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Untitled Story Chapter 3 I watched him the few seconds it took for him to walk through the door, give the greeting and a little wave to his son, and as if not a care in the world, breeze through the room and stop before me, hand outstretched. "Hi! Brian Littrell." he said, smiling. I moved the files I was holding in my right hand into my left and took his hand. "Rene� Mason. Nice to meet you," I replied, returning his smile with a grin of my own. "I just need to find his folder and we can begin....." I trailed off, looking on top of my filing cabinet at the stray manila folders that were strewn across. As if a higher power instructed me to do so, I glanced at the folders now in my left hand, and noticed I was absentmindedly holding the one particular folder I had been searching for the past, oh, twenty minutes or so. I'm sure I made myself blush. "Oh, here it is, okay." I embarrassedly chuckled. Gee, duh. Brian gave me another smile. Chris looked awfully content and comfortable in my chair, so I let him stay in it, and instead pulled up the wheeled computer chair from behind the classroom PC to my desk for myself. After I had sat down, Brian took the chair that was already in front of my desk, just for that purpose. Great, we're all sitting. On with the conference..... It didn't take but a few minutes of discussing the boy as if he wasn't actually there in the room with us, that I looked over at him and noticed how incredibly bored he seemed. I stopped what I was saying in mid sentence and addressed him. "Chris, would you like to go on ahead to P.E.? You really don't have to be here, I suppose. It won't take much longer." He enthusiastically nodded his head in response. I gave him a small smile and reached for my pad of post-its so I could write the boy a hall pass, and an excuse for the phys ed teacher on why he had missed half of the class. I stuck the hall pass on top of the excuse on then stuck that on Chris' shirt. "There you go!" I said, giving him a small laugh. "Thank you." he quietly replied as he jumped out of my chair and quickly walked out the classroom door, peeling the post-its off his chest. "Good-bye." I called out to him. "Bye." I heard him, barely, reply. Me and Brian let out small laughs, at the same time, in response. "He's a trip." I heard Brian mutter. I turned around and looked at him, amused by his comment. He sat browsing through the folder which I had been trying to find earlier. Although at the time, when they were the force to be reckoned with in the music industry, I particularly favored another member, A.J., I still have to admit, I thought Brian was a cutie himself. I still remember how he used to look, not that much different from now, but still diverse from the visual memory of him back then. I remembered how his hair had a bit of curl to it, and his structured cheekbones and jaw line. Wasn't his hair naturally this light, didn't he dye it? It sure was light now, about the same color as his son's. I remembered how in the last few years of the group, he looked a bit skinny and unhealthy, but what's to expect from trying to recuperate from heart surgery. Even with the blue pull over knit sweater he was sporting that day, I could tell that he had since filled out nicely. But, that was about, 12, 13 years ago? My thoughts drifted back to his hair, the color and texture it seemed to be back then. I'm sure his hair would still be curly to this day, I know mine still was, but I guess the short length it was cut prevented it from being like that now. Just judging by looks, he was definitely a charmer, he certainly was a handsome guy. I kind of thought it funny as to where he seemed like a nice, normal, all around down to earth kind of person. Of course, what was I expecting? But not everybody is born under the same stars, not everybody is sought after by millions of people like he once was. You know, when you're dealing with a group of musicians that has mass appeal to the teenage crowd-the FEMALE teenage crowd-you're gonna see that they work on many different levels. They range from 'obsessed poster hanging teeny magazine buying idol worshipping' ones that care probably more about how their celebrity crushes looked on their last television appearance more than, say, the 2 brothers that had a number one song in 1991 that had in fact, produced a couple of that groups songs, to 'mid forties adult contemporary light rock radio station listening women' who actually like to a certain group because of the nice, decent pop songs and who could care less what hairstyle the band was sporting the last music video. Me.... well, I had no idea what kind of fan of the Backstreet Boys I was. Sure, I was about 14 when I started listening to them, but listening was probably about the most I did. Of course, I knew their names, a few vital facts, and whatnot (and, yes, there was no denying the fact that I did find a couple of the Boys particularly cute), but I never really made an effort to know what their favorite cologne or their favorite ice cream flavor was. I didn't rush to my local book or department store to grab the newest issue of a certain magazine so I could have new pinups of the guys. Instead, I liked buying their imported cd's.... even though I was convinced it was all a conspiracy theory. "Just put these certain songs out in this country and these few songs out in that country so we can double our record sales," I could just imagine their record company saying. But, in my opinion, the music was too good to let it pass me by. If I knew of a song by the Boys that was on a certain cd I didn't have, I made damn well sure I got it-and fast! It was just more about the music to me. Sure, I was in high school at the time and had a few friends that were so far into oblivion to realize that, no, they were not going to marry Nick Carter, but I never did once began to be like them. I never understood the people who can only be described, as silly as the word may be, as a 'teenybopper'. And, I bet I never will. He tilted his head and I caught the light reflect off of the clasp of a gold chain on the back of his neck I hadn't noticed before hand because it was placed under his sweater, but over the white tee shirt that hung on him underneath the soft knit sweater. He glanced over the last paper, and then closed the folder. I informed him of Chris' current grade average and adjourned our conference. We stood up and he flashed me that 100 kilowatt smile and said his thanks as he shook my hand again. He walked out and I walked to my chair, letting the events of the last 45 minutes sink into my mind.Next: Chapter 4 |