Chapter Twenty
Point of View: Narrator

On day ten - the day after his family had come to visit - Nick had his first major relapse.

"I fucking hate it here!" he was screaming, throwing anything he could get his hands on. The rec room had cleared out as he threw his fit, and a male nurse, this guy Ted, was standing there tentatively trying to get Nick to calm down while they were waiting for Dr. Haseltine to get there. Nick was pacing, limping on his casted knee. He had flipped over the wheel chair, and now it sat sideways on the floor, the back right wheel spinning helplessly. He grabbed the paddle from the ping pong table and lobbed it across the room. "This is so fucking pointless!"

"Nick, we need you to calm down, please," Ted said in a soothing tone.

The tone only pissed Nick off more. He turned over a table and kicked a chair with his good leg and grabbed a lamp off a side table and yanked its cord out of the wall and brandished it like he was a lion tamer fending Ted off. "I don't wanna be here, let me go home!" his voice was shrill. Everyone in the whole ward could hear the commotion. In the hall people were peeking out of their rooms to see what was going on in the rec room.

Ted held up his hands to Nick, "Come on, put down the lamp, dude, this is ridiculous."

"I WANT TO GO HOME!" Nick yelled at the top of his lungs. He threw the lamp, and Ted made a dive to catch it before it hit the floor, only just making it. He landed on his stomach on the carpet.

A woman came running in the room, "Nick, Dr. Haseltine's here, he wants to talk to you."

Nick had flung himself, anguished, across the room and against the wall, where he'd rested his head on the wallpaper and closed his eyes, feeling overwhelmed. His balled fists had been held up, bracing him and he'd been sure he was about to cry. Somehow, the name of Dr. Haseltine made him feel a flood of hope. He didn't understand why. He bolted as fast as his knee would allow him to for the doctor's private office, stepping over Ted's form on the floor and pushing past the woman in the door.

Dr. Haseltine was just pulling on his lab coat when Nick came through the door and slammed it behind him. "Please," he said, dropping to the floor on the carpet the moment he was inside, "Please, I need something." Dr. Haseltine paused in the middle of adjusting the coat and looked at Nick. His eyes were blood shot, his hands were shaking. "Please, I'm in pain," Nick said, his voice desperate. "It needs to stop hurting. Please."

"What hurts, Nick?" Dr. Haseltine asked, his eyes knitting in concern. "Tell me where it hurts and we'll see what I can do."

"Everywhere, it hurts everywhere," Nick answered. He laid down on the floor and curled his knees to his chest.

Dr. Haseltine stood still a moment, considering him, then walked across the room and sat down on the floor awkwardly beside him. Even in his state, Nick recognized how strange it was that Dr. Haseltine was on the floor. The guy just wasn't the type. For some reason, the fact that he had sat on the floor comforted him, and made him like the guy a little bit more. "I need to know exactly where, Nick, or I can't give you any pain medication," he said slowly. The fact was, even if Nick could pinpoint a spot, the most he'd give him was Tylenol. Nick's pain was emotional, he knew, not physical. Nick just thought it was physical.

Nick looked up at Dr. Haseltine, considering him for a moment. Finally he clutched at his chest. "Here," he said, "On the inside."



On day thirteen, Dr. Haseltine was reading Nick's twelfth journal entry, the one when he'd described being sick in Germany and Jane's visit, when Nick came in for his appointment for the day. Since the night of the relapse, he was walking a little better on his knee and had forgone using the wheel chair any longer at all. He limped into the room and sat down in the chair opposite of the doctor, facing the fish tank and rested his busted leg up on Dr. Haseltine's coffee table. This had quickly become the regular stance.

"Nick, this is a very nice moment you wrote about your mom," Dr. Haseltine said, closing Nick's journal and handing it back to him. Nick took it and hugged the battered notebook to his chest. He'd abused the crap out of it in the two short weeks that he'd had possession of it. The entire cover was drawn over and marked up and it had been rolled and stuck into his back pocket so many times that the thing stayed permanently coiled inwards. The wire binding was coming undone at the top and the top four rings were pulled out. Nick had bent the wire into a knot that he hung his pen from.

"Yeah," he said, picking at the wire knot.

Dr. Haseltine paused. "Is that the only one you could think of to write for me, though?" he asked, "The question was what your best memory was with your mother."

"That was all I could think of."

Dr. Haseltine nodded, "Okay. That's fine, Nick, I was just curious if there was a reason you chose that one over another memory of her, perhaps?"

"I thought I died," Nick said.

"What?"

"When I woke up in the hospital in Germany and she was there," he said, "I thought for sure I was dead because she wouldn't have been there if I wasn't dying." Nick stayed staring at the fish, back to the bit of not looking into Dr. Haseltine's eyes.

Dr. Haseltine considered this information. "But you weren't dying."

"No," he said, "I wasn't."

"So she came just because you were sick," he said, "To be with you."

"She came because Johnny asked her to and she would've looked like a really shitty mother not to, especially since he paid the airfare," Nick replied bitterly, spitting the word 'mother' out of his mouth like it was poison.

Dr. Haseltine frowned, taking notes, "I'm sure she didn't come just to please your manager--"

"Hello? Were you not there the other day? Did you not see what a fucking phony bitch she can be?" Nick asked, looking up, livid. "Of course she'd go to Germany to please my fucking manager."

He's right, Dr. Haseltine thought.

Nick shook his head, "Like I've said all along, my family hates me and I'm fine with that. It's not a big deal. I can handle it. What I can't handle is when they all fight like they did the other day and I end up caught in the center of it. As long as they hate me far away there's no problem."

Dr. Haseltine considered this. "You've never told me why you think they hate you," he said slowly, "Why do you think they hate you?"

"Again. Did you not see that display the other day?" Nick demanded.

The doctor nodded, "Yes I did see it, Nick. But it doesn't explain why you believe that they hate you. What I saw the other day was a very broken family with a lot of repressed feelings and rage. I did not see hatred directed specifically at you."

"I'm the one that caused it," he said, looking again at the goldfish as it swam. "Its my fault they are like that. That started after I left. It was my fault, for leaving."

"But you left to begin your career in music, correct?" Dr. Haseltine asked.

"I left because of the band, yes," Nick answered, "Because someone needed to be doing something to keep them all fed."



On day fourteen, Nick came into Dr. Haseltine's office. "Why aren't they visiting me?" he asked.

Dr. Haseltine, who had not yet looked at Nick's journal entry for the day, asked, "Who?"

"Brian and AJ and Howie," Nick answered, "My friends. Why haven't they come?"

Dr. Haseltine sighed, "I don't know, Nick." He made a note on the clipboard to call these friends of Nick's and get them in there. They were obviously the next hurdle Nick needed to tackle.

Chapter Twenty-One
Point of View: Narrator

Zoe was working on her driving logs in her office late one afternoon when she heard the door open. She was fairly certain she'd hung the closed sign up on the door. She turned around to see who it was. A petite blonde woman peeked around the corner of the office wall tentatively and smiled. She stepped into the room, and Zoe immediately felt under-dressed. The woman was in a form-fitting slate-grey skirt and jacket suit. "Hello," she said, holding out her hand to Zoe, "My name is Stacey Newman."

Zoe shook her hand, feeling like she was going to contaminate this woman, who looked very germ-free and smelled like soap even from a distance. The woman's hands were parched and chapped-looking from over cleaning. "I'm a social worker," she explained, "I'm here from Oak Groves Rehabilitation Clinic."

"I'm sorry," Zoe said before the woman could go on, "I don't do rehabilitation driving. My car isn't equipped for it. There's a school out in Palm Springs that does, though, let me get you their number --"

"The patient I'm here regarding isn't physically challenged at all, you wouldn't need a modified car," Stacey said. "He's in our drug and alcohol program currently. I was told you have experience with this sort of thing."

Zoe's hand tightened around the handle of her crutch. "Yes," she said, "Some experience."

"Because of the patient's situation, the court's ordered a special... exception... for him," Stacey explained. "The court wants him to do 100 hours of rehabilitation practice driving with a qualified instructor, who will teach him to be more responsible behind the wheel in the future. And we were referred overwhelmingly to you."

Zoe had a bad feeling. "Why are you making an exception?" she demanded. "Because you're telling me his license was revoked, I'm assuming he was given a DWI. If he was driving intoxicated, he doesn't belong behind the wheel." Her tone was extremely bitter as she said these words.

Stacey explained, "When he gets out of the program in two weeks, he will need to be able to drive to appointments on his own, and because of the nature of his employment, we feel he will probably be in need of his own vehicle during... business trips... as well."

Zoe already knew the answer but she asked it anyway, "And what is the nature of his employment?"

"He's a singer," Stacey answered.

The two women locked eyes. Zoe won the stare down easily. "This is bull shit. The state has nothing better to do than break like fifteen of its own laws to put a reckless driver behind the wheel so he can get drunk and kill people - just because he's Nick Carter?"

Stacey seemed uncomfortable now that Zoe had won the stare down and guessed who her client was. "Look, Ms. Sinclaire, we can go to a different driving school, it doesn't really matter. The client is prepared to issue a five thousand dollar check to the instructor. Since we were so heavily referred to your program, I was sent here first." Stacey shrugged, "If you aren't interested in the offer, I can go to a different school."

"A five thousand dollar check?" Zoe asked. She did the math quickly in her head. "That's $50 an hour." She laughed, "You're not going to get anyone to do it for that."

Stacey looked surprised. "What?"

"$50 an hour to drive with a reckless maniac who landed himself in rehab?" she scoffed, "A famous one at that? You seriously think anyone is going to sucker into that? The going rate per hour of private instruction is well over $60, which is what I charge per hour, and I do so much private instruction because of my low rate that I've thought about hiking it just to slow it down." Zoe rolled her eyes, "Five thousand dollars, Jesus, you people are pathetic."

Stacey considered, "I can renegotiate the amount," she said. "Ms. Sinclaire, we just want this client to be taught well, and taught right, so that he isn't a reckless driver and he doesn't end up killing somebody. The bottom line is we're issuing the exception because we know he'll drive anyway once he's out - that's in his nature. We're heading it off by allowing him to drive, if he can prove he is a safe driver."

Zoe sighed heavily. "Make me an offer I can't refuse, then."



When Zoe got home that night, she found Kayla laying on her back, upside down on the sofa, watching Mork & Mindy reruns on DVD. She tickled her foot and Kayla screamed and laughed, kicking her feet, before tumbling off the sofa and smiling widely at Zoe, "What was that for?"

"We're going out to eat tonight," Zoe answered.

"We are?" Kayla was surprised. The never went out to eat. She reached for the remote and clicked the TV off. "Why? What's the occasion?"

Zoe grinned, "I just got a check for twenty thousand dollars."

Journal - Week 3, Part 1


Journal Entry #15

dr. haseltines obsessed with the fellas now and how i feel about them. im supposed to be analyzing why i think they arent visiting me but i dunno. if i knew that i wouldnt be wondering would i?? its not like i dont think they care. theyre like my replacement family unit. i might mean we fight and shit but its deeper than that. ajs like my playmate and brother. we goof off we beat the crap out of each other and make fun of each other and call each other names but when it comes down to it i know we'd both take a bullet for the other one if we had to. howies like the cranky uncle guy. hes really uptight and grown up and stuff. but i still love him to bits. hes fun to torture because he gets so worked up over the stupidest stuff. brian's like the dad. he used to be more like my playmate like aj was and kevin was the dad but now brians the dad. ever since he had baylee. i guess hes like a best friend cool dad type cos hes still fun he just is also worrisome and takes care of me. kevin... well i wish kevin would come back cos kevin was like the "real" dad. kevin was the one you'd turn to when you needed someone to just be there and understand yanno? he could be an asshole in fact more often than not i thought he was an asshole but i miss him. i was like the rebellious teen kid that didnt know what a good thing he had until he pushed it away too hard one too many times.


Journal Entry #16

im supposed to talk about what the last sentence in my last entry meant - the thing about being a rebellious kid that pushed too many times. it boils down to the question: why do i think kevin left? i mean obviously kristin was pregnant with mason he wanted to start a family and he was getting older and yanno all those reasons that we gave the fans and he gave us and we gave each other. but there was another reason, one that only kevin and i know about, the reason that means i am yet again the one that broke my family apart.

Chapter Twenty-Two
Point of View: Brian

I hung up the phone, feeling nervous, and rubbed the little antennae thing against my palm along the ridges of my lifeline. I took a deep breath and turned to walk back into the kitchen, where Leighanne and Baylee were waiting. Baylee was already half done the eggs and bacon that Leighanne had cooked up for him. I put the phone down on its cradle next to the microwave and dropped my hands onto Baylee's shoulders as he opened the ketchup bottle and squeezed it onto the eggs in a crisscross pattern. "They want me to go in and do a therapy session thing with Nick," I said.

Leighanne looked up, her voice sounded innocent but I could see the I told you so lurking in her eyes. "Just you?"

"Yeah," I said. I sat down in my own seat and looked at the eggs sitting in front of me, reached for the salt and tried to pry the ketchup out of my son's death grip. "You've got like a whole bottle on there, little man," I said, laughing.

"I like it!" cried Baylee, pouting.

"You'll like it just as much without wasting it all," I answered.

Leighanne couldn't bear it any longer. "I told you they'd want you to go in there," she said, "I told you we should've stayed in Los Angeles."

I shrugged, "Well when AJ went in they advised that we didn't visit until they requested us all in for the therapy session. I just assumed we'd be going in as a group again. I never dreamed they'd want me to go to a therapy session with him alone. I mean, why?"

Leighanne shrugged, "Maybe he asked for you, Brian. I mean, the poor guy is going through a lot right now and you're his best friend..."

"Yeah, but I figured he wouldn't want me like interfering," I poked at the eggs, suddenly not really hungry.

"Guys are so stupid when it comes to feelings, I swear to Christ," she whispered, shaking her head.

"Is Uncle Nick dying?" Baylee asked bluntly, looking up from his pool of ketchup and egg.

"No," Leighanne and I both said at the exact same time. We looked at each other, surprised, because it had been in the same tone as well. "He's not dying," I said, "Of course not. Uncle Nick was sick and now he's getting better. He's being very brave."

"Because he's at the hospital? Did they give him a shot?" asked Baylee.

"Yeah," I said absently.

Baylee rolled up his sleeve, "I got a shot right there, and I was brave, too."

"Yes you were honey," said Leighanne, smiling, "You were very brave."

"That was a long time ago though," said Baylee, and then he went back to his eggs.

If I was being honest with myself, I had been avoiding the problem of going to see Nick. I'd wanted to get to Atlanta to put as much space between me and Oak Groves as possible. I was terrified of what I would find if I went to Nick. I could remember how weird it had been visiting AJ in Arizona, how he'd been too relaxed, too calm, too... not AJ. He'd been docile like a sleepy cat in the afternoon sun, which was not at all what AJ was like normally. I didn't want to see Nick like that. I wondered if there was a way to get out of the session without hurting Nick's progress.

"Brian, you need to go to him," Leighanne said flatly, staring at me.

I swear, that woman can read my mind sometimes.

I sighed and stood up, scooping the phone off the cradle. Leighanne glanced at my hardly-touched, getting-cold eggs and raised an eyebrow. "What're you doing now?"

"Calling the airline..." I answered, wandering out of the kitchen with the phone.



I was standing in the hallway at the ominous doors through which I'd practically forced Nick just two weeks ago. They were scary, and I was only going in for a therapy/visiting session. I couldn't imagine going through them to stay. I was really nervous still about what I was going to see. Would I encounter a granola-munching-docile version of Nick as I had AJ in 2001, or would it be a broken shell of the Nick that I'd once known that I found on the other side of the door?

Finally, steeling myself, I stepped through the doors. Instead of turning right, as we had when I was dropping Nick off (the reception room was down there) I took a left, as the woman on the phone had told me to do, and walked to the office door labeled "DR. F. HASELTINE, REHABILITATION" and knocked.

Dr. Haseltine was not at all what I had expected when I heard the name originally. I'd imagined someone that looked kind of like Kevin when I'd heard the name. Instead, standing before me, was the old guy from the Wendy's commercials. Or maybe the Monopoly guy? I couldn't decide.

"Good afternoon," he said, striking out a hand and shaking mine. "I'm Floyd Haseltine, and you must be the famous Brian that I've heard all about," he said, glancing at his watch. "Nick should be here in just a few moments. Come in and have a seat."

I followed Dr. Haseltine into his typical-looking office. There were two chairs in front of a big desk. I sat down in one of them and Dr. Haseltine smiled and said, "Don't be surprised if Nick makes you move. He's become rather possessive of that chair."

I knew how Nick was. He had a weird thing where he had to sit in the same spot every time if he was in a place frequently. Somehow he had some kind of weird internal compass, too, so he knew which side of the table he should sit on when we went to restaurants, and he always ordered us all around to our seats "where we belonged". It was a really strange habit, but it was Nick. I glance around the room and spotted the goldfish in its tank. The angle that it was at, he wouldn't have been able to see it from the other chair. That explains that, I thought.

"So, Brian," Dr. Haseltine said as I switched chairs, relinquishing Nick's seat before he'd even complained about my having taken it yet, "Nick has been wondering where you've been."

So he had been asking for me.

"I had to go home to Atlanta," I said, "I had some things to take care of there, and my boy needed a break from the hotel rooms."

Dr. Haseltine nodded, "Well that certainly makes sense. How long have you lived across the country from Nick?" he asked.

"I moved to Atlanta before Leighanne and I were married so about..." I thought. "I don't know, probably eleven years ago? Leighanne and I are going on ten." Damn, I thought, Ten years? Time's flown by so fast.

"Mmm, I see." Dr. Haseltine nodded, "So you and Nick have been best friends a long time, then."

"We've been a band like seventeen years," I replied.

Dr. Haseltine looked surprised. "Well, I guess you know him well then, huh?" he said.

I nodded. "So... how is he?" I asked, wondering where he was.

"Nick is doing very well," said Dr. Haseltine, "He has been progressing nicely. We've discovered a lot of things about why he needed alcohol and drugs in his life, and we are working on understanding that certain things are not his fault."

"What things?" I asked, worried that it was going to be something I could've prevented.

Dr. Haseltine paused, "When did Kevin Richardson leave the Backstreet Boys?" he asked.

"A couple years ago," I answered.

"Nick is under the impression, for a reason that he will not disclose, that Kevin left the band because of him," Dr. Haseltine answered.

"Kevin left the band because he wanted to start a family," I said.

"Ah," said Dr. Haseltine. I had a feeling he had something more to say, but he refrained, as a knock came on a door behind me that I hadn't noticed. The room had a door on each side and it occurred to me suddenly that one must lead to the patient area, and one to the corridor. "Come in, Nick," he called.

The door opened slowly, and Nick hobbled into the room. I stood up as soon as I saw him, my heart pounding, waiting for his eyes to meet mine so that I could see what had changed about him.

Nick looked up at me. A grin grew on his mouth and into his blue, shining eyes. "You came!!" he yelled, and despite the cast on his leg, he bounded to me, his arms whipping around my shoulders. He jumped back, excited, "You really came! I'm so happy you're here!"

It was like having back the old Nick.

Chapter Twenty-Three
Point of View: Narrator

Nick Carter had become Zoe's obsession ever since Stacey had stopped by the office with the envelope containing the $20,000 check. The check had a basket ball logo in the top left corner next to the printed name and address, and it featured the Boston Celtics logo and in the bottom right a beautiful, script signature that didn't fit with the chicken scratch printing that covered the rest of the check.

Seeing her name on the "pay to the order" line of a check featuring that many zeros had never happened to Zoe before. But there it was, in that messy writing. Zoe Sinclaire, Sinclaire Driver's Education.

Unfortunately, the check was post dated, so she couldn't cash it until the first day that Stacey had scheduled Nick to drive with Zoe.

So she might not have been able to cash the pretty check that she'd been given or to actually meet the infamous drunk driving Backstreet Boy, but Zoe had given a lot of time and thought to what she was going to be working on with him in two weeks when he got out of Oak Groves.

She'd put together a folder. Inside was her course's four study guides, the DMV driver's manual, the four take-home tests, the two project assignments, and 20 reproduced articles about drunk driving. Including two of the ones she'd clipped about Nick himself. Let him think that one over. He was now material to scare the shit out of teens learning how to drive. She also threw in a DVD that contained ten gut-wrenching videos about drunk driving, driving without a seat belt, and texting while driving.

She'd chosen those topics after looking into Nick's driving records with the DMV. It turned out that Nick was a horrible driver and had done some fancy foot work to keep his license more than this once. She found a list of about five or six basic traffic violations - a couple for speeding (70 in a 40 on one of them, and he'd been brought to court over it), failing to come to a complete stop at a stop sign, an illegal U-turn, running a red light - and also some incidents that she counted more alarming. Two DWI's were in his past - not counting the one in her front yard. One he had been excused of upon further investigation, whatever that meant, and the second one the state had upheld. Additionally, she found an interesting combination of texting while driving and one for basically flipping off a cop.

She'd also found a lovely mug shot taken after the second DWI that she thought about throwing into her pile of stuff for her classes. ("Do you want to look this attractive?" she could imagine herself joking.)

She had two more weeks to complete planning the routes they would drive over the 100 hours, which she had to submit to the DMV before driving with him. She also had a massive amount of paperwork to complete to request his driving status be made "inactive" so she could actually let him behind the wheel.

Between Nick and her class, Zoe was going to be really busy for awhile. Luckily, the class was almost over and she'd be able to focus fully on Nick for the rest of the summer.

If Nick Carter wanted to be a safe driver then Zoe was going to make him a damn safe one.... and that meant that if he wanted to get his rehabilitated driver form signed by Zoe, then he was going to have to jump through the hoops she held up... like a good little show dog.

Chapter Twenty-Four
Point of View: Kevin

I had expected the call from Oak Groves. I knew of course that Nick was there, and it wasn't that big of a leap to guess that he'd be mentioning my departure from the band and that would, of course, bring up the night I left the band.

What I did not expect was that the other three Backstreet Boys would be there as well. It was like AJ's rehab session all over again. And I didn’t particularly want the story shared with all of them.

Brian and AJ were sitting on the sofa, goofing off and yanking a magazine back and forth between them, when I walked in. When they heard the door close behind me, they both looked up and stopped what they were doing. Howie was serenely seated in a chair texting his wife.

"Hey Cuz," Brian greeted me, smiling up at me in that way that makes his nostrils get bigger. The same one that he used to flash when he was little and about to do something bratty.

"I didn't expect it to be all of us," I said, sitting down in a free chair. "That's surprising."

Brian nodded, "They made me come in by myself yesterday," he said, "But we mostly just visited. Today they want us all."

AJ, suddenly solemn, said, "This is like deja'vu for me. It smells the same as the one I was at did." He took a deep breath. "Jesus I don't miss that scent."

Howie closed his phone and pocketed it. "Do any of you have any idea if we're like in trouble here or something? Are we about to be blamed for this?"

I took a deep breath. "I have a feeling I may be a little bit of a target," I admitted.

Brian glanced my way, "Honestly? I have the same feeling."

I got the feeling Brian didn’t have a feeling so much as an inside scoop.

"Why you, Kev?" AJ asked, looking confused.

"Nick blames himself for Kevin leaving the band," Brian said before I could respond. I was thankful because I wasn't sure I wanted to recall the story multiple times in one hour and I was sure Nick would be asked to recount it when he got in the room.....


-June, 2006-

I could hear him fumbling with his keycard in the hallway. I reached over and turned off the light, sliding my book onto the table beside me. I waited, patiently, while he evidently dropped the keycard, swore, hit his head on the door, and finally got it opened. He stumbled into the room, tripped over God knows what, and banged into the wall. The door hit the wall, too. "Shit," he cracked up, "Shit..." his laughter started dying, and he closed the door slowly so it wouldn't click.

Because I if didn't hear it slamming, I would definitely hear it clicking, you fucking dildo. I shook my head.

The sound of exaggerated tiptoe steps came from around the corner and he moved slowly across the carpet. Once past the bedroom door, where he assumed I was asleep peacefully unaware of him, he reached for the lamp and turned it on.

"FUCKING A KEVIN!" he screamed, seeing me sitting there directly beside him. Nick had jumped about a mile into the air and almost fell backwards onto his ass. Honestly, it would've served him right if he had.

"Where the fuck were you?" I asked steadily.

"I went out, ok?" he was so trashed it was disgusting. I could smell the booze on his breath without even trying to lean in and the edges of his nostrils were all red from snorting God knows what. "I just went out to get a sandwich," he said.

This was the eighth night in a row. The eighth time I'd sat up in a row waiting to see that he was okay before going to bed. The eighth time he'd disappeared from an after party, drunk and high, not to be seen until the creeper hours of 3 or 4am.

I stood up in a quick movement and shoved him into the wall.

"What the FUCK?" he screamed, bouncing back off it.

"I waited too long with AJ, I'm not watching you shit your self down the drain like I did with him. I thought you would've remembered the anguish AJ went through but no. You never learn."

"I'm not like AJ," Nick shouted, "I'm just trying to have fun."

"By doing jello shots off a 17 year old girls' stomach?" I shouted, pissed.

He stared at me, his eyes unfocused and waved his hand, "Whatever you dunno how to party." He turned like he thought he was going to walk away, like he thought we were through.

"We are NOT done here," I yelled at him, shoving him back against the wall a second time. "I'm not letting you get to where AJ was Nick. I'll strap you and bring you to fucking rehab now myself if I have to."

"Don't fucking touch me," he growled lowly.

I stepped right up to him, my face a quarter of an inch from his, drawing my full height. I gave him the hardest glare I had ever given anyone. "Or what?" I hissed.

I could see he was torn by staring at his eyes. Part of him wanted to challenge me. Part of him wanted to see if he would win, if he was the alpha dog now.

I thought he would back down.

Which is why I was unable to stop him when he swung the punch, because I honestly hadn't expected to need to defend myself against him. He had never once not backed down when I did that to him, no matter how fucked up he was. But tonight... tonight he took me on.

I felt blood come out of my nose from the punch he landed on my face, and quickly threw my own, purposely putting it through the wall two inches to the side of his face, certain that would make him back down. Instead, he laughed, too drunk to realize I'd missed him so marginally on purpose and said, "Good aim," in an extremely mocking tone.

"You little prick," I hissed. "You wanna kill yourself? Do you want to die? Is that what you want? Huh?"

Nick's eyes were cold and he looked me right in mine. "It would be better than being here," he responded.

The sentence was so far out of Nick's typical personality type that I was momentarily dumbfounded. "Nick, are you suicidal?"

"No," he said, "I just would rather be dead than listening to you be a fucking bitch. You think you're all that, you think you're the king, the daddy. You're not! Nobody even likes you. You're just a fucking idiot, Kevin, and we'd be better off without you."

We stood, facing each other for a long moment, his words hanging in the air between us.

"If that's how you feel, then maybe I'll leave. Because I'd rather quit the band than watch you fucking waste your life." I stood up and went into my room and slammed the door.

Journal - Week 3, Part 2


Journal Entry #17

seeing brian made me want to get outta here worse then ever. i hate it here and even though im talking about stuff i dont think its helping me any. nobody understands why im doing what im doing. including brian and dr haseltine. i am not what they think i am. im having a relatively easy time here compared to the others that i see. theres a girl who screams bloody murder all night because shes coming off X and cant handle not having it. i dont feel that way. i did the night my family came but thats what im saying. its not about the alcohol or the drugs. it never was. but seeing brian finally made me very happy. i thought he would never come visit me. it felt good just to be in the same room as him. i had so much i wanted to tell him about but dr haseltine wouldnt leave us alone for 5 seconds so i couldnt tell him. i'll have to wait and tell him when i get out of this place if i remember by then.


Journal Entry #18

kevin says the fight was not the reason he quit the band. i dont fully believe him. i do however believe that it was not the only reason he quit the band which is a sicnificent signifigent significant difference to what i believed this morning. talking about the fight with him and the other guys made me think how weird it is that we can say words and not be able to take them back and how much those words can hurt and stay with us years and years later. i would do anything to unsay that stuff to kevin because i always wondered and i always will wonder if we'd never exchanged those words would kevin have stayed in the band? if i had backed down from him that night would he have stayed? aj too said the same thing about exchanging harsh words with kevin. kevin didn't apologize for his part in either fight. with me or with aj. he didnt have to he did nothing wrong. aj's was good. it was part of what made him finally go get help. me... well mine had the opposite effect. i got worse. and here i am now. so yeah, words. they're weirdly powerful little sons a bitches, arent they?


Journal Entry #19

ill be free in 9 days. i realized that today and i got really excited because i really wanna go home. i miss my house and my stuff and my space. it was a okay experience here. kinda like being at a hotel too long though. the foods still gross. the guy next to me needs a shower by the way. i dunno his name but he really does. hes about 5'4 inches and hes drawing a horse in his journal. yeah tell that guy to take a shower mk?


Journal Entry #20

8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8

(here he's made a drawing of the goldfish in dr. haseltine's office)


Journal Entry #21

i was reprimanded for not putting substance in my journal entries again. dr haseltine was all pissed he says im "taking 2 steps back" which is ghetto. they said i could write whatever i want. how come this smelly ass putz next to me can draw fucking hroses and not get into trouble but i do? seriously someone please for the love of god tell this guy to shower. please. its disgusting. hows that for substance?

Chapter Twenty-Five
Point of View: Narrator

"Do you mind telling me exactly what's going on?" Dr. Haseltine threw Nick's journal down onto the desk between them. Nick was staring at the wall, his leg up on the coffee table as usual, though the cast was off, and he was only wearing a brace there now. The scar on his temple was softening, too, and within a couple more weeks would probably be nearly impossible to see. Nick had been very lucky with healing after the accident. "Nick?"

"I don't know," he answered, not meeting Dr. Haseltine's eyes.

"Okay, if you won't tell me what's bothering you, I'll guess." He sat down. "You shut down the day after your friends were here. Something happened during the session that you don't want to think about and so instead of processing it and dealing with it you're shutting down again."

Nick rolled his eyes, "Why does everything have to do with me repressing and shutting down and not processing stuff? Why can't I just be in a bad mood or be homesick? Why do I have to be always doing something psychological?"

Dr. Haseltine answered, "Because that's not what you're doing."

"Don't you get it yet?" Nick snapped, "I'm not telling you everything because I don't want you to know everything. You're great but I don't think this is helping me. Not really."

"Okay," Dr. Haseltine said, taking Nick's outburst in stride. "Why don't you think it's helping you?"

Nick sighed, "I do all these stupid meetings and exercises and mind games and sessions and everything. Haven't you noticed I haven't had withdrawals?"

"You had the relapse last week," Dr. Haseltine reminded him.

"No, I had a meltdown because of my family. Doc, I haven't missed the alcohol or the drugs. Everyone else out there," he pointed at the door, "They all do. I don't. I'm not addicted to the alcohol or the drugs."

"But you are, Nick, you just don't realize it. You are in denial."

Nick rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "I'm not."

"You're very angry lately, Nick," Dr. Haseltine observed.

Nick gritted his teeth and balled his fists and growled, "That's because nobody listens to me! If you people would just really listen when I talk maybe you wouldn't be so stupid about me."

"I am listening, Nick," Dr. Haseltine said, throwing his hands in front of him in frustration. "That's what I am here for, to listen to you and do what I can to help you, but I can't help you if you're expecting me to read your mind."

"I'm not asking you to read my mind!" Nick cried out, "Don't you hear the words I'm saying? It was never about the alcohol. It was always about escaping stuff I feel inside, from being overwhelmed. This whole last couple weeks were kinda pointless. I mean, sure, I got to talk about stuff but I didn't learn anything I didn't already know about."

Dr. Haseltine studied Nick for a long moment. "Okay, Nick. If talking about your past isn't helping, what will help you to keep you from returning to the drugs and alcohol when you leave here next week? What can I do in these last seven days we will spend together to assist you in remaining sober?"

"Coping mechanisms."

Dr. Haseltine was surprised by the speed of the response. Nick had obviously been thinking about his answer to this question for quite some time. "Coping mechanisms?" he repeated.

Nick nodded. "When I'm upset or I'm angry or I'm sad... that's when I want to drink. I don't care about it otherwise, other than in a normal social way... But it's the only way I know how to deal with things, to make them go away. If I knew other ways maybe I wouldn't be so quick to make the mistakes I've made."

"Okay," Dr. Haseltine said, "Coping mechanisms it is, then."

"Thank you," Nick said, finally meeting Dr. Haseltine's eyes.

Journal - Week 4


Journal Entry #22

finally someone heard me. dr haseltine and i covered a bunch of coping strategies today in our time and i feel like i maybe can do better this way. they were mostly easy kinda obvious ones like talkin to someone about it before i try to handle it alone - easier said than done but i'll do my best - and helping someone else with their problems too. also like making lists he said. like listing good stuff thats goin on. and exercise. i think ill take up joggin in the evenings maybe. and hey until i get my license back i can jog all the hell over the place.


Journal Entry #23

dr haseltine feels like writing is gonna be real important and has asked me to keep up my journal for the weekly sessions i gotta have with him after i leave here. im just glad i get to leave here. and in time to tape with the guys too. blast through a month of prep and get my license back in time to be able to drive to the studio and stuff.. i feel freer already. and the coping mechanisms are going to be great. today we talked about this thing where you like tighten your muscles for 8 seconds and inhale then relax and youll feel better. it was like progressive muscle relaxant or something. im excited to see how it works. it kinda sounds sexy actually. i might hafta share that one with the ladies... buahaha.


Journal Entry #23

tonight then 4 more fucking days and im out. god i cannot wait. i miss air and grass. first thing im doing is going to the god damn ocean and jumping in. i miss the ocean. thats another thing i can do he said is picture the ocean and really get into the idea. he called it meditation but that sounds like sissy crap and the way i picture the ocean aint for sissies. for one its usually heavily crowded with scantily clad ladies doing the muscle relaxant thingy... and .. oh .. oh my goodness.. im the only guy! haha. wow this is gonna get psyho analyzed interestingly im sure. so ima rename it. it aint meditation its nickatation.. yes. that makes it sounds almost kinda cool. "whatre you doin?" "im nicktating" "oohh very cool"


Journal Entry #24

brian called today and promised to pick me up in FOUR DAYS. im excited. so tonight i was told i gotta write about how i'm gonna make my house a safer place for me to be when im out. im not positive i know what he means by that. like im obviously gonna get rid of all the alcohol and... stuff... that i got there. we talked about motivating quotes and mantras (i remembered that word cos of manta rays) and putting them up places. now i dont want any of those stupid posters that're like "MOTIVATION" or "TEAMWORK" with the kittens or the boats but maybe ill pick up some post its and write down stuff that makes me feel good on it. like song lyrics. ill also start parking IN the garage instead of just in the driveway. i know that sounds funky but if i park IN the garage a lot of times i dont feel like doing the whole garage door thing cos it sounds like too much work so i'll skip going some place til i HAVE to. i dunno why i'm like that. it takes a grand total of like twelve extra seconds for the garage door to open and its not like its hard man labor to push the button on the clicker but still. lazy is as lazy do....


Journal Entry #25

1. im leaving here in 3 days.
2. i have 4 best friends who care about me.
3. we're gonna tape and make a great album.
4. popcorn. i have some.
5. that guy finally showered. 6. she already had broke up with me before i found out.
7. i dont need her to be happy.
8.
9.
10.
krystal was on tv tonight hanging all over her dancer guy denny or something like that. hes this little mexican freak thats tinier than howie. it freaked me out cos honestly ive been thinking when i got out id call her and everything would be better since she broke up with me because of the alcohol and drugs and the crazy way i was acting before but she didnt wait for me. i thought shed wait for me. and hes such a man whore seriously i mean who goes to award shows without a shirt on? seriously.


Journal Entry #26

dr haseltine and i talked about krystal today. he doesnt understand about her, he called her a negative force. she isnt negative. we fought about it and he said then to make him see why she is a positive by writing about her but see that the thing. shes a positive because she understands me without me writing about her. does that make any sense? i cant tell. but she does she gets it. when im upset shes always there. she picks up on it and she'll make it fun to get me out of that mood. like this one time we went clubbing and .... like this one time i was upset so she showed up with my favorite movie and a ton of beer and. there are times kryssie and i spent together without drinking or doing anything like that. i just can't think of them because im under pressure right now. we did a lot of stuff and had long talks and "talks" too if yanno what i mean. we're great together and plus we did this taping session once where we were singing together and it was a lot of fun. but now shes with darcy or whatever his name is. im glad she found someone though i guess even though i feel like that someone should've been me.


Journal Entry #27

i punched shower guy today and im supposed to write about what made me do that but its not a psychological thing it was just because hes starting to smell again and he changed the channel on the tv while i was watching something without asking and i told him i was watching it and he said oh well and i got kinda mad so im like who do you think you are changin the tv on people who are watchin the tv and hes like and who do you think you are like a god or something just because you used to be a backstreet boy and i'm like USED TO BE?? and hes like "yeah what the hell have you done in the last ten years" and i flipped the hell out cos we've done A LOT OF STUFF and nobody NOTICES and it just gets me so aggravated!! i hate not being seen or heard because im not invisible! im a person and i work hard and im worth something. im not invisible. so i popped him one. in my defense, he swung too. he was just a real pansy. and he smells again make him shower for crying out loud.


Journal Entry #28

IM FREE TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ok that said, shower guy and i have been separated and dylan - who sounds like a guy but is actually a girl, no wonder she's on drugs right? - is next to me now. despite the fact that her name would make me feel like i was with a dude shes really hot and if i was stickin around here any longer id definitely tap that. anyways i was asked to write about why i think im so worked up over being invisible but the answer for you is that i dont know. i just dont like it when people don't listen or pay attention to me when i'm trying to do or say something. i mean its not just me i hate that for. i hate when people dont get heard or seen. any people. people are people and we all deserve to be seen. thats why the save the children type ads on tv break the hell out of my heart because all these kids they do show on tv and they like pick the cute ones that everyone wants to sponsor cos theyre all up like awww that kids smie..what about the ugly kids? the ones with the cleft lips and stuff. or the ones who are dying starving and stuff? dont they get to be on tv ads too? nobody wants to sponsor the old ones either. they always show the young ones. i purposely sponsored a 15 year old when i did that. plus i did it through this website where you can look through pictures of every kid they do a sponsorship program for. every single one of them gets seen. being seen is extremely important as human beings. we all need to be seen and heard by somebody... we just dont always realize it... or have somebody to see and hear us. but we all need somebody who does.

Chapter Twenty-Six
Point of View: Nick


"Okay, Nick. I think that takes care of all the paperwork, and you've got your things here, and you're all dressed..." Dr. Haseltine picked up a folder and flipped through it quickly, withdrawing a yellow sheet of carbon paper. "Here is the time of your first appointment. I want you to be here about fifteen minutes early, okay? And make sure you bring along your journal."

"Okay." I looked at the date. It was a week away. I had a whole week! I looked at Brian who was sitting beside me, smiling. I couldn't wait to get out of this place. "I'll have it with me."

"Try to keep up the habit of writing in it often, Nick," he warned, "It may not seem like it, but even the more pointless things you put into it is actually quite good for you and you'll learn a lot about yourself by the time you've filled its pages." He handed me the coiled up, worn out notebook. I'd really abused the crap out of it over the month that it'd been in my possession so far. Exactly twenty-eight pages had been used out of the 150 in the notebook. I had awhile yet with it. It probably will fall apart before I fill it.

We all shook hands and I said bye to Dr. Haseltine - he ended up being an okay guy, I guess - and Brian followed me out the visitors door and into the hallway. The minute Dr. Haseltine's door closed, I dropped to my knees in the hall. "I'm out," I whispered.

Brian laughed, "Wait and do that when you get outside. The air conditioner's nice in here, you may decide to come back in after you feel the heat."

"I miss being hot!" I exclaimed, jumping to my feet. "C'mon, I wanna be hot." I could hear Brian laughing as he followed me down the corridor to the doors. We made our way slowly out of the hospital - it was like a maze. Every now and then we'd pass someone who would smile my direction because I was galloping and dancing all the way out and I'd say something like "I'm free!" -- They probably thought it was like a break out from the looney bin.

Brian was right, it was freaking Hell outside. The heat bugs were squealing and there were wavy lines in the air over the tar. I could've fried an egg on the ground, that's how hot it was. It was crazy. Brian turned the A/C on in the car the second we got into it. I was just so happy to see mundane things: clouds, sky, grass, other cars, people who weren't in pajamas or white coats, LA's grimy streets.

"I made sure you had a ton of healthy foods in your fridge and cupboards," Brian was saying, "So you've got like yogurt and granola and fruit. You know how to fry a steak or some chicken, right? I mean, I know you're a failure at cooking, but five minutes on each side, make sure it's not pink in the middle, you can do that, right?"

"Sure," I answered absently.

Brian laughed, "You should've seen Leighanne when she opened your cupboards and found nothing but Oreos and Cheetos and a bottle of mustard. What the hell have you been eating, Frack?"

"I order in a lot," I admitted.

"Yeah, we noticed that. We found four trash bags worth of crap around your house, dude. How you don't have rats is a question I'll never be able to answer. You gotta keep it cleaned up in there."

I smiled, happy that he was being bossy. I missed him.

"I mean if you don't clean it up, that's going to actually infect your mood. Did you know a clean room can actually improve a disposition?" he asked, nodding.

"Says the guy who used sleep under piles of laundry on his bed because he didn't want to use the washing machine," I accused, laughing and remembering the days when Brian lived with Kevin and Howie in an apartment in Orlando. The three of them were really messy. It was a miracle you could find the apartment in Orlando. It got worse when Howie moved out and it was just Brian and Kevin. Brian didn't start getting neat until he got with Leighanne and she refused to have sex on all the laundry.

"We got you a vacuum cleaner," he said, "And Lysol wipes." Brian beamed.

"Um, thanks," I said, not sure I was really happy or not. He was seriously expecting me to clean myself? It's called hire a maid... and a cook while I was at it because five minutes on each side and not pink in the middle actually does sound a little complicated for my cooking skills.



It felt so good to be at the house. Leighanne and Baylee were there waiting for us and I got a big hug from Baylee, who launched into a story about getting a shot a couple months ago and pulling up his sleeve to show me. I wasn't quite sure what that was all about, but kids are kids, so I went with it and rolled up my sleeve so he could inspect where they gave me a shot - even though I didn't get one there, he didn't need to know that. He marveled at my arm anyway and decided I was very brave for letting them "shoot me" because I'm "so much bigger so the needle must've been huge!" Baylee's such a little dork, just like his dad.

They were staying at my place while they were in LA so they wouldn't have to stay at a hotel. Brian said he was looking at renting a house while we were taping and they were pretty sure they'd found a furnished one in a gated community across town. "It has a fence, and a basket ball court out back," Brian was telling me, "No pool, but we could always bring Baylee here for swimming..."

"Yeah, that'd be great!" I was pretty excited at the prospect of Brian and Baylee and Leighanne being around frequently. I wasn't quite sure, despite my excitement to be free, if I was really ready to be alone yet.

Brian cooked steak tips on my grill in the backyard, which he asked me how to run and I laughed and told him I didn't know. I'd never turned it on. It was one of those things I kind of envisioned myself doing, but once I got it home I never actually did it. I blame Bobby Flay. He makes the barbeque stuff look easy on his show.

It was great to eat actual food instead of watery instant potatoes and sandwiches with stale bread. I ate more than I think I'd eaten in four weeks or more, since I hadn't really been eating a lot before going in to rehab. Leighanne said she was happy to see me eating because I'd lost a lot of weight over the past month - between the accident itself and the sparse pickings of edible food at the rehab. She encouraged even my third helping of food.



