The incessant
knocking roused AJ from his drunken slumber.
Disoriented, he lifted his head and blearily looked around; it took a
few seconds for the pieces to fall into place.
He wasn’t in bed, but in the same chair where he’d passed out a few
hours earlier, in his hotel room in Philadelphia. He and the Boys should have been on his way
to the next city by now – somewhere in Ohio, he thought – but instead, they
were stuck here, because Kevin was in the hospital, and Nick was… missing… and…
Someone was
still knocking, loudly. The pounding
might as well have been coming from inside AJ’s head, rather than the door, but
he mumbled, “Coming, coming…” and stumbled across the room to answer it. He was not surprised to find Brian and Howie
standing in the hall, looking annoyed.
“Sorry, did
we wake you?” Brian asked sarcastically.
“We’re
heading back to the hospital,” said Howie, a little more kindly. Yet, as they studied AJ’s face, his dark eyes
were filled with pity, more than understanding.
AJ knew he must have looked like a wreck. He felt
like a wreck. “Are you coming with us,
or…?” He left the question hanging,
waiting for AJ to say something.
AJ shifted
his weight awkwardly in the door frame.
“Nah, go ahead without me,” he muttered finally, fixing his gaze on the
floor. “I didn’t sleep well… gonna try
to catch a few more Zs… then I’ll meet up with you guys…”
“Gee, sorry
to hear you didn’t sleep well,” said Brian, frowning at AJ. “You’d think all the booze would make you
sleep like a baby, but apparently not?”
AJ glared
back at him, trying to mask his guilt.
He’d rarely heard Brian sound so sarcastic and snippy, not that he could
blame him. He knew he had fucked up last
night; he knew he was letting them down now.
Still, he resented Brian for making him feel worse than he already did.
Before he
could say something he’d later regret, Howie stepped in. “I’m sure we’ve all had trouble sleeping the
last few nights,” he said. “I know I
have.”
“Really,
Howie?” Brian rounded on him. “You’ve
had trouble sleeping? Weird, ‘cause I’ve
been sleepin’ like a rock. I just drift
right off and forget all about the fact that my cousin’s in a coma and my best
friend’s gone missing. I feel so well
rested, ready to face another day of watching Kevin lie there like a
vegetable…” He glared at AJ again, his
narrowed eyes looking like two slivers of ice, hard and cold. “None of us have slept well in days, but you
don’t see us drinking ourselves to sleep.”
“Lay off
the self-righteous crap, Rok,” AJ muttered, rolling his eyes at him. “Everyone grieves differently.”
“Grieves?”
Brian repeated, his eyes flashing.
“Well, there’s the problem. You
need to pull your head out of your ass, stop ‘grieving,’ and start praying. Nobody’s died. Kevin’s still alive, and he needs us right
now. Nick
needs us.”
“Nick’s DEAD.”
The words
were out of AJ’s mouth before he could stop them. He regretted them immediately, once he saw
the stricken look cross Brian’s face, but there was no taking them back. Figuring he might as well defend them, he
added, “I know you don’t wanna hear that, but c’mon, let’s face reality
here. There’s been no sign of Nick for
three days, except for the blood we found on the stairs. When do you ever hear of a missing person
found alive after three days?”
Brian
looked as stunned as if he’d been slapped.
“How can you say that? We have to
believe he’s still alive. We have to
have faith and keep praying that they’ll find him.” His voice sounded strangled and hoarse, no longer
sarcastic, but his eyes blazed with his own belief in what he was saying. Brian did have faith.
AJ nodded
and looked away from his friend’s blazing eyes.
He wanted to believe what Brian did, but in his heart, he was almost
sure that in a few days, or weeks, or months, they would find Nick’s remains,
washed ashore, buried in a ditch, or wrapped up in someone’s basement. He’d watched enough TV to know how these
cases usually turned out. There was no
way whoever had shot Kevin in the head would let Nick live, and while Brian
clung to his faith, AJ had accepted the cold, hard truth. Nick was dead, and Kevin might as well be,
too, for as grievously as he’d been wounded.
But he didn’t dare repeat this.
All he said instead was, “I hope you’re right.”
Brian
continued to glare at him, looking somehow betrayed, until Howie said, “Well,
we should get going. We’ll see you later
then?” He looked pointedly at AJ, who
nodded.
