[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
Chapter Eight


I woke up the next morning with my cell phone vibrating under my face, which was smashed into the sofa cushions. I peeled myself off the cushion, kicking Addison by accident, and wiped a small puddle of drool off the touch screen. "Watch it, you're kickin' me," Addison groaned and curled tighter into a ball.

"Next time I'll kick harder," I teased her. I looked down at the phone screen. It was Nick. "Oh Lord," I gasped, "It's him."

Addison perked. "Nick?"

"Yeah," I stammered, staring down at it, my heart rate increasing.

"Well answer it," she gasped, "He's your boss now! Or your master however you wanna look at it." Addison grinned.

I glared at her as I answered the phone. "Hello?" I said in what I hoped was a non-sleepy tone.

"I was about to give up," Nick laughed.

"Sorry," I said.

I hadn't even completely gotten the apology out though before Nick interrupted me, his voice climbing right over mine, "So I was thinking --" he said, "About the party idea. Lemme give you the address for the studio I'm working at today and you can come by and we'll hammer out some details so we can get this thing put together."

"Okay... Lemme get a pen..." I got up and went out to the kitchen, grabbed a pad of Post-its and a pen, and leaned against the counter. Addison came after me, leaning against the door frame, trying to peer over my shoulder. "I'm ready..." Nick gave me the address and I jotted it down.

"Oohhh," Addison hissed, "A rondezvous."

I waved her away. "Okay, when did you want me to get there?"

"As soon as possible," Nick said, "I'm really excited about this party and I think the sooner we get it in the works the better..." He paused. "And hey could you grab some coffee and bagels on your way? Maybe one of those big to go things Starbucks does now, you know? And make sure the bagels are whole grain..."

"Okay..." I wrote down his requests.

"Acutally you know what, you better make it two of the coffee things and at least ten bagels, I have a lot of crew here. I'll pay you back when you get here of course."

"Okay."

"Get yourself something too, of course," he added, like an after thought.

"Okay."

"See you soon, Sam," he said, and he hung up just like that.

I closed my phone and turned to Addison. "Well, I guess I have my first assignment as his personal assistant," I waved the Post-it at her.

Addison grinned. "Just wait. One of these days, he's gonna call you and request condoms and then you're gonna get there and he's gonna ravish you on the hood of his car."

"What? Why the hood of his car?" I laughed and shoved Addison out of my way, snapping my Post-it back from her hand.

Addison frolicked after me up the stairs, "Because I just think that would be terribly romantic."

"Being fucked on the hood of a car?" I asked, laughing.

"Don't you think so?"

"Not even a little bit."

Addison laughed, "I think it's one of the few remaining places I have left to be fucked. Maybe that's why."

"Toooo much informaaation," I sing-songed at her.

Addison grinned. "I'm sorry darling, that my fantasies gross you out."

"I just can't help but think of how uncomfortable it would be. Wouldn't your skin stick to the car?"

"Traction," Addison said with a shrug.

I snorted at the thought of it, but I couldn't tell if Addie was serious or not (that was one of the gifts she had, she could deliver humor with such a deadpan expression that you thought she might just be serious), so I let it go. Upstairs I grabbed jeans and an old concert tee and changed out of the dress Addison had lent me, and tossed my hair into a messy ponytail.

"Well," I said after a long moment, "Wish me luck?"

Addison smiled, "I'm incredibly jealous of you."

"Because I get to buy Nick Carter's coffee?" I asked.

She nodded, "That and you're gonna end up with something wonderful out of this. I can just tell. I can feel it, you know?" She smiled. "You deserve something wonderful." She leaned over and gave me a quick hug. "Now go get his bagels."

"Thanks, Addie," I said.

We went downstairs and Addison climbed onto her hot pink Vespa and waved as she clicked the helmet strap at her jawbone before driving off.

I got in my car and headed for the Starbucks nearest the address Nick had given me. When I got there it took a few minutes to get a parking space before I got out and headed inside. They didn't have ten multigrain bagels, so I bought all the ones they had and supplemented with three asiago cheese bagels. I juggled the two boxes of coffee, box of cups, bag of creamers and sugars and cream cheese and knives and the box of bagels all the way out to the car. It was a delicately balanced tower of breakfast items.

When I got to the studio, I called Nick. "Could you send someone out to help me carry this shit in?" I requested. It wasn't until that moment that I realized I'd forgotten to order myself something, and I cursed inwardly. I'd just grab a cup of the coffee from the boxes, I told myself. And a moment later one of Nick's 'crew' - a bodyguard the size of a semi truck - came out and took all the Starbucks boxes in one trip. I followed him in, lamely carrying my purse.

The studio was dark maroon and violet and smelled like incense. There were string lights and tapestries hanging everywhere, creating a cave-like feeling that was added to by the full blast of air conditioning that gave the place an almost icy feeling. Nick was lounging back in a heavily padded rolling desk chair, his feet up on the edge of a lit-up soundboard beside a skinny black guy with a backwards baseball cap and so many tattoos that he'd run out of canvas on his arms and had started on his neck and the sides of his face.

"Hey," Nick said, leaning forward. His feet dropped off the soundboard and he got up. He was wearing messy jeans and a wifebeater tank top. He crossed the room as the bodyguard looking guy dropped the food onto a low coffee table and sat down on a beat up leather sofa. "Thanks for stopping at the Starbucks," Nick said, grabbing a cup, "We were dying in here. Although I read this article about a week ago about how beer is actually better for the creative process than coffee is," he said, "Because it lowers your inhibitions and coffee just like tricks your receptive nerves into thinking your brain isn't tired." He grinned and popped the thing open on the coffee, pouring it into his cup.

The guy with the tattoos and cap turned around, "Maybe we should've got beer," he laughed, "Fuck this coffee crap."

Nick laughed and, without adding cream or sugar, took a sip of his coffee, "Cheers, my friend."

I sat down carefully next to the bodyguard guy and wondered where the rest of Nick's 'crew' was, as the only crew I saw was these guys. Surely he didn't want ten bagels for just the three of them? But even as I watched, the bodyguard guy opened the box of bagels and took out three and started smearing cream cheese on them.

"So you found the place okay?" Nick asked as he, too, grabbed a bagel and started smearing cream cheese on it.

"Yeah I found it all right."

"Good." He looked in the box. "Uhoh," he laughed, "They fucked up. They gave you cheese bagels." He looked over at the tattoos and hat guy, "Looks like you're stuck with asiago bagels, Z."

"Fuck," cussed Z. Nick laughed and tossed one at him. "Aw fuck that man."

Nick looked up at me, "Any chance you could bring these back and get the multigrain?"

"Well they ran out of multigrain... I mean, we ordered ten of them," I said. "I told them to give me the asiago ones to fill in the gap..."

"Oh." Nick made a face. "But -- we wanted all multigrain. Maybe another Starbucks has the other three multigrain bagels we need?"

The two guys looked up at me expectantly.

"Okay," I said.

"Thanks dollface," Nick said, grinning, "I really appreciate it."

"No problem."

I turned to head back down to the car to go on the chase for the three multigrain bagels.

"Oh and hey while you're out can you stop and get a package of guitar strings for me also?" Nick said, "Since you're heading out again anyways?" He stood up and grabbed a little baggie from the top of the soundboard. He handed it to me. It was an empty package. "These are the ones I want," he said.

"No problem," I replied, tucking it into my purse.

He grinned, "Make sure you get those ones, not asiago ones." He winked.