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Chapter 131

Nick knocked back one last glass of whiskey as he watched Jamie and Claire leave the reception together. From what Claire had told him, they were being whisked away in a white limousine to the Renaissance, one of Tampa’s newest and nicest hotels, where they’d spend the night in the honeymoon suite. The next day, they would be on a flight to Athens for a two-week honeymoon in Greece.

Nick, on the other hand, had no idea where he was going.

Well, in the literal sense, he knew he was hopping a flight down to the Florida Keys on Sunday to spend some time – and his twenty-eighth birthday – with his dad and the twins. And soon after that, he’d be spending a few weeks in Los Angeles. AJ and Mary were getting married at the beginning of March, and Kristin was eight months pregnant and fast-approaching her due date. Nick wanted to be around when the second Backstreet baby arrived.

But that was all in the future, and as he stood in the here and now, holding an empty whiskey glass and feeling numb, Nick had no idea what he was doing, where he was going, what was going to happen next. Claire had moved on the next phase of her life now, and he… he just felt sort of stuck. He was used to flying all across the country, visiting family here, friends there, but sometimes all he really wanted was just to settle down, stay in one place with the people he loved, a family of his own.

That’s what he wanted more than anything now: a wife, a family. The other guys already had that or were well on their way, Kevin about to have a child, AJ about to get married, Howie with a serious girlfriend. Though he was the youngest of the five, the only Backstreet Boy still in his twenties, Nick was turning twenty-eight in three days, and he wanted to move on to the next part of his life, too. He wanted what the others had, what Claire had, and after looking death in the face more than once in the last five years, he wanted it soon. He didn’t want to be single the rest of his life and die alone. He wanted to find love, true love, the kind that would last forever and never leave him.

And yet, he was terrified that he’d just let go of his only true love, watched her walk away in a white wedding dress, on the arm of another man.

“Are you okay?” asked Laureen, coming up beside him. It took him a few seconds to react to her question; it was as if he could not tear his eyes away from the empty doorway. Finally, he glanced over and found her staring at him, her eyes flickering between his face and the whiskey glass in his hand.

He swallowed. “I’m fine,” he muttered, setting the glass down on the nearest table. “I think I’m gonna take off now…” But after a few unsteady steps, he caught the toe of his artificial foot on the carpet and stumbled forward. He saved himself from taking a total nosedive only by crashing into a table. The crystal glasses wobbled precariously on their stems as the table trembled, some toppling over with dull clinks as the tablecloth slid beneath them.

Laureen grabbed his arm and pulled him up, putting her arm around his waist to steady him. “Uh-oh, they’re not gonna be too happy about that,” Nick giggled, noticing the deepening stains of dark wine spreading across the white linen.

“I’m sure it’s not the first time that’s happened,” Laureen replied. “Come on, let’s go.”

“You don’t have to leave too. I just said I was taking off,” Nick pointed out, as she nudged him along, steering him around the table.

“Well, the bride and groom left, so why stay? Besides, you can barely walk.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Nick repeated, though he’d draped his arm across her shoulders and was now leaning heavily on her short frame. “I mean, whaddya expect from a guy with one leg, right?”

“I knew I shouldn’t have gotten you those drinks,” Laureen muttered through gritted teeth, dragging him along.

“But I’m a fun drunk though, right? I did the Hokey Pokey,” Nick giggled. Alcohol was funny stuff; sometimes it made him so depressed, and other times, like right now, everything just seemed so damn funny, even the fact that he was barely coordinated enough to stay up on his prosthetic leg. Without Laureen there, he definitely would have fallen by now, and everyone would have stared. Look at me, star of the freak show! Now that Claire and Jamie were gone, he’d be the biggest attraction at the reception.

He wasn’t really sure what else he rambled to Laureen, as she half-carried him out to the parking lot, and he didn’t mind that she didn’t really respond. He just kept talking, staggering at her side as she nudged him along. “Hey, where’d I park?” he asked once he realized they were outside, looking around the large parking lot. “D’you know where I parked, Laureen?”

