“Hey, look, there’s the Eiffel Tower!” said Dawn, pointing past the hot air balloon that marked the front entrance to the Paris Las Vegas Hotel and Casino. “Let’s take a picture in front of it and send it to Natalie, so we can pretend we’re in Paris, too!”
I laughed. Over the past two days, Natalie appeared to have made the most out of her long layover in France, posing for pictures in a park full of blooming flowers and pink cherry blossoms, which she’d posted on Instagram with the caption “Springtime in Paris.” A part of me wished I was strolling through that park with her instead of swerving past slowpoke tourists on the crowded Las Vegas Strip, but I would never tell Dawn that. It was her first time visiting Vegas, and I wanted her to think I was having just as much fun as she was.
“Only in Vegas can you see so many world landmarks on one street,” I said as I turned my power chair around, putting my back to Paris. “I mean, you’ve got the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe, the Statue of Liberty and the New York skyline, an Egyptian pyramid and the Sphinx, Venetian canals, the Roman Colosseum…”
“You’re right; it really is like Disneyland for adults!” Dawn replied cheerfully as she posed next to me. I wrapped my arm around her waist and pasted a smile onto my face while Nick snapped a photo of the two of us with her phone.
“Send me that, would ya, so I can text it to Nat?” I said as Nick handed the phone back to her.
Dawn burst out laughing when she saw the photo. “I look like an idiot… but, sure, here it comes,” she said, tapping her screen.
Fishing my own phone out of my side pocket, I found a text from her with our photo. While I looked like a typical tourist, wearing a casual smile beneath my ballcap and sunglasses, Dawn was clearly poking fun at Kim Kardashian and similar social media stars with her expression, pushing her lips together and outward as she flashed a peace sign. “You didn’t tell me you were gonna do the duck face,” I said, snickering at the sight of her exaggerated pout. “I would’ve done it, too.”
“She stole your signature move, too, bro.” Nick grinned, giving me a playful punch on the shoulder. “Kev always used to do the peace sign in pictures,” he explained to Lauren.
“Yeah, but that was pre-injury Kev. My quad hands can’t do it anymore,” I replied, feeling a pang of regret as I looked down at my limp, loosely-curled fingers. Sometimes, I was struck by how much I missed the little things I had once taken for granted, like making the peace sign, flipping the bird, or giving people bunny ears in photos. But as I dragged my knuckle across my phone screen, tapping out a short text to send Natalie along with the photo, I tried to feel grateful for the function I had gained back, reminding myself that there was a time when I hadn’t been able to move my hands at all.
Greetings from Paris, Las Vegas, I typed. Wish you were here! I added a red heart emoji before hitting the send button, hoping she would feel the love in France. Things had been tense between Natalie and me ever since Easter. We hadn’t talked as much in the last few days as we usually did when she was out of town. But, with our one-year anniversary just over a week away, I wanted her to know she was never far from my thoughts.
“So, where do you guys wanna go next?” Lauren asked, changing the subject.
The four of us had just finished a leisurely breakfast and were wandering the Strip, showing Dawn the sights. She and I had landed late the night before and gone straight to our hotel to check in, so she hadn’t gotten more than a passing glimpse of Las Vegas’s most famous street.
The thought of our upcoming anniversary had reminded me that I still needed to get Natalie a gift. “Actually, do y’all mind if we go across the street? I wanna hit the shops at Crystals and find something for Nat. Maybe you ladies can help me pick something out,” I said, looking from Lauren to Dawn.
The two women exchanged knowing glances, little smiles tugging on their lips. “Sure,” they agreed, so we backtracked to the pedestrian bridge that led to the other side of Las Vegas Boulevard. I had to hand it to Vegas: the Strip was more wheelchair-accessible than a lot of other cities I had visited since my injury, with wide, smooth sidewalks and curb cuts at every corner. Still, it took extra time to wait for the elevator that would take us up to the bridge and back down to the street level once we crossed it. I wished we could just use the escalator like everyone else. It might have been possible in my manual chair, with Nick and Dawn holding me in a wheelie position, but not in my power chair, which I’d opted to bring instead. I knew we would be doing a lot of walking that weekend.
