Playing With Fire

August. It used to mean hot, humid weather, spending long summer days at the pool, chasing ice cream trucks, and having water gun fights. It was carefree and relaxing – always. I used to look forward to trips to the beach, hearing the sound of the waves crashing into the shoreline and feeling the hot, wet sand under my feet – paradise.

But when you’re considered a Jonas, August meant late nights, early mornings, autograph signings, body guards, and constant flashing cameras. There was never a dull moment.

Why?

Because Nick, Joe, and Kevin had become superstars. Their record sales were off the scale – they had gone platinum practically overnight. It was mind-blowing; nothing we had ever expected.

Our lives went from being relatively average to insane. It was so fast-paced that the boys could never sit still. Sometimes, I would have to remind them to eat. It was that hectic.

But they were loving every minute of it. They adored meeting the fans and performing their songs. They were living the dream.

But it wasn’t all a walk in the park.

“Nick, Kara,” the boys’ publicist, Charlene, had said to us after a tiring, late-night rehearsal, “I need to talk to you,”

I glanced at Nick and he raised his eyebrows. He took my hand and led me over to Charlene, who was standing in front of a door, waiting for us.

“Go on in,” she said, turning the knob on the door and allowing us into the room. It was an office equipped with a black swivel chair sitting behind a grand Maplewood desk and a leather couch. There was an Apple laptop sitting atop the glossy desk and the walls were covered with framed certificates. She was the real deal.

Nick and I sat down beside each other on the couch and watched as Charlene shut the door and sat in her chair, smoothing out her gray Armani suit. She looked exceedingly professional – her hair was straight and scarlet, ending just below her shoulders, and her makeup was always spot-on, even when the room was scorching and the boys were sweating. She walked like she owned the place, strutting in her four-inch heels and designer handbag.

Her job? To present the boys respectfully and safely to the public. They represented the label and their “image” was of the upmost importance. If they said or did anything wrong, their squeaky clean Disney boy band persona would be soiled and there would be hell to pay. I knew that the boys didn’t want to be the next *NSYNC. They wanted to be liked for their music, not their representation of the label. But their label intended to perceive them as pure, cute, and talented – everything teenage girls, and their parents, loved, thus making them more money. It was so unfair.

As I thought that over in my mind, I knew exactly what Charlene wanted to discuss, and it wasn’t good news. It was obvious, but I knew Nick couldn’t see past her fake generosity. He was so ingenuous and pure.

“You two are adorable together,” said Charlene, plastering on a fake smile and crossing her legs, “You really are,”

Nick looked over at me and smiled, but I couldn’t move a muscle. I knew where she was going.

“But you can’t go public with this,” she added, pointing a finger at me and Nick, signaling us as a whole.

“What? Why not?” Nick asked. His smile had been completely wiped off his face. I envied his innocence. He always looked for the best in people. I remembered when I had that trait as well, but it had been chased away by paranoia and it was never coming back.

“Well, for one,” said Charlene, folding her hands onto her lap, “How do you think your fans would feel if they found out the ‘cute, sensitive one’ was taken? They would be heartbroken and sales would definitely suffer,”

“I’m sure they would want all of us to be happy,” Nick said as his annoyance began to surface.

“Nick,” Charlene replied, “It’s time for you to face reality. You’re not a small town Jersey boy anymore. You have commitments now – contracts and bonds. Your future is on the line. You’re a somebody now and people are watching your every move,”

Even though I hated Charlene’s faux kindness, her logic was sound. It all made sense. But Nick didn’t see it – he was struggling for a good comeback.

“Besides,” Charlene continued, “Look at her,” She waved a hand in my direction, speaking as though I wasn’t even in the room. “She’s with child. People would think it’s yours and then you can say goodbye to all the fame and glory,”

“Listen, Charlene! I don’t care what –” Nick began, raising his voice, tension boiling. But I silenced him before he did something reckless and threw away all of his hard work just for me.

“It’s okay, Nick,” I said to him softly, looking him in the eyes, “She’s right,”

“Kara, it is not your fault. The fame and glory isn’t worth it. Why should we have to –”

“Nick, you know the truth. Your family knows the truth. Even Charlene knows,” I pleaded, “But the rest of the world doesn’t and even if you explain, people are still going to think whatever they want. I don’t want to ruin this for you,”

Nick’s face was pained. I knew he didn’t want to keep me a secret. But deep down, he knew I was right.

“I’m not asking you to break up,” Charlene interrupted, this time with a true smile on her face, even though I knew the money was the thing that mattered to her most, “Just don’t go public. That’s all. Don’t act like a couple when cameras are around and if people ever ask, God forbid, say you’re just friends. It’s simple,”

It was a painful thing to think about – to walk down the street with Nick and not be allowed to hold his hand. Hell, we weren’t even allowed outside together anyway, considering that was where all of the cameras were. I focused on choking back tears.

