Oreos for Breakfast: Nick BSB Fiction

Oreos for Breakfast: Chapter Four
By The Paperbag Princess and The Pumpkin Coach

Corresponding KTBPA Message Board Posts (Fictional!)

Picking some mint out of the container on the deck, I glanced into the kitchen at Frank and Nick. Frank was cleaning the mussels we'd gotten for dinner, and Nick was studying the directions to the ice cream maker like it might help him save the world. Why did I do this, why did I invite him up here? We were fine with Frank here, but I'd done too good a job at convincing Frank that Nick was safe. We'd gone out grocery shopping and no one had even looked at Nick twice. If Frank left, and Nick and I were alone, my willpower would crumble.

I couldn't get more involved with him than I was now. He just needed someone to take his mind off AJ and the band, once Backstreet hit the road again, I'd be forgotten. But one push, and I'd be head over heels, that was the last thing I needed, as my band was about to undertake this tour.

Holding my herbs carefully, I went back inside, forgetting my troubles in the rituals of dinner. I loved to cook, it had been months since I'd been able to, and Frank had surprised both Nick and I earlier by telling us that he loved to cook as well. Frank and I had been talking about balsamic vinegar and wine and seafood all afternoon, boring Nick to tears. I'd put Nick on ice cream detail, figuring it was pretty difficult to fuck up.

If Frank did leave, and Nick and I were alone, I hated to break it to him that it wouldn't get much more interesting here than a trip into town for groceries. I came to this house to be still, to do nothing but stare at the view and be with my family.

Finally, we sat down with Frank's mussels as a starter, and I swooned at first bite, briny and delicate and perfect. "My god, Frank, you're amazing."

He swallowed one and smiled at me. "Thank you."

Nick was a bit more cautious, but tried one and smiled. "Wow, these are good."

I took a sip of my wine and considered Frank. Before we got sidetracked with dinner, he'd been telling us that he learned to cook in the Army, before going to college. College, where he'd gotten a teaching degree, of all things. "You never answered my question. How does one go from phys ed teacher to bodyguard?"

Frank shrugged, picking up another mussel and pulling it free from its shell. "I was a bouncer in college. You meet people. One thing leads to another…"

"So who was your first job? Did you start with Backstreet?" I had no idea how old Frank was. He could be 50. He could be my age. Buzz cut, goatee, who knew?

"No. Duran Duran."

I dropped my fork, looking up from my plate at his sly smile. "You are shitting me!" I glanced over at Nick, he was as surprised as I was.

"Ordinary World tour."

"You fuck!" I yelled. "You were there in Philly when we talked about them for ages. Bayley's writing a book on them, she will so want to interview you. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I was working at the time."

I rolled my eyes and went back to eating. Men. "Were you with just one of them, or all of them?"

"Nick, mostly."

I shot him a look. "Of course." Was Nick Rhodes gay? Was Frank going to tell me? He just raised a calm eyebrow at me and went back to eating. "So they lured you away from the virtuous life as a teacher with promises of money and world travel?"

Nick laughed, his great little heh that made me weak in the knees. "And girls. I'm sure girls were part of it."

"And boys, I know Duran fans."

Frank met my look and then glanced over at Nick. He was frozen in the act of lifting a bite to his mouth, just staring at Frank.

"Oh, shit." I clapped a hand over my mouth. Nick didn't know that Frank was gay? How could he miss it? "Girls, I'm sure it was girls," I tried to backpedal, and Frank shook his head.

"If I was going to be tempted by groupies, they would be boys."

"You're GAY?" Nick half shrieked, and I burst into laughter.

"I tell you, Rachel, our little man here is highly unobservant," Frank drawled.

"What was I supposed to observe? Shouldn't you have told me that or something?" Nick's voice cracked in indignation, making me giggle more.

Frank shrugged at him. "I never kept it a secret. You've met my boyfriend." Nick gave him a blank look and Frank supplied a name. "Chris."

"I thought he was your brother!" Nick exclaimed, making me laugh harder. He was too amusing when shocked. "Really, Rache, they look alike!"

Frank went back to his mussels, nodding. "We met at the gym. I suppose we do."

