DISCLAIMER:
This story is a complete work of fiction and does not imply anything about the sexuality or sexual orientation and/or preference of any of the Backstreet Boys in real life. It is meant to be read only by individuals over the age of 18 due to occasional strong male/male sexual content, so if you're under 18 or if this is illegal where you live, see ya! Any quotes are attributed to their sources. This story may not be reproduced in any form anywhere else without express permission of the author.
INTRODUCTION: I've enjoyed reading a lot of the stories on here so I decided to try my own. But this one may be different from some of the others so I figured I should explain myself.
One of the things I've noticed a lot of the stories have is "wish fulfillment"--a lonely person who's had a hard life who is in essence rescued by a celebrity. I really identify with these...sometimes I've even been moved to tears by some of them. My story definitely has that. Where it differs, I think, is that my lead character is a bit older and more jaded and cynical than a lot of the others...and so is the tone of this story in general, I think.
Another MAJOR difference is that usually the person who meets them is one of their biggest fans. My lead character, like myself, isn't really a fan of their music, but finds some of them very cute. This is the one thing I think some people may have a hard time with, but in some ways I think this might make for an interesting twist.
Also, in a lot of the stories the band members are best friends....what if they weren't necessarily? Or starting to grate on each other's nerves from being together so much? This also will be explored.
So you may find some of the BSB acting completely "out of character"...but this is a work of fiction, so they're acting how I need them to to further the story. Also, you'll find a lot of references to other music, movies, and TV shows...this is because I'm a pop culture junkie!!! =P If you have any questions about them, feel free to email me.
I'm looking forward to your comments and suggestions--constructive only, please--my self-esteem is in the gutter enough as it is!!! =P Email me at torilane@hotmail.com .
And now--on with the story!!! =D
NOTHING IS REAL BUT THE BOY: AN ALTERNATIVE BSB TALE by Jules Wainwright
Chapter One--The Runaway Backstreet Boy
It was two in the morning on a Sunday night (Oh, you know what I mean!) at ParisMatch. ParisMatch is a small club in Chicago that's almost impossible to categorize. Its clientele is about 60% gay, 40% straight, almost all "alternative"-looking. Everything inside is black--the walls, the bar, the tables, the dance platforms--everything. The music depends on the night, but is usually a mix of retro & alternative--my favourite kinds. Tonight was "all request night", so almost anything went.
I sat alone at one of the tables nursing my screwdriver and surveyed the room. I used to love Sunday nights here because it was nearly deserted and the people who were there were usually cool, lowkey, and interesting to talk to. It was the closest thing to the East Village in New York that I had found in the Chicago gay scene. I really missed the East Village...it was the only place in the world where I felt like I truly fit in.
But Sunday nights here had started picking up, and now it was starting to get as cliquey and bitchy and attitude-laden as everywhere else. The Chicago gay scene can make high school look like a picnic! If you're not a conventionally gorgeous boy-next-door Gap/Structure clone you may as well slash your wrists. Even in the "alternative" gay scene, you had to be "alternative" THEIR WAY...which kind of defeated the whole point of being "alternative" in my mind, but this sort of Alice in Wonderland logic permeated the Chicago gay scene.
Time for another cigarette. I lit a Marlboro UltraLight 100 and puffed on it, staring at my black nail polish. My pinky was slightly chipped--DAMN! Oh well.
I stared at myself in the mirror next to the table. Thankfully, my hair was still intact--there's an old Waitresses song that describes how I feel about my hair--"Everything's Wrong If My Hair Is Wrong". It's jet black, about two or three inches long, worn straight up and clumpy. Lately I'd taken to adding lots of bright blonde highlights to it with hair mascara for the hell of it. It wound up looking like the lead singer of Sugar Ray's. This was accidental at first, but then I thought about it--so many people, myself included, found him gorgeous, and we both had good cheekbones--maybe some of it would rub off on me! Well, it did--but with straight women, unfortunately. Lately straight women found me adorable...it almost made me wish I WAS straight. Not because I don't like being gay--I do--but sometimes it just seemed like there would be so much less bullshit to deal with with dating a woman. I mean, gay or not, men are still MEN!
