Chapter 63
“Hey, thanks for
meeting me here tonight,” Nick said, feeling almost shy as he looked over at
the girl sitting across the table from him.
Claire Ryan
smiled. “No problem. I’m always in the mood for pizza – well,
almost always – and I could never pass up coming to Leonardi’s.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, this place is perfect,” he commented.
The small pizza
parlor had been Claire’s idea. “You’ll
love it,” she had told Nick enthusiastically over the phone when he had
suggested meeting at a place that was small and secluded, a place where he was
not likely to be recognized or mobbed.
“It’s my favorite restaurant in Tampa; I always end up going there when
I don’t feel like cooking. It’s not too
classy or anything, but the food is great, and it’s cheap. Not to mention, it’s never too crowded. It’ll be perfect.”
Taking another look
around, Nick couldn’t help but agree totally with her. Leonardi’s was old and shabby, but
clean. It was a no-frills kind of place
– sparsely-decorated, paneled walls, simple wooden tables and chairs covered
with red-and-white checked plastic table clothes in the middle and booths along
the walls, the wooden tabletops also covered in plastic tablecloths, the vinyl
upholstery of the seats torn in various spots.
Nick and Claire had
taken the large, wrap-around booth in the very back corner, as far away from
the few other diners as they could get.
Nick had worn sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low over his ears,
hoping to disguise himself as much as possible.
“I think you’re
attracting even more attention to yourself in that get-up,” Claire had teased
him good-naturedly when she saw him, whipping the sunglasses off of his
face. He had only blushed and pulled his
hat down tighter, trying to cover up the fact that he was bald underneath it.
He did this again
now, running his hand over the top of the cap and smashing it down onto his
head as far as it would go.
“Quit that, would
ya?” Claire said, and Nick looked up to see a smirk playing on her lips. He smiled sheepishly, both unaware that he
had been doing it and that she had been watching him. It had become a bad habit, the flattening and
pulling of his baseball caps, probably a replacement for the nervous habit he
had always had of running his hand through his hair. He did it without even knowing now, always
unconsciously insecure of his appearance.
“Sorry,” he muttered
sheepishly and forced his hands into his lap.
Maybe if he just sat on them…
“You should just
leave it off,” Claire suggested. “People
would think you shaved your head on purpose.
I know guys who’ve done that.”
“You’re forgetting
one thing – I’m famous. The whole world
knows what’s wrong with me; no one will think I did it on purpose.”
“True, but if
everyone knows what’s wrong with you anyway, why do you care if they see your
head? I mean, they would probably expect
you to be bald, right?”
He had to admit, she
had a point. Still, he was
self-conscious and couldn’t bear to be seen in public with a bare head. And apparently neither could she, for she was
always wearing a bandana over her head.
She must have had a million of them, too, because she always seemed to
be wearing a different one. Tonight it
was tiger-striped in vivid orange and black.
It rather reminded him of AJ and his leopard-print cowboy hat.
“I dunno,” he
answered her finally. “I just don’t feel
comfortable with it yet, I guess.”
She smiled. “That’s okay.
Neither do I, really. I was just
giving you a hard time.”
He grinned and
studied her for a moment. “You ever
considered getting a wig?” he asked her, his eyes following the jagged stripes
of her bandana.
“Oh, I have one,”
said Claire. “Just never wear it, except
for special occasions – it itches my head.”
“Oh what, and
tonight’s not a special occasion? Dinner
with Nick Carter – I think that’s pretty damn special,” he teased.
“Oh yeah, you
would. You and the millions of your
adoring female fans. But not me; I have
my standards,” she shot back haughtily, flashing him a grin.
He just smirked back
at her. “So, what color’s your wig?”
“Guess,” she smiled.
“Blonde?” With her blue eyes and fair skin, she looked
like a blonde.
“Nope.”
“Um… brunette then?”
“Wrong again. It’s black.
Jet black,” she answered, beaming at the surprised look on her face.
“Black…?”
She giggled. “Yup.
It makes me look really goth cause I’m so white…” She held out her arm and looked at it. “Well, not this pasty white usually,
but still pretty fair.”
“So what are you
naturally? Blonde?” he asked.
She cocked her head
at him. “What’s the deal with
blondes? You like blondes do ya…
Blondie?”
“I like all ladies,”
he retorted smugly. “But, no, you just
look like you would be a blonde.”
She smiled. “Well, you’ll just have to wait and see if I
am or not when my hair grows back.”
“Oh, I’ll look
forward to it,” Nick remarked dryly, smiling back.
Finally, a waitress
came to take their order. Speaking of
blondes, she was very blonde herself, fair highlights accenting her natural
golden shade of hair. Add this to the
fact that she was young, tall, skinny, and blue-eyed, and Nick thought he had
died, gone to Heaven, and met an angel.
He wondered if he should try a line like that on her, then decided it
probably wouldn’t be a good idea for two reasons - 1) Claire would most definitely laugh her
ass off at him, and 2) the waitress would probably just look at him in
disgust. If he had looked like the old
Nick Carter, blonde and so-called attractive, it might have worked, but there
was no way in hell it would work now. He
resigned himself to that fact and kept his mouth shut.
