AJ

She really doesn’t look good. Thin, small, weak… Oh, man, I don’t want to think about it. What happens if she…Don’t think about it. But it looks like she…. Stop…stop thinking about it. Don’t think about it. She can’t live forever, though. But I don’t think I can handle it. Just thinking about it… Would you stop? Just stop thinking about it already! You can’t do anything about it. You can’t change anything. Let it go! But she’s my grandmother…I can’t just…what if…I can’t deal with her dy… She just can’t. What would we do without her? You’re just gonna have to figure something out now, aren’t you? She can’t live forever… If you don’t want to deal with it, then don’t. You can’t do anything to change it, so why waste the time worrying about it. Get over it. You just gotta get past it. Tell me how then. I don’t know how. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to get past it. She doesn’t look good. Mom says she’s not eating. She’s weak. She’s thin. She’s sick, real sick, and I don’t know what to do. Shut-up and deal, asshole. Take a drink and turn it all off…just tune it all out. It’s gonna happen no matter what we do. Tune it out, and let someone else deal with it. You’ve got enough to do, don’t you? People are starting to question, you know. They’re starting to watch you, and you keep fucking it up. They know something’s up… What are you gonna do about THAT? I can fix that! I just have to focus…just need some sleep, okay? All I need to do is sleep a little bit. And how do you plan on sleeping there, hotshot? We’re wired, remember? I can sleep! I just have to stop thinking…I just need to stop thinking! I just need…

What? What do you NEED, Alex? Huh? We’ve been waiting around for years for you to figure out what you need and you still haven’t figured it out yet, have you? You know what you need, you’re just too damn chicken shit to let it happen, aren’t you? AREN’T YOU?

STOP! God damn it, just STOP! Just…fuckin’…STOP!

One of us has to get through this tour…the press, the rehearsals, the travel, the meet and greets, the loneliness, fans, friends, fells, band, management, dancers, and now we’re going to sit here and worry about family? We have time for this? Dude, one of us has to get through this tour…who do YOU think it’ll be?

Kevin

“Has anyone seen AJ?” I ask, roaming down the hallway for the twelfth time in the last fifteen minutes, buttoning the third shirt they’re having me try on for the AMA’s tomorrow. We were all supposed to be here an hour ago, and, as usual, we’re wandering in in our own time, but everyone’s been here for a while. Everyone except for AJ, that is, and as usual, there’s answer on his cell, or his apartment.

“For the hundredth time, no,” Brian says, standing in the doorway next to where I’m trying on clothes. “He’ll be here.” I look at him, considering the black pants and green shirt he’s in and crinkle my forehead. “I know, I hate it too, I’m humoring them,” he says, cracking a smile. “See? Kev agrees this isn’t working.”

He turns and heads back into his room and I walk to the end of the hall and back to the stylist. “I’m not too sure about it,” I say, checking my reflection in the mirrors they have set up in the room. “Does it look…I don’t know…”

“It washes you out,” Hannah says, looking around my shoulder and tilting her head. “You need some color.” She crinkles her nose, studying me a moment longer and disappears, returning with yet another shirt for me to try on. It’s got color though, a ‘rich red’ she says.

I slip the shirt on as I head back to the doorway. Just as I’m about to ask about AJ, he comes strolling down the hallway, smiling and waving to people, grinning brightly. I’m glaring at him, but he saunters over, still smiling. “Red,” he checks me out, nodding. “It suits you.”

“Where the hell’ve you been?”

He ignores me, walking in to hug Hannah tightly. “Whadda ya got that’s gonna make me look hot, Hannah?”

She laughs, kissing his cheek and leads him over to a rack of clothes set aside. “Not that you need any of this, my dear,” she teases. “But try this first, okay?” She leaves him with the outfit and comes over to me, grinning broadly. “This definitely suits you.” She fusses with the sleeves and smoothes out the bottom. “Now we’ll give you some earth tones.”

