AJ and Nick nodded and muttered a greeting. They were tired. It had been two weeks since Abby had left the tour and it had been non-stop ever since. Rehearse, perform, travel, interview, meet and greet, smile, smile, smile. Answer the same damn questions over and over…and smile, smile, smile.
AJ had done a mini-rant the day before on the subject of reporters. He was pissed that one had asked him if there’d be another album. Why couldn’t they talk about the album they had out now? he wanted to know. Why couldn’t they concentrate on what the group was doing at this moment instead of always asking if they were breaking up? He’d done the little hopping dance he did when he got revved up about something, pacing back and forth with a hop/skip and waving his hands around.
“And while we’re on the subject,” said Brian with a twinkle in his eye, “what’s with Kevin’s tattoo, all of a sudden? ‘Does he or doesn’t he?’ You’d think there'd be enough tattoos for them to look at it with me and Nick and AJ…but oh, no, it’s ‘what about Kevin’s tattoo?’” He finished in a high-pitched girlish squeal.
“Yeah, Train, either drop your pants and show ‘em or tell them you ain’t got one,” said Nick, with a laugh.
Kevin just smiled enigmatically. “’S alright, fellas. You know that next week, they’ll be back to talking about my hair,” he drawled.
They all cracked up and then spent the next few minutes listing off the stupid questions they got asked. Tears rolled down their face, as each added on a new one. And when Howie ended it with, What’s your favorite color?, they laughed ‘til it hurt. It was very cathartic for all of them.
On the way to the studio to meet with Ross Davis, AJ brought the subject up again. “I wonder what kind of stupid-assed questions we’ll get this morning.”
“Oh, probably just the same old shit,” said Nick. “They never have anything new.”
He was wrong.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Ross asked them about the tour and the album…innocuous questions…the same old shit… They answered sincerely and tried to avoid looking at their watch. They had drawn the short straws. The others were doing radio interviews at a more civilized hour. They were tired. Their responses were somewhat lackluster, at least in the interviewer’s eyes. He looked down at his clipboard again. This wasn’t a big step for serious journalism, but what the hell? He only had thirty seconds left.
“So, Nick, what are you going to do with your wedding present?” Ross Davis let his ambition override his integrity.
My wedding present? Nick looked at AJ. What did that mean? It was a keychain. He looked back at the reporter.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, then shrugged. “It opens doors, I guess.”
“Yes, I guess it would,” laughed Ross. “A million dollars would open a lot of doors.”
“What?” Nick looked at AJ again. AJ raised his eyebrows in question. What’s going on? Nick looked back at the reporter. “What million dollars?”
“The million dollars you got for marrying your wife and freeing up her trust fund for her.”
“What???!!!” It was AJ who sat forward in his seat in anger. Nick was too stunned to move.
“You mean it isn’t true?” Ross Davis was cool under fire.
“Who cares if it’s true or not?” said AJ. “It’s nobody’s business. And what a way to ask… like…like…”
Ross Davis ignored AJ and turned to Nick expectantly. Well?
Nick clenched his fists, wishing he could feel his fingers. He didn’t know how to answer the question. Because he didn’t know the answer. Abby hadn’t mentioned anything to him, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t true, but what if he denied it and it was. That would really blow up in his face. And AJ looked like he was getting ready to hit the guy…
“I did not marry my wife for her money,” said Nick through tight lips. He narrowed his eyes at the reporter. “Yeah, she has money. So do I. We don’t think about it and we don’t talk about it.”
“What do you talk about?”
“Life,” said Nick, shortly. “Music. Books. She…”
“Books?” said Ross in a skeptical tone.
Nick never got a chance to say that Abby was a writer. Ross Davis cut him off and thanked them for coming, reminding the audience that they would be performing that evening at the USBank Arena. Next up, the weather…
“And we’re clear,” said the director. Nick ripped the microphone from his lapel and stalked off the set.
“What the fuck was that?” demanded AJ angrily.
Ross Davis shrugged. “Hey, it’s big news.”
“How do you figure?” asked AJ. “It’s his private life.”
Ross shook his head sadly. “You should know better than that. You don’t have a private life. It’s all over the Internet.”