“Okay,” I agreed in a shaky voice. Nick looked at me in shock.

“Okay, that settles it then,” Charlene said in a satisfied tone, “You’re free to go,” She motioned to the door with a grin pasted on her face.

As soon as we were out of earshot, Nick turned to me and ran his hands through his hair out of frustration.

“How could you have agreed to that, Kara?” he asked, disappointed.

“Nick, calm down,” I said, putting both hands on his shoulders as he trembled.

“I waited eleven years, Kara,” he continued, “Since the day I met you. Eleven years to finally have you and call you my own. And now I can’t even kiss you when people are around? That’s maddening, Kara. It’s gonna drive me insane,”

“I know, Nick. I know,” I cooed, running my fingers along his white tie and bright red shirt, “But it’s for the best. I don’t want you and your brothers to suffer because of something you weren’t even involved in.”

He looked into my eyes and it’s like I could read his mind.

“You. Were. Not. Involved,” I said sternly, “You weren’t,”

He opened his mouth to object, but I cut him off again.

“Nick, I love you,” I said, touching his cheek, “And you love me. Right?”

He sighed. “Right,”

“Then that’s all that matters. We don’t need to prove it to everyone else,”

He searched my eyes for a moment and then pulled me into his arms. His shaking was beginning to simmer down.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into my hair.

“What could you possibly be sorry for?” I asked as my forehead met his shoulder.

“Well, for one…freaking out about it. It just bothers me,”

“It bothers me, too,” I closed my eyes and breathed in his soothing scent, not knowing when I’ll be able to again.

“And second, that this is even happening,” he continued.

“It’s not your fault,” I said.

He sighed. “Yeah, it is, Kara. If we weren’t doing this, I’d be a normal kid. I’d be your normal boyfriend without millions of fans and I could do this without worrying,” He brought his hands up to my face and kissed me.

“It’s just how the world goes, Nick,” I said, touching my forehead to his.

“I’m sorry about that, too,” he whispered.

“What?”

“That you knew what Charlene was going to say before I did. I’m sorry that the world’s made you so used to bad news,” He tightened his grip on me.

I took a deep breath and kissed him again, always doubting that this angel of a man actually existed and that he was mine.

------------------------------------------

Pretending not to be Nick’s girlfriend was harder than I thought it would be. Whenever the boys performed somewhere, I was confined to a single room backstage, babysitting Frankie. I couldn’t go for walks with Nick anymore and we couldn’t even be seen walking home together. He had been right – it was maddening.

He had slipped once. As we were walking into a photo shoot, he had instinctively reached for my hand. But Kevin gave us a heads-up before the cameras showed up and we were back to acting like strangers. It was tearing both of us to pieces.

The first day was the worst. I had to stand back and watch him hug and take pictures with fans at a Meet and Greet, and every second I spent out of his arms was a violent tug at the hole in my heart. I missed listening to my favorite song – his heartbeat. My longing for him had become a need. By the time the end of the day came around, neither of us could take it anymore.

Whenever Nick came home, I’d already be in the basement after being driven home in a separate car. He’d run to me as fast as he could and take me into his arms the second we were in private. I would take in as much of him as I possibly could, kissing his face and touching his hair. I never knew when the next time would be when he’d be taken from me. We’d spend the night singing to Layla and spending the most of our limited time together.

One Sunday afternoon, Nick and his brothers were away from the day, doing interviews and special acoustic shows for radio stations in the area. I was missing Nick more than ever – so much that I sat and cried at the thought of being forced to stay away from him. It was breaking my heart. But I knew that I would be with him that night and all I had to do was stay strong until then. So I decided to kill time by going to the grocery store with Mrs. Jonas.

When she and I arrived at the local Whole Foods, she had to wrap a scarf around her head and put on glasses so she wouldn’t be recognized. It disturbed me because I knew what it felt like to be forced to hide yourself.

“Okay, all set,” she said, smiling at me through her glasses and wrapping an arm around my shoulder. We grabbed a shopping cart and entered the store. Mrs. Jonas whipped out a long shopping list.

We walked aimlessly through the aisles, picking up fruits and vegetables, bagging them up, and placing them in the cart. We gathered cans of soda, bags of bread, and chicken from the meats section before we stopped in the magazine aisle. Mrs. Jonas began reading through a fashion magazine with Tyra Banks on the cover and I noticed one with Nick on it. Another Tiger Beat. I rolled my eyes at it, remembering what Nick told me, and settled on the newest issue of Seventeen.

Inside was the typical gossip – more pictures of Zanessa, who’s pregnant and who’s getting married, embarrassing moments, and the like. I skimmed over each page, not really interested, until I got to a certain one that made my heart sink.