Wine and Whiskey (Surviving Absolution #1)

by Nikki Belaire

  “Then, I couldn’t find you. I thought you were gone.”

  “I was just helping Max carry in the food.”

  “You’re here.” Trembling hands cup her face, his forehead pressing against hers. Relief slackens his expression, and his eyes drift shut before he lurches forward. Unable to support the dead weight, she stumbles backward, her hip slamming against the island.

  Max grips Nick’s shoulders and pushes him down onto one of the bar stools. He peers into Nick’s face, trying to force eye contact with him. “Fuck, Nick. You almost crushed her. Are you okay?”

  Nick’s head bobs as he reaches for her, his hand wrapping around her waist. “I’m sorry, sweetness.” He squeezes the top of his head before rubbing down his forehead and over his eyes. “My head is killing me. I think I just need some sleep.”

  “You’ve been asleep all day. It’s almost five o’clock.”

  “At night?” Shock tinges his voice, deep lines crinkling his forehead, matching her own anxiety.

  She caresses his cheek. “Why don’t you eat something? Maybe you’ll feel better.”

  Nick frowns as he squints at the shrimp glaze smeared across the bubbled glass. “What is this?”

  Max taps one of the white boxes, before setting it upright on the counter. “It’s from that dumpy place you like on Morgan. They have the best dim sum in LA.”

  The decorative bowls filled with fresh fruit rattle from Nick’s fist slamming on the counter. “What the hell were you thinking, taking her there? You know how fucking dangerous that area is.”

  “I went and got the food, and she met me in the garage.” Max meets her eye, frowning as he ignores the angry outburst, his tone even and restrained. “Shae just told you she was helping me bring it in.”

  She reaches out and lays her hand on top of Nicks. “I was worried about you and didn’t want to leave you here alone. You looked like you didn’t feel well even when you were sleeping.”

  “Where’s Marta?”

  “It’s Sunday. Her day off, remember?”

  “Okay.” Nick nods, yet uncertainty darkens his face. He looks from Max to her, seemingly unable to grasp what they tell him. “I’m not really hungry. I’ll see you upstairs.”

  His hand runs along the wall, supporting him as he walks out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. This is more than tired. Even with their late night, he shouldn’t be this weak and confused, fighting such harsh pain in his head.

  She turns to Max, whose frown deepens as he shakes his head. “What’s going on? Have you ever seen him like this before?”

  “No, never.” He blows out a long breath, making her shiver at his doubt. “Maybe it’s a migraine.”

  A seed of guilt takes root in her mind. Maybe it’s her.

  The danger from Juan and Spencer has been frightening, but straightforward. At least they knew what they were dealing with. Now an unknown enemy affects his physical and mental well-being, possibly posing an even greater threat. Perhaps the strain of keeping her safe pushes him too far. “I’m going to go check on him, and then I’ll come back and help you clean up.”

  He waves her away, stacking the boxes in the refrigerator. “Nah, it’s fine. I can do it. Go make sure he’s okay.”

  “Thanks, Max.”

  She gives him a quick hug and jogs up the stairs. Her stomach drops after pushing open the guest room door. He’s back in bed, his fingers scraping over and over across his scalp. In the bathroom, she soaks a washcloth with cool water before pressing it against his forehead, trying to find him some relief.

  “Thank you. I’m glad you’re here.”

  Her chest throbs at the agony strangling his voice, and she kisses his head before curling around him. “Me too.”

  * * * *

  Once they cut to commercial, Shae gives one last wave to the roaring audience, floating on the high of a live performance, yet her mind sneaks to thoughts of Nick. How much she misses him. How much she wishes he could still be here with her.

  After sleeping away most of Monday and Tuesday, he seemed better, proven by his stubborn refusal to stay home and take care of himself while she went to New York. Back to his normal self by the time they landed, it was the perfect trip until he had to return to L.A., dealing with another crisis that erupted in less than forty-eight hours after they’d left. Despite her disappointment, she smiles to herself. Only one more day, and she can head home.

