by Zoicite

The first thing AJ did after crawling out of bed in the morning was to check and see if Sarah had returned to him sometime during the night. She hadn't. The second thing that AJ did after crawling out of bed was stumble down to the kitchen and stare at the calendar. There was a pile of pens and markers on the counter and he chose one randomly, biting off the top. It was Monday. He ran his finger over the number in Sunday's box, and then penned another number into the bottom right corner of Monday's. Always in the bottom right corner. 141. It came right after 140. The third thing that AJ did was put on a pot of coffee, leaning against the counter with a mug in hand waiting for it to finish. That was when he noticed the bottle of Jack Daniels on the table sitting right beside the open issue of US Weekly. It was funny how 1 could just as easily have come after 140. How easily it could replace 142. The house was too quiet. AJ hated quiet. She'd left all of her stuff. She'd only taken a suitcase. A suitcase and the dogs, and that was cause for hope at least. But the house was quiet and AJ only had her things to keep him company. Her things and the bottle of Jack Daniels that had been hidden under some boxes in the basement for nearly a year. He'd found it during the move. It was full, unopened, and he couldn't bring himself to throw it out. Not quite, and so it sat there in the basement for weeks and then months and AJ didn't touch it. He had no need. He was in the clear. He'd pulled it out from beneath the boxes yesterday. He'd set it on the counter and then he called Sarah. Her father answered and hung up on him. AJ thought he heard Tank barking in the background before the receiver clicked in his ear. They always took the dogs, but this time there was a chance that they might actually come back. AJ poured himself a cup of coffee and picked up the magazine, carrying it with him to the living room. The curtains were all drawn tight and the room was dark. AJ didn't bother to turn on any lights. What people knew wasn't too far from the truth. They'd called it off because AJ had cheated. That was true. Sarah still loved him and they were slowly attempting to work it out. That was true too. The parts about falling off the wagon, the e-mails from his mom. Those parts were certainly true. But as long as the cap stayed on the bottle of JD, as long as his mother kept loving him through all the shit he made her put up with, as long as he could keep ticking off the days, they were also the easiest to fix, and after what AJ had been through he never thought he'd be able to say that. He wished he didn't have to. So what the world knew was pretty damn close to the truth as far as AJ was concerned. Close enough, because it was really none of their business when you came down to it anyway. Except that it was, and AJ would never lie and say that he didn't want it to be their business. He did. That was his life. AJ finished his coffee and remembered to take out the trash. Sarah had left a message on the machine a week or so back, reminding him which day was trash day, reminding him how much to pay the papergirl when she came by collecting. AJ had accidentally deleted the message before he wrote down the information. He paid the papergirl yesterday, and twice last week. She looked surprised but the surprise was quickly replaced by a huge metal filled grin that lit up her eyes. AJ suspected he wasn't supposed to pay her that often, but the grin made it worth it. And it probably gave her something to giggle about with her friends. And it made AJ feel a little less like shit for about five minutes. He'd also given Nancy, the housekeeper, an extended vacation. There was a nice layer of dust over most of the furniture and the house was entirely too quiet, and AJ thought that maybe the vacation had been a mistake but it was too late to reverse it now. AJ really had no idea when trash pick up was. Either Monday or Tuesday, but he only knew because he looked out the window and saw that the Connor's had their bin at the end of the drive sometime at the beginning of the week. He was supposed to write himself a reminder last night when he dumped the kitchen trash in the bin in the garage. He'd forgotten to write it, but he'd remembered anyway. AJ rolled the bin down to the end of the driveway. So today was trash pickup. Or maybe it was tomorrow. Sarah remembered those things. Kevin remembered them. AJ never really cared. Sarah moved out three weeks before Valentine's Day. AJ had moved in with Rich, his sponsor, because Sarah was taking the dogs and AJ hated the quiet. He moved back in nine days later. They were still speaking, sort of, they were still together, and AJ loved her as much as he ever had. He had to believe that she still loved him. Her parents weren't too fond of him at the moment and hung up the phone whenever he called, which was often. It killed AJ because they'd been so close before. He'd gone with Sarah's mother to get her first tattoo, even. Now they hung up the phone whenever they heard his voice. Sarah always called him back eventually. Even Sarah's parents didn't know the truth. Not all of it. AJ carried the unopened bottle into the bedroom. Her closet was thrown open, her things strewn