“Yeah. Later.”
They turned
and left, walking up the hall without looking back, and AJ, feeling ashamed at
himself, retreated back into his room and bolted the door. He slid into bed, burying his head under the
covers, and tried to stop himself from thinking. He was still a little drunk, and that helped;
his brain felt fuzzy, and his head kept pounding, and it was easier than he’d
expected to fall back to sleep.
It seemed
like he had just shut his eyes when he woke to the sound of knocking
again. “Ugh, what now?” he groaned,
squeezing the pillow around his head to muffle the sound. It was no use; the knocking persisted, making
his head pound again. “I told you,
later!” he shouted. “Leave me alone!”
But the
knocker didn’t leave, and so finally, AJ dragged himself out of bed and
staggered to the door, ranting the whole way.
“Swear to god, if you guys are back to make me feel even shittier,
you’re gonna get a taste of your own medicine,” he muttered under his
breath. He unbolted the door and
wrenched it open. “Seriously, what part
of ‘leave me alone’ do you not under-”
He stopped
suddenly, the word “stand” dying on his tongue as he found himself staring into
the haggard face of Nick’s mother, Jane Carter.
“Jane!” he cried, his voice jumping an octave. “Sorry, I thought you were… Come in!”
He quickly
ushered her in, letting the door close behind her. Jane stood stiffly just inside the hotel
room, clutching her purse under her arm.
AJ felt self-conscious of the way the room looked – the shades drawn,
the bedsheets hanging off the mattress, the empty liquor bottles scattered
across the coffee table and floor.
“Sorry for the mess,” he apologized, as he scurried around, hurriedly
opening the drapes, straightening the covers, and picking up the bottles.
“Don’t
bother,” said Jane. “I’m not
staying. I just came from the police
station, and I have a reservation at a different hotel.”
“Oh,” said
AJ, dropping the bottle he was holding into the wastebasket with a loud
clink. “What did the police… I mean, did
they have any new… information? Any
leads?”
“Oh, they
have leads. Hundreds of tips have been
coming in, they told me,” said Jane, pinching the bridge of her nose. “They’re trying to decide which ones are
worth following up on. They think most are
from delusional fans, wanting to believe they saw Nick, or desperate individuals
seeking fame or attention or reward money.”
She sighed. “They doubt many of
them are actually reliable.”
AJ
nodded. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “But it’s still early. Something will come up. They’ll track down the right lead
eventually. They’ll find him, Jane. They have to.” Hypocrite,
he thought to himself, wondering why he was bothering to spout off all this
bullshit he didn’t really believe, when he’d been so blunt with Brian
earlier. But how could he look Nick’s
mother in the eye and tell her he thought her son was dead?
“I hope
so,” Jane’s voice quavered, her eyes welling up with tears. He could tell she’d done a fair amount of
crying already; her face looked blotchy, and he could see black streaks where
her mascara had run.
“Are Bob and
the kids-?”
“Still in
California. I didn’t want them in the
middle of all this, until I saw what the situation was like, myself.” She shook her head, absently smoothing her
dyed black hair. “I talked to
Howie. He said you’d be here.”
AJ wondered
she wanted with him. “If there’s
anything I can do, Jane…” he started automatically and was surprised when she
nodded at once.
“Yes, there
is. I want to see the room where it
happened. Nick’s room.”
AJ
swallowed hard. “I’m pretty sure the
police have it sealed off. But… yeah… I
can show you were it is. It’s just down
a floor…”
A couple of
minutes later, he was leading Jane down the stairs. The blood, thankfully, had been cleaned
up. He assumed the police had taken a
sample of it first. They exited the
stairwell and walked down the hall. AJ
hadn’t been on this floor since Wednesday night, when the ambulance crew had
whisked Kevin out on a stretcher. The
closer they got to the room where it had happened, the more he felt like
throwing up. Somehow, he remembered the
room number – 1114 – but as it turned out, he didn’t need to. A single length of yellow police tape
stretched across the door frame told him they were in the right place. He reached under the tape to try the
doorknob, but of course, it was locked.
The room was now a crime scene.