I'm about 5'9", 135 pounds--the thin waify type, but not anorexic-looking. I was wearing a tight red and black striped crushed velvet shirt, huge flared black baggy jeans, and oxblood Doc Marten boots. I flashed back to when I had bought the shirt in LA when I was there on vacation in February and worn the exact same outfit out that night to alternative night at Rage. I had so many people approaching me and complimenting me on the shirt, the pants, my "overall unique look"--it seemed like even people who weren't in the acting industry sized up people like casting directors! But now that I was back in the conservative Midwest, even wearing the same outfit that had garnered so much praise out there, I may as well have been invisible.
I surveyed the room again. Brad, my ex from five years ago, was holding court in the corner booth with his entourage. I decided against going over and saying hi because every time we talked, he was polite enough, but there was an underlying sense that he really didn't want to be talking to me because he thought I was beneath him--which really isn't all that different from how he treated me when we dated. I did get some snarky comfort from the fact that Brad was not aging well--too many drinks, drugs, and late nights--so that even though he was three years younger than me, he now looked like he was the older one. Thankfully, both sides of my family don't really show their age, although my mother certainly carries on enough about how "old" she looks. I keep trying to tell her she's 54 & looks 40, which is true, but to no avail.
Other little cliques dotted the landscape of the room similarly. What was that old saying about feeling alone even in a roomful of people? That's how I felt.
"God, I'm having a Victoria Lane moment," I thought. She was one of the characters on SANTA BARBARA, my all-time favourite TV show. She was a beautiful actress who had an unfortunate knack for choosing men who only saw her as a consolation prize--to kill time with while the women they really loved were unavailable. This surprised me, because normally I saw myself as a gay male Julia--the beautiful, intelligent, self-sufficient lawyer with the biting sense of humour who was generally forced to sit by and watch as the helpless damsel-in-distress types waltzed off with all the men; Victoria was also one of those "victim" types. But I was remembering this one very simple scene where she was backstage in her dressing room after a sold-out performance. She looked around the room at all her acting mementos and paraphernalia, realized she was all alone-no one waiting for her--and looked in the mirror and sighed. I was an actor also--not famous yet, but working steadily and starting to get recognition--and that's EXACTLY how I felt right now. "I guess Tori and I do have things in commmon," I thought.
All of a sudden "Midnight" by Yazoo popped into my head from out of nowhere.
It's a song about being alone at, well, midnight. True, it was two, but close enough. I went to the DJ booth to request it.
Derek was DJing, as per usual on Sundays. He's the other reason I come regularly. He's in his mid-thirties, short black hair, very cute--at least, to me--and PAINFULLY shy, it seems. We get along well, though. The maddening thing is, I've had a big crush on him for five years and I never have an opportunity to tell him!
"Hey, Jules," he smiled. "'Maria' again?"
"Nope," I smiled back. Lately I'd requested Blondie's comeback song every time I went there.
"'So Bad' by Nina Hagen? 'Seether' by Veruca Salt? The B52s? Kate Bush?"
"OK, so I'm predictable!" I laughed. "No, actually, I'd like to hear 'Midnight' by Yazoo."
"Ooh...good call!" he said as he started flipping through his albums to find it.
"So, Derek, I'm about to ask my usual question," I flirted.
"And what's that?" he smiled.
"Busy after this?"
"Yeah. I have to inventory a bunch of new records," he replied.
"Ah. Well, sometime before the next century we've got to hang out again!" I teased.
He was about to reply but just then Gary, another one of the DJs there, entered the booth. He usually dropped by and hung out in the booth when Derek was working--they seemed to be good friends.