“I have no idea, Nick, but don’t worry about it now; you can-”

“What car did I bring?” he wondered, scratching his head and scrunching up his face as he tried to think. “Oh yeah! The Jag! I brought the Jag, cause Claire likes the Jag… and this is Claire’s wedding. I thought maybe she’d wanna jump in and… and go for a ride, and maybe run away with me. But she didn’t… she ran away with Jamie, huh? But I bet she doesn’t like his car as much as mine…”

“Hey, listen, forget about your car, cause you’re not driving home like this,” Laureen said firmly, guiding him across the parking lot. “I’ll give you a ride, and you can come back for your car in the morning.”

“Aww, you don’t have to do that, Laureen; I can call a taxicab,” said Nick, and started laughing again. “Taxicab” was a funny word when you said it altogether like that. Sorta like “pussycat” or “soda-pop.” “Pussy pop,” Nick said, giggling hysterically.

Laureen looked over at him. After a few seconds, she replied, “It’s okay; I don’t mind. I even know where you live – Claire invited me over once.”

Nick stopped laughing. “Well, she don’t live there anymore…”

“I know. But you still live there, right?”

“Yeah…”

Laureen smiled. “Okay. Then it’s okay. I know where your house is, and I’ll drive you home.”

“You know where my house is? Have you been stalking me, Laureen?” he wondered.

“Ahh, you got me all figured out, Nick,” Laureen played along. At least he thought she was kidding. Wasn’t she?

Suddenly, she stopped walking. Nick, unprepared for this, stumbled forward again and smacked into the side of a burgundy Saturn. “Hey, this isn’t my car,” he said.

“It’s my car,” Laureen explained. “You’re riding with me, remember?”

“Oh… okay…”

Leading him to the passenger side, Laureen unlocked the car and helped him in. “Buckle up,” she said, but apparently he was too slow for her because a few seconds later, she had grabbed the buckle, pulled it across his chest and lap, and clicked it into place herself. “Hands and feet in,” she warned, and then she shut his door and walked around to the driver’s side.

As she drove him home, the world seemed unusually spinny to Nick; he could actually see it rotating. It made him sort of queasy, combined with the movement of the car, but he promised himself he wouldn’t throw up in Laureen’s car. Jeez, how much had he had to drink anyway? He rarely drank enough to make himself puke anymore; he had built up quite a tolerance, so it took a lot of alcohol to make him nauseous. Maybe that last shot of whiskey had been one too many.

Yet, despite his wooziness, Nick felt good. For the first time that day, Claire marrying Jamie really didn’t seem like a big deal. Screw them; they could have their happiness. He could make his own happiness. He could be happy right here in this car, with Laureen.

“Hey, can we turn on some music?” he asked. “I need some happy songs.”

“Happy songs, huh?” Keeping her eyes on the road, Laureen reached across his chest and fumbled with the glove compartment until she had it open. She pulled out a CD case and dropped it into his lap. “There’s my CDs; put in whatever you want. Or there’s always the radio too.”

Nick struggled to unzip the CD case; his fingers felt like they were made of rubber. He finally succeeded, only to find that he couldn’t read the titles on the CDs. The words kept swimming before his eyes and refused to stay in place. Silly words. He soon gave up and pulled out one that had bright colors. Happy colors. That would do. It took him several tries to slide the CD into its slot on her player; he kept missing. Eventually, Laureen reached over and guided his hand, and the CD slid in smoothly.

The music started, and suddenly, he heard his brother’s voice. “What are you doing tonight?”

He and Laureen looked over at each other at the same time. “You have my brother’s CD,” Nick giggled, at the time red-faced Laureen exclaimed, “You picked your brother’s CD!”

Nick laughed. “This is some cheesy shit,” he said, shaking his head at the track that had started playing. Aaron’s voice sounded so high-pitched; he’d almost forgotten. These days, Aaron was all grown up. He’d be turning twenty-one this year; Nick couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah, but it’s cute,” admitted Laureen. “God, I can’t believe I’m riding in a car with Nick Carter, listening to an Aaron Carter CD. This is crazy!!”

