Chapter 51:

Test of Wills

Brian flinched as the young intern positioned his hand for a flat x-ray. He had warned the young singer that the possibility of it being broken was great. No shit! thought Brian sourly as his hand was repositioned for another scan. He waited patiently for the technician to return with the film, trying his best to ignore the stares and giggles of a flood of nurses who seemed to endlessly stroll past his exam room. He glanced at his hand, watching in dismay at the dark discoloration that had spread out past his wrist.

He wriggled his finger's experimentally to see if he could move them without pain. Nope. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment's rest only to snap them open. Great. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Nick's face, the accusing anger radiating from his eyes. Not wanting to dwell on that, Brian turned his attention to stare at the various boring educational posters on the wall. He tried reading them from where he sat, the print too small to understand. His thoughts turned back to Nick and annoyed, tried to shove them away. There was something nagging at the back of his mind, something he should be investigating, but right now he was too weary to care.

A sharp rap at the door announced the radiologist's return and Brian turned to see him placing the x-rays on the viewer. "Good news," he announced, "you've broken your wrist… right here," pointing at the screen.

Brian snorted. "That's good news?"

The doctor gave him a look. "Yeah. Anywhere else and I would have recommended surgery to place some pins in. All you need is a cast."

"Oh." Brian felt foolish, wishing he were anywhere else but here.

The doctor nodded, snapping down the x-ray. "Yes, very lucky." He came over to give the Backstreet Boy a sympathetic smile. "We'll have you fixed in no time. There should be someone here shortly to start the casting."

Brian nodded, then remembered something. "Hey, what about something for the pain?" he yelled at the doctor's retreating back. Sighing, he rolled his eyes, looking at his watch. He had been here over three hours; even with his status the only thing he had been granted was privacy, still having to wait his turn for treatment.

He swung his legs in boredom, scanning for a phone. Brian gave a short laugh. Who was he gonna call - Nick? Irritated that his thoughts turned again towards his best friend, he forced himself to think of something else. He couldn't. What was it that was bugging him so much? He gingerly eased himself off the examining table, his mind in a turmoil as he paced the small room. He flashed back to the falling out, the look in Nick's eyes, the look in Xavier's eyes….

Brian stopped dead in his tracks, his heart pounding in fear. Oh God!

He now remembered the peculiarity in Xavier's voice when he commented on Nick's punch, the way he offered to take all four back to the hotel without offering any help to Brian. Xavier wanted Brian away, by himself at the hospital, while Xavier had the guys at his disposal. Especially Nick. Without a doubt Brian knew that Nick was next in line for one of the bodyguard's nasty little surprises.

He rushed to the door, only to be stopped by a young technician carrying the casting supplies. "Whoa, hey there!" he cried in surprise. "I'm here, I'm here."

Brian grabbed him with his good right hand, pulling him close. "How long is this gonna take?" he questioned urgently.

The technician shrugged. "Maybe an hour."

"I'll give you a thousand dollars if you can do it in twenty minutes. Also, call me a cab."

Eyes wide open in surprise, the young man began to argue but stopped when he saw the expression on Brian's face. He held out a hand, indicating for Brian to hop back onto the table and gave the singer a crooked grin. "Let's rock!" he agreed not noticing the wince Brian gave to the unintentional nickname.

* * * * * *

Brian ground his teeth in desperation, furious at the taxi driver who seemed to be taking forever to reach the hotel. Having been in enough taxis to know the routine, Brian leaned over the front seat with the promise of a huge tip on his lips, when he noticed a dull shine of silver glinting on the front passenger seat. Looking closer, Brian saw a very slim, very illegal switchblade, lying across the cab driver's clipboard. Brian slowly eased back in his seat, his mind racing. Ripping open his wallet, Brian waved an impressive bill, the universal language to all cab drivers, and in less than ten minutes Brian was tearing out the taxi, switchblade tucked safely in his pocket and sprinting into the hotel lobby. It was relatively deserted, relative being a vague term, as die-hard fans were still camped inside the lobby, hoping against hope to catch a sight. Taken by surprise, they had only few moments to stare open-mouthed as Brian sped by them, catching an open elevator door and waving a quick goodbye as the doors shut closed. Brian hit the eighteenth floor, pacing in the elevator's small enclosure. Hurry, Hurry… he screamed to himself, a wave of dread surrounding him. The door opened with a small chime and he jumped out, not giving Eric, the night bodyguard, more than a quick glance as he raced down the quiet hallway.

Brian stopped halfway, confused about the room number. He turned to Eric, who was staring at him in a perplexed way.

"Eric! What room is Nick in?"

"1809," replied Eric. "But he's not there."

A fine bead of perspiration trickled down Brian's forehead and he wiped it quickly away. "Where is he?" shouted Brian, the panic now noticeable in his voice. Eric frowned at the agitated singer and strode over to him.

"With the other guys," he replied slowly.

"And where exactly are they?" yelled Brian.

"With Xavier."

"Where's Xavier?" screamed Brian, now at his wit's end.

Eric shrugged, unresponsive.

"Someone looking for us?"

Brian and Eric turned to see Xavier walking calmly down the hall, followed by Kevin, Nick, Howie and AJ. An awkward silence followed, each guy uncomfortably eyeing a disheveled Brian and his newly-cast wrist. Xavier gave a short nod to Eric and Eric sighed in relief, glad his shift was over. He looked at all five of the tense Backstreet Boys and made a mental note to ask management for a raise. A big one.

"Where have you been?"

