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1985. The year was 1985. The Nice Guys detective agency had been around for about 8 years with its two detectives, Holland March and Jackson Healy running the shit show with Holly March, Holland's daughter helping where she could between college and being a gay rights advocate.
Some days were quiet, as a matter of fact, most were. People were more concerned about the AIDS crisis than their spouse cheating on them. But today was a special kind of quiet. The agency was actually closed today as today was Holly's birthday. She turned 21 today. Like any good parent, March chose to take his daughter drinking for the first legal time. Sure Holly has had drinks before but now she legally could with her father, a moment they were both looking forward to sharing.
As Holly opened the front door of the house and headed for the car, March grabbed his keys and went to say goodbye to Healy.
“Hey, Holly and I are hitting a bar tonight. Y'know 21st birthday and all.” March said, leaning in the doorway for the room Healy was in.
“You sure you can handle it?” He asked
March sat in silence for a moment, sure he was a recovering alcoholic as his drinking had gotten especially bad when his wife had died but surely he could handle a few drinks with his daughter to celebrate her birthday right?
“Yeah I should be fine. Only one or two.” March stated as he tugged on the chain holding his late wife's ring, just enough to hear the ring slide down the chain. “We'll be home before midnight.” He added
“Just be careful. I care about you y'know and I would really rather you not throw up in the living room before passing out on the bathroom floor.” Healy said as he finally looked away from his desk to look at March.
March chuckled as he took out his cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket.
“Yeah yeah whatever.” He joked as he placed a cigarette in his mouth. As March turned to leave the doorway he stopped and looked at Healy. “Hey.”
“What?” Healy asked as he turned to look at March again.
“I know I don't say it enough but, I love you.” March said. As a man who found everyone attractive, being in a same sex relationship was nothing strange, just terrifying during the AIDS crisis.
Healy smiled before saying “I love you too, now go have fun with Holly yeah?” As he motioned at the door.
As March left the house he saw Holly waiting for him in the passenger seat of the car, the same car he taught her how to drive all those years ago. He opens the door and climbs in, remembering to close the door, actually put his seatbelt on, light his cigarette and start the engine.
“You excited?” He asks
“Nothing I haven't done before, right?” Holly responds.
“Well yeah, but now you can legally share a drink with your old man.” March replies with a smirk on his face.
“Yeah don't go too overboard old man, you're already graying.” Holly says, poking his arm.
“I am not!” March replies as he taps something of his cigarette ash out the window. Catching a glance at himself in the side mirror, it was clear he was not as young as he used to be.
As they arrive at the bar, March parks the car close to an exit before turning to Holly. “You ready?” He asks
“Of course dad.” She responds with a smile. That smile could warm a room even on the coldest days.
As Holly opens the door March looks at himself in the rear view mirror and has one thought.
Don't go overboard
March heads into the bar with Holly, who walks in before him like she owns the place. They find a spot at the counter and when the bartender comes up and starts talking to him.
“Hey! Mr. March! It's been a while huh? Where ya been man?” The bartender asks
“I got better. But today is a special day, it's someone's 21st birthday." He says as he shakes Holly a little.
“Ahh I see, I see. Well I do need some ID little lady to make sure your dad aint lying to me.” The bartender says as Holly opens her wallet to hand him her driver's license. “All right all right! What will it be?” The bartender asks as he hands Holly her ID back.
“Whiskey. Holly, what do you want?” March asks.
“Um, I'll try a whiskey too.” She says
The bartender serves them up two whiskeys and walks away to help some other people. March grabs his and beckons for Holly to grab hers. She does and they clink their glasses together before each taking a drink.
Holly then quickly spit hers out before laughing “Dad this tastes like shit. You like this!?” She says while still laughing.
“You don't?” March asks
“Well that's kinda what I meant when I said it tasted like shit.” Holly replied. “Do you want mine? I don't think I can drink this.” She asks
“Yeah I can take it.” March says as he slides the drink closer to himself. Only one or two he thinks to himself.
