Chapter 43:
Before the Show
The heavy pounding and yelling on the door
eventually woke Brian up. Disoriented, he sat straight up in bed, groggy from
the short amount of time he had finally managed to get. The pounding
intensified, helping to clear his head. He glanced at his clock, and in shock,
sprang from his bed in one leap to race for his door Brian swung the door open,
seeing the anxious face of Howie.
"Man, I thought you were dead! Do you
know what time it is? Hurry!"
Grateful, Brian rushed to dress, Howie
scrambling to help. He tossed Brian’s tennis shoes to him, then rummaged around
Brian’s dresser for socks.
"Forget about the socks!" yelled
Brian, quickly stuffing whatever else he needed in his duffel bag. They both
raced down the hall, catching the elevator door before it closed. Brian leaned
back on the wall, thankful that they were able to catch it. "Are we gonna
be okay?" he questioned Howie.
Howie nodded, glancing at his watch.
"Yeah. Why didn’t Xavier wake you?"
Brian shrugged his shoulders, running
fingers through his tangled hair. "Shit, I don’t know why," he lied,
knowing damn well why. Xavier would have liked nothing better than for him to
be late, to stir up trouble. "He’s my bodyguard, not my personal slave,
you know."
"Coulda fooled us."
Brian knew he should act mad, to alienate
himself immediately from Howie; but he found it almost impossible to do with
his kind-hearted friend. He hung his head, waiting for the elevator door to
open. "Who elected you to come get me?" he asked, curious.
"Nobody elected me, I came myself.
Frankly, I don’t think anyone else wants to see you right now."
Brian silently damned him as he heard the
warmth, the concern in Howie’s voice. This was not going to be easy. He raised
his blue eyes to stare calmly into Howie’s brown ones. "I don’t need you
to be my mother, D. I can handle things with the guys."
Howie gave a brief laugh. "Sure you
can, like you handled it a few hours ago?" He gave Brian a curious look.
"What’s going on, Bri? You’re not yourself. You know it and I know
it."
This was the opening Brian was looking
for. He came up close to Howie, pushing a finger against his chest. "You
know, that’s what I hate about you. Always butting in. For your information,
nothing’s wrong with me, except for you always bothering me. Why don’t you
instead concentrate on improving your singing and dancing. God knows you could
use it. I’m tired of always being the lead, having you coast through all the
songs."
The reaction in Howie’s face was exactly
what Brian hoped for, only the words weren’t. A bewildered then hurt expression
materialized on the young singer’s face, but he said nothing; not a word. It
was almost more than Brian could stand, seeing his friend silent, not uttering
a single comeback to his vicious attack. Unnerved and ashamed, the chime of the
elevator door was the only thing that saved him from immediately apologizing to
Howie. Brian brushed harshly by the dark-haired singer, ignoring the screaming
fans lining behind the barriers as he jumped onto the waiting bus.
Disregarding the guarded looks he received
from the other three who were waiting for him, Brian walked to the back seat,
throwing his bag onto the ground. He stared out through the darkly-tinted
window, watching disinterestedly as the bus carefully pulled away from the
throng of excited fans, finally turning his head away to close his eyes.
* * * * * *
Brian struggled with his outfit, trying to
tighten his pants more snugly. He sighed as he viewed himself in the mirror,
realizing that if the pants were too large for his frame, then the others were
too. He made a mental note to remind Katie, their seamstress, to alter his
clothing as soon as possible, otherwise the fans would be seeing more than just
his face.
A rap on the door let him know if was
almost time for the show and he straightened his costume one more time, taking
a quick glance in the mirror to check his neck and throat for any visible
marks. Satisfied there were none, he exited down the hallway, weaving carefully
passed the mass of backstage crew who were finalizing their last minute
preparations. Brian located Kevin, standing with several of the band members
and headed in their direction. The talking died as soon as Brian came into view
and his cousin eyed him carefully, giving Brian the feeling of being sized up.
"Ready?" Kevin asked casually,
the meaning in his eyes far from it.
"Always," Brian replied, his
eyes matching Kevin’s intensity. It wasn’t hard for Brian to catch the sideways
glances exchanged by the band members and he smiled grimly, aware that the
tension between the two Backstreet Boys was being noticed. They walked down a
way until they reached the other three; AJ being the only one who would look
straight at Brian. Brian ignored AJ’s heated stare and watched coolly as Nick
and Howie did their best to take no notice of him.
One of the band members coughed a few
times to get the guys attention, holding his hands out to invite everyone to
clasp themselves into a ring. Brian grabbed the nearest hand, head bowed,
waiting for someone to speak. After what seemed like an eternity, he looked up,
noticing everyone staring at him.
"What?" he asked, irritated.
"Why am I always the one who has to pray?"
"Because you started this,
remember?" sneered Nick, the sarcasm heavy in his voice.
"Well, I quit. Let someone else do it
for a change. Howie, your turn."
Startled by Brian’s command, Howie
hesitated a moment, noticing that everyone was looking at him to see if he
would take over. Angry that Brian would put him in such a situation, he felt
like saying no, but the ritual was so long-standing, such a habit, that it
seemed unnatural not to continue. He bowed his head, giving a brief but
heartfelt prayer of thanks. Everyone raised their head after Howie finished
except for Brian, who kept his head lowered, seemingly lost in thought. Nick
and Kevin gave Howie a roll of their eyes at Brian’s attitude; AJ striding away
immediately to talk to a stage hand.
"Five minutes," yelled a crew
member, hollering it up and down the corridor. Kevin, AJ, Howie and Nick all
began following their rigging crew, unaware of Brian’s absence until one of the
riggers yelled at Brian to hurry up. All four turned to discover Brian, still
stationary, staring at the floor.
A wave of unease exchanged among the four
as they viewed their bandmate, each elbowing one another to volunteer to see
what was wrong. After one particularly strong push an annoyed AJ found himself
elected. Irritated, he went over, slapping both his hands none too gently on
Brian’s shoulder.
"Shit, come on, Brian!" he said,
feeling a tremor of shock run through Brian when he touched him. Brian jerked
savagely away, his eyes rising to meet AJ’s shaded ones, brimming with
repressed anger.
"Don’t ever touch me like that again,
you got it?" he hissed and spun away, leaving AJ, for one of the first
times in his life, speechless. He walked back to the other three, feeling their
questioning stares as he slowly shook his head, taking his glasses off to look
them straight in the eye. "Man, we so need a meeting," he
informed them somberly.
***
