Oreos for Breakfast: Nick BSB Fiction

Oreos for Breakfast - Chapter 21

By
The Paperbag Princess & The Pumpkin Coach

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The pretty woman behind the counter smiled at me and took my credit card, "One way to LAX?" she questioned, and I just nodded.

"Yeah, that's fine."

I'd worry about the return flight once I got there. It'd take the fellas and Frank a couple hours to figure out I was gone, and by then I'd be in LA.

Hopefully. It wasn't like I was running away, really. I'd be back… I just… what? Didn't want to hear their advice again? See Frank's disapproving look? Yeah. I knew the guys were just trying to help, but they weren't. I couldn't just sit around and wait for Rachel to call me back. I knew she wouldn't. I 'd done the unforgivable. How many times did she have to tell me that lying was the one thing she couldn't tolerate?

Maybe subconsciously that's why I'd done it. Because she always been the one calling the shots. I'd seen her when her schedule permitted. We'd talked when she wanted to. It'd been all about her. Ever since I' met her, my life had turned upside down, and it'd been all about her.

"Here you go, sir." The woman handed me my ticket, with a smile. I smiled back thankfully, glad for something to distract me from my thoughts.

Ever since I'd left Vinnie in Minneapolis, I'd had entirely too much time to myself. "Gate A-10 down the hall and on the left. They'll need your passport, and it boards in about half an hour."

Too long to wait. What if someone came looking for me? But I took the ticket and shouldered my backpack, heading off for the gate. I pulled out my wallet after I got through security, and it was empty. Damn, I was bad at this real life stuff. I'd probably need cash for a car once I got to LA… or a cab, at least. I didn't really know where I was going; someone else always took care of those little details. Rachel would so be laughing at me.

Especially when it took me five minutes to get money out of the cash machine. Damn. Had I changed my pin number recently? I finally remembered it. My birthday. Duh… 0128.

Rachel probably had elaborate passwords for everything - her credit cards and ATM cards and email accounts. Bet she never forgot them either. I was used to people just handing me money when I needed it. Or better yet, just not needing it. You'd go to a club or restaurant, and people would just give you stuff. Stuff like that still freaked Rachel out. How long would it take her to lose the ability to take care of herself? I'd never had that ability. I went from having Mom do everything to relying on managers and the fellas and Lou. It was just so easy to let people do things for you, so you could concentrate on the stuff you liked. The music.

I crammed my newly acquired money into my wallet and headed back to the newsstand. I'd get some junk food and a magazine or something to kill the time before my flight. I scanned the magazines and nearly choked when I saw the headline on The Star. What the fuck? This was a fucking joke, right? Had to be! "Backstreet Boy A Sex Addict?" proclaimed the headline with a grainy picture of me next to it. Fuck. Me! Not AJ! Hell, what about Kevin? He was the one having an affair. No, I'm the fucking sex addict.

That didn't even look like me. I squinted at the photo again. It was grainy and all… just like all tabloid photos were. Man, they paid a lot for these stories. You'd think the least they could do was to get quality photos. I'm sure there were a ton of shots of me that fans would sell.

Right, I should be encouraging the tabloids to show better pictures of me with fans who sold me out to them?
I was so stupid sometimes.

And picking up girls with Vinnie and then partying in my bus had so been one of those 'stupid moments.' I reached for it, but then noticed the girl at the counter looking at me. Fuck. That's all I needed… to be recognized in the airport reading a tabloid article about myself.

I considered calling someone. But who? Connie, probably. If The Firm didn't know about this now, they probably should. The tabloids were looking for any dirt on us after the whole AJ thing this summer. They thought they'd hit pay dirt with that, but then Kevin had gone and cheated on his wife, and now they were proclaiming me to be a sex addict. Brian and Howie had better watch their backs.

Sex addict. That was pretty fucking funny. I bet half the guys in this airport scored more than I did. Okay, maybe not. But close. I'd spent half my life hanging out with the same 4 fellas, and that could really ruin your chances with a girl when you were a teenager, even if the fellas were pop stars.

Fuck it. I had to know what that bitch had said about me. Hell, I wasn't even sure which girl it was. I grabbed the paper and a roll of Lifesavers, not looking up at the girl as she rang me up. I handed over a few dollars and waited for my change, practically holding my breath. But she barely even glanced at me. She loved her job, didn't she?

I stifled a giggle as I walked away, remembering Rachel and James ranting about customer service in Canada a few weeks ago. They got silly when they were tired, and some girl at a café had forgotten to refill James' water glass or something… I forget now, but it turned into a 10-minute tirade against the downturn in customer service in other countries.

