Shakily pushing the key into the lock system of his door, Nick used the utmost cautiousness when he entered his quiet home. After spending the entire night in the Emergency Room getting his injuries taken care of, he wasn’t sure of what to expect. This accident had escalated far beyond what either of them had probably anticipated. Usually, she would be waiting for him to return after the altercation. As always, she would be obnoxiously tapping the sharp point of her expensive, black, stiletto heel on the marble tile of his entryway; the sound to each connection of heel to marble vibrating through the tension-thick atmosphere and causing bursts of electricity to flow down his spine in warning. Her arms would be crossed haughtily across her chest; her olive eyes ominous as she spoke of his weaknesses and why this had been his fault. But instead he was greeted by the sharp whine of his beloved Pit-bull puppy, Layla, and the sound of her claws hurriedly scraping against the marble. Looking down in time to see her slide between his legs and out the door, he realized she had been doing her best to keep from dirtying the house. Knowing she would be awhile and inevitably scratch at the door to gain entry, he shut the door behind him and cast his keys into the nearby table.
The sober calmness that fell upon him after the clatter of the keys was harrowing, reminding him of the eerie calm before a devastating storm. So, slowly, he shuffled through the rooms of his house to enter the kitchen and retrieve a cold beer, hoping that she wasn’t lying in wait for the attack. The overly padded strap of the sling wrapped around his neck and shoulder annoyed him, but he hadn’t the strength to yank at it. Instead, he allowed his heavily plastered arm to hang in the sling and his other arm to dangle loosely at his side. Every inch of his body ached; from the single follicles of dirty blonde hair to the ends of his toenails. There wasn’t a portion of his body that didn’t twinge with the familiar ache of pain when he moved. So, tapping the cap off his bottle of beer and then doing the same to the small bottle of pain medication, he mixed the potent drugs in one long swallow. He hoped the mixture of poisons would dull most of the pain by allowing him to slip into a dreamless unconsciousness.
Not having the strength to move, he leaned against one of the marble counters in his kitchen, staring ahead blankly, not bothering to concentrate on one sole item. Though, in his periphery, he noticed the annoying repetition of a red light flashing on the answering machine. Stifling a pained moan, he weighed his options, to check his messages or just travel upstairs in the hope that he would slip away to darkness soon. He had already made his necessary excuses for the day, knowing there was no way that he could face any friends or family, not until most of the swelling had absorbed back into his system. It was too hard to think of excuses now. It had actually come to the point where he’d simply shrug his shoulders and murmur something about being a ‘fucking klutz.’ But not even the infamous Nick Carter could be that damn klutzy… So, avoiding his friends and family had become easier than facing the whispers, of course, it also appeased her jealous streak. But, not wanting her to find any potentially damning evidence on his answering machine, which she always made a point of checking, he leaned to hit the button.
The first message was from his younger brother, Aaron, and filled with the usual string of colorful profanities. Hey, Shithead! It’s your brother. You know, the one you blow off so you can get laid daily? What happened to the smelly-cunt-shitted saying about bro’s before ho’s? …Well, I just wanted to let you know that Melanie ain’t the only person in your fucking world. Later.
The second call was filled with the same playful hostility toward his lover, though it was no family member. Instead, it was AJ McLean, obviously irritated with his decision to bypass another recording session… If you keep canceling on us, we’re never going to get this album written, Asshole, and I’m broker than a twenty-five-cent hooker’s lopsided cunt! Stop fucking so much so your voice isn’t so damn raw! Then there was the familiar cackle that AJ loved to reciprocate in every performance so the women would scream wildly, which he always said reminded him of the best orgasmic experiences. Call me!
With two people obviously already perturbed with his recent streak of absenteeism, Nick took another hard swallow of liquor when Howie Dorough, another band-mate and friend occupied his machine with a message. Hey, Nicky, just thought I’d call to see what was happening in your life. Management called and…stuff like that… The way you disappear all the time, you’d think you and Melanie were off eloping… Thought I was supposed to be your best man? I figured it’d have to be some kind of perk since you torture me so much. There was a soft, debonair laugh that always caused women to coo in adoration over the older man. Anyway, Jo wants us to double soon Maybe we can go out to a formal dinner and then dancing in one of the private VIP sections of the local clubs? You know them better than I do… Give me a call so we can set this up.