“Ground him?” AJ asks with a chuckle, slipping a shirt over his head. “Chill, Kev, okay? I’m here. It’s all good.” I think he looses his balance, but he catches himself quickly, so I’m not sure. But I’m sure something isn’t right with him, I just can’t pinpoint what.

“Why weren’t you here an hour ago?”

He’s checking himself out in the mirror, turning sideways and then looking over his shoulder to check out his backside. “Traffic,” he says casually.

“And you didn’t answer your cell, why?”

“You called?” he asks, looking at me through the mirror. “Sorry, dawg, I guess I had the music too loud again.”

Always an answer…not just an answer, but a reasonable answer. He’s a smart guy and to anyone else, I’m being a hard ass, but there’s something not right here. I just can’t figure out what. I want to believe him. Believe me, I do, but my sixth sense is kicking my ass to figure this out; the lateness, the over sleeping, the going out, the new friends. I know what the signs mean, I just can’t catch him in the act. I’ve only heard stories, seen the results, had people call me with questions and worry. I don’t have proof of anything, and if I accuse him of doing something, this whole thing is only going to get worse. If I don’t do anything…this whole thing is only going to get worse. I watch him change into another shirt and exhale a deep breath silently. I just don’t know what to do.

February 2001

Kevin

Yeah, you could say I’m nervous, but not about what you’d assume I was nervous about. Performing isn’t about going out there and being in front of a bunch of people and singing, worrying about a bum note or a missed step. It’s moved beyond that a long time ago, although I don’t think I could tell you when or why. It’s about the whole package, now, somehow. About ten minutes before getting on stage, right after we finish our prayer, it starts. I look around at everyone, the band, the crew, the stage hands, wondering how prepared they are, how they’ll perform, how they’ll respond to us. I don’t really think much about the fellas anymore. We’ve been side by side by side for years now. We know each others’ strengths and weaknesses, how we move, when we move. We can read each others’ expressions, pick up slack, signal we’re losing stamina, whatever… We know each other.

Or, let’s say, we used to. I guess I’m thinking about all this now because for the first time in a real long time, I am looking at the fellas, questioning what we’re going to do about AJ, how we’re supposed to read him now that we don’t know who the hell he is anymore. But the real thing is, he’s fucking up just about everywhere but on stage. I suppose I’m just waiting for the rest of his screw ups to catch up with him there. Yeah, there’s differences…he’s out of breath quicker, his voice isn’t as good, but to the rest of the world? Not many people notice it, at least, they haven’t yet. I’m waiting for what happens when they do and what we’re supposed to say, if anything.

The things he has been missing, we’ve been able to postpone, or do without him, make excuses and apologies and cover it up. But there’s going to be a point when we can’t. It’s inevitable, isn’t it? When you know what he’s doing, how often he’s doing it, how much he’s doing… Screw what everyone else thinks, or might think, I’m just plain old scared about what he’s doing and who he’s becoming. I hate it. I hate him. I don’t know this guy, and to be honest, I don’t want to know this guy. Rude, self-centered, obnoxious, untrustworthy… I hate him. I hate that I’m standing backstage, looking at him and wondering what the hell is going to happen when we get out on that stage. What’s he going to do? Is he going to hold up? Is he going to hit the notes? Interact with us? The fans? Get the steps right?

Survive? Because let’s face it, we don’t know what he’s doing anymore. He’s not straight right now. He’s not acting weird. Doesn’t look stoned or high or whatever, but he is. The rest of us know he is. He knows we know , but he’s not going to admit it. ‘Too much coffee’…right, like caffeine’s ever effected him like this before? Too much sugar, too little sleep, out late, met up with an old friend, sick…he’s getting sick more in the last few months than he has since I’ve known him. And usually, if one of us gets sick, it becomes the Backstreet Typhoid and we all get it. How come AJ’s the only one getting sick anymore? We drink more juice than him? I doubt it… We know what’s going on, we just don’t know how to approach him about it, and when we do, we only get excuses or apologies. Once in a while, we get remorse and empty promises.