“How ya holdin’ up?” I asked Dawn in an undertone as we exited the elevator and reentered the throng of tourists swarming up and down the Strip. Knowing that her stamina still wasn’t what it had been before her heart failure diagnosis, I didn’t want to wear her out before the Def Leppard show that night.
“I’m good!” Dawn replied in a bright tone. I should have also known that she wouldn’t want to look weak, especially not in front of a vibrant, young fitness model like Lauren Kitt.
I nodded. “Just lemme know if you need to take a breather, okay?”
“We just finished taking one. I’m fine,” she said, flashing me a reassuring smile.
We made our way toward the Aria Resort and Casino, which was connected to Crystals, a high-end shopping mall filled with luxury boutiques and designer brands. We passed Prada, Dior, Chanel, and Gucci on our way to the elevator, which we took up to the second level. We ended up at Tiffany’s.
“So, what are you looking for?” Dawn asked as we strolled into the jewelry store. “Rings?” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“No,” I said with a shake of my head, feeling my face heat up. “Not right now. I already got her a necklace for our six-month anniversary, so I was thinking… I dunno, maybe a bracelet? Or earrings?”
“Earrings would be nice, don’t you think, babe?” Nick said, glancing back at Lauren.
She nodded. “Sure. Let’s look at earrings.”
Half an hour later, we left the store with a little blue box containing a simple but stunning pair of diamond studs. “She’ll love them,” Lauren assured me as Dawn tucked the box safely into an interior pocket of my bag for me. “Like they say, diamonds are a girl’s best friend.”
I could tell by the way she smiled and winked at me that Nick hadn’t shared everything we’d discussed over the phone the other day with his fiancee. Lauren, like Dawn, was apparently still under the impression that I was planning to propose to Natalie at some point soon, and Nick had made no attempt to correct her of this notion. I appreciated him for keeping our conversation private.
After exploring the Strip for a few hours, I called for an accessible taxi to take us back to our hotel to get ready for the concert. Unlike some other cities, Las Vegas had a large fleet of cabs that could accommodate wheelchairs and were available at all hours. We wouldn’t need one later that night, since we were staying at the Hard Rock Hotel, where Def Leppard was doing their residency, but it was nice to know that we had a reliable way to get wherever we wanted to go at any time. I never wanted to be the one to hold my friends back from going somewhere or doing something that they really wanted to do.
“I have to hand it to Vegas,” I said, gazing out the window of the cab as it crawled past the long row of resorts and casinos. “It may be tacky, but it does a lot of things right.”
“Not gonna lie – I love Las Vegas!” Nick announced. “I could see myself living here someday, if the Backstreet Boys ever did a residency. Wouldn’t that be cool?”
“I dunno,” I replied, wrinkling my nose. “Isn’t a Vegas residency like the last nail in the coffin for a music career? This is where aging bands and artists come to die.”
“Hey now!” Dawn protested. “Def Leppard is not dead.”
“No, but you have to admit, they are past their prime.”
“Well, so are we, bro,” Nick pointed out. “I mean, I may still be young, but you’re an old fart, and the rest of the fellas are pushing forty. That’s at least sixty in boyband years.”
“True,” I admitted as everyone laughed. “I guess I’d fit right in, rolling around the stage in a wheelchair.”
“I think that’s an outdated idea anyway,” Lauren spoke up. “I heard Britney Spears might be doing a residency here next year. If she can do it, so could you guys.”
“We’ll see,” I said with a shrug.
When we got back to the hotel, we went our separate ways. Lauren had invited Dawn to get ready in her room, so Nick came to hang out in mine. I knew we wouldn’t need nearly as much time to get ready as the two women, so, with Nick’s assistance, I transferred to one of the beds to take a nap while he watched TV and scrolled Twitter. When I woke up an hour later, he helped me change into the black jeans, t-shirt, and denim jacket I was wearing to the show.
He was in the middle of fixing my hair when we heard a knock at the door. Nick went to open it. “Well, hello, ladies,” I heard him say. When the two women walked into the room, I saw why.
