by Zuri Day
Backstage was a crush. Quinn and Teresa walked on each side of Nicki as she moved toward the crowd surrounding London as quickly as her crutches would allow. When London saw her family, she pushed through reporters and fans and other celebrities to greet them.
“You were wonderful,” Nicki said as London gave her a big hug. “I can’t believe I’ve missed out on this my whole life!”
“You’ve never been to fashion week?” London asked.
“Never.”
“Well, you haven’t missed out on anything like what you saw tonight. What Ace is bringing to the fashion world hasn’t been done before.”
“Ace, how much do you pay her to say things like that?” Julian asked.
Nicki turned and saw that Ace had walked up behind them. She remembered the underwear ads from his modeling days and being in awe of him like the rest of her friends. Back then she’d never imagined seeing him in person, much less meeting the handsome star. Even if she’d stayed in touch and could tell her high school friends the truth, they probably wouldn’t believe it. As good as he looked in magazines, he looked even better in person.
“Ace Montgomery,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Wait, y’all haven’t met?” London looked between the two.
“No.”
“Never.”
“What about the family reunion?”
“I was only there a day, remember?” Nicki responded.
“What about...oh, never mind. Babe, this is Julian’s girlfriend, Nicki Long. Nicki, Ace Montgomery.”
“As though he needs introducing at his very own show,” Teresa joked.
“Your clothes are amazing,” Nicki said. “Have you thought of designing for Broadway?”
Jennifer had been talking with another of the models but overheard this comment and exclaimed, “An excellent idea!”
“I hadn’t thought of it,” Ace said. “But now I will.”
A photographer walked up to them. “Excuse me, guys. Could I get a picture?”
In trying to orchestrate a pose, her crutches made Nicki feel hampered. “Just a second,” she said to the photog. “Here, can you hold these for just a sec?” she asked someone standing behind her.
With her booted foot bent and hidden behind her, Nicki looked as chic and fit as the rest of the group and felt happier than she had since the bike incident. Felt great when they met back up with the guys and the next day that she and Julian spent with her mother, Marie.
By Sunday the swelling in her ankle had gone down noticeably. She only took two pain pills all weekend, the second one not until just after the plane headed back west. By that night, however, she would feel another kind of pain, and her foot would have nothing to do with it.
Chapter 11
The tone of the message should have been her first clue. That her director asked her to call back no matter the time should have been the second. But when the Drake company plane touched down in Paradise Cove Sunday night, Nicki had to be awakened from a deep sleep due to the pain medication she’d taken. All she had on her mind when she pulled out her phone to take it off airplane mode was a bed and a good night’s sleep.
“What’s wrong?”
They’d reached Julian’s car and were headed toward the townhome when she listened to the message a second time.
“Probably nothing,” Nicki mumbled.
“That’s not what your face says.”
“Milo wants me to call him, no matter the time. Said it’s urgent.”
“That could be good news.”
“I guess. He didn’t sound too happy.”
Nicki opened the browser on her phone and typed in the show’s name. Familiar links she’d seen before showed up on the screen. Show’s official website. Theater where the show played. Places where would-be patrons could get tickets. Nothing unusual or out of the ordinary. Then why, thought Nicki, had her heartbeat increased?
“Wonder what he wanted.”
“Why don’t you call and find out?”
She tapped the screen. Seven minutes past eight in California. Just after eleven on the East Coast. The show was over, Milo probably backstage. She could call and hope to get voice mail. Then again, if she didn’t find out what he wanted, there’d be no sleeping tonight. That was for sure. Her thumb hovered over the screen to hit Callback. Just before tapping the icon, she got a better idea. Swiped through to her favorites and tapped the smiling face on her screen. After the third ring, her heart fell. Paige was probably backstage, too. Or still had the phone silenced, as they all did until after leaving the theater.
“Nick! Oh my God. I was just getting ready to call you. What the hell?”
“What do you mean? What’s going on?” Nicki’s voice sounded as panicked as she felt. Julian looked over, immediately concerned. She put the call on speaker, getting the feeling that whatever Paige was about to say was something she’d only want to hear once.
“You don’t know? Your picture is all over the internet!”
“Me? What? Where?”
“At the OTB show with the supermodel London! And her husband, Ace Montgomery!”
“And?”
“And now it looks like you’re out having fun and hobnobbing with celebrities when you’re under contract to work. Somebody told Milo, and he is not happy, to say the least.”
Crap! How could she have been so careless? London was a celebrity. Of course the photographer would sell the pic. Caught up in the show’s success and the night’s excitement, she hadn’t thought twice about being in the picture, had actually enjoyed being snapped as part of the group. Why shouldn’t she? London was Julian’s sister. And why would Milo get angry about her seeing a fashion show? Was she supposed to stay locked inside and not have any fun because she was injured? Anger replaced fear, which Nicki preferred greatly, especially since she now knew what was so urgent and why Milo had called.
