CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT – GETTING OUT

Brian winced slightly as the nurse pull out his IV, placing a bandage over the bruised vein. As she rolled the IV cart out of the room she gave him an encouraging smile and Brian gave her a fake one back. Rubbing his arm, he carefully slipped out of the uncomfortable bed, ecstatic at not having to drag that damn IV tubing around anymore. It had been three days, three days of unbelievable boredom, pain, and tests. If anyone hated hospitals, it was him, and to top things off the doctors had decided to do the annual exam for his heart. He wanted to scream. He walked over to the window and pulled back his curtain slowly, peeking down at the scene below. A throng of girls patiently waited, signs of get well scattered among them. Brian heard a faint scream and he dropped the curtain in a hurry. They knew. Somehow they always knew where he was. He sighed and turned back to crawl onto his bed, searching for the remote control. His hospital gown got tangled up, baring his ass and he swore, trying to straighten it. He heard a male voice chuckle and he turned to see the doctor standing in the doorway.

"What my 14-year-old daughter wouldn’t give to see that!"

Brian grimaced. On top of the hassles of the hospital, he had to get a funny doctor.

Ignoring the remark, Brian chose to glare at him instead. The doctor walked in and sat down next to his bed, flipping for a few moments through Brian’s chart. Brian impatiently waited for him to finish, eager to ask some questions. The middle-aged physician closed the chart, hugging it to his chest. "Well," he said.

"Well, what?" Brian snapped.

"I bet your ready to leave today, right?"

Brian’s mouth fell open, surprised. "I can leave? Today? I thought you told me there were some more tests you wanted to take!"

The doctor shook his head. "No, no more tests. All your results came back negative. Everything’s fine. Didn’t I tell you? You’re a little under your ideal body weight, but I guess that’s due to our wonderful hospital food, huh?"

If it was legal to shoot doctors, this one would have been dead a minute ago. Brian fumed inwardly, furious. He opened his mouth to complain about the lack of communication but thought the better of it. He was going to request something and it wouldn’t be good idea to get on the wrong side of him.

Brian’s physician reached over to give him a pat of reassurance on his shoulder. "Any questions, any concerns I can answer for you before you go?" He peered at Brian over his reading glasses, waiting expectantly. Brian mentally crossed his fingers, praying that his acting ability was up to par.

"As a matter of fact, doctor, I was wondering if you could write me a prescription for some sleeping pills. Strong ones."

Brian watched as the doctor’s eyebrows rose in question, sensing his curiosity at the request for sleeping pills. Brian took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "Well, you see, I haven’t been sleeping that well. Tour and all. Different rooms, uncomfortable beds, you know. Sure would help me a lot." Brian gave him a distraught look, wondering if his scheme was backfiring, that the doctor could detect his deception. Brian sensed hesitation on the doctor’s part and plunged on, inspiration suddenly hitting him.

"Fourteen-year-old daughter, huh? Whose her favorite Backstreet Boy?"

Distracted, Brian’s doctor paused for a moment. "Uh," he said sheepishly, "I’m not sure."

"AJ?" offered Brian helpfully. "I can get AJ to sign a hat for her."

"No, not AJ," drawled the doctor, lost in thought.

"Is it Kevin? How about a signed concert shirt?"

The doctor shook his head, unsure. "Is that the tall one?"

"Yes," agreed Brian. "Wait, no. Nick is tall too." This was getting annoying.

"Nick?" Brian’s doctor said slowly, contemplating.

"Yes, Nick. Tall, blond, the youngest?"

"Yeah, I think it’s Nick."

Brian nodded, happy to be getting somewhere. "Okay. What would she like? Tickets, backstage passes?"

The doctor brightened. "Tickets. Tickets would be great. Do you think she could she meet Nick?"

"Sure, no problem." Your daughter can marry him, just give me that prescription! promised Brian, biting his lip in anticipation.

Pulling his script pad out of his pocket, he scribbled something on it, ripped it off, and handed it to Brian. "Here’s a month’s worth. See how it goes. If you need refills, contact your primary care physician, okay?"