And I’m saying we but it’s not everyone. All of us are handling this in our own way. I started asking questions, but now I’m more sitting back and just observing…waiting for something. Brian’s switched from observations to attempting to talk to him more. Not that it’s working, and I think Brian’s sensing that. He’s getting more frustrated than I am if that’s possible. Nicky’s…not really confronting it, I think. I think he’s hoping it’ll all just go away, but he’s not big on confrontation and will avoid it as much as possible. And Howie’s being patient, making excuses when he can but still attempting to pull him aside and talk to him when he can. It’s got to be rough on him. Howie’s known him the longest out of any of us, and really, thinking about the kid even I met, it’s hard to sit back and just accept.

And that’s just the personal aspect of all this, but realistically, he’s putting all of us in jeopardy. Our reputation, our credibility…everything we’ve fought so hard to grab and maintain. It’s always been a balancing act to see what we can do, how much we can take, where the next step should be. And that was with all of us focused. AJ’s not focused anymore. He’s not coherent enough to make the decisions. He doesn’t care about the decisions and none of us can afford that. What one of us does becomes some kind of a reflection on the rest of us. It’s all of our reputations on the line whether or not we’re actively participating in the behavior. It’s just the way we’re perceived and until now, I didn’t mind. I love these guys and admire them. I trust them with my life – literally. I don’t trust AJ anymore, not unconditionally like I used to. I’m questioning his motives, his actions, his thoughts and I never had to question before. Deep down, I knew who we were. I knew the morals were right, their intentions were good. I don’t know what AJ’s intentions are anymore. I don’t think even he knows what they are, and out of any of this, that’s what’s scaring me the most. He’s lost who he was and if this is who he’s becoming, we’re not going to last much longer. One of us will have to go...

March 2001

AJ

Something is horribly wrong. I mean, really fucking wrong. I can’t keep my hands from shaking and my heart is pounding against my chest really fast. I’m sweating and freezing and can barely find the energy to roll over onto my stomach. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen. I’ve done this before, and it’s never happened. I’m just supposed to get sleepy…I’m supposed to just get drowsy and fall asleep. I’m not going to be able to sleep. I’m going to fucking die and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t call 911. The headline alone will be enough to sever all ties with my life. It might be better to just die than face that. But if that’s going to happen, damn, then, happen! Right now, all I am is scared and ready to puke, which may not be a bad thing. Isn’t that what they make you do in the hospital when you od? They just make you puke, right?

Come on, dude…puke!

“Alex?” Sarah’s sleepy voice is right beside me, and she sounds a little scared too. “”Honey? Are you okay?”

“I…I don’t know,” I stammer. Great, I can hear the tears in my voice. That’s really gonna freak her out now. “I feel really sick.”

She sits up and smoothes her hands over my face gently, leaning over to kiss my forehead. Dear God, I love her. I don’t want her to go through this. I don’t want to scare her like this! “What’s wrong, Alex?” she asks, scared but oddly calm at the same time. “What did you take?”

“Just some sleepers like I usually do,” I mumble, officially crying now, officially scared. “Just some sleepers.”

“How much did you drink?” she asks, moving away from me and going into the bathroom. I squint from the light and see that she’s looking for the sleepers. She’s not going to find them in there. They weren’t anything OTC. “How many did you take?”

“I…I don’t know…” I begin shaking with tears. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…I’m sorry.”

She comes back over to the bed, kneeling down in front of me and smoothes my hair off my face. “Shhh, I know, Honey. Calm down, you’re only going to make it worse if you panic. You’re okay, Alex. You’re going to be okay. I’m going to call…”

“No!” I snap quickly, wild in panic. “Don’t call anyone! It’ll pass. It will.”

“Alex!” She pulls back in shock, blinking at me in confusion. “You took too much of something! I don’t know what else to do!”

“Nothing…you don’t have to do anything.” I really wish I’d stop crying, but I can’t. I can’t stop. “Don’t… It’ll pass.”

