Green eyes widened as they focused on the mantle clock. 8:30 p.m. Racing into the den, she snatched the remote control from the coffee table and flipped on the television tuning it to channel 28. MTV. Music Television and or at least that was what it used to be until some programming director thought that watching strangers bicker in the close quarters of an apartment or a Winnebego certified as entertainment.
She sighed refusing to concern herself with such details. Tonight she was watching for one reason only: the Backstreet Boys appearance on Total Request Live.
She sat on the couch watching as Dave Holmes ticked down the list of top ten videos for the day. 98 Degrees. Mandy Moore. Mariah Carey. DMX. Oh, yeah, she liked that song. She had an eclectic taste in music – everything from Christina Aguilera to Korn and Bach to Ruff Ryders. As much music as she had listened to in her life, nothing touched her like the music of the Backstreet Boys.
At first, she had dismissed them as "just another boy band" like everyone else. She tolerated "As Long As You Love Me" and admitted that "Everybody" had an infectious beat and an unforgettable video. But it was "I’ll Never Break Your Heart" and "All I Have to Give" that grabbed her attention. The voices were so emotional, so passionate – especially A.J.’s. When she first heard his smooth baritone, she felt something – like she’d heard his voice a lifetime ago. Then she saw the videos and photos and felt as though she did know him, that she had met him.
Dave Holmes’ introduction of the Boys startled her from her thoughts. Her dark emerald eyes scanned each of the men as they made themselves known to the audience. Nick. Brian. Kevin. Howie. Lastly, A.J.
She flinched observing his appearance, including the same outrageous outfit that had become his trademark. Baggy khaki pants. Black muscle shirt. Leopard-print hat. Yellow-tinted sunglasses. But something wasn’t right. He was paler; his face drawn. Dark circles overshadowed his normally bright brown eyes.
His eyes. The color of the sunglasses didn’t shade them from her scrutiny. Looking into the once warm chocolate - now dull, muddled – depths, she felt his pain as if it were here own. Their connection was almost unexplainable, but it was there without a doubt. The almost physical suffering she now endured was a direct correlation of his emotions she read on his face. She was baffled though. What had happened to cause it?
She watched as A.J. sat atop a stool cloaking himself with an almost impenetrable yet invisible guard. "I’m sorry, Alex," she whispered, "so sorry."
* ~ * ~ *
Dave Holmes and those selected fans from the TRL audience had thankfully restricted their questions to the album, tour and new video. As much as he usually enjoyed the challenge of a good question, A.J. didn’t feel he could answer anything that required too much thinking that day. He was mentally and physically exhausted almost to the point of crossing that proverbial line in the sand.
The nightmares occurred every night IF he actually slept. It was his theory. No sleep equals no nightmares. Of course, that also meant no energy the following day – a small price to pay really if it weren’t for the questions from his concerned friends, questions he couldn’t answer.
His solution to the problem: power naps. Not enough time for nightmares, or so he thought. Sometimes his body was so over-exhausted that he slept too long, and the dreams haunted him once again.
That night, A.J. did sleep. The nightmare didn’t appear in its usual form. He was still on stage in an undeterminable venue. The screams of the girl faded into a beautiful melody. It had him mesmerized and claimed his body and his voice – although he didn’t know the words. Then the voice returned. "My song, Alex," it whispered. "It’s my song."
A.J. woke feeling well-rested for the first time in weeks since the cursed letter arrived, his mind still swimming with the notes of the melody.
****Host's Note: Sadly, Cheryl has informed me that she has yet to receive an ounce of feedback for this fabulous piece! Why is that? If you're reading this note now, you've obviously read the chapter. And if you've read the chapter, it stands to reason that you've read the preceeding 7 chapters, hence you must be interested in the story to keep coming back. Remember, an author thrives on feedback and this is a relatively thankless hobby. Please, be courteous, and let Cheryl know your thoughts.****
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