Chapter Two
'The Backstreet Boys.. Backstreet Boys...' Larry thought in desperation. 'Rok, AJ, Kev, Howie, man, I miss you guys so badly.'
He dropped his head in hands and wept uncontrollably.
"Where is my life as Nick Carter the world-wide heartthrob?" Larry asked himself. "Where the hell is it? Since when did I become Larry Ericsson? The trampy kid with ain't no money??" He yelled at the apartment. The only replies were the echoes of his own questions.
He turned on the TV, decided to catch the rest of the concert.
He saw a carbon copy of himself singing on the tiny screen, with a million girls screaming for him. 'But that's not me,' he cried inwardly. 'How can that be? How can there be another me?'
'Bri, don't let him fool you. He isn't me. Nick Carter is here. I am the real Nick, you best friend. He is just a clone, a duplication, a fraud.'
No matter how hard he wished, God knows Brian Littrell of the Backstreet Boys would never know what really happened.
And Larry knew that well.
"Why would Brian know?' Larry kicked that couch ferociously. 'How the hell would he know my dad got involved in the mob business and now he is being hunted. And now we are on the run? How would he knew they made a clone of me? Or is it an imitation? Hell gives! They would never know anyway!'
As the bittersweet memory of the past flashed across his mind again, Larry gave a strangled cry and smashed his mug of beer.
The sound of smashing glass echoed in the hollow apartment.