X: (It Gets a Little Windier)

Lillian Vance was a frivolous girl, and frivolous girls were just the type that Nick usually went for because they were fun and tended to be easy.  Still, Lillian made Nick nervous.  She was the daughter of Edmund Vance, music tycoon and the owner of Vance Records, a powerful man who had built his record label from the ground up during the Roaring Twenties and managed to keep it afloat during the Not-So-Roaring Thirties.  Nick had met Lillian by accident while trying to get in the good graces of Edmund Vance, and now with a record deal for him and Carla so close he had to be careful not to do anything to make her unhappy.

Unfortunately for Nick, Lillian did not seem to be tiring of his company as was usually the case with frivolous girls.  The two of them had been on more dates than he could count, and Nick was worried that any day now she would ask him to "go steady."  He quite enjoyed his bachelor lifestyle and knew that he had to find some way to break things off gently with Lillian without also jeopardizing his chances of recording with Vance Records.

Nick sat puzzling over the situation in the Vance family's Rolls Royce Phantom as Lillian chattered mindlessly beside him.  They were on their way back to the city following a long afternoon on Lake Michigan.  Lillian had declared it a fine day to take a boat out, but Nick had discovered, however, that what Lillian really meant was that it was a fine day for her to sit with a parasol waving her handkerchief while Nick did all the rowing.  He was now red across the back of his neck and ears, and his shoulders felt quite stiff. 

It was nearly time for him to head to the Aragon when Lillian declared that she wanted to go for a drive.  Nick decided that he could humor her for a bit longer.  At least Lillian had a driver so he could sit back and relax while someone else did all the work.  The two of them got cozy in the back seat as the chauffeur took them along a winding drive that followed the lakeshore.  It was a comfortable ride as the Rolls Royce had a custom-made interior crafted by one of the best stagecoach outfitters, boasting rich leather trim, spacious seats, and luxury wood paneling. 

As they drove alongside the sparkling lake, Lillian chattered on about the Chicago elite, relaying gossip about people that Nick didn't know and couldn't care less about.

"Did you know, Mr. Palmer actually convinced the city to build this whole drive along the lake to increase the value of his mansion?  He thinks that when the road's done, people will move from South Side out here.  Who'd want to live out here anyway?  It might be fun to take a drive along the lake shore, but it's not at all fashionable."  She babbled as Nick stared idly out the window on the seat beside her.

 "Oh, I wish we could just enjoy this weather forever!" she enthused.  Lillian scooted from her side of the plush leather seat to sit closer to Nick and clutch his arm as she looked up with him with misty blue eyes.

"Didn't you have just so much fun on the lake?" she asked.

"Yeah fun," Nick agreed with somewhat less enthusiasm.

 "I had a wonderful time today, Nicky!  Now what say we go get something to eat?"

"Aw, Lil, you know I can't.  I have to get to the Aragon for my show."  More than anything, he was anxious to get back to Carla to explain his defection from rehearsal that morning.  If his pianist was in a grumpy mood for the performance, she might not put on her best performance.  Nick knew that Mr. Vance was going to be sitting in on the show tonight and that they had to be at their best.

"Nicky, you work so hard.  You've got to get out and have some fun!" she chirped, clutching his arm again.  "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

"All right, you win," he sighed.  "No time for dinner but we'll drive around for another half hour.  And then I really do have to get back."

He steeled himself for another thirty minutes of trivial banner and at the end of it, Lillian dropped a comment that caught him off guard.  "We've gone on a few dates now and had a swell time.  I think you should ask me to go steady, Nicky," she said demurely.

"What?" Going steady did not bode well for his bachelor lifestyle.  He laughed it off.

"You heard me, I want you to ask me to go steady."

"Well, aren't you just a forward little cookie?" Nick teased.  "But you shouldn't settle for a ragamuffin like me, Lil.  You're a nice girl and I'm a lowly traveling musician who hasn't even made his big break.  Sure, we might go on a few dates and have a laugh but your father-not to mention all the rest of society-expects you to be courted by someone a little less rough around the edges."

Lillian smiled at him slowly, "No need to be secretive with me, Nicky.  You think I don't know all about you and who you are?  I know nearly every good-looking eligible bachelor that's worth knowing in this country, which is why I've set my sights on you."

Surprised Nick sat back in his seat.  "It's like that now, is it?" he replied frostily.  He thought carefully about the implications of what she had just told him, his jaw set firmly as he weighed his options.  "Listen, how about we talk about this later, like after my show?"

"Oh poo, stop worrying about that silly little show.  I'll explain to Daddy that something came up so you couldn't make it tonight, and he'll listen to you play some other time.  You know he'd give me anything I wanted.  If that's a record deal for you, then so be it-once you and I start going steady, that is," she added convincingly.

"Lil..." Nick was at a loss for words.  "You're a doll, really.  And I like spending time with you, but I don't want a record deal just because I'm dating you.  I want it to be because your father actually thinks my and Carl's music is good.  I'm not the type of guy who likes to be handed everything on a silver platter, y'know?"

Lillian's eyes narrowed.  "Oh? And what does that make me then?  Are you calling me spoiled, huh?"  Her pretty face twisted into a dark look.  "You're such a hypocrite, Nick Carter.  You say you don't want things handed to you, yet it's all right for you to string me along so daddy will give you a record deal."

"It's not like that at all," Nick protested.

"Well how is it then?" Lillian demanded, hands on her hips.

