"The Boys in the Bubble"

AJ McLean, who is one-fifth of the Backstreet Boys teen-pop supergroup and the one with both the most tattoos Can you say tacky? and the most rakishly cut sideburns, What?!? My 3 yr old niece can draw straighter lines than that. is sitting inside his hotel room recalling a warning recently passed on to him by management. "What management said is, `Watch out for this certain girl who is obsessed with you and will not be happy unless she pulls a Romeo and Juliet and kills you, then kills herself,' and I'm like `Jesus, now I gotta go onstage after you tell me that? Just great.'" Apparently your management doesn't know their English literature very well. I believe that Romeo killed himself... He pauses, shuffles his hands through the pile of fast-food containers in front of him, finds his pack of cigarettes and lights one up. Alright, let your voice slip even further into the hack void. Exhaling, he says, "I mean, I'm singing pop music. I don't want to worry about some psycho girl. Gee, that's the way to win over your fans, call em psycho. What do you do? Or, what can you do? You can't do shit. You're stuck. So you live in a bubble."

Today, the bubble has expanded to take over much of the thirty-seventh floor of Le Parker Meridian hotel, in Manhattan, not far from the sun-flooded greens of Central Park. Wow, that's a pretty damn expensive bubble, life must be hell... Inside it are the five boys – besides AJ, there's Kevin Richardson, Howie Dorough, Brian Littrell and Nick Carter – plus their five bodyguards, three stylists, a hair groomer, Hair groomer? Uh huh, I have a bone to pick with this moron...What the hell did you do to Howie's hair?!? a PR Lady, a manager-type lady, a girlfriend (AJ's named Amanda) and a few others. They've been in New York for a week so far. They don't go anywhere without their bodyguards. Huh? Their personal butt buddies? If they do, strange, disquieting things happen. Once, at a mall back in Orlando, where the group got its start, AJ allowed a beautiful female fan to cozy up next to him for a photograph. Suddenly, she started quaking, like she was having a grand mal seizure. When she calmed down, AJ said, "If you don't mind my asking, what the hell happened to you?" The girl said, "I just had an orgasm." AJ said, "Well, OK, now…" And then he got the heck out of there. Now what does this teach us boys and girls? Even a "beautiful" fan can be an escaped loon. Note to "beautiful" fan...get a vibrator.

So, they spend most of their time looking at the world from the thirty-seventh floor, living out of suitcases, surrounded by half- eaten McDonald's cheeseburgers and Big Bertha golf clubs that don't get swung often enough. Please excuse me if I don't shed any frigging tears. At the moment, they are awaiting the release of Black and Blue, their third record. *Coughs* Crap *Coughs* In the balance hangs the future of boy bands everywhere. Dum, dum, dum. Should it flop, word will spread that such groups are on the way out. Could it be true?!? Wahoo, the rumor I started has spread~! Should it sell, then long live not only the Boys but all the other teen acts currently trying to make it, as well as already successful acts like 98 Degrees and `N Sync. Yeah, lick the Backstreet Boys' boot.

Of course, in some ways, the Backstreet Boys wouldn't mind if `N Sync dropped out of sight. Who would? The boys were the first of the new crop of boy bands, their first two U.S. releases, Backstreet Boys and Millennium, huge multiplatinum hits, altogether selling some 60 million copies. Apparently the idiot who wrote this review didn't do his research correctly. I believe the first of the "new crop" of boy bands would be the group Take That...but you knew that already didn't you? Then, earlier this year, along came `N Sync's No Strings Attached album, which sold 2.41 million copies its first week out, breaking the record held until then by the Boys. *Evil Laugh* I bought that Cd. Now the Boys have a chance to win back the honor. And it looks like they might: Record stores have pre-ordered 5 million copies of Black and Blue, and industry observers are making deeply positive predictions. *Eviler Laugh* You Backstreet bitches thought I was going to buy 2 of that Cd didn't you? Isn't that why after I had bought my Kmart Cd you made a special cookie Cd available only from WalMart? Don't lie to me, I'm on to you. Says Tom Calderone, an MTV senior vice president, "The anticipation is there." Says Louise Barile, editor of teen fan- mag Tiger Beat, "We used to think boy bands had a two-year life cycle, but I think the Backstreet Boys are going to keep going." Seems to me the editor of Tiger Beat is a moron too. Now, who exactly use to think boy bands only had a 2 year life cycle? Not me, I remember NKOTB where around a lot longer than that...and the Jackson 5 sang cheesy pop songs for a decade.

