Their flights came in at different times, AJ and Kevin from Los Angeles, Brian from Atlanta, and Howie from New York, where he had been for a charity event for his Lupus foundation. But, eventually, they were all there, checked into five adjacent suites at Orlando’s Clandestine Hotel, one of the finer hotels in the area.
Nick was lying on the king size bed in his room, his bad leg propped up on a pillow, when he heard a loud knock on the door. Grunting, he rolled off the bed, grabbed his crutches, and hobbled out of the bedroom, through the living room area, and to the door. He swung it open to find Kevin standing there.
“Hey, kid, how ya doing?” Kevin asked with a smile, eyeing Nick’s leg.
“Hey, Kev,” Nick said, returning the smile. “I’m doin’ all right. You?”
“Just fine,” replied Kevin. “Hey, everybody’s here now, so we’re gonna all meet down in my room, okay?”
“Sure. Just let me get my room key.” Nick found the small key card, shoved it in his pocket, and followed Kevin out of the room. They walked slowly side by side down the hall to Kevin’s suite, where Howie, AJ, and Brian already sat, watching TV.
“Well, looks who’s here!” AJ exclaimed when Nick and Kevin entered the room. “Heya, Hop-a-long. ‘Sup?”
“Hey, Bone. Nothin’ much,” said Nick with a grin.
“Hey, Nicky!” Howie cried, immediately coming over and squeezing Nick’s shoulder. The left shoulder. Trying to hide his wince, Nick smiled painfully and replied, “Hey, D.”
And then there was Brian, who, remaining in his chair, only offered a quiet “Hi, Nick” and a tight smile. Nick nodded in acknowledgement.
The three others stood there a moment, noticing the tension between the two friends. The awkward silence was finally broken up by AJ, who said loudly, “Well, don’t just stand there, Kaos, come on in and sit down.” He and Howie scooted over, making room for Nick on the couch.
Kevin took a seat in the chair next to Brian’s and looked around the room, surveying them all. “So,” he said finally. “What are the plans for tonight, guys? Dinner?”
“Dinner sounds good,” AJ piped up immediately. “Where to?”
After some discussion, they settled on T.G.I. Friday’s, and an hour later, sat crowded together in a booth, enjoying a plate of potato skins and cheese sticks as appetizers. Well, four out of five of them did anyway. While the others talked, Nick half-listened, his mind wandering. He couldn’t help but feel pity for himself. Kevin, Howie, AJ, and Brian had nothing to worry about, nothing more to discuss than their families, vacations, and the album. If only they knew all the things that were running through Nick’s mind at the moment.
Howie was the only one who bothered to notice Nick’s lack of interest in their conversation or the food in front of him. “Hey, you okay, Nicky?” he asked, his brown eyes fixed concernedly upon Nick.
“Yeah, fine,” Nick mumbled, gnawing off the end of a mozzarella stick.
“You sure? You’re not saying much,” Howie persisted.
“I’m fine, Howie,” Nick repeated firmly, but did make a conscious effort to join into the conversation after that, not wanting them to get suspicious. Despite the fact that part of him wanted them to know what he was going through, he still vowed not to tell them until he absolutely had to.
Telling them would lift some of the weight from his shoulders, yes. But it would also create another weight, the weight of sympathy. And that was almost worse.
***
The rest of that week was better. Working on the album, writing new songs and pouring over the lyrics they had already written, helped take Nick’s mind off of his other problems. Music had always been his outlet, his escape, and now it was even more so than ever.
However, at the end of the week, grim reality forced its way back into Nick’s life, when he had to commute back to Tampa for his first doctor’s appointment since he had been discharged from the hospital.
The guys were clueless; he had told them it was just an appointment for his leg, to see how his stress fracture was healing. Brian, with whom Nick had silently and unofficially made up with over the course of the week, had offered to come with him, but Nick had adamantly refused. And so, Brian and the others stayed in Orlando, and Nick went alone to Tampa, wondering if this would be one of the last days his secret was safe.
