Oreos for Breakfast: Nick BSB Fiction

Oreos for Breakfast - Chapter 23

By
The Paperbag Princess & The Pumpkin Coach

"Should I shave before we go to the vineyard?" Nick asked, toweling off his hair after our long shower. I considered him as he reappeared from under the towel.

"Yes," I told him seriously, and he laughed, pulling me closer and tickling me with his stubble. I giggled and squirmed away from him. "You definitely need to shave."

"The problem is I don't think I packed a razor."

Looking around the bathroom, I found my razor and handed it to him. "It's got a brand new blade, even."

He just looked at it. "It's pink."

Sighing, I put it down on the sink. "It's the same damn thing as a guy's razor. It's got triple blade action or something."

"Then why is it pink?" he asked, picking it up to consider it as I pulled on my robe.

"Because they want to sell it to girls, and we like pink. If they stuck Hello Kitty on it, I'd buy stock in the company."

"Or glitter," he offered. "You love stuff with glitter."

"See? A pink, glittery, Hello Kitty, triple blade razor. We'll make a fortune!"

He snickered at me and opened the medicine cabinet. "Shaving cream?"

Leaning into the shower, I came back with a can. He looked at it and then back at me.

"It says 'glistening pear', Rache. I'm gonna smell like a girl! What the hell does 'glistening' mean, anyway?"

"I think it means 'shiny'. See? We're back to glittery. Don't worry, baby, you're all man. No stupid shaving cream can take that away," I teased, and he grabbed at me again, but I stepped away. I knew I was going to get the stubble tickle again, and I hated that. Handing him the shaving cream, I left the bathroom. "Shave!" I ordered, and he laughed.

"Yes, dear!"

Damn straight he should do what I told him. Maybe I could get him to wear clothes that fit someday, I mused, picking his jeans up off the floor where I'd ripped them off his body earlier. Had he brought any shirts that might not be twenty sizes too big? I found his bag and looked through it, but I found his schedule book instead.

Sweet! Taking it, I sat down on my loveseat and flipped it open, glancing at my schedule that was already there. I could put his dates and stuff in my schedule, so I'd know where he was while I was in Europe. Even with my nifty new cell phone that could call anywhere in the world, timing was going to be an issue.

"Nick!" she yelled, and I nearly cut myself.

"What?" I yelled back, looking at myself in the mirror. No blood. Good. She really shouldn't yell while I was trying to shave.

"I didn't tell you! We're doing the Concert for New York!"

The what? Who? Oh! I leaned out of the bathroom to look at her, finding her on the loveseat, flipping through what looked like my schedule book. "So are you coming home early? That's next week, isn't it?"

"Weekend after next. But, get this." She looked impressed with herself. "We're leaving from Edinburgh on Saturday morning, fly into New York, do a fucking lot of press and a short set, then get back on a plane and fly to Paris. I'm gonna be fucking wrecked, but it's sorta cool. Ooh, Mom doesn't know, either. We just figured this out yesterday. But I want her and the girls to come. Hell, maybe everyone can come."

"But I get to see you!" I reminded her, and she grinned at me.

"I know! Alright, we'll have no time together, but a week and a half is better than not seeing each other for three weeks!"

I started to go over and kiss her, and then I remembered I had shaving cream over half my face. I heard her laugh when I ducked back into the bathroom.

"Bunny, I'm putting my dates on your schedule, okay?"

"Great, Rache. I wanted to do that." I stopped talking to shave above my lip. This was actually pretty good shaving cream, even if it did smell fruity.

"Man, I didn't realize you were in California while we're gone. That's about an eight-hour time difference! We're gonna be all fucked up."

Eight hours… so, noon my time, eight in the evening hers. That would be as she was going on stage. Midnight her time, 4 p.m. mine? Sometimes I wasn't busy at 4. But she might be out partying. Midnight my time, 8 am hers? She'd be sleeping.

Fuck. This might suck.

I splashed water on my face and considered myself. Good enough. I fell onto the couch next to her and nuzzled her neck. "Do I smell like a girl?"

She rubbed her cheek against mine, considering. "You smell like glistening Nick. You're fine."

I kissed her, then looked over at our schedules spread out on the coffee table. "How did you figure out the time difference like that?" She'd penciled in "Rachel, London, +8," next to some of my dates.

"It's in our schedules, sweetie." She showed me- next to each of their dates was a notation about "EST +5" or whatever. Yeah. We had that, too. She was just better than I was at adding them all up.

"So, we're way off."

"Yeah," she agreed, picking up her pencil again and making notes between our schedules. "Good thing I'll be back in New York for a few hours in a couple of weeks."

"We'll be okay," I assured her. Maybe I could convince myself. We had to be okay. I couldn't freak out this time.

"Yeah," she agreed, but she didn't look at me.

"We will be," I whispered, and she kept her head down, writing something in her book.

"Sure. We had problems when we were in the same fucking country, but we'll be fine when we're thousands of miles apart."

"Hey." I leaned down, brushing her wet hair away from her shoulder so that I could see her. "Look at me."

She turned her head, and I could see the tears in her eyes as she bit her lip. I pulled her into my arms, and she put down her pencil and let me, holding onto me tightly. "I love you, Rachel. I promise-"

"Don't promise, Nick. I won't be able to bear it if you break any more promises."

I leaned back against the couch with her, leaning down and breathing her in, the smell of her soap and shampoo, her wet hair cold against my chest. I just needed to remember this, and I could keep any promise I ever made to her.

"I promise to call Anna if I get freaked out. How's that one?"

"That's a good one," she admitted. "Then I promise to call you whenever I get a chance. Even if I know you're going to be asleep."

"Then I'll get a Rachel voicemail when I wake up. That's good."

