Oreos
for Breakfast: Chapter One
By The Paperbag Princess and The
Pumpkin Coach
Page 1 | Page 2 | Page 3 | Page 4 | Page 5
"I love police escort night," I mused, bouncing in my seat as the van sped down the nearly empty highway. "It makes me feel important."
"You are important, little man," Frank deadpanned, glancing behind us for fans.
I stuck my tongue out at him, toweling off my hair. No time for showers tonight. Good thing we have a chartered flight to Los Angeles. "How long do we have?"
"20 minutes if we don't hit traffic."
"Cool. Hey, does this thing have a stereo?"
"Probably."
I leaned over my seat, rummaging through my bag and popped the CD out of the player. "Play this," I instructed, handing it to Frank.
Frank handed it to the driver and soon the guitar burst out, followed by Rachel's voice. Frank looked at me, "What the hell is this?"
"Sudden Silence. Don't they rock?"
He just raised an eyebrow at me and turned back to scanning for fans. Did he not like it? How could anyone not like it?
It occurred to me that I hadn't played this for anyone else yet. It was sorta nice to have something that no one else knew about. Just me and Rachel. Rachel, my little secret. Well, AJ met her, too. But he probably didn't give her a second thought.
Ah hell, it was just Frank. He was paid to keep my secrets. I sang along with the song and when it ended, Frank spoke.
"Really, Nick, where did you get this? Chick rock is not your style."
"That girl in the hotel in Raleigh, this is her band."
"Ah!" He leaned back in his seat, smirking at me.
Damnit.
"Vending machine girl."
"Her name is Rachel Connor and she sings and plays guitar and writes all the songs." I had perhaps studied the liner notes.
"More talented than you, then," he drawled.
I tossed my sweaty towel at him and he batted it away. "You forget, little man, I was there the other night. Just because I don't talk doesn't mean I don't listen."
"What does that mean?"
"She's out of your league. She's smarter and funnier and prettier than you. You're just all fired up because she could care less that you're in Backstreet."
I scowled at him, "That is so not it. Listen to this! How can you not like this?"
"Did I say I didn't like it? I'm just saying you shouldn't get all obsessed over her."
"I'm not obsessed!"
Which was a lie. Every song I sang tonight made me think of her. I fucking loved this CD, I hadn't stopped listening to it since she gave it to me.
"Stick to your own kind, little man. Give that nice Mandy a call, if that other one is boring you. Taffy? Tiffani?"
I didn't even give him the satisfaction of answering him, just glared and turned to look out the window.
Mandy! As if. Rachel couldn't be more unlike Mandy - looks, personality… intelligence - if she tried. Musical ability, certainly. And, Tiffani… He was right, I should call her. I was a lousy boyfriend.
The bus stopped in front of the airport terminal and Frank glanced behind him, "Three cars followed us. Not too bad. Just keep moving, no time for autographs tonight. The plane needs to leave quick."
"We're going in the front?" We never go in the front of airports. Cool. I put my ballcap on over my sweaty head and followed Frank out of the van. I could hear the girls getting out of their cars and kept my head down, trying hard not to look to the left or right. One of them screamed my name and I couldn't help but smile.
Once inside, Frank pulled me into a private lounge. We were the first? Cool. I threw my bag down on the couch and fell down next to it. Ripping open my bag, I realized that my CD was still in the van stereo.
"Frank!" I hollered.
"I'm right here, Nick! What? What did you forget?"
"Rachel's CD. It's in the van. You gotta go get it, dude."
He shook his head, "No way, little man. You're gonna have to live without it for 24 hours."
I glared at him, "I want it." I said sternly. "Or I'm not moving off this couch." I pounded my fist against my bag to emphasize my point and set my jaw. He fuckin' worked for me didn't he? I wasn't sitting on a 5-hour flight without this CD. Then I'd have to listen to AJ's music or, Lord forbid, Howie's. Nope. Not happening.
The door opened and AJ and Brian rushed in, "Dude! Did you see all the girls out there? They are quick!"
"Nah, there were only a few when we got here."
"Well, there are about 20 now. They were weaving in and out of traffic trying to keep up with us. Marcus here couldn't lose 'em, though." AJ patted Marcus on the back and he shrugged.
"There's only so many ways to get to a major airport, Aje."
I crossed my arms against my chest and looked back at Frank, "Well?"
He sighed and muttered something about me being a spoiled brat under his breath, "I heard that!" I called after him, and then turned to Brian.
"I love winning!" I grinned.
"What'd you win?"
"Made Frank go back and get a CD I left in the van."
Brian rolled his eyes, "Aren't you ever gonna grow up, dude?" He punched me in the arm and I ran after him, tackling him by the door.