As Holly orders a different drink March finishes his first and starts the one Holly had given to him. At least she tried it, he thinks to himself as he watches her try another drink, this one she actually likes.
The night goes on and March's second drink stays about half full. He finishes it, orders a third and quickly drinks that before going out for a smoke. As he grabs his lighter for the cigarette in his mouth he notices his hands shaking. What the? He thinks to himself. He only had three drinks. He lights his cigarette, puts his lighter in his pocket and blows out smoke. He leaned on the cold brick wall of the alley and right as he raised his hand to put the cigarette into his mouth, everything went black.
Holly had grown suspicious as her father had been gone for quite some time. Normally a smoke doesn't take this long. She got up from her seat and walked the same path March did outside. Now standing outside the bar she stepped out to look at it head on and saw something in the alleyway. What the? What is that? Holly thought as she cautiously walked into the alley.
Looking around she kept one hand on a wall at all times. Looking down to see what she saw from outside it was a person. Her dad. Collapsed on the ground, a lit cigarette between his fingers burning his other hand.
“Dad? Dad, are you ok? Come on, answer me!” Holly says as he shakes her father. After he doesn't respond she makes sure he has a pulse, which he does, and that he is breathing, which he is.
Panicked, Holly looks around to see if anyone has done this or if her dad had just passed out. Nobody was nearby and looking closer he wasn't hurt. What happened? She thought to herself.
Holly managed to get March up, well, as up as an unconscious man could be, and she dragged him over to the car. She stuffed him into the backseat of the car and fumbled around his pockets for the keys.
Getting into the driver's seat and starting the engine, Holly can't help but wonder what happened. Her dad was not the type to pass out after 3 drinks. So what happened?
After breaking a couple laws, Holly makes it home with her dad still out cold in the back seat. Holly parks the car and throws the door open, sprinting inside the house. She needed to find Healy. He surely would know what to do.
“Healy!” Holly called as she ran throughout the house, progressively getting more anxious as it took longer to find him.
Finally finding Healy in the laundry room she grabs his arm. “DAD HURRY IT'S DAD!” She yells as she pulls him out of the room.
“Wait what? Holly what happened to March?” Healy asks as he follows Holly while trying to free his arm.
“I-I don't know! He went for a smoke and I found him passed out in the alleyway. Just come on, help me get him inside!” She stammers as she runs back out to the car with Healy behind her.
Holly yanks open the back seat to find March still out cold. He's still breathing. Thank god.
“Ok I'll get the feet you get the arms. Carry him inside and lay him on the couch.” Healy says as he grabs March's ankles. As he slowly pulls March out of the car Holly grabs his wrists and they bring him inside, laying him on the couch and taking his jacket off. Holly luckily rememberd to go back outside and close the car doors.
“So we have a couple options, we wait for him to wake up, we wake him up or you tell me as much as you remember.” Healy says as they place March on the couch, making sure to prop his head up on a pillow and give him at least one blanket.
“Well we were at the bar, I gave the bartender my ID and we each got a whiskey. I tried mine, spit it out and gave it to him because it was gross.” Holly says.
Healy looked down at March, wanting to make sure he was still breathing. “Two drinks? Something's wrong, there's no way two drinks made him black out.”
“Three drinks actually.” Holly corrects. “He finished mine, ordered a third, drank it then went for a smoke.”
“Still, three drinks should not have made him black out. Was anything wrong with the drinks?” Healy asks.
“I-I don't know! I had no idea because I've never had a whiskey before I mean sure it smelled a little funny from the times dad has had them but I thought it was a different brand or something! I don't know but dad can't tell us because he's out cold and-” Holly spits out before Healy cuts her off
“Wait, it smelled funny? Why did he drink it!?” Healy yells before they both pause and say together,
“He can't smell.”
“Wait before all this, did you call me dad?” Helay asked Holly.
Holly blushes, embarrassed she admits “Yeah, I kinda panicked and I didn't know what to say and dad just kinda came out.”
“I've been waiting for you to call me that for the past 5 years.” Healy says with a smile.
Sometime during the conversation of Holly accidentally calling Healy dad, March woke up.
