Goin' On For Years

January 2000 - 1Q

AJ

"Well, that's typical Kevin." I shrug, looking to the journalist from Rolling Stone. And it is… Three in the morning, at video shoot, we were up most of last night at various after-show parties for the Billboard Awards. Howie's sleeping leaning against a wall, Brian and Nick are inside having dinner, I'm heading in now just to warm up, and where's Kevin? He's over across the street, smiling and signing things for the fans that have been standing there most of the night waiting. Little Fucker doesn't even look like he minds, and we all know he does. He's just as tired and hungry as the rest of us…he's just better at not showing it. The Backstreet Ambassador, I guess, after Howie…when he's awake.

Somehow this shoot doesn't seem to be as grueling as the last, and I think that's because we're still riding on the high from winning last night. Yeah, we knew. It's not like we haven't been following our charting…but still. Sometimes it's nice to see other people that do what you do and see that they respect you. Respect…well, okay, they respect you to your face for a few hours for doing what we're doing. I don't even think part of it is about the type of music that we do, but when they see us and know we're getting through the same shit they go through, it gives us a certain amount of respect. You know, video shoots, and interviews, and the travel, and the business meetings and somehow making it look like it's fun to the outside world. We're keeping the secret, I guess. It's not all fun and games in spite of what's shown on those "behind the scenes" clips. Acting…it's all about acting the part.

"So, what's typical AJ?" Chris, the journalist asks curiously as we head inside.

Lying through his teeth to people like you? Smiling and pretending to be the goofy jokester? "You'll have to ask the fellas that one," I answer, taking off my hat and running my fingers through my lack of hair. "They'll probably say I'm a good listener, I guess."

"Are you?"

"I guess." I shrug again, too damn tired to play nice with the media and the fans. Three hours of sleep does not make a happy AJ. I'm barely functioning on cigarettes and coffee, trying not to find other ways to deal with it, and it's barely getting me through. The world is moving all by itself under my feet, and I haven't even had a drink today. I'm just fuckin' tired and we've got at least six more scenes to get through before we can call it a night.

"What about the rest of the 'fellas,' as you call them?"

I take a deep, silent breath and remind myself that I have to be nice. I'm excited by being in Rolling Stone, but I have my doubts as to how kind they'll be. I don't want to add any fuel. It'd be nice if they asked some original questions though. "Howie's the peacekeeper, usually. Brian's the joker, Nick's our kid brother, and Kevin's the serious, older brother." Did that sound rehearsed? It feels that way. "We all kind of fill in the gaps, I guess."

"Gaps?"

"We lean on each other and do what we need to do." I join the line for the buffet and start some small talk with one of the camera guys until Chris sits down next to me and asks me to keep explaining. "We've been together for seven years, you know. We've lived together in hotels and tour buses and on vacations…we know how we all think and can fill in the gaps when one of the others isn't totally up to it. None of us are always in the mood to be 'up' all the time, you know? So…"

"You can sense that in one another and give each other a break from time to time?" he continues.

"Something like that, yeah." But it's getting harder to do these days. We're heading out on different paths with only one foot on the path we started. In-fighting, annoyance, frustration…I suppose it's part of the game, but damn, it's tiring sometimes.

Kevin

Why did I think this was going to be a good idea? They wanted emotions, they're getting them, but I feel like I'm walking a very fine line between staying in control and totally losing it. Part of it is because I am so tired that keeping it all together would be difficult anyway, but I haven't watched these home movies in a real long time and I forgot how…alive he was. I might get by if they let us do a straight shot, but going back and forth like this, the pause, rewind, replay…over and over and over is starting to really get to me. Thank God I don't actually have to sing because I'd keep losing my voice choking on tears if I did. You'd think after ten years I'd be over this by now, wouldn't you?

Normally I am. Normally I'm much better about it, but we've been traveling and partying and working all day on very little sleep, if any. I think I got about forty-five minutes and if I fell asleep now, I'm not getting back up. Kind of sucks for Kris waiting for me at the hotel, but when I get back there, I can guarantee I'm not going to keep my eyes open for long. She should be used to it by now, though.

