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Author's Chapter Notes:

It feels good to have another update ready so soon!  Hopefully the next chapter will be up quickly as well.  This one is dedicated to my newest reviewer, Victoria in South America.  ♥  Thanks for all your reviews!

 

XI: (Carla Carter)

Carla didn't return that night or the next morning.  Checking her room, Nick saw no sign that she had even stopped by for a clean change of clothing.  He found himself in need of a strong cup of coffee, so he staggered down to the corner diner where they often went for breakfast. On the way he received quite a few stares for his grizzly appearance.  His shirt was rumpled from passing out on the couch while waiting up for Carla late into the night, and his unshaven jaw bristled with stubble.

To his surprise, Nick found his partner there sitting at the counter and looking as fresh as a daisy.  She was in full female-mode, wearing a navy blue day dress with puffed sleeves, so Nick addressed her by her actual name though, truthfully, it felt strange on his tongue.  "Carla," he called, though she ignored him.  "I'll take a coffee," he told the waiter and slid onto the stool beside her.  "Where have you been?"

 "I don't want to talk to you."  She didn't spare him a glance.

"Just hear me out.  Last night-"

"Yes, I know what happened last night."  She was staring down at her plate of waffles, pointedly avoiding his gaze.  "I'm the one who had to sit there while everything turned to chaos around me, and I couldn't say a single thing because of this stupid act of ours.  I'm sick of it.  And I certainly don't want to see you right now."

Nick's coffee arrived and he gulped down a scorching mouthful.  "I know how things looked, but you have to give me a chance to explain."

"What's there to explain?"  Her voice sounded choked with emotion.  "It's obvious you were out having fun with little Miss What's-her-face and just plain forgot about me.  You left me hanging, Nick."

"No, I would never do that to you!" he burst out just a little too loudly.  People were looking in their direction.  "If you would just let me-" he began, but she interrupted.

"I don't want to hear it," she hissed.  "I've heard you using your stories and your lies on dozens of girls, so don't try to sweet talk me.  Just go away."

"Why don't you come with me back to the room and we can talk about it there?" Nick pleaded, conscious of the attention they were getting.

"Because I don't want to talk to you.  "

He put his hand on her elbow.  "Please, Carla-"

"No!" Carla finally looked up at him, her eyes flashing with an anger he had never seen there before.  She blinked heavily, fighting tears.  "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Is this guy bothering you, miss?" Asked another young man sitting at the counter.  He came over and stood at Carla's elbow.  "Listen, buddy.  Why don't you scram?  Can't you see the lady doesn't want to talk to you."  The other patrons of the diner were staring from Carla's outburst, and eyeing Nick with suspicion.  He knew that at that moment he looked rather like a ruffian and decided that it would be best to go home and make himself a bit more presentable before approaching her again.

"Fine," Nick said with a scowl.  "Listen, Carla, I'm sorry about last night, but I'm gonna fix this okay?"  He downed the rest of his coffee then slapped a nickel down on the counter and left, his hands in his pockets.  His mouth burned from the hot liquid, but he supposed he deserved it.

...

Step One: Cigars for Mr. Winderly

Step Two: Cigars for Mr. Vance

Step Three: ???

Step Four: Carla Forgives You --> Play awesome show --> Score record deal

Nick stared down at the list in his hand.  At least he had gotten the first two items out of the way.  After showering, shaving, and putting on a clean shirt, Nick's first stop had been to the finest cigar shop in all of Chicago, where he had requested a box each for Mr. Vance and Mr. Winderly.  He knew the two men shared an appreciation for fine cigars, so he had sent them the most expensive hand-rolled cigars he could afford along with a note of apology.  Nick planned to follow up with them later, after the two men had some time to enjoy their gifts and hopefully forgive him a little. 

It was step three that left him stumped about what to do.  How on earth was he going to get Carla to sit with him long enough for him to explain the misunderstanding?  Nick was still staring intently at the paper when he heard a deep, sultry woman's voice behind him.