“Oh shit he's awake!?” Holly asks as she leans over her dad, making sure he's actually awake.
Everything was blurry for March. He could barely make out where he was, or who was in front of him. But one thing was clear, everything was loud. So incredibly loud. As a matter of fact, everything was so loud that when the person in front of him spoke, he instantly covered his ears.
“Jesus, do you have to be so loud?” March asked. Trying to get a better gauge on his situation as his vision cleared he tried to sit up. All he knew was that his hand hurt, it was loud and he had no idea where he was.
“Woah, let's not do that.” Healy says as he puts his hand on March's shoulder. To Healy's surprise, March jerked away from him.
“Hey don't touch me!” He yelled, pulling away from Healy. “Who the hell are you anyways!?”
Healy and Holly looked at each other, both equally confused.
“Dad, it's me, Holly.” She starts while March still sits extremely confused on the couch.
“Dad? No, that's not possible. I can't be a father. Are you sure you got the right person?” March asked, increasing the worry from Holly and Healy.
“Ok, you're right. I think we got the wrong person. Want to tell us about yourself?” Healy asks while gesturing for Holly to play along.
“Ok? I think before I tell you anything, how the hell did I get here?” March asks, his vision finally starting to fully clear.
“Well I found you passed out on the street and I brought you to our home so you wouldn't be on the street.” Holly says. “Im going to go get medical supplies, it looks like you burnt yourself pretty bad.” She continues as she leaves the room to look for the first aid kit.
“Well that answers that. So, tell me about yourself. Actually no, do you know what day it is?” Healy asks as he sits next to March, but not too close.
“October 26th? No, 27th? The 28th? I always lose track at this time of the month. But it's 1985.” March replies.
Fundamentally, this was the same March that Healy knew, he just couldn't remember everything.
“What else should I know about you?” Healy asks, trying to coax March into saying his own name, which worked successfully. “Alright Mr. March, you keep telling me everything you can. We need to figure out if anything is wrong with your head and the first thing is always basic memory tests.” Healy said, as March kept talking about how he's a PI and can’t smell Healy was already thinking to himself What happened? This is still March but he can't remember us. Was…. One of the drinks spiked?
Holly returned with the first aid kit and started cleaning the burn on March's hand. As Healy watched, the more upset he got. As with every second, pieces were clicking together. Someone tried to spike Holly's drink.
After Holly bandaged up March's hand, Healy put his hand on March's shoulder.
“Your name is Holland March. That's your daughter, Holly March, and I'm your boyfriend Jackson Healy. You had a wife but she died in a house fire years ago. You wear her ring on a necklace. You can't smell because someone hit you in the head so hard it took your sense of smell with it. We first met when I was paid to beat the shit out of you.” Healy stared at March before looking at Holly, “Look after him, I've got some business to take care of.”
Healy patted Holly on the shoulder, gave a very confused March a kiss on his forehead before grabbing his reading glasses, sunglasses and his pair of brass knuckles before heading out the door. “Nobody tries to spike my daughter's drink and gets away with it, and certainly nobody drugs my boyfriend and gets away with it.” Healy mutters under his breath before starting the car engine.
As Healy pulls up to the bar he parks the car, makes sure he looks presentable and that his brass knuckles were on his hands. Calmly Healy opens the door to the bar and looks around. Nobody seemed to have noticed a man was accidentally drugged and that the bartender is trying to drug young girls.
Healy walked up to the bar and sat down. The bartender did a double take before serving someone else, while Healy knew he was an intimidating man, he knew even more that he looked pissed.
The bartender finally decided to come over and take Healy's order.
“Hey there sir, what can I get you today?” He asks, avoiding eye contact.
“Yeah, just got a question for you. Did you serve a father and daughter, daughter's 21st birthday celebration?” Healy asked, waiting for the answer he knew was coming.
“Oh yeah Mr March! His daughter's a sweet one. They left a while ago though. Why do you ask?” He replied.
Healy then stood up, grabbed the bartender by his collar and delivered a clean punch right between the eyes.
