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Chapter Thirty-Eight


­­I stressed over Nick and Cora and the shirts and the elevator so much I couldn't sleep that night. I kept waking up from these crazy dreams in which Cora and Nick just stood around laughing and pointing at me, amused by my gullibility. "Look at her," nightmare-Nick hooted once, "She thinks I'd pick her over you?" Then he stuck his tongue so far down Cora's throat it was like watching Gene Simmons get the last drop out of a bottle. I woke up and screamed into the dark room, tears on my cheeks and that was the end of my attempts at the REM cycle.

I ended up in the living room with my computer, flicking through the Internet, half looking for more proof that I wasn't crazy like Nick kinda-sorta made me feel about it.

Part of me wondered why I was surprised by this. After all, I met Nick after sitting in a bathroom listening as he slept with a married woman. I started working for him because he wanted to break apart that marriage so he could continue sleeping with said married woman. The idea that he'd cheat shouldn't be a shock at all. Once a cheater, always a cheater, right?

That's what they always said anyway.

But I felt like maybe, just maybe, he'd somehow... changed. I mean, would the Nick that I'd confronted in the hotel room ever have waited as long as he waited to have sex with me just because I'd made up some silly little rules? But what if Nick wasn't really playing by the rules? The thought made chills crawl up my spine and I quickly turned my attention to the computer screen, trying to distract myself.

It was in the process of distracting myself that I found some extremely interesting information.

The record company that Nick and Cora were visiting in New York City was one of the few foreign-owned labels that weren't owned by Hugh Walters. In fact, they were Hugh's biggest competition. But there was no way in hell that Cora could be switching labels. She was locked into a contract on Hugh's label - in fact, Cora was possibly his highest grossing contract on all of his labels combined.

This information was all up on TMZ, accompanied by a video of their reporters badgering Hugh on his way to his Porsche. Hugh had waved off the first few questions until a reporter shouted, "Do you think anything is going on between Nick Carter and your wife?"

Hugh looked up, fire in his eyes, his face nearly square with the camera. "There better fucking not be," he snarled.

"Would you kill Nick's contract?" asked another voice somewhere off screen.

Hugh turned toward them. "Why stop at the contract?" he said darkly, and then he turned and got into the Porsche amidst a frenzy of reaction.

I stared at the computer screen, dumbfounded, wondering if Hugh knew, and if he didn't know, how he didn't know... if that question would spark his realization... and whether Nick would be able to lie to him as smoothly as I suspected he was lying to me about the whole thing.

I kind of pictured Hugh driving to the airport and flying out to New York just to beat the living crap out of Nick, no questions asked.

A part of me wantd to go join him...

But Nick showed up on my door step two days later, fresh from New York (free of any beatings from Hugh, who didn't even leave LA). He held a big ol' envelope in his hand. He stared me in the eyes when I opened the door to his knocks and he held it out to me. "The proof you need," he said quietly.

My heart beat as I slid my finger under the flap of the envelope and pulled out a photo of Nick and Cora, both wearing their Journey t-shirts. I stared at the image.

"It ain't my shirt," he said.

I stared at the picture, a hundred million feelings racing through my body. Then I chucked it over my shoulder and it spun like a paper airplane through the air and landed under the table as I leaped forward and wrapped my arms around him, ecstatic just to have proof that I was just crazy and putting myself through anguish for the last two days for no reason at all.

Nick wrapped his arms around me and laughed as I started kissing his face like a wild woman. He guided me back into the house and kicked the door shut. I brought my palms up and touched his cheeks and stared into his eyes. "I'm sorry that I doubted you," I said, "I was just so scared."

"It's okay," he answered, "I understand."

"You wouldn't believe some of the shit I thought up," I said thickly.

"It's okay, babe," Nick replied.

I just felt so relieved to have a proof that my dreams were just that -- dreams -- and Nick wasn't really Gene Simmons-ing it up with Cora behind my back. I clung to him like I was glued, and before I knew it he was falling over me onto the couch, his eyes locked on mine, his body pressed against my body, our mouths consuming each other eagerly as the TV blinked and flashed across the room like a strobe light in the dark.

It wasn't until after, when we were sweat covered and laying pressed against one another in the dark, breathing heavily, that I got the opportunity to ask, "Why were you and Cora looking into signing with the other label?"

"Hmm?" Nick hummed.

"The company y'all were there to sign with? Why are you looking at new contracts?" I asked.

Nick's eyes were closed. He paused. "Why not?"

"Because you're both signed to Hugh's labels," I replied.

"It's never too late to change," he mumbled.

"Well I mean I don't care," I said, "it's not like it's my company or that I have any really vested interest either way. I'm just curious, that's all."

Nick shrugged, "New label's offering a better deal, that's all."

"So you signed it."

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Cora's gotta divorce Hugh first," Nick replied.

"Because he'll get pissed?" I asked.

"Because she legally can't work for another label until she's divorced from him, there's some stipulation about that - something about, like, I dunno, cross company spies or something," Nick replied. "I wasn't really paying attention when they were talkin' about it. She's considered a part owner of Hugh's labels because she's married to him and is beneficiary to it all if something happened to him."

"Seriously?"

Nick nodded.

"That's crazy."

"Right? But anyways, she can't sign a contract on the new label until everything with Hugh is taken care of."

"That makes sense."

Nick smiled.

"So she's getting a divorce now, huh?" I said. "Wasn't that what you hired me to do? Cause a divorce?" I laughed.

Nick laughed, too. "Funny how stuff works out, ain't it?"

"Extremely..." I smirked, "You finally don't give a damn and it happens."

"Right? What the hell kinda karma do I got?" he laughed.

"Apparently the bad kind," I said. I purred the word bad as I kissed his chin. "I could lay here all my life," I commented after a couple moments, my head against his chest, listening to the heart beats.

He ran his hand along my spine.

"You know what I want?" he asked thickly.

"Hmm?"

He pressed his cheek to mine, his mouth right against my ear. "I want you," he whispered, voice husky. "I want you all night long."

I pressed myself closer, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he replied, kissing my forehead.

"But if we do it all night long you're gonna be tired for your big debut, Mr. Party Host," I said.

Nick smirked. "I think that's a fair trade off. Don't you?"