Chapter 15

Brian had been expecting them when A.J. and Howie returned to the living room a few days ago. First the pair had been whispering in the hallway, and then they disappeared upstairs. He had thought he heard someone in his and Nick’s room a few nights before, but he couldn’t be sure. The next morning at breakfast both of A.J. and Howie were exhausted.

But that could be for any number of reasons, Brian would have figured. If. If he had not followed them downstairs to see what they were doing up at that hour and snooping around his and Nick’s room. He had been at the top of the stairs, waiting until they went to bed. When they were both gone, he went down to the television and opened the drawer he had heard A.J. close. In the inside cover, there was the scrawl of Nick’s name, in Nick’s handwriting. But it wasn’t Nick’s journal. Nick’s journal was black with red streaks up the spine like fire. This journal was brown leather, with only five pages written in it. But it was Nick’s handwriting. He could see that plainly enough, having been living with the guy for almost nine years. Apparently Nick was playing smarter older brother on the only child and the youngest in his family and had set up a decoy, which explained why it was so empty.

So why were Howie and A.J. looking for Nick’s journal? That confirmed his suspicions. Something was up.

Brian didn’t want to admit it to anyone, not even to himself, but A.J. was acting very strange lately. After all, he had been acting odd on the way home from the hospital. But that was while he was driving, and A.J. already was a lunatic when it came to objects made of metal, glass, rubber, and ran on gas

But still, what if A.J. was trying to plant ideas in Howie’s head about who was responsible? A.J. couldn’t know who it was. But then again… Maybe he did know. Brian raised an eyebrow. No…of course not. That was crazy. A.J. would have to have done it to know…

Brian’s head shot up. What if it was A.J.? In the comfort and privacy of his and Nick’s room, Brian slapped himself. A.J. would never do anything that would hurt Howie. Not emotionally, mentally, and especially not physically. A.J. just felt too strongly for his friends. He was wrecked when he heard Howie had a chance of dying.

No, Brian figured, it wasn’t A.J.

He walked over to the window and peered out to see Nick and A.J. playing basketball. Actually, Brian thought with a smile, it looked more like Nick was playing and A.J. was attempting to kick Nick’s ass for stealing the ball from him. Apparently A.J. hadn’t picked up that the point of the game was to steal the ball from the other players. Howie and Kevin were off on the sidelines, laughing hysterically while A.J. jumped on Nick’s back and started ramming the blonde’s head. Brian laughed, too.

Brian lowered his gaze to Howie. The Latino was grinning while his two band mates had an all-out brawl over the forgotten basketball lying on the grass off to the side. Brian’s smile vanished. He had to be sure it wasn’t A.J. Howie had gone through too much to be denied that. And if it wasn’t A.J., he could stop having these stupid accusations to pin on him.

However, when Brian got to A.J.’s room, his nerve disappeared. He glanced around the room, suddenly feeling very much like a traitor that couldn’t trust his friends. Isn’t that what you are, though, a snide voice asked from inside his mind, if you suspect he might try to kill his best friend?

He shrugged the displeasure with himself off. He was just looking out for Howie. Howie would have gone through Nick’s stuff if Brian were in his position… But Howie had gone through Nick’s stuff anyway, so it didn’t reassure him that much.

He approached A.J.’s closet to find his duffel bag lying at the side of the door, open and half packed. He felt like a rat kneeling down in front of it and searching through the miscellaneous crap that was A.J.’s belongings. He knew A.J. had a journal too, and A.J. was an only child. He hadn’t had the experience to know when it was a good idea to make a decoy like Nick had.

He, unlike Howie, had no sisters, and like Howie, had no experience in looking through older siblings’ things. But A.J. was younger than him.

This is ironic, Brian thought dryly. If Howie knew I was doing searching through A.J.’s crap, he’d be just as annoyed as I am that he was going through Nick’s.

He turned the bag around and searched through the front panels. It was halfway through the right pocket that he realized A.J.’s duffel bag was identical to Nick’s. He rolled his eyes. He remembered that. Both of them had gone shopping for new ones, since one of Nick’s pranks had involved snapping the strap for A.J.’s old duffel bag and A.J. had gotten pissed and broke Nick’s as well for revenge. A.J. had purposely gotten the same bag in case Nick decided to try and break it again.

He reached the bottom of the bag before he stumbled across something very strange indeed.

“Nick’s sweatshirt?” Brian frowned. “What the hell?” He rolled his eyes. “The moron. He must have thought A.J.’s bag was his.”

