CHAPTER 115

Connie stared at the cursor blinking its challenge from the screen. Kevin had gone with Howie, giving her some time alone with his laptop and she thought she would take this time to begin her latest assignment. She wasn’t crazy about ‘shoulder surfers’ anyway but she really didn’t want anyone watching her struggle with this particular story.

This was so hard and she was extremely thankful that the results of these assignments weren’t passed around for the entire class to critique. She made several false starts, typing in words and phrases that were generally considered to be sexual or erotic, but the paragraphs were cold and the phrasing was pedestrian. Her thesaurus was of little help. There just aren’t that many ways to say ‘nipple’ without sounding ridiculous and desperate. If she had been editing this story, it would have been covered with blue pencil.

In order for this to work, she would have to change her position from that of the outside observer to the inside participant. She would have to do what her instructor advised and write what ‘she knew’. With her eyes still fixed on the blank screen, she took a swallow of water from the nearby bottle, wiped her damp palms on the legs of her jeans and placed her fingers back on the keyboard. She was trying to psyche herself up for this. She’d done very well in this class so far, writing about subjects that she didn’t ‘know’. This should be a piece of cake.

*****

It was a little disconcerting looking over the collection of pictures in his bound scrapbook. There were so many now and the numbers seem to increase daily. She had certainly become a topic of discussion on message boards and Backstreet sites. He doubted that she was even aware of this.

It was almost funny that none of these descriptions of ‘Backstreet Love’ even mentioned the fact that she was deaf but, then again, Connie had become expert at hiding her disability. It was ironic that some ‘fans’ who had seen her or been in her immediate vicinity, considered her rude because she didn’t stop to talk to them or sign autographs. One young woman even whined ‘It’s like we weren’t even there - like she didn’t hear us or something. What a bitch! I feel sorry for Kevin!’ He had to stifle a laugh as one more copied photograph pushed it self out of his printer. Little did they know…

The pictures of Connie and that homo annoyed the hell out of him. Whenever he could, he simply cut the hick out of the picture but sometimes he couldn’t do that without defiling her. In those cases, he would take a marker and ‘x’ out Kevin’s likeness or cover his entire body with black ink. As he taped the latest pictures into his book, he paused momentarily to consider a new hiding place. It was a beautiful scrapbook – leather bound and embossed with gold. He almost hated to hide it, so he didn’t…..exactly. He found a place for it on the third shelf of his carved walnut bookcase. It slid easily onto the end of the shelf, braced by a dozen other books of varying shapes and sizes. Although it was a little larger than some of the others, it didn’t really stand out from its companion volumes. He leaned back in his chair, satisfied that it would never be noticed. The scrapbook was ‘hidden in plain view’ and placed for speedy retrieval when the mood – or sexual desire- came over him.

*****

“Ummm, excuse me?”

Tara Shiflett almost choked on her butter-rum Lifesaver. Standing in front of the reception desk was, not one, but two Backstreet Boys. She actually felt dizzy and shook her head in an attempt to force dancing spots from her field of vision before raising her eyes again. Still, shock prevented her from speaking.

Nick and AJ cast sideways glances at each other. The girl looked like someone had just hit her on the back of the head with a two by four. They should be used to this but this wasn’t your typical ‘greet the fans’ scenario and this girl wasn’t fifteen. Somehow they didn’t expect this level of awe in an established publishing house, even though Hannah had told them last night that this young woman was a devoted fan.

“Miss? Are you alight?” AJ was starting to worry. Tara’s mouth was hanging open and AJ could see the circle of candy on her tongue. His simple question opened the floodgates and Tara found her voice.

“Oh…my…God… Oh….my…fuckin’…God…” Her eyes darted between the two celebrities with an energy that reminded Nick of his ‘Felix the Cat’ clock at home.

“Uh, Hi there….” Nick smiled with a little trepidation. “We’re supposed to meet Hannah. You know Hannah? She said we could ask for her here at the front desk.”