God, my heart ached with missing her. Everything seemed to remind me of her… and left me with this empty feeling in my stomach. Is this what love really was? I don't remember ever feeling this way with Mandy. Maybe at the beginning. Right after we got together I had to go away for two months - promo stuff or something - and she'd call me every day and we'd talk about everything and nothing. I remember hanging up the phone once and feeling like I was going to be sick, I'd missed her so much. But it hadn't lasted long. After those first few months, we'd started fighting more and then it'd seemed like we'd fight to break up just so we could get back together.

Not Rachel. We had stupid fights, but not all the time. And I missed hearing her rant about silly things and laughing at me when I didn't notice them. I noticed a lot more now because of her, though. Did she know that? A few months ago, I wouldn't have had the slightest clue how to book my own flight. Okay, I could have done it if I had to… if my life depended on it or something. But I wouldn't have bothered. No way I would have snuck away from the guys and Frank to go see Mandy on a whim. Never. I'd have stayed pissed off at Mandy and made her apologize, just to see her squirm… even if I was the one who'd fucked up.

What the hell was I doing?

I fell into a corner chair at my gate and waited for them to call my flight, pulling my ball cap down over my head and opening The Star. Well, at least I rated The Star. It wasn't News of the World or anything lame like that. I bet some of these stories were true, even.

Hell, mine was true… sort of.

Backstreet Boy Is A Sex Addict, Reveals Bus Buddy

It's been a summer of scandal for America's cleanest boy band. First Backstreet bad boy AJ McLean is admitted to an Arizona rehabilitation clinic for treatment of alcoholism, drug abuse and depression. Then the oldest Backstreet "Boy" admits to cheating on his wife with one of the band's dancers. Now the youngest member of the pop super group looks to be following in his brothers' footsteps.

According to a close, personal friend, Backstreet Boy Nick Carter - the blond, clean cut one who makes all the girls scream - is battling his own demons of sex and drug addiction. "Nick is going down a bad road," the friend reveals. "We're all concerned about him. On the outside he looks like he's such a good kid, but he has a dark side. Destructive."

Recently Carter was forced to confront some of these demons when his girlfriend of a few short months, Rachel Connor of the up-and-coming pop group Sudden Silence, left him - reportedly after she found out he'd cheated on her.

She could not stand Carter's womanizing and drug use, according to a friend of both Carter and Connor. "She's a sweet girl - although she has a crazy side. She doesn't mind sharing her boyfriends, but she wants to be in the room at least. He must have broken that rule."

With Carter and Connor's band websites and fan chat boards ablaze with speculation as to what broke up the Backstreet Boy and his new love, The Star spoke with the woman who knows all. She was with Carter and a friend of his recently and tells a story of sexual depravity and drug use that rivals hard rock acts like Aerosmith and the Rolling Stones.

"I thought he was a sweet guy," Nick's friend, who declined to be named, told The Star. "We met in the hotel bar, and he and his friend were going to take the bus to the next town. They asked my friend and I if we wanted to come along. We are such big fans. I thought, 'why not?' They'd been drinking a little, but Nick's always been my favorite. And I'd heard other girls talk about what a gentleman he is."

But apparently Carter and his friend were in no mood to be 'gentle' that night. Carter's bus buddy tells of a night that began with drinking everything Carter's elaborate on-bus bar had to offer before moving on to other drugs and wild sex.

"Sure, I knew that he might want more than a good night kiss on the cheek, but when he ordered my friend to kneel on the ground so his friend could have sex with her while we watched… that was just more than I could have imagined," says the visibly shaken girl.

Why is she telling her story to The Star? "I want other girls to know about him. He looks all sweet and innocent, but he's not. I mean, he was so wasted he couldn't even remember my name."

"I still really like him," she continues, gazing at Carter's picture that still adorns her dorm-room wall. "I guess I just want him to get the help he needs. If AJ could ask for help, he can, too."

She was joking, right? Had to be. She and her friend totally came on to us! Okay, I couldn't quite remember her name. That part was right. But I never remembered anyone's name!

And I'd been wasted, but I never forced her to do anything. Neither did Vinnie. Hell, I was nearly too drunk for anything. The sex on the floor thing was all her friend's doing, right? I tried to remember that night. Yeah, I asked them to leave when we'd started having sex. I even told Vinnie that I didn't need an audience!

I crumpled the paper up in a ball and threw it in the trash can as they called my flight number. Fuck. This was going to look so bad. I mean it was sort of true. Not that I needed rehab like AJ, but hell… I was smarter than that, right? What the hell was I doing bringing girls onto the bus and shit? Fuckin' Vinnie! I blamed him. First Rachel and now this… I was never listening to him again!

Hopefully Rachel didn't see this because if she did, I had no fucking chance at getting her back.

I started to follow the boys back to our fake bathroom to put real graffiti on the walls, but suddenly Saffron was in front of me. She looked a little… aggravated. Worried? Both? Something wrong with the video? "Rachel? Can I talk to you for a second?"