“Believe it, baby, it’s for real,” Nick laughed, bobbing his head to the beat of the music. “Na na na na… na na na na… na na na na, yeah yeah yeah… come get it!”

Laureen giggled. “At least you found a happy song.”

He nodded, happily trying to sing along. He really didn’t know many of the words, but he was glad all the songs had repetitive choruses; those parts were easy. “I want candy… I want candy… I want candy… I want candy…” Aaron would be amused if he could see him now, Nick decided.

“Aww, but it’s the Shaq song,” he whined, as Laureen pulled up in front of his house a few minutes later and shut off the ignition, plunging them into silence.

“Sorry,” she laughed. “Don’t you have a copy?”

He scratched his head. “I think so? Somewhere…”

“Well, you can go inside and listen to it then. Come on.” She got out of the car and came around to his side as he fumbled for the door handle. Opening it from the outside, she reached in and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Okay, you gotta help me out here,” she said, offering him her hand.

“I can get out myself. I’m a big boy,” Nick announced, but he took her hand anyway as he climbed awkwardly out of her car. The world started to spin again as his feet hit the ground, and he wobbled unsteadily.

“Here,” said Laureen, putting his arm over her shoulders again. “Come on, let’s get inside…” Half-dragging him again, she got him up the walkway to his front door. “Do you have a key?”

“Um… yeah…” Reaching into his pocket, Nick fished around for his keys. He pulled the ring out and blearily started sorting the keys, trying to find the one that went to his house. “I think this is it…”

It wasn’t, but Laureen eventually found the right key on the ring and unlocked the door. Nick managed to punch in the code on the security system inside, after several tries. “Did you see that?” he asked Laureen. “Don’t go breaking into my house now…”

Laureen laughed. “Why would I do that? Apparently all I have to do is get you drunk to get inside your house.”

“Mm… I’m drunk, aren’t I?” Nick giggled.

“Yes… yes, you sure are…”

“Wanna drink some more? I want a beer. This buzz is niiiice…”

“No thanks. I don’t think you should have a beer either. You should probably go to bed,” Laureen advised.

Well, bed sounded pretty good too. Maybe everything would stop spinning once he was lying down. “Okay,” he agreed.

Laureen eyed the stairs warily. “I don’t know if we should try the stairs,” she said, her free hand smoothing the skirt of her dress nervously. “Do you have a room downstairs? A bedroom?”

“Why, you wanna have some fun in the bedroom?” he snickered.

She was blushing wildly. “Where is it?”

“This way. Fooooollow me,” Nick sang, which was pretty silly, considering Laureen was the only thing holding him up right now. He pointed her in the right direction, though, and she pulled him along.

“Whew,” she sighed, once she got him to the bed, which he promptly fell back onto.

“Mm… much better,” he agreed, closing his eyes as the world seemed to still. Opening them again, he saw Laureen standing a few feet away, looking uncertain, like she wasn’t sure what to do next. “I’ll be okay,” he told her. “I just drank too much… Damn Claire and her cocksucking husband for making me drink too much…”

Laureen blinked. “Are you sure? You should at least drink some water or something, before you go to sleep. Hang on, I’ll go get you some.” She disappeared, returning a few minutes later with a glass of water. “Here, sit up… you don’t want to choke,” she said, pulling him up gently. She placed the glass in his hand and helped guide it to his lips, and he took a few sips.

“Mmm…” He smacked his lips.

Laureen set the glass aside on the night stand. “It’s right here, for later,” she pointed it out.

Nick nodded blearily. “Thanks, Laureen. Thanks for takin’ care of me… You’re sweet. Sorry for… for being an asshole…”

“You’re not being an asshole. Definitely not like that Greg guy I had to dance with.” She made a face, and Nick laughed.

“Yeah, well, he is a friend of Jamie, so what can ya expect?”