And yet they worry. They worry that the album will fizzle, that their fan base has dried up or been swiped by their competitors, that when they go to MTV to drop off the video for the new album's first single, "Shape of My Heart," only a few fans will show up to witness the well-publicized event. You guys don't know your "psycho" fans too well do you?We've been out of the mix for so long," says Nick Carter, tremulously, "maybe it'll be only fifteen people. Nick, can you even count that high? Frankly, that's one of the things about the Backstreet Boys: They can be pretty big worriers, BsB role call~! about their legs being too skinny AJ~! , about their stomachs getting too big Nick~! , about being singled out by Kevin as the group's most enthusiastic masturbator. Um, AJ and Nick? But that's the way it is inside the Backstreet Boys' bubble. Life Styles of the Pink and Latex.

For the most part, of course, it's been a beautiful if not altogether easy glissando of a ride to the top. You think? The Boys were living in Orlando in the early 1990s, all sons of the middle class (or lower), eager to make it as entertainers in one of the nearby theme parks or in any other similar theatrical enterprise. Oh I never tire of hearing this long winded story. They meet middle-aged aviation tycoon and major-league dreamer Louis Pearlman, who thinks that with his backing the lads can become the new New Kids on the Block. Starting in 1993, he drops about $3 million on their careers. In return, they give him their lives. I have a dollar, if I give it to you can I have your lives? Oh wait, nevermind, you might sue me too. They play shopping malls, Sea World and high schools nationwide. But my big question is, did they get free corndogs at Sea World? Lucky little bastards. They get a contract with Jive Records. They can't make any headway in grunge-loving America, so they go to Europe. Where Take That is #1 in the charts. The youngest back then is Nick, 13; the oldest is Kevin, 20. They conquer some of Europe. They conquer more of Europe. They conquer Europe again. Does Europe know about this? They are moneymaking gods in Europe. Hey Brian, isn't that sacrilegious? Eventually, in mid-1997, they release "Quit Playing Games (With My Heart)" in the U.S. It's a smash. They take heat for probably being little more than talentless, soulless lip-syncers. Well, aren't they?

They also wake up one day and realize that, for all their efforts and all their touring, they each have less than $100,000 in the bank. Apparently they didn't conquer Europe quite like they had thought. Plus, behind their backs, Pearlman has formed another all-boy band, `N Sync. That bastard. Feeling betrayed, Brian – a regular churchgoer who knows a thing or two about right and wrong – calls in lawyers. That's right Mig, fight for your money...psh and they say it's the root of all evil. Suits are filed, against Pearlman and two other managers Pearlman has hired. The Millennium album is being recorded. No wonder it sucked, they were too busy suing the people who made their last one great. The Boys are about to go on tour. The suit, rancor-filled and corrosive, threatens to screw this all up by bogging down the Boys in a legal ruckus. So they decide to settle. The settlement gives Pearlman one-sixth of everything the Boys make. That seems fair... The Boys think this is grotesquely unfair. Oh well, don't I feel like the dumb one. "It's ridiculous," says Brian. "He's doing no work." But the show must go on. And anyway, the money galls them less than the presence of `N Sync as chart-busting rivals. Sure it does...if you really think about it (Whoa there Nicky don't strain a nut trying to think) they go hand in hand. If Nsync weren't around you'd probably have the millions of fans they have, and with that you get their money. So you see it really IS about money. "It's not `N Sync itself but where `N Sync comes from that digs me, digs me, digs me – and gets me, still and to this day," says Kevin one afternoon, morosely. And where's that Kevin? The same boy band factory you can from? Ya know, I bet if he could, Kevin would really wanna bitch slap me. "Mr. Pearlman was always speaking loyalty and preaching loyalty, saying `I love you guys; you're like my sons.' And I'd lost my father to cancer. So I looked at Lou like a father figure. I guess we all sue our fathers... But I was naοve, and he's a liar. If that's not the kettle calling the pot black I dunno what is. We'll always remember him for helping us get started. But we'll also remember him for screwing us blind and building another group behind our backs." I shall reframe from saying I told you so.

That's one reason why the title of the new album is Black and Blue, for the way Pearlman bruised and hurt them. Ok, sure it is. And I'm a talented boy band. That's also why, in the official Backstreet Boys press-kit bio, there is no mention of Pearlman. It's as if he never did anything for the group. He has been expunged. "We're on to bigger and better things," says Brian. "And we're better men for it." Howie fuck me if I'm wrong but, I don't think Pearlman ever promised you he wouldn't make another boy band...did he? So what's the big whoop about?

Inside the bubble, up on the thirty-seventh floor, in a room cluttered with the anonymous but functional belongings of the seasoned, rootless traveler, and with the shades drawn on both the light and the darkness of the outside world, AJ McLean, 22, is saying, "Nick and Kevin probably have the quickest tempers, but I probably have the worst temper. Really you goth wannabe bitch? I just go off. Like when I broke up with my ex-girlfriend, and our song came on the radio, I just grabbed a baseball bat and beat the crap out of the damn machine. What a Fruitloop~! And your management is worried about crazy fans?!? When I get stressed out, I get really violent toward myself Thus the tattoos? and just say, "Screw the group! To hell with everything!" There have been times when I wake up like that and think I don't want to do this anymore. But then I sit back and think further, and then I'm like, I do want it. I live for it. Besides what else could my bat wielding ass do and still make this much money? These guys are my best friends. They been there for me, and I've been there for them." Oh how touching...really.

