When the tour was over, Nick went home to Tampa, ready to just hang out, relax, and enjoy the days he had off before he would have to start working on the new album with the other Backstreet Boys. But, unbeknownst to him, fate had other plans.
On the afternoon of his homecoming, his doorbell rang. Wondering who could be calling, Nick looked through the tiny peephole on his front door to see Leah standing on the front porch.
“That bitch,” he spat under his breath and backed away from the door. He hesitated behind it a moment, debating whether or not to answer it. Things had been left unsaid between them, and he had a feeling she wouldn’t leave him alone until he talked to her. Of course, he could always hire some security guards or get a nice big Rottweiler to keep her away, but it would probably be easier just to open up and tell her off.
And so, angrily, he swung the door open.
“Nick!” Leah exclaimed with false cheeriness, pasting a smile on her face. “I’m glad you’re here. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“What’s left to talk about?” Nick asked, clenching his jaw.
“Nicky...”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry... Nick... I just... I’m sorry.”
“You should be.”
Leah gave him a pained look. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she said. “I just... I was drunk, and he... he took advantage of me.”
“Where did you even meet him?!”
“At a club. I was just... sort of... starstruck, you know? I went up to him to get an autograph, cause I thought it would be cool, you know? And he started talking to me. And he told me I was beautiful, and he offered to buy me a drink. And I was flattered, you know, so I sat down with him, and we had drinks and talked, and then... well... things just got way out of hand!”
“Yeah,” Nick said flatly. “Guess they did.”
“So do you forgive me?”
Nick saw red. “Forgive you?!” he exploded. “You slept with another man behind my back! And not just any man – Justin fucking Timberlake! You cheated on me! And now I’m just supposed to up and forgive you? Where’s the fucking logic in that?!”
Tears filled Leah’s eyes. “Nicky, please! I’m so sorry! I am! I would never hurt you!”
“Well, you did. Twice. I gave you a second chance, and you blew it, Leah.” He could feel a prickling sensation in the corners of his eyes and knew he was about to lose it. Fighting to keep his emotion in check, he said in a low voice, “Go. Just go. Get off my property and don’t come back.”
“Nick-“
“I mean it. I never want to see you again, Leah. Now leave.”
“But-“
“Now!”
Her shoulders slumped in defeat, tears spilling down her red cheeks, Leah nodded meekly, turned, and walked slowly down the steps. Nick stood, glaring at her back, watching her leave. Only when she had gotten into her car and driven away did he go back inside, slamming the front door closed as hard as he could.
There was a loud crash behind him, and he turned to see that a painting had fallen off the wall adjacent to the door. Sighing, he sank down to pick it up. A sharp pain shot through his leg, and he grimaced, tears rising in his eyes.
“When did everything get so damn fucked up?” he muttered aloud, his voice cracking. He turned over the fallen painting. It was his favorite piece of art, a beautiful landscape of the ocean at sunset. Luckily, the frame was not broken. There was just a crack running down the glass. It was not very noticeable, so he shrugged and re-hung the painting. Standing back to inspect it, his vision blurred with tears. Angrily, he rubbed the tears from his eyes with his thumbs.
“Stop it,” he told himself fiercely. “Stop crying like some kind of fucking pussy. It’s not the end of the world. I didn’t even like her that much.”
He knew that was not true; he was only kidding himself. He had liked her. A lot. But he didn’t anymore. No, he was done wasting his time on Leah Gaylers.
“Screw her,” he spat bitterly, walking away. “Screw the damn bitch.”
***
