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Chapter Twelve


"This is ridiculous," I muttered to myself as I glanced between the Google Maps display on my phone and the street, hunkered down against the wheel, squinting at the street signs. I couldn't believe that in two days' time I'd gone from a mostly-normal overnight housekeeper at the hotel downtown to what was shaping out to be Nick Carter's baby sitter. A baby sitter that was making fifty-grand, sure, but a baby sitter nonetheless. And at midnight, in the ghettoy downtown streets of Los Angeles, picking his drunk ass up at a bar, I was inclined to think that maybe fifty-grand wasn't enough.

Finally I spotted the street and I turned up it, rolling into the parking lot of a nasty looking bar with music so loud it was shaking the pavement out front. A girl was wretching into a bush and a half a block away a guy was taking a leak on the side of the building. "Classy," I muttered, putting my car into park. I pulled out my cell phone and tried calling Nick, but he didn't pick up so I hung up and texted him. Where are you? How am I supposed to find you in this mess?

But before the text was even sent, I got my answer.

The front door of the bar burst open and a group of four guys came out, three of them shoving the fourth one - whose blonde hair I recognized instantly from across the lot. "Oh Jesus Chris," I muttered and I started trotting toward the cluster.

"Keep your fucking hands off my girl," one of the guys shouted, shoving Nick squarely in the chest so that he stumbled backward.

Nick only just caught his balance, but he did with a certain amount of dignity. "She came onto me!" he shouted, "I was just giving her a damn autograph!"

"Autograph my ass!" yelled the thug, "You had your hands all over her boobs, I saw it!"

"That's what she wanted signed!" Nick yelled. "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?" His voice echoed off the buildings surrounding the bar.

The thugs clustered around him tighter, "Course we know who you are, twinkle toes," one of the two friends laughed.

"Backdoor Boy," the other spat.

"I could take any one of you pussies any day," Nick slurred, his voice running the words together, "Any time, one hand behind my back..." He stumbled and almost fell to the left.

"What'd you call me?" hissed the first guy.

"Pussy," Nick said real nice and slow and announciated, letting his lips really form the word.

I got there just after the first guy swung.

The punch caught Nick right in the side of the head and knocked him not quite out cold, but cold enough that he lost his balance and I only just caught him before he went all the way down. The two friends were hooting and the first guy spat off to the side. "Sorry about the mess, m'am," he said to me, nodding, and stomped away.

Nick's eye was already swelling.

"For Christ's sake," I muttered, staring down at him, "What in hell were you thinking?"

He blinked up at me, "Sam?" he asked, "Did I win the fight then?"

"No. You lost. A lot. C'mon," I said, and I started pulling him along toward my car.

He followed, stumbling, and I opened the passenger door and pushed him in. He smacked his head on the door and cursed as he sank into the seat. "Watch your fingers," I said as I slammed the door shut. Nick's head rolled back and forth as he moaned. I ran around to the driver's side and climbed in, then glanced over and realized Nick's buckle wasn't done. I leaned over and pulled it across him, securing him in.

"Thanksmuch for coming to get me," he murmured, and his head dozed forward and he fell asleep.

Or passed out or something.

"Think nothing of it, you're paying me to do it," I answered.

It took me a little shy of an hour and a half to find my way through West Hollywood to the housing community where Nick lived and it wasn't until I'd pulled up to the gate that I realized I didn't have a clue how I was gonna get in to drop him off. I glanced over at him. "Nick," I said, "Wake up."

He groaned, but didn't wake up.

I reached over and shook him and his eyelids fluttered. "Wake the fuck up," I snapped.

"Whyyyyy?" he groaned.

"I don't know how to get in your stupid community, it's like Fort Knox or something."

"You need the gate pass," he muttered, "It's in the glovebox."

"We're in my car," I said.

Nick squinted around, "Oh...yeah. It's in my car's glove box."

I slammed my hands against the steering wheel. "Are you kidding me? You let me drive all the way out here without telling me it was in your god-damn glove box?"

He blinked at me in surprise at my anger, "I was asleep, how was I supposed to know that --"

"I CAME TO PICK YOU UP AND BRING YOU HOME! OF COURSE YOU KNEW I WAS DRIVING YOU HOME!" I shouted.

"I forgot to tell you about the --"

"Of course you forgot! Just like you forgot the bagels and just like you didn't mention there's only one fucking balloon vendor in the entire state of Cali-fucking-fornia that sells pearl white balloon arches!!!" I slammed my car door open, got out and walked to the back end of the car. I paced a moment, blowing off steam. I could see him struggling with the belt buckle in the car. I sighed as I watched his silhouette. He was too drunk to figure out how to undo it. "Ughhhh..." I walked back to the door and got back in. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," I said. "You're drunk, you can't help but be a moron right now."

He looked at me with pouty eyes. "I'm sorry I forgot about the bagels and the gate pass. And I didn't know about the balloons."

"I know," I said. I turned in my seat and started to back up.

"Are we going to get the gate pass?" he asked.

"No," I said, "I'm just gonna have to take you back to my place. I'm not driving all the way back to the bar tonight then back here then back home. We'll just got get your car tomorrow morning when you're sobered up enough to drive yourself home, that's all." I pulled out onto the main road.

"You're taking me back to your place?" he asked.

"Apparently," I answered, "What else am I supposed to do with you? Drop you off on skid row?"

Nick grinned a drunken, stupid grin at me, "Are you taking advantage of me in my drunken state, Miss. Roades?"

I glanced over at him. "In your dreams, Carter."