Lauren looked incredible, of course. Her hair and makeup were done to perfection, and her statuesque body was clothed in a black crop top that showed off her sculpted abs and a red leather miniskirt that made her toned legs look a mile long, especially when paired with the studded, black heels she was wearing.
But, then, Dawn looked pretty damn amazing, too. She had gone for a more comfortable look that fit her casual style: a pair of Converse high-tops, distressed skinny jeans, and the vintage concert tee I had given her for Christmas. The tight jeans flattered her curvy figure, showing off her recent weight loss. I knew she had dropped at least twenty pounds since her hospitalization back in February, but since her body was usually hidden by baggy sweats, I hadn’t noticed the difference until now. What really caught me by surprise, though, was seeing her with a full face of makeup, including shimmery blue and electric yellow eyeshadow, thick layers of black eyeliner and mascara, and bright red lipstick. Her curly hair had been pulled up into a fauxhawk, perfecting the eighties glam rocker look.
“Damn,” I said as I looked her up and down. “Y’all are looking hot tonight!”
Lauren just grinned, but Dawn grimaced, her nose wrinkling. “You sure I don’t look like a clown? No offense, Lauren,” she added with an apologetic glance at Nick’s girlfriend, who must have applied her makeup. “I’m just not used to wearing this much crap on my face.”
“Not at all,” I told her truthfully. “For a Def Leppard show, you look perfect. How did you get your hair like that?”
“With a banana clip and a whole lot of Aquanet, just like we did back in the eighties,” Dawn replied proudly. I could almost picture her thirty years younger, rocking out to Def Leppard as a teenager. She looked like a grown-up version of the girls I’d gone to high school with.
“That’s right.” Lauren grinned again and touched the ends of her teased hair, which was twice as big as it had been two hours earlier. “You guys are looking pretty damn good yourselves,” she added, her eyes lingering on her fiance as he brushed past her. Nick was wearing a similar outfit to mine – gray jeans and a simple black t-shirt under a black leather jacket – but with his artfully spiked hair and effortless smile, he managed to make it look much more stylish and sophisticated than I felt sitting in my power chair, which certainly subtracted some cool points from my score.
“Thanks,” Nick said casually, but I saw his whole face light up in the bathroom mirror as he resumed his place behind me and rubbed some pomade between his palms. Lauren and Dawn hung out in the wide doorway and watched as he finished styling my hair. When he was done, I was rocking a fauxhawk of my own. “How’d I do?” he asked, looking at my reflection in the mirror.
“Better than I could do,” Dawn called from the doorway. “I’m not any better at doing guys’ hair than I am my own.”
“Well, you’ve both got me beat,” I said, holding up my curled hands. “It looks great, brother. Thank you.”
“Anytime, bro,” Nick replied.
Once everyone was ready, we headed downstairs to the restaurant where I’d made a dinner reservation. “Why are we eating so early?” Dawn had wondered when I’d told her what time we needed to be ready. “The show doesn’t start till eight.”
“They didn’t have any later reservations available,” I had lied. “I guess everyone else had the same idea we did. But, hey, this will just give us more time to get settled and enjoy our VIP perks.”
What Dawn didn’t know is that Nick had done some name-dropping and scored us backstage passes to meet the band before the show. Wanting him to witness her reaction, I waited until the end of the meal to surprise her with the real reason we’d had dinner an hour earlier than we would have otherwise. “What?!” she cried, staring at me with wide eyes when I told her we were going backstage. “You’re kidding, right?”
Nick and I looked at each other and laughed. “Why would I be kidding about that?” I replied.
“Yeah, don’t forget you’re part of the Backstreet family now, baby!” Nick added. “Our faces may not be on magazine covers anymore, but the name ‘Backstreet’ still means something in this business.”
“Sometimes I do forget,” Dawn admitted, still blinking at him in disbelief. “The first few years I worked for Kevin, it didn’t feel like living with a celebrity. You’ve always seemed so down-to-earth and… normal,” she added, glancing back at me. “Even now that you’re working again, it’s not like we’re partying with A-listers every night. I mean, the most famous people I’ve met through you so far have been the flippin’ New Kids on the Block.”
