When Howie got to the bunks, Rachel was still awake, typing away furiously. "I thought you were turning in," he said quietly, taking a seat in front of her on the side of the bunk.
"I was, but I needed to get all this stuff down before I get. I have a good memory, but not THAT good," she laughed at herself. "And I don't want to pull out pen and paper in front of you. That tends to intimidate people."
"I'm used to it after doing interviews and stuff like that," he reminded her.
"I know you are, but you weren't pouring your heart and soul out about your sister to them either. This is different, whether you admit it or not," she said firmly. "I know from experience."
"I guess you have a point," he gave in. "But there's got to be something we can do so you aren't typing away at the wee hours of the morning," he told her, wracking his brain for ideas.
"There is one. I was thinking about it earlier," she started hesitantly. "We could use one of those little tape recorders. I wouldn't use the tapes for anything else, I'd even sign something to that effect," she assured him. "And I'd give them all to you when we were done..." she trailed off, leaving her words hanging in the air between them.
"Red, I know you wouldn't abuse it," he sighed. "The tape recorder sounds like a good idea. I'll have someone get one for us," he added, making a mental note. "Now, don't work too late. I'll see you in the morning," he whispered, leaning over to plant a sweet kiss on her cheek, AJ's words ringing through his ears as he did so.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
Howie awoke several hours later and couldn't fall back to sleep. He got up and padded to the front of the bus, hoping something to drink might help. When he made his way back, he saw Rachel asleep with her laptop still on. Quietly he reached over and turned it off, setting it in the space under the bunk and pulled the covers up over her. He brushed an auburn curl from her face before returning to his own bed and finally falling back into an uneasy sleep.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
The next few days went by in a blur. There were press conferences and interviews every day, and a performance every night. Rachel saw very little of the guys except for the late night hours right after the show. She'd had three "diary" entries posted to the boys' website and so far they were a huge success. The fans loved them.
She had started taping her conversations with Howie, and passed time during the day transcribing them onto her laptop. The level of emotion and depth of personal experience that he shared with her surprised her. He wasn't holding anything back. This was going to be one doozy of a book when they got it done. The thought brought a smile to her face. Even if nothing else happened with her and Howie, she'd always have this experience. But her thoughts kept trailing back to that first night and the tickling fiasco, when he'd almost kissed her. He hadn't tried since then, and she sighed with a twinge of disappointment.
The bleep of her cell phone brought Rachel out of her reverie. She pushed the button listlessly. She really didn't feel like talking on the phone.
"Rach? Doll! It's me, Bev. Where the heck are ya? I've been trying to reach you for days!"
Rachel smiled. It was Bev White, her favorite editor, who worked for a tiny but quality press called Homestead. "I'm on the road with the Backstreet Boys." said Rach lightly.
"Oh, that's funny, that's rich. Well, wherever you're hiding out I need to know: ya got anything in the works we might be interested in toots? Cause we have a hole in next summers frontlist that has your name all over it."
Rachel's heart beat faster. She thought about Homestead: a small press, but they produced wonderful well received critically acclaimed titles.
"How about a personal story of a celebrity who loses his beloved sister to a little known disease? It will have power and information, and I can guarantee you the name will sell it, Bev. It's a story that needs an audience."
"Who is the celeb?" Rachel could practically hear the drool from Bev's hanging mouth hit the desk.
"Howie Dorough, of the Backstreet Boys. He and I are already working on it. It will be done by February."
"WHAT? You mean you weren't kidding about the Backstreet Boys? Holy shit!! This is huge! Rach, I want that book. You know I could be easily outbid by the bigger houses, but I WANT THAT BOOK. I would give you complete creative control, and would make it top priority, you know that."
"I know you would, Bev, and you are one of the only people I would trust this story with. But I have to talk to Howie. I'll discuss it with him and call you back."
"You do that, you do that. Holy cow! It's Christmas, Hannukah, Kwaanza and Ramadan all wrapped into one! WooHoooo! Call me soon, kid."
Rachel laughed sweetly at her friend. "Bev, rest assured, you will hear from me the minute I have any news of any kind. And to think that people say surfing the net is a waste of time," she humphed. "I wouldn't have this job if it wasn't for my addiction!" she exclaimed.
"Well, I'll hold tight to hear from you. And don't worry...I won't say anything to anyone. Any thing else I need to know about the infamous Backstreet Boys? Any bad tour habits? Are any of them good kissers?" she giggled.
"You ham! Oh gosh..here they come. Show time must be over. I'll talk to you later Bev," she promised before hanging up.
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