“Does he know that London is my boyfriend’s sister? It’s not like I was just out indiscriminately painting the town. But even if I were, wouldn’t that be my business, not to mention my right? Milo knows why I’m not dancing. My foot is sprained severely, but I’m on crutches, not in a coma! Watching models walk the runway doesn’t require physical labor. And there’s nothing in my contract that stipulates if injured I should become a hermit until I can dance in the show again.”
“No, but it’s not cool to use the injury as a way to get out of doing a show to hang with your boyfriend. And that’s what one of the stories implies.”
Nicki couldn’t talk for scrolling the screen. She’d put her name in the search bar, and all hell came up.
“Hello? Nick, you there?”
“I’ve got to go, Paige. Whoever said that is lying, and I’ve got to find out who it is.”
“I knew it didn’t sound like you.”
“As long as I’ve been wanting to dance in a hit like this? And he thinks I’d skip out for any reason, especially to see a guy I’ve dated for years?”
“I know. It sucks.”
“I’ve got to go.”
“Okay, but call me back after talking to Milo.”
Nicki ended the call while reading one of several links that mentioned her name.
They’d reached the house. Julian pulled into the garage and cut the engine. “So... Milo saw the picture we took?”
“Yes, and several more by the looks of it.” She held out her phone so that Julian could see the photos. A side view as she chatted before the show. Another as she clapped and smiled. A shot of her and London hugging backstage. And the group shot, with everyone looking happy. No one looking injured. Nicki noticed not one shot included the boot on her foot or was taken as she walked on crutches. Coincidence? Sabotage? If so, by who? And why?
“There were cameras everywhere. A
nd flashes, both from them and the lights in the show. Never thought for a second that I was the subject. There were at least a dozen photographers backstage alone. Not to mention cell phones. It could have been anyone.”
“Whoever it was, the end result is the same. It’s put you in a negative light. I don’t like that at all.”
Nicki sighed but said nothing as she continued scrolling the internet.
“Come on, babe. Let’s go inside.”
“Hang on. I’m looking for...”
She found the post Paige had mentioned, and the words she read cut short those she’d planned to say.
How can someone too injured to dance go to New York Fashion Week and prance? For the answer... Ask Ashley.
No question on the identity of Ashley. Next to the group shot taken on Friday night was the one from London’s store, the selfie she’d taken with the woman Quinn said had a “dark heart.”
Julian leaned closer. “Dang, honey. I forgot that you took a pic with that girl.”
“I take selfies all the time. Quinn warned me about her, but I didn’t think anything about it. I see now how that was a bad idea.”
Her eyes slid from the picture back down to the text. “‘Officially she has a sprained ankle. But while her cast mates were dancing it up at the Royal Theater, Nicki Long was strutting it up with celebrities...allegedly.’ Not allegedly, you witch—”
“Babe...”
“What? She’s inferring something that’s totally not true.”
“Exactly why you can’t let her get to you, Nicki. People like her write what they hope people will read.” Julian covered her hand with his and the phone along with it. “No, baby. Don’t upset yourself further by reading more of that crap. You’re the brightest thing shining around here, and she’s just trying to catch a little light. That’s all.”
How could a woman stay angry with comments like that? Nicki was still beyond furious, but she appreciated what Julian was trying to do.
“You’re right. They’re lies. Unfortunately, some people don’t know that. Like Milo. He obviously believed what he read.” A sigh escaped her, as heated as the hot air Ashley blew in that article.
“I didn’t know how I’d feel about being in New York and not dancing. But with you and your family, I had the best time! Was the happiest I’d been since the accident. And now this. Hurts worse than my ankle.”
“We’ll get it straightened out, babe. But not here. And not tonight. Let’s go inside.” Nicki opened her door. “Hang on. Let me help you.”
Julian hopped out and came around to her side of the car.
Still holding her phone, she slipped the purse strap over her shoulder. “Where are my crutches?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got you. Put your arms around my neck.”
His slender frame was misleading. But those close to him knew Julian’s toned body was mostly muscle. Very little fat. Regular workouts and a decade in martial arts kept him in top form. He scooped her up effortlessly, opened the door and walked them inside.
“Thanks, babe. You can put me down now. I can make it from here.”
“Without your crutches? I don’t think so.” Once up the stairs and inside the master suite, he walked to the bed and set her down gently. “Now...isn’t that better?”
“Personal service all the way to my bed. What more can I ask for?”
“For that service to continue once you’re in the bed. Glad you asked, pretty lady. Because that’s exactly...” He kissed each cheek. “What...” Nuzzled her neck. “I plan to do.” Slid his tongue inside her mouth. Nicki welcomed the onslaught. Julian was an excellent kisser. She’d like nothing more than to get carried away on the wings of ecstasy. But there was something she had to do.
She ended the kiss. “Let’s put that on pause for when you come back up.”
“What? The luggage? I can get that later.” He leaned in again.
