He stretched his arms out to the side. He was tired and needed to get to sleep and he had the whole bed to stretch out in. He would give up every second of sleep, however, if he could have Abby beside him. He missed her…her warmth and her smell and her taste.
That fuckin’ Davis prick! Nick seethed all over again thinking of it. Trying to pretend he’s a serious journalist and then pulling some stunt like that. And making something out of nothing too. Abby was right about that.
And AJ? Nick grinned to himself. He’d thought maybe he was going to have to hold his friend back. Nick thought about AJ and Abby. AJ was her biggest supporter, always asking after her, always saying ‘remember me to Abby’. The others were all polite and everything, but AJ was…Nick didn’t know what. He loved her stories, that was for sure. He quoted them all the time. Nick wondered if AJ was going a little overboard because he’d been suspicious in the beginning…with the whole ‘she isn’t real and you didn’t go to Chicago’ thing. Nick still felt guilty about that. Some day, he’d explain it to his friend…some day way down the road.
Maybe AJ just wanted an Abby, someone in his life, someone to hold onto and know that she would always be there. Someone to love. Nick thought about his declaration on the Instant Messenger. He was kind of glad that Abby had signed off before she’d seen it. It really wasn’t the best way to tell her, because it opened up a big old avenue of discussion, and she’d been running late as it was. But when he got to Chicago, he was going to tell her…face to face…unless he changed his mind twenty more times.
Nick couldn’t seem to decide. Should he tell her or not? It was rule number one. Abby’s rule. What would be the consequences of breaking that rule? Nick didn’t care if Abby loved him or not. She cared enough about him to marry him and she sure had gone into protective mode today. But he didn’t want to upset the dynamic and he wondered if he would if he told her how he felt. It might put too much pressure on her, make her feel like she had to love him or something or feel guilty because she didn’t…hell, he didn’t know. What he did know was that he was happy and he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. So maybe he should leave well enough alone.
Nick sighed and tried to think about something else. This train of thought just gave him a headache. Speaking of Train…Nick chuckled to himself at his little pun…Kevin had been severely pissed over the whole Ross Davis incident. He’d chewed out their publicist for not letting them know what was going on, but first he’d taken a strip off Nick.
“Why the hell didn’t you say something? We could have pipelined it.”
“I didn’t know about it,” Nick retorted. “And it turns out that it’s not such a big deal. Abby explained it…it’s just a few bitchy fans.”
“Well, it was enough that some reporter got a hold of it.”
“We can still pipeline it now,” said Brian. “Who should we use?”
‘Pipelining’ was the term the Boys used for their ‘key’ fans. They had one or two on each of the message boards. Whenever they wanted to straighten something out, they’d contact one of the fans and give them the real story. The women in question never mentioned where they got the info. They said things like ‘on good authority’ or ‘from a reliable source’. They knew if they said they got it from the Boys, it would be the last thing they’d ever get…and no one would believe them anyway. They’d used the pipeline a lot during the AJ rehab crisis.
“Why don’t you call Tracy?” suggested Howie.
“Nah, I don’t want to use MFC,” said Kevin. “That’s where this seems to have started. I’ll call Liz. It makes sense to put it on LiveDaily. It will go everywhere from there.”
Kevin pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and moved away. Nick answered questions from the others about what the reporter had asked and about Abby’s reaction. “I was an asshole,” admitted Nick. “I kind of yelled at her.”
“What for? It wasn’t her fault.” AJ was incensed.
“I know, I know. And I felt like a jerk for doing it. We fixed it up, though. We had a great conversation on AIM. Do you know what she told me to say?”
Kevin snapped his phone shut and turned back to see his four brothers laughing. “What’s so funny?” he asked.
They told him. He grinned at the thought of the very classy Mrs. Fremont-Carter using the ‘f’ word.
“What did Liz say?” asked Howie.
“She said she was wondering why she hadn’t heard from us. I told her what was happening. She’ll take care of it. She wondered if we wanted to do anything about the ‘books’ comment.” He looked at Nick. “Did you mention Abby’s books?”
AJ and Nick looked at each other, trying to recall the conversation with the reporter. “Not specifically,” said Nick. “I was going to say she was a writer, but he cut me off.”
“Okay,” said Kevin with a shrug. “I gave the info to Liz anyway and told her not to mention it unless it comes up.”
Nick turned over in the bed. I’d better do that, he thought, as he drifted off to sleep. I’d better ask Abby what she wants me to say about her stories.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~James Fenton sat patiently waiting for his wife to come home. He’d left work early today. He’d just received notification from John Fremont that Abigail was leaving her trust fund under James’ management for the time being. James hadn’t told Ronni how nervous he was about losing that account. If Abigail had been a spiteful sort… He bought a bottle of champagne and some chocolate-dipped strawberries on his way home.
James arrived to find that Ronni wasn’t back from her committee meeting. James was so glad she was into that. It got her out of the house occasionally to do something other than shop or have lunch with those dimwit friends of hers – Clarice and Suzie. He didn’t mind Maggie, she had half a brain at least, but the other two… James remembered back in high school…they wouldn’t go to the bathroom without Ronni telling them to.
James went through the kitchen looking for food. There wasn’t much there. What did Ronni do all day? He grinned. Besides sit around and think up sexual scenarios for the two of them, that is. Well, it was his turn tonight. He was going to make her squeal. He phoned his favorite Italian restaurant and ordered a bunch of appetizers and finger foods. He put the champagne in the refrigerator and the strawberries in the bedroom. He took off his jacket and tie and settled down in a chair in the living room to wait for his wife and his dinner.
