Part 18:
You Don't Have To Say It
Leighanne’s visit left Nick
feeling strange and unsettled, as he kept going over what she'd said in his
mind.
“Because he told me so…
Because he told me so… Because he told me so.”
What did that mean? He guessed that it was supposed to make him
feel better to think that Brian had given up his own life in order for Nick to
live, but in reality, it only made him feel worse.
***
The rest of the day was
filled with visits from family and close friends that were only allowed to see
Nick one at a time. Most of them brought
flowers, stuffed animals, or food that he couldn’t yet eat, and all of them
approached him with phony smiles pasted on their faces, patting his arm like he
was some delicate piece of china that they didn’t want to break.
Even Aaron acted strange,
laughing in this stupid loud laugh that made Nick’s ears hurt.
“Shut up,” he finally said,
as Aaron rattled off the punch line to another stupid joke that Nick didn’t get.
“Oh c’mon, bro, that was
funny!” Aaron waggled his eyebrows at
Nick.
“No, it wasn’t; it was
stupid and retarded, just like you are.”
Aaron’s face fell at his
brother’s unprovoked attack. “I’m sorry.
I was just trying to cheer you up.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not,
so shut up.” Nick paused. “Hey, I heard the nurses talking; they said
you were in here with me when I woke up?” Nick tried to make eye contact with Aaron as
he shifted around uncomfortably in his chair. Each visitor had been instructed by Nick’s
lawyer, as well as his mother, to not mention anything to Nick about the case.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“You guess so, or
you know so, Aaron?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.” Nick pointed a finger at his little brother. “You’re lying to me, you little shit.”
“Nick-” Aaron sputtered,
just as their mother poked her head in the door, an annoyed look on her face.
“Aaron, time’s up. Give somebody else a turn to visit with Nick.”
Standing up, Aaron glanced
over his shoulder at Nick on the way out the door, wanting to say something to
let his brother know that he was sorry. But it was too late; the pain medication had
already began to take effect, as Nick’s eyes slowly closed, and he fell into a
deep sleep.
***
Nick was grateful when he
awoke from his afternoon nap to find A.J. sitting in the chair beside him, a
black baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes as he fiddled with the dials
on the big clunky watch on his wrist.
“Hey, am I glad to see you.”
Nick rolled over on his side with a
groan.
“Yeah, well, you should be
because I’m a sexy sexy man.” A.J. laughed, pushing up the brim of the
baseball cap so that he could see Nick better. “You know, they got some new guards out there
on your doors. They look like fucking
Barney Fife or something. If anything
happens to you, buddy, you’re screwed if those are the guys that are supposed
to protect you.” Nick was relieved to
hear the sly, sarcastic tone of A.J. ’s voice. It made him feel like everything would be okay.
“How come I have guards on
my door?” Nick reached out, signaling
for A.J. to hand him his water.
“You mean the cops didn’t
tell you?” A.J. said, handing him the water, not giving a shit about what
Nick’s mom thought Nick should or shouldn’t know regarding what had happened to
him.
“Nobody has really told me
anything except that Brian is-” Nick
stopped.
“You don’t have to say it,
man,” A.J. said, as Nick paused.
“Well, anyway, all they
told me is that Howie is missing and that some other guy was killed.” Nick took a long drink of water, propping the
glass on his chest.
“Well, according to the
news, they think there might be someone else involved. They think that he might be the one who has
Howie, and I think they’re afraid that he might come after you because you are
the only one who knows what happened to you, Howie, and Brian.” A.J. swiveled his cap backwards, as Nick
studied his hands in his lap.
“You know, I was having
this weird dream before I woke up. It
was about Brian.” Nick spoke softly. “I could see him plain as day. It was almost like I could reach out and
touch him.”
“Did he say anything?” Tears stung A.J.’s eyes. He’d been trying to be strong, but it was so
hard with Brian’s voice echoing around in his head every time that he closed
his eyes.
“He didn’t say anything,
he just… looked at me.” Nick had tried
desperately to save the image of Brian in his head, but when he opened his eyes,
it faded like a distant memory.
“A.J.” Nick swirled the water around in the glass. “Were Brian and I doing drugs?”
A.J. let out a loud laugh,
sitting back in his chair. “No way.”
“Well, if I can’t remember
what happened the night he was killed, then what if there are other things
about my life that I can’t remember?”
“Nick, you’d remember if
you and Brian were doing drugs.”
“But my Mom said-”
“I don’t care what your
fucking mom says, Nick. And I don’t care
what the fucking papers say or the guys on the news or even Kevin-” A.J. stopped himself, but not soon enough.
“What does Kevin say?”
Nick mumbled.
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“No, I want to know what
‘Mr. High And Fucking Mighty’ has to say about the whole thing.” Nick knew he was talking loud, and he didn’t
care. “It’s not like I didn’t notice
that he hasn’t come by, A.J. It isn’t
like I couldn’t figure out for myself that he thinks this is all my fault, just
like he always thinks everything is my fault.”
“He’s fucked up,
Nick. He doesn’t know what he thinks or
why he thinks it, so screw him.”
“Yeah, well, I’m fucked up,
too. I mean, look at me!” Nick yelled,
pointing at his stomach and the mass of tubes and hospital machinery all around
him. “If he thinks that I did this on
purpose-”
“He doesn’t think you did
it on purpose, Nick, just calm down.”
“Then what does he think, A.J.?”
“Nick, you have to calm
down; they’re going to throw my ass out of here if you don’t calm down.”
“What does he think, A.J.? Tell me!” Nick’s frustration was peaking.
“Let it go, Nick.” A.J. considered getting up and leaving, but
Nick continued baiting him.