He lights a cigarette and shrugs. "Anyway," he goes on, "I've been in this business for twenty years. Nick's not the only one who can't count... I don't know anything else. Told ya. I don't want to know anything else. I live, eat, sleep, breathe, shit – whatever this business. Shit? As in your full of shit? This is my life." Confusions of a Fruitloop on the next VH1 Behind the Music.

Part of his life today also revolves around his girlfriend, Amanda, who used to be part of the girl group Innosense Skanks. and is sleeping in the next room, sheets tucked up around her neck. Oh how sweet...*pukes* They have been together for about two and a half years. Now is this counting the time AJ ditched her ass to bang that skank back up dancer? She's truly gorgeous. What?!? Apparently you missed her Tucan Sam beak. In AJ's opinion, she looks like him "with tits" or "exactly like Elizabeth Hurley." Now there's a thought that's going to give me nightmares. Which means, of course, that AJ himself must look exactly like Elizabeth Hurley without tits. Note to Elizabeth Hurley, I'd sue for slander. To a blind man, maybe. Which you've proven you must be. *Laughs* Gorgeous my ass. Actually, he's kind of rougher-and-tougher-looking than Elizabeth Hurley (though his legs are skinnier, much to his dismay). He's got a gravelly smoker's voice. Hack? He favors black watch caps pulled down snugly over his wiry red-tinted hair; likes to cuss; and doesn't want his fans to think that just because he smokes, it's cool to smoke (he plans to quit before the Backstreet Boys tour begins early next year). Wait *Looks around* I have a cookie here somewhere... He's also friendly and forthright. You want to know how old he was when he lost his virginity? Ahhhh, not really. He was sixteen. And she was 6? Anything you want to talk about, he's willing to talk about, too. Oh really? Let's talk about how you beat that radio up with a bat again...

"Sure, there's temptation on the road," he says. "I'm gonna look, but you don't want to grab, because it's going to be on your conscience the rest of your life. Besides there's always the chance you'd grab someone like me who enjoys beating things with bats also. Anyway, Amanda and I, our relationship, especially physically, is beautiful. I mean, we're not physical in a sexual way every day and every night. Oh God, please make him stop. Kissing to me is more sensual and more sexual and intimate than bing-ba-da-boom, I'm done. And boys and girls, that's literally how long it takes. That's just retarded, man. That's not the only thing retarded, man.

"It's really, really terrible how this world revolves around sex," he continues. Is that before or after you took a liking to humping stages? "I don't profess to be a pastor. I go to strip clubs every so often. I'm a guy. I do the normal guy shit. *Laughs* Such a moron. Yeah, your a typical guy because you like to degrade women. Pat yourself on the back, your prick. But people aren't focusing on the bigger, better issues, such as love, which is the kissing and the holding and the walking with hands together and the arms around each other – the more romantic things." Then you sleep together giving her all those STDs you picked up from that strip club the night before...wow, so that's what love is.

The things that seem to be at the heart of all their records? He smiles broadly. "Exactly!" Lies~!

The product of a broken home, AJ moved with his mom from Kissimmee, Florida, to Orlando when he was in the seventh grade, to further his already strong interest in performing. Oh no, here we go again. Pretty soon, he was cast in a Nickelodeon show, which led to roles in numerous musicals and plays and, eventually, when he was fifteen, to the Backstreet Boys. Those years, especially in Europe, were difficult. He was lonely. He missed his mom. At times, he got pretty depressed. "The minibar at the hotel was paid for by the record company, and after the show, I would sit up there in my room," he recalls. "I couldn't go down to the bar; there were too many fans downstairs. I would just sit there and watch a movie and drink a shot of Jack or beer, whatever." AJ you are such a punkass bitch, it's not even funny.

Since then, he's figured out what he needs to do to keep himself happy. A piece of ass every night? He needs to stay busy. After the end of last tour, and on behalf of VH1's Save the Music charity, he went on the road solo, called himself Johnny No Name and had a ball belting out tunes by Stone Temple Pilots *Coughs* Poser *Coughs* and Rage Against the Machine When they find out they're going to kick your ass. , punctuating his set with the kind of pelvic thrusts and old-fashioned floor humping that would make the typical Backstreet Boys fan blush. Yup, it sure is really, really terrible the world revolves around sex...