"Cut! Let's get that side angle…"

"Can I get a minute?" I ask, pulling myself out of the chair. I can't go through it again. Between Brian, Howie and me the set is really kind of depressing. Nick's bored more than anything and AJ's holding himself together, but I'm not sure if that's because he's half drunk or half unconscious with sleep deprivation. Maybe both, for all I know. But it's not our usual happy-go-lucky, teasing, playful set. We're getting bottles and garbage tossed at us from the residents. Not that I blame them, I'd be pretty pissed if some assholes took over my street all night with lights and cameras and people… Maybe if we had Arnold Schwartzenegger or something they'd be more understanding.

"Okay, Kev, you ready?" I nod, taking my place back in the chair, slouch down and brace myself for the repeat

"Cue playback…and…action!"

"Life goes on…" Maybe if I don't actually look at the screen I might get through this. Close my eyes? But it's no good because he's in my head, looking at me, strong, sturdy, and proud. The man I loved and remember and miss deep down in my core. "Are you with me now…"

Please…I have to believe you are.



"He's still sleeping…" I know that voice. Kristin's…at least, I think it is. My brain is barely functional, though, so I'm not sure if I'm dreaming it or not. I can muster up the energy to roll over a little, and there's a mocking gasp. "He moves!" Okay, so I guess she really is here, but it's still hard to get myself more awake.

"Dude…" That wakes me up. It's AJ's voice, right next to my ear, and seconds later, there's a wet, slimy finger in it. Amazing how fast I can move when I was paralyzed seconds before. At first, I pull away cringing, he attempts to run, but he always forgets I played football. Falling out of bed I lurch myself forward and throw my arms around his thighs, tackling him perfectly. Then, I tug at his underwear to give him a massive wedgie.

Why, yes, we are eight year olds, why do you ask?

"Oh, baby, do it again!" he groans, leaning up and plants a kiss right on my lips like Daffy Freakin' Duck. Then tosses me onto my back and tweaks my nipple before sprinting away again. "Get up, dawg!" he calls, standing behind Kristin who's laughing. "Or I'll have to satisfy your woman…and you know, once you go AJ, you don't go back!"

Kristin turns and looks at him over her shoulder in pure doubt. "And why's that, AJ? They figure out who they're with throw themselves off the tallest building they can find?"

I drop back onto the floor, roaring in laughter. "I love this woman!"

"You poor thing." AJ shakes his head and looks sadly at Kris.

"Yeah, I know," she nods in understanding, "it's pretty pathetic, isn't it? But I can't help it. I kinda like the unibrowed oaf. He grows on you."

AJ lifts his hands and backs away with a huge grin. "I am so not gonna touch that," he laughs, pointing to me. "And you know that that is just wide open, don't you?"

"I know," I agree, pulling myself up from the floor. "You're a good man, Alex."

"Oh, the both of you!" Kristin waves her hand at them and rolls her eyes, then turns into the bathroom. "Children!"

I sit on the bed after AJ leaves, listening to the water running in her shower. There's a ring in my suitcase and every time I look over towards it, I feel as if it's bulging out of the pocket, so obvious. But even if she looked in there, she wouldn't find it. It's rolled up neatly in a pair of socks, orderly and arranged with all my other clothes. It's a safe secret…if I can manage to keep my mouth shut. If I can manage to get my nerve up and actually ask her. I did my prep work and asked her father back in November. I found a perfect ring in Lexington when I was there, but I haven't gotten the chance to ask her the way I want. It needs to be perfect. I've screwed around too much and if I want to show her how serious I am, it needs to be right. She deserves perfect.

"Get up or we'll miss our flight home!" she calls from the bathroom.

AJ

I wake up, blinking at the white walls in pain and groan to myself. Sunlight on white? Who the hell thought this was a good idea? Then I realize the sheets are white too, and the carpeting. My room is a fucking insane asylum!

There's a light tap on my door - guess what color it is - and my mom sticks her head into the room with a smile. "You're up!"