Ronni burst through the door and headed up the stairs.
“Darling, is that you?” James called from the living room.
Ronni froze. Shit! What was he doing home so early? She wanted to check the computer. “Yes, James. I’m just back from my meeting.” Ronni descended the stairs and went into the living room. “You’re home early,” she said neutrally.
James smiled. “I came home because I wanted to celebrate with my wife.” James stood up and came toward her. He kissed her tenderly.
“Mmm,” said Ronni, accepting his kiss and then moving her mouth away. “What are we celebrating?”
“Abigail is leaving the trust fund with me,” he said succinctly.
“Abby,” said Ronni absently, stealing a glance at her watch. She wanted a glass of wine.
“What?” James wasn’t following.
“Ducky wants to be called Abby now, not Abigail,” said Ronni.
“I do wish you’d stop calling her that,” said James. “You might say it to her by accident one day.”
“I might say it to her on purpose one day. You never know,” said Ronni. “So…how are we going to celebrate?” She looked around the room.
“I have champagne on ice and your favorite chocolate strawberries upstairs.”
“Oooh, James,” purred Ronni. “Well, let’s get to them.”
“No, not yet. I’m waiting for a delivery from Gennaro’s.”
“What did you order?”
“Antipasto…bruschetta…scampi…”
All her favorites. Except one.
“No linguini with clam sauce?” she pouted.
James laughed. “Not this time, Darling. I wasn’t planning on eating in the dining room.”
“Well then,” said Ronni, running her fingers down his chest. “Why don’t you get us some champagne and wait for the food? I’ll go up and make myself beautiful for you.”
“You already are,” murmured James, and he kissed her softly on the forehead.
“Well then, I’ll go make myself naked for you…how does that sound?”
James laughed. “No, not yet. But go put on something sexy.” He patted her on her behind and sent her from the room.
Ronni raced up the stairs. She stopped in the study to turn on the computer. Then she went into the bedroom. What should she wear? Should she tease and tantalize him…or just flat out nail him? She looked at her watch. It was just after five. They could be at it for hours before he fell asleep. And as much as she would enjoy that, she wanted to check the Internet. She thought she would be able to concentrate on sex even better if she knew that she had wreaked a little havoc in Nick and Ducky’s life today.
Ronni stripped off her clothes and got into the shower. She didn’t know why she was bothering. She was going to have to do it again later anyway. James was going to be eating garlicky antipasto and then putting his mouth all over her.
Ronni got out of the shower and put on red lace panties and a matching bra. She slipped into the study and pulled up the Mature Fan Club. She saw that the thread had been locked. Shit! She clicked it open. She smiled to herself when she saw all the additions to her ‘Nick reads?’ venom. Of course, the backlash came. She was expecting it. That was half the fun. That’s what kept it going. But this time, they’d gotten out of control, fighting with each other. And then a terse comment, with a quote from livedaily, saying that the million dollar signing bonus was a myth. And then the moderators stepping in, and reiterating the site’s policy of ‘no rumors’. Yeah, yeah, thought Ronni, skimming through the rhetoric. Blah, blah, blah… Her eyes caught the words, ‘the offenders have been dealt with’. Whoa! What was that?
She zipped over to her email addresses, one ear tuned to the hallway for James. Poor Rokmyworld. She had her wrist slapped by the Board of Directors at MFC. If she did it again, they would revoke her membership. Ronni laughed to herself. Big friggin’ threat. All she had to do was sign on as someone else. How stupid were these people?
She clicked back to the main page of MFC and looked for another thread. Where was the freedom of speech thread? Where was the ‘how dare you lock out our valid opinions?’ thread? Oh, there it was!
“Okay, Darling. Everything’s ready.”
Ronni hastily clicked out of the site and moved to the head of the stairs. James stood at the bottom with a tray in his hand.
“Oh, my,” he said.
“Indeed,” responded his wife.
James and Ronni ate antipasto and drank champagne and made wild, passionate love to each other. They stroked and kissed and tasted every part of each other and finally lay back exhausted.
“Strawberry?” said James.
“Mmm,” replied Ronni, taking it from his fingers. She licked the chocolate from it and then sucked it into her mouth in a move that made James wish he hadn’t already climaxed twice. There was no way he was going to be able to do it again soon.
“Did you ever think about making love to Ducky?” Ronni asked suddenly.
“What?!” James couldn’t begin to imagine where this had come from…or where it was going.
“Back in high school…you know Sharon Fremont had you lined up in her sights for Ducky. All those tennis matches and Sunday brunches. All that merging of the families…the great social dynasty. Didn’t you ever imagine what it would be like?”
“No,” said James abruptly, wondering what the hell had gotten into his wife. Of course, he’d imagined what it would be like with Ducky…Abigail…Abby. He’d been a teenage boy, for cripes’ sakes. He’d imagined it with everyone.
“Well, what about now? I mean, she’s got all that money. Hell, we’re celebrating that money right now with champagne and strawberries.”
“I thought we were celebrating my success,” said James.
“Oh, we are, Darling, we are. I just wondered…you know how they say ‘money is sexy’ and all that. I just wondered if I was in any danger of you taking a run at Mrs. Fremont-Carter.”
James protested his innocence and his good intentions. Ronni believed him. She was glad he didn’t ask the inverse question. Because she was definitely planning on taking a run at Ducky’s husband. And he was going to be in Chicago in less than a month.
