Chapter 3
“Hey, what took
you so long, bro? You’re missing all the
action,” Brent slurred when Nick finally returned.
Nick chose to
ignore him and pretended to focus all his attention on the stripper
onstage. But he was not really into it
anymore. He knew it was stupid to be
dwelling on a girl he had crushed on ten years ago, but he couldn’t help
it. It was kind of funny, actually, and
sort of ironic – in school, he had been beat up, teased, and taunted for being
different, for being a “weirdo,” while Leah was one of those kids who seemed to
have it all. And now the tables had
turned, and Nick was a rich superstar, while Leah was working in a strip club
to support herself. He actually felt
quite sorry for her, now he thought about it…
“Yo, earth to
Nick.” Nick blinked as a hand was waved
spastically back and forth in front of his face. “You’re spacin’ out on us, dude, you okay?”
laughed Frank.
“Yeah, I’m cool,”
Nick replied and took a deep swig of his drink, forcing himself to think of
something else.
As the night wore
on, four out of the five men got drunker and drunker, and finally, when Nick
could barely walk, they headed home.
“Bring back my
car tomorrow, dude, don’t forget,” Nick muttered to Lane when he was dropped
off, weaving his way up to the house.
“You got it. Later, Carter,” Lane called and drove away,
his taillights fading into the darkness.
Nick let himself
into his house, where he received an energetic greeting from his pugs.
“Hey, boys,” he
said, nearly tripping over one of them in the foyer. Now that he was home, he felt exhausted, and
he knew a headache would be coming on soon from all the alcohol. Hoping to head it off, he staggered upstairs
to his bedroom, stripped, and dropped into his bed. He reeked of cigarettes and beer, but showering
would have to wait. He was asleep almost
as soon as his head hit his pillow.
***
Nick awoke late
the following morning with a pounding headache.
Groaning, he rolled over and squinted, trying to block out the burning
sunlight streaming through his half-closed mini-blinds. Pain exploded in his head, and he massaged
his temples wearily. Oh, how he hated
hangovers.
He forced himself
to get up and headed for the bathroom.
Maybe he would feel better after a shower; besides, he had to smell completely
rank by now. As he padded across his
bedroom floor, a twinge of pain ran up and down his left leg, centering itself
in his shin. He grimaced and tried to
remember if he had fallen at all in his drunken stupor the night before. He could not remember.
Once in the
bathroom, he put his leg up on the toilet seat and inspected his shin,
expecting to find a bruise there from where he had banged it. But the leg looked fine, and when he gently
touched it, it felt painless. Shrugging,
Nick let his leg fall.
“Must just be
growing pains,” he said out loud, which sent him into a fit of rueful
laughter. Growing pains, sure. That was the last thing he needed – to be
growing some more. He was too big
already, according to management and his mother, who seemed to feel that
appearance counted more than talent in the music business. His weight had been fluctuating since the
last Backstreet Boys tour, and right now, it was at its peak. He would have to do some major working out to
take some of it off before the tour; he didn’t want to suffer through anymore
fat jokes than necessary. He looked
forward to touring, knowing that jumping hyperactively around on stage for an
hour or so every night would help take the extra pounds off.
There was a scale
lying on the bathroom floor. He eyed it
warily, then stepped over it and turned on the shower. He climbed in, and as soon as the hot water
touched his body, he felt much better.
Savoring the comfort of the water flowing over his body, he stayed in
the shower for quite some time.
As soon he
stepped out, his headache came back with full force. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he opened
up the medicine cabinet and shuffled through the bottles until he found some
Tylenol. Popping open the cap, he shook
three pills into his hand and shoved them into his mouth, washing them down
with a quick swig from the sink faucet.
Then he wandered back into his bedroom, dressed, and descended
downstairs for a cup of strong, black coffee.
***
Nick would never
know exactly why, but that night, he went back to Big Al’s. Alone.
He sat at a small
table in the back corner this time, hoping to sit unnoticed. He ordered a beer and sipped it slowly,
barely paying attention to the strippers onstage. The performance was exactly the same as the
night before. He waited until Leah was
done performing, and when the next dancer had taken the stage, he slunk off to
the bathroom, hoping to run into her again.
He wasn’t sure why; he was acting simply on impulse. Deep down, he had to admit he wanted to see
her again. Maybe go for that drink
sometime, like she had suggested. But
why? She had broken his
thirteen-year-old heart; he thought he’d never want to look at her face
again. But, God, she was still
beautiful. Even more than she had been
then. And it had been ten years… surely
she wasn’t the same snotty girl she had been at thirteen. Surely she had matured since then.
He knew he was
taking a chance, but he had to find out.
He would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t have feelings for her
somewhere deep in his heart. She had
hurt him, and he thought he hated her for that, but when it came down to it… he
just didn’t.
Now he leaned
against the wall in front of the restrooms, trying his best to look casual,
like he was simply waiting for a friend to emerge from the men’s room. He waited and waited, growing more impatient
with each passing moment. This is
stupid… this is so stupid… you’re absolutely pathetic, he chided
himself.
Finally, just
when he was about to chicken out and leave, the door to the ladies’ room swung
open… and out stepped the very lady he had been awaiting.
Leah’s brown eyes
widened in surprise when she saw him standing there. “Nick?
What are you doing back here?”
“Well, I…
uh…” Nick could sense himself blushing
and began to feel incredibly stupid.
What must she be thinking of him right now?
“Just couldn’t
get enough of me, huh?” Leah grinned
teasingly.
Nick smiled
weakly. “Actually… I just… well… I know I
kinda blew you off last night, and… well, if you still want to get drinks some
time… that’d be cool.”
“Really? Well, okay then. When?”
“When? Uh…”
“I’m not working
Friday night. Would that be good?” Leah
suggested.
“Friday? Yeah, yeah, sounds good,” Nick replied. “What time do you want to meet?”
“Would eight
work?”
“Sure. Where?”
“Um… how about
Charlatan’s?”
“Sounds good.”
“Okay. See you then?”
“Yup, see you
then.”
Nick and Leah
exchanged smiles and goodbyes and went their separate ways. Nick left, uninterested in the rest of the
strip show. The whole way home, he could
think about nothing but Leah. He hadn’t
had a chance with her ten years ago. So
what had changed? He knew he had changed
as a person, and most likely, so had she.
But he couldn’t ignore one obvious fact: he was now a multi-millionaire.
Girls had used
him before, dating him only because of his wealth, fame, and status. Was Leah about to do the same thing?
***