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Chapter 74

That night, Nick did the only thing he knew of to make the pain he was feeling go away – get rip-roaring drunk. By midnight, he was blissfully numb and actually enjoying himself, as he chatted with a very young, very hot Latina woman – Angelique, he thought she’d said her name was. Like an angel. A suitable name for such a beautiful girl. She had chocolate eyes, caramel skin, and glossy black hair that brushed her back, swaying gently as she tipped her head this way and that, talking animatedly in a dialect that was distinctly Southern Californian, with just a hint of Spanish influence and a slight slur from the tequila shots she’d been downing all night. She was three sheets to the wind and had been talking to Nick for half an hour without the remotest sign of recognition, which suited him perfectly. He didn’t want to be recognized. He wanted to escape.

“So you said you’re from LA?” he asked her, raising his voice to be heard above the pounding music of the club.

“That’s right! Orange County, baby, the OC!” she exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air and bobbing her head. “I’m just here visiting some friends, but I’m flying back to Cali in a week for the holidays. Christmas is coming; I’m so excited!”

He smiled wryly at the way she pronounced the ‘g’ at the end of her words. Visting-guh, flying-guh, coming-guh…

“Are you excited? For the holidays?” she asked, smiling as she leaned closer to him across the table.

“Nah, not really,” he answered, then elaborated, “My girlfriend left me. This morning.”

Angelique’s dark eyes widened with sympathy. “Oh no, I’m so sorry!” she gushed, touching his arm. She leaned even closer, peering up at him, her full, crimson lips drawn into a frown. “Come on, do a shot with me!” she urged him, as if that would make it all better.

Nick wasn’t disagreeing. He got up from his seat when she did, put his hand in hers, and followed her as she led the way to the bar, pushing past the crowds of people like a seasoned pro, despite the fact that she was at least a foot shorter than him and couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and ten. She ordered them each a shot of tequila and handed him as he squeezed into a spot next to her at the bar.

“Ready?!” she called above the music, raising her glass.

“Ready!” he shouted back with a nod, and they clinked glasses before downing the shots in one synchronized swallow, chasing them with salt and limes. Nick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his throat burning from the tequila, and offered Angelique a crooked smile.

She smiled back, batting her mascara-heavy eyelashes flirtatiously… and then she pounced. Before he knew it, her arms were around his neck, pulling him downward, and her lips were pressed against his. The kiss was fiery; her tongue forced its way into his mouth, and he could taste the alcohol and hint of lime as he caressed it with his, blindly wrapping his arms around her so that his hands were on her firm back and in her silken hair.

By the time she broke the kiss, he was breathless. He sucked in great gulps of air, slightly thunderstruck by what had just happened. Angelique, on the other hand, did not seem fazed. “Let’s dance!” she exclaimed brightly, grabbing his hand again and trying to pull him onto the dance floor.

“No,” he tried to protest, uncomfortably aware of his clumsy prosthetic leg as he stumbled along behind her. Her grip unrelenting, she dragged him through circles of people until they reached an empty spot at the edge of the crowded dance floor. Immediately, she found the beat of the music and began to move, shaking her hips like Shakira and throwing her hands above her bobbing head.

“Come on!” she cried when she noticed that he was not dancing, pulling him closer and grinding seductively against him, wasted and totally oblivious to the fact that he wore a stiff, artificial leg on the other side of his body. A few years ago, he would have been right there with her, his body pressed up against hers, rocking out to the pulsing rhythms. But now he just felt awkward and inept. He felt his cheeks grow warm, imagining everyone else on the dance floor staring at him.

“Hey!” he called, grabbing Angelique by the shoulder and leaning down to say into her ear, “I’m kinda hot! You wanna get out of here?”

“Sure!” she replied, nodding. Relieved, Nick made a quick escape from the dance floor, pulling her with him. They made their way outside into the cool night air, a welcomed reprieve from the stuffy, smoky club. “You are hot,” she giggled, putting her hands on his chest to catch herself as she stumbled against him. “I was getting hot too though; I’m always hot. My friends call me a hot tamale!” She giggled again, then stopped abruptly and, looking up at him, asked, “Hey, wanna walk back to my hotel? It’s right down the street.”

“Okay,” Nick found himself answering, and before he knew it, he was standing in the center of a bargain hotel room, locked in her arms once again as they kissed long and hard.

“Mmm,” Angelique murmured as she broke the kiss, swaying slightly. “I gotta lie down… come on.” Dragging him with her, she weaved across the room to one of the beds and climbed up onto it, nearly toppling right off before she found her center of balance and slid backwards across the bedspread.