He threw the shirt over his shoulder and found a few other items that belonged to Nick. He sighed. “I’m gonna slap him if he starts askin’ me where his stuff is.” Finally, he got frustrated with meticulously poking and dumped the entire contents of the bag. He spread everything out on the floor, choosing not to wonder how fast he would have to move to clean this up if the guys decided to come back.

He came across a pure black journal with an odd symbol on the front. It resembled a Japanese looking character, but he shrugged. A.J. was weird. The odds were pretty high that his journal would be weird too, if not weirder.

Brian flipped to the middle of the journal. Before he could even glimpse at it, he heard a loud crash, signaling his band mates’ return. Brian slammed the book shut and shoved it under his shirt. He would have to read it later. He gathered everything up and hastily pushed everything back into the duffel bag, kicking it against the closet wall before jumping up and scurrying out of the room.

He managed to dash into his and Nick’s room and into his own bed before A.J. and Nick climbed the stairs and passed the doorway, laughing. Nick walked into their room, apparently seeing Brian lying in bed, eyes shut, covers drawn, because in a moment, he left and shut the door behind him.

Brian let out the breath he had been holding and allowed his heart to start beating again. He pulled the journal out of his shirt and glared at it.

“You better be worth that, you piece of crap,” he growled. He stuffed it under his pillow and lay down, deciding he would read it tonight and get it back before A.J. realized it was gone. A.J. rarely missed an entry. Of course, his room was a disaster area, and if Brian put the book in someplace extremely obvious, A.J. would never know the difference.

Hopefully.

<~*~>

Howie yawned and laid the back of his head against the couch, feigning sleep. No sooner than he began to drift off, a very sharp, very strong elbow found itself dug into Howie’s ribcage.

“What the hell!?” he cried, sitting bolt upright. He glared to his left to find A.J. smirking impishly at him.

Howie rubbed his side painfully. “There are times I could kill you,” he said, eyes flashing.

“SHHH!” hissed Brian and Nick from the floor, throwing popcorn at the offending speakers.

Howie rolled his eyes. “It’s just a stupid movie.”

Nick spun around. “What the hell do you know? What would you rather watch?” he snapped angrily. “Maybe you don’t like it, but there are others who are fucking trying to watch it, so shut up.”

“Whoa, Nick, sedatives are your friends, dude,” A.J. said, eyebrows raising.

“Fuck you, A.J.,” Nick growled.

“All of you shut up and watch the damn movie,” Kevin said airily from the right side of the couch, glaring daggers at Nick.

Nick scowled back defensively until Kevin looked away. But Nick still glared at him.

“Nick, chill,” A.J. said.

Howie slapped A.J.’s side, sending him a warning look. Nick wasn’t an agreeable person when he was pissed.

Nick flipped A.J. off and Howie had to grab A.J.’s arm before he went after the blonde. He was sick of Nick’s attitude lately. There was no call for it!

Nick was being weird lately, especially towards Howie.

<~*~>

A.J. glanced around the side of the hedge, making sure the coast was clear. “This really sucks, man,” he grumbled.

It was one in the morning. A.J. was really beginning to get sick of Howie’s late-night instincts. A.J. was considering giving him a sleeping pill so he would leave him alone for one night. It was ironic, A.J. thought, that a guy who could sleep through a hailstorm, thunderstorm, and a flat bus tire, could wake up by something so quiet as a door opening down the hallway.

In response to A.J.’s comment, Howie slapped his arm. “Shut up, would’ja?” he snapped.

A.J. glared at him. “It’s one in the morning. Kevin’s probably sleeping.” Howie rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the side of the hedge, watching as a car pulled into A.J.’s driveway. “Yanno what sleep is, right, D?” he asked, eyes boiling.

Howie clamped a hand over his friend’s rather incessantly sarcastic mouth without so much as blinking, never once taking his eyes away from the driveway. Kevin was standing in the doorway, but since A.J. insisted on staying out of view in the shadows of the mansion, the now mute singer couldn’t see.

It was a black Jeep Liberty. The headlights were off.

A.J. pushed Howie’s hand away and shoved the Latino aside a bit, wanting a better view as he heard the car crunching against the driveway. His tone was low as he said, “Nice car for a drug dealer.”

Howie once again punched his arm, scowling at him. “We don’t know he’s a drug dealer, Aje, shut up.”

A.J. gave him a sardonic look. “Well who do you think it is, D, huh? His mother?”

