Introduction: Another Backstreet Boys story. My God. I think there are around six original ideas left in the area and then the vein will be mined out. I just hope I have found one of them! This is my first attempt at any kind of serious writing that I intend for other people to read. This story belongs to the celebrity/ordinary person tradition. I have decided to make Nick Carter the hero' of this story largely because other authors have a tendency to give him a bad rap. Yeah, OK, you got me, I also think he is gorgeous, I mean doesn't he just look good enough to eat in the I want it that way' film clip?
Secondly, this will be one of those stories where the two protagonists are friends for a long time before they get sexually involved. I think I have enough storyline to sustain it this way for a while, and besides all the best stories seem to. In particular I am thinking of 'Boy meets BSB', which is great. If you haven't read that story, read it read it read it, but please read mine first so that mine doesn't look so bad in comparison. The most excellent story I've yet seen here however is 'Brian and me'. Go read it right now, you won't regret it. It's an excellent story written at an amazing standard. I can't rave about it enough.
Also, I am an Australian, so there will be a few small differences in language use but I think we can all deal with those. The only thing I am prepared to concede is the word 'ass' which I will spell your way. Everything else (like colour) will be done the proper way!
Finally, I am very open to e-mail. I have already drafted the next couple of instalments to this story but any suggestions will be taken on board. Please do try to keep criticism constructive, please, and remember not to crush my artist's spirit before it even gets going. Write me at braan90@hotmail.com
Interactive Promotion: In a blatant attempt to gather a loyal following, and to maintain my sense of humour, in every story I will use a special word requested by a reader. It can be tough or whatever, just try to keep it possible or you won't win. An example of this in the first story might be `sallow'. Anyway, if you win it, I will write your name in as a bit part in the next instalment, like as a waiter or limo driver or something. It's not much maybe, but it's as much as I can do.
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. It is not meant to imply anything about the sexuality of Nick Carter or anyone else you care to name, myself included. If you are under 18 etc. then sorry, kids, come back later. If you are offended by material of this nature, go away, but there really isn't anything offensive in this story just yet anyway. Except for some fairly gratuitous swearing.
Solemn Promise: I will not include all of the above at the start of every episode.
Some Kind of Bliss Part I
God, I hated my job.
I was a `delicatessen assistant' in a supermarket, a job I never thought I'd be able to stick with as long as I had (almost 18 months part-time) and I promised myself I'd find something better, as soon as I could get up off my lazy ass. It was hard to know what I hated most: dealing with customers - this job had made me really bitter, I hated virtually every customer on sight - handling raw meats - I mean, smelly chicken livers have a charm that's all their own, trust me! - or washing up.
I hated washing dishes, particularly when I didn't get to make them dirty in the first place as I do at home. To make it worse we were continually running out of hot water, and guess who bore the brunt of it? Me, the idiot working Friday - Saturday - Sunday nights until people got back from holidays.
Still, washing up did me some good: I usually did my best thinking whilst washing dishes, either there or in the shower. It must have something to do with my star sign, Scorpio, being a water sign. My pride and joy of washing-up produced thinking? A tongue-twister. Ready? Level of malevolence. OK, I know, its pretty easy after about 5 seconds, but who the hell makes up tongue-twisters these days? NO-ONE!
Tonight, though, was not one of my form nights. Rather than tackling the issues of world hunger and poverty, I was just ruminating on how crap my life was - having no real direction, no dreams, no talents, no friends living close by - you get the picture. The only thing I had was this ridiculous obsession with celebrities. I can't stop dreaming of having some celebrity walking in off the street, immediately recognising my talent, and whisking me away from Australia off to Hollywood to join their entourage, my dream job of dream jobs....travelling....meeting other celebrities....you see my problem.
All afternoon I had been asking my co-worker Sarah if any celebrities had been in here asking for me. She had just smiled and shaken her head each time. Around 6, when it really got boring, I said to her:
"You know, I've done some amateur self-psycho-analysis, and I think I know what's wrong with me."
"Yeah, what's that?" she laughed.
"Well, if the term doesn't exist, I'm about to coin it, so here goes. I have a Rapunzel complex." Sarah raised her eyebrows quizzically. "You know, up in the tower, waiting for someone to come and rescue her?" I ploughed on.
"Rapunzel?" she asked. I could see what she was thinking.
"Yeah, OK, forget about the hair thing. There's no analogy there." We both laughed. "You know, waiting for Prince Charming to come and save her!".
"Prince Charming, eh?" she hinted suggestively.
"Well, you know, its just an analogy," I quickly replied. I was in major denial about everything, but I think she was just teasing me. I don't think she suspected anything. Besides, I couldn't tell her something I hadn't accepted myself.
I was beginning to regret bringing it up at all. "Hey, I'm just going to get some olives from the coolroom, OK?"
