CHAPTER 47

To describe Stephen Sullivan as pissed would have been underestimating his feelings. He stared at the clock on his desk as his fingers played their own version of 'Wipe Out' on his blotter. 9:10.... She was late. She had promised that she would be in his office first thing Monday morning. First thing...

Actually, Connie was in the building and had been since 8:45. She had sneaked into her office unseen and locked the door behind her, trying to use this quiet time to re-summon that bravado that had served her so well in the past. She had no right to make demands and she hoped she wouldn't have to. She pulled a green floppy out of her attaché case. On it was stored 90% of the text that would be used in the Backstreet volume that she had been assigned write the copy for. Adam would submit the remaining 10%. She also had a file folder with her that contained emails from her clients - proof that she had remained in contact with them and had continued to nurse them through writer's block and questionable reviews.

She had proof sheets of Hannah's photographs that she had already captioned and she had two manuscripts - one that she was editing and one from an unpublished writer she was reading. It wouldn't hurt to have a potential client to bring to the bargaining table if she and Stephen reached an impasse.

Still, she knew that if Stephen wanted to replace her, this would be a good time. With the exception of the manuscript she was editing, things were quiet. Her clients were between novels, the Backstreet volume was virtually complete and any new client could easily be handled by someone else. The publishing house employed half a dozen young associates who would jump at the opportunity to take on a promising new author.

Might as well get this over with... Connie took a breath and marched out of her office down the carpeted hallway to Stephen Sullivan's suite.

*****

Stephen opened up his desk drawer and pulled out a manila file folder. His judgement rarely failed him but now he had some doubts over his decision in sending Connie to Clearwater in the first place. The assignment had started off well enough even though he had heard rumblings about Connie and 'one of the BSB' having some personality clashes. Something had certainly happened down there. Connie had talked about leaving but she stayed and then she wanted out of the assignment but she didn't come back to New York. She had been impossible to contact and Hannah was making excuses for her.

Stephen had put out a couple of feelers, especially after the MTV special aired and he had seen Connie snuggling on a futon with Kevin Richardson. It was a funny clip. He had laughed when he saw it but it didn't seem quite as funny now. Stephen had grown very fond of Connie but not in a lustful way, even though ten years was all that separated them. His respect for her had evolved into a type of brotherly concern. Something hadn't felt quite right and it didn't take long for him to realize that his gut had not failed him after all. He soon discovered that Connie had become emotionally and sexually involved with Kevin Richardson. If nothing else, that fact alone explained why Connie had asked to be relieved of her copy writing duties. She obeyed the rules and knew that mixing business with pleasure was verboten.

Although it was none of his business, Stephen worried about Connie. She had finally ditched that jerk, Trevor, many months ago. He didn't know the details but strongly suspected that that relationship had been strange and hard on Connie emotionally. He had even wondered if it had been abusive in some way. Now she was mixed up in another unusual coupling - the deaf girl and the pop singer... It sounded like a story line for a sitcom pilot except that if Connie really had feelings for this man, the possibilities were anything but comical. As far as he knew, there had been no man in Connie's life between Trevor and Kevin. Out of the frying pan and into the fire...

Stephen opened the file and stared at a newspaper clipping - an article about Backstreet's dominance over the current music scene. His niece had also copy/pasted several pages from a BSB message board about current girlfriends of the various group members. By and large, these women seemed to be despised. They were ridiculed, slandered, chewed up and spit out with great efficacy. He noted that Kevin's name was associated with an actress named Brandi Prosser. One poster had referred to her as Brandi Prosser-tute. Hmmm... mean but clever...

Stephen dug deeper into the pile and found another clipping. This one had a picture of Kevin attached. He was with a blond who was smiling wildly at the camera. According to the caption, this woman was Brandi, the aspiring actress. Stephen had never heard of her. The caption also mentioned that Brandi and Kevin were an established couple and had been together for quite some time. This photograph had been taken after the last BSB tour had ended - not long before Connie had gone to Florida. Not long at all...

The folder also contained reports of Richardson sightings a various bars, parties, social events and strip clubs. He usually had a woman with him but the woman was not always 'Brandi'. It was also noted that if he came to an event alone, he rarely left the event alone. Internet descriptions of Kevin ran the gamut from 'complicated esoteric' to 'male whore' and there were pages of 'groupie encounters', which left little to the imagination.

Stephen prided himself on being open and fair. He didn't know Kevin but his public resume made him seem like a bad match for Constance O'Rourke.

The inter-office buzzer sounded and Stephen picked up the receiver and put it to his ear.

"Send her in..." he said as he slid the file back into his desk.

Stephen made a quick decision to try and keep this meeting strictly professional. He would try to deal with business only. He suspected that Connie's pride would demand that and he respected her enough to comply.

*****

Hannah hadn't had to work very hard to get the sordid story from Amanda. In fact, she hadn't worked at all. The petite brunette had chuckled when Hannah struck one of her kitchen matches across the step and held the flame up to Amanda's cigarette.

