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Before: Someday You'll Be Like Frank Barrone


Ashley

We got a hotel on the far side of Los Angeles. Nick called his security guard buddies and asked one of them to come watch out for us, and by the time we got to the hotel room, Jason was already outside of the room. "Everything okay?" he asked Nick as he dragged both our bags down the hall.

Nick shrugged, "I'm tired, man."

"Well get some sleep," Jason said, "I got your back."

I nodded a hello Jason's way and he nodded back, smiling apologetically, and Nick led the way into the room. He ditched our bags by the door and walked in and sat down on the bed. "Jesus Chris," he muttered, throwing himself onto the mattress.

There were two beds. I stood in the doorway, hovering, unsure what the protocol was at this point. Did I get back in bed with Nick, or did we go back to being in separate beds? I watched as Nick kicked off his shoes. He looked over at me. "What'cha doing?" he asked.

I ran my hand along my forearm. "I don't know which bed to get into," I mumbled.

Nick stared at me for a long moment. "Whichever one you want to," he replied. I wanted to get into Nick's bed. But I wasn't sure that was right. I stood there longer. "Ashley, it's okay. Just do whatever you want to do."

"I want to sleep with you," I said.

Nick smiled. "Then get over here." He patted the bed.

I got up next to Nick and laid down, and he curled up against me, his head on my chest, his arms around me. I stroked his hair. I closed my eyes, wanting to rewind and make this be those first moments after the sex, when everything was perfect and wonderful and he was telling me he loved me before he fell asleep. My fingers stroked through that beautiful blonde hair of his like they were moving through water and I lingered on the smell of him.

"Ashley," he whispered.

"Nick?"

"Are we... together?"

I was quiet. "I think so."

"Are you gonna marry me?" he asked, "I mean, not right now, I mean someday. After.

"Yes."

I heard him let out a sigh of relief.

"You're gonna ask me again, right?" I said, "Like, really ask me?"

"Do you want me to?" he asked.

"Yeah. When it's time to, not right now."

"Okay."

"I mean right now I'm still married to Chris."

"Yeah."

"But when it's time to, please ask me again. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And I'll say yes then, too."

"I can't wait."

"Me either."

We were both quiet for a long time. It's funny because that was probably one of the most meaningful, huge conversations that Nick and I ever had in our entire lives, and it was also one of the most awkward feeling things at the time. I wasn't sure if I was happy or sad or excited or scared or ...any other mixture of things that I could be. I just knew that I was in a bed, with Nick, in a hotel room, far away from what was everyday life as I'd once known it.

"I'm sorry," I said, "About Nacho. I feel responsible."

"You aren't responsible," Nick whispered. His throat caught around the words, though, and I know that hearing Nacho's name had stung. "He was a good dog, wasn't he?" Nick choked.

"The best," I replied.

My fingers were still woven through Nick's hair. He moved his head so that his face was pressed into my chest, and I felt him shake, and I realized he was crying as warm tears hit my skin, soaking through my shirt. I wrapped my arms around him, just holding him to me because I didn't know what else I could possibly do. There's a very limited number of times I've ever seen Nick cry, like really cry.
"I just wanna be happy with you," he mumbled, his voice muffled by my chest. "Is that really so much to ask?" His body shuddered against mine.

I leaned down and pressed my face into his hair.

"Someday," I whispered, "When we're real old and sick of each other and stuff, I'll remind you that all you wanted in the world was to be happy with me."

"You won't have to because I'm never gonna forget that," Nick replied.

"Someday you'll be like Frank Barrone and wanting to ship me off to the nursing home," I laughed.

Nick shook his head, "I'd rather die than be without you for even just a minute."

We were both quiet, and I thought that he might've fallen asleep. But then a thought came to me and I whispered, "Nick?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you be my baby's father?"

He rolled to look up at me. "Really?"

"Yeah. You'd be the perfect father for my baby."

The grin spread slowly across his face, and fresh tears filled his eyes, but I had a feeling maybe they weren't bad tears this time.