I cringe with the headache I have, close my eyes and wave my hands at her to lower the volume. "We have to paint this room, mom," I mumble, pulling the pillow over my head, sighing at the relief of darkness.

"Why? It's so light and airy," she says, and I feel her sit on the edge of the bed.

"That's exactly why," I mutter into the pillow.

"Well, I guess you have a project while you're home then, don't you?" She pats my leg and I peer at her from under the pillow. "What? You're too much of a star now to do some physical labor?"

I push the pillow under my head and rest my head on my hands. "Maybe I am," I tease. "Or, more likely, maybe I'm too much of a clutz. Think about it, ma…do you really want me handling a paint brush?"

"I wouldn't mind seeing a bit more of you," she tells me.

"How about we compromise and settle on having breakfast or something instead? Trust me, you don't want me painting this room. Unless you want to replace everything in here…like, everything."

She leans over and kisses my cheek with a giggle. "Don't sell yourself so short, Honey. But, we'll compromise. We'll have breakfast and go choose the color afterwards. Now, get up and I'll go make myself beautiful so we can go."

"What do you mean make? You already are!"

She kisses me again with a smile and touches my cheek. "You're so sweet to your old mom."

"Don't sell yourself so short!" I call after her as she leaves. She gives me another smile by the door and leaves as I drop back against the mattress. I try not to think too hard about things, but sometimes…

I sigh and roll onto my side. Sometimes I really feel like I'm the only thing my mother has when really, she should have so much more. She deserves someone to love her, someone to care for her…more than I can. A boyfriend, you know? But since dad, there really hasn't been anyone. Too busy working to make ends meet, take care of me, my grandparents, pay bills, keep the house clean, put food on the table. Then she started taking care of us, and the fans, and then took on the media. She's been too busy to have a life of her own, and she really deserves to have a life of her own and have someone take care of her.

And when I break away to do the things I want, I end up feeling guilty about leaving her alone. She did everything for me…how do I pay her back for it? How can I begin to pay her back for everything she's given up to give me all this? Jewelry? A car? Like that even begins to make a difference? Not that she's asking for anything… But still, it should be easier for her…for all my family. They worked so hard for so long, I have to do something more.

But first, I have to go pimp 'Save the Music' and then myself for Burger King… Man, it's elegant living the good life, huh?

Kevin

I think she may hear my heart pounding over the sound of the waves on the beach. If she can, she's pretending she can't. Although I don't know how she can't hear it. Or know…she has to know, right? How can she not know? I can barely make a full sentence, my hands are sweating, along with every other part of my body, I think. She has to know…she must.

But if she does, how come she's so calm? Is she expecting it? Does she already know what she's going to say? If she's this calm, she must already have an answer…does this mean she's going to say no? If she was going to say yes, wouldn't she be nervous? Shouldn't she be nervous? You'd think she'd be nervous…unless she's going to say no. Or would she be nervous if she said no? Worried about hurting my feelings or something? She's considerate that way…at least, I think she is. Do I know her well enough? Do I know what I'm asking her to do? What I'm getting myself into?

"You aren't even hearing a word I'm saying," she laughs, tugging my hand lightly before dropping down into the sand and sitting. "What're you thinking about all serious?"

She's supposed to be standing. I'm supposed to be down on my knee. How can I do this if she's sitting on the sand? I look out to the water, watching the orange sun spreading it's light onto the ocean ahead of us as the waves keep crashing and spilling onto the shore. I look back to her, and she's laughing. Well, not quite, but she has one of those truly happy smiles on her face. One of those smiles that make her look like she's going to bust into a laugh any second. That was one of the first things I remember about her. That first time I saw her, standing across the cafeteria, talking with her friends in that powder blue Belle costume… That wide smile, the purest smiles I had ever seen.

And she's sharing it with me right now, barely shaking her head while she waits for me to talk. Damn it, Kevin…talk!

"Uh…" Now or never, dawg. Now or never…let's go. "Do you remember what we did here?" She gets a devilish grin and lifts her eyebrows at me. "No, no, no!" I laugh. "That's not what I mean! What I mean is…" I sink down into the sand onto both my knees. "This is where I told you that I loved you for the first time."

