Okay guys, this is the part you've all been waiting for... but you may not like me anymore after it's over.
Um... just keep in mind that this is FLUFF and all will be fixed. I promise I'm going somewhere with this...
Also, in case you didn't catch it before, here's the link to the Max/Liz/Nick fic: Menage
Angelic wrote:Ever thought of a Nick spin-off... coz I would so read that, love that... *sneaks into the fic and steals Nick from Tess...* :-p
Hmm... actually, I have thought of that. Is that something you guys would enjoy? A Nick POV fic
Menage is in his POV, but it doesn't exactly go with the story!
If enough of you are interested, maybe I'll give it a shot...
alienmom wrote:so tell me, do you giggle while you write??

Sometimes I do!
OKay... all the time. But only because I'm usually giving a shoutout to one of my friends. Like a Nick quote or something that happens... etc.
Deejonaise wrote:Can't wait to see what happens next. You wouldn't actually let pretty boy come between them, would you? Would you???
Dee
*whistles*
Hey, I promise this will be okay. Trust me? Please? LOL!
Lizwell wrote:I'm gonna become a scientist and devote my life's work to developing a pill that takes testosterone out of the decision making process.
Please call me when you make the discovery. No really... here's my number... LOL!
Okay, don't hurt me guys! Remember... Queen of Fluff here!
<center>
Part 10 – The Name of the Game…</center>
The next two days are pretty much spent slumming around my apartment. The only time I leave is for my noon class, where I manage to sneak in the back twenty minutes into the lecture.
I catch Michael’s eye and he quirks a questioning brow. I roll my eyes and silently communicate that I’ll talk to him after class.
“So why do you look like shit run over twice?” he asks as the class disperses two hours later.
“Why are
you actually in class?” I return, delaying the conversation until we’re outside and away from prying ears. God, do I sound paranoid or what? “I thought you took Friday’s off for religious reasons.”
“Fuck you,” he pounds me on the shoulder for my sarcasm. “You know Thursday is my night to close. I gotta sleep man.”
“You could ask Joe to switch your schedule,” I point out, shifting my bookbag to my opposite shoulder as we stroll out the building. “It’s not like he wants you to miss class.”
“Yeah, but then what excuse would I have to skip?”
And doesn’t that just sum up my best friend in ten words or less?
“So, how did the little rendezvous with Mr. Harvard go the other night?” he continues as we make our way across the quad. “I saw you flick that french fry at him when no one was looking.”
“It was a nervous twitch,” I grumble.
“Yeah, right,” he snorts. “More like bad aim. Not that I blame you, dude. The way Liz was staring at him… I’d have blown a fuse if Maria ever looked at another guy like that.”
“Michael, do me a favor,” I say in a casual tone. When he quirks a brow, I add, “Shut the hell up.”
“I’m just sayin’,” he says in defense. “You better watch your back, Max. I’ve seen guys like that and I know how they operate. One minute they’re playing the harmless friend card, and the next they have their pants around the ankles and their dick out and ready to cha-cha.”
“Michael,” I growl warningly.
“Dudes,” Nick strolls up, falling into step with us. “What up, my posse?”
“I don’t even have anything to say to that,” I answer.
“What?” Nick looks innocent.
“Nothing. Listen, Nick, tell Max he needs to watch out for Casanova Chris,” Michael elbows me in the ribs.
“For the last time, I trust Liz,” I say loyally, despite the fact that everything he’s saying is what has been churning around my own brain. “End of discussion.”
“Liz won’t cheat,” Nick says just as faithfully. “She’s been in love with Max forever, as we all know. This subject is beyond tired. Anyway, listen to this guys. Remember how I was telling you I wanted to find a few ways to get some quick cash?”
“Actually… I don’t remember you saying that at all,” I drawl, and Michael nods his agreement.
“Really?” Nick scratches his head. “Hmm… interesting.”
“This isn’t where you tell us you’re selling your kidney on the black market, is it?” I demand, only half-kidding.