Nick

It felt weird not getting up to bring Nacho out the next morning, when we finally woke up at almost noon. We had room service delivered and I thanked Jason for standing by for us before he took off. Now that it was daylight, my wits were returning and I felt like panicked than I had the night before, and Ashley and I agreed it would be best to go back to the house that afternoon.

We ate breakfast on the beds, and watched TV, and laughed a lot. It was like some pressure I hadn't realized was there was off of me. Ashley had all but answered my future and now it was just a matter of waiting for it to come, and I felt so happy for the first time that even the threat of Chris didn't seem like such a big one anymore. It felt like, finally, we might make it.

When we got back to the house, there were two cruisers parked in the driveway. I helped Ashley out of the car and we went inside. I opened the back door and found a cop snooping around in the grass by my stair well. "That's where he was," I said, stepping out onto the patio.

The cop looked up. "Nick Carter?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied. I trotted down the steps toward him.

The cop held up a striped sweatshirt, "Does this look familiar?" he asked.

Ashley was suddenly behind me, "That's Christopher's," she said.

"It was here in the grass, looks like it was left behind when he fled. We'll enter it into evidence," he said, and he put it into a big clear bag that he pulled out of his pocket.

"Did you find anything else?"

"We followed the footprints off about a mile down the waterfront, then they cut through a backyard and we lost trace of them from there, but it doesn't look like the gunman stuck around." He paused. "You said he fired a shot?"

"He killed my dog," I replied.

The officer looked stricken, "I'm sorry, man," he said.

I swallowed back emotion, "He came out of the grasses there, onto the landing of the steps... about here..." I stood where I'd seen the vague shape of Chris. "And Nacho came running up the beach... he was barking at him, and growling, and Nacho's what tipped me off Chris was there at all, and Nacho got right to the end of the steps and Chris just shot the gun at him. I panicked and kind of lunged forward from where Ashley's standing now and Chris ran when I started forward and when I got to the landing here, I fell and went down the last few steps. I landed in the sand next to my dog and Chris was already fleeing down the beach by then..." I sighed. "I just took Nacho inside, I thought Chris was gonna wrap around the house and come in the front or something. I was worried about Ashley."

"There's no evidence that it was for certain Chris," he said slowly, "There's no record of Chris owning a gun. We ran everything we could trying to confirm it was him."

"He owns a gun," Ashley piped up. "I found extra bullets at the apartment."

"Is there anyway we could get in there and get those bullets to submit them as evidence?" The officer asked.

"Let me get my keys," Ashley answered, and she waddled into the house.

I looked at the cop. "You're gonna get him, right?"

The cop nodded. "And as long as she still wants to press charges when the time comes, he's looking at a good long time in jail."

Ashley came back out onto the porch a moment later, struggling with her keyring. She pulled the apartment key off and held it out to the officer, "Here," she said, "They were in the top drawer of the dresser in our bedroom, under his socks."

The officer slid the key into the breast pocket of his uniform, and pulled a couple of business cards out of the same pocket, which he handed one of to each of us. Office Gene Thomas, LAPD Case Investigator the card read. "In case you need anything. Don't hesitate to call me directly." He tipped his cap and whistled and another cop I hadn't noticed came out from under the porch. "Let's go, Douglas."

"Stay safe," Douglas said to us as he passed by, headed around the side of the house.

"Thanks," I replied.

Officer Thomas took a deep breath, "I hate to ask this, because I know it's hard... but... could we take the dog as well? We need to retrieve the bullet... run some ballistics...."

I felt my throat tighten. "Will you... bring him back... so we can bury him?"

Officer Thomas nodded.

"Okay. He's inside." I led Officer Thomas up the stairs and through the house to the bedroom door. I stopped outside. "He's in here... on the bed." I didn't want to see him move Nacho.

Ashley had followed us, she touched my arm, "It's okay, Nick," she said quietly, "I'll show him out."

"Thanks," I mumbled, and I ducked away.