  She accepts Max’s outstretched hand as she climbs down the stage steps, her stomach clenching at his drawn expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “We need to leave. I’ve got the plane standing by.”

  Cheers and clapping from the audience linger behind her. The last sketch of the show starts in about thirty seconds before everyone returns to the set for a final send-off and heads to the cast party. She takes a deep breath, attempting to calm her racing heart from Max’s urgency. “What happened? Where’s Carrie?”

  With his hand on her back, he guides her out of the open space and down the hall. They skirt around moving backdrops and actors changing clothes in the wings waiting for their cues to run on stage. Max remains alert, scanning side to side as they walk. Even with the worry of Nick on his mind, he makes her feel safe and protected. They’re lucky to have Max in their lives for more than security.

  “I sent her and Oscar to the hotel. The plane will come back to pick them up in the morning. They can bring our stuff with them.” His tense jaw and grip on her back convey his concern. “Nick’s flipped out. He went berserk at the office and fired Carter. When he got home, he yelled at Marta and made her cry.”

  She digs in her bag and pulls out her phone. No missed calls or texts. Nothing since last night. The lack of communication was disappointing when she thought they were both too busy to talk. Now, it’s terrifying to know the truth. “God, Max. How could it have gotten this bad in only two days? He was fine when he left.”

  “I don’t know. I tried to get Nathan into the house, but Nick refuses to see him. I don’t know what we’re going to find when we get there.”

  One of the associate producers stops their departure, glancing at his watch and giving her a raised eyebrow smile. “Hey, Shae. You need to head back to the stage. Final curtain call in twenty seconds.”

  “I’ve had an emergency come up, and I need to go.”

  “You’re leaving?” His voice drips with incredulousness. “Now?”

  Max pats her back in encouragement as her face flushes with warmth. Another incident to add to her growing list of flaky behavior soiling her reputation. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “The musical guest can’t leave. Nobody leaves before the show ends. It’s unheard of.”

  “You don’t understand. I have to…” Her voice drops, thinking of Nick suffering alone. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

  He shakes his head as they walk away. “Diva.”

  She cringes at the comment under his breath. Grateful her mother can’t hear the label she feared the most, the title that signals the beginning of the end. A small insult to bear so she can help the man she loves.

  Inside the car, lights dance across the windows as they wind their way through the city to JFK. At almost one in the morning, they share the road with very few cars, mainly taxis full of laughing, boisterous riders enjoying the nightlife. She slumps against the seat, exhaustion overtaking her. A whirlwind week appearing on all of the early morning news and daytime talk shows, as well as the late night programs.

  With little sleep and lots of conversations, she messed up only once. Her mind on Nick when she missed a question posed by one of the interviewers. She closes her eyes, thinking of the heat flaming her cheeks when he had to repeat the question. And the extra-long lecture disguised as a coaching session from Gail afterward.

  Yet, her lips curl into a smile, remembering their time together before he had to leave. Him leaning over and whispering ‘you’re amazing’ to her in the darkened theater. Slow dancing in the rooftop b
ar during the after party. Soaking together in the luxurious hot tub in their suite. Knowing it was late and they should get some sleep, but making love anyway. Enjoying their last few minutes together before he had to go back to L.A.

  He kisses her forehead as she snuggles against his chest. “I’m sorry I have to go.”

  “Me too. But, I’ll be back on Sunday, and I’ll tell you about the rest of my trip.”

  “Be careful. Always stay with Max and do what he tells you. The threats exist here just like at home.”

  She smiles against his neck at the familiarity of his words. “I think you’ve given me these exact instructions before.”

  “I still mean it.” His arms tighten around her. “I love you, sweetness.”

  “Fuck!”

  Max’s swear brings her back to the present. “What’s wrong?”

  He massages his temples before he turns to her. “Carter said Nick’s been sitting at the kitchen table for the past hour, staring at a plate of food. The only thing he’s said is…” He shakes his head. “I won’t repeat it, but it’s not good.”