That night, I was laying on a blanket I'd thrown on the back lawn and staring at the stars. I could hear the ocean roaring off to my left, down the bottom of the cliff, and I just laid there thinking about everything that had happened. So much had changed over a period of mere weeks, and I felt like a completely different person.

Now, I thought, content, I'll just swing by and get my license tomorrow from that lady and I'll be completely back on track.

Little did I know at that point that I was not only going to not "just swing by" for my license... but that my fix was only just about to start.

Chapter Twenty-Seven
Point of View: Narrator

The black Prius rolled up to the keypad at the security gate and came to a stop. Zoe unrolled her window and hesitated. Finally, she pressed the number sequence Nick had given her on the phone that morning when she'd called to confirm their meeting at noon, and the gate buzzed and opened slowly, allowing her into the housing community. She'd never been to a place this fancy before, and she couldn't help but feel... tiny. Her Prius looked like a rolling tin can next to the cars that were parked in these drive ways, and her house, which she'd always considered large, was dwarfed in comparison.

Nick's directions to get to his house in the community turned out to be more complicated than they sounded and she got stuck on several cul de sac before she finally found the turn that led her to the back of the community, where the houses were set further back from the street and rows of trees blocked the view of them. Then she found houses with large walls surrounding them and she imagined castles and fire breathing dragons inside. It was one of these that was number 24268, Nick's house.

Turning onto the long driveway, the Prius rolled along a cobblestone style drive, which opened into a giant circular parking area, with a working water fountain, ending in a three car garage. The house itself... well, Zoe could scarcely breathe for its impressiveness.

The house was a two story structure that sort of reminded her of a modern version of a Swiss cottage. It was off-white with sort of brown stone accents. It was completely surrounded by an impressive amount of vegetation that was as green as she could possibly imagine grass being. The entire side wall, too, was a series of huge, gaping plate glass windows, and gazing out across the lawn - she saw why. The lawn abruptly ended, turning into a cliffside (though she could see a ramp running down even from where she was sitting) that overlooked the ocean.

"Jesus," she whispered. She looked at her purse, where the bank envelope was stored containing the twenty-thousand dollars she'd gotten from cashing the check. I should've asked for fifty, she thought, That's pocket change to this schmuck.

Zoe slid out of the car, using the vehicle to brace herself up as she moved to the back door and pulled out her crutches from the backseat. She settled her hands onto the familiar braces and sighed in relief. She picked up the folder of material she'd put together for him, and, closing the Prius door, turned to look at Nick's "castle" again. She took a deep breath and began the walk to the front door.

On her way up the walkway, she noticed a flock of about thirty plastic pink flamingos across the lawn, nestled among some trees. That seems awful white trash for a place as classy as this, she thought. Then again, so did getting DWIs.

When she made it to the stoop, she rang the bell and waited.

The door flung open and a little boy with a wild mass of tangled curly hair stood there, wearing swim trunks, goggles with a snorkel, arm floaties, and flippers was standing there, looking at her. He wasn't wet yet. He breathed through the snorkel, and it sounded like a miniature Darth Vadar.

"Um... hello," she said slowly to him. She'd never been good with kids. Especially when they weren't expected. Since when does Nick Carter have a kid? she wondered. "My name is Zoe, what's yours?"

Leighanne suddenly appeared behind Baylee and pulled him back. "I'm so sorry," she apologized. "My son's a little enthusiastic about using Nick's pool today. You must be Zoe Sinclaire?" She stuck out her hand, "My name's Leighanne Littrell, how are you?"

Zoe looked down at her crutches, which she was using both hands to lean on, and Leighanne lowered her arm sheepishly. "I'm quite all right, thanks," Zoe said, not acknowledging the apology for Baylee's strange arrival at the door. She paused, "Are you Nick's girlfriend?"

"I'm Brian's wife," Leighanne answered.

Who the hell is Brian? Zoe wished now that she'd done a little bit more research on the Backstreet Boys. She was evidently expected to know this stuff. She assumed he was another one of them.

"Come in," Leighanne stood back, "I'll get Nick. He's out back cleaning the pool, I think."

Baylee was still standing there breathing like Darth Vadar through his snorkel as Zoe made her way through the door and looked around the foyer. The foyer alone was bigger than her living room and kitchen combined. There was a big gaudy chandelier hanging down the center and a crazy staircase that spiraled away to the upstairs. The steps were black and white, creating an almost dizzying trick on the eyes.

Leighanne and Baylee led the way out of the foyer to a dining room with a big ornate table with blue-padded chairs. The carpet underfoot was lush and dark blue as well, and the walls were decorated with huge black and white photographs of the ocean. Leighanne pulled out a chair, "Here, have a seat, I'll go get Nick." She turned and walked out of the room, leaving Zoe there.

Zoe had forgotten Baylee was still in the room - since he'd taken the snorkel out of his mouth and stopped breathing like Darth Vadar he was considerably quieter - until he suddenly asked, "Why do you have crutches?"

Zoe looked down at Baylee, whose eyes were magnified by the plastic goggles, and hesitated. "Because I had an accident when I was younger and my knees are no good."

"Ohhh," Baylee nodded. He looked at her knees thoughtfully, which were poking out from under the pair of shorts she was wearing. "They look okay to me," he said.

Zoe smiled uncomfortably.

He sat down on the floor and bent his knees up. "See?" he pointed at his knees. "Mine look like that, too."

Nick came in the room and looked at Baylee laying on the floor. "What're you doing?" he asked him, laughing.

"Showing the lady my knees," Baylee answered, getting up. "Can I go swimming yet?"

Nick looked confused by Baylee's statement, but didn't ask. "Yeah, the pool's good. Your dad's out there."

"YES! Bye lady!" Baylee ran out of the room before Zoe could even think about returning the 'bye', and disappeared, flippers and all, around the corner.

"Sorry about that," Nick said, "My friend, Brian, is staying here until they can get a rental place." He smiled.

Zoe nodded, "It's not a problem. He seemed cute." And nosy as hell. She pushed the folder of material towards him just as he held out a piece of paper to her. They both looked surprised by the motion of the other. She took the paper from him and looked at it. It was his rehabilitated driver form.

Nick picked up the folder and looked inside it. It was full of tests and articles and a DVD. He looked up. "What's this?" he asked.

"The material we'll be covering over the next couple of months," Zoe answered.

"Material?" Nick asked, "Months?" He squinted, "What?"

Zoe put his form down on the table and clasped her hands over it. "I have been asked by the State of California to make you a safe driver," she said, "You cut me a twenty-thousand dollar check to make you a safe driver." She paused. "That's 100 hours of driving time."

Nick blinked at her. "We're actually gonna do that?" he asked, his voice climbing in pitch.

"Did you think you were going to hand me the form and have it signed and be driving tomorrow?" she asked. The look on his face said yes even though he shook his head. "Driving is very serious," she said, an attitude creeping into her voice. Who the hell does this guy think he is, that he can just pay money and override the law?

"I know that," Nick said, exasperated. "Dude I've been driving for like fourteen years. I know how to drive..."

"I received your driving record from the DMV for the past 5 years, and you've got a ton of infractions on your record," Zoe explained, "I don't think you're a safe driver. I'm here to make you a safe driver. Therefore, we must actually do the 100 hours of driving instruction."

Nick looked panicked, "But that'll take months!"

Zoe considered him a moment. "And?"

"I don't want to wait months before I can drive!" he complained.

Zoe laughed. "You should've thought of that before you got behind the wheel with enough alcohol in your body to kill a large percentage of your brain cells then, shouldn't you?"

Chapter Twenty-Eight
Point of View: Brian

Baylee was in the pool, splashing at me while I sat on the side with my legs in the water. He reached his toes down as far as he could. "Am I touching?" he asked, straining.

"Can you feel the bottom?" I asked.

He squinted, sticking out his tongue and straining really hard with his toes. "I think?"

He was in the 5' end, suspended up by his arm floaties. No way was he touching. "Then you're touching," I said, "Wow! You've got Go-Go-Gadget legs!" I waved him toward the 3' section, "Hey come back down this end, okay?" Baylee paddled over towards the shallow end and I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like I didn't have to stare directly at him unwaveringly. Which was good, because Nick chose that moment to throw a tantrum.

Nick came flying out the back door of the house, slamming the door behind him, and swearing, "That fucking bitch! Fucking bitch!" he kicked a potted plant.

Leighanne lowered her sunglasses and sat up a little ways in the lawn chair where she was tanning. She glanced at Baylee, then looked at me as if to ask if I were really going to let Baylee's ears be tainted this way, and I nodded her to the pool to watch our son while I played damage control.

Once Leighanne was settled I went over to where Nick was pacing and balling his fists, mumbling to himself. "Uh.. hey," I said, "What's up?"

He looked at me, his jaw clenched. "I have to actually drive the 100 hours with that driving school lady," he said, all irritated sounding. Personally, the only word that went through my head was 'duh'. Somehow I had a feeling that wasn't the word Nick was after, though, so I just blinked at him in silence as he paced. "Can you believe that?" he demanded.

"I... uh..."

Nick's eyes met mine. "You gotta be kidding me. A HUNDRED hours? Seriously? They give babies licenses for like ten! I already know how to drive! This is a fucking joke."

"Nick, you wrapped an Escalade around a tree," I said, "I don't think they want you just hopping behind the wheel to try it again." I paused, "And frankly I don't, either. I mean you almost died. I'd rather you stick around. Rogaine and Viagra, remember?"

"No Viagra, we discussed this already," he said darkly.

"So... when do you start?"

Nick sighed, "Tomorrow." He shook his head, "God this lady's like such a bitch, too. You should see her. She's all pissed off and... just mean."

"So she's got a hair across her ass," I shrugged, "You only have to put up with her while you're in the car. It's no big deal."

"No big deal, huh?" Nick opened the back door and disappeared a moment into the house. He came back out carrying a red folder and shoved it into my hands.

"What's this?" I asked, opening it.

Nick scoffed the words out, "Classroom material. Tests and drunk driving articles and a DVD. Probably some stupid shit with like bodies smeared on pavement and crap."

I flipped through the papers in disbelief until I caught sight of a familiar name. Pulling out the article, I felt my face grow hot. "Um, Nick? Did you look through this stuff?"

"No. She's full of shit if she thinks I'm doing classroom material designed for fucking sixteen year olds."

I held out the article to him.

Nick's face made an interesting evolution from the level of anger he was already at to pale to a sickly shade of green to a livid reddish-purple-maroon color. "What the fucking hell!??" he cried, seeing the article about his accident. "What the hell!??"

"...Is this a good time to remind you that all publicity is good publicity?" I asked tentatively.

"She's using me for classroom material?" he cried.

I sighed, "Well, it was a really bad accident."

Nick groaned and smacked his forehead with one hand, balling the copy of the article up with the other. "What a fucking douche," he hissed.

"You could ask her for royalties," I laughed.

Nick's eyes were closed, "It's not funny, Brian."

I sobered quickly. "I know," I answered in a genuine voice, "I know it's not."

"It's embarrassing," Nick whispered.

I sighed and patted his shoulder. "You gotta learn from the past, that's all, buddy. Just learn from the past."

Nick shook his head and leaned against the glass of the back door. "Fucking A, I can't believe I gotta drive for 100 hours with a bitch that uses me as classroom material," he muttered.

I stared at the finger prints his hands were leaving all over the glass. Glass that I'd just cleaned like two hours before hand with Windex and paper towels. I pulled his hands off the glass. "You're going to be a better driver in the end, and that's a good thing. Now, stop leaving hand prints all over the nice clean doors and go get the Windex so we can fix that."

Nick looked at me out of the corner of his eye, his forehead still against the glass. "Really? Seriously? Hand prints are bugging you right now?" he asked, a smirk on his face.

I knew that smirk.

"C'mon, Nick," I said, "Seriously."

He stuck out his tongue and dragged it across the glass, grinning evilly at me. "How's that for a streak-free shine?" he asked, eyes twinkling with mischief, but his face quickly fell. "Oh God," he stuck out his tongue, scowling, "Oh God, that tastes like chemicals." He choked.

"Serves you right, you little shit," I muttered.

Chapter Twenty-Nine
Point of View: Nick

Zoe Sinclaire showed up at my house bright and early the next morning. It was like eight o'clock. I'm not a morning person, and I'd been up since six drinking coffee to be awake for this stupid hour of driving. I was irritated at the hour and the fact that I had to drive with her at all. But 8:00 AM had been the only time space she had available to drive with me, she'd said, because she had students lined up all day after that.

"Well you're a tub of smiles aren't you?" she asked when I opened the door with a grunt and stepped out into the walkway.

"I'm not a morning person," I grumbled. I walked quickly to the driveway, fully aware that she wasn't keeping up as she hobbled after me on her crutches. Is it even legal for her to be a driver's ed teacher? I wondered bitterly, How can she drive when she can barely walk?

Arriving to the driveway, I hit the garage door opener on my key ring. The garage slowly slid open, revealing my bright red Camaro inside. I started towards it. She stopped by her Prius and watched me as I went into the garage and clicked the car's unlock button. I stopped by the car. I turned around to look at her. She wasn't getting anything out of the Prius. "Well?" I asked, waiting.

"Well?" she asked, also waiting.

"Aren't we driving?" I asked, gesturing toward my car.

"Yes," she said, gesturing toward her car.

My eyes traveled from her to the Prius and back again. "I hope you're fucking kidding me," I said.

Zoe raised her eyebrow, "First of all, watch your language, please. Second, Nick, seeing as I know you are not a good driver, can you seriously be expecting me to ride with you in a vehicle that doesn't have my instructor's brake?"

"I am so not driving a Prius," I stated flatly.

"And why, exactly, is that?" she snapped.

"Because!" I shouted, "The only thing that car has going for it is that it isn't blue and it doesn't have a three pound chihuahua dog in it!"

Zoe looked surprised by the sentence. "Um... what?"

"C'mon... Jeff Dunham?" I said. I grabbed an imaginary stick shift in the air beside me and pretended to be shifting up, "IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII'm gayyyyyy, IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII'm gayyyyyy!" I quoted. "We're taking the Camaro, at least I'll have my balls in this car."

Zoe shrugged, "Well, enjoy your time with your balls, because you ain't driving anywhere in it." She went and got into the passenger side of the Prius and slammed the door, staring at me through the windshield. I stood by the Camaro. We both waited for the other to cave.

"Fucking A," I grumbled, slamming the Camaro's door. I stepped out of the garage and made my way to the Prius, hitting the garage door button again as I walked. I opened the driver's side door of the Prius and looked down at the seat, where she'd pulled it up as far as it would go. "I don't think I'm even going to fit into this fucking can," I grouched.

"If you're going to keep talking like a hoodlum," she said calmly, "Then you can get a bicycle."

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, really wanting to punch the crap out of something. Like the Prius.

"How the he--heck do I push the seat back?" I demanded, gritting my teeth.

"There's a lever under the seat," she explained, looking down at a clipboard in her hands. "You have to sit down to do it, though."

"Of course."

I climbed into the car daintily, my head hitting the ceiling and my legs bunched up under the wheel. I was so close that my junk was rubbing on the bottom of the steering wheel. I scrunched up in a truly awkward position, practically humping the steering column, and reached under the seat for the lever and pulled it. The seat slid back as far as it would go and my legs were still a little cramped. "You've got to be fucking with me," I muttered.

Zoe looked at me, exasperated.

"Kidding with me," I said, frustrated, "Jeez, I'm sorry, okay?"

"Okay." She paused and watched as I slammed the door and looked around for the key.

"It's keyless," she said.

"It's what?" I asked.

"Keyless," she held up a clicker on a chain she had around her neck. "It can sense the owner's in the vehicle and will start with that power button there on the dashboard as long as this," she held up the clicker on the chain, "Is in the vehicle."

"It has a power button?" I looked at the dashboard. Low and behold. "Holy shh----oot."

Zoe nodded. "Thank you." She looked at her clipboard. "Don't forget the outside check, please."

"The what?"

"Check the outside of the vehicle for scrapes, bangs, dents, and other damages that you didn't inflict upon it. Also, make sure all four tires are properly inflated," Zoe said.

I blinked at her, "Seriously?"

"Do you want to get your license?" she asked pointedly.

"Fine." I flung the car door opened and got out and walked around the car once, barely looking at it, and got back into the car and slammed the door.

Zoe made a note on her clipboard. "Did you note anything?" she asked.

"Looks good to me," I muttered.

"Okay, so the back bumper was in perfect condition? There was nothing wrong with the left rear wheel rim?"

"I - uh..."

"Because if not, you should be aware now that any damages you don't note before we start will be your responsibility to repair."

"Fucking A," I climbed back out of the car, barely hearing her reprimand for the curse word, and walked to the back bumper and looked at it. It was banged in. Evidently someone had a fender-bender in it. I grumbled and went to the left rear wheel. The hubcap was missing completely and the rim was dented a little - probably the work of someone hitting the curb. I walked back to the driver door and got in. "The bumper's busted and the rim's dented. Plus you're missing a hubcap."

"Okay, damaged noted," she mumbled, writing down what I said about the damages on the clipboard. She smiled serenely, "Now what?"

I hit the power button.

Zoe promptly reached over and hit it again, turning the car back off. "Wrong."

I stared at the wheel, feeling my blood pressure rising. "What am I supposed to do, then?" I hissed.

"Well, considering you've pushed the seat back into East Osh Kosh, I'm assuming you'll need to adjust the mirrors and the height of the steering wheel column as well," Zoe said, "Unless you aren't found of being able to have full vision and the ability to turn the wheel from eight and four?"

"Eight and four?" I asked, "I thought it was ten and two?"

Zoe smiled, "It used to be. It's been changed to eight and four."

"Why the fuck would they have you put your hands at eight and four?" I demanded, eyebrows practically jumping off my head as I put my hands on the designated spots. She was right, the column was too low for this position. My hands were bumping against my crotch like I was Eminem. "How do you adjust this shit?" I asked.

Zoe raised an eyebrow.

"How do I adjust the steering wheel column?" I rephrased the question.

"There's a lever on the left."

I reached for it and adjusted it. "Why did they change that? This is uncomfortable," I said, again testing the wheel position on for size.

"Well," Zoe said slowly, "Put your hands at ten and two for a second," she said. I did. "Now," she said, "If your airbag deployed, where would your hands go?"

I looked at my arms, "Uh.. up?"

"No," she said, "They would do one of two things. They would come back this way," she demonstrated, holding her own arms up in an awkward way over her head, "And at a high velocity that would most likely disconnect your shoulder from it's socket. Or, they would go this way," she held her arms up across her face, hand to her nose, "And that would most likely send your nose cartilage through your brain." She smiled. "That's why they changed it. So that you don't spear your brain with your nose bone."

"Nice. Thanks for the visual." I dropped my hands to eight and four.

"No problem," she replied dryly. "Now, mirrors."

I reached for the rearview mirror and adjusted it appropriately, and used a little button on the door panel to adjust the two side mirrors. I reached for the power button and turned the car on.

Zoe reached over and turned the car off.

"NOW what?" I cried, exasperated.

"Are you wearing a seat belt?" she asked.

I sighed, "No." I reached for the belt and yanked it across my chest and shoved it into the buckle. "This is stupid," I said, "It chokes me."

"It keeps you alive in an accident," she stated flatly.

"I lived through my accident," I pointed out, "I didn't have a seatbelt on."

"You," she said, "Were the exception."

I shook my head, "This is so stupid, this whole thing." I reached for a third time for the power button, but my hand hadn't even left it before she was reaching for it. "NOW WHAT?" I yelled, truly pissed.

"Am I wearing a seatbelt?"

"Jesus H. Christ, how the fuck am I supposed to know? You're the God-damned instructor, you should fucking know to put on a belt if you're going to wear a belt, why the fuck do I gotta know if you got a belt on or not!??" I blew up.

Zoe stared at me. "You can get out of the car now," she said evenly.

I blinked at her, "What?"

"I said get out of the car."

"Um, why?" I asked, confused.

"Your drive is over for today."

I looked at the clock. It was only 8:14. "I'm pretty sure you said I was driving until 9," I said.

"And I'm using my authority as your instructor to cancel this drive," Zoe answered. She opened her passenger door and stuck her crutches out, pulling herself up with the handle over the door with a groan. I sat there in disbelief, staring at her, as she struggled to her feet.

"What the hell do you mean cancel the drive?" I demanded when she was finally up.

She didn't answer. Instead, she came around the car after slamming the passenger door in my face. I watched her walk around the car. She got to the driver's side, opened my door and made a thumb signal. "Get out."

I unbuckled the seatbelt and climbed out of the car. "Why the hell are you canceling the drive?" I asked.

"Because I asked you repeatedly to watch your language," she replied, "And you continued cursing. I'm not listening to you swear for an hour. I will see you tomorrow morning." She climbed into the front seat of the Prius and pulled the door shut.

I watched, dumbfounded, as she adjusted the seat, mirrors and steering column back to where they'd been before. She buckled the seatbelt around herself and reached for the power button. The car made its pitiful little start up noise that a gnat could've drowned out, and drove away.

I stared after her long after she'd pulled out of the driveway.

What a fucking bitch.

Chapter Thirty
Point of View: Narrator

Zoe's last drive of the day had been with George. She felt like she'd had bookends. Except at least George had gotten to actually drive the car, unlike her morning headache.

When she got home that night, exhausted and sore, she found Kayla sitting in the kitchen, pouring over a book of sheet music, her hair clutched in her hands and humming the tune under her breath. Kayla had gotten a part in a musical play and she'd been practicing all week for the first rehearsal the next day. She looked up as Zoe came into the room and grabbed a bottle of cranberry juice from the fridge and the Advil from the counter next to the sink.

"Long day?" Kayla asked as Zoe poured three Advils into her hand.

"Yes," answered Zoe.

Kayla laughed, "How did your drive with Nick Carter go?" They'd been laughing about the fact that Zoe was going to be driving with him ever since Stacey had first stopped by the office to proposition her. Nick's rehabilitation driving sessions had quickly become the running joke of the household, and when Zoe had left that morning, Kayla had told her to 'make sure she quit playing games and let him have it his way'.

Zoe's smirk crossed her face. "He didn't drive."

"He didn't show?" Kayla asked, perplexed.

Zoe laughed, "No. I picked him up. He got in the car, and he kept swearing and forgetting basic pre-drive stuff, like adjusting the mirrors and putting on the seatbelt, and he got frustrated and let off a string of curses like he was a sailor." She smiled, "So... I canceled the drive."

Kayla burst into laughter, "Oh my God, Aunt Zoe, you cancelled it because he was cussing?" Tears were leaking out of Kayla's eyes. "Seriously?"

Zoe laughed, "Yes."

Kayla wrapped her arms around her stomach, "That is so classic. Oh my God, I am so Twittering that." She leaped up and ran out of the room, presumably to go get her Blackberry.

Zoe smirked to herself, popped the Advils into her mouth and swallowed them with half the bottle of cranberry juice, remembering the expression on Nick Carter's face when she'd backed away down his driveway.



"She cancelled the drive because I cursed too much," Nick exclaimed to Brian later that night. They were standing on the back patio. Brian was grilling chicken. He, Baylee and Leighanne had gone to look at various houses they were potentially going to rent and had been gone all day. It wasn't until evening that Nick, who had fumed and boiled all day while playing Call of Duty 5, got to vent his feelings about the stupid douche of a driving instructor he'd been stuck with.

Brian, instead of getting angry with Nick, though, laughed. "I can't believe you quoted Jeff Dunham," he said, shaking his head.

"It's true, though," Nick said, "Dude, you should've heard it. When she started that thing up, it was like a gnat. I'm so serious. He was not even a little big exaggerating that bit at all."

Brian's face turned red from laughing. "I'm just -- I'm just picturing you," he said, "Sitting in a Prius."

"Go on, laugh it up," Nick said, shaking his head, "Laugh it up, go on."

"At least it's not a VW Beetle," he pointed out, his nose flaring. "Like those ones with the little flower vase on the wheel?"

Nick laughed, "That I would've seriously told her to enjoy the free money and cancelled myself," he answered. "At least the Prius is black. It's at least a little manly."

Brian snorted, "That's what male ballet people say about their black leotards, Nick," he said.

"C'mon! Let me have that it's not a 'spark-a-layyy' color at least will you? I got to drive it, it's not like I got a choice, unless I install an instructor's brake on my Camaro." His eyes flashed, "Hey! I could install an instructor's brake on the Camaro."

This made Brian laugh even harder. "Oh that would be classic."

Nick sighed, "I just can't believe she cancelled because I swore," he said.

Brian smirked, "So stop swearing."

"It's like habit," Nick answered, "I don't even hear it when I do it. Maybe I have that one disease? The one that makes you swear spontaneously?" he laughed, "Think I can get Dr. Haseltine to write me a note saying I do?"

Brian smiled, "I highly doubt it, Nick."

Chapter Thirty-One
Point of View: Zoe

The next morning, I woke up to my favorite kind of day: a rainy day. They were somewhat rare in California, compared to Maine they never came. So, they'd become my favorite since I'd moved across the country. I smiled to myself. It was going to be a fun day for driving with students. They always forgot about things like hydroplaning, probably since rain almost never came, and I enjoyed taking them to empty parking lots and purposely braking on them too hard so they had to pull out of a skid on the water. Nick would definitely be getting this treatment.

He came out of the house at 7:57 AM without me having to walk to the door, which I was actually impressed by. When Nick got to the car, too, as I was climbing out from the driver's side, instead of immediately trying to get in, he walked around the car, inspecting it. We both got into the car, out of the rain, and while he was adjusting the seat, he turned to look at me, "Bumper and wheel again," he said, "I didn't see anything new."

"Okay, damages noted," I said, marking down the damages he'd mentioned the day before.

Impressively, Nick reached for the mirrors, adjusted them, and then yanked on his seat belt. "Do you have your belt on?" he asked dutifully.

"Why, thank you for reminding me," I said in my falsely sweet voice I always used when students remembered to ask me this question. "I forgot it." I reached for the buckle and connected it. Nick was staring at me. "Yes?" I asked.

"May I turn on the vehicle now?" he asked, his voice overly polite.

"Why, yes, Nick, you may," I returned, still in the fake-sweet voice.

Nick punched the button and the car turned on, beeping quietly. I could tell by looking at Nick's face that he was anything but impressed, even when the center console computer turned on and displayed a full body map of the vehicle's engine and a plot line showing how many more miles I could drive in the Prius before it ran out of gasoline. He took a deep breath, "Where am I driving to?" he asked.

"You can start by going to the end of the driveway and taking a right," I answered, pointing, "I'll give you step-by-step instructions along the way."

Nick was evidently not an element of surprise kind of guy. "I don't get to know?" he asked.

"It's a driving route I put together for you," I answered, "That's all you need to know. There's no specific destination. Basically, you're taking the long way to your driveway." Nick let out an irritated sigh, but he put his hands onto the wheel at eight and four, and shifted into drive. Then, he put his foot on the gas.

Now, the Prius is notorious for it's pathetic pick-up. Seriously, the thing goes from 0-60 in about... oh, I don't know, two, maybe three centuries? So the fact that Nick managed to floor the gas so hard that the car was doing 40 before we had gone around the circumference of the fountain was extremely impressive.

And also extremely merited my foot slamming onto the instructor brake.

Hard.

The Prius slammed to a halt. Having expected it, I was prepared for the fling forward. Nick, however, was not. When I wasn't looking, he'd ducked under the across-the-chest strap of his seat belt so that he'd been only wearing the lap belt, and when we stopped so abruptly, his upper-body was flung forward and he hit his face on the steering wheel with a crunch heard 'round the world.

"Ow!" he shouted as his face literally bounced off the wheel. His hand flew up and covered his mouth and nose.

"The vehicle isn't in park," I said as he started cursing and undoing his seatbelt with the hand that wasn't covering his face.

"What the fuck did you hit the brake for?" he demanded, voice sounding pinched.

I laughed, "If you need to ask..."

"I was driving," he snapped, "Which is what you said to do." He flung open the door and I reached over and hit the Park button while he got out - since he obviously wasn't going to do it.

"You were up to 40mph and we weren't even out of your driveway!" I said, "In a Prius, Nick!"

He bent over in the driveway, his hand on the bottom jamb of the driver's side door, bracing him up as he lowered into a squat. He moved his hand from his face, and my breath caught in my throat. His nose was bleeding.

"Shit," I whispered. I undid my own seatbelt and pulled my crutches from the back quickly. Getting out and going around took me a minute, but he hadn't moved, he was looking down at the tar, leaking blood. He had his eyes closed. I got over there and leaned one of my crutches against the car. In a maneuver that I knew would merit IB Profin later, I knelt down awkwardly next to him. "Are you okay?" I asked.

Nick's jaw tightened and he quickly ran the back of his hand across his nose. "Yeah," he muttered. Blood streaked his cheek where he'd rubbed it to clean it off. It didn't immediately regenerate, which was a good sign. But he didn't move from where he was, either.

"If you'd left your seatbelt on this wouldn't have happened. See why it's important?" I demanded.

"Yeah," he muttered, miserable and sounding sort of like a duck.

I reached to pat his back and he shifted his shoulder to indicate he didn't want me to do that. He was staring at the floor of the Prius, his eyes unfocused a little, thinking. "Nick," I said carefully, "I- I am sorry that I hit the brake so hard. I should have requested you to slow down first." The words came out awkwardly. I'm not the apologizing type. This merited one of my rare apologies, though.

Nick looked at me as though he already knew this about me - surprise crossed his face. He stood up and stared down at me where I was kneeling. He held out a hand to help me up. I took it, grateful I wouldn't have to struggle back up after getting in this poor position. I took hold of my second crutch, my knee already screaming in protest for having knelt, and started around the car to the passenger side. Nick watched and waited until I'd gotten in before he ducked into the driver's seat himself. We both closed the doors.

"Okay, let's try this again," I suggested.

"Seatbelt," he said, pulling his own on. "I'll keep it on this time."

"Good idea," I said.

He paused before shifting out of park again, and looked at me. "You swore," he said, "When you got out of the car. Just so you know."

I stared at him. "Do as I say and not as I do," I replied. "Someday, you'll be a driver's ed instructor and you can boss your students around and swear all you want. For now, you're not, so you can't."

"I'll never be a driver's--"

"Aw well, then, you miss out on all the fun." I motioned to the driveway, "Well come on, Marsha Brady, we don't got all day." Nick laughed, a sound I hadn't really expected. I looked at him, "What?"

"The football," he said, "Oh my nose!" Nick's eyes crinkled shut as he laughed, "That's great."

Note to self, Nick Carter is easily amused.

"Okay, well, let's drive."

"Okay." Nick shifted the Prius into drive and we started our journey on the open road.

Chapter Thirty-Two
Point of View: Narrator

The first half of the drive went... well, it was okay. Zoe had to use the brake several times to slow Nick's speed down to the limit, and once to keep him from running a stop sign. She also repeatedly had to remind him to keep his hands at eight and four.

He was a habitual creature, she could tell that already, because he did things repeatedly. For instance, he obviously was used to the radio while driving because she had to keep turning it off on him when he'd reach to turn it on. He also would let go of the wheel to put his arm on the door arm rest. Zoe never understood why they put those there when drivers were supposed to keep both hands on the wheel.

Unfortunately, the things that should have been habits - you know, like head checks before merging, directional signals, following posted speed limits, and keeping his hands on the wheel - weren't.

"Take a left here," Zoe directed as he slowed to a stop sign. He put on his right directional. "I said a left," she said.

Nick looked perplexed, "What? I am."

"Are you dyslexic?" she asked. Zoe pointed left. "Left," she said. She pointed right, "Right."

Nick looked down at the flashing directional arrow. "Crap," he muttered. He pulled the lever to go left. "Sorry."

"Here, look, easy way to remember left and right," she said. "Here we are in the car, right? You're on the left. And me?" she smiled sweetly, "Nick, I am ALWAYS right."

He stared at her a long moment, her words sinking in. Then, when they did, he let out a loud guffaw. "Ohhhh God," he muttered, shaking his head. Zoe smirked. Kids reacted one of three ways to that line. Either they didn't get it, or they laughed, or they got pissed. Nick was hard to read, but she was pretty sure he was torn between being frustrated and being humored.

Nick took the turn, which led them through a woodsy area, quite a ways out of Los Angeles, but that would eventually lead them back to the highway two exits from Nick's. Zoe had spent a long time on Mapquest searching this route out. She didn't want to bring him through the city the first time she'd driven with him, so she'd searched for back roads. She'd never been down this one.

The rain was falling still, and Nick had the wipers on. Zoe had reminded him to turn on the Prius' lights - "It's a general rule that if you have your wipers going, your lights should also be on," she'd said. The water was starting to collect on the road. "You're going to want to slow down," Zoe told Nick.

"The speed limit's 30," he said, "We just passed it." Nick looked at the speedometer. "I'm only doing 28."

"I want you to be doing 20," Zoe answered. "The speed limit is for perfect conditions, Nick, not the mandatory rule. The conditions - are they perfect?"

"No," Nick said, "But I can see fine."

Zoe raised an eyebrow, "Slow down."

Nick groaned and his foot lowered over the brake. The rain kept hitting the windshield, the wiper blades squealing across the glass, and Nick kept his eyes focused on the lines on the road.

"Do you know what hydroplaning is?" Zoe asked.

"Like those planes that can float?" Nick asked.

Zoe shook her head, "No, Nick. Both hands on the wheel, okay? Now, look at the water on the road. It's building up. Right?"

"Uh huh," Nick muttered, feeling like this was leading into a pointless conversation.

"What do you think the car tires are doing?" Zoe asked.

Nick hesitated, squinting, "Going... over it?" Duh?

"And what is that making the traction like?" she asked pointedly, trying to get him there.

Nick slowed down, getting where she was going. "Uh, bad."

"If you go faster than a certain speed when the weather is poor, your tires aren't really touching the ground at all, they're actually gliding over the water. There's literally a sheen of water between you and the ground. You know that that means, Nick?" she asked.

Nick sighed, "That I need to slow down?"

"Have you ever watched hockey?" Zoe asked.

Nick laughed, this seemed such a random question. "Of course," he answered, "I love hockey."

"Okay, so when a player is skating and he falls down on the ice and he slides across the entire zone into the net...?" she said.

Nick nodded, "Kinda like hydroplaning?"

"It's slippery," she said, "You could skid and lose control."

"Okay, so I'll slow down."

"Next time it rains while we're driving I'll bring you out and we'll try pulling out of some skids. For now, just keep driving slow." Zoe was pleased with herself for having drawn the connection in Nick's head.

They were driving quite nicely for a few minutes, and Zoe was just about to tell Nick he was doing well when he suddenly jerked the wheel hard to the left and then back to the right, swerving around... well, Zoe hadn't seen anything. "What was that about?" she demanded, raising an eyebrow.

Nick looked in the rearview mirror, "Did I hit it?" he asked, slowing.

"Hit what?" Zoe asked. She had seen nothing.

"The frog," Nick answered. He put on the blinker and pulled over.

Zoe could feel her face contorting into an expression of suspicion. "A frog?" she asked. Nick hit the park button and started unbuckling his seat belt. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

Nick thumbed over his shoulder, "I wanna make sure the frog's okay."

Zoe licked her lips. "What?"

Nick rolled his eyes, "Dude, the FROG that I almost ran over! I gotta see if it's okay." Nick opened the door and Zoe watched in disbelief as he got out, slammed the door shut, and ran through the rain back down the street. She hit the emergency flashers and turned as much as she comfortably could in her seat to watch him.

Nick jogged, his feet splashing through thick puddles, eyes scanning the road until he spotted him. The frog was, in Nick's defense, a good sized bullfrog. It was sitting on the yellow line serenely, his neck pouch puffed out. Nick bent down and inched towards it, hands outstretched, "C'mere, lil guy," he said. As Zoe watched from the car, Nick dove forward and cupped his hands around the frog, just as it started to jump away. The result was Nick had a frog in his hands, it's legs dangling below, kicking as it struggled to get free of its captive.

"He was serious about that?" Zoe mumbled, raising an eyebrow. She'd half expected him to get out and be like hallucinating or... something. She couldn't even think what, but something besides rescuing a freaking frog off the road.

Nick walked through the rain to the opposite side of the street - the direction the frog had been looking, so probably the way he'd been traveling, and wade into the trees. He disappeared from Zoe's sight momentarily while he knelt down in the rush to drop the frog beyond a tree trunk. "There ya go," he said as it hopped away, probably scared shitless because some weird person had picked it up to begin with. Nick smiled as it disappeared beneath some wet reeds and leaves, satisfied with his good deed of the day, and made his way back onto the street.

He waited by the roadside as a car passed by, splashing him. He barely noticed the splash, though, since he was soaked from all the kneeling and walking in the rain. The yellow emergency lights flashed on the Prius and he crossed back over to it, and yanked open the door.

Zoe had pulled a blanket out of the emergency kit she kept in the backseat and thrown it onto Nick's seat. "I don't want the seat soaked," she explained when he looked at it funny.

"Oh," he said. Nick climbed in and rebuckled himself.

Zoe was staring at him.

"What?" Nick asked, genuinely confused by the stare.

"What the hell was that?" Zoe asked.

"I saved a frog," Nick said with a shrug, "He would've been squashed if I left him there. Did you see that car? It totally ran where he was. I saved his life."

Zoe blinked. "It was a frog, Nick."

"Yeah, it was a frog." He paused, "So?"

Zoe sighed, "Just drive the car."

Nick shrugged, "It's a frog, so what, it's still a life," he said defensively. He reached for the shift and moved it into drive. "What do you have against letting frogs live?" he asked as he turned off the emergency flashers.

Zoe shook her head, "Nothing except that you're driving and you just got out of the vehicle to go get one off the road. Swerving was effort enough, don't you think?" she asked.

"Didn't you hear me? That car that passed by would've squashed him if he was still sitting there," Nick argued, "I swerved, but what if they hadn't?"

"That's what he gets for being in the road," Zoe answered coldly.

Nick continued driving, swerving for frogs. The rain had driven every frog in LA county onto the wooded road, of course, and pretty soon Zoe was reaching over to steady the wheel, keeping him from swerving. There was no way to swerve to avoid the frogs safely. Nick tried to bat her hands away, "Stop it, you're killing them," he said, his voice whiney. His eyes were concerned.

"Nick, they're frogs," snapped Zoe.

"They have frog families!" he cried, exasperated. "Why don't you understand that frogs have feelings, too?!"

Zoe's eyebrow was practically off her forehead, "Nick, they're FROGS!" she yelled, "Not humans!"

"I don't wanna kill them!" he yelled louder.

"You don't have a choice! They're stupid and they're jumping on the road! You can't swerve them! You need to ignore them and drive!"

"They aren't STUPID!" Nick yelled, "They're making a MISTAKE!"

Zoe's temper flared, "DRIVE THE CAR, NICK."

"NO!" he yelled. And with that, he put on the brake right there in the middle of the road. He punched the park button. "I'm not driving until the frogs get out of the road."

The road was teeming with them.

Zoe looked at the clock. They had eleven minutes to make it back to Nick's house before she would be late for her next drive. "Nick," she said, "This is ridiculous."

"It's ridiculous to save lives?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"It's ridiculous to save frog lives," Zoe corrected him. Nick scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. The disgruntled expression nearly made Zoe laugh, but she managed to hold it back. Just wait until Kayla hears about this one, she thought, tempted to whip the phone out and call Kayla now, just because she wasn't certain she could hold it in. "Nick, you need to drive the car."

"I'm not killing them," he said.

"Nick, I have driven with sixteen year old girls that have more balls than you do," Zoe finally said. She reached in the back, grabbed her crutches, and got out. Nick watched as she walked around the Prius and opened the driver's door. "Get out. I'm driving."

"You're gonna kill them," Nick complained.

"Yeah," Zoe answered, "Probably. But Nick, we're not going to sit here all day waiting for the frogs to go away so that you can drive. Now get out."

Nick looked reluctantly at the road ahead of them and climbed out of the car, being careful not to step on any of the frogs. It was like playing hopscotch. He made it over to the passenger door and got in as Zoe was adjusting everything to her own preferences. "I'm sorry," he muttered, feeling foolish now that he was out of the driver's seat. He moved the passenger seat back so his knees wouldn't be bouncing off the dash board.

"Don't apologize," Zoe answered, but her voice was hard. She buckled her seatbelt. "Seatbelt," she said. Nick pulled it on. "Just be aware, Nick, that I can only count this as 40 minutes towards your 100 hours," she said, marking her clipboard.

Nick nodded, "Okay."

Zoe shifted and the car started moving. Nick swore he could feel the frogs under the tires, even though he couldn't really. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands against them, groaning as they rolled forward.

Zoe glanced at him. "Nick, why the hell are these frogs bothering you so much?" she demanded.

"Why don't they bother you?" he asked back.

"They're frogs," she said, not sure how else to make her point.

"So they're worthless?" he asked, "Because they don't particularly mean anything to you, their lives are worth nothing?"

Zoe literally had no idea how to make the point that the damn things were frogs. She sighed, "Nick they're not humans."

"But why is killing different?" he asked, "Just because they're frogs?"

"Because they're..." frogs, she thought, but finished with, "...little."

Nick still had his hands covering his eyes. He was pressing in with the heels of his hands, and little colored polka dots clouded the blackness behind his eyelids. "That's the stupidest thing you've said in this conversation yet," he said.

"Nick, I'm not saying they're important or that you should purposely try to hit them, but they're inconsequential, aren't they? I mean it sounds cruel when you start to word it out, but I mean..." she didn't really want to repeat again that they were frogs. It didn't seem like the sentence really got them anywhere.

"A lot of people think other people are inconsequential, too," he whispered.

Zoe listened, and didn't say anything, waiting for him to go on. When he didn't, she found herself wondering what that was supposed to mean. Her mind travelled over the possibilities. Finally, she could resist it no more. "What do you mean?"

"I mean unless you're famous - like A-list famous - or you're successful or you're pretty or you're impressive in some way, no one gives a fuck about you. You're just inconsequential." He didn't look up or uncover his eyes, even now, not wanting to see the frogs on the road anymore. "Like if you are imperfect, you're somehow subpar."

Zoe had often felt subpar. The word bothered her. Being handicapped had made others treat her differently.

"I've been the frog on the road too many times," Nick sighed, "I dunno. I mean it bothers me that people can over look stuff just because it's smaller or less important than they are -- or think they are," he added. "So, yeah I know they're just frogs, but... they're also breathing things."

Zoe looked at the frogs on the street as she drove. She felt bad now, and when they started to thin as they got closer to the end of the wooded road, Nick could feel the car swerving ever so slightly to avoid them.

Chapter Thirty-Three
Point of View: Narrator

Kayla surprised Zoe by having spaghetti and meatballs already made when she got home that night. "We have our first rehearsal tomorrow," Kayla said, grinning, "I'm so excited for this part, it's going to be great. And there could be some really great repercussions from it, like for my career," she added, "The lead guy apparently has been on the radar of a local record company for sometime, so their rep will probably be there."

Zoe lowered herself down into a seat at the kitchen table. "That's marvelous, honey," she said, smiling at her niece. Kayla had tied an apron around her waist and was straining the spaghetti over the sink. Her reddish hair hung in a messy pony tail and her hips, while not as petite as someone like Krystal Armaletto's, were nice. She could picture her on stage, really could. So much she'd given up her life in Maine. And Zoe missed it.

Zoe missed a lot of things.

But in Maine, Zoe had her niche. Her family had been out there - or what was left of them, anyways - and her friends. She'd had the driving school, she'd been known, and nobody - nobody - had ever considered her subpar for her disabilities.

