In Which the Heroine Vows Never to Throw Anyone a Surprise Party Ever Again… by FiliKlepto
Story Notes:

Happy 31st Birthday, Nick! This short story details the events that took place for one (un)lucky lady the Monday after Nick's birthday, as presented in two parts. Song lyrics are from Thank You by Dido.

Pt I by FiliKlepto
Author's Notes:

Hi, everyone! I am ignoring my other fics for the moment because I got this brilliant(?) idea that wouldn't go away. Once it's complete, regular updates for ONH and OTR should resume.

This one is dedicated to Nick. Happy Birthday!~ ♥

My tea's gone cold I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window, and I can't see at all
And even if I could it would all be gray, but your picture on my wall
It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad

 

It was going to be the worst day of her life. Or at least, that was how Jenny felt when she awoke with a splitting headache and very fuzzy recollection of the night before. She had that distinct hangover-induced inclination to lie in bed all day and do nothing but sleep, not to mention that her tiny apartment was so cold that she immediately regretted rising. Jenny stumbled and almost knocked over her Yamaha keyboard in the corner as she went to wipe at the window with her sleeve. The glass had clouded over from the morning rain, and outside she could see nothing but fog and the mere hint of a street. A gray, drizzling January day in San Francisco--what else was new?

Moving from her closet-sized bedroom to the room that acted as kitchenette, dining room, living room, and front door all-in-one, Jenny went to the kitchen half of the room and put a kettle on the stove for tea. She popped two tablets of ibuprofen for her headache while waiting for the water to come to a boil and noticed the stack of mail that her Aunt had dropped through the slot in her front door. Bills, she guessed. When the kettle whistled, Jenny poured herself a mug and shuffled through the mail as she waited for her tea to cool, searching for any envelope that did not involve debt. One in particular caught her eye as it looked suspiciously like a check.

Jennifer Chong
14XX 11th Ave
San Francisco, CA 94122

She ripped open the envelope and with a sigh pulled out a fake check that was actually spam mail from Publishers Clearing House. Jenny tossed it aside. It didn't look like she was going to be able to move out any time soon from this cramped apartment, which was actually a converted two-car garage on the first floor of her Aunt's home, her aunt and uncle living on the two floors above. At least the rent was cheap. She could focus on paying off her student loans with the modest salary from the non-profit organization that she worked for called Heal The Bay. They endeavored to restore wetlands around the San Francisco Bay Area, to keep beaches clean and oceans healthy, and to provide a model for other coastal communities around the world. Their organization had gotten even more attention after attracting the support of Backstreet Boy Nick Carter, who regularly joined them for beach cleanups and charity events. Still, as spiritually and personally rewarding as she found her work, unless Jenny got a promotion and a raise and a fat Christmas bonus, she didn't think she could afford to move out from her converted garage apartment any time soon.

With a heavy sigh, Jenny started heading back to her bedroom, wondering why she had gotten out of bed at all. Better to give in to the urge to lie in her small but cozy bed all day and do nothing, than to depress herself with bills and the like. And then suddenly Jenny realized: Today was Monday, and she had to go to work.

She yelped aloud and jumped in the shower, trying to hurry and get ready, but her body refused to cooperate in its hungover condition. Her limbs felt heavy and sluggish, her stomach was churning like she'd gone through a loop-the-loop. Jenny regretted going out and getting drunk the night before; she knew it wasn't the smartest idea to party on a Sunday night. And yet she wouldn't have missed Nick's birthday for anything in the world. She had been the one who'd organized it, after all. Nick had spent the actual Friday of his birthday in LA, partying like the celebrity that he was, but had flown back to San Francisco on Sunday to be at the office Monday morning. He was nothing if not dedicated to the cause. The staff at Heal The Bay had decided to throw their own surprise party for Nick upon his return, thinking he'd enjoy a birthday bash where he didn't have to worry about dodging paparazzi.

Although Jenny remembered the first few hours of the party--there had been a 3-D cake of a dolphin cresting a wave and deep-fried twinkies and a round or two, or maybe three, of shots--somehow over the course of the night, things became a little fuzzy. She supposed that she'd gotten carried away and had a few too many drinks, probably in an attempt to forget that she and Nick would never have beautiful half-Chinese babies together because she was too shy to string together more than a few words in his presence. Her reticence didn't stem from the fact that he was a famous Backstreet Boy, really. It was more because everything Nick said so closely mirrored her own thoughts that the first time Jenny had ever spoken to him, she had come down with a serious case of verbal diarrhea--at least, that was how her besty Valerie referred to it--and babbled to the point of extreme embarrassment. Jenny decided she'd had enough awkward moments with Nick for a lifetime. Ever since that day, she'd been unable to say anything to him beyond work-related exchanges and polite conversation.