  * * * *

  Her heart pounds at the sight of Marta waiting in front of the house, wringing a dishtowel between her hands. Even through the darkened window, her red-rimmed eyes and furrowed brow reveal her fear, aging her beyond her sixty-seven years. The housekeeper grasps Shae’s hands as she steps out of the limo. “Nick in bad way. He sit at table all night. He no eat. He no leave.”

  Nick must be sick to scare Marta like this. In all the time she’s known him, he’s never treated Marta with anything but kindness. Shae attempts to sound confident as she hugs the older woman. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Max’s phone chirps, and he glances at the screen. “It’s Carter. Give me a minute, and we'll go in.”

  He paces back and forth, turning his back on her as he talks. Unable to make out his words, yet the worried tone comes through. Knowing the man she loves suffers just a few feet away, she pushes open the door and strides into the house.

  Inside the kitchen, Nick hunches over the table, his head resting in his hands. An untouched plate of food and empty whiskey glass sit on the apple green placemat. She scoots a chair next to him and lightly rubs his back. “Hi.”

  “What do you want?”

  She ignores the growing lump in her throat. The man sitting next to her isn’t the Nick she knows. That’s why she’s here and not in New York. To help bring back the man she loves from wherever he’s gotten lost. “I’m worried about you. Carter said you didn’t feel well.”

  “My head’s killing me.”

  “I know. I think it’s time for you to go to the doctor. Let’s go the hospital and see Nathan. He can help us figure out what’s wrong.”

  He pushes back from the table and stands up, wobbling before gripping the wooden edge, whitened knuckles holding him up. His pale, gaunt skin contrasts with his unfocused, dark-rimmed eyes. “What do you want from me?”

  “Nothing. I—”

  “Don’t kid yourself, baby.” He shakes his head, his voice full of bitter arrogance. “Everybody wants something from me.”

  “I just want to help you feel better.”

  “There’s only person who can help me, and she’s long gone.”

  A jab to her heart. His mother? An old girlfriend? Either way, someone who isn’t her. As much as it hurts, she forces herself to ask. Maybe whoever she is, she can help. “Who?”

  “Shae. I loved her, and she left me.”

  His glassy eyes look right through her. To him, she’s a random person bothering him. Fearful of his reaction, she hesitates to touch him again. She leans in closer to his face, trying to make him really see her. “It’s me, Nick. I’m Shae. I’m right here.”

  “No, Shae wouldn’t dress like this.” He scowls before reaching out and running a strand of her hair through his fingers. “Not with this slutty hair and makeup.”

  Unable to hold back, she attempts to build a connection between them and covers his hand with hers. “It was for TV. I wore all of this for Saturday Night Live, remember?”

  He flings her hand off like it burns him. His face flushes as the fury ignites. “You did something with her, didn’t you? Where is she? What did you to do her?”

  Her love can’t reach as far as he’s gone. Maybe Max can convince him to go to the hospital. Or physically force him, if need be. Her shoulders slump in defeat. Everyone feared he would destroy her, and it ended up being her who pushes him beyond the breaking point. An easy target for his enemies, she causes him endless worry. The stress of protecting her too much for him to withstand any longer. “I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.”

  “You think I’m too stupid to realize you’re trying to trick me?”

  She flinches from his dinner plate smashing against the wall behind her, her legs quivering as she steps backward. The only time she’s ever been afraid of him. “I’m not, I promise. I’ll get Max. He can help us.”

  “Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

  Nick charges after her as she runs out of the kitchen. She flies into his office and locks the door with trembling hands, trying to figure out what’s gone wrong, how to help him. She has to find Max. Wood splinters behind her as Nick kicks in the door.

  “I’m fucking talking to you.” As he lunges at her, she puts her hands up to protect herself. He grabs her wrists, his fierce grip crushing her bones. She falls to her knees, the carpet burning her skin as he yanks her forward. The room spins around them, her head flailing as he shakes her, screaming in her face. “Never fucking walk away when I’m talking to you. Do you hear me? I said, do you hear me?”