“Yeah, or making porn videos of yourself,” Michael adds.
“Both interesting options… but no,” Nick thrusts a piece of paper towards me.
I take the document, my brows raising. “What’s this?”
“You’ve heard the Real Men of Genius commercials on the radio, right?” Nick asks excitedly, waving absently as we pass a group of girls who are calling his name.
“You mean the Bud Light ones?” Michael asks, tossing me an amused glance when the girls slump in disappointment as Nick ignores them. “What about them?”
“I’m writing one,” Nick says with flourish. “Read it.”
I scan the paper, a bubble of mirth rising inside me. “Mr. Gas Station Condom Dispenser Refiller?” I ask wryly.
“That guy’s a life-saver,” Michael sighs dramatically.
“Has a nice ring to it, huh?” Nick beams. “How many times have you run out and didn’t have enough cash to spring for an entire box…”
“So you head into the men’s room,” Michael finishes, high-fiving Nick. “Damn, that’s good.”
“If only they stocked more of the Magnum XL’s.”
“Oh, please,” I laugh. “You wish you could wear Magnum’s.”
“Is that a challenge?” Nick raises his brows. “Because I got nothing against pulling it out right here and now.”
“I bet you don’t, but no reason to embarrass yourself.”
“Suck me,” Nick jiggles his package crudely. “Hey, there’s Tess. I’m going to go tell her my idea.”
“There’s no way Anheuser-Busch is going to go for that!” I shout as he ambles off. “You know… anyone else but Nick, and I would think it’s a joke.”
“It could work,” Michael scratches his chin. “Did you actually read this? Sheer genius.”
“Okay, that right there proves my point,” I return. “Well, I'm gonna head back and get some sleep. Catch you later?”
“Hmm?” Michael looks up from the paper. “Oh, yeah, sure. Later. Damn good stuff,” he murmurs, walking off.
<center>***</center>
An hour later, and I’m awakened by the ringing telepone. I open my eyes, a puddle of drool drying on the pillow next to my mouth. Without lifting my head, I reach out and grab the phone.
“’Lo?” I ask in a sleep-roughened voice.
“Max? This is Lieutenant McGraw, RPD.”
I blink, biting back a curse as I sit straight up, running a hand through my hair. “LT… hey, what’s going on?”
“I have your acceptance to the academy for next summer,” he continues in his cheerful voice. “Thought you’d like to know. When can you stop by and get the logistics taken care of?”
I can’t answer right away, as shock rolls over me. “I… I’m in?” I finally manage, unable to keep the wonder out of my tone.
Lt. McGraw chuckles over the line. “You’re in. Just stop by the station sometime this week and we’ll get you taken care of. Congratulations, son.”
“Wow… thank you sir,” I stammer, a smile spreading across my face. “Thanks a lot. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“No need to hurry, it’s only paperwork. The real fun doesn’t start until you’re out on the drill pad at 0530 doing pop-squats in the freezing cold.”
“Gee, sir, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to warn me off,” I say wryly.
“Definitely not. We need new blood like you, Evans. I’m glad you decided to join us. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As we hang up, I stare at the wall as feelings crash over me.
“I’m in,” I laugh out loud. “I’m actually doing this.” The first urge I have is to call Liz, so I pick up the phone and dial, forgetting she’s in school. The only thing on my mind is sharing this important news with the person I love.
“Hello?” she answers in a hushed tone, and I suddenly recall the time and place.
“Oh… shit, I’m sorry, you’re in class, huh?” I wince.
“Actually, it’s study hall so it’s okay,” she returns. “Max… what’s up?”
I take a deep breath. “I just got the call.”
“The call….” She trails off then gasps. “From Lt. McGraw?”
“I’m in, baby,” I grin, pumping my fist in silent victory. “They actually want me.”
There’s silence on the other end, then she laughs. “Wow… God, Max. I’m so, so happy for you. Wow.”