There it is…the warmest smile I've ever seen. It spreads into her eyes and all her features soften. God, she's beautiful. "I still love you."

"You'd better," she giggles, leaning up onto her knees now and kisses me quickly.

"Well, the thing is…" Oh, what the hell…just get it over with! I reach into my pocket and pull the small box out, open it, and turn it to face her. Then I look at her. Her mouth is gaping open as she looks to the ring, and then me, and back to the ring. Then her fingers cover her mouth, and she looks back to me. "Kris…I love you. I've talked to your dad, and with his permission…" I take the ring from the box and take her hand. "I'm asking for your hand in marriage." Then I slip the ring on her finger and hold my breath.

She blinks at the ring on her hand, looks back at me, going between shock and smile and confusion. "You're not…" She looks back up at me, blinking. "Kevin…this isn't real…is it?"

I laugh…nervously, yeah, but I laugh and shake my head. "Yes! Yes, Kristin…it's real. I want you to marry me."

She shakes her head, looking back to the ring. "It's not real! It can't be!"

"Kristin! It's real! I swear to God, it's real!"

"But it's so big! It can't be…" She blinks back at me, slightly shaking her head. "It just…it's not real."

I take both her hands and sit back on my ankles. "Okay, Kris? Forget about the size and shape of the dang thing…you haven't answered the important question. Kristin Willets…I'm here, on our beach, after eight years of living and arguing, and loving, and laughter, and tears… I love you with all my heart and soul." I place a hand over my heart and make sure I'm looking directly into her eyes. "And I don't want to live without you. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?"

There're tears in her eyes, and slowly she begins to nod until she's laughing and crying at once. "Yes!" She throws her arms around my neck and clings tightly, repeating it. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes!"

February 2000

AJ

That is freakin' Elton John. Elton Freakin' John is standing in the same room with us…me. That's Sir Fuckin' Elton Fuckin' John! And we're going to sing with him. Can you believe that? We're going to sing with Elton John! If I wasn't so damn scared, I'd be doing back flips. I mean, Elton John! This is big time…like really big time. Almost as big as it gets…unless we win. Then that would be really big. Singing with Sir Freakin' Elton John and winning a Grammy. It's just not gonna happen. But if we don't win and Elton John is a consolation prize? What the fuck…I'll take it.

"You know, those things really aren't very good for you," he says to me looking at my cigarette. To me!

Kevin and Brian laugh and Kevin knocks my shoulder. "We've been telling him that for years to no avail."

"A guys gotta have at least one vice, right?" I ask with a smile, extending my hand.

"Yeah," Howie scoffs, "that would mean you'd have to pick one, dawg."

I smirk at him as he laughs lightly. "Don't let them get to you," Elton says with a wink. "There's always at least one nag."

I motion to Brian, Howie and Kevin and lift my eyebrows. "One?" I realize then that Nicky's not with them, standing silently behind. He's quiet and wide-eyed, actually behaving himself, as Kevin would say, which tells me he's in more shock than I am. Someone's gotta get pictures of this!

"Gentlemen?" An aide shows up in the door. "We're ready for you."

For being as star struck as we are, we manage to pull a lot out of our asses and harmonize pretty damn well with Sir Elton. He seems pretty impressed, but we wouldn't find out just how impressed until we heard the soundbytes that filter in a few days after the performance. As usual, we didn't win a damn thing…like that's a shock anymore? But we did get some props from the industry and Elton's asked us to work with him on some other projects he's got going on.

Can you get a load of that? The Sir Elton Fucking John asked us to work with him! Take your awards and shove 'em Mr. Grammy. We've got better things to do!

March

Kevin

Comic books…I want to groan and scream all at once. They really expect us to waste our time and effort on comic books? Comic books? Are we, or are we not in the music industry? Now we're selling our souls to Burger King and comic books… Is it really possible that we're regressing? We spent five years blowing people out of the water and promoting our musical abilities to end up hocking hamburgers and super heros on a kids meal. They have got to be kidding, right?

