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Chapter Four
Point of View: Narrator


It was almost a week later before he saw Krystal again.

He never quite knew why, but years later, when people would ask him how they met, this one was the story that they always told - not the umbrella story. The umbrella story was kind of like a secret, something that Krystal and Nick kept between them, like an inside joke that nobody else was privy to. When he thought about it, about why he kept the umbrella story a secret, he would guess because it made her sound crazy. But then again, the story he always ended up telling made them both sound crazy.

Nick was sitting in the waiting room at his therapist. When AJ had gone to rehab, the management team was concerned that Nick, who had been the last of the Boys to see AJ before he left, might have residual issues in the aftermath. Nick had been seeing this guy for the past month now, and had achieved - well, nothing really... The idea was to keep Nick from developing a rebellious streak, to save the band from having another rehab-attendee within the next couple years. It was Kevin's idea, though Nick wasn't sure why Kevin was so worried about it. Nick was pretty much disgusted with the stuff that had stolen one of his best friends away from him.

See, Nick had experience drinking already. That's how the whole thing with Sierra had started, after all...

Nick shook his head and focused on the comics page from the newspaper, trying to block his face from view of the other people in the waiting room.

Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and a shadow loomed over the comic strips from behind him. He looked up, tilting his head back and found himself staring up at Krystal.

"Hi."

It all makes sense, he thought before responding, She really is psychotic. I would see her at a psychiatrists. Why wouldn't I?

"Um, hi."

Krystal rolled off the chair she'd been kneeling on and landed on the floor on her knees, too. She crawled over to Nick's elbow and grabbed hold of his forearm. "Do you have a car here?" she asked, her voice low and breathy, like she was asking a secret on stage and the audience needed to hear it, but also believe she was whispering. Nick was certain everyone in the room could hear her.

Probably people not in the room could, too.

"Yeah," he said in his regular tone.

"Shhh," she whispered, "We're running a covert operation here." She glanced around. "Good, we're not suspected."

Nick blinked at her.

"C'mon, we can still make it soldier." Krystal grabbed his hand and stood up, pulling Nick up out of his seat. He stood, dumbfounded by her oddity, and dropped the newspaper page onto the seat.

"Krystal, I--"

"SHHH, we have undercover names," she said, pulling him gently toward the door, "So that nobody knows its us and we blew off our appointments. From the moment we step onto the sidewalk out front on, we will no longer be Nick and Krystal. We will be... we'll be..." She thought for a moment, then, landing on her favorite movie, she said, "We will be Holly Golightly and Fred."

"Fred?" Nick asked.

Krystal nodded, "And Holly Golightly." She tugged him onto the elevator and grinned up at him as she hit the Lobby button and the elevator car began moving slowly downward. She stared into his bright blue eyes. "You really are beautiful, Fred."

Nick stared at her, unsure how to respond. After a pause, he started, "Krystal what are we--"

"SSHhh!! I'm Holly remember, Fred?" she asked, winking.

"Okay, Holly," he said, rolling his eyes, "What exactly are we doing right now?"

Krystal laughed, "We're escaping, silly," she said. "Don't you know what they do to you in there?" she thumbed up at the floor they'd just left. "They take your uniqueness and they sap it out and they tell you it's crazy and they blame all your bad faults on your momma and tell you that you can't live the way you really want to, and they make you wanna die."

He stared at her.

"I've been going to him for years," she said, "My mom thought it was a good investment when I was seventeen, and now I just go because I like seeing his reaction when I make up cool shit."

"You do that too?" Nick asked. He'd been making up dramatic tall tales for his shrink for years and years. He'd done everything from alien abduction to Brian's time machine blasting him to the era of the dinosaurs over the weekend. Anything but talking about real stuff.

"You mean you do it too?" Krystal asked. She grinned, "Aw Fred, we're made for each other," she laughed.

When they reached the parking lot, Krystal danced across the cement in her flip flops, her arms stretched out and the sunlight dancing across her skin, her hair flying out around her. Nick walked slowly along behind her, watching as she pirouetted across the lot.

"Which one's your car?" she sang out.

"The black one there," he said, pointing to a really sharp convertible.

Krystal stopped behind it and stared at it as he caught up to her. "Whats F-N-T-B-B-U-X mean?" she asked, tilting her head at his plate.

"Fan Tampa Bay Buccs," he answered.

"It looks like you're cussing them out," she said, and floated to the passenger side.

Nick shrugged, "I usually am..." he unlocked the driver door and reached to unlock hers, but she launched herself over the door, like a guy in a cheesy 50's movie. Nick laughed, "You can use the door, you know."

Krystal shrugged, "I will next time, Fred."

He couldn't believe he was actually blowing off a meeting with a psych to hang out with a psycho, but Nick found himself slipping the key in the engine and turning it over and backing out of the space. "Where are we going?" he asked.

Krystal laughed. "The first place that comes to mind when I say.... Go."