"Jesus... I haven't seen one of those in years!" she laughed before putting the cigarette to her lips and inhaling deeply. She paused only long enough to puff out a few smoke rings and then she turned to the older woman and looked her in the eye. "So, Hannah, I'm hearing that our Train has been parking himself in Connie's tunnel. That true?"

Amanda's directness, coarse as it was, pleased Hannah in an odd sort of way. Here was a woman who didn't like playing games or beating around the proverbial bush - so to speak. Hannah tended to take a similar approach to things and decided to counter with an equal amount of candor.

"True, Amanda. What do you think of that? Any opinions?"

"None of my business..." Amanda sighed, leaning back on her elbows. "Of course, that's never stopped me before.." Neither woman spoke for a moment and then Amanda asked her question - the one that tested Hannah's motives for being so concerned about Connie's personal life. "Just how... close...are you and Connie"?

Hannah smiled inwardly, took a drag and mimicked Amanda's movements - leaning back as well so that they were shoulder to shoulder.

"We're pretty close, I guess..." Hannah answered. "But not in a physical way - if that's what you're getting at..."

"That's what I'm getting at..." Amanda murmured.

"I figured.." Hannah paused and flicked her cigarette onto the gravel. "Connie's straight, Amanda."

"Shit.."

"Yeah..." Hannah nodded.

They were silent as Hannah lit up again.

"So," Hannah continued, "I just heard about this Brandi person. Heard she and Kevin were pretty tight. Connie doesn't know anything about her. What's the deal Amanda? Is he jerkin' my girl off?"

"Nah. I really don't think so, Hannah." Amanda sat up and pulled another smoke out of her pack. " I've been watchin' and listenin' the past couple of days. Kevin's been trying to get hold of Brandi. AJ says he wants to break it off - been wanting to. 'Kevin's got it bad', he says. 'Real bad'" Kevin and Brandi didn't have shit, if you ask me. Boriiiiing... No passion. Fuck buddies. Hell, the word 'fuck buddies' isn't even right. That sounds too romantic for them." Amanda turned and looked at Hannah, demanding her attention. "He's a good guy, Hannah. He can seem cool sometimes but he runs deep. Real deep. He gets frustrated too easy and that usually makes him fuck up but his heart is in the right place. I've known Kevin for years and I've never seen him like this."

"Where's Leighanne's place in all of this?"

Amanda laughed. "Leigh's probably shittin' bricks right about now. She's been tryin' to get in touch with Brandi, too. I know she's been sticking her big pointy nose in this - I can tell - but I think she's having second thoughts. I heard her leaving a message on Brandi's voice mail. She said 'Call me, Brandi! I have to talk to you! Don't go doing anything foolish. I might have misunderstood some of this so call me and we can talk. Please! And don't say anything to Brian!'"

Hannah let her gaze travel out to the beach. She was developing an uncomfortable lump in the pit of her stomach.

"I got a bad feeling, Amanda..."

"Yeah..." Amanda followed Hannah's eyes out over the water. A seagull hovered and then dipped, flying back up with a catch. "Me, too."

Chapter 48

As Connie sat across a mahogany desk from Stephen in New York, discussing her career options, Amanda and Hannah continued to lounge on the front porch of the grove house in Clearwater. As the two women pondered the problem at hand, Kevin was busy in Orlando clearing out a guestroom and building shelves. He was fixing an office for Connie - an example of faith in action. As Kevin measured lengths of walnut, Brandi sat in her Los Angeles bungalow, chatting on the phone to a reporter about the beautiful ring that now graced her left hand. And as Brandi planted her engagement story, ignoring the call-waiting tone, Leighanne was cursing the phone in frustration once again before slamming the receiver down into its cradle.

She's avoiding me... Leighanne sat down on the edge of the bed and then fell backwards, arms splayed out to the side, looking as if she were about to be nailed to the cross. Forgive me, Father, 'cause I may have really fucked up this time... The slow-turning blades on the ceiling fan became her focal point as she tried to consider what had happened, what might happen and how it could affect her. She hadn't been able to get the conversation she'd had with Kevin in the laundry room out of her mind.

Leighanne would have felt guiltier if she hadn't been so angry. 'Dependable' Kevin had messed things up. He had rocked the boat by falling in love - not practical, sensible, comfortable love but that old fashioned, gooey, cow-eyed, cave man kind of love. Leighanne had even heard Kevin laugh since Connie had been here. Out loud. It was scary... She wondered if he was crazy. How could he fall for someone so completely outside of the business? Someone who had no idea what Backstreet was all about. Someone who couldn't even hear, for Christ's sake. Someone who didn't know the game.

But he had, and Leighanne's rationalization that this was just some temporary fling to bide time and relieve frustration was becoming weaker by the hour. She knew that she was a bitch. Brian knew that she was a bitch, too, but he loved her anyway. He loved her like Kevin loved Connie. SHIT!!!. She really didn't know what to do. She had contacted a mutual friend of hers and Brandi's earlier. The friend, Maria, didn't know where Brandi was but word was already out that she was wearing a rock the size of a golf ball and hinting that she would soon be Mrs. Backstreet. Leighanne knew that Brandi was devious as well as ambitious. What is she up to?... In the next breath, she answered her own question. No good, baby... no good... If the shit hit the fan, Leigh had little doubt that she would end up covered with it.