That had only begun once they'd gotten to LA, the land of the walking Barbie dolls.

These things had been going through her mind since Nick's meltdown in the car over the frogs. Somewhere over the span of the day, not only had Nick's frog rescue become less crazy seeming, but she'd begun to realize that maybe there was a reason that Nick was drunk that night when he'd had his accident.

And she was determined to find out what that reason had been.

"What's up, Aunt Zoe?" Kayla asked. She'd been standing there, talking away, and realized suddenly that Zoe wasn't answering.

Zoe snapped back to reality. "I'm okay," she replied, "I'm sorry. I was thinking about something that happened this morning."

"What happened?" Kayla asked, putting the spaghetti into two plates. As Zoe and Kayla ate, Zoe shared the story about the frogs. Though it didn't come off as hilarious as it had in her mind when she'd imagined telling Kayla the story. Kayla had started to laugh at first, but as soon as Zoe got to the part where Nick had gotten upset in the passenger seat, Kayla's eyes had softened and started to water up. "Auntie Zoe," Kayla puckered out her lower lip, "He's sad."

Zoe took a deep breath. "There's definitely something more to Nick Carter than I ever would have believed," she said.

Kayla sighed, "So what are you going to do?" she asked, twirling with her fork.

"Part of me wants to help him," Zoe answered, "But I guess I already am doing my part. I mean, what good is a limp old woman like me going to do for him?" she laughed, "He's got psychologists and actual friends - and young women, too, I'm sure - for that." She shrugged, "I'm just going to teach him how to drive so he doesn't kill his little frog-like self, I guess."

Kayla nodded, "That makes sense." She ripped a piece of bread from a loaf she'd bought and smeared butter on it. She pointed at Zoe with the butter knife as she added, "But you know, Aunt Zoe, maybe it's not just him that needs to think about the frogs."

Zoe sighed, "I did think about the frogs," she said, "I thought about the damn frogs all day." She looked at her crutches and frowned.

Kayla looked at them, too.

"I really miss your mother," Zoe said.

Kayla nodded. "I miss her, too."

Zoe took a deep breath as she finished off the plate of spaghetti and dabbed at the sauce with her piece of bread. "You look so much like her, Kayla," she smiled, looking up at her, "So stunning and always smiling."

Kayla blushed, "I wish she could see all the work I've been doing. The play, the changes in my voice, everything." She smiled sadly.

"She can," Zoe answered, "You know she's watching you."

Journal Entry


today reminded me of this one time in '99 when we were on the Millennium tour. we were driving from boston to new york on the bus, and there was this big honking snapping turtle on the road. i happened to have been up front by the drivers and i saw it and freaked out and chris, the driver, pulled over and opened the doors so i could go back and save it. our road manager, tim, he was so pissed, like literally the guy's face was scarlet purplish reddish color and he was screaming at me to get back on the bus. i ran back down the grass to where the turtle was, and i ran into the middle of four lanes of massachusetts drivers on the mass turn pike (you think the freaking auto bahn is bad? you ain't seen nothing yet) to get the turtle. people were honking and pointing and yelling curses and flippin the bird and taking pictures and...it was so crazy. I picked up the turtle by his shell though, and carried him - damn was he heavy - back to the side of the road. he was kicking his feet slowly and waving his head, snapping. if he'd gotten his mouth around my hand he would've bit my finger off i'm sure. i got to the side of the road and brought him down to the bottom of the hill there to where there was a fence and i dropped him over it so he couldn't get back on the highway. i said the same thing that day, when i got on the bus and faced everyone's wrath, as i did today. just because it's smaller than us doesn't make its life inconsequential. i know... i know what it is to be inconsequential on a personal level. i know that sounds stupid because i mean im famous what the hell do i know about being inconsequential right? thats usually what most people think when i complain about this type stuff. they think I'm being a whiny bitch - a spoiled rich guy who doesn't get what he wants when he wants it and therefore thinks he must slit his wrists because life is no longer worth living.... but really, that's not fair at all. because first of all i wasnt ALWAYS famous, and second of all i WON'T always be famous. and third, it doesn't always matter if your famous, sometimes you're famous for bad reasons. like going to rehab after wrapping your car around a tree or being screwed over by krystal. it doesn't matter the situation, if someone or something hurts you and kills you inside, if someone uses you for your money when they should be loving you because of who you are, or if you get forgotten, overlooked, and turned away from... it all hurts the same, whether we're famous or not. and maybe a frog doesnt feel it when you don't care about it, i dont know. im not a scientist, nor am i a frog, so i have no way to tell what the frog feels. all i know is that if someone can overlook something that's living - no matter the size - then what would keep them from looking over something bigger? and hell, just because someone knows your name... doesn't mean they have any idea who you really are.

Chapter Thirty-Four
Point of View: Kayla

I have wanted to be a singer since I was four years old and I saw Madonna dance on stage at the MTV music awards in her famous "Like a Virgin" performance. I remember standing in the living room watching, my eyes wide, seeing the pretty lady dancing on the big giant cake in the magic white dress, and thinking how cool it would be to be just like her.

Ever since that day, I've worked at it. Sure, when I was young it was just fun. I mean I did stuff like dance on the bed in my underwear with a hair brush and sing into it, messing up my hair so I looked all rock star. But when I got into elementary school, the music teacher took note and I got into choir and in middle school I was always selected for lead of the school musicals. In high school, I was in chorus. Over the years, I took voice lessons and acting lessons and piano lessons and guitar lessons and dance lessons and all kinds of stuff trying to get better.

I was accepted into an internationally recognized arts school because of a demo tape that my old best friend, Gordy, sent in. And I was going to leave at the end of August of 1999.

But then my mom died.



The theater was relatively small and in a hole in the wall street that I probably wouldn't be comfortable walking alone on at night. Luckily, the rehearsals were during the day - even then, though, you can tell it's a kind of shady part of Los Angeles by the crap on the street in the gutter area. Everything from cigarette butts and bottle caps to condoms... used condoms. I always made sure the cab dropped me off as close as possible to the door.

It wasn't air conditioned inside, so we wore light clothing. I was in capri yoga pants and an exercise tank that bared my midriff, my hair pulled up into a tight bun that Aunt Zoe had helped me create using bobbie pins and enough hair spray to shellack a house.

"Kayla, nice," called one of the other guys in the play. I'd worked with him a couple times before a few years ago. His name was Mike. He was nice enough, just not my type, though he always seemed to try to hit on me anyway. He winked and gave me thumbs up as I dumped my bag in a chair in the front row and yanked my script out.

I climbed up on stage, and the other lead, Leon, helped me up with his strong hands. When I was up there, he put his hands on my hips. The lead also happened to be my boyfriend. He leaned close, his breath mixing with mine, and whispered, "You look good when you're hot." He kissed the side of my face and ran a hand down my back.

I smiled, appreciative of his affections. "You're looking pretty good, too," I whispered.

"Okay, lovey-dovey time's over," called the director, a plump guy named Hank, who was not at all what his name might bring to mind. (Trucker guy, right? Errnt. Try little-gay-guy on Sex and the City. Ding!) "Let's take it from the third scene, when Arnold first finds out Rebecca's secret." He clicked his fingers and the music started.

Within moments, I was singing and in my element, moving around the stage, quite lost within the character.

Chapter Thirty-Five
Point of View: Nick

When I came out of the house two days later for the next drive with Zoe, she wasn't alone in the Prius. She was already in the passenger seat, turned back to talk to some guy sitting in the back. I walked tentatively toward the car, wondering what in the world I was getting myself into.

I pulled open the door and got in, having to hump the steering column again in order to push the seat back. "Would it kill you to push this thing back before you got out?" I asked her, struggling with it.

"Damn dude, you're tall," came the voice from the backseat.

Zoe glared back there, "Watch your mouth, George. And as for you," she turned back to Nick, "You need to be in the habit of adjusting everything. Did you do your outside check?"

I glanced at the kid she'd just called George. "I was distracted."

"Oh, sorry," Zoe waved at the backseat, "That's George. George, this is Nick. George is one of my students at the school," Zoe explained. "I noticed on his driving sheet that he's somehow managed to worm his way out of having done any observations so far in the class, and he therefore needs to catch up. He's going to be sitting in the backseat of the Prius for the next five hours."

I snickered, "Sucks to be you, dude." I would not want to be stuck in the car for five hours straight with Zoe. She was bad enough in small increments.

"At least I didn't have to screw the steering wheel," George replied.

"George, language, please," said Zoe as I felt my face turn red.

I couldn't seem to get the lever to pull up. I yanked it with all my might and finally goti it. The chair slid back super fast, though, and, as a result, konked George in the knees. "What the hell man!" cried George. He wriggled out from under the seat and moved to be behind Zoe.

"George!" Zoe's voice was firm.

"Careful, man, she'll make you get out," I warned, laughing.

"Nah, Ms. Sinclaire likes me too much to chuck me out," George answered. "Besides, where would I go? Into your sweet house here? What are you like a freaking millionaire?"

"You'd go into the trunk," answered Zoe, "And don't be rude," she added.

I laughed. He hadn't really seen me from a good angle to know who I was just yet. I opened the door and got out to do the outside check before Zoe felt the need to remind me to do it a second time. She seemed to be nicer when I remembered to do things without her reminding me. When I got around to the right wheel tire, George was staring out the window at me. His eyes lit up and he leaned forward and started talking to Zoe.

"You're a Backstreet Boy," he said when I got into the car, "You're that dude Ms. Sinclaire told us about in class -- that dude that wrapped his fucking Escalade around a tree."

"George," warned Zoe. It was weird hearing him refer to her as Ms. Sinclair. Somehow, it didn't really fit her.

I busied myself adjusting the mirrors instead of answering George.

"You're like my hero man," George said, his voice sarcastic.

Zoe turned in her seat, "Do you seriously want me to make you my trunk monkey?" she demanded. "Because that can be arranged." At that, George laughed, folded his arms and sat back, "That's better. Now shush back there." She turned to me. "He has a smart mouth," she said. She eyed me. "Sort of like someone else I know."

"My mouth isn't smart," I answered, "I say stupid things all the time." George snorted in appreciation in the backseat.

Zoe raised her eyebrow, "Ok, so note to self, George and Nick together equals hell for me, got it."

"How come you can swear?" called George from the backseat.

"I asked the same thing once," I answered.

Zoe growled. "Nick, just turn on the car, please."

I smirked and George laughed from the back. I hit the power button and the little Prius wheezed to life. Zoe took a deep breath as I shifted out of park and we started - slowly - rolling down the driveway.

"You're doing better already," Zoe remarked.

George, of course, had to pick up on that. "Driving down the driveway?" he asked, "Seriously? How did you mess that up before?" He was staring at me with amusement in his eyes. "Seriously. How?"

"He got the Prius up to 40 miles an hour before we got around the fountain," Zoe answered George. "I had to use the brake."

"And the first aid kit," he said, glaring at the driveway ahead of them. "I cracked my nose on the wheel."

"Awesome," mumbled George. "I didn't know the Prius could go 40 miles an hour," he joked.

We reached the end of the driveway and Zoe had us driving through the Los Angeles suburbs in no time. George was snickering in the back every time Zoe had to correct me on something. The worst was the part when she had to correct my left/right directional again. "Dude," George laughed, "You don't know left and right?"

"I hit it wrong, okay?!" I snapped, pointing at him, temper flaring.

"Okay boys, stop pissing all over each other, this isn't territory to claim," Zoe snapped. "You're left and I'm always right, Nick," she reminded me, "And you, in the backseat, who's the instructor? You or me?"

George aggravated me so much, I think, because ... well, he reminded me of myself when I was sixteen.

He shut up after Zoe had snapped at him, and didn't so much as snicker when Zoe said she was going to tie my hands to the wheel because I wasn't leaving them there. "I know how to steer the damn car!" I yelled, "And I've steered it for like fifteen years a particular way and haven't have problems yet!"

"Sorry, I thought that was you in the Escalade they pulled out of a tree," she growled.

The drive was just not going that good, and by the time we got back to my house, I was just glad to get the fuck out of the driver's seat. "Ta ta, Nicky," called George from the back seat, waving with the tips of his fingers. I slammed the door and started into the house.

"Nick," Zoe called. I stopped walking. I could hear her walking around the Prius to get into the driver's side. "I'm sorry, I won't have an observer again."

I turned around, "Okay."

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said.

"Okay," I answered as she got into the car. I sighed and watched as they pulled away.

Chapter Thirty-Six
Point of View: Narrator

The next day, Zoe showed up at Nick's house, but he didn't come right out like he had the past two times she'd driven with him. She sighed as she made her way up the walkway and rang his door bell, pressing it down hard and waiting. She half expected the weird little kid in the snorkel to answer it again, but instead a familiar face opened the door.

It was Krystal Armaletto.

"Who the hell are you?" Krystal asked without even a 'hi' or anything. She looked Zoe over and sighed. "Sorry. Are you a fan? Where did you get Nick's address?" She looked around out on the lawn, as if expecting an army of them.

"I'm Nick's rehabilitation driving instructor," Zoe replied, gritting her teeth, "I am not a fan, and I got Nick's address from Nick, when he filled out the form." Who the hell does this slut think she is anyway? Zoe wondered, looking her up head to toe. The girl had on an impossibly tiny dress that looked like lingerie and heels that lifted her ankles off the ground by a good four inches.

Krystal blinked, "Oh. Well hold on I'll see if he's interested."



Nick had fallen asleep the night before watching TV. The volume was up way too loud and his face was planted across the keyboard of his lap top. He blinked his eyes slowly open and glanced at the clock in the corner of his computer screen. 8:04 AM.

"SHIT!!" he leaped out of bed and looked out the window in his boxers and saw the Prius in the driveway. "SHIT!!!" he grabbed a pair of jeans from the desk where he'd flung them the day before, yanking them on with one hand and bouncing on one foot, grabbing his deodorant off the desk. "Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit," he said, biting the cap off the deodorant and spitting it across the room. He bent his arm up into itself and started scraping the gel on his arm pit as he bounced on the other foot, getting his pants over his ass.

It was in this strange position that his bedroom door opened. "Nii-iiick," came a familiar voice. He froze as Krystal came around the corner of the door, her eyes landing on him. He stood stock still, frozen in shock. First of all - uhhhh, his position was really awkward, obviously. Second of all, when the hell did Krystal get there?

"There you are," she giggled and reached over, "Your hair's a mess, babe." She ruffled it, trying to get it to smooth down from the crazy way it was standing up from sleeping. "You're so silly." She leaned forward, about to kiss him, when Nick's shock suddenly wore off and he stumbled backwards, dropping the deodorant stick onto the desk, even though he'd only gotten one arm pit swiped.

"Where the hell did you come from?" Nick demanded, confused. He looked at the bedroom - the bed, the floor, the balcony, the desk, everywhere - making sure there were no empty bottles or discarded syringes. No evidence of him having gone partying and blacking out. No evident of the sex being had. "Where the hell did you come from?" Nick asked, re-emphasizing the words once he'd assured himself he hadn't done it.

"I had my keys," Krystal answered with a shrug.

Downstairs, he heard the front door open the close, and Zoe called out, "Nick? Are you okay? Are we driving today?"

Nick looked from Krystal to the door, torn. "Zoe?!" he yelled, "I'm coming! Sorry!! One second!!" Quickly, he pulled his pants closed and zipped the fly, tucking in his shirt - the same he'd worn yesterday. He looked at Krystal, "Look, I gotta go do this, okay? But when I get home in an hour --"

Krystal smiled sexily, she leaned toward him with her chest out and blinked up at him, "Yes?"

Nick forced himself to keep from looking down at the fair about of cleavage she was showing him by leaning like that. He swallowed his excess saliva, his sleepy mind running a million miles an hour, and stepped back quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. "We'll talk," he answered. He turned and ran down the stairs two at a time in his stocking feet.

Zoe looked up as he came in, loud and messy. She raised her eyebrow. He ducked into a closet by the front door and pulled out a pair of sneakers, which he kicked his feet into. Zoe glanced back up the stairs just as Krystal came around the corner. "Nick you're seriously leaving right now, to go with --" she looked at Zoe, then said in disdain, "her?"

Zoe snorted, "Oh honey, you cannot seriously be jealous of me."

Nick turned around from the closet, "Krystal, we are not together, okay?" he said levelly. He'd meant him and Krystal.

"Oh I should hope not, considering you're my boyfriend," Krystal answered, her voice dropping, "You're lucky I've chosen to forgive you as it is," she said.

Nick took a deep breath. "Whatever. Look we'll talk later. C'mon, Zoe, let's go." He opened his front door and stormed out down the stoop onto the walkway and disappeared.

Zoe blinked, caught in the middle, then started to follow him. "Keep your hands off him you old bitch," Krystal snapped suddenly.

Now, Zoe, if you have not yet noticed, wasn't the best with controlling her temper. Nor was she anything shy of a master of sarcasm. Combine the two with an annoying pop star giving her attitude? She turned around, "I'm just teaching him how to drive," she said in a low voice, "But if he wants to let me play with his stick shift, who are you to say anything?"

Krystal's jaw dropped and Zoe turned, not sure if she should've done that or not, but more proud of herself for coming up with an answer so quickly than she was mortified she'd done it. She slammed the door behind her as she made her way down the walkway. Nick was pacing beside the car, his hands balled into fists.

"Your girlfriend's a charm," Zoe said as she went around the front end of the Prius.

"She is not my girlfriend," Nick snapped. He got into the car and buckled his seatbelt. Zoe wondered if he noticed she'd pushed the seat back for him or not.

Chapter Thirty-Seven
Point of View: Zoe

After we'd gotten into the car, I knew I should've canceled the drive. Nick's fists were so tight around the wheel that his knuckles were white and his nose was flared and his breath came out of it in shaking gasps. I watched the speedometer closely, though, and he was being careful to stay right on the mark with it. His eyes glued to the road. The first time I had an excuse to say something was when he almost ran a stop sign and had to put the brake on harder than he should've, and ended up a few feet over the stop line.

"Easy tiger," I said quietly.

He didn't answer.

"We're going to take a right here," I said. He flipped the left directional. "Nick, a right."

"God fucking damn it," he screamed, his voice pitched with emotion. He ripped off his seatbelt and got out of the car before I could stop him or say anything. He slammed the door, hard, and walked around to the back, where he leaned against the fender, his hands over his face.

I took a deep breath and punched the emergency flashers. That button was getting more damn use from this guy.... "Ohhh-kay," I whispered. "Here we go."

When I got to the back of the car, I stood there without saying anything. He was rubbing his eyes, his hair falling into his face a little bit, shirt only half tucked in, and looking like he just rolled out of bed. Oh, wait, that's right, too. Another car came up behind us, and I waved it around. "Waiting for some help with the battery," I explained, batting the back of the car. They waved and kept going.

"Nick," I said once the other car was gone around the corner, "What the hell is going on?"

"I can't take it," he muttered. "This is stupid. I can't take it."

"If it's stupid, why can't you take it?" I asked.

"Because," he turned around and punched the trunk of the car. "Fucking A!" he hollered.

I grabbed his arm before he could punch it a second time, "Hey! Hey! Mr. Cranky-Pants, stop beating up my car and talk instead of punching. And talk with words that are comprised of more than four letters." He wrenched his hand away from me and sat down on the curb, folding his face to his knees. "Is she your girlfriend?" I asked.

"No."

"But she was," I said.

"Yes."

"Okay, so what happened?" I asked.

"She dumped me because I went to rehab," I said, "For some dick dancer she has on tour with her. It's stupid."

I sighed, "Will you stop saying it's stupid? Unless you get worked up over nothing and you're willing to admit you just punched the crap out of the back end of my Prius for no reason, then it isn't stupid, is it?"

"No," he muttered.

"Okay then," I struggled to lower myself next to him, and he noticed and turned to help me, sticking his hands under my arms, bracing me until I was on the curb. It was possibly one of the nicest things someone had done for me in a long time that way. I stared at him, somewhat surprised by his kindness. As soon as I'd reached the curb, he'd turned back to his knees, where he rested his chin and stared at his sneakers. "Talk to me, Carter," I said, lightly pushing my balled fist into his arm.

He sighed, but it was a sigh of resignation, nothing else. He picked at his shoe laces. "I loved her," he said, "I tried to treat her so good. But I was depressed, and she's into partying. It was a bad combination, I guess. It wasn't hurt fault."

Somehow I doubt that, but okay.

"She was just-- she was there, I mean. We had a- an incident. Where AJ and I got in a big fight at a club and I kind of overdosed. I was in the hospital," Nick's voice was struggling to get the words out. "And she broke up with me because I was too messed up. And then the night with the accident... and the rehab... and I saw her with Dennis or whatever his name was, and..." Nick shook his head, "It hurt, a lot. I had to deal with all that, with her leaving me when I needed her most, and going for that... fucking Mexican gummy bear..."

I had to pretend to cough not to laugh at the description 'fucking Mexican gummy bear', but I managed to do it without him noticing. "So what was she doing here today then?" I asked, when I was certain my voice wasn't going to break from the concealed laugh.

"I don't have any clue," he answered, his voice flat and honest. "She has her own keys to my house. We were going to move in together after our tours ended." He rubbed his hands against the tar, palms down, in the dust along the curb. Another car passed us, looking out at us like we were crazy.

Suddenly self-conscious, I nudged him. "Hey c'mon, let's at least sit in the car. People are starting to stare at us."

Nick looked up just as another car, with a staring passenger, went around the Prius. "So?" he asked, "Of course they're staring, we're being weird." He looked at me.

"I don't like it when people stare at me," I answered. I started struggling up to my feet.

Nick popped up and pulled me up gently. He put my hand on his shoulder and bent down for my crutches, leaning against the curb, then he carefully held my arm until I'd gotten my hands into them. I was dumbfounded by this sudden... gentlemanly side of him. "Why don't you like it when people stare at you?" he asked. The irony of asking that after literally handing me the reason why seemed absurd and I did laugh this time. "Sorry, what?" he asked.

"These," I said, shaking the crutches for him to look at, "These things are embarrassing. I hate it when people stare because I think they're staring because of these." I'd never really told anyone that quite in those terms, and I felt my neck start to grow hot. Oh no way in hell am I being vulnerable, I thought, and I quickly turned to get back into the Prius. "Let's continue your drive."

Nick got into his side slowly and buckled up and waited until I'd done the same, then he hit the flashers and put his directional on for the right. The car started rolling down the road. Luckily, I didn't have a drive immediately following Nick, so we were able to complete the hour despite our little stop. Nick did relatively okay, his hands stayed on the wheel - and even though his knuckles were white from how hard he was clutching it, he didn't stray from eight and four. Plus, he stayed under the speed limit. He actually did well.

When we got back to his house and I'd gotten into the driver's seat, Nick was standing there as I was about to back up. He stayed there by the lawn, looking like he was ready to say something but never quite getting the words to his mouth. I really wanted to go home and take a bubble bath to relieve the tension, though, so I didn't wait for the words to come out.

Chapter Thirty-Eight
Point of View: Narrator

Something about the corner the cab pulled up in front of looked familiar, but Nick didn't think much of it as he tossed money up front and headed to the front door of the Sinclaire house.

Kayla was looking out the kitchen window. "Aunt Zoe, someone's here," she called up the stairs.

Zoe was in the bathroom. She looked at her watch. 6:30PM. Who the hell? She hadn't been expecting anyone.

As Zoe came down the stairs, she could hear Kayla talking in the hallway, bursts of energetic giggles escaping her niece. Kayla never sounded so nervous. Zoe came around the corner, half expecting to find Kayla at gun point or something. Instead, it was Nick. He had a bag in his hand. "Hey," he said.

Zoe blinked. "How the -- why -- what the --" she looked over his shoulder, searching for the Camaro. "You didn't drive here did you?" she demanded.

"Taxi," Nick answered, smirking. "C'mon."

"What?" Zoe looked at Kayla, then back at Nick, "What're you doing here?"

"I've got something you need to see," he answered, holding up the bag.

"Can I come?" Kayla asked, "Please? I gotta see this."

Zoe's eyes traveled between the two. How the hell long had she dawdled up there? "Where are we going?" she demanded. "How did you get my address?"

Nick laughed, "There aren't that many listings for Sinclaire, Zoe in the white pages. Come on, let's go."

Kayla squealed and grabbed the keys to her car off the table next to the door, "C'mon Auntie Zoe!"



"I cannot believe I am seeing this," muttered Zoe thirty minutes later as she and Kayla walked through Wal-Mart pushing a shopping cart. Directly in front of them was a very tall Spiderman, wearing Nick's sneakers.

"Right?" Kayla was laughing hysterically, holding up her little blue camera to take pictures as people stopped shopping to turn around and stare at Nick, who just waved and gave them the thumbs up. "God I cannot wait to Tweet these pictures."

Nick turned around. They could only barely see his eyes and mouth through the mask that was pulled over his head, but his eyes were sparkling and his mouth and contorted into a wicked smile. "What else do we need? My spidey senses are tingling that there's stuff we need!"

Zoe shook her head. "You are ridiculous."

He grabbed a bottle of Advil off a display directly to his right and threw it into the cart, "I'll probably need that," he said, and turned and continued walking through the store.

On the canned vegetables aisle, a little boy was staring at Nick from inside of his mother's shopping cart while she was picking out canned peas. The little boy's face had dropped in awe, and he was tugging on his mother's sleeve, but she wasn't looking. Nick swooped over and grabbed a can of spinach off the shelf and held it up, "Mmm, spinach," he said, rubbing his stomach, "Spiderman gets all his vitamin K by eating spinach! You should get your vitamin K, too! Spinach is so good!" he turned back to Zoe and Kayla, smirking, carrying the spinach, and disappearing around the end of the aisle.

"Mommy," the little boy whined, "Mommy, can I get spinach?"

Kayla looked at Zoe, "Are you sure he graduated from rehab?" she giggled as they followed him.

"Hey man!" cried a guy in the next aisle they went down. Nick stopped and turned to look at the guy, whose smile was wide, "Shit! I'm a big fan!" he dropped the bag of chips he'd been inspecting ran over and gave Nick a high-five. "Tell me, is MJ as hot as she looks on the screen?"

"Hotter," Nick answered, "Actually," he pointed at Kayla, "Thats' her there. She's in disguise. Shhh." He held one of his fingers up to his mouth.

Kayla turned red. "Oh my God."

The guy smirked, "She is hot."

Zoe looked between the guy, Nick, Kayla, and back to Nick. The guy waved and took off, as Kayla cracked up and covered her face, doubling over the handle of the cart. "Oh my God," she wheezed, laughing.

Nick smiled at Zoe, "See?" he said, "Being stared at -- not that bad is it?"

Zoe shook her head, "You're insane."

"Yeah, I am, but yanno what?" he asked, "It's pretty damn fun being insane sometimes." With that, he bounded off ahead of them down the aisle, waving his arms as though swinging on spider webs. "Cereal!" he called out to them when he came to a stop, a dozen or so feet ahead of them, "I need cereal!"

Kayla looked at Zoe, "You didn't tell me he was so funny."

"I've literally never seen this side of him," Zoe replied, following alongside Kayla as she pushed the cart after Nick. "He was freaking out this morning over his exgirlfriend being at his house when I got there--"

"Krystal Armaletto?" squeaked Kayla, her eyes widening. "Krystal Armaletto was at his house?"

Zoe looked at Kayla, who had stopped dead in her tracks and was clutching at her chest as though about to have a heart attack. "You met... Krystal Armaletto... and you're JUST NOW telling me?!?" she gasped.

"She was a bitch," muttered Zoe.

"Oh my God, you did. You met Krystal Armaletto." Kayla sucked in a deep breath, as though injured. "Aunt Zoe, oh my God."

Zoe shook her head, "Don't worship her, Kayla," she said. "She's a slut with a crappy attitude. She was actually jealous that Nick was doing his drive with me."

Kayla laughed, "What? You're like fifty. Krystal Armaletto is... God, she's Krystal Armaletto."

Zoe rolled her eyes. "You may not want to show this reverence for her in front of him," she said, nodding in Nick's direction as they started down the cereal aisle. He had three different boxes in his hands and was studying them carefully. "I don't think he's into her anymore."

Nick looked up as they stepped up next to him with the cart, "Apple Jacks, Captain Crunch or Cookie Crisp?" he asked.

Zoe raised an eyebrow, "However will you choose," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "There's just so much sugar."

"I know!" Nick whined. "Aw hell, it's not like I won't eat it." He chucked all three boxes into the cart. "Problem solved." He grinned.



Zoe had Kayla drive to Nick's house to drop him off, rather than making him take a cab back with his Spiderman body suit on. He'd taken off his mask and started munching on the Cookie Crisp on the way home while they talked. "So," Nick said, "Nobody was staring were they?" he asked.

"Only because I was there with Spiderman and MJ," she said, laughing.

"I can't believe you did that," laughed Kayla, blushing again.

"Well," said Nick, his voice dipping into a low, sexy tone, "You do kind of look a little bit like Kirsten Dunst."

Kayla's face flushed even darker red. "I love her," she muttered.

"See? It works out," Nick said, smirking, "Cos I love her too."

Zoe squinted her eyes. Was she hearing what she was pretty sure she was hearing? She turned in the front seat and looked at Nick, who was sitting behind Kayla in the back. "Are you hitting on my niece?" she demanded.

Nick spit Cookie Crisp into his lap in surprise as Kayla cried, "Aunt Zoe! Please!"

"Well?" demanded Zoe.

Nick mumbled something incoherently and turned to look out the window, clutching the box of cereal in his hand tightly. Zoe turned forward and laughed silently to herself. Nick was sort of turning out to be an okay kid, but there was no way in hell he was going anywhere near Kayla.

When they pulled into Nick's driveway, every light in his house was on and a fancy pink convertible sat in the driveway. "Aw shit," muttered Nick, sighing, "She didn't leave."

Zoe looked at the house. "Should I bother coming for you in the morning or are you going to come out late again?"

Nick looked at Zoe, "No I'll be able to drive. I just might be tired after staying up all night fighting." He unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for the bags of groceries that were on the floor next to his feet. "Hey thanks," he said, holding up the bags, "We got you less scared of being stared at and I got food for the week." He grinned. "See ya, Zoe... and.. it was great meeting you, Kayla," he added, a devilish grin sneaking across his face.

"Go get yelled at," Zoe commanded, pointing at the door. Nick ducked out of the car. "And hey Nick?" Zoe called, leaning over Kayla awkwardly. Kayla leaned back into the seat. Nick stopped, standing there in the red and blue body suit, hair a mess, clutching five Walmart bags on one arm. "She's not worth it if she hurts you."

He smiled. "See ya in the morning," he answered, then turned and headed into the house.

"He is so adorable," giggled Kayla, smiling at Zoe, "Oh my God."

Zoe shook her head, "Down girl. He's damaged goods."

Chapter Thirty-Nine
Point of View: Narrator

Nick walked into the house, carrying the bags, and stopped dead in his tracks at the door jamb. One of the potted palm trees lay across the floor, the dirt from the pot spread all over the carpet in the foyer. The closet door was open, all his jackets and shoes were everywhere, tossed carelessly around. There was crap overturned and papers shredded. His car keys were floating halfway down in the huge fishtank that made up the wall of his living room. He blinked, shocked. "KRYSTAL????" he bellowed, feeling heat and anger arise in him. He dropped the bags right there by the door. "What the FUCK are you doing?" he walked further into the house.

The kitchen looked like a hurricane hit it. Every single cupboard door was open, as was his fridge and freezer, and there was food and broken glass and silverware just chucked every which way. The microwave door was punctured by a knife. "What the fucking hell," he muttered, backing out of the kitchen. He was about to inspect the living room when he heard a loud crash upstairs. He bolted up the steps, taking them three at a time, his heart racing. My studio, he thought, panic gripping him. He bolted past his bedroom and into the studio at the end of the hall.

The lights were on, the soundboard smashed, pictures torn off the walls. A box of reels he'd been working on for months were scattered on the floor, only some of them in any kind of condition that could possibly be construed as possibly working. "Jesus," he whispered, anger burning so deep and hot in him that he literally couldn't move for a moment. He could feel every muscle in his body tense up.

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?" he screamed, knowing she was still there - her car was there, he'd heard a crash. He was almost blind he was so mad. He could literally see red - that old Warrent song finally made sense to him.

More crashes responded, and he followed them, his hand dragging along the wall in the hallway. They led him to his bedroom. Jesus, no, he thought as he pushed it opened.

Krystal was in the center of the room. She had a stack of CDs in her hand and she was throwing them against the wall like they were frisbees. His computer was on the floor, which could only mean bad things, and there was paper everywhere. He looked around and saw gutted spiral notebooks littering the floor, including the one that Dr. Haseltine had given him.

He felt like he was gonna be sick.

Nick ran across the room and grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around her to make her stop. She dropped the CDs and they clattered at their feet. She quickly started stamping her stiletto heeled feet on them furiously. He lifted her up off the floor, her legs kicking his shins, and dragged her into the hallway. "What the fuck did you do to my house?" he screamed into her face, cornering her against the wall.

Krystal looked up at him. "Who the fuck is she? Was it that fucking old hag from this morning?" she screeched, pointing toward the driveway.

"First of all," Nick said, his voice growling, "It's none of your business who I was just with, and second of all what the hell were you thinking? My stuff! Do you have any idea how much damage..." he stared at her. "I told you to leave," he said.

"I did leave," she snarled, "But I came back. You can't just leave me, tell me no, Nick. You don't walk away from me."

"So you fuck up everything I own? Because that'll make me want you!" He glared into her eyes, she stared back. Then, he saw it. She wasn't focused. She wasn't...there. "Jesus fucking Christ," he turned away.

Krystal screamed, "Don't you judge me!"

"You're high," Nick yelled. "In my house. You are high here in my house."

"Because nobody's ever been high here before," she screeched, "You and I were high here every fucking day last summer, Nick."

Nick closed his eyes. "I want you to go," he begged. "Please, just leave me here okay? You don't love me, you don't." He held up his arms, "If you did, you never would've done this to me. You've ruined everything I cared about."

Krystal narrowed her eyes at him. "Fuck you." She turned and stormed away, as though she thought that was a good comeback.

Nick stood in the hallway and listened to her descending the stairs, stumbling. When she got to the bottom, her heels were clicking on the tile floor. She was talking to herself in a soft, slushy kind of voice now. He heard the door open in the foyer. He took a deep breath.

He couldn't let her drive.

Nick turned and bolted down the stairs after her, out the front door and across the lawn before she'd even reached her stupid little Barbie car. He blocked the driver door before she could get the handle. "What are you doing?" she growled.

"You can't drive," he said, "Call a cab."

Her nose wrinkled, "Um, ew. No. I'm not calling a cab. Cabs are for people who can't afford cars."

"And for people who are too fucked up to drive them," Nick snapped. He reached for his cellphone, but he still had the spiderman body suit on and it was underneath it, in his jeans pocket. "Give me your phone," he said.

"I'm not calling a cab," she yelled, shoving him out of the way violently.

"Krystal, it's not safe, please," he begged as she got into the car and yanked the door shut. He grabbed the handle, but she'd already locked it. "KRYSTAL," he yelled, panic rising in his voice. "C'mon, don't." She started the car up, the engine roaring. "Krystal, seriously, please. You're gonna get hurt."

Krystal paused, her hands on the wheel, and for just a moment he thought she was going to listen, to get out and call a cab. But then she looked at him, deliberate, a cold stare on her face, and extended her middle finger, before slamming on her gas pedal. He had to two step backwards to get away from her tire before she clipped his feet. He backed into the fountain and almost fell in. He caught his balance at the last moment, as her pink convertible disappeared around the end of the driveway. He could hear the tires squealing and the engine roaring from where he stood for quite some time.

He turned and looked at the house, his heart sinking. Everything in there was a mess or destroyed or both. He dropped onto the edge of the fountain and closed his eyes, covering his face with his hands. He tensed the muscles in his face. "One.. two... three..." On eight, he relaxed them. Then tensed the muscles in his neck. "One... two... three..." and so on throughout his body.

But when he was done, he still really, really wanted to get away.



"Did you see the stuff he bought tonight?" Kayla was saying as she put her purse down on the counter. Zoe and Kayla had been discussing Nick all the way home. "He got like four boxes of cereal, Advil, spinach and a bag of chips. He called it grocery shopping, Aunt Zoe."

"I call it being a bachelor," Zoe replied, shrugging. "He knows what he's doing. Maybe he only needed a couple staples."

"Cereal, chips and spinach?"

Zoe shrugged. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"He probably hasn't had real food in, like, forever," Kayla answered, "Why don't you bring him to dinner or something? He looks so skinny, it's weird."

Zoe shook her head, "No."

"Why?" Kayla asked, "He did a nice thing for you."

"He did a weird thing for me," Zoe corrected her, "And no, because I'm not inviting him here, for one, and for two, I'm not letting you mack on him, Kayla. He isn't boyfriend material. He's just... a guy I drive with."

Kayla threw her hands into the air, frustrated, "So the guy doesn't deserve an actual meal?"

Zoe sighed. "Please, drop it, Kayla. I said no."

Kayla scowled.

Chapter Forty
Point of View: Zoe

When I pulled up at 8am the next day, it was to the most bizarre Nick moment I'd encountered yet. He was still wearing the spiderman body suit (we'd found the mask in the back of Kayla's car), curled up in a ball under a blanket on the front lawn, asleep.

"I cannot wait to hear this one," I muttered, opening the car door. His house was lit up like a Christmas tree, the door flung open, just as it had been the night before. Very little looked like it had changed at all, except Bitch Barbie's car was missing. I got to my feet and slowly made my way to Nick across the grass.

I watched his chest rise and fall and part of me felt relieved - he was breathing. Funny, I hadn't even realized I was worried about that until I wasn't anymore. I lifted one of my crutches and used it to shake his shoulder, "Nick?" I called. "Nick, wake up."

His eyes slowly opened, and he squinted against the sunlight, peering up at me from the grass. "Zoe?" he asked, confused sounding. "Where's... where's..." he looked around at the grass and the stoop to his house, the light shining through the doorway. "Shit, why am I outside?"

"That's a good question," I answered.

Nick rolled over onto his back and sat up. "Shit." He sat very still a moment, hands on his knees, and I could see him wincing – "Shit."

"What?" I asked, unsure what else to do. "What's wrong?"

He looked back towards the house. "C'mere."

He stood up and led the way into his house. He stopped in the foyer as I came in behind him and gasped. The last time I'd stood in the foyer it had looked beautiful. That was exactly twenty-four hours ago. Now... "Nick, what the hell happened? It looks like a hurricane ripped through."

"Hurricane Krystal," he muttered. "You should see the upstairs. My studio, my room..."

I nudged the palm tree with my crutch. "Shit. What was this all for?" I asked.

Nick sighed, "She thought she was still moving in... I told her no, told her to get out. She's a bad influence on me... I saw that last night."

I maneuvered my way over the palm tree and moved further into the room. "Are those..." I started to ask, pointing at the keys in the bottom of the fish tank.

"My camaro keys? Yes," Nick said, shaking his head. "They cost like a hundred bucks to replace."

I took a peek into Nick's kitchen and living room and shook my head. "She really wanted you to know she was pissed, huh?" I said.

"I dunno what to do," Nick answered, sinking onto the bottom stair.

"Call the cops," I answered flatly.

Nick looked up at me. "I don't wanna get her in trouble..."

"Don't be stupid," I snapped. "Get your balls out of her purse and get on the phone with the LAPD. She trashed your house, Nick, the bitch deserves to pay." My words came out harsh, but I knew they were true so I didn't even try to curb them.

Nick nodded, setting his jaw, "You're right."

"What have I told you?" I laughed, "Nick... I'm always right."

"Actually..." he held up his hands, "You're left, right now." He pulled his cell phone out from his pocket under his spiderman costume, smirking.

Chapter Forty-One
Point of View: Nick

"So... how's those driving lessons doing?" Brian asked about an hour and a half after I'd been talking to Zoe. He was driving me to my appointment with Dr. Haseltine, and I hadn't briefed him on my house or the visit from the police just yet. Zoe had cancelled the drive so that I could wait for them and talk to them before the appointment, and she'd stayed there and wandered around the downstairs, clucking her tongue. When the cops had come, she'd told them about Krystals's attitude the day before.

"They're going okay," I answered.

Brian puckered out his lower lip as if to say 'eh' and said, "What about the instructor? I thought you hated her?"

I shrugged. "I dunno, I guess she's kind of growing on me a little. She's okay. I mean I don't particularly like her, she's just okay. Her niece is hot, though."

Brian laughed. "How on earth did you meet her niece?" he asked.

"When I went over her place last night," I answered, "I did the Spiderman visits Wal-Mart thing with them."

Brian rolled his eyes, "You did that again?" he chuckled, "Nick, Wal-Mart's gonna stop letting you through the doors, like the whole chain, I swear..."

"Dude, do you have any clue how much spinach I have sold to little kids? Wal-Mart owes me their spike in spinach sales."

"Oh I'm sure thats a lot, too. Come to think of it, if they stop Spidey from coming, the company might fold because they didn't get those spinach sales. You're right, Nick, you've got no reason to worry."

I laughed and smirked, then changed the subject before it could turn back to Zoe, and thereby possibly back to the house, which I didn't quite wanna tell Brian about yet. "So... how's the rental place?" I asked.

"It's nice. Baylee hates that it doesn't have a pool, but I'm actually glad. My toes were getting to be waterlogged while we were at your place - I think he came out of the pool for a grand total of about fifteen minutes there," Brian said, "Besides... basket ball court, man! We should shoot some hoops after your appointment."

"I can't today, bro," I said, knowing he was about to ask me why. I sighed.

Brian pouted, "Aw man, how come?" he smirked, "You to afraid that I'd B-Rokkin' you all over the court? Huh??" His smile was bright and ridiculously huge. He hadn't used that phrase since like... I dunno, 1998? It made me laugh. "Seriously, what's up?"

"I have some, um, cop-guys coming," I said, "This afternoon, to um, assess..." I mumbled the rest too quietly for him to really hear.

"Cops? Assess? Assess what?" Brian's eyebrows puckered in concern as he wheeled the car through the parking lot of the hospital, trying to find a parking space.

"Don't freak out, okay?" I said quietly.

Brian looked really, really concerned now. "Why? What'd you do? Nick, you didn't drink did you?"

"No!" I snapped, "I slept on the lawn so I wouldn't drink." I'm still not quite sure how that helped, but it sounded good. Like an extreme. I folded my arms over my chest.

Brian put his blinker on and waited for a woman with three toddlers to load them into her car so he could take her space. He turned to me while we waited, "What do you mean, you slept on the lawn? What happened?"

"Okay, so the day before yesterday, when you moved out, that was the last day of Krystal's tour," I said it all in one gasping mouthful, "And yesterday she showed up at the house thinking we were moving in together, like we never broke up." I stopped and tucked my lower lip under my teeth, waiting for the explosion.

"KRYSTAL was there?" Brian asked, his face reddening, "Oh my Lord." He turned to face forward, his hands gripping the wheel. "Nick she is so bad for you," Brian started, but I cut him off.

"I know that," I said, "I realize that now. I didn't before, but I do now."

"Good," Brian responded heatedly.

"That's why I kicked her out," I explained. "It's just... well, then I left to go see Zoe last night, and while I was gone, she -" I paused, "She kind of came back."

The Dodge Caravan the mother and toddlers had gotten into backed out and Brian swooped into the parking space and cut the engine, turning in his seat to stare at me. "She came back?"

I nodded.

"And?"

"Well, she was really high, and really pissed, and..." I took a deep breath, "She basically destroyed everything in the house." I imagined the ruins that made up everything I owned, basically, and sighed. "I mean literally everything."

