Oreos for Breakfast: Chapter 29

Oreos For Breakfast: Chapter 29
By the Paperbag Princess and Pumpkin Coach

"I hate you," she moaned, and I sat down, motioning to Josh to turn down the playback on the track we were working on.

"What did I do?" But I had a pretty good idea…

"I feel horrible! I've been sneezing all day, and I can't…" She sneezed, just to prove her point.

"Bless you."

"Fuck you. I can't breathe!"

"Hey, babe, I told you not to come home the other night when I was so sick."

"I know," she muttered. "But…"

"But you were a great girlfriend. It's only three days later and I'm back at work. You are a miracle worker!" I wasn't quite singing yet, but I was fine to listen to mixes of some of the songs we'd been laying down. Tomorrow I'd probably be singing again.

Or tomorrow I'd be at the hotel, taking care of Rachel like she'd taken care of me.

"I rock," Rachel asserted, her voice stuffy and tired.

"You do. Go home, baby, and I'll be there soon. What do I need to make your chicken soup?"

"We have leftovers in the freezer."

Thank God. "I'll stop and get orange juice and stuff, okay?"

"Okay," she said softly. "But you…"

I didn't even let her finish. "I'm immune now. I'll see you back at the hotel in about an hour. They're letting you go home, right?"

"Dude, Jeremy paid for my cab. They're scared to death that I'll give it to them and they’ll all be sick when we have to fly to Europe. Nothing sucks like a transatlantic flight with a head cold."

"Did you tell them it's not that bad?"

"It's horrible! I can't breathe, and everything hurts."

"But it only lasts a couple of days."

"True," she admitted.

"I'll be there soon, buttercup. You lie on the couch under the blanket and watch some TV."

"Okay. I love you." She sounded pathetic. Did I sound this bad a couple of days ago? Probably. She’d been really nice to me, even letting me hog all the covers in bed and getting up in the middle of the night to make me tea when I couldn’t stop coughing.

"Love you, too." We hung up, and Josh shook his head at me.

"Are you leaving already?"

"Rachel…"

"Got your cold?" He waved me away. "Go and tend to her, you’ll be useless to me now. Try and be here tomorrow, though. We're bleeding money on this studio."

She'd be better by tomorrow, right? I'd felt better on the second day, but Rachel had stayed with me anyway. That had really pissed Jeremy off. Okay, I sort of liked that part.

And by the second day, I’d felt good enough to sit up and fool around a little. It was like playing hooky from school. Only none of my friends ever let me have sex with them. The image of Tony skipping school when I was sick to watch TV at my house flashed through my mind and I shuddered. Sex and Tony? Ick!

Okay focus, Nick. What’d she bring me when I was sick? Orange juice, and chicken soup and tissues. The tissues were really good.

Where the hell did I go to get those things in New York? I knew the studio and the hotel and wherever Rachel took me. Damn. The engineer saw my confused look and laughed. "What?"

"I need to buy tissues."

"Damn tourists. There's a grocery store about three blocks away."

"Which way?"

"Hey, buttercup!" Nick's cheery voice startled me, and I woke up from my half nap. I wasn't really asleep, but I hadn't noticed that the TV was showing Oprah, either. "Did you turn your phone off? I tried to call, but got voicemail." Sounded like he had stuff with him, and he dropped it in the kitchen before he came to find me. "I needed to know what… oh, shit. Were you sleeping? I'm sorry."

I gave him a smile. "I was only half asleep. What did you need to know, bunny?"

"What that bath stuff was you got for me. I got everything that looked good at the grocery store. How many blankets are you under?"

"I think there's some more of the bath stuff in there. And a couple."

He considered me for a moment, a worried look on his face, and then came over, peeking under the blankets. "Rache, you're still wearing your coat."

Hell, I was still wearing my hat. I'd taken off my boots, though. "I'm cold."

He felt my forehead, and his hands, cold from the outside, made me shudder. "You're burning up."

"And I'm cold. It's a lousy combination."

"Maybe you need a doctor. You're really hot."

I smiled up at him, trying to erase the worry on his face. "So were you. Remember? Can you run me a bath?"

He nodded, relieved to have something to do. "Absolutely. Where's the bath stuff?"

"Somewhere… I might have put it in the medicine cabinet so that the maids wouldn't throw it out."

"I'll find it." He kissed my cheek and went back towards the bathroom. "Rache! You took all the covers off the bed!"

"I'm cold!" I yelled back.

"Why didn't you get into the bed?"

"It's too sunny in there." And I wanted to make a fort on the couch with my blankets. It hadn't really worked, because I was huddled under all of them, but that was the idea. When I was a kid, being sick meant you got to take over the couch and not share it with anyone. Daddy would build me a blanket fort, so that I had my own little tent, where I could put my book and stuffed animals. That hadn't really worked here. But that was the idea.

I heard the water start, and then Nick came back, taking my top blanket and tucking it behind the back of the couch. "Better?" he asked, smiling down at me, and I had to blink back tears. Had I told him about my blanket forts? I guess I had. I just nodded in answer, and he knelt down next to me, stroking my face.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm just tired and sick and emotional. That was really sweet, bunny. I was thinking about Dad, and you knew just what to do."

He took a tissue from the box on the table and wiped my cheeks with it. "Can I share your fort later?"

I smiled. "Absolutely. Or we'll snuggle up in bed. Thanks for coming home and taking care of me."