 From the shower, Jenny heard her landline ring in the kitchen. When it went to the answering machine, she could just make out her best friend's voice over the running water.

"Hey, sweetie, it's me Val. I was worried because you never texted me that you made it home okay. Anyway, I'm on my way to work so I'll see you in the office. Or if you end up calling in sick, text me when you get this. By the way, I have your favorite cardigan.  I was able to get that stain out of it from when you puked last night--"

"What--I puked?" Jenny shut off the water, wondering if she'd heard Valerie correctly. Her friend was still talking.

"--Anyway, I hope you're not feeling too sick this morning, though I can't really blame you if you do because I think I saw you down like eight or nine drinks last night. Love you!"

Once Jenny toweled off and put on some clothing, she played the message back on her answering machine. Sure enough, according to Valerie she had thrown up last night and on her favorite cardigan. In search of more evidence, Jenny went through the dirty laundry piled in the corner of her bedroom and found the cocktail dress that she'd worn. After a quick sniff she had to admit that it did smell a bit pukey, though nothing seemed to have gotten on the dress itself. Also in the laundry pile she found a large peacoat that most definitely did not belong to her.

"How did this get here?" she wondered. Jenny reached for her phone to call Val back, and noticed what time it was. "Oh, crap, I'm going to miss the bus!"  She grabbed her purse, coat, and umbrella and slipped on a pair of knee-high rain boots.

On her way out she spotted her forgotten mug in the kitchen and took a large gulp, making a face when she found that her tea had gone cold. Yuck. And then she was out the door and running three blocks uphill to the bus stop. Why is it when you're running late, no matter where you're going, you always have to run uphill? Jenny wondered. She had a stitch in her side as she approached the bus, waving her umbrella like a madman for the driver to notice her. The bus operator, a disgruntled looking woman in a gray knit vest emblazoned with the Muni emblem, glanced in her direction and then shut the bus doors and drove off just as Jenny approached.

Today was shaping up to be a miserable day indeed.

...

 

Drank too much last night, got bills to pay
My head just feels in pain
I missed the bus, and there’ll be hell to pay
I’m late for work again
And even if I live they’ll all imply that I might not last the day
But then you call me, and it’s not so bad, it’s not so bad

 

Jenny arrived at work half an hour late and swapped her rain boots for a pair of pumps that she kept stashed in her cubicle. Her boss, Heal The Bay's Executive Director, called her in to his office right away to lecture her for coming in late the third in time less than two weeks, but seemed to change his mind when he saw how miserable and hungover she looked. "Are you sure you don't want to go home, Jennifer? You look like you might not last the day," he laughed.

"I'll be fine. I've got some Advil in my desk," she assured him.

"All right then. Well, I left a list of contacts on your desk that you need to call or e-mail before noon. We need to mobilize our major supporters if we want to stop those developers from turning that salt pond area near 101 into a housing tract."

"I'll get right on it." She rose and was almost out the door when the boss stopped her.

"By the way, I saw Nick this morning at the photo shoot for our next fundraising campaign, and he says he had a good time last night. Guess we showed him San Francisco can party as well as Hollywood any day. Good work organizing everything."

Jenny accepted the boss's praise and returned to her cubicle to tackle her list of phone calls, but she was interrupted by Valerie, who came over excitedly waving her favorite black cardigan. "You're here! Everyone thought you weren't coming in today!"

"Not so loud, Val..." Jenny cringed, her head in pain. "I've got a killer headache. And what do you mean by ‘everyone'?"

"Oh, sorry...!" her best friend responded, dropping almost to a whisper. "By everyone I mean, you know, everyone in the office. You did kinda go overboard at the party last night, hun. It was just a little bit shocking because no one has ever seen you drunk before-- besides me and Gay Zack," she added, referring to their flamboyant friend in accounting whom they often joined at the gay dance clubs in the Castro district. "You're the talk of the office this morning!"

"Ugh..." Jenny groaned. "This day just keeps getting worse and worse."

"Well, just because you don't suffer from the Asian glow doesn't mean you can handle like nine drinks. I think your cardigan is proof of that. I was just telling straight Zack in PR that I don't know what got into you."

"Don't you ever work? How many people have you talked to already?" Jenny griped. "I honestly don't know what came over me. Everything after Nick blew out the candles on his birthday cake is kind of a blur."

"That dolphin cake was the cutest thing ever," Valerie said. "Good choice! But O-M-G. Does that mean you don't even remember talking to Nick then?"

"I talked to Nick?" Jenny said in shock. "Oh God, did I have verbal diarrhea?"

"No... at least I don't think you did. We were at the bar, but then I got distracted by that cute new guy in legal, so I didn't catch much of what was said. And then later after that you guys hit the dance floor. It didn't look like there was much talking going on, if you know what I mean."

