If Nick had
known the impact his choices that night would have on the people closest to
him, he would have just stayed at the hotel.
He should have just stayed at the
hotel. Kevin even said so. “Just chill out here, Nick. Play your video games,” the eldest Backstreet
Boy suggested, on his way out the door.
“You know what a scene you’ll cause if you go out; just enjoy the peace
and quiet for once.”
“Yeah
right, ‘cause that’s what you’re off to do:
enjoy some ‘peace and quiet,’” Nick huffed sarcastically, rolling his
eyes at Kevin’s designer outfit and artfully tousled hair.
Kevin
shrugged. He didn’t look too apologetic
when he said, “Sorry, kid. Brian’s not
comin’ with us; you can hang out with him.”
“Yeah
right,” Nick replied and rolled his eyes again.
He knew where Brian would spend the evening: in his own hotel room with his girlfriend,
Leighanne. He was not about to be a
third wheel to those two.
“Sorry,”
Kevin said again. This time, he sounded
more sincere. “Just a couple more years
– then you’ll be old enough to come out with us.”
“Don’t
remind me,” muttered Nick, to whom two years seemed an odyssey away. He’d been spoiled over the summer, while
touring in Europe, where he could enter any club or pub he wished and drink as
much as he wanted. Back home in the
States, he was still a minor, stuck spending the evening by himself while the
others went out partying on their night off.
“Don’t
pout,” Kevin chided. “We’ll do somethin’
tomorrow before the show. Go see the
Liberty Bell, maybe. Sound good?”
“Sounds
lame. Who cares about a dumb, old bell
with a big crack down the middle?”
Kevin
smirked. “Suit yourself. See ya later.
Don’t get into trouble while we’re gone.”
“Okay, Dad,” Nick retorted, making a face at
Kevin’s back as he left, closing the door to their hotel room behind him. Nick slumped back on his bed, banging the
back of his head against the wall, and silently fumed.
Kevin
thought he was so cool, so grown-up, compared to the rest of the guys,
especially Nick. He took his “big
brother” role in the group too seriously, treating Nick and AJ and even Brian
like they were kids. Well, they
weren’t! Brian acted like a goofball
most of the time, but he was really just three years younger than his
cousin. And AJ was twenty-one, a legal
adult in every sense of the word. He,
Nick, had only been thirteen when Kevin had joined the group, but he was four
months shy of twenty now. He had his
high school diploma; he could vote and buy cigarettes; he’d just bought his
family a house in California, and he’d toured the world as a Backstreet
Boy. He was hardly a child anymore.
Then again,
maybe he was. Like a child, he wanted
things to go his way, and they just hadn’t lately. This was supposed to be his year. The Backstreet Boys were on top of the world,
riding high on the success of their third album, Millennium. They had
achieved the global success they’d been chasing since their first taste of fame
on those early tours in Germany, and it was undeniable that Nick was the fan
favorite, both overseas and on home soil.
After spending the summer in Europe, he’d been looking forward to
touring the States. The first U.S. leg
of the Into the Millennium Tour had
sold out in a matter of minutes, but it hadn’t gotten off to a great
start. First there had been Hurricane
Floyd, which had forced them to postpone the kick-off dates in Fort
Lauderdale. Then there was the fact that
while Leighanne was on tour with them, Mandy wasn’t. As a result, Brian was often preoccupied, and
Nick was often lonely and bored.
Reaching
over to the bedside table, he picked up his cell phone and started playing with
it, scrolling through the names in his contacts. He still had her number stored in his
phone. He hadn’t had the heart to delete
it, even though they’d broken up a month ago.
Though he hated admitting it, he missed her. Mandy hadn’t always treated him right, but
she’d been fun to have around on tour.
Even Leighanne had been more tolerable when he’d a girlfriend of his
own. Brian was still whipped, but Nick
was now alone.
For a
second, he considered calling Mandy, then quickly nixed the idea, tossing his
phone back onto the bedside table so he wouldn’t be tempted. He rolled off the bed and went over to the
TV, where he’d plugged in his new Sega Dreamcast, a gift to himself for the
U.S. tour. He turned the console on and
picked up his controller, but he couldn’t focus on his Sonic game, not when he
knew Kevin, AJ, and Howie were out on the town, having way more fun than he
was. Even Brian and Leighanne were
probably having more fun than he was, though he didn’t want to think about what
they might be doing in the room next door.