Brian's face was aghast. Like he literally had no idea how to respond to my words. "So the cops?" Brian nodded, "Good, you reported it."

"Yeah," I nodded. I was glad I had, though I was nervous about it. Zoe had talked me into calling them, though. It sounds stupid, and I probably am crazy because of it, but I didn't want to get Krystal in trouble. I didn't want to ruin her life or her career by having word of it get out. I just didn't feel vengeful toward her, as I probably should've.

Brian reached for the door handle and got out of the car. I followed him and we started walking across the parking lot. We were halfway to the door when he stopped and looked at me. "What good did sleeping on the lawn do?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged, "I didn't have to try to pick through the remains of my room that way, I just got to go to sleep. I got a blanket first from the living room, of course, but..." I shrugged, "I just knew last night if I'd gone back in and looked at like my studio or my room, I was going to break down."

Brian nodded, "Okay. That makes sense."

He walked with me up to Dr. Haseltine's office and sat down in a chair in the hall to wait while I knocked on the door and the familiar, Chicken-hunger-inducing face of Dr. Haseltine opened and ushered me in, smiling.

I flung myself down into the usual spot, and looked at his goldfish. It was hanging out between some reeds in the corner of the tank. "Good morning, Nick," Dr. Haseltine said happily, "Do you have your journal with you?"

I looked at him, "No," I answered, "I don't." I paused, that sounded like I just didn't care about the treatment. "I'm sorry," I added, "My uh- my exgirlfriend, she um -" I paused, "I dunno, she wrecked it."

Dr. Haseltine frowned.

"That and like my entire house... I dunno." I shifted my eyes away from his face.

"When did this happen?" he asked.

"Yesterday," I answered.

Dr. Haseltine hesitated. "Nick. Look at me."

I looked up and our eyes connected and I could feel him searching them, checking for traces of a hangover. It was a long, intense moment, I didn't usually let people look into my eyes this long - I couldn't handle it, it was too intrusive. I've never liked it. I finally had to turn away and return my gaze to the wall.

"I'm proud of you," Dr. Haseltine said, sitting back. "Now, tell me how you did it."

I looked towards him, but not really at him. I focused on one of those metal ball bouncy thingies on his desk and leaned forward, grabbing the end ball and starting the chain reaction up. I watched them do a couple rotations before I said, "I fell asleep on the lawn in a Spiderman costume after selling spinach to a little kid."

Dr. Haseltine blinked. "What?"

I held up an imaginary can of spinach, and in my Spidey voice said, "Spiderman gets all his vitamin K by eating spinach! You should eat spinach, too!" When Dr. Haseltine was still blinking at me, I added, "I was at Wal-Mart, with my driving instructor, showing her it's not scary when people stare at you."

Dr. Haseltine continued to blink for another couple seconds and he rubbed the back of his neck as he sat back. "Okay, I'm really hoping this story makes more sense when you tell it in detail, because right now I'm considering sending you upstairs."

I laughed and smiled, reaching out to stop the metal ball thingy because it was annoying me. "Yeah, it does, I promise."

Chapter Forty-Two
Point of View: Nick

After the appointment with Dr. Haseltine - during which he gave me a new journal and a new appointment for the following week - Brian drove me back to the house. He couldn't stick around, he had Baylee and Leighanne waiting at their rented place, so I waved him off and turned to the house with my new journal clutched to my chest, hesitating to go inside.

The first thing I did when I stepped in the door was right the palm tree. The cops had told me that morning not to pick up too much, because they needed to see the damage she'd done, but the palm tree was making me depressed, so I fixed it and attempted to put some of its soil back into the bucket it sat in so it didn't look so sad.

The only other thing I cleaned up was in my room. I tried to find all the pieces of my journals and shoved them into a trash bag. I didn't need anyone finding that stuff and analyzing it. They were of no value, either, so I didn't think it would make much difference to what they were doing anyways. I went outside and carried the trash bags to the end of the driveway.

I was down by the curb when Kayla's red Chevy Aveo pulled into the driveway. I turned in surprise as she waved and smiled, and drove up to the fountain, where she parked. I jogged along the driveway to her car and waited while she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out. She looked around, "Wow, your house is really more impressive during the day," she said. She bent back into the car and emerged a moment later with two Starbucks cups. She held one out to me, "It's mocha latte, I hope you like them. I didn't know what you drank, so I got two of my drink."

I smiled and took the cup, "Anything with caffeine is a favorite," I answered, taking a sip.

Kayla smiled and sat on the edge of the fountain. "For future references, though, what's your favorite?" she asked.

I dropped down beside her. "Coffee black with nutmeg."

"Nice," she nodded. "No sugar?"

"No sugar."

"My aunt told me what happened with your girlfriend," Kayla said.

I shook my head, "She's not my girlfriend."

Kayla was blowing into the mouth hole of her cup, cooling down the latte inside, and concentrating on the cup's lid. I watched her. The way her short, curly hair kind of moved with the tilts and motions of her head, the way her mouth formed around the air as she blew into the cup, her eyes... I licked my lips, trying to keep from grabbing her to me and pressing my mouth on hers and taking her right there in the water fountain.

This is bad, I thought.

Kayla looked at me. "Nick, this is stupid, but I just wanted you to know that I used to be a really big fan of Krystal Armaletto... just ask Zoe. Even last night I was getting really excited because Zoe got to meet her and didn't tell me. But..." she glanced at the house. "When Aunt Zoe told me what she did to you, I went upstairs and broke the CDs. I can't believe anyone would do that to someone as sweet as you."

"I don't want people to hate Krystal," I said, shaking my head and putting my cup down on the fountain beside me. "I just feel bad for her more than anything."

Kayla shook her head, "After what she did to you?"

"After everything she's done to me," I answered, "I'm just not that guy that wants revenge or whatever. I just - I mean, I loved Kayla and--" I stopped, catching the Freudian slip and turning dark, dark red. I wanted to melt into the stones on the fountain and die right there. Cover it! my head screamed. "I mean Krystal." I closed my eyes, "God, I'm an idiot."

Kayla smirked, "The names are really close. It's not like Emily and Rachel."

I blinked at her, "What?"

"Oh, the TV show Friends," Kayla answered, "When Ross is marrying Emily, this girl from England, and he's really in love with this other character, Rachel. You know, Jennifer Anistan? Anyways, at the wedding, when he's saying the vows? He says Rachel's name."

I laughed.

Kayla smiled, "So -- Krystal, Kayla... not like Emily, Rachel."

"Yeah, the names are completely different," I agreed.

"And the reason you mixed them up is, too," she agreed, too.

"Yeah."

I sipped the latte again just to give me something to do with my hands that didn't include wringing them or cracking my knuckles. The truth was, I wasn't a big fan of the latte. Coffee should be unadulterated. But it was good because Kayla gave it to me, I guess. I took a deep breath. I cannot, cannot have a crush on this girl, I demanded of my heart, What're you doing to me?

"So, what do you do?" I asked, looking her over.

Kayla smiled, "I'm working on becoming a singer," she answered.

"Really?" I asked.

She nodded, "Yeah. I've got a part in this play, And Then I Said Yes. My boyfriend, Leon, is in it, too. We've been doing rehearsals all week." Kayla smiled, "Hey, you should come to opening night. It's in two weeks."

"Sure," I smiled, not missing the boyfriend, Leon reference. "That sounds great. I'd like to hear you perform."

Kayla blushed and laughed, "Nah."

"Yeah," I said, watching her. She was adorable when she blushed. "Hey, sing me something."

"Now?" she looked around, her eyes wide with surprise, "Here?"

"Yeah, why not?" I asked, laughing, "Please? It'll cheer me up." I puckered my lower lip out and gave her the saddest sad-puppy eyes I could muster.

Kayla's cheeks reddened again, and I decided it would be my personal goal whenever I was around her to make her blush like that as often as possible.

"Pleaaaaase?" I begged, my voice barely above a whisper.

Kayla stood up and pulled her hair behind her head, like she was going to put it into a pony tail, then dropped it and let it fall around her face again. She took a deep breath. "Okay, fine. But you can't laugh, no matter what, okay?" she asked, "Please? And be honest, if you like it or not, don't bullshit me."

I crossed my heart.

"Okay." Kayla cleared her throat. "Haven't we met? You're sooome kind of beauuutiful strangerrrrr. You could be good for meeeeeee. I have a taste for dangerrrrr... If I'm smaaaaart then I'll run awayyyyy, but I'm noooot so I guess I'll stay. Heaven forbiiiid. I'll take my chance on a beautiful strangerrrrr. I looked into your eyes and my wooorld came tumbling dowwwwn... You're the devil in disguiiise... that's why I'm singing this soooong. To knoooow yoooou... is to loooove yoooou..." She stopped abruptly.

I couldnt't breathe. She was fucking amazing. I stood up. "Shit, Kayla."

Her face turned red, "I'm sorry, I know, that was horrible, I wasn't on pitch..."

"That was amazing," I said, shaking my head, "You sounded better than Madge."

Kayla laughed, "Now you're just teasing me."

"No," I said, shaking my head, "I'm very not teasing you."

Kayla stared into my eyes and I didn't look away. It didn't feel like intruding when she did it. I stared back. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome," I whispered back.

I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to swoop right down and kiss her. To hell with Zoe, driving lessons, psycho ex-girlfriends, destroyed houses, drugs, alcohol, crazy parents, distant siblings, stalker photogs, and every other thing in my life. All that I could see, feel, or want was Kayla.

I was about to do it. I had it in my head I was going to. I was ready, my mouth about to form the kiss, my eyes starting to slide shut - so were hers - when a car door slammed behind us and we both jumped a mile.

"Sorry about that," called a drawling southern accent. I turned and a cop stood there, carrying a notepad, "I'm officer Gary Armstrong, I'm here to do an assessment on the damages done to the house last night?" he asked, holding up the pad.

Who cares? I thought, God damn it, you couldn't have gotten here three seconds later?

Kayla backed away from me, "Thanks for listening, Nick. Hope you liked the latte. Feel better." She turned to her car quickly.

"The house is over there," I said stupidly to Officer Armstrong. He started walking that way. I ran to the Aveo's window. "Kayla," I said, leaning in. She was buckling her seatbelt. The stereo turned on with the car and Kelly Clarkson was singing. She reached over and shut it off. She looked up at me. "Thanks for singing."

She stared up at me, her eyes now panicked. "Please don't tell my Aunt you saw me, okay? She'll kill me."

And with that, she drove away.

Chapter Forty-Three
Point of View: Kayla

I pulled over the second I was certain I was out of eye and ear shot of Nick, around the corner, blocked by the wall that surrounded his house, and covered my eyes with my hands. "Ohhh my God, oh my God," I whispered, trying to get my heart to stop slamming so hard in my chest, I took deep breaths. I just sang Beautiful Stranger to Nick-fucking-Carter and he liked it. I sang Beautiful Stranger to Nick-fucking-Carter and meant every word of it. I just sang to Nick-fucking-Carter. I almost kissed Nick-fucking-Carter. My head kept spinning like that, reminding me of elements of the thirty minutes that I'd spent with him in his driveway. His face when he saw me, his slip-up. He said my name instead of Krystal's. "Oh my God," I muttered.

Zoe was gonna slaughter me.



When I got to the theater, I parked my car on the side of the road right in front of the entrance. I normally didn't drive there because I hated leaving the car on that sketchy street, I was always afraid I'd come out and find it stripped for parts or something, but I'd wanted to bring Nick a smile and a coffee, so I was going to chance it. I stuck quarters into the meter and ran inside, just in time for the rehearsal to start.

"Oh how lovely, our star decided to show up," called the lazy voice of the director.

"Sorry," I cried, running onto the stage and tossing my bag on the floor as I went, "I got lost in traffic." I ran to Leon's side and grabbed his hands, my hands shaking. He pulled me into a kiss and stuck his tongue in my mouth, I pulled away quickly and flushed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Leon demanded at my unusual reaction to his affections.

"Nothing," I answered, smiling sweetly.

Leon glared at me, but didn't speak again until we were rehearsing and his line came up. In fact, lines were the only things he said to me for the rest of the day, and when the rehearsal was over, he took off before we could talk again. I wasn't sure if I was upset or relieved that I didn't have to talk to him immediately. After all, I wasn't positive that anything would come out of Nick and I, and I didn't want to lose Leon over nothing...



That night, when Zoe came home, I had cleaned the entire house. I even mopped the floors and used wax on the hardwood. I made dinner. Everything was ready for her to just come in and relax. She looked around the room, eyebrows raised. "What's going on here?" she asked.

"Hmm?" I asked, stirring the corn chowder I'd made, "What do you mean?" I flipped the grilled ham and cheese sandwiches over.

Zoe ticked items off on her fingers, "You cleaned, you waxed the floor, you're cooking dinner, and I asked for none of this. What happened?"

I laughed, "Can't I just do something nice for my favorite Aunt?" I asked sweetly, batting my eyes.

"No," Zoe answered, "You can't. What's going on?" She thought about it. Then understanding dawned on her face. "This is about Nick Carter, isn't it?" she asked.

I could feel my face flush. My one curse - I blushed when I was nervous. Actually, I blushed over everything. I hated that about my cheeks. They didn't know how to stay pale. "No," I lied.

Zoe snorted, "It is. This is over Nick Carter. Kayla, I am not inviting that kid here for dinner, I don't care what's wrong in his life. I don't want you getting attached to him in any shape, way, or form. He's bad news. I'm not saying he's bad, persey, I think the guy means well, but I don't want you getting any funny little ideas in your head. Besides," she added, "You have Leon, remember him?"

"Yeah," I said, relaxing - for a moment I thought she knew about the trip I'd made over there and my heart had nearly failed me. But this was as good an excuse as any, and not really completely lying... "I just thought with all the bad he's got happening with Krystal that maybe..." I shrugged, "Nevermind. You're right, I'm sorry Aunt Zoe."

"I like it when you want something, though," Zoe said, looking at the empty sink basin, devoid of dishes of any sort. "It makes the place look great."

Chapter Forty-Four
Point of View: Narrator

Nick was dragging more trash to the corner when Zoe pulled into his driveway the next morning. His front door was wide open again, but this time he had pulled tons of trash bags and large broken objects out onto the lawn. Zoe drove by into the driveway as Nick struggled to get a particularly large bag onto the top of the pile, sweat falling off his forehead and nose, his white concert t-shirt plastered to his back and chest.

"How's it going?" she called to him as she got out of the Prius, watching him walk toward her.

Nick grabbed the front of his t-shirt and shook it out so it wasn't sticking to him quite as badly and let out a long gust of air. "Hey," he said, having not really heard what she'd called before. He looked at his watch, "You're here early."

"I figured I'd check on your progress," Zoe answered.

"I was gonna take a shower before we left so you didn't have to smell my stink," he laughed, "I'm sure I can't smell pretty right now. I've been doing this all night."

Zoe looked at the crap all over the lawn and thought damn she did screw you good, because she couldn't believe this was results after having been working at it all night. "Well, you got time," she answered. "Go on, I can wait."

Nick smiled, "You can come in if you want, I cleaned out the living room and amazingly the TV and sofa are still in tact, you can sit down and watch a show or something, or out by the pool didn't get touched at all..."

"Sitting sounds good. Let me get my binder and I'll work on some grading."

Nick deposited Zoe in the living room with a glass of water and the TV remote before he took off upstairs to take his shower. Zoe had started to do her grading, but then she noticed a stack of picture frames sitting on an overstuffed La-Z-Boy chair and curiosity got the best of her.

She slid on the sofa until she could reach them and lifted them onto her lap. The top few were of Nick and the Boys in various places around the world. One from the Wall of China, one in some desert-y looking African country, one next to a Kangaroo... Then came a series of pictures of Nick hugging dogs. A couple different pugs, a yellow lab when he was much younger, a black doberman when he was a child. Under that, one of him, and what must've been his brother and sisters, they looked so much like him it was incredible. The next one, though, made Zoe stop and stare.

It was a picture that had obviously been taken by himself because his arm reached out to hold the camera up. His eyes were brilliantly blue and a grin covered his face. On his head was a Santa hat. Clutched in his arm was a dog, whose droopy eyes indicated very little interest in Nick's photography, and behind him and the dog was a lit, decorated Christmas tree and a pizza box.

Zoe flipped it over and opened the back of the frame to see if he'd written a note on the back of the picture, as she always did before she put photos in frames - dates, occasions, names of people in the shot. "Christmas" was all that was written on the back in Nick's messy chicken scratch.

She heard the shower turn off upstairs and put the backing of the frame together and slid the pile back onto the La-Z-Boy. Scooting back down the length of the couch, she sighed heavily, the image of Nick with a dog and a pizza on Christmas burned into her head.

She'd spent Christmas with Kayla. They'd had a chicken and exchanged a couple presents. She'd felt bad, because Kayla deserved a real family Christmas with a mother and a father and turkey and cranberry sauce and Christmas carols being played on a piano. Or at least better than a rotisserie style chicken from the market and a plastic tree with Rudolph on the DVD player.

But even precooked rotisserie chicken with her aunt was better than pizza and a dog.

When Nick came bounding down the stairs in his jeans, a fresh t-shirt and his red Converse sneakers, he stood before Zoe, a wide grin on his face, his hair still wet. "Tada," he said, flinging his arms out at his side, "I present you with - Nick Carter, the fresh edition."

Zoe laughed, "Hmm, at least I can't smell you anymore. I approve." She folded her binder together, hoping Nick hadn't noticed that she'd done absolutely nothing with it. He helped her up off the sofa and handed her the crutches.

"And I actually did it with time to spare, check it out." He pointed at his watch.

Zoe smiled as Nick ran ahead to open the front door for her. She sighed as she cross the door jamb, "Very impressive, Mr. Carter." As they walked down the walkway, she battled in her mind - should she? or shouldn't she? She glanced sideways at him, at his tall neck and skinny body. He opened the passenger side door of the Prius for her and ran around the car, checking the exterior for damage, and then went to get into the driver's side.

Zoe took a deep breath.

"I didn't see anything new," Nick reported, pulling on his seat belt. "Hey, thanks for pushing the seat back lately, by the way. I didn't like humping the steering wheel every time I got in," he smiled.

"Nickolas Carter, what the hell have you been eating lately?" she demanded, ignoring his words.

Nick paused, "Uhh, I dunno. I got that cereal. I really like cereal."

"I'm making meatloaf tonight," she said, "You like meatloaf?"

Nick nodded.

"Good. I'll pick you up after my last drive. Six-thirty okay with you?"

Nick blinked in surprise, "Sure?"

"Well okay then." Zoe didn't look at him even once during this entire exchange. She rolled her eyes, "Are we driving today or what?" she demanded, glancing his way.

His eyes were misty.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothin'," he answered, a smile spread on his face, and he turned the car on and started driving.

Chapter Forty-Five
Point of View: Narrator

Zoe opened the door of the house and tried to move faster than Nick into it. "Kayla?" she called as she moved through the mudroom into the living room, where the stairs went up into the upstairs hallway. Nick followed along behind her, closing the door and looking around. He had only gotten to the mudroom last time he'd been here. He stood in the living room behind the sofa and his eyes roamed. "Kayla!?" called Zoe up the stairs.

Nick was happy with the comfortable atmosphere in Zoe's house. She'd decorated in a country-homey style that only someone Zoe's age could possibly have done. Blankets thrown over an old beat up couch, plain round bottomed lamps, book shelves, a china cabinet with little glass mouse figurines. He bent down to look at a table running along the back of the sofa, where Zoe had put a bowl of plastic fruit and a picture of Kayla in high school cap and gown, her arms around a woman who looked exactly like her, only twenty years older. He picked that up and looked at it, gnawing on his lower lip.

"Kayla!" called Zoe again.

A thundering on the stairs made Nick turn around just in time to see Kayla come down the steps, her hair covered in a towel that had been twisted around itself to form a turban, her body wrapped in a pink terry cloth bathrobe, and her face covered in green goopy crap. "Aunt Zoe, do you know where the tampons are because I can't find them in the cabinet and I --" she froze on the bottom step, spotting Nick. "Oh my fucking God!" she screamed, and she ran back up the stairs, faster than she'd run down, "YOU DIDN'T TELL ME HE WAS HERE!" she wailed as she disappeared.

Nick cracked up and Zoe turned around, "Kayla will be right down," she said. Then she noticed Nick holding the photograph. She made her way over to him and took it, replacing it on the table.

Nick looked at it and then at Zoe, "She looked pretty when she graduated," he said. He pointed to the other woman, "Is that her momma?" he asked.

Zoe nodded curtly. "Yes. Come on, the kitchen's this way."

He looked fleetingly back at the photo before following Zoe out to the kitchen. The kitchen, too, was country-homey and comfortable. She had red cupboards and a blue-flecked-with-gold counter that looked like something from the 40s. She pulled opened the fridge, "Here since Kayla's not down yet, you can help me do this. Grab the hamburg, the eggs, milk and the bacon."

Nick bent down and pulled the ingredients she requested out of the fridge while Zoe went to a large pantry at the far end of the kitchen and came back with a box of Ritz crackers. "The ketchup, too, actually," she added, waving her hand at him just before he closed the door. He dropped the ingredients on her table and grabbed the ketchup.

"So where's Kayla's mom?" Nick asked.

Zoe sighed. She opened another cupboard door, "Grab that big red bowl down there," she said. She reached for an apron off a hook by the door, where there was a calendar and a phone. "Do you want an apron?" she asked.

"Nawh," Nick smirked, "I like it dirty." He winked.

And that, thought Zoe, is why Kayla is going no where near this schmuck.

Nick was staring at her expectantly, though, and Zoe knew she'd have to answer his question eventually. She sighed. "Zara was my twin sister," she said slowly, "Non-identical." She paused speaking as she ripped the hamburger packing open and dropped the lump of meat into the red bowl Nick had pulled out of the cupboard for her. "Zara was killed," she said slowly, "In a car accident. With a drunk driver."

Nick was looking at his fingers, the words drunk driver echoing in his head.

"...The night that picture was taken," Zoe added.

Nick looked up. "On Kayla's graduation?"

"Yes," Zoe replied. "That night. It was one of the other kids from Kayla's school, on their way back from a party." She took a deep breath, "Zara and I were on our way home, and the kid ran a stop light because he was too smashed to see it. He T-boned our car with his truck. He walked away with some scratches," she opened the box of Ritz as she spoke, "I, well, just barely walked away." She looked down at her crutches as she began breaking up the crackers into the bowl, "And Zara, she didn't walk away."

Nick felt like his heart could stop right then.

Zoe held out the eggs to him, "We need three," she said quietly.

Nick opened the carton and picked out three eggs, which he cracked on the side of the bowl and dropped in with the meat and Ritz crackers Zoe had broken up. He watched Zoe, as she watched his hands cracking the eggs. "Is that why you became a driver's education teacher?" he asked.

"I don't want to see anyone else die like Zara did," Zoe replied.

"I'm sorry," Nick whispered.

Zoe looked up at him. "The past is in the past, and it stays there," she said flatly, "You can only change the future."

Kayla suddenly inched into the room, her hair down and messy, her face goop-free, and fully dressed. Zoe turned to look at her, and Nick followed suit when Zoe did. A smile spread across his face when he saw her, wearing a baby doll T and a pair of shorts with mismated socks. She was blushing bright red. Kayla's eyes were trained to him.

You are so not hitting on him, thought Zoe. "Find those tampons, honey?" asked Zoe, smirking.

Kayla turned deeper red, "Yeah. Thanks for that." She sank into a seat at the table and covered her face.

"Nick's helping to cook," Zoe said, pushing the bowl to him, "You like it dirty... you get to do the dirty part." She sank down at the table, too, opposite Kayla, and smiled up at Nick, who rolled up his sleeves and went to the sink to wash his hands.

Chapter Forty-Six
Point of View: Nick

It was so strange.

At one point, I literally just sat there and watched Zoe and Kayla as they talked and ate. I poked at the instant potatoes Zoe had made, and the portion of the can of cream corn that Kayla microwaved with my fork, studying the rarity that was a homemade meal.

"You okay, Nick?" Zoe asked at one point, noticing me staring at my corn.

I smiled, "Yeah, I'm great."

"Do you not like the corn?" she asked, concerned.

"I love the corn," I answered, scooping a big mouthful of it into me. She smiled and turned back to Kayla, who was looking at me. I looked up at her with my eyes, not moving my head from its apparent downward glance, and she smiled.

I couldn't remember the last time I had a dinner like this. Not because of the meat and potatoes or whatever, 'cos I get meat and potatoes all the time at restaurants when we're on tour or I'm out on a date or whatever. But I mean like an actual sitting down with people and talking and enjoying each other's company and eating good food that you all pitched in together to make... Like an actual -dare I use the word?- family dinner.

"So, where did you grow up, Nick?" Kayla asked, smiling and turning the attention to me after Zoe had been on a long tirade about some students at her school who were probably not going to pass the driving test.

"Florida," I answered, "And New York a little, but mostly Florida."

Kayla smiled, "I always wanted to go to Florida, is it nice there?"

Zoe laughed, "Its probably relatively similar to here," she said to Kayla, "Sunshine and beach bums."

"Except in Florida the beach bums are usually 80 year old men in speedos and banana hammocks," I said. Zoe, who'd been just about to take a sip of milk, spit into her cup at the word 'banana hammock' as Kayla cracked up and clapped her hands as she laughed. I smirked.

Zoe shook her head, wiping her mouth with a napkin and got out to dump her milk and get a new gallon. "So Florida, huh? Your parents must've been well to do."

I looked up at her, "Why's that?"

"Florida taxes have got to be astronomical," she answered.

I shrugged, "We lived out of a van when we first moved down." Zoe froze at the sink, but didn't say anything. The water was running into the cup she was holding, overflowing with foggy water as it mixed with the remains of the milk. "We were never really well off," I added, "I mean it wasn't a big deal, we just didn't have as much as most kids."

"What made you decide to go into music?" Kayla asked, resting her elbow on the table, her chin in her hand.

Zoe stayed at the sink.

"I loved it," I said, "I loved singing and listening to music and I loved being in the center of attention, for performing of any kind. It made me happy. And it helped earn money to keep the bills up at the house. I mean I was only like nine when I started, but they pay pretty good, even for little parts."

Zoe turned and pulled the milk out of the fridge and sat back down at the table with it, not looking at me, but concentrating on the carton before her. Kayla nodded, "I love music, too. I've always wanted to be a singer, ever since Madonna performed Like a Virgin on the VMAs."

"Classic," I answered, grinning.

"Your parents let you perform at nine?" Zoe asked suddenly, backtracking the conversation.

"Nine was just when I started getting breaks," I answered, shrugging, "I started auditioning when I was eight. Then I was getting small parts, and I actually did some recording in the late eighties early nineties... I mean I had a lot of experience before I started with BSB; I did a lot of stuff for the paychecks, you know? 'Cos we needed it to help pay lights or rent or buy food that month." I shrugged, "It sounds a lot more dramatic than it was..."

"How the hell old were you when you joined BSB?" Zoe demanded.

I could feel Kayla's gaze, concerned, staring between Zoe and I. "Thirteen," I answered.

Zoe closed her eyes, "When the hell did they let you be a kid?"

"Sorry?" I asked.

"When did you get to be a child?" she asked, opening her eyes again and looking at me with a sad expression, "Nick, you went from crawling to performing on stage in a pop band. When did you get to just be a kid?"

I looked down at my empty plate and fork. My heart felt funny about that question. I didn't know why exactly, it just... did. I tucked my lower lip up under my teeth and shrugged, studying the plate carefully, "I dunno," I mumbled without letting my lip loose.

Zoe let out a heavy sigh and got up, opening the freezer and taking out a pint of ice cream before moving to the cupboard for bowls and spoons. Kayla looked across the table at me, her eyes also saddened. She slid her foot across the floor and I felt her stocking feet touch my shin gently and start to rub in a soothing manner.

Zoe dropped bowls of ice cream in all three places at the table and picked up the plates, which she put in the sink before sitting down again. We sat there in silence for awhile, the only sound the clinking of the silverware against the bowls and our chewing. Kayla's foot remained against my leg the rest of the time we were sitting there.



After dinner, Zoe yawned and stretched. "I'm sorry to make you eat and run," she said to me gently, "But I'm exhausted and I need to drive you home before I fall asleep." She started to get up from the table.

"I can drive Nick home," said Kayla quietly.

I looked from Zoe to Kayla, the tension between them was palpable as they stared into each others eyes - a million questions and answers passing between them. Finally, Zoe relented, "I really don't feel like driving anymore tonight," she agreed.

Kayla smiled, "See? It works out then, Aunt Zoe."

I helped Zoe and Kayla clean up the kitchen after that, rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dish washer and using a sponge to clean up the blue and gold flecked counter top. Kayla sang quietly with the radio as she worked and I smiled to myself, listening to her as she swished around the room with the Lysol spray and paper towels, cleaning the stove and counters.

Finally, Zoe walked with us to the door. Kayla grabbed her keys and kicked on a pair of flats she had sitting by the door. I turned to Zoe, "Thanks for dinner," I smiled.

"It was nothing," she answered, "You're too skinny."

I laughed, "I really enjoyed it, thank you."

As Kayla and I went out the door to Kayla's Aveo, Zoe caught Kayla's hand and whispered something in her ear. Kayla snorted, "Aunt Zoe, seriously," then trotted after me quickly, her cheeks red.

When we got in the car and Kayla was backing up from the house, Zoe waving in the light spilling out of the front door, I laughed, "What did she tell you there?"

"She reminded me that she put pepper spray in the pouch beside my seat in case you tried anything funny," Kayla muttered, embarrassed.

I laughed. "Shit, she knows me well."

Kayla glanced at me, "She does, huh?"

I nodded, "She knew I'd try something."

Kayla's cheeks turned pink, and I grinned, enjoying my newfound favorite toy to play with - Kayla's blush. "Well now you've been appropriately warned," Kayla said, "I'm armed with pepper spray."

"It would be worth being sprayed for," I answered.

We were silent the rest of the way to my house. I'm not sure what Kayla was thinking about, but I was thinking about how I really could try something, wondering if Kayla had flushed because she wanted me to try something or because she didn't want to have to use the pepper spray.

When we pulled into my driveway, she came to a stop and we sat in the continued silence for a few moments after she'd cut the engine. "Do you want to come inside for a second?" I asked.

Kayla looked at the house, hesitantly. "I'll walk you to the door," she answered.

I laughed, "Okay."

We got out of the car, and started toward the door. "I had a good time tonight," she said, "Aunt Zoe really's taken a liking to you, it's bizarre."

"You mean she doesn't usually take her driver's home with her?" I laughed.

Kayla laughed, then said in a serious tone, "She seems to like you in every way except for one."

"What way is that?"

"In a approved-boyfriend for me sort of way," Kayla answered.

We were at the door stoop now. "Does everything have to be Zoe approved?" I asked.

"It's safer that way," she whispered, "For you."

"I'm not afraid of the big bad wolf," I said.

Kayla's eyes twinkled, she smiled, "You'll just have to earn her trust that way if you want it." She turned and started walking back to her car. I stood there for a second, then bolted to walk beside her.

"What are you doing?" Kayla demanded.

"Walking you back to your car," I answered, smiling.

She stopped and looked up at me. "Nick..."

But before she could say anything else, I put my hand on her lower back and pulled her toward me, my other hand on the side of her face, tilting her head up to meet my mouth as I started kissing her. It only took a second of hesitation before her arms were around my neck and she was kissing me back, her teeth pulling at my lower lip playfully, her hands running through my hair and grabbing on.

When we broke apart, her lipstick on her mouth was smeared and her face was glowing. She stared at me a moment, then, in a snap motion, jumped into her car and drove away.

I stood there dumbfounded. I gotta keep this girl from disappearing on me like that, I thought, staring down the driveway, wishing I'd gotten to hold her for just a little bit longer...

Chapter Forty-Seven
Point of View: Narrator

Zoe jumped back from the window she'd been peering out when she saw Kayla's car lights turn into the driveway, and moved as quickly as she could to the sofa, where she sat and turned on the TV before Kayla came in the door. Kayla was humming Beautiful Stranger by Madonna under her breath and Zoe heard the keys hit the bottom of the basket on the table by the door. Kayla kicked off her shoes and came into the living room, "I'm home, I'm going to bed," Kayla announced, trying to run past Zoe.

"Not so fast young lady," called Zoe.

Kayla stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned around, praying she'd gotten all traces of the smeared lipstick off in the car - it was so hard to tell by those damn dome lights. "Yes?"

"That was an awful long time, he only lives like fifteen minutes away - you were gone almost an hour."

Was the kiss really that long? Kayla wondered. It hadn't felt it. It had felt like the blink of an eye - or even shorter, maybe. Seriously only seconds. Nick's mouth had felt so good, so warm. His breath smelled like... well, like meatloaf, but as gross as that sounds, it was actually nice because he smelled like home. Kayla dropped down a step, "Sorry," she muttered to Zoe.

Zoe got up and wandered to Kayla, studying her. "He kissed you," she gasped.

How the fuck does she do that? Kayla wondered. Zoe had always been able to tell when Kayla had been kissed by a boy. Always. "Yeah? So?" Kayla asked childishly.

Zoe closed her eyes, "Please, for the love of God, tell me you used the pepper spray."

"Aunt Zoe," Kayla sighed, exasperated, "What do you see wrong in Nick?" she asked, "Seriously? You always talk about him, saying he's a good kid that just makes bad choices sometimes. Why is he good enough for you to like, but not good enough for me to like?"

Zoe frowned, "Because, you deserve better than him, Kayla!" she responded. "He's broken, don't you understand that? He's got a hard-knock past, evidently a very messed up family, he's a pop star, which means God knows how many people he's slept with, how many diseases he could be carrying..."

Kayla threw her hands into the air, "Oh my GOD, Aunt Zoe!"

"Well it's true," Zoe snapped. "I'm not naive, Kayla, I know what it's like out here in Hollywood just as much as you do. And sometimes I wonder if I don't know it better."

Kayla's eyes narrowed. "I'm not a little kid anymore, Zoe." She purposely left off the word Aunt to make her point.

Zoe narrowed her eyes right back. "Kayla, I know Nick's type. He's just like what your father was like when Zara met him. He's charming and sweet and gentle and funny and blah-blah, blah-blah-blah. But the minute he gets what he wants from you..." Zoe's eyes traveled the length of Kayla's body, "He's gonna toss you away."

"That is such bullshit." Kayla turned around and started up the stairs, "Nick is nothing like my father."

Zoe groaned and turned back to turn off the TV, just as a news flash came up. She was just about to hit the power button, when a familiar face came on the screen.



Nick's cell phone rang almost the minute he was in the door. "Hello?" he chimed into it.

"Nick, did you hear?" It was Brian.

"Hear what?" Nick asked, kicking off his sneakers at the door and walking into the house.

Brian got silent for a moment. "Shit. Don't turn on the TV. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Nick held the phone away from his head as a dialtone filled the ear piece. He blinked, confused. Well shit, you don't tell me not to turn on the TV then hang up like that... he thought, making a beeline for the TV set. He leaned over the back of the sofa and grabbed the remote off the arm of it, and flicked it on.

"---the tragic death of the pop star, who sold over five-hundred thousand copies of her latest CD, Do It Right Or Don't Do Me At All, in the first week of sales. Authorities are saying they found the vehicle---"

Nick dropped the remote and backed away from the TV set, his stomach turning. He yanked his cell phone out of his pocket. "This is bullshit," he whispered, quickly dialing the familiar number, "This is a joke. It's gotta be a joke..."



"KAYLA!" Zoe screamed up the stairs, "KAYLA GET DOWN HERE!"

Kayla appeared at the top of the steps, "What? You're going to yell at me some more for making out with a boy, like I'm twelve?"

"No, just get down here," she said, "Now."

"What? Why?" Kayla bounded down the steps, recognizing the urgency in Zoe's voice. "What's wrong?"

Zoe pointed at the TV screen. "Krystal Armaletto's dead."

Kayla covered her mouth. "Jesus," she whispered, as the news station broadcast hovered over the twisted pink convertible, which they'd just found after two days. She covered her mouth with both hands. Kayla looked at Zoe around her clasped fingers. "Should we go check on Nick?"

Zoe looked back at Kayla. "I don't know."



Brian ran from his Jeep Cherokee across the lawn to Nick's front door so fast he almost fell down on the cement. He burst through the door, panting, "Nick?!" he cried. He groaned, hearing the TV blaring in the living room, talking about the details of the accident as they knew thus far. ...a high blood-alcohol level reveals that Armaletto was under the influence at the time of the accident, and analysis of the crash suggests she was traveling at high speeds... "Nick?!" Brian called louder this time, walking into the living room.

Nick was standing in front of the sofa, a pile of broken picture frames and glass around his feet where he'd thrown them, shattering them in his anger. He turned, red faced, when Brian came in the room, and his eyes were full of angry tears. "I FUCKING TOLD HER NOT TO GO!" he bellowed when he saw Brian standing there. Brian gaped at him, and moved closer as Nick stepped out of the puddle of glass he'd made, the pictures Zoe had been looking at earlier that morning either maimed or destroyed in the pile. "Tell me it's a joke, Brian," Nick pleaded. "Tell me she's doing this just to fuck with my head..."

Brian shook his head, "I don't think it's a joke, Nick."

Chapter Forty-Eight
Point of View: Narrator

Zoe's phone rang at 7:43 AM, as she was getting ready to leave to go to Nick's. She picked it up as she was putting the cap on her to-go coffee mug. Hitting the button on her bluetooth, she asked, "Hello?"

"Hallo, um, is this Zoe Sinclaire?"

"Speaking?" she slid a bagel, wrapping in paper towels, into her bag and carried the mug as she started to the front door.

"Hi, my name's Brian Littrell, you don't know me, but I'm Nick's friend," he explained rapidly, his voice thick with Kentuckian accent. Zoe stopped short in the mudroom and listened as Brian barreled on, "Nick's not feeling too good, his um, his ex-girlfriend was killed, and he's not gonna be up for driving today," he explained.

Zoe hesitated. "Okay," she said slowly.

"I'm sorry it's short notice," Brian said, "The news just came out last night."

"I know, I saw it," Zoe replied. "Is he okay?" Brian hesitated too long. "What can I do to help?" Zoe asked.

Brian sighed, "I don't even know what I can do to help at the moment. He's really upset." He paused, "I'll tell him you're thinking of him?"

"Okay," Zoe agreed.

"Thanks," Brian sounded truly grateful, and Zoe found herself liking him even through the phone. He sounded sincere. "I'll call you tomorrow if Nick's unable to drive then, but at the moment he wanted to keep tomorrow's schedule."

"Okay," Zoe said again, unsure what else to say.

When they'd hung up, Zoe wandered back to the kitchen, unsure what to do with her extra hour. She sat down at the table and unwrapped her bagel and started eating.

Kayla came into the kitchen and looked surprised when she saw Zoe, but was too groggy to say anything more than a grunt. She pulled open the fridge and got out the orange juice. After taking a long sip right out of the carton, she looked at Zoe. "Why aren't you driving with Nick?" she asked.

"He cancelled," Zoe replied.

Kayla frowned. "I was up all night thinking about him. I was so worried. What if he got so upset he relapsed?" she asked, concern all over her face.

"His friend's with him, that Brian guy," Zoe said, shrugging. "I'm sure he's fine."

Kayla sighed and shook her head, "Aren't you worried at all?"

"Of course I am," Zoe replied. She took a sip of coffee. She used the pause in the conversation to change the subject. "What are you up to today?" she asked.

Kayla drank more juice before answering, "We've got rehearsals again today." She tugged at the hem of her sweater nervously. "And I'm going to break up with Leon."

"Break up with Leon?" Zoe asked, surprise in her voice, "Why?"

Kayla looked up at Zoe, "I know you don't approve of Nick, but --"

"You're breaking up with Leon for Nick?" Zoe replied, interrupting. "Kayla, don't be ridiculous! Leon is a good man."

That's questionable, thought Kayla fleetingly, but she shrugged. "I'm not going to lie to Leon and pretend I'm still in love with him when I'm not."

Zoe took a deep breath, not sure if she was worried or angry or frightened, or a combo of all three. "I know you're a grown up," she said, "And therefore I can't stop you from seeing Nick Carter, but—“

“You’re right, Aunt Zoe,” Kayla said, “You can’t stop me from seeing Nick Carter.”

Zoe hadn’t expected that. She blinked in surprise. Kayla had never been the rebellious type, she’d never been the typical screaming teenager to Zara, never done the rebellious my-mom-just-died wild-child thing to Zoe. Kayla had always been a good girl. This sudden uprising of you can’t stop me was shocking. Zoe stared up at her, unable to wrap words around this realization.

Kayla bent down and laid a kiss on Zoe’s cheek. “I’m glad you realize that Aunt Zoe. I gotta go.” She disappeared out of the kitchen before Zoe could respond, and the front door closed behind her, like a period at the end of the sentence.

Zoe sat at the kitchen table for exactly ten minutes before she got up and went to the Prius.



“Nick you gotta get up,” Brian was begging from the other side of the bedroom door. He’d been standing out there for a good ten minutes, rapping his knuckles on Nick’s door, “Nick, come out here,” he pleaded.

Nick was laying on his stomach in the center of his bed, staring at the ocean through the window of his balcony, his eyes trained on the white caps of the waves forming far out from the shore. His arms and legs were wrapped around pillows and a blanket was pulled up to his shoulder blades. He felt numb. It was the weirdest feeling, really, because they’d broken up before it happened, and yet he still felt as though he’d lost a girlfriend.

All he could imagine was that if he’d only gone after her… if he’d only tried harder to stop it… if he had stayed home instead of doing the Spiderman thing… if only he’d done something more… maybe Krystal wouldn’t be dead right now.

“Nick, please for the love of God get out here,” Brian was begging still.

Nick didn’t look as though he even heard Brian’s voice. He certainly didn’t comprehend it; Brian’s voice sounded far away, like a dull wind caught in another room. He could hear his heartbeat through the pillow he was leaning on way, way easier.

“If you don’t come out I’m going to break the lock on this door,” Brian threatened.

Nick still didn’t react.

“Where is he?” a different voice was suddenly in the hallway. Nick blinked and his head turned ever so slightly in that direction, focusing on the bedroom – specifically the bed’s headboard – and listening.

“He’s been in there for hours now-“ Brian sounded perplexed, “Who- How did you get in?”

“The door was unlocked.” He heard the knob rattle as she shook it. “Nick! Open this door. NOW.”

The urgency in her voice made him move. He rolled off the bed and reached over to the lock door, taking as few steps from the bed as possible, then rolled back onto it. As soon as it clicked, the door flung open and Brian threw himself into the room first, followed closely by Zoe. Nick hugged his knees to his chest.

Brian walked around the other side of the bed and stared at him, “Nick, you gotta get up.”

Zoe stood by the door, looking around the room. It was just a typical bedroom, she thought, a typical boy’s bedroom with typical boy things around it. She’d expected some kind of fancy-shmancy thing that only a popstar would have, like you see on Cribs or whatever. But this… this was just normal. She looked at the back of Nick’s head. It’s a strange place in there, she thought.

“Nick, please, you moping and getting depressed isn’t going to help her or you,” Brian was continuing.

Zoe took a deep breath, “May I talk to Nick alone a second?” she asked.

Brian looked up, surprised at the request. “I- uh-“ he looked at Nick, who nodded slightly. “Okay.” Brian sighed. “I’ll be… uh… downstairs, I guess.” He walked out of the room, scratching his head and feeling just a little bit rejected.