"Oh, you know, I think you're really swell-"

"Baloney!  This was all just one big pretence to you, wasn't it?  You're such a cad, Nick Carter!  Get out of my car, right this instant." Her golden curls began to tremble with fury. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Lil.  You know it wasn't like that."

"Get out of my face!"

"Come on, you're asking me to get out of a moving vehicle."

"You know what I mean.  Matthews," she shrieked to the driver, "stop the car!"  The man had been politely pretending not to listen but now with a nod began to slow the vehicle.

"But we're in the middle of nowhere," Nick protested.  "You said it yourself, this road's not even done being built yet."

"I don't care."  She crossed her arms, turned her head to the side, and said not a single word more to him.  The Rolls Royce pulled over to the side of the road and deposited Nick there, showering him with dust as it drove away.

Nick coughed and threw an arm over his face.  When the dust settled, he found himself on a dusty lane with no sign of how to get back to the city.  "Dammit, Carter, now you've gone and done it..."  He wondered how he was ever going to make it back in time for the show.

...

It was half past eight when Nick arrived at the Aragon Ballroom, dusty and worn.  Some band he didn't recognize was playing on stage, and Carla was nowhere in sight.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we maintain a strict dress code here," said the coat check, who appeared at his elbow.  "You're going to have to come back with a dinner jacket."  He sniffled pompously and added, "And perhaps a bath."

"I need to see your boss," Nick told him.  "Tell him Carter's here."

The coat check gave a low whistle and dropped the airs.  "So you're Carter, eh?  Sure you wanna see the boss right now?  He's in a rage over you."

"Just take me to him, will you?"

The man led Nick through a side door and down a dark, narrow corridor to the back of the theater and the smoky office of one Mr. C.J. Winderly, owner of the Aragorn Ballroom as well as a number of successful clubs and gambling houses.  When Nick was allowed in, he entered with his head low and his hands clasped beseechingly.  "C.J., I am so sorry about tonight."

"You!  You dare show your face here?" the owner demanded gruffly.  He was red in the face and so angry that he had already chomped to bits the fat cigar that protruded from the corner of his mouth.  "Lousy bum!"

From clear across the room, Nick thought he could see spittle fly as the owner yelled. "You gotta understand it wasn't intentional.  I got stranded at Lake Michigan, C.J., and-"

"No!  You do not get to call me that.  C.J. is only reserved for people on my good side.  Do you know how much money you cost me?  I don't want to hear no excuses, you good for nothing son of a bitch."

Nick didn't know how to respond, so he simply stood with his head down, scrutinizing the fine gold threading that ran through the office's forest green carpet, as his ears turned red with shame.

Winderley wasn't done with him yet.  "Never in all my years have I been so sorely abused.  You leave me without an act on a Saturday night?  Just one dumb kid on a piano.  No one's going to have fun.  What is he, like fifteen?  And the kids's useless cause he can't talk."

"Where did Carl go, by the way?" Nick asked meekly.

"I told him to scram and to never show his face here again, and I want you to know the same thing applies to you.  I ain't having no no-shows here in my ballroom.  Every band is dying to play here and you two nobodies just screw me over like you own the place.  I can't believe it!"

"I'm sorry.  Please, you have to believe me that it wasn't intentional.  I did everything I could to get here."

"Get out of my office, kid.  Believe me when I say I'm tellin' everyone what a lousy and unreliable hack you are."

"But-"

"Get out!"  Winderley pulled the cigar out of his mouth and hurled it at Nick, narrowly missing his head by an inch.  Nick turned and fled out the door.  Outside the office, he nearly collided with a crowd of workers standing crushed together, eavesdropping on the confrontation.  They promptly scattered, and Nick had to grab one of them by the sleeve. 

"Hey, man, did you see Edmond Vance here tonight?"

The worker, a floorman, nodded.  "Mr. Vance didn't look too happy.  Looks like you're never gonna get another chance with him, kid."

Nick groaned.  Everything was a mess.  Somehow, he was going to have to find a way to apologize to both C.J.-or rather, Mr. Winderley-as well as Mr. Vance.  Not to mention that he still had to find Carla and see how she was doing, which probably wasn't too well, considering how he was feeling and he hadn't even been the one who had to sit through the disaster.

Nick hailed a taxi back to their hotel, but found no sign of Carla there.  She had left him a note on the coffee table though, a small scrap torn from the tablet Carla used when she wasn't supposed to talk.  It said simply How could you?

Nick went down to the lobby to talk to the doorman.  "Hey, man, can I bum a cigarette?"

"Sure thing."  The doorman pulled a thin, flat cigarette tin from inside his uniform coat and offered Nick one.

Nick leaned forward for the doorman to light it, drew a long puff, and then exhaled deeply.  He could feel the nicotine work its way through his system, calming his overwrought nerves.  "Have you seen my buddy Carl tonight?"

"You mean the one who likes to dress like a girl sometime?"

"Er... yeah."  Nick hoped the doorman was the only person who'd noticed.

"Sure did.  He came back a little earlier tonight, looking all torn up about something.  Left not too long after."

"Damn.  Did he say where he'd be going?"

"Nobody ever talks to me, boss.  I'm just the doorman."

Nick went outside to stand under the awnings and wait for Carla to come back.  He knew she was sorely put-out at him and had every right to be.  After all, from her perspective his actions that day were unforgiveable.  Just this morning he and Carla had been on the verge of securing a record deal and becoming one of the biggest acts in Chicago, and now...

Watching the smoke curl lazily from the end of his cigarette up into the awnings, Nick tried to figure out a way to clean up this mess.