She just blinks at me for a long moment. “You’ve done this before?” she asks, furrowing her eyebrows together.

“It’ll pass,” I just say, clinging to the sheets, silently pleading with God that it will. ‘I’ll stop if I live. I’ll stop if this goes away. I won’t hurt her. I’ll be better. I’ll shape up. I’ll visit my grandmother. I’ll be a better son. I’ll be a better friend. I’ll be a better boyfriend. I’ll fix it…just let me live to do it! Please, just let me live to do it! Just let me live…’

He must hear me because minutes later, I’m scrambling to the bathroom and puke my guts up. Sarah’s right beside me, her hand on my forehead, helping me hold my head up as I get sick. Is this the meaning of love? Isn’t this the point where they walk out on you or stay forever? Isn’t this above and beyond the call of duty? When I finally sit back, she hands me a cold, wet towel and I bury my face into it, the water-works starting all over again. Guilt. Shame. Disgust. All she does is gather me into her arms, letting me rest my head against her and she shushes me quietly, telling me it’s over now. “It’s okay now, Honey. You’re okay now. I’m here. Shhh, I’m here.”

But for how long?

Kevin

AJ’s sitting just outside the door of the warehouse we’re filming in, quiet and reserved and man, this whole thing has got to suck for him. I’m so proud of him for being here because I know that the last I’d want to do after burying a loved one is turn around and go back to work. But he’s here and holding it all together, and to be honest, it’s the last thing I expected him to do, not with how he’s been acting. I don’t know, maybe now that it’s all over, the dread and fear of his grandmother’s death, he’ll be able to grasp his life back again.

I go out and pull the cowboy hat off my head, squatting down against the wall and look out over the desert. “How you doing, Buddy?” I ask.

He lifts his head from drawing in the dirt with a stick and exhales. “I’m alright. Just thinking, I guess. I don’t really know.” He offers me a halfhearted smile and goes back to scribbling in the dust.

“If you want a break or something…” I start, but he just shakes his head.

“I’m alright,” he tells me. “I kinda like the distraction.” All I can do is nod in understanding. We all do this, don’t we? Avoid the big things by throwing ourselves into work. Somehow it’s easier to plow through the pain and deal with it when you’ve got some distance, I guess. I don’t know how healthy that is, but it is what we all do. “At least I was there sort of,” he mumbles, watching Howie walk over to the buffet table. “I got to say good-bye, you know? Tell her that I loved her, thanked her for…” his voice cracks and he covers it up by clearing his throat. “At least I was there,” he finishes.

I just put my hand on his shoulder and try not to focus on his tears. “She was a great lady, Alex,” I tell him.

He shifts and pulls back from my touch before getting up. “I’m just gonna go get something to drink,” he mutters. “You want something?”

“Nah, thanks.” Squinting into the sun as I look up at him, I can’t see his expression. He’s hurting and I just don’t know what to do for him. He’s going to hurt. There’s no way around it. I’d be more concerned if he wasn’t. He heads away without another word to me, but doesn’t head over to the buffet table. He heads to one of the trailers instead and I know what he’s doing. It ain’t a soda-pop he’s getting, but really, can I blame him for wanting to numb the pain right now? I wasn’t entirely sober all the time after I lost my dad. Is that healthy, either? Have we been giving him the wrong signals all this time? Who’s he getting this from? Is this something we’ve taught him, or something he’s brought with him from his childhood? Is there alcoholism in his family? I think his uncle…maybe? What about his dad?

I could go in circles on this for years and never find that answer, can’t I? I just want to protect him somehow and can’t, and I’m not good at helpless. None of us are, I suppose. But he’s not asking for help either, and I’m not going in there to start in on his drinking. He’s got enough going on right now. It’s not the time or place for this. I’m just stuck being concerned and worried for a while longer, I guess. I’ll keep an eye on him, but he’s not quite in the right frame of mind to get a lecture, is he?