“Oh…my…fuckin’…God…”

AJ and Nick had flown into New York last night and Hannah had picked them up at the airport. At her insistence, they had stayed the night at her duplex, creating a situation that AJ found a little strange yet oddly fascinating. Hannah’s partner of more than twenty years, Elizabeth, greeted them as if they were family and brought them food and drinks throughout the rest of the evening as Hannah and the boys talked about Connie’s mysterious mail. They really were like any old married couple who had grown comfortable with each other and shared a mutual affection that was evident in gentle jibes and understanding glances. By the time AJ and Nick were shown to their rooms, AJ had come to some realizations that he had never really examined before although he considered himself to be astute in a sexual sense.

Most of AJ’s experiences with gay people had been superficial at best. Sure, he knew that Dee and Amanda were bisexual and had enjoyed the titillation of watching women together. He had even patted himself on the back for his own open and tolerant attitudes towards same sex couplings but he had never been around a real gay couple – a couple who had been together for many years and had committed to each other. Sure, he knew that they existed but was somewhat ashamed to realize that he had generally considered gay relationships to be fleeting and sexual in nature – not emotional. It was somewhat of an eye-opener to see Hannah this way. AJ mentally kicked himself in the ass. The arrogance of his generation was laughable. People under the age of thirty often seem to think that they invented sex – all kinds of sex. At any rate, before AJ fell asleep in Liz and Hannah’s guest room that night, he had gained a little more insight about the human condition and a little more enthusiasm for their New York mission.

As Nick and AJ waited for Tara Shiflett’s rational abilities to returne, they glanced at each other, knowing that they were beginning another performance – a non-singing one this time. Hannah was not at the publishing house but they knew this when they asked Tara about her. It had been part of their plan. Meeting Hannah there had merely been an excuse. It was Tara they wanted to talk to. And talk they did….and did, and did.

AJ and Nick had never been more charming and flirtatious. It was clear from the onset that Nick was Tara’s favorite and AJ’s role would be that of reinforcing Nick’s apparent interest in this young woman, yet they were careful not to move too quickly or to intimate feelings beyond strong mutual interests and the possibility of a close ‘friendly’ connection. The fact was that they were using Tara. Another fact was that this was nothing new to them. The third fact was that the person being used was almost always happy to be such a ‘victim’. With any luck, this brief relationship would be beneficial to all.

*****

Connie stayed close to Kevin as the crowd milled around them in the foyer of the theater. She smiled and nodded and spoke but there was so much going on that it was difficult for her to keep up with the greetings, comments and questions being thrown her way. She was no stranger to crowds but this situation was a little different than any other she had encountered. She didn’t know these people at all. Kevin was acquainted with many of them and those he hadn’t actually met, he was at least familiar with.

The film was titled ‘Fear of Darkness’, a suspense thriller that included a cast of mostly ‘new generation’ Hollywood actors. In her slightly nervous anticipation, Connie had joked about the film title is a self-deprecating manner and Kevin, reminded of Connie’s phobia, had made it clear that they didn’t have to stay. One word from her and they would leave.

Connie was sorry she had said anything at all. She appreciated Kevin’s concern but had remarked about the title in an attempt to make idle chit chat. She had been to movie theaters since her accident. She just made sure that she didn’t enter the theater until the previews had started and the screen was lit. This would be fine. Kevin was with her.

As the crowd grew larger, and Kevin found himself greeting more people, Connie separated herself from him and edged around the corner of a nearby wall. She was smiling. She was fine. In fact, she enjoyed watching Kevin in his element, schmoozing with industry insiders. New York seemed so far away….

He kept one eye on her, though, relieved that she seemed to understand that this premier was as much business as pleasure. He would have preferred that she stay close but understood her reluctance to take part in his career politics. This was the first time they had attended a high profile event as a couple outside of the music industry. There would be cameras and reporters. The studio would see to that. Kevin had also noticed that Connie had moved her diamond to her right hand. It would take a little time for her to feel comfortable in show business circles. He realized then that Connie would not only be giving up the comfort of anonymity by being with him, but that her deafness would no longer be hidden or disclosed according to her wishes. That part of her life would be laid wide open.

Neither of them realized it would be laid open quite so soon.

Chapter 116

“Jesus, all I know is that when that girl found her voice, she near ‘bout wore it out.”

“Tell me about it…” Nick yawned. “I wonder how many visits this is gonna take?”

