Nick
"Miller, my office, 10 minutes." Nick slams the phone down so hard it rattles out of the cradle and the drone of the dial tone fills the office.
Fucking fuck fuck shit fuck.
That about covers his state of mind for the past week.
Ever since Jess found out about his 'not so little secret' he hasn't been able to stop sweating. He had kept his authoring ways under lock and key since day one and the only time it had almost been revealed was in a last ditch effort to save a disastrously doomed relationship (good thing Tran talked him out of it).
What's weird is he's normally a horrible secret-keeper. He begs off any conversation when it turns to gossip and if there's ever a need to lie or fib or whatever, don't count on him. He will sweat profusely and speak incoherently until the situation is resolved.
But with this secret…the biggest of his life…it's like he owns it, he's in charge of it and therefore able to contain it. But now that it's out in the world, specifically in the mind of a chatty, spunky, know-it-all girl in thick-rimmed glasses and colorful skirts…he's unable to combat the normal secret-keeping symptoms. He's been a mess, missing important client calls, remaining silent in conference meetings, pretty much ignoring everyone in the office, but especially the one person who could ruin his life.
If he was thinking straight he'd notice that she's been avoiding him as well.
The worst part is that he doesn't even know how much she saw that day in his office. How long had she been in there? When he saw her, she had been reading from the screen. How far had she read? Did she see all of the information from the brown folder on his desk? Maybe she didn't make the connection between the documents and him. Nick knows how outrageous that hope is. Jess is a clever girl and if the look on her face was anything to go by, she got it, loud and clear.
Tran was useless. He'd driven to the old man's house over the weekend.
"She knows." Nick said as he mutilated another string bean.
Tran hummed as he gently extracted the vegetable from Nick's hand but said nothing.
"That's it? You got nothing? Tran, the biggest secret of my life is about to be plastered across every literary news outlet out there and you hum!?"
Tran gave him a look and shook his head. Clearly he didn't believe Jess was going to reveal what she knew.
"Well then what's my move with Jess?"
Tran's answer was a smile.
Crazy, zen old man was no help at all and Jess was obviously biding her time to spill his secret; waiting for a moment with the most dramatic impact. God dammit, he knew he shouldn't have trusted that girl. His first instinct had been right all along.
Well, apparently the moment had arrived, taking a quick swig from his flask he rises. As he leaves his office (sure to lock the door behind him) his eyes involuntarily dart to Jess's desk, discovering it empty, her computer turned on but with no screensaver, meaning she probably just stepped away.
Trudging up to Leo's office, he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for his probable firing.
First thing he sees when he opens the door is the back of Jess's dark brown head, the long waves spilling down over the chair. Gritting his teeth, he refuses to look at her and slumps into the open chair next to her.
This is it. Secret's out. Nick Miller is Pepperwood, Pepperwood is Nick Miller. There won't be any need for a detective to figure out his death. No mystery in jumping off a bridge out of humiliation.
"Alright, dream team," Leo exclaims as he puts the packet he was reading down. "I have just learned some exciting news!"
The big guy, who looks like a Russian Bond villain today in his navy blue suit stretched across his rather impressive girth and shiny bald head, moves some papers around his desk before unearthing a brown envelope.
Nick can't keep his legs from bouncing as he watches, in what feels like slow motion, Leo pull a white sheet of paper from the envelope and begin to read.
"Dear Clyde Co. Publishing, blah blah blah, pleased to inform, blah blah, the latest Pepperwood novel, "Pepperwood and the Hollow Corpse," as been awarded The 2013 Edgar for 'Best Novel.' Please inform us of Tran's attendance to accept blah blah blah…"
Nick can see out of his periphery that Jess is sitting on the edge of her seat. Up until Leo read the letter, she hadn't looked his way once. Now he can practically feel her eyes burning into his skin.
"Pepperwood hasn't received the Edgar for 5 years so this is great news team, let's see some enthusiasm!"
"Yeah, it's great, Leo…" Nick says as he runs a hand over his face, avoiding Jess's stare. "Listen-"
"Now, as we all know, Tran doesn't attend the award ceremonies and delegates someone to go in his place," Leo plows on.
A sick feeling begins to twist Nick's stomach and the sweat already peppering his hairline becomes full on streams.
"For this award, he's chosen the dream team to attend! So pack your bags kiddies, you're headed to New York City!"
