Reality Check - Chapter Five

TROPICANA EMPLOYEE PARKING.

That was the sign that flew past Nick’s window as Brian wheeled into the parking lot.

“Okay you guys are setting up some weird practical joke on me, but judas Brian, Tropicana? I mean I love OJ but this place is so sickly sweet smelling!”

“Why do you keep saying ‘you guys?’ Nick just knock it off, we’re late and Steve is going to kill us,” Brian stated after he pulled into a parking space and killed the engine. He reached around into the back seat and pulled up a lunch pail.

“Yep and Fred Flinstone goes to work in the quarry,” Nick snickered.

Brian exited the vehicle and Nick practically had to run to catch up with him. Brian walked on, intent on getting into the door to the factory. “You realize you left your chips and soda in the car,” he pointed out.

“Yeah like I’m going to be needing them,” Nick chuckled.

“You will be at lunch,” came the reply. Brian didn’t look at Nick, only pulled a slim white card from the rack and placed it under a red line on a clock that hung on the wall. “Aren’t you gonna punch in?”

“Punch in for what?” Nick asked innocently.

Brian sighed. “So you get paid for today, smart one.”

Nick stood in front of the columns of cards, his mouth hanging open. He was clueless as to what he needed to do.

Brian stepped in front of him and pulled a card out. “See, it says right here, Carter, Nickolas G. Do you think that just maybe that could be your time card? You have to punch yourself in, that’s against policies for me to.”

Taking the card from Brian, Nick noticed that it was almost full. The day was Friday, and it appeared that they punched in and out times on this card for almost two weeks. “Boy this sure is an elborate plan,” Nick smirked. He placed the card beneath the red line and pushed the card in. He was rewarded with a humming noise and a loud clank from the clock.

“Good going ace, you punched in over Tuesday’s time,” Brian observed.

“Yeah oh well, guess I won’t get paid that day,” Nick laughed it off and put the card back into the slot that Brian had taken it from.

“Carter! Littrell! In my office, NOW,” a man yelled as he stepped in front of Nick and Brian.

“See, I told you Steve would be waiting for us,” Brian hissed at Nick. “I can’t afford to lose my job.” He glanced back at Nick’s reaction and wasn’t too pleased to notice his non-chalant attitude about the whole thing.

“Well, you two seem to think that Tropicana runs on your time schedule and you want to show up when you feel like it. You have been consistantly late every day this week. Some days it’s fifteen minutes and other days it’s been ten or even thirty.”

“I’m really sorry about that, Steve,” Brian apologized.

“Sorry don’t cut it. I think you just need a few days off, it’s obvious that you must be needing sleep and maybe this will correct the problem,” Steve continued.

“No, please reconsider this,” Brian begged. “I can’t afford any time off, I have a baby due and medical bills.”

“Well, you should have thought about that when you get up in the morning and get here late. Sorry guys, but you’re off all next week, without pay! He shoved two white envelopes toward Brian and Nick. “Here’s your paycheck you would have been getting on Saturday. Have a good, restful week.”

Clutching the envelope, Brian walked out of the office, his face beet red, flushed with anger. Nick followed behind him, a grin on his face but still following, looking like a lost puppy. Nick’s mouth dropped open when he saw AJ leaning against a vending machine, dressed in the same type of uniform that both he and Brian were wearing.

“Where you guys going? Shipping is in the other direction,” he rasped. Brian didn’t say a word as he walked past AJ.

“This is a funny joke, AJ, good touch,” Nick complimented.

"What’s the joke?” AJ called out as he watched them walk by. Nick didn’t have time to answer, he had to keep following Brian. He was wondering what turn the practical joke would be taking next. Once they arrived back to the car, he couldn’t help but notice Brian slumping over his steering wheel, his face a mask of emotions. “Are you feeling alright?”

Brian sighed loudly before he replied. “No Nick, no, I’m not okay. You just got us laid off without pay for a week. A weeks pay! I can’t afford this! I am going to have to find a side job for a week that will pay me cash under the table!”

“Come on Brian, jokes over, I think you’re taking this too seriously,” Nick remarked. Suddenly he remembered the envelope that contained his 'paycheck.' He tore it open and laughed at the amount.

“What’s so funny?”

“Okay, you guys have me making seven twenty-five an hour? No one makes only seven twenty-five an hour! And who the hell is FICA? Okay, what’s this? My check for seventy-six hours of work is only $352.64? That’s only about $175.00 a week! How could anyone live on that?”