Nick continued to sputter at him for a few seconds. "Does everyone know but me?" He finally wailed.

"I haven't taken a poll lately, little man. The other bodyguards do, that's why I'm with you. Did you never wonder why groupies can't get near you? No matter what they throw at me, I'm not tempted."

I almost spit my wine out, choking through my giggles. Good to know. "Is that why you let me through in Raleigh, because I didn't hit on you?"

Frank smiled at me. "No, I could tell you had no fucking idea who they were and didn't care. I love to fuck with him when I get the chance."

I loved Frank. Frank was my new best friend. Nick sighed, poking at his food. "I can't believe I didn't know. Shouldn't that have been part of the job interview or something?"

"First of all, you didn't interview me. Secondly, you're not my type, so stop worrying."

I scowled at him. I wasn't worrying. I knew plenty of gay guys. You had to, in my job. I was just… surprised. "Yeah, if Chris is your boyfriend, I can figure that out."

I'd never really thought about Frank having a sex life at all, let alone with guys.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" I asked, and knew the answer before I finished my sentence.

"You never asked, little man."

"She didn't either, and you told her!" I protested, pointing at Rachel. She gave me an innocent look.

"Babe, I figured that one out from the moment I met him. Years of hanging out with James and his friends, I can tell these things." I scowled at her and she smiled at me for a second before turning back to Frank. "Yeah, you're gay, whatever. Tell me about Duran! Were you on that whole tour? That tour went on for fucking ever! Did you like them back in the day or what?"

"You try being gay in the middle of Texas in the 80s. Of course I liked Duran!" He snapped back, making us both laugh.

He was supposed to be a cattle rancher, he'd told us that earlier. Rachel asked him questions I'd never even thought of, and now I was looking at Frank completely differently. I did wonder what his life had been like before. Maybe his parents didn't like that he was gay, maybe that's why he never talked about his family? I almost asked, but he and Rachel were laughing about Duran, and I paid attention, they were way more interesting than life on my boring tour bus.

Rachel jumped up, saying something about the grill, and I started clearing the table. "They were really good mussels, Frank."

"Like I said, there are lots of things about me you don't know, little man." He followed me into the kitchen, pulling something out of the fridge.

"I don't care that you're gay, Frank. Is that why you didn't tell me, did you think I would freak out?"

"I never told you because it never came up. It's not important."

I started to argue, but stopped myself. I didn't know anything at all about Frank, I could just add this to my list of new things learned today.

"Bread!" Rachel yelled from the door and Frank tossed a loaf at her. She caught it easily, smiling at him. "If I grill it, will you garlic it?"

"Whatever you wish, darlin'," He drawled, and she disappeared again with a giggle.

At least I didn't have to worry that Rachel liked Frank and not me any more, right? Not that I ever really did, but she did like him a lot…

I stopped worrying as Rachel started handing us things off the grill and Frank arranged them on plates. Five minutes later, we were sitting down to dinner and more Duran conversation.

Rachel had done all this, and it was amazing. It was the best meal I'd had in months. Even her green beans were good, and I hated green beans. She grinned as I took another helping. "See? They're good, aren't they?"

"Everything's good, Rache. I should have known you could cook, too."

Still smiling, she looked back at Frank. "So you couldn't have been working for Duran until Backstreet, right? Because what the hell has Duran been doing lately?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "No, then we had the lost London years, when I was with Oasis."

The smile dropped from her face and she sat back, considering him. "When?" What was wrong with Oasis? Did she know them or something?

"'94 and '95."

She pretended great interest in her food. "Before my time, then. I dated Damon Albarn for a while," she told him.

What did Damon have to do with Oasis? Something, from the way Frank nodded at her with a slow smile. "You picked the right side in that war."

She laughed, relaxing. "I was there long after the whole thing."

"What thing?" I finally asked, and she smiled over at me.

"Oh, Blur and Oasis had this whole feud going in the press. Like you and *N Sync, half of it's true, the other half is all press. Damon sure hated them, though."

Frank laughed. "And they hated him. I never told them that I preferred Blur, myself."

Rachel giggled. "And where the hell are Oasis now? Best band in the world, my ass."

