Measure of a Man
It came in a simple black box, with its initial ‘D’ engraved in the middle. It looked expensive, felt expensive and when he found the small writing embossed at a corner by the side, knew it was indeed really expensive.

-

“Hi, can I have the vegetarian sandwich set to go, please?”

“Would you like extra sauce?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Extra sauce?”

“Oh, no, thank you.”

“That’d be $8.95.”

“Right, here ya go.”

“Here’s your change and receipt.”

“Thanks.”

-

It has four credit card slots, two full-length bill compartments, a coin case and four side pockets.

-

It was snowing lightly but it was enough to penetrate through three layers of clothing and straight to his bones. The road was slightly slippery but enough to cause trouble. And trouble did find a victim tonight.

It was a huge, black escalade, definitely an expensive giant compared to his civic Honda, and it was lying downside up, the four tyres already slowly being peppered by snow.

-

Kaos
Ive got xtra tix to RHCP 2nite, wanna cum?

Mrmascara
R u askin me out on a date? N don’t say cum u idiot

Kaos
Wateva floats ur boat man. Date it is then. Cum wif me?

Mrmascara
Dude dats juz wrong! Ok. Pick me up bitch.

- - -

Judging by the skid marks, the car seemed to get out of control about a meter farther up before skidding and took a nasty tumble and finally screeching to a stop a little to the side road on it’s left. A few inches more and it’d hit the lamppost, which would have made matter a lot worst than it already was.

The windows had crushed upon impact, now nothing more than tiny cubic fibreglasses scattered on lightly dusted snowed mortared ground.

A bloodied hand greeted him at the driver’s side, a finger faintly twitching.

- - -

It’s Nocturne by ST Dupont. Leather made of soft premium cowhide. Cost about $300 bucks.

- - -

“It’s a wallet.”

“I can see that, Kev.”

“Well, you like?”

“Of course! Thanks man.”

“I figured you need one. Happy birthday again Kiddo.”

- - -

It’s a little after eight and he was losing light pretty fast. It was going to get even colder really fast. His fingers couldn’t work as quickly as he’d like it to, even with gloves on, the adrenaline of the situation and the fact that everything depended on him out here was taking its toll.

“911? I need help.”

- - -

Size: 4 1/2"(L) by 3 3/4"(W)
Color: Black with grey stitching

Made in Spain

- - -

“Something you want to tell me?”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“You have a VIP membership card to Toys R’ Us, Nick.”

“So?”

“You’re also 27.”

“Is this conversation going somewhere Howie?”

“You’re really a big kid, Nicky.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

- - -

The person was groaning in pain and trying to move and he wasn’t quite sure what he should do.

“Hey, hey, try not to move, man.”

Obviously it didn’t take. He didn’t think it would, anyway.

“Aren’t you glad you have your seatbelt on tonight? You’re gonna be okay.”

The bloodied hand was moving now, reaching for the seatbelt… “Hey, hey, listen, I don’t think it’s good to move too much. Don’t open your seatbelt dude, I’m not sure if your neck’s broken.”

Great. Tell the man in pain about possible broken neck.

- - -

She’s decent looking. Not drop dead gorgeous but enough to make him turn his head and followed her with his eyes as she walked towards a crowd of teenagers whom he deduced were her friends.

He wasn’t at all surprised when they approached him later. He was surprised that they just wanted him to hang out with them. No fangirling and wanting to get in his pants.

He asked for her number when they parted ways for the night since she turned out not to be one of those girls who slipped him their numbers on a piece of serviette. She was interested enough to oblige.

He scribbled it behind a torn piece of matchbox that apparently came with the table in the club.

Raye M.

He never asked what the M stands for. Didn’t plan on ever calling her and having a one night stand in the future. She wasn’t like that. But he asked for her name anyway, something to remember by, for a good night out with genuinely great company. He didn’t get that often, so it mattered.