Zoe closed the door behind him and walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down on the edge of it beside Nick’s feet. He moved his head to look at her. “Didn’t Brian call to cancel?” Nick asked, his voice croaky.

“Yes, he did,” Zoe said.

“Then why are you here?” Nick asked.

“Because if you’re going to be with Kayla then I need to lay ground rules, and I’m pretty sure she’ll be coming by this afternoon,” Zoe responded flatly.

Nick blinked, and shifted his gaze to the sheets that stretched out around him. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“Moping over Krystal?” Zoe asked, frowning.

Nick closed his eyes at the bitter way Zoe spat the name. “I know it sounds stupid. I know it probably is stupid, but- I really did love her, we just didn’t work out in so many ways. I mean she was really bad for me, I just never realized it. But that doesn’t mean I wanted her to die. And –“ he steeled his jaw, “I was the last person that saw her alive, I think.”

“I’m not the most comforting person in the world,” Zoe said slowly, struggling with the words, “I’m not … good… at the whole making people feel better bit. Zara always was. She got our compassion gene, I guess.” Zoe sighed, “But if you need to talk, Nick, I’m prepared to do my best.”

Nick laid still a couple of long moments as Zoe sat there next to him. She finally moved her gaze away from him and looked at the balcony view he was focused on. She grabbed her crutches, intending to go look at the view closer, not to leave, but before she got them in her hand, Nick’s hand shot out and caught hers. “Please don’t go,” he requested.

Zoe looked at him, “What?”

Nick looked up at her, “Please don’t leave.”

“Why?” she asked.

Nick sat up and leaned over and wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you.”

The motion shocked the shit out of Zoe and she awkwardly patted his arm with one of her hands to reciprocate the hug. Nick didn’t let go. The longer he hugged, the more awkward she felt. Finally he let go and sat back on the mattress. There was a long pause. He sighed deeply and turned away.

Zoe stood up this time, and he didn’t stop her. She stared at him, sitting there, and said, “I want her home before eleven. I want her in perfect condition, no drinking, no drugs, no bleeding, nothing that can be construed as damaged. I want you to keep your hands off her. I want her to remain virginal to you until it’s her idea to be otherwise. I want you to respect me as you would her parents. I want you to eat dinner at our house with us so that I get Kayla time, too. And I want you to know,” she added, “That I have a gun and a shovel and I’m not afraid to use them if you ever hurt her.”

Nick looked at Zoe.

“Can you abide by these rules?” Zoe demanded.

“Yeah,” Nick replied.

“I’m serious about the shovel,” Zoe warned.

A breath-like laugh escaped Nick, so soft it almost wasn’t there at all, and an equally tiny smile fleeted across his face for the briefest of seconds. “I don’t doubt it for a second,” he answered.

Chapter Forty-Nine
Point of View: Kayla

I took a cab to the rehearsal and got there a little early. Leon wasn't there yet, I had a feeling he was still pissed from last time, which was fine with me, it would only make it that much easier to break up with him if he was mad at me. I dropped my stuff in the front row, as usual, and climbed on stage to stand with some of the other girls. They were in a frenzy as I approached them, talking away animatedly.

"Hey guys," I said, "What's up?"

"Did you hear?" one of them, a girl named Jessica, asked pointedly, "About Krystal Armaletto?"

I nodded, "Yeah, I heard." The mention of the name made my head spin away from the conversation, thinking of Nick. I frowned, wondering how he was, if he was okay, if someone was there with him, making sure he didn't relapse...

"What an asshole, huh?" said another girl, Lauren, who was looking at herself in a compact mirror as she dabbed her nose with powder. "I couldn't believe it at first, but I mean he did just get out of rehab, and I never would've believed that at one time, either."

I bitterly wished that hadn't spaced for a second. "What?" I asked, feeling dumb.

Lauren closed the compact. "That Nick Carter - you know, the Backstreet Boy guy?" she asked.

I felt my cheeks flush at the mention of him, "What about him?" I demanded.

Lauren glanced at Claudia - another of the girls. "I just said -- there's rumors flying like crazy, Kayla. They're saying he killed her."

My heart nearly stopped and I felt clammy, "What?" I scoffed, shaking my head, "That's impossible."

Lauren shrugged, "That's what they're saying," she said. The other two girls nodded solemnly. "I mean the evidence is all there," Lauren continued after a brief pause. "He was the last one to have seen her, and he reported her to the police like the next morning, saying she trashed his house to oblivion during a quarrel. He didn't tell them she was driving drunk."

"Maybe she got drunk after she left his house," I replied, my voice sharp and defensive.

Lauren laughed, "What the hell?" she asked, "Why do you care? It's gossip, you usually get into this stuff."

"I just don't think it's right to accuse someone of murdering someone else unless you have real evidence," I replied. I rolled my eyes, "I mean you don't even know him."

"And you do?" demanded Lauren with a laugh.

"Yes, actually," I responded coldly, "I do."

At that moment, Leon and the director both walked through the door and I took their arrival as my excuse to jump out of the conversation, my muscles tensed, and head swimming.

Chapter Fifty
Point of View: Narrator

After talking to those girls, the rest of the rehearsal was crap. Kayla couldn't keep her mind off of Nick's situation, and it made her ability to concentrate on the play and her songs deplete rapidly. She found herself missing cues, going off key, and just completely spacing out and forgetting lines. The entire time they fanangled their way through the story, she wondered where Nick was, what he was doing, if he was okay, if he'd heard...

Jessica, Lauren and Claudia kept huddling up and talking in hushed voices, watching Kayla as she fuddled up her work with Leon on the stage, clearly wondering if she really knew Nick Carter or not. Kayla hated those girls, she suddenly realized. They were so plastic.

By the time the rehearsal was over, Leon was more pissed at Kayla than he'd even been the day before, especially when she tried to bolt out before he could say a word to her. She'd decided to break up with him the next time she saw him - she didn't want to have any more on her mind. But she also didn't want to fake it with him.

Leon caught her elbow as she was grabbing her bag from the front row and held her firmly in place. "Hey, where the hell are you going?" he asked.

"I have an appointment," she lied, tugging her elbow out of his grasp. "Sorry, Leon."

He took hold of it once more as she turned to go again. "Babe, I was hoping maybe we could go back to my place," he said in a suggestive tone.

"Not today, Leon," she answered, again pulling free. "I'm sorry, I just don't feel good."

He rolled his eyes, "You've been sick for the whole 6 months we've been dating if that's the case," he muttered. It was true. Every time they'd come close to having sex, Kayla had avoided him with a headache or some other excuse. Leon was nice, Leon was hot, Leon was... not at all someone that Kayla loved, and if she didn't love him, why would she make love with him? It only made sense not to.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I gotta go Leon." She pulled her arm out and bolted before he could stop her.

Lauren shook her head at Jessica, "If she really does know Nick Carter," she muttered, "Leon better watch out. I hear that guy's slick."

Leon, who wasn't meant to over hear Lauren's words, did over hear them. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, looking at Lauren steadily.

Lauren shrunk back from Leon's large, built-up frame. "I'm just saying, that's all," she stammered.



Kayla took a cab to Nick's house from the theater, and ran up the length of the driveway, her bag slung over her shoulders, wishing she'd driven to rehearsals herself that day since she wasn't sure how she'd get home. In the driveway, she passed an unfamiliar Jeep, and trotted to the stoop, where she rang the bell, clutching her bag's shoulder strap.

Brian's head poked out of the barely-open door and his eyes scanned her quickly from head to foot. "I'm sorry," he said, "Nick's not doing interviews." He started to duck back inside.

"What? I'm not a reporter," Kayla cried, "I'm here to see him. I'm Kayla."

Brian thought for a moment, recognized the name, and hurriedly opened the door only just far enough for Kayla to squeak in. He closed it and bolted it. "Sorry about that," he apologized, "We've had a lot of reporters here today, that's all. I'm Brian, by the way."

"Yeah, I know," Kayla said, nodding. "So Nick heard, then?"

"About Krystal? Yes," Brian said. He frowned, "He's taking it rough."

Kayla hesitated. "Did he -um- hear about the -uh- the rumors?"

Brian's eyebrows tightened, his face falling. "Do I dare to ask?"

Kayla's lips curled around her teeth and she sucked in a breath. "There's uh- a rumor that..." she looked into Brian's kind eyes and sighed. "There's a rumor that he killed her."

Brian closed his eyes. "Shit, of course there is."

Kayla frowned, "I don't know where it stated or how rabidly it's traveling around, but I heard it from a girl at my rehearsal today."

Brian took a deep breath, "Well. This is going to be fun to tell him."

He started for the stairs, but Kayla reached out a hand and touched his arm, "Can I talk to him?" she asked, eyes pleading.

Brian nodded, "C'mon." He led the way up the stairs to Nick's bedroom door. He knocked, "Nick?" he called, "Are you decent?"

"Uh huh." Nick's voice was melancholy. It made Kayla want to cry.

Brian pushed the door open, "I- uh- there's someone here to see you," he said slowly, holding it open for Kayla.

Kayla stepped into the room and, like Zoe, was surprised by its normalcy. Nick was sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard, hugging his knees, and his face planted into them, not looking up. "Is it Zoe again?" he muttered into them.

"Close, but no cigar," Kayla said.

Nick looked up, "Kayla? You're --" he looked around, "--in my bedroom."

"I'll be -uh-..." Brian waved toward the hall. He was gonna say downstairs, but he was going to eavesdrop on these two and he didn't want to lie, so he stumbled out the door awkwardly and closed it.

Kayla smiled sadly, "I heard about Krystal Armaletto," she said slowly, "I know you guys broke up awhile ago, but still, that can't be easy."

Nick was torn between the grief he'd been feeling all day and the excitement that Kayla had come to see him. He slowly lowered his knees a little bit so he was in a more normal position. Kayla climbed onto the bed next to him and sat beside him the same way he was siting. Nick felt himself harden and bit his lips. Jesus Christ, Kayla's in my bed, he thought. Zoe's statements from that morning ran through his head like a marquee that he had to actually force himself to read to remember. Keep your hands off her, keep your hands off her, keep your hands off her, he repeated the mantra.

Kayla leaned into his arm and she felt his muscles stiffen. "You okay?" she asked, lifting her head up.

Nick had closed his eyes when she'd come that close to his body. He nodded, "Yes."

Kayla leaned her head back against him and he swallowed. She nestled against him and brought her arm around to lay it against his chest. He had to bit his lips to keep from groaning. It was electric feeling, he thought, the surge running from her touch to his "manly region", as he thought of it.

"I'm sorry," Kayla whispered, "About Krystal."

You have no idea what you are doing to me right now, Nick thought at her. The last thing on my mind when your hand is touching me like that is Krystal.

She leaned over and kissed the side of his face, her lips warm against his temple, right at the edge of his eyebrow. "I was thinking about you all day," she added. "Nick," she whispered, "I love you."

KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF HER, KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF HER, Nick's brain was screaming in a very loud, very annoyed-sounding version of Zoe.

"I love you," he choked back. He still hadn't opened his eyes from when she'd leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Nick, I need to ask you something," she said, "And -- I shouldn't. I know the answer, but I need to hear it from you."

"Okay," he answered, afraid.

Kayla turned so she was kneeling beside him facing him, her hand still on his chest. "Open your eyes, Nick." They sprang open and connected with hers. "Nick, I'm sorry I have to ask this, but - I just, I do."

"Okay?"

She took a deep breath. "Did you kill Krystal?"

Nick's eyes welled with tears. He brought his balled fist up and laid his wrist across his nose, covering his eyes with his forearm and fist. He started crying. Kayla reached out her hand and laid it on his back. "i'm sorry," she whispered, "Some stupid, stupid girls at my rehearsal were spreading rumors and I - I had to ask you. I know you wouldn't---"

"I did," he whispered, "I did."

Kayla's heart stopped. "What?" She stared at him, dumbfounded with disbelief, as Nick's hand spread across his face, smooshing his nose and obscuring his tears. She heard loud snufflings coming from behind it, and his shoulders shook. Tears climbed over his fingers and dripped off them as her heart slammed in her chest. "What do you mean?" she pleaded.

Nick looked up at her, his face a terrible shade of red. His mouth opened, a strand of spit connecting one lip to the other like a child who'd fallen on the playground. Kayla laid a hand on his cheek, "I didn't stop her," he whispered, his voice strangled and agonized. "And I didn't call the police."

"Jesus Nick," Kayla muttered, leaning forward and planting her head against his chest, "You scared me, I thought you meant you murdered her for a second."

He refused to look at her as she laid against him like this. He couldn't. If he did, he'd take her right then. His eyes rolled up to the ceiling and he sucked in a deep breath. "I dunno what I did," he confessed.



Zoe got home from driving and came in the house to find Kayla wasn't home yet. She sighed and wandered through the living room and kitchen alone, wondering if she should make dinner for one, two or three. Finally, she settled on a bowl of cereal and waited for Kayla to either come in the door or call.



Brian had fallen asleep on the couch. He woke up as his cell phone vibed in his pocket and the ring tone of Baylee's voice - "Daddy answer your phone!" - came floating out. He reached for it, groggy. "Hallo?"

"Are you coming home tonight, Brian?" It was Leighanne.

He squinted at the cable box, which displayed the time in glowing yellow-green letters. 10:07. He groaned and rolled off the sofa onto the floor, forcing himself to wake up, "Yes," he answered, "Yes I am. I'm up. I'm getting up now."

He stretched and listened to the upstairs - it was silent now. They'd been up there alone since Kayla had showed up. He grabbed his keys from the coffee table, "I'll be there in ten minutes, baby," he promised. He grabbed a notepad Nick had laying by his regular phone, scribbled a note, which he propped up on the coffee table where Nick would spot it, and quietly snuck out the door, deciding not to disturb Nick and Kayla.

Chapter Fifty-One
Point of View: Nick

The first thing I noticed when I work up was that the shit I'd taken was out of my system.

The second thing I noticed when I woke up was that it was still dark outside the window, the moon reflecting off the ocean below.

The third thing I noticed was the feeling of sexual tension coursing through my blood where the drugs had been.

Amazingly, it took four things before I noticed why.

I leaped up out of the bed, and Kayla's sleeping form slumped slowly forward into the impression made on the pillow where my shoulders had been. I looked down and found myself fully clothed and breathed a sigh of relief. I backed away from the bed, my head spinning, my heart pounding. What have I done? I wondered.

I grabbed a clock off the bedstand - 10:34.

Quickly, I ripped open the drawer beside the bed and rummaged before pulling out the small bag of powder that I'd left in there, along with a stash of Marlboros and M&Ms. I dashed for the bathroom in the hall, tripping over a pair of discarded sneakers, and almost fell into the wall. "Nick?" I heard Kayla call.

"Be right there!" I cried out as I crashed into the bathroom. I threw the toilet bowl up and dropped the bag in and hit the flusher, watching it spin and disappear. I fell backwards against the wall behind me, not even caring that the towel rack was stabbing me.

"Fuck," I whispered under my breath, my hand flying up to cover my face. "You fucking idiot," I scolded myself, "You stupid, fucking idiot." I curled down and my hands wrapped around my ankles as I doubled over, trying to breathe. The toilet bowl gurgled the last of its flushing lament and I panted, staring at the heating vent through my legs.

"Nick?" Kayla's voice sounded more panicked now, "Nick, oh my God, Zoe's gonna kill me!" she sounded louder, too.

"Not if she kills me first!" I yelled, releasing my ankles. I stood up and looked in the mirror. I looked like shit. I ripped open the door, "And trust me, she's gonna kill me."

Kayla's eyes softened in concern from the panicked expression she'd worn when I first opened the door. "Nick, are you okay? Were you crying?"

I'm sure part of the red in my face and eyes was from that, but I knew the look in my eyes too well, I knew others who'd seen me before would've recognized it, too. Luckily, Kayla was not one of those people.

"Yeah," I muttered.

I desperately wanted to ask her when she'd gotten there, why she was here, what had happened between us, what we'd talked about, what she'd said to me, what I'd said to her. A million questions. The last thing I could clearly, coherently remember was locking Brian out yet again and doing a line off a hard cover of a book I'd left on the bedside table. I couldn't remember Kayla. I actually want to remember something and now I can't?

The irony that I'd taken the shit to forget and now wanted to remember wasn't wasted on me.

Kayla frowned, "I feel bad leaving you."

"But you must," I said, "You're right, Zoe's gonna kill you."

I took her hand and rushed her downstairs before she could look into my eyes much longer and I led her to the door. "I'm sorry," I said.

Kayla stared up at me, "I gotta call a cab, Nick," she said, "I didn't drive here."

A cab would take too long. Kayla needed to be at Zoe's by 11 or Zoe would probably be over here castrating me or something. I grabbed my Camaro keys that I'd fished out of the tank and pressed them into her hand. "The buttons don't work, but the key still turns."

"I can't take your Camaro," she stammered.

"Take the Camaro," I commanded.

Kayla sighed, "Nick--"

"Please."

"Are you mad at --"

"You? No."

"Nick, I love you."

I froze. The words echoing in my ear. I felt my heart slam, my fingers go clammy. "You... you what?"

Kayla gave me a funny look, her eyes pinching together a little bit. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" I wailed, thinking she'd caught sight of the hang over in my eyes. I grabbed the door and pulled her into the dark outside world. I pulled her down the stars toward the driveway, "Really, I am, I swear to God." I leaned over and kissed her forehead in a fast, panicked manner, "Seriously."

Kayla's eyes were full of tears, "Is this because of - of what we did?"

Again, I froze.

No... No you were dressed, you were both dressed, when you woke up. No, she doesn't mean that. She can't mean that. You'd remember that. Would I remember that? Shit, we didn't do that, did we? But if it wasn't that what was it? Shit.

"No," I finally stammered.

Kayla's eyes were so full of confusion. "Then why--" she stopped. "God, please don't tell me Zoe was right. Please."

I pinched my nose. "What?"

She closed her eyes, "I really meant it when I said I love you, apparently you didn't."

"I said--" confusion in my voice now, it made her look up at me. "Kayla, I -" I couldn't bring myself to say it. Any of it. Not love you, not don't know what I said, not made a mistake, not want to melt into the sidewalk and become festering mold on the bottom side of the earth's crust for all the bad shit I've done this week, nothing. I could say nothing.

Kayla turned and ran -not walked, ran- to the garage and pushed the door open with her hands. I started toward her, "Kayla, listen to me a second..." I said, deciding she did need to hear the truth, at the very least.

"No," she cried, "I almost broke up with Leon for you. I would've given up him, and a lot more than that, for you."

"Kayla I'm really upset right now, can't you understand why I don't wanna say 'I love you' right now? My ex just died," I begged.

She turned around, "But you already SAID it, Nick!" she sobbed.

I closed my eyes, the memory flooding me vaguely through the glaze of the drugs in my system. "Kayla," I whispered, "I was high."

Kayla stared at me, her jaw dropped. There was a long and terrible pause, and she shook her head, "Oh my God," she mumbled. "No wonder." She climbed into the Camaro and closed the door. The car roared to life, and she backed it out. There were probably twice as many cylinders in the Camaro as were in her Aveo, and she slammed on the gas too fast backing out and nearly hit the fountain.

I trotted in front of the car before she could leave. I grabbed onto the nose of it, and, keeping my hands on it, so she couldn't pull away without hurting me, I felt my way to the passenger door, which I pulled open and climbed into.

"What're you doing?" she demanded.

"If you get in an accident and die," I muttered, "I'm dying, too, this time."

"I'm not drunk," she yelled, "You're the only one under the influence apparently!"

"But you're emotional," I answered, "And your aunt said that's just as bad."

Kayla pushed too hard on the gas again and the Camaro went whizzing forward down the driveway. "Jesus this thing has power," she muttered, "No wonder you drive so bad."

I shrugged.

We rode in silence for a few minutes. In my head, I was calling myself every name I could think of, mentally torturing myself for my stupid mistake. As we came close to Zoe's house, Kayla slowed and pulled over before we turned the corner. She turned to look at me. "Nick?"

"Yes?"

"Do you like me for me or because of what I can do?"

"I like you," I answered solemnly.

"And you won't say I love you to me because you aren't ready, not because you don't want to?"

"I'm not ready."

"And you said it earlier because you were high, not because you wanted to get me in bed with you."

"Yes." I answered, feeling my heart break at the way she pronounced the word high like a dirty word. "But we didn't.... do anything... did we?"

Kayla frowned and turned forward, "Not a lot," she muttered.

"I'm so, so, so fucking sorry, Kayla," I whispered.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she answered, getting out of the car and dropping the keys onto the seat. She closed the door and I sat there in a car I couldn't drive, on the side of the street, staring after the woman I wanted more than anything, who I'd hurt... all because I had failed to fix myself.

Chapter Fifty-Two
Point of View: Zoe

It was ten-thirty. Kayla wasn't home. I was sitting on the sofa, staring at the TV, but not watching it. I was waiting for the sound of her keys in the lock. I was tempted to call her cell phone, but didn't want her to think I didn't trust her. I waited. If she wasn't home by 10:45, I'd go find her.

By 10:50.

By 10:55.

By 11:00.

At 11:10 I stood up and went to the door, grabbing the Prius keys on the way. Nick Carter was about to be slaughtered. I wrenched the door opened and saw Kayla sitting on the front steps, her face buried in her hands.

Well, evidently, he'd at least had her home on time.

I sank down next to her. She wasn't crying, she just had her face covered, breathing deeply. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she looked over at me for a fleeting second before returning to her previous position as I inched closer. "Kayla, honey," I whispered, "What's the matter?"

Kayla turned into me and pulled my arm closer around her. "I told Nick I loved him," she whispered, "And he's not ready to say it back. I just wish I'd waited. That's all."

I sighed. "He's a boy, boys are stupid." I squeezed her shoulder.

"I'm just sad because I thought he would say it back," Kayla explained.

Ah, my poor, naive niece. "Sometimes boys are so stupid they just need longer to say it, that's all," I told her gently, running my hand down the top of her arm.

"Yeah," she whispered. "I don't know." She looked at me, her eyes red, though not crying. "Auntie Zoe, it doesn't mean he doesn't love me, right?"

"If he doesn't, he's stupid," I replied.

Kayla didn't answer, but I found myself thinking, well, he can be pretty stupid sometimes.

"Sometimes I just don't feel lovable," she confessed.

The statement broke my heart, "Oh Kayla, of course you're lovable. Who the hell in their right mind wouldn't love you? You're beautiful, and talented, and sweet." I kissed her cheek, "I'm so proud of you, honey. Anyone who has your affections is a very lucky person, and they should be thankful for you."

Kayla smiled up at me, "Thank you, Auntie Zoe," she whispered. She licked her lips. "I really, really want Nick to like me, that's all."

"That boy likes you," I answered, "I know he does. I - well, I talked to him today."

Kayla raised her eyebrows, "You what?"

I licked my lips, "I went over there this morning after you left, and I - I told him about the shovel and the gun."

"Auntie Zoe!" Kayla cried, leaning away. "No wonder he was so freaked out." She shook her head. "Zoe, you scared the fuck out of him."

"Don't say that word," I snapped. "And good, that boy needs a little 'fuck' scared out of him."

Kayla shook her head, "You're impossible." But she was smiling, and I knew deep down she appreciated that I threatened her boyfriends.

"It only means that I care," I reminded her.

"I know," she said with a sigh, "But Aunt Zoe? Could you refrain from caring for a little while so you don't scare this one away? I really like him."

I pursed my lips. "I wish you'd choose someone I don't feel like I have to scare to trust," I responded, shaking my head, "But I'll do what I can. I'll be on my best behavior tomorrow for our drive, how's that?"

"The most I could ask for," she replied.

Chapter Fifty-Three
Point of View: Nick

I sat there in the Camaro, unsure what else to do, staring at the darkness ahead of me where Kayla had disappeared into. I reached up to the visor and pulled it down, looking into the little mirror on the back of it, into my own eyes. I studied the reddened rims of my eyes, and the spider-web veins that crisscrossed the whites around my pupils and irises. I ran my hands up through my hair, pulling it away from my face.

"Its gotta stop, Nick," I said to my own reflection, staring into my own eyes. "You can't do this... You can't."

If this kept up… if this kept happening… I was gonna end up dead. I’d lose Kayla, I’d lose everyone; eventually, even the fellas would give up on me, just like Kevin had. Even Brian would, after awhile, have had enough. I would end up alone and killing myself. Whether it was because of my health or a wreckless driving accident despite Zoe’s efforts, I’d end up in the ground eventually, too.

And for the first time I realized something: not only did I not want to lose all those people and my life, but I desperately did not want to disappoint Zoe. It was a strange thing to realize. I mean, she was so much older than me and the feelings I had about her were in no way sexual, but I’d developed strong emotions for Zoe that burned when I thought of letting her down… of dying in a collision, despite all her work to keep that from happening.

I didn’t want to let her down, but if I kept doing drugs, I would. I would let everyone down. Including, I also realized, myself.

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the the image of them, all red and swollen, and took a deep breath. I reached down and yanked the crank handle on the seat, and leaned it back until I was laying down, then I covered my head with my arms and I told myself I'd fall asleep right there.

I was there maybe ten minutes when a rap came on my window. I ignored it at first, but it persisted. Finally I blinked my eyes open and looked up to see Zoe's face peering in, her jaw set in a straight, fierce line.

Kayla told her. Clearly.

I sat up, pulling the lever so the seat would follow me up, and opened the door. Zoe moved so I could swing the long door wide, and waited while I swung out my legs and turned to face her. "What exactly do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

I looked down at my sneakers. "I dunno," I whispered.

Zoe rolled her eyes, "Well come on, you can't sleep out here."

"I can't?" I asked.

"No, you can't," she answered.

She turned and started walking away the way Kayla had done, so I grabbed the key and locked up quickly as I followed Zoe towards the corner, towards her house. She marched up the driveway to the front door, and led me upstairs – slowly but surely – to a small guest room. She pointed at the bed. “Sleep,” she commanded. I stepped inside and stood there awkwardly. I turned around to look at her, but she was right there behind me, her finger pointed up into my face. “Do not go anywere near Kayla’s bedroom.”

“I- I won’t,” I stammered.

She glared at me for a long pause, then softened, “Good. Now get some sleep, kiddo. The bathroom’s one door to the right.” She paused. “That’s this way.” She pointed.

I stuck out my tongue. “I know,” I whined.

Zoe smirked. “Just making sure.”

When she’d left the room, I turned to look around it. It was a very plain little guest room, decorated in blue tones, but not extremely formally. The bedspread was a cheap striped comforter that looked used and laundered many times and a rocker sat next to the bed with a 1970s-orange cushioned seat. Most of the furniture in there had a couldn’t-get-rid-of-it-but-didn’t-have-anywhere-to-put-it look to it.

I kicked my sneakers off at the foot of the bed and took off my jeans, which I laid over the arm of the rocker, and climbed into the bed, marveling at the soft, t-shirt like sheets and the pillows that actually had pillow cases on them. I pulled the blankets around my neck and closed my eyes.

It felt like a place that could be called a home.



I was almost asleep when I heard the door creak open and Zoe’s familiar gait on the floor. She leaned over and put a glass of water and a bottle of Advil on the nightstand beside me. I blinked up at her, “What’s that?”

“For the headache you’re gonna have,” she whispered. She started to turn away.

“Zoe?” I asked, she paused and looked back at me, “I’m sorry.”

She smiled sadly, “I wish I believed you.”

“I’m scared this time.”

Zoe turned around and came back, lowering herself on the bed beside me. She sighed and rested a hand on my shoulder. “Why? What’s different this time than last time?”

Tears were threatening my eyes, “There’s a lot to lose this time that I didn’t have last time. Before, if I lost everything it was things that either I could replace or that I didn’t really care about. The exception being the guys, but I didn’t really think they’d ever go. But now…” I looked up at her, “Now I could lose you and Kayla.”

“Yes, you could lose us,” she said, nodding, “I won’t lie. You very nearly did tonight.”

I blinked and felt the first of the tears escape my eyes. “Zoe, I know its stupid ‘cos you probably figure I just barely know you, but I tend to latch on really easily and quickly to people who care about me… like really care. And…”

“That’s because you never got to be a kid,” she said flatly.

“What?”

“You,” Zoe explained, “You’re a child in your heart. Children latch on to people, and they make mistakes, because they see the world differently. It’s not a bad thing.” She reached over and pushed the hair away from my forehead, letting her fingertips drag across my skin softly, and smiled down at me. My heart ached. “You’re a good kid, Nick, even though.”

“I don’t wanna make the same mistakes anymore,” I whispered.

“Then don’t,” Zoe said plainly.

“It’s easier to say than it is to do,” I replied, frowning, “I mean, how do I do it? How do I cope when I can’t take it? When things overwhelm me and I’m drowning in it all?”

“You just keep swimming,” she said.

“What if there’s an undertow?” I asked.

Zoe smiled sadly, “You have to fight the tide. And when you get too tired to keep fighting it, you’ve got to let someone know – so we can help you.” She sighed, “Nick, you have my cell phone number, even when I’m with a student I can at the very least answer and promise to call you back on my next break.” Her hand was still lingering by my forehead, she rubbed it with her thumb and I felt my eyelids growing heavy, comfortable. “You’re going to be okay, Nick,” she whispered, “You’re going to be okay.”

I’m not positive, but as I was falling asleep, with her thumb rubbing my forehead, I’m pretty sure she leaned over and kissed my cheek.

Journal Entry


I'm done.
i refuse to make anyone look at me like zoe did last night ever ever again. i refuse to be broken anymore. i refuse to let experiences of the past effect my future. i refuse to be influenced by things that dont really matter. i refuse to be a slave to something that shouldnt be controlling me: drugs.
yes i have been through a lot but that is no longer a valid excuse. i realized tonight that first of all there are some people who do care about me, people who have filled empty places inside of me that i didnt even know existed.
zoe was right about me being a kid inside and about not getting to be a kid when i was a kid. i pulled up a video on my cellphone on youtube mobile, of me when i was a kid performing at the florida state fair. i was singing breaking up is hard to do and i can remember every fucking second of that. standing just off stage was my mother, her hands clasped, eyes focused solely on me, tears in her eyes. she looked like the perfect stage mom, and i the perfect stage kid. what the people throwing money into a bucket in the audience didnt realize was that i was singing my heart out because i wanted to eat dinner that night... and that money they were giving us was for the groceries.
i realized as i watched my facial expressions during the video that i hated myself, and that feeling of hatred was exactly the same feeling i'd had about myself when i'd looked in the mirror in the car, seeing the hangover eyes.
i hate myself, and that is why i've done the drugs and the alcohol. i've told myself a million times it was to drown out the emotions about the past, but it wasnt at all about the emotions of the past as much as the hatred that burned when i thought of myself -- because my parents hated me, i hated me too. because exgirlfriends have hated me, i hated me too. because antagonists and photographers and reporters have hated me, i hated me too.
I'M DONE!!!!!!
there are people who love me, and i want to be one of them.

Chapter Fifty-Four
Point of View: Narrator

When Brian pulled into Nick’s driveway the next morning at 7:00AM, to make sure Nick was up and moving for Zoe, he felt his heart slow to a stop as the Jeep broke through the trees and the house came into view. A police cruiser was parked in front of the fountain, aiming towards the end of the driveway, a cop leaning against the outside of the car, arms folded across his chest, and waiting. The garage door was open, the red Camaro was missing. Brian stopped the Jeep and got out, feeling… surreal.

“Good morning,” called the officer, striding towards Brian, his hand extended. Brian shook it, “My name is Officer Theo Walters,” he held up a badge, “And I’m looking for Nickolas Carter.” He paused. “Do you know where he is?”

Brian shook his head, “I thought he would be here,” he replied. “What are you looking for him for?” he asked, his head spinning.

“I’m the investigator working on the death of Krystal Armaletto,” Officer Walters answered smoothly, “And I have some extremely important questions to ask of Mr. Carter.”



"What's the special occasion?" Kayla asked, sitting down at the kitchen table as Zoe stood at the stove, flipping a pancake. Maple syrup sat on the table.

Zoe turned around just as Nick wandered in behind Kayla, his eyes winced at the light and hair a mess. "It's hangover food," she replied, pushing one on a plate and dropping it in front of Kayla.

"Hangover food?" Kayla looked confused.

Nick bent down and whispered in her ear, "Yeah, its great hangover food."

Kayla jumped, "Oh my God, you scared me." She paused, then looked at Zoe, "You went and got him?" She looked at Nick, then back at Zoe again. Obviously she got him, that was stupid. "You didn't kill him?" She looked Nick over. All his limbs seemed to be there...

"Yes I did," Zoe replied. She was pouring more batter onto the hot pan. "How did you sleep?" she asked Nick.

Kayla was staring in disbelief between the two of them, wondering what the fuck? When she'd told Zoe about the drugs, her aunt had gone through the roof, and by the time left Zoe to go to bed the night before, Zoe had actually been contemplating giving Nick back the money and quitting as his driving instructor because she didn't want to see him again. She'd asked Kayla to forget him, and move on. Now, she was acting like the whole thing had never happened.

"Better after the water and Advil," Nick admitted.

Zoe smiled. "Good." She flipped the pancake and started humming.

Humming? Kayla couldn't take it anymore. "What the hell happened last night?" she wailed, "I'm so confused right now!"

Zoe glanced at Nick, Nick stared at Zoe. Zoe spoke first, "I found Nick in his car and he couldn't sleep there, so I brought him in here to the guest room, and we talked. That's all."

Nick nodded, "Yeah."

Kayla wondered if this confused what the fuck? feeling was what Nick had felt when he woke up the day before and she'd thrown the fit because he hadn't said I love you sober? If it was, she wondered why anyone would want to purposely forget so much and feel this confused for the rest of their day.

Zoe dropped the second pancake onto a plate and shoved it in Nick's direction before pouring a third onto the pan. "There's butter on the counter in the tupperware bowl there," she said, pointing.

Nick reached over and grabbed it and opened it up. Kayla took some from inside, too, after Nick had, and they took turns with the maple syrup as Zoe plated her own pancake and sat to join them. "I don't even remember the last time I had pancakes," Nick groaned around the first bite, "God, I always forget how much I fucking adore them."

Zoe smiled. She’d always been a sucker for people enjoying food; she’d always been a comfort-foods person anyway, and so seeing others be comforted by food likewise made her comforted. Nick was wolfing the pancake down and grinning. It made her feel good. And it’ll fatten him up a little, thought Zoe, God knows he needs it. She wandered back to the stove and started making more as the first ones were disappearing off the plates.

Upstairs, Nick’s cell phone was ringing for the fifth time in a row, displaying Brian’s smiling picture ID.



“I know he can't be too far, sir,” Brian was saying, sweat pouring down his neck. This is not the time to have your freaking phone off, Carter, he thought bitterly as he punched the speed dial for the sixth time. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for everything,” he added, “Including why the Camaro’s gone.”

“I’m sure,” Officer Walters answered in a way that told Brian he was anything but sure.

“He has an appointment at 8:00 with his driving instructor,” Brian explained, “And one at 9:30 with his therapist. That’s why I’m here.” The officer nodded, but didn’t answer and Brian felt increasingly more uncomfortable and started hopping from foot to foot in nerves. “Answer your phone, Nick,” Brian begged in a quiet sing-song voice into the phone, as Nick’s voicemail message asked him to ‘leave one for later’, “Now, please.”

Chapter Fifty-Five
Point of View: Nick

Zoe was driving me home - it was 9:15 AM. Instead of having me drive, Zoe had given me the first of the tests that she expected me to pass before I got my forms signed. The first ten hours of driving with Zoe had gone insanely fast, despite all the set backs and cancellations. Actually, she'd pointed out, we were at 10 hours and 20 minutes, thanks to the day with the frogs. The test, she said, would count as the eleventh hour.

"The eleventh hour, huh?" I said, "Isn't that like a cliche or something?"

Zoe raised an eyebrow, "It usually means just before the end, as in the eleventh hour before the twelfth, which is when it starts over again. But you've got 89 hours still, so don't get too excited."

I dunno how I did on the test. It was strange because it was all stuff I knew but more than one answer sounded like it could be right, and the essay stuff - Jesus, I was bad at stringing words together. I tried drawing pictures to accompany my words because I was better at expressing what I meant that way. Luckily Zoe said she was ok with that. The very last question had been hand-written onto the page in Zoe's cursive, and was labeled as a bonus question. What do you like most about driving? it said.

By the time I was done with the test, and pushed it over to her, it was 9:10 and she'd offered to drive me home. Kayla had already left to go to her rehearsals driving the Camaro, which she was going to bring to my house that night. Zoe was planning on picking us up when she got done driving with students, she was making lasagna for dinner.

"I'm gonna be late for my appointment with Dr. Haseltine," I complained as Zoe pulled into my driveway by 9:25. "I was supposed to be there at 9:30."

It wasn't until I'd tried to call Brian to let him know we were running late, that I realized I'd left my cell phone in Zoe's guest bedroom. "All the more reason to come over tonight," Zoe laughed. But the laughter melted from her face as she pulled down my driveway, and Brian, who was standing on the edge of the fountain, on his cell phone, came running down the driveway to the car, a cop leaning against his cruiser.

She looked over at me as Brian started pounding on my window.

I unbuckled and threw the door open, Brian jumping backwards from it as it almost hit him, and he grabbed my shirt sleeve roughly. "Where the hell have you been?" he snapped, "Why the hell weren't you here?"

I glanced at Zoe, Brian was hopped up, I hadn't seen him quite this agitated in awhile. "Um I'm sorry, I was at Zoe's last night." He pulled me up the driveway. "What's um going on?" I asked, looking at the cop. "I gotta talk to you, Brian, like before we go to Dr. Haseltine's office."

"I already called Dr. Haseltine and postponed for tomorrow morning," Brian snapped, on edge.

"Okay," I answered, "Jesus, you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or what?" I heard Zoe getting out of the Prius behind us.

"I've been here all morning," Brian hissed, "With a cop who has to talk to you urgently about Krystal. What kind of mood do you think I'm in, oh one who didn't answer ANY of my forty-seven phone calls?"

"Sorry," I muttered, "I was eating, then I had a test and--"

The officer cut between Brian and I suddenly, and Brian stepped back a few paces, releasing the grip he'd had on my shirt sleeve. Zoe came up behind us as the cop introduced himself, "My name is Officer Theo Walters," he said, holding out his badge for me to inspect. I was never sure what I was supposed to look at when cops did that to me, I usually just noticed how shiny the badge was so I had something to nod at. "I'm the investigator working on the Krystal Armaletto death and I have some extremely important questions to ask you."

I blinked in surprise, "An- investigation? It was a car accident," I stuttered. Through the haze that was the memory of yesterday, I suddenly heard Kayla's voice asking me "Did you kill Krystal?" and I felt sick.

"Yes, it was a car wreck," Officer Walters said, rewording what I said to remove the word accident, "But we have reason to believe that it wasn't entirely accidental."

Zoe's voice shot out from behind me, shocked and more high pitched than I'd ever heard her. "You aren't saying Nick killed her, are you?" she demanded.

Officer Walters glanced at her, then at me, and back to her, "I'm not saying anything yet," he responded, "I'm just here to ask Nick some questions about the situation." He looked to me, "May I speak with you alone?"

I looked at Brian, who shrugged.

"Um, sure," I said, and I nodded towards the house. Officer Walters and I walked into the house and I was sickly aware of the click of the door shutting behind me, leaving Brian and Zoe outside.

Officer Walters carried no hesitation. We weren't even sitting down yet, I'd just led him into the living room, which Brian had cleaned up since the freak out I'd had when I'd initially found out about Krystal's death, and he already had pounced with a question. "We know because of your statement the morning after Ms. Armaletto supposedly trashed your home that she was here just before her death... Correct?"

My mouth felt dry. "Yeah, she was here..."

"Combined with the estimated time of death being around 11:37 PM, which is the time that the crash took place...and you reported her being here until 11:00... You were most likely the last person who saw Krystal alive... Correct?"

I nodded, "Yeah. I mean, I guess. I dunno. There's a lot of places you could be in 40 minutes in Los Angeles."

"In your report you didn't mention she was driving under the influence. Why?"

"I didn't want to get her in trouble," I muttered.

Officer Walters walked to the mantle my TV hung over and studied the empty shelf there. "Instead, she died," he said coldly, staring at the mantle instead of at me. All the little things I'd had up there - shot glasses from around the world, a Japanese waving cat figurine, a seaglass turtle - had been ruined when Krystal had thrown her fit. He paced down the length of the mantle twice, then looked at me. "Nick, were you aware Krystal Armaletto was pregnant at the time of her death?"

I dropped backward onto the sofa, stunned, "She was what?" I asked, feeling like my head was spinning.

"Pregnant," Officer Walters replied.

I blinked up at him, "No," I stammered, "No I had no fucking idea." Some part of me felt hollow.

"She was eight weeks," Officer Walters stated flatly.

During the tour, I thought, Not mine. Officer Walters studied me, and seemed to read the words off my mind. "Is there any possibility that baby was yours, Nick?"

"No," I answered, too quickly. "No," I said again, my voice more gentle. "We were both on tour at that point. Krystal was in a totally different city than I was." She was cheating on me, I realized, Long before I went to rehab. It felt like ice water. I brought both my hands to my forehead.

"We're working on the forensics, Nick," Officer Walters explained slowly, "I'm going to warn you now, though, that a confession before evidence piles against you while you deny involvement will work a lot better for you, as far as time spent in jail."

My head snapped up. "Jail?" I whimpered.

The officer shrugged, "I'm just saying. If there's anything you're hiding about that night --" he paused, "Now is the time to get it out there."

I could see it in my mind - the line I'd done after she'd left. My nose could still feel the burn of it. The phone in my hand had felt ridiculously heavy, and all I could remember of the call was Krystal, answering... Forty minutes, from when she left to when she died, forty minutes for which I could account nothing more than the first five or so. The next coherent memory involved laying on the front lawn, dressed up as Spiderman, being nudged awake by Zoe Sinclaire. Everything else... was a blur of haze.

"There's nothing," I whispered.

He nodded, "Very well." He turned toward the door, "I'll be back if I have any further questions, Nick."

Chapter Fifty-Six
Point of View: Leon

Kayla Sinclaire was a sexy little bitch. Every part of her body was perfectly toned from years of dancing. She was sweating form working hard in the unair-conditioned theater, and the beads trickling across her forehead and neck and breasts, which peeked out of her skin-tight gym top, made me want to engulf her in my mouth and taste every particle of her.

I'd been working on cracking the resistance she possessed for months now. I'd scored her the part in the play, trying to get more time together, desperate to lay my hands on her, to get her hot, to bring her home, and to fuck her until she couldn't breathe. But she'd had an excuse every time I'd tried to take her home. It was getting old. Very old.

"I can't, Leon," she whined today as I caught her by her waist and pulled her into me, her ass against my hard on. She wiggled, trying to get away, which only made me want her more, as I pressed into her, catching her between my strong body and one of the theater seats.

A couple other girls from the set were watching and giggling.

I licked her ear softly, "Where on earth do you have to go today?" I whispered in the lowest, huskiest voice in my register, "Come on, Kayla. You can't keep being a cock-tease and expect me to put up with it," I laughed lowly.

"Don't call me that," she hissed, eyes flashing in anger. She shoved me back against the seat behind me and slinked out from between me and the chair ahead of her. She grabbed her bag. "And I happen to have borrowed a car, which I need to return."

"Where the fuck is your car?" I demanded.

"Its in the shop," she said. I could tell she was lying, though, the way she'd said it, and it pissed me off. She trotted up the aisle between the rows of seats. "I really gotta go, Leon," she stammered as I followed her.