“What the fuck!?” The bartender yelled as the bar went silent and blood slowly trickled down from his nose.
“Alright now you shut the fuck up before I hit you again, understand?” Helay asked as the bartender nodded. “You don't even try to fuck with my daughter ever again. Or else this is gonna be a lot worse. Don't spike little girls' drinks.”
The bar remained silent until Healy grabbed the bartender's tie and pulled down, making him hit his head on the table.
“Everybody check your drinks, he's been spiking some with God knows what.” Healy yelled as he left the bar. His job there was done, now to head back home and try to get March to remember who he was.
Walking back into the house Healy hears March talking to Holly.
“Hey did I ever tell you about the time I met Richard Nixon?" March slurred.
“No, you didn't.” Holly responded. By the tone of her voice, she couldn't tell if this was a time her father actually had met Nixon or another drunk rambling.
“So I fell into a pool from the top of a building. I was being all heroic and shit, I protected someone. When I fell into the pool and I opened my eyes, low and behold, former president Richard Nixon” March says with full confidence.
Holly remembered that day. He was saving her.
“How's he doing Holly?” Healy asked as he took off his brass knuckles.
“He's doing better. He's talking but I still don't think he remembers much.” Holly responded, a slight fear was present in her voice.
“Heeeeyyyy who's this guy?” March asked as he tried to point at Healy. After all, his vision was still quite blurry.
“It's me, Jack Healy.” Healy paused. He had no idea if March was actually getting better or not. It had only been an hour so whatever drug was in that drink should be working its way out of his system right? “Do you remember anything about yourself?" Healy asked, figuring his brief explanation went in one ear and out the other.
“Uh yeah. Ok so my name. My name um. My name is Holland March. Yeah. That. I smoke. Cigarettes.” March started, long pauses between each fact he could recall about himself. “I… I had a wife. She died years ago. I… I think we had a kid together.” March's eyes scanned the room before landing on Holly and he stared for a long moment before saying in the clearest voice he has had all night “Holly?”
“Dad?” She asked cautiously.
“Oh my god Holly. My kid. You. You're my kid. I remember it now.” March said as he placed his hands on his face. “No wonder you look like me.”
“Ok dad, how much do you remember? About anything.” Holly asked.
“Well it's hard to say.” March started, his voice was slightly slurring again. “It's like someone scrambled my brain. I remember some things, but not everything.”
Healy moved to sit next to Holly, glancing down at March it looked like he was actually conscious now and for the most part drug free. There's just a little more that needs to work its way out of his system.
“March. What do you remember about October of 1977?” Healy asked, trying to coax March into remembering him as well.
“October 1977. Um. Holly turned 13 that year, her party was at a bowling alley. At one point she was talking to someone, I remember trying to distract her with apple pie.” March said with a chuckle.
While his vision was blurry he was still fully conscious and fighting to remember what this person wanted him to remember. From what March could see he seemed a bit older, he had a blue leather jacket and his hair was mostly black. March just couldn't seem to get his eyes to register his face, and he really wanted to see this man's face because by his voice, he sounded hot.
“October was also when I broke my arm, I remember that.” March said, giving Healy some hope.
“Do you remember who broke it?” Healy asked.
“No, never told me his name. But his hands were warm, they felt nice.” March said, making Healy blush a little.
March, while his vision was still incredibly blurry, knew the man he was talking to was attractive. He just knew.
“Hey I might not be able to make out your face but I know it looks good.” March said while looking at the man who had been talking to him.
Holly giggled as she looked towards Healy, who was incredibly shocked to hear March, his boyfriend, confessing his love to him.
March flipped the way he was laying to where his legs were over the back of the couch and his head was off the seat. “Your face looks funny, I like it. Can I taste your mouth?” He asked, still intensely staring at Healy.
“You wanna kiss me?” Healy asked.
March quickly sat up. “Uh Healy? That's your name right? You single? Wait sorry you probably don't swing that way. BUT I DO!” March yelled.
“March we have neighbors.” Healy calmly said.
“Who the hell is we?” March asked, incredibly confused.