"Wasn't Damon dating that one from Elastica?" Frank asked, and Rachel shrugged.

"I was rebound girl. Or something. But we're not talking about me, you're going to give me Oasis dirt, Alex will love me!" At Frank's blank look, she went on. "Alex James, from Blur, is married to my friend Em Evesham, blah blah blah…"

"Em, yes. Sweet girl. Do you know the story about when some asshole crowd surfed into her when she was shooting an Oasis show and she almost killed him?"

Em? Nice little Em tried to hurt someone?

"Yeah," Rachel answered. "Oh! You were the bodyguard that kicked his ass, weren't you?"

Frank shrugged, looking innocent. "I'm a nice Southern gentleman, you don't hit ladies. I could never work for a girl group, I'd be smashing heads left and right."

"Is that why you turned down the Britney Spears job?" I wondered. That had been a few years ago, something happened to make him stay with us.

"She's such a bitty little thing!" He exclaimed, and I cracked up before he could go on. 'Bitty,' great word. He scowled at me.

"Well, she is. And her boyfriend is an ass. Your Mandy was a piece of work, but I knew she was still better than dealing with that punkass."

Rachel's eyes lit up at the mention of Mandy and I groaned inwardly. Oh, not embarrassing Mandy stories, please… Frank knew way too much about Mandy and me. "Piece of work, was she?" Rachel inquired, and Frank caught my eye.

"Mandy never would have cooked me dinner, I'm sure of that," he answered, looking back at Rachel.

"Hell, she never cooked me dinner," I added. "No, wait, she did once, and it was a disaster."

Rachel beamed at me, looking pleased with herself for winning the Mandy battle. No contest, Rache, you win it all hands down.

"On that note, should we see what you did to the ice cream?" She teased me, standing up from the table.

I was a little scared of the ice cream. I added all the stuff and let the machine go. Would it be ice cream now? I followed her into the kitchen, hovering behind her as she found it in the freezer and tried some on her finger. "It's good! Try it." She held out a bit on her finger, and I licked it off with a smile.

Oh, hell, what was I thinking? His warm mouth closed around my cold finger and I nearly came undone. He had an amazing tongue, it wrapped around my finger and I pulled away from him quickly. He licked his lips, his blue eyes sparkling. "Very good."

Shaking my head, I moved away, looking for bowls. Frank joined us in the kitchen and we fussed over dessert and I tried to concentrate on that, rather than the fact that Nick would be sleeping just across the hall from me tonight. We'd have more wine, talk some more, maybe I'd just be exhausted by the time I fell into bed.

Yeah, you can keep hoping that, Rachel.

"This is an amazing view, Rachel." Frank said, almost a whisper, not wanting to break the silence, like a voice might disturb the stars. I'd nearly forgotten he was there; my senses were filled with Rachel and the stars stretching out on either side of us, unbroken from side to side. I'd never seen anything like it. Nothing else existed but us, on this tiny piece of land pushing out into the sea. The three of us had been sitting out here on the deck since watching the sun set, finishing the wine we started at dinner and talking about random things. I never knew Frank was such an interesting guy before, he had all sorts of stories about the other bands he'd worked for.

"I know," Rachel answered, her voice breaking. Leaning over, I looked at her, surprised to find tears in her eyes.

"Rache. What's wrong?"

What could be wrong? This was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen, this had been one of the best nights of my life, being with her and finding out things I never knew. She sat back in her chair. "Nothing's wrong. Too much wine."

"I don't believe you." She was playing with her hair, twisting a curl around one finger, staring at the edge of the deck instead of the view.

"I just… I just miss my dad." Her voice broke again, and she got up, shaking her head. I started to follow her and she held out a hand to stop me. "No. Stay out here, enjoy this. I'm being maudlin, ignore me." She went into the house quickly and Frank and I exchanged a look, getting up to follow her, gathering our wineglasses. She was nowhere to be found, and Frank put the glasses in the kitchen sink.

"Go find her. I'm going to bed." He said, and my terror must have shown on my face. "Go and prove you can be decent."

"But… what do I say?"

