"Didn't I tell you guys?!" Kristy grinned at the group surrounding her. She slipped on her favorite pair of tortoise-shell rimmed sunglasses as they stepped back outside into the warm Florida sun. "I think that's my favorite ride here."
"That's saying a lot, coming from a Disney-freak like you," her best guy-pal Chris said. "And here I thought you were more of a 'Small World' kinda girl!" Always the smart-ass, Chris and Kristy's playful sibling-like banter kept each other on their toes, and the rest of their friends entertained. The group of "twenty-somethings" walked back towards the entrance to the "Tower of Terror" at Disney-MGM Studios, enjoying the comfortable weather of Orlando in early December, and each other's company.
"I think my stomach is still somewhere in my throat," Kristy's roommate Heather giggled. "How many times did that elevator drop, anyway?"
Mike made a half-hearted lunge for Kristy's throat. "I lost track somewhere around the 4th drop. I can't believe I let you get me on that thing... you know how I hate heights."
Kristy smiled sweetly at the tall blond with his hands out-stretched towards her neck. "You loved it, and you know it! I heard you laughing."
"That wasn't laughing! It was more like a strangled scream," Mike pouted, but the glimmer in his blue eyes told everyone he was kidding.
"So you aren't upset with me?" Kristy asked, flashing another smile at her friend.
"I suppose I'll forgive you this time..." Mike replied. "As if I could ever stay mad at you with a smile like that," he thought to himself.
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Kevin Richardson padded around his new house in bare feet and his favorite pair of blue jeans. A towel was draped over his muscular shoulders, his spiky black-brown hair still damp from his shower after a mid-day b-ball game with the guys.
"Yeah, it's good to be home...even if it's only for a while." Kevin said into his cordless phone as he wandered into the living room to put on some music, "Hmm, maybe some Depeche Mode?" "Although, I'm still getting used to the new place."
"I heard you had to move. Guess fame and fortune isn't always what it's cracked up to be," the voice on the other end of the line replied. "We never considered things like fans hanging outside your house when we dreamed of making it big. So, I suppose that's something I should be thankful for... no fame or fortune, but at least no stalkers!"
"Don't get me wrong. We owe our fans everything." Kevin never forgot who made the Backstreet Boys the international success they were, or who could make them 'has-beens' just as easily. "I'd just like to have a little privacy, especially in my own home."
"So, can famous pop singers go out in public, or do you need an army of bodyguards to leave the house?" Kevin's friend teased. "I mean, you're back in town and you haven't come to see my show yet...granted, it's small, tiny compared to a BSB production, but at least I'm still performing."
"I'll be there!" Kevin promised. "Sometimes I miss the old place. There's just something pure about a man and his music, without all the lights, or pyrotechnics, or choreography, or screaming fans..."
"Or money, or platinum records, or swooning women, or..."
"OK! OK!" Kev laughed. "What time should I be there?"
