Page 117 of Less
“I can't remember his name.”
Nick's fork clatters onto his plate.
He's not smiling anymore.
His eyes are fixed on me.
“That was me.”
The room goes silent.
My mouth falls open.
“What?”
He sits straighter.
“I was nineteen.”
“Oh my God.”
“First job. First show. First time away from home.”
He gives a small shrug.
“Marion thought he was God.”
Nobody laughs.
Not even Brielle.
Nick keeps talking.
“One day I picked up lunch for him and the deli screwed up his sandwich.”
His expression hardens.
“They put mayo on it instead of mustard.”
Brielle blinks.
“Seriously?”
“He opened it and threw it in my face.”
My stomach turns.
“He was screaming,” Nick says quietly. “And I froze.”
I vaguely remember a terrified kid.
Blond hair.
Too-thin shoulders.
Big eyes.
“Then Amanda shoved him.”