He also bought himself a 10,000-square-foot house near Orlando, where he can race around in one of his two Sea-Doo jet skis, the fastest money can buy. My money went to that?!? He's got Vegas and Jack Daniels Those poor dogs. , a couple of four-pound Yorkies, to cuddle when he's not cuddling Amanda. A dog's a dog I guess..ok that was mean, I'm sorry. He recently picked up a fancy CL 600 Mercedes, with a fat V12 engine, and tinted windows that just happen to be illegal in Florida. "Sure, the windows are illegal," AJ explains breezily, But I'm a real man and I go to titty bars. "but if I get stopped, I say `Look, this is who I am; if you still want to give me the ticket, that's fine, but I'm doing this for my own protection.' It's a dangerous business I'm in, when you think about it." Sure is bat boy.

But even with all this stuff to occupy his mind, he still loses it sometimes. Uh oh, everybody hide your stereo. This last happened a month ago, while he was sitting in a car outside an Orlando pool hall. He started crying, and he couldn't stop. What was wrong? Did one of his STDs flare up again? "I just started freaking out, thinking about my relationship with Amanda, and is that going to last when I go on the road, and is my mom going to be OK and all this other stuff. I mean, issues engulfed me. And I just sat there for about thirty minutes and cried and yelled and swore at the world. And then felt better." Maybe you should get Ritilin?

Slurping on a soda, he says, "Amanda is a big help. She can actually speak in tongues. I caught her doing it once. It's fascinating. Ahhh, she's a monster, kill it~!

We're all strong believers in God, but she's helped me get closer to Him. And is this while your stuffing a dollar bill down a stripper's G-string? When I'm pulling my hair out, she'll say `Sweetheart, let's sit down and pray, and everything will be fine.'" Can you really afford to pull any of your hair out?

So there's AJ. Clearly, he's got some things going on. He beat a frigging radio with a bat, I'd say he's more than got some things going on~!He seems OK, though. Really, he does. Your right, I'm sorry...no more bat jokes. Except that he soon throws all such judgments into doubt by confessing that he's a huge fan of The Golden Girls TV show, featuring the often-randy high jinks of those withered old bats. Hey, I thought we said no more bat jokes.

If any Backstreet Boy has derived strength from God these days, however, it's Brian Littrell, 25. With his choirboy face and crinkly smiling eyes, Beady little eyes. the boy just oozes probity and moral strength. Mig. And it's true. For instance, let's say you wanted him to pose for a photograph with the rest of the Boys, surrounded by nearly naked women. So it was your crackass idea? He wouldn't do it, even if it would be a tasteful photograph. Wouldn't do it even if the rest of the Boys begged him. Well now, I think Mig deserves a pat on the back for sticking to his morals, despite the coaxing of his obviously mental bandmates.

"I know the body is a work of art," he says, "but I'd rather not open myself up to criticism. I understand we're a group, and we normally stand together, but there are going to be cases where I just can't disrespect myself and stoop to that level." I can't believe it, I think Mig might have just gain a little of my respect.

In a sense, then, Brian is the prig of the band, the guy who doesn't go clubbing and explains, "I'd rather be watching ESPN in my hotel room. And I was that way even before I got married." Why is he a prig? Because he won't pose with a group of naked skanks? Because he has taste? Or is it because he wouldn't do what you wanted? Prig...well, I know another word that begins with P that describes you, PRICK.

Oh, well, what can you do? You could do what AJ would...beat you with a bat. But the good thing is, he's not smug about his goodness, nor does he give the other guys grief about their (relative) badness. It's just the way he was brought up. From the time he could walk he attended a Baptist church back in Lexington, Kentucky, where he sang in the choir. Actually, in those days, he had a lot to thank God for. Cue violin. When he was five, he developed a staph infection from which doctors said he wouldn't recover. Then came a bacterial infection; if he survived that, doctors said, it would be in a vegetable. He beat both illnesses, as well as open-heart surgery in 1998 that took care of a cardiac defect, and so he often says, quite rightly, "I tell you, I am a walking miracle!" Ya know, I'm beginning to actually like Mig...

Today, though, on the thirty-seventh floor, he is ghostly pale and suffering from a bad early-fall cold. He's sniffling, and his smooth Southern twang is somewhat muffled by nasal crosscurrents. Nonetheless, he seems to enjoy recounting again the now nearly mythic moment, on April 19th, 1993, two weeks shy of the end of his junior year in high school, when he was pulled out of history class to take a call from his cousin in Orlando. Here we go again. Kevin said, "Why don't you come and, you know, sing with these guys down here? I'm in this group and, you know, we're going to make records and be famous." And Brian said, "OK." Thus were his plans to one day attend Cincinnati Bible College scotched and an entirely different future assured.

