Infinity: Chronicles of Nick

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  "Nick. Nick Gautier." He cringed as he realized how stupid he sounded and how behind he was on her conversation.

  She laughed like an angel. A beautiful, perfect ...

  I am so in love with you____

  Get a grip, Nick. Get a grip____

  "So, have you been going here long?" Kody asked.

  Work, tongue. Work. He finally choked an answer out. "Three years."

  "You like it?"

  Nick's gaze went to Stone and the others heading into the office. "Not today, I don't."

  She opened her mouth to speak, but Stone and crew surrounded her.

  "Hey, baby." Stone flashed her a cheesy grin. "You new meat?"

  Kody grimaced and sidestepped them. "Get away from me, you animals. You smell." She raked a repugnant stare over Stone's body and curled her lip. "Aren't you a little old for your mom to be picking out your clothes for you? Really? Shopping at the Children's Place at your age? I'm sure there's some third-grader dying to know who bought the last navy I-sore shirt."

  Nick bit back a laugh. Yeah, he really, really liked her.

  She went to stand by Nick and put her back against the wall so that she could keep an eye on Stone. "Sorry we got interrupted."

  Stone made a sound like he was about to vomit. "Why are you talking to the King Loser Dork? You want to talk about ugly? Look at what he's wearing."

  Nick cringed as Kody examined the sleeve of his shirt.

  "I like a man who takes fashion chances. It's the mark of someone who lives by his own code. A rebel." She cast a biting glare at Stone. "A real lone wolf is a lot sexier than a pack animal who follows orders and can't have an opinion unless someone else gives it to him."

  "Oooo," Stone's friends said in unison as she got the better of him.

  "Shut up!" Stone shoved at them. "No one asked you for your opinions."

  "Nekoda?" the secretary called. "We need to finish with your schedule."

  Kody gave Nick a last smile. "I'm in ninth grade." "Me too."

  Her smile widened. "Hope we have some classes together. Nice meeting you, Nick." She made sure to step on Stone's foot as she walked past him.

  Stone yelped and mumbled an insult for her under his breath. Then he and his three friends sat down in the chairs that were opposite Nick's.

  Ms. Pantall walked past them to go talk to Mr. Peters.

  They're going to cream me over this....

  As soon as she was gone, Stone tossed a wadded-up piece of paper at him. "Where did you get that shirt, Gautier? Goodwill or did you find it in a Dumpster? Nah, I bet you rolled a hobo for it. I know you people couldn't afford even something that tacky."

  Nick refused to rise to the bait this time. Besides, he could handle insults directed at him. It was the ones against his mom that elevated him to fighting mad.

  And this was why most private schools had uniforms. But Stone didn't want to wear one and since his father all but owned the school. .

  Nick got to be mocked for the clothes his mom thought were respectable. Why dont you ever listen to me, Mom? Just once...

  "What? No smart comeback?"

  Nick flipped him off. ... At the same exact moment Peters came out and saw him.

  Lady Luck is definitely on vacation today.

  "Gautier," Peters growled. "Get in here. Now!"

  With a heavy sigh, Nick got up and went inside the office he knew as well as his own home. Peters stayed outside, no doubt talking to Stone while he was forced to wait. He took the chair to the right and sat there, staring at the pictures of Peters's wife and kids. They had a nice house with a yard, and in one photo his daughters played with a white puppy.

  Nick stared at them. What would it be like to live that way? He'd always wanted a dog, but since they could barely afford to feed themselves, a pooch was out of the question. Not to mention their landlord would die if they had one in their rented condo even though there wasn't much more damage a dog could do to the run-down shack.

  After a few minutes, Peters came in and went to his desk. Without a word, he picked up the phone. Nick panicked. "What are you doing?" "I'm calling your mother."

  Terror ripped through him. "Please, Mr. Peters, don't do that. She had to work a double shift last night and tonight too. She's only going to get about four hours of sleep today and I don't want to worry her about nothing." Not to mention she'd beat his butt royally for this.

  He dialed the number anyway.

