Brian and Me

Hello again! :)

Okay, I'm going to get right into the tagline, because I have a feeling that you're not going to be wanting to read a big intro. So... remember all of that stuff from the start of my last installment? The stuff about how this doesn't represent any actual people, and that if you shouldn't be reading it, then you shouldn't read it? Well, pretend I said all that stuff here. Same thing goes with the story recommendations. :P

And one special note: I wanted to encourage all of you to go and vote for your favourite stories at the awards site. I'm not about to tell you to vote for me, but I know that all of the authors nominated would appreciate the support. :) The URL, you ask?

http://209.222.79.223/boybandawards/voting/

So get out there and vote! I'll wait for you right here. :)

There are a few people that I feel the need to thank, as well. If you're not listed here, please don't think that I don't appreciate you. I'm bound to forget someone, and you should know by now if I love you or not. :)

Extra-special huge thanks go to the always-lovable JB. :) I forgot him last time, so I have to make up for it this time. Luckily, this also gives me the opportunity to tell everyone that I finally got him to admit Lance was cute. :)

Of course, huge thanks to Matt. Great writer, great person, great accent, excellent friend, all-round fabulous person. :) Thanks for everything, darlin'. :) Not the least of which is putting up with my idiocy on a regular basis. ;P

Thanks also to Lauren (sorry again about the pony!), Scotty T (even though you're refusing to Jello-wrestle for me :P), DCKev (thanks for the continuous stream of Lance pics ;), EG and Chris Taylor (I'm glad you're both back around again), and Braan (you're just bloody cool, mate ;P). And to everyone else who has taken the time to write about the story, too. You'll never know how much I appreciate it! :)

Now, on with the story...

Enjoy! :)

PART 85

I woke up and immediately noticed that I couldn't breathe very well. Opening my eyes, all I could see was white. There was a brief moment when, in my sleep-addled state, I thought maybe I had gone blind, then spent a few seconds wondering whether, if I were blind, I would have been able see the white.

I was still pondering that when Brian moved a little and I suddenly understood. I had been seeing just the edge of his pillow. Just enough for the light to get through to my eyes. The rest of it was firmly jammed over my nose and mouth. Putting my hand up, I pushed the pillow away a bit and slid my head to the side on the mattress before letting it back down. As the back of my head came into contact with the cold mattress, I started to wonder where my pillow was.

Turning onto my side and elevating my head, I saw a pillow on the other side of Brian, looking very soft and very unused. Somehow during the night, Brian had managed to steal my pillow. So not only was my boyfriend trying to suffocate me in my sleep, but he had been doing it with my own pillow.

I considered ripping it out from under his head, and had even grabbed onto the end of the pillow to do just that, but then Brian sighed contentedly and shifted again, and I couldn't go through with it. He looked so peaceful. Instead of pulling the pillow away, I tilted it a little, causing his head to roll to one side and supply me with enough room lay back down on it as well.

I put my head right next to his, still turned on my side, and put my arm onto his chest. Brian stopped moving, and he smiled at my touch. I stuck my head out a little and licked his earlobe, sucking it into my mouth and nuzzling him. I ran my tongue over the lobe, feeling the soft little hairs on it.

"Stop," Brian giggled, smacking me in the head.

I released his ear, lifting my head again to say good morning. But Brian was still sound asleep, though his smile had grown. I grinned to myself and lay back down, deciding not to push my luck. Instead, I just settled in beside him, enjoying the warmth of his body next to mine. Try as I might, I couldn't manage to get back to sleep. There wasn't anything particularly on my mind, but I didn't seem to be able to drift off.

Not that I was complaining. With my eyes closed, I could concentrate on my other senses. I could hear his soft breathing as he slept, with the occasional noise - sort of half-way between a sigh and a moan - escaping his lips. I could also feel his breathing, with my hand placed on the smooth, soft skin of his chest. It rose and fell rhythmically with every breath he took.

Had I wanted to, it would have been an easy task to taste him as well, with that still-tempting earlobe lying less than an inch from my mouth. And I found that I even enjoyed Brian's sleep-smell. I smiled at that thought and inhaled deeply, pressing myself even closer to him. He reacted by rolling over on his side, allowing me to move nicely into the spoon position and put my arms around him, resting my hands on his stomach.

Still, I couldn't sleep. As nice as it was, just laying there started to get to me. I turned my mind away from the bed, away from our bedroom and into another one. The one that Jamie, who my mind was already starting to refer to as `Brian's hooker', came home to.

It was an aspect of the story that I was having trouble getting right in my mind. I wanted Jamie to be the story's heroine of sorts, with the reader seeing only one side of her life - the seedy side of it - for the first half of the book, and then coming to realise that there was a depth to the woman that they hadn't even begun to suspect.

That was where I planned for her room to come into it. She never took a `customer' home, and used it as a refuge. Someplace that she could lock herself away and pretend for a little while that her life was where she had planned it, or at least that it was on track, rather than spiralling quickly downward with every night she spent on the street.

But I was having a hard time actually picturing the room in my mind. It needed to be just right, reflecting both parts of Jamie's life equally, while showing her attempt to appear better than she felt. While I could very much identify with the emotions involved in trying to look better than you really were, I had never had to deal with it on the level that Jamie did in the story, and I was at a loss.

It occurred to me that I could actually ask Brian for his opinion now and I smiled. The smile wasn't out of faith that Brian could help me, since it was entirely possible that he wouldn't even understand what I was asking, but simply because of the fact that I could ask. He was the first person outside of Celia, Carrie, and Pete that I had shown my writing to since university, where my first two attempts at a book had fallen apart after I got too excited and showed my friends.

With a slight sigh, I sat up on the bed, deciding that I might as well get up. I could wait for Brian to wake up and then ask him what he thought Jamie's apartment would look like. In the meantime, I could go on the equally important search for coffee.

I got up out of the bed, stopping to tuck the blankets around Brian so that he wouldn't get cold without me, and opened the bedroom door, heading for the kitchen. I was sort of hoping that I wouldn't see anyone, though. My mind had turned away from Jamie's room, but it hadn't left her entirely, and I was enjoying the flow of ideas that were coming. They were soothing, sort of like the way the water of a nice hot shower was, except that this was a steady flow over my brain rather than my body.

It didn't take me long to find the coffee and filters, and soon I had nothing to do but wait for it. While I waited, I sat down at the table and picked up a pad of paper and the pencil sitting beside it. I imagined that Matt probably kept it around for writing shopping lists and the like. Listening to the gurgle of the coffee maker, I started to doodle.

Ten minutes later, there was a click and I looked up to find an entire pot of coffee waiting for me. Ever since I could remember, I had been incapable of making less than an entire pot. Even when I was alone, I just couldn't seem to bring myself to make less. There seemed to be something wrong with skimping on something so fabulous. Besides, iced coffee was good too.

I got up and made myself a cup, then wandered into the living room, standing at the doors to the deck, but not actually going outside. If Matt didn't spend a good deal of his time looking out those doors, he was a fool.

Everything was peaceful and green, and had a certain feel to it. Like it was new. As though, every morning, the scene in front of me was created all over again, a completely new space, yet exactly the same as the one that had been there yesterday. Sipping on the coffee, I let my mind wander around that thought.

"Morning."

I jumped and tried very hard not to spill my coffee while I listened to the chuckling from behind me. I looked down at my mug, making sure that the coffee was under control, then turned and raised my eyes to JC's smiling face. "Good morning. You gotta learn to make more noise."

"I'm like a ninja," he laughed, moving further into the room. "What are you doing up?"

"I generally wake up when someone's trying to kill me." JC's confusion made me grin. "Brian not only stole my pillow at some point in the night, but he tried to smother me with it."

"Nice guy." JC turned back toward the kitchen, giving me a nod to indicate that I should follow him. "I figured someone must be up when I saw the coffee was already made."

"I can't be conscious for too long without a caffeine jolt," I told him, sitting back down at the table as he took down a mug for himself. "Matt's not up either?"

"Nope. Looks like it's just you and me."

"I can think of worse company."

JC turned to look at me. "Thanks, I think."

"What?"

"I mean, the question isn't really whether there's worse company. I would think that you could say that about anyone. Hitler would be pretty lousy company."

"Good conversationalist, though," I pointed out with a smile. "Very charismatic."

"But he wouldn't have been too interested in talking with either one of us." JC poured his cup of coffee and put the pot back in the coffee maker. "He didn't much like our... preference."

"Point taken," I conceded.

"But the point I was trying to make was that there are always going to be those you could consider worse company. The question then becomes whether or not you can think of better company." He smiled triumphantly and joined me at the table.

"Fine, fine. I can't think of anyone that I'd rather be sitting and chatting with. How was that?" I grinned and took another sip.

"That was nice. Empty compliment, but nice."

"It's the thought that counts."

"That's why it was nice." There was a few moments of silence between us before JC spoke again. "Nate?"

There was a different quality in his tone that made me glance up at him, away from the reflection in my coffee. "Hmm?"

"How is Brian? Did you manage to get him to open up about whatever was bothering him?"

I smiled at the concern that was in his voice, and on his face as he asked, then nodded. "Yeah. He and I went for a long walk, and we wound up in this little park just a little way..."

"I know that park," he interrupted, his smile coming through his previous concern.

"Oh, well, we wound up there, and we sat and talked about what he was thinking about. We got everything worked out, I think. As much as we can right now, anyway."

"Can I ask?" His expression changed comically, conveying clearly the fact that he was very much aware that he shouldn't be asking.

"Um... I don't know. Let's maybe just leave it at the practical problems of being famous, involved, and in the closet kinda got him down. I'm sure that you of all people will be able to extrapolate from that."

JC nodded his head and refrained from asking anything more about it. I knew that he wouldn't really need any of the details of what had been bothering Brian. He probably had most of the same thoughts running through his head.

"So are you still reeling over getting to play with BB yesterday?" I asked him with a smile to bring the conversation back around to the lightheartedness that we had had going. I knew how much he and Kevin were looking forward to the bragging rights when they got back together with their respective groups.

His face lit up immediately. "You can't imagine how great that was!"

"Oh, I think I can to some extent. Authors have idols too, you know." I smirked at him as I took another sip of coffee. "We may not get to jam, but for a writer, talking is the next best thing. After all, it's words that make our living for us."

"I never thought about it that way. I guess it's only natural that you would have someone like that too. I'm not really into the literary world, but I suppose that there are some pretty huge icons there too."

I nodded. "A lot of them are the ones that everyone recognises. JRR Tolkien, Dostoevski, Twain, Tolstoy..."

"Something tells me that you haven't been able to meet those ones, though."

I laughed. "No, but there are some current big names too. Though for the most part, they're not appreciated fully. For some reason, people seem to think that a book has to be hundreds of years old to be worth anything. We've got masters just like any other age, but we just don't think that way."

"Give me an example of someone that you would consider a master that you feel is underappreciated." JC was actually getting into the conversation, and was leaning forward a little in his chair.

I thought for a minute, trying to come up with an example that would both surprise him and make him think. I smiled as it came to me. "Stephen King."

JC laughed until he realised I was being serious. "You think of Stephen King as a master?"

"Undoubtedly. While his genre isn't what is normally considered one that would give rise to a classic work, he's definitely what I would consider a master of the craft."

"He writes coffee table books! He's... whaddaya call it... a `popular' writer."

"Thanks for making my point for me."

"Care to explain?"

And he fell into the trap. "He's a popular author, and he writes coffee table books. Since he's so popular, his books are on a lot of coffee tables. If you think about it, JC, Stephen King meets just about every criteria that you can throw at him.

"He's incredibly popular, with millions of devoted readers. He's incredibly successful, making millions and millions of dollars. He's incredibly prolific, with more than thirty books to his name. He's the top-selling author in his genre. He's instantly recognisable, both by name and by face..."

"And he's attacked by just about every respected critic," JC supplied, hoping to burst my bubble.

"Not really. Not anymore, anyway. In the last few years, with the attention he got from movies like Stand by Me', Shawshank Redemption', and `Delores Claiborne', more and more critics are coming around and recognising him as a storyteller rather than just a horror shlock writer.

"The fact that he is a storyteller is one of the things that makes me think of him as a master. If you give him an opportunity, he can suck you into a story like just about no one else. He can drag you along and make you believe. The ability to make someone believe even if they don't want to is pretty incredible."

"I have to admit that I've never read any of his stuff."

"Then let me give you some advice. Pick up a copy of `The Stand'. The complete and unabridged edition. If you can read that and not think that he deserves a lot more praise than he normally gets, I'll sign over my next royalty cheque."

"What's so great about that one?"

"It's an incredible story, JC. Epic, really. Within that one book, there are at least twenty-five different main characters. Each with their own personality, and each with their own baggage. And yet you believe in each one. Do you know how hard it is to create that many distinct characters?"

"Not really, I guess."

"Imagine trying to write twenty-five songs all about the same thing, and making them all good enough and different enough to go on the same CD." That made him think, and I smiled a little. "It's hard enough coming up with one believable main character, but to do it that many times within the same book, and to put them in a world that's just familiar enough to be creepy is practically impossible. But he managed it."

"Okay, so he can tell a story, and he's got a lot of fans. That doesn't make him a master."

"Then what would?"