He shakes his head, still seeming somewhat amazed by the serendipity Big word...Looks like Nick won't be reading this article. of it all and goes on to give a rather dreamy-sweet declaration of just what it is that he likes best about being a Backstreet Boy. The money? It's the money right? I know it's the money. "We're blessing people's lives with a song. Yeah sure, that's why you sued Pearlman... We didn't intend on doing that, but it happened. I think it just comes with the quality music and the quality show." 65 bucks a ticket, it had better be one hell of a quality show.

Because of his brushes with death, he says he tries not to get wound up about anything anymore. It's better to take it easy. He's got a wife to think of (actress Leighanne Wallace, whom he married last September). So even if this new album stiffs, well, he can handle that, too: "I went from singing in front of twenty people in a church to singing before 70,000 people at the Georgia Dome. Mig, after reading this one might be compelled to like you, but I still remember how you jumped into that van outside the hotel so think again buddy. If that's as big as it gets, and that's it, then I've touched people's lives and maybe that makes a difference. That's the way I look at it." You've touched my puke senses.

Isn't there anything wrong with this fellow? Damnit weren't you listening?!? He has a frigging heart problem you insensitive dick. Doesn't he have any bad habits, besides taking four sugars with his coffee Shit, why even drink it?!? and biting his fingernails, which doctors have told him he must stop lest new germs find their way into his body? Doesn't he harbor some secret life-in-the- bubble anger, like AJ, the stereo-system killer? *Laughs* Bat boy. He thinks about this for a moment. He can't come up with anything. He doesn't even swear a lot, pretty much confining himself to such words that appear in the Bible. "I'll say damn and hell and – is shit in the Bible? I don't know if shit's in the Bible. No," he says at last. "So, its just damn and hell and ass." Wait a minute, are you trying to tell me that since there are "curse words" in the Bible that makes it ok to say them? Well, I'll be DAMNED...HELL my ASS should be deemed a saint.

A while later, though, after Brian joins the rest of the guys for lunch, another possible truth emerges. They're talking about a subject near and dear to many young men. Playboy? Farts. Kevin has singled out Nick as the group's most frequent farter. Gee wasn't that nice of Kevin to share with everyone...

"Like all human beings," says Kevin, "we're pretty nasty sometimes, but Nick's consistently funky."

Nick's eyes bulge. "Oh, come on!" he shouts.

"You even pull your cheeks apart," says Brian. "You lean over to do it, man! Reaally? My, isn't that, um, interesting? One time in Europe, we were onstage, and Nick let one go, and it was like a green film. I was singing, `I'll never break your – argggg!'"

"Hey, man, we all fart," chimes in Howie, merrily. "We're men. We do it loud and proud!" Howie please dear, stay out of this retarded conversation...

"But Nick does it especially when we're eating," complains Brian. "Splat! I'm like, `Doggone, can't you wait until we're done?'" What the hell is that? Mig talk?

"Kevin always blames me," moans Nick. "I'm relaxing, everything's nice and calm on the waterfront, and Kevin's like, `Nick, did you fart?' And then Brian's always like, `Dude, you shit?' and I'm like, `Man, why do I always have to be the one that farted?'" Is it wrong of me to want to just bitch slap Nick's whiny ass? Please say no.

"All right," says Kevin, taking charge. "Enough about the farting." Oh wait everyone, King Kevin has ruled...no more fart conversations.

But it's too late. The cat's out of the bag. Seems that shit IS in the Bible after all. Who knew? Nick? Oh wait, nevermind, that morons doesn't know anything.

Kevin Richardson, 28, is brooding about Lou Pearlman again and the recent Pearlman-produced TV series, Making the Band, about the creation of a boy band, in which Pearlman presents himself as quite the musical genius. Kevin bitching? Well, there's something new. "When I saw that," says Kevin, "I about puked. Why? Did you have flashbacks? I mean, the average person sitting there watching that show is probably like, `So this is how the Backstreet Boys came to be.' Well, isn't it? No, it's not. Oh well excuse me. All he did was give us money to go into the studio and work on our craft, Craft? which we are thankful for. But he's making himself to be the guy twisting the knobs, and it's just not so." What? Are you talking about, um, nevermind I don't wanna know...

His leg is in a brace because he recently crashed his dirt bike and had to undergo knee surgery. Yes, proving to us once again that he is a moron. He shakes his head, disgusted, and hobbles over to a table to pour himself some juice. Returning, he swings the leg onto the couch and begins talking about what it was like growing up in the wilds of the Daniel Boon National Forest in eastern Kentucky, on the grounds of the summer camp that his dad ran. Boring. It took him forty-five minutes to get to town, so he spent much of his time either tinkering with radios or helping his father around the camp. He had plans to become a jet-fighter pilot after high school but, at his parents' suggestion, ended up moving to Orlando. Then, in early 1991, his mom called to tell him that his father had cancer. "Honey, you may want to come home," she said.

