| Chapter One |
| Lauryn Matthews: "Why am I here? I'm not the world's greatest dancer," I thought aloud to myself. Unfortunately, my best friend Shea Walker heard me. "Shut up, Lauryn!" Shea snapped. "You are a terrific dancer otherwise you wouldn't be here!" "Thanks, Shea," I replied. She and I stood at the front counter of the Marriott Hotel in Orlando, patiently waiting for the desk clerk. I gazed up at the beautiful lobby ceiling, which was decorated in tiny cherubs and angels, and ran my hands across the cool, green marble counter top. Orlando. I couldn't believe that I, Lauryn Matthews, was standing in the lobby of one of the most prestigious hotels in Florida waiting for the next day when Shea and I would be trying out for dancer postions for the world tour of one of our favorite groups. The Backstreet Boys. One week earlier Madame DuBois, our dance instructor, informed Shea and I that we had been selected to tryout for the Backstreet Boys. Fatima Robinson, the BSB choreographer, had called the studio at which Shea and I trained and worked and told Madame DuBois to send her four best dancers to Orlando for a BSB tryout. Shea and I were beyond excited. Everything was paid for: a suite at the Marriott, airfare, food, everything. Neither Shea nor I had ever been to Florida. In fact, the only place we'd been to was Manhattan where we currently resided. Before that, we lived in a small Rhode Island town right on the Atlantic coast. The fact that Shea and I got picked astoudned me, In Sedgwick, Rhode Island, there wasn't a dance studio. But Shea and I loved to dance. We would spend hours in my garage or on the private beach below my house dancing to the New Kids on the Block or Paula Abdul. It wasn't until we graduated from high school that we decided to take our dancing serious. Thus, we rented a scummy apartment in a seedy area of Lower Manhattan and applied at Madame DuBois' private studio, La Danse. Thankfully, our applications were accepted. Madame DuBois was more than surprised to find Shea and I were alread very good dancers even without formal training. Now four years later, at the ripe ages of 22, Shea and I are teaching at La Danse. We train people who have been dancing for ten years or more, but that lack the skill and ambition that Shea and I possess. "You are the best of my studio. Go to Orlando and make Madame DuBois proud," Madame DuBois said in her thickly French-accented voice. She had one hand on each of our shoulders, her kind motherly eyes staring deep into our own. So here we were, one week later, standing in the foyer of the Marriott Hotel, nervously anticipating the next day's tryouts. Finally, the desk clerk came to assist us. "Reservation for Matthews and Walker," I said politely to the elderly gentleman. "Ah, yes!" he said after briefly typing on the computer keyboard. "You'll be staying in suite 18 on the 9th floor. Justin will help you with your bags." He snapped at a boy of about 16 who ran over, eager to be of assistance. "Please sign here," the clerk said, sliding the receipt toward me. I quickly scrawled my name on the sheet of paper and ran to catch up with Shea and Justing who already stood at the elevators, luggage in tow. After a short ride to the top floor in a luxurious elevator complete with couch, Justin led us to oursuite. We were shocked at the sight that lay before us. It was two room suite about the size of my and Shea's apartment back in Manhattan. Two queen sized beds with two dressers, a desk , and a free-standing closet graced one room. A sofa, plush velvet armchair, and TV graced the other. A small refrigerator and microwave sat below the mini bar and the entire suite was filled with fresh peach and white roses. The bathroom was glorious. It had a separate glass shower and Jacuzzi bath. All the fixtures were an elegant antique gold and the ones on the cupboards were set in a deep mahogony wood. Shea tipped Justin and joined me in the bedroom. I was already unpacking my things and putting them into the beautiful cherry wood dressers. "This place is gorgeous!" Shea said, unzipping her bag. "Absolutely!" I agreed. I couldn't believe that BSB management was paying for this exquisit suite for a week. I figured we'd be staying at the Days Inn or some other relatively inexpensive motel. After we finished unpacking, we hit the hay. The flight had made us both tired adn we had to be at Backstreet Management Studios by 8:00 the next morning. We woke up at six the next day, feeling refreshed and nervous. We decided to take advantage of the free health services in the hotel gym before going to our tryouts. We figured that by working out we would be more pumped up for later. While I ran on