Nicebomber

by Charles, Colleen

  I grimace because, under normal circumstances, I’d jump at the chance. But I love Lucinda. I love Pinky. I’d never leave him in his time of need. “I would, and I appreciate the offer, but I've already got a job in long-term hospice. This patient is very important to me. He’s like family. And I'm not in a position to leave.”

  Deidre laughs. “Well, of course, he’s like family! You're the private nurse to Pinky Applebaum, the children's television host. We've done our homework. And you misunderstand—we're not calling to offer you a job. We're calling to offer you a division of our company of your own to run. One that you would have ownership in.”

  My mouth opens and closes wordlessly for a few seconds. Have I been pushing myself too hard at work after all? Am I experiencing auditory hallucinations?

  “Ms. McAdams? Are you there?”

  “Yes, I'm here,” I answer breathlessly. “It's just... I mean... why me?”

  “As I said, we received your name on recommendation. We've reviewed your professional record carefully, and it's spotless. We spoke with the relatives of the patients you've taken care of in the past—as well as your current patient, obviously. Between you and me,” she adds as if we’re telling secrets under the sheets with a flashlight, “I made sure I was the one who got to talk to Pinky. I used to love his show! He had nothing but glowing things to say about you. I spoke to his daughter, too, and she couldn’t even speak she was so overcome with emotion over how you’re treating her precious father. Well? Are you interested in working with us?”

  My heart flips over and I struggle to breathe. “Of course. Having my own home healthcare company has been a dream of mine for such a long time. But...”

  “But obtaining the necessary insurance for something like that is prohibitive for someone in your position,” she says, clucking her tongue. “We'll be handling that for you, naturally. And procuring the contracts, and supplying funding for equipment, staff, overhead—all with your input every step of the way, of course. You can personally hire your replacement to take care of Pinky, if you'd like. All you have to do is hire your own corporate counsel to look over the paperwork with you before you sign on the dotted line.”

  I pause over the lump in my throat. “That's... wow. Thank you. So, what's the next step?”

  “The next step is for us to send some of our people to meet with you, so we can go over expectations on both sides and start planning. We'll be in touch to set up a specific time and place. Is this generally the best time and number to reach you?”

  My breath stalls in my lungs. “Yes.”

  “Do you have any questions for me at this time?”

  “Why me?” The question escapes my lips before I can hold it in. I know I must sound rude or crazy, but I can't help myself. “I mean, there must be thousands of elder care nurses out there who would be more qualified, at least in terms of running a business. And I'm... well, nobody. So why would you offer me something like this?”

  A long pause. “You're right—there are thousands out there, and some of them are probably more qualified to run their own companies. We're calling a wide variety of hand-picked prospects by our curation team. But I used to be a home health nurse myself, dear. I did everything I could to help my patients while treating them with respect and dignity, and here's the thing from my biased perspective. If someone called my former patients and their families, odds are at least a third of them would still find things to complain about. So the fact that none of the people we called had anything negative to say about you—well, that says more about you than any business experience ever could. We're confident that you're the right person for the job, and that anything you don't already know, you'll learn quickly.”

  I'm almost speechless. “Thank you so much, Ms. Foley. I'm humbled by your faith in me, and I promise I won't let you down.”

  She chuckles. “We know, dear. Take care.”

  The call ends, but I keep staring at the phone for a long time, awestruck, the hope that Shane’s careless words extinguished flickering back to life again.

  Chapter Twenty

  Shane

  I’m a complete and total asshole.

  Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I stand at the front door to Pinky Applebaum's apartment for at least ten minutes. I keep trying to raise my fist to knock on the door, but my hand feels like it's got a lead weight tied to it and it keeps flopping back down to my side like a dead carp.

  I know I need to apologize—I need to do whatever it takes to get her back—but how can I possibly believe that wasted words would ever be enough? I behaved like a complete jerk the last time I saw her. Like she meant nothing to me when she really means everything. If it wasn’t for Keeley, I never would have planted the tree in honor of my mom and come to an understanding with my dad. So if I were her, I'd slam the door immediately in my asshat face and tell me to go fuck myself.

  Twice.

  But what she might do doesn't matter. It can’t. I still have to try, at least, or I'll spend the rest of my life wondering, and I'll never forgive myself. Because I can’t think of a single thing in this fucked up, social media-obsessed world that I want or need more than something real.

  And that something real is Keeley.

  Each moment that elapses without any sort of healing between us gives way to too much time spent examining what I did to her. To think about her full lips and the way her kisses taste. The way her silky skin feels against my fingertips. The way her belief in me helps me soar. Just as I finally find the courage to knock, the door opens before I get the chance. Pinky sits in his wheelchair, looking up at me with narrowed eyes.

  “Well? It's been ten minutes, young man. Are you finally going to come in, or do I need to call the cops and have you arrested for masturbating in the hallway? Here I thought you’d been reformed, but you’re still acting like the same pervert I met at the coffee shop offering me a sandwich full of bologna.”

  I'm stunned. “You heard me out here?”