It's meetings like this…hell, days like this…that make me want to hunt down Lou and Johnny and…I don't know what I want to do. I just want to hunt them down and scream 'do you see what we have to do thanks to your trust and loyalty!'

But, we continue to sit in this meeting and go over details of it. I swear I'm going to end up every show with 'want fries with that?'

We could rise up against it if any of us could actually get a single, collective thought together and agree. Majority rule or some such thing, but it doesn't happen anymore. Half the time the meetings we have are done without half the fellas anymore. One of us always has some other engagement, or simply don't want to get out of bed to deal with it. I can't figure out what the hell is going on anymore. Do we have a say in anything anymore? Does anyone even care what we have to do anymore? Have we really reached the point of 'anything for a buck?' Are we really going to sell our souls to become Burger King Super Hero's?

But each time I think of the statements coming in, how much we owe to everyone for being stupid and naïve, do we really have much choice? We have to pay off the debt and the sooner we do it, the sooner we can take control of where it all goes after paying off the debt, right?

By the time I get back, Kristin's been reading the bridal magazines and talking to people again. She's bubbly and excited and starts asking me questions and the last thing I want to do is think about stupid crap. Do we want roses or lilies? Where did we want the rehearsal dinner to be? Do we want to get a list together now of places to go do a taste test? Where are we going to put up the guests? Did we want to block out rooms somewhere nearby? Chicken, or beef? Sit down dinner or buffet? Did I talk to…

"Stop!" I finally interrupt her sharply, lifting my hands up over my ears. "Just stop for a minute, will you?" She looks at me and tears fill her eyes like a scolded child. "I'm sorry," I start without sounding it, "but I just can't think about this right now." I try to ignore the tears in her eyes. "I just got out of a full morning schedule, Kris. I can't get bombarded with this sort of thing right now, okay? This is your thing…" I wave my hand at her, still trying to sound convincing and failing miserably. "I have other things to think about at the moment."

"My thing?" she asks wounded, and I just know I said the wrong thing somehow. I realize that with the growing headache that's climbing up the back of my neck to throb in my skull. "Our wedding is my thing?"

I flop myself down on one of the chairs and rest my forehead in my palms. "You know I don't mean it like that," I groan tiredly. "Please…let's not make a fuss about this right now? I just can't handle much more today, that's all. That's all I meant."

Before we can get any further into it, my cell rings and I feel that headache grow stronger. I rub my forehead and close my eyes wishing that there were some place on the planet where someone couldn't get a hold of me for about an hour. I answer, trying to hide the aggravation from my voice. "Hi, Denise," I look over and give Kristin a pleading look, hoping she understands and thankfully, she offers a small smile and touches my shoulder as she heads back into the bedroom. "No, you're not interrupting anything. How are you?"

This isn't a conversation I wanted to have right now, but there's a frantic mother on the other end of my phone desperate for help with her son. He wasn't at the meeting today for a change. The sun's up, why would he be at the meeting? Would he be anywhere before we have to drag his ass there kicking and whining? And yes, we've all seen it, realized it's becoming more of a problem than we want to admit, and somehow, I'm the one that Denise calls to be the voice of the fellas regarding the issue.

Some days I want to put an ad out in the paper that says 'NO, REALLY, I AM NOT THE OLDER BROTHER! I DID NOT SIGN UP TO BABY-SIT THEIR SORRY ASSES AND STOP ASKING ME TO!'

But I know Denise is worried about AJ. We all are, but no one knows what to say to him anymore. We've argued, we've discussed rationally, we've pleaded and tried to reason with him, but none of it matters any more. He doesn't want to listen to us. We're not telling him the things he wants to hear, so we must not know him very well anymore. At least, that what he keeps telling us when we confront him. We just don't understand him like his real friends do. Yeah, whatever, Aje, sure.

I do my best to reassure Denise that we'll keep an eye on him, whatever good that will do, and turn off the phone when we're done. I just can't do anymore today. When it's quiet, Kristin comes back into the room and slips onto my lap, smoothing my hair back. "You're having a bad day, aren't you?" she asks me knowingly.

