Explaining things only seemed to make them more confusing, even in his own mind. Abby seemed upset but she had sent the pictures. He got those when they were finishing up for the day. He’d had to close the file quickly because AJ had come around the corner. Nick didn’t want to have to explain what the picture was before he’d figured it out himself.
Nick was supposed to go and work out with Kevin, but he begged off, saying he had a headache and he was going to lay down for a bit. Kevin punched him playfully on the shoulder and said, Say hi to her from me.
Nick went to his room and continued his cyberspace argument with Abby. He had to convince her. He’d put it on the line, telling the guys that he’d gone to Chicago. He couldn’t get out of it now. If only he hadn’t mentioned the restaurant, he could have backed out and said that plans had changed or something…he didn’t know…Abby had to go to Canada or something like that. But he was Stupid Nick and he never thought these things through. And now he was in it, as he’d told Abby, up to his neck.
The more he tried to convince Abby, the more he ended up convincing himself and the more determined he became that this could work. And then she stopped writing. He hadn’t had an email in over an hour. They’d been flying fast and furiously for awhile. Nick had deliberately left his AIM turned off because he knew he’d never win an argument that way. He couldn’t type fast enough and he couldn’t think fast enough. Now he turned it on, hoping she’d be there. She wasn’t.
Come on, Abby, come on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“Oh, there you are, Abigail.” Her mother pounced as soon as Abby came through the door. “Mrs. Smith said you’d gone out. Is everything all right?"
“Yes, Mother, everything is fine. I just needed some air.”
“Well, Dear, you seem to spend so much time on that computer lately…” Criticism was Sharon Fremont’s middle name.
“Yes, well, you may be right,” said Abby, with a sigh. That was soon going to change, she figured.
“A package came for you while you were out.”
“A package? For me? What is it?”
“Well, Abigail, I would hardly go snooping in someone else’s business. A courier brought it. It’s on the table in the foyer.”
Abby went to the front door, her mother close behind her. She picked up the box and turned it over. A tiny gasp escaped her when she saw the Old Navy logo.
“What is it?” asked her mother. “Open it.”
Abby couldn’t see any way of refusing. With trembling fingers, she peeled off the tape and removed the wrapping. She lifted the lid from the box and bit her lip.
“It’s a blouse,” she whispered. “A blue one.”
“Let me see,” said her mother.
Abby lifted the blouse out of the box. A card fell out and fluttered to the floor. Sharon bent and picked it up.
“When did you order this? And why would you have it delivered? Why wouldn’t you go…oh!”
Abby looked at her mother, who was reading the card. Sharon handed over the card and said, “I see.”
Abby looked down at the card. “To go with the hat. Nick.”
“Get ready for dinner, Abigail. Your father will be home shortly.” Sharon Fremont turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Abby to deal with the mess of the wrapping and box and the mess inside her heart.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“That’s a nice blouse, Honey. I like the color,” said John Fremont, unfolding his napkin and placing it on his lap.
“Nick sent it to her,” said Sharon.
“Nick?”
“Yes, apparently he bought her the hat too.”
“He has good taste,” said John, smiling at his daughter. “I like that hat.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” said Abby in a small voice.
“Surely you don’t approve,” continued Sharon in a frosty voice. “We’ve never even met him and he’s sending things to the house. Personal items.”
“It’s a blouse, Mother, not a negligee.”
“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. We don’t know anything about him. We don’t even know his last name.”
“Carter,” said Abby, pinching her lips together. Her hands twisted her napkin in her lap. “His name is Nick Carter.”
“That tells me nothing,” said Sharon. “What do you know about him, really? He could be Jack the Ripper.” She looked down the table at her husband. “He’s a musician.” She spat the word out.
“What instrument does he play?” John turned his attention to Abby.
Sharon didn’t give her a chance to reply. “He’s a singer mostly, isn’t that what you said, Abigail? In some group.”
Abby nodded. She couldn’t find her voice. Her brain was racing. Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask.
“What’s the name of the group?” Her father continued his display of polite interest.
“The Backstreet Boys,” said Abby, softly.
“Pardon? Speak up, Abigail, and sit up straight.” Her mother was relentless.