  Pinky rolls his eyes. “No, I pole-vaulted up from my wheelchair to the peephole and saw you standing out here. Schmuck! You've been heaving up big, soulful, heartbroken sighs every few minutes. I could hear it over the security television. Pathetic, if you ask me.”

  He pulls the door open wider, gesturing for me to come in. “Whatever's going on between the two of you, could you please come in and fix it? Keeley's never exactly been the happy-as-a-daisy-in-May type, but lately, she looks like someone ran over her dog, then backed up and ran over it again. Isn't that right, Flyer?” He peers behind him, but Flyer sleeps on the rug, his back paws twitching. “Ah, what am I asking you for? You can't hear me anyway.”

  I step in and Pinky swivels his wheelchair, calling out, “Keeley, darling! You've got a visitor!”

  Keeley comes in from the kitchen, sees me, and stops dead in her tracks. At first, her expression pierces my soul—anger then sadness then something even darker—but she must notice my slumping shoulders, pale skin, and sunken eyes because hers soften after a few seconds. Her voice stays flinty, and I understand the strength of the wall I must scale to reach her. “What do you want, Shane?”

  “He's not here to sell Amway, I'll tell you that much,” Pinky says with a waggle of his bushy, gray eyebrows. “Here, why don't you go somewhere private and I’ll skedaddle. It looks like you've got a lot to talk about.”

  She leads me to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Then she puts her hands on her hips, giving me a challenging look. “Well?”

  I stub the toe of my loafer into the carpet. “I just came over to tell you I was a total asshole. A complete and total piece of ignorant shit.”

  She smirks. “You could've saved yourself a trip. I already knew that.”

  I walk over and stare out the window, feeling like if I have to watch her look at me this way, I might not survive it. “Hey, everyone knows it. Have you seen the comments online?”

  She snorts a chuckle that falls flat between us. “True, but I happen to know bett
er than most.”

  I sigh and finally turn around, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Yeah, you do. Those things I said... I was angry and disappointed with myself. But that's no excuse for taking it out on you, especially after everything you've done for me. And you were absolutely right. I was doing the right things for the wrong reasons—to make people like me, maybe even to make up for The Fiancé—instead of doing them just because they were the right things to do. I understand that now. I want to keep trying to make the world a better place, and I don't care anymore how people treat me as a result, or whether they make fun of me. I don't even care if I mess things up, because dammit, at least I'll have tried. I realize you've got no reason to believe any of this, and you'll probably tell me to fuck off anyway, but...”

  Keeley holds a hand up, stopping me. “No. I won't. Because I do believe you. I can see you do mean it, Shane. And what's more, I've known all along that you weren't really the cold, detached, selfish person you pretend to be. That’s just a façade you put on to protect yourself from the pain inflicted on you by your dad. From the start, I could tell that you were just staying closed off to keep the world from hurting you even more.”

  I raise an eyebrow, grinning. “All along, huh? From the start? Even from focaccia?”

  She laughs. “Okay, maybe not quite that long. Definitely since the hospital, though.”

  I can feel every muscle in my body start to relax—I hadn't even realized how tightly wound they all were until this moment. The fist in my stomach eases up, and my heart rate slows down to normal.

  “I was so afraid of losing you, Keeley,” I confess. “I can’t even imagine anything worse than that. Not even a million haters coming at me with pitchforks and blazing torches.”

  “As long as you don't let yourself get mired in hopelessness and selfishness again, you won't. And I'll be here to help you with that, every step of the way. Every day will be a fight to overcome the worst parts of yourself... I know, because that's true for just about all of us, all our lives. But you'll never have to fight them alone anymore. I’m here for you, Shane. Always.”

  Relief courses over me like a soft, warm ocean wave. “So now what?”

  She smiles, taking my face in her hands and kissing me. “What do you think?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Keeley

  I don't know what makes me happier in this moment—feeling Shane’s body next to mine or knowing with every cell in my body that I was right about him after all. He is a good, kind, thoughtful person when he allows himself to be. He’s growing into the man he’s meant to be. The kind of person I want to adore and support and be with in every way I can.

  My fingers start off caressing his face, his neck, his chest... and before I fully realize what I'm doing, I unbuckle his belt and unzip his fly.

  Shane starts to tug at my shirt, but I gently shove his hands away, shaking my head. I want to do this for him. I want this time to be about him. I want him to see that good deeds can be rewarded, if only privately sometimes—and that there are other ways to indulge oneself in a little selfishness here and there. Intentions matter.

  Hearts matter.

  My hand finds his cock, warm and stiff and ready to be released. I pull his jeans and his boxer briefs down a few inches, freeing it and wrapping my fingers around his hot, steely length. He moans into my mouth and I giggle, pulling back and putting my pointer finger to his lips. “We've got to stay quiet in here,” I whisper, continuing to stroke him up and down his shaft. “I’d never forgive myself if Pinky had a stroke.”

  “I'll do my best,” he mumbles, twitching into my hand. “But I can’t make any guarantees when you touch me like this.”

  I give him a saucy wink. “You'd better. Not one moan when I put my mouth on you.”

