Nick
Chicago. It was the moment we'd all been waiting for. Nine guys. One huge penis stage. Three bazillion opening acts.
EPICNESS.
I was hoping the guys would think I was bouncing off the walls because of start-of-tour energy, but the truth was, I kept checking my watch every three seconds thinking.
And waiting.
"So, c'mon. Give us a play-by-play," AJ said as he stabbed at a large meatball that was rolling around on his plate.
"I don't wanna talk about it. Ever," Bri said with a scowl.
"Dude," I said looking up. "You know what I just realized? The world's kinda tipped itself all topsy-turvy." I started ticking things off on my fingers. "Your wife's a lesbian, you're getting a divorce, AJ and I are both getting married, and--"
I didn't get to continue. Suddenly, my phone began to vibrate against my thigh and I knew.
I just knew.
"And I gotta go!" I said, yanking the phone outta my pocket. There was just one single word on the text.
Bus.
I don't think I have ever moved faster. My stitches had dissolved and I was fully functional again. Not that I had put that to the test, mind you. Heather had claimed to be traumatized by the whole bathroom event and said she needed time.
I couldn't take anymore time.
I was sharing a bus with AJ, but since AJ was clearly stuffing his face full of meatballs, I knew I was in the clear. Like a kid at Christmas, I yanked open the door and half-fell into the interior living quarters. My nose landed just centimeters from the tip of a sexy back-slung high heel. A second later I saw a bare knee. I reached up and grabbed it.
"You're a sight for sore eyes," Lauren said happily.
My eyes zoomed up to her face. Her hair was back to its original dark brown. She smiled, her eyes full of excitement.
"You're a sight for something sore, but it isn't my eyes," I said. The dress she wore clung to her body like a second skin. She stood back up and gestured down the hall.
"How about showing me your bunk?" she asked. I scrambled onto all fours before finally standing up. I hit my head on one of the running lights and winced.
"Preferably before you knock yourself unconscious," she giggled. "Or a crazy fan tried to handcuff you to a pipe." I reached out and grabbed her waist. She shrieked as I pulled her back into me.
I wasn't sure how much time I had before VIP. I wasn't even sure that I cared. Lauren smelled like German Chocolate Cake (no shit) and I was starving for dessert.
"Let's eat," I said aloud.
"What?" she asked, clearly confused. My lips grazed her neck. Her ass pressed against my groin in instant response. I knew at that moment that she didn't even want an answer.
She just wanted me.
Heather
"Oh honey, look at all these beautiful dresses! I don't even know where to begin!"
It was the first day of tour and instead of tagging along, I was at home. With mom. Dress shopping for a wedding that was coming up so fast that I was pretty sure I'd sneeze and it would be here. Mom had jam-packed our week with nothing but wedding to-do's. Today was the dress. Tomorrow was the venue and wedding planner. The next day was--
I didn't know. I didn't care.
Mom and I ended up getting leashed by one of the perky little clerks who I noticed right away didn't have a wedding band on her finger. She bounced through the store, jabbering a mile a minute, and uncannily, reminding me a little of Nick. It was the perpetual ADHD thing, I guess.
"So what are you, the bride, looking for?"
"I'm not really sure..." I trailed off.
"Probably thin straps or strapless," mom interjected. "Right honey? Since it's going to be so hot..."
"Sure," I said. When mom gave me a look, I forced a smile. "I think anything else and I'd melt."
As Malibu Barbie set forth to tug dress after dress off of the rack, my eyes roamed the store. It was a blanket of white. If all those dresses would have been snow, we would have been in for a blizzard of epic proportions. We would--"
My thoughts blanked out. I gasped. Barbie girl was headed towards the dressing rooms with mom in tow, but I was frozen. I stared. I stared harder.
There it was.
As if planted there by God himself, my dress, my 'Italy on the beach' dress was displayed on a mannequin, tucked in the corner of the room. The dress was a pure white with a soft sweeping neckline. The little tiny sleeves were off the shoulder and the material was loose so it could pick up the wind and brush slightly over my skin. Around the waist was a soft turquoise band to give the dress that little extra splash of color it needed.
It was the same turquoise as my favorite pair of Converse sneakers, the sneakers I had only wore once because I wanted to save them. The same sneakers I wanted to wear under my dress. That dress.
"Heather?"
Mom was standing next to me. I could practically feel her gaze turned to where I was looking. "Do you like that one?"
I was about to nod when Bridal Boutique Barbie came up, a tape measure draped around her neck. She looked at the dress and laughed.
"That's an old design. It's been here for about three years. Seriously, we just keep pushing it farther and farther back in the corner. Heather, your mom was telling me all about your wedding," her voice was getting more excited. "Considering who you're marrying, I skipped the dresses I initially pulled and went for the Wang line."
"How much is that dress?" I asked..
