CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO – CONTEMPLATION
Kevin flopped face down onto his bed, too drained to do anything but grab a pillow and bury his face in it. He hoped to squash the memory of the past hours, especially the one of Brian standing in the hotel hallway, panic-stricken. He had looked overwhelmed, distraught, as if disaster had already struck. Worried, he thought to call out to his cousin, but stopped as his eyes fell on Brian's newly cast hand. The sting of Brian's betrayal became painfully fresh and his resentment quickly replaced his concern as he brushed by him, silent.
With a snarl, he threw his pillow across the room in anger. Glancing at his phone, he saw the red blinking light, indicating voice mail. He didn't feel like talking to anyone, especially his family. When they found out, and they would soon enough, all hell would break loose. He sighed, closing his eyes. He had argued with the other guys tonight, wanting to confront Brian on why he wanted to quit, but they all shot his idea down, feeling that what he did was explanation enough. He thoughts turned to next month, when the tour took a week hiatus for the upcoming holiday. Maybe on the flight home, if he was on talking terms with Brian, he could discover what made his cousin do what he did.
* * * * *
Howie closed his door, then locked it, tossing his entry card next to his telephone. He felt the urge to pick up the phone and call AJ, but having already spent most of the night discussing Brian, AJ would have been pissed at him trying to rehash everything. Of the four, only Howie was the one who thought it was best that Brian left; it wasn't until after considerable pressure put on him by the other three that he gave in, agreeing to their decision to force Brian to stay with the group.
He walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on full force. Through a mist of steam he stripped then eased himself into the blasting spray, hoping the pulsating heat would sooth his frayed nerves. Never in a million years would he have thought what he witnessed tonight would actually happen. Equally surprising was Xavier. After missing their bus, Xavier had quickly managed to get all four safely out of the arena and with deceptive ease. He then chauffeured them around, taking them to the most secluded bar he could find so that the guys could talk undisturbed. When they had asked Xavier to join them, he seemed hesitant, almost uneasy about discussing Brian. He had expressed a desire to transfer, not willing to bodyguard Brian anymore. After much pleading they had persuaded him to stay, agreeing readily to his stipulations. Howie knew AJ's feelings regarding Xavier, so he was pleasantly surprised when he had to only kick AJ a couple of times under the table to agree.
He shut the water off, sighing as he toweled himself dry and crawling wearily into bed, wondering if the other guys were just as exhausted. His mind flashed back to Brian, standing isolated in the hall as they warily passed by him. For a moment he felt a twinge of guilt, then shook his head in exasperation. If it weren't for him, none of this would be happening. Priorities, he had to remind himself. Band first, Brian last.
* * * * *
Not caring to see if the door shut, AJ marched over to his well-stocked refrigerator, pulling every small bottle out that even remotely looked alcoholic. He was determined to get rip-roaring drunk, having been unable to do so at the sleazy bar Xavier had taken them to because the guys "wanted to talk." What was there to talk about, anyway? Brian had tried to screw them over, but good, and if it wasn't for him, might have. Ripping the cap off the tiny bottle, AJ gave himself a congratulatory gulp, threw the empty down, then knocked back another. As the bitter liquid flamed down his throat he relaxed for the first time tonight. He struggled to kick off his shoes, eyeing the telephone. He wondered if he should call Howie but shrugged it off. It was late, and his friend would probably kill him, knowing he wanted to go over the night's events again.
He slumped into an easy chair, punching the TV remote. As it flared to life AJ sat back, staring blankly at the screen before him. What a fucked day. What a fucked tour. Fuck. He liked the word, always had, and now everything seemed to express his feelings in one simple, sweet word. AJ opened his third bottle, eyeing it moodily, then took a hefty sip. Xavier. Now that was something. His change of allegiance was startling to say the least, and he didn't buy it for a minute, even if the other guys did. He only went along because at the time he didn't care, agreeing to anything just so Howie would quit kicking him. Now he wasn't so sure. He squinted at the time displayed on the TV, sighing with resignation. Should he call it quits and get some sleep, or should he finish the rest of the bottles? Deciding on one more drink, he tossed it down quickly then gratefully climbed into the warm comfort of his bed. I hope Brian sleeps as well as I will tonight, he thought spitefully, remembering the pained expression on Brian's face as they uncomfortably crossed paths in the hallway.
