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Chapter Nineteen
Point of View: Nick


My car screeched to a stop in front of The Honey Pot. There wasn't any curb-side parking, but I rode one tire onto the sidewalk in front of a small tree and jumped out anyway, clicking the remote to lock the doors as I sped around the nose of the car. It felt very James Bond of me, and I kind of wished I'd worn a tuxedo instead of old sweats and a tourist t-shirt from Red Rocks, Arizona.

"Sorry sir, the line starts back that way," commanded a bouncer, whose thick biceps were no match for the feminine lisp that rolled from his mouth.

"Do you know who I am?" I demanded in my very best diva voice.

The guy blinked at me for a moment, not recognizing, then it hit him and his eyes widened, "Nick Carter!" He sounded shocked, stunned, and he quickly stepped aside to let me pass.

"Thank you," I said, rushing by into the darkness of the club. I could feel his eyes on my ass as I went. It gave me the heebie-jeebies.

Inside, it was dark with blue light accents along the walls and flashing colorful lights on the stage. A couple naked women were dancing on stage, all that they had on their bodies were pantyhose and tall stiletto heels. I paused for only a moment at the base of a platform halfway to the stage with a stripper pole connecting it to the ceiling, with a busty blonde spinning and hanging her chest over the crowd below her.

I was here for Krystal, I reminded myself, and I kept elbowing forward.

I got to the stage and still hadn't seen anyone who looked like they'd know where to find her. I looked up at the woman leering above me. She had on leather lingerie - a garter belt and one of those things that go around the middle. Her breasts were pushed up and her nipples stood at attention. She had on hot pink fishnet stockings and tall, spikey black stilettos that added at least six inches to her already long legs. She lowered herself down to her knees in front of me and spread her legs, "Hey sexy," she whispered.

"I'm looking for Krystal Armaletto," I said.

She stared at me like I had three heads. "Krystal's in the dressin' room," she muttered and thumbed over her shoulder.

"I need to see her, how do I get back there?"

"They ain't gonna let you back there," she laughed as she got up and pranced away.

Well then, I only had one choice.

I pulled myself onto the stage.

If I'd ever made a top one million things I never thought I'd do list, this wouldn't have even been conceivable to put onto the list. I never would've dreamt it up in even my most wildest dreams. But I'm thinking about adding it to the list just so I can take it off of it. Somehow standing on stage at a burlesque club just doesn't sound like the Nick Carter thing to do.

Great view though.

Three of the girls screamed, and the one that I'd talked to laughed.

I scrambled across the stage and ducked, as quickly as I could, behind the curtains. I found myself backstage. Half dressed women everywhere, and big mirrors with vanity tables and piles of lipsticks and make up tubs and tubes and lingerie and stilettos and feathers and sequins and...

And Krystal.

She was sitting on the floor, her face in her hands, her legs sprawled in front of her, red platform heels strapped to her ankles. She had on a short, short, short dress with ruffles that looked like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz and her hair was in tight braids.

I hurried to her side, the girls I passed gasping and jumping away, muttering about there being a man in their dressing room. I didn't care. I didn't pause. I knelt down beside Krystal. "Kryssie," I whispered. She looked up, she had a bloody lip and the side of her face was swollen. My stomach churned. "C'mon, baby," I whispered. I wrapped my arms around her and helped her get up. Her fingers feebly clung to my shirt, her head lolled about, her eyes were half closed.

I pulled all of her weight into me - and there really wasn't much to her, she was tiny when I first met her, but she'd gotten even tinier since. My hands shook with anger and fear and nerves, but I wrapped my arm around her and pulled one of her arms around my shoulders and held her hand tightly in my own. "C'mon, baby," I whispered.

She staggered, her legs barely moving, as I pulled her out of there. "Can one of you ladies show me the door so I don't gotta go over the stage again, please?" I asked some of the ones that had already gotten their costumes on. One dressed in a French maid's outfit quickly pranced ahead of me, her little ass showing under her short-short skirt, and opened a large metal door that led to the street.

"Take care of her," she gasped.

I nodded, and carried Krystal to my car. The people in line stared, the bouncer watched with concern as I struggled to open the door to the passenger side. Nobody helped me, though. I finally got it open and I carefully lowered Krystal into the seat and leaned in to get the buckle around her.

"Nick," she moaned quietly.

"I'm here, baby," I answered, buckling her in. I gently closed the door and ran around to get into my side of the car. "It's gonna be okay," I told her as I started up the car.

"Nick I can't breathe right," she gasped.

"I know, it's okay, we're gonna go to the hospital," I said.

She said something else, but I couldn't really understand her. She mumbled it too low, and slumped into the door of the car. I grasped her hand and put on my emergency flashers, and drove as fast as I could.