Chapter 3 Nicholas
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Amanda screeches.
Nicholas rubs his temples, wishing the pitch of her voice wasn’t quite so high. He might’ve exaggerated slightly about being sober. He drank enough last night to knock out an elephant, yet here he is standing. Maybe he’s stronger than an elephant.
His captain, Tony, gave him a lot of shit about not bonding with the team again, and rather than actually go out with them, he’d gotten drunk at home and watched porn, neither of which made him even remotely happy.
“You are so fucking self-centered,” Amanda continues.
Once she gets started, it’s better to let her keep going, so Nicholas lowers himself into one of the chairs at their dining room table, spreading his legs wide and leaning back.
Denise and Amanda’s house makes him feel like he’s in a doll house—the space as tiny as the furniture and the colors so pink it makes his eyes hurt.
“You’re not even listening to me, are you?”
“You were saying something about me being a disappointment?” Nicholas guesses. That’s usually what people yell at him about.
Amanda groans, throwing her hands in the air. “I wasn’t, actually, but now that you’ve said it yourself.”
“I’m a disappointment,” Nicholas intones in mock imitation of his father. “So much education, so many opportunities, and all of it wasted on a silly hockey career.”
“You sound exactly like your father,” Amanda says.
“I know.”
“That’s nothing to be proud of,” Amanda snarks. “Unlike your dick-bag dad, I don’t think you’re wasting away your life playing hockey because you actually love hockey. It might be the only thing you’re capable of loving.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Nicholas asks, too hungover to tell.
“Only you would think that could possibly be a compliment,” Amanda snaps.
“Can you talk a little quieter? You’re shrill.”
“Shrill,” Amanda shrieks. “I’ll show you shrill.”
Denise watches them silently, the look she gives Nicholas enough to make a weaker man shrink. Luckily for Nicholas, he doesn’t particularly care what his cousin’s girlfriend, or anyone, thinks of him.
“Do you want an autograph, Denise?” Nicholas grins.
“The only thing I want you to sign is a new contract,” Denise says. “You’ve done nothing but upset Amanda since you got traded, and now you hurt him.”
Him. The man who ran outside—was it Alex, or Anthony maybe.
“He’ll get over it. I was just being honest. That man is so not my type.”
“That man is better than you in every way.” Denise’s hand leaves Amanda’s shoulder before she moves towards Nicholas. “If you hurt him again, you’ll regret it.”
“Careful Denise, you sound a little angry.”
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to ask him to help,” Denise seethes, turning towards Amanda. “Nicholas doesn’t care about anyone but himself. It was a mistake to involve Andrew.”
Andrew. That’s his name. No wonder he couldn’t remember it. It’s as boring as the monochromatic ensemble he was wearing—cream blue polo and khakis, something right out of a golf catalog.
Nicholas hates golf. So much standing around and watching and waiting.
So much small talk between holes and backdoor business deals on the greens.
His father loves golfing and never lets an opportunity pass to remind Nicholas that his preference for a very different sport is an embarrassment.
It doesn’t matter that Nicholas is top in the league or scored a multi-million dollar contract.
The money means nothing to his father, who makes more on his investments in a week than Nicholas makes playing in a year.
Jokes on him though because Nicholas doesn’t care about the money.
He doesn’t care about much of anything really, but he does enjoy pissing people off.
There’s something heady about being calm when other people aren’t, especially since most of the time he can’t keep a lid on his own temper.
When the roles are reversed, Nicholas feels powerful, something he rarely feels despite his status and wealth.
“Has anyone ever told you that your face makes them want to hit something?”
“At least once a week,” Nicholas shrugs, spreading his legs wider to try and stretch out his inner thighs. They’re sore as fuck from the last game. Maybe he should head in early tomorrow and get a good stretch session in with the team PT.
“He doesn’t even care.” Denise throws her hands in the air. “You can handle him, Amanda. I don’t wanna look at his face anymore. I’m going to check on Andrew.”
Before she leaves, she moves into Nicholas’s personal space, jabbing her finger into his chest. “If you’re very, very lucky I might convince Andrew to come back in here, and if I do, you’re going to be on your best behavior.
You will not insult him, you will not hurt his feelings, and god help me if you act like the asshole I know you are, I will personally kick you out of this house. Understood?”
“I’m not scared of you,” Nicholas grumbles.