“Evidentally you don’t know how to budget because you’re always broke. Better make that check work Nick cause the next check we will be short one week’s worth of pay so you will have to survive two weeks on about $175.00. Thanks, thanks alot.”

After going to the bank, Brian dropped Nick off at his apartment. “I guess I’ll see you in a week,” Brian stated before leaving Nick standing at the curb. Nick still didn’t understand the reality of the world he was now living in. He happily bounded up the steps to the apartment, letting himself in. His stomach growled, reminding him that he was hungry. He walked into the dirty kitchen and opened up cupboards only to discover they were bare. “Okay, I guess I just get some groceries with my $362.54,” Nick sighed. “But first I have to get out of this geekwear!” 

Once outside, Nick looked at the street sign hoping that he would be able to figure out exactly where he was. He met a woman on the sidewalk and decided to take a chance and ask her where the nearest grocery store was.

"Three blocks north," the woman replied after staring at him as if he had flown in on a spaceship.

"Thanks," Nick mumbled in reply as he stuck his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. Walking slowly down the street, Nick thought about the predicament the guys had placed him in with this elaborate practical joke they had set up. Nick wondered why they went to such lengths on staging a fake job, a fake apartment, the whole thing.

Grinning as he looked at the pay phone on the corner, Nick wondered if Brian's name could possibly be in the phone book. To his disappointment, he discovered that the booth had been stripped of a phone book.

"Just peachy!" Nick shouted as he kicked the door. "Okay, information, I'll just call information," he decided outloud. As he punched in 4-1-1 he mumbled, "Yeah, just wait, he will have an unlisted number."

An automated voice greeted Nick. "Please deposit twenty-five cents."

Obeying the command, he was rewarded with a new automated voice. "What city and state please?"

Nick's brow furrowed. He didn't know where he was exactly. With a stroke of genius, he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and took a glance at his "drivers license."

"Bradenton Florida."

The automated voice then asked what name Nick was in search of.

Nick rolled his eyes as he clearly stated, "Brian Littrell."

"One moment please," the automated voice droned.

"Hi this is the operator, could you please spell the last name?"

Nick quickly cleared his throat. "Oh, um, it's L-i-t-t-r-e-l-l, Brian."

"One moment please," the voice announced.

There was a click and suddenly Nick was once again rewarded with an automated voice. "The number you requested is area code 941-865-7898 and can be connected for an additional 65 cents. If you need further assistance, please remain on the line."

"SHIT, I don't have 65 cents!" Nick moaned. Hanging up the phone, he kept repeating Brian's phone number over and over so he wouldn't lose it. He quickly dialed 1-800-CALLATT figuring Brian would just have to accept a collect call since he stranded him in this stupid practical joke.

"Hello?" Brian quietly answered the phone.

"Hi this is the AT&T operator. Would you accept a collect call from, sir state your name?"

"Nick Carter," Nick announced confidently into the receiver.

"No."

Nick's eyes widened. "Brian! Come on! You can't...hello? hello? Dammit!" Slamming the receiver back onto the cradle, Nick stormed out of the phone booth. "How the hell can he do this to me? What an asshole!"

Just as he was about to give up all hope, Nick got another idea and hurried down the street towards the grocery store in search of a phone book and Brian's address.

"Fake or not, I'm going to find his ass!" he stated through gritted teeth.

With sweat beading on his forehead, Nick approached the automatic doors to the Publix grocery store. He was amazed that he managed to walk the three miles to get to the store without being stopped by anyone asking him for an autograph or a picture. He loved practical jokes, this one, he decided, seemed to be a little too weird for his tastes.

Although he was hungry, Nick needed to find out exactly what Brian's address was so he could confront him on the doorstep at his fake home. Standing in line at the courtesy desk, his mouth dropped open when he noticed the man behind the counter looked identical to Howie Dorough.

"No fricken way," Nick muttered as he approached the counter.

The Latino moved from the cash register to the front of the counter. "May I help you?"

Nick's eyes went from the kind brown eyes to the white Publix name tag pinned to the front of the man's white shirt. HOWIE D.

"Howie?"

Howie gave a blank stare, raising an eyebrow. "Yes? May I help you?"

"D....it's me.....knock it off."

"Have we met before?"

"Awe c'mon, this joke is going way too far, knock it off!"

"How much did Brian pay you to go along with this joke? I know you hate doing these things!"

"Sir, please---"

Nick rolled his eyes as he decided to play along with the game. "Its Nick."