"Hey, Jules," said Gary. "So Derek, I have to tell you about..."
Frozen out of the conversation, I waited until they weren't looking and slunk back to my table and sighed. I thought about how with a lot of the "great stars" of the past, like Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, when you read about them, they actually had very lonely lives. Either nobody understood them or they drove people away with their egos and tempers. Was that what was going to happen to me? Was I eventually going to be successful but completely alone? God, I hoped not...but it sure seemed that way at the rate I was going.
I noticed a cute boy two tables away from me who hadn't been there before...he must have come in while I was talking to Derek. He was built, with sandy brown hair in bangs. He had on a tight black v-neck t-shirt with silver trim and black jeans. He was the very epitome of the boy-next-door type. His eyes caught mine and he smiled. He had an adorable impish grin. I smiled back, then looked away.
He WAS really cute...but I just had no emotional energy to approach him and get blown off...or what if he was straight and just friendly? Well, we could at least talk if that was the case...Or maybe he had just caught my eye by accident as he was scanning the room. That happened too...
I looked back. He was still looking at me and smiling. "Make him come to you," I thought. This way, it would show he considered you important enough to make an effort. So I smiled back and remained where I was.
After about a minute of this contest of wills, he approached me. "Looks like I have to be the outgoing one," he smiled. I laughed. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked.
"No, go ahead," I said. He sat down. I extended my hand. "I'm Jules."
"Brian," he said, shaking it. "So...having a fun night?"
I laughed. "I'm here...let's just leave it at that. You?"
"OK so far. I just got here...so are you here by yourself?"
"Terminally," I shot back. He laughed.
"Me too. That's cool. So what do you do? I take it you don't have to be to work tomorrow morning."
"I'm an actor," I replied.
"Oh, cool!" he said. "Anything I might have seen?"
"Nope. Just local theatre mainly so far. I was in an independent film but my part got cut out."
He laughed. "That sucks!"
"Yeah," I replied. "It's still a good movie though. They just eliminated the subplot I was in...so what do you do?"
He just stared at me for a minute.
"Did I say something wrong?" I asked.
"You honestly don't know, do you?"
I looked at him more closely. He did look kind of vaguely familiar...but I couldn't place it. "No...should I?"
"Oh, that is WONDERFUL!", he exclaimed, overjoyed. "So anyways--"
"No, wait a minute," I said. "Now you've got me intrigued. What is it you do?"
"Oh, it's not important," he said, trying to change the subject.
"Well, now it is. Tell me!" I said.
"You're not going to let this rest, are you?" he laughed.
"Nope," I smiled.
He looked around the room to make sure there was no one within earshot, then leaned in closer. "OK. But you have to promise me--don't scream or anything like that when you hear, and don't tell anyone, OK?"
"I'm going to scream, huh? Now I'm REALLY intrigued! OK--I promise."
He looked around again. "OK. Well, I'm in this singing group..."
"Cool! Which one?" I asked.
He stared at me again. "Man, you really DON'T know, do you?"
"No. I'm sorry...I feel like I should now."
"No, that's OK!" he said, overjoyed.
"So, which one?" I asked.
"You're not going to let this rest, either, are you?" he asked.
"Nope. I'm evil, aren't I?" I smiled back.
"Yes, you are!" he laughed. He looked around again. "Have you ever heard of...the Backstreet Boys?"
"Sure."
He just stared at me.
THAT was it! I didn't listen to their music--too mainstream and sappy for my taste--but whenever I caught one of their videos, I thought a couple of them were really cute...and here was one of that couple! "You mean you're--OHMIGOD!" I said, excited.
"SSHH!!! you promised!" he hissed. "But, yeah. I'm Brian Littrell," he said, almost sheepishly.
"I'm sorry," I apologised. "So why don't you want anybody--"
"Let's just say...I'm on vacation from being a Backstreet Boy. I just need to be Brian, regular human being, for a little while, or I'm going to go insane."