He shrugged. "Whatever you need to." He met my eyes. "Time to be a grown-up, little man. Let her talk, show her you can be a friend."

He was right, of course. Frank usually was, I should listen to him more often. But I was nervous as I went upstairs, calling her name quietly. She met me at the door to her bedroom, a false smile on her face. "I told you to enjoy the view, Nick. I'm okay."

I leaned on the wall, my hands in my pockets. "I don't believe you." She had pulled a sweater on over her T-shirt, it was way too big for her. "Is that your dad's?"

Her eyes grew huge and she covered her mouth with her hand, which was hidden in the length of the sweater. After a second, she got control of herself and nodded towards the sweater I was wearing. "So's that."

I looked down at it, surprised. "Is it?" I'd asked for a sweater when the sun went down, and she had found one for me. I didn't even consider where it might have come from.

"Don't be freaked out, he never wore it." Her voice broke again and she sighed, angry at herself. "It was… it was going to be… a present."

She looked sad and angry all at once, and I reached out for her, unable to help myself. I'd cried on her shoulder about AJ last night, the least I could do was return the favor. But what do I say? What do I do?

She didn't see my outstretched hand, at least that's what I told myself as she turned, going back into her room. I hesitated at the door, looking in at her, and she returned my gaze for a moment. "All you have to do is listen," she said quietly. "Let me talk for about ten minutes and I'll be okay and let you get some sleep."

"You can talk as long as you want," I told her, sitting in the chair next to the windows. She was curled up on the loveseat, and somehow I knew if I touched her, she'd fall apart. We were quiet for a moment, as she picked at the cuff of her sweater, unraveling it. The drawing I'd done of her the other day at breakfast was taped up above her seat, and I was about to ask her about it to break the silence when she spoke.

"This sweater used to be bigger." She smiled slightly, looking up at me. "He caught this sleeve on a nail somewhere, years ago, and every time Mom washed it, it lost more threads. She tried to throw it away a million times, but it was his favorite sweater, he wore it around the house every weekend." She held up the latest thread lost, considering it. "It was the first thing I wanted after he died. Well, once I was sane." Her breath caught as she tried to keep speaking and she shook her head, brushing away tears angrily.

"That sweater, the one you're wearing, I bought in London. I was going to give it to him on his birthday, in May. It was months later that I got it back, the last box of my stuff from Damon's."

Damon? She was with Damon when her Dad died? When did he die, anyway? "What happened, Rache? Can you tell me that?"

Nodding, she looked almost grateful as she answered. Why grateful? Because I cared? Because it gave her something to talk about? "Yeah, I can do that part. I've done that a few times. He was killed by a drunk driver, about 15 minutes from here. He was on his way home from staying late at the vineyard working on the books. It was April 10th, 2000. He'd called Mom to tell her he was on his way and when he wasn't home in 30 minutes, she started to worry, and when she heard the sirens, she… knew." She brushed away her tears, going on. "The other guy walked away, of course. He's in jail, and I think I'd see him die, if it was my choice to make."

"I don't blame you," I agreed, and she nodded at me, her chin set high as she tried to tell me without breaking down.

"I was in London, with Damon. I'd been there for months, and hadn't seen my family since I left. The band was nowhere, because I'd fucked off to London to devote myself to that idiot, and my dad was so disappointed. That stupid song you sing about your moms being your biggest fans?" I nodded, even as I disagreed if it was 'stupid'. "That was my dad. I got out of college and I was supposed to join the family business and Dad told me to follow my dreams. He went to every show he could."

I could not imagine her doing the things she did onstage in front of her parents.

"He bought the albums and sold them at the vineyard, he was amazing. But when he died, I'd become… a disappointment. Giving up my dreams for a guy."

"But look at yourself now, Rache. The band is doing great, he can't be upset by that."

She gave me a grateful smile. "It took me a long time to get back to it. But you're right. Mom called me in London and I turned to Damon and finally told him to fuck off. I mean… god. I gave up everything for him, and look what happened. I wasn't even there when my dad died."