Barbie sighed. "It's deeply marked down. Five hundred."
"Honey, why don't we look at the Wang dresses first? You should never go with the first one you see."
I tensed. With every fiber of my being I wanted to shout - "Who's wedding is this?!' - but I didn't. Instead I turned, tearing my gaze from the dress and followed my mom and Ballerina Barbie to the dressing rooms. I tried to give myself a mental peptalk along the way. I wasn't getting married in Italy. It would be stupid to wear the Italy dress anywhere else. Besides, I was going to be photographed. In magazines.
I had to look the part...as fake as it was.
Brian
I was poking around backstage. “Nick?” I called, “Nick, VIP starts in like fifteen minutes…” I pushed open his dressing room. No Nick. I sighed. I started out towards the buses. He had to be somewhere in the frickin’ venue, right? Unless there was a Taco Bell around…? Nawh, Nick had lost his desire for tacos since he found out it wasn’t moo-meat.
I wandered out the back door of the venue, laughing to myself about this one time Nick and I had a taco eating contest and Heather had counted them and Nick had downed about fifteen tacos in under five minutes then puked them all back up in less than one… The bus Nick and AJ shared loomed ahead of me as I smiled to myself. Long story short, I needed to get over the Heather thing because they were both my best friends and I needed to get along with them both. And if Nick loved Heather and was willing to take this huge step of marrying her – of being with one woman for the rest of his life, of loving Heather – well, then, maybe I needed to stop putting my nose in other people’s business.
If Heather was happy with Nick, then I needed to be, too.
I pushed open the door to the bus. “Nick?” I called, climbing up the steps.
There was a thump, then a strangled cry of, “BRIAN?!? What’re you doin’ here?!”
And there was Nick, standing in the aisle by the bunks, all 6’whatever of him, in his naked glory. For the second time in a month I’d seen Nick’s appendage. I covered my eyes, “DUDE!” I yelled, “COVER IT!”
Nick’s hands made an audible slap as he clapped them over his junk and he groaned, “Ow, oh God.”
Before I could ask if he was okay, though, another voice did.
A voice I recognized too well.
I opened my eyes.
Lauren’s head was poking out from his bunk, concern on her face, her eyes wide, her hair brown again. Nick grimaced and shoved her head back into his bunk and let out a long breath. “Brian,” he said, “I can explain.”
I felt like my skin was set on fire. I stared at him. And I don’t know where it came from, but something in my gut snapped and I suddenly felt like a puma. I launched myself at Nick with every ounce of Kentucky boy strength I had and Nick shrieked and bolted, penis flailing as he took off down-wind, headed for the latrine. I missed landing square on him, but in my drop, I caught hold of his leg and toppled him. He crashed chest-first to the floor. “MY WEEN!” he shouted as he crunched against the carpet and skid. “RUG BURN ON THE WEEN!” he rolled, cupping again – more gently this time – and winced, tears coming out of the corners of his eyes.
“BRIAN!” Lauren shouted, “Brian get off of him!”
I had no mercy.
When Q and Marcus pulled me off Nick, Nick lay on the carpet whimpering and bleeding. He’d gotten in a couple good swipes at me, too, and my nose was gushing a pretty good river of red across the front of me. Q restrained me as Marcus got Nick up from the floor. “Go put pants on,” he demanded and Nick bolted to the bathroom, slamming the door with wild eyes.
Lauren, clad in Nick’s bathrobe, hovered, biting her fingernail and staring at me. “Brian,” she said quietly, “Nick just –“
“Shut the fuck up,” I snapped.
She looked taken aback.
“Brian,” Q’s voice was low, gentle, but I struggled out of his hands and backed away from them all. They were looking at me dumbfounded.
“I’m done taking crap from people,” I yelled, “I’m done with Nick dishing shit out to Heather. I’m done with you,” I pointed a shaking hand at Lauren, “Sleeping with an engaged man. I’m done with all the shit people are throwing at me!” I turned and started for the bus door. AJ and Howie appeared, concerned looks on their faces. “Get the frick out of my way,” I snapped, shoving between them and stampeding out the bus door.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” I heard Howie ask.
“He’s wishing he’d joined in on the lesbo sex,” AJ joked.
I whipped around, “STOP WITH THE LESBIAN SEX JOKES!” I yelled, “It’s not funny anymore, okay? It’s not funny that my wife is a lesbian. It’s not hot, it’s not funny. It’s not okay! I was in love with her, I loved her. I do love her, and Nick- Nick is just using her and throwing her aside like she’s some kind of –“
“Dude, are we talking about Nick and Heather or Leighanne and her lesbian?”
I realized somewhere in the middle of yelling I’d started yelling about Heather instead of about Leighanne.
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” I snapped, “Neither one of them loves me.”
And with that, I stormed back to the venue, Nick’s blood still on my fist.
I was done.