She pulled back. “I’ve got to call Milo. I really don’t want to. Paige says he’s angry. I’m not in the mood.”
“Then don’t call him.”
“I have to. He said to call him ASAP, no matter the time.”
“And you’ll do that. But not tonight when you’re exhausted, and reeling from someone lying about you on the internet. I think tomorrow morning is soon enough. Nine o’clock here will be noon his time.”
“Thank you, Doctor. You have such a bedside manner.”
“You have no idea. Just wait till I get back.”
She watched him stroll out of the room. Strong, confident, saving the day. She lay back, rested against the pillow. Still very troubled about what happened, but she felt better somehow. One of the women had commented on the flight home that there was something about those Drake men. Julian’s calm, steady demeanor and logical perspective was the perfect complement to her rash, more spontaneous attitude. He was right. Tomorrow would be soon enough for a conversation with the director. She’d call him on the way to get the MRI results. What more could happen between now and then to change anything?
Her cell phone pinged, indicating a text. Nicki yawned as she lifted the phone and read the screen. Vince. She sat straight up. Why was he texting? What did he want? No doubt he’d seen the stories like everyone else. She didn’t want to do it but read the text anyway.
Nicki, you’re balling! London’s your sister? Now I know you can do a favor for a friend. Wouldn’t even ask but the timing is crucial. Give me a call when you get this, ASAP.
Nicki deleted the text. Fell back on the bed. Just moments ago she’d wondered what else bad could happen. She’d just found out.
Chapter 12
Bad moods were rare for Julian. Most people dreaded Monday mornings, but they’d never been a problem for him. Whether he had a class, his internship or a patient appointment, he usually looked forward to whatever the day would bring. But there were a few things that could affect his attitude and quality of life. One of them was Nicki being unhappy. Two was not knowing exactly why. The injury was part of it, sure. But he was more focused on what had happened the previous evening. The change in Nicki’s mood when he returned from the car. The mood that had shifted again this morning, as with stilted conversation she tried to cover up what bothered her.
“I appreciate you taking me back for the MRI.”
“Of course. It’s no problem.”
With no patients scheduled on Mondays, driving her to the specialist didn’t mar his day at all. There was nothing he would have handled at the office this morning that couldn’t be done later at home. Being behind the wheel instead of behind a desk right now worked to his advantage. Preoccupied with the mystery going on in his home, he might not have accomplished a thing anyway.
After returning with their luggage, she hadn’t wanted to make love. What could have happened to change her feelings so abruptly? Not the sudden return of pain in her ankle, as she’d claimed. Or fatigue from a pain pill when she tossed and turned half the night. There was more to it, but he hadn’t pushed. Silence, Julian had learned, was a valuable tool when desiring to learn someone’s true feelings. People usually shared much more information when given voluntarily without being pushed.
“I’m sorry for fading out on you last night.”
“You’re feeling better this morning. That’s all that matters. Still no pain?”
“No, and I haven’t had to take a pain pill. Makes me cautiously optimistic that I’ll have good news for Milo.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. Paige texted this morning and said my understudy is still being listed as a substitute and not my replacement. The grade-two sprain that was diagnosed in New York can take four to six weeks to heal. I’m hoping that my being in shape can cut off a week or two and I can be back in the show sooner rather than later.”
“You
don’t want to risk a greater injury by going back to work prematurely.”
“Wearing a protective bandage can help. And I won’t start out full on—maybe eighty percent.”
“I know how much you want to be back on stage, babe. Here’s hoping that your dream comes true.”
They reached the diagnostic center. Much like on Friday, Nicki and Julian didn’t have a long wait. This time they were directed to an office instead of an examination room. Dr. Allen entered with a smile on his face. Julian hoped Nicki would leave with one on hers.
“Good morning, Nicki. Julian.”
“Good morning,” Julian said.
“Morning,” Nicki said. “You’ll tell me whether it’s good or not.”
“I’ve heard that any morning you wake up on this side of the dirt is a pretty good one.” He sat behind the desk. “How was your weekend?”
The worst possible question, Julian thought, as he watched mixed emotions flit across Nicki’s face.
“Long,” she finally said. “My director is waiting to hear from me. I’m hoping not to be replaced.”
“Then I won’t keep you waiting. The bruising that garnered my concern was indicative of a more serious problem than the grade-two sprain that was initially diagnosed. You have an avulsion fracture.”
Nicki’s whole body slumped as she sat back against the chair. “A chipped bone?”
“A bone fragment has separated from the larger bone and the adjoining tendons. I’m sorry, Nicki. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear.”
“What’s the shortest amount of healing time?”
“I’d recommend no less than six weeks, especially since you were misdiagnosed and the ankle wasn’t casted immediately. There’s been no time for the bone fragment to reattach and set. I do believe it’s close enough to that larger bone that a soft cast will stabilize it and surgery will not be required.”
“A cast or surgery. Those are my options?”