  Nick ground his teeth as anger and fear whipped through his entire being.

  "Miss Gautier?" Could there be any more loathing in his tone? And did he always have to stress the fact that his mom had never married? That always embarrassed her to death. "I wanted to let you know that Nick is being suspended from school for the rest of the week."

  His stomach hit the floor. His mom was going to kill him when he got home. Why couldn't Peters just shoot him and put him out of his misery?

  Peters glared mercilessly at him. "No, he was fighting again, and I'm sick of his thinking he can come in here and attack decent people anytime he feels like it for no apparent reason. He has to learn to control his temper. Honestly, I'm tempted to call the police. In my opinion, he should be sent to public school where they can handle troubled kids like him. I've said it before and I'll say it again. He doesn't belong here."

  Nick died a little with every word. Kids like him...

  He zoned out so that he wouldn't have to hear the rest of Peters's tirade about how worthless he was. He already knew the truth in his heart. The last thing he needed was someone else voicing it.

  After a few minutes, Peters hung up the phone.

  Nick gave him a sullen stare. "I didn't start it."

  Peters curled his lip. "That's not what the others said. Who am I supposed to believe, Gautier? A hoodlum like you or four honor students?"

  He was supposed to believe the one telling the truth, which happened to be the hoodlum. "He insulted my mother."

  "That's no excuse for violence."

  That went down his spine like a shredder. The sanctimonious pig—Nick couldn't let that go unanswered. "Really? Well, you know, Mr. Peters, I saw your mom naked last night and for an old broad, she has really nice—"

  "How dare you!" he shouted, coming to his feet to grab Nick up by his shirt. "You foul-mouthed little—"

  "I thought you said insulting your mom was no excuse for violence."

  Peters trembled as rage mottled his skin. His grip tightened and a vein throbbed in his temple. "My mother isn't a Bourbon Street stripper. She's a good, God-fearing woman." He shoved Nick away from him. "Get your things and get out."

  God-fearing, huh? Strange how Nick and his mom went to mass every Sunday and at least twice during the week and the only time he ever saw Peters or his mom there was on holidays.

  Yeah .

  Hypocrite to the core. He despised people like Peters.

  Nick scooped his backpack up from the floor and left. There was a security guard waiting outside the office to escort him to his locker.

  Just like a criminal.

  Might as well get used to it. Some things ran in the blood. At least he's not handcuffing me.

  Yet.

  Hanging his head low, he tried not to look at anyone as the other students sniggered and whispered about him. "That's what happens when you come from trash." "I hope they don't let him back in." "Serves him right."

  Nick ground his teeth in anger as he neared his locker and reached for the combination lock.

  Brynna Addams was pulling her books out, two doors down. Tall with dark brown hair, she was very pretty and one of the few people who hung with Stone and crew that Nick could stand.

  She paused to look at them with a frown that only deepened when she saw the guard with him. "What's up, Nick?"

  "Got suspended." He paused before he swallowed his pride. Again. "Could I ask a favor?"

  She didn't hesitate. "Sure."

  "Could you get my assignments so that I don't fall behind?"
r />   "Absolutely. You want me to e-mail them to you?"

  And I stupidly thought I couldnt feel any worse. "Don't have a computer at home."

  Her cheeks darkened. "Sorry. Um, where do you need me to take them?"

  Nick was grateful she was decent—unlike the rest of the jerks she ran with. "I'll come by your house after school and get it."

  She wrote down her address while he pulled all of his books out. "I'll be home about four."

  "Thanks, Brynna. I really appreciate it." He tucked the paper in his back pocket, then allowed the security guard to escort him off campus.

  Heartsick over having to face his mother, he made his way back home to their side of the ghetto and dreaded every step that took him closer to his door.

  Inside their crappy house, his mother was waiting on him with a stern frown on her face. Dressed in a threadbare pink robe, she looked about as tired and ticked off as he'd ever seen her.

  He dropped his backpack to the floor. "You should be asleep, Mom."