He sat there for a few moments, trying to put it into words. I was interested in hearing exactly what his criteria would be. I watched as he squinted a little, trying to find the proper wording. "I guess someone that, a hundred years down the road, we can look at their book and see how they made a comment, and a lasting impression, about the society they were living in."

"Like with Oliver Twist?"

"Yeah!" He seemed pleased with himself.

"I'll give you that. I would call that a classic too. But think about this. What would you consider more remarkable? The ability to provide the reader with an impression of your society, and make some comment on an aspect of that, or the ability to do all of that and still make the reader afraid to turn out the light?"

I could see the frown on his face.

"What if I told you that Dickens had written a book that discussed the problem of the disintegration of the modern family? That it not only looked at alcoholism, spousal abuse, child abuse and the perceptual rift between childhood and adulthood, but that it did it from the perspectives of the child, the father and the mother? Would you expect it to be a classic?"

"Sure."

"And if I told you that Stephen King wrote it?"

"I wouldn't believe you."

I smiled. "When you're picking up The Stand', pick up The Shining' too. Not only is it the book that I described, but it'll scare the bejeesus out of you.

"The point I'm trying to make is that I think it's sad that we treat so much writing as worthless just because it isn't in the same genre or class as those that we already consider classics. If Dickens had published his shopping list, everyone would be studying it, trying to find the hidden message that he was trying to convey.

"All writing has a worth, and I think it's a shame that we feel the need to pigeonhole so much of it and call it trash. You're not going to find many Twain's or Dickens's today, because we don't have the same society that gave rise to them. But our masters are made from common stock, just as those before us were."

JC smiled at me. "You've done a lot of thinking on this one, haven't you?"

"I wrote a paper on it in university. `Should Cash Equal Trash?'"

"Please tell me that you didn't really call it that."

"No," I laughed. "That was the working title. Dr. Craine would have shot me if I handed in something with that title."

"Dr. Craine?"

"My advisor, and my absolute favourite prof. He completely disagreed with my point of view, but gave me a great mark on the paper. At the end of his comments he wrote, in big bold letters, `I disagree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.'"

"Nice way of looking at it."

"It's attributed to Voltaire, but there's some debate about whether he actually said it or not." I suddenly realised that we were way off-topic.

"Sorry, JC. Didn't mean to go into a lecture like that."

"No problem. It was actually kind of cool. I don't really get to have a lot of conversations about stuff like that. Normally, it's just meetings and talking about the tour, or the CD, or business of some sort. And when we have down-time, it's usually just hanging out and talking about nothing."

I hadn't thought about that. For me, this sort of thing was almost second nature, after my high school and university years. In high school we had regularly had discussions like the one that I had just had with JC. One of the benefits of going to a private school with a low student/teacher ratio, I supposed. University had seen more of the same, only taken to the next level and much broader in scope.

JC and the rest of the group hadn't had that opportunity, since they hadn't had a chance to go to university and work within a reasonably normal educational atmosphere. I knew that Brian, AJ and Nick had been tutored to finish high school, and figured that it was probably the same with JC.

"Still," I told him. "I really didn't mean to go off like that. One of the habits I picked up along the way, I guess. I can't even remember how we got talking about it."

"We were talking about meeting idols, and you were saying that authors had them too."

"Ah," I said, remembering.

"So have you met him?"

"Who?"

"Stephen King."

"Oh, no. It would be kind of cool, though. But I did get to meet one of my all-time idols."

"Who?" JC got up and took both of our mugs, heading to the counter to refill them.

"Max Whitner."

"Who?"

"Exactly," I laughed. "He's written seven books, none of which were really popular. But he's got the gift. The man could describe watching paint dry and make it interesting. My mother was reading `Gentle Kiss' when I was in high school. It's his third book. Basically about the mystery of death. Anyway, I picked it up because there wasn't anything on TV, and he had me before I got through the first sentence. I was up half the night finishing the book. My mother didn't particularly like not being able to read it before bed, but she would have had to pry it from my fingers to get it back."

JC was watching me again, the coffee momentarily forgotten.

"What?" I asked.

"The look on your face." He smiled and went back to getting us more coffee. "This is what we look like when we talk about music, isn't it? Like yesterday at the table in the restaurant, when Brian, Kevin and I were talking about performing and stuff like that. We must have looked like you do now."

Without a mirror nearby, I couldn't vouch for that, but I thought it was probably true. I was in my element, as they had been. "I guess so."

"So you got to meet this guy?"

"Yeah. Actually, I lucked out on that. He's with the same publisher that I am, so we ran into each other at one of the parties that they throw from time to time. I got my editor to introduce us."

"You must have been excited."

"You bet," I grinned as he came and sat down again. "I was bouncing off of the walls just like you guys were yesterday." I ducked out of the way as his hand suddenly darted toward my head.

"Relax," he laughed, then reached out and pulled something out of my hair. "That's been bothering me ever since we sat down. How on earth did you get a leaf in your hair?"

I blushed immediately. "Um... no idea." I could tell from the look on his face that he knew I was lying.

"You don't suppose it might have something to do with those grass stains on your back?" he asked with a grin, then laughed as I blushed even more.

"Anyway," I said, deciding that the best answer was no answer. "We covered what I was doing up, but to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

JC smiled at my attempt to change the subject, and went along with it. "I woke up a little early and decided to get up and start breakfast."

"How sweet."

"You haven't tasted it yet. I told y'all I wasn't the best cook."

"You managed the bacon and toast pretty well the other morning."

"I had supervision," he laughed.

"I can stick around and give you a hand, if you like. Brian will be okay on his own for a little while longer."

"Nah, that's okay. I'm not going to do anything too elaborate. I was thinking of sticking to some bagels and cream cheese, with some fresh fruit."

"Sounds good."

"Sounds easy," he said with a grin. "But I don't imagine that anyone will be complaining. Hey, what's this?" He picked up the pad of paper that I had been doodling on earlier.

"Just someone I'm trying to get to know a little better," I told him. I had sketched a picture of Jamie, hoping to gain a bit more insight into the character. She was standing on a hill, with a hastily-drawn city behind her and an apple tree in front of her. She was facing the tree, but looking over her shoulder at the city behind her.

"She looks like she's trying to decide which way to go. Or like she wants to go to the tree, but she's drawn to the city."

I smiled. "That's exactly what she's doing."

"Should I be seeing this?"

I looked up at him in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"Isn't this one of your characters?"

"Yeah, she is. But I think we're still in safe territory here. She's the main character, and what you're looking at is the main struggle in her life.

I'm having a bit of trouble getting it right in my head. Trying to find the mix of emotions there." In reality, now that he had mentioned it, I was a little nervous about the discussion.

JC nodded and looked at the drawing again. "I didn't know you could draw too."

"My Nana used to draw all the time. I guess I got a bit of that. I'm nowhere near as good as she was, though. The woman was incredible, but she never showed anyone her stuff. My Papa knew, of course, but I don't think that my mother ever did. As far as I know, no one other than Papa and I knew about it."

"Did your grandfather draw too?"

I smiled at his reluctance to call him my Papa. "No, he couldn't draw a straight line. But he loved to sit and watch Nana sketch. He would just sit there and watch her for hours. Like someone watching a really good TV program."

"That's sweet."

"Yeah, it was. I used to love going there to visit. Nana stopped drawing after Papa died, though. It was like she needed to have him there in order to enjoy it." I felt my eyes water as I remembered the two of them. The two perfect examples of unconditional love that I had had growing up. "When she stopped I wanted to as well, but she refused. She told me that Papa would have been disappointed in me if I did. That they were each other's inspiration, but I had to find my own." The tear finally formed and fell, tumbling from my left eye. I wiped it away just before it got to my chin.

"Nate?" He put his hand on my arm.

"I'm fine. I just miss her. No major breakdown."

"For what it's worth, I think she would have been proud of you. I think we both know that you found your inspiration."

I wiped at my right eye, catching the moisture there before it could properly form into a tear. "She would have loved Brian."

JC stood up and moved his hand to my shoulder. "Why don't you go be with him for a little while? I've got to start getting stuff ready before everyone gets up. I'll come and get you when everyone's ready."

"Are you sure you don't want me to give you a hand?"

"Positive. Go crawl back in beside him and try not to let him smother you."

I took another sip of my coffee and nodded, standing as well. "Thanks."

"No, thank you. I meant it when I said that I didn't get to have this kind of conversation often. I like it."

"Anytime, JC. I'm always willing to spout off whatever useless information is stored in my head. And opinions? I'm right full of them."

JC laughed and pushed me toward the hall. "I look forward to hearing them."

"Be careful what you wish for."

I started walking toward the bedroom, but JC called me back. When I looked back into the kitchen, he was smiling. "What did he say when you met him?"

"Who?"

"This Whitner guy."

"I know who you meant. That's what he said. `Who?' He didn't have a clue who I was." I grinned as he started laughing, and then turned for the bedroom again.

I thought about joining Brian in the bed, but decided against it. He looked pretty comfortable, and I didn't want to take the chance of waking him up. Instead, I pulled on a t-shirt and contented myself with settling in the overstuffed chair in the corner and watching him.

Thinking about my conversation with JC, I tried to imagine what bringing Brian home to meet Nana would have been like. The more I thought about it, the more I was sure that she would have loved him as much as I did. I wasn't sure whether or not she had suspected that I was gay, but I thought maybe she had.

With that thought, a memory clicked in my head so strongly that I could almost hear it. Every time I had left Nana and Papa's apartment, I had given Nana a kiss and Papa a hug. That was just the way it had always been.

I could remember giving Nana hugs and Papa kisses at other times, of course, but when it came time to leave, Nana got the kiss and Papa got the hug. I didn't know where it had come from, but it was a tradition that we had never, to the best of my knowledge, broken.

And, from about the time I was twelve, every single time I had hugged Papa, Nana had said the same thing. "He's my man. Get your own."

"She knew," I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief. At the time, I had just taken it as a joke. I'm sure that everyone else who heard it probably thought the same thing. But now, I could see it in the look on her face when she said it, and could hear it in the tone of her voice. She had known. There was no doubt in my mind.

Reaching over to snag the strap on my computer bag, I pulled it over to me and took out my notepad and a pencil. Putting the bag back on the ground, I closed my eyes and fixed a picture of Nana in my mind. When I had it, I opened my eyes again and started to move the pencil in soft strokes across the page.

"Nate?"

"Mmm hmm?" I didn't look up from the page I was working on. There were a few crumpled first tries lying around on the floor in front of me, and it looked like the one that I was working on at the moment was about to join them.

"What are you doing?"

"Talking to my Nana," I said, looking up at him briefly.

"What?" Brian scooted off the end of the bed and came over to stand by the chair. Looking down at the paper in front of me, he knelt and put his hand on my knee. "Is that her?"

"Yes and no. It looks like her, but I can't get it right. I'm missing something." I sighed in frustration and ripped the page off of the pad, crumpling it up in my hand and dropping it to the floor. I sighed again and looked over at him.

"Why did you do that?" he asked. "It was good."

"But it wasn't right."

Brian leaned over and picked up the paper that I had just dropped. He spread it out again, smoothing it over the arm of the chair. Then he leaned back over and did it again and again until he had retrieved all of my previous attempts as well.

"Sweetie, these are really good. I didn't know you could draw." He flipped through the papers again. Each were of my Nana, from different angles. Some were more detailed, and some were nothing more than rough sketches.

"I can't. Not like she could. This would have been a piece of cake for her."

"What would have been?"

"Getting it right on paper. She could sit down and capture every aspect of whatever it was she was drawing. You almost expected it to move, or breathe, or something. I can't seem to get it." I stuck the pencil into the spirals of the notepad and dropped it beside the chair with another sigh.

"What brought this on? Why are you drawing her?"

"JC and I were talking a little while ago, and I started thinking about her. He found a little sketch that I did while I was trying to figure Jamie's character out a little bit more clearly, and asked about it. Nana taught me to draw."

"She was very pretty," he commented, looking through the papers again.

"She was beautiful. Inside and out, she was the most beautiful person I've ever known. I used to go visit them after they moved into Toronto to be near us. Mom was their only child, and they wanted to be close to her. Nana and I would sit for hours and just draw whatever came to mind. Papa used to sit in this big green chair and watch us. He hardly ever spoke. He'd just sit and watch with this little smile on his face."

"Green, huh?" Brian smiled. "Is that where you got it?"

I smiled. "I don't think I ever really thought about it, but I guess it's a possibility. Papa loved green too. Every time I got excited about having drawn something good, he used to ask me if I could draw him `green' yet."

"What?"

"That's what I used to say. How do you draw green'? It's like trying to draw the wind. I could draw green things, like I could draw trees bending in the wind, but not the wind itself. Every time I asked him what he meant, he just said that he someday wanted me to show him a picture of green'."

"And you never found out what he meant?" Brian stopped kneeling and sat down in my lap instead, since it was clear that I was done drawing for the time being.

"No. He wouldn't tell me, and the one time I asked Nana, she told me that Papa was an oddball. She said that little smile wasn't happiness, but senility creeping up on him." I laughed as I said it. "Nana had a weird sense of humour."

"No kidding," Brian smiled.

"I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out what he meant, but they both died before I found out. I always think of green' as the sort of spark that you need for life. I can *draw* Nana, but I can't get that spark that she could. Papa told me once that Nana could draw green' because she understood it. While I know that he didn't mean that spark, it's the association that I have because that was how it was manifested in Nana's work."

