[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
Alone.

Everyone Nick knew had questioned the wisdom of that – traveling alone.  Wasn’t that dangerous…a big boat and all?  Could he handle it alone?  What if something happened on the water?  Who would come to his rescue?

His family and friends…and his four brothers!...didn’t get it that Nick was as comfortable at the helm of a boat as he was behind the wheel of a car.  And no matter how big the boat might be, it would seem awful damn small after a few days together with the wrong person.

Nick couldn’t think of anyone in his life at this moment that he would be capable of living with for two weeks in such close quarters.  Except maybe Troy.  And Nick knew Troy couldn’t leave his job in L.A. for that long just to help Nick take his boat from North Carolina to Florida..

Nick wasn’t seeing anyone in a romantic sense, and he wasn’t sure this was the kind of trip that would help develop a relationship anyway.  Day trips and picnics…now, that was a different story! Nick loved to have girls along then, draped all over the deck in tiny bikinis, soaking up the sun and basking in the glow of youth and money.

Overnights were a different story, though.  It was hard to make people understand that, even on a boat this size, one that was packed with every electronic device known to man, there was still a limit to that most vital of elements…fresh water!  The Lenore had a fresh water tank of 119 gallons.  You couldn’t do too many 20-minute showers on that…not if you ever planned on washing the dishes!

The bathroom…the head, Nick corrected himself…was the smallest area on the boat.  It had all the gleaming woodwork and shiny metal of the other areas of the boat, but it lacked one thing… space.  There was no countertop to speak of.  There was a shower in which one person could stand, but not dance!  There was a toilet and a sink. 

Nick had a special travel kit that had a bunch of zippered compartments  It folded up to be packed in a suitcase, but when it was unfolded, there was a loop so it could be hung on the back of a door.  That was Nick’s medicine cabinet on the boat.  It was his shower ledge and his countertop.

That was another good reason for not bringing a girl along, he thought.  There was just nowhere to put all the makeup and paint and polish that girls seemed to need to look beautiful.

Paris.

Nick took a deep breath and shook his head.  No, he would not think about her.  He would not let her in.

The breakup of his relationship with Paris Hilton had been brutal.  To be honest, after the euphoria of the first couple of months wore off, the whole thing had been brutal.  But Nick had put it behind him.  He’d moved on.

Yeah, I moved on, he thought.  I moved on right into the publicity mill for the album.  Right into interview after interview where the reporters danced around the topic.  Some didn’t ask (journalistic integrity or lack of balls?  Nick didn’t know.)…some floated it out there, never using the name, saying ‘former relationship’, ‘ex-girlfriend’…some just flat out asked.

Nick tried to be polite, to take the high road.  It was over, he said, no, he had no contact with her, nor did he wish to, they had gone their separate ways.

Nick was relieved that he was not in the infamous cell phone address book that was ‘stolen’.  Nick put mental quotation marks around the word ‘stolen’.  He could never be sure with Paris.  She was such a game-player, anything was possible.

Kevin.

Nick laughed out loud.  Big Brother Kev.  “I’ll speak for him.  She’s a psycho!”

Nick bet that interview had been downloaded by the thousands.  Kevin did not have any patience for either stupidity or duplicity.  And he seemed to feel that Paris was the embodiment of both those attributes.

Kevin had not liked Paris from the beginning.  Nick knew that now.  Kevin never said anything at the time; none of them did, except AJ who told him to “go for it if you want to, but be careful, Bro.  Those are shark-infested waters.”

Nick grimaced.  It was Kevin, however, who showed up to pull Nick out of a bad situation, trapped in a club with bad vibes all around him and a pack of paparazzi wolves waiting outside the door.

Nick didn’t say much when he called Kevin.  He didn’t have to.  He just said the name of the club and, “It’s bad.”

“Stay there,” Kevin ordered.  “Don’t leave, don’t talk to anyone, and don’t have anything to drink.”

Before they started the publicity junket for the album, Nick sat them all down and asked them how they wanted to handle the ‘Paris question’. 

Brian’s response was that he’d never mentioned the girl up to this point and he wasn’t about to start now.

Nick said he wanted to take the high road, to be the better person.

“That won’t be hard,” snorted Kevin.

Nick looked at AJ. 

“Just be glad you got out alive,” laughed his tattooed friend.

The others laughed nervously.  Nick could see that they didn’t want to offend him now that he was safely out of the relationship, but that they were all glad it was over.  Howie summed it up for them all when he said, “It was just kinda hard to picture a relationship where you were the mature one, Nicky!”

From then on, Nick answered every question about the comments and antics of Paris Hilton with a shrug and, “she’s just immature!”

Paris.

