chapter 19 - page 8

Oreos for Breakfast - Chapter 19

By
The Paperbag Princess & The Pumpkin Coach

Where the fuck was he? I glanced at the clock beside the bed - 6:45 AM. Okay, no way he would be up this early. He hadn't called last night, which meant he was either still pissed at me or had been out all night. Or both.

"Wake up!" I screamed as I hit redial again. I was still half-asleep, but I needed him, needed his voice in my ear telling me how much he loved me and wanted me. He did, right? That last email… that wasn't him breaking up with me, was it? I hoped not. The dream was so vivid. I could practically feel his weight on the bed next to me as I woke up… Come on, Nick, pick up the phone. Tell me that we're okay.

I ran my hands between my legs, teasing myself as the phone rang. Closing my eyes, I tried to recapture the feel of him there. His breath on my skin and his hips pounding into mine. Damn, I was gonna come again before he woke up.

Finally, I heard his groggy voice, "What?"

"Oh baby, I need you here…" I whined into the phone as my fingers slid over my clit in tiny circles. Not as good as his, though. Or his tongue. Oh, god, the things he did to me with his tongue.

"Rache?"

I laughed softly at his perplexed voice in my ear, "Of course, baby. What other incredibly horny woman is calling you for phone sex at dawn? I just had the most erotic dream, Nick. I woke up and my hands were in my cunt. Oh god, I need you, baby. Talk to me. Tell me how much you need me there lying next to you."

I was getting harder with every word she said. I reached down and ran my hand along my cock, and then I heard it. Her.

What was her name? Donna? Debra? Daria? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! What was she doing still here?

The girl next to me turned over, looking up at me with a sleepy, slow grin. She opened her mouth to speak and I was suddenly wide-awake. I sat up quickly and clasped my hand over her mouth. Please don't speak. Don't even fucking move. Oh god, what the fuck have I done?

Last night came rushing back to me. Shots at the bar after the show. I hadn't even turned on my phone after the show. It'd taken me most of a bottle of vodka before I'd stopped being so pissed off. Then I'd just gotten sad and depressed. I remembered slipping into the men's room to call Rachel, needing to apologize for that stupid email and yelling at her but I couldn't get the phone to work. Or maybe I'd just been too drunk. Sudden Silence hadn't sold out. I knew she wasn't blowing me off to go flirt with some DJ or reporter… it was just… I'd missed her so much this week and she was supposed to be here. She was my girlfriend. She should at least fucking answer my calls.

Donna Debra Daria looked at me with panic on her face, and I shot her a stern look, not moving my hand from her mouth. I mouthed to her, "Be quiet."

"Rache, honey… I gotta pee before we do this. Baby, let me call you right back, and then I'll…"

"Too late..." She giggled in my ear, and my heart melted. Damn, I loved that sound. How could I stay angry with her? Ever?

She moaned loudly. I could hear her moving on the bed on the other end of the phone, and I whimpered. Her voice was barely a whisper, "Take the phone with you. I wanna hear everything like it was me laying there next to you. Waking up beside you. Damn, baby. I wanna be able to roll over and feel you in my arms first thing. I miss that."

What did she mean, "like it was her?" She couldn't know that Donna Debra Daria was here? No. Only Frank knew. Not even the other fellas. They'd all been long gone by the time the party moved to my room, and Frank would never tell.

If Rachel knew, she wouldn't be moaning in my ear. She'd be screaming. Or worse yet, she wouldn't be there at all.

My heart leapt to my throat, and it felt like someone had punched me in the chest. I couldn't breathe and felt the walls closing in on me. Oh God, what the fuck had I done?

I ran into the bathroom, and I heard Donna Debra Daria say something. I held the phone to my chest and turned it off quickly, hoping Rachel couldn't hear her in the background. Shit shit shit shit shit.

I fell next to the toilet, heaving into it, feeling hot tears running down my cheeks as my breath came in sobs. Then I stared down at the bright white tile, trying to remember how to breathe again, until I heard her at the door.

