Rachael would have been the first one to admit that most of her knowledge about being a pop star was taken from flipping through a stray teen magazine now and then. She soon learnt that the impression she had of pampered young men smiling at the camera with their shirts open held little resemblance to the reality of the profession.

It was work. Damned hard work. And it required a level of discipline and endurance that astound her.

The first day of the tour began at the crack of dawn, as threatened. Rachael lay on the bed for a moment, wondering what she had gotten herself into, not for the first time, then rolled out of the bed. Five minutes later, she knocked on Nick’s door, fully ready.

There was no sound. Curious, and a little suspicious, she knocked again.

Soon after, there were sounds of crashing and tripping inside and Rachael wondered if he was doing morning exercise. He didn’t seem to be the type, but-

Then it hit her that he might not be doing exercise. Alarm crept down her spine and she knocked again.

A split second later, the door opened, and Nick stared out, bleary eyed and his hair sticking out all over the place. It reminded her of a bird’s nest made out of straw.

“Ready?” she asked, trying not to smile.

He grunted and slammed the door in her face.

Stunned, and a little annoyed, Rachael knocked a little harder.

“Give me ten!” he yelled from inside.

“Ugh!” Rachael gave a cry of disgust and marched back into her room, slamming the door.

Fifteen minutes later, Rachael sprang up from her bed, determined to wake him up- even if it meant pouring a whole bucket of ice on his head. She jerked the door open, and froze as she saw Nick, ready and a backpack slung over his shoulder, standing there with his hand raised to knock the door. Without a word, Rachael stepped out closed the door and headed for the lift.

The others were already downstairs, waiting.

“What took you so long?” Kevin asked, frowning.

Both Nick and Rachael grunted, not replying.

Brian tried not to smile. “Seems like we’ve got another bad morning person in our hands.” He murmured.

Howie nodded, yawning. “I just hope she doesn’t whack us on the head like Nicky.”

They smiled tiredly, then headed for the limo.

During their drive to the venue, Rachael remained completely silent. The others began to feel a little uncomfortable- from the previous few days, they knew that she didn’t talk much, but this total, brooding silence unnerved them a little.

Arriving at the venue, the limo pulled up outside the entrance. Impatient to get started, the boys jumped out; screams erupted form everywhere. The fans were already there, greeting them.

“Damn, don’t they even sleep?” Kevin muttered.

AJ flashed a smile at them. “You know what it’s like- stop complaining.”

Howie laughed. “You missed this, haven’t you?” he asked, waving.

“Yep.”

When they were inside, they headed straight for the catering- food was layed out, as well as juices, fruits and a huge pot of coffee. Rachael went straight for the coffee and poured herself a cup.

“What, no sugar?” Marcus said jokingly. Rachael shook her head mutely, and took a sip. Her disposition improved after two cups, and she broke her silence, even if the words were only two sentences long.

After breakfast, the boys went into their dressing room. Rachael decided to have a look around the place.

The stage was largely built by then, although a few last-minute hammerings were going on- men were crawling(?) up and down the steel structures, tightening connections here, testing the inside structure, checking for safety. Marcus had told her that there had been occasions when a stage fell apart under the gyration of a big band (which didn’t happen so far), or seatings collapsed when fans stampeded (which happened more then often), and it was essential that safety came first. Rachael wholeheartedly agreed.

She looked at the arena around her. Multi-vision screens were set up around the stage, those for the people who were too far away to see clearly. The stage was circular, right in the centre of the venue, and there was another stage inside that could be levered up and down. It seemed, Rachael observed, that they had come up with as much ways as possible to let the audience feel the full impact of the show. And that didn’t even include the flying.

She looked up, and found the zigzag of railings that would carry the performers in a grand entrance. The skateboard-like equipment would be attached to the railings, thus flying them in. She had seen it back in Florida, and even though she didn’t show it, she was impressed.

Below the stage, sound technicians and electricians were busily working away too, testing the circuits, lights and pyros.

Crews began placing the instruments into place; keyboards and drums took a lot of the space, and there were massive amplifiers littering the stage already. The sound technician, coming up form the bottom of the stage, saw the amps, groaned good-naturedly, and got to work.

Some of the band members came out, jumped onto the stage and began to adjust the instruments. Tommy, the keyboard player (she knew that now) saw her and grinned.

“Have to start rehearsing soon,” he said as she approached the stage.

Rachael jumped up on the stage with effortless ease. “And you do this everyday,” she remarked.

Tommy laughed. “Hell, this is just the beginning- wait till the real thing is on. It’s great.”

Just then, Billy ran in. “There you are! I was looking for ya,” he said, holding out a similar thing he wore around his neck. “Here your backstage pass, your ID, and authorization. Take the temporary one off and wear this.”

Rachael took it and examined it. She shrugged off the visitor’s pass she wore and put the official one on.