My plan to sleep on the plane to LA didn't work. Well, it might have, but AJ decided he'd be "private jet DJ," and kept coming up over the loudspeaker and playing hip-hop loudly. At one point I thought Kevin was going to strangle him, but Kristin stopped him. Had to admit, she might not be that bad to have around. Kept Kevin happy enough… and off our backs for once.
"Niiiiiiiick! Whassup!" AJ crashed into the seat next to me, pulling off my ball cap.
"Gimme!" I grabbed it back, "Hat hair, dude!"
He shot me a hurt look, "I love you just the way you are, dawg. You ain't got to impress me! What you got in there?" He took the CD player from me and popped it open.
"Gimme that! You need to calm down, dude. Go bug Howie or somethin'!" I took the CD player back and turned up the volume.
"Touchy…" he grinned at me, reclaiming the CD player and racing down the aisle, "Keep way from Nicky!!! Catch me if you can!"
"Aje, it's a fifty foot plane, I think I'm gonna catch you!" I ran after him, tackling him in the aisle. But he'd popped out the CD and threw it to Brian.
"What's so important, Nicky boy?"
"C'mon Bri… my man… my friend… it's no big deal. I just met this girl the other night…"
They didn't even let me finish, choruses of "Nicky met a girl" went up throughout the plane and suddenly I had an audience of four horny men pumping me for details.
"Jesus, guys… I don't even know her name… Aje was there, too!"
Their eyes turned to AJ and he looked up and whistled, "I'm taken, dude. This one's all yours!"
"I'll take it! She's fucking beautiful."
"She was half asleep, Nick. I wouldn't call her beautiful. Besides, what is she, twice your age?" AJ grinned and looked over at Brian, "You know our Nicky, looking for a momma."
Now I was met with choruses of "Momma's boy," I was so not winning this round. I took a swing at AJ and he ducked quickly, taking the CD back from Howie and sprinting to the entertainment system.
"Let's hear the fair…Rachel, was it?"
I shrugged. "Dunno. She's cute. She's in a band. I've got the CD case in my bag, I think."
I
think… yeah, right. I stopped myself from reciting the liner notes to them
by heart.
But I didn't want the others to know about her. I don't know why, I just liked
the idea of having a secret for once in my life. Now AJ had ruined it.
"God, Nick," Brian started, "Not another Mandy. Dude, you gotta steer clear of the 'struggling musicians,' those girls will just chew you up and spit you back out. She's not touring with us. We're not signing her!" He proclaimed.
"Jesus, Bri… it's not like that. I mean, we talked for a couple of hours. She only gave me her CD because I figured out she was in a band. She didn't exactly volunteer the info."
There was a collective groan, "Nick, you are so gullible! That's the oldest trick in the book, man!"
I started to protest but was interrupted by AJ, "Okay boys take a seat and sit back to listen to the musical stylings of… what the fuck's their name… oh, here it is… Sudden Silence." Then he laughed and made a shushing noise. Jerk!
Please please please don't play one of the ballads, I thought as AJ pushed the play button. The fast ones are so much better!
And in a second I heard her voice blasting throughout the cabin:
Kevin stuck his head out of the back room and started to scream at AJ to turn it down, but stopped short. They all stopped ribbing me for a moment as they took in the power of her voice. It sounded so much better on the real speakers than on the dinky headphones I'd been wearing. Really rockin'! I couldn't help but smile as I bobbed my head up and down to the beat and fought the urge to play along with the drums. The drum line really kicked.
Just as the song ended, another blasted its way into the air. No 3 second gap, just like a rock show. I loved that. The music had this urgency about it, like she could barely keep up with the guitar line.
"Shit, they're pretty good, Nick. Wouldn't have pegged Vending Machine Girl for a rock babe," winked AJ.
I couldn't help but smile. See I'm not so dumb after all, am I? Show them to taunt me. AJ danced down the aisle and Kevin played air guitar on the other side of him. Cool.
After a few songs, they lost interest in harassing me and I went back to my seat, picking up the Nintendo and putting the earphones back on.
At some point I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew AJ was back on the loud speaker using his best flight attendant voice, "Hello, boyz. The local time in Los Angeles is… da da dum… 4 am. As in fuckin' early! Thank you for flying Backstreet Air, where our only aim is to make you happy. Please keep your arms and legs inside the plane - and around the girl of your choice, Kevin - until we have arrived safely at the gate and Brian has blessed the earth beneath us."
Brian threw a magazine at AJ's head and he caught it, "Thanks, Bri… I wanted to read this!"
I could feel the van shift, and pounded the steering wheel, cursing before Jeremy could yell at me. "Rachel!"
"Fuck off, J, like this has never happened when you were driving?"
I pulled over to the side of the road. Fucking trailer. One of the wheels was loose. It was entirely fixable, but only after we'd all yelled at each other for about an hour.