“Hi,” the waitress
said in a perky voice. “My name’s
Jessica, and I’ll be your server tonight.
Can I get you two some drinks to start off?”
Nick motioned for
Claire to give the girl her drink order first, and Claire nodded, saying
automatically, “Sure… I’ll have a lemonade, please.”
“One lemonade,”
Jessica repeated, scribbling it down on a little notepad she clutched in one
hand. “And for you, sir?”
Well, he knew there
was no way in hell he was going to have lemonade. “Um… I’ll just have ice water,” he said,
deciding that would be safe.
“And one ice
water. Got it. I’ll be back in a sec,” said Jessica as she
walked away. Nick studied her
barely-there excuse for an ass for a moment and then decided he preferred the
ghetto booty to the bony butt on her.
“Nick Carter, are
you staring at her ass?”
Claire’s playful
scolding made him jump and quickly avert his eyes. “Of course not,” he answered hastily, trying
to hide his smile.
“Oh, you were
too. Typical guy,” she said with a roll
of her eyes.
Jessica returned
with two dark red glasses, which she set down in front of them, placing two
straws between them. “Are you ready to
order yet?” she asked.
Nick and Claire
exchanged glances; they had been so busy talking, they had barely even glanced
at the menu. “What do you like on your
pizza?” Claire asked him.
“Meat,” Nick said
automatically. “Pepperoni, sausage,
whatever. And cheese – extra cheese.”
She nodded. “Sounds good to me.” Looking at Jessica, she said, “We’ll have a
large sausage and pepperoni with extra cheese.”
“Okay,” Jessica said
brightly, writing their order down, and walked away.
“Do you think one
large will be enough and all?” Claire asked Nick after the waitress had left.
“A large? Uh, yeah, that should be plenty,” he replied.
“Okay, just making
sure. I wasn’t sure if you could polish
off an entire pizza yourself like some guys I know or not.”
Nick laughed. “Well, technically, I probably could or at
least used to be able to, but I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”
“Wow, wish I was
you,” Claire snorted. “I guess you got
the good drugs, the kind that take away your appetite. I got the ones that make it even bigger. I could probably eat the entire pizza if I
let myself.”
“Really?” Nick
laughed. “Wow, I think that’s the first
time I’ve heard a girl say that. Most of
the girls I’ve been out with just order salads for dinner and pick at them and
then say how full they are. I’m like,
“Yeah… sure you are…’.”
Claire rolled her
eyes. “Well, I’ve never been like that. I’ve always had a ‘healthy appetite,’ let’s
just say. I used to be able to eat
whatever I wanted though without it
showing, but the
chemotherapy I’m on now has totally been screwing with my system. The appetite thing plus the water weight just
makes me-“
“Hey, you think we
can change the subject?” Nick interrupted, not really wanting to hear about
things like bloating… it reminded him of when girls discussed “that time of the
month,” a subject that always made him feel extremely uncomfortable. He knew was just a part of life, but sheesh,
he didn’t want hear all the gory details.
Claire laughed. “Sure.
Sorry,” she apologized quickly. “Yeah,
let’s talk about happy things now.”
“Okay,” Nick said
warily. “Happy things like what?” It seemed there just weren’t too many happy
things in his life to discuss anymore.
Claire
shrugged. “I dunno… like flowers and
kittens and shit?” She grinned impishly.
“Kittens? Nah, I’m more of a puppy person.”
“Me too,” Claire
laughed. “Cats are too damn
temperamental.”
“Yeah,” agreed Nick.
“So…” Claire began,
as the conversation faded to silence, “what else makes you happy, Nick
Carter? What are you into besides the
music thing?”
What else makes you
happy, Nick Carter? her words echoed in his mind. It was a good question. It had been so long since he had considered
himself truly happy that he almost didn’t know what to answer. But then he thought back to the one thing
that had always made him happy…
“The ocean,” he said
wistfully. “I’ve always loved the
ocean. It’s like my… my sanctuary… (AN: Haha, I had to throw that one in there
=P)… the one place I can go to take my mind off of all the crap I have to
think about and just chill, you know.
It’s my escape.”
Claire nodded
seriously, looking him right in the eyes as he spoke. It rather unnerved him; he wasn’t used to
getting all deep and thoughtful, and having her look at him so intently made him
feel self-conscious.
“Sorry,” he
blushed. “Didn’t mean to go all fruity
on you.”
Claire frowned. “Why are you sorry? And I don’t think you’re fruity. That’s cool.
So I bet you’ve probably spent a lot of time by the ocean recently
then.”
“Actually, no, I
haven’t,” Nick answered truthfully, realizing just how long it had been. “My poor boat hasn’t been taken out in
months.”
“Oh. Well, you should take it out. Clear your mind and all that.”
“Yeah…” Nick said
slowly. “Yeah, I should…”
The service at
Leonardi’s was much faster than most of the pizza places Nick had been to, and
their pizza was brought to them in no time.