He paused
his game, threw his controller down, and stood up. He had to get out.
Ignoring
Kevin’s warning that he would cause a scene, he crammed a baseball cap on his
head, tucking the ends of his blonde hair up into it, and pulled on a plain,
gray hoodie over his jeans and t-shirt.
He zipped the hoodie almost all the way and pulled the hood up over his
cap. He completed his disguise with a
large pair of sunglasses that hid most of his face. I look
like the Unabomber, he thought, smirking at his reflection in the gilded
mirror over the dresser. He picked up
his wallet from the dresser top, checked to make sure his room key card was
tucked safely inside it, and stuffed it in his back pocket on his way out of
the room.
He hurried
past the block of rooms that management had reserved for them. AJ and Howie were sharing the adjoining room,
with Brian and Leighanne on the other side.
Their bodyguards had rooms on either end. Nick figured most of them would be out with
the guys, but at least one would have stayed behind, in case a mob of fans
stormed the hotel. They always tried to
keep their accommodations a secret, but that didn’t stop the fans from finding
them. He pulled the brim of his cap down
lower over his shades as he stopped in front of the elevator.
It came,
mercifully empty, and Nick rode down to the ground level. He passed quickly through the lobby, darting
under the crystal chandelier and keeping close to the handsome, white-panelled
walls. He slipped out the front door and
found himself on the crowded, cobbled sidewalk outside. Lowering his head, he turned right and started
walking, blending into the crowd.
He walked
without any idea of where he was going, but soon he found himself in a
sprawling park that reminded him of Central Park in Manhattan. He meandered along the criss-crossing paths,
his feet crunching in the autumn leaves, until he reached the other side. The park was smaller than he’d anticipated. He kept walking, passing downtown shops and
sidewalk cafes, looking up at old, brick buildings and quaint, brownstone row
houses. His surroundings reminded him of
the The Sixth Sense, which he’d seen
on one of his last dates with Mandy. He thought
that movie had been set in Philadelphia.
He walked
quite a few blocks, crossing busy intersections with the other pedestrians, and
no one paid much notice to him. With his
hood and dark glasses, he supposed he looked like someone who didn’t want to be
bothered. Soon the buildings and traffic
gave way to trees and grass, as he found himself in another park. The car exhaust fumes and the delicious aroma
of Italian food wafted away, and his nose picked up the fishy smell of
water. He was near a river. He could see it up ahead, as he walked
through the park. He had no idea which
river it was – in spite of three years of touring, geography had never been his
strong suit – but he was drawn to it. He
had always loved water and boats.
The river
was narrow and not particularly scenic, bordered by a freeway on one side and
industrial-looking train tracks on both.
But beyond the park and past the tracks, there was a walking trail that
ran along the riverfront, and Nick crossed the tracks to follow it. The trail was nothing like the busy, bustling
sidewalks; it was dark and quiet, almost deserted. Though he was still in the heart of the city,
he felt like he was outside it. Up
ahead, he saw the silhouettes of a few couples, out for a night stroll, but for
the most part, he was alone. And while
he hadn’t liked being alone in his hotel room, he now relished in the
solitude. He was enjoying the peace and
quiet, just as Kevin had said he should.
He just wasn’t doing it back at the hotel.
He had only
wandered a short way up the trail when he approached an overpass, one of
several bridges that spanned the narrow river.
He could see that the trail cut right under it, so he kept walking. The trail was lit with small streetlamps at
regular intervals, but beneath the bridge, it was dark. As he grew closer, his eyes made out two
figures moving around in the shadows, near the water’s edge. He slowed his pace, lowering his sunglasses
to watch them. They weren’t approaching
him, nor were they walking away in the same direction as him, and something
about their movements made him stop.
Suddenly
wary, he edged off the trail, out of the lamplight, and watched them from the
shadows. The cool night breeze carried
their voices toward him, but the rumble of traffic on the overpass drowned out
their words. He crept closer,
curious. There was a certain thrill in
the uncertainty of sneaking up on a pair of strangers, in doing the stalking,
for once, instead of being stalked. He
knelt down in the dew-soaked grass, tucked his sunglasses into the pocket of
his hoodie, and watched as the two men – he could tell that they were men by
their physiques and the pitch of their voices – dragged something long and
white and apparently heavy out from under the bridge.