I look around and all this really is fucked up when I think about it. I talk about morals and doing the right thing, but really…what the hell are we doing here now? What excuse is there for having to do this right now? He’s in mourning…can’t we even have time to grieve properly? And how about Howie? He missed saying good-bye to his sister because of scheduling. Brian and I barely had time off when our grandfather passed. Brian and his whole surgery… What the hell are we doing to ourselves? Didn’t we say we’d make the time after all that? That we wouldn’t let work get in the way of what’s important? What the hell are we doing? Again?

I jump when my cell rings, and keep looking at the trailer as I answer. “Oh, you don’t sound good,” Kris says hearing me. “It’s not going well?”

Just hearing her voice is comforting and I close my eyes, lifting my head up to the sun. “It’s going fine, I guess. We’re waiting around for a change.”

“How’s Alex?”

“He’s been better, but he’s holding up,” I say, glancing back over to the trailer. I sigh heavily and push myself up to lean against the wall. “I just want to finish this damn thing and I’m thinking too much.”

“For a change,” she teases knowingly. “What’re you thinking about, Baby?”

“That we weren’t going to keep doing this,” I tell her, that firm anger stuck in my throat. “He shouldn’t be here. He should be home with his family and dealing with his grief.”

“He didn’t want to be home, though, Kev. He had the choice, and talked it over with his mom, and they decided he should do this.”

Talked it over with his mom, yeah, right. “And his mother’s in the right frame of mind to make decisions like this? She just lost her mother! She’s not thinking straight either.”

“Kevin?” she says patiently. “You can’t make everyone’s decisions for them, you know that. Alex is doing what he thinks is best for him right now.”

“Alex is probably getting tanked in the trailer, right now,” I tell her, keeping my voice low.

“And you think he’d be sober if he was home? He wasn’t. Denise told you that already. He might be doing something worse if he wasn’t there. Think of that. You’re giving him something else to focus on. Not everyone grieves the way you think they should.”

“Well the world would be a lot better if everyone just did what I wanted them to!” I say with a laugh, knowing she’s right.

“Yes, dear,” she says placating me.

“Oh, stop, I know,” I grumble back at her. I lost count of the many reasons why I married her, but this is another one of them. Making me see when I’m being unrealistic. “I’m just…”

“You’re allowed to worry, Kevin” she interrupts. “Just remember that you can’t fix it, okay?”

April 2001

Kevin

“We’ll have to postpone it,” Bobby says clearly irritated, looking to us – me, Brian, Nick and Howie. And why do we have to postpone it? Because AJ’s missing! His cell is off, he’s not answering his phone and we can’t find him for a fucking change. I’ve had enough at this point, and if he walked in right now, we’d still have to postpone the press conference because I might be too busy twisting his head off his body to have it!

I’ve had enough…more than enough! When I wasn’t pulling my weight, my father put the fear of God in me and made me aware that I’d better shape up or face the consequences. What the fuck more can we do to make AJ aware that he’s not pulling his weight? What the hell else do we have to do? He’s got a therapist, he’s got Marcus being his babysitter and we still can’t get him to do what’s expected of him!

“Wanna try calling Denise?” Brian suggests, and I dial the number on my cell. It’s in my hand, having called every other number we know trying to find the Bastard. As it rings, I look at Brian. “This is the last call I make. If she doesn’t know where he is, we’re going to find him.” Brian clearly understands what I mean, and I think he’s just as pissed off as I am at this point that I might have to keep him from wringing AJ’s neck when we find him.

Hell, at this point, we’ll flip a coin for the pleasure.

