Brian was taking two steps to every one of Nick's long strides, giving him the appearance of a puppy frolicking after it's master. Nick huffed as he walked, feeling pissy, and kicked at a rock on the sidewalk, oblivious to the work out he was giving Brian. "Why does it always gotta be us?" he fumed, "Kev picks on us, I swear it."
"I guess," Brian panted.
Remaining oblivious, Nick continued his pace. "Everytime someone's got crapwork to do, he dumps it on US. I mean how many contest winners have we taken to dinner? I think we're the only ones that know the agony of a teeniebopper on a date. How many times are one of the two of us the first ones out of a venue that's surrounded by fans? We get mobbed and they get to walk out in our wake while everyone's distracted watching us play in the windows on the bus. And remind me, who was it again that tested those Millennium tour skateboards out first? I DO believe it was US who were the guinea pigs for that experiment..."
"Actually, you -uh- you whined to be first on those," Brian piped up, short of breath. "And you actually volunteered me, too, because you thought it'd be funnny."
Nick stopped to face Brian, who nearly ran into him from the sheer velocity of trying to keep up. "I wouldn't do that! And why the hell are you walking like a drugged penguin for?"
Brian sighed heavily. "I have NO idea."
Nick turned and started walking again, this time at a bit more normal of a gait so that Brian could keep up without further killing himself. "I just think it's stupid how we are always getting shit on all the time." Nick stopped again and looked at Brian seriously. Brian leaned against the lamppost they stood beside. "Kevin and the fellas NEVER give me much respect. I just feel sometimes like they keep us - especially ME - around just so they have someone to assign all the dirty work to. Like I'm nothing but a good laugh and a place to throw all their dump on."
Brian was just about to respond when suddenly something fell onto Nick's head, square in the center of his hair. He put his hand up on top of his head to feel it. It was warm and squishy. He looked up, removing his hand to look at it as Brian began to laugh. Nick's mind hadn't time to even register what he was seeing before the falling white blob landed square on his cheek, spattering across his face.
"UGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!" Nick yelled, scraping the bird poop off his face with his hand, "UGGGH!!!!!!!!"
Brian was now full-on laughing. "You sound like Charlie Brown when Lucy takes the football," he practically wheezed the words. Nick glared. "And- and - Oh God. You were JUST saying -- saying..." Brian officially was into the realm of hysterical laughter. "You were JUST saying how you're shit on..."
Nick looked at his turd-covered hand and reached over, rubbing his hand across Brian's face, leaving a white trail across his cheek. Brian's laughter stopped abruptly. "Serves ya right," Nick stated flatly.
"I soooo cannot believe you just did that," Brian replied, "May the bird of destiny crap on your head... uh - again."
Nick laughed at Brian's serious tone as he recited the mock-Chinese-proverb, amused. "Dude we are so pathetic."
"Hey! I'm not the one smearing poo on his best friend's face," Brian stated defensively. He sighed, rubbing the hem of his shirt across the tainted cheek. "Let's goo and just get the pies and do the shoot. I'm so frickin tired of this city and it's.. it's... it's PIGEONS already... They're soo dirty..and .. I need a shower now...."
"We've got a whole week here still, too," Nick replied, rolling his eyes.
Quickly the Boys hustled along the street, getting strange looks from passers-by for the bird shit all over them. Moving so fast, Brian now had to take four steps to every one of Nick's. He bobbled along, and was just beginning to wonder if it would've been quicker to walk to Italy to get the pies, when he saw the gates to Central Park looming up ahead. Suddenly Nick stopped short in his tracks. This time, Brian did slam into his back. "Ow!" Brian wailed as his nose crunched into Nick' spine bone.
"SHH," Nick hissed, and ducked behind a newsstand vendor's cart, peeking around it.
Brian looked around. "Nick, what are you--"
"SHUT UP," Nick snarled, "Is she still there?"
"Who?" Brian looked over the crowd, confused. "There's like a million people here that qualify as 'she'."
Nick's voice sounded urgent. "That chick -- whatsername -- the one I dated that time, with the laugh. The one that reminded you of Janis from Friends. She's over there, in front of the pizza place."
"Oh LORD --" Brian's emphasis revealed not only that he REMEMBERED the girl, but that he'd spotted the target in question.
Nick took a deep breath. "Brian. You gotta get the pizzas."
"What?" Brian's eyebrows shot up, "Why?"
Nick looked pleadingly at Brian. "Please, Bri. She's outside the place, I can't go over there. I can't see her. I don't want to. The laugh makes me want to shoot myself in the face. And.. besides, I can't see an ex with shit in my hair!"
Brian replied, "But it's on my FACE!"
"it's on MINE, too, but at least it just looks like you were painting."
"Only if paint comes out of a birds ass," Bri answered, "Which by the way the last time I checked it did not."
Nick resorted to last ditch efforts. "Pleeeeeeeeease Brian, pleaaaaaaaaase!" Brian sighed. "Pleeeeeeeeeease?!"