Brian nearly snatched it out of his hand, nodding in agreement, silently praising the perks of being a Backstreet Boy. He heard a sharp rap on the open door and he looked up to see Nick standing there. Brian waved him in. "Nick! Speak of the devil! We were just talking about you. I just promised my doctor here that his daughter could meet you."

Nick shrugged, hitching his hip onto the end of Brian’s bed. "Sure, no problem," he agreed, holding out his hand for a shake.

The doctor shook his hand, a frown forming on his face. "You’re Nick?"

Nick smiled. "Last time I looked."

Brian’s doctor coughed, uncomfortable. "Uh, I thought you had curly white hair."

Nick laughed. "You’re thinking of Justin Timberlake."

"Yeah, that’s it. That’s who Amber likes. Justin of the Backstreet Boys."

Brian smothered a groan, quickly hiding his prescription under the sheets. Nick looked at the doctor, puzzled. "Justin is with NYSNC. Not Backstreet."

The doctor gave an embarrassed laugh. "NYSNC, Backstreet, they’re all the same, right?"

Oh, no, thought Brian, smothering another groan as he watched Nick stiffen at the unintentional insult.

"No, not really," Nick replied coolly.

Sensing a problem, Brian jumped hastily out of bed, regretting the instant he did as his back protested painfully. Gritting his teeth, Brian forced a smile at his doctor and placed a hand on his shoulder, walking him to the door. "Thanks for everything. Don’t worry about your daughter. I’ll make sure she gets tickets and meets Justin." Even if I have to pull every permed hair out of Timberlake’s head to get him to do it! thought Brian grimly.

The doctor smiled gratefully and gave a nod to Nick. "Nice meeting you," he said, then left.

Nick leaned forward on Brian’s bed, watching the doctor head down the hallway, then straightened, shaking his head. He glanced at Brian who was standing by the door and then snickered. "Nice ass, Bri. So, how many nurses did you impress?"

Grabbing instinctively the back flaps to his gown, Brian turned and stuck out his tongue at his friend. "Ha, ha. Knowing you, you’d wear the gown open in the front for them!"

Nick smiled at the thought. "Only the pretty ones."

"Well, I hope you brought some of my clothes, or you’re going to get another eyeful."

Nick playfully covered his eyes at the thought, then threw a small bag towards Brian. "Here. Underware and all."

Brian gratefully caught it and dressed quickly, vowing never again to take street clothes for granted. "How did you know I was getting out today?"

Nick, leaning back on Brian’s empty bed, snagged the remote and began to surf the TV channels. "Didn’t. Xavier told me. Asked me to come pick you up."

Brian sat down on a chair, bending his head low as he slowly tied his shoelaces. "Xavier knew?" he asked, trying to sound disinterested.

"Yeah." Bored with the selection, Nick turned off the TV and began tossing the remote absently back and forth between his hands. "Seems like he knows everything, doesn’t it?"

Nervous, Brian began to bite at his thumbnail, then stopped, not wanting Nick to see him.

"I’m surprised he didn’t come to pick me up," he commented lightly.

"Couldn’t. He’s in Florida."

Brian straightened up, confused. "Florida?"

"Took off for a few days. He does live there, ya know."

So do all of us, Brian thought worriedly. His mind raced, wondering what Xavier was up to.

"B-Rok....Bri....Brian!!"

Brian jumped as Nick yelled his name. "Hmm?"

"Jeez. Earth to Bri! What’s this?" He held out a slip of paper, trying to study it.

Brian reached over and snatched it out of Nick’s hand, grateful that doctors has such lousy handwriting. He folded it and stuffed it into his back pocket. "Just a script."

"Painkillers, huh?"

"Uh, yeah." Brian quickly changed the subject. "So, how did you sneak in here?"

Nick waved his hand. "Piece of cake. Nobody saw me. Nothing’s too hard for Nick the Great."

"Really." Brian smiled wickedly. "Go look out the window."

Curious, Nick got up from the bed and pulled the curtains apart. He gazed down and a unison scream of delight rose from below. "Shit!" He let go of the curtain and turned to see Brian smirking.

"They know you’re here now."

"Thanks a lot, asshole."

"Anytime." Brian turned around to see a nurse holding discharge papers. He signed as quickly as he could, giving her a sincere smile as she gushed over what a thrill it was to have him as a patient. He signed a few autographs for her then made Nick sign some too.

