hours trying to find the perfect costumes - or at least something that wouldn’t throw off the dynamic of the show. She and Nick had settled on a broken-in pair of black jeans, a black wifebeater and a frayed sleeveless denim jacket. At the last minute, the stylist tied a light blue bandana around his left bicep. A quick glance in the mirror caused him to grimace. I look like one of the Village People. He sighed. Time to put the game face on.
High-pitched screams greeted Nick when he walked on stage. It was as though he had been transported back to those first club shows in Europe. The same insecurities were present in his mind. He knew no other way to combat them except using the crowd’s energy to fuel his performance. He would need it tonight more than ever before.
This time he was performing as a solo artist. If he screwed up, the crowd would blame HIM. And time hadn’t been as forgiving as it could have been. He was no longer that lovable blonde kid eyes naively wide open to the world with wonder. That was Aaron’s role now. Nick was the cynical veteran battered by too many years on the road.
It felt good, though, to be in front of a crowd and know that their cheers were for him. Information about Nick being on Aaron’s tour had spread quickly through the Backstreet Fan network, he could tell by the smattering of signs dedicated to him. Girls proclaimed their love for someone who wasn’t certain he knew the meaning of the word anymore.
He wondered if he was even worthy.