about the room. That was how she left it, throwing her things into a bag as soon as she announced she was going, her eyes shining with tears, and AJ hadn't bothered to pick anything up after she'd gone. They'd told the reporter that she'd known as soon as he'd gotten home, that she'd stayed up to wait for him to return. They didn't tell the reporter that he'd gotten home first. "Come on," AJ had said, grinning over a cup off coffee. "My place. Let's go." Nick had nodded and that was all it took. He tossed the bottle on the bed and pulled some clothes out of his drawer. Track pants, a t-shirt. It didn't really matter. He had no plans to go out today. His next meeting wasn't until Wednesday. AJ threw the clothes on the bed, stripped off his boxers and headed for the shower. It wasn't the first time it had happened, it wasn't even the tenth, and it certainly wasn't the first time since Sarah. But it was the first time since he'd fixed himself up like a patchwork quilt, like a wall with all the holes filled in by plaster. He'd done a shoddy job. The holes were filled but the foundation was still cheap and weak. Nick had repaired his walls on his own and he'd done it with cement and probably some huge planks for extra support. But then, AJ'd lived his whole life being told to let down his walls, so it probably wasn't the best comparison anyway. AJ had always taken fans home with him. Even when he was with Amanda, even when he was with Sarah. He wasn't proud of it, but he'd always done it. It might have been a self-worth thing, it might have been because of self-doubt. That's what they told him. They said he was looking for validation. He always took home fans before, but the times he remembered most were the times that he took Nick home instead. The bottle was still there after his shower. He grabbed his clothes and went to get changed in the bathroom so he wouldn't have to look at it. Afterward he edged out of the room and down the hall to the home theater. Rich had said that maybe he should use all this as a creative outlet. Spend his time in the basement, in his studio. Turn his pain and his stupidity into a work of art. That all sounded nice, but frankly, AJ would rather watch movies. It had always been his favorite room, his pride and joy, even better than the one he'd had in Florida. He curled up in one of the many deep leather chairs and picked up a portable phone from its stand on the table. The phone rang eleven times before he remembered that Kevin was in New York and AJ had lost his phone number. He really wanted to call Sarah, but he'd called the night before, and they'd gone out to eat on Saturday, and he didn't want to push too hard. AJ had fucked up tens of times, he'd even fucked up badly, but none of his previous fuck-ups ever hurt quite like this one did. AJ wouldn't consider Nick one of his best friends. They'd never been close like he was close to Howie or even Kevin. They weren't best friends. They were friends and they were definitely brothers and sometimes they were lovers, but that wasn't until pretty late in the game. They weren't best friends but there was a bond there anyway, a bond that let them share, let them communicate and tell each other things that they might not tell anyone else, not even Howie. Not even Brian. It was a bond that led them down the same path of destruction, the same spiral. The fellas liked to pretend that Nick hadn't been headed in the same direction. They liked to pretend that the same mistakes hadn't been made. They were wrong. AJ and Nick were different and they handled things differently, but the mistakes were the same. They'd all been there. The drinking, the music, the drugs, and the sex. That was what he shared with Nick. Hot wet kisses and fumbling caresses in dark hotel rooms. Grunts and gasps and sweat soaked sheets, and AJ thought that it was to make him feel less guilty, sleeping with Nick. It was a step or two up from the fans, a little less like cheating, but that was an excuse really because he never felt much guilt back then. He usually didn't even remember what they'd done the next morning. AJ ate some yogurt for lunch as he flipped channels on the large television in the theater. He hated yogurt, hated that sweet bitterness that he would always associate with bacteria. It was Sarah's though and that made it kind of comforting even if it didn't taste all that great. Also, it was pretty much the only food left in the house and AJ had no plans to go out today. And so he ate peach yogurt, flipped stations, and eventually he gave up on finding anything other than soap operas. AJ finished the yogurt, and set it on the table, making sure not to see the date on the container. It had been in the refrigerator for some time, but it didn't taste any worse than usual. He hit a few switches and then there was Nick, laughing and happy and talking nonsense in some interview that AJ had probably recorded months ago but never watched. He had his TIVO programmed to tape anything the fellas appeared in. It would be March in a week. Time to go back into the studio, work some of that Backstreet magic. AJ had been looking forward to it, but not so much anymore. Not that it mattered. They said March, but translate that into Backstreet time