“I have to go in tomorrow and finalize the paperwork, but the LT said it’s all basically water under the bridge. I’m in!”
She laughs again, and this time I notice the forcedness behind it. “Wow… that’s great. That’s great news, Max. So when are you going?”
“Not until next summer,” I answer, frowning slightly at her less-than-exuberant reaction. “Hey, everything okay?”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” she answers absently. “So… next summer, huh? I guess you’ll call and let me know, right? So I can book a flight and come to the graduation and all.”
Book a flight.
Like a bucket of ice water, it dashes the happiness of the moment as reality sinks in. Liz isn’t going to be here waiting for me when I get my badge. She’s going to be in Harvard, studying to become the world’s leading microbiologist.
“Right,” I mumble, feeling dejected. “I guess you’d have to make sure you can get away from the Harvard scene.”
Another moment of silence. Then, “Right…”
“Right.”
“Max, I-“
“Crap, my other line’s ringing,” I answer as the little beep cuts Liz off mid-sentence. “Look, can we talk after you get out?”
“Um… sure. I have that dinner date with Chris at seven, though,” she reminds me, as though I could forget. “So, after that?”
“Right,” I mumble. “
After that.”
“Okay. Well… I love you…?”
I resist the urge to laugh. Was that a question? God, what’s happening here anyway? “I don’t know, do you?” I snark acidly, my jaw locked as the beep sounds again.
“What was that? Max, you’re getting cut off.”
“Nothing, I’ll see you later. Love you.” With that I click over, muttering a short, “What?”
“So I just saw Lover Boy at the library when I dropped Tess off for her research thing,” Nick chirps over the line, skipping over the pleasantries. “Michael pointed him out to me. Damn, Max! Why didn’t you tell me the guy looked like a friggin’ underwear model?”
“How, exactly, does an underwear model look?” I bite off in irritation. “And why does everyone seem to think Chris looks like one?”
“Uh… der! Haven’t you ever seen Travis Fimmel? That Australian model with the huge package?
Christopher is a dead ringer for him.”
“Australian model with the huge package?” I parrot. “Hell of a discription, Nick.”
“Hey, I have eyes and he was plastered all over the damn billboards. Point is, you have problems. Michael’s right… I think we should do something about this.”
“Like what? She’s already going to fucking Harvard,” I flop back on the bed, rubbing my eyes. “What’s the point anymore?”
“What about your little plan, Max? At first I wasn’t so sure, but I think we should keep an eye on this guy. Until his motives are proved to be pure, we
must not allow Liz to be alone with him,” he says in a dire voice.
“You sound ridiculous, you know that?” I huff, but I’m listening. “So you think we should go through with it?”
“Hell yes!”
I chew my lip, debating. Then I squeeze my eyes and answer, “Fine.”
<center>***</center>
“The name of the game is Operation Pretty Boy,” Nick paces the room, tapping his chin as Michael and I sit on the bed staring at him in varying degrees of anticipation and exasperation. “Max, you’ll sit outside and let Michael and I handle this. We can’t risk you being seen by the tangoes.”
“Tangoes,” I mutter, shaking my head and wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
“But why us?” Michael asks, eagerness keen in his voice. He’s totally into this.
God, save me from the nest of fools. Except I don’t seem in a hurry to leave the nest. So what does that say about me?
“Chris doesn’t know you and me,” Nick explains. “Therefore, we have an advantage over Maxie boy here. And also… I’m better at the stealth. Any objections?”
“Would it matter?” I grunt, folding my arms.
“This is for your own good, buddy,” Michael slaps me on the back. “You need to find out what you’re up against.”
Nick then proceeds to explain the plan, and I reluctantly find myself becoming more and more interested. Grimly, I think back to the scene from the other night and my resolve firms.
On the drive to Chez Pierre, sandwiched between Nick and Michael in the front of Michael’s Lebarron, a small trickle of doubt creeps up on me. Do I really want to see what’s going to happen tonight?