James looked at me, but I waved him away. She was probably only going to tell me that they wanted me in another stupid T-shirt. Or a short skirt this time. I told them the skirt was fine for the date scenes, but I was not wearing one onstage.

Oh, shit, she didn't find out about me and the guy from the video last night, did she? I knew that was a bad idea when I agreed to have a drink with him, and was decidedly a disaster when I invited him up to my room… I was dumb sometimes. And I really wasn't used to people caring who I was. That was weird. The other night I'd picked up some guy at the bar after our show, and he'd turned out to be a fan. He knew more about us than we did. That was just freaky.

"Don't read the tabloids today, okay?"

"Not even 'News of the World'?" I joked. "I am very into the adventures of Bat Boy."

"Alright, just avoid The Star."

"Cool." Then it hit me. I needed more caffeine. I was slow on the uptake here. "Why?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing. Connie and I have it under control. Just say 'no comment' if anyone asks."
Connie? Wasn't she one of Backstreet's people?

"What did he do?"

Saffron sighed. "Probably nothing. Some girl sold her story of an orgy on his bus. I'm sure she's making it up."

Probably not. He'd called me about that Jasmine girl, and I knew that meant sex with more than just two people. Bastard. It wasn't bad enough that it was over, it had to be in the fucking tabloids? And on the bus? That bed he had was nice and all, but three people on it? That was an accident waiting to happen.

"Am I in it?"

"No, no," Saffron assured me. "Just that this is why you broke up, blah blah blah. It's stupid. I wanted to warn you, but I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry."

"No. Thank you. Can I get a copy?" She gave me a skeptical look, and I tried to look confident. "I'd rather know than imagine the horror. Do you have it?"

"Not yet. Someone's bringing me a copy. I'll share when I get it."

Less than 20 minutes later, the boys were filming one of their scenes, and I was back in my trailer staring at Nick's picture on the cover of The Star. At least it wasn't the main headline. No horrible Photoshopped picture of Nick and some girl kissing or anything. Just a small, horrible picture of him looking pretty wasted up in the left-hand corner next to the incriminating headline.

Sex addict? My Nick?

Well, he wasn't mine anymore… but still. Sex addict? Okay, the boy had some vices, but I don't know about that. But just how well did I know him? Obviously not very well if I believed that he'd loved me, even for a moment. Now it was here in black and white - he'd never loved me.

Not able to take the suspense any more, I flipped open the magazine, passing over the fashion don'ts - James and I would laugh about those later, I was sure - before landing on Nick's page. Another bad photo of him, this time he had his head down as he walked through the lobby of some hotel.

He looked stoned in this one, his eyes watery and red. Great. Next they'd be saying he was a drug addict.

I read through the article, feeling my stomach tighten with every line.

"On the outside he looks like he's such a good kid, but he has a dark side. Destructive."

Okay, he drank a little too much, especially the last few weeks, but it'd been hard, with 9/11 and Danny and everything. Cut the man a break! It's not like he was drinking first thing in the morning or anything. And he never went on stage drunk. Hell, he'd yelled at me more than once for smoking or drinking before we went on stage.

"Recently Carter was forced to confront some of these demons when his girlfriend of a few short months, Rachel Connor of the up-and-coming pop group Sudden Silence, left him - reportedly after she found out he'd cheated on her.

Okay, that bit was right. What did they say about these magazines, that there was a grain of truth in every rumor?

I got to the next paragraph and about bit a hole through my tongue so I wouldn't scream out loud.

"She's a sweet girl - although she has a crazy side. She doesn't mind sharing her boyfriends, but she wants to be in the room at least. He must have broken that rule."

My head was spinning, but I forced myself to read it again. According to a close, personal friend of Carter and Connor? What the hell? We didn't have any friends in common. Well, not unless you counted his group and my band…

I had Jeremy by the arm, pulling him into the nearest trailer, before I could think twice.

"Fuck you, Jeremy! My whole fucking family is going to read that damned article! You bastard!"

He looked at me, stunned, rubbing his arm where I'd grabbed him, "What the fuck are you talking about, Rache?"

"This!" I screamed, shoving The Star in his hands. "Page twenty-fucking-two! Your lovely quote there for all the world to see. About how I don't fucking mind if my boyfriends sleep around, I just like to be in on the action!"

I was so angry I could barely think. I scanned the room for something I could hit or break or throw. God damnit! We were in the wardrobe trailer and there were mirrors everywhere.

"You think I talked to this rag, Rache?"

"Duh! Who else? We don't have any friends in common, you idiot. It had to be you… who else knows? First you pull that shit on Lovelines and now this. Do you want me to throw your ass out, or are you just trying to get me to quit now?"

"Fuck you, Rache!" Jeremy snarled, rolling up the paper and hitting his knee with it several times. "I didn't talk to anyone. I wouldn't do that to you! You know that."

"Obviously not!"

"Well, you should."