Laureen gave him a wry smile. “Honestly, I don’t know Jamie too well, but… well, don’t tell Claire this, but I can see what you’re saying. He just seems like he thinks he’s pretty hot stuff. That’s a turn-off to me.” Talking quickly, she added, “And besides, even though he is kind of attractive, he’s not as hot as-”

She stopped herself suddenly, her cheeks turning bright red. Even in his drunken stupor, Nick noticed and sat up straighter. “What?” he prompted. “He’s not as hot as…?”

Laureen grinned, still blushing furiously. “As… as you,” she whispered. Then she dipped her chin, refusing to look back up at him.

Nick swelled with pride. “I’m hotter than Jamie?” he asked, laughing. When she didn’t answer, he stood up, swaying a bit, and reached out to her, taking her chin gently in his thumb and forefinger. He lifted her face slowly and grinned into it. “You really think I’m hotter than Jamie, huh?”

She nodded, looking coy and sweet with her flushed cheeks and wide green eyes and nervous smile. All at once, he found her suddenly irresistible.

“Well, you know what I think?” he asked, moving his hand up the side of her face, his palm brushing her soft, smooth cheek. “I think you’re beautiful. I think… I think I wanna…”

And then he just went and did it, exactly what he wanted to do: He slid his hand around to the back of her head and guided it up to meet his own, his lips colliding with hers. This kiss was sloppy and deep, but it tasted good. She tasted good. He closed his eyes as he felt her lips react to his, returning the kiss. It had been so long since he’d had a proper kiss, and hers was adoringly hesitant, and tender, and sweet, like honey. A little went a long way, but still, he craved more.

“… kiss you,” he whispered as they slipped out of the kiss, taking a breath. He looked into her eyes, which were staring up at him in surprise, larger than ever. He couldn’t read her reaction and raised his eyebrows, waiting for one, for approval, for aversion, for something.

She seemed momentarily stunned, but when she did finally react, it was purely physical. Her hands moved to his face, her lips to his, and before he knew it, they were locked in a second kiss...

***

When he awoke in the morning, Nick’s first thought was of Claire. He had dreamed of her, and though the details of the dream were too hazy to remember, he could see her face before he even opened his eyes.

Of course, when he did open his eyes, all he saw was his ceiling, stark and white and too bright in the morning light. He squinted, a headache hitting him like a sack of bricks. Hangover, he realized, closing his eyes again in hopes of some temporary relief. At first, he didn’t remember why he was hungover; he was still too out of it to think clearly, and the details of the night before seemed just as vague as his dream.

He’d slept like a rock, it seemed; his brain was fuzzy, and his body felt heavy and stiff, like it had lain in the same not-so-comfortable position all night. Letting out a groan, he stretched in bed, limbs going in all directions. He was startled when his arm and leg thwacked into a soft, heavy something at the same time. Living alone, sleeping alone, he was used to having his king size bed all to himself, being able to sprawl without touching anything but sheet and mattress. But when he brushed against the body next to him, only one thought made sense, the same though with which he’d woken up.

Claire.

He could feel her next to him now, curled up on the same side of the bed she’d always occupied when they’d slept together. He couldn’t exactly remember why she was here in his bed now or how she’d gotten there, but in his half-conscious stupor, he was convinced it was her. Rolling towards her, he caught a glimpse of her red hair and fair, freckled skin, but when he looked closer, he startled again.

The woman lying next to him was not Claire.

His heart pounding as confusion raced through his mind, Nick reached out and lightly brushed back the tangled hair that had fallen over her cheek. Laureen? he realized, and at first he was shocked. But then, like a bucket of ice water, it all came pouring back to him – Claire and Jamie’s wedding, the reception, dancing, drinking, leaving with Laureen…

He remembered that she’d driven him home, though the details of the car ride itself were sketchy. All he could recall was how the world seemed to be spinning. She must have walked him into the house, but how she had ended up in bed with him was beyond him… unless…

The kiss.