Bad idea, bad idea! Nick’s conscience screamed, but when his eyes drank in the sight of her, stretched out on the bed like that, the thin straps of her midriff-revealing top falling off of her shoulders, her long hair fanning out behind her, his body told him otherwise. His mind a blur, he stole around to the side of the bed and slid onto it next to her. She rolled into his arms and returned to kissing him immediately, her hands exploring his back as his trailed her sleek mane of hair.

Soon her fingers latched onto the hem of his shirt and started tugging it upwards. He lifted his upper body to help her pull the shirt over his head, and then his hands moved to hers, easing it off of her to reveal more of her toned upper body and ample bust. She wasted no time in reaching around behind her and undoing the clasps of her bra; within a few seconds, the satiny material had fallen from her chest, causing Nick’s breath to catch in his throat as he took in the sight of her. She grabbed his hands, moving them to the places her bra had covered, and fell back against the pillows. Leaning over her, he squeezed a handful of her breast, kneading the firm, plump flesh slowly as she closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure.

Her lips eventually found their way back to his, but before long, she was done kissing. After easing him off of her, her hands went to her waist, undoing the fly of her low-rise jeans and sliding them down her hips to reveal red thong panties. She kicked the tight jeans off of her ankles and then rolled towards him again, her fingers shooting immediately for the waistband of his own jeans.

“Angel-Angelique,” he murmured, becoming aware of the fact that she was heading for dangerous territory. “Hang on a minute… just...”

But his words fell on deaf ears; she’d already pulled open his fly and was struggling to get his pants down his waist. “Here,” he said, covering her hands with his to stop her. “Let me.” Sucking in a breath, he slowly raised his hips just enough to lower his pants; he watched her face as he eased the jeans down, inevitably exposing the socket of his prosthesis.

He saw her eyes widen at first, then heard her gasp as he sat up and pushed the denim down to reveal the rest of the artificial leg. When he glanced back at her, her lips were curled back in what was unmistakably revulsion.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, her gaze flitting briefly from his leg to his eyes, then right back again. “Y-you… your leg,” she stammered uncomfortably, scooting away from him. “Wh-why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t give me the chance,” he answered quietly, sobered by her reaction. “I lost it a year and a half ago, to cancer,” he explained, figuring it was best to be honest about it. “But I’m okay now. It’s okay.” He held out his hand, reaching for her, but she scrambled backwards and fell right off the bed, hitting the floor on the other side with an ungraceful thud.

“Are you okay??” Nick asked, trying to scoot over to see if she was alright. She reappeared quickly, but swayed, off-centered, on her feet. Nick patted the bed. “C’mon, you should lie down,” he said, but she shook her head and reached out towards the wall, using it to brace herself.

She stood that way for a few seconds, her eyes closed. Then all of a sudden, she opened her eyes wide, looked at Nick, and gasped, “I’m gonna be sick!” Clapping a hand over her mouth, she staggered around the bed and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Through the cheap, fake wood, he could hear the muffled sounds of her gagging and retching.

For a moment he wondered if he should go in and help her, but he quickly decided against it. He knew she didn’t want to see him now.

His cheeks burning with humiliation and shame, he slowly reached for his rumpled jeans and eased his lower half over the side of the bed to pull them back on. His shirt came next, followed by his shoes, and then he stood. Angelique was still throwing up in the bathroom when he walked out.

His embarrassment only grew as he left the hotel and trudged back to the club, mentally berating himself the whole way. Why did you let it go so far?! You knew what was going to happen! How did you think she was going to react? A hot girl like that… she’s not out looking to get some from a gimp!

He knew he was in no condition to drive, but when he found his car, he climbed in anyway, slamming the door as hard as he could before dropping his forehead to the steering wheel. He banged it there a few times, until the horn sounded and startled him. Then he just sat, slumped over the wheel in defeat.

So this is how it’s gonna be, he thought miserably. If Claire leaves me for good… then that’s it. I’ll be single and alone for the rest of my life. No other woman will ever want to be with me, unless she’s just after my money. And I don’t want another fucking gold digger. He knew what he wanted. I want Claire…

She was the only woman who understood him, the only one who knew him and loved him the way he was, even now. She could look at him and touch him and somehow find him desirable, because she was different. She was special.

God, he missed her already.

Despite his anger, he wanted nothing more than to go home, climb into bed with her, and feel her arms around him, erasing his humiliation with her warm hug. But he knew it was not to be. Claire was gone. And he was alone.

He thought he was alone anyway, until a light knock on the driver’s side window startled him, causing him to jerk upright. His head flew to the window where he saw, his heart skipping a beat, a woman’s face.