* * * * *
Nick stood in the middle of his room, at a loss. His body felt numb, his mind a mess of jumbled emotions, the most noticeable being the hostility he experienced when he saw Brian in the hallway. Somehow he didn't expect to run into him, and when he did, a flood of resentment coursed through his body. It was enough to make him want to punch Brian on the spot, the only thing stopping him was noticing the white cast encircling Brian's wrist. He didn't feel a twinge of regret, in fact he hoped it hurt like hell and made a point to say so as he strode past him. Now, looking at his phone he felt an impulsive urge to call Brian, to wish him a sarcastic goodnight. He thought the better of it, knowing it would just stir up more bitterness in him. And it looked like he was gonna have enough to last the whole tour. He eyed his bed suspiciously, wondering if he could relax enough to sleep. He knew he should take a hot shower, try to clean up, but he couldn't force himself to expend the energy. Flopping down on his bed, he grabbed the edge of the bedspread and pulled it over him, not bothering to undress. Why should he? He had a feeling it was going to be a long, sleepless night.
* * * * * *
The instant as he reached the confines of his room, Brian fished the medication out of his pocket, unsteadily opening the cap. Shaking two Tylenol with codeine out, he grabbed a courtesy cup in the bathroom and quickly swallowed them, praying the pain reliever would work soon. He looked into the mirror, despising what he saw. Once confident, happy and content, the face that stared back at him reflected only an empty, depressed, and frustrated young man. Brian went over to the side of his bed and sat down carefully, cringing as the codeine hit his empty stomach, trying to keep his mind off the cramps as he waited for the pain to lessen. He felt the sharp poke of the switchblade and dug the knife out of his pocket, staring at it bleakly. He berated himself for not having the guts to kill Xavier outright, the defeat so bitter he could still taste it. He knew, as had Xavier, that it was impossible, and so the test had been another one of Xavier's little ways of showing who was in control.
Brian's mouth turned into a sour smile. Tests, games, control…all these things he had competed so hard against Xavier, yet achieving only small victories as he was outmaneuvered at every turn. But if Xavier had one flaw, and he did, it was that he underestimated him. I may not have control of the game, but I'm still playing. Years of hard work, ambition, and persistence had molded him into the person he was now, and no way was he ready to give it up, not even against likes of Xavier. I'm alive, I'm still here, he reassured himself grimly. If I go down, I'll go down kicking.
Brian relaxed a little as the painkiller began to ease the ache. He examined his hand curiously. Having never broken his wrist before, he wondered idly how much trouble it was going to give him during the upcoming concerts. That's the least of your worries, Littrell! How are you going to handle the rest of the tour with four guys who hate your guts? He hoped Howie and Kevin might come around sooner or later and forgive him, but he could pretty much write off ever being friends with AJ or Nick again. Nick. Brian felt a sharp stab of regret as he realized he would never regain the trust of his friend. Of all the things he had suffered, the loss of Nick's friendship would be the hardest to cope with. I'll be okay, he thought, just as long as Xavier stays away from him.
Xavier! Brian bolted off his bed like a shot. Xavier was the on call bodyguard for tonight! It would be just like Xavier to do something this night, considering the state he was in. He bit his lower lip in consternation, wondering how to protect Nick. Knowing Nick was in his room, probably asleep, did nothing to alleviate his fear. Xavier still had access to everyone's room, including Nick's. Grabbing a single pillow from his bed, Brian headed down the quiet hallway towards Nick's door and gently eased himself to the floor, taking care not to jar his wrist. He wondered just how idiotic he looked, sitting cross-legged on the floor, waiting, not a soul in sight. He felt for the reassuring comfort of the switchblade in his pocket. Good. With a huge yawn he stretched, then adjusted his pillow. Don't get too comfortable, he warned himself.