"Mmm hmm," she replied, trying to make me laugh.
Anyway, that had been a few hours ago, now it was about 9.30 on Saturday night. I was by myself, finishing the washing up in the cold water and growing more bitter by the nanosecond.
Something you should know is that while I have an obsession with celebrity, I can't stand the thought that anyone younger than me could possibly be successful and famous. I guess it just reminds me of all the time I've wasted over the last 19 years. I don't even want to think about turning 20 in a few months.
Anyway, tonight's celebrity target was none other than Nick Carter of the Backstreet Boys. I had been on the Internet the night before and had looked at the official BSB homepage. While reading the boys' bios, I howled in dismay to discover that Nick was 75 days younger than me. Great, I thought. Successful, gorgeous, tall, and younger than me. Oh, the humanity! How depressing.
So anyway, as I was washing up the chicken tubs, my thoughts were running along these lines:
`Bloody Nick Carter. Stupid, untalented band. His favourite colour is green? Pfff! Who the hell has green as their favourite colour?'
I must have been subconsciously setting myself up because even before I finished the question my mind had framed the answer.
"A 6' blond 19 year-old millionaire, that's who," I muttered to the soap suds. This realisation almost made me burst out crying. God, I hated him, hated him. Well, I guess it was just jealousy. Envy. I mean, it's hard to hate someone with such beautiful hair! Uncomfortable, I pushed these thoughts to the back of my mind as I finished one dish and put it on the bench to dry.
It was as I reached for the next dish that I heard a customer arrive at the counter outside. Before I even saw who it was my ears told me; it was a voice I would never forget.
"A piece of fetta cheese, please," rasped the voice to the empty air. I had to battle not to laugh out loud. For all she knew I could have been out the back of the store having a cigarette (except for the fact that I don't smoke, but hey, she didn't know that!) but she was just gonna stand there declaiming until something happened. I dried my hands and walked from the prep room to the service area. There, as I expected, stood the ugliest specimen of womankind to ever walk God's earth.
No joke, the woman was hideous. A regular customer, Mrs Bishop, her name was, according to Sarah. `If all women looked this gross I would have no trouble admitting....' I quickly stifled the traitorous thought.
Short, squat, fairly old - say 65ish - with the greasiest looking hair, sallow, jaundiced skin, a hopelessly out-of-place black leather jacket, and foul dark lipstick which only drew attention to the piece de resistance, her teeth. Think Austin Powers and keep going. A long way.
"Hi there," I said to her pleasantly, trying to create the impression of looking at her while actually looking over the top of her head. "Can I get you something?" I couldn't resist. I knew some day soon my smart-ass nature was going to catch up with me, but I was pretty sure when it came it wouldn't be from her.
I got her a piece of fetta, weighed it, printed out a ticket, wrapped the parcel, and handed it to her. She took it and walked off down the next aisle. I looked forward to the day when she actually thanked me for serving her, but knew from my co-workers that it wasn't coming any time soon.
I looked around, double-checking that I had everything I had to wash, and went back into the prep room to the sink. At this time of night a customer was a major hassle, all I wanted was some peace and quiet to finish the washing up etc. and get done by 10pm. I had just got my hands wet again, doing the last chicken dish, when I heard someone clear their throat outside. I ignored them for a while, wanting to finish the dish, but when the customer said: "Excuse me? I can hear you back there!" I knew I could put it off no longer. I stuck my head around the corner and saw a young man warming himself next to the chicken warmer.
Now I wasn't really a Backstreet Boys fan, and was certainly a long way from being a stalker, but I think anyone who knows anything about the BSB knows that when he wants to get about incognito, Nick Carter wears a baseball cap to cover his identifying hair. Knowing this fact, and looking at the young man's face, I knew immediately that this customer was Nick Carter.
"OH, MY, GOD!" I said, Chandler-style, as I walked out into the service area.
Nick's face coloured. "Damn, I can't believe you recognised me," he said nervously. "Hey, please don't scream it out or anything."
"No, of course not. My name is Drew, by the way, as you could tell," I said, pointing to my name-badge.
Nick laughed quietly. "I'm Nick Carter," he said, extending his hand over the top of the warmer.
I smiled and raised my hand to meet his. I hesitated halfway there, realising I hadn't dried my hand, that it was cold, wet and chickeney. Hmm, bad situation. "Wait one second," I ordered. I dashed back into the prep room, washed my hands really quickly, dried them on a piece of paper towel, and ran back out again, nearly slipping as I did so. Nick was looking a little confused. "Sorry, but my hands were all cold and wet and chickeney. I figured you probably wouldn't want that all over you. I'm Drew Campbell."
"Hey, no problems Drew, whatever turns you on back there," Nick replied, comprehending. We both laughed nervously. Nick had a really great smile, I noticed.