and it would be July before they were all together again. Fucking Nick, AJ thought, and then laughed. The television was on mute and his laughter sounded abrupt and somewhat maniacal in the emptiness of the large room. Nick was talking with his hands, gesturing on the screen. "I'm sorry I walked out on my boys," AJ said, raising his voice so that it was high and whiny. "I'm sorry I fucked up AJ's life. Again." But of course, it wasn't really Nick's fault. Was it ever? AJ liked to watch Nick's appearances with the sound off anyway. He liked to lip-read, to make up what Nick was saying. It was probably better than what Nick actually said. The last time was supposed to have been in Boston. Nick's hand was broken. Basketball accident, that part was true. Sometimes Nick was a fucking moron. They'd gone out that night because Nick was whining that his damn hand hurt and AJ thought he knew how to dull the pain. It had worked and later he'd fucked Nick slowly, smoothly, almost carefully and afterward he'd walked naked across the hall to his own room, locking himself in and passing out almost instantly. He woke up in the morning and looked at the clock, rolled over and fell back to sleep. The second time he was roused from sleep it was because all hell was breaking loose outside of his door. He ended up saying things, Kevin said things and tried to break some more things, and then AJ actually stopped to think. The first time he'd really stopped to think in years. Nick had cried with AJ, held AJ's hand and walked him to the van that was there to take him to the airport. AJ had asked Nick to go with him. Go through it with him. Nick wasn't ready. It was supposed to be the last time. AJ flipped through the rest of the issue of US Weekly as he absently rubbed ointment into his newest tattoo. It was on his calf and he'd gotten it yesterday. It was for Sarah. Not her name. He had learned the hard way why people didn't do that shit. Not her name. He'd spent the hour it took Jerry to tattoo him talking about his other tattoos, updating Jerry on his problems, on his life. AJ liked talking about it. He liked letting the world in on his mistakes. "It helps the healing," Sarah said once when AJ tried to explain it to her. It hadn't really been his idea, putting it out in the open like that. Not originally. The fellas had mostly decided that for him, but once it was out there AJ liked that people knew. He liked that he could talk about it. There were a few things he didn't tell Jerry. There were a few things that he didn't tell his sponsor, Rich. A few things they hadn't told the reporter or Sarah's parents, or even the other fellas, though they would all know eventually. Nick would tell them, AJ was sure. "You don't fuck with your friends," Kevin had been saying for ten years. He'd never meant it like that, but it worked both ways. AJ wanted to talk about it. He needed to throw his problems out there. It was easier. "It helps the healing," Sarah had said. He figured he could probably add that to his already long list of addictions. He tried to ask Nick about it over the phone while he was still in Arizona. They had a bond, they told each other things that they didn't tell anyone else. They were the babies. They were the ones that the world had failed. They had to stick together. But they only stuck together when they were drunk or high, and never over the phone. Nick was bouncing around with Aaron and he didn't see the problem. He thought that AJ was overreacting. AJ wanted Nick there, but Sarah was there instead and that was really just as good. He didn't really fall in love with Sarah until later and at the time he would have chosen Nick in a second. They were never like that, he and Nick. Not really, but sometimes AJ thought about it. He didn't fall in love with Sarah until later, but when he did he fell hard. It was a nice idea. Saving himself and then saving Nick too, but eventually AJ gave up. The first few months afterward were meant to be the hardest, but looking back they were probably the easiest. AJ had a new outlook on life. He had Sarah, he had the fellas, and yeah, he was jumping back into the same environment that had led him astray before. Yeah, it was stressful, and yes it was hard. But now that they knew that AJ wanted it, now that AJ knew he did, he had the best support group in the world. The future looked pretty damn bright. He spent the afternoon chain smoking in the backyard. It was too quiet in the house. AJ couldn't stand it. At least in the backyard there were birds chirping and the soothing gurgle of the pool filters. There were the kids playing in the backyard a few houses over, shrieking and giggling. He brought the phone with him in case Sarah called but it didn't ring. It was almost March and Kevin would be home soon. It was almost March and Howie would come to visit for nearly a week. He should write something. A song for the Boys. A song for Sarah or maybe even for himself. Maybe after he smoked a few more. Just a few. AJ had written dozens of songs in the past year, songs that were still in his basement untouched. Even the backyard became boring eventually. There wasn't much to do but listen to himself think and frankly, that would drive anyone insane. AJ pulled his eyes