"I danced with him too? Ugh, why did I have to black out last night? I don't remember anything..." Jenny rubbed at her temples, trying to recall what happened.

"You have to at least remember when Nick first came up and talked to you," Valerie insisted. "You were still sober then.  I think I saw you drinking a vodka cran or something like that."

It was sometime after the second round of shots that Nick sidled up to her. Jenny was standing at the bar, slowly nursing a vodka cranberry as she tapped her foot to the DJ spinning eighties tunes. She didn't want to drink too much since she had work in the morning, so she was trying to make her third drink last the rest of the night. Nick took the barstool beside her and flashed the smile that made everyone from pre-teens to soccer moms go crazy. "Rumor has it that this awesome shindig was your planning, Jenny Chong."

Jenny's heart leapt into her throat. "Oh... well..." tongue tied, she downed the rest of her drink and then charged bravely on. "It was everyone's idea to throw you a party; I just picked the place and booked the reservations and stuff. I thought it would be fun, you know."

"Are you kidding me? This place is hilarious! Eighties B-movies projected on the walls and a freakin' trailer-park trailer in the corner serving up tater tots... This is like the dive bar of my dreams. Thank you."

Elated that their conversation hadn't fallen flat on its face, Jenny continued. "The food's awesome here, too. You can't go wrong with deep fried everything. Did you try the MAC and cheese yet?"

"Not yet, but I think I've already downed like five deep fried twinkies," he laughed. Nick threw his arm over Jenny's shoulder and raised his glass in a toast but then noticed that her glass was empty. "Uh-oh, we can't have that," he said and turned to the bartender. "Get the lady another!"

"I remember now," Jenny said to Valerie. "Nick wanted to thank me for planning the party. I was going to stop at three drinks, but he ordered me another one. Then everyone did a round of shots, and by the fifth drink I was a goner. I swear I don't remember dancing with him though."

"That ‘s too bad. But maybe it's for the best ‘cause near the end you were more stumbling than dancing. Don't worry, you still looked good though," Val added quickly, ever the supportive best friend. "I loved that cocktail dress you had on, and I know Nick did too. He couldn't stop checking you out, chica!"

Jenny shook her head in disbelief, glad that she couldn't remember that part. If she'd known that Nick was checking her out, she may have had a heart attack. "Anyway, I can't believe that I threw up last night, though I'm sure that made Nick think twice about checking me out. Please tell me that I at least made it to the bathroom."

"You did," Valerie promised her then added sheepishly, "There's something else you should probably know. You're not going to be happy about it, but if I don't tell you, you're bound to hear it from someone else."

"What?" Jenny asked with a sense of dread. "I didn't throw up on Nick did I?"

"You promise not to scream?"

"Just tell me already, Val!"

"Okay, okay... It's just that right before you threw up, everyone in the bar heard you announce to Nick..."

It was close to midnight, and Jenny had lost count of what drink she was on. She and Nick had moved from the dance floor back to the bar. Or rather, Nick had physically relocated her back to the bar to sit because she'd become a lot less graceful with each round of shots.

"I think I got you drunk!" he laughed.

"You're so evil! I have to go to work tomorrow, you know... I am soooo gonna get you for this," she said, throwing her arm out and pointing her finger at a random person, who ended up being the bartender.

"What did I do?" the bartender asked.

"No, not you! Okay, yes you too actually. But mostly this is your fault, Mister," Jenny said and poked a finger in the center of Nick's chest. "Maybe I can't drink you under the table, but next time I am going to get you back."

"We'll see..." he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So how come we never hang out, Jenny?  I see you around like all the time since you're part of the executive staff. But I don't think we've ever had a real conversation before today."

"Actually, we have--one time," she laughed. "But I totally embarrassed myself because I couldn't stop talking. And since then, well I dunno... I guess I just kept my distance out of regret that you and I will never have beautiful half-Chinese babies together--"

Jenny stopped, wondering if she had said that last part aloud. Based on the number of people who had paused to stare at her, it would seem that she had. She caught Val's eye, and saw that her best friend had a hand clapped to her mouth in shock. "Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick..." Jenny said, her stomach churning as she slid off her barstool and headed straight for the ladies room.

"I said what?!"

Val had no time to respond as, at that moment, their boss walked by on his way to the water cooler and glanced in Jenny's cubicle. "Oh Valerie, did you get that list of permits I need you to clear with the city for our next charity event? And how's your list of contacts coming along, Jennifer?"

Valerie took the hint and quickly retreated back to her desk, leaving Jenny there to nod numbly at her boss. "Yeah, great..."

It was official: Worst. Day. Ever.



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