Nick laughed.  He knew that Paris wouldn’t have lasted more than one night on the boat before he picked her up and threw her overboard.  Nick laughed again as he pictured her long blonde hair and her flailing arms and legs as she sailed over the railing into the water, pouting and whining, “But, Nick…”

Nick looked up at the sound of a car engine.  It was a foreign sound in the venue of a marina.  Cars were parked in a lot quite a distance away.

It was a van.  It said, ‘Hanlan’s Grocery’ on the side, and it was pulling up outside the marina office.  The food had arrived!

Nick stepped up onto the dock and headed for the office.  He retraced his earlier path and then beyond to the glass doors of the office.  As he came through the door, he heard raised voices.

“…two hours late.”

“Well, nobody told me,” said a petulant male voice.  “All’s I know is I got two bills that need paying.”

Nick stepped up and said cheerfully, “I believe one of those bills is mine.  Nick Carter.  How much do I owe you?”

The delivery boy was a man about Nick’s age but a head shorter.  He wore a shirt with the name Donald stitched over his pocket.  Donald named an amount.  Nick pulled out his wallet and extracted some cash.  He added a generous tip and handed the money over.

“Thanks a lot, Man,” said Donald.  “And I’m sorry it’s late.  Another order came in for the same place, and the boss made me wait until both were ready.”

“No problem, Man,” said Nick.

Nick turned to the table beside him to see that, indeed there was a problem.  Eight or nine cardboard boxes sat on the table.  They were full of groceries, and not one was labeled.

Nick looked at the marina manager, who shrugged.  He didn’t know what belonged to whom.  How could he?

Nick looked over the contents of the boxes.  He felt kind of stupid because he didn’t know what he had ordered.  Bernie had done that.  Nick told him, “two weeks worth of staples…breakfast and lunch stuff.”  Nick figured he’d either do restaurants for dinner or pick up fresh meat and vegetables along the way.  Or nuked frozen dinners, apparently.  Nick spotted a box with a bunch of those and figured it might be his.  He culled it from the herd and set it on another table.

“Definitely not mine!” he said, as he inspected the contents of a second box.  It held canned goods…soup, tuna, vegetables…and a large box of tampons.

A tinkling bell drew Nick’s attention to the door.  A man entered the room.  Nick recognized him as the same guy he’d seen on the boat earlier on.

The guy nodded at him.  Nick nodded back.  Then the guy turned to the delivery boy.  “You got a grocery order for me?” he asked.  “My name’s Peter Crofton.”

“Yeah,” answered Donald, holding out the bill.

Peter looked at the amount and pulled out his wallet, as Nick had done.  He carefully counted out the money and asked for the receipt.  From the look on Donald’s face, there hadn’t been much of a tip included.

Donald nodded again at Nick, said “thanks” to the room in general and left.  The manager leaned back in his chair and waited for the groceries to be sorted and removed from his office.

Peter folded the receipt and placed it in his wallet.  He smiled at Nick.  “Gotta keep all the paperwork in order, or we don’t get paid.  Right?”

Nick raised his eyebrows in question.  What was the man talking about?

“At the end of the run,” said Peter, “You know, when you deliver the boat.”

Nick nodded, but he still wasn’t sure what the man meant.

“Oh, sorry,” explained Peter.  “I thought maybe you were doing what I’m doing – delivering a boat to some rich bastard in Fort Lauderdale.  I do it two or three times a year.  It’s good money and a free vacation.  You’re not doing that?”

“No,” said Nick, “I guess I’m the rich bastard.  I’m picking up my own boat.”

“Oh, sorry Man,” said Peter, not sounding sorry at all.

“’S okay,” said Nick, extending a hand.  “Nick Carter,” he added.

“Peter Crofton.  Call me Pete,” said the dark-haired man.   Nick thought he was in his early 30's. “Oh, hey!  Nick Carter.  Yeah, I can place you now.  You looked familiar when I saw you earlier.  I just didn’t recognize you without…”

Pete stopped talking and looked at Nick’s right arm as if he expected a vapid blond to appear there.

“…without the rest of the Boys?” suggested Nick.

Pete laughed.  “Yeah, like that.”

Nick grinned and stepped  to the side, showing Pete the boxes of groceries.

“Which ones are mine?” asked Pete.

“That’s yet to be determined,” replied Nick, “but I know for sure, this one’s not mine.”  Nick pushed the box containing the female supplies in Pete’s direction.

Pete rolled his eyes and sighed.  “Yeah, that would be mine.  I mean, ours.  You on your own, Nick?”

“Yeah,” said Nick, then added, “That’s how I like it.”

“Me too,” agreed Pete.  “I usually do this by myself.  It lets me get away from all the bullshit for awhile.”

Nick nodded his understanding of the concept, but he didn’t say anything.

“Got the girlfriend along this time, though,” continued Pete, “and the girlfriend’s girlfriend.”  More eye rolling.  “Two women!”

Nick grinned.  Nope.  No way Pete was going to get any ‘me time’.  Not with two women aboard.

