At 8:00 that night, Michelle and I stepped out of the elevator in the main lobby. I glanced around nervously, looking for the guys. My God, what am I thinking? I thought. I’m about to go spend the evening clubbing with the Backstreet Boys, for cryin’ out loud, and I’m calling them “the guys”. I adjusted the strap of my black vine-embroidered dress and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Then I saw them standing over by the entrance. Brian turned around and saw us. A grin split his face, and he waved us over eagerly. I smiled back, held up my index finger to indicate that we’d be over in a minute, and turned to Michelle.

“You ready?” I asked her.

“I’m nervous as hell, but otherwise, yeah,” she replied. She tugged at the hem of her blue Hawaiian-print sundress and ran a hand through her hair. “OK. Let’s go.”

As we approached them, AJ lowered his shades, a look of shock in his eyes. Then he leaned over and said something to Howie. I couldn’t quite hear him, but I thought he said, “D, I lucked out! The blond chick is the one I met in the elevator!” I glanced over at Michelle, who had apparently heard every word, because she was grinning smugly.

“Hi,” Brian greeted us. “Y’all already met Nick, but this is AJ, Howie and Kevin. Guys, this is Natalie Patterson and Michelle Fox.”

“Aptly named,” AJ said to Michelle, taking a step forward and lifting Michelle’s hand to his lips. Michelle giggled, blushing a little. I struggled to keep from rolling my eyes. I mean, Michelle could be a real ditz sometimes, but she never did that little girly giggle. Nick, on the other hand, shot AJ a look that could kill, which pretty much gave him away.

“How subtle can one man be?” Brian joked quietly, just loud enough for me to hear.

“Which one?” I whispered back, laughing.

“Both of ‘em. They’re acting pretty obvious,” he said, raising his voice so the rest of them could hear.

Nick glared at him, pretending to be hurt. “Frick, don’t make me knock you down.”

Brian laughed. “Oh, I bet you would, too. I could take you any day.”

“Guys,” Howie said in a long-suffering tone of voice, “you can go chicken-fight later.” He turned to me, smiling. “So, it’s nice to meet you. Brian was talking a lot about you earlier and I figured...”

“OK, did somebody call the limo?” Brian said loudly. Howie gave him a funny look, and Brian pointed out, “Well, we don’t have any other way to get there.”

“Timing, Bri,” Howie joked. “You got great timing.” I knew Brian probably didn’t want anybody to think he had a thing for me, and frankly, I didn’t think he did, either. I was convinced it was all one giant joke on me. Why would a guy like Brian go for a girl like me when he could have any supermodel (or actress or whatever) he wanted?

Before I had any more time to get myself out of this good mood, a long white limo pulled up. There were tons of limos around here – a lot of rich tourists (a category into which Michelle and I didn’t quite fall) used them – but the driver of this one got out and told us to get in, so we got in and headed for Club Strata.

“Where is this place, anyway?” the driver asked. “Y’all know where you’re going?”

“Down there where Kuhio meets back up with Kalakaua,” Kevin told him. “By that surf shop...ah, what’s it called? Local Motion.” (AUTHOR’S NOTE: these, too, are real streets in Waikiki; however, Club Strata is made up)

As we were leaving the Hyatt, Michelle’s eyes suddenly got very wide, and she started rummaging through her purse. She yanked out her wallet, opened it up, and stared at it in horror.

“Oh my God!” she wailed. “Nat, you aren’t gonna believe this, but remember my fake ID? It’s not here. I left it in San Francisco!”

The guys all started clearing their throats, obviously trying hard not to laugh, and Brian sang, “I left my ID in San Francisco...” I cracked up, knowing full well that it wasn’t a funny situation, but what Brian had said was funny. The rest of the guys started laughing too.

“It’s not funny!” Michelle hollered, smacking me and then Brian. “The bouncer’s not gonna let me in, and you people are laughing like it’s funny!”

“It’s all right, Michelle,” Nick reassured her, pulling himself together. He reached over and took her hand, squeezing it gently before he let it go. “We’ll think of something. If we don’t get you in, it’ll be boring.” If looks could kill, AJ might as well have had a gun, but he relaxed after a moment, as if to say, Ah, what the hell.

“Yeah, it’ll be real boring without you there to start any fires,” I joked.

“Don’t go there, Natalie,” Michelle muttered, giving me an evil look.

When we got there, it was only 8:15, but the place was already packed. We got out and headed for the door, all of praying the guys wouldn’t get recognized, since it was just us; their bodyguards hadn’t come along on this trip at all.

“Can I see some ID?” the bouncer asked us. He was six-five,three hundred pounds, and looked like the 49ers’ dream. Or our nightmare. Michelle let out something between a whimper and a giggle, and I suddenly remembered that we were going to have to sneak her in.

“These guys here, they’re the Backstreet Boys,” I informed the bouncer, praying he’d buy it.

He didn’t look impressed. “Yeah, and I’m Bill Clinton.”

“Told ya he wouldn’t buy it,” Brian whispered to me. I dug my elbow into his gut, and he made a face at me. “Hey, that hurt! I’m gonna get you for that one, girl.”

“‘Girl’?” AJ repeated, smirking.

Meanwhile, I was digging through my purse, trying to find something I carried everywhere with me. If the bouncer wanted proof, he was gonna get proof.

“You don’t believe me? Here,” I told him, handing him a really good magazine picture of the guys. I always carried it in my purse. (Call me obsessed if you want.) He squinted at the picture and looked back up at the guys.

“OK,” he said at last. “All of you can go in. Including you two girls.” I reached for my ID, but he said, “Uh, no IDs necessary for you two.”

“Cool,” I said. Michelle looked like the bouncer had just told her she had won a thousand-dollar shopping spree at Nordstrom’s (which was where she usually blew all her money).

As we walked inside, I started to fold up the picture so I could put it back in my purse, but Brian grabbed it away first. “Lemme see that,” he said, unfolding the picture and looking at it. When he saw it, he burst out laughing. Nick peered over his shoulder and started laughing too.

“I guess you’re a fan, huh?” he joked.

I laughed. “Shut up, Nick. What are you two laughing at, anyway?”

"This picture's such a riot!” Brian gasped, wiping tears from his eyes. “Seriously, though, Nat, I thought you were carrying around naughty pictures or something so you could distract the bouncer and he’d let us in regardless.”

“You’re lucky you’re so cute, or otherwise I’d have to kick your butt,” I told him, laughing again. “That’s the cheapest shot I’ve ever heard.”

“Ah, that was my revenge for you jabbing me in the stomach out there. You got sharp elbows, girl.”

“Again with this ‘girl’,” AJ said. “Rok, you know you’re head-over-heels for her, so why don’t you just ask her out and be done with it?”

“That’s enough out of you for this vacation, Bone,” Brian said to him, a little too quickly. And the fact that he was blushing was not lost on me.

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