"If you were watching where you were going, you would have missed that rock in the road."
I turned to him in the passenger seat. Why the fuck was Jeremy sitting next to me? James got shotgun when I was driving, otherwise Jeremy and I would fight.
Just like we were doing now.
"Like you fucking saw the fucking rock? Thanks for warning me."
"Not my job, diva princess."
James caught my hand before I punched Jeremy right in his smug pretty face. "OK. Time out. Jeremy, let's fix the wheel."
"I can fix the goddamn wheel," I protested.
"We can all fix the goddamn wheel, Rachel. Jeremy and I will do it today."
"Why should I…" Jeremy started, and James opened his door.
"Because I fucking say so, you arrogant prick. Get out of the goddamn car. You too, Darien. Give Rachel three fucking minutes to herself."
Jeremy started to protest and James literally pulled him out of the car. I heard Darien slide out and I collapsed against the steering wheel. I'd been driving for five hours. I was not doing the next shift; I don't care if I had been five minutes late this morning.
I could hear the three of them arguing and I put my hands over my ears. I had been trapped in this fucking van with them for nearly two months now, as we criss-crossed the country supporting an album that was going fucking nowhere. I was so sick of Jeremy I couldn't stand it. Why had I ever let him back in the band?
I wondered how life was on the Backstreet tour buses. A bus all to myself to get from show to show. Blessed solitude. What did they look like inside? Did they have beds? Showers? I'd gotten up too late to shower this morning, and I felt like hell. I wanted a shower, and a massage, a nice bed, and a meal from room service.
I sat up with a sigh. I could at least eat. Grabbing the cooler from behind my seat, I opened the door. Fuck, it was hot. But there was grass on the side of the road, and a tree, for a bit of shade. Better than being in that van for one more second.
I sat down, looking over at my boys. James and Jeremy were sniping at one another, but fixing the wheel, Darien was hovering over them. He wasn't exactly the handyman of the group. We never even let him plug in the amps, he was always turning up something too high. Drummers were, by definition, deaf, I think.
I opened the cooler and whimpered. "Darien! You need to go shopping!"
Darien could shop. Once a week, we all gave him 20 bucks and he found a grocery store and stocked up on road food. Jeremy couldn't be bothered, and James and I were hopeless, we always ended up with Cheetos, oreos and beer.
Darien came over to me, looking into the cooler. One beer, one bottle of water, and an apple. We exchanged a look, then both went for the beer. I won, gloating at him. "Ah, you deserve it." He sat down next to me, opening the water and looking over at Jeremy and James. "Can we kick him out again? Please?"
I shook my head. "You're the one that took him back after I kicked him out, sweetheart."
He sighed, falling back on the grass. "Don't remind me."
I didn't want to remind myself. I couldn't quite stand the fact that I was still in a band with my ex. Not that Jeremy and I had precisely been a happy couple, we'd been forever cheating on one another and having ridiculous fights at soundchecks. But the band had always been doing ok, at least enough to pay the bills without having a real job, so why fuck with it?
I'd kicked him out of the band about a year ago, because it was my band, damnit. James and I had started it long before I ever met Jeremy. Maybe Jeremy was the one with ambition. Maybe he was the one that got us beyond playing college crowds and onto a real record label. It was still my band and I'd kicked his cheating whiney ass out.
Then I moved to London to be with a stupid boyfriend. And then my dad died, and that changed everything. I surfaced from two months of grieving and writing moody songs to find that James and Darien had taken the asshole back.
Darien reached up, rubbing my back. "You've got that broody look on, Rache."
I sighed down at him. "I'm tired, Darien. I want to go home."
"Three weeks."
I whimpered, making him smile.
"We get to go to Philly next week, you can hang out with Bayley, instead of us stupid boys."
My entire life was boys, it seemed. It would be nice to see a girl for a change.
"When we get back in the van, I'll drive, and I'll let you play your Backstreet Boys."
I laughed. "What do you think it's like, having your very own tour bus? Think they have kitchens, and showers, and stuff?"
He grinned at me. "I bet they've got them all personalized and shit. I'd set mine up with a vibrating bed, for the ladies."
Darien could always make me laugh.
Frank poked his head inside the trailer, "Little man, press conference in 5."
I couldn't believe we were doing this, flying 5 hours across three time zones for a 25-minute show. But it was LA and a major radio station, I guess. I just did what they told me to. I threw the CD player in my bag and bounded out of the trailer, joining the others.
They lined us up behind the press table and before we had a chance to sit down, the inane questions started. Are you breaking up? When are you touring xyz country? Do you think that you've lost your edge to 'NSync? Blah blah blah… I tuned out most of it, letting the other guys field questions.