I laughed at the unimpressed look she gave me. “Now, if you ask Natalie, she would say the New Kids are way better than Def Leppard.”
“Please.” Dawn rolled her eyes. “That’s because she was still in diapers when Def Leppard had their first hit.”
Her words brought back a memory of the two of us mocking New Kids on the Block in my truck on our way to the NKOTBSB concert in Louisville. That was the night that had put the performance bug back in my ear, but if you’d told me then that, less than two years later, I would be a full-time Backstreet Boy again, I would have found it hard to believe. Yet, here I was, about to celebrate our fifteenth anniversary with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and a new album on the horizon.
“Lauren wasn’t even born yet,” Nick chimed in, smirking as he slung his arm around his fiancee.
“What?! How old are you?” Dawn demanded, looking across the table at Lauren.
“I’ll be thirty in June,” she answered, ducking her chin.
Dawn’s jaw dropped. “You’re still in your twenties? That means I’m technically old enough to be your mother! I was pregnant with my son the last time I saw Def Leppard live – in 1987!”
Lauren laughed. “I was in preschool.”
“Second grade,” said Nick, still smirking.
“Good god!” Dawn gaped at the two of them. “So I’m the grandma of the group. Got it.”
Everyone laughed at that. Looking at the time on my phone, I cleared my throat. “C’mon, Gram, we’d better get going,” I said as I put my phone back in its pouch on the side of my chair. “The band awaits.”
Dawn grinned as she got up from the table. “I still can’t believe you guys did this for me.”
“After everything you’ve done for me? You deserve it,” I said, smiling at her.
“We know how hard the last couple months have been for you,” Nick added as he walked around the table, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Kev and I just want you to have a good time tonight and try to forget about the bad stuff.”
Her smile faded. “This is starting to feel like a Make-a-Wish type of situation. I may be old, but I’m not dying, you know.”
“I know,” Nick replied quickly. “That’s not what this is.”
“Not at all,” I said, shaking my head. “Consider it part of your Christmas gift – or an early birthday present. ‘Cause you’re gonna be even older in a month.”
“Don’t remind me,” said Dawn, rolling her eyes, but I was relieved to see that her smile had returned. Right then and there, I made a mental note not to mention her recent health struggles for the rest of the night and hoped Nick would take a hint and do the same. At the end of the day, he was right: Dawn deserved to have fun and forget about her heart condition for one night.
That was why I said nothing when she had a glass of cabernet sauvignon as we waited backstage to meet the band. “I’ve never been a big wine drinker,” I heard her tell Nick, who was wedged between her and Lauren on one of the couches, “but I need something to settle my nerves. Besides, red wine’s supposed to be good for your heart, right?”
“That’s right,” he replied with a grin, clinking his glass against hers. “It’s got antioxidants and shit.”
I knew Dawn probably wasn’t supposed to mix alcohol of any kind with her prescribed medication. Neither was Nick, for that matter. Five years ago, he had quit drinking cold turkey after being diagnosed with alcoholic cardiomyopathy. Since then, he had started drinking again in moderation, but he seemed to be doing so much better, healthwise, that I didn’t mention it. Nick and Dawn were both adults who could make their own decisions. Still, I kept my eye on them as I sat next to the couch, sipping on cranberry juice instead of wine. Apart from the potential drug interactions, I knew I needed to limit my own alcohol intake to avoid having to cath during the concert.
After about fifteen minutes, the band members began to emerge from their dressing rooms. One by one, we were introduced to Def Leppard’s lead singer, Joe Elliott, guitarists Phil Collen and Vivian Campbell, bass player Rick Savage, and drummer Rick Allen. I had never met any of them before, but they seemed like a nice group of guys, welcoming us with handshakes and hugs.
As the latter Rick reached out to shake my hand, I couldn’t help but notice the empty sleeve where his other arm should have been. Like most music fans of my generation, I remembered hearing about the horrific car crash that had cost the drummer his left arm in the mid-eighties, at the height of Def Leppard’s fame. Everyone had assumed his career would be over, but, rather than replacing him, the rest of the band had rallied around Rick as he’d relearned how to drum with one arm and his two feet. I tried not to stare, forcing myself to focus on his face instead as I told him what an honor it was to meet him.
