8. Nick
Chapter eight
Nick
The mood in my apartment is the definition of glum. It’s like a blanket of hot air has weighed down everyone in the room. The hiss of steam piping in from the corner radiator is the only thing that fills the silence.
Amira is sitting at my small dining table with her laptop, trying to rustle up some positive PR, but mostly she’s staring at her phone as if willing it to ring.
José alternates between restlessly tapping out some rhythm on the table and texting with his wife, because every once in a while, his mouth tilts up in a smile.
Both reviewed all their phone contacts for suggestions of anyone else I could date, but I couldn’t see myself dating the women they suggested—even if just fake dating.
No response from Maddie. Really?
I shake my head and focus on the last line of lyrics I wrote:
I thought you were my friend…
That’s so not original. I cross it out.
Even José thought this proposal was going to work. At least he’s not rubbing my “She’s going to love this contract” in my face.
Meanwhile, MusEn seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. So much for “we want to wrap this up quickly.”
“I cover the story. I’m not the story.” That seems to be her main objection.
But José and Amira are taking this much more seriously now that MusEn is doing a vanishing act.
“Amira, you must have some idea of how he can persuade Maddie to date him—as a woman,” José says.
“Because all women are the same,” Amira says sarcastically. “What does she like?”
“What she wants is a breakthrough in her investigation, but I don’t know how I can help with that. I have all her usual favorite things here. Gourmet cat food for Sherlock, new pens, a new notebook, and dumplings. Plus, peanut M&M’s for those nights when she doesn’t have time to eat.”
“That’s really good,” Amira says. “I’m impressed.”
“Still, I thought she’d do this as a friend,” I say.
My phone rings. It’s Maddie. I pick up.
“Okay,” she says. “But I have some additional terms I want in the contract.”
I punch the air. “Yes!”
“I’m coming upstairs now,” she says.
“She said yes, and she’s coming home now. You guys should go,” I say.
“There’s only one way out,” José says. “We’ll have to pass her.”
“That’s good. It’s not only Nick’s career at stake,” Amira says. “What should we plan for your couple debut?”
“That’s too soon. Let Maddie call the shots,” I say.
Amira and José grab their stuff.
“Don’t say anything about our couple debut,” I say to them. “You might make her change her mind.”
They rush out the door as I stand there waiting in the doorway with my bag of gifts and the dumplings.
I hear them saying “thank you” to Maddie on the stairs and Maddie demurring that it’s fine.
It’s more than fine . It’s a huge frickin’ deal.
Maddie comes into view, and I want to hug her. The rush of emotion I feel is insane. It’s relief, right?
She smiles at me, and it’s her usual open smile that makes me relax when I see it.
“Thanks again.” I hand her all my gifts. “I bought these to help persuade you.”
“Dumplings? Yummy.” She looks inside the other bag of gifts. Her eyes light up as she views its contents. “It’s scary how well you know me. But you might not thank me when you hear my terms.” She puts the two bags behind her back. “But you can’t have these back.”
“I’ve already conceded that I’ll do what you want.”
She passes by me to unlock her door, and I smell the fresh peony scent of her hair. That fragrance is now the title of one of my songs.
She clears the table of papers and her laptop as Sherlock winds around my legs.
“I’ll give Sherlock this gourmet food,” I say, opening the can.
“You’ve corrupted my cat,” she says as she re-heats the dumplings.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” I say over my shoulder as I reach for some plates.
Maddie has bright, colorful plates Our apartments have a similar layout, so I know my way around her apartment like I know my own—except that mine is filled with guitars and other instruments and has a separate bedroom.
And my plates are chipped relics from my childhood that my mom gave me when she moved upstate.
“Hit me with your terms, Maddie Hughes.”
Maddie smiles slightly. She’s toying with me. “And let these dumplings go to waste when they should be eaten hot?”
We sit down at the table as Maddie sets the steaming dumplings in the middle. She helps herself first as I distribute the drinks.
I’m in the middle of chewing when she says, “No kissing.”
I nearly choke. What?
“No kissing?” I ask.
She nods.
I blink. “But what if it’s absolutely necessary?”
“Why would it be absolutely necessary?”
“I don’t know. But the fact that you’re making this a provision means you could see a situation where it might happen.” I pull my chair closer to hers. “Why don’t you want to kiss me?”
A flush appears on her cheeks. I lean in closer.
“I promise you, I’m a good kisser,” I say.