“Here,” Nick thrusts two walkie-talkies at me as he steers down the road. “Communication.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” I mutter, as Michael clips his to his belt. “Aren’t we going a little overboard here?”
“Max, Max, Max,” Nick shakes his head and tsks. “Who’s in charge here? Oh, that’s right…
me. And I say we use the walkie’s.”
I slump back in defeat. “Sure. Why not. This couldn’t possibly get any worse.”
“Stay here, Max,” Nick says as we pull up in front of the restaurant.
“We’ll take care of this,” Michael adds, patting my back supportively as they get out, strolling towards the door.
A few moments pass before I give into temptation and turn on the walkie-talkie. A buzz of static sounds through the car as I switch the stations, until I hear Nick’s voice ring out.
“Spiky, this is Studly. I have the T’s in sight. Repeat, I have the T’s in sight. Do you copy? Over.”
“I want to be Studly. Over.”
“You’re Spiky, deal with it. Remember who’s running this operation. Over.”
I roll my eyes in disgust. Then I press the button. “What’s going on in there, anyway?”
Nick replies with,
“Is that you, Stan? Over.”
Stan?! “Did you just call me Stan?”
“Well, Studly and Spiky were already taken. We’re sticking with the “S” theme. Over.”
“Forget I asked. Tell me what’s going on in there.”
“T1 is cozying up to T2. Hold on, I’m going to try to get closer. You with me, Spiky? Over.”
A moment of silence goes by, then Michael’s voice comes over the waves.
“Sorry, hot chick in leather at my twelve… no, make that one o’clock. Over.”
“Really? Leather? Over.”
“Guys!” I hiss, my hand gripping the small radio. “Stay on topic, here.”
“Sorry, Stan. Spiky, can you get a visual? Over.”
“Looks like they’re moving into dessert, boys. A slice of strawberry cheesecake. With two forks. Over.”
A nasty image of Liz and Chris sharing cheesecake burns into my brain and I begin to seethe. “No one notices you guys walking around talking into walkie-talkies?” I demand, trying to force down the sick feelings churning in my stomach.
“Please, we’re experts here. Oh, shit!” A giant crash punctuates Nick’s statement and I close my eyes, shaking my head.
“I’m okay. False alarm, nobody panic. Over.”
“Oh shit, Maxwell… maybe you should get in here,” Michael says suddenly, and the tension in his voice has me sitting up.
“This is not a drill. Repeat, this is NOT a drill. We have possible contact,” Nick adds in a sharp voice.
“Oh… this isn’t good.”
“What? Would you two quit with the covert op shit and tell me what the hell is going on?!”
All I get is static. Heart beating rapidly, I jump up and head for the front door, nearly running over an exiting couple in my haste to get inside. Ignoring the maitre dé, I walk inside and come to a skidding halt as I glimpse Liz and Chris sitting at a quiet, intimate table, their heads bent close together.
Through a red haze I watch as he reaches out and covers her hand with his. She smiles softly at him and they stand, him helping her out of her seat without releasing her hand.
“Stan? Max, are you there? Max!”
I reach down and turn off the walkie-talkie as I watch in horror as Chris reaches out a hand and brushes back a strand of her hair, cupping her cheek. He bends forward and her eyes close.
I stumble back, unable to watch as their lips meet, and as I turn I run straight into a waiter carrying a platter of glasses. What happens next is almost comical, were this happening to anyone other than me.
As if in slow motion, he loses control of the tray and the glasses fall to the ground in a loud shatter. Everyone looks over and I freeze in the process of steadying myself as I look up to find Chris and Liz staring at me with shock on their faces.
“Max?” she asks in a confused voice, stepping out of his arms and walking over. “What… what are you doing here?”
I open my mouth to speak, when the maitre dé’s voice booms out. “Sir, for the final time, you are not allowed to have these… devices inside.”
“Hey, lay off with the hands buddy!” Michael snaps as the man attempts to take the walkie from him.