As soon as she left, Brian packed what little he had. "I’m starving," he announced. "Let’s go get the biggest, greasiest hamburger we can find."

"Sounds good to me. Only how are we gonna get past those?" Nick jerked his thumb, indicating the eager fans outside.

Brian slapped his arm. "Nothing’s too hard for Nick the Great, remember?"

"It doesn’t help when I have Brian the Idiot with me."

Brian laughed as they walked out of his room, each arguing over who had the cleverest escape plan.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE – THE MEETING

One by one the Backstreet Boys straggled into the small conference room, dressed in various states of disarray. Howie, the first to arrive, tossed his ever present duffel bag down and flopped into the nearest high-backed chair, bringing his feet to rest on the table. The voice mail had indicated an early meeting for today, located at the arena in which they were to perform tonight. He rubbed his face wearily, mentally noting to himself to remember to shave. In a hurry to be on time he had forgotten to do it. He glanced at the empty room and sighed. Figures. No one takes these meetings seriously anymore, he thought. He wondered if he had the time right when Kevin showed up. The oldest member gave Howie a nod of greeting and sat on the other side of the table, mimicking Howie’s manner.

"So, where’s everyone?"

Howie rolled his eyes. "Go figure. What’s this meeting about, anyway?"

Kevin shrugged, lacing his hands behind his head. "Most likely about safety measures. Stage crew still trying to figure what happened to AJ’s rope."

"Yeah. Makes me a little nervous." They both sat quietly, lost in their own thoughts, until Howie broke the silence.

"You think Brian is up for tonight?"

"Yeah, I think so. I hope so. Hell, I don’t know. Let’s ask Brian when he gets here."

"Ask me what?" Kevin and Howie turned to see Brian walking in, Nick and AJ following behind, their hands full of McDonalds’ take out bags. AJ tossed each one a bag, keeping one for himself.

"Ask me what?" Brian repeated, placing the cardboard carrying case of juice down and handing one to Kevin.

Howie reached into his bag and opened up an Egg McMuffin. Taking a bite, he asked, "We were wondering how you’re feeling. You okay for tonight?"

"He’s fine," answered Nick for him. "Doctor gave Bri some kick-ass painkillers, just in case." Kevin looked at his cousin questioningly and Brian nodded.

"Nick’s right. I’ll be fine." He sat down next to AJ, opened his bag and took a bite, hoping the sudden interest in his food would cancel anymore prying questions.

AJ leaned over Brian, reaching for an O.J. "Okay, I’m here, not willingly, but I’m here. What’s this meeting...," AJ stopped in mid-sentence as he noticed Xavier and their stage manager, Sam, entering the room. AJ took an exaggerated bite of his McDonalds’s breakfast then looked at the bodyguard, a smirk covering his face. Xavier ignored AJ’s antic, seeking the location of Brian. Catching the blond singer’s eye, he nodded once, then sat down across from him, folding his arms across his chest. Brian broke eye contact, resuming a false interest in his food. He could feel Xavier scrutinizing him and his stomach churned a little. It had been four days since he had seen him, four days of relief, even if most of it was spent in the hospital. He felt for the bottle of pills that he carried in his pocket, too scared to let them out of his sight, even for a moment. He took another bite of his food, the taste now like sawdust in his mouth.

"Guys, if I could have your attention, please?" Sam stood up, not wanting to sit. After years of standing on the job, he felt more comfortable that way. "I called this meeting to discuss a few things with you regarding the last concert." Kevin looked knowingly at Howie, then turned his attention back to their manager.

"Xavier and I have gone extensively over AJ’s accident, examining it from every angle. We feel that..." Sam was interrupted by a small cough and he turned to see a nervous stage crewmember standing at the door, holding a clipboard in one hand, a cell phone in the other.

"What?" questioned Sam, annoyed.

The young man handed him the board and Sam scanned it quickly. "Shit. I knew it. Okay, tell them I’ll be there." He surveyed the five Backstreet Boys before him. " I gotta go. Xavier will explain everything to you, okay?" He glanced at the bodyguard for confirmation. Xavier nodded, waving him to go.