*****

Connie and Stephen conferred for over two hours. She got mad - he got mad. While he listed every reason why she needed to be in New York to work, she countered with every explanation of why she didn't. They bantered back and forth, each avoiding ant personal issues although they loomed just below the surface of the discussion. The fact was that Stephen might have been more pliable if he had no reservations about Connie and her new relationship. Finally, after his professional arguments had been used up to no avail, he threw his final card down on the table - the King of Hearts - Kevin Richardson.

"Aren't you taking a mighty big chance, Connie? It isn't like you to make important decisions with your heart and not your head." He paused before going any farther, unsure of her reaction. "Where is this going? You're making life changing choices based on your feelings for man you've known only for weeks - a man whose job requires most of his time and attention - a man who... who..."

Connie bristled visibly and completed Stephen's remark for him.

"...A man who's been with dozens of women? A man who could have any woman he wanted? A hearing woman, perhaps? Do you think I might be one of his charity projects, Stephen?"

"Connie..."

"Listen to me, Stephen. You're right. I am making a decision based on my heart and not my head. I don't know 'where this is going'. Kevin wants me to move in with him."

"Jesus, Connie! That's not..."

"I don't know how this will work," she interrupted, "or if it will work, but I know that I have to find out. If it comes to a choice, then I'm going to choose Kevin." Connie stood and played out her hand. "You think about this and let me know. If you honestly don't think there's a chance in hell of this working, then I'll hand in my resignation by five PM."

She turned and walked to the door, a signal that she had nothing more to say and wouldn't hear anymore, either. Stephen sat on the horns of a dilemma. He really didn't think Connie should go and the bulk of his reasoning was based on personal concern. He also wasn't thrilled with the fact that she had issued him an ultimatum of sorts. He had professional plans for Connie - plans that couldn't be fulfilled if she was halfway across the country. On a practical note, however, she was the best editor he had and she had been working well with the house's best and most difficult clients. She could travel if and when she needed to. He had received no complaints from her authors citing neglect on her part. He was doing the same thing he had accused her of - thinking with his heart and not his head. Still, he was the boss - and a man. Surely there was some compromise that would allow them both to save face.

*****

When Connie returned to her office, she was shaking. She thought the world of Stephen. He had been good to her and she was uncomfortable acting high-handed with him but she had felt cornered. Now all she could do was wait. She thought of emailing Kevin but decided against it. She had nothing to tell him yet and any news, good or bad, she wanted to give him in person. She had told him that she would be back on Friday. Those five days suddenly seemed like five years.

It was then that she noticed the large vase of flowers that had been placed on her credenza. Calla lilies... Her spirits soared until she realized that Kevin had no way of knowing that they were her favorite. Maybe he made a lucky guess or maybe Hannah had mentioned it to him... When she unpinned the card and opened it, her hopes were dashed.

'Hello, baby~ It's been way too long. I'm looking forward to our date tomorrow. See you at the Plaza for lunch. Should I reserve a room? Ha,ha!'

The note and the lilies were from Trevor.

*****

The clock on her apartment wall read 10:32 PM. Connie sat in her apartment on the 22nd floor of a Manhattan high rise trying to complete the New York Times crossword. She hadn't gotten very far. Concentration was difficult. She was thinking about the meeting with Trevor tomorrow. It had been a year since she had last seen him. She was thinking about Kevin and wondering if he was thinking about her. Finally, she was thinking about Stephen and his fairness in handling their difference of opinion. She had received a memo at 4:45 that afternoon.

It was strictly business and had been copied to all other editors and assistants in the house. In it, he had agreed to let her work outside of New York but there had also been a stipulation. If she was unable to fulfill her obligations to the house and her clients - including the occasional executive conferences and meetings - or if her authors complained of neglect, she would be required to return to New York or risk losing her position. He had also made it clear that he was not totally comfortable in taking this position and stated that this action was not to be considered a precedent of any kind. In fact, this was a temporary decision that would only be effective for six months, after which he would review Connie's work and make a final decision. Until that time, she was 'on probation'.

As Connie stared blankly at her crossword in New York, Leighanne was in Clearwater, trying once more to reach Brandi. Didn't happen. While Leighanne sighed in frustration, Amanda, AJ and Hannah were ordering their third round of tequila shooters at a St. Petersburg bar. As Hannah squinted her eyes and bit into a slice of lime, Brandi was on her cell in Laguna, phoning her travel agent to leave a message instructing him to arrange a flight to Tampa. And while Brandi was leaving her message, Kevin stood under his shower in Orlando, eyes closed tightly and oblivious to the hot water washing over his shoulders as he fondled and stroked himself to orgasm, murmuring Connie's name under his breath.