Part Two

When we walk out from the restaurant, I see all the looks that he gets. He sure appears great, now when he has his glasses back on. His hair is short and darker than ever before. His long, black jacket is like a mantle. He's wearing black trousers and a silvery gray vest that blazes when he walks, showing every muscle underneath. Maybe he has lost his appetite, I don't know, but his body is in better shape than ever. He must have used some of those sleepless nights to work out.

I want to go easy with him so I pick a cab with tinted windows. He seems like he wants to ask where we're going but I wont tell. I give an address to the driver written on 20-dollar bill. Just to keep his mouth shut.

-Tell me about those nightmares, I say. He is uncomfortable, unable to relax.
-What about them?
-What are they like?
-Like nightmares.
Shit. He's covering himself again.
-When was the last time we met? I change the subject. He tries to remember. -It was six months ago. Just when you had released your last single as Backstreet Boys, right? This same town but much better weather. We met briefly in the press conference, that's all. I had a nice piece of you but I never published it. About you and your friendship with each other. That no matter what you've gone trough, you still wanted to stick together.
-Til death do us part.
-I think it would be fair to say that you were kind of married.
He looks out of the window. Then he realizes where we're driving.
-Why, Jack, why? he asks and even if I can't see his eyes I know there's a whole lot of despair in those.
-I'm doing this for you, I say. And it's true. I'm doing it for him. It may sound hypocritical or noble but it's still true.

We sit silent when car drives in front of the club. Driver slows down and pulls over. Nick looks out of the window, trying really hard to see out.
-Want to take a walk? I ask with soft voice. He turns to see me.
-Do you think we can?
-Nothing can happen when you're with me.
He doesn't say anything. I hand to the driver another bill and ask him to wait. He leans back and puts radio louder. He's sure going to have a good day.
I open the door and stand up to the sidewalk. I keep the door open and slowly he gets up as well.
-Button up your jacket, I tell him. -And take this.
I pass a case to him. He doesn't know how to hold it. I take a good look at him. He looks like a usual businessman. Well, glasses don�t go with it but you can't ever have it all. Though I'm about to try.

I ask if he wants to go in but he shakes his head. I lead to him park near by. We sit on the bench.
-Feels good to be out like this, he says. I know so I don't say anything. He feels comfortable now. I wait. And finally he starts to talk.
-It doesn't feel as bad as I expected.
I mumble something. He's not talking to me. He's looking somewhere over the horizon, somewhere far away.
-How could I forgive myself? I don't know, maybe it would have been easier if he'd just want anyone of us. But he was after me. Me. Nick Carter. Not him.
-He saved your life, I remind.
-But is this worth it?
Tear runs down his cheek and he doesn't wipe it off. I don't think he's even aware of it.
-Is this worth it? he asks again. -I lost him. He saved me and I lost him. Is life worth living without him? I loved him like a brother. More than a brother. Like a father.
-He's not that far.
-How can you say so? It's not like I could just call him.
-But you can still talk to him. Can't you? At least you do. When you wake up in the middle of the night alone, you talk to him. Do you really think he wouldn't listen?
His voice is harsh.
-I don't believe that shit. It's only supposed to make me feel better. But anything can't make me feel better. Nothing can save me.
Oh dear. He sounds like a teenage boy. Therapist is not really a role for me, but hey, what can you do?
-So that's why you're building a successful career?
-It doesn't really matter.
-If I remember correctly, earlier today you said that even sex doesn't compare to being on stage.
-It's just a line I use.
It's starting to rain but he doesn't mind. I don't want to interrupt our situation, so I just lift my collars up and try to bear.

He doesn't say anything at least for five minutes. He just keeps crying. It's really old to say that it does well for him. But I'm sure it does. Finally, when I'm starting to wonder if I've chosen a wrong strategy, he looks at me.
-When Brian left, I was sure I couldn't live anymore. I mean, we were on the top of our career and� We had everything so well worked out. And then he just�
-Are you mad at him?
-No.
-It's OK to say if you are.
-Little.
-After all you were back with your Boys and he did this to you.
-He didn't do anything for me! I did for him!
I take a quick look around but the park is empty and I hope no one heard him crying.
-What did you do? What else did you do than were? Is it sin to exist?
-He didn't deserve it.
-None of us deserves it. But in the end it always happens.

† Part Three †

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