Bad Boys for Hire_Nick_Christmas Holiday

by Rachelle Ayala

  “He did, and I thought it was a little awkward,” Carol admitted. “But I’m sure he’ll be good for the job. He’s a very caring man.”

  “I find it strange that a guy whose entire life is about health and fitness, who struts around like an exotic dancer, would suddenly take an interest in us disabled folks.”

  “Maybe he wants to learn so he can help.” A chill settled over the back of her scalp and made her shiver.

  “You be careful. I don’t know what his motives are,” Jason said, his voice gruff. “I’m not going to select him for my night caregiver, if that makes any difference. I thought it was strange how he showed up right when the paramedics did the other night.”

  “He said he’d been by to interview with you, and he knew where you live.”

  “Right, but still, after interrupting our lunch date, which he followed us to, and then he applies to be my night aide? Too creepy. You know there are able-bodied people who have a fetish for the paralyzed?”

  “Since you’re not hiring him, I guess it all evens out.” Carol wanted to ignore the tension between her shoulder blades. Her mention of Nick had brought Jason into full attack mode. “What’s wrong with Nick applying for a job?”

  “Nothing, except it’s a big step down in terms of pay. My personal injury attorney told me guys like him get paid upwards of three hundred dollars a workout and entertainment services could run up to five hundred to a thousand depending on what black-tie event he escorts a client to. Why would he want to spend the evening wiping my butt if he could be cleaning up with a celebrity or executive at a charity function?”

  By the time Carol had hung up the phone with Jason, her head was reeling, and she was too wound up to sleep.

  Why had Jason planted such doubts in her mind about Nick, and why had Marisa insisted she call him?

  Were those two in cahoots? And if so, what was their end game?

  Jason might have meant well, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that he was competing with Nick for her time and affections. He’d tried to sour her thinking about Nick by injecting ulterior motives into what he was doing with her.

  Carol turned herself onto her stomach, and she punched her pillows. She was sick of being reminded all the time about her paralysis and her wheelchair. With Marisa and Jason around, that was all she would ever be, a T7-8 incomplete paraplegic.

  Twenty-Five

  “Surprise!” A squeal of female voices greeted Carol the next morning when she finally emerged from the fog of a sleepless night. Her hair was a mess, she hadn’t had time to put on makeup, and her morning routines had taken longer than usual.

  “Your friends are here,” Marisa said in a super sugary voice. “Here, sweetheart, I made your breakfast.”

  Carol gawked at Nikki, Leanna, and Jolie, her fellow Bumblebees who were all perfectly put together. Each one was a model of fashionable and chic clothes with perfectly coordinated makeup and not a hair out of place.

  “We’re not too early, are we?” Nikki spoke for the group.

  “No, but what are you doing here?” Carol scrambled in her muddled mind for something she’d forgotten to do and drew a blank.

  “We’re taking you dress shopping.” Leanna deftly took ahold of Carol’s wheelchair and rolled her into the kitchen. “After breakfast. Your sweet sister made breakfast for us, too.”

  “This is going to be so much fun,” Jolie squeaked from behind her. “After we eat, I’ll do your makeup, and then we’re going to a private showing with designer Jenna Hart.”

  “P-private showing?” Carol sputtered. “You guys arranged this all for me?”

  “Of course we did.” Nikki patted her shoulder. “Jenna’s agreed to alter any gown you want in time for the Christmas Gala.”

  “I-I’m not sure I can afford her prices. Didn’t she win San Francisco’s Designer of the Year? I heard about her runway show with the firefighters. She does a lot of fringes and ruffles that would get caught in my spokes. I don’t know.” Carol’s brain rattled from lack of sleep. She felt as if she was forgetting something. Had she agreed to meet Nick at the gym at nine? It was already ten and she’d overslept. Maybe he hadn’t missed her, since he didn’t call.

  Marisa set the table and heaped scrambled eggs with chorizo, salsa, and guacamole on Carol’s plate. She went around the table, serving everyone and sighed. “I wish I could go to the showing. Jenna Hart’s my favorite designer. She’s so San Francisco.”