She pulled away slightly, looking up at me. "I'm scared, Nick."

Nodding, I met her eyes. "I am, too."

That wasn't what I wanted to hear. I didn't want him to make any promises, but I didn't want him to be this scared, either. I wanted him to tell me that I could trust him, because I was the only woman in the world he loved.

But if he said that, would I believe him? If I didn't, was that my fault or his? Both?

Cupping my face in his hands, he kissed me gently, and I fell into it. I could remember this when I was far away and missing him. Sitting in my room, the feel of his lips on mine, the smell of my shaving cream on his skin…

I needed to take that shaving cream with me. That was good stuff.

"It's a few weeks, Rache. Not long. And then we'll be together for a while."

"Yeah," I smiled. "I'm flying into Miami on October twenty-sixth. And then I'm free until after Thanksgiving, when we start the radio shows." That was about a month. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with all that time, besides spend every moment I could with Nick. Would we survive that sort of togetherness?

"I'm free until we go to Japan."

"I'm so jealous," I told him and he looked at me strangely.

"Jealous of what?"

"Japan!" I exclaimed. "I've always wanted to go to Japan."

"You could come with me," he offered, and I just blinked at him for a second. I could go with him? Really?

"Yes!" I yelled, pulling away to look at his schedule book. Were the Japan dates in here? He laughed and flipped to the last pages.

"I mean… we'll be pretty busy. Lot of press and travel and five shows or six or...I forget… but you can come. The other fellas are bringing their girls, because it's over Thanksgiving and stuff."

Thanksgiving. Shit. I stopped bouncing and looked at the days. Maybe I could go with him for a couple days and come back for Thanksgiving? That might work, right?

"Thanksgiving is a big deal to your family, isn't it?" he asked quietly, and I nodded, still staring at the dates. I could make this work. "That's what I figured," he went on. "That's why I didn't ask you before."

I looked at him with a smile. "What about you? Is your mom all pissed off that you won't be there for the big dinner?"

He shrugged. "No. I'm never home at Thanksgiving. I think the last time I was home was like five years ago. Or six. Yeah… I think I was fifteen or so. Aaron was just a kid."

Oh, my god. How could you not be with your family at Thanksgiving? How was that possible? "That sucks, Nick," I told him, and he shook his head.

"It's not a big deal. I'm used to it. I usually get home for Christmas, that's what matters."

Lou used to tell us that. Even when he was screwing us out of Christmas, he'd say 'Christmas is what matters. You should be with your family then.' There had been a few Christmases in Europe, and we were supposed to be each other's families. But I'd call home and talk to everyone, and it wasn't the same. At least my family didn't charge me for the gifts they gave me, like Lou had.

There had been a couple of Thanksgivings that we missed completely. It was October, then December, and no big turkey dinner in between. At least this year we were off on Thanksgiving, even if we were going to be in Japan, and there was a huge spread planned for all of us, the crew and band and everyone. That would be fun.

"I'll come," Rachel whispered, hugging me fiercely, and I hugged her back, perplexed.

"You don't have to. I know your family is a big deal, and they'll want you there."

"No. They'll have each other, and James' family, and everyone else. But I just can't bear the thought of you all alone in Tokyo on Thanksgiving!"

"I won't be alone, Rache. We've got like a hundred people on the road with us there. There's a dinner planned. It'll be fine."

"No," she insisted, pulling away from me. "I'm coming."

I knew better than to argue with her when she made up her mind about something. And I wanted her there. As soon as she'd said she'd come, I'd really wanted her there. I hadn't thought about Japan much, beyond the fact that it was one more thing I had to do before this fucking tour was over. But with Rachel, it might be fun. She'd never been there, and she'd make me do all the weird touristy things that I never got to do.

"Your family is going to hate me, aren't they?"

She waved me away, going back to our schedules. "I'll bake a pumpkin pie for the boys; they'll be fine. We have twelve thousand people at our Thanksgiving, I will hardly be missed."

"James' family comes to your Thanksgiving, right?" Had she said that once? Would they still come if Rachel weren't there?

"Of course. They've been coming to our Thanksgiving since James was about twelve and our moms were talking, and his mom was laughing that they only needed a tiny bird, compared to our thirty-pound monster, and my mom said 'screw that, come to ours'. I think his mom was perfectly happy to not cook. That was when all my grandparents were still around, and they came, and some aunts and uncles. Now it's us, and James' family, and the in-laws."

"The in-laws come to your Thanksgiving?" If I married Rachel someday, would my family be invited to her Thanksgiving? I couldn't imagine my mom and Rachel's in the same room yet.

"Yep. Dad insisted when both boys got married. And we do a huge Christmas Eve thing, and then they get to spend Christmas day with their families."

My family didn't have any traditions like that. We were talking about going to Denver or something for Christmas. Somewhere with snow. "What do you do on Christmas Eve?"

"The whole town comes to our party." She looked at me and smiled. "I'm damn near serious. Two years ago we had maybe two hundred and fifty people over the course of the night. Last year…" She trailed off. "Not so many. It was Dad's thing, the Christmas Eve party. It started before I was born, as a vineyard thing, to thank our suppliers and the restaurants that stocked us, and it got bigger and bigger every year. It'll be better this year," she stated, probably trying to convince herself.

"So you'll keep doing it?"

"Forever," she swore, completely serious. "We didn't even discuss not having it last year, as difficult as it was. There were just all these things that Dad always did, and he wasn't there to do them. But he'll come back and kick our asses if we stop, so we'll keep going." She smiled at that, and I kissed her.

"Can I come this year?"

She almost said 'of course'. I saw it in her eyes. But she shook her head. "You'll be back in America by then. You need to be with your family. Especially if you're missing Thanksgiving."

She was probably right.

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