"If you keep that up, your face is going to get stuck that way."  Nick recognized the voice and turned around, smiling just a little.  A stylish brunette stood before him, carrying shopping bags, and eyeing him with a bemused expression on her face.  "Long time no see, stranger," Miss Veronica Bradbury said in a low and husky voice that had always reminded Nick of the actress Greta Garbo.  He hadn't seen her since in weeks, not since her father Raymond Bradbury, the influential owner of a supper club on the Loop, had caught them in a somewhat compromised position-though truth be told, it was Veronica who had originally pursed Nick and not the other way around-and threatened Nick with physical harm.

"If I recall correctly, Ronnie, your old man told me to stay away from you or else I'd never work in this town again," he said, stuffing his list in his pocket.

"Ah, well he's not here right now, is he?  What daddy don't know won't kill ya," she winked.  "Besides, if what I hear about last night is true, it doesn't matter anyway, does it?  I hear you skipped out on a show at the Aragon and now ol' C.J. is trashing your reputation to anyone who will listen."

Nick tried to act nonchalant.  "I'll admit he's not my biggest fan right now, but I'm working to get back on his good side."

"Well, in the meantime," Veronica said, shifting her shopping bags, "while your reputation is tarnished you might as well have lunch with me and tell me all about how you got yourself in this mess.  Plus, I hear you and Lillian Vance aren't an item anymore, and you simply must tell me all about it, darling."

"How does word travel so fast?"  He groaned in exasperation.

"Let's go, Romeo.  I want to hear the whole story..."

Veronica got them a private corner booth at a nearby restaurant and over lunch, Nick recounted the events of the last twenty-four hours.  "And then the driver took off and Lillian left me out on Lake Shore Drive.  I had to hike all the way back to town," he finished.

"No!" Veronica gasped.  "What a harpy!  I can't believe it-well, actually, I can absolutely believe it because it sounds just like that Lillian Vance.  I don't know what you ever saw in her."

Nick shrugged.  "In the beginning, she wasn't so bad.  But by the time she started getting real clingy, Mr. Vance was showing interest in mine and Carl's music, and I couldn't break things off with her without risking our shot at a record deal."

"You know, that's so like you.  The moment daddy threatened your precious music career, you backed off from me like a cat from a wet spray!  You're just all about the music," she said with a pout.

"Oh come on," Nick laughed, "you've got beaus coming out of your ears, no need to mourn the loss of my attentions."

"True," she admitted with a coy smile.  "Though, you know, that reminds me-the whole reason I'm out shopping today is because I needed a little retail therapy after one of them backed out of our date for tonight.  Now I'm glad I ran into you because wouldn't you know it, I've got two tickets to that secret Brian Littrell show.  Why don't you come with me?  I suppose I could ask one of my many beaus, but since you're so crazy about music you might as well go."

"Really?" In light of all of his problems, Nick had completely forgotten about Brian Littrell's secret show, to which he had been trying to get tickets.  And then he had a thought: "Say... I don't suppose you've got a third ticket for my buddy Carl?  He's pretty cheesed off with me about last night, but if I could get him a ticket to the show, I dare say that would get me back on his good side."

"Oh.  Sorry, Nick, I've only got two tickets."  Veronica looked thoughtful.  "But, you know, it's going to be at the Blue Room.  If your buddy shows up at the door, I dare say I could talk the event organizer into letting him in.  He owes me a favor."

"Really?  That would be great, Ronnie, thank you.  I'll stop by my place and see if Carl's there, maybe leave him a note."

"Okay, why don't you do that and I'll head home, drop these bags off and get ready.  Meet me there a little before 7?"

...

Nick arrived at the Blue Room just as the doors were opening.  The marquee for the secret show advertised a performance by the unknown band "Thomas Coulton and Co."  Still, there were many people who had figured out the true headliner, and they were waiting in line, hoping to get in without a ticket.  Veronica seemed to have just arrived as well and she greeted him with a kiss on each cheek.  "Where's your friend?" she asked. 

"No sign of him," Nick admitted with disappointment.  "Looks like he's still mad about yesterday.  This morning he didn't even want to talk to me, and now he's avoiding me."

