Chapter Seven: It’s a Date
“Ok, I’m here. What’s up?” I have discoverd that with AJ it is best to discover his motives as soon as possible. That way you can plan your next move, such as say...picking out a funeral song or calling your mother for bail.
“My brother!” Did he actually say that? “You, you you Nickolas Gene Carter, are about to embark on a glorious journey!”
“I’m going to Isreal?” And who put Brian in charge of the tour?
“Hell no!” Dear heavenly father. Please do not send AJ to hell for making that comment. After all you have so many more interesting reasons to send him to hell.
Like the time he told me I was going to die. He claimed my hysteria was not his fault as he didn’t think I was blond enough to believe his BS about heat rash being a symptom of the plague. Kevin and Brian begged to differ. If you had spent an entire, sleepless night calming said hysterial Nick you would beg too.
“I have a surprise for you!” Please note. A surprise for Nick from AJ always a bad idea. Like the exploding rubber duck, (and hell no, I don’t bath with a rubber duck ... anymore. Have one explode in your tub and see how fond of them you are.) the road-side chili-cheese burittos (Kevin, Howie and Brian almost killed AJ after a night of holding my head over a bucket, keeping me warm in a mound of blankets one moment and bathing my face and wrists in water to cool me down the next. We now travel with painting masks. Apparently bad burrittos produce funky farts.) and the pure wool sheets (for so many reasons - and NEVER sleep nude in them.) ... you get the picture.
“I don’t want a surprise.”
“Don’t be like that buddy! And you need to change. No jeans.”
“I need to get back to my laundry.”
“Hoping to catch a glimpse of Cecilia’s bra?” Yes. I mean NO!
“NO!”
“Nick, Nick. Fantasy land is for babies.”
“Like Candyland?” Very few people knew that AJ carried this game with him. Though being the only other BSB that had this information gave me some leverage it also meant I had to play with him.
“Shut up!” AJ ran this had through his hair for the seventh time that day. I wonder if I have discoved the cause of his receiding hairline, but decided not to mention it.
“Go change.”
“Do we have a press conference?”
“No.”
“Pictures?”
“No.”
“We have a new gig?” I just love to use jargon.
“No.”
“Then what...”
“WE don’t have anything. YOU have a date!” AJ really hates silence when he expects an answer. “Nick? Hey, Nick! You OK?” Of course. This gasping is just part of my new goldfish impersonation. “Relax dude, it’s just a date.”
“I’ve never been on a date!”
“Well, there is a first time for everything!”
“I don’t remember making a date!”
“Nick, tell me you are shitting me.”
“AJ! I can’t go on a date with someone I don’t know!”
“Sure you can, those are the best kind!” Excuse me? “There are no expectations! And she doesn’t know you’re a dork!” Well I feel all impowered.
“AJ! We leave tomorrow! I don’t have time to get to know anyone.”
“And that’s the beauty of this! There no obligations to call or keep up! This Nick is what we call a one-night-stand.”
“Oh. I thought you had to have sex to call it that.”
“You do.” Dear God.
“AJ! I can’t do that!”
“Yes you can!” AJ was always optamistic. “You have some experience, and hey, do you still have that book?”