"That's cool," I said. "So are you here on tour or something?"
"No, just the opposite," he said. "We were on tour, but we were just getting really burnt out. Not just with the schedule and the fame thing, but with each other, too. I mean, it's just been album, videos, tour, interviews, new album, more videos, another tour....we've all been pretty much inseparable for two years now! And so we figured for our own sanity, we'd postpone a week of dates and all go our separate ways."
"I don't blame you," I said. "So why Chicago?"
He laughed. "Would you believe I threw a dart at a map and that's where it landed?"
I laughed. "That sounds like something I would do! OK--but you've GOT to tell me this--vacation or not, what in the world is a Backstreet Boy doing in an alternative bar at 2 in the morning?"
He smiled. "Because...alternative bars are probably the only bars I can even come close to going incognito in. I know they're not going to play our videos or anything, and even if people do recognise me, they're not usually into my music so they don't mob me."
I'm a very blunt and honest person who feels guilt at the drop of a hat, so I knew if this conversation was to go any further, I had to be straight, so to speak, with him. "Brian, I have to be honest with you...I'm not really into your music either. It's not that I think it sucks--it's pretty good for the genre--I just don't care for that genre as a whole. I like 60s, 70s, early 80s, and alternative."
He looked at me extremely hurt without saying anything. I felt like the biggest asshole in the world. "I'm sorry--I mean--"
He burst into laughter. "GOTCHA! No--that's cool--I already figured as much. Actually, I'm glad in a way."
"You really don't mind?"
"No! I mean, if I didn't like a play you were in, would you hate me?"
"Well, no--"
"It's the same thing. And see, this way I know you're talking to me because you like me as a person. And to be honest, I've just been so starved for that, you know?"
"Yeah...probably the same way I've been starved for attention period here all night."
"Why? I would figure somebody who seems as unique as you would have a...a..."
"Boyfriend," I finished for him. "That doesn't freak you out that I'm gay, does it?"
"If it did, I wouldn't be here! So, do you have a boyfriend?"
I burst into hysterical laughter.
"OK...I'll take that as a no...", he said.
"Well, I haven't checked the weather report lately, but it IS July, so I don't think hell's going to be freezing over anytime soon," I cracked.
"Oh, please!" he chided. "It can't be THAT bad!"
"I just have horrid luck with men...let's just leave it at that for right now," I replied.
Just then Gary stopped by our table. Gary was friendly to me about every other time I was there. "I'm taking off, but I just wanted to say I'm sorry I still haven't seen your play. When is it again?"
"Well, Fridays at 10:30, but I'm not in it anymore. My character died last week," I replied.
"Oh, shit! I'm so sorry! I really meant to--"
"That's OK--I know you're busy. Don't worry about it," I reassured him.
"OK...well, I've got to run. See you later."
"Bye", I said. Gary left.
Brian looked at me. "OK, now I'M intrigued. What show is this that you're in where your character dies and you're out of it now?"
"Ummmm....I'd rather not say," I replied.
"OK--now YOU'RE not getting off the hook. Tell me!" He insisted.
"It just might freak you out, that's all."
"No it won't. Tell me!"
"Well, did you ever hear of THE REAL LIVE BRADY BUNCH a few years back?" I asked. "Where they would perform a different episode on stage each week?"
"I think so."
"Well, I was in the REAL LIVE MELROSE PLACE," I said. "Did you ever watch that show?"
"Yeah, until they killed Sydney and Kimberly off. They were my favorites."
"I know. That's when I stopped too," I agreed.
"So what part were you?"
I hesitated. "Ummmm....that's the part you may find weird."
"Oh, come on. Who? Matt?"
"Not exactly...," I stalled. I took a deep breath, looked at Brian psychotically, and exclaimed, "Wait a minute! It's not what it looks like!", then grinned evilly and snarled, "It's WORSE!" as I mimed pushing a remote control button.