---

The front features the brand's trademark "D" logo with distinctive looped stitching. Simply elegant yet functional, it was no wonder why Kevin had chosen it. It’s so…Kevin.

- - -

He wasn’t reaching for the seatbelt. He was reaching inside his pocket.

“Take.”

The young man was probably choking on his own blood but he couldn’t do anything about that and tried to ignore his struggles and took the wallet from the bloodied hand instead.

It looked expensive, just like the car.

Weathered and used and came with a faint leathery smell.

- - -

“How long has it been? You seriously need to get a new one dawg.”

“Nah, still works for me.”

“What is it with you and wallets? I swear I have to buy one for you before you change the damn thing.”

“I happen to like this one very much, thanks.”

“You know I won’t get mad if you throw this away right? You were like, 19 or something when I gave it.”

“I know. Can you stop going through my stuff? It’s creepy old man.”

- - -

“You want me to call someone, is that it?”

There was a groan and he took it as an affirmative.

He found the man’s driving licence easily enough. It was in the first credit card slot. The picture showed a blonde young man smiling. He couldn’t tell the colour of his eyes and it didn’t seem important at the moment anyway.

Nick Carter.

“Hey Nick, I’m Steven. Help should be on its way right now, you just hang in there okay buddy?”

Another groan.

“I’ll call someone for you okay, and try to forget about the broken neck comment I made earlier, I’m a prick.”

- - -

“Okay so, I think this is really something your dad should talk to you about but…”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No…no…Nick, you did nothing wrong.”

“But you said we have to talk and I know what that means.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means I did something wrong and you need to bite my head off for it.”

“It’s nothing like that man.”

“Okay…”

“Look, you’re young, you want to have fun and all that…and maybe experience stuff for the first time…”

“Dude, is this the friggin’ birds and bees talk?”

“You’re not making this any easier Nick.”

“I know about the birds and bees. You can’t not know if you hang around AJ all the time. I happen to hang around AJ all the time.”

“Right. Yeah, well. Take this.”

“Kevin, it’s a condom.”

“I know that.”

“What am I supposed to do with it? I’m going to the club with AJ, I’m not having sex with him.”

“There’re girls, women, in those clubs.”

“I’m not gonna have sex with girls tonight Kev. Or boys for that matter. No sex at all. Just party, and drink. And I won’t be driving so don’t worry about that either.”

“You just never know, do you? Sometimes things just happen and you find yourself back in the hotel with some girl hanging off of you. You need to be responsible for your actions, so carry a friggin condom wherever you go.”

“Um, well…where should I put it?”

“In your wallet.”

“I don’t…I don’t really have a wallet.”

“How do you not own one?”

“Don’t need it.”

“Then where do you keep all your – you know what, never mind that. Just, carry this with you at all times okay?”

- - -

A receipt for some sandwich shop.

Lose change.

A packet of condom.

Red Hot Chilli Peppers concert ticket, dated a year ago.

A piece of paper with scribbles on it. Probably some chick’s number.

Toys R’ Us VIP membership card.

A pocket-sized picture of five young men.

And yes! He found it.

- - -

In case of emergency:

Contact Person: Kevin Richardson

- - -

There were four different numbers to reach Kevin Richardson. A cellphone number. Two home numbers, and an email address.


There was the faint beginning of the siren of an ambulance approaching.

The dull ring tone, pulsing right in his left ear as he waited for a Kevin Richardson to answer on the other end of the line.

Nick Carter gave another groan.

The voice in his head repeatedly saying ‘it’ll be just fine, no one’s dying tonight.’

- - -
He folded the piece of paper until it was nothing but a tiny square between his thumb and forefinger. He slid it inside one of the side pockets, right at the edge of it’s corner so no one else would know of its existence but him. Carry it with him wherever he goes.

- - -

But the best thing that came with the box and the wallet inside it, was the small piece of paper with a note written in a rush that said: Everybody needs a wallet, Nick. Happy birthday and I love you, even though I yell at you a lot. Sorry. Love, Kev.