away from the hypnotizing surface of the rippling pool water. It was getting late and the phone wasn't going to ring. He stood from the cement patio, stretched, and then headed for the front yard. Phone in one hand, cigarettes and lighter in the other. "Fuck it," he said, for no reason other than that it felt good on his tongue. He said it a few more times until he reached the mailbox at the end of the driveway. The mailbox used to have to be right up against the house so that fans wouldn't steal his mail. They'd had a real problem with it in Florida. But this was L.A. and a gated community and not such a big deal anymore. The grass stayed in the ground and the mail stayed in the mailbox. Cigarettes, a phone, a pile of mail. "Only got two fuckin' hands," AJ said, mostly because he wanted to keep swearing. He shoved the cigarettes into the waistband of his track pants. The mail consisted of bills, junk, more bills, and a letter from Brian. Back in the house and AJ threw everything on the table except the letter, which he opened right away. It was all blah blah blah baby and blah blah blah wife and blah blah so fucking happy AJ could puke, and then it was signed with a nice neat Love, The Littrells There was a picture as well. The thirteenth picture Brian had sent since the baby was born. AJ still called him "the baby." They had yet to be properly introduced. But anyway, the picture. Brian and Leighanne, grinning like idiots in love. And Leigh was holding the baby, his little hand caught mid-wave, his toothless mouth hanging open in some sort of happy baby expression. AJ thought about ripping it up, burning it with his lighter, but he took a deep breath and hung it on the fridge instead. Right next to the other dozen. The real hard part began when they all left him to fend for himself. When Nick finally realized that he didn't want to follow in AJ's footsteps, when he decided to kick them all to the curb instead. There was no hiding the fact that AJ was pissed. He didn't even bother trying. He wore it for the world. Share your mistakes, your anger. It helps you heal. They all felt a little betrayed, like Nick had done it all behind their backs, led them to believe that his heart was with Backstreet when it was actually committed somewhere else. The most frustrating part was that Nick couldn't see why they were upset, he didn't understand why they couldn't just be happy for him. It went on like that for weeks. AJ bitter and pissed off. Howie trying to hold everyone together. Nick whining and practically screaming "I want this. I need this. Love me!" Love wasn't the question, but Nick liked to pull the love card whenever something wasn't working his way. Eventually it grew old. AJ was actually happy when he stopped to remember. He was in love, and really, the break was needed, the break was good. And he was in love. Brian was having a baby, and Kevin and Howie were doing their thing, and whatever, AJ could only hold a grudge for so long. And he was in love. So by the time Nick came to visit in August AJ was already over it, or so he told himself. They had dinner. They laughed. They caught up, and fuck it all, Nick was doing great. Better than he had been in years. "You go get some help?" AJ asked finally because he'd been wondering all night. "Nah," Nick said. "I've just seen stuff, you know? Decided I didn't want to see it anymore. Not for me, man. I needed this so much." As if it was that easy. And maybe for Nick it was. Nick had lost weight. He was practically glowing. He'd saved himself. Fixed himself and hadn't needed anyone else to do it for him. Turned down AJ's help. He'd stuck up his nose and done it on his own. "Fuck," AJ said, and then when Nick frowned he added, "Got yourself under control. Congratulations." They went out with a few mutual friends. Dennis and Craig who'd both worked the first leg of the Black and Blue tour. They were potheads, had always been potheads, but they also weren't the brightest kittens in the litter. "Nah, man," Nick said when they passed him a joint. "We're good." AJ nodded in agreement, watched Nick wander off in search of a restroom, and when Craig forgot that they were good and passed the joint around a second time, AJ accepted. Fuck Nick and his fucking born again attitude, anyway. He couldn't sleep after Nick had left. He chalked it up to guilt. AJ's doctor prescribed some pills and AJ only found out later that they were addictive. He didn't even realize until he was already hooked and it was too late. One joint and some damn prescription pills that his own doctor had given him and the count fell from 408 back to 1. Finally AJ broke down and gave in. He sat on the floor in the bedroom with his back against the wall. The bottle of whiskey had been remembered again. It had woken up from its nap and was sitting beside AJ and the portable phone. The light in the center of the ceiling reflected through the amber liquid and cast a glow on the wood floor. AJ turned away from the bottle, picked up the phone, and dialed the Martin's residence. He expected to be ignored, snubbed, and he deserved it. He expected it, but Sarah answered the phone. "Don't hang up," he said, his voice hoarse. He coughed to clear his throat and ground the cigarette into the wood