  I keep working my hands up and down, feeling him tremble, delighting in the power I have over him as he obeys my every command. The skin is so soft, but what's lies underneath is hard as iron, like a cannon wrapped in velvet. I run a couple of fingertips under his balls, and they tingle at my touch. Shane's back straightens, as though an electric current just went through him. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, trying to control himself.

  Part of me prays he won't make any loud sounds to let Pinky know what we're doing in here. Part of me hopes he won't be able to help it.

  I wouldn't have believed that Shane could possibly grow any harder, but when I look down, his rigid dick points skyward—as though it's staring up at me, begging me to suck it. I slowly tickle the underside with my middle finger, and Shane gasps sharply at the sensation. I put my other hand over his mouth, teasing him. His eyes saucer, pleading with me not to stop.

  This reminds me of trysts back in college, when I'd have to be as quiet as possible to prevent roommates from hearing and teasing endlessly. Good memories—the kind of mischievous fun I thought I'd gotten too old for years ago but being with Shane makes me feel that young and hopeful and carefree all over again. Like I blinked and Shane turned my joy faucet back on.

  I withdraw my hand from his face and lower myself to my knees in front of him. I take a deep breath and gently blow on his shaft, watching it quiver. Shane lets out a shaky sigh of pleasure, reaching for the dresser next to him so he can steady himself. I look up at him, my lips curling upward, reveling in his tense body.

  I savor the moment of anticipation, drawing it out as long as I can before I place my lips around his cock—just the tip, just enough to give him the most tantalizing hint of what comes next. Shane stays silent… still… but his desperate eyes flash fire, almost to the point of sheer madness. He reaches forward for my head, no doubt trying to coax me toward him. I take his hands in mine instead, rubbing his palms with my thumbs, daring him to do something about it.

  A pause. A heartbeat. A moment where I think he might try to break free of my grasp. He clearly wants to. But no. He's surrendered control to me completely.

  Good.

  Now the fun can really start.

  I move my head closer, taking his whole cock in my mouth until it throbs against the back of my throat. I release his hands, enjoying the way his fingers stroke my hair.

  At first, I don't move—I just let him stay in my mouth, motionless, feeling his lustful agony build until he jerks inside the moist haven. Then I slide my lips up and down his shaft, never breaking eye contact with him. His hands start to tremble against the top of my head, and he lets out a long moan.

  I moan too, allowing him to feel the vibration. After that, I swallow him whole, right down the back of my throat, fighting my gag reflex.

  “Keeley,” he hisses in a frantic whisper. “I can’t stop… I’m…”

  Moments later, he spasms, letting out a burst of short, whispered sounds. He still groans his spasmodic pleasure, probably wishing he could scream my name.

  Well, maybe next time, I'll let him.

  Afterward, we curl up on my small bed, and he tells me about his conversation with his father.

  “That’s amazing, Shane. The ideal outcome. What’s next for you two? Another Nicebomb?”

  He nods. “Sort of. Except this time, I'm not going to use the app. In fact, I've come up with an idea of my own. Something I'm really excited about.”

  My heart stutters in my chest as I caress his thick head of hair and he leans into my caress. “Oh? What?”

  “Well, my father started out in the service, before he went into business. When I was a kid—and during the rare occasions when he'd actually spend any time with me—he'd sometimes talk about the USO shows and how important they are to the guys who serve. Most people don't give them a lot of thought... or when they do, they usually think of the old ones, with Bob Hope and the Playboy Bunnies entertaining the troops. But they're still very much a thing, and from what I've read online, they still boost morale for the military in a big way.”

  I turn onto my side, looking at him. “So you want to put on a USO show? What, overseas?”

  He chuckles. “Well, sin
ce it's my first time doing one, I thought it might be a good idea to start a little closer to home. Like Scott Air Force Base, out near Belleville. They've got the members of the 375th Air Mobility Wing stationed there.”

  My chest puffs with pride over how far he’s come. “Wow, you've really done your homework.”

  “Well, after the fiasco in the park, I figured a bit of advance research was in order. It won't be cheap, but I think it's the kind of thing my dad would definitely be interested in helping me with. I'll go see him in a bit to discuss it.”

  “Do you have any celebrities in mind?” I ask.

  Pinky's voice bellows through the door. “If you need help with that, let me know! I still know plenty of famous people from my showbiz days!”

  I look at the door, look at Shane, and stifle a giggle. “Pinky, did you hear everything?!”

  “Well, everything since I got back from the corner drugstore. The walls in this place are like tissue paper, and you two were being louder than elephants. Not that there's anything wrong with that... I'm just glad you're back together, so you can stop moping around.”

  Shane and I exchange a glance, then burst out laughing.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Shane

  As I head to Dad's office again, I feel about five tons lighter than I did the last time I stood inside this very space, enjoying my first intimate moment with my dad that I can ever remember. After the pain faded away, it hit home to me how much my dad missed my mom, the love of his life. And how much I must have reminded him of her and his loss. Although it doesn’t dismiss his crappy parenting over the years, it does offer me a window into the man’s soul, and I find it’s not as black as I once thought. I don't have an appointment, but his assistant tells me he wants to see me in a few minutes after he finishes up a call. I can't wait to run my idea by him today—I want him to hear about my USO show as soon as possible, so we can start planning it.