“THE BACKSTREET BOYS!!” Abby shouted it at her mother.
“Abigail!” Her mother was shocked.
“The Backstreet Boys?” asked her father.
“Yes, Daddy,” nodded Abby.
“Backstreet Boys!” scoffed Sharon. “It even sounds unsavory.”
“The 'I Want It That Way' Backstreet Boys?” asked John.
Abby nodded again. “Yes, Daddy.”
John Fremont threw his head back and roared. Sharon was so startled by this turn of events that she was rendered speechless. She gaped at him from the other end of the table.
“Hardly unsavory,” he said to his wife. “They are about as wholesome as you can get.” He stopped and thought, then turned to Abby. “He’s not the one who…?”
“No, Daddy, that wasn’t him.”
“The one who what?” Sharon pounced.
“One of them had some difficulties with drugs and alcohol at one time, I recall,” explained John. “But I believe he’s recovered from that.”
“Humph,” sniffed Sharon. “I knew it. Well, Abigail, you’re going to have to end this. I don’t want you associating with drug addicts and entertainers. It could reflect badly on the family.”
“Unlike gigolos and frauds?” It was out of Abby’s mouth before she could stop it.
The silence was oppressive. Abby and her mother glared at each other. Finally, Abby rose to her feet. “I’m sorry that you don’t approve, Mother, but you really have no say in the matter. If I choose to have a relationship with this man, then I shall, and you can’t stop me.”
“A relationship? You haven’t even seen him in two months. What kind of relationship is that?”
“It’s the kind that works for us…and it’s none of your business.”
“Abigail, I’m telling you…”
“Be quiet, Sharon.” John Fremont finally spoke.
“John!!”
“I mean it, Sharon. Be quiet before you say something you’ll regret. This is Abigail’s business.” He turned to Abby. “And this is mutual, Honey? You’re not reading too much into it? I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
Abby took a deep breath. “It’s mutual, Daddy. I’m Nick Carter’s girlfriend.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Dear Nick,
This is going to come as a bit of a surprise after the things that I said earlier today, but…
I am going to go along with your plan for now. We are officially in a relationship. I am going to trust you that you will not make a fool of me over this. When you find someone, could you do me the courtesy of letting me know as soon as possible, so that I can bow out gracefully and not have to read about it in the tabloids.
Thank you for the blouse. You were right. The color suits me.
Abby
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Woo Hoo!
Nick shouted the phrase and punched his arm in the air. Then he fell back onto the bed, sagging in relief. It was going to be okay. He and Abby could keep emailing each other and the world could think they had a relationship. He’d sure dodged a bullet that time. He went back to the desk.
Hey Abby!
Girlfriend! LOL! Seriously, I’m glad that you are going to go along with this. I think it will work for both of us. And just to prove my faith in it, I want you to know that I’ve programmed your number into my speed-dial. You’re number one, girlfriend. And I promise you, Abby, that I will never hurt you. I’m not looking for anyone, I told you that, but if it did happen, I promise that I will give you the chance to dump me. Okay?
Nick
Nick shut down the computer. Just in time, too. He was due to go out with AJ and Howie. Howie was picking AJ up at his hotel and then they were coming for Nick. He was to meet them in the lobby…he looked at his watch…ten minutes ago. He was glad he knew what the story with Abby was before they went.
There was a knock on the door. Nick opened it to find AJ standing there.
“You ready, Frack?”
“Yeah, just gotta pee. Where’s D?”
“He’s in the car. Hurry up.” AJ walked past Nick into the room. “Jeez, you’re a slob.”
“Look who’s talking!” retorted Nick, disappearing into the bathroom.
AJ picked a shirt up from the floor and draped it over the back of the desk chair. He glanced down at the yellow pad. He wondered if Nick was writing a new song. He picked up the pad and read the words. He dropped it quickly when he heard the toilet flush and moved to the other side of the room.
“Okay, let’s go,” said Nick. “I’m hungry.”
“Yeah,” said AJ, “Let’s go.” He followed Nick out of the room, stopping at the door to turn his gaze back to the yellow pad. What the hell was going on here?