  Her eyes cut him to the quick and made him feel even lower than Peters had. "How can I sleep when my boy's been thrown out of school for fighting? You of all people know how hard it is for me to keep you there. How much money it takes. What I have to do to pay for your books and lunches. Why would you be so stupid as to throw this chance away? What were you thinking?"

  Nick didn't say anything because the truth would kill her and he didn't want her to feel as bad as he did when there was nothing she could do about it.

  I'm the man of the family. It was his job to protect her. It was all he knew.

  Take care of your mom, boy, or youll answer to me. You lip off to her and Ill cut out your tongue. You make her cry and Ill kill you myself. His father was pretty worthless, but the one thing about him was that he made good on his threats. All of them. And since he'd already killed twelve people, Nick figured he wouldn't think twice about killing him either. Especially since his father had no great love of him.

  So he kept his anger locked in and refused to say anything to hurt her feelings.

  Unfortunately, his mother gave him no reprieve. "Don't you get sullen on me, boy. I'm sick of that look on your face. Tell me why you attacked that kid. Now."

  Nick clenched his teeth tight.

  "Answer me, Nick, or so help me, I'll spank you, even at your age."

  He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at her ludicrous threat. Even at fourteen, he was more than a head taller than his tiny mother and he had a good forty pounds on her. "He made fun of me."

  "And for that you'd jeopardize your entire future? What were you thinking? He laughed at you. So what? Believe me, that's not the worst thing that will ever happen to you. You have to grow up, Nicky, and stop acting like a baby. Just because someone mocks you is no reason to fight. Now is it?"

  No. He swallowed attacks against him all the time. What he wouldn't suffer were attacks against his mom. And he shouldn't have to. "I'm sorry."

  She held her hand up. "Don't even go there. You're not sorry. I can see it in your eyes. I am so disappointed in you. I thought I'd taught you better, but apparently you're determined to grow up into a no-account criminal just like your daddy, in spite of everything I do to keep you straight. Now go to your room until I calm down. You can stay there for the rest of the day."

  "I'm supposed to work this afternoon. Ms. Liza needs me to help move her stock around in the storeroom."

  She growled. "Fine. You can go, but then it's straight home. You hear me? I don't want you wasting time with any of those hoodlums you call friends."

  "Yes, ma'am." Nick headed to his "room" and pulled the blankets closed. Sick and tired of it all, he sat down on the old, lumpy mattress and leaned his head back against the wall where he saw the pieces of the ceiling that were discolored and peeling up.

  And then he heard it. .

  The sound of his mother's tears coming through the wall of her bedroom. God, how he hated that sound.

  "I'm sorry, Mom," he whispered, wishing he'd strangled Stone where the creep stood.

  One day ... one day he was going to get out of this hellhole. Even if he had to kill someone to do it.

  It was nine o'clock when Nick left Liza's store. He'd already picked up his assignments from Brynna at her huge mansion of a house on his way into work. Then he'd put in five hours so that he could save money for his "college fund." 'Course at the rate it was accumulating, he'd be fifty before he could go. But something was better than nothing.

  Liza locked the door to her shop while he stood behind her to shield her from anyone who might be watching them. "Good night, Nicky. Thanks for all your help."

  "Night, Liza." He waited until she was safely in her car and on her way home before he headed down Royal Street toward the Square. The closest streetcar stop was over behind Jackson Brewery. But as he neared the Square, he wanted to see his mom and apologize for getting suspended.

  She told you to go straight home____

  Yeah, but he'd made her cry and he hated whenever he did that. Besides, the condo was really lonely when he was there alone at night. They didn't have TV or anything else to do.

  And he'd already read Hammer's Slammers until he could quote it.

  Maybe if he apologized, she'd let him hang out at the club for the night.

  So instead of turning right, he made a left and headed for her club on Bourbon Street. The faint sounds of jazz and zydeco music coming out of stores and restaurants soothed him. Closing his eyes as he walked, he inhaled the sweet smell of cinnamon and gumbo as he passed the Cafe Pontalba. His stomach rumbled. Since he hadn't been at school, his lunch had consisted of more powdered eggs and bacon, and he had yet to eat dinner . which would be those nasty eggs again.