“Nick?” he heard her voice through the closed window, and as he squinted through the glass in bewilderment, he realized he recognized her. He reached for the door handle and opened the door, climbing quickly out of the car.

“Laureen?” he said, and sure enough, now that he could see her in the glow of the lights overhead, it was Laureen Bincs, Claire’s coworker.

“I thought that was you!” exclaimed Laureen, smiling brightly. “What’s up? Did you just get back from Los Angeles?”

At first, Nick frowned in confusion, wondering how she could possibly speak to him so cheerfully. Then he realized… she didn’t know.

“Yeah,” he answered her dully. “Just got back this morning.”

“That’s cool. So what are you up to, just having a guys’ night, since Claire’s out of town and all? It’s girls’ night out for me,” she rushed ahead without giving him a chance to answer, “but… I dunno. I’m not really big on clubs,” she confessed. “I don’t really dance… no good at it. My friends always think I’ll dance if they get me drunk enough, but I’ve had a few drinks and…” She shrugged and shook her head. “… not happening.” She paused and glanced around the parking lot. “So where are your friends?” she asked.

“Not here. I came alone,” Nick said, then, figuring he might as well tell her, added, “Claire left me.”

It took Laureen a minute for him to process what he had said, and when she did, she gasped out loud. “What?!” she cried. “What do you mean, left you?”

“I mean she left… literally. She moved out of my place without even telling me; I came back this morning and found a note from her.”

“What?!” Laureen gasped again. “You’re kidding!”

Nick let out a humorless chuckle. “I wish.”

Laureen gaped up at him, her eyes wide with shock. “Oh my gosh…” she whispered, shaking her head. “Nick… I can’t believe it! A-are you okay? Oh, what am I saying, that’s a stupid question – of course you’re not okay! Oh, Nick!”

He smiled crookedly, surprised to find that he was genuinely comforted by her concern for him. At least someone cared about him. “Nah… not really,” he admitted, holding his hands out limply in defeat.

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?” Laureen offered, coyly shifting her feet as she peered up at him. “We could go somewhere else and… get some food or something, maybe?”

“Oh, I dunno…” Nick hesitated. “You’re here with your friends; I don’t want to-“

“Oh no, I was just about to take off!” Laureen interjected. “I told you, I wasn’t having much fun. I’ve already called a taxi and everything, so we can just take that and go somewhere, wherever you wanna go.”

Nick thought for a moment and then nodded. “Okay,” he accepted. “I guess I shouldn’t really be driving anyway.”

Laureen smiled knowingly. “Me neither,” she said. “This way, we’ll both be safe. Come on.” She motioned for him to follow her, and after locking his car and pocketing his keys, he did, walking with her back around to the front of the club, where they waited together for the cab.

***

Thank God for 24 hour restaurants, Nick thought, as he sat across from Laureen at a table in the private room typically reserved for parties at a nearby Denny’s. He stuck his finger into his hot chocolate to test the temperature, then stirred it around lazily, bringing his finger up to his mouth to suck off a glob of whipped cream.

He was stalling on the whole talking thing because, frankly, now that they were here and his buzz was wearing off, he felt sort of awkward. He barely knew Laureen; the only time he’d really even talked to her before was the night he and Claire had gone out to dinner with her and Tim, and she’d hardly talked then. She was much more talkative around him tonight, with alcohol in her system, but still, it wasn’t as if they were old friends.

“I can’t believe Claire left,” Laureen finally spoke first, and Nick glanced up to see her looking across the table at him, her brow furrowed with sympathy. “I had no idea. The last time I saw her was at work yesterday. She seemed kind of stressed out, but then again, she’s been like that for weeks. I thought it was just because of her dad and working overtime, you know?”

Nick nodded. “Apparently it was me too. We’d been having arguments, about… all kinds of things… but I didn’t think…” He trailed off inarticulately, offering her a shrug.

“Have you talked to her?” asked Laureen.

“Yeah,” said Nick and told her in brief what Claire had said on the phone.

“I’m sorry,” Laureen replied sympathetically when he was done. “I don’t really know what else to say… But I can talk to her, if you want; we’re both scheduled to work on Monday, so I should see her then.”

Nick shook his head. “Nah, don’t. I don’t think there’s anything left to say at this point. She’s gonna have to figure out things on her own, and I’ll… I’ll just have to wait, I guess.”

Laureen offered him a slight smile and took a slow sip of her cocoa. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke; she was sobering up too and, at the same time, clamming up in his presence.

“So…” he said slowly, trying to think of something to say to break the awkward silence and perhaps change the subject at the same time. “You don’t go to clubs much then?”

