Chapter 40
Nick awoke the
next morning feeling much better than he had the night before. His nausea was gone for now, and he felt
rejuvenated. Slowly sitting up, he
looked around the small, private room he had been moved to late the previous
night. It was on the Oncology Floor;
apparently they had decided that because he had cancer, he automatically
belonged in the cancer ward, no matter why he was in the hospital. He couldn’t complain much though; at least he
was fairly familiar with many of the nurses on that floor.
Bored now that he
was awake, Nick turned on the television and started flipping, checking out the
channel selection. Being a Friday
morning, not much was on. Most of the
shows were catered to the little kids, stay-at-home moms, and old people that
were home in the mornings. By some
miracle, MTV was actually playing videos, something Nick hadn’t been
witness to since the early 90’s. As it
turned out, so was VH1, but since VH1 was still living in the 80’s, Nick
settled on MTV, watching both amusedly and disgustedly as that damn Timberfuck
beat-boxed his way around a room of multi-colored lights in whatever his latest
video was. Nick wondered vaguely if he’d
gone to see the new movie “Malibu’s Most Wanted” yet. If he hadn’t, he definitely should, ghetto
white trash wannabe that he was. God,
how Nick hated that self-centered, obnoxious, whiny little prick.
When Justin’s
video ended, it naturally went to a commercial break (Nick couldn’t understand
why there had to be a commercial break after every video), and he was about to
flip when the flashy MTV News intro came on.
He hesitated, setting down the remote long enough to watch the news
brief, in case something actually interesting had happened in the music
business.
Some black guy
that called himself Sway reported the news, while Nick sat wondering what had
happened to Kurt Loder and John Norris (had he really been out of the loop for
that long?). He spaced out while the
Sway dude rambled about Fifty Cent, but when he heard the words “In other news,
Backstreet Boy Nick Carter…,” he immediately looked back up at the TV, his
heart racing in trepidation.
“… was
hospitalized last night, according to our sources, after passing out in a Tampa
bar. The name of the hospital has been
withheld, and hospital officials declined comment when asked about Carter’s
condition. We will update you on this
story as we know more.”
Shit.
How did they find out?
Don’t be stupid; there were lots of people in
that club; someone probably recognized you and spilled to the media.
Nick
groaned. He knew he could just play it
off, say he’d had too much to drink. But
that would be lying. Fans would want to
know what had happened, and he didn’t want to lie to them. When Brian had had his heart surgery, they
had told the truth. When AJ had gone
into rehab, they had told the truth. Now
Nick had bone cancer.
It was time to
tell the truth.
***
As promised, Nick
was discharged from the hospital later that morning. He came home to find an answering machine
full of messages, which he grudgingly played.
Only three really caught his attention – one from Brent, one from Howie,
and one from his mother.
“Hey, Nick… dunno
when you’ll actually hear this, but it’s 10:00 on Friday morning, and I’ve been
trying to call the hospital since last night, but they won’t let me talk to
you, so… um… call me if you get home and get this, and I don’t hear from you
later today, I’ll come try to visit you at the hospital… if they’ll let me. Damn you for being Mr. Celebrity.” Brent laughed lightly. “Oh well, if you’re listening to this, hope
you’re feeling better. Call me.”
Nick sighed. He would call Brent when he was done
listening to the other messages. And he
would tell him what was going on. What
was really going on.
“Nicky, it’s
Howie. Listen, I heard on the news that
you were taken to the hospital last night, and I don’t know if it’s true or
what, but I’ve been trying to call all the Tampa hospitals, and no one will
tell me anything – they don’t believe me when I say who I am – and I tried your
cell, but it was turned off, so I figured I’d just leave a message here. When you get this, give me a call and let me
know what’s going on. I hope you’re all
right…” Howie trailed off, his voice worried,
and then there was a click, and the message stopped. Nick made a mental note to call Howie back
too. Knowing him, he had already called
Brian, Kevin, and AJ, and they were probably all worried about him too.