the treadmill, Shea climbed an endless flight of stairs. When we were done, we were both completely drenched in sweat but felt an enormous amount of energy. We grabbed a quick bite to eat before hailing a cab to West Pier Street. We pulled up in front of a five story, mirrored-glass building with no sign indicating we were in the right place. I paid the cab driver and Shea and I headed toward the tinted double doors. We walked into the main lobby and found ourselves surrounded by at least 1,000 dancers of all ages and races waiting to tryout. "Holy shit, Lauryn!" Shea whispered loudly. To tell the truth, I was shocked too. I knew that we wouldn't stand a chance at becoming dancers for the Backstreet Boys. A round, petite blond woman rushed over to us. "Here are your name tags. Go and change," she said, handing us each a "Hello. My name is..." tag and pointing us in the direction of the women;s dressing rooms. After we'd changed Shea and I sat in the lobby, waiting patiently for our turn to tryout. Fifty people tried out at a time. There were twenty 50-person groups and only five from each group moved on to the next round. There was a three hour break between my and Shea's tryouts so we decided to take a tour of the Studios. We were just about to enter the trophy room when I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Can I help you ladies?" a kind yet stern voice asked us. I turned around to find myself face to face with Denise McLean, AJ's mother and Studios employee. "Oh! Sorry! We're just here for dance tryouts and we have a three hour break until Shea goes," I explained. "We thought we'd just look around," Shea added. "Well then, why don't I be your personal tour guide," Denise suggested. "That would be great, Ms. McLean," I said polietly. "Oh, please. Don't call me Ms. McLean. It makes me sound so old. Call me Denise," Denise said with a warm smile. "Okay, Denise," Shea replied, smiling back. Denise showed us the trophy room first. Inside the walls were lined with gold and platinum records and a glass case directly in the center of the room displayed the numerous awards the Backstreet Boys had won. The only one missing was a Grammy. Picture stood in many frames around the room capturing the handsome fivesome at award shows, movie premieres, and with their friends, families, and fans. Shea and I really wanted to be a part of this great family. After the trophy room, we saw offices and met producers, songwriters, and other employees of the Studios. Everyone seemed really nice, but extremely busy. My favorite part of the tour was the recording studio. For as long as I could remember, I'd wanted to be a singer. I sang all the time. At the local Sedgwick fair. At church. And in the shower. Everywhere. But I felt singing professionally wasn't in my fate. It was in the recording studio where Shea and I met our first Backstreet Boy. Brian Littrell was sitting in a soundproof room writing a song on his guitar. He looked so sweet sitting in the small box, singing and playing his heart out. His eyes were closed like they usually were when he sings and I so wished I could hear what his beautiful voice was singing. When he finished with his song, he opened his eyes and saw Shea and me standing outside with Denise. Being the gentleman that he is, he exited the room and came to meet us. "Hey there. Brian Littrell," Brian introduced himself to us. "You are?" he asked, extending his right hand for us to shake. I smiled to myself. 'Why did he introduce himself to us? Like we don't know who he is,' I thought. "Hi. I'm Shea Walker," Shea said, breaking the silence and shaking Brian's hand. Brian focused his attention on me. "And you are?" he asked with a smile. I finally found my voice and spoke. "Lauryn Matthews," I said, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you both," he replied. "So, what brings you to the Studios?" he asked. "Dance tryouts," I stated. "Well, good luck. I have to jet, but I'm sure I'll talk to you both again sometime," he said, flashing his adorable smile at us once again. Denise showed Shea and me the rest of the Studios and led us back to the tryout area. By that time, only the people trying out in the last group were waiting in the lobby. Finally, the double doors opened and a horde of tired, sweaty dancers emerged, some of them in tears. Now is was Shea's turn. I heard the music start up and once again, I was forced to wait. I sat in an overstuffed armchair and waited....and waited....and waited, staring blankly in front of myself, not noticing that someone stood in front of me. "Excuse me, Miss," a deep voice said. My eyes fluttered open, bringing me out of my trance, only to find the luscious