This was the day he would be given his chemo pump and started on his second round of the chemicals... and if it was anything like last time, he would be sick as a dog. He could claim to have the flu at first... maybe food poisoning would work later on... but eventually, he knew he would run out of excuses, the guys would realize something was going on, and he would have to confess.
But as he had assured himself before, he would cross that bridge when he came to it.
At Tampa General, Nick entered as an outpatient and headed straight to the oncology floor, where he was to meet with Dr. Kingsbury. But of course, it was not as simple as it sounded. Wearing a baseball cap pulled low over his face and a pair of dark sunglasses, Nick limped as swiftly as he could down the hall, trying his hardest to be invisible. The last thing he wanted was someone recognizing him and leaking the story out to the paparazzi... why, then the whole world would find out, his friends and family right along with them.
When he reached the waiting area just inside the oncology department, he noticed several other people slumped in chairs, waiting their turn. Avoiding their eyes, he shambled briskly up to the receptionist’s window and gave her his name, then turned to go and sit down, expecting a long wait. He was pleasantly surprised when the receptionist smiled up at him and said, “Wait right there, I’ll tell Dr. Kingsbury you’re here.”
Nick stood where he was, and only a minute later, a nurse came into the waiting room. “You can come on back now,” she said quietly to him, motioning for him to follow her. As he limped after her through a doorway leading into a hall, he heard one of the people still waiting gripe, “Why the hell does he get to go back first? I’ve been waiting here half an hour already!”
His cheeks reddening, Nick pretended not to hear and picked up the pace as he followed the nurse out of the waiting room. In the safety of the hallway, he asked, “How come I didn’t have to wait like everyone else?”
The nurse smiled sheepishly. “Well, we figured you wouldn’t want to recognized, so we tried to get you in as soon as possible so you wouldn’t have to sit out there.”
“Oh... well, thanks...” Nick struggled, “but... I don’t think that’s really fair. You don’t have to do that next time; I’ll wait. People will know about this soon enough, I guess.”
The nurse nodded and smiled. “I guess you’re right. Thank you for being so humble. I’ve never treated a celebrity before, and I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to be down-to-earth at all.”
Nick smiled tightly. “Well, not that I’ve ever intentionally acted bigheaded, but, hey, getting cancer is a humbling experience, I guess. We celebrities are people too; we can get sick just like anyone else.”
A flicker of sadness passed through the nurse’s eyes, disappearing as quickly as it had come. “Well, Mr. Carter, come on back with me, and I’ll take your vitals and everything before Dr. Kingsbury comes to examine you.”
“Okay. And you can call me Nick, by the way, I hate the whole ‘Mr. Carter’ thing.”
The nurse smiled. “Okay, Nick,” she said. “And my name is Debbie.”
Once they had been properly introduced, Debbie took Nick to a small examining room at the end of the hall, where she sat him down on a padded table with that crinkly white paper on top and took his temperature, blood pressure, and pulse. It all gave him a sense of déjà vu as he thought back to the innocent clinic visit that had started this whole nightmare.
“Your vitals are all great, Nick,” Debbie said, making notes on his chart. “How are things going with your Groshong device?”
Subconsciously, Nick’s fingers traveled to the left side of his chest, where his catheter was hidden beneath his t-shirt and a large gauze bandage. “It’s okay,” he said. “Not so tender anymore.”
“That’s good. So you’re taking good care of it? Changing your bandages when you’re supposed to and everything?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nick replied brazenly.
Debbie gave him a smile. “Good. Well, I’ll go tell Dr. Kingsbury you’re ready, and she should be in to check you out in a little bit. While I’m gone, you can change into this gown.” She picked up a folded hospital garment from the small counter area in the room and tossed it to him. Nick caught it easily and made a face.
“Aww, do I have to?”
Debbie offered him a shrug and an apologetic smile. “Hospital policy.”
“But I thought I got special treatment...” Nick endeavored, giving her a toothpaste commercial smile.
“Nice try, but no can do. Put on the gown,” Debbie replied with a smirk and left. Groaning resignedly, Nick sighed and pulled his shirt over his head.
***