"Nick, are you okay? Is something wrong?"

"Out!" I yelled as loud as I could. "Get the fuck out of my room!"

I could hear her voice trembling, "But… what's wrong…?"

For half a second I felt bad for the girl. She didn't deserve this. I was probably her favorite, and now I was treating her like shit. Why had I let her stay last night?

But I knew the answer as soon as I thought of the question. I missed exactly what Rachel did. I missed having someone to wake up to. Any body was better than nothing, especially after the last couple of weeks.

Ever since last week, I'd needed her so bad, like I needed oxygen to breathe. Last weekend had been good. At least we'd been together, but this week… She wasn't even picking up her phone to humor me. She was probably out last night hitting on some cute groupie boy or flirting with some interviewer. That's why she was so worked up this morning.

The phone rang again, and I stared down at it. Fuck.

"Get the fuck out!" I screamed and hit my head against the wall behind me.

I sprang to my feet and pulled open the door. Donna Debra Daria was half dressed, her top unbuttoned and her short skirt askew on her hips. Tears were streaming down her face, but I didn't care. I couldn't care.

She'd come on to me last night. Buying me shot after shot. Running her fingers through my hair as I slammed them back and massaging my temples as I swallowed. One thing had led to another, and before I knew it she'd been pulling me into the elevator.

"Come here, sweet thang…" I remembered slurring as she pressed her body against mine and the elevator rose to my floor. She had dark, curly hair just like Rachel. I'd closed my eyes and run my fingers through it as she'd kissed me, imagining it was Rachel standing in front of me, if just for a moment.

No! If Rachel had been here, nothing would have happened. The phone stopped ringing, and I grabbed Donna Debra Daria's bag, throwing it at her. I pulled on my boxers and pulled her into the hall, pounding on Frank's door until he opened it.

The look on his face stopped me cold. Was that disgust? Contempt? Pure unbridled hatred?

Fuck him. He worked for me. "Get her out, NOW! I want her gone," I hissed in a low voice. All I needed was everyone on the floor to hear.

He started to say something, and I pulled my hand back, making a fist. I swear to God, I'd hit him if he said a word. "You work for me, Frank. Take care of this!"

He set his jaw and just nodded, holding out a hand to Donna Debra Daria. Still trembling, she rushed over to him, and I disappeared back into my room, slamming the door in their faces as my phone rang again.

"Sorry, baby."

"What happened?" I stopped pacing once I heard his voice. At first I thought he'd dropped the phone or something, but it took two calls for him to pick up.

"I…"

He hesitated. What was he hiding?

"I had way too much to drink last night."

I sighed to myself. Why was I jumping to conclusions? Nick adored me. He wasn't hiding a girl. He might be pissed at me for canceling our day together, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that was the deal-breaker, especially after last weekend. I fell onto the bed, closing my eyes. Nick wasn't like Jeremy. Jeremy used to hesitate like that. He was such a lousy liar. "Hung over, sweetie?"

"Yeah." I heard him fall back on the bed with a moan. "Damn, yeah. I think my head's gonna explode."

"Aw… what were you drinking?"

"Shots. Vodka mostly. They kept appearing, and I kept drinking."

"No wonder you didn't return my calls, then." I tried to tease him. I'd kept my phone on all night, just like I'd told him. Lola had it during our soundcheck and conference call with possible new video directors. Even during the show, I'd kept looking over to her, even though I knew he was on stage, too. By the time I'd gotten back to the room, James had to convince me that Nick wasn't that pissed that he'd be avoiding me. No, James had assured me, Nick really loved me.

Yeah, but he was really pissed off, too.

"You called?" His voice was soft, almost sad, and my heart broke for him. I pulled a pillow against my body, holding it tightly.

"Yeah, baby. After I read your emails. God, Nick… I'm… I'm so sorry. I know I fucked up this week, and you have every right to hate me."

"I don't hate you!" I nearly screamed at her. "God, Rache… never. I just… it's been a bad week and I needed you."