“Shh! Keep your voice down!”

A man got out of the car and approached the front of the house. He had a small bottle in his hand. A.J. frowned. “Is that what they keep illegal crap in?” he whispered.

Howie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Jay, like I hang out with drug dealers,” he remarked dryly.

“It was only a question, sheesh.”

“Don’t make me slap you again.”

“Shh, look! That guy’s giving the thing to Kevin! It has to be drugs. I mean, what the hell else would a guy do driving into my mansion at frickin one in the morning with his headlights off?” A.J. wondered aloud.

“Pizza?” Howie joked lightly.

A.J. gave him a look.

Howie shrugged, grinning. “I’m just kidding, man, lighten up.”

A.J., turning his eyes heavenward momentarily, looked out to see the Liberty backing out of the driveway. Kevin was heading for the hedge.

“SHIT!” A.J. hissed. He shoved Howie back into the darkness of the shadows and dove after him.

Unfortunately for them, Kevin had a flashlight. The beam temporarily blinded both stunned Spaniard and guilty Latino. Kevin’s glare was blatant, even in the maniacal sneer of the flashlight’s single, but painful, ray.

“What the fuck are you two doing out here?” Kevin snapped.

A.J. clambered to his feet, scowling at his senior by at least six years. “We could ask you the same question.” He glared at Kevin’s closed fist. “Whatcha got, Kev? Drugs? Illegal poison? Stuff to kill Howie with?”

Howie slowly stood up, watching Kevin fearfully, half scared at what Kevin would say, half scared at what he would do.

Kevin’s jaw had dropped. “Why the hell would I want to kill Howie?” he asked incredulously, his voice an octave higher in disbelief.

A.J.’s expression was stony. “You tell us. Traitor!” he spat.

Kevin’s eyes widened. “I didn’t do this to him!” He looked at Howie. “I swear to God, Howie, I had nothing to do with whatever happened to you. I swear it!”

Howie didn’t answer. “What are you holding, Kevin?” he asked quietly.

A.J. made a grab for Kevin’s hand, instead grasping air as Kevin jerked his hand out of A.J.’s reach. “It’s none of your damn business, McLean,” he hissed.

A.J. bristled. “Like fuck it isn’t!” For someone of A.J.’s height, one would assume he would have been suicidal to try and tackle Kevin, but for some reason, A.J. was winning.

At one point, while Howie was trying to figure out if he should break up the fight, the orange bottle flew out of Kevin’s hand, landing feet away from them. A.J. saw it before Kevin did and pounced for it. Kevin, though, grabbed the Spaniard around the middle and hurled him backwards, diving for the bottle. But Howie had already grabbed it.

Stepping away from A.J. and Kevin, Howie picked up Kevin’s flashlight and examined the label. Kevin stood stock still, trying to catch his breath and trying to keep his attention on the ground.

A.J. moved closer to Howie, curious. “What is it? What’s it say?” he asked.

Howie looked up at Kevin, eyes wide. “Kev…” He searched his mind for something to say, but the words refused to come out. He finally settled on, “Why?”

A.J. frowned and took the bottle from Howie. His jaw dropped. It was anti-depressant medicine.

Kevin sighed shakily. “A.J., give it to me,” he said, nearly inaudible.

Without a word passed through his wide-open mouth, A.J. handed the medicine over. He shook his head, closing his mouth unconsciously.

“Why are you taking that, Kevin?” Howie questioned again, his eyes beseeching.

Kevin glared at the grass. “It’s not easy being the one everyone leans on and depends on to be the strong one, Howie.” He looked up at the startled Latino. “It’s not. And once you were gone, I had ten times as much to deal with. Management on my fucking back every five minutes about the group’s future, the guys about to fall apart without you, worrying so badly that you were going to die… Me a fucking mess seeing what was happening to you, imagining what my world would be like if you died… Everyone destroyed emotionally, my friends crazy with depression… It got to be too much and…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Goddamn, you have no idea.”

A.J. blinked. “Shit,” he murmured. Something dawned on him. “Oh shit.” His eyes widened. “You mean that’s what that needle was for under your pillow? And that gel was…medicine?” A.J. groaned. “Oh shit, and the Novocain was for injecting the medicine…”

Kevin’s jaw dropped. “You went through my stuff!?” He sighed and rubbed his temple. “Oh hell, I deserve it,” he grumbled in a broken sort of voice.

Howie didn’t say anything. Instead, he stepped forward and laid a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “S’okay,” he said soothingly. “Nothing happened to me. I’m fine.” He smiled slightly to back up his words.