"Come on, I'm sure whatever dealership gave you the car won't notice if we have a quickie in the back," I pleaded, "Kayla, you can't do this to me."

"Oh trust me," she scoffed, "The owner would notice that."

I followed her onto the sidewalk. A group of homeboys were staring at a bright red Camaro hungrily, like they were ravenous wolves. "Shit, Kayla, what garage gave you that as a loaner against your lunch box of a car?" I demanded, seeing the hot rod.

"None of your business," she snapped.

The other girls from the play had followed us out of the theater, probably having smelled the drama from where they were standing before. When the leader of the pack - whose name I was pretty sure was Lauren - saw the car, she gasped, "Nick-fucking-Carter's Camaro," she purred.

Kayla blinked in surprise from where she'd been unlocking the driver's side door as she looked up at Lauren. "What?"

"You do know him," Lauren was saying in a dream-like voice, "Shit, how the hell did you get the Camaro from him?"

Kayla looked uncomfortable. I moved up behind her and pushed her back into the Camaro, staring into her eyes. "This is his fucking car?" I demanded.

"Leon, we need to talk," Kayla muttered, her voice low and bitter.

"Damn fucking right we do," I shouted into her face. I slammed my hand against the fucking Camaro's door. She flinched. Not a mark was made, but it had sounded impressive as the band of ring on my middle finger hit the metal.

"Leon, please this isn't mine," she muttered, turning red.

"Yeah? Well I know something that isn't his that he's fucking with," I snarled, and in a motion faster than she could stop me, I'd raked my fist across the paint job on the side of the car, my heavy high school ring screeching as it cut into the metal.

Kayla's eyes were wide and her jaw dropped. Her hand flew to cover her mouth at the sound. "Oh my God." Beyond the car, I could hear all three girls gasp, and the teenage homeboys all start muttering about ruining a perfectly good car. "LEON," Kayla yelled, her voice pitched with anger, "You stupid prick." She shoved me, her hands banging against my chest, but I didn't move a muscle. I kept her pinned just as she'd been before trying to push me, with absolutely no effort.

My hand flew to her neck and pushed her head against the car. "Don't you fucking touch me unless you're going to do it right," I snarled into her ear, "You hear me?"

"Yeah," she mumbled.

"Do you hear me?" I yelled, pushing swiftly against her, feeling her wind cut off a moment under my thumb.

"YES!" she yelled, choking when I released her and starting to cry.

The other three girls were glancing at each other nervously, and the homeboys were breaking up and disappearing, muttering things like "damn straight, tame that bitch right down" and dispersing.

"Now, baby, you're coming home with me," I said, my voice dipping into a smooth, soft purr in her ear, "So we can make up after this little fight. Aren't you?" Usually, this worked. Usually, this made her agree with me, no matter how fierce I'd been to her in the moments prior. This gentle, measured voice had always melted her like butter.

Kayla shook her head, "Leon, I told you, I can't. I-" she opened the door to the car, "I need to go. And-" she started sinking inside of it, her hand on the door handle, "And- I - I want to break up... with you." I stuck my hand in the door, holding it open so she couldn't close it.

"Break up?" I laughed, "You want to break up?" I leaned closer to her, "You fucking can't break up with me. I got you this part," I hissed in her ear, "Remember that? And you have yet to deliver your half of the bargin here. Last I checked, we have yet to even begin on working on your tab."

Kayla shook her head, "You only got me an audition. The director chose me for the play on talent alone. You had nothing to do with that selection."

"Kayla, you fucking promised - sex for an audition. I want my sex."

"And I want to break up with you," she hissed, "There are tons of other girls in this city you can have sex with, so leave me alone, Leon." She yanked the door to the fucking Camaro shut, practically breaking my fingers in the jamb, which I only just got my hand out of in time. The locks clicked before I could open the door again. I started punching the window, fully intending to break inside of it and pull her out again, and the engine turned on and she floored the gas. The car shot forward out of the spot and down the road, knocking me onto my ass in the street as she went.

I stared after the car, livid.

Chapter Fifty-Seven
Point of View: Kayla

I thought I was going to hyperventilate before I got to Nick's house. My stomach was clenched inside me in a big fat knot and my heart was shuddering as it pounded. I didn't know what to do, Leon had scared the ever loving shit out of me. I'd never meant to get myself into the situation I was in, I'd never really thought things through, I'd taken advice from the wrong people and landed in the wrong places. Now, I was terrified for so many reasons. Not the least of which was the horrible, thick streak of raw, grey metal that stretched across the driver's side door of the Camaro.

I could see him on the balcony of his bedroom, looking out at the ocean, when I pulled into the driveway, and he looked down at the sound of the car, and waved. From that distance, he couldn't see the damage, and the knowledge that the wave meant he was excited to see me made me feel even guiltier than I already felt.

I had to tell him about Leon, but I was kind of scared he was going to think I was a whore because of what I'd done to get the part in the play. I'd thought I loved Leon, though, and the comment had been a fleeting, playful promise - something I'd said expecting to want to have sex with him, not something I'd meant the way he'd evidently taken it.

"Get me that part and I'll show you who can be sexy," I'd whispered in his ear.

"Oh yeah?" he'd asked, pulling me into him, "Now there's an offer I can't refuse..."

He'd been so gentle then.

I parked the Camaro and got out slowly as Nick disappeared from the balcony and I knew he was thundering through the house to the driveway. I swallowed back the ache in my chest, waiting for the burst of the door. I stood awkwardly, staring at the keys clutched in my hand, playing footsie with myself, trying to calm down. Tears were still streaming down my face and my neck still ached where he'd pressed into it too hard.

I don't know what Nick noticed first, the car or my tears. But his face folded in concern the moment he stepped out the door and looked at me and the car, and he shot forward. He engulfed me in a hug, "What the hell happened?" he asked, squeezing me to him. Unlike Leon's touch, Nick's released the tension from my body and the tears started pouring out full force into his chest and shoulder. He pressed his hand into my hair and tucked his chin onto the top of my head, "What happened, Kay?" he asked softly.

"I broke up with my ex," I sobbed. I could feel Nick glancing at the Camaro door over my head. "He wasn't happy."

"It's okay," Nick whispered, but I could hear the way he said it he was also upset about the Camaro. "It won't take much to fix it anyways," he whispered. That time he sounded more sincere.

"I didn't mean to tell him when he was so close to the car," I sobbed, "I didn't mean to ruin the car." I could feel goosebumps shooting up my arms.

"Baby," he whispered, he held me out at arm's length, "Baby it's okay, the car is fi--" he stopped in the middle of the word, his eyes lingering on my neck. The look of concern faded into one of anger, and his sudden change in attitude made my tears dry up like a well. "Kayla," he said, his voice stiff, "What did he do to you." It wasn't a statement, it was a question, but it was very final, very complete, not carrying the high ending as questions do.

"Nothing," I muttered.

"Kayla, his hand print's on your neck," Nick growled from deep in his throat. It was literally a frightening sound - not because I thought Nick would ever hurt me, but because... it just sounded like a terrifying monster, lying in wait for its prey, emerging from a cave.

"He just wasn't happy," I muttered, my hand flying up to my neck to cover it.

Nick took my hand away and stared at the spot, his eyes shifting from burning livid anger to smoldering, deep compassion. "Kayla," he whispered, his voice deep and throaty, "How long has he been hurting you?"

The question made me start crying loudly again.

Chapter Fifty-Eight
Point of View: Nick

I didn't tell Kayla about Officer Walters' visit. She was too upset already, the last thing I wanted to do was admit that I had already been upset before she'd gotten there with even more bad news. Besides, by the time I'd gotten her settled down on the couch, curled up against me, my arms tight around her, all I could think about was her ex and the hand-shaped welt on her neck that was quickly bruising.

I wanted to rip him apart.

She'd finally stopped crying and fallen asleep against me when a knock came on the front door. Not wanting to disturb her, I called out, "Come in, it's open."

The door opened. "What on earth happened to the Camaro?" Zoe asked by way of greeting as she closed the door. I could hear the gate of her crutches on the tile of the foyer.

"Well," I said slowly, "A long story..." Zoe came into the living room and her eyes fell on Kayla's crumpled, curled up form leaning against my chest as I clutched her to me tightly, and a rainbow of emotion passed across her face. First, irate anger - probably at me, for touching Kayla; then, fear, as she recognized Kayla's body language; and finally thankfulness, as she realized I was comforting her niece.

"What happened?" Zoe came around the sofa slowly, timidly almost, and lowered herself to be seated on the coffee table in front of us.

I didn't move, not wanting to disturb Kayla. "She broke up with her boyfriend," I said, hushed.

Zoe's eyes widened, "He did that to your car?" she asked, shock in her voice, "Leon?"

"That's not the only thing he marked," I whispered. Gently, I pulled Kayla's hair away from her neck, revealing the darkening hand print against her trachea and jaw.

When her eyes landed on the mark on Kayla's neck, Zoe's entire body tensed so deeply and her face flushed deep crimson red. "That mother-fucking little..." she started to stand up.

"Zoe," I hissed, "Trust me, I want to go pound the shit out of him, too," I said, recognizing the desire in her eyes as she stood, "And I'm cool with that if you wanna go do that, but please, let's wait and do it together. Right now, Kayla needs us."

She lowered herself to the coffee table. "I trusted that little scum with her," she whispered.

"You mean you didn't give her pepper spray to use on that guy?" I whispered.

Zoe frowned, "I should've." Then she looked up at me, a little surprised. "She told you about that?"

"Of course," I answered. "Zoe, I dunno if I'm the one that should be telling you this - in fact, I'm pretty positive she should be, but... she said she doesn't want to tell you, and I don't think that she should keep it a secret from you. I think she should press charges on him."

Zoe's eyes registered fury and panic, "He didn't ra--"

"No," I snapped, before she could finish the word, "No. He was very sexually aggressive, though, and..." I paused, "I guess... I guess he thinks she promised... to... to have sex with him if he got her the part in the play, but she told me the story and that's not what happened. He took it wrong. And --" I shook my head, "I dunno, I trust that guy as far as I could throw him, which actually I dunno how big he is, so I dunno, it could be like a mile less than I could throw him if he's small enough... But, I think she needs a restraining order on him, to keep him away."

Zoe's eyes were blank. "My baby," she whispered, reaching over to touch Kayla's face, "My poor baby."

"I want to send one of my security guards with her at all times when she's down at the theater from here on out as well," I said, "I want her protected." I'd been laying there all day, holding Kayla's shaking form, thinking about this stuff, about ways to keep her safe from that jerk off.

Zoe's eyes met mine. "It's that serious?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, "I'm gonna press charges for the car, too. I don't want him anywhere near her." My hand instinctively tightened on her arm protectively, holding her to me, "I don't want her to get hurt anymore."

"You're a good man, Nick," Zoe whispered. "I was wrong about you when we first met."

I looked at Kayla's form against mine and took a deep breath, "No, you were right about me when we first met," I answered, "But I'm changing."

Chapter Fifty-Nine
Point of View: Narrator

“Okay, so I’ve got a ton of shit to get you in on dawg,” Nick was talking to his lawyer on the phone, while Zoe smoothed Kayla’s hair. They’d moved her carefully until Nick was able to squeak out and Kayla’s head had rested on Zoe’s lap. Nick paced through the dining room that was connected to the living room to Zoe and Kayla’s left. “Well, there’s a few things. Easiest thing first – uh me and the fellas are gonna be taping in another week and we were hoping you’d have some free time in like a month or so to do some copyrights for us…”

Zoe laughed in spite of herself, listening to the way Nick talked on the phone, and was evidently going to work up through the chain ladder of evils. She could almost picture him as a rambunctious little boy, admitting slowly to a host of crimes. ”Well, I played ball in the house… and I might’ve hit the lamp… and… oh and also the window is broken…”

“Well the second thing is like this… my girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend keyed my car. Yeah, the Camaro….” He paused, “I KNOW! It sucks, dude, it is an awesome car…” Boys and their man-cars, thought Zoe shaking her head. “Anyway, so there’s a scratch down the side and I gotta get it repaired…. Okay, so let’s add to that this: my girlfriend’s going to be filing charges against the same guy. He did it when he assaulted her, now should I file for the damages separately, with her complaint, or both of us file?” Nick was nodding. Good question, Zoe thought.

Kayla stirred, and Zoe missed the next part of Nick’s conversation, busy looking at her niece to make sure she was okay. The next thing she tuned in for as, “And what about slander and defamation of name for the press people that’re spreading the rumor?”

When Nick had hung up after the lengthy conversation and returned to the living room, he sat down at Kayla’s feet and looked at her as she laid peacefully across Zoe’s lap. “She okay?” he asked, tilting his head with concern.

“She seems it,” Zoe answered. She looked up at Nick, “You’ve had a few legal issues before, huh?”

“What?” he asked.

“You were really buddy-buddy with your lawyer,” she explained, “It just sounded like you guys talk frequently.”

Nick laughed, “Yeah, well… We do.”

“What’d they say?”

“That we need to report it as soon as possible, especially the assault charges. And we need to take pictures of Kayla’s neck and my car to bring to file the report.” He stretched and stood up. “I’ll go get my camera… Then we should probably wake her up and bring her down to the police station.”

Zoe nodded. She wasn’t looking forward to Kayla’s reaction to that.



When Kayla woke up, Nick was lowering her into the back of Zoe’s car and buckled in, like she’d been many times as a child by her grandfather. The sensation made her smile, “Nick?” she whispered.

“I’m right here, Kay,” he whispered, kissing her forehead.

Zoe was leaning around the driver’s seat, watching like a hawk. She had a feeling it would be awhile before she peeled her eyes from Kayla.

“Where are we going?” she asked as Nick slid into the seat beside her and buckled his own seatbelt.

Nick looked to Zoe, “We’re uh- we’re going to the police station,” he said as Zoe nodded, telling him to tell her.

Kayla’s eyes opened wider, “The police station? Nick, I don’t want to report him…”

“Kayla, honey,” said Zoe from the front seat as she hit the Prius’ power button, “You need to, for your own safety.” The car started rolling down the driveway and Nick wrapped his arms around Kayla gently.

Kayla’s eyes filled with tears, “No that’ll just make him mad.” She looked at Nick, “Why did you tell her?”

Nick said, “I had to.”

Kayla started crying. She felt foolish, but at the same time, she was truly scared of what Leon might do when he found out that they’d pressed charges. She felt Nick rubbing her back in soft circles, “It’s okay, Kayla,” he whispered, “I’m gonna have Drew watch out for you, you’re gonna be okay.”

“Who’s Drew?” she sobbed.

“One of the band’s security guards,” Nick answered in a low voice, “He’s really great. You’ll love him. He’ll make sure you’re safe in case Leon decides to retaliate. But you know what? We can’t let him get away with stuff. Your neck is all black and blue, baby, you’re gonna be really sore, and for what? Because he lost his temper?”

“You don’t understand Leon, Nick,” she muttered, “If we press charges he’s going to get madder and-“ she glanced at Zoe.

Nick laid a hand under her chin and tilted her face up to look at him. “I’m not gonna let him hurt you,” he said, “I promise.”

Kayla sighed and leaned into him, her heart racing the closer they got to the police station, wondering what good could possibly come out of this.



"So that's been my week," Nick said, leaning back in his chair and staring at Dr. Haseltine defiantly. It was the next morning at 9:15, and he was already at his rescheduled therapy appointment. Dr. Haseltine's eyes were blinking, trying to catch up. Nick had literally just told the psychologist everything - from the relapse to the accusations of killing Krystal to the scratch in the Camaro.

Dr. Haseltine looked down at the journal, which was open-faced to the page the night he'd spent at Zoe's after the second relapse. The words were raw, and the hand writing so honest that Dr. Haseltine had no questions that Nick had indeed had a major break through in his thought patterns, one that would most likely change his life and fix him.... If only circumstances could hold out long enough to afford him the time it would take to alter the thinking.

He took a deep breath. "You've had a crazy one," the psychologist admitted. "And I appreciate your honesty about it all." Dr. Haseltine clasped his hands in front of his face, "How are you feeling?"

"Minus the stress right now," Nick replied, "Better than I have in a long time." He pointed at the journal, "I've felt better since I realized that," he explained. "I'm trying. And it feels good to appreciate myself a little."

"How do you mean?" Dr. Haseltine asked.

"Well like yesterday, with Kayla," Nick explained, "When I was holding her, I felt proud of myself because I was able to help her, even if it was just the tiniest bit, and I liked myself for that. I liked being able to be the one that she loved. And her love made me love me, too."

"And that feeling was different than you've experienced before?"

Nick nodded, "Yes."

"You're a relatively confident - or so it seems - guy, Nick," Dr. Haseltine mused, "Why do you think you so easily believe that you are someone to be hated, just because of the opinions of a handful of people? I mean, when you consider the mass of people who love you, doesn't that eclipse those who hate you?"

Nick thought for a moment. "You mean like fans?"

"Sure."

"Cos they don't know me," he said, "They know Nick Carter."

Dr. Haseltine nodded, "That makes sense."

"The people who know me are the ones I care about, and I've just had really bad luck, maybe, with the people who are closest to me. Like my family and... past ... friends and lovers," he said, Krystal's face popping into his head.

"Speaking of," Dr. Haseltine said, "How is this thing with Krystal working out? How do you feel about the accusations?"

"I'm scared," Nick admitted.

"Scared? Why?"

He chewed on the inside of his mouth a moment, considering. Then the guilty conscience within him got the better of him. He looked up. "Because I don't remember that night."

Dr. Haseltine leaned forward and looked at his notes from their last session, "But last week you said..."

"After she left, I did a line of coke," Nick said before Dr. Haseltine could finish his sentence, "And I called Krystal." He paused, shaking his head, "And the next morning I was on the ground in the spiderman costume."

"You remember nothing else?" Dr. Haseltine's eyebrows folded in concern.

"Nothing," Nick answered. He paused, "And that's exactly what is so scary about it."

Chapter Sixty
Point of View: Nick

Kayla, Drew and I sat in the back of a rented car, waiting outside of Kayla's rehearsal. The cops were inside apprehending Leon so that Kayla could go in to do the rehearsal with Leon’s understudy. Kayla had scooted low in the seat to keep from watching them take Leon out of the theater. She was still not thrilled with the idea of having reported him, despite Zoe and I insisting that it was best for her.

It had taken relatively little to press the charges. It had turned out it wasn't the first time Leon had been charged with assault, and the facts checked out with just a few phone calls. I had been amazed how easy the charges against Leon had rolled, and it made me feel a little better about the issue with Krystal - evidently, if they really wanted to press the charges on me, I'd would already be behind bars.

Of course I’m sure pressing charges for killing someone work differently.

When the cops dragged Leon out of the theater's entrance, he saw the sleek black car, and broke free from the cops, running right at us, fire in his eyes. Drew, with reflexes like a cat, had the door locked just before Leon's hand could reach the handle, and Kayla shoved her face into my arm, covering her ears and gasping as Leon bounced off the window like a puma. "You think you're so fucking lucky?" screamed Leon into my window's glass, making it fog up with condensation from his breath. He slammed his fist against the window. "She doesn't put out, you dumb shit. She's a cocktease!" he bellowed. “I’ll fucking get it if it kills me,” he added.

"Go ahead," I yelled, "Vandalize another car, I don't mind reporting you some more." Drew rested a hand on my knee, silently telling me to take it easy and let him do all the stupid yelling. I nodded, and turned to Kayla. The cops grabbed Leon and pulled him away as he hissed and spat like an angry tomcat. I ran my fingers down the length of Kayla’s back. “Hey,” I whispered, “It’s gonna be okay.”

Kayla shook her head, “I don’t know that,” she answered. “He’s so mad.”

Once the cops had taken the trash out, Drew got out of the car and looked around before escorting us into the theater. I’d never gotten to see Kayla work before, so I was excited. Her costars were all huddled around the stage, looking frightened after having Leon taken out. One young girl came over, her eyes wide, and, trying not to look at me, said, “You’re so brave, Kayla.”

Kayla only grunted and moved past her, disengaging from my grip on her arm, and dropped her bag into a seat on the front row before climbing on stage. The girl that had come over looked at me as soon as Kayla was gone and I felt her eyes travel my arm. “Are you and Kayla, you know, a thing?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered flatly, watching Kayla on the stage as she stretched.

“Well, if you ever get bored,” she said with a smile, and I felt her slip a piece of paper into my shirt sleeve, lingering a little to long on my biceps, and then she walked away. I didn’t have to look to know she was shaking her booty as she walked. I heard the other two girls she’d been standing with start giggling hysterically. I reached to my shirt sleeve and took the paper out. On it was written “Lauren” and a phone number, but where the “-“ would be was a little girly heart. I crumpled it and shoved it in one of my butt pockets, intending to throw it away later.

Kayla was an amazing actress, but I couldn’t help but wonder what this play was gonna do for her musically. I mean it was supposedly a musical, but it was more like a regular dialogue play with some songs tossed in there, and they weren’t even all that well written. Kayla’s voice was unbelievable, just as it had been when she’d sung Beautiful Stranger in my driveway. She was taking a mediocre script and show tune and making them into brilliance. Leon’s understudy was crap, though.

“No, no, no,” cried the director, who was a flamboyant little guy, “No, this is all wrong,” he waved his arms over his head. “We’ve only got a few days left before opening night and this is all wrong, all wrong.” He tossed his copy of the script to the floor and stomped upon it in an overdone gesture, then picked it back up and sat back down. “We must, must improve!”

Drew grunted as he stepped up beside me. “This theater’s small,” he commented.

“Yeah it is.”

“There’s a closed in alley outback, other than that, she’s perfectly safe here,” he commented, then he shrugged, “But there’s no way into that alley except this back door behind the dressing rooms, which I doubt anyone would ever notice. Its not accessible to the street. Lord knows what the purpose of it is.” He wandered away and I heard the auditorium doors close behind him. Drew was thorough. I was sure he was going to look around the perimeter again, so he knew every nook and cranny of the place before we left.

When Kayla was done with the rehearsal – Leon’s understudy having greatly improved over the course of the work – she joined me, looking much happier than she had before we entered the theater. She, like me, cheered up while performing. It made me smile that we had yet another thing in common. “You did really well,” I praised her, putting my hands into the back pockets of her jeans and pulling her into me, “Your voice is beautiful, have I mentioned that?”

Kayla smiled, “Thank you.”

Lauren walked by and winked and mouthed ‘call me’ to me as she passed.

Kayla didn’t notice, and I didn’t react, I just held her, happy that she was happy.



Kayla came over my house after the rehearsal and she was making lunch – boxed mac and cheese – while I sat on the counter eating a celery stick I’d smothered with peanut butter. I waved the celery stick at her. “What else are you doing to jump start your music career?” I asked, “Do you have demos or headshots or anything?”

Kayla shook her head, “Not yet. I was going to buy some new headshots with the money I got from the play, but I don’t have the money to buy the recording studio time for a demo. Zoe was going to with the money she got from –“ Kayla laughed, “From you, actually.”

I crunched on the stick and thought for a moment, “Kayla you don’t have to pay for the studio, I’ve got a recording studio.”

“You do?” she asked, dropping the wooden spoon she was using to stir the macaroni around in a whirlpool motion while they cooked. The spoon spun around in the pan several times before slowing to a stop.

“Yeah,” I answered, “Right up stairs. I mean not all the equipment’s working, Krystal kind of had a field day with the soundboard. But we could hook up the computer and do a relatively decent tape without the soundboard. And I’ve got a soundboard coming next week – the fellas and I are gonna be taping soon and I wanted the studio ready for the takes we’ll be doing here.”

“You’d help me do that?” she asked, eyes wide and excited.

I laughed, “Baby, I love doing that stuff, its my passion, remember?”

“Oh my God, I’d love it if we could do that.” She rushed over and stood between my knees, her hands on my thighs, “Seriously.”

I smiled, “Okay. After lunch.”

“Today?” she gasped.

“Sure. We can play with it anyways, I mean we don’t have to cut a really great thing today, we can just mess around. It’ll be fun.”

Chapter Sixty-One
Point of View: Narrator

Zoe was watching her students take their third exams. They were all busy working on them, except George, who sat looking at the girl beside him as she leaned over the paper, her chest angled suggestively. Zoe was tempted to go smack him in the back of the head and remind him he was taking a test, but she figured it served him right if he screwed it up because he was too busy looking at boobs. Men are pigs, she thought nastily, turning to the stool she sat in by the whiteboard.

She couldn't believe summer was coming to a close already. The two weeks driving with Nick had flown by and she was still shocked this motley crew was nearly ready to graduate the DE program. It seemed like she'd just barely started to remember all their names. Well, except George's. As annoying as he was, she had to admit he was her favorite in the class this time. He reminded her of Nick. She felt like she wanted to warn him to slow down, so he didn't end up where Nick was. But in one way, that seemed unfair. Nick may have made mistakes and yes, he was living out the consequences, but overall, Nick was a good guy, a lucky man, and, she realized, she was proud of him. George would do well to be like Nick one day.

"Ms. Sinclaire," whispered Heather, who had migrated to the front of the class this week. Zoe got up and went over, bending as low as she could on the crutches. Heather came up the rest of the way and whispered in Zoe's ear, "Can I talk to you after class?"

"Of course," Zoe replied, looking at the clock. "I'll only have a few minutes before I have to drive with Scott, but we can certainly talk for those minutes." She smiled.

"Thanks," Heather said, turning back to her test.

Zoe wondered what Heather wanted that was worth whispering during the test?



Kayla was dizzy with excitement as Nick led her into the studio at the end of the hall. It was beautiful, all dark and comfortable. He had carpeted even the walls ("It gives better acoustics, isn't that weird?" he asked, laughing) and the floor was covered with oriental rugs ("That one there?" he pointed, "That was the one we used on our Night Out video," he smirked, "BSB history right there."). She watched as he hooked up his laptop and rested it on the soundboard that had been smashed in. Luckily, none of the other equipment in the studio seemed touched. When he got the laptop hooked up, he smiled and took her hand, "And now you... come over here."

Nick led Kayla into the sound booth, and sat her down on the stool in the center. He reached for a microphone boom that hung over head that looked like something from the pictures of 1940's radio shows. Kayla started to feel nervous as he pulled it in front of her and adjusted it from her mouth. He pulled over a sheet music stand, and dropped some pages onto it, "Here's a song," he said, smirking. She couldn't see what one it was though, because he stood in front of it, and pulled a pair of giant earphones from a hook and gently pulled them on her head. He held them there, his hands over the ear pieces, and smiled at her. Her eyes were nervous, her cheeks flushed. He kissed her, and winked. "You look sexy like that," he said.

"What?" she lifted one of the ear pieces as he backed away.

"You're sexy like that," he repeated, "We should do naked recording," he laughed as she blushed. "I'm kidding, baby," he assured her, and then he slipped out of the sound booth.

She used the opportunity, as he sat down at the computer outside in a rolling desk chair, to look at the sheet music he'd brought her. It was a Backstreet Boys song. She laughed, of course it was, what else would he have laying around to use? It was a more obscure one, but one that she definitely remembered.

"Ready?" he asked, leaning into the microphone that connected to her headset.

Kayla was surprised when his voice came through her ears, so close, while she was looking at him, so far away. She smiled, she liked the feeling of his low voice so close. She gave him the thumbs up. "Okay, he said, here comes the music. Listen for the drum beat before you start."

"Okay," she said.

"Intro... incoming..."

The music started playing. The familiar tones of the piano made her heart beat faster. She could remember, suddenly, a day when she'd laid across her bed, holding a Tiger Beat magazine, and kissing the pin-ups inside. She'd loved both Nsync and Backstreet Boys. She felt her heart pumping hard in her chest. She was afraid - what if she messed up?

"Okay, go," Nick's voice was sultry in her ear.

"Open up.. your heart to me...
And say what's on your mind.. mmm, yes
I know that we have been through so much pain
But I still need you, in my life... this time
And I need you tonight, I need you right now
I know deep within my heart
it doesn't matter if it's wrong or right
I really you tonight...

The music stopped and Kayla looked up from the sheets. She'd been about to continue onto the second verse. Nick was gnawing his lower lip, "You sound nervous," he said.

"I'm singing your song," Kayla laughed nervously, "And you're staring at me." She was deep red.

Nick laughed. "You're making it sexier..."

"Yeah like that's possible," Kayla said without thinking. She turned even redder.

Nick's grin was naughty, and wide. "Oh so you knew the song."

"I... might have... listened to it... a few times," she said.

Nick laughed, "Yeah?"

"Uh huh," Kayla was trying to stay cool.

"Okay. I got a idea, actually," Nick said. He got up, picked up the lap top and came into the studio. He grabbed another stand and set of headphones and came over. He propped the stand at an angle and rested the laptop on it, then pulled the headphones over his own ears. "You take the first verse again. Ready?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. He was leaning so close, his chin on her shoulder, looking down at the sheets. He hit a button on the computer and the piano tingled in her ears again.

"Open up your heart to me...
and say what's on your mind...
She was ridiculously aware of his presence as she sang. She felt like she might die. Then, as the chorus dropped, he began singing with her, his hands on her stomach.

"I need you tonight, I need you right now
I know deep within my heart
It doesn't matter if it's wrong or right
I really need you tonight...

She felt his breath against his neck as he whispered the 'whoo' against her. She felt like she was going to fall apart. He held up his finger in front of her mouth as the second verse started.

"I figured out what to say to you, mmm
Sometimes the words they- they come out so wrong...
Oh yes they do...
And I know in time that you will understand...
Then what we have... is so right... this time...

His finger lowered as the chorus started, and she joined him again, their voices blending into the microphone. He ran his hands down her hips.

"All those endless times we've tried to make it
Last forever more
And baby I know I need.... you...

She'd stopped halfway through the long note, letting him carry it. And as the music swelled, she turned to look at him as he held the long "ohhh" that had always made her feel faint when she was younger. And their eyes locked as the song slowed from the bridge, and he leaned closer to her, his mouth inches from hers...

"All I know is baby...
I really need you..."

And their lips touched. He dropped a hand to the computer and the music stopped, but the kiss did not. She grabbed his back and pulled him closer to her, wrapping her legs around his waist as the height of the stool afforded her the luxury of being able to do so. He had his hands in her hair behind the headset, and his strong arms encased her, making her feel safe. She could feel his spine and ran her fingers down it, making his body writhe under her touch. He gasped into her mouth as she reached the very bottom of his spine, after having dragged the whole way from his neck down. She smiled, as he stood still, their faces only centimeters apart, breathing. His eyes were closed, and his head tilted slightly downward and to the side. She stared at him, studied his eyelashes, which were slightly moist, just from the passion of the moment and the song. They were beautiful eyelashes, she thought.

His eyes fluttered opened slightly and the blue of them turned to look back at hers. A smile spread across his face and he turned, laying a kiss on her cheek. "You're amazing," he whispered.

"No you are," she countered.

He smiled. "Unless something went terribly wrong there, I think that was actually a really good cut," he laughed.

"You sounded unbelievable," she whispered. "You should re-record that song."

"I just did," he whispered. He kissed her jaw softly, the spot where Leon's handprint had been. The skin was still raw there.

"I mean like for real," she answered softly.

"Like I said," he said, "I just did."

Kayla pulled back, "What?"

"Well if the cut is good, why not use it?" he asked. He kissed her, "It could be like a special edition thing--"

"You are not releasing that song with me interjecting on your vocals," Kayla demanded, "No I don't wanna do that. I love that song way too much. Please."

He laughed, "Okay, fine. But I'm keeping that."

She laughed, "That I don't mind."

"We should write original stuff for you," he admitted.

Kayla smiled, "Yeah? I have some stuff, lyrics I've written. It's all at home, though. And I don't know if its any good."

"Bring it tomorrow," he whispered.

"Okay," Kayla smiled. Her legs were still wrapped around Nick's waist, her hands still on his back, his still in her hair. She dropped her legs and his hands slid down, and she slipped off the stool and he was once again so much taller than she was. "I've never been in a studio before," she said.

Nick smiled, "Your first time and you taped with a Backstreet Boy. Damn, woman, you're good."

Kayla laughed and stood on tippy toes to kiss his chin.



Heather tentatively approached Zoe as she was collecting all the test papers off the desk. The students had herded off already, and she could hear George in the hall showing off how he was pretty sure he got an A-triple-plus on the test. Heather stood a few feet away from Zoe, awkward. "I have a question for you," he said.

"Sure," Zoe smiled, "I'll answer, anything to help out. Is it about the test?"

"Not exactly," Heather answered. She wrung her hands. "Ms. Sinclaire, you said you're driving with Nick Carter, right?"

Not at all what Zoe had been expecting. "Yes," she said, nodding, "He's doing rehabilitation driving. Why?"

Heather was looking at her feet. "Well, I've been a Backstreet Boys fan for a really long time," she said, "Since I was a baby, my mom says. And... well, all these rumors are going around, about him killing Krystal Armaletto, and..." she locked eyes with Zoe.

"You're wondering if I know?" Zoe asked.

Heather nodded sheepishly, "Yeah."

Zoe took a deep breath and sat down and motioned for Heather to do the same. "He was with me that night, at Wal-Mart," Zoe said, "He's dating my niece."

"So he didn't do it?" Heather asked.

Zoe shook her head, "No. Nick didn't do it."

Heather nodded, relief on her face. "What's he like, Ms. Sinclaire?"

Zoe smiled, "He's a very nice guy. I was surprised, very pleasantly, by Nick. He's funny, and he's thoughtful. Deep."

Heather smiled. "Ms. Sinclaire?"

"Yes?"

"This is crazy, I'm sorry, but... Is there anyway that maybe... I could... meet him?"

Zoe smiled, "I'll have to talk to Nick about it."

Chapter Sixty-Two
Point of View: Nick

"Okay ya'll, seriously, you need to prepare yourself for greatness right here," I was holding up the greasy white bag we'd gotten from Joe's - my favorite pizza and subshop ever - and the DVD I'd taken from my house of Where the Wild Things Are.

Kayla laughed, "I can't believe we're gonna watch a children's movie."

"Children's movie?!?" I cried, "No! No! This has great, great psychological depth!" I leaned forward, stretching the seatbelt as far as the Prius would allow it to, and held it up in front of her, "This little boy," I pointed at Max, "That little boy is like me. This is very, very deep shit right here!"

Zoe laughed, "I'm still amazed they made a ten page children's picture book into such a long film, how on earth did they do it? Talk about creative licensing." She looked in the rearview mirror at me. "And speaking of creative licensing, you're taking an awful liberal creative license on that seatbelt's purpose, there, Carter."

"That's the amazing thing about it," I cried, "They like took a great thing and made it great, too!"

Kayla took the DVD out of my hand as I sat back and Zoe nodded, "That's better."

"These creature things are so weird, they look like rag dolls or something," Kayla said, looking at the box. "I like this little goat guy."

"Aw, you'll love the little goat guy!" I cried, "I love the little goat guy!"

Kayla smiled. Zoe laughed, "You are such a child, my God..." she shook her head. "So now, remind us again, what's so special about the food?"

I turned to the white greasy bag. "Oh Jesus, this stuff is or--" I was about to say orgasmic but then I realized I was talking to Zoe, "--amazing," I said. The word sounded funny because of the way I'd broken in with it, and Kayla giggled, evidently aware of what I'd been about to say.

Zoe shook her head. She evidently knew, too. "Interesting. And what the hell is it again?"

"It's a steak and cheddar ranch chicken bomb," I said. "It's shredded steak and chicken, with cheese, ranch dressing, lettuce out the wazoo, pickles, olives, tomatoes, and a bun that's so soft you'll swear to God it melts..."

"You've had this a few times," Zoe observed.

"Joe's is my favorite," I said, shrugging, "I like practically pay that man's salary. I am why that place stays in business."

Zoe smiled, "Well, this will be interesting, getting submerged into Nick Carter's eating habits." She looked at Kayla, "Tomorrow, honey, we eat cereal all day to make up for the artery clogging we're doing tonight."

I smiled, "That's probably a good idea actually." I looked at the bag as it literally was dripping grease. It was gross in that respect, but ohmigawd so worth it.

When we pulled up to Zoe's house, I climbed out and carried the bag of food into the house excitedly as Kayla carried the DVD. I'd worn sweats over, but the other two had to go change, and I set up the plates while they did so. I put the sandwiches on the plate in what I considered a sexy pose - this sandwich, seriously, it's like sex. I added some chips and extra pickles that Joe always packed up for me, and smiled at my artwork. Then I carried it into the living room and put the plates on the coffee table. Kayla had given me back the DVD, and I quickly got it set up on their TV.

Kayla came downstairs first, wearing hot pink sweatpants with "LOVE" written across her butt, and a yellow t-shirt. "You look like lemonade," I said, smiling and kissing her quickly as Zoe's footsteps on the stairs echoed down. Kayla smiled.

"Okay, kids," Zoe said, coming around the corner, my arm still around Kayla, "Break it up, will ya? Jeez." She lowered herself down into the last spot on the couch and I took her crutches for her and leaned them against the back of the couch. "Thank you," she said appreciatively.

"Welcome." Kayla and I sat down, too, me in the middle, and Kayla pulled a throw pillow over her lap.

"Well, let's try this orgasm food," Zoe said.

Kayla and I both cracked up and I reached for the plates and handed one to Zoe and one to Kayla before grabbing my own. "Okay, seriously, there's also like an art to actually eating it, too. You gotta hold it like this..." I demonstrated, holding it sideways with one hand and shoving it in my mouth. "Ohh God, yeah," I mumbled as I chewed.

Zoe raised an eyebrow, "Okay, porn noises to a minimum please." She took her own bite, and her face registered surprise. Kayla did the same. "Okay, I have to admit," she said, putting the sandwich back down on her plate, "That is damn good."

"Mmm," Kayla agreed, a little bit of ranch dressing on her lip, "I was scared when you first said what it was. But this is good." I reached over and rubbed the ranch off her and smirked.

"And now, prepare to see that I'm right about this movie, too!" I yelled, grabbing the remote and hitting the play button.



Zoe drove me home that night. When we got to the house, she turned to me, "Is it okay if I have a student observe tomorrow's drive?" she asked.

"Is it that George kid again?" I asked hesitantly.

Zoe shook her head, "It's this girl, Heather. She's a sweetheart. She's... a fan."

I hesitated even more now. "A fan?" I asked.

"Yeah, of you."

I imagined doing my drive with a squealing girl in the backseat. "Does she seem... normal?" I asked tentatively. The adjective seemed rude, but it was a legitimate question, overall.

"Yeah, but I've never seen her around you so I can't say too much. I know girls tend to be a little crazy around their celebrity crushes."

"A little?" I laughed, "I've had girls steal grass from my lawn and climb barbed-wire fences and sneak into luggage compartments and almost suffocate..." Zoe's eyes had widened with each of these statements, "They get more than a little crazy."

"I can't picture Heather doing any of that," Zoe assured me.

I smiled, "Then yeah, sure, what the hell. I'll make sure I have a picture or something signed for her." I shrugged.

Zoe smiled, "I'll call her in the morning and let her know. Thank you, Nick."

"No problem." I climbed out of the car and watched as Zoe drove away before I headed inside the house. I wandered into the kitchen and made some coffee, which I poured into a non-spill tumbler and carried upstairs to the studio. I stuck in the CD I'd burned of Kayla and I singing I Need You Tonight and listened, thoughtfully sipping the coffee, studying the tones of her voice and how it reacted to the notes.

Finally, when the song had played a couple times over and over, and the coffee was gone, I leaned forward and grabbed my notebook of sheet music pages, and started sketching out an idea. After awhile, I had to move to the keyboard in the corner of the room, tucked out of sight, and started playing the notes as I wrote them down, listening to how they interacted and exchanged with one another. They came together so smoothly, so quickly, I couldn't believe how fast the notes were going onto the page. What normally would've been a few days or even weeks' work dropped onto the page in a matter of a few hours.

By four o'clock AM, I was looking at a full page of music.

I got up and wandered off to bed, dropping into the mass of pillows and blankets, clutching the notebook, and humming the tune to myself quietly. It was perfect... it just needed some lyrics and the voice of my angel.

Chapter Sixty-Three
Point of View: Nick

The next morning, I woke up at 7am to the sound of the door bell. I rolled out of bed, my hair a mess, still in my sweats from the night before, a ranch dressing stain on my chest, and one sock. I had no clue where the other one was, so I wandered down half barefoot to the front door and pulled it opened.

Officer Walters was standing on the other side. "Good morning, Mr. Carter," he said, stepping around me and into the house.

"Morning," I mumbled. If I'd been more awake, I knew I'd be panicking more than I was, but as it was, I was groggy, and barely comprehending that Officer Walters was here at all.

"I'm here because we found some suspicious tire treads on the road where Krystal was killed, two pair. One matched as belonging to her Chrystler, however, the other set, we're unsure about." He paused. "I'm here to take a look at your Camaro."

"My Camaro's in the shop," I mumbled, running my hand through my hair, "I can't drive anyways," I added.

"Legally, no," Officer Walters said, shrugging, "However we need to rule out all possibilities. In the shop, huh?" he added, "Convenient. What's it in the shop for?"

"My girlfriend's ex keyed the side," I said, "It's getting painted."

Officer Walters nodded, "Ah. And what shop is it in?"

"Rick's," I answered, "I always bring it to Rick for everything. I can give you their card."

Officer Walters shook his head, "That won't be necessary. I'll find it."

I rubbed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Hey, can you be really honest with me a second?" I asked, looking up at him as he wrote stuff on his notepad. "What exactly do you guys think I did? I mean, seriously, she was in an accident. You've got the car to prove that. What could I have done to have caused it?"

"What we have so far suggests she was driven off the road by another vehicle," Officer Walters explained slowly, "The vehicle we're checking treads against the Camaro's tires for."

"Driven off the road?" my mouth felt dry.

"Yes," he said, "It suggests the other car drove along side her, slowly pushing her vehicle off the side of the street and into the ravine in which we found the vehicle two days later."

I rubbed my forehead, "So someone definitely did this."

"Yes," Officer Walters said, "Someone definitely did it. And you are currently the most likely suspect, as you were the last to have seen her, and have the most obvious motive."

I folded my hands in my lap, "Well, I appreciate your honesty," I said. "Thanks."

"I'll be back, Mr. Carter," said Officer Walters, and with that, he walked through the foyer and let himself out the front door.

Jesus, I thought, wondering what the truth was, and getting more scared by the moment.



Zoe showed up a little better than thirty minutes later. I'd taken a quick shower and changed into jeans, an old Bryan Adams tour shirt, and a red plaid button-up unbuttoned, with my red Converse, an outfit I felt looked like something I would've worn on stage so as not to disappoint the fan. I got into the Prius and started adjusting things like the mirrors and steering column. Behind Zoe, in the backseat, I could hear the girl whispering to herself.

"Okay, so why don't we do some highway driving today," Zoe suggested, "We'll go the coastal route."

I nodded and put the car into drive and we started rolling down the driveway to the street. The traffic was minimal and we were soon zooming - as much as a Prius can zoom, that is - down the coastal highway. It wasn't until that point that Heather spoke up. "Your house is really pretty, Nick Carter."

I wanted to laugh at the way she'd used my full name, but knew that would hurt her feelings, so I resisted.

"Thanks," I answered, smiling. "I like it."

"You must have wonderful views," she added.

"Very nice," I answered.

Zoe smirked at the awkwardness emanating from the backseat. "Heather's a big fan," she said to me suddenly, as though she hadn't told me the night before, "She said she's been a fan since she was a baby."

"My mom loves you guys," Heather said, nodding. "I practically grew up on you."

I laughed, "That makes me feel old," I said, but I was smiling, "That's great."

"Yeah, you guys are great," Heather said.