Assuming that was the only messages that would be left for today, because Kevin Richardson, a former band-mate, had lost touch with him since his departure from the group and Brian Littrell was caught up in his patriarchal duties, Nick pushed himself away from the counter. But, the soft, baritone voice startled him - Nick, it’s your Dad. Just got a phone call from your brother, you’d think he would learn how not to swear in front of his father, huh? Kids… Well, haven’t heard from you in awhile so I thought I’d give you a call. You should see your baby brother nowadays, seems like he was just crawling a few days ago, now he’s running away from me... Listens to your songs all the time… Ginger and I are always saying you should come stay with us for a vacation. When you get the time…. I miss you, Son…
“Miss you too, Dad,” Nick whispered when the answering machine promised that all messages had been erased. Draining the rest of the beverage from the bottom of the bottle, he was sure to allow Layla inside as she scratched furiously at the back door. Sliding onto the marble, she used a back paw to furiously scratch at one of her ears while hassling happily. Whistling for her attention, she immediately went racing from the room to climb the stairs to the bedroom, knowing that Nick would cuddle her for a nap.
After all, she was the only family member that he had consistent contact with; every other loving relationship he had kindled over the years had been poisoned when he began dating her. She was so demanding of his attention and possessive of his time that he was unable to spend time with friends and family. And, it had gotten so hard to explain the bruises, scratches, and cuts. So, his family and friends simply assumed that he was a blatant asshole who could care less about their lives, though it seemed absurd in his mind. But, he couldn’t really blame them, because he had never bothered to give them an explanation as to his disappearances. Like they would have taken him seriously anyways…
Gingerly sliding the jeans away from his aching hips, he was sure to keep his boxers on, not wanting to see the damage she had done to his painfully pulsating manhood. Instead, he noticed the small business card sticking out of his back pocket. Lowering himself onto the bed, he shifted cautiously while guarding the most damaged portions of his body so he could retrieve the card. Embossed on the front was the full name of the woman – Roxanne N. Doherty. Following her name were several initials that he had no hope of ever discerning unless he researched them intensely on Wikipedia.
But that wasn’t his main concern. Instead, while he intensely studied the plain card with Layla laid at his side, Nick instantly conjured a picture of the beautiful nurse that had spent the entire night with him. She wasn’t the typical beauty that he was used to seeing on a daily basis. She was natural. No make-up touched her face expect for a tube of her favorite lip-gloss, yet still radiated. And he was quite sure that her shift had ended somewhere in the middle of his treatment, but she had stayed nonetheless. She had been so kind and easygoing, joking with him to elicit the smallest of smiles when the pain had been at its worst. He had never felt so comfortable in the presence of a woman before…
Turning the card over, he noted that she had scribbled her private phone number upon the back. She had been so concerned about his well being in the Emergency Room. And it hadn’t been the false type of sincerity. No. Her deep aquamarine eyes had been glossed with a worry that he had never seen before. Almost as if she wished to shed tears over his injuries, evoked with a deep sympathy for his plight. She actually cared. Reaching for his cellular phone, he had every intention of calling her, but was startled when the phone started to vibrate. Looking to see his lover’s name displayed on the LCD screen, he hurriedly stood to hide the business card within his room, terrified that she was approaching and would find the evidence.
“What are you doing?” she demanded without any means of a warm greeting when he fumbled to place his phone on speaker.
“Just got home,” he muttered impassively, not having the strength to muster an emotional response when he collapsed back onto his bed, the business card safely tucked away.
“From where?”
“The hospital...”
She released a grunt of what seemed like true annoyance before speaking, “Things like this wouldn’t happen if you didn’t upset me so much, Nick.”
“I know, Mel, I’m sorry.”
“Why do you make me so mad at you? It’s like you try to do this shit on purpose, knowing that I’ll react.”
“I don’t know why, I’m just sorry.”
“Good.”
“…What are you up to?”
“You know I love you, right?” she responded instead, completely avoiding his question.
“I love you, too.”
“I’ll visit you tomorrow with a get-well present, okay?”
“Okay, sounds good.”
“Get some rest, Baby, and make sure you call me tonight.”
“I will,” Nick hurriedly promised, knowing that he would never make that mistake again.
Opening the door to her small apartment in the center of the Los Angeles bustle, Roxanne was quick to slip inside and shut the door behind her, though it did little to drown out the sounds of the early morning commute. Blaring horns, screeching tires, heated arguments, and dogs viciously barking to create the usual sounds of the lively city – typical of a Monday morning during rush hour. Dropping her bag off to the side of the door as if that was its designated place, she groped for the nearby light switch and then went through her daily process after a long night of working in the nearby Emergency Room. Securing the door chain first, she then went down through the series of deadbolts that kept her safety; five in total. Once she was assured that she would be safe for the day, she toed off her sneakers and began to strip away the layers of clothing on her way to the bedroom. Each layer filled with the sweat of a hard night’s work. When the only stitch of clothing clinging to her slender form was her light blue, boy-cut panties, she entered her bedroom to retrieve a baggy t-shirt from the nearby drawer. Pulling it on and avoiding the reflection in the mirror, a soft mew caught her attention.