I lift an eyebrow at her. "Super hero's don't have bad days, they just save them."

She offers me a sympathetic look and kisses my forehead gently. "So, it's a go with the comic thing, huh?"

I drop my head back and close my eyes with a groan. "Nick's beside himself he's so freakin' excited. And Burger King already has promo ideas…videos, cd's and action figures." The words barely make it out of my mouth without sounding harsh and bitter. "The whole thing is just totally out of control now."

Like it hasn't been since we started?

She's still smoothing my hair back and looking at me so gently when I open my eyes again. "Everyone's on board with it?" she asks. I nod and shrug helplessly. "What did Denise want?"

"AJ's AWOL again. She's just trying to find out what sent him off this time."

She bites her lips together, trying to hide a giggle. "Gee, you'd think comic book action figures would have him jumping for joy and running to every gathering, wouldn't you?" I have to chuckle a little with her. Putting it that way, yeah, maybe it's not such a big deal that he didn't want to be there. God knows I didn't want to be. "Sorry you're having such a bad day, baby," she says before kissing me quickly. "What's the rest of the schedule like today?"

"The usual…" I lean over her and pick up the pad from the table in front of me. "Press from 2:30 to 4, 15 minute break and then we're supposed to head over to the venue for a quick sound check before wardrobe and dinner." I toss the pad back to the table and drop back into the chair again. "So, what did you need from me before? Something about flowers and food?"

She shakes her head and puts her finger over my lips. "It can wait. Why don't you just go in and take a nap?"

"I'm actually going to head to the gym and throw a few weights through the wall or someone's head or something," I say. I wouldn't sleep if I lie down. I couldn't turn my head off if I wanted to. I keep telling myself that there's an answer to all this nonsense if only we could figure out what the hell happened to get us here.

"Can I do anything?" she offers.

I just shake my head. "Nothing to do. It'll work itself out eventually." It's my turn to kiss her quickly before she lets me up to change.

As I'm kicking my jeans off, she comes up behind me and places her hand on my stomach and thigh. Maybe the gym might have to wait. She kisses my shoulder as I watch her fingers slide over my body slowly. "Whatcha doin', there, darlin'?" I ask, placing my hands on her forearms.

"Just checking out the merchandise," she answers. "Making sure you're fit to be an action figure and all that. You've already proven your abilities as a Fairy Prince. It's quite a leap, you know, into the action figurine field."

"What?" I ask, reaching behind me and pulling her around front to face me. "Asking 'want fries with that?' isn't all I need to learn?"

She shakes her head, looking down to the boxer tent I'm making from her touch. "Repeat after me," she says, leaning up and kissing me warmly, "'have it your way.'"

"You can have it any way you want it, Darlin'…"

AJ

Nick wanders down the hall into my room with a blanket wrapped around him and a tissue in his hand. His hair is plastered against his head, his nose and eyes are all red and he's still wearing his pajama bottoms and tee shirt he's been in for the last two days. "Dawg, this sucks," he sniffles at me and falls down onto the bed.

"So give it to me, thanks, Asshole," I answer, kicking him away from me.

"Like you won't get it anyway," he answers before coughing into his shoulder. "We're all going down. Brian's already got a sore throat."

"Dude!" I stick my mouth and nose under my tee shirt as if that's going to help. He's right, one gets it, we all get it - and we all just got rid of the last typhoid, too. Man, I'll be happy when this tour is over and I don't have to deal with this. "Why the hell're you coming down here then? You want to make sure you pass it on?"

"To Kevin," Nick snickers and sniffles. "Only because he didn't believe me when I said I was sick three days ago. Ever notice no one is allowed to be sick with him?"

I roll my eyes and light up, causing Nick to wave his hand in front of his face. "And I can still smell that shit. I can't taste anything, or smell anything, but that?" He points to my cigarette. "It's the only freakin' thing I can smell. Dawg, this sucks."

"And again, why the hell are you spreading it to me?"