It's 10:30 at night and Nick is standing in the security line at LAX preparing himself for the red-eye to JFK. Tran has 'conveniently' gone MIA so he was unable to talk some sense into the infuriating old man and get out of going to this fucking awards ceremony. At the very least he was kind enough to provide an acceptance speech he had mailed to Jess so they wouldn't have to come up with something on their own.
He's able to avoid her during the wait to board the plane by hiding out at the bar, miserably sucking down a few Heislers. Maybe he should get absolutely hammered so that he'll pass out on the plane, effectively avoiding any chance she'll have at getting (demanding) answers from him.
That plan is shot to hell as "Flight 0863 to JFK, now boarding," comes over the loudspeaker.
5 Hours 45 minutes to JFK.
She lasts 6 ½ minutes once they're in the air before asking her first question.
"How does it wor-"
"Did you read the speech?" He interrupts. If a conversation has to happen, he decides he's going to be in control of it.
"No, I've been given very specific instructions from Tran."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Jess is silent for a beat before turning in her seat to face him. "Are we gonna talk about this?"
"Talk about what, Jess?" He remains facing forward, but glances at her quickly.
Jess's response is a look that clearly says, 'You know what.'
Just lie Nick. People lie all the time. Every second. Lies make the world go round (yeah he has issues with Copernicus).
The sweat pooling in his low back is going to make for an uncomfortable plane ride. He turns towards her, leaning heavily on the arm rest. "There are things that you can't…It's not a simple thing of who….let me start over…I'm not-"
"Would either of you like a soda, juice, water or coffee? We offer alcoholic beverages if you'd like to peruse through our in-flight menu in the seat pocket in front of you. We only accept credit cards."
Nick could kiss the stewardess for the interruption. He proceeds to burn as much time as he can by asking inane questions regarding the menu, the plane, the pilots, where she grew up. After a polite but strained rebuff the stewardess moves on down the aisle. He only got 7 minutes out of the exchange.
5 Hours 27 minutes to JFK. Crap.
They get their refreshments (hers, a ginger ale, his, a jack and coke) and he concentrates on not staring at her. One, because of the straw currently cushioned between her lips, slowly being drawn deeper into her mouth and two, she'll take it as encouragement to continue talking.
He gets ten minutes of blissful silence before she slams her empty cup on the tray table in frustration, startling the poor old man sleeping in front of her.
"We have to talk about this!"
"No, Jess, we don't."
"But-"
"It's not what you think, ok, and that's all I'm gonna say."
"But you're-"
"Am I gonna have to yell bomb on this plane to get you to shut up?"
"You wouldn't," she narrows her eyes at him.
He takes a deep breath as if about to yell.
"…..Bo-kay you're right I won't."
She gives a little smile of triumph and then gears up for another attack when he feels a presence over his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, sir, ma'am" the perky stewardess bends down so that she's uncomfortably close to his face. "We've received some complaints from your fellow passengers. If you could keep your voices down, we sure would appreciate it. This is a red-eye flight after all."
"Yeah, sure," Nick says.
"Well thank you so much, and thank you for flying United."
Nick gives a little wave and releases a heavy breath once she walks away.
"Jess, I'm begging you…Let's just get some sleep, get the stupid award and get back home. I'd really prefer as minimal interaction and conversation as possible." He's playing the asshole card. He didn't want to, but unfortunately he plays it well and desperate times, desperate measures.
"Well then this trip is going to be a real pain in the butt for you, Miller," the asshole card does not seem to be having an effect on Jess…and it baffles him.
"What are you talking about?"
"Did you even look at the itinerary?" She asks as she pulls out a clearly organized plastic folder.
"No," Nick scoffs as he reaches for an envelope labeled Tran.
"Well," she smacks his hand away, "it looks like Clyde Co. Publishing was unwilling to stretch the budget for this little trip. They put us in the same room at The Hotel."
Nick's heart seizes a bit at the thought of sharing a room with her but outwardly he plays it cool. "Our hotel is called 'The Hotel?'"
Jess shrugs, "I guess it was the cheapest in the area."
"Look, Jess, it's no big deal. When we get there, I'll get another room."
"I'm so sorry, sir, but there are no rooms available. I can provide a list of other hotels in the area if you'd like." The overly perky hotel desk lady gives him a scarily wide smile. He can only glare back. The universe is seriously conspiring against him.