She was quiet for a moment, staring off into space. "That was the worst day of my life. I know that sounds trite, I mean, of course it was the worst day of my life. But, really… it was unbelievable. I hadn't slept, Damon and I were fighting… no, not even fighting. We had descended into melodrama by that point, we barely spoke, we were trying so hard to pretend that everything was fine."

Was that before or after she found out about Damon's baby, I wondered. Best not to ask, just let her talk, Carter. I had my hand on the arm of her couch, and she was playing with the sleeve of my sweater absentmindedly, not looking at me at all. She was somewhere else entirely.

"It wasn't fine, it was awful, but I was too fucking stubborn to give up that easily. I wasted two years not breaking up with Jeremy, why should Damon be different, right? Then mom called, at 8 in the morning, and by the time I calculated that it was 3 AM here, I had it figured out."

There was a box of tissues on the table next to my chair, and I grabbed one, handing it to her as a tear ran down her cheek. I wanted to take her into my arms and kiss away her tears, but she smiled as she took the tissue, wiping away her face and continuing to talk. Talking was helping her somehow, so I just let her do it.

"Damon was immediately trying to help, of course, and I snapped. I'm not even sure what I said, but I told him to fuck off and good. It was about a month too late, but I did it. I ran out of the house with nothing but my passport and some credit cards." She sighed. "I ended up at Em's house, and she took care of everything. Got me on a plane, got Alex to go and pack some of my clothes, I just sat there and held the baby."

Em? Em Evesham? They were that close? She caught my look and nodded.

"So when you asked if I know Em just because of Damon, I got a little snippy. Em's mine. She did things for me I can never repay."

"I didn't-"

She interrupted me. "I know. She was just so amazing, I don't know what would have happened if she hadn't been there. God knows, I might still be with Damon now." She shuddered slightly and I tried to hide my smile. Nice to know she didn't exactly miss the guy. "Because I was in shock. I barely remember that day. I remember holding Lexa and I remember losing it totally when James met me at the airport."

I'd never forget that, stepping off the plane and James waiting for me, leaning against the wall, looking as bad as I felt. James loved my parents, spending most of his waking moments at my house. As soon as I saw his familiar, haunted face, the fragile control I'd clung to all day was gone. I'm not sure how we got to the car, I'm not sure how we got all the way to Long Island.

Taking a deep breath, I kept talking. If I talked, I'd get it out of my system, I knew that. "The next thing I really remember is waking up in the blue room, where you are, with this sweater on."

I suddenly realized I was playing with the sleeve of Nick's sweater, and let go quickly. Why did I even keep this sweater when Damon sent it to me? Because it was cashmere, gorgeous and soft. And maybe I knew that someday I'd meet a man who looked good in blue.

Nick was watching me carefully, afraid to say a word, I could tell. This was unfair of me, dumping my dad angst on his lap when I barely knew the guy. I smiled at him, or tried, I'm sure it was weak. "I didn't take the sweater off for days. Even wore it to the funeral. Em and Alex came, and for two days I wore this sweater and carried Lexa around, they were the only things that made me feel better."

"Lexa?" He asked quietly.

"Em and Alex's baby. She was born about a week before my dad died, her first international trip was to the funeral. What a jet setter. Have you ever seen her?"

He shook his head, and I stood up, glad for something else to do. Enough about Dad. I'd spent months mourning my dad. There was a picture of Lexa on my dresser, and I handed it to him as he stood next to me, smiling as his eyebrows went up. "Wow," he managed.

"I know," I agreed. "She really is the prettiest baby ever, isn't she?" She had Em's huge gray eyes, and lots of perfectly straight dark hair.

"She looks like Em," he said, handing the picture back to me. I looked at for a moment before putting it back on the dresser. Dad loved Em and Alex, they loved his wine. The last time I'd had guests in this house was Em and Alex and Damon, when Damon and I were barely together. I'd wanted him to understand how important this house was to me, but he didn't quite get it. He liked it, he enjoyed our visit, but this house was the center of my life. It was where I came to remind myself what was important, family and history and the ocean.

Nick's hand on my hair jolted me out of my thoughts, and I looked up at him. "I'm so sorry, Rache," he said quietly, and I shook my head.