"So what are you doing around here? It's a long way from the regular tourist places," I ventured, wanting to continue into a conversation.
"Yeah, I kinda got lost a little," he admitted sheepishly.
"A little? Boy, that's an understatement. What hotel are you staying in?" I asked.
"The Ritz-Carlton."
"In Double Bay? My god, you really.....you must have deliberately got lost or something!"
Nick blushed deeply. I gasped, couldn't believe I had guessed correctly. "Well, you've seen straight through me, and we've known each other... what? two minutes?" he joked.
I laughed back. "Yeah, well, stick around for five minutes and you'll know my entire life story. I swear this place affects my mind somehow. I don't stop talking from when I arrive at 1 till I finish at 10. You know the worst part of it?" I smiled.
"What's that?" he asked, waiting for something.
"I'm by myself after 7 so most of that talking and singing is to myself!" I laughed un-self-consciously.
Nick laughed as well. "Gee, you don't spare yourself at all, do you?" he asked.
"No, I find myself an easy target. I just can't resist," I replied, straight-faced.
Nick burst out laughing, and seeing his smile again made me laugh too. I think the laughter cleared up any awkwardness and star-struckedness I was feeling. He laughed at my jokes....that was all I was looking for in a .... NO! Don't think that!
I stopped laughing, hoping my discomfort wasn't too obvious. Nick didn't seem to notice.
"You know, I know you have to get back to work, but I'd really like to take that 5 minutes to hear your life story." Nick looked at his watch. "You finish up in 15 minutes, right?"
I was dumbfounded. "Yeah, that's right."
"Well, I think I saw a couple of cafes still open around here. How about I meet you out the front of here at 10?"
"Yeah, that'd be great," I stammered. "See you then!"
Nick waved goodbye and turned the corner out of my sight, leaving me pinching myself to be sure that had actually happened. Forget the cafe part, was the entire encounter just a product of my bored and lonely imagination or something? The balled-up paper towel in my hand put the lie to that.
"OH, MY, GOD!" I repeated to myself as I staggered back into the prep room. I looked around. There was no way I was going to finish everything by 10. "Fuck it," I told myself, "just this once leave the boss something real to complain about." Still, I did as much as I could - finished the washing up, covered the case, took down the garbage - and only when I got back did I see my watch showing five past ten.
"Shiiiiit......" I worried as I grabbed my watch, snapped off the lights and ran to punch off for my shift. I ran down to the front door, waving goodbye to the girls on the checkouts, who looked at me a little funny, never having seen me run like this before. I ran towards the sliding doors, which as usual opened only just in time to prevent disaster: one day I wouldn't be so lucky.
I looked around anxiously, only to see him sitting on a bench, looking at his watch. I ran over.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I cried. " I guess you're not used to being kept waiting for a hot date, huh?" I tried.
Nick didn't laugh. I made a mental note never to use that joke again, EVER. To my relief he didn't respond at all except to say "I think I saw a nice place over this way...."
We walked off silently. Suddenly it hit me. I stopped dead.
"Nick, I'm really sorry, I stink. It's the damn deli, it has this all-pervading odour."
Nick stopped and sniffed the air around me. He quickly turned away, gasping for air. "Phew! You sure got that right!" he laughed. He turned serious. "Look, we're going to have to go to a place that allows smoking."
I stared at him. My jaw must have dropped. "You smoke?" I couldn't believe what he was saying.
Nick took a deep breath, as you do before making such a confession. Then the set face broke. "No, it's just that you REALLY stink, Drew, and even cigarette smoke would be preferable to the stench that you are packing right now!" he burst out laughing.
I didn't know quite how to take this. Yeah, it was funny, but hey, that was harsh! After a moment of confusion, my sense of humour won over. I burst out laughing as well. Soon I had tears in my eyes, which I wiped away.
"You should have seen your face back there!" was all Nick could say.
When the laughter ceased, I was glad that the initial awkwardness was gone. Once again humour had done the trick. I felt some obligation to defend myself.
"Well I don't normally go for coffee with a global celebrity after work, so it hasn't really been an issue before," I tried, which elicited a slight giggle.
We arrived at the cafe and took a table next to the wall. The place was almost empty, and Nick commented on it.
"It's so quiet here......help me out, I'm still dealing with the whole time zone thing. I thought it was Saturday night?"
"Yeah, that's right," I grinned.
"Then where is everyone?"
I laughed out loud. He looked even more confused. I tried to explain. "I don't suppose you could know, not living here, but this whole area is like one big retirement home. That's why there's no-one about. You're probably the youngest person in the whole suburb at the moment," I joked.
"Except for you, of course."
I sighed. "No, Nick, I'm actually older than you by 75 days."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought..."