  “Then, you must come with us,” Leanna said. “My, this looks yummy. I love huevos rancheros.”

  “You should come with us, Marisa.” Jolie placed a napkin on her lap and scooted in daintily. “I’m sure Carol will need your opinion.”

  Carol swallowed a surge of bile. No matter how Marisa ticked her off, she was her stepsister. To the outside world, she appeared to be a kind and caring woman who was sacrificing her own social life to live with her disabled sister and “take care of her.”

  “Oh, I’d love to, but I don’t want to intrude.” Marisa gave a light-hearted laugh, clearly pleased to have been invited. “Meeting Jenna Hart would be so awesome. I just love that toga-inspired collection of hers with the bold colors. But only if Carol wants me to come.”

  All sets of eyes beamed expectantly at Carol. What could she do? As pissed as she was about Marisa and her meddling with Jason, Carol had to admit that her sister cared about her. It was her outlook about disabled people that had her ticked. Maybe Marisa should go to sensitivity training. Besides, she knew how much her sister wanted to be included in the Bumblebees, so who was she to expose the family dirty laundry?

  “Sure, I think it’ll be great.” Carol feigned a smile. “I hope we’re not keeping Miss Hart waiting. When is the showing?”

  “Not until one,” Nikki said. “We came early to have breakfast with you.”

  “Yeah, and to get the scoop on Jason,” Leanna piped in. “We heard you went on a second date with him.”

  “There’s really not much to say.” Carol dug into her eggs and swirled it with the chorizo. How was she going to talk frankly to her friends when Marisa hovered around? “I don’t really want to kiss and tell.”

  “Oh, so there was kissing!” Jolie giggled. “That’s a start. How do you like him?”

  “He’s nice.” Carol studied the scrumptious food placed in front of her. “I don’t think I should dissect our date. Marisa is one of his nurses.”

  “Oh, I’m quite okay with you talking about him,” Marisa said, pouring Carol a glass of orange juice. “We have a strictly professional relationship.”

  Yeah, right.

  Carol hurriedly finished breakfast and made an excuse to return to her bedroom. What should she wear to the showing? Her friends were really too awesome to her, but ever since her accident, she had not gone clothes shopping at all. She’d relegated herself to ordering shirts and jeans online, and if they didn’t fit perfectly, no one was any wiser. One of the perks of being in a wheelchair was a studied invisibility. People did not check her out or stare too long or hard.

  She removed outfits from her dresser and laid them out. Her motley collection was mismatched and out of date. There was nothing elegant enough to go to the Christmas Gala in. Her friends were right. She was representing Wheelympics, and she had to look good.

  Someone knocked at her door. “Hey, Care, it’s Nikki. Is everything okay?”

  Nikki and Carol had gotten close during a Hawaiian vacation where Ken had healed Jolie’s broken heart. While Ken and Jolie had their private time, she and Nikki had hung around, and Nikki was possibly the only Bumblebee to notice that she wasn’t always happy and upbeat, the way she tried to be.

  “Come in.” Carol yawned and stared at the clothes laid out on her bed. “I have no idea what to wear to visit a designer. Especially a private showing.”

  Nikki picked up a pair of holey jeans. “Anything is fine, because you’ll be taking them off. Jolie will do your makeup, and I’ll take some pictures to help you decide, if one of the
gowns doesn’t jump out at you.”

  “I’m still kind of nervous. I’ve seen some of Jenna’s designs. She has one with a swirl of ruffles down the back, and the toga collection has long flowing trains.”

  “She knows you’re in a wheelchair.” Nikki sat on the edge of Carol’s bed. “She’ll want to show off your assets. Your awesome shoulders, your deep cleavage and those long, thin legs of yours.”

  “Thin and useless.” Carol looked at the sweatpants she was wearing.

  “Something has you down.” Nikki picked up a frilly low-cut top. “Are you still worried about finding a date to the Gala?”

  “I won’t need one,” Carol said, wheeling to her dresser. She pulled out the Santa dress and skirt set Nick had bought her. “How about after the keynote speech, I change into this and hand out the presents? That way, we won’t have to hire anyone and I won’t stick out like a sore thumb without a date.”