"Oh my God! You were KIMBERLY?" he exclaimed.
"Yeah...does that freak you out?" I asked.
"No! I think it's a riot!" he said. "Are you a drag queen, then?"
"NO," I said quickly. He couldn't have known, but GOD I was sick of people asking me that question! "It's just that the theatre company I work with a lot is pretty out there, and they put you in whatever part they see you as. Gender doesn't matter. So I'll do drag for an acting part, but as far as going out to bars dressed as a woman or putting together a lipsynch routine? No. Not that I have anything against it, but it's just not me. A couple times I had guys, straight guys even, come up to me after shows and tell me how hot they thought I was as a woman...if anything, it just kind of scared me."
"Why?"
"I don't know, exactly...it just did." This was true. I really did have no idea why it bothered me...but it gave me the creeps. Maybe they just reminded me too much of those dirty old men at the bars who would paw me like I was some sort of object when I passed by. I hate feeling dehumanized in any way. "But as far as actually playing Kimberly, it was a blast!"
"It sounds fun. Was the show a hit?"
"Yeah, actually, it was," I replied. "We started over a year and a half ago, and we sold out most of the first year. I got lots of exposure and good reviews. I even got on the cover of the Tribune last year."
"That's great!" he said.
"Yeah...I guess so..." I replied.
I guess I must have let a little more sadness bleed through than I wanted to because he immediately asked, "What's wrong? Shouldn't all that make you happy?"
"Oh, it does--I'm very grateful," I replied. "It's just sometimes...well, I wonder...where does it really get me? I mean, yeah, so I was in a hit, but I'm still all alone at 2 in the morning, you know?"
"I know...well, me too!" he said. "But we're not alone now."
"No...we're not, are we?" I asked rhetorically.
"Nope," he grinned, then got serious. "But I know what you mean. I feel very alone a lot of the time...especially since I became successful."
"But you're alone by choice, right?" I asked.
"You mean because I'm not with the group? Yeah. But--well, except for Kevin; he's my cousin--they're really just my friends. Or maybe co-workers might be a better word. It is a job in a way; just more high-profile than most, you know? But as far as meeting someone special..." He trailed off for a moment, then continued. "Most of the people I meet are fans. And I've tried dating them, but it never works out...They're in love with Brian Littrell, the pop star. They have so many fantasies and preconceived ideas about me that I, Brian, the human being, can't possibly hope to compete. And when they find that out, they're usually disappointed and then it just fizzles out." He paused, then added sadly, "I do try though..."
I wanted to hug him, touch his hand, something, but I wasn't sure if it would be appropriate--I mean, I didn't even know if he was gay or straight yet. He continued.
"So usually, with fans, it just winds up being the sex thing. Which, of course, is great for a while...but after awhile, without love, it's like...it's so empty. Everyone you sleep with...they almost become interchangable, you know?"
"I know exactly what you mean," I replied.
"You do?"
"Yeah," I said. "When I was...I'd say, from 18 to 24, I'd be out practically every night trying to go home with someone. And I'd tell myself it was because I liked sex so much--which, don't get me wrong, I do--"
Brian laughed. "Well, me, too!"
I laughed, then got serious again. "But I think, deep down, I was really looking for love. Just to be close to somebody. And after awhile, yeah, they all did start blending together....and it just felt so empty. So then I'd still have sex once in awhile, of course--I mean, I'm a guy; I DO have needs--"
We both laughed. I continued. "But I wouldn't go out every night looking for it." I paused. "Do you know what I think the hardest thing about all that was for me?"
"What?"
"Well, I mean, sleeping around that much...I was in a lot of guys' apartments. For an hour maybe, or overnight...once in a great while a couple of days. But whatever...I'd see how they lived. I saw their taste in furniture, where they probably sat when they were on the phone, how they arranged their clothes, what brand of shampoo they used, little stupid stuff like that, right? But I got a glimpse of their life. The decisions they made, how they thought, what their priorities were. And when I left, nine times out of ten I knew that I'd never see all that again. I'd never be allowed back in. But I also knew that it could--and would--exist perfectly well without me. Those were the moments when I would just feel utterly alone in the world."