"Nathaniel?"

"What?" I looked up to find him smiling at me.

"You might not know what it means, but you can make that spark just like your Nana could. You just don't have the understanding behind it yet that she did."

"I'm not following you."

Brian ran his fingers through my hair with one hand as he pointed to the pencil stuck in the notepad. "You can pick up that pencil and create life like your Nana did. Not the same way, though. She drew things into life. You write them. You can both pick up the pencil and make marks on the page.

The difference is that you use those marks to make words, and she used hers to make pictures."

"I don't think you understand what I'm trying to get at, Brian."

"I think I do. You looked at something your Nana drew and expected it to come to life on the page. I read what you write, and I get the same result.

Except that your characters do come to life and breathe in my head. I think your Papa would say that you're writing `green' without understanding what it means. But that will come, I think. If they hadn't expected it to, they would probably have told you what it meant. They obviously thought it was an important concept for you to know."

I smiled at him and pulled him to me, burying my face in his chest. "I was right. Nana would have loved you."

"What?"

"That's what started all of this, I guess. I think Nana knew that I was gay. And I know that she would have loved you. I wish you could have met her."

"Me too. Your Nana sounds like a pretty wonderful woman."

"Brian?"

"What, sweetie?"

"Don't call her my Nana. She was just Nana. She wouldn't have wanted you to call her anything else. Papa wouldn't either."

"Are you sure? It seems like they were pretty important to you."

I nodded against him. "They were the only people that I really enjoyed seeing for a long time before they died. The only ones that I felt sure about, and comfortable around. They never asked any of the questions that I didn't want to answer. They died two years before my parents did. I don't mind sharing them with you."

"Okay," he whispered, kissing the top of my head, then he noticed the wetness on his shirt and tilted my head up to look at him. "Should I be worried here?"

I smiled at him. "No. I just realised how long it's been since I stopped to think about them, and how much I miss them. I used to go and visit them at least once a week, and now I've managed to go all this time without really even thinking about them."

I was surprised for a moment at how close the tears were to the surface, then realised that it wasn't all that strange. As with my parents, I had avoided actually doing a lot of mourning for Nana and Papa after their deaths. I had been trying to avoid my emotions as much as possible at the time, and I realised that there must have been quite a backlog of tears built up.

Brian's hands descended on my face and his thumbs wiped away the moisture that remained there. "It doesn't matter how often you think of them. Remembering them is what matters. And I have a feeling that you remember just about every second you spent with them, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. I can see them so clearly. That's why these were so frustrating," I said, indicating the smoothed-out pictures on the arm of the chair.

"Maybe it's best that you can't draw her the way you want to. That was her way. It wasn't your... it wasn't Papa's, and it's not yours."

I sighed. "I guess you're right. But I really wanted it to work. It was something that she and I used to do together."

"Then do it. But don't expect to do it as well as she could anymore than you'd expect her to write a novel."

"When did you get to be so smart?"

"Must have rubbed off from you," he laughed, then kissed me again. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Then come over here and lay down with me for a bit. Until someone comes to get us anyway." He got up and pulled me back over to the bed. He climbed in first, then pulled me in with him so that I was laying with my head on his chest. There was another couple of seconds before Brian spoke again. "Sweetie?"

"What, pookie?"

"What happened to Nana's drawings?"

"We never found them," I told him. "I think only Papa and I knew that she did it. She didn't have any friends in town, and I'm pretty sure that my parents didn't know. After Papa died, she stopped drawing altogether. But I never found what she did with her drawings. For all I know, she burnt them or threw them away."

"So there aren't any left?"

"Not quite. I have two that she gave me, right after she stopped drawing. There's one of Papa, and one of me. She said that we were her two favourite men, and that I should have them."

"Are they with the rest of your parent's things?"

I shook my head. "They were mine. I never even showed them to my parents."

"Then where are they?"

"In my apartment. I've got them put away. It didn't seem right to put them up somewhere without one of Nana to go with them." I knew that he wanted to see them. "I'll show you."

"You don't mind?"

"I told you that I would share them with you."

Brian stroked my back gently before hugging me and falling quiet again.

PART 86

I dozed for a little while, then was back awake. From the steady rise and fall of Brian's chest beneath my head, I knew he was completely back to sleep. Raising my hand up in front of my eyes, I gently touched Brian's skin, letting my fingers graze his chest. I watched my fingers for a little while, noting how they moved, and the light shadows that they made.

Finally, I raised my head with a sigh and looked about the room. I didn't know what time it was, but it was clearly late enough that we should have been up. I sat up completely and looked down at Brian's sleeping form before leaning over and running my hands through the hair at his temple, brushing the little curls back behind his ear. "Pookie?"

He moved his head into my hand, nuzzling slightly, and grunted what might have been an acknowledgement of my presence.

"Pookie?" I said again. "I'm going to go and have a shower."

"Mmmmmmm...'kay."

"You coming with me?"

"Sleep." That one was loud and clear, and made me grin. I gave his stomach a final brush with the backs of my fingers, and then climbed out of the bed and grabbed my towel before heading into the hall. I could hear voices from the kitchen, but I figured I'd see everyone after I was cleaned up a bit.

Without Brian to distract me, showering was a much quicker process. I had been under the spray for only a few moments, but I had managed to wash my hair when I heard a knock on the door of the bathroom. Sticking my head out of the shower, I asked who it was.

"It's Kevin. Just wondering if you and Brian were in there together."

"Nope. He's still sleeping. There a problem?"

"Nevermind," he called through the door. "Nothing major."

"`Kay!" I retreated into the stall. I finished washing, and then rinsed my hair again and turned the water off. Stepping out of the shower, I had just started to towel off when I heard Matt and Kevin talking in the hall.

"Not to sound rude or anything," I heard Matt say, "but we need to get Nate out of the shower and Brian in it, since the radio show wants to hear you guys, not us."

Radio show? Not bothering to dry my hair, I threw the towel around my waist and opened the door, stepping out into the hall. "Nate's already out of the shower," I smiled, walking down the hall toward the two of them. "I heard you guys talking. I take it I need to get pookie up?" I was still trying to figure out what radio show they were talking about, and why no one had mentioned it until now.

Matt got a gleam in his eye and told us that he had a plan to get Brian up.

He urged Kevin to go and get showered and leave it to us. Suddenly feeling like I had absolutely no idea what was going on anymore, I just arched an eyebrow at Matt as Kevin headed for the bathroom.

Matt smiled at me as I turned the knob and let us both into the bedroom. I joined him in that smile when I saw Brian. He was still sound asleep, lying on his stomach. I don't know whether he had been too warm or dreaming, but he had managed to kick the sheets down almost off the end of the bed. I was willing to bet that he would be glad he wasn't sleeping nude when he saw Matt in the room.

Matt looked at me and grinned. "Remember that bit with Kathy?"

It took a moment, but then everything clicked into place and I started to chuckle. Fastening my towel around my waist to make sure that I didn't wind up flashing Matt, I went straight for my computer bag and got out my camera.

I was starting to get a nice collection of these photos.

Turning back around, I found Matt climbing into bed with Brian. He was visibly holding in his laughter as he traced Brian's back with his fingers, then leaned in and nuzzled him just like I normally did. I wondered if he had caught us doing that at some point, or whether I was getting a sneak peek at what JC was woken up with in the morning.

That thought made it even harder not to laugh, and some noise escaped me as I started taking pictures of the two of them.

"Pookie?" Matt said in a whisper, keeping his mouth close to Brian's ear. Brian managed to turn over, but he didn't open his eyes. He also gave that same pseudo-acknowledgement that I had received when I had gone to get into the shower.

Matt smiled even more and glanced over at me, probably to make sure that I wasn't getting uncomfortable with how close he was getting with my man. Since I trusted them both completely, and I was having a great time getting it all on film, I gave him a nod.

"Good morning, pookie," Matt whispered, leaning in even closer.

Without opening his eyes, Brian leaned up and over and planted his lips on Matt, shocking both of us. I could tell from the way Matt's eyes opened wide for a moment that he had certainly not been expecting a reception like that. I could have warned him, but I had been too busy preserving it for posterity.

Keeping his lips locked to Matt's, Brian's hand fell onto Matt's chest, lightly running along it until he encountered the chest hair. As soon as that particular tactile experience registered, Brian's eyes shot open. I made sure to take a couple of quick shots of that before he clued in on what was going on. Taking pictures was getting harder and harder all the time, now that there were tears in my eyes from laughing so hard.

Matt finally let his laughter out as Brian jerked away. I couldn't help myself. "I get up to take a shower," I panted, trying to get enough breath to speak, "and you're in bed with the first strange guy you meet?"

"Who you calling strange?" Matt laughed, still lying on the bed.

I just continued to grin as I watched Brian try and stare us both down. With the show we had just received, he wasn't going to have any luck at all.

I noted the muscles in his face working to keep the smile off of his face.

"No. You were the first strange guy I ever shared a bed with."

I threw both of my hands to my chest, pretending to be shocked and offended by such a cutting remark from my boyfriend, but the fact that I was still chuckling and couldn't seem to stop probably betrayed the act. Matt and I continued to endure Brian's gaze until we had finally started to come around again and the laughter had subsided a little bit. When he could safely talk again, Matt told me that he wanted copies of the pictures, just like the ones that I had taken with Kathy. I assured him that he was on the long list of those who would receive them.

"Well," Brian said sarcastically. "I'm glad to provide you both with your morning entertainment."

Matt continued to smile, still lying on the bed. "Actually, what's gonna be even more entertaining is when I tell you that you, Kevin, and JC have a radio show to do in thirty minutes."

Brian looked surprised, then even more surprised when he was told that the station was twenty minutes away, leaving him ten minutes to get ready. The surprise quickly turned to skepticism, however, and he looked over at me, waiting for confirmation. I nodded and told him that I had heard Kevin and Matt talking about it in the hall after my shower.

Brian's response was immediate and shocking in it's speed. He was suddenly standing on the bed, then launched himself off of it and ran for the shower.

He managed to walk all over Matt on the way too, making me laugh a little more.

Kevin had been just coming into the room as Brian exited. He smiled after his cousin, and then came in and gave Matt a hand off of the bed. Seeing him standing there in his towel, still dripping, I started to laugh even harder.

When Matt asked me what I was laughing at, I glanced again at Kevin, and then back at Matt to answer him. "I was just going to tell Kevin that he shouldn't have bothered putting any clothes on, since we've both seen him naked."

Kevin's reaction was almost as quick as Brian's had been a moment before. Maybe it ran in the family. He denied that we had seen him, and then realisation hit as he looked over at Matt. He blushed intensely and quickly looked away. Matt just smiled and gave him a little push toward the door, chastising me lightly for being mean.

"No more mean than finding you in bed with my boyfriend," I shot right back with a smile. That was enough to get Kevin stopped once more as he looked at the two of us. Matt assured him it was nothing and once again ushered him toward the hall and his room, adding a little pat on the ass, starting his blushing all over again.

"Well," Matt said once Kevin was gone. "I'll clear out of here so that you can get dressed."

I nodded and turned for the closet as I heard Matt close the door behind him. Quickly picking out a casual outfit, since I wasn't going to be going out anywhere, I threw it on and dried my hair. After I took a few minutes in front of the mirror to get it to behave itself, I headed in search of another cup of coffee. The two that morning with JC had been good, but once you went back to sleep, they seemed to be negated. Essentially, I was starting my morning over again. My conversation with JC was like a bonus morning.

Just as I was heading out into the hall again, I realised that Brian hadn't taken his towel with him. I grabbed it for him and walked to the bathroom door, knocking lightly and then opening it.

"Hello! Shower in use! Nudity abounds! Matt, that better not be you!" Brian called, hearing me close the door behind me.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before," I laughed, tapping lightly at the glass of the shower door. "I brought you your towel."

The door opened a little bit and his head appeared, his hair spiked into a mohawk with the shampoo in it. I had to laugh. "Thanks sweetie," he grinned, taking it from me and hanging it up on the hook beside the door. "But that doesn't mean that you're forgiven."

"Oh come on," I said, reaching out and stroking the side of his face. "You have to admit that it was funny."

"For you, maybe. But I kissed Matt!" He made comic spitting noises and started to laugh.

I grabbed his jaw and pulled his face to mine, giving him an extra-special good morning kiss, then pulled away again. "How was that? Did that erase the memory?"

"Another one might."

"Maybe later. Right now, you have to finish getting showered. Oh, and pookie? If you're going to be wearing shorts today, you might want to make sure that you wash those grass stains off of your knees."

Brian looked down and then quickly back up at me. "Shit! Do you think everyone else saw them? Do you think they know?"

I put my hand on his shoulder to get him quiet, and then I smiled. "I don't know if they saw them or not. But JC almost definitely knows what we were up to last night. When I was up earlier, he came out for a while. Between the grass stains on my back - which, by the way, I'm going to need your help with later. I couldn't get them completely by myself - and the leaf that he picked out of my hair, I would say he's got a pretty good idea."

Brian looked concerned for a moment, and then smiled along with me. "I guess it's not like they didn't know we did it anyway, right?"