"It's just hard, being here without him. I don't know if I'll ever get used to it." Taking a deep breath, I stepped away from him. "I'm sorry, I'm supposed to be comforting you, and I'm falling apart."

"Please! You have real problems. AJ's in rehab, big deal. He'll come back, but-"

He stopped himself, I could see it, he stopped himself from saying something stupid. His face was so adorably self-deprecating that I giggled. "It's okay, baby. AJ will come back, but my dad won't. Give you a bit of perspective, doesn't it? You think you got problems?" I teased.

He relaxed a bit at my tone. "Pretty much. Is that him?" He pointed to another picture on the dresser, and I picked it up, handing it to him.

"Yeah. Em took it. Once you have a friend that's a world class photographer, snapshots pale in comparison." I'd have to ask Em for all her Backstreet photos. They were surely amazing.

"You look like him." He was studying the photo, and I glanced over at it. It was Dad at the winery, laughing over something, his eyes sparkling. Em had given me the picture after the funeral and for weeks I'd look at it and just sob. Now it was my favorite picture of him, it so perfectly captured his generous personality.

"It's the nose. Wait 'til you meet my brother Jon, he looks just like Dad."

He glanced between the picture and me, shaking his head. "It might be the nose, but I think it's the laugh. Your eyes crinkle up like that when you laugh."

I blinked at him for a minute. "Do they?" I stared at the picture again, considering. "Man, am I gonna have laugh lines like he did?" I wailed, looking at myself in the mirror. I was too young for wrinkles, wasn't I?

Nick laughed, setting the photo back on the dresser. "Laugh lines are very sexy."

I grinned at him. "Excellent answer, little man." I smiled at myself in the mirror, pondering. Did I laugh like my Dad? I'd have to ask Mom.

She was so cute, examining her face for wrinkles. It was way better than the sad look in her eyes when she was talking about how he died. Last night, when she told me he'd died, I was surprised, she'd never mentioned that before, but now I understood why. It still hurt her too much to talk about. I couldn't imagine losing either of my parents, and she was obviously closer to her family than I was to mine. "So what's he laughing about here?" I asked, and she looked back at the picture.

"I wish I could remember. I know it was something that Alex said, because I remember the day that Em took it, we were at the winery, tasting just about every bottle, and Em was taking pictures of everything in that way she has."

I nodded. That was about all I knew about Em Evesham, that she always had a camera in her hands, and the pictures you didn't realize she was taking were always the best.

"Dad loved Em and Alex, he and Alex could talk wine for hours. He didn't like Damon so much…" her voice trailed off as she sat back down on the couch, pulling the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands and staring into space. I wasn't sure if I should just leave her alone or not, so I tried another question. She'd just kick me out if she wanted her space, right?

"Why didn't he like Damon?" Did I sound too excited when I asked that? Like her Dad would have liked me better? Not likely, I was just a kid.

She smiled, holding out her hand to me. I took it, and she pulled me down on the couch next to her. Alright, I get to stay? "It's not that he didn't like him… he just didn't like him for me. Dad was always a bit judgmental about my boyfriends."

I smiled. "Did he ask for references before you could go on dates?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "I didn't date much. Wait 'til you meet my brothers. Not only was I shy and weird in high school, my brothers were on the football team. Nah, I was crushed out on my gay best friend, it was college before I became the wanton sex goddess."

I laughed. I couldn't imagine Rachel shy and weird in high school. Wasn't she always gorgeous and smart and funny? Who wouldn't want her? "You were shy and weird? So was I."

"I have this theory that everyone who had a terrible high school career gets to laugh about it later. Who wants to peak in high school? But you never went to high school, did you?" She questioned.

"Junior high is worse, isn't it?" I shuddered, trying to forget all about it. "But all those kids who teased me sure are regretting it now," I said smugly. I didn't think about school much if I could help it.

She giggled. "I can't wait until my video is on MTV, then I can go to my high school reunion proudly." We laughed over school memories and she told me a million stories about her dad until I was half asleep on her couch. Laughing, she sent me to my own room, and I fell asleep with the sound of the waves lapping against her beach.

Chapter 4:
Page 1 | Page 2 | Page 2.5 | Page 3

Chapter 5...

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