“You as well, mate,” he replied, wrapping his right hand around mine. “Thanks for coming to the show.”
“Of course. My assistant, Dawn, is a big fan of you guys.” I glanced over at Dawn, who had a wide, starry-eyed smile on her face as she talked animatedly with the band’s tall, blond frontman, Joe. The wine must have worked because she didn’t seem nervous at all now – but, then, I had never known her to have trouble making conversation. “I got her tickets for Christmas. She’s been going through some stuff lately,” I said, “so I’m glad she’s had something fun to look forward to. Thanks for taking the time to meet with us.”
Rick nodded. “My pleasure.” He had let go of my hand, but as I lowered it to my lap, his eyes followed, flickering briefly down to my loosely-curled fingers and motionless legs before refocusing upon my face. “I know how healing music can be – as I’m sure you do, too,” he added, giving me a meaningful look. “I can’t honestly say I’ve followed your career all that closely, but I do remember hearing about your accident. It reminded me of mine. The details may have been different, but the date was almost the same, just twenty-some years apart.”
A shiver ran down my spine as I returned his gaze. “Yours happened on New Year’s Eve, too?”
“That’s right.”
I swallowed with difficulty, for my mouth had gone dry. “Wow… I didn’t realize that,” I said, reaching up to rub the back of my neck. I could feel the slightly raised scar there as the base of my thumb brushed over it. “Pretty hard holiday for both of us, then, huh?”
He nodded again. “It gets a bit easier with each anniversary… but ringing in a new year will never feel quite the same as before, will it?”
Slowly, I shook my head. Spending my five-year anniversary on a beach in Jamaica instead of at home on my couch had felt like a giant leap forward in my healing journey, but if Natalie and I broke up, I knew I would be right back where I’d started next New Year’s Eve, missing Kristin more than ever.
Rick must have noticed a faraway look on my face because he cleared his throat, snapping me back to the present. “I probably should have tried to reach out after your accident to offer my support and condolences,” he added apologetically, “but I wasn’t sure how it would be received, considering we’d never met before. I wouldn’t have wanted you to think I was making your tragedy all about me. Besides, I remember how overwhelming everything was at first. I appreciated all the cards and phone calls and hospital visits, of course, but I also needed time alone to process what had happened. I reckon you must have felt the same way.”
“Yeah, for sure – and privacy is not something you get a lot of in the hospital, at least not when you’re completely dependent on other people,” I replied with a rueful smile, remembering the humiliation of having to be helped with virtually everything. I couldn’t even sleep without a team of nurses coming in to turn me over in bed every two hours, making me feel more like a pancake than a person.
“That was me as well,” said Rick with another nod. “It wasn’t widely reported at the time because the press was so focused on my left arm, but I nearly lost the right one as well. It was broken when I was thrown from the car, and then an infection set in while I was in hospital. I’m lucky they didn’t have to take it off, too.”
“That must have been hard, having to relearn how to drum after all that,” I replied, thinking about how much time and intense physical therapy it had taken for me to regain even the partial use of my arms. “Did you ever think of throwing in the towel?”
“Oh, all the time! But these guys kept me going,” he said, tipping his head toward his bandmates. “They gave me plenty of time and encouragement. Never even tried to replace me. In fact, whenever another drummer would reach out about wanting an audition, Joe would tell them to fuck off.”
I laughed. “Sounds like something Nick or AJ would have said. It was a little different for me because I had already decided to take a break from the group before I got hurt. But, even after my accident, the guys always left the door open for me to come back whenever I wanted to. I didn’t think it would ever happen, but… somehow, here I am, about to start rehearsing for my first tour in seven years.”
“Right on, mate!” As Rick reached out again to give me a fist bump, I felt an unexpected surge of camaraderie toward him. I’d never met the man before, but I could tell we were kindred spirits, two disabled musicians tied together by trauma. Our injuries may have been different, but our experiences were strikingly similar. I could relate to him in a way I hadn’t been able to relate to anyone since I’d left rehab. He must have felt the same way because he added with a grin, “I’ll have to come to one of your shows sometime. Never been to a Backstreet Boys concert before.