Recalling this, Kevin takes a deep breath and starts to cry softly, his head bent. When he finally looks up, his eyes are wet and red. "It's OK," he says. "I don't mind talking about my dad." For some reason I feel like I'm watching the SMTMOBL video, in which case please someone just shoot me now.

After his father's death, he stayed in Kentucky for a year, then returned to Orlando, where he met Pearlman – he called him Big Poppa back then; he calls him Mr. Pearlman today – and started hanging out at Pearlman's house while they all went about getting the group off the ground. Huh? O-Town. In those days, of course, if Kevin had wanted to get married, Mr. Pearlman would have had a cow, just as he had a cow when he learned that Kevin had gotten his bellybutton pierced. *Wipes tears from eyes* Oh Lordy, that's some funny shit right there. In the post-Pearlman world, however, Kevin can do whatever he pleases, and six months ago it pleased him to get married to his girlfriend of eight years, Kristin Willits. They've since moved to Los Angeles, where Kristin is an actress and where one day, Kevin may try his hand at directing, unless they decide to have kids, in which case they'll probably move back to Kentucky.

In many ways, Kevin has grown to become the most grounded of the Boys, but it took him awhile to get there. Is grounded a Rolling Stone word for anal? "In this business, it's so fast and there's so many parties. After a show, you're wound up. You can either go to your room and flip channels or go out to a club and chase women and get laid. Finally, they've decided to tell the frigging truth~! I've been with Kristin for years now, but we went through a period where we'd get in fights, and we called it quits for a while. Because the call of the cheap and easy was just too over powering? And then I did the party scene. It was great for a little while, but then it was empty and lonely."

Frowning, he says, "You're going to think this sounds stupid, You saying something stupid? Noooo. but I would feel bad if I had a one-night stand. I would feel guilty. Kevin say hello to Satan for me when your burning in hell. Not only did you have premarital sex, but you had lots of it. Some women, it's no big deal: `Hey, let's go.' But with others, I could see it in their eyes, that they were – oh, I don't know. It's different for women, giving themselves. Come on, you can say it...they were hurt. So I was feeling guilty." He laughs. "Hey, I have some morals. Not every many, huh? What can I say?" I think you've said enough already.

He also has to answer to older brother Tim, who is a minister in the Church of Christ. Oh Lord. Sometimes on the phone, Tim will ask Kevin, "What does a man gain to get the adoration of the whole world but to lose his soul?" Not much, Kevin says. Then Tim will want to know, "Are there any pelvic thrusts in your choreography for this tour?" *Falls on the floor laughing* Oh make him stop, please. Dance is sexual sometimes, Kevin tells him. And then Tim will ask Kevin to report on the condition of his soul. *Gasping for air* Mig pass your oxygen tank quick~! And what Kevin says is, "I feel that it's in good shape."

Like Brian, he grew up in a Baptist church, so he started off with strong religious feelings. Then, in high school, he joined a Pentecostal church, where members spoke in tongues. This was a confusing time. He wanted to speak in tongues, too; he'd go to the altar, get the hands laid on him, but the babble never arrived. You could have fooled me... He began to think the others were faking it, to prove how holy there were. He left that church but has been looking for answers ever since, most recently in a book about the teachings of the Dalai Lama. Ya know, I never knew Kevin was so damn funny. "It's mostly dealing with his views on maintaining a general state of happiness," he says. "It examines Western and Eastern philosophies on things like depressions and staying happy." Smiling, he adds, "Not that I'm depressed or anything." Kevin hunny, I say this out of concern, your really fucked up.

Kevin may be a little more meditative than the rest of the Boys. But he's the oldest, and sometimes it's been up to him to keep the others in line, especially Nick, who can get petulant and surly. Damn Nick...that petulant and surly bastard. All of the guys have had a hand in helping the youngest Backstreet Boy get through his juvenile years, but none more than Kevin, and it has not always been easy.

"You name it, we've got into a fight over it," he says. Like when you tried to put him on a diet? "I'll try to give him advice, but I'm kind of blunt. And Nick smokes them. It pisses him off, and he gets mad. He's hit me in the face, right here in the cheekbone. He's hit AJ, too. Does AJ run and get his bat? He's a good guy, but when he went through this swinging stage." Just then, Kevin pauses, perhaps thinking back over the entire long, improbable swerve-and-tilt of events. "You know, a lot of people thought we'd be gone by now. Way to go with changing the subject, but too late. You already put your foot in your mouth. How long it can go, I don't know. But it really is an extraordinary situation we're in." Yes quite.