“If you hurt Andrew you will be,” Denise says, turning and stalking out of the house, her dress shoes clacking on the hardwood floor.
“Dramatic much,” Nicholas says. “What makes this Andrew guy so special?”
Amanda smacks him on the back of the head, yanking his sunglasses off before kicking his ankle so he sits up straighter.
“Pretend you’re not a hungover mess, stop being a fucking asshole and don’t you dare hurt him.”
“What the fuck Amanda? Is this guy a baby or a grown man?”
“He’s a grown man, and he’s incredibly important to me and Denise. I know friendship is something you don’t seem to care about, but he’s our friend, and one of Denise’s favorite people in the entire world. If you hurt him—”
“Hell will rain down, I’ll have a hoard of angry lesbians on my tail, I’ll never know peace again. Got it.”
“Remind me again why I’m still your agent? Or why I agreed to help you?”
“Because you love me.”
“That is entirely debatable,” Amanda says, lowering herself into the chair beside Nicholas. “This plan of yours is stupid. You know you could just tell your father what you really think of him.”
Nicholas grunts. “I don’t wanna talk about him.”
“You never do. You never want to talk about anything.”
“That’s not true. Last week when we met to discuss my new endorsement deals I talked a lot.”
“You talked about your barber and your shoes.”
“What’s your point?” Nicki asks.
“My point is you don’t ever want to talk about anything real. Look, I know growing up with your parents was probably hard—”
“I didn’t grow up with them. I grew up with nannies and in boarding school.”
“See? You’re angry.”
“I’m not angry,” Nicholas lies.
“You should be. I would be.”
“You know, you’re very emotional.”
“And you’re an annoying prick.”
“Thank you.”
“I hate you.”
“I pay all your bills.”
“I had to start therapy again.”
“It’s not my fault you have repressed issues.”
“I had to start therapy to deal with the stress you put me under.”
“Again, not my fault if your job causes you stress,” Nicholas replies cooly. “Maybe you should look into a new career if you can’t handle it.”
“You cause my stress,” Amanda seethes. “I want to help you because I remember what a sweet kid you were when we were younger, but you make it really fucking hard some days, Nicholas.”
“No one is making you stick around,” Nicholas shrugs, ignoring the sting of discomfort her words invoke.
He hasn’t been a kid in a long time, and there’s nothing good to remember about that time.
Amanda might want to reminisce about their youth, but Nicholas has no illusions about his childhood.
However idyllic and sweet she might’ve found it, the reality was far different behind closed doors.
It’s been years since he was that powerless kid desperate for attention and affection, and he sure as shit won’t ever be that stupid again.
“You know your father isn’t right,” Amanda starts. “You’re not wasting your life because you’re playing hockey. You’re wasting your life treating people and money the same—as something disposable.”
Nicholas picks a piece of lint off his pants. “What’s your point?”
“That you don’t care about anyone but yourself, Nicholas. That’s no way to live.”
“Why should I care about other people?” Nicholas scoffs.
“I literally don’t know how to explain to you that you should care about people.”
“Then why are we talking about this?” Nicholas presses.
“Because while you care about no one, Andrew cares about everyone. That man is one of the most decent people I’ve ever met.
He doesn’t know how to stop caring. His hyper-empathy exhausts him, but he won’t tell anyone, and he sure as shit isn’t going to tell you.
So if by some miracle Denise gets him to come back inside, and then by another miracle he agrees to this stupid as shit plan, then you’re going to need to care.
You’re going to need to be a decent fucking human for once and care a little bit about the man helping you. ”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“That’s not a good enough reason,” Nicholas challenges, unsure what could be so fucking special about that khaki wearing man. No one has ever liked him enough to care what anyone else thought of him, or how anyone else treated him.
“Andrew King is a better man than you ever will be. You could live ten lives and not deserve him. You don’t even fucking deserve his help if I’m being honest.”
“Then why would he help me? Better yet, why are you helping me if you think I’m so horrible and unworthy?”
“Because that’s what we do when we care about people,” Amanda sighs.
“For some reason, I care about you, Nicholas. And because I care about you, Andrew—who loves my Denise—might agree to help us solely because you matter to someone he loves. That’s what being human is about—caring about other people. ”
“Caring about people is stupid.”
“You’re stupid,” Amanda snaps. “Ugh, I’m going in the other room. I need five minutes away from you before I say something I’ll regret.”