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Chapter Thirteen: Like A Virgin


We stood out on the dock in silence together for a long ass time before some obnoxious drunk teens started showing up around us and Becky suggested we walk. So we made our way down onto the beach and Becky kicked off her flip flops to walk barefoot. "So tell me about you," she said, "There's gotta be more to you than WOW and work. Just tell me something. Anything."

I licked my lips. "I don't know that there is much, really," I said. "I'm a relatively uninteresting guy."

"That's bullshit."

I laughed, "How do you know? You don't know me."

"You're right I don't," she said, "But I'd like to. So c'mon. Tell me something. Anything."

"Do I at least get a category?"

"Favorite band."

"Journey, hands down."

Becky laughed. "I love Journey too. Don't Stop Believing is genius."

"I like Lights," I said, "It reminds me of home for some reason. I don't really know why, I don't think it's really about Tampa, but I always just picture Tampa when I hear it and it makes me homesick sometimes."

"Where's home?"

"Tampa Bay," I answered.

"Florida."

"Yeah."

Becky laughed, "When I picture Florida, I picture old guys in Speedos, plastic lawn flamingos, and alligators."

I laughed, "I do, too. That's what's great about it, though. It's all those things. It's laid back. Not like here where everything's fast paced and glitzy and beautiful. You know? The only way to fit in here is to be an innovative botox laced celebrity or you're shit." I shrugged.

"Or serve those that are," Becky said. "I get asshats like that at Oasis all the time. They bitch me out over the stupiest things."

"Like not having medium cups?" I asked.

Becky laughed. "That's exclusively you."

"Yay, I'm exclusive," I grinned.

Becky smiled. "It's just like high school, Los Angeles is. I'd love to live somewhere that they don't give a flying fuck if you're fat and have wrinkles around your eyes. Florida sounds like Oz."

"If you replaced munchkins with old people, pretty much."

We'd walked a long distance from the pier and the boardwalk. It was completely dark other than the moon glowing off the ocean. Becky sat down on a rock, dropping her purse and flip flops to the sand beside her feet. I sat next to her. The ocean rumbled and white foam hissed a few feet away. Tide song. I closed my eyes and felt the salt air brush on me.

"I love the ocean," I mumbled.

"It's nice," Becky said.

"Sometimes it's the only thing that centers me. It's like the ocean sound echos my heartbeat. When I've had a shitty day, I come here and just breathe and it's like everything falls into place again, like everything's made right by it."

"That's how I feel about my favorite song," Becky said.

"What's your favorite song?" I asked, looking over at her.

"Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley," Becky answered.

"Not a New Kids on the Block ballad?" I said, mock surprise in my voice.

"And I suppose yours is?" she teased.

"I already told you mine."

"Lights."

"Yep."

"What's your favorite non-Journey song?" she asked.

It'd been awhile since I'd thought of that. My tastes had changed. There was a time I'd had a ready answer. Now my second favorite song could be any song from an ever growing list of songs. Pretty much every other song on my iPod had the moment when it became my second favorite song. They took turns. I was an equal opportunity listener. After a long pause, I said, "I've had Down Under by Men at Work stuck in my head for the last week."

Becky cracked up. "Oh God Nate, are you sure you're not gay?"

I laughed, "Don't judge it."

"Why in the hell do you have Men at Work stuck in your head?"

"I dunno, it came up on my shuffle and --"

"You own Men at Work music?"

"I own pretty much everything," I answered, "My music collection is quite extensive."

"I'd like to see it."

"Okay," I replied.

We got up and started walking back down the beach. We were almost back to the boardwalk when Becky cursed. "I forgot my purse and my shoes," she said.

"I'll go get 'em," I answered.

I ran back, the sand kicking up behind me as I went. I heard her laughing when I stumbled. I got back to the rock and grabbed her purse and shoes from the sand. My phone vibed in my pocket. I pulled it out real quick. It was Chris.

He'd scored after all.

We were tied again.

Shit.

I handed her her stuff when I got back to her, but my mind was now reeling on how to take the lead back from Chris yet again. When we got to the car Becky said, "You got quiet. Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't offend you making fun of Men at Work, right?" she asked, "Or like suggesting you were gay? 'Cos I was kidding. Ricky's my best friend and he's as flaming as it gets. If you were gay, he would've known it back at Fresh Oasis. I know you aren't."

I laughed, "You mean Ricky's the only reason you know I'm not? My manly qualities didn't tip you off?"

Becky snorted. "You recognized New Kids on the Block, if it wasn't for Ricky you'd totally have me stumped."

"You're making me reconsider showing you my record collection, you know."

"You have a vinyl collection?" she asked.

"Everything's better on vinyl," I answered.