AJ’s shoulders sagged. Why couldn’t they ever talk about the music?
“They’re saying that she has some trust fund that she couldn’t get at until she got married and he unlocked it for her. And that he got a million bucks for doing it.” Ross paused, then took a chance. “So is it true or not? I can make a correction or a denial on-air if you’d like.”
AJ just looked at him. This asshole wasn’t getting a second chance at them. “It’s nobody’s fucking business,” he said, then turned on his heel and went looking for Nick.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The phone was ringing as Abby came through the door. She dropped her school bag and picked up the phone.
“Hello.”
“Abby?”
There was something in his voice.
“Nick! What’s wrong?” Abby’s heart began to pound.
“Um…something’s happened…we need to talk…”
“Are you okay?” Please God, don’t let him be hurt!
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. But um…in an interview this morning…um…the reporter…”
“What?” Omigod, what had they done to him now?
“The guy said that I got a million dollars from your trust fund for marrying you.”
Oh no. Abby sank down onto the sofa. Tears threatened and she felt like throwing up. The money. Always the money.
“That’s nonsense, Nick.” Her voice was weak.
“I figured it was, but I didn’t know for sure, so I couldn’t deny it. I was afraid to, you know, in case it turned out to be true. You said all that stuff about your grandfather…you know, what he thought…what he was trying to do…”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Damn you, Grandpa! thought Abby.
“It’s all over the friggin’ Internet. We checked when we got to the venue.”
There was a hint of something in his voice that Abby didn’t like. “I haven’t been on the Internet,” she said quietly. “I don’t need to go there. I know where you are.”
“Well, it would have been nice to have a little heads up about it, that’s all.”
“Do you want me to do that? Check out the message boards for you? Find out all the dirt about myself so you can be ready for it?”
“No, Abby. Calm down, that’s not what I meant.” Nick sighed.
The sigh did nothing to calm Abby down. Neither did the words, ‘calm down’.
“I thought you said we weren’t going to believe any of that stuff until we checked with each other first.”
“Well, I could hardly check with you in the middle of a friggin’ interview, now could I? What was I supposed to say, 'hang on a sec 'til I check with my wife'?” Nick raised his voice. This wasn’t going the way Nick wanted it to, but he was too upset and angry to pull back. “I just wished I known…”
“I’ll have a complete financial statement sent to you so you’ll be ready next time,” retorted Abby. “What’s the address of the bus?”
“Abby…” Nick didn’t know where to go from there. He’d been completely blindsided in the interview and he knew that he’d come off looking badly. He could hear it now.
If he wasn’t getting the money, why didn’t he just deny it? Because he hadn’t denied it…and he knew the sharks would go after that. If he was getting the money, why didn’t he just admit it and laugh it off, saying, ‘so what? I’ll add it to my own pile. I didn’t marry her for her money.’ He’d tried to say something like that…that he hadn’t married her for her money…but he should have gone on to say he married her because he loved her. But he hadn’t said that either.
Because it wasn’t true.
Nick had not married Abby because he loved her. He thought he might love her now and he thought that, given time, and an opportunity for them to be together…after the tour was over…he thought that maybe he could get her to love him too. But at the time of the wedding they were just friends. He was going to have to think of a way to answer that question in an interview because he knew he was going to be asked now. And he had to do it without breaking rule number one.
What upset him the most, though, was that he didn’t know the answer to Ross Davis’ question. And he should have. He’d been so proud of himself for ‘taking care of business’ over the last year. He had a firm grasp on his own finances and he should have had more information about Abby. He’d known it would become public. Everything did.
He was right when he told Ross Davis that they never talked about money. Hell, they’d only had that one talk about the trust fund and that hadn’t gone all that well. And how did you slip that into a conversation on your honeymoon? You looked radiant today, my dear, and now could I please see your financial statements!? That was great sex, Baby, and by the way, what’s your net worth?!
He should have known the answers. He should have found a way to ask the questions… especially after he found out how wrong he’d been about the size of the trust fund. And he didn’t. He didn’t take care of business. And that made him feel stupid. And that made him look stupid. And he hated that.