* * * * * *
If his sleep was any indication of how his day was going to be, then he was in deep trouble. Nick sighed irritably, glancing at his digital clock for perhaps the hundredth time. 6:27 A.M. He guessed he had dozed periodically, but it sure didn't feel like it. Considering it a lost cause, he threw back the bedspread and hauled himself reluctantly out of bed, heading for the bathroom. The warmth of the shower did nothing to help settle his frame of mind as his thoughts flashbacked to the situation between him and Brian. How long could he stand being with him, seeing him, working side by side each night, knowing what he tried to do to the group? Nick sighed resignedly, understanding that for the sake of the others he'd have to tolerate it the best he could. He turned off the water and got dressed, throwing on whatever he found lying around, running his fingers through his wet hair and shrugged as he viewed his appearance. He didn't care. In fact, he didn't care about anything except getting something to eat and maybe locating some sleeping pills. Wondering if Kevin or AJ might be up, he shoved his wallet into his pocket and quickly opened his door, almost stumbling over the reclining form of Brian.
Nick inhaled sharply, too stunned to do anything but stare. A painful rush of fear surged through his body as he bent to inspect Brian, sure that he was dead. Nick heaved a sigh of relief as he realized Brian was asleep, curled sideways on the carpeted floor, a pillow supporting his busted wrist. Shaking his head in disbelief, Nick knelt down on one knee to give him a shake but stopped when he noticed a slim object glinting on the floor, inches from Brian's right hand. He picked up the metal object, holding it closer for a better look as he turned it over and over in his hand. Bewilderment turned into shock as he carefully flicked the switchblade open, eyes glued to its razor sharpness. Nick slowly stood up, shaking, as his mind raced furiously for an explanation. He couldn't believe what he was thinking, yet here Brian was, camped outside his door, obviously waiting for him with a switchblade! What the…? Uneasy, Nick snapped the blade shut and carefully stepped away from the sleeping form, trying not to make a sound as he hurried down the hallway and turned the corner. Hurry! His mind raced, frantically wondering who he could tell. His decision was made as he saw AJ's door ajar and he rushed in, searching around. The room was empty. Distressed, he turned to leave, only to hear AJ coming out of the bathroom, rubbing his wet hair with a towel.
"Hey!" yelled AJ, startled by Nick's unexpected appearance. "How'd you get in?"
"Your door was open again; you gotta remember to shut it, Bone!" Nick yelled, chewing him out.
"Okay, okay!" AJ looked Nick up and down, giving him a frown. "What's your problem? Can't sleep either?"
Nick rushed up to AJ, grabbing him by the arm. "This is my problem! Come here, look!" Nick propelled AJ forward, leading him down the hallway to point to the still figure lying prone on the floor. AJ blinked in surprise, and turned to give his agitated friend a questioning look. With a nod of his head, Nick signaled to AJ, and they crept back into to his room.
"What's going on?" cried AJ, exasperated. "Why is Brian sleeping outside, next to your door?"
Nick began to pace, locking his hands behind his head. "I'm not sure, but it looks like he was waiting for me!"
"Waiting for you? What for?"
Nick flipped the blade open slowly, for effect. "I found this on Brian, he's parked outside my door, and by the looks of it, waiting for me! It doesn't take a genius to figure out what he wanted."
"Damn," breathed AJ. "Are you sure?"
"No, I'm not sure!" hissed Nick, not wanting his voice to carry. 'But what else could it be?"
AJ covered his eyes with hands as he slumped into a chair. " I need a cigarette," he groaned.
"Forget that!" snapped Nick, exasperated. "What are we gonna do?"
AJ tore his hands away from his face to glare at Nick. "I don't know, I don't know!" he replied, frustrated. "Lemme think, okay?"
"Should we tell X?"
"No!"
"Call the police?" offered Nick.
AJ stared back. "Hello? Are you crazy? Today's headlines: Backstreet Boy tries to kill best friend, stay tuned."
"Okay, okay I get the picture," groused Nick. "And he's not my best friend," he added. "So what are we gonna do?"