"You ever been to a show?" I asked, half glancing in the rearview mirror, but keeping my eyes on the road.

"Oh no," she said, shaking her head, "We were going to go to that thing you did - the charity thing a couple years ago, on the ship? But we couldn't afford the $300 tickets."

Zoe's eyebrows shot up, "Three hundred dollars?" she demanded of me, "For a freaking concert ticket? What do you people do? Lap dances?" Heather's laugh from the back was nervous - in a yeah, we wish kind of way.

I laughed, "That was for a charity benefit," I said, "It included a mini-cruise around the harbor, dinner, and a bunch of other stuff, not just the concert. We're not that full of ourselves. Our tickets face value range from $25 to $80, usually," I said, "Depending on the venue and the seat's location."

Zoe shook her head, "I was going to remind you that you aren't God - I don't think I'd pay $300 to sit in the audience even if He was there."

I laughed. "Eh well." I turned the conversation back to Heather, "You'll have to give me your address and I'll hook you up with some seats to the next show we do out here, sweetheart," I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zoe smile.

"Seriously?" Heather cried, her eyes wild with excitement, "Oh my God, that'd be so, so, so, so, so cool."

Zoe nudged me, "What about me?"

"Duh," I said, rolling my eyes. Zoe smirked.

The drive went on like that for the most part, we talked about BSB stuff. Heather was full of questions about tour experiences and what the next album was going to be like. I mentioned fleetingly that I was working with a new artist on some material that I thought was gonna be pretty awesome, and I saw Zoe look at me, eyebrow raised, as I said, "Her name is Kayla, she's gonna be freaking great. You'll have to check her out when her single drops. I'll make sure it's hooked up on my Twitter."

"I will," Heather promised.

When we got to the house after the drive was over, I kissed Heather's hand and told her, "It was great meeting you. Thanks for being a fan." And I fished the copy of the album liner for This is Us that I'd autographed with a silver marker and handed it to her. "Bring that to the show and I'll get the other guys to sign it, too. I would've had them sign that one, but I didn't know you were coming 'til last night."

"Thank you," she said, her eyes dreamy.

"Bye." I climbed out of the car. Zoe was already around the front of the Prius. I closed the door and smiled, "That was cool," I told her.

"Thank you," Zoe replied, "You just made that girl's day."

I shrugged, "She's why I do what I do - people like her. Without'em I wouldn't be here."

"Way too many artists forget that," Zoe remarked, "Its refreshing to see that you haven't." With that, she climbed into the Prius and drove off. I could tell by the animated hand gestures in the backseat that Heather was freaking out all excited about the hours she'd just spent driving the coast. I smiled, it felt good to make the fans happy.

I wandered inside to wait for Kayla and work on writing the lyrics to her song. But the silence inside the house was eating at me, and Officer Walters words echoed in my head - somebody had killed Krystal. The only question was if it was me.

Damn, of all the nights to be unable to retrieve from my memory ... why does it have to be that one?

Chapter Sixty-Four
Point of View: Kayla

The rehearsal went well. We only had two days left to go before the opening night. I was getting excited. When we broke apart from the stage and I was getting my stuff together, Lauren and the other girls came over, excited to talk. "So you and Nick?" Lauren asked, her eyes glowing.

I smiled, "Yeah," I said.

"He's fine," mumbled Jess, and Claudia nodded.

"He's gentle," I answered, "And that's more than I got with Leon."

Lauren shook her head, "Leon was a prick, honey," she answered, "Seriously, you deserve way better than that anyways." I lifted my bag and slung it over my shoulder. "I can't believe they let him out."

I looked up at Lauren as she rolled her eyes. "They let him go?" I asked. My mind reeled.

"Yeah," Lauren said, shrugging, "He's paying fines, I heard. I don't know. Bail, whatever. I don't understand that legal crap. I mean he's staying with his mom."

I frowned, "I was hoping they'd keep his ass in jail."

"Please, he didn't actually do anything other than key the car," Lauren muttered, "I mean yeah, he was an asshole, and I'm sure he has to stay far away from you, but I mean he basically just yelled a lot." She shrugged. After a pause, in which my stomach was turning, she said, "What does Nick think about him?"

"Nick would kill him if I let him," I said, my voice sounded funny.

Lauren raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"I gotta go, speaking of Nick," I muttered, and I hurried out the theater door to my Aveo, which I locked the moment I'd gotten into it. I didn't want to take any chances of the doors opening up and having Leon be standing there, like a haunting nightmare.



When I got to Nick's house, I was going to tell him about what Lauren had said about Leon, but he grabbed my hands and pulled me upstairs, "I have a surprise for you," he said, as he led me into his studio. "Here." He handed me a page of sheet music, with the title "Safe - Kayla Sinclaire" across the top, "Music & Lyrics by Nickolas G. Carter, 2010" in the corner in small letters.

I stared up at him. "You did this?" I asked.

"Last night," he answered, and he leaned over and kissed me, "Hurry, it's great. I taped the music today. It's not perfect, but we'll work on it. It'll probably take a few takes anyways. Then we'll do it with the soundboard to perfect it..." He dropped into the office chair in front of the laptop as I dropped my bag and hurried into the studio, closing the door and pulling on the headset. He had never moved the microphone, so it was already adjusted to my height.

"Here, I'll do a play through of the music for you, so you can get the idea before we tape," he said. The next thing I knew, the piano was in my ear in a unique melody that carried clear, ringing notes. My eyes travelled across the lyrics, and when the song had ended, I could feel him looking at me. "Well?" he asked.

"I love it," I whispered.

"Ready to sing it?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered.

Nick grinned. "Okay... Kayla Sinclaire, debut single in the works, let's do this." He punched a few buttons around him and hit the computer key that started the music going through my ears again. I felt my nerves tingling with excitement as I started singing, on cue, the lyrics that he'd written for me... like he'd extracted them from my diary or my heart somehow.

"You keep trying to get inside my head
While I keep trying to lose the words you said...
Can't you see I'm hanging by a thread...
To my life...
What I know, I'm losing control and
Oh no, my walls are gonna break
So close, its more than I can take
I'm so tired of turning
And running
Away
When love just.... isn't safe
You aren't safe... yeah"

I looked up at Nick, who was smiling at me and giving me the thumbs up, a pair of headphones on his head as he listened to my voice traveling over the notes he'd prepared on the paper for me to follow. Little scribbles with things like "maybe a mm-hmm" here or "hold the 'u' in 'just'" were in the margins of the page.

"I'm strong enough I've always told myself
I never want to need somebody else...
But I've already fallen from that hill
So I'm dropping that guard...
Here's your chance at my heart
And oh no, my walls are gonna break
So close, its more than I can take..."

Nick was standing up now, his eyes focused on me, his lips clenched between his teeth, a look of longing and passionate excitement on his face.

It was like he was super charging me for the next part, in the margin of which he'd written "emotional swell"... The music rose in my ear and I felt my heart rate climb with it.

"I'm so tired of turning
And running
Away
When love just.... isn't...
Everything you want, but it's everything you need
It's not always happy ending but it's happy in between
It's taken so long, so long to finally see...
That love is worth the risk..."

Nick's arms went up over his head after the long 'i' in risk hung in the air, echoing through the studio. He was beaming. He sat down again, shaking his head. He looked so happy.

"Oh no, my walls are gonna break
So close, it's more than I can take
So tired of turning and running away
Because love just... isn't safe...
You're not safe... but it's okay...
Love is worth the risk
It's worth the risk
You're not safe
And that's okay"

The music ended and Nick hit the button on the computer, a grin on his face. He leaned into the microphone, "You are so fucking amazing," he said into my ear from across the room. I smiled and laid a hand across the ear piece of the headset.

"I can't believe you wrote that beautiful song for me," I said into my own microphone.

"You rocked it," he said, smiling. "Kayla, that could so be on the radio... I'm serious..." he shook his head, "Let be your producer on this. Please. Work on it with me, and we'll tape it and get it out there."

I looked up at him, my heart pounding in my chest and tears threatening my eyes. I nodded. He crowed and jumped out of the seat, running to come into the studio, forgetting he had the headset on, and getting stopped short halfway. He fell backwards, disappearing under the broken sound board.

"Oh my God, Nick?" I cried, jumping off my stool.

"I'm okay," he called, getting back up and shedding the headset, "Damn things," he muttered as he opened the door to the studio and came in, scooping me up in a hug and laying a kiss on my forehead.

Chapter Sixty-Five
Point of View: Zoe

I couldn't breathe.

Nick was standing proudly in front of his huge stereo system in his living room, the music blaring around the room from the speakers, his face brilliantly bright. Kayla was biting her nails, sitting in the chair, her face red but eyes excited.

I had never been so proud in all my life.

As the music filled the air around us, and Kayla's voice held the longest note I'd ever heard her carry, I could feel tears threatening my eyes and I clasped my hands in front of me, feeling sick with the amount of emotion that was flooding me. As soon as the song ended, I looked at Kayla, my hands outstretched, "Honey," I said.

Kayla quickly scooted to sit next to me and grabbed my hands, tears on her face to match those pouring down mine. "Do you like it?" she asked, "It's not done yet, Nick said we need to master it and record some layers and fix it up to radio standard, but it's my first demo, and..."

"It's perfect," I whispered, kissing her on the cheek. She was so incredibly happy, it made my heart swell. I could feel Nick hovering just a couple paces to the left, and I sat back a little, holding out my arm for him to join the moment. Nick sat down and I hugged them both around their shoulders and squeezed. "Your momma would be so proud of you, Kayla," I told her. "I'm proud of you."

"So am I," Nick spoke up.

Kayla shook with excitement and squealed, "I'm proud of me, too!"



At the house, Kayla was on cloud nine as she and Nick helped me prepare dinner. We made Kayla's favorite - a creamy chicken casserole - and Nick learned how to mash potatoes. "I've never done this before," he laughed as he used the utensil to smash the hell out of the boiled spuds. I was just glad I'd opted to put them into a plastic bowl - the way he was hitting them probably would've broken a glass one.

Afterwards, though not without groaning form Nick, we watched Kayla's favorite movie - The Bodyguard starring Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner. Before the movie was over, despite his whining, Nick was engulfed and I'm pretty sure there was even a tear or two when the swells of I Will Always Love You started. He pretended to sneeze and covered his face several times before the credits were up and the lights were turned back on.

"You'd sound great singing that song," Nick told Kayla, and she flushed.

"Focus on one beautiful song at a time," she pleaded, laughing.

I followed behind, giving them a little distance as we carried the dishes into the kitchen. Nick was smiling broader than I'd ever seen anyone smile before, and Kayla's face positively glowed. I'd known her all my life and had never seen that glow ever. He took the dishes from her and put them in the sink, turning on the hot water. She grabbed the dish towel and swatted him across the back and his eyes widened and he waved his hand, jumping away as she repeated the action.

I didn't interrupt until Nick had grabbed at the extendable hose thing on the sink and prepared to spray. "Okay," I called, horrified of the mess that would've made. "Enough. I'll do the dishes, Kayla you bring this one home." I thumbed at Nick and took the hose out of his hands, returning it to its place.

As they bustled out the door, I laughed to myself at how much things could change in a mere two and almost a half weeks.

Chapter Sixty-Six
Point of View: Narrator

After kissing Kayla in the driveway for quite some time, Nick had finally walked her back to the Aveo and kissed her one last time through her window before letting her drive off.

He carried the tupperware bowl of left over casserole that Zoe had sent home with him into the house and put it in the fridge. He pulled out a stick of celery and opened the cupboard, getting some peanut butter to put on it. He felt like he'd eaten nothing but crap for the last few days and looked down at his stomach, imagining it was growing as he stared at it. He dipped the end of the celery stick into the peanut butter, and put the jar back in the cupboard, before heading to the stairs.

Nick was jogging up, chewing the celery, when he spotted on a step about halfway up the case, something shiny embedded in the carpet. He stopped and knelt down and reached for it. It was a diamond tennis bracelet, engraved on the inside edge with I love you Krystal, NGC.

It had been a Valentine's present. He'd bought it at Tiffany's and had it engraved, in New York - the one in the movie. She'd been so excited, she'd worn it everyday, never took it off. Even after they'd broken up, she'd kept it on. It was her trademark piece of jewelry - it had even been featured on the cover of her album, as she'd held her wrist up and they'd added extra sparkle to enhance it. She'd worn little else on that cover.

He swallowed the suddenly bitter-tasting celery's last bite, staring at the bracelet, his heart pounding. He twisted his hand and the light caught the diamonds, making them sparkle.

And suddenly, he was in the Camaro.

They were driving neck-to-neck, the windows unrolled in both their cars as they raced down the narrow street, the trees rushing by them - one long, green blur. He was glancing at her, then looking ahead, his heart pounding from the line he'd done and the adrenaline rushing through his body. "Krystal, pull over," he yelled, "We need to talk." But the words were slurred.
Her arm extended out the window, her middle finger in the air. She was laughing. The diamonds sparkled in the moonlight, like stars tied to her wrist. He could hear the engine of her car, roaring loudly, feel the grip of the wheel in his hands. "Pull over, Kryssie," he could hear his voice, rasping in his throat, begging. "Kryssie, please..."

Nick opened his eyes, everything felt dizzy. He was sweating. His shirt was sticking to his back and chest, to his underarms. His stomach was swirling, his head trying to make sense of what he'd just seen.

He leaped up. The casserole and the celery were not going to stay inside him. He bolted up the stairs, carrying the bracelet clutched in his hand, and threw himself at the toilet, throwing up until there was nothing left inside. His fingers were pale as he held onto the edge of the bowl, his head throbbing.

Nick sank to the tile, his cheek hot, pressing it against the cool floor. "Kryssie, please pull over..." His own voice echoed in his head, the words bouncing off the crevices of the inside of his skull like an old Atari game.

"No," he whispered aloud to the bathroom fixtures, curling his knees to his chest. "Please, God, no."

Chapter Sixty-Seven
Point of View: Narrator

Zoe's phone rang at 6:45 the next morning. She was in the process of doing her hair. She looked at the caller ID, fully intending to ignore it and call back later, but she saw Nick's number and answered it. "Well good morning, Mr. Carter, what on earth has you up so early?"

"I'm sick," he said. He sounded it. His voice was throaty and ripped up, his nose clearly stuffed.

Zoe looked at the phone, "Ohh, are you okay? Did you take Tylenol?" she asked.

"Yes," he muttered, "I'm just going to sleep it off, okay? I'm sorry, I can't drive."

"It's okay," Zoe said, reassuringly, "I'll send some soup with Kayla this afternoon," she promised, thinking of the left over chicken that hadn't made it into the casserole the night before that she had to use up.

"No," Nick's voice was sharp. Then he softened it, "I mean, I don't wanna get Kayla sick, her show's tomorrow night..."

Zoe nodded, even though Nick couldn't see her, and fluffed her hair carefully, studying herself in the mirror, "That's true," she relented. "You're still planning on coming to that, right?" she asked.

"As long as I'm not dead," Nick replied darkly.

"Oh hush," Zoe reprimanded him, "A little cold never killed anyone. Just get your rest, drink orange juice if you have any. If you don't, I'll bring some over."

"I don't want you getting sick, either," he said softly. "I'm fine, Zoe, really. I'll be fine." There was something in his voice though, something ominous and looming, that made Zoe nervous.

"I'll call you later," she promised, "To check on you."

"Okay," Nick answered, and he hung up.

He dropped the cellphone to the tile floor of the bathroom and curled back up again, the scene playing through his mind for the hundredth time... never going so far as the crash, never letting him see the full of what had happened, but consuming him just the same.



"Nick isn't feeling well today," Zoe was explaining to Kayla twenty minutes later, when she'd come downstairs, still floating on cloud nine from the excitement of the demo.

Kayla frowned, "What's wrong with him?"

"It sounded like a cold," Zoe answered with a shrug. She dropped a bowl of cereal down on the table as Kayla grabbed her own bowl and spoon and filled it with Corn Flakes.

"Should I bring him like soup or something?" Kayla asked as she opened the fridge for the milk.

Zoe shook her head, "He doesn't want you getting sick before your show tomorrow night," she answered, "And I agree with him. You need to be in your tip-top shape for that so you can enjoy it. He said he'll come still, and I'll pick him up tomorrow afternoon and make sure he gets pumped full of vitamins. Don't worry."

Kayla was frowning.

"You can go twenty-four hours without seeing him, Kayla," Zoe laughed, "I promise you that you'll live through it. It's a miracle, but you will."

Kayla stuck her tongue out, "I don't want to go twenty-four hours without seeing him. This sucks. Why'd he have to go and get sick now?" Zoe shook her head and ate her cereal as Kayla pouted into hers, pushing the flakes around with her spoon moodily.



It was twelve hours later before Zoe called Nick back. He still hadn't moved from the place he'd been when she'd talked to him the first time, he'd just laid there staring at a dust bunny lodged under the pipes behind the toilet, his mind playing and replaying the scene that it had held captive from him for so long.

He didn't know what to do. Part of him said he had to call Officer Walters, tell him what happened, explain, pray that he understood. The other part told him he had to shut his damn mouth, and pray that forensics would fail, that his tires would somehow magically not match, that they'd botched up the prints. Another part, the immature part, wanted to lock the bathroom door and pretend he could hide in there forever and nobody could ever find him, that they'd eventually forget that this ever happened, and he'd die, alone but not in jail.

"Nick, are you feeling any better at all?" Zoe asked.

"A little," he lied, just so she wouldn't come flying over to check on him. Besides, somewhere around 4 or 5:00, he'd gone numb. So in a way...

Zoe sighed, "Kayla wants to talk to you," she said, handing the phone off to Kayla.

"Nick?" Kayla's voice was like sunshine in his ear, and he felt the images running through his mind fade just the tiniest bit. He felt like there could be hope if he just could hear Kayla's voice forever...

"Kayla," he breathed.

"Aw, Nick, you sound awful," she whispered. Her heart breaking for him. He sounded so sad. "I wish I could give you a big hug and make it better."

"Your voice helps," he said honestly.

Kayla smiled and said, "Then I'll talk all night."

"Please do," he whispered.

They did talk for a long time, she asked him questions about the recording process and how record companies worked. They discussed their plans for when he'd gotten the soundboard installed upstairs, and for working on writing some more songs. Kayla read a couple songs she'd written lyrics to, and he agreed some of them were good if they did some work on them and Kayla was ecstatic because one of them was one of her favorite things she'd ever written.

"Are you going to try to come to the show tomorrow?" she asked, "I know Auntie Zoe said she'd pick you up if you were."

"Yes," he said, "I'll be there if I have to stop my nose with superglue. I promise."

Kayla smiled, "Okay. I'm so excited. Maybe we can all go out and celebrate after and wait for the reviews in the papers like they do in the movies?" she giggled.

"I'll take ya to the Ivy, baby," Nick answered, a smile spreading across his face against the tile floor.

Kayla laughed, "Okay. Aw, I'm so happy."

Nick could imagine her smile in his mind. The words slid out of his mouth subconsciously, but even as they came out, he knew he meant them this time. "I love you," he said.

Kayla paused. "Really?" she asked.

"Really, really," he said.

"Not because you're on like cough meds or something?" she teased.

Nick laughed quietly, "No, for real, baby. I love you, Kayla."

"I love you, too, Nick."

After they'd hung up, Nick closed his eyes and imagined her face, and let it burn into his mind. He clung to that mental image desperately for the rest of the night, using it to shove the memories of Krystal away.

Chapter Sixty-Eight
Point of View: Narrator

At 3:30 the next day, Nick finally got up off the bathroom floor. Zoe was going to be coming by 4:30, Kayla's show started at 7:00. He wanted to buy Zoe a light dinner and flowers for Kayla, and had talked Zoe into coming earlier than they really needed to leave to get there on time. She'd agreed to come pick him up right after she finished her very last drive of the day.

Kayla had called on her way to the theater at 10:00 and gushed how excited she was to do the dress rehearsal and the show. "I can't wait for you to see it in it's finished stages," she told him, "And the costumes, oh I can't wait for you to see the costumes."

Nick took a shower and washed his bathroom-floor hair and brushed his teeth three times in a twenty minute span because he kept forgetting he'd already done it. He dug through his closet for some of the nicer things that he usually reserved for Backstreet Boys events and came up with a slick blue Hugo Boss suit with a lighter blue shirt and dark blue tie. He went all out and dug out some cufflinks and his nice watch.

By the time Zoe got there, Nick was looking very sharp.

"Wow," Zoe said, impressed, "Nice. You do clean up well, don't you?" she looked him over and plucked one strand of fly away dust that had landed on his shoulder. She herself was wearing a crisp white sundress with a pair of dressy sandals. Nick had never imagined Zoe in a dress.

He smiled, "So do you." He lifted her hand and kissed it gently, like a gentleman, and walked her to the car. Once he got her settled in the driver's seat, he put the crutches in the back, and climbed in himself, kicking his leg out straight so that the pants of his suit wouldn't wrinkle.

Nick brought Zoe to Panera Bread, and she laughed at him when several of the girls recognized him and oogled over the suit. She smiled as he signed their autographs, but after a few moments respectfully told them he was trying to have dinner and nodded at Zoe and they'd all inched away, lingering close enough to watch him, but far enough away to be construed as having given him privacy. Zoe couldn't imagine what it must be like to be recognized like that.

After the restaurant, Nick pointed out a florist a little ways down the street and Zoe parked and waited in the car while Nick ran inside. He came back clutching a large box and a small box, and he smirked to himself as Zoe drove to the theater.

The theater had been transformed into a somewhat nice place. The marquee bore the title of the play and Kayla's name, along with Leon's understudy's name, Todd. A remarkable turn out for such a run down part of the city had come, and Nick wondered how much of that had to do with the Twitter post he'd put up during his time trying to get the tie to work.

@NickCarter anyone freaking know how to do a tie? going to the theater tonite. i hate ties!!!!

He'd accompanied it with a picture of the ad in the paper, which featured Kayla's picture and had gotten several enthusiastic responses that had aided him in getting the thing tied.

Zoe parked the car, and Nick carried the boxes as they walked down the street to the theater. Just before they got to the door, he stopped and rested the bigger box on a bench. "C'mere," he said to Zoe. He opened the smaller box and took out a small lilly corset, which matched the print on her sundress. He smiled and slid it around her wrist.

Zoe looked at it, her cheeks red, and looked up at him, "Oh my, I feel like I'm going to my prom again," she said, laughing. She noticed how ridiculously blue Nick's eyes were, and smiled, remembering the boy, David, who had taken her to the prom. She'd never forgotten him as long as she lived.

Nick bent down and kissed Zoe's cheek. "Thank you," he said, "For giving me a chance."

Zoe gave him a hug, "Oh you sweet boy," she muttered.

Nick rested his chin on her head as she hugged him, and desperately wished he could make everything in his life smooth out so that his greatest concern would be what they were having for dinner and whether he'd remember somebody's birthday. He wanted a simple life, one unmarred by crazy ex-girlfriends and drugs, just a real life with people who really loved him, like Zoe and Kayla had come to be. Zoe had become like a mom to him, he realized, recognizing the strong, warm feeling that ran through him now.

"We better go inside," Zoe said finally, breaking away. She smiled up at him, "Come on, Nickolas." She thread her arm through his after he'd grabbed the box for flowers for Kayla, and they made their way through the theater to the front row, where they sat down and waited for the show to start.

At 6:00, Kayla snuck out and gave them each a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm so glad you made it," she said to Nick. "I'm so excited for you to see this play." She hugged him.

Nick kicked the box of flowers a little further under the seat, so she wouldn't see it, and smiled up at her, "I can't wait to see it, either," he said.

"Come backstage after the show?" she asked, looking between him and Zoe.

"Of course," Zoe answered for them both, and Kayla had snuck back off to finish getting ready for the play.

Chapter Sixty-Nine
Point of View: Nick

The play was spectacular. Kayla was definitely the shining star of the performance, though all the actors - even Todd - had done quite well. The audience roared with applause, though, after each one of Kayla's five songs throughout the play, and she positively glowed under their appraisal. At the very end, when all the actors had come onto the stage to take a bow, she'd been given a standing ovation, which I had observed, clapping and cheering as loud as I could.

When the curtain fell for the final time, I turned to Zoe and offered a hand to help her up. Zoe took it and grabbed her crutches, "I'm going to run to the rest room real quick. You go find Kayla and I'll be there in a minute."

I reached under my seat and grabbed the white box and tugged the ribbon holding it closed off. Inside was a bouquet of wildflowers and roses, tied with a glossy red ribbon. In my pocket was a box, waiting to be given to my star. I walked to the door that Kayla had disappeared through earlier that evening and found myself in a bustling backstage. People were running every which way, chattering loudly. I saw Drew standing guard a few feet away, talking to one of the actresses as she pulled off the bonnet she'd worn as part of her costume. I waved to him and he waved fleetingly back.

I found the door to Kayla's dressing room and knocked. "Kayla? Baby? It's me," I called, reaching for the handle. I twisted the knob and pushed the door opened. The room was empty. It was kind of a mess, clothes flung everywhere. Her bonnet and shoes were by the vanity table, but she was no where to be seen. I ducked around a corner and found a small private bathroom and knocked. "Kayla?"

Still finding no answer, I wandered back to the main part of the room and sat down on the stool by her vanity. I looked at the mirror and spotted a picture of me stuck into the bottom corner, printed off a computer. It was one of me that I didn't recognize, I wasn't sure where or when it was taken. I smirked, realizing she probably saw it on the Internet and liked it.

Zoe came in the room, "Hey," she said, looking around, "Where's Kayla?" she furrowed her brow.

"I dunno," I admitted. Zoe sighed and sat down in a chair a couple feet away and we waited.

When it had been a couple minutes and the commotion in the main part of the backstage area had started dying down, I looked at Zoe. "I'm gonna go find her," I said, standing up.

Zoe nodded, "I'll wait here for her."

"I'll check back in a sec if I haven't found her yet," I answered.

I started my walk, heading out of the dressing room toward the stage, looking through the folds of the red velvet curtain. The flowers hung at my side as I looked, my wrist tired of holding them upright, and the less I worried about the petals shedding as I started getting more nervous about where Kayla was.

"Have you seen Kayla?" I called up to a guy rappelling from the lights overhead of the stage.

"Nope," he yelled back, "Try backstage."

I made my way backstage again, and passed Drew, "Hey have you seen Kayla?" I asked him.

His radar instantly went up. "You can't find her?"

"No," I answered.

Drew looked sheepish for having lost track of her and started walking around the backstage, poking his head into various dressing rooms and investigating who the last was to see Kayla.

I was standing by a light fixture when Lauren went by, carrying three bottles of champagne. "Hey, you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, just looking for Kayla, you seen her?" I asked.

Lauren shrugged, "Not since you have."

"On stage?" I asked.

"No, like five seconds after on stage," she said, rolling her eyes, "In her dressing room? Wasn't that you she was with?"

"I just got back here," I said, "Like five minutes ago. She wasn't in her dressing room."

Lauren shrugged, "Well, I dunno, she was in her dressing room with someone last I saw her." And with that, Lauren flounced away to her own dressing room

My skin felt cold, and a rush of adrenaline went through my body. I felt sick, and I quickly ran across the backstage area to Drew. "Where's that weird alley you said you found?"

"It was over behind the stage, there's a door back there," he said, pointing, and he started to say something else that started with a "but...", but I was already gone, bolting toward it.

When I wrenched it opened, I dropped the flowers on the ground, and I heard their stems and petals crush into each other, my body was tense. It smelled like piss and garbage back there, and my stomach turned worse than it already was turning.

"Kayla?" I called, looking down the length of the alley and seeing nothing. I started down it, "Kayla?" I called.

"NICK!" the scream came from behind me and I turned around.

Leon smacked her across the face. He had her in a precarious position, sprawled across a pile of teetering milk crates. He was standing between her legs, her dress hiked up, revealing her skimpy underwear. He was holding onto her by her bra, the chest of the dress ripped open obscenely.

But he hadn't done anything else yet.

"You mother fucking..." I started towards him, but my words were drowned out of my own ears by the throbbing sensation of complete anger taking over every cell of my body. Every ounce of me was tense, and my heart pounding was the only sound I could hear. I crossed the length of the alley within seconds, my legs carrying me faster than I'd ever dreamed they could, my hand latching onto his hair, and pulling him back by it, and throwing him on the ground.

It was then, sprawled on the ground in front of me, that Leon knew he'd gone too far.

He backed away from me, his legs scrambling to push him away, and he banged into a large garbage can. His skull making it clang. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I bellowed.

"Nick," Kayla was sobbing behind me, but somehow she seemed far away, my anger completely consuming me as I stared at Leon.

"Don't you fucking ever touch her," I screamed at him, pointing backwards at Kayla.

"Nick, please," she begged.

I started to turn to go to her, started to let it be. I decided I'd call the cops, let them handle it, let them put the fucking bastard in a jail cell and lose the God damned key.... But the moment my back was turned, Leon had struggled to his feet, and thrown an incredible blow to the back of my head that made me see literally stars. I fell into the brick wall, and felt my nose break and the brick scrape my face.

"Don't!" Kayla screamed, "Don't hurt him."

I dropped to my knees on the ground and spit a mouthful of blood onto the grimy cement, shaking. Drew was suddenly there, kneeling beside me. "Nick," he said. I could hear panic in his voice. I couldn't see, everything was spinning.

"Fucking what you get, putting your nose in other people's business," snarled Leon from behind me, "Stealing my bitch..."

"Do not call her that," I groaned, angry adrenaline recharging me again. I shoved Drew off me and stood up, my unfocused eyes finding Leon a few feet away. I charged at him, my hands stretched out before me. It as as though all of the stress, all of the fear, all the hurt, guilt, shame, and pain that I'd been experiencing over the last couple days seemed to ball up and embed itself into Leon's person, and I found myself lost in the act of punching him. "I'll fucking kill you man," I screamed at him, his face turning red from blood, my fist matching.

"Nick!" screamed Kayla, "Stop."

The sound of her voice was the only thing that could've stopped me. If I'd kept going, I would have killed him. But, hands shaking, at Kayla's command, I stopped, and let go of the grip I had on his shirt. Leon dropped, like a broken toy, landing at my feet, and grabbing his face, writhing.

I backed away, my mouth tasted like metal from the blood leaking into it, and I turned to look at Kayla. I went to her, dizzy, my face throbbing. I unbuttoned my suitcoat as I walked and when I got there, I wrapped it around her, covering her bared chest, and pulling her to me. She slid off the milk crates and into my arms.

Drew was kneeling beside Leon. "I'm bringing Kayla inside," I said, stepping over Leon to the door. Drew nodded as he inspected the damage I'd done, and pulled out his cell phone, calling the police.

I carried Kayla into the backstage, and immediately whispers and shocked gasps ensued. "Oh my God," cried Lauren, covering her mouth with her hands as she'd been just coming out of her own dressing room and saw me clutching Kayla across my arms. Kayla's arms were wrapped around my neck and she shook from sobs.

"I want my mom," Kayla's voice was trembling and so quiet I almost didn't hear her.

"I know, I'm sorry," I whispered. I stumbled, my knees gelatinous, the world starting to fade from my eyes; everything was growing darker every step I took. I was pretty sure I was bleeding all over Kayla, but I couldn't really tell.

Zoe stood up when I walked in the room, a terrified expression on her face as I lowered Kayla into the chair. Exhausted, I dropped to the floor beside it, my head spinning. "Nick?" Zoe was saying, but she sounded far away, as though I was under water, "What happened?"

But before I could answer, everything had gone dark.

Chapter Seventy
Point of View: Nick

It burned my nose, actually hurt in a way. But, I told myself, it'll hurt less once it's in your system. When I stood up, a rush of unbelievable proportions sank into my head. I moved out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, slamming the last of the bag into the back of the drawer for later use. I grabbed the cell phone off the nightstand and flipped it open. It felt so heavy in my hand.

My thumbs stumbled over the phone number and I held the phone up to my ear, listening to it ring. It took a few rings, but she answered it. "What?" her voice spat the word. I could hear her engine roaring.

"Come back," I begged.

"Why? So you can tell me what a wonderful fucking life you have now that you're sober?" she asked.

"No. I did a line." I laughed, "Come home, I wanna do you now, too."

"Nick," Krystal's voice was thick with emotion, and-- tears? "Nick, don't do it, okay? Please."

"I already did. Come on, I wanna have sexxxx," I begged stupidly.

"I made a mistake," Krystal said.

I sat down on the floor and stared at the door, holding my feet. "Why? What kinda mistake?" I asked her, my voice sloshing in my mouth. My mouth felt funny, like it was rubber. I laughed.

"I came to see you tonight because I was sorry," she whispered. “Nick, you were so smart to go to rehab, to get yourself cleaned up, please don't blow it for me, okay? I'm not worth it."

"But Kryyysssie," I whined, "I really, really, really wanna have sex with you, okay? Come hoooome, you can live here. We'll fix all the broke shit together. It'll be fun. Like with duct tape. Ohhhh, I know, we'll use the duct tape in bed, too, how's that for fun? Hmm?"

"I'm pregnant, Nick," Krystal said.

The word sounded foreign. "Like, with a baby?" I murmured.

"Yes." I heard her engine cut off. "Like with a baby."

"Ohhh," I said, my voice lowering, "I guess you wanna go like have it with your boyfriend Donald or whatever then, huh?"

Krystal whispered, "I don't want Desi having anything to do with the baby." When I didn't answer, because I was studying my toes, Krystal added, "Nick, I came to say that I want to clean up, I want to be with you and raise this baby."

"This ship," I muttered dramatically, "Has sailed, baby."

"Sailed?" Krystal asked, “What do you mean?

“I don’t wanna be with yoooooou,” I drew out, "You hurt me all the fucking time."

"I was wrong," Krystal said, “I see that now. Nick, I want to do this right.”

"Blah, blah, blah," I mumbled. "You didn't want me before, why the hell would you want me now?" I asked.

Krystal said. "You should stay off the drugs, you're being ridiculous. You're right, I did hurt you. I was a very bad influence in your life, but you know what Nick? You were a very good one in mine, especially recently, and I was hoping you could give me one more chance."

"You wanna come back to me because I've got money and Desi doesn't," I said accusingly.

Krystal's tone was offended, "Money? Christ Nick, I have four times the amount of money you have. Why the fuck would I want yours for? You know what, Nick," she said, her tone tortured. "Maybe if you believe that, then you haven't changed after all." She paused. "Maybe it's impossible for people like us to change..." She hung up the phone.

I did it without thinking. I went to the hall and got my keys. I kicked my sneakers on under the Spiderman costume I'd never taken off, and walked out to the Camaro. It felt good - powerful. The familiar road to Krystal's house was a blur. I barely saw it. When I got to her house, I fumbled with my keys, trying to find the key to her front door. I walked inside, "Kryssie?"

Krystal came to the top of the stairs and stared down at me. Her eyes were bloodshot. "Go." She pointed at the door. "I'm busy right now."

"No," I said, pleadingly, "Krystal I thought about it, I wanna be sober too. Let's be sober together."

"Nick," a strangled sob caught in her throat, "Please, leave, ok? I don't want to be with you. I just want to--" She stopped. "Go. Please?" She started down the stairs towards me.

"Kryyssssie," I whined, "I'm serious, okay? I wanna do this. I know I sound fucked up right now, I am, but I wanna do this with you. You're... you're my girlfriend, and - I don't care if thats Desi's or mine, I still wanna help."

Krystal closed her eyes, standing on the bottom most step and staring at me, "Nick, leave."

I jumped up two steps so I was right in front of her. "Krystal, I'm sorry I was an asshole before. I didn’t mean to call you a whore.” I grabbed her hand, and I noticed she was bleeding. "What are you--"

She looked down at my hand clutching hers, and wrenched away, "You're right, you are a fucking asshole," she screamed. She trotted past me, to the front door.

"What? Where're you going?"

"I'm leaving because you won't," she snapped. I ran after her, following her onto the lawn. She got into the pink Chrystler. "Leave me alone, I don’t want to be here anymore!" she bellowed as I reached the side of the car, trying to pull it open.

"No, we need to talk," I said.

"Like hell we do," she snapped. “You need to leave me alone, I want to be alone!” She started her car.

I was into the Camaro and the pedal to the floor before she was out of the driveway. I followed at her tail and honked. She slammed on her brakes, making me back off, and then sped up again, turning out of the gated community she lived in. I followed her through the suburban streets, honking every now and then. She took sharp turns that made her tires squeal, once even a u-turn, trying to lose me. I followed, though, only nearly losing her once when I only just barely cut a turn without taking out a fence of some person's house.

She turned onto the long wooded road that Zoe and I had driven on with the frogs, and gunned it. Her car revving loudly, like she was in a race. It was a match, her Chrystler for my Camaro, but I had just a little more push than she did, and before long I'd not only caught up, but I'd pulled neck to neck with her.

I punched the window button. "KRYSTAL," I hollered, "You need to stop, we need to talk! Please!"

"No, Nick, you need to stop!" she screamed back, "Go home! Leave me alone!"

"Krystal!" I yelled. She stuck her hand out the window, the tennis bracelet sparkling like stars tied to her hand. "Krystal, come on, we gotta talk, please!" But she refused to look at me again.

The two cars were so close together on the narrow road, the engines so loud, the tires squealing.

"Krystal, you’re gonna kill yourself," I begged.

"Damn straight!" she yelled back.

“Don’t,” I pleaded, “Please, talk to me.”

“No Nick, I don’t want to be here ANYMORE,” she yelled back.

One second her car would pull ahead, then mine would. My hand held fast to the wheel. "Please," I yelled.

"Nick, I WANT to DIE," she sobbed, "In fact..."

Even in my memory, what happened seemed like slow motion.

Suddenly, the wheels turned, and the Chrystler went off the road, going faster than I was, a 75. It seemed to fly through the air, and struck the ground, going down the hill into the trees. I wrenched the wheel over, crossing over her tire tracks, and I got out of the car, shocked. I ran down the hill. The car was tucked deep among the trees. It had flattened several smaller ones on the fringe, before striking a larger one a little ways in, the front end of it bent into a u.

I grabbed the driver's door and pulled it open. "Krystal." She was slumped forward into the air bag, the blood already staining the white bag. I could feel myself shaking. I grabbed her wrist, but it was limp, and she didn't respond. "Krystal," I tried pulling her, but her body wouldn't budge. The tennis bracelet disconnected itself and fell to the ground at my feet. "Krystal, please," I begged.

I pawed at my pockets for my cell phone, but I'd left it – God knows where. I clung to her hand, looking up through the trees at my car parked by the side of the road. "Help," I called, not wanting to leave her. Some part of me, the part still high, imagined some ridiculous thing, like Smokey the Bear, coming out of the woods. "Krystal," I begged.

It took me too long to realize her skin was already cold, that there was way too much blood.

I grabbed the bracelet off the ground, and crawled away, sick, and dizzy. When I reached my car, I sat there, dumbfounded, unsure what the fuck to do.

I decided I’d go home and call the cops. Tell them what happened. That was the only way I could help. There was nothing I could do here. She was already gone

When I got home, I pulled the Camaro into the garage and got out. My throat was raw, my stomach flipping out. I climbed the stairs and fell, my hand slamming into a step about halfway up, where I dropped the bracelet. I struggled to my feet before dropping again, and finally crawled up the stairs to the bathroom. I threw up into the toilet bowl for a very long time.

I finally got up, struggled to my feet, and opened the bedroom door. My head was throbbing, and everything felt like an extremely bad nightmare. The bed was covered with crap, where she’d ripped and shredded and thrown. I stumbled back down the stairs, and remembered I was looking for my cell phone. I couldn’t remember why.

I need fresh air, I thought.

I stumbled out the door and fell on the steps. I landed on my belly on the lawn and crawled away across the grass. The grass was nice and cool. I laid down, closing my eyes… for just a second… and then I’d find the phone and make that call… but I didn't know what for…



"Nick?"

I blinked opened my eyes. Kayla was looking down at me. Zoe was next to me. The concrete floor of the backstage was under my back. Blood was drying on my face. "I didn't do it," I whispered, my voice choking in my throat. "But it was because of me."

Chapter Seventy-One
Point of View: Narrator

Kayla clung to Nick's jacket, keeping it closed around her chest, and holding onto his hand. Zoe was shaking his shoulder, blood was coming out of his face, running down into the blue shirt. His face was contorted, though Zoe wasn't sure if it was from the hit he'd taken or from the expression on his face. He was shaking his head. "Nick, damn you, wake up," Zoe snapped, frustrated and scared.

"Nick, I'm scared," Kayla's tears were hot on her cheeks. "Please wake up. Nick?"

His eyes blinked open slowly, and Zoe let out a shuddering breath of relief. Nick's blue eyes were unfocused, far away somehow, and he looked from Zoe to Kayla shakily. "I didn't do it," he said, his words running together and catching in his mouth, "But it was because of me."

Kayla looked up at Zoe, her heart slamming in her chest. "He saved me," she said, thinking Nick was talking about what happened in the alley.

Zoe didn't take her eyes from Nick. She was frightened for Kayla, frightened for Nick. The whole damn world seemed shot to hell. There were people screaming and yelling in the next room. She felt like she was in an extremely bad nightmare, or a B-rated movie."We know."
"No. Krystal," he mumbled, "I didn't kill Krystal."

Kayla leaned back into the chair, her body cold. She wanted Nick to hold her, to hold more than her hand, to make her feel better, and here he was, laying on the floor, thinking about Krystal. She knew it was selfish, she knew she shouldn't, but she was jealous, and hurt, and -- she started to cry even harder.

Zoe's eyes flickered between Nick's bloody face and Kayla's tears, torn between which to help first. Deciding Nick was in his own world, not understanding the magnitude of what he was saying, she moved to be closer to Kayla, and wrapped her arms around her. "It's okay, little one," she whispered into Kayla's ear. The crying and the shaking reminded her too much of the night Zara had died. It made her ache.

"I feel dirty," cried Kayla.

"I know," Zoe whispered, cradling Kayla's head against her chest. Nick was muttering on the floor, but Zoe wasn't listening, her focus was entirely on her niece.

The police were there in no time. There was a loud guffaw outside of the dressing room and they could hear Leon yelling, demanding someone go get Nick, too, and Drew's deep voice explaining the mess of Leon's face. A knock came at the door, and Zoe looked up from Kayla. "Come in," she called.

Nick was on his knees by this point, curled down like he had an extreme stomach ache. He had his eyes closed. One arm was extended to his side, still holding Kayla's hand. The blood was drying on his face and shirt, and spatters of it littered the floor and Kayla's dress. He knew what was coming, and felt powerless to stop it.

Three cops came in the room, two big burly guys and a third, scrawnier guy. One of the two big guys moved to kneel beside Kayla. "What's the matter, miss?" he asked in a gentle voice, "Do you think you can tell us what happened?"

Kayla was sobbing into Zoe's shoulder, but she nodded weakly. The other big guy bent down and seized Nick by the arm, wrenching his hand out of Kayla's, pulling him up to his feet, as the scrawny cop started reciting the miranda. "Nick!" Kayla cried, looking up to see what was happening that had taken Nick's hand away from hers, "What are you doing to him?"

"Yeah, what the hell are you doing?" Zoe demanded, looking their way as the larger guy took handcuffs out of his back pocket and started connecting them around Nick's wrists, which he'd pulled roughly behind his back. "That boy saved my niece," she snapped.

"Now, ma'm," the scrawny cop said, turning to Zoe, "We need to bring him in. He did a number to the other guy's face --"

"You can't just take him in for no reason!" she bellowed, "He saved her!" Nick, his head hung low, looked so resigned, Zoe felt her anger flare even further. He wasn't even fighting it, wasn't even complaining. It was like leading a sheep to a slaughter house, he was just going to stand there. She struggled to her feet, grabbing her crutches angrily. "Stop it! Let him GO," bellowed Zoe.