"That's right. Although, I don't imagine JC would have expected it in the park," I laughed. "But you hurry up and get done. They'll be waiting for you. I'll be in the living room waiting to give you your goodbye kiss."

"`kay," he grinned, then disappeared into the shower again. I was just opening the bathroom door again when I heard him speak above the noise of the shower. "Love you."

"Love you too," I answered, then closed the door behind me and continued my search for coffee.

Everyone was waiting in the living room when I emerged again with my mug in my hand. Matt was sitting with his back against JC's stomach, and JC had his hand in Matt's shirt, rubbing gently. Matt's eyes were closed and neither one of them were talking.

I sat beside Kevin. It only took him a second to get started on the questions. "So what happened last night with the two of you? Did you get him to talk to you?"

I nodded. "We went for a walk, and then sat and talked for a while. He's going to be fine." I couldn't really say that he was fine, since we hadn't really resolved anything. All of the factors that had been bothering Brian the night before were still there. We had just talked about them, and talking about things like that almost always makes them seem less insurmountable.

"This is going to be one of those things that you won't tell me about, isn't it?"

"I think so," I told him, taking a sip of my coffee. "If Brian wants to tell you, then he can do it. It's not my place to let you in on something that he might want to keep to himself."

I felt a little guilty about telling JC more than Kevin, considering that Kevin wasn't just a friend or a bandmate of Brian's, but was actually family. But I knew that JC understood things on a level that Kevin didn't. That Kevin couldn't. And it was that difference that had made me more open with JC that morning. That, and the fact that I was sort of hoping that JC, who had been dealing with this thing longer than Brian had, would be able to help Brian get it all under control.

Surprisingly, Kevin took being out of the loop in stride. He didn't argue, or try to get me to say a little more about the situation. He just nodded and let it go. I took it as a vote of confidence in my being able to look after his cousin, and smiled back at him.

Brian came strolling in a couple of minutes later, dressed casually in shorts and a blue t-shirt with his sandals from the night before. He put his finger to his lips as he saw Matt sitting with his eyes closed. I nodded and kept silent, watching Brian creep up on his target. He put his lips to Matt's ear just as Matt had done to him and whispered "wake up, sweetie."

Matt's smile surfaced immediately. "I'm not that asleep, Brian," he laughed, opening his eyes. Looking around the room, he noted that everyone was accounted for. "Everyone ready?"

They all nodded and stood up. I smiled and put my hand in Brian's. "Now you behave yourself. No crawling into bed with any more guys."

"He crawled into bed with me," Brian said with a smirk. "It's not my fault that JC can't keep him satisfied."

"Just so long as you don't go looking elsewhere," I laughed, then gave him a kiss and wished him luck as Kevin dragged him out the door behind JC and Matt. I watched as they piled into Matt's car and pulled out of the driveway, giving Brian a wave when he looked back at me.

As soon as the guys were out of sight, I got to work. I wanted to get as much done as I could before they got back, so that I wouldn't be ignoring anyone. Getting my computer and sitting down at the dining room table, I opened the folder with my revision notes in it and got down to business.

I figured that I would be able to get through the majority of the revisions that I could do on my own. The ones that I needed to talk to Carrie about could wait until I got some more spare time, or until Brian finally insisted I do them. Either way, they would be waiting until later.

I flipped through the folder, passing by lists of suggestions, all of which I had crossed out two days before, when I had started the revisions. When I found the page without any crosses, I settled in and started searching for the proper place within the story to make the changes and additions.

I worked for about half an hour, and then decided to take a short break to check my e-mail. I marked my place in the folder and saved my work, then tore my brain away from the story long enough to do so.

There was a short message from Erron, letting me know that he had talked to his boss and had been able to get the following week off. Which meant, of course, that he would be going with us. I smiled at the mental image of what his face would look like when he saw Nick and realised that Nick was coming too. I sent him a quick reply, telling him that Brian and I would be back sometime on Sunday, then went on to the next e-mail.

Which very quickly brought my mind back to the book. The email was from Denise Rutledge, who was essentially Carrie's boss. Denise had written to tell me that they weren't happy with the way the book was progressing and that they were expecting more effort out of me so that they could capitalise on the way that 'Blue Sky' was selling with the release of the new one.

In essence, she was telling me to stop fucking around and work. I read the email over a couple more times, making sure that I didn't miss anything and also trying to really believe that it was there in the first place. It was highly irregular that Denise would come to me directly with something like this. Carrie was supposed to be my link with the company.

The revisions that I was working on had been carrie, but she ha been pushed into sending them and demanding that they get done as soon as possible by Denise. She had told Brian as much on the phone, and it had also been the first thing that she had mentioned in the email she sent with the revisions themselves.

Was Denise referring to my getting those revisions done, or was she after more than that? Did she want the revisions as well as a batch of new pages?

I thought that the latter was probably the one I should go with, but there was only one way to find out. Picking my phone up off of the table, I hit a speed-dial button and waited for the call to be picked up, then punched in Carrie's extension number.

"Carrie Redding."

"Hey Carrie."

"Nate! How's Memphis?"

"Good so far. Too damn hot, but not intolerable. We're having a pretty good time. Got to go to Graceland yesterday."

"You like the pool room?" she laughed.

"Ugh. Ugliest room on the planet. I take it you've been there?"

"Yeah. My dad is a huge Elvis fan. We made the pilgrimmage when I was in high school. Quite the place."

"It's something, alright. Listen, Carrie, I'm calling on business."

"Oh? Problem with the revisions that I sent?"

"No, not at all. There's a few that I need clarification on, but I'll e-mail you with the details of that. I'm calling because I just got an email from Denise."

"Denise Rutledge?"

"One and the same."

"That's odd. She shouldn't be emailing you directly. What did she want?"

I read Carrie the email. "Now, what I don't know is whether she was backing you up on the revisions, or bypassing you in order to personally kick me in the ass for not getting the pages out fast enough."

Carrie was quiet for a minute before responding. "I don't know either, Nate. I didn't have a clue that she was going to email you, which probably means the latter. I'm about to have a meeting with another author, but how about I go and see Denise when I'm done with that, and I'll see what's going on. I'll call you back as soon as I know what's up."

"Sounds good. Thanks, Carrie."

"Not a problem. I'll get back to you as soon as I've talked to Denise."

"Sure. Talk to you later."

"Bye."

I said goodbye and hung up the phone. Clicking back on the file with the book laid out, I decided to get some more work done while I waited for either Carrie to call back or the guys to be on the radio.

I had been working for another twenty minutes or so when the phone rang. Figuring that it had to be Carrie, I grabbed it quickly and flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"Hey sweetie."

"Andy! What are you doing calling in the middle of the day?"

"I had a few minutes free, so I thought that I would call and see how you were doing with everything."

"Fine and dandy," I said with a smile.

"Really?"

"Really. Brian and I are just fine." I thought about telling her about my little crying fit on the deck, but decided against it. Andy knew a lot about me, but she didn't need to find out about every moment of weakness that I had.

"Good. So you're just hanging out in Memphis?"

"Pretty much, yeah. Matt's great. I think you'd like him. And I know that you would like Kathy, his friend and Kevin's ex. You two are a lot alike. Come to think of it, you might be too alike. Anyway, our first full day here, Matt took Kevin and JC out to the casino and gave Brian and I most of the day to ourselves."

"Do I even have to ask what you did with that day?"

"I could give you the details, if you like."

"I don't think that will be necessary," she laughed. "I have no desire to have those images in my mind, thanks."

I consulted the mental images that I did have and decided that it was her loss. "We didn't just do that, you know. We napped, and I got some revisions done that Carrie sent, and we went for a walk. There's a nice little park not too far from Matt's place, and we sat there for a while.

Upon saying that, my mind flooded with even more pleasant images. Yes sir, it was a very nice little park.

"So what did Brian do while you were working. You didn't leave him to... um... entertain himself, did you?"

"Sweetie, you've seen Brian. Do you really think that I'd miss out on that?"

"Well, I thought that you were maybe boring him, so he would have to take matters into his own hands. So to speak."

I grinned. "Rest assured, matters are... uh... fimly in my hands."

"Eww."

"You asked."

"That doesn't mean that you have to answer! So really, what was he doing while you were working? Staring lovingly at you?"

"Actually, he was reading through something that I was working on earlier in the day."

"What?!? You let him read the book?"

"No, not yet. It was a story that I've had on the go for a while now. I couldn't sleep on our first night here, so I got up to work on it. Brian woke up and asked about it, so I decided to let him read it."

"Does he know how huge that is?"

"I don't know if he knows exactly, but he knows it's pretty big. He knows that it's a huge step for me, and I think he appreciates it. Kevin too, judging from the smile on his face when he found out about it."

Andy was quiet for a few seconds, then couldn't resist any more. "So does that mean that I get to read it?"

"Can't have Brian getting something that you're not getting, eh?" I laughed.

"Excuse me, but I do believe that Brian is already getting something that I'm not."

"Well, I'm not about to give you that."

"Trust me, I ain't asking."

"Well, about the story, I'll have to ask Brian. I told him that I was writing it for him. You might want to think about sucking up to him for a while."

"I think I'll leave that up to you."

"No argument from me."

"Not that I'm trying to change the topic or anything, but just where is your cuter half?"

"Keep it up, Andy, and I'll write you into the book just long enough to kill you off again," I laughed. "And, on the off chance that you're referring to Brian, he's gone out with Kevin, Matt and JC to do some sort of radio show."

"I thought you would have tried to go this week without being noticed."

"Well, what were the odds of that? Brian was recognised the other night when he and Matt went out to get movies, and all of them were recognised last night too."

"Where did you go last night?"

"Well, after we went to Graceland, we went to eat at BB King's restaurant. They were recognised, so they got up to do a few songs. They actually got to meet and play with BB himself."

"They weren't too excited about that, I bet."

"They're still smiling," I laughed, remembering the way JC had glowed earlier when I had mentioned it. "After we got back to the house, Brian and I went for another walk, and apparently JC and Kevin called in to the radio station. So they agreed to come in for a little while this morning. They should be on the air in a little while, I think." Again, I didn't see the necessity of filling her in on the specifics of why we had gone on the walk.

At least not over the phone.

"Oh, well, I guess I should let you go then. I just wanted to touch base and make sure that you were okay."

"Some would use the word perfect, though that might be coming to an end. I got a weird e-mail today from the company."

"What did Carrie want?"

"That's one of the weird things about it. It wasn't from Carrie. It was from Denise Rutledge. She's one step further up the ladder than Carrie is."

"That's strange. I thought you only dealt with Carrie."

"Normally, I do."

"So, what did this chick want?"

"Me to get to work, basically. I knew that they were getting impatient, but this is beyond strange. Carrie called with revisions a couple of days ago, and I don't know if Denise's e-mail was about getting those done, or about more new pages. I called Carrie a little while ago. She was just as surprised as I was. She's checking it out, and then she's going to get back to me."

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing too major. You'll figure it out."

"I just hope that they're not picking now to clamp down. I still have a week and a half on vacation with Brian."

"Don't get worried until you know that there's something to be worried about."

"I guess, but I'd like to get this cleared up. I don't know how long it's going to take Carrie to get back to me."

"Well, I'll get off of the phone, just in case. Tell Brian and Kevin that I said hello, and tell Brian to call me sometime."

"I don't think so, sweetie." With all of the embarrassing information Andy had in her head, I didn't want the two of them together without me there to mediate.

"Come on. You afraid that I might embarrass you?"

"Not at all. I know for a fact that you'll embarrass me."

"Fine, just tell him I said hi, then." Andy sighed dramatically, but I knew that she would be smiling.

"Will do."

"Okay, I'll talk to you later. Love you."

"Love you too. Bye, Andy."

I flipped the phone closed again and slipped it back into my pocket as I got up from the table. After a quick stop in the bedroom, I walked to the living room and took a seat on the couch after turning the radio on.

In a little while when the show went into a commercial, I got back up and headed for the kitchen for a drink. I had just managed to get a can of Coke out of the fridge when my phone started ringing. I put the can down on the counter and dug out my phone, sure that it had to be Carrie this time. As I opened it up, I headed for the dining room, where my computer and notes were still all set up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Nate."

"Oh. Hi, Cin."

"You sound happy to hear from me," she laughed.

"No. I mean yes, I'm happy to hear your voice. I just thought that it was someone else calling. I'm expecting a call from my editor." I smiled and leaned against the table. "So to what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your angelic voice?"

She giggled. "Save it for Nick. I just wanted to call and let you know that I talked to the caretaker of the place up north, and he assured me that everything would be ready for you when you get there. He and his wife are going to air it out and make the beds and all of that, though he said to make sure you either bring food with you or you go into town to get some. There's nothing there."

"That's no problem at all. Thanks for letting us use the place."

"Don't mention it. I'm glad someone's going to get some use out of it."

I didn't answer her. I had glanced out the window, and my attention was diverted to the car that was sitting in the driveway. It was Matt's car, but he was the only one I could see. And he didn't seem to be making any attempt to actually get out of it.

"Nate?"

I jerked my attention from the car and remembered that I was still on the phone. "Oh, sorry, Cin. Something just caught my attention for a minute." Matt still hadn't come out of the car, so I decided to go out and see if there was something that he needed help with.

"Something wrong?"