The two men continued talking as they sorted the groceries.  Nick discovered that the two girls were Mickey and Jo…Michelle and Jordana.  They’d been friends since kindergarten… inseparable.

Nick wondered where Pete fit into all this.  It wasn’t long before he found out.

“Mickey and I met at a friend’s wedding.  She was a bridesmaid and I was an usher.  It was weird that we’d never met, seeing as how we both knew the bride and groom.  He was a buddy of mine from college, and Mickey was the bride’s cousin.  Anyway, we hit it off right from the beginning.  We’ve been together nearly two years.”

“That’s a long time,” said Nick.

“Yeah, I was thinking of popping the big question on this trip…you know, the whole moonlight and champagne thing.”  He sighed and looked at the door.  “But now with Jo here, I guess that will have to wait.”

Way to go, Jo, thought Nick.  “Did she know you were thinking of…?”

“No, no,” said Pete.  “Don’t get me wrong.  I got no problems with Jo.  It wasn’t even her idea to come along.  Mickey wanted to bring her.”  He paused.  “She’s a little fragile at the moment.”

Nick wasn’t sure which of the women Pete considered fragile.  He found out a moment later when the door opened and a woman walked in.  She was tall and thin with long brown hair…down to the middle of her back...and it was straight, parted in the middle. The woman had tucked bits of it behind her ears to keep it off her face.  She wore no makeup or jewelry.  She had on white shorts and a pink t-shirt.  A red crease ran down the side of her face.

“Hey, Sleepyhead,” said Pete, in a gentle tone. 

The woman smiled and said sleepily, “I know, I know.  It was a long nap.  It’s the whole jet lag thing, I guess.  Is Mickey here yet?”

Okay, thought Nick, this must be Jo.  By the look of her, she could qualify for fragile, he guessed.

Pete looked at his watch.  “No, and she said she’d be out of the meeting by three.  I’ll give her a call.”  He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open.

“Okay,” said Jo, in a tiny voice.

Pete punched in the numbers.

“No, wait,” said Jo, shaking her head.  “She’s not that late, and she won’t want to be disturbed if she’s still in the meeting.”

“Are you sure?” asked Pete.  “I can make the call.”  His thumb hovered over the Send button.

Jo pressed her lips together.   “Um…” 

Nick thought she looked anything but sure.

“Yes.  I mean, yes, I’m sure.  Don’t call.  If she’s done the meeting, she’ll be on the road.  She doesn’t need to be distracted by the phone.”

Pete laughed and flipped his phone shut.  “That’s true.  Well then, let’s just get everything ready for her.  We weren’t planning on leaving ‘til the morning anyway.”

“I thought we were ready,” said Jo.

“All but the groceries,” replied Pete, sweeping his hand to indicate the boxes on the table.

Jo looked at the boxes and the table and finally at Nick.

“Hi,” she said, nonchalantly.

Nick nodded.  “Hi.”

Pete stepped to Jo’s side.  “Jordana Miles, this is Nick Carter.  Nick…Jordana.”

“Pleased to meet you, Jordana,” said Nick, extending his hand.

“Call me Jo,” she replied, shaking Nick’s hand.  She turned to Pete and laughed.  “Mickey will pee her pants when she finds out I got to meet this guy.”

“Yeah, ain’t that the truth,” laughed Pete.  He looked at Nick.  “Mickey’s a big fan of yours.”  Pete looked at his watch again.  “When are you heading out?  Tonight?”

“Um…I hadn’t really decided.  You know, the whole grocery thing…and…”  Now it was Nick who looked at his watch.  It was nearly six o’clock.  “Nah,” he said, “I think I’ll wait ‘til morning.”

“That’s great,” said Pete.  “How’d you like to have dinner with us?  I know a great restaurant that’s not too far.  What do you say?  It’s on me.”

Nick grinned.  “Don’t you mean it’s on the rich bastard from Fort Lauderdale?”

“Well, there you go,” said Pete, with a laugh.  “So how about it?”

“Sure,” said Nick.  “What time?”

They agreed on 7:30 and got on with the task of ferrying the groceries to their boats.

Nick didn’t really want to go out for dinner.  He wanted to be alone.  He didn’t want to eat with a bunch of strangers, especially one who was apparently a devoted fan.  Nick would have to watch every word he said, in case Mickey was also devoted to the Internet.

Aw, stop whining, he chastised himself.  Pete seems like a nice guy, and Jo seems okay, a bit under the weather, maybe.  Jet lag, she said.  Nick wondered if ‘jet lag’ was a euphemism for the monthly event that required the tampons.

Nick packed away the last of the groceries.  You’re here, he told himself.  On the boat.  You get to sleep on the boat tonight. 

Alone. 

That’s all you wanted.

Nick wondered again if he should rename the boat, Alone.