"No problem. I'm just afraid I won't be as good of a nurse as you were."

"I'm a tough act to top."

Smiling, he stood up, obviously satisfied that I was not dying. I wasn't dying, right? I'd feel better tomorrow.

She hadn't answered the phone all day, so I wasn't surprised that she wasn't in the living room when I let myself in. She'd called around two, and left a voicemail saying that she'd been asleep and was getting some lunch. But she'd sounded horrible, and I'd been worried all day.

Ken had called this morning, chewing me out that I needed to get back in the studio because Jive was breathing down his neck. Whatever. I wanted to stay with her, but she made me go.

There was no sign of lunch in the kitchen. Maybe the maids had been here and cleaned up?

No. She was in bed, in the exact same position I'd left her in seven hours ago. There were no bowls near her. The glass of orange juice I'd put on the beside table before I left was still there, untouched. I'd be panicked if I couldn't hear her snoring from here.

I should have stayed. I knew I should have stayed, but she told me to go, since I'd already missed a couple of days of work. I laid on the bed next to her, touching her shoulder carefully. "Rache?" She was hot through the fabric of her pajamas.

She stirred, opening her eyes slowly. "Hi," she croaked, grimacing like it hurt her to talk.

"Have you moved all day?"

"All day?" She blinked at me, confused. "What time is it?"

"It's after seven."

She looked surprised by that, and turned over, looking for the clock. "When did…"

"I left around noon. You called at 2 or something and said you were making lunch, but I don't believe you."

"I was going to make lunch," she admitted. "But I just closed my eyes for a second."

"We’re at a hotel, baby. You could have just called down and they’d bring you soup." I laid a hand on her forehead. "You are burning up. I'm calling a doctor."

"Nick, it's just a cold!"

"My cold wasn't this bad. I was much better on the second day, and you're worse."

"I just needed to sleep."

She sat up, and then fell forward with a moan. "What?" I asked, leaning over her. "Rache, what happened? Are you okay?" I knew she was really sick!

"My head hurts," she whimpered. "Did you stick a knife in my eye when I wasn't looking?"

My head never hurt when I had this cold. Or maybe it was a different cold, because it was not this bad with me. "No knives," I promised her, and she whimpered again.

"Really hurts," she whined, holding her head in her hands and not moving.

I rubbed her neck carefully, moving towards her head when she didn't push me away. "Do your ears hurt?" Maybe it was an ear infection?

"Everything hurts. Nick?"

"Yes, buttercup?"

"Could you make me some soup? I haven't eaten anything since breakfast." And that was only a couple bites of egg before she fell back into bed.

"Of course. And I'm calling a doctor."

"No!" she said, sitting up. "Let me eat something first, and take a shower. I'm sure I'll be better then."

"It's a sinus infection."

He actually said "I told you so." Some boyfriend he was.

"Shut up," I muttered, and he laughed.

"Sorry. Want me to come get you?" I'd sent him to the studio and let Lola take me to the doctor. I was alternately scared to death it was going to fuck up our European tour and that I was really dying. I needed Lola with me to tell the doctor that dying was not an option because I had to be on a plane in five days.

"No… I'm okay." Sorta. I shoved another shirt in my bag. I'd let him feel sorry for me for a couple more minutes before I upset him.

"Lola with you? Is the tour okay? What did the doctor say?"

"She was really nice. She gave me antibiotics, and a shot of something in my butt."

"Really? You got a needle in that beautiful ass?"

I smiled. "Yeah. B12 or something. I do have a little more energy now."

"That's good. What up with the tour?"

"Well…" I sat on the bed, contemplating what to pack next. "That's the thing."

"What?" he asked, his voice cautious.

"The doctor said I needed to just rest for the next couple of days, to let the medicine work."

"You're going home," he finished, not even sounding upset.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, bunny."

"Why? I'll come with you."

"And watch me sleep? No, Nick, you've got work to do."

"But…"

I cut him off. "No, that's silly. Lola's got a car coming to pick me up. I'm going to get there and go straight to bed. Mom said she'd come and do my laundry and help pack what I need. I really needed to go home and do that stuff anyway."

"But we could go together. It’s only Tuesday. I can skip this week…" His voice trailed off like he could tell I was going to protest. "You're going right now? I don't even get to say good-bye?"

His voice was so sad that I nearly burst into tears. No. That was silly. I’d go home and sleep and let Mom take care of me for a few days. Maybe Mr. Doctor Robinson would give me another one of the magic B12 shots in another couple days. Then I’d be well enough to be back for his birthday before we flew off for Europe. I’d made Lola delay my flight so I could be here for his birthday and I was not missing that! I had surprises planned, after all.

"I'll be back for your birthday, baby. I promise."

"You will?" he asked hopefully. "If you're not up to it, that's okay."

I smiled at the phone. He so didn’t mean that. We’d missed my birthday because we were broken up and I knew it meant a lot to him that we were together for his. "I wouldn't miss it for anything. Our flight to London leaves late on the 29^th, so I'll come back the morning of the 28^th. Maybe the 27^th, if I'm better."

"Cool. But… I want to say good-bye. Have the car stop by here on your way out of town."

"It's not…" It wasn't on our way. But I wanted to see him, too. "Okay. I'll call when we're there, and you can run out and kiss me good-bye."

Rock stars got to make ridiculous requests like that, right?

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