"I thought you were going to let me think! Shut up, will ya?"
"Well, while you're thinking, I'm going to see Kevin. Maybe he can help," grumbled Nick, leaving the room. Before AJ could retort with a suitable reply, Nick was back, his face pale.
"He's gone."
"Who, Brian?"
"Yeah, he's gone. He must have woke up while we were talking."
"Just great," muttered AJ, standing up. "Let's go wake the others."
* * * * *
A sharp, stinging slap to his face woke Brian up and he struggled frantically to sit upright, only to feel the strong arms of Xavier lift him off the ground.
"Wake up," sing-songed Xavier. "Time to rise and shine, golden boy."
Brian blinked a few times, trying to wipe the cobwebs of his drug-induced sleep from his mind. He searched anxiously in his pocket for the switchblade, only to come up empty-handed. Xavier laughed in amusement.
"Lost it, huh? Someone take it while you were sleeping?" He smirked, glancing at Brian, then Nick's door. "Some bodyguard you are," he mocked. With a not-so-gentle shove he pushed Brian down the hallway. "Come on. It's a brand new day. Time to look alive." Wearily, the blond singer headed for his room and Xavier caught up to him, grasping his arm tightly. "If I wanted to hurt your buddy, there's not one thing you could do to stop it," he hissed, "so you might as well stop trying."
Brian ripped his arm away, giving Xavier a look of pure hatred. "I'll never stop trying. You haven't won the game yet."
Xavier stopped, a smile creeping onto his face as he watched his opponent march down the hallway. "Oh, but I will. I always do," he whispered.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE - AN UNDERSTANDING
Kevin picked lethargically at his breakfast, his appetite gone. Finally giving up, he sighed and stood up, collecting the half-touched food from the rest of the guys to toss away. It had been a stressful morning, with AJ and Nick waking Howie and him up, informing them about Brian. Now, two hours later, and after many heated discussions, nothing had been resolved and everyone's patience was wearing thin.
Kevin sat back down, rubbing his face briskly with his hands in hope of stimulating both his weary mind and body. "Okay, looks like we're pretty much back at the beginning," he started, trying to ignore Nick's impatient glare. "Now I know it looks suspicious, but I just can't believe Brian would try to hurt Nick. It doesn't make any sense to me. I mean, come on, why would he want to?"
"Oh, maybe because I broke his hand and beat the crap outta him? Could that possibly be it?" Nick jeered.
Kevin returned the glare, pissed. "You know, I'm getting pretty sick and tired of your lip. I thought we all came here to discuss this, but I guess not. So why don't you just leave?"
Nick jumped up, his hands clenched in anger. "I'm just telling you what I saw! But I guess your loyalty lies with family rather than anyone here, doesn’t it?"
Kevin rose to match Nick, his green eyes dark with resentment. "I'm not going to take this, especially from you…" he began, only to have his vision blocked by Howie's form standing between them.
"That's it!" yelled Howie, in frustration. He pointed both to Kevin and Nick, his temper barely under control. "Sit down! What the hell is the matter with you two?" Taken aback, the two Backstreet Boys sat down hesitantly; AJ smiling in approval at Howie's forceful stance.
"You tell 'em, D!" he crowed.
Howie spun on him. "Shut up, AJ!"
AJ dropped his mouth in surprise but quickly closed it when he saw the no-nonsense look directed at him. "Okay," he agreed meekly.
"Good." Howie paced around the crowded room, rubbing his forehead as the rest watched cautiously, waiting for his opinion. After a minute, Howie threw up his hands in defeat. "I give up."
All three looked at Howie in surprise. "Huh?"
"I said, I give up! I can't figure any of this out, can you?" Three heads shook no in unison. "But I do know that for the rest of this tour, working with Brian is gonna be a bitch. My loyalty is with you guys, so I'm not going to let Brian ruin our friendship. We gotta stick together, okay? No fighting, no bickering between us, otherwise this is going to tear us apart." He glared meaningfully at Kevin and Nick "After the tour, we can figure out what to do. But for now, we're going to have to stick together and make sure Brian doesn't do something that can hurt us all."