"I don't know yet," I told her, opening the front door and stepping outside. I walked around the front of the car, my worry growing more as I noticed that Matt didn't appear to have seen me at all. His eyes didn't move from the place on the dash that he was staring at.

"Nate?" By this time, I was around to the driver's side door and I could see Matt clearly. He was sitting there, hands loosely resting on the wheel, and he still hadn't noticed me. There were tear streaks on his face, and his entire body seemed to be trembling.

Reaching out, I knocked lightly on the window, trying to get his attention.

When he continued to ignore me, I tried to open the door, but it was locked.

"Shit. Cin? I'm going to have to call you back."

"What's wrong? You sound scared."

"I am," I said frankly, then flipped the phone closed and slipped it into my pocket as I started to bang on the window of the car again.

I knocked as hard as I could, hoping to get through whatever it was he was thinking about so intently. About ten knocks after my hand started to hurt, he finally jerked in his seat and turned his head to look at me.

There was a moment there where I knew he didn't recognise me, and then I finally saw it click in his eyes. He reached for the lock on the door, seeing that I couldn't get it open, but he couldn't manage to work it with his fingers shaking the way they were. I sighed and looked around, not knowing what to do. Then my eye settled on the opposite door of the car.

Running around, I jerked it open, thanking both JC and the deities who looked after such things that it was unlocked. I climbed inside, asking Matt if he was okay. He didn't say anything, just continued to stare at and through me, as I reached over and unlocked his door, then retreated again and ran back around to the driver's side.

Pulling the door open, I reached in and took hold of Matt's arm, pulling his upper body out of the car. He managed to get his legs under him, but I don't know whether it was a conscious action or not. They certainly didn't manage to support him. He fell against me, and I grabbed onto him, supporting him against my hip as I tried to get a better hold on him.

Two things were going through my mind at the time. The first was wondering what the hell had happened to him to bring on this kind of reaction. My first instinct had been to wonder if something had happened to the guys, and Matt was coming home to tell me about it. But since I had heard all three of them on the radio only a few minutes before, I knew that wasn't it. Whatever was going on with Matt, they weren't a part of it, and I was going to have to deal with it without their help.

The second thing that I was thinking about was that things were going too fast. In the movies and in interviews, everyone always talked about how things moved in slow motion in a situation like this, but that wasn't happening. The world seemed to be crashing around me as I tried to keep Matt from spilling to the driveway.

I managed to let these things run through my head while I continued to talk to Matt, asking what was going on. I wasn't at all sure that he could hear me, but I didn't know what else to do. Lifting his arm, I put it around my neck and then grabbed his waist, hauling him fully to his feet.

I dragged him the first couple of steps, and then his feet finally started to work. His legs still wouldn't support him, but at least I didn't have to drag him any further. That little bit of help from him - whether he knew he was giving it or not - was enough to allow me to get him inside without having to carry him.

Still talking to him, I got him into the living room and lay him down on the couch. I sat down next to him on the floor and turned his face to mine.

I didn't see even a glimmer of recognition anymore. Wherever he was, he definitely wasn't in that living room with me.

The most distressing thing about it was that he had started to cry again. Not actual crying, though. There was no laboured breathing, and no hitching at all. Even his face remained devoid of emotion. But the tears fell nonetheless, slipping silently from his eyes every time he blinked.

I sat with him for a couple of moments, gently brushing the hair back from his forehead in some attempt to offer whatever comfort he could take from it. As I sat, I tried to think of what I could do. I could call Brian or Kevin. They'd both likely have their phones with them. Brian almost certainly would, since he rarely went anywhere without it. JC likely had one, too, but I didn't know the number and I had a feeling that it would be unlisted.

But I couldn't call them. They were doing an interview, and if there was ever a bad time to call and let JC know that his boyfriend was having a breakdown of unknown origin, it was during a live interview. With a sigh, I crossed them off of my mental list.

I didn't even know what Matt was doing away from the guys. I had thought that he would be going along and waiting for them to do the interview and the rest of the show before bringing them back to the house.

My eyes opened wide as my mind settled on Kathy. She was the only one around that I knew and that might know what was going on or how I could help the situation. But my excitement faded again as I realised that I didn't have a clue how to get in touch with her. Then my rational side seemed to step in to take control, and I jumped up from my seat on the floor.

Matt probably had Kathy's number on speed-dial, as I did with all of my important numbers. Failing that, he must have an address book somewhere in the house. I walked quickly to the telephone and pulled it down off of the wall, then smiled when I saw the list of numbers. 'Kathy - Work' was the second one listed. 'Kathy - Home' was first.

Glad that it was a cordless phone, I walked back into the living room with Matt as I pressed the buttons and put the phone to my ear. Matt still hadn't moved, and he wasn't watching me. His gaze was starting to creep me out a bit, so I walked to the far side of the room to talk. I wanted to stay close enough that I could keep my eye on him.

A voice suddenly appeared on the other end of the line, and I asked to be connected to Kathy. I got that far before I realised that I didn't have a clue what Kathy's last name was.

"Kathy who, sir? I'm going to need a surname."

"Uh... I don't know what her last name is," I said, feeling more than a little stupid.

"Sir, I'm afraid that I'm going to need one. There are a number of women named Kathy in this office.

"Please," I argued. "This is a bit of an emergency, and I don't know what her last name is. She's tall, with blonde hair, and..."

"I'm sorry, sir, but without a last name, I'm not going to be able to help you."

Frustration gave way to good manners. "I don't know her fucking last name!" I practically shouted into the phone, barely resisting the urge to throw it across the room. The woman started to respond in a very unladylike manner, but I stopped paying attention when I heard Matt speak behind me.

"Don't."

I looked around at him in surprise and found him watching me. The lost look was gone from his eyes, though he still looked like hell. I thumbed the button on the phone to end the call and walked over to where he was still lying down. I took my seat on the floor again and looked him in the eye. "What's going on?"

He looked at me for a moment, and then tried to smile. "Sorry for scaring you like that."

"Don't worry about that right now, though you're in for the ass-kicking of a lifetime later. Now what's going on, and what can I do?"

Matt told me that he didn't really know what it was, and when I continued to just look at him, waiting for a further explanation, he finally spoke again. "Do you remember the other night on the patio? Everything just kind of hit you all at once?"

I certainly did. There wasn't much of a chance that I was going to be able to forget that night for a while. I nodded to let him know that I remembered, but I didn't really understand what that had to do with the situation at hand.

"I guess that's what happened to me today in the doctor's office."

I started to nod again, and then frowned slightly. Doctor's office? I hadn't known anything about a doctor's office.

He must have seen the question coming, because he gave me the answer to it without allowing me to ask first. "I had a doctor's appointment this morning." He went on to explain that the friend that he had asked to handle the tests had, once he had seen the results, gone ahead and made some arrangements for Matt to go in and talk to an oncologist.

Which answered the question of what he was talking about, but not why I hadn't known about it. "How come... why..." I let the question trail off as I realised that it really wasn't any of my business what Matt did, or who he went to see.

"Why didn't you know about the appointment before now?" he asked, making me nod. I was glad that he apparently thought that it was a legitimate question. "Truthfully, a part of me was trying to put it out of my mind." I could see the logic in that. I was a master at trying to push things out of my mind. The problems came when they pushed back. "But more simple than that, I thought the appoinment was a few days from now." Apparently Matt hadn't realised that it was that day until he had been making a note in his day calendar.

"So what do we do now?" I asked when he was finished with his explanation.

"I really need to go and talk to him, to find out exactly what I'm dealing with this time, but I don't know that I'm up to it."

"Do you just want to rest? I can call Kathy's office and see if she can pick the guys up." I was very concerned about him, but I wasn't going anywhere near a hospital if I could help it, and I knew that, once Kathy knew what was going on, she'd make Matt go to the doctor, and she'd volunteer to go with him.

Matt smiled, though it didn't look like he was really in the mood to do it.

"No, that's okay. I'll be okay. Besides, I don't want the guys to worry any more than they already are."

"Then I guess the question still stands as to what we're going to do." I gave him what I could muster of a smile.

My pseudo-smile brought one to Matt's face as well, and he even laughed a little bit. "That depends. Do you feel up to dealing with Memphis drivers?"

I tried to keep the slight grimace off of my face, but I saw by the look on his face that he'd caught it. "I guess so. I mean, they can't all be as bad as you are, right? And I drive around Toronto and LA. How bad could it be?"

Very bad. Very bad indeed. It turned out that Matt might just qualify as one of the safer drivers in the Memphis area. I was more than nervous behind the wheel, and kept my eyes moving trying to spot the idiots before they could get in my way.

"I appreciate it," Matt said from the passenger seat. It looked like he was enjoying himself. "I just wasn't up to driving yet."

I changed lanes to keep from being run over, and risked a quick glance at his smiling face. "No problem. So which way to the radio station?"

"Actually," he said, and with that one word, my heart sped up even more than the crazy drivers around me had been able to make it. I sent a silent prayer out to the deities that he wasn't about to say what I thought he was about to say. "We're not going there just yet," he continued. "The guys obviously have some time left, so if you don't mind, why don't we go to Dr. North's office?"

I cursed mentally and felt myself go cold, but I managed to agree.

To take my mind off of my own anxieties, I kept asking Matt if he was okay.

I'm sure that it bothered him as much as it usually did me when I was working through something and people kept asking me if I was okay, but I couldn't think of anything else to say, and I was trying to keep my mind occupied. He, of course, assured me that he was as good as was to be expected.

When I parked in the lot of the building, we both fell silent and climbed out of the car. A question occurred to me as we approached the door, though. "So, do you know this doctor?"

Matt looked at me, and it was obvious that he hadn't heard the question. It didn't really matter, though, because it was obvious that he knew Dr. North from the moment we walked through the door.

"I was hoping that you were on your way back, Matt," he smiled from his seat on the reception desk. Everyone in the room turned to look at us, and the doctor laughed and directed us back into the inner office. He sat back down on top of his desk this time, and indicated chairs for Matt and I. "Bobby North," he said with a smile, offering me his hand.

"Nate Healy," I responded, shaking it with a smile of my own, though it was forced.

"The author?" That definitely shook me. I hadn't really realised just how well the book was selling, I suppose, but it seemed to always surprise me when I was recognised. Especially when I introduced myself as Nate rather than Nathaniel. I managed to nod through my surprise. "I'm impressed. Matt's apparently broadened his social horisons." Matt shot him a look at that. "In all seriousness, I'm a big fan of your work, and I look forward to reading your next book."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. North," I said, summoning up another smile.

"Please, call me Bobby."

I nodded, though I knew that I wouldn't be talking much at all during my stay in the office. Dr. North seemed very nice, and he was actually pretty good looking as well, but the fact remained that he was a doctor, and there was just no getting around that for me. Outside of the office, maybe, but definitely not here. I was petrified of doctors, hospitals, and pretty much everything medical. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of covering, and I was determined not to let Matt know what it took for me to be sitting there with him. That was the last thing he needed.

"We're gonna be talking about quite a bit," the doctor said, and I was sort of relieved that he wasn't talking to me. "Your friend might be more comfortable in the waiting room." I took the hint and started to stand, but Matt grabbed me and made me sit down again. At the same time, I cursed him for making me stay, and felt glad that he would want me there with him.

The doctor nodded his agreement, and then picked up a folder from the desk beside him. "These are your lab and radiology results," he said, and then went into what sounded like a reproach for Matt's having circumvented the normal procedure. I was trying to pay attention to what was going on, but it sounded like greek to me, basically, and involved other people that I didn't know anything about. Plus, I was concentrating on keeping my heart from exploding out of my chest. I reached up and wiped a little sweat from my forehead.

I came back around to the conversation in time to hear that Matt's Hodgkin's Disease was at least back to stage IIIB, and possibly stage IV, but that didn't really tell me much. "How bad is that?" I asked, mentally preparing for the answer.

At least, I thought I was prepared. Matt, oddly, smiled back at me. "On the plus side, there's no stage V." I tried to keep the expression on my face neutral, but I failed miserably, and Matt turned back to the doctor. They instantly fell back into the medical speak, and I was lost with my thoughts again. At the moment, I wanted nothing more than to be back outside. I was even willing to brave the interstate again if it meant not being in that office. Even the smell was starting to get to me.

The only thing that I caught before Matt stood up from his chair was that whatever treatment they had decided on, they were going to start it within two weeks, possibly much sooner. I wondered how JC would be taking the news. I stood up with Matt, shook the doctor's hand again and hoped that he wouldn't notice that my palms were sweating. Or, if he did, he would mistake it as nervousness over Matt's condition.

Back in the car on the way home, neither of us said anything. I didn't honestly know what to say to Matt, and I was still trying to calm myself down as well. I was jerked back to reality when Matt suddenly spoke. "He's cute, huh?"

I gave him a blank look, having no idea what he was talking about. "Who?"

"The doctor."

"Bobby?" I had to force myself to call him by name.

"Yeah, Bobby," Matt grinned.

"I guess," I responded, then turned my eyes back to the road. I stopped myself from adding 'for a doctor'. Most people would kill to be involved with a doctor, but for me, it was very close to my concept of hell.

Matt must have read something in my face or voice that told him to let it drop, because he fell silent again for a few minutes. I felt bad about not doing more to cheer him up, but it hadn't exactly been an easy trip for my psyche either, and I couldn't think of anything.