  Nikki lifted the thigh high stocking with the red bow. “This is sexy. If I had legs like yours, I’d definitely be flaunting them.”

  “But you have nice legs,” Carol said.

  “Nice and petite,” Nikki grumbled. “Cute, but short.”

  Short, but functional, Carol could have added. Instead, she forced a grin. “So, what do you say about me being the Santa Girl for the Gala?”

  “Sounds like a plan. You’ll still need an elf to hand out the presents.” Nikki’s lips twisted in a speculative smirk. “Or did you have someone in mind? Like Jason?”

  Carol let out a deep, stale breath of air. “Jason’s not working out. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Marisa. He’s got a lot to deal with, and I think he’s jealous of the amount of movement I have compared to him.”

  “That’s awfully petty of him.” Nikki’s mouth gaped open and she frowned. “I thought Jason was a nice guy. A few of us met him at a benefit the firehouse had for him back when he was first injured.”

  “It’s normal to feel the way he does. Has nothing to do with whether he’s nice or not. He’s an awesome guy, but can you imagine being in his place? A healthy guy at the prime of his life suddenly losing the ability to take care of himself?”

  “It’s bad, I know.” Nikki bit her lip. “But he shouldn’t take it out on you that you can do more.”

  “He shouldn’t, but he can’t help it.” Carol slipped out of the t-shirt she was wearing and reached for the frilly top Nikki picked. “I spent almost a year being jealous of everyone and everything. I’m jealous of Jolie for snagging a man like my brother. I’m jealous of Terri for riding on the back of a motorcycle. I’m jealous of my old friends for finding love, for climbing mountains, for scuba diving, for dancing on two legs, and for having babies. Does it mean I’m a bitter, mean person?”

  “Oh no, you’re not.” Nikki enfolded her arms around Carol’s shoulders and leaned her cheek against hers. “You’re normal and you’re dealing with it as best as you can. But I know you, Carol. You’re so much bigger than your jealousies and what you can’t do. You have love in your heart, and you care more about others than yourself. You wanted Jolie to fall in love with Ken because he’s the perfect guy for her, and you hid all your discomforts from him so he could pay attention to her and not focus on you.”

  “I’m no saint.” Carol tugged the top on and wiped a tear from her eye. This was the first time she’d ever told any of her friends that her life wasn’t perfect and that she wasn’t Cheerful Carol who was dealing with her disability so well.

  “No one is.” Nikki smoothed the hair from her face. “I always knew you were putting on a brave act, but truly, you don’t have to be perfect. I was there in the mornings, and even though I pretended not to see, I knew you were crying whenever you woke from a happy dream.”

  Carol broke down into tears and wept into her hands. “I only want what every woman wants. Someone who can love me and see past my wheelchair.”

  She dared not think about Nick—not after what Jason had told her about men who had fetishes on women in wheelchairs. He was obviously curious about her condition. Yes, he wanted to be her friend and he was interested in working with disabled people. He was a good, caring, and kind man who always wanted to rescue people. But, after he learned everything about spinal cord injury, would he truly want to live with it on a daily basis?

  It was the difference between tasting and swallowing.

  Nick checked his watch and scanned the gym’s parking lot, looking for Carol’s van. Last night, before going to bed, she’d agreed to meet him at the gym for her morning workout. Maybe nine was too early, but now it was ten and she hadn’t shown up. He’d put in his workout and figured he would pay full attention to her when she arrived. Besides, watching her adapt to all the machines made him realize how he had to tailor the workouts to each individual. What Carol could do was different from the next guy.

  He fished his phone from his gym bag and texted her.

  Hey beautiful. I really enjoyed last night. Hope you slept well. Are we still working out together?

  A minute went by, and there was no answer. Nick tucked his phone away and debated whether he should go to her apartment. They’d had two dates in one memorable day, if you counted the shopping separate from the movie night, but that didn’t mean he should hover around and intrude on her privacy.

  “There you are.” The sour voice of Brianna Barrister sent chills up his spine. “Nice workout. Still sick or had a miraculous recovery?”

