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The next week and a half were a blur of activity for Stephanie. Between doing schoolwork and working with Andrea, the dance instructor recommended by Nick, she felt like she barely had time to breath. Her mind was tired from working on all the papers and her body was incredibly sore from working out. On Wednesday, one week after she and Nick recorded her demo tape, she was lying in bed watching Two Guys and a Girl. Her legs were up on a pillow and she had a bag of ice on her left knee, which she had twisted. Though she wasn’t as bad a dancer as she had feared, she was still not very good. Andrea had told her that it would take a lot more of their all-day, six-times-weekly sessions before she would be a passable stage dancer. Stephanie sighed at the memory, and numbed her mind by watching the comic dribble on her TV.
Fifteen minutes into the show, the phone ringing interrupted her. Groaning, she turned the TV to mute and answered it. "Hello?" she asked grumpily.
"Hey, Stephanie? It’s Nick."
Stephanie sat up more and replied, "Hi, Nick. What’s up?" She sighed inwardly. She knew this would be a long conversation.
"Not much. How’s your vacation been?" he asked cheerfully. Apparently, things had been going better for him. She just groaned.
"I’m sore from that fascist person you call a dance instructor and my mind’s turned to mush because of that damn psychology paper I have due next Monday. Other than that, I’m just great."
"Glad to hear it," Nick replied, glossing over her complaints. "Listen, I went over to Jive on Friday and they loved your demo. So your appointment is the day after tomorrow to meet with them about a record deal and all. Have you been working with Andrea at all?"
"Didn’t you just hear me? I’ve been working with her like all day every day since you gave me her number. I’ve never been so sore in my life. What’s your point?"
"Are you working with her tomorrow?"
"Um-hmm, from 7 AM to 3 PM. What the hell did you tell her? She seems to think that I have to turn into a fly girl by next week."
"Well, you kind of do. You need to have a routine to go along with ‘Volcano’ by Friday when we go to talk to Jive."
Stephanie sat up straighter. "Are you kidding me?" she screeched into the phone.
"Nope," Nick replied cheerfully. Either he’s drunk or he just got laid, Steph thought. Otherwise there’s no way he should be this happy.
"But-but-but-"
"You promised to listen to me," Nick reminded her. "You don’t have to have an award-winning routine or anything. Just something to show that you can move. You should be able to make something up in that time. You’re working at her studio in Orlando, right?"
"Yeah . . ."
"Okay, then I’ll pick you up at 3:30 so we can get ready for Friday."
"What the hell do we have to do to get ready?" Stephanie whined.
"We need to get you some clothes, a haircut, that sort of thing. As soon as we hang up I’m gonna call to make you an appointment at the salon my friend Brian’s girlfriend Leighanne goes to . . . she swears by it. It’s got some long pretentious French name and the stylists get mad if you don’t give them a 50% tip. It’s the best in Orlando. Then you should probably sleep over at my house-"
"Why?"
"Because I know how to get to Jive and you don’t. Our appointment’s at 8:00 in the morning-"
"Why?" Stephanie was decidedly not an early riser.
"The guy who runs it, Lou Pearlman, is really busy. So he wants to meet with you early. Okay?" Nick asked.
"So let me get this straight. I have to get up at 4:30 tomorrow morning to work on my paper before I go to the dance studio – which, by the way, I can’t stand because I hate to dance – for eight hours. Then I have to go shopping and buy a bunch of slutty clothes and then go to a stupid French salon where they’re gonna give me fake nails and charge me $10 per cut hair. Then I have to sleep over at your house so I can be at Jive Records by 8 AM. Is that about it?" she asked.
Nick thought about it momentarily. "Yeah, basically," he replied. Stephanie resisted the urge to reach into the phone and wring his neck. "So I’ll see you tomorrow?"
"Why am I doing this again?"
"Because you think I’m cute."
Stephanie snorted. "Try again, asshole."
"Okay, because you want the money," Nick said more seriously. Stephanie groaned again.
"Damnit. Why the hell does money have to be so important to me?"
"I’ll leave you to question the meaning of life. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"Fine," she said grumpily. "Bye."
"Bye." She hung up the phone and groaned, throwing her head forward into a pillow. Then she sighed, turned off the TV, and reached for her laptop to continue working on her research paper. She worked for only twenty minutes before exhaustion overtook her and she fell asleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Stephanie, you’re acting like your limbs are wet noodles. Stop it! Pretend they’re rubber bands. You have to snap them into the moves!" Andrea said the next day at the dance studio. Stephanie wasn’t positive, but she suddenly had a sneaking suspicion that Nick was paying Andrea a lot of money for their time together. Andrea never seemed to have any other clients to work with, despite the fact that Nick had said that Andrea was one of the most popular choreographers in the business.
Stephanie sighed, glancing at herself in the long mirror of the studio. She was wearing a pair of black leggings borrowed from another girl in her dorm, and a black tank top she usually used to sleep in. She was hot, tired, and sweaty, and they were only halfway through making the routine for the cheesy song ‘Volcano.’ "But Andrea!" Stephanie whined. "I hate this!"