“Not a lot,” Laureen confessed with a shrug. “Like I said, usually I get dragged along with my friends. I’m just not really that type of girl though; I’d rather just… you know… hang out, watch a movie, have a few drinks at a friend’s house, that kind of thing. Not very exciting, I know,” she added, her cheeks turning pink as she met his eye, then averted her gaze.

“Nah, that’s cool,” Nick replied quickly, smiling at her. “I like just being able to hang out too. I used to be all about the club scene, but… not anymore.”

Again, she glanced up at him, catching his eye; again, she blushed and looked away. Realizing he was making her uncomfortable, he wracked his brain for something else to say to put her at ease.

“I met this girl there tonight, right, and she was… gorgeous. I probably shouldn’t be saying that, considering I was engaged as of this morning, but she was… yeah, she was fine,” he let himself ramble. “And I was talkin’ to her, and you know, she seemed pretty cool, pretty crazy. She was from LA, and she was all, ‘I like clubbing-guh and dancing-guh and drink-ing-guh’,” he imitated Angelique in a high-pitched Valley Girl accent. “And she was like, gone, wasted, had no fucking clue who I was… which was nice, you know, cause usually I get recognized going to places like that.”

Laureen nodded, studying him intently over her mug of hot chocolate, a cute smile tugging on the corners of her mouth.

“So she’s like, ‘Let’s dance!’ and pulls me over to the dance floor and starts, you know, bumping and grinding against me. And I… well, I used to be an okay dancer, I think-“ Laureen nodded emphatically behind her cocoa, then flushed bright red again when he paused to smirk at her. “-but these days… eh, not so much. Kinda takes some of the fun out of clubbing, huh? Is that why you don’t like clubs, cause you don’t dance?”

Laureen laughed nervously. “Yeah, I guess so. I just always think I’m gonna look like a spaz, you know? I don’t want people watching me.”

Nick smiled and nodded. “I know how that goes. Well if you ever get the urge to hit a club just for a drink or something and need someone to not-dance with you…” He paused and flashed her a cheeky grin. “… I’m your man.”

Laureen’s eyes widened as a huge smile spread over her face. “Really? Okay!” she said, not bothering to hide her eagerness.

He smiled again, wondering, I didn’t just ask her out… did I? I hope she doesn’t think that… Nothing against Laureen, but he barely knew her; he wasn’t interested in anything outside of friendship right now. Not to mention she was Claire’s friend, and he had just broken up with Claire (or whatever she wanted to call it) that morning. (The thought caused icy fingers to wrap around his heart, squeezing it until he felt sick to his stomach. Claire…)

Still, Laureen had been there for him that night (he thought, as he swallowed hard and attempted to push Claire’s face out of his mind), and he wasn’t against the idea of getting to know her better. “Yeah, lemme give you my number,” he said. “You won’t give it out to anyone, will you? Especially not any of your friends that might be Backstreet fans?” Get the point? he added internally, raising his eyebrows at her.

Laureen shook her head quickly. “No, I definitely won’t, I swear! Most of my friends aren’t fans anyway,” she said and immediately turned red again, looking mortified. “Sorry!”

Nick laughed. “That’s okay, it’s cool. I just don’t want it to get out, you know, cause then everyone would know, and I’d have to change my number again… It’s kind of a hassle.”

She nodded emphatically. “I understand. I promise, I won’t give it out.”

“Cool. You wanna write it down, or do you have a cell phone?”

“I’ve got my phone, hang on.” She tore into her purse and brought out her phone, hurriedly punching buttons on it. “Okay, ready,” she said after a moment, looking up. He recited the digits of his cell phone number, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake by trusting her, and waited as she stored it in her contacts.

“Um, do you want mine too?” she asked timidly when she had finished.

“Sure,” said Nick, and did the same as she rattled off her number to him, adding her name to the lengthy list of contacts that he desperately needed to weed down. He no longer kept in touch with half these people anymore anyway. “Cool,” he said when he was done, smiling at her as he flipped his phone shut.

By the time he’d drained the last of his cocoa, he had to admit, he felt slightly better than he had earlier. His buzz was all but gone, but at least he wasn’t alone.

Setting his empty mug down on the table with a clunk, he smiled across the table at Laureen and said, “We should do this again sometime. Denny’s, man… good stuff.”

She laughed. “Anytime! I mean that – if you wanna talk or anything, feel free to call.”

Her words were very reminiscent of the end of Claire’s letter, and again he felt his heart compress painfully. “Thanks,” he said, forcing a smile. “You ready to take off?”

As he and Laureen stood to leave, Nick couldn't help but wonder just how long the thought of Claire would cause him such pain. It didn’t take much for him to answer his own question.

If she doesn’t come back? Probably a long, long time.

***