of the floor, dropping it beside the unopened bottle. It would leave a small black scar that matched the polished knots in the wood. No one would notice. "Alex," Sarah sighed. "Dad said you called. I was going to call tonight. I was out with Liz." "Come home," he said. He'd already used whatever persuasive skills he possessed. None of them had worked. "I will, baby," Sarah said. "I will. When we're ready. We're not ready yet. I'm not." "Come home," he said again. Crying wouldn't work. It hadn't any of the other times, but he could feel it coming anyway. "Soon," Sarah whispered. "You should have stayed with Rich. I'm worried about you." "How are the puppies?" Change the subject. Hold back the tears. He was sick of crying over things that were his own damn fault. Same old shit and he couldn't really feel sorry for himself over the things he'd done. "They miss you." AJ pushed the bottle of Jack Daniels away from him, tipped it onto its side. He tried to roll it under his palm but the bottle was square. "You're going to leave me." "I'm still here," Sarah said. "I'll be there soon. You have to give me time, baby. It's only fair." He knew all of that. He knew it and he was trying, but it wasn't easy. Nothing was easy, so he couldn't expect this to be, but it was all so quiet. His support group was dwindling. He needed to hold them close, he needed to push them away, and now they were all out of reach. It started again when Nick came to LA for promotion. He stayed with Kevin, but he spent most of his time with AJ. AJ went on the radio with him. He called the radio station, asked to go on and surprise Nick, he knew they would never say no, but then after it was all set up, he ended up calling Nick, telling him all about the plans anyway. AJ sucked at surprises. Nick was happy though, and AJ was ready to show his support. Sarah was planning the wedding, and Sarah's mother and AJ's mother were all involved. AJ was involved as little as he had to be. He approved things and made suggestions once in awhile, but mostly he was freaking out. It was only a few months away, so close, and AJ was still so young. Things were going so fast, too fast, and AJ couldn't keep up. And then there was Nick, still stronger than AJ had ever seen him. Cement with planks for extra added support. AJ kissed him in the parking lot of an all night diner after the radio appearance. Turned the car off, slipped the keys in his pocket, leaned over and kissed Nick. "Like old times," Nick said when AJ pulled away and moved to get out of the car. "But without the haze," AJ added. The kissing wasn't a problem. Not really. It was still safe ground. Kissing. No big deal. They ate pancakes, Nick's favorite, and drank coffee like it was water. They were still on safe ground, and really better than that, because there was unspoken forgiveness in the air, mixed in with the smell of bacon and sausage. AJ wasn't sure when he'd really stopped being pissed off, stopped resenting Nick's solo album, Nick's happiness. Howie might even have said that AJ was growing up. They were on safe ground until they stopped talking, until they sat there over their coffee and watched each other, and AJ caught that flash in Nick's eyes. Maybe he'd imagined it. A trick of the bad diner lighting or something. He probably had imagined it, that flash, that streak of lust that AJ had seen dozens of times before but liked best when it was directed at him. Things were fine until AJ leaned over and said, "Come on. My place. Let's go," before his head even had time to catch up with the words coming out of his mouth. "Liz was on the internet and noticed that Nick has shows coming up here soon." Normally AJ would make a crack about Liz actually knowing how to use a computer, but instead he just said, "I know." "I was thinking maybe after that we could try again." So a test then. A challenge. AJ pushed the bottle of whiskey, shoved it across the hard wood, watched it slide until it hit the post of the bed, until it was half concealed by the folds of the bed skirt. It was only Nick. Only Nick. His friend, his adversary, his brother. So happy and together and so strong. It wasn't supposed to happen again. Not after the walls had been patched. It wasn't supposed to, but it had. But that was it. That was the new end. They'd made one mistake, but not another. It wouldn't happen again. It was a test that AJ would pass. "I can wait," AJ said, accepting the challenge. He thought he heard Sarah sigh on the other end of the line. "I will wait for you. As long as I have to." "I've gotta go. We're going out to Manny's for dinner." Her mother's favorite restaurant. "Maybe we can get together in a day or two. Catch a movie? How does that sound, baby?" "I love you." He resisted the urge to ask her to come home again. She was right. It wasn't fair of him. "Yeah," Sarah said. "Me too." She hung up the phone. AJ wished he had been drunk. He wished he had that excuse. As it was he didn't really have any excuse. Maybe it was that validation thing they kept telling him about in his meetings. Maybe things were going too fast and he got scared. Maybe Nick was just that strong, that irresistable. Yeah, right. Maybe AJ McLean was just fucked up and there was no cure, there was no rehab. Or maybe