“How do you know?” she asks, looking earnestly at me.
Is this an actual question? Am I getting reporter Maddie about to grill me about how I’m a good kisser? Does she think I’m not a good kisser ?
“Because I’ve never had anyone suggest we stop.”
She seems to consider this evidence deeply, staring off into the corner.
I add, “And when I’m kissing a woman, she grabs my shirt or—”
“I get it. Have you kissed anyone in the past two years?” she asks. “Maybe you’re rusty.”
Rusty? No way.
“Are you worried I’m rusty?” This is getting more and more nuts. “I promise you, I’m not rusty. It’s like riding a bike. It’s not something you forget. But if you find me rusty, I’m willing to practice with you until I get better.” I grin.
Maddie’s blush deepens. “I just said ‘no kissing,’ and now you’re suggesting we practice it. Do you want to kiss me?”
I take in her big brown eyes asking me this and her very pink lips.
Sometimes, I would definitely like to kiss Maddie.
Especially at times like now. “I have no objection. And practice makes perfect. If you really want no kissing, of course, I won’t kiss you.
But what if it’s some situation where everyone is tapping glasses or something and people will think we’re not dating?
Can’t we have an emergency clause that allows it? ”
“Okay. But then we need a code word, and we both need to say it before any kiss happens.”
Now, I really want to kiss her.
“Great. What’s a good code word?” I ask. “Pucker up?”
She laughs.
“Yeah, that doesn’t seem like a good one if it’s going to make you laugh,” I say. “How about Thank you ? Because honestly, thank you.”
She hides a smile. “That sounds good. I will add that.”
She drafts the next clause:
Clause 11. There will be absolutely no kissing or physical contact other than hand-holding, with the sole exception that if there is a situation where one person believes that if we don’t kiss, we will be perceived as not dating, that person may say “Thank you”—
“But we might say thank you in another context, so maybe ‘thanks much’ is better,” I say.
She revises the clause:
—that person may say “Thanks much,” and if the other person agrees, he or she will also say “thanks much,” and then the parties may kiss.
“Do we need to put our code word in this contract?” I ask. “Let’s write ‘on terms discussed.’”
Maddie nods and types the change:
Clause 11. There will be absolutely no kissing or physical contact other than for hand-holding, except on terms discussed and agreed to.
If Maddie and I do ever kiss, the code words I want her to say are: Please don’t stop .
“But that’s not all of it. I have two more conditions.”
If “no kisses” was the first condition, I dread hearing the next.
“You have to help me with my investigation.” She explains what she learned through Iris.
“Happy to,” I say.
“Also, you have to be my date to this press career panel I’m doing at my middle school,” she says.
“You need a date for that?” I ask.
“Yes. Some of the girls I went to school with bullied me—they’d make fun of anyone who sat with me for lunch.
They were very creative. Every day it was some fresh hassle.
One time, one of them sat behind me and unzipped my schoolbag, so my belongings fell out when I picked it up to pack up after class.
You know, things like that. But this panel is a good career opportunity for me.
And they might not even be there, even though alumni are invited. ”
I hope they show up so I can show that Maddie is worth a million of them.
“If they are there, it’d be nice to show up with you as my boyfriend,” Maddie says.
“Are you complimenting me, Maddie?”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she says. “In fact, when we break up, I should be the one to break up with you.”
“That’s harsh,” I say. “How can you already be thinking about ending our relationship?”
“I already overheard Nemesis saying there’s no way you’d date me, so I don’t want her to be proved right when you dump me.”
“Nemesis—the one who stole your story after you twisted your ankle?” Poor Maddie.
She was grumbling about this woman, Sarah or her “Nemesis,” when she was laid up last year with a sprained ankle and I brought her food.
Who are all these people attacking her? I thought I had it rough.
But now I’d like to give Nemesis a piece of my mind.
“Yeah.”
“Of course you can be the one to break up. Why would anyone really want to date a musician? We travel all the time, and we work nights. Strangers pretend to be our girlfriends. You’d have to be really sure of your relationship. Iris can give you a million reasons why you’d break up with me.”
She winces. I’m sure Iris is dead set against this fake-dating plan.
That was a nasty break-up last year. I know her ex-boyfriend and his band from playing the same clubs.
I know Iris, though not well, from playing at Craic and Laughs, her dad’s bar.
Her ex is now banned from performing at Craic and Laughs, and I don’t blame Iris’s dad.