It looked and smelled delicious, even to Nick. Covered in hot, bubbling cheese, browned to
perfection, and piled with layers of pepperoni and sausage, it beckoned to
Nick, and he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into a slice.
He slid a slice onto
Claire’s plate and then took one for himself.
Without hesitation, he picked it up and took a big bite off the end,
eager to try it. It tasted like heaven
in his mouth. Claire was right;
Leonardi’s did make great pizza.
He was surprised that in all his years of living in Tampa, he had never
discovered this wonderful little place before.
It was not until he started chewing and swallowed that he realized he
had made a mistake. The hot, zesty pizza
burned the sores in his mouth, making it too painful to enjoy. He swallowed with difficulty, grimacing.
Glancing up from her
slice, Claire looked at him in concern.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Does
it taste funny?”
“No,” Nick choked
quickly, embarrassed. “No, it’s really
good. Just, uh, a little hot.”
“Oh. Good,” said Claire. Shrugging, she added, “Some of the chemo
drugs I’ve been on have screwed up my sense of taste, so I was just wondering
if that was it.”
“Oh, no,” Nick shook
his head. “No, it’s not that.” He forced himself to take another bite,
somehow feeling as if he would disappoint her if he did not eat. Trying not to wince, he chewed carefully,
strategically trying to avoid the sores.
But that was impossible, for they had cropped up all over the inside of
his mouth.
He glanced up, only
to see Claire watching him again.
“What?” he asked,
swallowing again. “Do I got cheese
hanging off my chin or something?” He
swiped at his mouth with his napkin.
“No… you just… never
mind,” she said, going back to her pizza and chewing in silence.
He just stared down
at his own, hungry and wanting to eat it, but dreading it at the same
time. God, this sucked. Wasn’t the baldness and barfing enough? Wasn’t it bad enough that he could barely eat
for a week because he was so nauseous, and now, when he finally did have
an appetite again, he couldn’t eat because his mouth was full of raw canker
sores?
After a few minutes
of silence, Claire let her half-eaten slice of pizza drop to her plate and
looked at Nick. “Is it mouth sores?” she
asked, as if she could read his mind.
Nick stared at
her. How did she do that? “Yeah,” he admitted. “The pizza’s really good, but I just… it
hurts to eat it…”
Claire smiled
sympathetically. “Just a minute,” she
said. Then she called, “Excuse me,
Jessica?”
Their young, blonde
waitress, who had just finished taking another table’s orders, hurried
over. “Yes, can I get you anything?” she
asked Claire.
“Yeah, two large
milkshakes please. One strawberry and
one-“ She paused and looked back to
Nick. “What flavor?”
“Oh… uh, vanilla, I
guess,” he answered in surprise.
“Coming right up,”
Jessica said with a smile.
“They make awesome
milkshakes here too,” Claire told Nick.
“And they feel a lot better on your mouth, trust me. I’ve been there.”
She smiled
understandingly, and Nick smiled back, reassured. It was odd, but he felt extremely comfortable
around Claire, even though he didn’t know her that well yet. He wasn’t even sure if they really had
anything in common, except for the fact that they were both battling the same
type of disease. But that was
enough. It had created some sort of bond
between them, and though she was still practically a stranger, Claire Ryan felt
like a friend to him. A friend that
understood what he was going through in a way none of his other friends
could. Because as close as he was to
Brian and all his other friends, he had a special connection with Claire that
he would never have with any of them.
Jessica returned,
balancing two tall fountain glasses on a tray.
One was filled with light pink ice cream, the other with creamy white,
and both were topped with copious mounds of whipped cream, a single cherry
perched on the peak.
“Thank you,” Claire
said and pushed her plate of half-eaten pizza aside.
“Do you want a box
for that?” Jessica asked, eying the nearly-full pan of pizza.
“Yes, please,”
answered Claire. “Actually, bring back
two, would you?”
“Sure.” Jessica left and returned right away with two
flat pizza boxes. Claire divided the
uneaten pizza into halves, putting one half into one box and the other into the
other box.
“You take half of it
home,” she said to Nick, “so that you can eat it later if your mouth feels
better.”
“Thanks,” said Nick,
touched by her thoughtfulness. He took a
slow sip of his milkshake, struggling to suck the thick substance through his
straw, and swallowed carefully. Claire
was right; the cold ice cream did feel a lot better swishing around in his
mouth than the pizza had, and he eagerly drank some more.
“Hits the spot,
doesn’t it?” Claire asked, plucking the cherry off the top of hers by its stem
and twisting it around slowly between her fingers.
”Yeah,” Nick said earnestly. “You rule,
you know that.”
“I know,” teased
Claire with a grin, popping the cherry into her mouth.
Nick smiled, taking
another sip from his shake, glad that he had gone out with her tonight instead
of with his guy friends. Maybe he wasn’t
off in some sleazy nightclub, plastered and surrounded by beautiful women, but
he was having a good time just the same.
“What would I do
without ya, Claire?” he bantered, but really, he meant it. Thinking back to their talks in the clinic
waiting room and her visit to him in the hospital and, of course, tonight, he
realized the whole sucky ordeal he had endured thus far would have been even
suckier without her companionship.
***