Howie, the first to finish, crunched his bag into a small ball, then brushed the crumbs off of him. "Okay, Xavier, what’s up?" Xavier straightened up, his hands folded on the table.

"First of all, I just want to say how glad I am nothing serious happened to Mr. McLean and that I’m personally looking into what could possibly have caused this."

Liar! Brian seethed, keeping his head down, his jaw clenched in anger. You caused it! His fingers slipped around the plastic container of pills and he relaxed, feeling more in control. Soon, he told himself.

Kevin spoke up. "Xavier, have you any idea what caused AJ to fall? Was the rope faulty? Did one of the stage crew mess up?"

Xavier shook his head, spreading his arms wide. "It’s still a mystery. The rope was fine. And the crew always double-checks their rigging. As far as Sam and I can tell, it was a fluke. We’ve replaced all the ropes and wiring harnesses with new ones. We are now triple–checking everything. If anyone of you feels uncomfortable about tonight’s jump, speak up."

Nick glanced at his friends around the table, then answered. "I’m okay with it." Howie and Kevin nodded their approval. AJ’s fingers were laced together, contemplating the question. He glanced at Brian, with a questioning look.

"B-Rok, you alright with this, man?"

Brian was surprised at AJ’s concern over him. Of the five here, AJ had the most to worry about, having experienced the almost-fatal accident. "Yeah, I’m okay if you are."

AJ shrugged his approval to Xavier. "We’re cool."

"Good. Next, I want to talk about Brian’s intruder." Xavier stood up and walked around the table, placing his hands on the singer’s shoulders. "As you all know, Brian and I had a rather nasty encounter with him. I’m hoping it was an isolated incident, that we won’t run into him again." Xavier stopped for a moment to look at Brian. "But you never know, right?" Brian felt the subtle but firm pressure being applied to his shoulder and nodded in reply. Xavier relaxed his grip. "All the incidents that have happened recently seem to be random acts, but I’m not going to take any chances. That is why I am still insisting that I have control of the hotel arrangements."

Brian felt despair well up in him, realizing how brilliant Xavier’s strategy was. By making himself look like their protector, it pulled any suspicion away from him, enabling him free access. Xavier walked back to his seat and sat down, looking for the five’s support. Brian glanced down at his hands, unable to look at the bodyguard.

AJ spoke up, but with another question. "What about the threats Brian was receiving? Is he still getting those?"

The bodyguard leaned back in his chair, giving him a genuine smile. "No. I’ve was able to track those notes to Florida, but then I met a dead end. That was the reason I was in Florida a few days ago, to check it out."

Of course Brian knew it was all a lie. He fidgeted slightly in his chair, eager to leave. Taking a deep breath he looked up at Xavier. "Well, I think everything is better now, thanks. I don’t know about the rest of you but I’ve got a million things to do before tonight. Thanks for the update." He stood up suddenly and as if on cue, the other four guys agreed, rising to collect their things. Xavier remained seated, his mouth compressed into a tight line as he watched Nick, then Howie leave the room. Kevin was talking to AJ and Brian edged around them, trying to reach the door.

"Mr. Littrell, if you have a moment, I need to speak to you. Alone."

This froze Brian in his tracks and caught the attention of Kevin and AJ. "Really busy now, Xavier. Maybe later, okay?"

"It will only take a second," replied Xavier smoothly. He coughed, looking embarrassed.

"It’s, uh, about my salary."

Disinterested, Kevin turned to leave, signaling for AJ to come. More curious than Kevin, AJ grudgingly followed him out, struggling with a sudden temptation to eavesdrop outside the closed door. Not willing to explain his odd behavior, AJ reluctantly abandoned the idea, slowly trailing behind Kevin.

CHAPTER THIRTY – HEART TO HEART TALK

As soon as the door closed Xavier shot out of his seat, grabbing Brian viciously by the arm. With one swift blow, he smashed his fist into the blond singer’s midsection, knocking the wind out of him. Brian fell immediately to his knees, gasping, unable to draw air. Xavier crouched down next to Brian, his face just inches away.

"Where are they?" he hissed, enraged. Brian wheezed heavily, his hands crossed across his stomach and he shook his head, confused. Xavier clamped cruelly down onto the singer’s hand, crushing it. "The pills."