  “Brianna, I have a log of our workouts crosschecked against your payments. I don’t owe you anything.” Nick crossed his arms and glared at her. “I’m thinking of hiring an attorney to get you to back off.”

  “You promised me a good time,” Brianna said. “As I recall, you had your cock shoved in my mouth.”

  “We were two consenting adults.” Nick lowered his voice. “Why is it so important to you?”

  “Because I have you by the balls, that’s why.” Brianna drew her fingers down his arm. “I paid you for sex, but instead, you wanted to get off. You lost control, Nick, so I sucked you off and you promised to fuck me any place, any time, including escorting me wherever I want to go.”

  Seriously, it was the one time he’d slipped and told a woman what he’d wanted in bed. One time he’d let go and given into his lust. He’d lost control of the situation, and now, this freak was haunting him.

  “You’re a lawyer. You should know you don’t have a leg to stand on. You’re never going to take me to court, and you know it.” Of course she wouldn’t. She had a reputation to maintain.

  “I don’t have to take you to court. I just have to let your loved ones know what a whore you are. Your sainted brother would be brokenhearted. I heard he wants you to join the police force.”

  “How do you know?” Nick all but growled.

  “I know guys at the station.” Brianna beamed. “So, what do you say, big guy? I’ll take you out to brunch and afterwards, we can spend a lazy afternoon at my place. I haven’t had anything tasty in my mouth for a while.”

  “Uh, can’t do it,” Nick said in a normal voice, as a few other gym clients walked by. He was stuck in an impossible situation. Blackmailers never knew when to give up, and he would be stuck forever, unless he could somehow get her to think of him as undesirable.

  Wait. Brianna was afraid of germs.

  “I have a doctor’s appointment,” Nick announced, raising his voice.

  “For a common cold? Oh, come on, don’t be a wuss.” Brianna circled her finger over his chest. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Uh, it’s kind of embarrassing.” He coughed and cleared his throat. “I might have a sexually transmitted disease.”

  “What type?” Brianna clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “I’m not sure yet. It’s really painful.” He shuddered as if he had an itch and discreetly scratched his balls.

  “When did you start having symptoms?”

  Ha, ha, now she was worried.

  “It might have been around the time
of our last date. Couple of weeks ago? Maybe a month? I’d get that throat of yours checked out if I were you.”

  “You pig!” Brianna slapped him hard. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I could have caught it from you.” Nick palmed his burning face. He tried to keep a straight face, because he was sure the gym’s video caught the slap.

  “Then I really have to go with you to the clinic.” She dug her fingernails into his forearm and grabbed his wrist. “And you’re going to owe me big.”

  “I don’t get it. How would I owe you?” Nick extricated himself from her grasp. “You can’t prove if I gave it to you or you gave it to me.”

  Brianna stood there, steaming, her face red to the roots of her hairline.

  “You ass. I asked you if you were clean and you said you were.”

  “That was before I had symptoms.” Nick scratched his belly.

  “Kaposi sarcoma? You have purple skin? Bumps? What else?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “You have to tell me. It’s a matter of life and death.” Brianna lifted his tank top. “Where are the lesions?”

  “Sorry, can’t say. Medical records are private.” Nick smirked and turned to leave. “Be glad I warned you.”

  “You still owe me. I have to have a date to an important party. It’s for work.”

  “That’s easy. Hire someone from Bad Boys for Hire.”

  “I can’t! Rex won’t answer my calls.” Brianna grabbed Nick’s arm. “If you infected me with HIV, we’re stuck together for the rest of our lives, so you might as well marry me.”

  “Marry you? How do you figure that?”

  “We won’t be exposing anyone new. We can take care of each other until our deathbeds.”

  Sheesh. This woman was crazier than bats in a fruitcake store.

  Nick pried Brianna’s fingers from his shirt. “We’re not getting married. We’re not even seeing each other. You’re not telling my brother anything.”

  “But you have to take me to the doctor’s.” She burst into tears and clutched him, not letting go. “I’m too scared to go myself. I hate taking tests I know I’m going to fail. You have to help me.”