"I'm sorry, Nick. I can't control our schedule anymore…"

"Obviously there's time for Jeremy," I muttered, trying to breathe through the lump in my throat. Why were Jeremy's problems more important than mine? She was supposed to love me, not him!

She was quiet for a moment, and part of me wanted to take it back. Take this whole week back. I wanted to go back to being happy all the time and not feeling so threatened by Jeremy.

Her voice interrupted my thoughts, "Jeremy's with me every day, Nick. And you used to be okay with that."

"Before you kissed him! Before you started undressing in front of him!"

"I apologized for that! What do I have to do to make you believe that I'm not interested in him?" she responded, her voice tense. "I wouldn't do that to you, bunny. I love you, and I don't want Jeremy or anyone else. I want you… you when you're tired and stupid in the morning and drunk and goofy after a show… just you."

She did love me. And what was I doing? Off fucking a groupie. She'd never forgive me for that, never. What'd she say last weekend… that she'd disappear just like in the fairy tales?

Fuck.

"Nick? Honey? Are you still there?"

She can't know, she can't ever know, or this will be over. "Yeah. Sorry. I just… I feel terrible, Rache." That wasn't entirely a lie, my head was pounding, and if I could move, I'd probably throw up again.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I woke you up, that can't be helping. If I was there, I'd make you drink lots of water and rub your head until it felt better."

I couldn't help the sob that escaped my throat. "I'm so sorry, Rache. I just miss you… so fucking much."

If she were here, this never would have happened. I wouldn't be hung over right now, but I'd be sound asleep with her right next to me. If she'd had that dream, she wouldn't have had to call to tell me. She could have just rolled over and woken me up with that sleepy sexy smile of hers, and we'd be making love right now.

"Oh, honey. I miss you, too. God, so much."

Not like this. If she missed me like I missed her, she wouldn't be on her way to LA in a few hours. She'd be coming to see me like she was supposed to.

I almost said something, but that would start a fight, and I couldn't fight with her, not now.

"Now, Nicky, do something for me."

"What?" I sounded grumpy and petulant, just like I felt.

"Get off the bed."

"No." I couldn't possibly move.

"Get off the bed, or I'll call Frank and tell him he has to take care of you."

No, no, not Frank, he was taking care of other things for me. I stood up, groaning as my head spun, and she laughed.

"Good threat, I'll remember that one. Now, go over to your mini-bar, and get out every bottle of water and every juice you've got."

I stared at the mini-bar. It was half-open, when did it get raided? I looked around the room - beer bottles and half-empty cups littered the tables. Did I even do anything with Donna Debra Daria? How drunk was I? How many people came up to my room last night?

"Why?"

"Because you need to drink them all and then go back to sleep. You didn't drink enough water last night, did you? You so need me around to remind you how to drink responsibly, little man."

"If you had been here -" I started, stopping when she sighed.

"Can we not have this fight?"

I twisted the cap off a bottle of water, throwing it at the wall. "I suppose we've had it a few dozen times already, haven't we?"

"Yes. And I know you're way too hung over to want to begin."

I downed the entire bottle and then tossed it at the wall in true Rachel Connor rock star fashion. It was plastic. It just bounced off the wall, lying there on the floor in my way. We were quiet for a moment.

"Nick?"

"What?" I asked, pulling out a bottle of orange juice.

"I love you. Drink a bunch of water, sleep some more, and call me later."

I leaned my forehead against the wall, trying not to cry. She did love me, I knew she did, so why did I fuck that groupie? Donna Debra Daria didn't love me, why did I waste my time? "I'm being stupid and irrational, Rache."

"I know, baby." Her voice was sweet and soft, and I felt a tear run down my cheek. "You're hung over, I'm sorry I called so early."

"Don't be. Call me anytime. When do you leave?"

"Umm…" I heard her moving around her room, "Noon. Meeting with the first director at 3 PM LA time."

I couldn't even do that math in my head, not this hung over, but knew it meant I wouldn't talk to her again today. I felt like I was going to hurl again, and I grabbed onto a chair to steady myself, "I love you, Rache."

