I drove to the studio, listening to the silence in my head. Actually, it was all around me. It was a pleasant silence for once, one I didn't mind.
I kept the silence all the way to the studio. When I walked in, Kaitlyn started to say something, but I put my finger to my lips. She smiled slightly and nodded, then mouthed "hi". I waved at her and smiled.
I walked back to the room I usually recorded in. Matt, who was one of my bodyguards and also one of my best friends, was in there with Thomas, the techie guy and another friend.
Neither of them saw me. They were too busy messing around with the playback button.
Suddenly my voice came blaring from the speakers, including the one next to my ear. It scared the hell out of me, and I screamed unintentionally. Matt and Thomas jumped twice. First at me, then at... me.
Thomas flipped the track off quickly and I stared at him.
"Jesus Christ," I murmured.
"Sorry," he said softly, grinning sheepishly.
"Men and their toys. You know, you ruined my silence."
"Damn, I'm sorry."
"I needed to snap out of it, if I'm gonna record. You can get dead air without me."
"We could lay down a track of you breathing."
"Funny."
He grinned at me and stood up.
"How are you? I know that's probably the last thing you want to hear, but I wanna know."
"I'm good. Dealing. Trying to."
"Christina?"
"Better than I thought she would. I don't think she really understands why he's not coming home yet, but she will."
He hugged me, then I looked at Matt.
"And where you have you been? You're not married, you can't use Thomas' excuse. He was with his wife."
"I don't have a wife, but I got engaged."
I smiled. "Lizzie?"
"Yep. We haven't set a date though."
"Congratulations, sweetie. See, I was right when I told her you were worth some good."
He gave me a look and I smiled sweetly at him.
"Okay, down to business." I dropped my purse on the couch and kicked my shoes off. I went in and got set up.
"Okay, Mary, you wanna work on 'Someone Else's Man'?"
I shook my head. "No. Give me a minute."
I put my hands on my hips and thought some.
"Thomas," I finally said, "play back 'Wash Away These Tears'. Let's work on that one." The track would appear as "Wash Away These Tears (Wash Away These Years)".
"Okay, here ya go."
We worked on the song for a while. In the years I'd known him, Kevin's perfectionism had rubbed off on me. And I had already been a perfectionist, somewhat. So now I was like the perfectionist from hell.
I worked for a few hours, then took a break.
"That was the best take yet, and I still sound like shit."
"Well, my dear, remember that we can turn this 'sounds like shit' sound to a 'sounds like an angel' sound in just a few minutes. Of course, you sound great in concert, so no one knows the difference."
I smiled at him and leaned back in my swively chair.
"I'll make a food run," Matt said, standing up.
"Have fun. Don't get lost."
"That was a one time thing!" he called back, already halfway down the hallway. I grinned and turned back to Thomas. He was fiddling with some buttons.
"Sing that," he said, playing a high A. I stared at him.
"Are you out of your mind? I can't hit that."
"On 'ah' you can. C'mon, I've heard you."
"No way."
"Now how come Howie can do it and you can't?"
"Are you challenging my feminitity? Besides, he gets that note 'cause he's got that whole falsetto thing goin' on for him."
"Just try it."
I sighed. "Fine." I sat up straight, he played the note, and I sang it.
"Happy?"
"You can too hit it!"
"Barely!"
"Fine, fine, fine, you can remain a comfortable alto with a comfortable low soprano range."
"Thank you."
He grinned and I made myself comfortable again.
"Thomas?" I said after a minute.
"Hmm?" he murmured.
"Could someone take Christina from me?"
"Legally? No, unless you were somehow found to be an unfit mother. And I really don't think that bridge exists. For you anyway." He looked up at me. "Why?"
"I was just thinking..."
"No one can take her from you, Mary. No judge on this planet would find you unfit to be Christina's mother, unless you made some horrid mistake, and unless there's something you've failed to tell me, you haven't yet. You shouldn't be worrying about that, much less thinking about it."
I stared at him over my knees, which I'd pulled up to my chest. He smiled slightly.
"You know, right now you look just like you did when you recorded your first album."
"The only reason I looked like this is there were a million other people in here besides you and Matt and I was overwhelmed."
"Now you're so good you don't need all those other people in here."
"Or they just got tired of me."
He laughed. "Maybe. But I think they figure if you're working on your eleventh album and the last ten were all huge successes since they all debuted at #1 and kinda didn't move, you must be doing something right."
"How did I do that?"
"Do what?"
"Have ten number one albums."
He shrugged his shoulders. "You appeal to everyone. I have some hard cord rap and rock friends and just about every single one of them has your albums. A couple have all ten. They keep asking me when your new one is coming out."
I smiled. "Serious?"
"Yeah. You're one of those rare pop singers who can mix every single genre into her music and get away with it. You're one of those rare pop singers who genuinely doesn't give a shit about what other people think of you. You've never put on a front, that I've seen. You can speak your mind and be open and people love that. And you're not painful to look at either." He grinned and I smacked his arm, laughing.
"Oh, great, but you're abusive."
"You're a wimp. And don't say that too loud. I don't want the wrong ears to hear and not know it's a joke and start some rumor about how I beat Christina or something. I sure as hell don't need that right now." I sighed and propped my chin in my hands. A second later, I stood up and made my chair go up as high as it could. When I sat back down, my feet barely touched the ground.

