“My God, she’s a looker,” AJ breathed. “ Does she have a boyfriend?”

“How should I know?” Nick shot back irritably. “I barely talked to her.”

“You’re going to eventually have to loosen up,” Brian said pointedly. “She don’t seem to be a bad sort.”

Nick didn’t reply.

“Pity about the scar, though,” Howie commented quietly. Nick started, but kept his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. “What about it?” he asked brusquely.

“Just saying.”

“Is Fatima alright?” Kevin asked, changing the subject.

“She said it’ was nothing,” AJ said dryly, “But according to Neff, the story’s different.”

“Is it that bad?”

AJ shrugged. “Fatima said she was fine, so I guess she is.”

“What about that special photo shoot?” Brian asked.

“ You don’t have to worry about it- it’s still far off.” Howie replied.

“Nick,” Kevin said.

“What?” Nick snapped sullenly.

“You’re going to keep her on if she’s.... well, if she does a good job? After the tour, I mean.”

Nick shrugged. “Dunno. Why?”

“cos.... we’re bound to run into trouble in the photo shoots, sometime or the other.” Kevin said cautiously.

Nick shrugged again, but said nothing. He really didn’t want to think about it.

Rachael stepped off the car and surveyed her surroundings. A grey building stood in front of her. To her surprise, there were no fans in sight.

“The location’s a secret,” Marcus explained, as if reading her thoughts. “Just so that we don’t get interrupted.”

Rachael nodded absently.

The group of securities walked around to the back entrance and entered- a hallway stretched out in front of them. People ran around, yelling at each other- crew, Rachael assumed.

They walked down the hallway, with Marcus chatting to her endlessly. She would have listened, but her attention was elsewhere, taking in everything around her.
They went past a door that read ‘backstreet band dressing room- private’. The door opened, and a large man with his head shaven came out. “Oh, hey!” he greeted them, grinning. “You made it. The guys were wondering where you were.”

Rachael frowned, trying to remember his name- Tommy. He was one of the band, she knew; was he the drummer?

“Where are they?” Marcus asked.

“In their dressing room. Brian wants to talk to you, by the way.”

Marcus nodded. “C’mon. This way.” He said to Rachael.

At the end of the corridor, they came to another door. This one read ‘Backstreet Boys dressing room- PRIVATE’. Idly, she noted the capitalisation on ‘private’.
Marcus opened the door and went in.

The interior was furnished luxuriously- on one side of the wall was several dressing tables, a connecting door that lead to the showers. On one corner was an entertainment system. The boys were seated around a coffee table strewn with papers.

“When she gets better, we have to-” the tall, dark-haired guy called Kevin broke off in the middle of his sentence and looked up. The others whirled around and looked as well. Nick scowled as he saw her.

“Marc! I gotta talk to ya, buddy.” Brian got up, putting an arm around the huge man, and dragged him over to a corner. Nick had pointedly diverted his attention to some papers he held in his hand. Rachael fought the urge to roll her eyes. Despite her approach to make things easier for them this morning, he obviously didn’t listen. She wondered when he was going to accept the fact that he was under special care.

“Okay, I think that should do for the moment,” Kevin spoke. “I’m going to grab some food.” He turned to Rachael. “Care to join us?”

Rachael shook her head. “I’ve eaten, thanks.” She declined politely.

Kevin nodded, and left.

“Yo, Kev! Wait up!” the lanky, tattooed member of the group shot up and sauntered to the doorway. On his way passing her, he whispered, “if he gives you any trouble, kick his ass.”

Rachael smiled slightly at that. “I’ll remember that,” she replied blandly.

AJ winked and left. Rachael walked over to her client briskly. Nick didn’t look up.

“ Think you can manage my company for a while?” she asked dryly.

“I’ve got work to do,” was the short reply.

“Well, that make the two of us, doesn’t it?” she murmured.

Nick threw the papers on the table angrily and got up.

“Where are you going, Nick?” the tanned, bearded guy asked.

“Out.” Nick turned and walked away.

“ Is he usually like this?” Rachael asked the guy mildly.

Before he could answer, Nick whirled around. “ How would you feel if you were the one chained?” he asked bitterly and slammed the door.

In the stunned silence that followed, Rachael knew that this was going to be tougher then she thought.

“Man, I’m sorry about that,” the guy said apologetically. “He’s not taking it well.”

“It shows.” She replied tautly. She sat down on the black leather sofa.

“What was that?” Brian asked, coming back. “Nick looked really pissed.”

“I don’t think he liked the idea of being chained-” Howie stopped, frowning. “What did he mean?” he asked Rachael.

“ I guess he doesn’t like special treatment,” Rachael replied evasively. She didn’t want to talk about the devices. Howie must have guessed the reluctance, and changed the subject.

“Would you like to have a look around? The crew’s nearly finished setting up the stage,” he offered.

“ Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to trouble-”

Brian scoffed. “Nah, its no trouble. Besides, rehearsal’s starting in 15 minutes. We have to be there anyway.”

Rachael nodded. “Alright then.”