"Nick…"
I heard my name from the front row and I looked up, smiling at a pretty blond reporter. I squinted, but couldn't read her name off the press credentials hanging around her neck. She smiled at me.
"I heard you've been promoting a band from your hometown in Florida. How is that going and do you have plans to help any other up and coming bands make it big?"
"Yeah, I'm working with BIK, Born in Kaos. That's the group in Tampa. They are rockin'. Really really great music. You'll all love them. They're in the studio now and we're working on finding them a label. I'm really not doing the producing or anything, just lending them my support. Helping them get gigs and that kind of stuff."
I stopped to take a breath, but no one else jumped in, "I think it's really important that people know that we - the Backstreet Boys - we like all different types of music. Howie here is really into Latin music and AJ listens to a lot of hip-hop. Brian likes all kinds of music - country and western, gospel. All those influences come into the Backstreet sound."
Another reporter stood up, "So what's in your CD player right now?"
I smiled, "My CD player? Awww… a great group! They're new, I think… no they've been together a while, although not as long as we have." Everyone laughed, "You all would really like them and KISS should be playing them, so should KROQ!"
"And better than that Willa Ford crap you're playin'!" AJ teased the group from his end of the table.
"Oh man, way better than her! But we won't go there right now." I could see Kevin flinch. I was so gonna get yelled at later. "Anyway, they're called Sudden Silence. The woman who fronts them, Rachel Connor, she's got an amazing voice. Really great. Check them out!"
We stepped off stage and my ears were still ringing from the crowd but there
was no way of mistaking the voice. She called my name and I turned around. Fuck.
"Mandy!" I tried my best to be cheery, using my best fake 'so glad to see you again' voice. I had to admit, she looked great in a skimpy halter top and tight jeans that showed off her slim figure. Everyone neglected to mention to me that she was on the bill.
She threw her arms around me and planted a kiss on my cheek as I heard a camera click. She whispered, "Thanks, that'll be another press bump."
I groaned. I didn't want to deal with her all day. I glanced over at Frank who stepped between us, "Sorry Mandy, but we're late. You know how it is."
She glared at him, "Don't fuckin' push me around, Frank. I do know how it is and he can be spared for 5 fuckin' minutes to talk to me. They just came off stage, let the poor boy catch his breath. You can take 5 minutes for me, can't you Nicky?"
She flashed me a smile, bending slightly at the waist so I could see down her halter top briefly. Damn if she wasn't hot. I rolled my eyes at Frank, "Give me 5 so I can talk to that nice Mandy… isn't that what you wanted me to do the other day?"
I moved away from the guys and she followed me back to my trailer, "So…" I started once we were safe inside and away from cameras, but she cut me off.
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing!" That was my Mandy. Starting every conversation with an accusation and about 10 decibels above normal.
"What are you talking about? I haven't said anything bad about you to anyone." I'm not that stupid, I just about muttered under my breath. "You on the other hand, have taken every opportunity you can to bad mouth me and the band and my family."
"Everything I say is true and you know it." She narrowed her eyes at me, "I'm sorry if they don't like to hear the truth."
We stared at each other for a moment in silence. "What did I do this time?" I finally asked, trying to keep my temper.
"Back there in the interview room. Comparing your new girlfriend to me. Calling my music bad!"
"What the fuck are you talking about? I'm dating Tiffani, and last I checked, she didn't have a record contract. Although I'm sure if you had your way, she'd break up with me anyway." I added for good measure.
"Don't blame me that no one will date the fat Backstreet Boy!" She sneered.
She was inches away from me and I've never wanted to hit a girl so bad in my entire life. I punched the side of the trailer instead and Frank opened the door before my hand was back by my side.
I glanced back at him and nodded, "Fine Frank, just bumped my hand against the wall."
He came inside, though. I was actually surprised that he left me alone with her. He knew how crazy she made me, her uncanny ability to push all my buttons and make me say things that I'd regret later. I sighed and pulled her away from the door.
"If you're referring to the press conference in there, no one was listening. I mean, it'll be shown on the Internet and fans will watch it and my fans already hate you. Big deal. I'm sorry I compared you to Rachel. That was out of line," I lied. Her face softened.
"Play me when you're on TRL next week." She cooed.
"What? You're joking, right?"
"No I'm not. I'm bubbling under on TRL and I want to be on. Tell Carson that you love my single and the video is great. Hell, tell him if he plays it I'll fuck him. I don't care. I just want to be on. Okay?"
"Or what? Don't be such a fucking diva!" I couldn't believe I was standing up to her, but here I was. I didn't dare look over at Frank who was watching this whole thing.
"Or all those phone messages and letters that I have from you will find their way out of my secret hiding place. 'The intimate thoughts of Nick Carter,' think that title will outsell Mommy's tell-all?"
She turned on her heel without waiting for me to respond and slammed the door to my trailer.
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