He opens his mouth to tell her exactly what he'd like (a sawed off shot-gun and a bottle of Jack both to be put in his mouth immediately) when a tug at his arm derails him.
"Nick," Jess's voice is scratchy and there are some pretty dark circles under eyes. Looks like neither of them got any sleep on the plane. "We're adults. Let's just go up to the room, it'll be fine. I'm fine with it."
He shifts uncomfortably on his feet.
"Besides, I'm in desperate need of a nap if I'm supposed to function at this ceremony….please?"
Damn those blue eyes.
They shuffle into the room and Nick throws his stuff down on one of the double beds (he had half-expected there to be only one king bed but was (hugely) relieved to see two), and flops face first onto the starchy pillows. He's suddenly aware of how exhausted he is and knows it'll only take a few moments to fall asleep. He cracks an eye open when he hears the closet door open.
Jess hangs her garment bag and begins unzipping her small suitcase; she pulls out a colorful toiletry bag and heads for the bathroom. The tension in the room is practically vibrating and he can't stand it. This isn't normal. One person should not have such an unexplainable hold on him, so he closes his eyes against it.
Sleep remains elusive; he's unable to turn off the part of his senses still focused on Jess and what she's doing once she emerges from the bathroom. When he hears her give a soft huff from somewhere near his feet he cracks an eye open again to see her staring at the garment bag that he carelessly threw on the bed next to his beat up messenger bag to his left. She glances at his face and he closes his eye quickly, feigning sleep.
He feels the bag shift along his left leg as she pulls it off the bed. He thinks it's safe to peek again and catches the small exasperated smile on her lips as she turns to deposit it in the closet next to hers. The corner of his own lips lift and once Jess settles into her own bed he's finally able to drift off.
Nick wakes to a silent room. Attempting to rub away the heaviness from his eyes he slowly sits up, swinging his legs to the ground. Still half-asleep, he walks to the bathroom taking in the sinks to his left, the shower to his right. Like a zombie, he shuffles to his left and turns on the sink but freezes when the shower curtain behind him pulls back at the exact same time.
Ohhhh shiiittt. His eyes focus and finally notice the steamy room and patchy condensation on the mirror. He forgot. He's not in his own hotel room…he's sharing….with Jess…who just showered.
There's no screaming. He's staring and she's wide-eyed and unblinking right back at him.
It's as if all sound has been sucked out of the room by a vacuum. The mirror is rapidly drying as the steam and heat escape through the open bathroom door and steadily, more of her is revealed through the fog.
Every inch of him is taut and he realizes his mind seems to be holding his own straining body at bay.
He wants to turn. Wants to look at the real thing head-on versus a half-blurred reflection. And then he wants to do a hell of a lot more than look. He wants to touch, lick, taste. Wants to make her wet in an entirely different way.
His eyes follow a drop of water as it trails from her clavicle down the valley of her breasts before it slows near her belly button. His eyes dip lower and he unconsciously sucks his lips in, rubbing them together before darting back to her face where her mouth has dropped open slightly.
"Fuck," he says under his breath as he drops his head and rushes for the door, closing it loudly behind him.
He's going to need a barrel of scotch to erase the image away.
After an hour at the hotel bar in wrinkly clothes and wild bed head he figures he's given her enough time to dress and do all the girly shit girls need to do. He's got 2 tumblers of scotch in him which he hopes will lessen the blow for whatever's about to happen. In the elevator heading back to the room, he tries to predict how the impending confrontation is going to play out. He expects a slap, maybe some screaming, he hopes not but there might be tears, maybe a sexual harassment lawsuit. Oh God. Why was his life spiraling out of control?!
Staring at the door he takes a deep breath and prepares for the worst.
What he gets is dead silence. The room is empty but her bag is still here so she hasn't left to take the next flight back to LA.
He notices his garment bag has been hung on the outside of the closet door with piece of paper folded over the shoulder.
Hey Nick,
Since you haven't come back for yet I figure (hope) your plan is to just meet me at the Grand Hyatt? I'm going to check out the New York Public Library and Bryant Park since it's on the way. Text me when you're close? I have Tran's speech.
Jess
"Of course she's at the friggin library," he says under his breath. Tossing the note away he heads for the bathroom for a quick shower, the stationary fluttering silently to the ground behind him.