“We would love that,” I said, smiling back. “I haven’t seen Def Leppard live since the original Hysteria tour in 1987, when y’all played in Lexington, Kentucky on Halloween. I had just turned sixteen. I’m forty-one now, so… it’s been a while.”
He laughed. “I remember that show like it was yesterday. Crazy how time flies. Can’t believe I’ll be turning fifty this year.”
I couldn’t believe it either. He had been blessed with the same kind of baby face that kept Nick looking years younger than his actual age, although Rick’s big, brown eyes, clean-shaven jawline, and mop of curly hair certainly contributed to his youthful appearance.
As we wrapped up our conversation, he took a business card out of his back pocket, uncapped a Sharpie with his teeth, and scrawled something across the back of it. “Nice meeting you, Kevin,” he said, handing me the card. “Here’s my number. Feel free to give me a ring sometime if you ever want to talk more.”
“Thanks. It was great to meet you, too.” I turned the card over. The front featured a logo with a large, black bird and the words Raven Drum Foundation. “What’s this?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s my nonprofit. We help injured veterans and first responders heal through drum circles, music, and meditation. If you know of anyone who may benefit, please tell them about it. Just don’t give out my personal number,” he added with a grin.
“I won’t,” I promised, chuckling. “That sounds really cool, though.” My eyes lingered on the black bird as I remembered how music had both comforted and encouraged me during my recovery. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night… take these broken wings and learn to fly…”
We stayed backstage for another ten minutes or so, swapping stories about our experiences in the music business. Nick and I talked about our time working with Def Leppard’s longtime producer, Mutt Lange, and they told us about recording a track written by two members of our Swedish songwriting team, Max Martin and Andreas Carlsson. “At the time, some people scoffed about us ‘going soft’ or ‘selling out,’” said Joe, “but, from day one, Def Leppard has always had two- and three-part vocals. Without the guitars underneath us, we could easily pass as a pop group like yours.”
“Well, there you have it, ladies,” I said, looking back at Dawn and Lauren with a grin. “You heard it straight from the horse’s mouth: Def Leppard and Backstreet Boys aren’t so different at all.”
“Especially when we do have guitars underneath us,” Nick added as the two women exchanged glances, clearly unconvinced. “We’re planning an acoustic set for our upcoming tour, where we play all our own instruments. I’ve played the drums since I was a kid and have gotten pretty good at the guitar, and Kevin can play the piano.”
“Not as well now as I could before, obviously,” I put in, holding up my curled hands, “but I’ve found new ways to kinda make it work.”
“Good for the both of you,” Joe said with a nod of encouragement. “That’s the key to longevity in this business: continually progressing as a band. If you don’t change with the times, you’ll be stuck in the past forever.”
I found this rather ironic, considering we had come to watch his band perform an album from 1987 in its entirety, but I couldn’t deny that it was good advice. The Backstreet Boys had grown and evolved with each album we’d recorded, and our next release would be no exception.
When we finally said our goodbyes and left the backstage area, Dawn was on cloud nine. “Oh my god, I can’t believe that just happened!” she gushed as we followed the venue employee who had offered to escort us to our seats. “Get ready, ‘cause you guys are gonna see my inner teenager come out tonight.”
“I can’t wait,” I replied with a grin. I had never seen her fangirl over a band before, but I was thoroughly looking forward to it.
Our escort led us to an elevator, which we took up to the studio level, where the VIP tables were located. I was relieved to find that this floor had its own bathroom, so I wouldn’t have to fight my way through the crowd below or wait in a long line to cath before the show. When a cocktail waitress came to take our drink orders, I didn’t think twice about asking her to bring me a beer.
“Are you sure you don’t mind being up here instead of down there?” I asked Dawn once we’d gotten situated at our table, which was located in a mezzanine box along the right side of the venue. We had a great view of the stage, but I knew it wasn’t the same as being directly in front of it.