He glanced
over at Jane. Her face was white, and
she stood with her hand covering her mouth, as if she, too, felt like throwing
up. After a minute, she said shakily,
“Why were he and Kevin staying a floor down from the rest of you?”
AJ
frowned. That was a good question. He suddenly wondered the same thing. It took a few seconds for him to remember the
reason. “They changed rooms. Something about roaches.” But as he said it aloud, it suddenly seemed
like an odd excuse. This was a five-star
hotel; he’d been there four nights and hadn’t seen any bugs. He wondered if there was some other reason
behind the room change. Could it have
had anything to do with the attack? They
still didn’t know how the attacker had gotten in. He knew the police had been questioning
everyone who worked for the hotel. Was
one of them behind the whole thing?
He didn’t
say anything to Jane, but he was glad she had booked a room in a different
hotel. When he went to the hospital
later, he would suggest that he and the guys do the same.
***
Howie was
sitting with Brian in the waiting room when AJ turned up at the hospital,
looking hungover, but better than he had at the hotel that morning. At least he appeared to have showered and no
longer reeked of booze. “Any change?” he
asked the two of them. Brian stared at
the floor, apparently not quite ready to make his peace with AJ yet, but Howie
shook his head.
“No. The only good news is that they did a CT scan
of his brain, and the swelling is going down,” he said, relaying the
information Kevin’s doctor had given them earlier. “But he hasn’t shown any signs of waking up
from the coma.”
AJ sighed
heavily and threw himself down into the open seat next to Howie. “His mom’s in with him now?” he guessed.
“No, she
and Kristin went down to the cafeteria for lunch. A physical therapist came to exercise Kevin’s
arms and legs – you know, so the muscles don’t start to atrophy,” said Howie,
shifting awkwardly in his seat. All
morning, they’d witnessed medical personnel popping in and out of Kevin’s
room. Doctors made their rounds, medical
students turned up to observe, and nurses came in at regular intervals to chart
vitals, change IV bags, empty containers of fluid, and turn Kevin to prevent
bedsores. It disturbed Howie to see
Kevin so helpless, reliant on other people to care for him and medical
technology to keep him alive.
“How are
Anne and Kristin holding up?” AJ wanted to know.
Howie
shrugged. The two women seemed to be
leaning on one another, each helping the other hold it together, as they stood
by the man they both loved. “As well as
you’d expect, I guess,” he told AJ. “Did
you know Nick’s mom’s in town?”
“Yeah. She came by the hotel. She wanted to see the room where it
happened.”
“Did you
show her?”
He
shrugged. “I took her down. Not much to see; the room’s locked up.”
“Where is
she now?” Howie asked, looking around, as if he’d missed her walking in with
AJ.
“Back at
her hotel, I guess. She’d already been
to the police station.”
“Oh.” Howie frowned, put off by the fact that Jane
hadn’t bothered to come check on Kevin.
Then again, he shouldn’t have been surprised; Jane Carter had always
struck him as a woman who put her own interests ahead of anyone else’s.
“Speaking
of hotels…” AJ said. “I think we should
move into a different one.”
“Why?”
asked Howie. The hotel they were staying
in had been extremely accommodating, extending their reservations past the
three nights they had originally planned to stay.
“Well…
don’t you wonder about the security? I
mean, how did someone get into Nick and Kevin’s room?”
“They could
have let him in,” Howie said doubtfully.
“We don’t know what happened.”
“Right. But… I dunno, I just think we should stay
somewhere else.”
“I’m with
AJ,” Brian spoke for the first time since AJ had arrived. Howie saw a look of understanding pass
between the two of them.
“Okay,” he
said. “I’ll call Skip about changing the
accommodations.” He pulled out his cell
phone to contact their tour manager, and several phone calls later, the new
reservations had been made.
“How long
do you think you’ll stay in Philadelphia?” Skip had wanted to know. Howie didn’t miss his use of “you’ll” instead
of “we’ll.” He understood it to mean
that everyone else on the tour – the band, the dancers, the crew – would be
heading home soon. Their next show was
supposed to be Monday night in Columbus, Ohio, but unless a double miracle
occurred in the next day, they wouldn’t be performing it. The promoters couldn’t afford to keep
everyone in Philadelphia indefinitely.
But Howie couldn’t think of leaving.
“As long as
Kevin’s in the hospital,” he said firmly.