“Hi, Denise, it’s Kevin,” I slip into polite-mode when she answers. “Hey, have you talked to Alex today yet? Do you know if he mentioned having any plans or something?” I hate bringing Denise into this. Hate it. It pisses AJ off that she’s one of our main contacts for him, but who’s fault is that? She’s one of the few people anymore that might have a clue where he is, and if she does, that’s rare. She’s scared, too, but possibly more helpless than the rest of us are. We get some kind of courtesy because we pay him, poor Denise is just ‘family’ and really gets the short end of the stick. She tells me she hasn’t heard from him in a few days. “Okay, we’ll take care of it,” I tell her, not sounding all that polite anymore. The last thing I need to be doing right now is going on a Goddamn manhunt for Alex and it’s clearly showing in my tone and I think I might have scared her when she asked what I was going to do. “We’re going to his house,” I tell her firmly, but thank her as calmly as I can as I start walking towards the door with Brian on my heels.

~

We make a few stops along the way, checking out the strip clubs and the pool halls before we head to his house. It may not be the best thing to have come with Brian, because by the time we reach AJ’s place, we’ve fed each other’s annoyance and anger. Thing is, we didn’t even really say much to each other the entire trip over…it was the tension and silence that fed us, but it was a lot of thick tension and silence. My hands ache already from gripping the steering wheel so tightly, and I’m flexing my hands as we make our way to the front door. His car isn’t here, but that doesn’t mean much. He’s got a habit of ‘losing things’ these days, or ‘forgetting’ that he lets people borrow his ‘toys.’ And there’s no answer when we ring the bell incessantly, or pound on it.

Thing is, there is no where else he could possibly be. It’s daylight…that means he’s got to be sleeping off what he did last night. There’s just no other place for him to be at this point. As I ring the bell again, Brian calls the house.

“Alex, if you’re there, you’d better get your ass up and answer the Goddamn door before we break in,” he says firmly, pausing to see if there’s any movement inside. “AJ…are you there or what? We’re coming in,” he warns. He clicks the phone off and nods in silent agreement as I rattle the doorknob. ‘Breaking in’ means we use the key to get in the front door. There’s a spare hidden because, like I said, he ‘forgets’ things when comes stumbling home.

“AJ!” I bellow as we enter the foyer, crinkling my nose at the stench. The smell of stale beer and cigarettes hang in the air, along with the stench of rotting garbage crawling out of the garbage pail greets us and Brian waves his hand in front of his face, wincing as it hits us. We don’t have time to take much of the mess in, just step over the crap as we head upstairs to his bedroom. “AJ, are you fucking here?” I bellow again, leading the way to his bedroom, and the door is locked. He’s fucking here, the Bastard. “AJ, you’d better be fucking dying in there,” I holler, rattling the doorknob, “or I’m going to kill you myself!”

There’s still no sound, no noise and for an instant, I’m actually worried that he is dying in there. I glance over to Brian and see the same fear on his face before I step back and land my heel into the doorknob swiftly. I hear the wood crack and do it again, gaining entrance into the black hole that’s his bedroom.

All I see at first is more mess, clothes scattered around the room, more stench to assault the senses, and a pile of blankets on the bed that sort of moves, kind of whimpers. “AJ?” I ask furiously, storming across the room, kicking things out of the way as I do so.

“I’m sorry, guys,” he whines.

I don’t know what the hell happens in me, but there’s a blinding fury that unleashes and I’m throwing blankets and sheets trying to get my hands on him. “You’re sorry?” I scream. “You’re fucking sorry?” When I finally do reach him, I shake him and toss his crying body back on the bed.

“I think I’m sick,” he tries to explain, but it’s just white noise in my ears. I want to kill him myself and just be done with this nonsense already!

“You think?” That’s Brian now, coming from behind me to get in his face. “Do you have any idea what we’ve been doing trying to get a hold of you?” he screams. “You can’t pick up a fucking phone when it rings to tell someone? You have to wait until we show up on your Goddamn doorstep to give us some lame ass excuse?”

AJ coughs, choking on a sniffle and remains quietly crying, huddled in a ball on the mattress. I’m faced with either pacing or placing my hands around his neck and opt for pacing, kicking his mess aside and sending shorts and tee shirts flying against the wall and furniture. “I’m sorry,” he whines at us and I roll my eyes to the ceiling and groan furiously.

