And so, he hid his symptoms as best he could, taking more than the prescribed amount of anti-nausea drugs Dr. Kingsbury had given him, which did help slightly with his vomiting. The week as a whole was not very productive and ridden with tension and arguments, but as the saying goes, “This too shall pass.” And pass it did. By the end of the week, Nick had finished his second round of chemo, and right away, his symptoms disappeared. He was still tired and weak, having not been able to eat much in the past week, but his stomach was finally at ease, and his hair was all still there, and he couldn’t have been happier at the moment.
Though they had no idea what had caused it, Brian, AJ, Howie, and Kevin noticed the change as well.
“Well, you’re sure chipper today, Nick,” commented Kevin, smiling amusedly across the table at Nick, who sat absently humming to himself.
“Huh?” Nick looked up. “Oh... yeah, guess so.” He smiled genuinely and glanced down at the large menu in front of him. “Man, I’m hungry,” he said, feeling the familiar pangs in his stomach. He had not felt them all week, for the nausea had stolen his appetite. But here they sat at the Denny’s a few blocks down from the hotel, waiting to order breakfast, and he was suddenly starving. Pleased at the thought of food actually sounding good once again, he flipped through the menu, practically drooling over the pictures of greasy bacon and stacks of waffles smothered in whipped cream and strawberries.
“Well, good,” AJ said snidely. “You were worse than Sarah when Aunt Flo’s in town.”
“Shut up,” Nick muttered, rolling his eyes in AJ’s direction. But he left it at that, not wanting to let anything spoil his good mood.
***
That night, after a long day of hard work on the album, Howie said, “Hey, guys, why don’t we all go do something together tonight? You know, like old times?”
The others exchanged glances; they hadn’t really gone out all together the whole time they had been in Orlando.
“Where would we go?” Brian asked.
“Uh... well... we could hit a movie, maybe, or...”
“Nah, I don’t feel like sitting through a movie. How about a club?” Nick suggested.
The others looked at him in surprise, and Brian immediately took on the big brother role. “Aw, Nick, I dunno... your leg... and...” He glanced warily at AJ. “Well, I dunno, I just don’t think clubbing is such a great idea.”
“Hey, don’t worry about me,” AJ said quickly. “We can go clubbing if you all want to. I’ll be the DD.” He smiled resignedly.
“No, Brian’s right,” Kevin butted in firmly. “Nick, you don’t want to go clubbing on crutches, do you?”
“Yes, I do,” Nick replied determinedly. “I haven’t been clubbing in forever.” This was true; after weeks of leg pains, weeks in the hospital, and weeks on chemo, he hadn’t been out much at all in almost two months. He felt fine, except for the throbbing that almost always accompanied his left leg, but he had pain medication to dull that. He wanted to take advantage of this sudden vitality while he still had it.
More torn looks were exchanged between the group members. Finally, Howie, who seemed to be the swing vote, said, “Hey, if Nicky wants to, I’m in.”
“Aje, you sure you don’t mind?” Brian asked cautiously.
“Nah, it’s all good,” replied AJ.
“I won’t drink either, J,” Nick blurted out. “We can chill together and knock back a couple of Dews, ‘kay?”
Kevin looked at him in surprise. “Since when do you not drink, Mr. I Got Myself Arrested For Getting Drunk Off My Ass And Smarting Off To Cops?” He grinned, his green eyes sparking teasingly at Nick.
“Funny,” Nick smirked. “Actually, I’ve decided to cut back on the drinking, thank you very much.” He crossed his arms smugly over his chest, as if this had actually been a choice he had made on his own. It had not been, of course. He had only been strictly warned by Dr. Kingsbury not to drink during the months he was on chemo, for the alcohol could have a bad reaction with the chemotherapy drugs.
“Oh... well, that’s great, Nick,” Kevin said, looking both perplexed and impressed at the same time.
“Yeah, it is,” AJ added, seemingly much happier himself. “So, Kev... Bri... you in?”
“I’m in,” Kevin replied, and four pairs of eyes turned on Brian.
“Eh, I dunno...” he said, shifting his weight. “Why don’t you four go on ahead? I think I’m just gonna hang here and call Leigh.”
“That figures,” muttered Nick before he could stop the words from escaping his lips.
Brian retracted, his blue eyes turning icy with hurt. “What did you say, Nick?”
“Nothing,” Nick mumbled. “Sorry.”
“Come with us, Rok,” Howie urged. “Let’s all go together; it’ll be fun.”
Brian nodded. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
They separated to get ready and were on their way within half an hour. They decided to hit a small club called The Rogue first, hoping it would be relatively un-crowded to reduce their chances of getting recognized. Apparently, another local celebrity had the same idea in mind, for they had no sooner sat down with their drinks when they heard a voice say, “Yo, ‘sup, fellas?”
His stomach lurching at the gratingly familiar voice, Nick looked up from his Mountain Dew to see none other than Justin “I Screw Other People’s Girlfriends” Timberlake standing beside their table, an awkward expression on his face, which Nick desperately wanted to mangle with his fist.
“Hey, Justin!” Howie said with faked enthusiasm, and a forced, yet polite smile. “What’s up? I haven’t talked to you in awhile.”
“Yeah, I know,” replied Justin. “I just been chillin’ out here, you know what I’m sayin’? So what’s been up with y’all?”
“Working on our next album, actually,” Howie said.
“That’s cool, yo. Hey, yo, Carter, ‘sup?”
“Nothing,” Nick said stiffly, avoiding Justin’s eyes. He felt Kevin’s elbow jab into his ribs, as if to say, “Be nice; we’re supposed to all be friends, remember?”
Yeah, well, friends don’t sleep with friends’ girlfriends, Nick thought bitterly.
“Yo, Nick, can I talk to you a minute?” Justin asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
Nick glared sullenly up at him for a moment, then finally said through clenched teeth, “Sure.” Feeling the others’ eyes on his back, he got up and followed Justin away from the table, to a secluded corner of the bar. “What the fuck do you want?” he demanded, as soon as they were out of earshot.
“Yo, chill out, dawg. Look, I just wanted to say... I’m sorry, dude. I didn’t know she was your girl, dawg, I swear! She didn’t tell me or nothin’! She was all hittin’ on me, and I just thought she was some single chick, you know what I’m sayin’? I’d never try to steal your woman; I ain’t like that.”
“No, you’re just the scumball that gets a some random girl drunk and follows her back to her hotel room to fuck her. You should be proud.”
Justin blinked and opened his mouth to retort. But after a few seconds of standing there, gaping like a frog, all that came out was a random, “Drums.”
Actually, Nick was not sure if that really happened or not because he had already turned and stalked away, leaving Justin to pull his Michael Jackson wannabe dance moves and smack all the ghetto ho’s he wanted to that night. He wanted nothing to do with that little prick ever again. Justin Timberlake could go fuck himself, for all he cared.
“What was that all about?” AJ asked curiously, when Nick returned to his seat.
“Nothing,” Nick replied briefly, taking a long swig of his soda. “Nothing at all.”
***