There was a beep,
and the last message played. “Nick, this
is your mother. Call me the instant you
get this; there are rumors going around that you passed out in some club last
night and were taken to the hospital. If
that’s true, you were probably drinking too much again, weren’t you? You’d think you’d have learned something from
AJ’s experience with alcohol. I don’t
know what the hell has gotten into you, but I don’t like it at all. I didn’t raise you and your sister to turn
into wild, irresponsible, drug-using, binge drinking party animals.” There was a heavy, irritated sigh, and then
she finished, “I mean it, you better call back and not ignore this like you did
before, or there will be hell to pay.”
“Thanks, Mom, for
your concern,” Nick remarked dryly, deciding to ignore that message. Hell to pay – yeah, right. She couldn’t do anything to him.
He was already in
Hell.
***
“I want to have
some kind of press conference. It’s time
to come clean with the fans.”
Howie’s reply was
simple. “Okay, Nick. Tell me when and where, and I’ll make sure
the arrangements are made.”
Nick felt an
overwhelming sense of relief, though he was not sure why. “Thanks, D.
I want to do it soon… this week sometime.”
“I think that’s a
good idea. Where should we have it? Tampa?”
“No…” Nick sucked in a deep breath. “I want to do what we did with AJ.”
There was a
pause, and then Howie exclaimed, flabbergasted, “Go to TRL?!”
Nick smiled,
imagining his friend’s eyes bulging out of his head on the other line. “Yup.
Is that a problem?”
“No, of course
not! But, Nick…” Howie fumbled for words, “that was so hard
then, and this time… it would be even harder.
Much harder. Are you sure you
want to appear on live TV? Maybe we
could just call in… or the guys and I could go ourselves…”
“No, Howie, I wanna
go,” Nick said firmly. He really didn’t,
not at all, and the thought of just talking over the phone or sending the rest
of the group in his place was too tempting.
But this was for his fans… he had to be there, live, on TV, and break
the news to them. He had to show them
that he was okay… that he would be okay… that they weren’t covering up
anything.
“Well, okay,
Nick,” Howie accepted reluctantly. “I’ll
call the other guys and let them know, and then one of us will get in touch
with MTV. I’ll get back to you when
everything’s set up, okay?”
“Sure. Thanks for doing this for me.”
“No problem!”
Howie sputtered quickly. “If there’s
anything else you need, let me know.”
“No, I’m good,”
Nick replied. But as soon as the words
had left his mouth, he did think of one thing… “Oh, wait, Howie?”
“Yeah?”
“There is
something… when you call MTV, will you see if they can get Carson to host that
day? Or… or John Norris? None of those new weird VJ’s…” Carson got on his nerves sometime, but at
least he was a familiar face… he had been there when they broke the news about
AJ, when Nick had been sitting there, struggling not to cry on live television…
and John, John Norris, he was a good guy… he understood… unlike so many others,
he cared.
It was sort of a
stupid request, Nick realized as he asked it, but even something small like
that might make the horrible experience just a tad bit more bearable.
Howie
laughed. “Sure, Nicky. I’ll see what I can do.”
Nick forced a
laugh. “They damn well better be able to
get one of those two on… after all these years… and all those number one
videos…”
Another chuckle
from Howie. “Damn straight. Don’t worry, Nicky, I’m sure they’ll come
through.”
“Yeah…”
“Well, I guess
I’ll let you go then so you can rest.”
Instantly, the
amused smile vanished from Nick’s face.
There it was again. “So you can
rest” – God, how he hated phrases like that.
He was not an infant, nor an invalid.
But what he hated
worst of all was not those words, but the fact that they were actually justified. A nap sounded like Heaven to him. He was exhausted, fatigued from the previous
night’s excitement and from the chemo in general.
In fact, he was
sick and tired of the whole rotten deal.
Yes, that’s what he was.
Sick and tired.
***