“Well, do you think you might be better tomorrow because we’ve had to reschedule the press conference until then!” Brian screams at him, picking up the pillow from under his head and throwing it across the room. “Well, can you?”

“Yeah! Yes! I’ll be there…I’ll be better! I’ll take something…”

“I don’t want to know!” I cut him off, lifting my hands to cut off his excuses. “You’d just better fucking do whatever you have to do and fucking be there! Understood?”

“I’m sorry,” he quibbles again but I’m already out the door with Brian following closely behind. On my way, I slam my palm into a few walls and keep kicking shit out of my way…furious, just furious.

“This is going to fucking stop, Alex!” I scream as I make my way down the steps. “Do you hear me? It’s going to fucking stop!”

May 2001

AJ

I look up from the table, wiping under my nose just as the rush begins to hit me in time to see Nicky standing in the doorway, frozen. He’s got a peculiar look on his face. Sad? Confused? Disappointed? Curious? He’s just standing there, looking at me, then the table, then me. What do I do now? He’s obviously caught me…I can’t deny it. I do just what anyone else would do and offer him the straw without a word. He just stands there, blinking. “Dude?” I ask, lifting the straw up a bit more. “You want to try? I won’t tell.” He stammers a minute before shaking his head and saying no. “It’s no big deal, really.” He just says no again. “Well, would you mind either coming in or going out because I don’t really want everyone to know.” He realizes that the doorknob is still in his hand and to my shock, he steps in and closes it behind him.

Shit…he’s not going to try to talk to me about this, is he? He sits down across from me at the table and the hit is totally kicking in now, but I have to try and stay calm and collected so I don’t freak him out, even though I think he’s pretty fuckin’ freaked out. His fingers pick up the razor and he looks at it a minute before dropping it back down to the table. “What does it feel like?” he asks softly, avoiding eye contact with me.

“It’s like…Ah, Dude…it’s like that happy buzzed feeling you get when you drink, but like intensified. It’s like…remember that first time we walked out on stage and there were like a million girls screamin’ our names? Germany! It’s like Germany…only better. It’s like winning that first award, and being on stage the first time and that happy buzzed feeling all at once…intensified. Nothin’ can touch you, man…nothing.” It’s definitely kicked in because I can feel the energy and the excitement and my hands are flying in every direction trying to emphasize myself. “It’s like being awake and alive…skateboarding when we were little… Remember that feeling? Having good sex for the first time, only it lasts longer.” That one got him. He turned his head slightly and looked at me.

I turn my head back at him and lift an eyebrow, offering the straw again, but he declines. “They’ll kill me if they find out,” he says lamely.

“They?” I ask, looking towards the door. “Who? The guys? You think they haven’t done it?” I laugh. “Hell, Nick, they’ve all done it! Well, okay, maybe not Brian, but the rest? Hell, yeah, they’ve all done it before. They’re not all as goody-goody as they want to think they are. You’ve seen Kevin and Howie wasted before! What’s the difference now? They’re not? It’s okay to do it when they do, but not when they don’t? What the fuck is up with that?” All he does is sigh and slouch a bit further into the chair, glancing at the table. “You’re not gonna get addicted, Nicky. I promise. It’s normal to be curious.” He just sits there wordlessly and I’m ready to bounce off the walls. “Look, I’m not gonna pressure you, okay?” I get up and start walking around the room. “But listen, do me a favor. If you ever do want to do it, do it with someone you trust, okay? Don’t do it in some club with a bunch of freaks you don’t know just to be cool, okay? Make sure you know the guys that bring it, trust them, okay?” He just looks at me, eyes wide. “Okay? Promise me, Nicky.”

“Okay,” he says, backing into the chair slightly. Maybe I shouldn’t be standing over him like this? “I promise.”

“Good, okay…”

“Let’s go!” Kevin bellows from the hallway. “We’re late!”

“Know what it’s like, Nicky?” I say, pushing the stuff into the bag and shoving it into my suitcase. “It’s the total opposite of Kevin.”