Thomas and I were silent a while, waiting for food. I devoted my thoughts to Kev, staring at my ring. God damn it, I missed him. I thought of the song we'd recorded together a couple weeks before he died and smiled slightly, even though I felt tears creeping up, just waiting to spring from my eyes.
When I heard the main door open, I quickly wiped my eyes and caught a whiff of something that made my stomach turn.
"Why do I smell Chinese?" I called without turning around.
"Because it's in my hand. Don't worry, I got your drugs for you." Matt dropped the McDonald's bag in front of me and I smiled.
"Don't get too happy. Happy Thanksgiving."
He dropped a stack of magazines in front of me, beside the bag.
"What are these?"
"Bad reporting."
I picked up the first one and saw what was in the top left corner.
"'Backstreet Boy's typed letter to wife: "I want a divorce."'," I read aloud, frowning.
"What the hell...?" I opened the magazine to the article.
"'During a search through the luggage of flight 257, a typed letter was found in Backstreet Boy Kevin Richardson's carry on, addressed to his wife, Mary Richardson. While the letter's contents could not be disclosed verbatim, the jist of it was that Richardson wanted a divorce from his wife for reasons unknown. It also mentioned wanting full custody of their five-year-old daughter, Christina, also for reasons unknown.'" I stopped reading and threw the trash down.
"Those liars!" I shrieked. "They're a bunch of fucking liars! God I hate tabloids!"
Thomas and Matt nodded in silent agreement.
"The others are just about the same," Matt said softly. I slammed them all in the trashcan.
"Lying bastards," I muttered.
"This one might cheer you up." Matt handed me another magazine. I took it warily. The November issue of Teen People. Kev and I were on the cover. This was our interview from July.
I opened the magazine to the article. There was another picture of Kev and me, but this time Christina was in it, too.
I read the little line under the title to myself.
"'Mr. and Mrs. Richardson on fame, their new albums, and being parents.'"
There were three interviews. One with both of us, then with me, and one with Kev. I hadn't thought about him being interviewed when I got my lone interview."
I skimmed over it and stopped at the last question in his.

TP: So you're a pretty happy guy. Married with a beautiful daughter and BSB is still going strong. Do you still love your wife, Mary, as much as you did five years ago?

KR: More so, if that's possible. She's given me everything I've needed and wanted. We have our daughter, our marriage, and our success. And even if you took the fame away, I wouldn't love her, or Christina, any less. I didn't get either of them through what I do. They mean the world to me. I wouldn't trade them for anything.

The article stopped there.
I was crying now, and made no attempt to hide that.
"What is it?" Thomas said gently. I handed the magazine to him without a word. He and Matt read the article while I wiped my eyes with a napkin.
Thomas stood up a few minutes later and did something in the back of the room. Another minute later he taped something to the window. I looked up at it. It was the inside pic of Kev and me, along with two clips from our seperate interviews. Both of the questions were about me or Kev. About if we still loved each other as much. I read my answer and smiled.
"Nobody can take that down without written permission," Thomas said, grinning. "And a notary signature."
I laughed slightly. "Thanks."

Part 15
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