"Because you're the only one that's here," he answers. "They all went downstairs or something." Fuck! Schedule! There was some press thing, wasn't there? Fuck! I jump off the bed and rummage through the mess of my room looking for the schedule, wracking my brain about what I'm supposed to be doing right now. Journalist? Newspaper? "AJ…Aje…hey, what the hell are you doing?"

"What're they doing, Nick?" I ask, tossing things out of my suitcase. It was here. I know it was here. I just saw it.

He sits up, watching me rush around the room with such a confused expression. "Dinner," he answers slowly and I let the pile of tee shirts drop from my hands to look at him. His eyes widen. "What?"

"Dinner?" I ask. "Jesus, Nick!"

He sits up in complete confusion. "What?"

"I thought I had to be there or something!" I shove his shoulder and sit back down, giving him a kick for good measure. He's still watching me, barely at the foot of my bed now. It's my turn to ask 'what' this time and he shakes his head at me.

"It's not that big of deal," he tells me furrowing his eyebrows at me and sitting up, coughing. "Only to Kevin and Brian, but everything's a big deal to them anymore. Dude," he attempts to smile, "you need to chill."

I attempt a shrug and shake my head. "I just don't want to deal with the nervous Grooms right now, that's all," I tell him, hoping he'll buy that excuse. I don't need him to know I'm messing up more than I want to. He'd go right to Howie, and Howie'd go right to Kevin and I'd have another lecture in the form of concern blathered at me. "Man, I just want these damn weddings over with so we don't have to deal with their nerves about it. Poor Kristin…can you even imagine having to make wedding plans for a perfectionist? Shit…his head'll explode if it rains."

"He'll be too drunk to care," Nick giggles. "Are you kidding me? His brothers are going to have him doing shots of whiskey from the time he arrives until the time they send him off to Italy. They know how to keep Kevin chill. Kristin might be stock piling cases as we speak!"

"She would be if she's smart," I laugh.

"But she's marrying Kevin," Nick laughs back. "How smart can she be?"

I finish my cigarette and stub it out, sitting back against the pillows behind me. "I don't know, Nicky. He's annoying as all hell, but…"

Nick rubs his nose and sniffles again. "I know, he means well," he groans. "Remember when we agreed to take him on? I said that I had the right to kick him out if he started pushing me around? Think we can do that still?"

"Weird as it may sound, I think you had a better chance of that when you weren't big enough to throw him across the room by yourself." I nudge him again with my foot when he coughs at me. "I think we're stuck with him, dawg."

"I knew I'd get that answer. From the beginning, I knew I'd get that answer. No one ever listens to the little guy." He flops back on the mattress and rolls over in a coughing fit.

No one ever listens, Nicky. Instead, I go with the casual, "No one's been listening since we started, you freak. What makes you think they would have listened back then? If having Kevin meant Lou and Johnny would make more money, we'd have been lured into having Kevin some how. That goes for any of us. Hell, if Lou could have managed it, he'd probably have added *NSync to us if it meant more money."

Nick groans and laughs at the same time. "Could you imagine the dance steps? Fatima'd still have in that freaking warehouse trying to get us in step!"

"Fatima'd have quit by now and LOU would have been teaching us instead. It would have never worked. That's why he formed a separate group."

Nick leans up on his elbow and rests his head in his hand. "Why do you think he started another group? Really?"

"Really?" I ask, lighting another cigarette, letting my head wander over the reason's I've thought up over the years. I start with a sigh and shrug. "Something made him think we weren't going to be as big as he wanted us to be? Maybe he just thought we'd go along with everything and we were such a huge success, he'd do it again and double the profit? Bottom line…he pretty much thought we were dumb enough to take his bullshit as long as he dealt it out. Maybe we weren't supposed to know about it at all. Who knows what the hell he was thinking? I want to know how he can still think we're all bestest buddies. Sixth Backstreet Boy. He can kiss my lily white bought and sold ass." With that, I let one rip, making sure I lift an ass cheek up for good measure.

"Aw, Dawg!" Nick covers his face with the blanket. "Fuck, man! Cigarettes and AJ's farts! I can't smell a damn thing but cigarette's and AJ's farts!" He waves a hand in front of his face and sits up.