"Too bad," Andrea said, smiling. "If you’re gonna nail that appointment with Jive, you need to have this down soon. Now let’s try it from the top."
Stephanie groaned, but went into place. Seconds later, her own voice played back, blaring the horrible song.
"It’s been building up inside of me
For I don’t know how long
I’ve tried to keep it down inside
But no one is that strong
Every time you say my name my heart begins to go
Baby, you make me feel like
A volcano.
My blood is like lava
Hotly coursing through my veins
Because just tone look at your face
Makes me go insane
It’s not gonna be too long now ‘til I finally explode
And when I do you’re gonna be the first to know.
I’m just so hot for you,
Each and every day
Like Mt. Vesuvius buried Pompei
You know it’s gonna happen, my love will overflow
And soon you’re gonna be buried
By my volcano.
So come to me, give into my love
You know you want to, or else I’ll go too far
Love’s a volcano, unpredictable
Ready to explode before you ever know
I’m just so hot for you,
Each and every day
Like Mt. Vesuvius buried Pompei
You know it’s gonna happen, my love will over flow
And soon you’re gonna be buried
By my volcano
When it explodes, baby you’ll know
That love’s gonna overflow
When I explode, I just can’t help it
‘Cause my love for you’s so hot, goddamnit!
I’m just so hot for you
Each and every day
Like Mt. Vesuvius buried Pompeii
And soon it’s gonna happen, my love will over flow
You’re gonna be buried . . .
I’m just so hot for you
Each and every day
Like Mt. Vesuvius buried Pompeii
You know it’s gonna happen, boy, my love will overflow
And when it does you better step out of the way
‘Cause it’s so hot, you’ll never be the same!
Baby, the next thing you know
You’ll be buried by
My volcano!"
Finally, Stephanie seemed to get all of the steps right. As the music ended, Andrea walked over to her and gave her a critical once over. "Well?" Stephanie asked, breathing heavily as she rested her hands on her hips.
"Not bad," Andrea said thoughtfully. "Not bad at all." Stephanie grinned, but then Andrea interjected, "but you have to do it again. And again. And again. Now come on!" She went over to the tape player to rewind the song, and Stephanie just groaned.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
At 3:00, Stephanie was doing her routine yet again when Nick walked into the dance studio. He stood in the doorway with BJ, watching her. "Well, it looks like Fiona Apple turned into Britney Spears in just two short weeks!" BJ snickered. She didn’t really have anything against Stephanie, but she thought it was funny that her brother was being so successful at molding her. Nick just elbowed her in the side.
"Shut up," he hissed. "I wanna watch her." BJ was about to retort when she noticed the look on Nick’s face as he watched Stephanie dance awkwardly to what sounded like a bad copy of ‘…Baby One More Time.’ It was definitely an odd look . . . not one of love, or hate. Just a curious, thoughtful look, like a business deal or something. She snickered again, and he elbowed her in the side again. Just then, the music came to a close, and Stephanie collapsed onto the floor.
"Andrea!" they heard her whine. "You can’t make me do this again. No way. "
Andrea walked over to her and stuck out a hand to help Stephanie off of the floor. "Okay, okay, we’re done. Get out of here. I’ll see you in a few days. Don’t forget to work out, or you’ll be more sore later on." Stephanie heaved herself up and looked at Andrea in surprise.
"What? You aren’t going to keep me an hour late and give me a lecture about eating right and watching that Go Fatima video and reading books to get more techniques?"
Andrea rolled her eyes. "I’m as sick of that damn song as you are. Go!" She pointed towards the door, where Nick and BJ were standing, watching them.
"Hey, I wrote that damn song!" Nick called over to them.
"I’ve just lost all respect for you! Go take a shower." Stephanie snapped a salute and headed to the cramped locker room of the studio.
"I’ll be out in five minutes," she called to Nick as she left. "I just need to get rid of the three-inch layer of sweat on me."
"Okay," Nick called back as Andrea walked over to him. "So how’s she doin’, Andy?"
Andrea shrugged, running her hands through her hair. "When she first started, I thought she was completely and totally hopeless. But I think she’s catching on. It’ll just take a lot of work."
"How much?" he asked suspiciously.
"I don’t know, a few months, maybe?"
Nick sighed. "We don’t have all that much time."
"What’s the hurry?"
Nick was about to mention the bet, but suddenly he thought otherwise. "There’s starting to be a backlash against female bubblegum pop singers. If she doesn’t leap on the bandwagon now," he lied, "she’ll have to wait for the next incarnation."
Andrea nodded understandingly. "Where are you guys going? Usually Steph just takes the bus home or something and does school work."
"Her meeting with Jive is tomorrow, remember? We have to take her shopping. That’s why BJ’s here," he said, motioning to his younger sister, who was looking bored. "She’s my fashion expert."
"How much is Nick paying you?" Andrea asked, turning to BJ.
"Fifty dollars and any clothes I see while we’re shopping for Steph. And a haircut while she’s at the salon," BJ grinned, and Nick rolled his eyes.