Suddenly, he was reliving it, like a flashback in a movie, when the picture is all distorted, the images fuzzy and surrounded by a dreamlike glow. It felt like a dream, but he knew it had not been. He could remember kissing her, making out with her on the bed. From there, though, the flashback faded to black, and he couldn’t remember anything else. What else had they done? Had he slept with her?

He studied Laureen closely, feeling nervous. He was terrified that she was going to suddenly wake up to find him staring at her and ask him the same question – what had they done together the night before?? But for now, she appeared to be sound asleep. She was curled up on her side, her back to him. The covers were pulled up around her, and he was thankful to see that she had on at least a T-shirt beneath them. Looking past her, he spotted her purple bridesmaid’s dress draped neatly over a chair, her matching heels lined up on the floor in front of it. It didn’t look like she had torn everything off in a fever of passion, and for that, he was relieved.

Looking down at himself, he realized for the first time that he was still dressed, at least for the most part. His shoes, his jacket, and his tie had been removed, but he had slept in his black pants and dress shirt, and with his artificial leg on. Which meant only one thing – he’d either passed out drunk before he could bother to finish changing, or he’d simply been too wasted to bother. He wondered if he’d even been the one to take off his shoes and jacket, or if Laureen had done that for him. He hated not remembering; it was a weird feeling.

And though he was just about positive that he and Laureen hadn’t had sex, he remembered the kissing and touching and felt incredibly guilty. Had he taken advantage of her?

Even if she hadn’t been drunk the night before, Laureen was young and innocent and a big fan of him. In that respect, she wasn’t much different from some of the fans he’d bedded on tour in the old days, girls he had taken advantage of because he knew they would do anything to get into his pants. He’d slept with them in random hotel rooms along the road and sent them on their way in the morning with no intention of ever seeing or talking to them again. He’d been young himself at the time, young and arrogant and spoiled by the sudden fame and attention that had been lavished upon him. Now he was older and much wiser, and it killed him to think that, in his drunken state, he might have preyed upon Claire’s friend.

It also killed him to realize that he didn’t even know for sure because he couldn’t remember.

His eyes bored into Laureen’s back, wishing she would wake up now. It was going to be awkward, but he had to ask her what had happened. She had been more sober than he was; she would remember.

But at first she didn’t stir, and so he sat up, awkwardly swinging both legs over the side of the bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he propped his elbows in his lap and lowered his head to his hands, wishing he had the energy to get up and find some painkillers for his headache. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to will it away, raking his hands through his hair, gently massaging his scalp with his fingertips.

A few seconds later, he felt the mattress move. Twisting around, he found Laureen sitting up, her cheeks flushed and rosy as she offered him an awkward smile.

“Morning,” he managed to say, deciding it would be a better greeting than a bombardment of questions.

“Morning,” Laureen replied softly. “H-how are you feeling?”

He snorted. “Hungover. How about you?”

She shrugged and looked down, pulling the covers up around her chest. He could tell she felt uncomfortable, which sent another wave of guilt crashing into him.

“Listen, I just wanna say, I… I’m really sorry about whatever happened last night,” he said quickly. “I have to admit, I don’t remember all of it, but… I-I know I was pretty trashed, and that you had to take care of me, and that we… we ended up sorta…” Making out, he wanted to say, but he didn’t even have to; her already-pink cheeks flushed bright red, and she looked away, and he knew then that it had to be true. Mistaking her reaction for shame, he added, “I am so sorry for that, Laureen. I… I guess I just let myself get carried away… caught up in everything… you know? If I took advantage of you or made you feel uncomfortable in any way, I am so… so sorry.”

“I understand,” said Laureen, her voice barely a whisper. “And it’s okay… You… you didn’t take advantage of me.”

“I feel bad though,” he went on, raking through his hair again. “I put you in a crappy position last night. You didn’t have to stay and take care of me all night.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay!” she said again. “I didn’t mind, really. I mean… hey, what are friends for, right?” She offered another timid smile.

He snorted. “Well, I’m not sure I was the best friend to you last night, but thanks… thanks for being there, and thanks for understanding.”

She nodded. “Anytime. I really didn’t mind; I’m used to it.”