“I don’t know, but next time, you’re on your own. Hard as it is for me to believe, you’re the one she’s hot for. She ain’t gonna tell me shit.”

They had discussed all of this on the plane between half-hour cat-naps. The meeting had only been partially successful and much of the time spent with Tara was used to lay groundwork. Nick and AJ had agreed that Tara knew, or at least suspected, ‘funny business’. She may know more than she realized.

It took some maneuvering to turn bits of conversation towards the subject of mail in general and mail addressed to Connie in particular. They’d had to play it light and talk about their own fan mail and how some fans don’t put return addresses on their mail so that it’s impossible to answer their letters – as if that were a real possibility. They did find that Tara had a surprisingly strong interest in Connie and had to wonder why. Nick suspected that it wasn’t just a matter of the curious outgoing mail. When she was questioned about that – very casually, of course- her explanation was of little help.

“I don’t know where it’s coming from. I didn’t even notice until the mail-boy mentioned it. There’s a large basket over there, by the door…” Nick and AJ had followed the line of her pointed finger to a large wire basket which sat on a nearby table. “One day, when Bobby was picking up the mail to take downstairs, he started fussing that someone wasn’t using company stationary and that there was no return address. Then he noticed that the envelope was stamped, not metered, and figured that it was personal. A few days later, he mentioned it again and asked if I knew who was sending letters to Connie O’ Rourke. He felt that whoever was doing this should be informed that a return address should be put on the envelope and that the mailroom would not accept responsibility if the letter was undeliverable and could not be returned.” She shrugged dismissively. “Bobby takes his job very seriously…”

AJ had pushed the discussion. “But you couldn’t help poor Bobby out?” he laughed. “The poor guy might have a coronary over something so serious. You don’t know who was disobeying postal guidelines?”

Tara shook her head and grinned, happy at the easy flow of their conversation. “Everybody in the publishing house dumps their outgoing mail into that basket. There’s ton’s of it. I don’t keep track and don’t check to see who’s putting what in there. I’ve even had non-employees ask if they could dump their mail in there so they wouldn’t have to look for a mailbox.”

“And that’s okay?” AJ asked.

“As long as it’s stamped.” Tara answered. “Plymouth isn’t going to pay their postage for them.”

The ‘mail conversation’ hadn’t been of much help. Odds were that this mysterious mail that Connie had received had been mailed at the publishing house but that didn’t necessarily mean that the sender worked there. Still, that educated guess would manage to cut a name or two off of Nick and AJ’s suspect list. Tara’s curiosity about Connie seemed off the mark a little. She may be able to offer nothing in the way of help but she was all they had at this point. Nick would have to see her again. He winced a little recalling her excitement when he asked for her phone number.

*****

The producer of the movie was about to make an announcement. Kevin looked around and through the throngs of people as he began to speak, trying to spot Connie among the several hundred premier guests. He finally saw her across the room, peeking around the corridor wall that led to the theater’s offices and storage rooms. He tried to capture her attention by waving in her direction but she seemed to be looking everywhere but at him.

As Kevin began to push his way towards her, the producer took the microphone. He introduced the director and actors, giving each of them a minute or two to talk about their work on the film. As Kevin continued to move through the crowd he was stopped several times by acquaintances, entertainment reporters and even by people he didn’t really know. He didn’t want to be rude so he took a few seconds with these people before managing to take a few more feet towards the corridor. That’s when it happened.

As a precursor to the film, the studio had arranged a little ‘event’ to set the mood. Tiny speakers, placed throughout the windowless lobby began to emit the sounds of moans and screams that were interspersed with hissing and a sound similar to that of hail beating down on a tin roof. The people who had been speaking from the small stage looked at each other as if they didn’t know what was happening. Some of them appeared to panic. Guests were momentarily confused and startled. Then, suddenly, the lights went out and the lobby became pitch black. It was to stay that way for several minutes.

*****

It took a full ten seconds for sheer terror to wrap itself around her. It seized her lungs first, blocking her attempt to inhale. Connie pressed her shoulder blades against the wall, willing the darkness to recede. A moment later, she was reflexively sliding to the floor seeking some sort of protection. Rationality was pushed aside by panic. She was aware of very little. What was there to be aware of? She could see nothing. She could hear nothing. She didn’t know what had happened. All Connie knew was that she didn’t smell smoke or feel heat. She didn’t know if anyone was near her in the hallway. Dear God…. Help me…. She tried to call out but could hardly find enough breath to push any words from her throat.