"My sister the loan shark."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Stephanie walked into the locker room, feeling slightly lonely. The entire place was abandoned, and the noise of her shower echoed throughout the room. As the warm water washed away the dried, caked sweat, she leaned momentarily against the tile. She was so tired. All of this was happening so quickly that it made her head spin. But she was pretty sure this would be worth it eventually . . . there was just something that made her think this would be different. It wouldn’t be like going into some shoddy record store and recording a bad-quality CD to sell for $5 a pop at her shows just so that she could have enough money to pay for textbooks. Her music was going to be heard sooner or later. She had always known, deep down inside, that her dream would come true. But, as cliché as it sounded, a Backstreet Boy was the last person she expected to help her. And that was what was confusing her and making her head spin.
She was nearly positive that Nick had some ulterior motive. Over the past few weeks, she had spent a lot of time with him, and it seemed as if he had motives behind every single action. The way he dyed his hair more blond, the way he made she that he was seen in public with other Backstreet Boys at least once every few days, the way he took in his little sister – each and every action he did was part of a calculated image. A pretty boy with a good heart who just wanted to have fun with his lifelong friends. She wasn’t quite sure how she fit into the picture, though. Did he want to add her to his collection of new stars? Or did he want to prove to himself that he could do it? Did he want her to replace Kirsten Corsi in some way?
Stephanie had now been in the shower for 15 minutes and her skin was starting to wrinkle in the heat of the water. She grabbed her sweet-smelling shampoo and began to rinse out her hair as her thoughts jumped randomly from one subject to the next. She was about to get out to get dressed when she remembered that she was supposed to sing at the Back Alley that night. There was no way she would be able to make it there, though; Nick had already made it clear that she would be staying at his house in Tampa and wouldn’t leave until she had clinched the record deal. Guilt seeped into her. The Back Alley was like her home away from home, a place where she could escape the vapidness common to most of her classmates at college and in her dorm. There, her kindred spirits would gather to listen to her type of music and groan about the shallowness of every day life. Her type of people – who wore what was comfortable, spoke openly about political issues, and played their instruments to drown out their sorrows.
She knew that they would be absolutely furious if they knew she had skipped out on them to hang out with a teenybopper sell-out like Nick, much less that she was going to interview at a teenybopper record label like Jive. She made up her mind to keep her two worlds completely separate until she could think of a good way to break it to them. After she finished dressing, she grabbed her bag and headed out to make a phone call. Stephanie depoisted the thirty-five cents and dialed the familiar number.
"Hello?" she heard Sarah say on the other end of the line.
"Sarah? It’s Steph," she said.
"Steph, hey! I haven’t been you around. Where’ve you been? Last time I saw you was when you went chasing after that gay little teenybopper," Sarah snickered. Stephanie was about to say, ‘Don’t call him that!’ when she caught herself just in time.
"I’ve been hella busy with school and shit, and I’m going back to Canada for Christmas in a few days."
"Yeah, that’s right, I always forget that you’re originally from Montreal. Anyway, what time are you coming by? I need to know so that I can get the Killer Veggies off of the stage to let you do a soundcheck."
"Um, that’s what I’m calling about," Stephanie said guiltily as she shifted her weight to her right foot. "I, uh, can’t come by tonight."
"What? Why?" Sarah asked, shocked. Stephanie never missed a gig.
"I have a big ass paper due in a few days and I’m completely behind," she lied.
"Oh," Sarah said quietly. "Can you come in tomorrow night?"
"I, uh, I don’t think so," Stephanie replied.
"How come?"
Stephanie was about to make an excuse when Nick came running into the lobby area. "Steph! Are you coming or what? You’ve got a hair appointment in ten minutes!" he said loudly, sounding exasperated. Stephanie’s eyes widened in horror as she shook her head quickly, motioning to Nick to shut up.
"You have a hair appointment?" Sarah asked in disbelief, overhearing Nick. "And isn’t that the nasal annoying voice of that Backdoor Boy?"
"I-" Stephanie began, but then she shut her mouth. She couldn’t think of an excuse.
"Listen, come back to the Alley when you get your priorities straight. I don’t want you to be late for your hair appointment," Sarah said sarcastically. Before Steph could reply, Sarah hung up on her. Steph stared at the phone in disbelief as the dial tone came on. She suddenly felt tears coming to her eyes, and Nick noticed.
"What’s wrong?" he asked casually. "We’ve really gotta go."
"I – I . . ." Stephanie said, then thought otherwise. "It’s nothing . . . let’s just go, okay?" She hung up the phone and picked her bag up again.
"Okayyyyy," Nick said, raising an eyebrow but not pushing the subject. "C’mon." Stephanie followed him silently back to Andrea and BJ, who were discussing make-up. "Let’s get going, Beej," Nick said to his sister. "See ya later, Andrea."
"Bye, guys," Andrea replied. Stephanie gave her a weak smile, and then followed the brother and sister out to Nick’s Jeep. She let BJ sit shotgun, and spent the car ride looking out the window, trying to figure out exactly what was going on.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
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