"Let's go back to the house," he suggested. "We've got well over an hour before the guys get done, so you can get some work done and I can grab a power nap."

I hadn't heard a better idea in a long time. I needed some time to pull myself together before Brian came back, or he'd see the tension immediately.

I knew that Matt could use some time to recoup as well, or JC would be worried as soon as he laid eyes on him. "Sounds good," I said with a nod. I was beginning to look forward to getting back to the house when the thought occurred to me suddenly that Matt needed a lot more than a nap before he would be okay again, and my mood sank once more.

My face must have betrayed at least part of my thoughts. "Go ahead and say what's on your mind," Matt said, watching me. I opened my mouth, but there was just no way to actually make myself say what I was thinking. "Let me see if I can fill in the blanks. You're wondering what my chances are."

His bluntness shocked me, as did the fact that he was smiling a little bit when I looked over at him. "Yeah, I guess I am," I stammered. "I was kind of surprised that he didn't tell you." I had thought that it was because of my presence in the room, but Matt corrected that for me.

"First off, don't be sorry," he said with that same odd smile. "Secondly, he didn't tell me because he knew that he didn't have to. If it's stage III again, my five-year survivability is maybe fifty percent."

Matt had never seemed so much like a medical professional than he did at that moment, speaking in that roundabout way that they did to sugar coat things a little bit. Luckily, I knew him well enough that his sudden foray into med-speak didn't freak me out as much as it might have. "Five-year survivability?" I asked, letting him know that I would appreciate a dumbed-down version.

Matt explained that it was how they measured the success rate of the treatment, and that it meant that a patient was considered to be cancer-free if there wasn't a recurrence of the cancer within a five-year period.

"But hasn't it already been longer than that for you?"

"Yeah, but then again, I always have been a slow learner."

It amased me that he could be so glib about it, and I actually had to keep myself from smiling at his comment. "What if it's stage IV?" I asked, already mentally wincing at the answer.

"Ten to twenty percent." There was little or no inflection in his voice as he said it, and I decided that I wasn't going to push for any more details. If they were needed, they were going to have to come later, and at someone else's insistence.

Summoning up what little voice I had left, I said the only thing that I could think of. I apologised.

"The same rules apply for you as for Kevin," He told me seriously. "No more apologies. This sure as hell wasn't something that you're responsible for."

Which was, of course, true, but it didn't make it any better. "I know," I said with a sigh. "But I can't help but feel bad that there's nothign that I can do." I was also feeling very guilty for letting myself fall victim to my own insecurities regarding the medical profession, and not paying more attention to Matt's situation.

He surprised me yet again by actually laughing a little bit. "Welcome to my world. I'm going to start my treatments in the next week or so. That's all I can do. You, on the other hand, are here for me, and that's exactly what I need you to do. I do want to ask something else of you, though."

"Name it." Despite my orders, my mind insisted on adding 'as long as it doesn't involve any more doctors'.

"Don't mention anything to the guys about what happened this morning, especially to JC."

"Mention what?" I said immediately, glad that there was at least this much that I could do to help him. Matt nodded his understanding as we pulled into the driveway and he killed the engine. I followed him as he unlocked the door and led us both inside.

Tossing his keys on the table where they always seemed to land, Matt urged me back to work, then went to take care of the somewhat annoying beeping sound coming from the answering machine.

I wandered back into the living room, where the radio was still on, and they were still talking. It had been on in the background of the car while we were driving, but neither one of us had really been listening. Considering that they were really doing just bits of interview around the songs being played, I didn't think that we had really missed much. Nothing we didn't already know, anyway.

I picked up the pad of paper and the pencil that I had been using earlier before I had risen to get a drink and found Matt outside in the car. Looking it over, I paused for a moment while Brian spoke, talking about the tour delay, and how they would be making it up to the fans in the affected cities, then I went back to work on it.

A little over an hour later, Matt came wandering back into the room and I looked up at him with a smile. "Hey, you. Is it time to go and get the guys?"

Matt returned my smile. He definitely looked better after his nap. "I'll go and get them. You seem in the middle of something, so why don't you keep doing what you're doing?"

I looked from his face to the sketch in front of me, and then back up at him. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. I'll be fine."

He looked like this was something that he wanted to do on his own, and I thought maybe he had a point there. Depending on someone else when you needed it was one thing, but I knew from personal experience that it was one of those things that most people wanted to avoid if they could help it. I merely nodded and gave him another smile, then turned my eyes back to the page in front of me as he went toward the kitchen. I heard him leave a few minutes later, though it barely registered in my head.

PART 87

Matt got back with the guys a little while later. Just how long, I wasn't sure. I was still sitting in the living room, engrossed in the picture in front of me. I had the notepad sitting on my lap, and I was gnawing on my pencil as I thought about what I wanted to do. I had come closer, but I was still not satisfied with my version of Nana.

"Hey," Brian said, surprising me.

"Oh! Hey pookie." I smiled as he leaned in for a kiss.

"You hear it?" he asked, indicating the radio.

"Yep. I got some work done, then talked to Andy for a few minutes, then turned it on. I missed some of it, but I caught the rest."

"Looks like you had other things on your mind." Brian lifted the pad from my knee and looked at it as he took a seat beside me on the couch. "This one is going to be better than the others."

I nodded. It was going to be better than what I had done earlier, but it still wasn't what I wanted. I still couldn't transfer the image in my brain onto the paper. "I guess. It's still not right, but I'm taking more time with this one than the others. They were just quick sketches, really."

"Looks good to me," Kevin commented, walking around behind the couch and looking over Brian's shoulder. Matt and JC came into the room and sat down as well. "How come I've never seen you draw before?"

"I haven't done it in a long time," I told him. "Not like this anyway. I sometimes do a little sketch of a character when I'm thinking about a story, like the one that you saw this morning," I said, looking over at JC, who nodded. "But I don't usually sit down and try anything big."

"So who's this?"

I turned back to Kevin. "That's Nana. She taught me to draw. She taught me a lot of things."

"May I see it?" JC asked, pointing at the pad of paper that Brian was still holding.

"Don't see why not," I smiled, taking it and handing it to him. "But it's not done yet."

In fact, it was really barely even begun. I had sketched in the basics of Nana's face and head, but there wasn't much detail at all yet. I had spent most of the time so far on her eyes, getting them as close to perfect as I could.

Nana's eyes had always been so expressive. You could judge her mood in a second just by one glance into her eyes. When she had been drawing, they had looked both focussed and expansive at the same time, like she was trying to take everything in while simultaneously trying to narrow her vision to a single detail. In those moments, she had looked almost wild, and if the woman hadn't exuded love and comfort, I would probably have been a little frightened of that look.

And so I had been concentrating on her eyes when everyone came back to the house. So far, my drawing consisted of a roughly circular patch of actual drawing that was about three inches in diameter, with her eyes in the centre of that patch. The rest of the paper was covered in rough lines outlining the rest of Nana's face, hair, and neck.

"This is really good," Matt commented when he saw it. JC agreed, looked it over again, then handed it back to me.

I leaned forward and put it on the coffee table. "Thanks. I don't know how Nana would have felt about being the subject, though. She would never let me draw her when she was alive. She told me one time that, with all of the beautiful things in the world and in my imagination, I shouldn't limit myself to a withered old crone. I don't know if she knew how beautiful she was and just wasn't comfortable being the model rather than the artist, or whether she really saw herself that way."

"And Papa didn't step in and defend her from herself?"

I smiled at Brian, then laughed at the answer to his question. "No, he agreed with her. Then he told me how lucky I was to have been born, since he never would have married Nana if he had known how wrinkly she was going to get. That was the only time I ever saw Nana give anyone the finger."

They all laughed, seeing from the expression on my face that my grandparents had just been weird, not uncaring. JC looked like he was about to make a comment, but my phone ringing made him stop before he even got started. Before I could reach to pick it up off of the coffee table where I had left when I sat down, Brian had scooped it.

"Nate's phone... Oh, hi!... Yeah, he is. Just a sec." Brian looked confused as he held the phone out to me. "It's Carrie."

I took the phone and put it to my ear. "Hey, Carrie."

"Don't hate me."

"Don't give me reason to," I sighed, knowing that she was about to do it anyway.

"This isn't coming from me, Nate. It's not really even coming from Denise."

"They want more than the revisions, don't they?"

"Yeah, they do. As much as you can get done, as soon as you can get it done."

"Why the sudden rush?" I knew that I had been a little lax with the work ethic, but I didn't think that it warranted the attention it was getting.

"You know how the revisions were such a big deal because of what happened with you and Pete?"

"They wanted to make sure that you and I were getting along better."

"That's right. Well, something happened yesterday that focussed a bit more attention on you. I didn't hear about it until I talked to Denise. Pete was fired this morning, Nate. Because of the way writers were leaving him, and because of the noise I made over his involvement in the tabloid thing with Nick."

"Good." The bitterness in my tone garnered attention from everyone in the room, and I stood from the couch, heading into the hall and toward the dining room.

"That's what I think, too. But his getting fired brought you to the attention of the big guys here. After seeing sales figures for 'Blue Sky', they decided to take a closer look at both of us. They called Denise in, and had her bring in what you've sent so far."

"And they were less than impressed."

"To say the least. They bitched at Denise, and Denise just got finished bitching at me for letting you slide. There's no two ways about it, Nate. You've got to start putting in some serious time writing. I know that you're on vacation, and that you're heading up to your friend's cabin next week, but I can't be as lenient on this as I was. Denise threatened to reassign me if we didn't start getting a lot more from you."

Do you think it would help if I called Denise and told her that my production levels have been my fault? I don't want her yelling at you for something that's my fault."

"I don't think it would matter, Nate. She got yelled at herself, and I think that the only thing she's interested in is more new pages. Besides, it would look like I had you fighting my battles for me. Like I had put you up to it."

"Okay," I sighed. "But if they reassign you without my permission, I'll definitely not be signing a new contract with them."

"I'll pass that along, but I don't think it would come to that. Bottom-line is keeping you happy. The problem is that that only holds true as long as you're producing enough to keep them happy."

"And I'm not doing that now."

"They made that abundantly clear. I'm sorry, Nate."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I haven't been holding up my end of the bargain, and you've been dragged into it for helping me. I'm the one who needs to be apologising."

"You've had other things on your mind lately."

"But I also have a job to do. I should be doing it. I'll tell you what, Carrie. I'll knuckle down and get you some new stuff, and I'll get those revisions finished right away. They should be done by tomorrow. I could probably get them done in a few hours, but I don't want to promise and then not have them done."

"As long as they're in my inbox on Saturday morning when I get to the office. I'll be working Saturday so that I have as light a load as possible for the week Kevin's here. And since I'll basically be on vacation for that week, you can wait until next Monday to send in the new pages. Just make sure that there's enough to show them that you're working on it."

"Sounds good, Carrie. Well, no, not good. Sounds acceptable. I'll be sure to get it done, and I'll try to impress them, too. If I'm going to be going for quantity, I'll just get as much done as I can and we'll worry about quality on the revisions."

"Thanks, Nate. And I really am sorry about this."

"Not your fault. I've been slacking and it's catching up to me."

"The slacking has been for good reasons, though. But I guess I'll just let you go. Good luck on the revisions, and try to enjoy as much time with Brian as you can."

"Count on it. I'll talk to you probably early in the week, and let you know how everything is coming along."

"Okay."

"You wanna talk to Kev?"

"Is he right there handy?"

I had been walking as we finished up, and now I was back in the living room, looking at Kevin. "Well, he's right here, but I don't know how handy he is."

"Stop picking on him and put him on," she laughed. "And tell Brian that I said hello."

"Sure thing. So I'll talk to you next week?"

"I'll be away from the office as much as humanly possible, so use my cell number."

"No problem. I'll let you talk to tall, dark and handsome now."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye." With a smile, I bypassed Kevin's outstretched hand and gave the phone to a bewildered Matt instead. He gave me a confused look, then put it to his ear and said hello.

"I said 'tall, dark and handsome', not 'tall, dark and gruesome'," I said with a smile at Kevin's apparent need for an explanation. He didn't say anything, but he rolled his eyes and shook his head, then turned his attention back to Matt, who was still talking to Carrie. Finally, he laughed and handed the phone to Kevin, who took it and wandered from the room.

"Bad news?" Brian asked me as I sat back against the back of the couch with a sigh.

"Good and bad, actually." I told them about Pete getting the axe - pausing to explain to Matt and JC both who Pete was and why he deserved the axe - and then explained about my not only needing to get the revisions done, but to get my ass in gear on some new pages as well before they busted Carrie for my lack of production.

"There goes the nice, relaxed vacation," Brian sighed.

"Not entirely. I have to get down to work, but I'm not about to sacrifice all of my free time to them. In the end, they get the stuff when I give it to them. They can't pry it out of my brain."

"And if you don't give them what they want?" Matt asked.

"If it gets really out of hand, there are monetary penalties that they can resort to, but I doubt that they would go that far unless I completely stopped writing. This book fulfills my contract with them, and they'd be wary of doing anything that might send me to another company."

"Well, let's not test that theory," Brian said, patting my knee.

"I was thinking the same thing. If you guys think that you can keep my pookie here entertained for a while, I'm going to get a little bit more work done on those revisions." I smiled at Matt and JC.