“Michael?” Liz asks, her eyes narrowing as she looks from me to her brother. “What’s going on here?”
“I can explain,” I say inanely, and she arches a brow at me as everyone in the room looks on with varying expressions of curiosity and amusement. “Maybe.”
Understanding starts to dawn in her eyes, followed by hurt and anger. “You came to spy on me, didn’t you? Oh my, God. Who else is here? Who else was dumb enough to go along with this plan?”
I close my eyes in defeat as Nick steps out from behind an artificial ficus plant, a sheepish look on his face. “Hey, Liz,” he scratches his head, shrugging his shoulders in an aw-shucks manner.
“I don’t believe this,” she laughs without amusement. In the meantime, Chris stands silently at her side, not betraying any emotion whatsoever. The sight of the lipstick stain on his cheek starts my blood boiling again.
“You know what I don’t believe?” I say in a deadly calm voice. “That I trusted you and come to find out you’re making time with… with a freaking underwear model!”
A chorus of gasps sounds from the room and Liz’s face turns red with anger as Nick and Michael make choking sounds in their throats.
“
Excuse me?” she asks, fluttering her lashes. “Are you accusing me of something? Of
cheating on you?”
Somewhere inside me, I realize this is spinning out of control, and fast. But the big, dumber part of me has had enough of the pain, jealousy and anger. That part of me stiffens and says, “I saw you kissing him. How do you explain that?”
Like ping-pong balls, everyone’s eyes turn to Liz. At this point, she’s almost as red as the burgandy dress she’s wearing. Fire sparks out of her eyes as she steps forward. “Trust? You say you
trusted me? Then what are you doing here Max? What are you and your Stooges doing checking up on me?”
“Hey!” Nick cries out, then clears his throat and hangs his head when Liz shoots him a warning glare.
“I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding,” Chris begins, but both Liz and I ignore him as we continue to glare at each other.
“I’m waiting, Max,” Liz says in a low voice that vibrates with anger. “Go ahead and try to explain this. Explain how you could have
possibly trusted me and pulled something like this. Explain how-“
I cut her off mid-diatribe. “I guess it’s a good thing that I
didn’t trust you, then,” I hiss, “because look what would have happened.”
That knocks some of the wind from her sails and she just looks hurt. She clears her throat, reaches over and takes her purse from Chris’s hands. Only after a long measured silence does she look back at me. “For your information, I was just telling Chris how glad I was that I have someone who believes so much in me. Someone that trusts me, and supports me no matter what.” Tears glitter on her lashes and rip through my anger, leaving me sick inside.
“Liz…” I whisper, swallowing past a lump in my throat as she stares at me. “I…”
“Chris isn’t interested in me,” she continues meaningfully. “I’m sorry, Chris, I hope you don’t mind being the center of this freak show.”
He shrugs. “I’ve not exactly been living my life in the closet.”
The sick feeling in my stomach takes a nosedive as realization dawns. “You’re…?”
“Gay,” he finishes in a light voice, tinged with pity as he watches horrified understanding cross my features. “I thought Liz had told you. I’m sorry… I never meant for you to think…”
“Right,” I say, because well, I don’t know what else
to say. I turn to look back at Liz, but she won’t meet my gaze.
“I’m ready to go home now,” she turns to Chris. “Would you mind?”
“Liz, wait,” I reach out a hand, but she knocks it away.
“Don’t touch me right now, Max. Unless you want to lose a hand.”
The hardness in her voice is something I’ve never heard directed towards me. I swallow against the pain as she sniffles and slides her purse across her shoulder.
“No problem,” Chris steps in, shooting me another sympathetic look as he offers Liz his arm.
Without even looking at me, she walks out with him while I stand there in the middle of a silent restaurant.
I’m barely aware of Nick and Michael walking me out to the car, until we’re all sitting and quietly staring at the windshield.
In an obvious attempt to lighten the mood, Nick says, “Did you guys see him checking out my ass?”
Only nobody laughs.