“Yeah?” He frowned.

She shrugged. “Well… yeah. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stayed up with friends who’ve had too much to drink... and then there’s my mom. She can’t get through a day without going to the bar and getting loaded.”

Nick winced. He thought she was trying to make him feel better, but she was only making him feel guiltier. He knew all too well what it was like to have people in your life who just brought you down… and he never wanted to be that to anyone else – the kind of person who brought them down with his problems. Especially someone like Laureen, whom he didn’t know that well. It wasn’t like she could say she’d just been returning a favor – he’d never done anything for her, yet she had stayed and taken care of him with no complaint. He wasn’t sure he deserved that kind of kindness from her.

Thinking about what she’d said, he replied, “I’m sorry… about your mom. That’s gotta be rough. My mom’s not an alcoholic, per se, but… well, you can probably imagine what she’s like, the way she whores herself to the media all the time. ‘Messed up’ is an understatement when describing her.”

Laureen laughed. “Well, anytime you need to rant about family drama, I’m a good person to talk to. I’ve definitely been there. Thank god for my grandparents; they practically raised me.”

Smiling sadly, Nick replied, “Yeah, well, Kevin and the guys basically raised me from the age of thirteen on, so I’m with ya there too.”

Laureen returned the smile, and for a few moments, they were both quiet. The awkwardness of the situation sunk in, as Nick realized once again that they were both sitting on his bed, her half-dressed in one of his t-shirts that she must have found somewhere, and him in the same rumpled clothes he’d worn the night before, him not knowing exactly what had happened between them, and her giving away nothing.

She seemed to realize the same thing, for suddenly, she pushed back the covers and swung her legs over the opposite side of the bed. “I should probably get going,” she mumbled as she did this, reaching for her gown. She held it up in front of herself and looked down at it awkwardly, as if actually considering putting the thing back on for the drive home.

“You wanna borrow some shorts or something?” Nick offered.

“Um… sure, that would be great. Thanks,” she replied gratefully. Fingering the t-shirt she had on, she added, “Thanks for letting me wear this to bed too. I’ll wash your stuff at home and bring it back to you, I promise.”

He chuckled, realizing he had no recollection of giving her the shirt to wear. That must have happened sometime after the make out session, of which he could only remember bits and pieces. “Oh, it’s no big deal. Hell, you can keep them if you want,” he added. He smiled when Laureen blushed again; she was really cute when she did that.

He sent her up to the master bedroom, telling her where to find some pants to put on. While she was upstairs changing, he got up and headed for the bathroom to take some Tylenol and splash some water on his face. She was just coming down the stairs when he emerged from the bedroom, and they met at the foot.

“You, um… you want some breakfast or something before you go? Or coffee? Or… anything?” he offered, feeling bad about just letting her leave. He had no problem sending groupies on their merry way with barely a goodbye while he was on tour, but Laureen wasn’t just some random chick he’d fooled around with. He owed her more than that, especially after she’d had his back the night before.

“Oh, no thanks; I’m fine,” replied Laureen. “I really should go… and you should probably just go back to bed,” she added, giving a knowing smile.

“My head is killing me,” he admitted. “My fault though… I should really learn to drink less.”

Laureen giggled. “Well, I think you had an excuse to get wasted last night. You had to watch your ex marry someone else – that’s a good excuse.”

“I like the way you think, Laureen,” Nick said, smiling. “Listen, thanks again, for last night. I owe ya.”

She smiled back. “No problem. Like I said – anytime.”

He watched her walk out to her car, her short frame clothed in his huge, baggy clothes, and closed the door as she drove off. Realizing he’d ridden home in her burgundy Saturn and left his silver Jaguar at the reception, he wondered, how am I going to get my car?

Then he remembered why he’d chosen to drive the Jag to Claire’s wedding in the first place. It had always been her favorite of his cars.

That was exactly why, later in the day, after he’d freshened up, he called up a friend, picked up the Jaguar, took it to his favorite car dealer, and sold it.

***