Nick looked up, his eyes meeting hers, sadness filling every detail of them. "Zoe," he pleaded, "It's okay."

"It is not okay," she shouted, angry at him now for not standing up for himself. "Nick they're arresting you, for something you didn't do."

Nick closed his eyes, his jaw set, "Zoe, just please.. just take care of Kayla."

"Come on." The smaller cop led the way, the other cop pushing Nick along, followed and allowed the door to slam heavily behind them. As they exited Kayla's dressing room, Nick heard Lauren gasp and Drew start yelling, following after the cops and Nick as they shuffled out of the theater to the waiting cruisers. The blue and red lights were a blur, and Nick could focus on none of it.

Leon, who was giving the officers a hard time, and was pinned to the sidewalk, saw Nick, and started hooting with laughter. "Hell yeah!" he yelled, "Come on, Carter, I'll fuck you up when we get there... I'll fuck you up so bad..."

Nick didn't react.

Cameras were flashing, and he felt sick to his stomach. How long until the world sees me like this?

They shoved him into the back of a cruiser and Nick laid down across the backseat, his nose aching dully, and blood smearing onto the leather.



"Where are they taking him?!" Kayla was up, out of the chair. She would've followed them if the remaining cop hadn't caught her, practically midair, no her way to the door. "I want Nick! Bring him back here!" she sobbed.

"I'm sorry," the cop said, "He's got to be booked..."

"Haven't I been through enough tonight without you taking away Nick, too?" she screamed, "He tried to rape me and he would've succeeded if Nick hadn't came out right then! He was hurting me, and Nick was there. Nick saved me. I feel safe with Nick, I want Nick!"

Zoe laid her hand on Kayla's shoulder. "Shh, it's okay, Kay," she whispered.

"No it isn't!" she yelled, turning on Zoe, her confusion and pain channeling into anger. "This isn't fair, what did I do that deserves this? I want Nick back, now!" She sounded like a child crying for a chocolate bar, she knew. She felt like a damsel in distress whose knight saved her from the dragon, and then got beheaded by the king for slaying the dragon. She turned and started pounding her fists against the chest of the cop, "Give me him back! Give me him back! Give me him..."

The cop was bewildered. "Miss, calm down," he demanded.

Zoe pulled Kayla, as best she could, back to the chair, where Kayla dissolved completely. Zoe looked up at the cop apologetically. "I think I should take her home, officer," she said quietly.



Kayla locked herself into the bathroom and took showers, dressed in shorts and a tank top because she didn't want to be naked, for the rest of the night. She used two whole bars of soap, scraping her skin until it was red, raw, and bleeding in some places, but still not feeling like she'd come clean. She sat on the floor of the bath tub, hugging Nick's suit jacket to her chest, letting the water rain down on her, her face shoved into the neckline of the coat until every ounce of his smell had run down the drain with the water, which was icy cold.

She wondered where he was, if he was okay, if he was as scared without her as she was without him, when she would see him again, if he was safe...

Over and over again in her mind the scene replayed. He was there, like a shining ray of hope in the dark, fierce and untamable, a lion, standing between her and the snake of an attacker she'd once trusted. He'd taken the brunt of the attack, the anger and the pain. It was Nick that had bled in the end, not her.

Nick's jacket was heavy and soaking wet. She turned off the water faucet and just let it lay over her, the weight of it comforting. She closed her eyes and fell asleep curled up in the bath tub, imagining the heavy feeling of the jacket was Nick himself, with his arms wrapped around her.



Brian showed up with the bail money as soon as he could, along with a fresh set of clothes for Nick, which Leighanne had insisted he stop to get on the way. Nick had come out, silent and faded looking, his face needing desperately to be cleaned and the hollow of his eyes bruised from his nose. Brian had taken a deep breath to stay calm when he saw him, and thanked the officers politely, before taking Nick out to the car.

Drew and Frank, another bodyguard, were waiting in the vestibule by the exit. Outside, a herd of media and photogs had collected. Brian looked at Nick, "We're gonna move quick, okay? Just get in the car, don't look at them. It's gonna be all right." Nick nodded vaguely and silently.

With the security guards flanking the Boys on either side, Brian bending as close to Nick's hunched figure as he could to keep the majority of pictures featuring himself instead of his best friend, the group of them moved quickly to the Jeep, where Leighanne was waiting in the driver's seat. The moment they stepped out of the building, yelling ensued, and flashes of the cameras. It was one of the longest walks Nick had ever taken before, even though it was so short. Quickly, Brian pulled open the back door and Nick climbed in, followed by Brian as the guards closed in behind them, to keep the view of the inside of the Jeep obscure as Brian pulled the door shut.

Leighanne drove away, the flashes following them all for quite a way before she got on the highway and only a couple sleek black vehicles were following them, with cameras hanging out the windows. Her fingers were clasped tightly to the wheel, nervous they would try to bump the car or something, as had happened to so many other celebrities over the years.

Brian turned to Nick, "What happened? Tell me everything."

Nick looked up at Brian. "I dunno what to do."

Chapter Seventy-Two
Point of View: Narrator

"Do you wanna watch Toy Story, uncle Nick?" Baylee was sitting on the floor by the sofa, where Nick was laying, staring at the wall in front of him, feeling like a zombie. Baylee inched into Nick's line of vision, "You can play with my Buzz Lightyear if you want." He held up the interactive Buzz toy he'd gotten the week before, which he'd been carrying everywhere since.

"I'm sorry," whispered Nick, "Not right now, though, okay?"

Baylee frowned. Hed' been sure that would work. Being offered the Buzz toy was the ultimate honor in Baylee's world. "Would you rather play with Woody? I have Rex, too..."

Brian swooped into the living room, picking Baylee up off the floor in one swift motion. "Woah there cowboy," he said, dropping Baylee down a couple feet away from Nick. "Why don't you go see how cool of a dominoes track you can make and we'll test it in a few minutes?"

"Okay!" Baylee thundered out of the room and down the stairs to the playroom in the basement. Nick heard Leighanne yell out for him to slow down on the stairs, but her voice was muffled from across the house.

Brian sat down in almost the same spot Baylee had been. Nick almost laughed because it was like a time warp had taken place and the same person was still there. "I called the lawyer," Brian detailed, "And he said he's positive he can get you off for self defense, so this whole scenario won't be on your record. Yay, good news, right?"

"Uh huh," Nick murmured.

"And he's going to help Kayla press charges," Brian added, "So hopefully this guy will stay put for awhile anyway. It's being taken care of is the long and short of it, buddy." He smiled. "Are you feeling any better? How's your nose?"

"Fine," Nick answered. He paused. "Brian, what am I going to do about the Krystal thing? I mean as soon as my car's back from the shop, Officer Walter's is gonna be at my house checking out those tires and I don't doubt for a second that my treads are all over the place on that road," he said. "But I didn't do what they think I did."

Brian frowned, "They'll figure that out, Nick. I mean there's got to be evidence you didn't do it. You should, however, go and tell them what did happen, then all they have to do is confirm it. Then you aren't trying to battle murder charges or something, you know?"

Nick nodded, "Yeah."

"We should do that today," Brian said gently.

"Okay," Nick sighed. "But I wanna see Kayla first, though."



Downstairs, Zoe was making a sandwich for Brian, who had made the mistake of looking too skinny, and they were talking about the whole Kayla situation. Upstairs, Nick was knocking on Kayla's door. "Baby?" he called.

The door opened slowly, and Kayla stood there, wearing socks, long pajama pants, and a hoodie, despite the heat. "Nick," she said, wrapping her heavily clothed arms around him and squeezing tightly. He ran and hand across her back gently. "The jacket stopped smelling like you," she whispered. He noticed his suit coat, still damp, laying over the arm of a chair in the corner.

He'd never been in Kayla's room. It had been the forbidden zone of Zoe's house. He looked around it now and smirked when he saw an old Backstreet Boys poster hanging in the corner of the room over a stout bookcase. He wondered how long it had been there.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I feel dirty," she complained, "I took like twelve showers yesterday, and I still feel gross."

Nick hugged her to his chest. "You're beautiful, if that helps."

"I'm a sweaty pig," she argued.

"That's because you've got heavy clothes on in 82* weather, baby," he said. "C'mon, let's get this sweatshirt off. I'm here, nothing's gonna hurt you." Kayla was reluctant, but she allowed Nick to pull off the sweatshirt. Underneath, she wore the tank top she'd worn into the shower the night before. It clung to her body. "There's my beautiful baby," he whispered.

Kayla looked up at him, her eyes full of tears. "I don't feel beautiful. Not even a little bit."

"I think you're gorgeous," he said, smiling at her sadly. "I wish I could just rip my eyes out and let you see what you look like to me." He planted the softest kiss on her nose. Her tears were still on her cheeks, clinging just a little bit to her eyelashes. He ran his thumb softly across them, catching the tears on his skin.

She stared up at him, mesmerized that he had a touch so gentle that he could take tears from her eyelashes like that. She backed up, pulling him with her. "Nick," she whispered, "Make me feel beautiful, please."

"Kayla," he whispered her name, the word barely more than his exhaled breath. She'd pulled him to the bed and fallen back onto it herself, her hands reaching for him. He stood there, looking down at her, her hair messy, her tank top clinging to her.

"Nick, please," she said.

Carefully, he leaned over her, stretching his body to cover the length of hers. He used his hands to prop himself up over her, careful to keep his hips taught enough that he wouldn't press against her. He stared down into her eyes. "You already are beautiful," he said."

"Make me feel it," she begged. "Make me feel what you feel about me."

He felt like she was the universe. He felt like she was the sun. He felt like she was the center of everything. He leaned down and pressed his mouth on her mouth, passionately kissing her and feeling her body move, trying to kiss back, to increase the passion, but he kept her paced, pulling back too far or turning his face, making it last, keeping it calm and wonderful, knowing there would be plenty of time for fast, hot, and desperate in the future. Right now, it was about something other than the actual act itself.

Kayla's hands took hold of Nick's shirt and pulled it over his head, breaking their kiss for just a moment. She reached hungrily to reconnected their mouths, but Nick had turned his head to the side, and she ended up kissing his neck instead, over and over, sucking on the skin. "What if Zoe walks in here right now?" Nick murmured. "She's just downstairs with Brian."

"Let her," Kayla said, her voice husky.

"Kayla," Nick whispered, "Are you sure you want to do this right now?"

She stopped kissing his neck. She looked up at him. "You don't want to do it," she said.

Nick looked at her, "I wanna do it more than anything," he assured her.

"Just not with me," Kayla stammered. She pushed him off her so he was on the bed next to her.

He wasn't sure how she'd made that leap. "Kayla," he said, "No." He rolled so he could look at her and slid his arm across her abdomen. "I just want to do it when we can do it right. I want to bring you out to dinner first and buy you roses and have candles and champagne and strawberries dipped in chocolate and..." he smiled, "I sound like a Valentine's Day advertisement."

Kayla looked at him. "I'm scared Nick."

"Why?"

"I've never... before," she whispered, "And... yesterday, I was so scared that... he... was going to be my first time. Like that." Kayla bit her lips. "Nick, I was so scared because I want my first time to be with you."

Nick hadn't been expecting that. He felt his toes curl at the idea of what she was saying to him, and he rubbed her stomach gently. "That's all the more reason to wait and do it right."

"But what if someone else attacks me before we do?" she asked, fear crawling into her voice.

Nick shook his head. "I won't let that happen."

Kayla imagined the lion that Nick had become in the alley, the taught muscles in his arms and neck when he'd tensed up, ready to defend her. "Okay," she relented, and went to bury her face in his chest, to smell him.

He caught her chin with his hand, though, and kept her looking into his eyes for a long moment. "I want this to be special, you and me," he said. "I'm not gonna lie to you, Kayla. I've been with a lot of women. But a lot of them were one night stands and drunken mistakes and... just meaningless," his eyes searched hers, waiting for her to change her mind, to not want to be with him at all. "I really, really want to do it right with you, every step of the way through this relationship." He took a deep breath, "I want it to be different because I'm sober, and because I love you too much to take advantage of you in any way. Okay?"

"I love you, too," Kayla answered.

Nick kissed the side of her head softly. "God I'm crazy."

"What?" she asked, turning her head to look at him again.

"I just turned down sex with the hottest woman I know," he said, "I'm like the biggest guy failure ever."

Kayla laughed, "You're the sweetest one ever."

Nick smiled.



Zoe was staring at the table, Brian was watching a fly buzzing against the window. "That's it," Zoe said, getting up. Brian turned to look at her. "I'm going to go see what they're doing up there."

"Talking?" Brian guessed feebly.

Zoe rolled her eyes, "Oh I'm sure." She made her way up the stairs and knocked on the door to Kayla's room. When no answer came, she turned the knob and pushed it opened. On the bed was Nick and Kayla, her back pressed into his chest, curled around each other, his face buried in her hair and his arms around her shoulders, her hands clasping his hands to her, asleep.

Brian looked over Zoe's shoulder at the two of them and smirked.

Zoe sighed. "Okay, so they're sleeping." Part of her wanted to tear Nick apart for being that close to her - and uh, where the hell his shirt, by the way? - but the other part couldn't help but notice that Kayla's mouth was curled into a contented smile as she slept.

Chapter Seventy-Three
Point of View: Kayla

I woke up from a nightmare of Leon's face - jeering at me like an evil clown. My eyes were unfocused and I could feel sweat pouring off me. But just before I threw myself up and out of bed, I realized Nick's arms were around me and I stopped short, settling back into him without ever having disturbed him.

It felt nice, having his body so close to mine, pressed against me the way it was. I could feel his breath against my scalp and it made me smile, knowing he was breathing was enough at this moment. I clung to his hands, keeping them safely placed on the center of my abdomen.

I'm not sure what part of the moment he felt, I assume my tension and release, because he mumbled into my hair, "What's wrong?"

"You're here, nothing is wrong now," I whispered back.

"I wish I could stay here forever," he answered. Something about the way he said it sounded so sad, so desperate.

I rolled in his arms toward him, feeling his hand smoothly sail over my hip onto my bottom as I turned. I put my own arms under his, onto his back, and stared up at him. "Why can't we?" I asked, kissing his chin.

Nick looked down at me and I realized there were tears in his eyes. "Kayla, I dunno what's going to happen to me," he whispered.

A million panicked ideas went through my head. "How do you mean?" I asked.

"I'm going to the police today," he whispered quietly, eyes focused on my hair, not my face. "I -" he sighed and took a deep breath, "I know what happened to Krystal."

"What happened?" I asked, sitting up.

He looked up at me, and rolled onto his back. I couldn't help but let my eyes scan the expanse of his chest. His muscles were defined, and as my eyes roamed over him, I caught sight of my old Millennium poster in the corner of the room. My face felt sooo hot...

Nick followed my gaze, pausing the conversation to see what had made me turn so red. He let out a low chuckle, "I saw that earlier," he admitted.

"Oh God," I leaned forward and pressed my face into the pillow beside his head.

He was still laughing as he rolled over and said directly in my ear, "I guess I know why you knew I Need You Tonight now, huh?"

"Oh God," I moaned.

Nick kissed the side of my head, "At least it isn't like freaking NSYNC or something," he joked.

Thank you God, I thought, For having me taken that one down.

Nick's tone returned to being serious like a light switch, though, and he said, "I was there, I saw it. They're right, I was driving alongside her, and my tires are going to match the ones they thought drove her off the road."

"What?" I looked up, the embarrassment replaced now with concern. "What do you mean?"

His face was solemn. "The night Krystal died, after you and Zoe dropped me off at my house, she was there. That was the night she messed everything up in there, remember?"

"Yes." The next day was the day we had coffee in your driveway and you almost kissed me. Yes, yes I remember that.

"Well, she was buzzed, and I got mad at her, and she left because she thought I was judging her. But I tried to make her stay, out in the driveway, we had an argument..." he sighed, "So... I..." Nick's eyes flicked away so I couldn't look at them. "I did a line in the living room --"

"So you've relapsed twice," I said with concern, thinking of the afternoon he spent with me.

Nick frowned, "Only those two times, though."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded.

"Okay. So what happened?"

"So I got high and I called Krystal and told her to come back, because now I was high, too. I didn't want her driving and I thought it would make it better if I was high. And... I dunno, the rest is kind of blurry, but when I was passed out yesterday the memory kind of came to me."

I nodded, "It's in your sub-conscious."

"Exactly," Nick answered. "Anyway, I went to her house, we argued. She was pregnant, but not by me..."

I blinked in surprise, "Who then?"

"I dunno, Dennis? Daryl?" he asked, "I don't remember his name, he was a dancer on her tour."

"Desi," I said. I remembered seeing them together after Nick had gone to rehab on Entertainment Tonight.

Nick gave me a funny look, as if wondering how I knew that, before he continued, "Anyway, she was suicidal. I didn't run her off the road, she drove off the road and I pulled over to try to help, but she was already gone by the time I pulled over."

I frowned, "Well you shouldn't be in any trouble then, I mean if she did it herself..."

"I'm the only one that saw it, Kayla," Nick said, his voice thick. "What if they ask me to prove it? What if they need proof she was suicidal? I don't got any proof of that..."

"How would they expect you to prove that?" I demanded.

Nick shrugged, "But if they do, I'm kinda screwed. I mean, all the evidence and motive and everything is stacked against me..."

I suddenly understood what he was saying. "Nick, they can't put you in jail," I cried, hugging him and pressing myself against him, "Please, don't let them do that."

Nick laughed, of all responses. "Kayla, trust me, I'm trying not to, even without you having to ask me..." he ran a hand over my hair and smiled sadly. "I'm scared."

A knock on the door made me turn, pulling the blanket up to Nick's chin so his bare chest wasn't showing, and pushed myself across the bed, to the end, flinging my legs over the edge, before calling, "Come in!"

Aunt Zoe came in, followed closely by Nick's friend Brian, who looked thoroughly amused. He leaned against the door jamb, and Zoe squinted at us. "You can stop with the innocent act," she said, "I saw you two all touchy curled up before." Zoe's hand pointed accusingly at Nick, "Put your shirt on, young man."

"Yes ma'm," Nick rolled off the bed and hit the floor with thud, scrambling for the shirt I'd thrown across the room.

"Nick, we gotta get going," Brian said, looking at his watch, "You got to get to the station."

Nick nodded, "Okay, Frick."

Zoe pointed at me, "And you. You haven't eaten all day. I made beef stew. You need to come downstairs and eat."

"I'm not hungry," I started to whine, but Nick came over and pecked me on the forehead. "Go eat," he admonished before the words were all the way out of my mouth.

"Don't I at least get a real hug?" I pleaded.

Nick looked at Zoe, who feigned annoyance, but smiled as she turned to the door. Brian was smirking from the door jamb at his friend, and had to be herded away by Zoe. I looked at Nick. He was already staring down at me with those beautiful blue eyes. "I'll be back, okay?" he whispered.

"I love you," I said.

"I love you, too," he answered. He kissed me, lightly and respectfully compared to some of the kisses we'd shared in the past couple hours. Then, Nick leaned in and wrapped his arms around me tightly and squeezed like a little kid. When he pulled back he had a big grin on his face. "Bye baby." And with that, he bounded out the door.

I fell back onto the bed, wondering when I'd see him next, and how I was gonna get out of eating Zoe's beef stew.

Chapter Seventy-Four
Point of View: Narrator

Brian was waiting on a bench in the hall of the police station, waiting for Nick to come back out. He'd picked up a magazine from a side table and was flipping through it. He looked up when he heard footsteps coming down the hall and felt his stomach drop. Officer Walters was leading Nick along through the hall by his elbow, Nick's hands behind his back, his eyes focused on his feet.

Brian stood up, "What's going on?" he demanded.

"I'm being arrested," Nick said, his voice low, "Again." Officer Walters pulled Nick along past Brian.

Brian turn and trotted after him, "What do you mean?" Officer Walters stopped so suddenly, making Nick stop quick, that Brian almost ran into his friend's back. "Nick, didn't you tell him what happened?"

"We already knew Mr. Carter was at the scene at the time of death," said Officer Walters shortly, "He was wanted as a suspect for the murder of Krystal Armaletto," he explained. "He's also up for a trial involving an assault charge." Officer Walters turned and whispered something to a woman at a desk behind bullet proof glass. He looked at Brian, "We're going to be detaining Mr. Carter until we can go to court to settle this."

Brian glanced between Nick and Officer Walters, "What? That's bull," he stammered, "Nick? Go to jail? This is crazy."

"Mr. Carter doesn't exactly have the cleanest record," Officer Walters said, shrugging, "The legal system has to do what it has to do. You'll have an opportunity to post bail after the arraignment." He took Nick's arm and started to lead him away again. Brian started to follow, but they reached a door and Officer Walters stopped, "You're not welcome beyond this point. You can talk to the secretary if you need more information."

Brian stopped in his tracks. "I'll be calling his lawyer," he said, scowling, and he watched, dumbfounded, as Walters brought Nick through the heavy door and Nick's hands twitched nervously behind his back.

Walters led Nick through the hallway, which echoed ridiculously with every step they took. Nick had never felt so alone in his whole life. He focused on his sneakers as they padded down the hall, watching how his feet lifted and fell with each step. "We'll be booking you in here, right this way," Officer Walters led him into a small room. The door locked automatically behind them, and Nick winced.

They took his fingerprints and Nick signed the paper. After asking him some questions and looking up records that they printed off, and Officer Walters did a quick body search. They had him stand against the wall, where they took his mug shot. He was biting his lower lip, his eyes almost pleading in it, the scruff of his unshaven chin darker than he'd realized before seeing the image. They added it to his file and Nick was led through the halls again to a holding cell.

"You'll be waiting here until your arraignment," Officer Walters told him, "It may be a couple hours." He closed the door and Nick sat there, leaning against the wall, shaking.



Zoe was sitting on the couch with Kayla, who was picking at her bowl of beef stew only half heartedly. Zoe frowned, flicking through the channels. "So you are Nick were awfully comfortable this morning," she said carefully as the pictures danced across the screen. Cartoon, cartoon, music video, news, news, news, cartoon, Full House...

"Yeah," Kayla nodded, taking a carrot out of her bowl and letting it drip the beef juice off before tossing it into her mouth.

Zoe cleared her throat. Buffy the Vampire Slayer rerun, MASH, news, news, Spanish soap opera. "How, uh, how close have you two... gotten?" she asked.

Kayla looked up, "Oh ew, you're not seriously asking me about our sex life are you?" Zoe turned red. "Aunt Zoeee," Kayla whined, "I'm a grown up, seriously."

"I just worry about you," Zoe said sharply, "And I'm allowed to worry as long as you're under my roof, no matter how old you are."

Kayla rolled her eyes. "Well, if you must know, we haven't... yet."

"Yet?" Zoe asked, the channels still flicking. Animal Planet, History Channel, game show, game show, another soap opera, news, news... "What do you mean yet?" she dropped the remote, landing on Fox News channel.

"I mean we're waiting until the time is right," Kayla said with a shrug.

"And you've told Nick this? He's aware that you want to wait?" Zoe asked, concerned.

Kayla laughed, "Aunt Zoe, enough with the interrogation already, please. Seriously. Besides, it was Nick who told me he wanted to wait."

This shocked Zoe into next week. "Say what?" she asked, "Are you kidding me?"

Kayla shook her head, "He said he wants it to be special with me," she explained slowly. "He was very honest, and open about it, actually." Her smile warmed her face and she put the bowl of soup down on the coffee table beside her. "Nick was a perfect gentleman, and I was just throwing myself all over him, and pulling his shirt off and everything, and he just was so sweet, and so respectful, and ---" her eyes flashed to the TV screen and widened in horror.

Zoe turned. Nick's mug shot was center screen. Backstreet Boys' Nick Carter Arrested for Murder of Krystal Armaletto was written boldly under the image.

"No!" Kayla yelled, jumping to her feet, "NO! He didn't DO it!" she screamed at the TV, her voice pitched high.

Zoe turned the volume up.

"...arrived at the station today, a little after 2:00 PM. Carter's band-mate and best friend, Brian Littrell, accompanied him into the station, where he was planning on making a confession. Littrell, who was seen leaving the station a little more than an hour later, was quoted as saying," the quote showed up on the screen, a picture of a flushed looking Brian over it, "'Nick came to confess being at the scene of Krystal's death, not to take the blame for it. He didn't do this. He just didn't do it.'" The screen flashed back to the reporter, the mug shot hanging in the corner of the screen, the awful headline right below it. "Carter, who had been dating Armaletto for quite some time before the time of her death, was a suspect in the case early on, as he was the last known person to have seen Armaletto alive. During the autopsy, Armaletto was discovered to have been pregnant. The morning after Armaletto's death, Carter filed a report stating that Armaletto had ransacked his Beverly Hills home, forty minutes before the estimated time of death. Armaletto tested positive for a high blood alcohol content. Recent findings in the case came from forensic scientists who successfully matched Carter's 2009 Chevy Camaro to treadmarks near the scene, suggesting that Armaletto was forced off the road by another vehicle."

Kayla had her face covered, shaking her head violently, trying to block it out.

"Carter is currently being detained by the Los Angeles Police Department and will be brought to his first arraignment within the next twenty-four hours, at which point bail - if any - will be set and posted. Now let's get our panelists in here and talk about what the likelihood is of these charges being held against Carter..."

Zoe muted the TV and looked at Kayla. "Kay?" she asked.

Kayla turned around and looked at Zoe, her eyes stony, instead of full of tears and Zoe had expected. "Why can't they just leave him alone?" she cried, loudly. "He's trying so hard to clean up! He's trying so hard." She shook her head, "Can't they see that?"

Zoe frowned, "I know he's trying, I've seen it, too. And he's going to be okay, Kayla, he will" She sighed. "He's just got to get through this first. That's all, baby girl."

Kayla shook her head and pointed at the TV, where they were showing pictures of the outside of the jail they would be keeping Nick in if he wasn't offered bail. "They'll break him in there," she said, her voice shaking just a little. "He's too gentle."

If she was honest with herself, Zoe would've agreed. But she bucked up for Kayla, "Nick's a strong guy, he can take it," she said.

Kayla turned and ran up the stairs, and Zoe heard her bedroom door slam. She looked back at the TV. They were showing a close up of Nick's mug shot, the sad, pleading eyes staring out at her, hauntingly.

"Oh Nick," she sighed, "What the hell am I going to do with you?"

Chapter Seventy-Five
Point of View: Nick


The arraignment was a blur. There was a lot of talking and people saying that I did things that I didn't, and no chance to argue, or to explain. The judge didn't like me, that was clear from the instant I was dragged into the room until the very last second, when she refused to set bail. The only break she gave me was placing me under house arrest with an ankle band instead of throwing me into the jail itself - and this was only granted because every one knew Leon was out for my blood in the jail and if I'd ever run into him there he would've messed me up really bad - or worse.

So I was stuck in the house 24-hours a day with several large cops. One hung out inside and supposedly there were a couple outside my door as well. The terms were that I stayed there instead of the jail. I was allowed monitored visits from friends, and private visits from Dr. Haseltine, who was the first to come to my door.

We sat in the kitchen while the officer hovered in the foyer, just barely out of ear shot. Dr. Haseltine's eyes were solid on me as I rotated a class of cranberry juice on the table in front of me. "How are you, Nick?" he asked, his voice low with concern.

"I'm freakin' out," I admitted, glancing down at the heavy ankle band that monitored every move I made. The little red light blinked up at me. I sighed. "I didn't do this, and I dunno how to make them see that."

Dr. Haseltine frowned, "I'm very glad that you at least came clean," he said, "It shows progression in your healing that you are comfortable enough to admit your mistakes." He leaned back. "A lot of patients suppress failures and hide them so deeply that they themselves forget the truth." He marked some stuff down on his trusty legal pad.

"I did for a long time," I pointed out.

"But you allowed it to return, too," he said.

"How do I prove to them that she wanted to die?" I asked.

Dr. Haseltine sighed, "I don't know, Nick," he admitted.

Later that day, Zoe and Kayla came over under supervision. Kayla flung herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and sobbing as she kissed every fraction of the surface of my face. She laid her palms on my cheeks and stared into my eyes. "I love you so much," she said, her eyes sad and lines on her own cheeks where tears had fallen down.

I smiled, warmed by the words, and hugged her to me. The officer waved us apart, though, a scowl on his face. "Too close," he said.

Kayla looked ready to burst into tears as we separated. I stood a couple feet away, awkwardly. Zoe sighed. "Did you call your lawyers?" she asked me. As always, her mind was on the technicalities and details.

I nodded, "Well, Brian did," I explained.

Kayla was staring at the band on my ankle. I smirked, trying to lighten the mood. "Quite the accessory, huh?" I fashion modeled my leg. "It's all the rage in Japan."

"It's ugly," she muttered, "Like they needed to keep tabs on you with that thing with the amount of paparazzi and photographers out front." Kayla shook her head.

"There's press outside?" I asked, my heart slowing. I frowned. I hadn't even looked out the windows; I wasn’t positive I was allowed to. After all, cable was monitored times only, even the radio was limited.

Kayla nodded, "At the end of the driveway.

Zoe rolled her eyes, "They're vicious, too, the lot of them."

"Yeah," I sighed, "They usually are." I didn't like the idea of photogs being all around the outside of my house.

“They almost broke the Prius window,” Zoe continued.

I sighed, “I’m sorry Zoe,” I apologized, “I’ll pay for any damages they caused.” I imagined the banged-up look that my cars usually had after encountering fans and paparazzi. The Prius was probably in really crappy condition.

Zoe flicked her wrist carelessly, “Don’t worry about it, you have enough on your mind right now.”

Too true.

Kayla’s eyes welled up as the cop cleared his throat, indicating it was time to depart. I frowned and waved as they inched to the door. My throat felt constricted. I wanted to hug her… so bad…

I looked at the cop. “Please,” I asked, “Just one hug? Please?”

He shook his head no, sternly.

I closed my eyes and had to take a deep breath to keep from crying. Kayla blinked rapidly. “I love you.” She bolted out the door, Zoe pausing to stare after her.

Zoe turned back to me as the tears started to fall over my cheeks. She sighed. “Oh Nick,” she said, shaking her head, “Don’t cry. It will be okay.”

I swiped my tears with the back of my hand, “How?” I asked, seeking the specifics.

“I don’t know how,” Zoe shrugged, “I just know.”

Chapter Seventy-Six
Point of View: Zoe

I stared at Nick. He looked like a little boy who had just fallen down and scraped his knee, with big crocodile tears coming down his face and the most hopeless expression on his face as he looked at me, waiting for me to give him an answer that would put the world back together, the way a child expects a parent to be able to do.

I did the best I could.

I looked at the cop. "Can't you just look away long enough for this guy to get a hug?" I demanded.

The cop looked at me and gave me a once over. Shockingly... he turned.

Nick's face was one of shock. "Well," I said, leaning my crutches against the wall by the door. "Don't make me walk over there, Carter."

He bounded across the space between us and into my open arms, bending low so I could reach him, and pressing his face into the top of my shoulder. I could feel his tears dampening my blouse the moment he made contact. I rubbed his back, and he just stood there, soaking it up.

"Oh, Nick," I sighed, resting my chin on his shoulder, my heart shattering for him as he cried into my shoulder.

The cop turned back around and watched us silently, his lips pursed, eyes cold, but not speaking to break it up. He let Nick stay there for several more long minutes, shaking in my arms.

"Honey," I said after what had to have been at least five to ten minutes of the hug. The cop was looking irritated. I let my hand slip from his back and he reluctantly stood up, wiping his eyes, and handed me my crutches before backing away from me, sniffling. His face was all red.

If Davey had lived, I thought, he would've looked a lot like Nick by now.

I swallowed, in utter disbelief that I'd let those words go through my head.

I shifted my hands on the rests of my crutches uncomfortably. "We'll come back tomorrow to see you, Nick," I said, turning around to the door.

"Zoe?" Nick called after me before the door closed.

I paused. "Yes?"

"I love you," he said simply.

He didn't mean it like he meant it when he said it to Kayla, he didn't mean it in any strange/seductive/sexual way at all, and I knew it. He meant it like he would've meant it speaking to a parent.

I looked up at him. "I love you, too, Nick," I answered.

He smiled sadly. "Thank you."

The fact that he felt the need to say thank you for a parental love shattered my heart into pieces even more than the giant crocodile tears had.



Kayla was curled up in the passenger seat of the Prius when I got out there, the seat buckle around her, her feet up on the chair, hair pooling over her face and knees like a curtain. When I opened the door she looked up and watched as I slid in. She reached for my crutches and put them in the back seat for me as I adjusted the safety belt and checked the mirrors methodically.

"Do you remember David?" I asked.

Kayla blinked in surprise. "What?"

"David," I said, feeling a ball rise in my throat. "You were maybe three last time you would have seen him. You probably don't remember him."

"Who was he?" Kayla asked, her eyes searching the air in front of her as though scanning photographs in her memory.

"He was a very kind man that I dated a very long time ago," I answered.

Kayla's eyes lit up. "The guy with the yellow sweater," she said, clicking her fingers and pointing at me, "Right?"

I smiled sadly, remembering the sweater she meant. "Yes... the yellow sweater." I turned to the wheel of the Prius and hit the power button, intending to completely drop the topic there. I shifted into drive and the Prius slowly made the circle around the water fountain. At the gates to Nick's property, which had been closed by the officers that stood on either side of them, toting guns, a huge herd of frenzied paparazzi and photographers waved their arms and stuck their cameras through the rungs for pictures of the house.

"What made you bring him up?" Kayla asked.

"Nick looks a lot like him, I didn't realize it before today," I explained.

Kayla thought for a long moment in silence as I waved to the scowling officer and he opened the gate, shouting at the photographers to step back. The Prius inched into the throng of them. They pressed their cameras against the windows frantically, lights flashing. I stuck one hand up between my face and the window - a certain finger a loft - and kept my eyes straight ahead, trying not to run over any of the assholes that remained glued to the front of the Prius as I forced my way out of Nick's driveway. Kayla had dropped her face back into her knees to hide from them.

Once I'd pushed through them and started driving at a normal pace - though a couple of them had followed along in non-descript black vehicles - Kayla looked up from her knees again. "What happened to him anyways? I mean obviously you broke up," she said.

"Yeah, we broke up," I said, though it wasn't entirely the truth.

Kayla nodded. She paused. "Is this some kind of you-need-to-break-up-with-Nick chat you're working up to or something? Because if it is, I gotta tell you, it isn't going to happen."

"It isn't," I said, shaking my head, "And I would never think that it would." I looked at Kayla for the briefest of seconds as I came to a stop at a red light. "Remember how reluctant I was for you to go out with Nick to begin with? How protestant I was?"

"Yes," Kayla nodded.

"I was stupid," I admitted. I took Kayla's hand. "Nick is a very, very, very rare treasure," I said. "Keep that in mind, okay?" I smiled sadly, "They only come along once in a life time... and when they do, whether they stay in your life or they leave... you're never the same afterwards."

Kayla was looking into my face, her eyes slightly confused, but she nodded. "Okay."

I let her hand go as the light turned green and continued the drive home. When we got there, we made our exodus to the kitchen and put together a salad for dinner, which we sat in silence at the table to eat. I glanced at the chair Nick usually sat in, and caught Kayla doing the same thing. She sighed, her salad only half finished. "I'm tired," she said, getting up. She stuck the plate into the fridge, "I'm going to bed."

"At seven thirty?" I asked.

"Maybe I'll read in bed," she shrugged. "Night Aunt Zoe."

"Night baby-girl," I answered as she left the room.

The sound of the fork scraping the plate as I poked at the lettuce and finished off the salad before me sounded loud. When I was done, I put the plate into the dish washer and, since the washer was full, started it up. The hum of the washer filled the room, and I imagined a teddy bear I'd given Zara when she was pregnant with Kayla. The bear had a sound box in it's belly that made the sound of a uterus, like an ultrasound, which was supposed to comfort a baby when it cried for the first few weeks after birth.

I sat back down and stared at Nick's seat a little longer.

Finally, I stood up and got the phone and sat back down.

It would take a little while to find her... but there was someone I needed to talk to.

Chapter Seventy-Seven
Point of View: Narrator

It took an exceedingly long time, but finally Zoe listened to the tone as somewhere in the state of Florida a phone rang at an entirely inappropriate hour of the night.

"Hello?" a blurry voice answered the phone.

Zoe took a deep breath, "Hello, is Jane there?"

"Speaking?"

"Jane, my name is Zoe Sinclaire. I'm calling regarding your son, Nick."

In Florida, Jane Carter sat up and flipped on the light on her night stand. Her boyfriend shifted next to her on the bed, pulling a pillow over his head to block out the lamp's glare. Jane clutched the blankets to her chest. "What about him? Is this the Los Angeles police department?" she asked.

"No, I'm a --"

"Because if this is the LAPD and you need a character background of Nick or a testimony, I'm going to have to go through my lawyer." She paused.

"I'm not calling from LAPD, I'm a --"

"Reporter?" she guessed, "I don't do interviews. Unless you're willing to pay for it..."

"Pay for it? What?" Zoe asked in disbelief.

"Well I suppose I can do an interview," her voice wasn't even a little reluctant. Jane twirled her hair around her finger, "Well my son is a very, very complicated man..." she paused, then sighed dramatically, "I've never been so worried for him.. in all my life... Locked up in his own home... alone..." she was squeaking now.

"I'm not--" Zoe tried again.

"I can't believe the justice system! Breaking up our family like this," she muttered. "I'm not even allowed to visit him..."

Zoe interjected quickly, "I'm a friend of Nick's, I'm not conducting an interview, I'm calling because I wanted to talk to you about your son."

Jane froze, her hand clutching the phone to her ear. A friend of Nick's? she thought, disdainfully. What a waste of time and perfectly good quotes.

"Can I talk to you about Nick?" Zoe asked.

"No, I'm sorry, not right now," Jane answered, "It's much too late, and I'm very busy. Good bye." She hung up.

Zoe held the phone away from her ear and stared at it in disbelief.

Nick's thank you seemed somehow even more poignant now.



Outside a club in Los Angeles, wobbly from too much alcohol, Desi stumbled along the sidewalk, pausing to puke in a bush. A couple of scantily clad women walked by, laughing at him as they teetered on their stilettos. Desi leaned against the pole that held up a stop sign and pressed his cheek against the cool metal as neon lights flashed around him dizzingly.

It seemed impossible to believe that just a couple months ago he'd been entangled in a bed in the penthouse suites of fancy hotels all over the United States, having crazy, steamy sex with a beautiful, successful woman. Krystal had been coveted by every red blooded man in America - and most every other country, too, for that matter - and he had been the one that got to have her every night after her shows, untying the long strand of leather that twined around her to make up her last 'costume' of the night on stage. He could remember the taste and feeling of her, and the way she was always so pliable under his touch when she'd taken too much drugs and passed out on the bed.

He was pretty sure that's how she'd ended up pregnant.

Desi slid to the ground, his back against a random car, and blinked his eyes sleepily, staring up at a large, illuminated Burger King sign.

Krystal had kicked him out after he called an ambulance upon finding her, drenched in blood, in the bathroom at the last stop of the tour, clutching her wrist. "Tell them it was a false alarm, tell them someone else called," she demanded when they knocked on the door. Desi had wandered to the door and acted confused, perplexed, that someone had called 911 and sent them to their hotel room. "You've got the wrong room," he'd lied.

"Don't you ever tell anyone about this," Krystal demanded.

Desi rubbed his forehead and slipped sideways onto the cement. The grittiness of the ground felt interesting on his cheek and he hummed as he fell asleep, passing out on the streets of Los Angeles, which had become his home over the last couple months.

Ever since he got that phone call from Krystal.

He pulled out his cellphone and called his voicemail, playing the old message for about the hundredth time.



Leon was pacing. The radio was crackling, but through the static he could hear them talking about Nick and his poor pitiful self in his big fat mansion under house arrest and how the photographers had clustered outside of it. Nick, the reason he was stuck in this cell for 160 days.

"Carter was placed under house arrest after he expressed a legitimate reason to fear for his life, should he be placed in the Los Angeles corrections center. After the dramatic arrest of his girlfriend, Kayla Sinclaire's exboyfriend, for assault charges less than a week ago, the singer expressed his fear that the ex might strike back if given the opportunity..."

"Fuck right I would," snarled Leon, spitting at the radio, where it was laying on his cot. "Damn fuckin' straight." He kicked the barred door of his cell and leaned against it, sticking his arm out the door, banging on it loudly. "You hear that?" he yelled into the dead air around him. Guys from other cells were yelling back complaints. "If I ever get a hold of that guy, he's fuckin' dead!"



Nick was laying on the floor in his living room on his back, legs up on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. The officer stood a few feet away. Nick was exhausted. He'd spent the entire morning trying to get the guy to smile. It was like the British guards with the fuzzy hats. The guy wouldn't crack.

Nick glanced at him. "Do you talk at least?"

No answer.

He stared at the guy.

Nothing.

"God damn it," Nick muttered, flopping his arms out on either side of him. "I'm bored," he complained. "No I'm worse than bored. What's worse than bored?" he looked at the cop. Still nothing. "You're like a rock," he complained. He sighed. He stared at the ceiling again. He sighed again. He looked at the blinking red light on his ankle. He looked at the cop. "This sucks."

"It's supposed to," the cop muttered.

Nick jumped up, "You do speak." He walked over and stood right in front of the guy, staring at him closely. "Speak again."

Nothing.

He sighed. "I didn't even do it," he said, turning away. He threw himself dramatically on the sofa, propping up his head on the far arm, so he was still staring at the cop. "I really didn't."

The cop didn't respond again.

Nick sighed and rolled over, burying his face in the cushion.



"The most we're going to be able to reduce this charge to, without some really solid proof that she killed herself, is a manslaughter charge instead of the homicide that they're trying to pin on him now," the lawyer's voice was deep and apologetic.

Brian squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead, "Come on, you're like super lawyer, you're supposed to pull rainbows out of your ass and make good things happen, like the Care Bears or something."

"I'm sorry, Brian," the lawyer answered, "But there's a lot of evidence piling against him, and the fact that he waited so long to come forward --"

"He didn't remember!" Brian interjected.

"It doesn't matter. He can't prove that he didn't remember. It looks like he took time to make up a good story."

"Nick would never do that," Brian argued.

The lawyer sighed, "Look, I get that. You know that, I know that. The judge? She doesn't know that."

"I'll do a testimony," Brian said quickly, "I'll testify that he's not like that."

"Brian, thats sweet, but you're his best friend. Of course you'd defend him. Get an enemy - get someone whose opinion isn't biased to say that and maybe you've got a character statement, but the judge already hates him. If we parade a bunch of his friends up there to testify for him, she's gonna chuck him in jail in spite."

Brian sighed and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Manslaughter won't get him life, which homicide could. He'd be out within five to ten years."

Brian felt his blood run cold through his veins. "You put Nick in jail for five to ten years and he's gonna die."

"He won't die, they have a nice facility..."

"He might live physically through it, but he'd die emotionally, if nothing else. Besides, you know the horror stories you hear about jail..." he paused, "Nick's a pretty boy, let's face it. You know what would happen in there."

"We could ask for a facility that would be a bit more understanding of the situation than this corrections facility."

"We need to find proof that Krystal killed herself," Brian said, "Because Nick going to jail is not an option."

The lawyer sighed, "Well, good luck with that. They already combed her house and there was nothing to suggest that she was suicidal there." Brian closed his eyes. There had to be something that would help... something that could get Nick cleared.