“And now you’re one of us,” Billy said solemnly.

“Welcome to the world of Backstreet.” The lead guitarist, the one with long hair, yelled.

“Thanks,” Rachael said, then she saw the boys entering with the group of dancers and the black woman she had seen the other day. “I think.”

Tommy laughed. “Don’t let him bother you,” he said laughingly.

Nick saw Rachael talking to Billy and Tommy when he came in. He also saw the ID slung around her neck. Pointedly ignoring her, he joined the others and the dancers up on stage. Fatima, recovering from a bad case of bronchitis and pneumonia, certainly looked better. She had insisted on coming to see them on the first show.

“Hey Rachael!” AJ yelled, making her turn around. “Feeling better?”

“More or less, “she replied wryly, walking towards them. “Morning’s not over yet.”

“Well, at least you’re talking,” Howie remarked jokingly.

Fatima was looking at her curiously. “You must be new,” she said to Rachael.

Brian grinned. “Fatima, this is Rachael Harrison. She’s-”

“-Joining the security team,” Nick interrupted hurriedly.

Brian rolled his eyes and continued with the introduction. “Rachael, this is Fatima Robinson, our choreographer.”

“How do you do?” Rachael inquired politely, shaking the woman’s hand.

“ Much better, thanks. I knew I saw you last week.” Fatima said warmly. “But I didn’t know who you were. So,” she continued, smiling, “you stuck looking after this bunch of hooligans?”

“ ’Tima,” Kevin admonished mildly. “What a thing to say.”

“Actually,” Rachael said with a straight face, “I’m hoping to outlive my contract.”

Fatima chuckled. “Watch out, boys- she’s tough.”

“And trouble,” Nick muttered.

Rachael heard him. She turned around. “Maybe so, but slamming the door in my face isn’t going to solve it,” she said casually and walked away.

“You what?!” Brian demanded, aghast.

“Ain’t my fault,” Nick said defensively. “There was no other way; and I can’t whack her on the head.”

“Pity- I’d like to see you after you whack her.” AJ observed. “Or what’s left of ya.” He dodged a half-hearted swing from Nick.

“Hey, hey, that’s enough,” Fatima told them firmly. “ Let’s get to work. Ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

The group and the band rehearsed for hours, not even breaking for lunch. By four in the afternoon, they were ready to drop. After going through the dance routines, they went through the show from the top twice. Nick didn’t see Rachael the whole time; he felt a bit bad about what had happened this morning. He knew that an apology was inevitable.
He sighed and went back to rehearsal.

“Okay, that should do it,” Fatima told them. “Go and rest- I’ll see you tonight.”

The boys headed back to their dressing room. “Anyone for some food? I’m starving,” AJ announced.

“Yeah, good idea. Let’s go.” The group turned to go.

“Nick?” Howie turned. “Coming?”

Nick hesitated. “Yeah. In a minute.”

He saw Rachael standing by a window, a cell phone held to her ear. “.....Yeah, I know,” she was saying, staring out at the murky clouds, a hand deep in her pocket. “Come on, Cas- hell, it wasn’t my choice. Frank dumped this on me. You know that.”
She snorted after a silence. “Who is? How can I extract anything if the other side’s not co-operating? And to think that I had to take this baby-sitting job-”

Nick stiffened. Well, at least we agree on something, he thought sarcastically.

“.....Never mind. Yeah. How’s Rome? Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Maybe next time- yeah. All right. Take care. Bye.” She hung up, and stood there for a while, gazing at the scene below.
With a heavy sigh she swung away, then saw him. “Finished?” she asked calmly.

“Yeh.”

“Okay.” She paused. “When do you start?”

“Eight.”

She nodded. “I’ll see you then.” She brushed past him.

“Where are you going?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

“Out.” She replied without turning around, and left.

She bites, doesn’t she? He thought wryly.

AN- she certainly does, Nick. I thought you realised that by now- or were you too busy biting yourself?

I was going to pass writing a few notes in this chapter, but I just couldn’t pass the chance to talk. As well as to explain a few stuff. First, I think I have to apologize for my limited vocabulary. I mean, crews crawling up and down? Who are they, two-month toddlers? Man…

Secondly, (this is actually embarrassing) I’m not familiar with the stage set-up, although I described it in a rather detailed way(like I knew what I was talking about- yeah, right). you can ask me why later. But for now, if you’re a little disturbed by my rambling, I’d appreciate it heaps if you can tell me the RIGHT details of the stage set-up. This is kinda important, so…need I say more?

I would just like to take this time to thank my close friend, Yasamin, for the inspiration of coffee addicts in stories- well, Yas, you really did it this time; you managed to get me involved with another addict. Just my luck. How you managed to influence me, I’ll never know. Still, I think it’s all right. Thanks (I think).