Brian looked very thoughtful. Finally, he said, "That's how I feel about the cities we stop in on tour."
"Really?" I asked.
"Yeah. I'm only there long enough to just get a glimpse of what it must be like to live there; then it's on to the next stop. But the people who are in the audience...well, they're still there, you know? And their lives are going on same as they were before. It's almost like I was never there."
The longer and deeper we talked, the more amazed I was that a member of a group I'd dismissed as a "fluffy teenybopper act" was actually someone with a good deal of intelligence, depth, and sensitivity.
Brian broke the tension. "Man, this is turning into a deep conversation!" he laughed.
"What other kinds are there at this time of night?" I laughed back.
"Oh, believe me--it's not a bad thing by any means!" he said, then immediately said, "Hey, Jules, I just thought of something."
"What?"
"Well, you mentioned earlier that you went through all that from 18 to 24...how old are you now?" he asked.
"How old do you think?" I countered. I never give out my age right off the bat--I'm always curious as to what people will say.
"Well, I was thinking 22 earlier, but obviously that can't be right," he said.
"I am loving you more and more!" I teased. "I'm 26."
"Really?" He seemed genuinely amazed. "You don't look it!"
"Thanks," I replied. "Most people put me at 19 to 23--a trend I am SERIOUSLY hoping continues!!!" We both laughed. "How old are you?" I asked.
"24."
"Hmmm...I would have placed you around 22 also," I replied truthfully.
"That's cool," he said.
Something occurred to me. "Hey Brian--can I ask you something now about something you said earlier?"
"Sure."
"Well, what you said about the fans and everything--do you ever feel...I don't know...exploited or used, somehow?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well, like you know people like you as a singer, but you don't know if they like you as a person."
He thought about it a bit. "Yeah. I guess I do. Especially lately."
"That's so weird! Because that's what I'm going through," I said. "I mean, people seem to like me as an actor, but as a person...I just don't know sometimes. Like, I get along with most people in the cast...but it's like outside of the play they all have their own lives already and there's no room for me in them. And also, after the play, I can't TELL you how many people have come up to me and said variations on, "Great job! Really liked your performance! Now, can you introduce me to the guy who plays Jake? He is SOOOOOO hot!!!"
"Ouch," Brian sympathized. "That sucks. I know--it happens to me too sometimes. I'll see a cute fan and they'll be interested in one of the others--I'm sorry; I just have to say this again--I am SO glad you're not a fan!"
"Ummm...no problem, I guess," I laughed.
"And you know what else?" he asked.
"What?"
"I am really glad we met," he said, looking at me earnestly.
"I am too," I said sincerely. Already, strangely enough, I couldn't imagine NOT knowing him.
"Because...I think...we can really understand each other."
"I do too," I replied.
"And that's just so rare, you know?"
"Believe me. I do," I said.
We just stared at each other for a while. It was a comfortable silence, but at the same time it was also filled with tension.
Finally, Brian broke it. "So, do you live by yourself or do you have roommates?"
"By myself."
"I know this is really rude of me, but...would it be alright if I came over?"
"Sure. When?" I asked.
"Would now be OK?" he asked tentatively.
"Sure. I'd love to have you over. Let's go," I said, secretly--or so I hoped--excited by the thought of getting to spend more time with him.
We started heading for the exit. "Thank you so much," he said excitedly. "It's just that I'm so sick of hotel rooms, and...well, besides, I want a glimpse into YOUR life," he smiled.
I laughed. "Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it!"
TO BE CONTINUED...
Well, that's it! Part One is done. I hope to have Parts Two and Three completed soon. And remember--drop a line to torilane@hotmail.com and let me know what you think!