Kevin Richardson standing directly in front of me. "Pardon me?" I asked. Kevin squatted so we were almost eye level. "Soda?" he asked, holding out a Coke. "Thanks," I replied, taking the soda from his hand. "So, are you one of the girls Brian said he met earlier?" Kevin asked, sitting down in the chair across from me. I nodded, taking a sip of my soda. "Lauryn Matthews," I stated, extending my hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Lauryn," Kevin said, kissing my knuckles lightly. I felt myself blushing uncontrollably. "I've got to go, but hopefully, I'll see you again," he stated, rising to his feet. "Okay. Thanks for the soda," I replied. "My pleasure," he said with a smile as he began walking away. "Wait!" I called after him. He turned and looked at me. "How did you know I was one of the girls Brian met earlier?" I questioned. He smiled. "There can't be that many beautiful redheads wandering around this place," he said, turning and walking away. 'Omigod! He is such a fox!' I thought silently. My train of thought was broken by the sound of many voices talking at once. Two voices caught my attention. It was a peel of harmonious laughter. I knew the one to be Shea, but who was the other? To my surprise, Shea walked out of the studio laughing hysterically, Nick at her side. "Hi, Lauryn!" Shea said happily. "I'm guessing you made it to the next round," I said back. "Yeah! I am so unbelievably happy right now I could scream!" Shea shouted. Nick still stood beside her, a wide smile on his adorable face. "Shea, you are!" I laughed. "Hi. I'm Lauryn Matthews," I said, turning toward Nick. "Nice to meet you, Lauryn. Shea has been telling me all about you," he replied. "Great," I muttered. "Shea, I'm really tired. Can we go back to the hotel?" I asked, almost whining. "You go on ahead. I'll catch up with you later," Shea answered as she and Nick started off down the hall. "Great," I muttered again. I walked over to the receptionist's desk. "Can I get a phone book please?" I asked polietly. Cheryl, the receptionist, handed me the yellow pages so I could look up a cab company s "Do you need a lift somewhere?" a gentle voice asked behind me. I turned around and saw Brian and Kevin standing there. "Oh, I can just call a cab. It's no big deal," I told them. "Nonsense!" Brian stated. "Where are you staying?" he asked. "The Marriott Hotel," I answered. "That's on our way. Kev and I are heading to the Y in that section of town. We'll give you a lift," Brian said matter-of-factly, grabbing my hand and dragging me down a long corridor. Kevin hadn't said a single word. Kevin Richardson: 'God, is she beautiful!' I thought to myself. Brian was dragging her down the hall to the employee parking lot. Laughter lit up her face. Laughter that was like music to my ears. I wanted to run my hands through her silky red hair and look deep into her hypnotic blue eyes, but she makes me feel awkward. Like I can't talk to her. I'd never felt that way after only one look before. Lauryn: We all hopped into Kevin's Toyota 4Runner and he maneuvered his way through the thick Orlando traffic to the Marriott Hotel. Brian and I chitchatted back and forth whie Kevin drove straight-faced. "Did you make it to the second round?" Brian asked me. "Mmm-hmmm. I was so shocked. Let me tell you!" I said excitedly. "Shea made it too," I added. "Where is Shea?" Kevin inquired. It caught me by surprise for he hadn't said one word since our previous meeting. "She and Nick went somewhere. I guess they really hit it off," I replied, happy that Kevin was talking to me. I had always had a thing for Kevin. Since the first time I laid eyes on the group that would forever be known as the Backstreet Boys, I had been attracted to him. But I was even more drawn to him when I saw him in person. His intense, expressive gray-green eyes are loke pools. Pools that I drown in when I stare deep into them. "Well, congratulations!" Brian said cheerfully. Brian acted like he had never had a bad day in his life. His charismatic smile never left his face. Kevin pulled up in front of the Marriott. He leaped out of the vehicle, rushed around to the passenger's side, and opened the door for me in a chilvalrous manner. "Thank you, Brian. Kevin," I said, throwing my bag over my shoulder. "Perhaps I'll see you tomorrow. Second leg of the tryouts and all," I said with a smile. "We should be there. Practice, practice, practice!" Brian laughed. "See you later, Lauryn," Kevin stated. I smiled a goodbye at him and trotted into the hotel. I opened the door to our suite. Dark. Shea hadn't returned yet. And I didn't even care. All I wanted to do was soak in a steaming hot bubble bath and read my book. |