Through a haze of pain Brian’s mind screamed with fury. How the hell did he know? He looked into the bodyguard’s eyes, refusing to answer, matching his will with that of the much larger man. "Where are they?" Xavier repeated, applying more pressure and Brian struggled, determined to fight.

Impatient, Xavier shoved him to the ground, punching him once more, efficiently canceling Brian’s resistance. Brian curled onto his side, the pain overwhelming. He felt, rather than saw, Xavier frisk his body, hands patting down his pockets. With a grunt of satisfaction Xavier pulled away, the small container of pills firmly in his grasp. Ignoring the muffled cries of pain from Brian, he held the prescription up to the light, reading the label.

"Sleeping pills," he stated flatly. "Never thought you’d be that spineless to commit suicide."

A choked cry of laughter escaped from Brian as he leaned on one elbow, struggling to sit upright. He finally managed to sit cross-legged on the floor, hands wrapped around his stomach for support. "It wasn’t for me," he spat, glaring up at Xavier, "It was for you."

Xavier tossed the bottle absentmindedly up and down in his hand, contemplating Brian’s scheme. His eyes narrowed into slits, a small smile forming against his darkly-tanned skin. He bent down on one knee to examine the young singer more closely, then patted the young singer’s shoulder, almost affectionately. "You wanted to kill me," he said softly. "I’m impressed."

"Well, don’t be," Brian snarled, rising unsteadily to his feet. "I’ll try again."

A genuine shout of laughter rang out and Xavier clapped his hands in enjoyment. "That’s the spirit! I knew I could count on you! What a game this is going to be."

Brian walked over to the nearest chair, wincing as he sat down. "How did you know?" he asked dully. Xavier, high on the moment, raised his eyebrows in question.

"How did you know I had sleeping pills?"

Xavier cocked his head to one side, a sly smile appearing. "Now what kind of game would we be playing if I told you all my secrets, huh?" He leaned against the side of the conference table, arms crossed, studying the ashen-faced singer. "You know, I didn’t hit you that hard. You need to toughen up."

"And I guess you’re the one to show me how," sneered Brian. He immediately regretted saying that when he noticed the bodyguard’s face light up.

"As a matter of fact, yes. If you were in the right kind of shape, you wouldn’t have been in so much pain when AJ grabbed you."

The circumstances of that night flashed back to Brian and he felt himself filled with resentment. "Why did you do that to AJ? I thought this whole "game" was between you and me."

Xavier looked at Brian, his face changed into one of loathing. "He’s an asshole. He deserved it. Besides, you don’t need him. In fact, you don’t need any of them."

Brian sat up a little straighter in his chair, alarmed by Xavier’s matter-of-fact tone. He tried to compose himself, troubled by this unexpected turn. "I don’t need any of them," he repeated blandly, hoping for an explanation, praying he kept any emotion from showing.

The large man nodded, warming up to the subject. "Yes. You’re so much better. You could go solo, have your own career."

Brian shook his head. "Xavier, where I am today is because of the Backstreet Boys. I need them as much as they need me. Our success is because we are a team."

Xavier’s face went blank, his enthusiasm gone. "I don’t give a shit about the others. You’re the one I picked, remember? The game has changed. I think it’s time you got ready to launch a solo career, with me as your trainer."

Brian rose out of his chair, anger and defiance etched in his face. "And if I don’t?" Xavier quickly stood, his posture imposing. Brian held his ground firmly, not wavering. Xavier suddenly relaxed, giving him a calculating smile.

"Had a pretty busy time in Florida, the last three days. Lots of things to do, people to see…" Xavier left the last sentence hanging, waiting, watching for the sign of comprehension to spread across the singer’s face. It didn’t take but a moment and Xavier slapped Brian’s shoulder approvingly "Good. I’m glad you understand." He grabbed the door and swung it open with a flourish, sweeping his hand to usher Brian out. "Well, no time to waste," he stated cheerily. "Let’s get going with your training, okay?"

Brian paused at the edge of the door, his voice low, his blue eyes filled with bitterness. "I’m gonna fight you every step," he promised.

Xavier’s grinned. "I wouldn’t have it any other way."

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