Howie placed his hands on the countertop, palms down. "Alright Nick, if you need something please tell me, I have other customers waiting behind you."

"Do you have a phone book?"

Howie narrowed his eyes. "A phone book? This is a courtesy desk, I'm sure you can find a phone book in a phone booth!"

Nick leaned toward Howie. "Listen, there aren't any phone books anywhere and I need to know where Brian has set himself up at because he won't let me call him!"

"Probably because he knows you're a psychopath, now if I can't get you something you actually want to purchase, I need to ask you to leave. This is for customers only."

In desperation to get to a phone book, Nick scanned the courtesy area. "Okay a pack of Marlboro Reds and an instant lottery ticket and a phone book."

"Which instant lottery ticket do you want?"

"I don't give a shit, pick one out that looks pretty or something," Nick growled.

"Sir, there is no need to get snotty with me."

Howie pulled a random lottery ticket and the pack of cigarettes Nick asked for. "I need to see your ID."

"What the hell for?"

"To see if you're over eighteen."

"C'mon D, you know how old I am."

"No ID no cigarettes or lottery ticket," Howie replied, face void of expression.

Reaching into his back pocket, Nick produced his wallet and pulled out his Florida license.

Howie took the license and glanced at it and then at Nick. "Thank you," he stated as he handed the object back. "That will be six fifty."

"What about the phone book?"

Howie sighed as he reached under the counter, pulling out the thick Bradenton area phone book. "Six fifty please?"

Pulling a ten dollar bill from the wallet, Nick handed it to Howie. "I can't believe how you are taking this practical joke thing this far."

"Fifty makes seven.....eight....nine.....and ten."

"Oh for chrissake," Nick muttered, wadding the money up and shoving it into his front pocket, grabbing the phone book as he moved away from the counter.

"Sir, don't forget to take your things," Howie called out.

"Just a sec," Nick growled as he flipped through the residental phone numbers section until he came to Brian's name and address. Not trusting himself in trying to memorize what he needed, Nick tore the page out of the phone book. Shoving the book back at Howie, he grabbed the pack of smokes and the lottery ticket. "Thanks D, you've been a real help."

It wasn't until he was outside of the grocery store did Nick look at the address on sheet of paper. He had no clue as to where the street was and decided the best way to get there would be to call a taxi. Patting his pockets, Nick realized he only had fifty cents. There was no way he'd go back into the grocery store with evil Howie D giving him grief in this eleborate prank. Looking across the parking lot, he spied a McDonald's in walking distance.

His mouth was watering as he entered the busy restaurant. He was still blown away at the fact no one paid any attention to him walking to McDonald's and that no one stopped him once he entered the restaurant. Faces he met were void of any recognition.

Nick approached a high school aged girl standing behind the counter.

"Hi, may I take your order?"

"Yeah, I guess I want a Quarter Pounder with cheese, no onion, large fries and a large coke," Nick recited as he reached for his wallet.

"Will that be here or to go?"

"Here."

"Six nineteen please."

Looking at the contents of the wallet, Nick decided he needed to break a larger bill for the cab so he handed the girl a crisp fifty. She immediately went into overdrive calling for her manager.

"Kevin, I need change please!"

'Kevin......what would be the odds?' Nick thought to himself.

A tall man hurried around the corner. "Who asked for change?"

"Me!"

Nick did a double take when he recognized the man in the offical McDonalds manager shirt and tie as non other than Kevin Richardson.

"You seriously gotta be kidding me," he mumbled.

Kevin looked at Nick. "Excuse me?"

"Kevy, c'mon jokes over."

Kevin wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Sorry, what joke?"

"You guys are playing one hellofva joke on me and its time to stop now."

"Guys?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "You know....Brian, Howie, AJ....the guys."

"Who?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "I'm sick of playing this joke!"

Kevin counted the change back from the fifty. "I don't follow you....here's your order, have a nice day."

Taking the brown tray of food that shoved toward him, Nick carried it to the seating area and sat in booth so he could watch Kevin behind the counter.

Munching absently on a french fry, Nick thought about the things that had been happening to him ever since he woke up this morning: he wakes up in someplace other than his room at the Radisson Hotel; Brian picks him up for work at Tropicana in a junked out Geo Metro; AJ, Brian and he worked at the Tropicana factory; he gets paid $7.25 an hour; gets suspended for a week without pay; Howie is a manager at Publix; and now finally - Kevin is a McDonald's manager!

This joke was getting weirder and weirder by the minute!