Howie paused for a second to let his words sink in before glancing at his watch. "And speaking of sticking together, did anyone remember we have a photo shoot today?" Collective groans emitted from Kevin, Nick and AJ. "Yeah, yeah, I know," Howie agreed. "And by the looks of us, we had better get some sleep before it's time to go."
* * * * *
"Here." Brian heaved the heavy black bag as hard as he could towards Xavier who was patiently waiting outside the bank. Brian hoped it would break open and scatter its contents to the wind, but Xavier caught it deftly, raising his eyebrows in delight at the weight. "Guess you're on your way to be coming a rich ex-bodyguard."
Inspecting the money, Xavier gave a satisfied nod. "It will do…for now." He grinned at the sullen Backstreet Boy. "Come on, let's eat." He patted the overstuffed bag. "My treat, of course." Brian ignored Xavier's laugh as they headed towards the parking lot, flinching when Xavier gave him an appreciative rub on the back. "Say, who would of thought a skinny white boy from Kentucky could make so much money?" Xavier leaned in closer to Brian. "I tell ya, it's a crime," he whispered, his lips a hair's breadth away from the singer's ear. The warmth of Xavier's laughter on his neck made Brian squirm with revulsion. He shoved angrily away, hatred shining openly in his eyes.
"You've got enough money to buy whatever you want; I suggest you go find someone else," Brian spat, his tone leaving no doubt as to what he meant.
Xavier's mouth compressed into a thin line, the only emotion Brian saw displayed on the bodyguard's face. An old couple walked feebly by and Xavier kept his silence, holding Brian's gaze coolly until they had past. "And what if I want you?" he challenged, his meaning crystal clear to both of them. Brian's struggled to maintain his composure, the game now taking on a more disturbing turn. He looked squarely into the eyes of his bodyguard. "Well, I'd say your outta luck."
"Luck?" scoffed Xavier, his disbelief plain. "Since when did I need luck? I take what I want." Xavier let his eyes roam suggestively up and down Brian's form, the slightest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.
Unnerved, Brian desperately tried to hide his growing anxiety, the swell of nausea almost overwhelming him as it gnawed in the pit of his stomach. "I thought you weren't gay," he flung back accusingly, remembering the church incident.
Xavier's faint smile grew wider and Brian suddenly found the bodyguard looming over him, Xavier's immense size overpowering. Instinctively Brian backed up, desperate for escape, only to find his freedom blocked by the side of their parked car. Slowly Xavier brought his face down, inch by inch, with such excruciatingly slowness that it froze Brian to where he stood, transfixed by Xavier's intense stare. Shaking, Brian could feel the warmth of Xavier's lips just barely graze his own mouth. Fully expecting Xavier to deepen the kiss, Brian was surprised when Xavier pulled back, a sly grin forming across the bodyguard's face.
"What makes you think I'm gay?" he asked lightly, his voice filled with amusement. "I'm not." He winked at Brian as he opened the door to their SUV. "Fear and control," he stated simply, indicating for the singer to hop in.
Brian numbly got in, stunned by Xavier's strategy. With sudden clarity he saw how easily Xavier had trapped him, using the singer's suspicions to full advantage. Xavier had played the game brilliantly. Brian turned to look at Xavier, who was watching him intently. Nodding with satisfaction that Brian now understood, Xavier turned on the ignition and skillfully drove out of the parking lot, picking up speed as they headed towards the local gym.
Brian ignored the passing scenery, his mind racing as he sat uneasily in his seat. Was Xavier gay? Would Xavier's promise to "take" what he wanted come true? Xavier's trick to make him uncertain of Xavier's sexual preference had worked. The anxiety of not knowing was the mind game Xavier was now playing with him. Brian closed his eyes, shuddering. Xavier had control. And control gave power. Deep within him he knew that Xavier had already decided. It was now not a matter of how, but a matter of when.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR – SMILE
Peter Swan sighed in exasperation as he adjusted the setting on his camera. He looked through his lenses, then shook his head. In all his professional years of photography, these four were the most irritating, disagreeable group he had ever worked with. He could care less that he was shooting the Backstreet Boys, he had shot other famous groups and none had ever been this troublesome. I don't need this! Annoyed, he glanced up from his camera, waving his hand. "Hey, you, yes you, blondie, move a little closer to tattoo man."