"OK. Fine. But you owe me. You owe me BIG," Brian relented. "BIG. I'm talking HUGE."
"Fine," Nick agreed, "I promise. I owe you huge."
"OK then. I'll be back," Brian said, and melted into the crowd, calling back, "STAY THERE."
Nick ducked beside the newsstand, trying to stay completely out of sight. He grabbed a magazine - the first one his hands landed on in the stand, and whipped it opened without looking at it. He focused over it, trying to make sur she wasn't coming over.
Then he became acutely aware of the shop owner's eyes on him. He looked down at the magazine -- FISHING WEEKLY -- and cringed at the unfortunate luck of having opened it to a centerfold article on gutting a Polish Salmon.
"You gonna buy that?" the guy asked gruffly. Nick shook his head and replaced the magazine on the rack. The man smiled. "Well, well. I've been waiting all day for you."
Nick blinked, wondering why this guy had been waiting all day for him. It wasn't like even he had known he would be at this newsstand right now. "You have?" he asked.
The man nodded. "Boss promised you'd swing by today," he answered.
"Your boss knew I was coming?" he asked.
The man nodded again, then tapped the side of his very large, bumpy nose with an index finger. "Boss knows everything."
Nick nodded slowly. "Is he psychic?"
The man guffawed loudly. "That's a good one." He wiped a tear from his eye after a long laugh, during which Nick stood uncomfortably, wondering which mental hospital was missing large hairy patient. He was a hard guy to misplace, though. "You should tell that one to Boss."
Nick nodded, "Yeah. Maybe I will sometime." Better to humor the guy. You never could tell with crazy people. It would suck to have him haul off and beat the crap out of Nick simply because he didn't agree. He mentally willed Brian to hurry up.
"Go to Central," the man said, leaning forward to walk to Nick quietly over the counter. "The Goose will come to you, and you can tell him that The Gopher ha flown the coop, but the Fox and the Hound are after them, so it won't be very long."
Nick blinked at the guy, confused by the animals and weirdness. "Right. OK." Nick nodded reluctantly.
The man nodded, then leaned back and turned away. Nick glanced toward the pizza place and decided it was safer to see his ex than it was to hang out with crazy people who talked in cryptic animal nursery rhymes. He quickly dashed across the street and into the pizza place. Scanning the room for Brian, he spotted him sitting on a bar stool by the registers and quickly went to sit with him.
"Bri-" Nick was about to tell him about the creepy vendor guy, but Brian's face told Nick to be silent.
"Isa is her name, Isa," Brian hissed, "And she's the--"
"HEY! Look what the cat dragged in!!!" The horse-laugh followed.
Nick froze. He turned slooooowly to look at her, after a wince at Brian, which she didn't seem to notice. "Hi... Isa..." Nick said slowly.
Isa beamed, her cheeks pinching into dimples. She WAS gorgeous, looking very much like Salma Hyeck, and Nick, under normal circumstances would've gone head over heels for her -- but that LAUGH.... Nick just couldn't take it. At least not without grinding his teeth. Actually his dentist HAD told him not to grind his teeth so in a way it was a medical reason that he couldn't be around her. She could surely appreciate that, right??? "You remember me!" she cooed, excitedly.
"SO well," Nick replied, wincing as she laughed in response to his not-meant-to-be-a-joke joke.
She turned to Brian, "And YOU... You said he was in Peru." She laughed," Silly boys." Then she gasped suddenly, making Brian almost spill the wine glass of ice water that sat before him. "Was this a surprise for me? Did you just SAY he was in Peru so that I'd be totally surprised when he did show up?" She reached across the bar and ruffled Brian's hair, laughing the entire time. Nick thought of cats screaming and fingernails on a chalkboard and discovered how peaceful those things were in comparison to her laughter.
"How'd you guess?" Brian asked, irritable, grudgingly fixing his hair.
Isa touched Nick's hand, ignoring the tone of Brian's voice. She spoke seriously. "I knew you would one day come back to me."
Nick nearly puked, "I just ... wanted pizza," he explained.
She smiled proudly, "And of ALL the pizza places in New York you chose mine! Just to see me?"
"Why would I do that?" Nick asked, not even kidding.
Isa laughed, "Always the kidder." She picked up a pad of papers from the counter. "I'll be right black, sweetheart." Isa started to leave, but then stopped and looked back. "I'm so happy that you've come back." She blew him a kiss, then ran off to go serve a table.
"Wow," Nick murmured. "That was worse than I remembered. Even worse than the psych ward escapee across the street. Maybe they were cell mates."
Brian turned to Nick. "Run. Run while you still can."
Nick laughed, "Would you seriously mind if I did?"
"Not at all," Brian answered, shaking his head, "I understand fully."
"THANK YOU," Nick said, genuinely happy.