Nick
squinted, trying to figure out what it was they were rolling towards the
water. Whatever it was, it was long, as
long as a man lying down, and had the lumpy look of something that was wrapped
up in a white blanket or sheet. It must
have been soft, for it didn’t scrape against the pavement. One of the men knelt down at one end of it,
while the other disappeared into the shadows under the bridge again. When he emerged, he was carrying something
heavy. It was much smaller than the
white bundle, but Nick could tell by the way both his arms were hooked under it
that it wasn’t light. It did make a
clunky, scraping sound when he set it down beside the other man, a sound that
Nick recognized. It was a large brick, a
cinder block.
As the man
sank down beside his companion and set to work, Nick realized what he was
seeing. His heart began to thump, hard
and fast, in his chest, as he watched the man unwind a length of rope from the
cinder block. Beads of cold sweat burst
onto his forehead and moistened his palms, as the man proceeded to tie the rope
around one end of the lumpy white bundle.
Nick clapped his hand over his mouth to hold back a shout, as the man’s
companion then hoisted the cinder block up and dropped it into the water. He heard the heavy splash and watched
helplessly as the rope attached to the block pulled the bundle off the
embankment and into the river. He jumped
to his feet, swaying light-headedly, as the white shape sank beneath the
surface the black water.
The shape of a body! His mind screamed the words he dared not say
aloud. It was a body! He had known
it from the moment he’d seen the cinder block and rope next to that long,
human-sized bundle, wrapped in white:
that he was watching, in silent horror, two men dispose of a dead body.
Murderers! the panic inside his head continued to
cry out, though he made not a sound. They’re murderers!
His fight
or flight instinct willed him to run, to get help, to tell someone, but he
stayed rooted to the spot in fear. If he
ran, they would hear his footsteps, the rustle of the grass, the pounding of
his sneakers against the pavement. They
would see the movement as he weaved in and out of the circles of light from the
streetlamps. Though he wanted to put as
much distance between himself and them as possible, he sunk further into the
shadows instead. He crouched low in the
grass once more, his rubbery legs shaking beneath him, and held his breath,
praying they would turn and go the other way.
They did.
He released
his breath a little at a time, scarcely able to believe they were really
running away, under the bridge, disappearing into the darkness once more. He waited until he could no longer hear their
heavy footsteps or the light murmurs of their voices, and then he rose up on
legs that felt like Jell-O. His entire
body was shaking, from the inside out, and he staggered dizzily as he turned
and started to walk in the direction he’d come.
He walked slowly at first, stopping and turning around a few times to
make sure they were really gone. Then he
picked up his pace, a brisk walk turning into a jog, then a full-out
sprint. He crossed back onto the trail,
into the light, as he ran for his life and didn’t look back.
He wanted
to get off the trail, out of the open, but there was nowhere to go. The trail ran parallel to the train tracks,
and beyond those was a parking lot – all wide, open expanses. Up ahead was another bridge, with cement
steps spiraling up to the pedestrian walkways on either side of the
overpass. As Nick ran toward it, he
became aware of running footsteps behind him.
His heart leapt into his throat, but he didn’t dare look over his
shoulder, knowing it would only slow him down, knowing it would only terrify
him more if he was sure it was them. Please be a jogger, he begged hopelessly
as he raced toward the bridge. Please…
He was
running out of breath, his heart threatening to explode from his chest, and he
could hear the footsteps gaining on him, but still, he refused to slow down,
refused to turn back.
They caught
up to him at the bridge.
He knew in
a second, with a sinking feeling of defeat, that those footsteps did not belong
to a jogger when he heard them thundering up the stone stairs behind him. In the next second, he felt a rough hand on
his head, and a strong grip yanked his hood back. The zipper of his hoodie dug into his throat,
choking him, as he stumbled backwards into a rock-solid chest. A muscular pair of arms closed around him and
wrenched him back down the steps, dragging him beneath the dark underside of
the bridge.
“Please!”
Nick gasped hoarsely, struggling to catch his breath. “Please, let me go!”
