Chapter 5

 

Brian’s head turned sharply towards the door, as he heard the knob turn. 

 

“Good morning, brother!” Brendan greeted, smiling evilly at the pitiful figure tied down to the bed and ripping the tape off of his mouth with a sharp yank, causing Brian to wince.   “And how are we doing on this glorious day?”

 

Brian swallowed back a retort and said nothing. 

 

“Did you have a good night last night?” Brendan went on.   “I sure did.  Your wife is great in bed, you know.”

 

The blood drained from Brian’s face.  “What did you say?”

 

“I said that Leighanne is great in bed.   If she was my wife, I’d f*ck her all the time,” Brendan smirked.  “Oh wait, she is my wife.”

 

“You son of a bitch!” Brian spat.

 

Brendan laughed.  “Do you realize you just referred to your own mother as a bitch?  What about all that ‘Perfect Fan’ crap?”

 

Angry tears rose in Brian’s eyes.

 

“Oh, that’s right, go ahead and sob, you little pussy,” Brendan said, rolling his eyes in annoyance.  “You’re gonna cry even more when you see this.”   He wiggled his eyebrows up and down and reached into his backpack. 

 

Brian watched as he pulled out a Kodak envelope, the kind your pictures come in when they get developed.  

 

Brendan smiled evilly.  “I knew you might not believe me about fucking your little wifey, so I decided to document it last night with pictures.  See?” 

 

Brian gasped as Brendan held a picture up to his face.   It was of Leighanne, dressed in a skimpy, nearly see-through piece of lingerie, sprawled out on the bed, a seductive smile on her face.  

 

“Oh, you think that’s bad?” Brendan asked, smiling at Brian’s horrified expression.  “There’s more.”   He held up another picture, of he and Leighanne lying under the sheets, their arms around each other.   They were obviously naked.

 

Tears streamed down Brian’s cheeks.  “How could you?” he asked softly. 

 

“Oh, it was a piece of cake,” Brendan gloated.  “She totally bought it.   She has no idea who I really am.”

 

More tears fell from Brian’s eyes, running down the length of his face.   He couldn’t believe his Leighanne couldn’t tell the difference between her own husband and this evil look-alike.   He would expect anyone who didn’t know him that well to fall for it, but how could Leighanne? 

 

“Fuck you,” Brian said hoarsely. 

 

“No thanks.  I think I will go fuck Leigh again though.   See ya later!”   Brendan replaced the piece of duct tape over Brian’s mouth, grabbed up his backpack, and walked out of the room, leaving Brian all alone once again.

 

***

 

Later that evening, the phone rang at Brian’s house.   Leighanne answered.

 

“Brian, it’s for you, honey!” she called after a moment. 

 

“Got it!” Brendan called back, picking up the phone in another room.   “Hello?”

 

“Hey, Frick, it’s me,” came a young man’s voice. 

 

“Hey,” Brendan replied, hurriedly trying to figure out who it was.   Who was the one that always called Brian “Frick”?   Nick, of course.   Nick, otherwise known as “Frack”.  

 

“That you, Frack?” he asked, for confirmation.

 

“Course it’s me,” Nick said.  “How’s it going, dude?”

 

“Pretty good,” Brendan said.  “How ‘bout you?”

 

“Fine,” Nick replied.  “So whatcha been up to?”

 

“Nothin’ much, just chillin’ out.  It’s good to be back home,” Brendan said, smiling at what a good acting job he was doing.

 

“Yeah, I know, bro,” Nick agreed.   He started rambling on about God-knows-what, and Brendan listened boredly, putting in a “yeah” or “uh-huh” every now and then so Nick would think he actually cared. 

 

 “Well, I better let you go now,” Nick said finally, and Brendan practically sighed with relief. 

 

“Yeah, okay, dude.   See ya later,” Brendan replied.

 

“Okay.  Bye, Bri,” Nick said, hanging up.   Brendan hung up as well, rolling his eyes.   He could tell that socializing with the other Backstreet Boys was going to get real old, real soon.

 

But, just like in their stupid song, there were prices to fame, and for Brendan, that was one of them.  He would just have to learn to deal with it.

 

***

 

I’m going to die, Brian realized, as he lay in the darkness, his stomach growling with hunger, his throat burning with thirst.  He’s just going to leave me here to rot and then get rid of my body, and no one will ever know.  He’ll spend the rest of his life pretending to be me.

 

The thought of that, of Brendan making love to his wife, touring with his best friends, and just living as him for who knew how much longer, was horrible.   And the worst part was that Brian had no idea what to do about it, how to stop it.   That left him feeling helpless and utterly depressed. 

 

Brian wasn’t tired, but sleeping was really the only thing he could do, so he closed his eyes, and eventually, sleep found him.

 

***

 

 

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