As he leaped from the bar stool, Brian laughed, "Hey and just think... This is her while you have bird shit in your hair and on your face... Imagine if you'd been clean how she would've reacted?"
"I don't want to," Nick answered, "I'm gonna be washing for months and it was only an air-blown kiss."
Brian laughed, "Quick, go before she comes back."
Ten minutes later, Nick wandered down the path in Central Park, heading in the direction of the photo shoot. He was walking slowly, hoping Brian would catch up with him, but quickly enough that he wouldn't bother any of the people playing chess on the built-in marble chess tables that lined the walkway he was on. Pigeons toddled along the path, pecking at specks of food that kids had dropped on their way through to the zoo and playground areas. Nick kept looking down at his feet as he walked, not wanting to encounter any more weird New Yorkers like the vendor guy. That'd been enough to traumatize him for life, basically.
However, within a few moments, he felt someone fall into step beside him. He assumed it was Brian. "Hey B," he greeted him, turning to see his friend.... Except it wasn't Brian. His jaw dropped and he stared at the mystery guy beside him. This guy was short (even shorter than Brian, more like Howie's height), and hispanic (no, it wasn't really Howie -- he was MUCH scarier than Howie, even scarier than Howie on Howie's worst Bad Hair day, which is pretty scary). "Who --- who are you?" Nick asked, trying to puff up his chest to look and sound tough.
The man smiled, keeping up with Nick's stride easily, despite his height, unlike Brian's earlier display of prancing. Nick eyed the guy, studying his face.... You never could tell when you might have to pick someone out of a line up later on. "I'm The Goose. I hear you have information for me."
Nick blinked at the guy and stopped walking. "You're The Goose." He said, and though it came out as a statement it was really more of a question. He glanced over his shoulder at the gates to the park, toward the newsstand, wondering how that dude had seen which way he'd gone to send his friend after him. "Did that crazy guy at the vedor tell you to fuck with me, dude?"
The Goose stared at Nick solidly a moment. "Look kid, I get you're new to this, but I ain't got time to screw with you. What'd Fat Freddy tell ya to tell me, 'ey?"
Nick squinted up at the sky for a moment, trying to recall what the weird animal riddle had been. Finally, he slowly recited, "The Goose'll come to you.... The Gopher's flown the coop... but the Fox and the Hound are out... so it'll be taken care of."
The Goose nodded. "Good. Next time make it quicker." He paused and looked him over. "Tell Freddy next time you see him that the Gopher better be underground by Tuesday."
Nick nodded, "I - uh- wasn't planning to go to - uh - see Freddy again."
The Goose glared. "Oh you'll see Freddy again, you reluctant little putz."
Nick felt his anger flare. He was done playing games with these halfway house escapees. They could play with someone else - he was done. "Do you have ANY clue who I am?" he asked, playing the Backstreet Boy authority card on the greasy looking freak.
To Nick's surprise, though, the guy didn't react with awe, or even with a questioning stare. He simply answered, "Yes, I do. I know you. I know everything about you. Where you're staying, what town you're from, where yo momma and sisters live. I know 'bout your dog, and your lover. You sir, are clearly mistaken about who WE are, though. You are messing with YOUR LIFE here. CLEARLY you did not understand that during initiation. So let me knock this home for ya, Jack Taylor, even though we made it blatantly obvious during initiation down by the docks....If you mess with us, you swim with the fishes... if you know what I'm sayin'."
Nick blinked in response, his mind whizzing over the information. The intensely beady eyes of this scary little man glared at him, waiting a response. "Who's Jack Taylor?" Nick asked finally.
"Funny, kid, funny..." The Goose didn't laugh. He continued to glare.
"And why are you talking like you're the godfather or something?" Nick rushed on with his questions.
The Goose's eyes beaded up further than before, growing in intensity. He grabbed Nick's shirt, pulling Nick down to his height level. "You sayin' I'm being unfaithful to the Boss?"
Nicks eyes widened, the pieces beginning to fall into place a little bit. "No! Nonononono... No. No." He gasped loudly. "No, dude, no. I would never say anything - anything to piss of a guy of your muscular ability," he declared, sneaking a peep at the guy's biceps, which flexed ridiculously large. Even with his heaight (and assumed weight) advantage, Nick would never win one-on-one with this guy.
"Good." The Goose let go of Nick's shirt, and smoothed it down as gently as a man who just turned into Mr. Hyde possibly could. "No go get that message to Fat Freddy." He leaned toward Nick menecingly. "Pronto." With that, The Goose turned and began to walk away hurriedly. Nick stood glued to his spot on the grass with a look of dumbfoundedness pasted to his face. He looked up when The Goose shouted. "Hey! .....And get that bird shit out of your hair."
Nick couldn't believe what had just happened.
Saving the Day for Blondes (AKA How Nick Carter Became Involved in a Terrorist Mob, Quite By Accident Really!, And Thereby Managed To Save The World For The First Time Ever, Much To Kevin's Surprise.) by Pengi