Our eyes met, and I crumbled. I felt like someone had pricked me with a pin and I was deflating. I knew every line on his face, and I knew those eyes. Jeremy could be a shit, but he wouldn't sell me out. He'd never purposely hurt me like this, would he? I fell into the chair across from him, and he reached out for my hand.

"Rache… "

I shook my head, "I'm sorry. But who? Everyone is going to read this! My family… fuck! My mom's going to read this and know what a slut I am!"
I felt the tears finally spill over, and I wiped them away angrily. I hated crying in front of Jeremy. It made me feel so weak. But he didn't even flinch. Instead he pulled me off my chair and onto his lap, rubbing my back and letting me cry for a moment.

"First, you aren't a slut, Rachel. And second… your family won't care what this stupid tabloid says about you. They know you. They know you're a daddy's girl. You're the girl who makes her brothers secret-ingredient waffles for breakfast. Think they want to think of their little sister involved in some sordid three-way sex orgy? And your mother! She doesn't want to think about her little girl having sex. Bet you a hundred bucks that you could call her now and she'll be angry about those mean people lying about her little girl."

He mimicked my mom's voice as he said it, and I couldn't help but smiled at him. He was right, wasn't he? My family wouldn't believe this trash. Hell, mom hadn't even told the girls about me and Nick breaking up… Then it hit me… the girls. Shit!

"I have to call and warn them, J! They don't even know we broke up!"

"I thought you said you were calling your mom earlier?"

"Yeah, she knows, but not the girls. I bet this is already all over the boards, too."

"Call them then. I think I can stall. It's nearly time for a lunch break or something, I'm sure."

I got up off his lap, and he went to the door. Before he could leave, I grabbed his arm again, "Sorry, J. Really. I don't know why I always jump to the worst conclusions about you."

He smiled at me, "I do. You're a drama queen, Rache. You like the attention." I frowned and started to protest, but he talked over me, "No. You do. You like the drama and feeling special. Not that you wanted this article to happen… but that's why you like to fight with me. Hell, I kind of like it, too."

And with that he turned and left me alone in the trailer. What the fuck? I didn't like to fight with him… did I?

"Mommy!" I nearly shouted into the phone as I looked at the clock. 11am here meant… 2pm there? When did the girls get home from school?

"Rachel. I thought you were busy with your video today, honey?"

I could suddenly breathe again, just hearing Mom's voice on the phone. She had this way of calming me even without trying. I loved that about my mom. "We are, but it's all hurry up and wait. It's ridiculous. I think they have me in my third pair of jeans - they all look the same to me."

"I'm sure you're gorgeous, too."

I shrugged as if she could see me, "Whatever. I'm starting to feel fat and ugly, but I know that's just looking at myself in the mirror too much. At least we're filming the bar scenes today and I might be able to start drinking soon."

"Rachel…" There it was! That disapproving Mom tone. I had to laugh. "Don't worry, Mommy, I'm a good girl."

"No, you're not" She laughed, and I scowled down at the article Jeremy had left on his chair. My family was going to read this? They were going to

read about what a slut I was? I didn't think I could stand it.

"Mommy…"

"What, sweetheart? What's wrong?"

I sighed. "There's an article in The Star today… you know, one of those supermarket tabloids?"

"Is it Bat Boy? I just love to know what's up with his life."

I had to giggle. When I was little, and would go grocery shopping with my mom, we would stand in line and make fun of the tabloid headlines. That was where I first got into the adventures of Bat Boy, after all. "I wish. No… it's Nick."

"Oh, those…" She stopped. "Oh. Oh… is it about the breakup?"

"Sorta. It says he's a sex addict, and does drugs, and that's why I broke up with him, and-"

She cut me off. "It is one thing when you can laugh about these things, but it's quite another when they're making up blatant lies. That's awful. Poor Nick."

Hey! Shouldn't she be defending me? "Yeah, whatever. I think this means our breakup is going to be all over the press now, and the girls will find out. I should tell them, don't you think?"

She was quiet for a moment, but I could just see the look on her face, considering that. "Probably, yes. Why don't I do it?"

"What?"

"I doubt the last thing you want to be doing is trying to comfort two little girls about this. I'll tell them."

I leaned against the wall, blinking back tears. Couldn't have red eyes when I went in front of the camera. "You rock," I managed to whisper. "Thank you." God, that would be so much easier. I barely understood the whole thing myself; how could I explain it to my nieces?
"That's what moms are for, Rachel. I'll make sure they know. And I'll tell them tabloids are full of lies, and if they hear anything, they should ignore it."

"Thanks."

"Rachel, makeup!" Lola yelled, sticking her head in my trailer. "Oh, sorry."

"No, go," Mom said in my ear. "I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, Mommy. I love you."

"Love you, too, darling. Break a leg or whatever it is that you should do on a video."

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