Oreos for Breakfast: Chapter 37

Oreos For Breakfast: Chapter 37
By the Paperbag Princess and Pumpkin Coach

“Bri?” My voice cracked, so I stopped, blinking back tears in the silence.

“Nicky?” he asked carefully, and I nodded before I remembered that he couldn’t see me.

“Bri, I…” You what, Nick?

I want to go back ten years and be stupid and young, when you were the best friend I ever had, who understood everything, who knew how to make a joke to get me out of any sad mood.

Got a joke for me today, Brian?

“Nick, what’s wrong? Where are you? It’s three in the morning. Are you OK?”

He sounded like a dad. I didn’t want a dad. I wanted Brian.

Was it me or him who’d changed? Before Paris invited AJ and Howie to my birthday, I hadn’t talked to anyone in the band for months, certainly the longest I’d gone without talking to one of them since we got together. Paris. Everything was coming back to her now. How much did that suck?

“I’m fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late. I was just flipping the channels, and you were on TV, sucking at basketball.” It was some charity game on MTV. They’d filmed it a few weeks ago, probably. They’d asked me, but Ken had told me that Rachel was going to be there, so I’d said ‘no’. It was against the rules. And Paris would have killed me. But Brian got to go. I hadn’t even known that, until I saw him on TV just now.

“But you and Leighanne are probably doing romantic Valentine’s Day stuff, huh?”

He laughed, and I could tell he had stopped panicking. I hadn’t, but I could talk my way through this. I should have thought about it before I dialed his number. Brian won’t understand. He never did anything like this, he never got high or stoned or even drunk, he never slept around, he just had Leighanne and his dogs and played golf on the weekends.

Old before his time, our Brian.

How did Rachel and I never do anything for Valentine’s Day? Did that just prove that I was a horrible boyfriend? Last year I had plans to visit her in Europe, but then I’d been too sick to travel. That was after I caught her cold or she caught mine… but I couldn’t talk to Brian about any of that. That Rachel was pregnant this time last year.

“Better than you could have done, Nicky. I at least sank a basket or two. Are they still playing that stupid thing on MTV?”

“Nothing dies on MTV. Well, except my videos,” I meant that to be a joke, but Brian didn’t laugh.

“Going into the charts at seventeen is really good, Nick. I mean, you didn’t have the push that Justin did…everyone knows that.”

“Whatever. I did what I wanted to and now I’m going to tour and that will be fun.”

“A tour?” Brian asked, and I could tell he was waking up a bit more. I should probably let him go but I wanted to talk to someone. Anna was tried of my moping around and Vin and Tony would just want to take me out to a club.

And I couldn’t do that here in LA. No, Paris got all the clubs in LA. I guess I’d have to move back to Tampa or Miami if I ever wanted to go out again. I learned my lesson a few nights ago when I ended up crying like a pussy in the backseat of my car while Vinnie drove us through the paparazzi onslaught and they hurled insults at me about how I’d hit a girl.

“Yeah, in a few days we go out. Just for a month and I can’t sleep. Sorry, it’s just been a bad week and I know you called and…”

“Stop, Frack. Hey, why are you Frack when Frick rhymes with ‘Nick’?”

We shared a laugh at that and suddenly I didn’t feel horrible for waking Brian up in the middle of the night.

“Dunno, man. You were the one who came up with it, I think? Or was it Kevin?”

“Kevin,” we said in unison. In that tone that we used whenever we were remembering those times in Florida when we were just getting started and Kevin tried to reign us in because I’d had too many sugar-loaded pixie sticks and Brian had joined me on the train to ADD land.

“I miss you, Bri. Sorry I haven’t called or anything. Things just got… complicated at the end.”

“Yeah, I know. Life goes on and we all needed time to ourselves, Nick But you’re coming back to us, right? Kev and I have been talking – hell, even AJ is ready to start working again. Should we do that? Work together again?”

I shrugged. Is that what I wanted? I wasn’t sure. After the whole Paris fiasco I might be content to stand up Rachel and never be in the public eye again. Just go buy a boat and sail around the world.

Who was I kidding? I’d crash into a rock or get stuck on sea grass before I was out of US waters.

“Sure.” I found myself saying. “I have lots of songs that we could start with. Stuff that didn’t work for the CD that might be good for Backstreet.”

“Wow, our Nicky has grown up and become a songwriter.”

Did I sense some pride in his voice? That was more than I got from my own parents. They were more concerned with how the dividends were paying off than whether I was growing as a songwriter. “All Rachel’s fault, man. Oh, look, there she is.”

“Her concert was tonight, wasn’t it?”

His voice was low and tentative, and it made my eyes water. “Yeah, but I meant on the television.” I hadn’t even thought about that. She was doing some charity show with Shirley Manson. AJ was going. It was a once in a lifetime thing for her, doing a solo show. And I’d never get to see it.

She wasn’t going to see my solo tour, either, but… she might. Our date at the Bonaventure was the night of my show in LA. I’d arranged the tour around that one day. So, if she wanted to see one of my solo shows, she could. After our date, even if nothing happened, the rules were over, right? She could see one of my shows.

If she wanted to.

“Wait a sec,” I could hear Brian moving around and what sounded like a baby on the other end of the phone. Was he doing the nighttime feeding? Then I heard my television on stereo as he turned on MTV.

“What’s up with Rachel guarding my ass? She plays that girl card, doesn’t she? Had no problem grabbing at me, but she knew damn well I couldn’t slam into a chick.”

