Always and Never the Same

written by Cheryl

- Mindi Abair, "Always and Never the Same"

Howard Dorough pushed the wire cart through the produce section of his local supermarket. As much as many people thought grocery shopping a chore, he nearly cherished the activity. It was something normal. Something so much more Howard Dorough than Howie D, Backstreet Boy.

Sifting through a mountain of green peppers, he selected one nearly free of blemishes before moving to grab a head of lettuce. He continued to make his way through the store checking off his list as he maneuvered through the aisles.

Chicken breast.

Tomato sauce.

Cheddar cheese – extra sharp.

Howie steered his cart into the aisle of paper products and tossed a roll of paper towels and a box of tissues atop his other purchases. Pushing forward, the racks of magazines caught his eye.

Curiosity overrode his sensibility, and he stopped to skim some of the glossy covers. There were some theories he had been meaning to disprove. Now was as good as any other time. A quick glance in either direction assured him that he was indeed alone. The store wasn’t crowded. It never was at 11 o’clock at night. For good measure, he readjusted his baseball cap being certain to keep his all-too-recognizable dark curls hidden. Only then, when he felt he had shielded his identity, he picked up one of the periodicals from its shelf.

There on the cover dressed in earthtones were five familiar faces. Four belonged to the men he considered his closest friends. The other stared back at him every time he glanced in a mirror. Howie opened the magazine and flipped through its pages, stopping three times – at the contents, fan letters and the Backstreet article.

Several minutes and a couple of magazines later, he hadn’t been able to refute his theory. Sighing, he reshelved the Teen People and resumed his shopping though his mind was elsewhere.

Driving home in his purple corvette, his thoughts reverted to the day several months before when had first begun to listen to his feelings of self-doubt.

* ~ * ~ *

It was city number 10 of the Backstreet Boys latest concert tour. Howie – like his bandmates – was playing to the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see A.J. McLean flirting with a brunette in the front row. The song ended and while Nick Carter addressed the audience, Howie scanned the crowd silently chuckling at the various homemade signs the girls raised toward the rafters. Most heralded the Backstreet Boys with any number of slogans – "I Love BSB" and "Backstreet #1" the most prevalent. Some fans even took time to draw hearts or paste photos onto the posters.

However, the ones that entertained Howie the most were those that proclaimed a fan’s love for a specific member of the group. "Brian Roks My World." "Nobody But Kevin" "I Want It A.J.’s Way." "Marry Me Nick." Howie surpressed a laugh at that one. The girl couldn’t have been more than eight years old.

Howie turned and climbed the nearby ramp to take a seat on his stool at centerstage. The opening notes of "No One Else Comes Close" echoed throughout the arena. As he and the other Boys began to slowly rotate, his brown eyes continued to survey the sea of faces in front of him and his smile turned to a frown. Of those hundreds he had read, a startling low percentage was addressed to him. He consciously knew that he was not as popular as Nick or A.J. He figured that was because of Nick’s age being so close to that of their fans and because of A.J.’s attention-grabbing personality. Brian was a soulful singer, the boy-next-door. And Kevin? Well, Kevin was that epitome of tall, dark and handsome. Where did that leave him?

And so began Howie’s research. He thought he could dismiss the first city, but discovered as the Into the Millennium Tour continued that the informal statistics he collected there were reflected just about everywhere else. Certainly, there were cities where his applause thundered louder and his amount of posters increased. Yet, those were fewer than he liked to admit.

In the meantime, Howie tried to stay focussed and succeeded for the most part. He poured his very soul into each nightly performance wanting and hoping that more of the crowd’s affection could be swayed in his direction. Not that he begrudged the others in the group their adulation, but he was trying his best at playing politician. He could win over the independents and the undecideds.

Then he realized how petty he was becoming. The Backstreet Boys were a musical group – first and foremost. Nick Carter. A.J. McLean. Kevin Richardson. Brian Littrell. Howard Dorough. They were distinct individuals off stage. On stage, the five men became a team. No egos. No who’s better than who.

Howie did believe that, but he was still fully aware of the painful punch his self-esteem endured.

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