"Love you, too, bunny. Go sleep more now, and we'll talk later."

I hung up the phone and fell back onto the pillows. I felt a flood of tears behind my eyes, and I shut them tightly. This was insane. We'd just spent last weekend together; how could I miss him this much? It wasn't like we were even going to have much time together, anyway. Our original plan had me on a flight to LA before his show tomorrow in Chicago.

I rolled over and pulled the stuffed bear he'd thrown to me during that first Backstreet show to my chest, clutching him tightly as a small sob escaped my throat. Suddenly I was shaking, hot tears streaming down my face.

I wanted to be there when he couldn't sleep after a show and wanted to party. I wanted him next to me when I woke up from a sexy dream at dawn and needed to feel his lips against mine. I didn't want to be here with my stupid boys in this damned hotel room that had too much brown clutching a stupid stuffed animal instead of him!

Before I knew it I was across the hall pounding on James' door. He pulled it open quickly, "Where's the fucking fire?" he spat before he even saw me.

His face softened, and he pulled me into his room and into his arms, "Oh, Rache, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

His voice was soft in my ear… his strong hands stroking my back as he tried to calm me. I collapsed against him, barely able to catch my breath as a new flood of tears hit.

"I… I can't do this, James," I gasped as he sat me down on the bed, never letting go of me.

"Do what?" He pulled away slightly and looked down at me. "What happened… it's not your family?"

I shook my head and tried to steady my breathing. James reached onto the nightstand for a tissue and handed it to me. I blew my nose loudly, making both of us smile a little.

"Rachel, you're freaking me out here. I was sound asleep two minutes ago."

I smiled up at him and then laid my head against his chest, letting him fold his arms back around me. I loved James. All my life, I've loved James. He was my best friend… I had to be able to tell him everything, right? I took a deep breath, unable to look at him.

"I can't go to LA."

There, I said it. It was out there in the room, just lingering, and I held my breath as James considered my words. I didn't have to say anything else. He knew what that meant. It meant that I was choosing Nick over the band. This one time, anyway.

"What do you mean… can't go to LA? What happened?"

His arm fell from my shoulder, and I pulled back from him, my eyes finally meeting his, "I'm sorry!" Tears started running down my cheeks again, and his face softened.

"Shhhhh… Rache, it's okay. Shhhhh… stop crying and tell me what happened. Please!"

I looked up at him and realized that he wasn't following me. Why should he? I just woke him up at the crack of dawn crying. I laid my hand on his knee, "Oh… no. Everyone's okay, James. It's just… Nick…"

I heard him take a deep breath, and I didn't have to raise my eyes to know he was angry. He was thinking the same thing I was. Jeremy was going to lose it. They'd all think it was the beginning of the end and that I was caving again, just like I had with Damon.

"Nick?" His voice was incredulous, and I winced at the sound.

No, this wasn't the same thing, was it?

It didn't feel the same. I'd never felt this desperate with Damon; he was more an excuse to get out of the band and make things right again. Nick was different.

"He needs me and… I've been such a bad girlfriend all week, James. I need to be with him. Just today. He's three hours away. I could be on a flight tonight and meet you by tomorrow. I'd only miss one meeting!"

I knew I was drawing at straws, but he didn't immediately fight me on it.

If I didn't make James understand, I'd have no shot with the others. I knew it sounded lame… 'Nick needs me.' But then I heard his sad voice in my head again and felt a shiver run down my spine. He'd needed me last night, he'd needed me all week… and I hadn't been there. I'd even broken that silly phone date. He'd said it didn't matter, but I knew it was a lie. He'd gone to the trouble of sending me flowers and dinner. He was right: I was never there for him, and my band always came first. I should have seen all of this coming. All week his voicemails had gotten more desperate… we were fighting and he was going out way too much.

"You're the one that insisted we change goddamned directors, Rache." James' voice pulled me back to the moment. When did he get up? He was standing by the desk, and it was like I'd just seen him for the first time. His hair was standing on end, and he was wearing a pair of old boxer shorts and no shirt. I reached over to his suitcase and pulled out a t-shirt, moving over to him as he looked down at our schedule.