"I think we can handle your pookie for you," Matt assured me, returning my smile.

"Good." I stood back up after giving Brian a quick kiss. "And try to keep the threesomes to a minimum, okay?"

"Just go," Brian laughed, kicking my leg.

I smiled at the three of them again, then went to the dining room, where Kevin was sitting and still talking on the phone. I waved at him, telling him to stay seated, then picked up my computer and folder and headed for the bedroom to get to work.

Brian popped his head in a few minutes later to let me know that they were going to be going to McDonalds, and that he would bring me back lunch. I agreed, then smiled as he blew me a kiss across the room and disappeared again.

By the time they got back, I was completely done with the revisions, and had gotten a few pages written before I came to a crossroads and decided to think about it before I tried forcing the story down a path that it didn't want to go down. Hearing the front door open, I shut down the computer and stood from the desk, stretching and groaning from the tension in my back.

When I got to the living room, Brian gave me a kiss and a mostly-eaten box of fries. His only explanation was a smile and another kiss. At least he had managed not to eat my two Big Macs. I had only asked for one, but without the fries to fill me up, I found I had the room for both. I had to wonder if that was Brian's plan all along.

He fell onto the couch next to me as I flipped through the channels on the TV. I finally settled on The Rosie O'Donnell Show, turning my grin on Brian and finding it mirrored on his face. I saw Matt and Kevin looking at us as well. JC, apparently unaware of what the show meant to Brian and I, was watching the screen.

"You get some stuff written?"

I looked over and smiled at Matt, then nodded. "Yeah, a bit. I'm at a point where there are about four different things that I want to happen, but I can't decide between them."

"You know," Brian laughed, looking over at me and taking my hand. "If you were to, say, let someone read the story, they might be able to give you their very sweet and loving opinion."

"Not yet, pookie," I told him, sticking out my tongue. "I'll figure it out."

"Suit yourself." Brian slid his leg around me and sat behind me, wedged between my back and the couch. His legs came around my waist, and his hands settled on my shoulders. Giving them a slight squeeze, he whistled and put his head next to mine.

"You're really tense, sweetie. Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I'm fine. Don't stop though."

Brian laughed and continued to knead my shoulders for a few more minutes before removing his hands and placing them around me instead. "You know what I bet would help relax you?"

I heard Matt snicker as Brian's hands worked their way under my shirt and came to rest on my stomach, but I ignored him, giving Brian my full attention. "What would that be, pookie?"

"A nice, hot shower. And, of course, I would have to come along and keep the backrub going."

"Of course," Kevin said dryly, making us all laugh.

"Don't listen to him," Brian cooed in my ear. "So do we have a deal?" his lips found my earlobe, sucking on it briefly before settling on the spot behind my ear.

I shivered and nodded, getting up so abruptly that I managed to cause Brian, who had been leaning against me, to fall off of the couch. I held my hand out to him as he regained his balance, and then I pulled him to his feet. "We'll be back."

"Thanks for the warning," JC grinned.

Brian and I ignored him, and I led us to the bathroom. He took all of five seconds or so to get out of his clothes, then started helping me with mine. He started to laugh as he got my shirt off and saw my back. "Boy, your back's greener than Kermit's."

"Shut up!" I grinned. "Maybe if my boyfriend hadn't been trying to actually drive me into the ground last night, it wouldn't be." I moaned softly as his hands went to work on my back again.

"I wasn't too rough, was I?"

"Not at all. You couldn't be too rough," I assured him. "It was perfect."

"I thought so too."

Brian and I fell quiet again for a few more minutes as he worked on the larger of the knots. I had a feeling that we were both thinking about just how perfect the night before had been. The ending, at least.

"You sure you're okay? You're not upset about something?" He asked finally, releasing me and turning me back around to face him. "Your back was totally clenched."

"I'm fine. It's just..."

"Just what?"

"I'm afraid of doctors," I said, feeling completely foolish. "Ever since I was little, hospitals and pretty much anything to do with doctors and medicine have terrified me. Going with Matt today was a little rough on me, I guess." There was, of course, more to my tension than just going to the doctor, but Matt didn't want me saying anything, so I wasn't going to. I did, however, feel more than a little guilty saying that the trip was rough on me, knowing what it had done to Matt.

"You're afraid of the doctor? That's so cute," Brian laughed.

"It's not cute," I said, a little harsher than I meant to. Brian's smile vanished. "It's stupid. I know that, but it doesn't make it any less scary. Just the thought of having to go starts my heart beating faster." And indeed, simply talking about it with Brian had sped my heart up considerably.

"Oh sweetie," Brian said, giving me a hug. "It's not stupid at all. Lots of people are afraid of the doctor, and everyone's afraid of something. I can't stand flying. Kevin hates bees, and Nick doesn't like spiders. I still say it's cute. Just like everything else about you. Now, I think you're relaxed enough for that shower I promised." He released me and started the water running, climbing into the shower. "Get your ass out of those shorts and into this shower so that I can scrub your back."

Dropping my shorts, I stepped out of them and into the shower behind Brian.

I stood back so that I could watch him and enjoy the view as the hot water cascaded over his head and down his back. He eventually noticed how quiet I was being and turned around with a smile.

"What are you doing?"

"Enjoying the view," I told him, looking him up and down. Watching the water flowing down his front was just as nice as watching it flow down his back.

"What are you, some kind of Peeping Nate?"

"Maybe. What are you going to do about it?"

"Well, tough guy," Brian smiled, stepping forward out of the spray. "Maybe I'll push you around a little." He reached out and pushed me back against the wall of the shower, his hands staying on my chest to hold me there. "And read you your rights." He pressed himself against me, putting his lips beside my ear. "You have the right to remain silent..."

"I choose to waive that right," I laughed. "LALALALALALA!"

"Keep it up and I'll have to get out my baton."

"If you tell me to assume the position, I'm outta here," I laughed, earning a nudge in the ribs.

"You'll do as I say."

"Is that so?"

"Yep. And I say you kiss me. Now, dirtbag."

"How romantic." I brought my hand up his body until I could grab a handful of his hair. Pulling back on it, I brought his head back from my ear and planted my lips to his. When he finally saw fit to give me my tongue back, I broke the kiss and smiled at him. "How was that?"

"Not bad. For a dirtbag."

"You're lucky you're so physically daunting, or I'd take a round out of you."

"You talking back to me?"

"Maybe I am. You got a problem with that?"

"Not as long as you're willing to accept the proper punishment."

"I'll take my chances," I said smugly, reaching up to flick him in the shoulder.

"That's it," Brian returned, his smile expanding greatly. "On your knees, soldier."

"Soldier? I thought we were playing 'angry police officer'."

"Who's in charge here? I said on your knees, and I meant it."

And, since I had been raised to respect the law, I stopped arguing.

Brian and I took much longer than was strictly necessary in the shower, but no one made mention of that fact when we emerged once more and took our customary place on the couch, Brian behind me with his arms and legs around me.

We all just hung out there for a little while. JC flicked through the channels for a bit before finally giving up on finding anything worth watching, and then he shut the TV off and busied himself with giving Matt a shoulder rub which, by the look on Matt's face, was totally welcome.

I considered taking up my pencil again, but being wrapped up in Brian was just too nice. I closed my eyes and sat back against him, smiling as he nuzzled my neck. I was just drifting off into a nap when the doorbell buzzed, destroying my peaceful mood entirely. I made a mental note to find out when Matt's birthday was so that I could buy him a less-distruptive doorbell. Something cheesy like the Mexican Hat Dance or something. Anything but that irritating buzzing.

Matt tore himself from JC's hands with a slight frown as he stood up to get the door. I closed my eyes again and was once more drifting off when Matt came back into the room. "Nate? Brian? There's a woman here, and she's insisting on talking to you."

"Who is she?" Kevin asked, immediately going into business-mode. It really was frightening how quickly he could do that.

"I don't know. She says her name is Hannah Neale, and that she needs to speak with Brian and Nate."

"Tell her to talk to management," Kevin told him. "They're on vacation."

"Relax, Kev," Brian sighed, releasing me and nudging me into a sitting position. "It's probably just a fan who found out where we're staying. We'll give her an autograph or whatever and she'll leave. Otherwise, she's bound to just get mad and tell everyone where we are." Brian and I stood up together, and then he pulled on Kevin as well. "You might as well come, too. Let's just hope that she doesn't know that JC's here."

Kevin sighed and stood up with a nod. "Okay, I guess. Sorry about the interruption, Matt."

"Not problem for me," Matt assured him. "I'm just sorry that they tracked you down."

We all expressed our agreement with that sentiment, and then headed out into the entranceway. Matt tagged along, leaving JC in the living room. He picked up the remote again to amuse himself until we got back.

"Ah, Mr. Littrell, Mr. Healy," the young woman said when Matt opened the door again. I smiled at his having her wait outside. He was definitely on the ball. "It's nice to meet you both. I'm Hannah Neale."

Brian and I shook hands with her, both of us smiling. Kevin reached out as well, surprising her. She shook his hand, but kept her eye on Brian and I. "What can we do for you, Ms. Neale?" Brian asked, increasing his smile. "Did you want an autograph or something?"

"No no, nothing like that," she said quickly. "Actually, I was hoping that I could speak with you and Mr. Healy for a few minutes." She looked pointedly at Kevin and Matt before returning her eyes to us. "In private."

I noticed Kevin's frown starting and elbowed him slightly. "I guess that would be alright," I told her before he could say anything. The last thing that they needed was to be accused of being rude to a fan. "Matt? Can we use the dining room for a couple of minutes?"

"Sure." There was a note of curiousity in his voice, and I shot him a look, trying to let him know that he'd know what this was about as soon as we both did.

"Thanks. Please, come with us, Ms. Neale," I said, standing away from the door as Brian headed into the dining room after a shared look with his cousin. Ms. Neale went ahead of me, and I took the opportunity to give both Matt and Kevin a shrug before I followed after her. They both watched us for a moment, and then turned and headed back to the living room.

I didn't see any reason to waste time, though I didn't want to piss her off, either. I decided that blunt and to the point was probably best. "What exactly was it that you wanted, Ms. Neale? I don't mean to be rude or anything, but you sort of caught us by surprise here."

I didn't like the slight smile that came over her face at that. "I guess it's best not to beat around the bush, so I'll get down to it. I'm a reporter, gentlemen, and I wanted to talk to you both about your relationship."

She was watching us closely, looking for a reaction. She didn't get one from me, though. I was completely frozen, and I didn't dare risk a glance at Brian to see what he looked like. I just kept staring back at Ms. Neale until Brian eventually said something.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Neale, I don't think we can help you. Now, like Nate said, we don't mean to be rude, but my friend and I were trying to have a vacation with our other friends, and the press wasn't really part of the plan. If you would care to call our management..."

"I think you're going to want to hear what I have to say, Mr. Littrell."

Brian turned for the door, and I followed him. "Like I said, Ms. Neale, if you'd like to call management, maybe we can work something out for after we go back on tour."

"Mr. Healy..."

"I'm sorry, but I have to agree with Brian. Please, if you'd like an interview or something, call my publisher."

"I'm not here to threaten you."

"And neither of us said that you did." I turned and gave her what I hoped looked like a normal smile, wondering if she could hear my heartbeat as clearly as I could. "But, we're all on vacation, and an interview is just out of the question right now."

"I wasn't looking for an interview."

"Regardless, I'm afraid that I have to ask you to leave," Brian said, indicating the doorway again.

"I really think you'll want to hear me out, Mr. Healy," she said, looking directly at me. She then turned her eyes to Brian. "You too, pookie."

I hoped that she wasn't close enough to hear Brian's gasp. "Ms. Neale..." I started, not sure what I was going to say.

"Give me two minutes."

I glanced at Brian for a second, but there was no emotion on his face at all. When I looked back at our visitor, I was surprised to find her without a smile. She seemed almost embarrassed.

"What do you want, Ms. Neale?"

"I told you. I want two minutes of your time."

"Two minutes," Brian whispered, coming back toward the table. "You have two minutes."

"Brian..."

"Sit down, Nate," he said looking over at me. And now there was definitely emotion on his face. In fact, it looked like every emotion he was capable of was warring for supremacy. He knew we were caught, and he had that deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes.

I took my chair beside his and watched as Ms. Neale sat opposite us and put her bag on top of the table. I could see Brian's hands tremble as he crossed his arms in front of him, and wanted nothing more to take them in my own. But, even with what I was sure was coming, I couldn't do it. I hoped that Brian understood.

"Let me first say that I'm sorry for catching you by surprise like this, but I knew that if I tried to get to you by the normal means, I'd not likely ever manage to get you one-on-one."

"If you have a point, Ms. Neale, I suggest you get to it. You're running out of time." My fright at being discovered was subsiding in the face of my anger and concern over the look on Brian's face. I was expecting to see tears there if things didn't take a severe turn for the better. Our conversation the night before in the park came back clearly and I realised that all of that pressure that Brian had been feeling - the pressure of having to keep us a secret and having to be in the closet, and everything else - was threatening to crush him.

"Mr. Healy - can I call you Nate?"

"No."

"Okay then." She rooted around in her bag and came up with a thin manila envelope. "This is what I came to talk to you about." Opening the envelope, she pulled out three large photos, placing them on the table in front of us.

