Backstreet Mom: A Mother's Tale of Backstreet Boy AJ McLean's Rise to Fame, Struggle With Addiction, and Ultimate Triumph (45 page)

WITH A NEW BACKSTREET BOYS TOUR about to begin, Alex reluctantly
boarded a flight the next afternoon to begin rehearsals in Los Angeles.
Work had always been a solace for him, so we felt that was the best
decision. What I failed to realize was that I was putting him right back
into the hands of the enemy. His downward spiral had begun in earnest.

Rehearsals for the tour went fine. Alex seemed to be coping with the
loss of his grandmother very well. I kept in touch with him as much as
possible. I found a bit of comfort in the fact that he had a new girlfriend
to focus on. My hope was that she would bring him some much needed
peace and happiness.

Sarah had opted not to come to the funeral with Alex since she really
did not know our family yet. She thought it only right that he spend
that time with us alone. That sentiment impressed me right away. Here
was a person who actually thought about someone else's feelings for a
change. It was a concept that none of his former flames had ever embraced. At least things seemed to be looking up on that front.

Alex told me that he was going to take it slow with Sarah. She had
gotten out of a relationship not too long before the two of them met and she was not interested in anything long-term. That was fine with me, as
he was at a very vulnerable point in his life. Perhaps getting too involved too quickly would not be the best thing for him.

I focused on helping Dad and my brother cope with their grief. I also
devoted time to getting the JNN Foundation started. Kelly and Nicole
were on board and there was a lot to learn about running a charity organization. I felt it would be a welcome diversion. It kept me from dwelling too heavily on the death of my mom.

I kept in touch with Marcus on a regular basis just to be sure that
Alex was not getting into trouble. Sometimes he indicated there were
certain individuals hanging around with Alex who were having a
negative effect on him, but when I questioned Alex about them, he
said they were friends, people he played pool with or partied with at
the occasional club. I later found out that he had grossly minimized
the situation and was hitting the party circuit hard, staying out into
the wee hours of the morning with the creeps that he called his
friends.

When Sarah was not around, they sometimes stayed with Alex in his
hotel room. I suspected that some of them made money from him by
supplying him with drugs. It had become obvious to the boys that the
situation was growing grimmer by the day, but they did not know how
to cope with it.

The tension between the five boys had escalated while they were in
Los Angeles shooting the video. Alex had been drunk on the set and
had been seen taking drugs. Things were getting totally out of control. I
got a phone call late one night from Alex, during which he admitted to
trying cocaine. He claimed that he had only done it one time and he
promised never to do it again.

Alex used the excuse that he was tired and sick and needed something to keep going during the all-night shooting schedule. As he cried
to me on the phone, it was clear that he was upset with himself. I desperately wanted to believe him.

Then he began to cry.

He seemed to be under a lot of pressure-and he was clearly cracking. I could sense he was depressed about the death of his grandmother
and had been unable to grieve because of his work schedule. I made
him something to eat and kept him awake long enough to eat it. When
he fell asleep, I went home to gather some blankets and pillows in order
to stay the night with him.

Over the next few weeks, Alex's behavior became more and more
suspect. We barely saw him or heard from him. When we tried to con tact him during the day, he was always sleeping and would not answer
the telephone.

One day, he got up late in the afternoon and left to have dinner and
meet friends. He spent a lot of time at his favorite pool hall and at a local
topless club. The creep he brought back with him, along with his newfound "friends" from the pool hall, saw much more of my son than any
family member. Dad was very disappointed in him for not coming around
to see how he was doing. My brother was quickly losing patience with
Alex. His disregard for our feelings cut through the family like a sharp
knife.

I felt I was losing Alex to the gaping black hole of drugs, alcohol and
depression. He was self-medicating to dull the pain that he felt. That
meant that he had to hide from his family so that we would not discover
the truth. Kelly's husband, Bill, who was the caretaker at Alex' house,
had been instructed by Alex to cover his bedroom windows with black
plastic so that no light would come into the room while he was sleeping
during the day. For that reason, we named his room The Cave. That was
exactly the impression you got when you stepped into the room.

Alex had spent a fortune furnishing his new 6,000-square-foot home,
but those new friends of his helped him ruin it every chance they got.
There were cigarette burns on the counter-tops and on the furniture.
Drinks were spilled onto the carpet and just left to dry. It was a pigsty,
but no one seemed to care, including my son.

I hired a cleaning lady to visit Alex's house once a week. That was a
losing battle with the way he kept letting people run rampant in his
home. What they did was a sin. I did not know who those people were,
but if they showed up while I was there, they were unceremoniously
booted out the door.

Alex's total disregard for what was going on in his own home was
beyond my comprehension. He did not seem to care about what he had
worked so long to obtain. Once, he loaned his Mercedes to one of those
lowlifes and they told me that he gave it to them to keep. My question
to them was, "Did he give you the payment book as well?"