“Are you kidding?” she replied, flashing her VIP wristband. “This is better! Free drinks, a place to set them down, plenty of room to move around, and a perfect view, whether we’re sitting or standing. I’ve got no complaints.” She smiled at me.
“Good. Then I’m glad we were able to upgrade. I wouldn’t have been comfortable down there, even if they could have squeezed me in,” I said, looking down at the tightly-packed rows of people that filled the floor below us.
“Neither would I,” Dawn admitted. “Honestly, Kevin, I’m not sure I could have handled standing in a hot crowd all night. It was hard enough doing it when I was seven months pregnant, but at least I was young and healthy back then. I don’t know if I would have the stamina to do it now. At least, up here, I can sit down during the show if I need to without people giving me weird looks. I mean, who the hell sits when they’re right in front of the stage?”
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with sitting. Standing’s overrated,” I replied with a wry grin.
She laughed. “Touché.”
The waitress arrived a few minutes later with our drinks: a round of beers for Nick, Dawn, and me and a vodka soda for Lauren, who claimed to be watching her carbs. “I’ve got another fitness competition coming up in August,” she told us as she stirred her clear cocktail. “Plus, I want to look my best in my wedding dress.” She beamed at Nick, and his whole face brightened.
“Have y’all set a date yet?” I asked them and saw their smiles fade.
“Not yet,” said Nick, ducking his head a little. I could tell by the way Lauren looked at him that this had been a point of contention between the two of them. “Between the Backstreet Boys’ schedule and my book release, the rest of this year is gonna be super busy. But hopefully we’ll find a date in 2014 that works for both of us.”
“Hopefully?” Lauren repeated, raising her eyebrows. “If you really wanna marry me, Nick, you need to help make it happen – not just hope for it.”
“I know,” he replied quickly. “I do… and I will. I promise.”
“But when?” she pressed him.
“I told you, it depends on how well tickets sell. Management’s already talking about taking the tour to Europe early next year, and if the North American leg does well, we might end up adding another leg after that.”
Lauren didn’t seem to like that answer. “Why don’t we just set a date and make them work around our schedule for once, instead of the other way around?”
Nick made an impatient noise. “Because it doesn’t work like that, babe,” he replied before attempting to explain to her just how much time, communication, and coordination it took our team to plan a tour.
Even as I listened to the two of them bicker, I couldn’t help but envy them. I wished Natalie and I were having these kinds of conversations instead of the one I worried we would have to have soon. For us, it wasn’t a question of when we were getting married but if we were getting married at all.
I tried not to think of Natalie as we waited for the show to begin, wanting to enjoy my night out without worrying about the days ahead. It was easier once Def Leppard took the stage, disguised as their own opening act, a fake cover band called “Ded Flatbird.”
“From what I’ve heard, they do a bunch of deep cuts as Ded Flatbird in the first set,” Dawn had explained to us. “Then, after intermission, they’ll come back out as themselves and perform the whole Hysteria album.”
“Dude, that’s awesome. If we ever did a Vegas residency, we could do something like that, where we sing rock versions of BSB songs as Sphynkter!” Nick said excitedly. “Wouldn’t that be sweet?”
“Sphynkter from that one music video you showed me on Christmas?” asked Dawn, glancing over at me. “That would be pretty sweet!”
I nodded, smiling as I recalled her reaction to seeing us dressed up like an eighties hairband. “Damn… I never really understood why your fans go so crazy for Nick, but I think I get it now,” she had confessed to me. “If I was a teenager in the nineties, and y’all had looked like this, I would have been a Backstreet Boys fan, too.”
As I’d anticipated, it was fun watching her fangirl over Def Leppard – or “Ded Flatbird.” She stood right at the railing and sang along to most of the songs they played. I really only knew the ones I remembered hearing on the radio as a kid, like “Foolin’” and “Bringin’ on the Heartbreak,” but that didn’t matter to me. As long as Dawn was enjoying herself, I was happy.
That was why I was alarmed to see her wiping tears from her eyes at the end of the opening set. “You okay?” I asked her as she rejoined the rest of us at our small, round table. “I hope those are happy tears…”
She flashed me a sheepish smile. “I’m fine… just emotional, for some reason,” she replied with a shrug. “Excuse me. I’m gonna use the bathroom before the band comes back out.”