“And as long as it takes for them to find Nicky.”
***
The sun had
barely set over the Albrechts’ farm when Nick staggered into the grandfather
house, stripped out of his sweat-soaked clothing, and collapsed into bed.
It was only
six-thirty, but after a full day’s work, he was exhausted. His back ached from hours of cleaning out
animal stalls, raking leaves in the yard, and picking crops in the fields, yet
his belly was full from the supper Analiese’s mother had served. He would sleep well tonight, he thought, as
he slid between the sheets. They felt
soft and cool against his sore and sunburned body, and he sighed with relief as
he lowered his head onto the pillow at last and closed his eyes.
But sleep
didn’t come as quickly as he would have liked.
He lay awake, listening to the sounds of night falling outside his
window and missing the rumble of the tour bus and the screaming of fans. He heard the faint sounds of laughter
drifting through the open windows of the farmhouse, as Analiese’s family
finally settled down to relax, and he longed to hear the familiar voices of his
own “family” – AJ’s gravelly rasp, Howie’s fast way of talking, Brian’s
animated impressions, and most of all, Kevin’s low, slow drawl. Nick thought of the life and the people he’d
left behind, and a tear slipped out from under one of his heavy eyelids and
trickled down his scorched, red cheek, wetting the plain white pillowcase.
He was too
tired to feel ashamed over crying himself to sleep, but once he had, he slept
well and didn’t wake until Analiese came to get him up for the morning milking.
***
Late that
night, as Nick slept soundly in his new surroundings, as Brian, AJ, and Howie
stayed in their new hotel, and as Kevin lay comatose in his hospital room,
Gianna sat on the couch, wide awake, in her apartment. The TV was on low; David Bowie was performing
on Saturday Night Live, but Gianna
tuned it out, her mind faraway with worry.
In one of
the apartment’s two bedrooms, her daughter Luci was tucked into bed, a teddy
bear under her arm and a teenybopper magazine pinup of Nick Carter on the wall
above her head. In the other, her
boyfriend Joey was pacing, his phone to his ear. Gianna couldn’t see him; the door was shut,
but she could hear his footsteps shuffling behind it, his muffled words leaking
through it. Something had upset
him. He’d seemed edgy all day, ever
since that morning.
Gianna
waited until she heard him stop pacing, stop talking, and get off the phone
before she turned off the TV and crept back to the bedroom. Joey was already in bed. “You awake?” she asked quietly, pretending
she hadn’t heard him.
“Yeah. C’mere,” he said, reaching for her.
“Gimme a
sec.” She undressed slowly, while he
watched. “You okay?” she asked, twirling
her camisole around her index finger by the strap. “You been actin’ kinda weird all day. Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” he
said, a little too quickly, a little too defensively. “Why?”
She
shrugged. “Just checkin’.” She tossed the cami into the laundry hamper
and stepped out of her panties. Slipping
into bed, she pulled the sheets up around her nude body and snuggled in close
to his. “I wanted to ask you somethin’,”
she whispered, trailing her hand across his bare chest, her finger toying with
his nipple.
“What’s
that?”
She kept
her voice soft and seductive, not wanting to seem too suspicious, but merely
curious. “That news story we saw on MTV
this morning… you know, about those Backstreet Boys Luci likes? You don’t know anything about that, do you?”
He
confirmed her worst suspicions when he suddenly jerked away from her, rolling
right out of bed. “Back off, Gianna,” he
said, rounding on her, towering over her as he stood next to the bed. He raised his finger at her, waving it
threateningly. “We been down this road
before, and I’m warnin’ you for the last time… Stay out of it. It ain’t none of your business what I know
and what I don’t. You don’t need to know none of it, got it? Forget about it.”
She
swallowed, determined to keep her voice steady.
“Got it,” she whispered, and left it at that, rolling away from him and
closing her eyes. She heard him pace
around the room for a few more minutes, but finally, Joey got back into bed and
settled down beside her. His breathing
slowly deepened, and after half an hour or so, she heard him start to
snore. Maybe he could push whatever had
been bothering him out of his mind, just like that, but she couldn’t forget
about it. Like Nick hours before her,
Gianna lay awake, thinking, wondering…
Just what
did he know? How involved was he? And how involved did she dare become?
***