“No, seriously, I want to
know, A.J. What does he think? WHAT DOES KEVIN THINK?” Nick’s face was flushed red as he hurled the
glass of water across the room, making A.J. jump as glass shattered all around
him.
“HE WISHES YOU WOULD HAVE
BEEN THE ONE TO DIE!” A.J. yelled back, slamming his fist into the guardrails
on the bed, instantly regretting the harsh words he’d let loose into the air.
Nick took a sharp intake
of breath like he’d been slapped hard across the face, pausing for a beat
before replying, “Yeah, well, fuck him, man, because I wish I were dead too.”
***
Dan pulled into his
driveway shortly after 7:00 a. m., dragging himself up the three flights of
stairs to his apartment. Walking inside,
he was too tired to even care that he’d left his keys in the door as he
stumbled into the bedroom, dropping face-first onto the bed and falling asleep,
visions of a mystery man named ‘Mo’ dancing in his head.
The info he’d gotten from
the hooker had been golden, giving Dan a name and a vague description of a man
who had been known to hang around with Gus Monroe. Dan knew from his inside source at the police
station that the cops sure as hell didn’t know about any guy named Mo. They were actually going to start working on
the angle that Brian, Nick, and Howie had been into drugs and that Gus was
their drug dealer, which totally made Dan laugh, considering that that whole
theory had been first introduced by some tabloid rag.
After his chat with the
hooker, Dan had done some more digging around, mentioning the name Mo to a few
stray street people here and there. Some
of them shrugged him off, asking for money, but there was one guy that stood
out in Dan’s mind. He kept telling Dan
that he knew Mo.
“So you know who he is,
then, this guy Mo?” Dan stood an arm’s
length away from the guy, trying not to inhale the foul stench of body odor
mixed with cigarette smoke.
“Nobody really knows Mo,” the
old man replied, scratching at his chin before grabbing at some unseen thing in
the air.
“What does that mean?” Dan
rubbed at his eyes, wondering what the hell time it was and how much longer he
was going to have to play quiz games with the great unwashed on the Los Angeles
city streets.
“Well, nobody but the kid;
maybe the kid knows Mo.”
“What?”
“The kid would probably
know him better than anybody.”
At the mention of a kid,
Dan grabbed for his pen and notepad.
“You keep saying there is a kid. What,
like a little kid, or a big kid?”
“Yeah, the kid had that
spooked look in his eyes, so he definitely knows Mo more than you and I know Mo.”
“What the fuck are you
talking about?” Dan snapped his fingers in the guy’s face as he started to
wander away, mumbling something to himself as he disappeared into the shadows.
Dan was still dreaming of
the foul-smelling homeless guy when the afternoon sun peeking through the
blinds woke him up. Rolling over, he
slowly opened his eyes, his head pounding like he’d been on a three-day drunk. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he pushed
himself up on one elbow and grabbed for the phone, dialing his work number.
“I’m sick,” he said, as
soon as his producer picked up the phone.
“No way, Fortis. Get your ass in here; you already missed your
12:00 set up. You’ve got another live
feed from the hospital at 3:00.”
“I can’t. I’m sick,” he explained again in stuffy-nosed,
scratchy-throated voice that could have won him an Oscar. “It must be some sort of twenty-four-hour
something or other.”
“Twenty-four-hour
something or other, huh?” his producer said with an irritated sigh. “You got twenty-four hours to get your ass
out of bed and feeling better, or you’re fired.”
Smiling as he placed the
phone back in the cradle, Dan sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the
bed and raking his hands through his hair, before he grabbed for his pager and
cell phone mixed up in the bedsheets.
He knew he was running out
of time. He had to get his ass back out
on the streets and look for Mo because he was almost positive that where Mo was,
there would be information.
***
“Get out, A.J.!” Nick
continued yelling at A.J., as he pointed at the door.
“Nick, you don’t mean what
you’re saying. Everybody is confused
right now. We all just want shit back to
normal.” A.J. stood up, pacing the
hospital room, as security burst through the door, observing the shattered
glass and water all over the room.
“You need to leave Mr. Carter’s
room.” The guard signaled for A.J. to
follow him, but A.J. set his jaw, glaring at the guy.
“Hey, fuck you; he’s my
friend, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“C’mon.” The security guard walked through the glass on
the floor, reaching for A.J. ’s arm.
“Why don’t you fucking
make me, you little dick?” A.J. pulled
his arm from the guy’s grip as the second security guard came through the door.
“Do you need some help?” he
asked, as the first guard grabbed for A.J. ’s arm again.
“No, we’ve got things
under control here, right?” he said, pulling on A.J. ’s forearm.
“Nick, tell them that you
don’t want me to go.”
“Nothing is ever going to
be normal again,” Nick mumbled, more to himself than to anybody in the room.
“What?” A.J. shot a
confused look in Nick’s direction, shaking the security guard off of him for
the second time.
“You want things back to
normal. Well, nothing is ever going to
be normal again.”
“Nick, you don’t know what
you’re saying; you’re upset.”
“Just get out, A.J. I don’t want you here anymore. I just want to be alone.”
***
After A.J. had been
escorted out by security and housekeeping had come to clean up the mess of
glass on the floor, Nick lay in his hospital bed, counting the ceiling ties and
thinking about what A.J. had told him.
“Well, according to the
news, they think there might be someone else involved. They think that he might be the one who has
Howie. I think they’re afraid that he
might come after you because you are the only one who knows what happened to
you and Brian.”
Turning on his side, he
picked up the telephone and rang the nurse’s station, asking for the phone
number for Sergeant Cox. Repeating the
digits over and over to himself, he hung up and dialed again, keeping an eye on
he door.
“What.”
“Is this Sergeant Cox?”
At the sound of Nick
Carter’s voice, Sergeant Cox stood up and closed his office door.
***