“Yeah man… And no one expects you to be anything, Kev.” A.J. watched the older man intently. “Yeah, we do lean on you occasionally, but you can’t expect to deal with our problems and yours. That’s why we have each other, and our families. We can’t always swamp you with everything.”

“He’s right, Kevin,” Howie said softly. “We don’t always need you to depend on. Don’t worry so much about us. It’ll lead to this.” He lifted Kevin’s wrist, showing the older man his own clenched fist that held the medicine he was prescribed to. Howie smiled sadly. “Don’t do this to yourself. You need us sometimes, man. Remember that.”

A.J. nodded in agreement.

Kevin finally allowed himself to smile faintly. “Thanks,” he said quietly. He rubbed his eyes fiercely before any tears could escape. He sighed. “Can you two do me a favor?”

“Sure,” they said in unison.

Kevin laughed quietly. “Don’t tell Nick ‘bout this. He’d never let me forget it.”

A.J. and Howie grinned.

“Just be a good boy, Train,” A.J. said with a smirk, “then we’ll talk.”

<~*~>

Meanwhile, in the dim glow of the moon, since Brian was too afraid someone would notice if he turned on the lights, Brian huddled on the far side of the couch, holding the journal to the moonlight.

The living room, though, was the worst place for light, in Brian’s current opinion. He could barely make out the words on the page below. He wished he had a flashlight. So, trying as hard as he could to focus directly on each word, which was, unfortunately, scripted, he began to read…

“November 29, 2002

“It’s been a little over a year since we sang together last. It was the rerecording of ‘Drowning’ last year in August… Or was it September? I don’t really remember anymore, it’s been so long.

“Oh I know that’s not his fault. I was the one that destroyed his voice after all. So now the group’s ended, thank God. I don’t have to worry about half the stuff I’ve been freaking out over lately. But one thing’s for certain. Soon the ‘problem’ is going to be gone for good, and I won’t have to worry at all.

“I know I’ve said this before, but I can’t believe him. He betrayed us. He deserves what he’s getting. After all, he did the same thing to the rest of us. Had he been more responsible, none of what happened last year would have happened.

“But because of him, it did.

“I’ve been really careful with how I’ve been poisoning him. He doesn’t have a clue it’s me. After all, he trusts me. Pathetic. You’d think the idiot would have more sense. After all, isn’t he the one that has all that ‘intuition’ bullshit?

“Well Howie, looks like you don’t know a thing. Not a fucking thing.

“But anyway, on to what’s been going on lately. We’re staying at A.J.’s so we can ‘look after’ Howie so he’s all right. Heh. He won’t be ‘all right’ soon. None of them will know.

“Did I tell you how I’ve been poisoning him? No? I shouldn’t, in case one of the guys finds this, but hell, they’ll find the decoy before they find this. The others have probably done the same thing if they have journals. I know Howie has a decoy. I tried to find his journal last year so I could find his weakness. You know, attack him emotionally. Mental torture, you know? But the little bastard did the same thing. Made a decoy. Heh. He’s learning fast. Maybe I gave him that idea.

“Anyway. It was easy at first. I put the acid in his water after performances. First once a week then twice and so on until it was every day… His voice started to strain occasionally, the acid doing its dirty work. I didn’t pay much attention in chemistry, but the guy who gave the drugs to me told me trinicerite is acidic and coglyceride is basic.

“So, here’s how I did it, so he didn’t permanently lose his voice, I gave him coglyceride to neutralize the trinicerite. I think that’s how it works. Yeah. So then, on the final day of recording, I gave him two doses of trinicerite.

“He lost his voice, nearly had a heart attack. But he lived. I should have given him four. I knew I should have. Damned conscience.

“Anyway, I already researched the nearest hospitals. Just in case, I had two guys go to the four nearest ones and bug the systems so instead of reading the stats of the trinicerite, they would read an infection I named ‘tendo’. Pathetic, yeah, but a name’s a name…

“So when we got to the hospital, I was free to inject as much trinicerite as I damn well pleased. It almost killed him a couple times. Gave the guys a huge scare every time the date went from a year to five months to three months. I wonder if they’ll ever know it was me the whole time… Nah.

“Oh, one of the guys is coming. To wrap it up, I’m going to finish him off sometime next week. You know, let the guys have their final days with him.

“Then he’ll be gone and he won’t burden me again with his fucking irresponsibility, the murderer.

“Nick”