“Good idea. I’ll go with you. Better do it now, so I don’t have to do it during the show.” I followed her out to the mezzanine lobby, where a few other people were milling about near the bar. “Hey,” I said, catching her arm before she could escape to the women’s restroom. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Dawn nodded. “That just brought back so many memories of me and Ben, my ex. When we were in high school, we used to cruise around in his truck for hours, just talking and listening to music. And, I dunno… hearing some of those songs now takes me right back to that time in my life, before all the heartbreak, when we were young and happy and head-over-heels in love with each other,” she explained. “Everything seemed so much simpler back then. Sometimes I wish I really could go back, you know?”
I nodded, my throat tightening as I thought of my first love. “I get that. I feel the same way every time I hear a song that reminds me of Kristin.”
Dawn said nothing in return, just reached out and rubbed my shoulder. Our circumstances may have been different, but she could still relate to me in ways neither Nick nor Lauren could.
When we returned to the table, we found two fresh, cold beers waiting for us. “We went ahead and ordered another round,” said Nick. “The waitress said to just flag her down if you guys want something different.”
“Oh, thanks!” Dawn said brightly, taking a sip of hers.
I did the same, knowing I would probably regret it when I woke up with a hangover the next morning. It didn’t take much these days; my medication made my tolerance much lower than it had been before I got hurt. Still, alcohol made it easier for me to forget everything else on my mind and just relax and enjoy myself. I supposed that was why Dawn was drinking, too.
By the time the house lights darkened again, I had a pleasant buzz, which made Def Leppard sound even better when they came back to the stage. I hadn’t listened to their Hysteria album in a long time, but the opening guitar riff of the first track, “Women,” took me right back to 1987. I remembered driving down the winding back roads of rural Kentucky with Keith and my cousin Harold, who had owned a huge collection of rock cassettes. We would roll down the windows and turn up the radio, letting the wind whip through our mullets as we sang along at the top of our lungs. I smiled at the memory, suddenly wishing I’d invited them to come to the concert with us.
But tonight wasn’t about me. This was my gift to Dawn, and I was there as her guest. Seeing her reaction as a shirtless Phil Collen descended from the rafters on a floating platform was worth every penny I’d spent.
“Whoooooooo!” she screamed, raising her drink high over her head as the curtain dropped to reveal the rest of the band on the main stage.
“In the beginning,” Joe Elliott sang as he strutted up the catwalk, “God made the land. Then He made the water… and creatures. Then He made man.”
“He was born with a passion,” Dawn sang along. “Love and hate! A restless spirit… with a need for a mate.”
“But there was something missing,” the other band members harmonized behind their lead singer.
“Something lost. So he came with the answer. Here’s what it cost. One part love… one part wild. One part lady… one part child. I give you…”
“Women! Women!” everyone chorused. “Lots of pretty women. Men! Men! They can’t live without ‘em…”
The lyrics may have been cheesy, but truer words had never been spoken, I thought, glancing over at Dawn with a grateful smile. Where would I be without the women in my life?
Dawn grinned back at me as she swayed to the music. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Nick and Lauren doing the same on my other side, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists. Watching them sent another wave of envy washing over me. I wished Natalie were there with me instead of halfway around the world. I would have loved to have gotten a lap dance from her during “Pour Some Sugar on Me.” It was hard not to think dirty thoughts when so many of Def Leppard’s songs were about sex.
But as the show went on, I was able to take my mind off of Natalie and focus solely on the music. I found myself watching Rick Allen the most, mesmerized by the way his bare feet worked the pedals at the base of his custom drum kit, his left leg playing the parts his left arm would have otherwise. It looked like a full-body workout, but he never missed a beat. And, judging by the grin I saw on his face every time it flashed across the big screens on either side of the stage, he was having the time of his life up on that platform. I could tell he didn’t take a single moment for granted, not after fighting his way back from such a catastrophic, career-ending injury. He was grateful to be there, and it showed in his performance.
If he can do it, I told myself, feeling my own confidence growing, then so can I.
***