"I know… but… fuck, James. Do you think I don't know how lame I sound?"

Our eyes met, and I threw his shirt at him, taking the schedule book and sitting back down on the bed.

Friday, September 21, 2001

10:03 AM American Airlines flight 4252
Depart Cleveland 10:03 AM Arrive LAX 1:58pm

So… 2pm LA time is like 5pm for us… seven hour flight? I could probably do a red-eye and be in LA first thing Saturday morning, right?

2:30pm Check In - The Peninsula, LA
4:00pm Meeting with Sophie Mueller, EMI Office
6:00pm optional activity - charity screening of "Rock Star" (Save the Music Foundation)

James sat next to me on the bed, reading over my shoulder and handing me another tissue, "We're booked solid, Rache."

"I know… there just has to be something…" I read through quickly, "We talked to Sophie Mueller yesterday. She was cool."

"Yeah," he yawned, "Saffron's not taking any chances, I think. She wants us to meet with all of them in person."

I almost laughed at that. "I doubt anyone's going to be as creepy as Gregory Dark, James. I liked Sophie on the phone, and I like her videos…"

"Even Damon's?"

I half-smiled at him, "Song 2 is a great song, and it's a good video! It just happens to have him in it. I can forgive her for that. A girl has to work… so, I'd just miss that meeting if I came in on Saturday. I could be there by 10:30 for the next one."

Saturday, September 22, 2001

10:30 AM Breakfast meeting with Wayne Isham (Peninsula dining room)
12:30pm Interview: Spin magazine (Location TBD)
3:00pm Meeting with Dave Meyers (Location: Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles)
7:00pm Dinner with EMI executives (Location: TBD)
10:00pm Radio interview - KIIS-FM (Approx. 1 hour)

"And I think Saffron said something about Spin getting a photo shoot, too. Not sure. And Lola was nattering on about another radio thing, but that might have been Sunday."

"Can we really do any more promo, James?"

He shrugged, taking the schedule from me. "Okay, you win, Rache. But you only get a day. Not even… is that going to make things any better?"

I bit my bottom lip as I considered him. Three hours to get to Detroit. I could be there by noon, and then I'd get a late flight… twelve hours. "Not ideal, but he's coming to LA on Monday… don't!" He was giving me that condescending James look I knew so well. I hated that look. "Stop doing that! I'm upset here."

I could tell he was holding back from saying something, but I just ignored it. I didn't want a James lecture now. I'd deal with that tomorrow when I joined them in LA. Tomorrow. Not tonight. Tonight I'd be with Nick, and we'd make everything alright.

James sighed and turned to the phone, "Fine. You get to deal with Jeremy, though. Where do you need to go again?"

I bit my lip as I tried not to break down again. "Detroit. It's only three hours from here." Yeah, we'd just been there. It wasn't far. I could even get a car and be there by the time Nick was finished sleeping off his hang over. And we could have a day together… find time to talk and make all this right again.

James smiled at me and picked up the phone. "Lola… James here. Yeah, sorry it's so early. We need to make arrangements for Rachel to get a red-eye from Detroit to LA tonight. Yeah… I know. We looked at the schedule. But she says she's fine with whoever we pick just as long as there's no pink cat suit involved."

"Or black!" I yelled, and I could hear Lola protesting on the other end.

James listened to her for a moment and then looked over at me, "Rache, Lola is reminding you that you must be coherent for the 10 AM meeting on Saturday, not just present."

I nodded and crossed my heart, making him smile again.

He returned to the phone, "She agrees… and no blue pills this time! Okay. Oh, Lola, she needs to get to Detroit."

"Rental car," I reminded him, and he smiled at me again.

"She says a rental car is fine. Great… thanks."

James hung up the phone and hugged me, "That boy must be fucking amazing in bed, Rache."

I hit him with my stuffed bear, and we both burst into giggles. I loved James.

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