This anxiety attack was a little different than others had been in the past. She was in a very public place this time and, despite her physical reaction, she was vaguely aware of the effect this could have on Kevin from a public relations standpoint. For a brief time, her mind and body seemed to separate and she began to crawl, feeling her way along the wall, past door jambs and electrical sockets. In her mind, she could visualize how she must look, trembling and crawling, her hair hanging in her face, tears trailing down her cheeks…. As much as she wanted Kevin – as much as she needed him right now – a large part of her didn’t want him to find her. An even larger part of her didn’t want strangers and the press to find her. Not like this…

Suddenly, she felt a barrier in front of her. Dead end… Her eyes closed and her head fell against the wall in despair. Connie, fighting for some kind of sensory connection, was aware of her toes digging themselves into carpet. I’ve lost my shoes…. Her eyelids lifted as she pressed her cheek against the cool plaster. That’s when she saw it. She hadn’t reached a dead end. She had come to a turn in the hallway. A corner. And just a few yards away, around the bend, she could make out the object of her salvation. Not Kevin, but the small glowing letters placed high on the wall.

EXIT.

*****

Kevin’s own sense of panic had begun to overtake him. It took time for him to fumble through the crowd that, by now, had grown loud. People yelled jokes through the darkness. Some laughed at the corny attempt to cause a physical or emotional reaction that related to the premise of the film. All Kevin knew was that he had to get to Connie.

He finally reached the far wall where he had last seen her standing. At least he thought this was the right place. He wished he had been paying closer attention. Like the lobby, the corridor was pitch black. Instinct made him call out to her, even though he knew his calls were useless. Kevin had just started to feel his way down the hall when he noticed a series of small flickers coming from the ceiling. Light… He could hear laughter and applause coming from the lobby and when he glanced back towards the sounds, he could see that illumination had, once again, been restored.

Still, the corridor remained quite dim and he guessed this was because this wasn’t a public area. There was, however, enough light for him to see and as he quickly made his way down the carpet, he stopped. Two shoes, several feet apart, lay in front of him. Connie’s shoes… He didn’t even stop to pick them up. Instead, he broke into a run, almost slamming himself into the same wall that Connie had thought was a dead end.

He heard her before he saw her. The sounds of her banging at the metal bar, trying to push the door open, mixed with her whimpers and gasps for air. She sounded like she was suffocating. The last thing she wanted was pity but he couldn’t stop that initial reaction and began to talk to her as if she could hear him.

“Connie, baby..” he whispered as his arms wound around her torso and pulled her away from the exit door. “It’s okay… Everything’s alright…”

She stiffened at first and tried to pull away, too breathless to shout out the name that had immediately come to mind – Trevor…. She knew that he was in New York but past humiliations overrode clear thinking and fear still controlled her reactions. Kevin held onto her tightly and began to rock, still whispering.

“Breathe now, baby…. Come on….”

He held her from behind, so that she couldn’t see his face, in spite of the weak light. But when she felt his face press against hers, when she felt his goatee brush against her skin and the warmth of unheard words fall against her useless ears, she fell back against his body, crying tears of relief, embarrassment, frustration and defeat.

They stayed like this for a little while, until her breathing normalized, and then Kevin turned her face towards his, trying to asses her emotional state and the damage that a stupid PR stunt had caused. He had to force Connie to look at him. She didn’t want to meet his eyes. Then he brushed her tears away with his thumbs, kissed her temple and pushed open the door that led to a rear alley. They didn’t speak.

As the exit door closed, Rico Garabaldi, a local paparrazi wannabe, peeked from around the corner of the corridor where Connie had been forced to face her fear once again. He had seen the figure of a man near the edge of the hallway when the lights returned and decided to follow him, not knowing at the time that he was on the tails of a Backstreet Boy. Rico didn’t know what had happened or why Kevin Richardson was hanging on to a hysterical redhead near the theater exit. He only wished he had gotten there a minute earlier. He had only managed a couple of snaps.