Nick glared back at him, pretended to move over, then glared again. Peter bit his lip. "Oookay…" he gripped his camera tighter, wishing he could just smash it across the smart-ass's head. Finally finding a pose he thought satisfactory, he snapped away until the tall blonde moved, unable to stay stationary.
Peter laid his camera down with exaggerated care, his mouth puckering in a sour smile. I'll bill them double he promised himself, as he walked over to the group. "Great shot!" he lied. He rubbed his hands together, looking around his small studio. "Now, where is the fifth guy, uh, the one who can sing?" He hoped that pissed them off. It did. "How the hell should we know?" growled AJ.
"Yeah, are we done now?" complained Nick, glancing at the studio clock.
Peter gave him an amazed look. "Uh, you've only been here 20 minutes."
"So?"
"Soooo, a photo shoot usually takes about four hours," Peter patiently explain, his voice the condescending tone of a teacher to a six-year-old child. Nick caught it, and smiled sweetly back.
"I'll give you another half hour, then it's time for recess." His voice mimicked the tone of the six-year-old and AJ and Howie snickered at Nick's sarcastic remark.
"That's it!" fumed Peter. "I'm not going…" his voice cutting off as he heard the muted boom of his studio door being closed. A young blond man entered, holding a small duffel bag, a much larger man standing right behind him. Peter waved them in impatiently. "Come on, come on, we haven't got all day, or so I'm told."
Brian walked slowly up to the photographer, tossing his bag to the ground. Peter stared at him in astonishment. "What's this?" he questioned, waving his hands wide. "How am I suppose to work with this?" he shouted to the ceiling. Peter touched Brian's clothing, gesturing to his broken wrist. "You're still perspiring!" he shrieked, eyeing Brian's slicked back hair. "Where did you just come from, the gym?"
Brian shrugged in reply, motioning toward the front where the guys stood. "So where do you want me?"
"Where do I want you?" asked Peter in disbelief. "How about what am I going to do with you?" He thought furiously, an idea springing to mind. "Wait…wait just a sec. Yeah. This should work!" Excited, he motioned to the other guys. "Go to the bathroom. Get your hair wet. All of you!" He hummed to himself, lost in thought. Yes, it could work. Maybe the grunge look could come back. After all, most of the photos he had seen of them were too slick, too polished. A sweaty Backstreet Boy…hmmm. It could have possibilities…
Howie, Nick, Kevin, and AJ reluctantly trudged back from the bathroom, dripping, and shifted uncomfortably as Peter tossled their hair, trying to achieve the look he desired. Grabbing Brian hurriedly, Peter unceremoniously pushed him next to Nick, causing a collision.
"Jeez," commented Nick sourly. "You stink."
"Its called exercise. You should try it," Brian hissed through clenched teeth.
Peter grabbed Brian again, adjusting and tilting Brian's position, then took another shot. Not satisfied, Peter reached and pulled Brian out of the line up, tugging at the singer's shirt. Brian stiffened noticeably, the look not lost on the other four. Placing Brian back next to AJ, Peter felt the friction radiate through both Backstreet Boys. Good. He didn't want togetherness, he wanted a look of anger, a look of contempt to shine through for the camera. Whatever was going on between the group, it was definitely going to show up on film. Excited, he clicked away, shooting from every possible angle, hoping to catch the perfect shot. After a few moments he put his camera down, frustrated. Something was not right. Everyone was set correctly, except the small blond one. Irritated, Peter pulled Brian once more away from the group, fussing with the singer's clothing, his posture, his hair; touching and pulling, not noticing the disgust that was radiating from the man's eyes.