"I'll be good, I swear," she said in a robotic voice, "Take me to your vinyl."

Laughing, I directed her how to drive back to my house. When we entered the gated community, she muttered, "Shit, you must be loaded."

I shrugged.

We pulled into my driveway and I walked up to the front door and unlocked it. I led her quickly through the foyer to the stairs and up to my music room. I made a mental note to be careful not to take her into the living room because that's where all my BSB stuff was. I'd have to take that down if I wanted to stay being Nate to her. And I kind of liked being Nate. It was freeing. It was like there wasn't any expectations, which was something that I'd always struggled with: living up to what was expected of Nick Carter.

The music room though was a small den-like area I'd made for myself with bean bag chairs and the best sounding equipment money could buy. I'd lined the walls with posters and album artwork. I had a black light in there, candles, you name it. The carpet was soft. I flipped the overhead light on. One entire wall I'd covered with shelving units that held my records, like an old time radio station's sound booth. Becky's eyes lit up. "Sweet Jesus," she muttered. She rushed over and started flipping through the various records.

I watched her, watched the way she moved, the way her hips moved. I watched her fingers. It occurred to me suddenly that even if she wasn't technically part of the bet, even if it hadn't been my initial plan, it would still count as a +1 if I slept with her because she didn't know who I was.

I closed the door. My heart was pounding in my chest.

I felt slightly guilty for even considering doing this.

I reached for the box of matches I kept on a side table with my various pairs of headphones. I started lighting candles as Becky squealed over records. "Oh my God, I can't believe you have this one --" she'd say, holding one up to read it, "I love this song. Oh my God, I bet this is so good on vinyl."

She didn't notice the candles. Or if she did, she didn't act like she had.

"Madonna!" she squeaked. "Nate, you have an incredible --" she turned around. The candles were all lit around the room, giving it a low. I was back at the door, about to turn off the light. "-- collection," she finished.

My finger brought the switch down. "Thanks," I said. I walked over and took the Madonna record out of her hands and put it up on the shelf in a random spot. She stared up at me, terrified-looking. I leaned in, about to kiss her, when she backed away, like shrapnel being shot from a gun.

"I can't," she said from a couple feet away.

"Why?"

Becky took a deep breath, "Nate, I've never..."

"That's okay," I said. Actually it was better than okay. A virgin? Seriously? It was too good to be true. Nobody that beautiful was a virgin in Los Angeles. "I'll be gentle..."

"No Nate, it's not just about sex," she said. "I've never even kissed before."

I could all but hear the scratching record sound as the thoughts in my head came to a complete, sudden, and total stop. "Say what?"

Becky's face turned a shade just shy of magenta. "I've never kissed. I don't know how to. I'm afraid I'll be bad at it."

"How are you thirty-one and never been kissed?" I demanded.

"I told you about high school and everything," Becky said, "Nobody wants to kiss Big Becky."

I shook my head, "I do." I took two quick steps forward and started to lean in again. Becky looked terrified, but she let me come closer and closer until our lips met. I tilted my head slightly so our noses wouldn't bump. At first she was stiff and scared feeling, but she melted and the next thing I knew I had the softest, sweetest lips against mine. I pulled back. Her eyes were still closed, still relishing the feeling. After a moment they opened.

"Thank you. I should go," she whispered.

"You sure?"

Becky nodded. "Positive. But thank you." She started for the door.

"Wait."

She turned.

I turned to the shelf, looked through the records quickly, and pulled out a copy of the first NKOTB album on vinyl. I held it out to her. "This deserves a home where it'll be taken care of." Donnie had signed it the year before when he'd come here to record a couple samples at my home studio for Don't Turn Out the Lights. He'd dug through my LPs, and found it, laughed, and signed it without me asking for him to. Honestly it'd kind of annoyed me because I'm one of those people that like their albums in mint condition. I hadn't even taken it out of the plastic because I literally had only bought it to round out a collection, not to actually listen to it. But his signature was in a silver sharpie that scrawled across the front of it.

Becky stared at the cover, at the signature. She looked up at me. "Thank you," she whispered.

I showed her down to the door and watched her walk across the lawn to the Slyyymer. She waved from the driver's side door and swung herself in, putting the record on the passenger seat. She started the car.

I ran out across the lawn to the car. She unrolled her window when I got there. "Yes?" she asked.

"When can I see you again?" I asked.

Becky laughed, "I just assumed you'd be getting another breakfast smoothie tomorrow," she replied, smirking, and rolled her window up again before backing down the driveway.

I went back inside and spent the rest of the night tucking my gold records, awards, and pictures with the guys into a spare bedroom.

I'd just have to find another girl to take the lead back from Chris again with, that's all.