Just how extraordinary it is once again becomes clear when the Boys hop into limos and head to MTV to drop off the "Shape of My Heart" video. There aren't fifteen girls waiting there but about 5,000 all whipped up and hissing things like, "We're not friends when it comes to the Backstreet Boys," and "God forbid one of these girls gets in my way," and "I'd kill, kill, to get a picture." Quick AJ get your bat, they're scaring me.

Up in the MTV building, the Boys hang out, nosh from a spread and deliver the new video to Carson Daly on Total Request Live. Oh man, this article is just full of pricks. At one point, Kevin sees David Boreanaz, star of the show Angel. Kevin reminds Boreanaz that they once appeared on Saturday Night Live together, and says, "Hey, man, I enjoy your work." Boreanaz says, "Hey, man, good to see you." And that's all he says. And? Your point? What the hell did Kevin want? An autograph? A bit later, the Boys pile back into their limos and flee the Times Square area. Flee? Nice choice of words. The place is positively argle-bargle with frantic, freaking-out, Backstreet Boys-loving teenage girls. *Shudders* Teenyboppers.

"Living la vida loca," says Howie Dorough, 27, hunkering down in his limo. Leave it to Howie to say something stupid.

The girls are banging on his window with fists and elbows. They see what they want inside, and they want him now. Beef, it's what's for dinner. "Go, go, go!" Howie's bodyguard shouts at the limo driver. I've meet Howie's bodyguard...I could take him. And off they speed, finally shedding a couple of the more wild-eyed, tenacious fans.

"Gee, I hope no one gets hurt," Howie says, which only makes sense for him to say, because both inside the group and out, he's known as Sweet D, just the nicest guy, the peacemaker, the soft one who is most easily hurt (and on whom Nick likes most to pick). Shark loving asshole. He's got the mellowest eyes and the easiest smile. He's also one of the single, available Backstreet Boys, Uh oh, looks like I might have a chance... " though he's not looking. Oh darn. This year, I've decided that a relationship is not right for me. I've seen some of the other guys. They work so hard with their girlfriends. They gotta call them on the phone. `OK, I'm here in the hotel room. No, I'm not going anywhere else.' I'm like, I'm young. I have the chance of a lifetime here. I don't want to look back and think that I never really enjoyed it because I had a girlfriend and felt trapped." Yeah, I wanna screw who I want when I want.

So, he's freewheeling these days and always up for an after-show bash or going to an awards show. Back in hometown Orlando, he's even bought himself his own club, called Tabu, with a VIP area in it so he can go there anytime he wants and mingle with the crowd or not mingle, as he wishes. I've never noticed how the word mingle kinda looks like midget. Maybe it's just because we're talking about Howie... He's involved in lots of other business stuff, too – real- estate ventures, mostly, as well as a company that plans to sell CD's out of vending machines in movie theatres – and also has put on numerous concerts to benefit the Caroline Dorough-Cochran Lupus Foundation, named for his sister, who died of the disease in 1998.

Because of all these involvements, he's never seen a single episode of Friends or Seinfeld. Oh he's so deprived. Not long ago, he went to a hockey game, found his way into the dressing room afterward, walked out with some hockey player's stick with the guy's autograph on it and hadn't hit the exit before other players were whispering, "Dude, I'll give you 100 bucks for that stick," which got him to thinking that maybe this Wayne Gretzky guy was someone whose name he ought to know. Duh, Howie, duh. I wonder if AJ has his bat signed by Sammie Sosa... But that's the way it goes when you live in the bubble. What the hell, doesn't his bubble get cable?!? Howie's perfectly happy there. It seems his biggest worry is that his tummy's a little doughy. Huh? Nick? Even so, it has taken him awhile to get used to his particular role in the group.

Back at the hotel, up on the thirty-seventh, he's sitting in the bathroom while a groomer works on his hair. Noooo~! Drop the hair you bitch~! For the past several weeks, he's been wearing his black hair ironed flat, with lighter-colored extensions pinned in, though in a day or two, he will return to his natural curly look. As the group optimist, he says, "We haven't reached our total height yet! We've still got a lot more to accomplish!" *Gushes* That is so cute. Oh wait, I thought he was talking about his height...nevermind.Then he says, "There's been times when I've gotten upset because I don't feel I'm being utilized as much. Like, they wouldn't use me to sing as much, leadwise. Utilized? You want to be utilized hunny come over my house. I'd get really hurt. Oh no, I'd be really gentle...oh you meant, nevermind. But I realize I need to take a step back. This is a team. And I'm a team player. If I'm not there, it's not the Backstreet Boys. We're five-part harmony, not four." Yeah and I'm sure when Mig, Hack, and Sharkboy are singing all the leads, they're thinking of that too...

And as a team player, far be it from Howie to reveal the name of the groups most frequent masturbator. You morons, it's just simple calculations... It's not AJ, he's got his titty bars. It's not Mig , that's against his religion. You can count Kevin out, he's already confessed to just using women to get his pleasures and it's not Howie because he too likes to bed hop, so that just leaves Nick... He'll laugh and giggle about it, but his lips are most definitely sealed.