"Yes, I know, I'm short," I interrupted him. "Believe me, it burns me up that someone like you can be younger than me, taller than me, better looking and more successful than me," I counted them off on my fingers, "and I used to hate you for it. But now that I've met you I can tell that you are a really nice guy so I can get over it now.......there, I'm over it."
"Boy, you've got some unresolved issues there, Geri," Nick replied, smiling devilishly.
"What was that?" I demanded.
"Geri. As in GERI-atric!" Nick burst out laughing.
"What, with a 75 day age difference? Well, all right then, Junes, but I can tell you those issues are as of here and now resolved," I said over his laughter.
"Junes?" he asked, not laughing now.
"Yeah, as in JUNIOR!" I replied, laughing myself now. I could see Nick thinking, then as he decided he didn't mind his new name, he joined in the laughter.
Our coffee came and went, and we were deep in conversation when the waiter came over and interrupted us.
"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but it's just gone midnight, and we're closing up now," he said.
Nick and I looked up to see that the cafe around us was empty. Our conversation had been just that captivating, we hadn't even noticed the time go by. Both of us reached for our wallets at the same time.
"No, Drew, it's fine, I'll get the check," Nick said.
"Well, that's fine, but seeing as we're in Australia, I'll get the BILL!" I insisted.
"Huh?"
"We don't call it the check', its the bill'. And also, we don't tip here. There, you see," I continued, "I distracted you long enough to let me pay! So let's go."
Nick grumbled as we walked out the door onto the unusually quiet street. There was a moment of silence before we both began talking at once.
"Well, I guess...." Nick began.
"Hey, do you want...." I started.
We stopped and chuckled. "You first," I said.
"No, you go."
"OK, I was just going to ask if you wanted me to help you with directions back to your hotel," I offered.
"Oh."
"You know, it's a long way, and it's dark. I wouldn't want you to get lost again."
"Yeah, I guess so." Nick sounded a little let-down.
I thought of something. "Or, if you like, you are more than welcome to stay at my place. It's only about 5 minutes walk away. It's no palace, but at least it's close. I mean, if you don't mind sharing a room; it's not like we have to share a bed or anything...." I bit my tongue as I realised just how that sounded.
Nick didn't seem to care. "God, I thought you'd never ask. I couldn't face a trip back across town alone at this hour. And don't worry, I often have to share a room when we're on tour together." He was obviously relieved.
"Great," I replied. "Let's go then."
We walked the short distance to my apartment in near silence. When we arrived I unlocked the door and entered. Nick followed as I switched on a few lights.
"Hey, this place looks cosy. You live here by yourself?" he enquired politely.
"No, my sister lives here too. She's gone away for the weekend, she went skiing. Our parents own the place," I added.
"Cool," Nick replied.
"Well down at the end is the living room, and the kitchen is on your left," I pointed them out to him. "Help yourself to anything. Don't think me rude, but I really have to have the first shower."
"Drew, there was no way you were not going to have first shower!" Nick cried, holding his nose. "That smell has been driving me nuts for hours. Now go, for the love of God!"
I laughed as I hurried into the bathroom. I showered quickly, not wanting to leave Nick alone for too long. I got out and towelled off quickly, putting on a t-shirt and boxer shorts in anticipation of bed. I found Nick watching TV.
"Do you want to have a shower now? I can get you a towel...."
"No, I'm fine," Nick cut in, "I'll have one in the morning. Drew, I don't want to appear rude, but I'm still a little jet-lagged. Do you mind if I just go to bed now?"
"No, of course I don't mind, not when you are so polite about it all anyway." I smiled. "I might go to bed now myself."
We went to my room and got into our respective beds. I switched off the light.
"Aah, this bed is sooo comfy," Nick moaned. "Night, Geri." I could hear his smile.
"Night, Junes," I replied, also smiling.
Almost immediately I heard Nick's breathing change tone, indicating a deep sleep. My mind was all a-flutter. My god, I had met a huge celebrity! And a really good-looking one at that! And he is such a nice guy, too! God, how am I ever gonna fall asleep with him just over there....
At that point my 9-hour shift at work caught up with me, and I too drifted off to a peaceful sleep.
###Will Nick be there when Drew wakes up? Will Drew wake up at all? (I think I can pretty much guarantee that one, it wouldn't make much of a story if that happened, hey?) Stay tuned for Part 2.###
Well I hope you all enjoyed this first part of the story. There's plenty more where that came from, if you guys think I should keep going. Any comments, suggestions, criticism (good and bad, just preferably constructive) are welcome. I'm probably my own worst critic, but if someone else would like to assume that mantle, you're more than welcome! Don't forget my interactive promotion, I am serious about that! E-mail me at braan90@hotmail.com. I love to get e-mail. If all goes to plan, Part two should only be a week away.