he wasn't completely to blame. Part of it was Nick. It had been Nick's suggestion. Sure, he'd never actually suggested, but AJ had only wanted to go home. That was all. Nick was the one with the flash in his eyes, the one that kept saying "just like old times." Nick had waited until the front door was shut tight, had waited until AJ was waiting, and Nick had been the one to lead them upstairs and into the bedroom. But it was AJ who took him up on it. AJ who knew what the consequences would be. AJ who heard Sarah say that she wouldn't be out too late and went ahead and did it anyway. Maybe there was no rehab that would ever fix AJ. She walked in while AJ was on his back, legs thrown over Nick's shoulders. She'd shrieked and rushed out and for a quick moment AJ had actually wanted Nick to keep going. He'd almost held him there, pulled him back inside, but Nick was shocked. It was as though he'd forgotten for a time that AJ was with someone else. That he was with someone that actually mattered for once. That he was committed. Nick had fallen a peg and AJ felt a sick sort of satisfaction in that. But it only lasted for a moment. After all, AJ hadn't forgotten any of those things and he'd gone on with it anyway. There was no excuse he could offer Sarah. She threw her ring at him. She'd never actually known about Nick. She'd known about the fans. She'd known that some of them were men. But she didn't know that there was Nick too. Nick made everything worse. And it was supposed to be over. It was over. They tried to work it out then and there. They tried for weeks, fought for two, three, AJ wasn't even sure, and then Sarah decided she needed a break. She needed time. And then she was gone. Into the arms of her parents. She was gone and the wedding was postponed and the house was so damn quiet without the dogs. There was no rehab that would ever really fix AJ McLean. AJ set the phone down beside the cigarette butt. He pulled out another from the box in his back pocket, sticking it between his lips and then lighting it. He took a long drag and sighed, heaved himself up from the floor, brushing off his pants even though the floor was pretty clean except for the pile of ashes from his last cigarette. It was quiet again. He hated that. "Why did you do it?" Sarah had asked over and over again. AJ had never answered. "Why did you do it?" "To be strong," AJ said now to the empty bedroom. "For strength." And that sounded the truest of anything he'd tried out so far. Maybe he was drawn to Nick's strength, who wouldn't want to absorb some of that? Take it into himself. For strength. But it had backfired completely. AJ was weak, he had fallen, and all for strength that was just out of reach. But that was weeks ago, and now, now AJ needed laughter and noise and he'd been told exactly how he could get it back. It wasn't hard. He had been weakened, but he could bounce back, find his own strength to rely on. And maybe after he won this battle, and he would win. He hadn't been raised by Denise McLean and Kevin Richardson for nothing. He would win and maybe afterward he'd try to quit smoking too. He'd do it for Brian so that Brian could stop worrying about AJ's lungs. And then maybe he'd just keep climbing. Climbing cliffs and sometimes falling, but that didn't matter as long as he got back up. And he wouldn't fall this time and he definitely wouldn't pull Sarah down with him. He wouldn't pull Nick down with him. He'd keep climbing until he didn't have anywhere left to go, until there wasn't any more anger, until there was no more doubt. Only then could he stop being afraid of the fall. AJ picked up the bottle from where it sat half hidden beneath the bed and headed down the stairs. The sun had gone down while he was on the phone. The sky was a deep rich blue when he opened the front door. The neighborhood was quiet, there was a dog barking down the street and crickets chirping in the bushes, and it was quiet but so much better than being indoors. Bottle of whiskey in one hand, cigarette in the other, and the sound of crickets in his ears. AJ felt strong standing on the front porch. He felt it infiltrating his pores, filling him up. He had a goal and he suddenly felt stronger than he'd felt in months and if he wasn't careful he was going to get that damn Britney Spears' song stuck in his head. He dropped the cigarette on the stoop and ground it out with the toe of his sandal. He set the bottle down on the step and then ran back into the house, through the hall and into the kitchen. He snatched his copy of US magazine from the counter and then headed back outside, picking up the bottle and continuing down the steps and toward the road. The garbage bin sat at the edge of the driveway waiting for pickup in the morning. He flipped the top up with his elbow and tossed in the magazine first, followed by the bottle of whiskey, which made a satisfying clanking noise as it hit something hard in one of the bags. A car rounded the corner and drove by the house, the driver waving to AJ as he passed. AJ waved back though he didn't recognize either the car or the driver. "One hundred and forty one," he said, turning and heading back toward the house. In a few hours it would be one hundred and forty two. Back/Home/Feedback