I flinched when I saw them, but Brian leaned forward a little and picked them up off of the table, holding them up. The first was of the two of us in the Meditation Garden at Graceland. I had my arms around Brian, and his face was buried in my chest. He flipped to the next picture. This one was almost the same, but Brian was kissing me on the cheek. The third picture was pretty unclear, but not unclear enough. It was Brian and I, holding hands as we walked under a streetlight. It had, of course, been taken the night before.

"Jesus, lady, what the hell were you doing? Hiding in the bushes?"

"Actually, Mr. Healy, that's exactly what I was doing. One of the things that you sometimes have to do to get a story."

"One of the things that you have to do to invade someone's privacy, you mean."

"Sometimes the two are one and the same."

"How wonderfully convenient for you." I took the pictures from Brian's hand and threw them down on the table. "So what exactly was it that you wanted?"

"Inside that envelope you'll find all of the prints for those three pictures, and some others as well. The three I showed you were the best ones."

Even my outrage at her describing the pictures she had shown us 'the best ones' wasn't enough to get over my surprise. From the way Brian jerked his head up I knew it got through to him too. "You don't have any other copies?"

"No, Mr. Littrell, I don't."

"What about the negatives?" I frowned at her, trying to figure out her angle here. It didn't make sense to hand over the only evidence she had. "Giving us these is all well and good, but it's meaningless if you can make more."

"They're also in the envelope," she said, picking it up and holding it out.

"Everything is in there."

Brian took the envelope out of her hand and opened it, dumping the contents on the table. He looked quickly through the pictures, then held up the negatives to the light to make sure. "She's right."

I was quickly getting tired of trying to get into her head. "Again, I have to ask that you get to the point. I'm feeling a little bit like a fish on the line here, and I don't like it at all."

Ms. Neale sighed and sat back in her chair. "I'm sorry. I really am. I said I wasn't going to beat around the bush, and here I am doing it. Gentlemen, I have no intention of printing those photos, or writing a story about the two of you."

If my head went in one more circle, I was liable to puke on the table. "I don't understand." My, was I the king of understatement.

"While I realise that my behaviour in getting these pictures wasn't entirely indicative of it, I do have some integrity, Mr. Healy. What you two do in your personal lives is none of my business, and it's none of the public's business either, until you decide to make it their business. So, I'm not going to be the one to bring it to light."

"So what was all this for?" I asked, indicating the pictures. "Practise? Some sort of perverse pleasure?"

"Not at all. When I took those pictures, I had every intention of printing them, as well as following you around to get more, and build a story."

"Then why aren't you?" Brian asked her. I glanced over at him and found an eerie sort of calm had come over him. "What changed your mind, and why are you here now, if not to get our reactions?"

"Let me show you one more picture," Ms. Neale said, digging in her bag again. She came out with a black leather wallet. Opening it up, she flipped through the pictures in the little plastic sleeves until she found the one that she wanted. Slipping it out of the wallet, she handed it to Brian, who took it with hands a little steadier than they had been a few minutes before.

Brian and I leaned in to look at it together. It was a picture of Ms. Neale with her arms around a young man who looked to be several years younger than she was. From the resemblance, I knew that they were related.

"That's my brother, Joe," she explained.

"And he convinced you not to go through with this?"

"In a way."

"We're beating around the bush again," I told her.

"Joe's been dead for the past five years. He was seventeen when he decided to kill himself. He shot himself with my father's hunting rifle."

That got my attention, but did nothing to straighten things out in my mind.

One look told me that Brian was just as confused as I was. Apparently our visitor noticed it too, because she continued without waiting for our reaction.

"He left a note for me. In it, he told me that he was gay, and he couldn't take not being able to tell anyone. He was afraid that we wouldn't understand. No, he knew our parents wouldn't understand. He was afraid that I wouldn't. Now, I don't know your stories, so I don't know if you know what it's like to..."

"We know," Brian said softly.

"Okay then. Like I said, he left me a note. Only me. And I've kept his secret. I'm the only one who knows that he was gay. I told my parents that the note was about something that we were supposed to do together, and that he was just apologising for leaving us.

"I followed the two of you as far as the park last night, and then I went home. As soon as I walked through the door, I saw Joe's school picture - I keep it on the mantel - and I knew that I couldn't go through with this. If I couldn't bring myself to out my brother to our own parents because of their reaction, how could I do this?"

"Which explains why you're not going to publish these pictures." Brian reached out and dumped them all back in the envelope. "But it doesn't explain why you're here trying to give us both heart attacks. Why not just rip up the pictures and be done with it? Just forget everything that you saw?" I was happy to see Brian coming back to himself, but I knew he was still just as scared as I was.

"Two reasons." She put up one finger. "The first is that I thought you could both use a warning. If I could get these pictures, anyone could have.

You're going to have to be more careful about this."

"You've got to be kidding me," I said. "You came over here, and scared the hell out both of us, and now you're trying to pass it off as some sort of altruistic motivation?"

"I said there were two reasons, Mr. Healy. Warning you was the first, but I'm willing to admit that it wasn't the largest."

"Then get to it, please. I'm getting a little tired of all of this. Tell us what you want. Is it money?"

"No, it's not money. I want the story."

"Please just stop screwing with us." Brian sounded drained. "You say you're not going to print the pictures, and now you're telling us that you want to do the story. If this is all you came here for, I think you might as well leave and stop playing games."

"You don't understand, Mr. Littrell. What I meant to say was that I wanted the story when you're willing to release it. You have your career to think of, and I have mine. An exclusive interview with a Backstreet Boy and his partner after they decide to come out of the closet would be very good for that career."

I sighed. "So, in exchange for not printing these, and for not telling anyone about us, you want to have first shot at this when it goes public?"

"That's about the size of it, yes."

"Do we get some time to think this over?"

"Certainly." She opened her wallet again and handed me a business card. "Give me a call when you reach a decision. Remember, I'm not trying to blackmail you here. Either way, I'm leaving those photos here with you, and without them, I have no story."

"I think we understand, Ms. Neale," Brian said, running his hands through his hair and looking at her. "Now please, get out."

She surprised me by not putting up any sort of argument, or trying to say anything else. She simply nodded and stood from the table, putting her wallet back in her bag and slipping the bag over her shoulders. "I look forward to your call."

"Brian?" I asked, putting my hand on his shoulder as we both stood. "Why don't you go and get everyone together. I'll see Ms. Neale out."

Brian glanced up at me with a question in his eyes, but I just gave him a nod and told him to go. He looked from me to Ms. Neale and back again, then nodded his agreement and left the room.

"Mr. Healy..."

I waited until I knew that Brian would be out of earshot, then turned to face her again. "Ms. Neale. I suggest you stop talking and listen to what I have to say." Her eyes widened at my tone, and she closed her mouth. "That's better. Now, I'm sorry to hear about your brother. I know what it's like to be where he was, and I wish he had been able to get through it."

"Mr. Healy..."

"I said shut up."

She stopped talking again and waited for me to continue.

"Like I said, I'm sorry about your brother, and it seems that we owe him a debt of gratitude for his influence in your decision. But as sorry as I am about what happened to him, surely you realise that you could have conducted yourself much better here today."

From the way she lowered her eyes to the floor, it was clear that she did indeed realise it. "I'm assuming from the fact that your business card simply has your name on it, and not an affiliation with any one publication, that you're a freelance reporter?"

She looked up again, checking to see if I was actually wanting a response. Seeing that I was, she nodded. "That's correct."

"And I also assume that you know who my publishers are?"

"I do."

"Then I'm sure that you are aware of the combined influence that my publishers and Brian's management have, and how many doors a few phone calls from us could close for you. I think I can give you pretty good odds that you'd never work for any publication that my company is involved with, and I can guarantee that we'd call in every favour we had to see to it that others would follow suit."

"Is that a threat, Mr. Healy?"

Andy would have been proud. "No, Ms. Neale. I'm in no position to threaten you. I'm making you a promise. I love Brian very much, and so help me, if you ever screw with his emotions again like you did here today, I won't hesitate to do everything I can to close those doors."

"I didn't mean..."

"You knew exactly what you were going to do to him! To both of us! Do you expect me to believe that you thought you could come in here and put our careers in danger, as well as those of the rest of the Backstreet Boys, and we would sit calmly and discuss it?

"You seem like a bright woman, Ms. Neale, and it seems that you have both a heart and a conscience. So while you're waiting for our phone call, you might want to think about what you did to him in those few minutes between you calling him by my name for him and you telling us that you weren't going to out us to the public. I have a feeling that it will be a good long time before we're thinking about anything else."

"I am sorry."

"Yes, you are," I said, putting my hand in the small of her back and pushing her toward the front door. "Now if you don't mind, I think it best that you leave." Opening the door, I waited just long enough for her to walk out onto the step, then I closed the door behind her without another word.

As an afterthought, I locked it as well. Then I took a deep breath and leaned against the wall while I collected myself. With another deep breath, I stood up again and went back into the dining room. Picking up the envelope with the pictures in it, I headed into the living room, where I knew they were waiting for me.

Brian was sitting on the couch, and Kevin was watching him with a bewildered look on his face. "Nate..." he started, but stopped again when I shook my head.

Brian looked at me. "What do we do?"

"I guess that's what we decide now," I said softly.

"What's going on?" Kevin asked, looking at the two of us. "What did that woman want?" I sat down beside Brian and passed Kevin the business card that she had given us. Brian's hand grabbed onto mine as soon as Kevin had taken the card. "Oh shit," Kevin said, reading the card.

"What is it?" JC was sitting on Matt's lap in the recliner to the side of the couch. Kevin looked at us again, and then handed the card to him.

"No," JC sighed, reading it.

Matt grimaced slightly. "Does this mean what I think it means?"

"She brought these," I said, sliding the photos out of the envelope and handing them to Kevin.

The colour drained from his face as he flipped through them, passing each one to JC as he finished looking at it. "This can't be happening."

"Apparently it's not," Brian told him. "At least, not yet."

"What?"

"She said that she wasn't going to print those, and she wasn't going to say anything to anyone about us. The negatives are in the envelope as well."

"Then what did she want?" Matt asked, passing the pictures back. I slipped them back into the envelope.

"She wants us to agree to give her the exclusive story when and if we decide to come out to the public," I supplied. "That and to warn us that we have to be more careful. She said that if she could get those shots, anyone could."

"Does she expect a thank you?" Kevin asked sourly.

"She better not." Brian brought his feet up and put his free arm around his knees.

"We have to call management," Kevin decided.

"What can they do about it?"

"Brian, if we do nothing, she could go ahead and do it anyway. She might not have the pictures, but like she said, she could get more if she tried hard enough. Or even if she just hinted to the right people about what was going on here, we'd have teams of reporters following us around. Eventually we'd slip up and you'd be on the front page of every magazine and newspaper."

"She won't do that," I said softly. "I made it clear that it wouldn't be a smart career move."

"What did you tell her?"

"The truth. My publishers are one of the biggest names in the business, and that they wouldn't be at all receptive to accepting stories from someone who dragged one of their authors through the mud."

"Jesus, Nate! You threatened her? There's no telling what she'll do now."

"Kevin, with all due respect, back off. It's been a trying day, and I've never been on the receiving end of something like that before. I'm telling you, she won't make a move until she hears from us. Either trust me or don't, but don't push me right now." I said it more harshly than I wanted to, but I thought that, given what had just happened, my being on edge was understandable.

"Nate..."

Brian put his hand on Kevin's arm to quiet him. "Nate's right. This isn't something that you can just take charge of, as much as I'd like you to. This is up to Nate and I. We have to figure out what we're going to do about this."

"I don't mean to butt in," Matt said.

"Feel free," I told him, finding the energy to even produce a little smile.

"We're taking suggestions."

"Well, it seems to me like you don't have many options. You can either choose not to agree to give her her story and then sit around and wait for her to spill the beans about you for revenge, or you can agree to give her the exclusive and breathe a little easier."

"But she could still go ahead and talk," Kevin pointed out.

"Then you make sure to tell her that if you're outed before you out yourself, the deal is off."

"And that we will do everything we can to put her career in the same kind of trouble that she'd be putting ours in," I added.

"Which means that we really just have the one option. We give her what she wants, and trust her." Brian said it to the room, but he was looking at me.

"I guess so." I looked around the room and found everyone nodding. "I'll call her later and tell her then."

Matt sighed. "I'm really sorry you guys."

I laughed a little, though there was absolutely no humour in the sound at all, and stood from the couch. "Me too," I said bitterly as I picked up the pad of paper from the coffee table and headed for the bedroom. "For about five seconds there, I actually thought that we could approach a normal relationship." I resisted the urge to look behind me as I continued down the hall and into the bedroom.

To Be Continued...

That's it for this time, peoples. :)

First, I apparently need to apologise for the announcement that I posted a couple of days ago. It seems I managed to get several people excited about a new installment, only to disappoint them. :P Sorry, guys. But thanks to all of you who have emailed to let me know what you think of the Nick/Erron thing. I really appreciate the input, and please keep them coming. :)

Note: Max Whitner, the author that Nate met, is entirely a creation of my brain. Please don't email me asking where you can get his book. ;)

So... until next time, thanks for reading!

~D~