I Told My Stepkids I Was the Backstreet Boys’ Dance Teacher
I started off newlywed life on the wrong foot, as it were, by telling an innocent lie. If there is such a thing. My first misstep as a new stepdad was telling my enchantingly gullible stepchildren (Reed, 5, and Chloe, 8), that I taught the Backstreet Boys how to dance. Why? I don’t know why. As a (then) Learjet pilot to movie and rock stars — in a nation in the throes of 9/11 — I had bigger worries at hand. But, suddenly, my worries were in my feet.