AJ caught the shakiness in Brian's voice and started to reply when he noticed the question was not directed at them, but to Xavier.

Xavier shrugged nonchalantly. "Just chauffeuring the guys around."

Brian turned to look at the guys for confirmation and it annoyed AJ that he had to be held accountable for his whereabouts. He brushed by Brian, not giving him an explanation, and the others followed suite, Nick being the only one to comment snidely if Brian's hand hurt as he walked by.

Holding direct eye contact with Brian, Xavier said nothing until he heard the respective clicks of doors closing. He scrutinized the singer's hand, an eyebrow raised. "Looks painful." He paused for a moment, waiting for a reply. Receiving none, he continued. "Guess I'm going to have to teach you how to box one-handed. Better yet, maybe I'll teach Nick. Kid's got potential."

"You so much as touch him…" threatened Brian, "I'll kill you."

"You and who else…" began Xavier, his voice trailing off as he discovered the tip of a very sharp switchblade poised at the edge of his throat. Xavier recognized the make, impressed that Brian was able to locate such an deadly weapon. His eyes glittered with grudging admiration but his senses screamed to be careful. Brian had more than enough skill to kill him where he stood and by the look in his eyes, the desire to do so. Xavier backed away carefully. "Well, you surprise me."

Brian kept the blade open, his hand steady, allowing a ghost of a smile to pass his lips. "Good. Guess I'm not the only one who can change the game."

"Ah," spoke Xavier, nodding. "I knew you'd catch onto my change of plans soon enough." He leaned against the side of the hallway, completely relaxed and seemingly unconcerned about the blade Brian still wielded. "Looks like I'm still your bodyguard for the tour." He stretched, trying to stifle a yawn as Brian absorbed the information.

"Yeah," continued Xavier, "the guys I and discussed it tonight. As much as I protested, they begged me to stay with you." Xavier flashed an evil grin, his amusement great as he watched the switchblade waver for a moment. "I said okay but on two conditions. First, a big raise." He paused, not elaborating on the second one.

"And …?" Brian questioned, pissed at Xavier's little game of always making him prod for the rest of the information.

"Two, no questions asked on the way I have to keep your sorry ass under control for the rest of the tour."

Xavier smirked at the expressions that flickered across the Backstreet Boy's face, first disbelief, then shock, and finally hatred. No questions asked would give Xavier free reign in the game, any unconventional behavior on the bodyguard's part would be ignored by the guys, thinking it was just a part of Xavier's way of keeping Brian in check. He felt the bile rising in his throat.

"Yep," Xavier sighed, with great exaggeration, "looks like you screwed up real good. You should of let me break up the band, instead of you. Now it looks like you're stuck with me and your pissed off Backstreet buddies." A wide grin spread across the bodyguard's face, indicating that was exactly what he had planned all along.

The blade lowered a little, but not enough to make a difference. "What else?" asked Brian, his voice filled with bitterness.

"Else?"

"Come on, I know there's more."

A true expression of approval crept across Xavier's face. "Smart. I like that. Well, to tell you the truth, I think it's time to change the game. I'm bored again."

Brian snorted in reply. "The truth? As in 'when you wanted me to go solo' truth?"

"Yeah, I did kind of mess with your mind, didn't I? Hmmm. Well, you'll believe this because you yourself told me."

"Told what?" Brian's painkiller was wearing thin as well as his patience.

Xavier leaned forward, pushing himself from the wall. "Everything's always about money, Xavier!" he recited back to Brian.

Brian stared back at Xavier, remembering the accusation he had screamed at him. His heart skipped a beat as he realized this might be the way to get rid of him. "So, you figured money is what you really want, huh?" he mocked. "How much to leave me alone?"

The bodyguard gave a hoot of laughter. "It's not that easy. Sorry. I'm still enjoying our game immensely. No, I figured I'm not getting any older and you're not getting any poorer, so why not share the wealth? I don't want to be a bodyguard forever, you know?"

"Really." Brian's voice dripped with sarcasm. "And just how much is it going to take to make you a happy ex-bodyguard?"

"Depends," answered Xavier and Brian sighed at his vague reply, suddenly tired beyond belief. His right hand shook from holding the knife, the left demanding a painkiller.

Xavier tilted his head at the gleaming switchblade. "Are you planning to use that or what?" he jeered.

"Possibly. I suppose it depends on when, doesn't it?"

Xavier eyes narrowed, the bantering between them gone. "A threat? Good. I like being on familiar ground." He walked up to the blond singer, the blade just touching under Xavier's ribcage. Throughout their talk Xavier had studied Brian carefully, examining his stance, his attitude. He now knew that given the heat of a moment, the singer was capable of killing, but once his anger subsided was unable to do so.

He decided to test it.

"Go ahead, stick it in me. Do it. No one will see," he purred. Brian's eyes opened wide and Xavier could see the temptation in them. "Yes, I can see you want to," he soothed, "and it would be so easy, wouldn't it? All your problems, fears, gone. Do it," he whispered, "come on."

Tears of frustration welled up in Brian's eyes as his hand shook, the desire overwhelming, the nightmare over if he could just push the blade a mere six inches further. He knew it was a test, a strength of wills between them. His blue eyes stared, transfixed on the wavering blade he clutched tightly, trying to work up the fury he possessed just minutes ago. Slowly Brian flipped the blade into a closed position, backing away. Disgusted by his lack of nerve, he turned and walked away, heading for the solitude of his room as Xavier's satisfied laughter echoed down the hallway.

***

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