"OK, I rub one out every once in a while," Kevin drawls, "but if one of us is a chronic masturbator, it's Nick." Rub one out? Just say jack off, please.

All the boys are in the hotel, and with Nick Carter thus singled out, all hell breaks loose. Uh oh, I feel a bat to radio thing coming on.. When the riot's over, Nick rolls his eyes and says, "Why does it have to be me? You know you all do it just as much as me." Sure they do...

"Well," says Kevin, "I'll put on the pay-per-view every now and then and check it out." Um Kevin, you mean Spice?

Suddenly one of the other Boys starts singing a song from the disco era. "We're coming out," goes the tune. "I want the world to know…" Out of where? The closet?

And then Nick says, again, "Why does it have to be me?" Because you're an idiot.

Kevin shrugs, as if to say that's just the truth of the matter, just as it's the truth that twenty-year-old Nick is the farter king, not to mention the sloppiest of the boys and the one with the smelliest feet and the one, who, when he gets upset, is the most likely to start throwing fists around, though not so much recently. So he's not only violent, smelly, and stupid but he also addicted to masturbating? Says AJ, "None of us will ever understand what goes through that boy's head sometimes. Air, how hard is that to understand? He was twelve years old when the group started. He went to school in a hotel room. Maybe that's why he can't read... He never experienced homecoming, prom, football games, being on the football team; you know, your first kiss, hanging out with the boys, pulling the bra straps from the girls, whatever. Yup, sure is a really, REALLY terrible that the world revolves around sex. The things that every kid goes through, he never went through. He never had a normal life. None of us did – but him, especially." You give me the millions that you've got and then you can have my normal life.

Later, Nick leaves the hotel, signs some autographs, poses for pictures, and then he's in a limo, looking out through tinted windows, his long frame spread across the seat. Long? Don't you mean wide? He's a good-looking kid, with a flop of blond hair and a broad, appealing face. Appealing to dog lovers.

"Yeah, it's true. I really haven't been able to do the things that every normal kid gets to do," he says. Please define normal...then spell it. "I don't regret it, because I love what I'm doing. But there's another side of me that wishes I could have experienced those things, `cause I guess they are a really important part of everybody's life." Your frigging worshipped by millions of girls, stop bitching. Any guy would love to be in your shoes...no matter how smelly they may be.

He pulls his coat, a brown corduroy duster, closer around him. In the front seat, his bodyguard stares straight ahead. "It's affected me to the point where I can't look at things normal," Nick continues. "It's hard for me to get a grip on reality. Ya know, here I've been thinking that the fans where the nutcases when all along it's the Backstreet Boys who are the crazies~! When I'm in my room, it's like you almost feel like a king. But I can't go outside and do anything, you know? I tried the other day. It's not that things happened. It's just that in the back of your mind, you know that there's always somebody watching you." He pauses for a moment. "That guy right over there. He doesn't have to worry about that. But I do. That's why he's living in a cardboard box and your staying at fucking Buckingham Palace. Sometimes I sit back and wonder what it would be like if I wasn't like this." You'd probably be able to read...maybe even count.

Like normal kids, of course, Nick's got his hobbies: drawing, boating, scuba diving, shooting hoops and playing video games. Normal is so over rated And he's had girlfriends. In fact, not long ago, he broke up with one, his live- in of the last year or so. ("Are you sure?" AJ's girl Amanda said to Nick earlier today. "Because you just keep throwing her out and bringing her back." Said Nick flatly, "It's been two and a half weeks.") But even so, he's come to realize just how different he may be, having grown up in a bubble. Fuck the bubble. "Like, I have other friends, but I can't really call them friends like the guys are to me. We love each other a lot. I mean, every part of what I am, it's a part of them. Is that a sexual reference? I'm a little bit of Howard, a little bit of AJ, a little bit of Brian and Kevin. You know what I'm saying?" What you masturbate to their pictures?

"But another thing is, I've been in this business so much and seen so much stuff that it's almost like my feelings are kind of numb. It takes a lot for me to cry. But you'll whine at the drop of a dime... I don't cry. You know what I'm saying? No? The things I've gone through, some of them are surreal, so things don't seem real to me. My ex-girlfriend used to get really mad because I wouldn't cry. She wanted you to cry? What a twisted freak. I just have dried-up, dried-up tears, I guess you could say." Oh my heart is just aching For a while, Nick is silent again. The limo ambles along into the early part of a Manhattan night. He's got places to go. He will be getting there soon enough. Good, I hope your taking him and the rest of those crazy Backstreet, talking in tongues, wannbe men with receding hairline bitches to a loony bin, because that's where they all belong~!