  The force of his anger leaves her breathless, and all she can do is whisper, “Yes. I hear you.”

  She dangles in the air, suspended by his fists wrapped around her. Pain stabs her throat, head, and back. But mostly her heart. From the emptiness of his eyes, hollow except for the madness overcoming him. His voice. His hands. But, not him. Not the man she loves. His body just a vessel for his misguided fury.

  “Where is she? What have you done to her?”

  “Let her go.” The barrage stops at Max’s enraged voice behind them, and her chest constricts at his gun pointed at Nick’s head.

  Nick jerks toward him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m protecting Shae. The Nick I used to know would have wanted me to. Now let her go.”

  Nick’s grip loosens, and she falls to the floor, her muscles aching from the adrenaline racing through them, never expecting to need rescuing from Nick. She scrambles to her feet and runs past him to Max. He pushes her behind him, creating a barrier between them.

  “Don’t you see what I’m trying to do?” Nick’s fingers curl around his scalp, digging into his forehead. “I have to find her.” Nick sways again and topples against the desk. His eyes widen as he stares at her, a flicker of recognition crossing his face before he whispers, “Shae?”

  He’s as scared as she is. Reaching out a trembling hand, she tries to soothe him. “I’m here.”

  His voice falters as he tries to speak again. Blood trickles from his nose, and his eyes roll up into his head. He falls to the floor, violent convulsions racking his body.

  Max kneels over him before looking up at her. The first time she’s ever seen fear in his eyes. “Call an ambulance.”

  * * * *

  Max drums his fingers on the arm rest and looks over at Shae. She hasn’t said a word since they were ushered into this tiny, windowless room more than three hours ago. Just stares at her arms, running her fingertips across the angry red silhouette of Nick’s handprints.

  Proof of his failure to protect her. And his broken promise to Nick. He rubs his hands down his face. Any other man would already be dead for touching her like this. And, Nick will want to be when he finds out what he did to her.

  Unable to sit in these hard-ass chairs any longer, he paces in the small space. Gray walls and furniture with black swirl carpet e
voke a subdued environment, devoid of all emotion and stimulation. A sharp contrast to the turmoil embroiling them.

  Two members of Nick’s security team stand outside the door, along with a hospital security guard. He shakes his head, knowing it irritates the hell out of them. They can’t stand real or wannabe cops, but hospital protocol requires in-house protection for celebrities while they’re in the building. Another surreal aspect of living in L.A.

  “It’s my fault. I did this to him.”

  Her cracking voice stabs his heart, and he drops back into the seat next to her. “What are you talking about?”

  She tilts her head, pursing her lips together, trying to keep from crying. “Juan and Spencer’s threats pushed him over the edge. If he didn’t worry about me so much, it wouldn’t have broken him.”

  He doesn’t know how to respond. Her words may be truer than he wants to admit. Nick’s obsession with her and, in turn, the relentless need to keep her safe could destroy a man just like any other addiction. However, there’s more to this than stress. Not wanting to scare her with his own fears of a brain tumor, he’ll let Nathan tell them the diagnosis.

  But he can’t let her blame herself. Innocent and sweet-natured, she didn’t fully understand the circumstances she was drawn into until it was too late. He wraps his arm around her trembling shoulders. “He’ll be okay. You know how stubborn he is. He’ll be fine just to spite me for being hotter than him.”

  Her quiet laugh contrasts with the tears shining in her eyes. “I’d forgotten about that. I didn’t even know you were listening to us at the coffee house.”

  “My job’s security. I always know what’s going on.” He shakes his head, guilt burning in his gut. “Or, at least I used to. Nick has me questioning myself right now.”

  “Me too.” She lays her head on his shoulder, a welcome reminder she still trusts him amidst the chaos. “Thank you for helping me earlier. I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t come in.”