“You think
we gonna hurt you or somethin’?” asked the man who was holding him,
vice-like. Nick could feel his rigid
abdominal muscles vibrating as he let out a derisive laugh. “Is that why you was runnin’?”
Nick
thought quickly. Were they just messing
with him before they killed him, or were they really not sure he had seen
them? He decided to play along, to play
dumb. “Please, I’ll give you my wallet,
you can have all my money, just don’t hurt me!” he begged.
The man
laughed again. “Yeah? Let’s see what you got. Check ‘im, Joey.”
The other
man, who was smaller and more wiry, moved in and started patting down Nick’s
pockets until he found his wallet. The
bigger man loosened his grip on Nick, as Joey reached in and pulled the wallet
out of his back pocket. “Dang, kid,
you’s dealin’ or what? Where’d you get a
fat wad like this, huh?” he asked, holding up a fistful of bills.
“Lemme see
that,” snapped the man holding Nick, letting go of him to snatch the cash out
of Joey’s hand.
Act innocent, Nick coached himself, as he inched
away. “I-it’s my birthday money,” he
stammered. “But it’s yours now; take
it. Just let me go, please. My… my mom’s expecting me home.”
The big man
guffawed again, throwing his head back.
For the first time, Nick got a good look at his face. He was younger than he’d expected, no older
than thirty. They were both young, with
olive skin and dark hair and eyes, dressed in black wifebeaters that showed off
their tattooed and muscular arms.
“You hear
that, Joey? His ma’s expectin’ ‘im
home. I’m afraid she’s gonna be disap-
HEY!” As the man’s taunting laughter
turned into an angry shout, Nick scrabbled up the stone steps, using his long
legs to his advantage as he took them two at a time. He could hear their footsteps pounding behind
him again, but as he neared the landing at the top of the steps, they seemed to
fall back. Gasping, he staggered onto
the landing.
His knees
were still weak and trembling, but Nick forced himself to keep running along
the bridge. The footpath was well lit
with streetlights, and two lanes of traffic were speeding by in both
directions. If they attacked him here,
they’d be doing it in plain sight.
Somehow, he knew they wouldn’t.
He kept
looking over his shoulder as he stumbled along the path, making sure they
weren’t chasing him again, but neither one of them had followed him onto the
bridge. His heart was still racing when
he finally slowed to a walk, hoping to blend in when he made it off the
bridge. Soon the footpath became an
ordinary sidewalk, and he was among people and buildings again. He walked quickly and ducked through the
first open door he saw. It was a delicatessen,
nearly empty at this hour. He made a
beeline for the back.
“Hey kid,
those ain’t no public bathrooms - customers only!” shouted the woman behind the
counter. “You wanna pee, you gotta pay
for somethin’ first.”
“No
problem,” said Nick, surprised at how high-pitched and shaky his voice
sounded. He reached into his back
pocket, only to remember that his wallet was gone. His heart sank. “Uh… never mind. No money – sorry.” Knowing he had no choice but to leave, he
turned and slunk back out of the deli.
Back out on
the sidewalk, he realized he had no idea where he was in relation to the
hotel. There were no familiar landmarks
– neither of the parks he’d crossed through were in sight. All he knew was that he needed to keep
walking away from the river, so he did.
After a few blocks, he started recognizing the names of streets he had
crossed on his way toward the river and realized he must be a few streets over
from the one his hotel was on. He took a
zigzagging path back toward the hotel, walking up a block, then over a block,
then up another block, then over another block, hoping he could shake off his
attackers in case they were still tailing him from far behind.
At last, he
emerged on the right street and spotted the hotel up ahead. He broke into a jog and didn’t stop running
until he was safely inside the lobby once more.
In the elevator, which arrived mercifully empty again, he leaned back
against the mirrored wall and doubled over, gripping his quivery knees as he
panted for breath. When he straightened
up again, he caught sight of his face in the opposite wall. It was streaked with sweat, his cheeks
flushed, his lips completely white. He
took off his hoodie and used it to wipe his face as the elevator lurched to a
stop, trying to compose himself before he stepped out onto his floor.
It was only
once he was standing in front of the locked door to his hotel room that he
remembered his room key was in his wallet, which was in the hands of a
murderer.
***