Not that I’m anything like Iris’s ex. I would never cheat on someone.
Not when that’s one of the reasons my mom left my dad.
That, and the fact that he wasn’t interested in being part of a family.
My mom pretended she no longer cared about my dad, but I saw the way she’d sometimes check out who he was dating online.
“Is that why you haven’t been dating for the past two years?” Maddie asks.
“That’s the main reason. I can’t promise any stability. Why would I do that to someone I cared about?”
“Mom, why isn’t my dad here?”
“Because he’s a musician, Nick. He has to travel to play gigs to make money. We have our own apartment, I have my job, and you have friends at school. Living in hotels or on a tour bus is not a life for you and me.”
I’d definitely learned that lesson at a young age. Suddenly the dumpling I’m chewing doesn’t have any taste.
She didn’t say— and he doesn’t want us . I learned that lesson later.
“Because we’re both writers, we should agree that we will try to be nice to each other when if we break up.”
“Agreed,” I say.
Maddie bites her nail. “I’m not sure we need to add these last clauses to the contract. I trust you.”
“Anything else?” I ask.
“The confidentiality clause,” she says. “I already told Iris, Bella, and Lily, and your bandmates know, so we should exclude them. And I will have to tell Jing and my family as well.”
“And my friends Luca and Tristan know as well.”
“Oh, and you need to make sure I’m seated next to the deputy commissioners at your Parks Department concert,” she says.
“How am I going to do that? Like I have control over seating.”
“I’m sure you can insist on your girlfriend sitting with the rest of the dignitaries. I read somewhere that some band has a whole list of requirements, including that they get M&M’s—but no green ones.”
“You would remember that detail about M&M’s. And they do that for safety reasons. Because if there are green M&M’s, then maybe something else on the safety checklist was also missed.” I lean forward. “Should I insist that all my concerts provide M&M’s backstage for you?”
Maddie’s eyes widen, her gaze briefly drops to my lips, and she pulls back to put some distance between us. Hmm. She’s not immune to me.
“I’ll do my best to get you seated there,” I say. “Do you want to add that to the contract?”
She shakes her head. “No, I trust you.”
I am oddly touched that she does, so much so that she said it twice.
“Let’s also remove fake from the first line,” she says. “I don’t want to be involved in anything fake. This is a dating contract.”
“Agreed.”
She prints out two copies, and we each sign them. I photograph the final copies. It feels oddly formal, especially when she places the original in a folder in her desk drawer.
“My spare key.” She hands me a key.
I look at it, confused.
“For when you’re cleaning Sherlock’s litter tray, remember? Every day.”
“Right.”
“A huge contract benefit,” Maddie says.
Great. Scooping the litter is the winning contract clause. Not dates with me.
I disappear into my apartment and return with my spare key, which I hand to Maddie. “You can also have my spare key. In case I ever get locked out, I can knock on your door.”
Our hands briefly touch, and we both pull back as if shocked.
“What’s our backstory of how we came to be a couple?” Maddie asks. “People tend to ask that question.”
“We met as neighbors. We were friends at first, and then we started dating about two months ago, but we didn’t want to be public about it to preserve our privacy.”
“But how?” Maddie asks.
“How would you like it to happen?” I ask.
“I’m not a romance writer. I should’ve asked Bella,” Maddie says. “Let’s say we were watching a movie late at night, and then I snuggled into you, and you kissed me.”
That’s so wholesome . Maddie and I have never watched a movie together. And the times when I’ve hooked up with someone in the past—before Christina’s tell-all—usually started in a bar, after a night of performing and then drinking in celebration.
I glance at Maddie. She’s nibbling her lip as Sherlock purrs in her lap.
Maddie is direct and can be so practical that I’ve always thought she was jaded about love and romance…
“Let me text Bella,” Maddie says.
“Okay, but it has to be realistic,” I say.
I read one of Bella’s books after Maddie forced me to come to Bella’s book signing to make sure there were lots of people in the audience.
(There were. I’d been impressed.) The romantic hero was perfect (or flawed only in the best ways) and definitely a man written by a woman.
“She says that it has to be that you sang me a song on the fire escape to tell me your feelings.”
“That works,” I say. “We can use ‘Together Forever.’”
Our walls are so thin that I would have heard if she’d brought someone home. Why isn’t she dating someone? I have my reasons for staying single. What are hers?