The next day was filled with rehearsals, interviews, and no rest. Howie smiled and answered questions, but his mind was on the idea that flamegirl had given him. They had a twenty minute break and Howie ran for the bus, and wrote out a quick email:
flamegirl, this is sweetloned, remember me? I would love to talk to you again. I have to work tonight, and won't be in until after 11, but if you are there, IM me: sweetd is my sig name. You have really given me a lot to think about. thank you.
HD, AKA sweetloned
He sent it off with a little prayer that flamegirl would be there tonight.
Rachel gave up on the article she was attempting to write and decided to go on line, despite the late hour. She checked her email, and saw a message from an unrecognized address. Opening it, she smiled when she realized it was from sweetloned, the man from the previous night. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was after midnight.
Quickly she turned on her instant messaging and added his name to her contact list. With a blink, his name switched to the online list and she sighed with a bit of relief.
flamegirl: Oh good...you are still here. I just got your email.
sweetloned: flamegirl! *grin* I was just about to log off thinking you weren't going to make it. I'm glad I was wrong.
flamegirl: Well, in that case I'm glad I caught you. What can I do for you tonight? Need more ideas?
Howie sighed. Where to begin?
sweetd: I've never written anything like that. I'm not much of a writer. I mean, I write songs occasionally, but this would have to be very serious, very moving. It would have to have emotion AND information. Where do I even begin?
Rachel took a deep breath. Writes songs? It could really be him. Works late... well, She wouldn't let on, if it was him she sure didn't want to scare him off. She looked up at the BSB calendar on her wall into those liquid brown eyes, those full lips.
sweetd: flamegirl?
flamegirl: sorry, sweet. Just lost in thought. Well, There are two things you need to do. The first is easy, even though it sounds hard. You have to learn everything there is to know about the disease.
sweetd: I can do that. What else?
flamegirl: the hard part is getting on paper or audio tape all of your impressions of your sister and her disease and her death.
sweetd: whew.
flamegirl: yeah, I know. tough stuff, but could feel cathartic too.
sweetd: flamegirl, I can't write.
Rachel laughed and rubbed her head.
flamegirl: then find a ghostwriter. That's what I do. You and the ghost work together, the ghost helps with research and recollection exercises, and then he or she writes it.
sweetd: are you available?
Rachel shook her head
sweetd: flame? you there?
flamegirl: I might be. it does sound like the kind of project I love. But you've never even seen my writing. You don't know anything about me. I don't know anything about you.
Howie sat back. He just had a FEELING about this girl. He could work with her, he felt sure.
sweetd: tell me about yourself.
Rachel thought carefully before she typed.
flamegirl: About me huh? Well, I'm 31. Majored in journalism in school because I always enjoyed writing. I'm from the south, born and raised - southern accent and all *grin* Not sure what else to tell you really. Anything specific you had in mind?
She watched the screen, anxious for his reply. She was almost certain it was him...it was too coincidental to be anyone else.
Howie leaned back on his bunk, thinking. He had to tell her the truth. How would she ever believe him?
sweetd: I'm 26 years old. My name is Howie Dorough. I'm Caroline's brother.
Rachel sat there stunned, staring at the words on her screen. Could it be? Surely someone wouldn't joke about something so serious. She sat with her fingers not moving for several moments.
sweetd: You still there?
flamegirl: Yes. So it's really you? You're really Howie Dorough? Wow.
sweetd: I know it's hard to believe, but it's me. So will you think about helping me? I really love the idea of writing this book the more I think about it.
flamegirl: How could we do it though? You are on tour right? And you've still not read anything I've written. You may hate my writing style.
sweetd: Then send me something. Let me decide that.
She glanced at the calendar again, picturing him typing somewhere in a hotel room or on a bus. Thinking for a moment, she remembered a couple articles she had written that were posted on the web. She keyed in the web addresses and hesitated for a second before hitting the 'Enter' key.
flamegirl: Those are URLs for some of the things I've written. You can email me and let me know what you think after you read them.
sweetd: Thank you. Don't go anywhere and I'll read them now. Please?
flamegirl: Ok
Rachel was tired and wanted to go to sleep, but her curiosity kept her awake, waiting for his response.
Howie clicked on the URL and checked the byline. Rachel Walker. Nice name! He read the article. It was about AIDs Babies, and it was excellent. Thought provoking, poetic but REAL. He clicked the next URL. This one was a satire about leash laws in the city. He found himself laughing out loud. Finally he clicked the last URL. It was a music review. Of their first US release, Backstreet Boys. Wow, talk about guts!
He read the review which was fair and complementary, but Rachel had been unafraid to criticize where critical remarks were due. He agreed with her that "If you want it to be good" was vapid and out of place in an otherwise fairly decent album.
He took a deep breath and went back to the IM box.
sweetd: Rachel, I'm impressed. You have great style and depth. Not to mention guts! If you want the job it's yours.
Rachel took a deep breath.
Howie bit his lip, waiting for Rachel's response.
flamegirl: Me? On tour? Maybe we should talk some first - on the phone maybe. Liking someone's writing doesn't necessarily mean you'd be
able to work with them.,/i>
Rachel sighed. This whole thing seemed somewhat surreal.
flamegirl: Howie? What do you think? I just don't want to see your management freak out when you mention the idea of having someone join
you on tour.....
She watched the cursor blink as she waited for it to show her his reply.
sweetd: I understand your hesitancy. Your coming on the tour would not be a problem. It is, after all, my tour as part of the Backstreet Boys. I
could make it happen.
Rachel had to admit she got a shiver when she read "I could make it happen." This was one serious guy!
sweetd: call me. Now. Here is my private cell phone number. I don't give this to anyone, Rachel. Trust me. (222)222-2222
Howie took out his cell phone and willed it to ring. He didn't know why he felt so passionately about this all of a sudden, but he did. It's like he
was feeling alive again.
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