Before I knew it, it was the first Monday morning of practice again in early January. Although I had practiced all of my songs a lot during the time off, I wasn’t cutting it today. And people were letting me know.
“Those chord progressions were choppy. It’s a ballad, it needs to flow,” Kevin scolded. “And vocally? You aren’t hitting the high notes as well today. Were you without a piano all of Christmas?”
I didn’t say anything. I knew better than to try. I was just so nervous to try and come back and play well that I was doing quite the opposite. Another five minutes and Kevin finally relented.
Kennith, the keyboardist who was actually supposed to be working with me (Kevin was only doing this for “fun”), had been making comments on all my other songs. He had been scolding me pretty harshly today as well, but even he must have thought that Kevin had gone too far because he didn’t start on me next.
Instead, he said, “why don’t you take a break. Stretch your hands out. Come back in ten and we’re going to do the song over.”
I nodded, knowing my voice wouldn’t be strong enough to speak. I went out in the hallway of the arena and decided to go outside during my break.
The day was sunny with a light breeze, but it only improved my mood slightly. I felt terrible. I was supposed to perform in front of twenty thousand people in two weeks?
I couldn’t even pass playing for Kevin. I crossed my arms and tried to calm down as my vision was blurred by the water filling in my eyes.
I took a deep breathe. This definitely was not going to help me play better when I went back inside.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I jumped, so lost in thoughts that I hadn’t noticed Brian come to stand next to me. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, hoping it wasn’t obvious that I was on the verge of crying.
“I heard Kevin. He just takes everything very seriously. Don’t take it personally.”
“Everything he said was right,” I sighed. “I’m not doing well at all today.”
“If you can play for Kevin, then you can play for anyone. The fans in the crowd? They aren’t going to notice if you play one chord too quickly or are off on one note. They are going to be screaming and wishing that they were the ones up on stage. How many little girls do play or want to play piano and are going to look at you and wish, ‘man, maybe that’ll be me someday,’” Brian said. “The only thing you can do is your best. Your only problem in there was that you were more worried about what they were going to say after you played rather than living in the music.”
I smiled. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”
“That’s why I’m the best Backstreet Boy,” he laughed.
“I just don’t want to let anyone down. I mean, Kevin took a chance on giving me an audition. And besides, Sandra got fired...”
“You are twice as talented as Sandra. She wouldn’t be out here worrying about her performance, that’s for sure. You take your music much more to heart. So put the passion you’re putting into your worrying into your performance,” Brian said sincerely, looking into my eyes. With that, he kissed me on my forehead and led me back inside.
He tells me to stop worrying and calms me down, and then he sends my heart rate on hyper-drive, I thought.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Two weeks have never flown by so quickly. Before I knew it, it was January 22 and we were in Fort Lauderdale.
“This is your tour bus?” Carmen said. Although we’d been riding in it since Orlando, we couldn’t get over it.
“You should see the Boys buses. They get the really nice ones.”
“They come nicer than this? You have a TV! And a DVD player!” Carmen said. “And a cute little fridge...”
“Traveling in style, that’s for sure.” We were in the living area. The back had a bathroom and a bed for any overnight traveling.
“Maybe I need to call my father and post-pone my impending law occupation,” Carmen said. “I’d rather get up at midnight and watch a DVD.”
I laughed, knowing that she wasn’t serious. “It won’t be the same without you. Thanks for coming to the first concert!”
My family was coming to the next one, in Charlotte. I was really looking forward to that. But it meant a lot that Carmen was going to get to see my debut.
When we parked, Carmen said good-bye. “I’ll be saving you a seat! Come out as soon as you can, and we’ll watch the rest of the show! Front row, baby!”
“Okay!” I gave her a hug, my nerves getting worse each passing minute.
A security guard led me inside. He was more for making sure that I didn’t get lost more than anything though. I wouldn’t have a problem being bombarded with fans.
I turned on the radio and warmed up my voice with the songs that were playing. I ran through the music in my head, especially the hard parts that I was prone to messing up on.
A few minutes before I was supposed to go on, there was a knock on my miniature dressing room door. “Hey,” Brian said. “The group and dancers always do a prayer before the show, but you’ll still be out performing wonderfully, so I wanted to go ahead and wish you good luck.”
“Thanks,” I smiled.
“I hope your hands stop shaking before you go out there,” Brian said perceptively. “Don’t worry, Kevin won’t get the pleasure of watching the show. Sadly, neither will I. Just go out and have fun!” he gave me a hug. “I gotta go warm up. Backstreets back, all right!” he started doing a few moves of the dance. “Well, gotta go,” he said to the tune of ‘Get Another Boyfriend.’
I put on my microphone took a few deep breathes and walked out on stage. I was met by thousands of faces. People held up their “Thank Kevin For Kevin” signs and were screaming, “Marry, me, Nick!”
They cheered when I walked out, although they wanted to get the opening act over so they could see their favorite Backstreet Boy and sing along to their favorite songs.
“Hey!” I screamed. “How’s everyone doing?” It’s hard to be as nervous once you’re on stage. At that point, it’s do or don’t. You don’t have the time to worry about what to do because you’re busy doing it.
Inaudible screaming.
“Guess who’s backstage and warming up to put on an awesome show for everyone?” I screamed again.
This time their was no doubt what the audience said: Backstreet Boys.
“Anyone every met a Backstreet Boy before?” I asked. I looked around and to some little girl on the front row. “You met Howie, huh? Any more Howie D fans here tonight?”
“Woo!” different people screamed.
“Well, one night, I was playing at a coffee shop. I was there with my best friend. Guess who was there? Kevin Richardson. Anyone heard of him?”
More screaming.
“My best friend likes him, too,” I said, pointing to a poster for him. “So, Kevin asked me if I wanted to play for you all tonight. Mind if I play a few songs while you wait for the BACKSTREET BOYS?”
Again, screaming.
I sat down at the baby grand piano and shook my hands to loosen them up. I started the intro to a mid-tempo piece that was one of my favorite.
Thirty-minutes flew by. And I had fun. I couldn’t believe it, but I was exhilarated. The audience was so high in anticipation to see their favorite band that it was hard not to be.
Soon, I was back in my dressing room, wiping sweat off my forehead from the heat of all the lights. There was a single rose sitting in front of the mirror.
Curiously, I opened the note.
You did a great job! Your ‘Perfect Fan’ ~B-rok
I smiled, knowing that he didn’t even get to see the show, except for maybe a minute or two at some point. And he would have had to put this in here early on because he was getting ready.
What if I had done horribly? This would still have been sitting there.
I smiled, knowing that he'd simply had the faith that I would play fine.
By the time I changed and spoke to a few people (I would have to watch the tape of myself tomorrow and they would note the places where improvement was needed. I knew I hadn’t done perfectly, but I was proud of myself), the concert was well underway.
I found Carmen.
“Good job!” she screamed over the teenage girls.
“Thanks!” I grinned, relieved that I could sit back and watch the show now.
“Hey!” a little girl tugged on my shoulder. “Were you just up there playing piano?” She was only four or five, and it was hard to hear her over all of the noise.
“Yeah, that was me,” I smiled at her.
“Will you sign my program?”
Of all the things she could have said, I was least expecting that. “Sure,” I grabbed it, along with a pen, from her. I signed it, and looked at the little picture and bio of me. I had never imagined I’ve have a little spot in a Backstreet Boys program. Life could be so unexpected.
Chapter Nine
Chapter Eleven
Dreaming of Destiny
Frick's Fairytales