Chapter 8

 

Kevin shut off his cell phone, sighing loudly.  “Well, fellas, it looks like we have no choice.  We have to perform at the Superbowl.  Backing out now really isn’t an option.”

 

He was repeating the words that management had just told him on the phone minutes earlier.   He had explained the situation with Nick, and they were genuinely sorry and upset.  But they had told him that there was no way they could back out of singing at the Superbowl now.   The Superbowl people would never be able to get another act in time.  He, Brian, AJ, and Howie would have to sing it, even if Nick wasn’t there to sing with them.

 

Brian sighed heavily as well, but he knew that no further arguing would change the mind of their manager.   In the music industry, he knew sacrifices had to be made.  Even the worst ones.   He remembered nearly three years ago, when he had undergone heart surgery.  Kevin, AJ, Howie, and Nick hadn’t even been able to see him before the surgery because they had been at Disney World, performing for Graduation Night.  They had protested that one too, but still, they had ended up there, singing with only four out the five of them.  And that night, at the Superbowl, they would be doing the same.

 

“What are we going to tell the fans?” Howie asked.   He was always the first to be thinking of the fans.

 

Kevin sighed again.  “That’s another thing management brought up.  They said we can keep it quiet today and just announce that Nick’s sick tonight at the game.  But in a few days, if Nick hasn’t gotten drastically better, we have to hold a press conference.  We have to not only let everyone know, but make it public that we’re canceling the concerts and all that stuff.

 

They nodded.  Kevin glanced at his watch.   It was about three in the morning already.   They had been there for hours, and he knew they were all exhausted.

 

“Guys, we better get heading back to Bri’s now.  There’s nothing more we can do here, and if we still have to go to the damn Superbowl, we’re gonna need to get some sleep.  Our flight to Tampa’s at 11:00 in the morning,” Kevin said.

 

The guys didn’t protest, just nodded sleepily.  They all stood up and walked together down the hall.

 

***

 

Marissa woke up screaming.  She jerked upright and sat in bed, sweat dripping between her shoulder blades, her face hot, her breathing rapid and shallow. 

 

A dream, she realized.  Just a bad dream.   But, of course, the bad dream was based on reality, on what had happened the night before.  

 

Marissa began to cry as the events of the past evening came flooding back to her.  Just hours ago, she had been at a party, having an awesome time.  Now one of her friends was dead, another was an emotional mess, her boyfriend was in jail, and Nick Carter could be dead.   She wasn’t sure how bad his condition was or even if he was still alive.  After Kevin had reamed her out in the hospital waiting room, she hadn’t stuck around to find out.  She had ran off to her mother in tears, and Joyce had driven her home.   There she had gone straight to bed, hoping to forget the horrible tragedy that had just occurred.

 

But I’ll never forget it, will I? Marissa asked herself, more tears spilling from her eyes.  She knew she would never be able to get away from it, for it haunted her even in her dreams.  Whether she was awake or not, it was always there, and she couldn’t run from it.   What had happened, happened because of her and her friends, and there was no changing that, no hiding it either.  There was nothing she could do about.   It would be there, in the back of her mind, for the rest of her entire life.

 

***

 

Brian dreamed about it too.   He had nightmares all night, all involving Nick lying in that bed, hooked up to all those machines.   When he awoke in the morning, he realized he had barely slept at all with the horrible dreams that interrupted his sleep all night long.  

 

Brian sleepily rolled over to look at the clock beside his bed.  It was not even eight.  He had had only about four hours of sleep.  Less, actually, because of the nightmares.

 

Brian knew there was no way he could go back to bed however, so he pulled himself up.  Leighanne was already up, he realized, noticing her side of the bed was empty. 

 

He staggered into the bathroom and glanced at himself in the mirror over the sink.  “I look like shit,” he muttered aloud, as he studied his reflection.  His wavy hair was sticking all over the place.  His blue eyes were dull and red-rimmed, and beneath them were dark circles. 

 

He combed his hair, trying his best to tame it, and splashed cold water over his face.  He then wandered downstairs in his flannel pajama bottoms and t-shirt. 

 

He entered the kitchen to find Leighanne at the stove, flipping pancakes.  Howie was pouring glasses of orange juice while Kevin and AJ slouched at the table.  AJ stared moodily into space, while Kevin glanced half-heartedly at the Sunday paper. 

 

“Morning, everyone,” Brian said, forcing a smile of fake cheeriness. 

 

“Morning,” the guys mumbled back.

 

“Morning, sweetie,” Leighanne said, smiling sympathetically at him as she noticed his bloodshot eyes and the dark bags under them.  “Breakfast is almost ready.”

 

Minutes later, she was serving up the pancakes, while Howie passed around glasses of juice.  None of them ate much, only picked at the food.   Kevin didn’t take his eyes off the paper, not wanting to make eye contact with one of the guys for fear he would lose it.  He had barely slept that night either, for he, too, was kept up with worry over his youngest bandmate. 

 

Suddenly, he gasped.  “What?” the guys all asked, looking up in alarm.

 

“There’s an article about it,” he said softly.  He passed the paper to Howie and pointed to a headline.  “Local Teen Killed in Drunk Driving Wreck”, it read.  Howie read the article, and sighed with relief when it came to a part about Nick and didn’t mention his name, referring to him as “a twenty year old Florida man”.  He was glad, not wanting the fans to find out about Nick this way.   When he was finished, he sadly passed the paper on to Brian.  “It’s so sad,” he murmured.  “That kid that died was just eighteen, only a senior in high school.”

 

“Yeah, too young to be drinking,” Kevin snapped.  “And Nicky’s only twenty.  He’s too young to have to go through this too.”

 

“Twenty one,” Brian corrected softly.

 

They exchanged sad glances and nodded slowly.  “Some birthday present,” AJ said bitterly.

 

The other three ignored his comment and went back to picking at their pancakes.

 

***

 

 

Next

 

Back to index