My eyes drifted back to the TV, and I couldn’t answer him. There she was. I’d seen her videos, and I had pictures, but that was Rachel. Sweaty, laughing, playing basketball. That was my Rachel, not the rock star. She looked happy and gorgeous, like she didn’t need me one bit.

Brian was right, he was following her closely as she dribbled the ball to the basket, and then she faked him out and slammed it in. I knew that move. That move had ended more than once with her doing a little victory dance in front of me.

“Aw, damnit,” I groaned, as she grinned at Brian, dancing away from him as someone on his team took the throw.

“Yeah, I always liked that little dance,” he responded.

“Did you talk to her? Did she let you? How is she? She looks great, did she cut her hair?” Fuck it if I sounded desperate. I was. I wanted to know every word she said to him. Hell, I wanted to know every word she’d said in the last five months. Paris had actually managed to distract me for a while, but lying here alone, it was worse than before.

“We had dinner, Nicky. I’m allowed to talk to her… c’mon, AJ was with her after he and Sarah broke up. She’s not avoiding all of us.”

“He kissed her, didn’t he? I can tell, he’s been acting weird ever since. Something happened between Rachel and AJ.” Did he sleep with her? That’s what I really needed to know. I didn’t think he’d do that to me…

“How do you know? You haven’t talked us in weeks.”

“Not true! I see AJ… well, I saw him on my birthday and we had lunch after. That was one of the things that pissed Paris off. Beginning of the end. And the other night he was good. We went to Roscoe’s with Anna. But I could tell that something happened,” I defended. I had. I tried to get him to tell me about her and he wouldn’t. Told me it didn’t feel right.

“Nick, where are you?”

“Home. LA. Whatever,” I grumbled, picking up my glass. Empty. Fuck.

“Where’s Anna? I think you’re a little drunk, she needs to…”

“Fuck Anna. She’s not in charge of me, Brian! I can handle it myself. I just… I wanted to talk to you again. Like we used to, you know, before the lectures about what a fuck-up I am.”

“You aren’t a fuck-up, Nick. But… how drunk are you? Are you alone?”

“Yes. And spare me that one, too. I’m not an alcoholic.”

“Then what the fuck is your excuse for being with Paris Hilton? Was that sex that good?”

I stared at the wall for a second, contemplating. “Is there a rehab for stupidity, Brian? Because I need that. When we broke up, Rachel told me I’d go running to Paris and I did. I’m so predictable.”

He laughed. “You’ve always needed rehab for bad taste in women, Frack.”

Frack. There it was again, that nickname from a long time ago when we were different people. Younger and more innocent. Pre-Leighanne, pre-Brian being a boring old man.

Pre-Rachel. Is that why I wanted her? So I could settle down and be like Brian? Was I forcing her to be something she wasn’t, sweet and docile like Leighanne?

“Nick!” Brian barked, and I snapped to attention. Yeah, definitely drunk. I couldn’t keep a thought in my head.

“So you’re home, alone, and calling me at three in the morning. What’s going on, buddy?”

“You were on TV,” I started lamely, and he snorted.

“Oddly, with your ex-girlfriend.”

“Don’t!”

“What?” he asked carefully.

“Don’t call her my ‘ex’.” I couldn’t bear it. Willa and Paris had that honor. I loved calling them the ‘ex.’ But that was so final, I couldn’t call Rachel that. And maybe she wouldn’t be next month. Maybe things would be OK.

“Alright. I was there with Rachel. The album’s dropping soon, she was excited about the charity show. She was… Rachel.”

I flopped back on the bed, my throat tight. I didn’t know those things. There was a time when I knew her every move, where she was every single day.

“Her nieces were at the game, all three of them. She looks like her mom, doesn’t she?”

“And her dad,” I whispered. “She has her dad’s laugh.”

Brian was quiet for a moment. “She misses you, Nick. I’m probably not supposed to tell you that, but she does.”

“What did she say?” I asked quickly. She missed me? Really?

“Well… nothing. But I could tell. We talked about you a little, and she just said that obviously you were enjoying your six months.”

“But I’m not!” I protested. “I’m fucking miserable. I miss her so much, Bri.”

“Then get your act together, little man,” he snarled. “She’s not gonna take you back if you’re acting like an idiot. She knows that Paris shit isn’t true! Any thinking person does, but that’s not going to be enough.”

I froze. Did everyone on the planet know we were seeing each other next month? Would the press be there? That thought almost made me laugh.

“I go on tour next week, Bri. We’re not playing Atlanta, but maybe you could come to New York or something?” He didn’t say anything at first and then I heard the baby’s cry. “Is that Baylee?”

“Yeah,” I could hear the smile in his voice and my heart ached. I would be a dad now, too. I knew that was wrong, but it was a fact I could never forget. As much as Rachel and I did the right thing, I would never forget that I should have a baby like Baylee. “He’s hungry and needs Mommy for that. Send me the schedule, Nick, and I’ll figure out a way to come to one of the shows, how’s that? We can hang out before or something and figure out when we can get everyone together for some talks.”

“Like a summit meeting?” I joked.

“Isn’t it always? But yeah, Kev’s done with ‘Chicago’ next month and I’m just playing Mr. Mom here. We can make something happen. But you have to do something, Nick.”

“What?”

“Stop drinking alone at three in the morning, okay?”

“It’s midnight here,” I rationalized.

“Whatever. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, Bri. I do.”

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