“Hello, my favorite Jinx,” Roxanne cooed with the usual loving warmth to the ball of midnight black fur curled in the center of her unmade bed. Watching the feline uncurl and flop onto her back for the usual belly rubs, Roxanne grinned and crawled over the bed to sprawl out beside her favorite creature. Tangling her fingers within the soft fur, Roxanne actually joined in with her beloved cat’s purrs. Her fur was a thick, dark midnight black, the only splash of color to the feline was her glowing amber eyes; she was the stereotypical version of a witch’s familiar, so the name Jinx suited her well. Not to mention perhaps enhanced her mischievous personality. “I hope you’re not too rested to lay down with me, Jinxie. I had a rough night.”
Jinx purred lavishly at the rubs and dutiful attention that Roxanne delivered to her stomach and answered the woman’s question by rolling away. Stretching the entire length of her long body in a slow elongation, she sauntered up to the top of the bed. Looking to her owner as she fluffed the pillow with her claws, she finally curled on Roxanne’s favorite pillow to nap, seeming to beckon her over for company.
“I’ll be joining you shortly,” Roxanne promised, rolling to the side of her bed to glance briefly at the answering machine. Sure enough, there was no warning flash of unheard messages, just as she suspected. Not many people had her home telephone number. She had given her nurse manager the number to her cellular phone should she ever need reached. It was a precaution that she took, not to say that she was a recluse. When she worked, she was very amiable and a favorite co-worker amongst the staff, but she never invited them into her personal life. Mixing business with pleasure would only cause needless trouble and she had just gotten herself out of that mess a few years ago. She felt safer when she was alone. Comfortable. Calm. Collected. Protected.
And today she had needed that safety barrier, especially after taking care of Mr. Nick Carter. Well, pardon her; it had been Mr. John Smith. At least that what he wanted to be called, though she thought his acting skills could use some work. It hadn’t taken much to recognize him, not when his picture was plastered on a gigantic billboard across the street of the hospital, promoting his new reality show. Most of the star-struck society of Los Angeles would have been agog with the handsome blue-eyed blonde, but, he had been a patient, so she treated him as if he were just that.
Though...
He had been the first person she had given her home phone number to, hoping that he would call. Seeing the angry markings on his flesh reminded her all too well of her family’s demise and she recognized so much of herself within him. His utmost refusal to admit that there was a problem, almost defiant in a callous nature that would offend others. But, she knew better than to let him push her away. She could see inside his heart. All the emotions that glistened through his cobalt eyes electrifying the worries that she had in the past. The anger at allowing someone to purposely hurt her. The shame of being so foolish to stay in the abusive relationship. The fear of the unknown. The depression that accompanied the raw physical pain—
Sighing heavily when Jinx yowled in annoyance at her lateness in their snuggle-date, Roxanne pulled herself from the damning thoughts and worked to fix the tangled comforter in hopes to slip beneath them. Though, halfway through the smoothing, she crawled into the bed, knowing that when she awoke, the comforter would be tangled once more with her bare feet uncovered. Shifting in the bed till she was laying on her stomach with her hands tucked underneath the three pillows that she insisted cradle her head and Jinx’s paws daintily pressed to her forehead, she closed her eyes. Willing to forget for at least a few hours that the world was truly an ugly and dangerous place, she was forced awake once more by the jarring sound of the phone ringing.
Wincing when Jinx’s claws dug into her forehead, she pulled an arm free and fought to find the source of annoyance with her eyes closed. When several things toppled from her clattered nightstand, she cursed openly and forced herself into a seated position. Yanking the phone from its base, she felt a slight thrill accelerate the pace of her heart, thinking that perhaps Nick was calling. It was her only hope when she brought the phone to her ear and cleared her throat. “Hello?”
“Roxanne Doherty?” a monotone voice questioned.
“Yes, this is she.”
“I have a collect call from the Rockview State Penitentiary, would you accept the charges--”
“No,” Roxanne interrupted, disconnecting before his name could even be mentioned. Throwing the phone across the room into the pile of dirty clothing, she shuddered with disgust. It seemed as if she wouldn’t be resting that morning.