"Stop that!" Brian snapped, a shudder of revulsion sweeping through him, barely able to tolerate the photographer's constant touching. "Don't."
"Hmmm?"
Peter raked his hand through Brian's hair, not listening.
"I said quit it." A fine sheen of sweat shone on Brian's forehead and it had nothing to do with his recent workout.
Peter frowned at Brian's cut lip, touching it lightly, wondering how to cover it up. A firm hand wrapped around the photographer's wrist, wrenching it away.
"What part of stop don't you understand?" Brian snarled, his anger rising.
"Yes, yes! That's it! Hold it, hold that look!" Peter lunged for his camera, clicking furiously in Brian's face. Brian ripped the camera out of the startled photographer's hand and with a mighty heave smashed it against the floor.
"Take a picture of that, you freak!"
Shattered pieces flew everywhere and Peter looked down at his ruined camera in shock, then at the wild-eyed Backstreet Boy shaking before him. "My camera! You're going to pay for that! You've ruined it!"
Brian smiled nastily. "Good!" He walked over to the lighting equipment, a fiendish look in his eyes. "Charge me for this!" He kicked the heavy equipment over, the super-heated bulbs exploding on impact.
"Oh my God!" screamed Peter, covering his head to protect himself. Nick, AJ, Howie, and Kevin scattered, trying to dodge the flying shards of glass.
"Brian!" shouted Kevin, trying to weave his way over to stop his obviously insane cousin from smashing another object. "Stop!" He signaled to the other three guys for help.
The sickening crash of another expensive piece of equipment came a second later. Peter moaned and Brian gave him a feral grin, managing to send one last thing into oblivion before Xavier wrapped his arm around the singer's waist and yanked him forcibly away. Brian struggled fiercely in the bodyguard's tight grip, kicking violently.
Careful to keep away from Brian's wild kicks, AJ and Nick came over. Xavier held on calmly, holding the thrashing Backstreet Boy firmly in his arms until Brian stopped, exhausted from his struggle.
Howie, Kevin, and Peter edged closer, eyeing Brian warily. Howie glanced at Xavier and Xavier nodded his approval, releasing the panting singer from his grip. Peter moved in suddenly, grabbing Brian by the shirt. "You little punk! I'm going to sue you!"
As tired as Brian was, his strength flared anew. He shoved Peter, causing the photographer to stumble, Nick and AJ catching him before he fell. Brian ducked from Xavier's outstretched hand, coming up to the photographer. "I told you to stop. You didn't listen. You got what you deserved, you little faggot!"
Wisely, Nick and AJ held onto Peter, who screamed with rage. "Faggot?" He eyed Brian's gaunt appearance. "You look like a walking ad for queers! No wonder your girlfriend dumped you!"
All four Backstreet Boys sucked in their breath at Peter's statement, ill at ease. The media had gone crazy with speculation over Leighanne's breakup with Brian; Brian had been tight-lipped, even with the guys, saying only it had been an amicable split. From the bitterness in his eyes, they had delicately avoided the subject.
Brian lunged for Peter, his path blocked by Xavier's quick movement. The bodyguard grabbed Brian firmly by the shoulders, then turned to the guys. "Time to go," he advised. Nick and AJ hurried to get their gear, shoving Kevin's and Howie's at them as they left the studio. All six listened to Peter's rantings as he hounded them down the hallway, yelling threats of lawsuits as the singers entered the elevator. The doors closed with an electronic swoosh, and Nick raised his eyebrows, shaking his head.
"Well, I must say that was the most unusual photo shoot I ever experienced. How about you, Brian?"
Brian kept his head bowed, not rising to Nick's bait. His whole body trembled, caused by a mixture of mental and physical exhaustion. Howie nudged Nick, giving him a not-so-subtle frown, but Nick wasn't done quite yet.
He turned to the bodyguard, ignoring Brian. "Say Xavier, what's up with all this gay talk Brian was yelling about to the photographer?"
Brian brought his head up slowly, his eyes glittering with an intense anger.
Xavier shrugged nonchalantly. "Beats me."