Because that was where Nick felt like an ugly duckling. Not when he was overweight and out-of-shape. Not when he was dumped by a girl or rumored to be gay. Not when he was being accused of breaking up the group. All of those hurt. All of those marked his soul. But he only truly felt like a loser…he was only an ugly duckling…when they said he was stupid.
He thought about Abby and how she truly believed she was ugly when they first met. And he knew that deep down inside, he truly believed that he was just not very bright, that left to his own devices, he would screw it all up…his life…his career…and anyone he touched. It was a hard, hard thing for him to face, so he didn’t face it very often…at least not openly and honestly. He tried to react to things publicly with humor and good grace, but inwardly, he reacted with bitterness and hatred…mostly directed at himself. But today, he directed it at Abby.
Abby said that he could vent on her and so he did. He tried to keep his emotions under control, but he couldn’t. He paced up and down the hall outside the dressing rooms and hissed the words into the phone in a low, deadly voice. “I felt stupid, Abby. I didn’t know what to say.”
Abby wasn’t sure why this was her fault. She wasn’t even sure Nick thought it was. She could hear the pain in his voice when he said the word ‘stupid’. “You couldn’t know,” she said quietly.
“That’s the point, Abby,” he muttered. “I should have known. This shit happens all the time. I should have known that there’d be someone out there who wouldn’t want me to be happy…us to be happy. I should have known. I should have asked you. But…”
“But you thought you’d show a little class instead?” suggested Abby.
“Yeah, I guess,” said Nick, but he didn’t sound convinced. “So…?”
Abby was hurt. She knew she shouldn’t be; she knew that it wasn’t Nick who was hurting her, but she was hurt. The whole world was saying that he had married her for her money. She knew they would...of course, they would, why else would he…? But she had been fooled by the euphoria of the honeymoon. She’d been fooled by Tammy and the fans and their good wishes.
Suck it up and go on, she said to herself. She took a deep breath and started talking. But in her effort to keep her voice from dissolving into weeping, she turned it into a crisp coldness instead, one that was not lost on her husband.
“Perhaps you’d like to get a pen. The list is quite lengthy.”
“No, no, that’s okay,” said Nick, who already had one in his hand.
“I own twelve and a half percent of the stock in Fremont Corporation. I have…” Abby listed it all off.
There was a lot. After awhile, Nick stopped writing. “I had no idea, Abby,” he said, as she wound down.
“I know,” she said, sadly, “and for a while there, it made me the happiest woman on earth.”
Oh, God, I’ve hurt her, thought Nick. “Abby…”
“I have to go, Nick. I have a Symphony Committee meeting. Is there anything else?”
“No, this is good. I mean…Abby…”
“I’ll have it written up formally for you for the next time I see you.” Abby’s voice cracked on the last word. She knew she was close to losing it.
“You don’t have to,” said Nick. He paused.
And then there was the gap. The space in the conversation where they should have told each other how they felt. The tiny silence that broke their hearts, because neither had the courage to fill it. Three words would have fixed it. Instead, Abby chose two. So did Nick.
“Take care.”
“I’ll write.”
“Goodbye, Nick.” Abby didn’t wait for his goodbye. She disconnected and then sat on the sofa and cried. Then she paced the apartment and cried. She shook her fist at the heavens and cursed her grandfather’s entrepreneurial skills and his old-fashioned ideas. She castigated herself for her looks, knowing that if she’d been beautiful, it wouldn’t matter if she were rich. No one ever said, “Well, yeah, she’s gorgeous, but does she have any money?”
She went into her study to get her notes for the meeting. Why can’t I be happy? she asked herself, sliding into self-pity. Why me? she sobbed, as she straightened the picture over her desk.
Princess Penelope stared at her from behind the glass. Why me? There were the words written across the bottom of the picture. Her wedding gift. Abby stared at the picture and wasn’t sure that she didn’t see the princess raise an eyebrow at her.
Abby looked around her, taking stock of her life. What was she doing? She had everything. She had a good life, a beautiful apartment, the choice to do whatever she wanted. She had a husband that she loved and that she knew cared for her in his own way. She looked back at the painting. Okay, she said, I’ll stop whining now.
Abby took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She nodded homage to the princess for her sage advice and sat down at her computer. She wanted to see what they were doing to her husband…and decide what she was going to do about it.