  Not wanting to think about that, he walked down the narrow alley to the back door of the club and knocked.

  John Chartier, one of the huge burly bouncers who watched out for the dancers, opened it with a fierce frown—until he saw Nick. A wide smile spread over his face. "Hey, buddy. You here to see your mom?"

  "Yeah. Is she on stage yet?"

  "Nah, she's still got a few minutes." He stood back so that Nick could walk down the dark back hallway to the green room.

  He paused at the door to the room where the dancers dressed and rested between performances, and knocked.

  Tiffany answered. Absolutely stunning, she was tall and blond ... and barely dressed in a G-string and lacy top.

  Even though he'd been raised around women dressed like that and was used to it, his face flamed bright red as he kept his gaze on the floor. It was like seeing his sister naked.

  Tiffany laughed, cupping his chin in her hand. "Cherise? It's your Nicky." She squeezed his chin affectionately. "You're so sweet the way you won't look at us. I knew it was you when you knocked. No one else is so nice. All I can say is your mama is raising you right."

  Nick mumbled a thank-you as he stepped past her and made his way to his mom's dressing station. He kept his gaze down until he was sure his mom was covered by her pink bathrobe.

  But when he caught her furious glare in the chipped mirror where she was putting on her makeup, his stomach hit the floor. There was no forgiveness in that face tonight.

  "I thought I told you to go straight home."

  "I wanted to say I was sorry again."

  She put down her mascara wand. "No, you didn't. You wanted to try and make me tell you that you didn't have to stay on restriction. I won't have it, Nicholas Ambrosius Gautier. And your paltry apology doesn't change the fact that you knew better. You have to learn to think before you act. That temper of yours is going to get you into serious trouble one day. Just like it did your father. Now go home and contemplate what you did and how wrong it was."

  "But Mom—"

  "Don't 'but Mom' me. Go!"

  "Cherise!" her handler shouted, letting her know it was time to go on stage.

  She stood up. "I mean it, Nick. Go home."

  Nick turned around and left the
club, feeling even worse than he had when he'd left Liza's. Why wouldn't his mom believe in him?

  Why couldn't she see that he wasn't trying to play her?

  Whatever ... He was tired of trying to convince the world, and especially his mom, that he wasn't worthless.

  On the street, he headed down Bourbon toward Canal, where he could pick up a closer streetcar. He hated when his mom treated him like a criminal. He was not his father. He would never be like that man.

  Fine, Ill never protect your honor again. Let them insult and mock you. See if I care. Why should he bother when doing the right thing made her so mad at him?

  Angry, hurt, and disgusted, he heard someone call his name.

  Pausing, he saw Tyree, Alan, and Mike across the street, hanging outside a tourist bead and mask store. They waved him over.

  Nick crossed the street to tap his fist against theirs. "What's up?"

  Tyree leaned his head back in silent salute to him. "Hanging. What you doing?" "Heading home."

  Tyree slapped at the collar of Nick's orange shirt. "Boy, what you got on? That shit's hideous."

  Nick slapped his hand away. "Clothes. What's that crap you got on and what truck did it fall off of?"

  Tyree snorted and preened. "These my Romeo threads. They make all the ladies call me tasty."

  Nick scoffed. "Tasty-crazy. Them ain't no Romeo duds. Those fashions by Geek Street."

  They all laughed.

  Mike sobered. "Look, we got a thing tonight and we could use a fourth. You want in? It should be worth a couple hundred dollars to you."

  Nick's eyes widened at the sum. That was a lot of money. Tyree, Mike, and Alan were hustlers. Though his mom would have a stroke if she ever found out, he'd been known to help them a time or two when they'd scammed locals and tourists. "Pool, poker, or craps?"

  Alan and Tyree exchanged an amused look. "This is more a job of watchdog. At least for you. We got the big boss from Storyville who's paying us to shake down some deadbeats. It'll only take a couple of minutes."

  Nick screwed his face up. "I don't know about that."