Since I did not consider my son to be Elvis, who was known for giving cars away, sometimes to complete strangers, I asked a large, male
friend to get the car back. That seemed to work. It was just another
example of Alex's lack of willingness to face anyone and do what was
right for himself.

Alex fell into the lifestyle of the predators who surrounded him. He
took comfort in the false security that drugs and alcohol gave him. Over
those weeks, the few times that I spoke to him, he sounded terrible. He always had the same excuse for the way he sounded. He was very tired
and sick and was taking cold medicine that made him groggy. He had an
answer for every question.

Everything came to a head when the other boys came to town to
attend a press conference before leaving on tour. I received a phone call
from Kevin later that week. He told me that Alex had not shown up for
the press conference and was nowhere to be found. He had tried every
phone number and had looked in every place that he could think of,
with no luck. Kevin had always been like an older brother to Alex. It
was not unusual for him to be the first one to react if Alex was hurting
or in trouble.

Kevin told me that they had to postpone the press conference. That
was especially bad since most of the journalists had flown in from overseas. The boys were desperate and frustrated, and that only fed my own
frantic worry. Kevin just wanted to know if I had heard from him and, if
so, had he said anything about the schedule?

"I haven't talked to Alex in several days," I said.

"Okay, we'll take care of it," Kevin answered, unable to hide his anger. "We're going over to Alex's house."

Hearing that made me a bit concerned. As much as Kevin loved Alex,
he was known for his temper. But I knew in my heart that the boys had
to come to terms with Alex's behavior. Maybe if they confronted him, he
would listen. He had stopped listening to his family or to his therapist a
long time ago.

A few hours later, I got a call from Alex begging me to come to his
house. He said he was very sick and was too weak to get out of bed. He
told me that he had taken some pills the night before and thought he
might have taken too many. He sounded horrible and was coughing as
he spoke.

"Should I call 911?" I asked, uncertain of what to do.

"No, don't do that," he said.

That seemed odd. I realized that he was again in trouble with the
boys and wanted me to bail him out. Apparently, he had been home the
whole time the boys were looking for him but refused to answer the
telephone because he knew they were angry.

When I arrived at the house, it was dark and smelled of alcohol and
garbage. There were beer bottles everywhere and cigarette butts all over
the floor. The place was a mess and my son was nowhere in sight. I
called out for him and he yelled back to me from his bedroom. As I
reached the door, I noticed that the knob had been torn off and the door
was hanging from the hinges.

"What happened?" I asked, looking at the busted door.

"Kevin and Brian came over to see me," he said. "When I didn't go to
the door, they busted in and lit into me for not showing up at the press
thing. They were pissed. They said they didn't believe that I was sick."

"Well, are you sick?" I asked.

"I took some sleeping pills that made me feel really weird."

Then he began to cry.

I knew what was really wrong with him. He was depressed about the
death of his grandmother and had been unable to grieve because of his
work schedule. He was under a lot of pressure-and he was clearly cracking. I made him something to eat and kept him awake long enough to
eat it. When he fell asleep, I went home to gather some blankets and
pillows in order to stay the night with him.

When I returned, he was still asleep. I made up the couch in the
living room and settled in for a restless night. At dawn, I was awakened
by the sound of the front door opening and closing. In walked an obviously drunk Alex.

I could not believe my eyes.

"Where have you been?" I asked.

"I was hungry when I woke up, so I went to McDonald's to get something to eat," he said, trying to hide the fact that he had been drinking.

I felt hurt, angry and foolish all at once. My stomach turned to knots
and I started to cry. He continued with his fabrication, but I just asked
him to leave me alone and I left.

Later that morning, I got a call from Kevin. "We're all over at Alex's
house," he said. "We need to talk."

The boys felt that Alex did better with someone from home out on
the road with him. They thought it would be a good idea if I joined him
on the first leg of the tour and if the therapist could come out once or
twice a week to work with him on his drinking and depression. That
was fine with Alex, who assured everyone that he would stop his drug
use. In my ignorance, I truly believed I could stop my son from drinking and doing drugs by just being present. I would later find out that is
not how the "sickness" works. Over the next several weeks, I learned
quite a lot about my son and myself.

THE BACKSTREET BOYS set out on their next tour in a bus that departed from Alex's house (no one wanted to risk Alex not showing up at
another location). I went along to ride shotgun. For the first couple of
days, things went fine. It appeared as though Alex was making a real
effort to kick his habits and get back on track.

I finally got the chance to spend some time with Sarah. I liked her a
lot, though I must admit I had my suspicions, given her aspirations to
be a singer. However, once we had a chance to hang out together, my
apprehensions fell away. She was a stunning woman, with a beautiful
smile, kind eyes and a charming personality. She had the kind of looks
that turned heads whenever she walked into a room. Alex thrived on
that.

Sarah also seemed to have a pretty stable head on her shoulders, a
definite departure from the other women that Alex had dated. She was a
bit taller than he, especially in heels, but that didn't matter to him. He
wanted to please her all the time. Given that was how he had acted with
all of his girlfriends, I just watched and waited.