"Didn't want to talk?  I thought your friend was a mute?" Veronica asked curiously.

"Oh yeah, well, y'know-I mean talk by writing on his notepad like he how he usually talks to me," Nick covered.  "Anyway, it looks like this plan was a bust."

Veronica thought for a moment then said, "Well, I'm sure we could get an autograph or something for your friend.  You think that would get you back on his good side?"

Nick's eyes lit up.  "That's not a bad idea.  All right, let's try that."

"Then it's settled.  Shall we head in?  I think the opening act's about to come on."  She led him to the front of the line where she greeted a man holding a clipboard with a kiss on each cheek, as she had Nick.

"Ronnie, you're looking lovely this evening," the man said, pulling back a red velvet rope to let them through.

"Thank you."  She stepped through the doorway as the people still waiting in line protested, and introduced the two.  "Nick, this is my friend I was telling you about, Dick Spencer.  Dickie, this is the rather infamous Nick Carter." 

The man offered his hand with a grin.  "Pleasure to meet you.  I hear you nearly shut down the Aragon last night.  I bet Mr. Winderly completely blew his top!"

"Something like that."  Nick shook his hand and then went in ahead of Veronica while she and Dick chatted.  The room had a very intimate feel.  It was a small private show, with parties seated at individual tables that were lit by candles.  Nick doubted that many of the ticketless people waiting in line would actually be allowed in as most of the tables were already occupied.  An usher led him to a small table for two, somewhat hidden in the corner for privacy-most likely because the original ticketholder was supposed to be on a date-but with a good, clear view of the stage.  They would be able to see Brian perfectly, and Nick regretted not finding Carla all the more because he knew how much she would've liked to be there.

Veronica joined him shortly after with a smile.  "Dick is pretty sure he can get us in to meet Brian after the show for an autograph."

"That's great."  Nick rose and pulled out her chair for her.  "Thanks for all your help, Ronnie.  Hopefully my buddy will forgive me for what happened."

The lights began to dim for the opening performer, and Ronnie remarked, "Well, I know the opening act is going to be good.  Dick says it's Carla Carter.  Have you heard of her?  She's just the bees knees!"

"Who?" At that moment, a spotlight shone on stage and a young woman came out from behind the curtain.  She wore an evening gown made of filmy chiffon that seemed to float against her skin as she moved across the stage to the ornate grand piano that stood ready for her.  Nick recognized her at once.

"Carla Carter," Veronica whispered.  "She played at daddy's supper club the other night, fantastic voice and a real kitten on the keys.  Makes sense that she would open for Brian.  Oh, shhhhhh, just hear her for yourself."  She shushed Nick even though he had already fallen silent.

He couldn't believe that it was Carla.  The sound of her playing was unmistakable, but Nick had never seen her like this before.  She looked so different, every bit as elegant and stylish as the woman sitting beside him, and yet she was the same Carla that he knew, the same Carla whom he teased and terrorized and considered among his closest friends.  Her hair was curly from growing out and Nick wondered how he hadn't noticed that she no longer looked like a boy anymore.  With the lights shining down on her at the piano, she was absolutely glowing.  He was mesmerized.

Nick barely heard anything Ronnie said the rest of the night, barely even noticed Brian's performance because his mind was racing.  How long had this been going on?  Why didn't Carla tell him?  What was she doing performing without him-and as a girl?!  And, even more importantly, why was he so astonished?  Could it be because he had honestly thought all those nights he was out socializing and meeting girls that Carla was at home waiting quietly for him?  And since when had she gotten so good?  Sure, he'd noticed that her piano was sounding great in their recent performances together, but tonight her playing along with her singing-Carla came off as a seasoned pro.  What was it Veronica had said?  "Makes sense that she would open for Brian."  Of course. Carla was just that good, and apparently everyone in Chicago knew it.

She came back on stage during Brian's encore to sing with him.  They played at the piano together, laughing and looking like the best of friends.  Nick saw the way that Brian's eyes smoldered when he looked at Carla and his fists curled.