“Me, and you, and your daughter Holly.” Healy replied.
“I live here?” March asked, trying to stand up before quickly falling into Healy's arms.
“Yeah, you live here. Let's get you to bed, yeah?” Healy suggested as he had March lean on him to walk to the bedroom.
Holly watched with a slight fear building in her chest. Does dad… not remember Mr. Healy? But remembers me? This is weird.
Some part of March wanted to completely give up conscious the instant he fell into the man's arms. But he knew he had to stay awake. He needed to make out his face. Something in the back of March's mind told him that he knew this man. He just needed to remember.
While walking to the bedroom with the man March starts whispering under his breath. “My name is Holland March. Today is someday in late October. I have a daughter. Her name is Holly March. I smoke cigarettes. I can't remember everything but I need to try.”
Healy heard March mumbling something but he couldn't make out what he was saying as his mind was racing with ways to possibly get March to remember him.
“March, buddy.” Healy starts as March's head turns to look at him. “What do you remember about your love life? Other than your dead wife?” Healy asked, hoping March could remember something, anything.
“I think… I think I'm taken. Like right now I have… a boyfriend I think. Do I have AIDS?” March suddenly asked.
“No, oh my god no.” Healy said while holding back a laugh.
Finally making it to the bedroom, Healy helps get March into the bed and lets him rest.
Maybe he will remember me tomorrow. Healy thinks to himself as he turns the light off.
About to leave the room, Healy stops. Looking back at March, asleep in their bed, he feels a sense of shame. Does March really love me? Healy thought. Surely right? I mean he was flirting with me, but he said he thought he was taken. After all, who could love a man like me?
Before leaving the room, Healy watches March's chest rise and fall, before leaning in and kissing him.
March had started to lose hope. Maybe he wouldn't be able to remember everything, and if he couldn't then he would be permanently missing something.
Before drifting off into unconsciousness yet again he tried his hardest to remember everything he could. He could clearly see his wife, and his daughter growing up. He remembers the night he cut himself on glass trying to get into a building and woke up in the ambulance. Yet when he tried to remember the man everything was gone. March knew he was important but just couldn't get his mind to put the pieces back together.
Before he fell asleep, he felt a kiss on his lips. The room was dark, so he didn't see who it was from but it was wonderful.
Asleep, March saw something, like looking into a window of his own memories. He was able to watch himself get his arm broken. The man who broke his arm had the same jacket as the man who helped him today, which made no sense to March. Looking somewhere else he could see the bathroom from his daughter's 13th birthday at the bowling alley. March in the stall, and the man with the same jacket. Looking harder, it was muffled, but March could hear something.
“March, it's Jack Healy, don't worry I'm not here to hurt you.”
That. The man's name was Jackson Healy. March remembered it now, but what connection did they have?
Thinking back, March could remember everything more clearly now. Jackson Healy, the guy who broke his arm, helped with the Amelia case and the whole situation at the LA Auto Show back in 1977. Yes, that's him.
Healy, my best friend… or is he something more? March thought to himself
Despite trying to look harder into his own memories to see anything else with Healy, he couldn't find anything. He saw them being partners at the detective agency and he saw them at places like a carnival with Holly. What deeper connection to Healy did March have that his mind was so desperately trying to get him to remember?
By the time March woke up it was already noon the next day. He groaned as he sat up in bed and instinctively looked next to him to find the bed empty.
What the- what time did I fall asleep last night? Where's Healy and Holly? Wait, why am I in the same clothes as last night? March thought to himself as he got out of bed.
His head was throbbing, so was his hand which was bandaged for some reason. Looking in the bathroom mirror, he was a mess. March tried to comb his hair before heading out of the bedroom but it was going to look bad anyways.
As he walked into the living room, Holly tackled him, almost making him fall to the ground.
“Oh my god dad! Are you ok? How do you feel?” She asked
“I'm fine sweetie, why do you ask?” He replied, wondering why she was not questioning the clothes he was wearing
“Wait dad, how much of last night do you remember?” Holly asked, leading March over to the couch, where his jacket was sitting on the arm rest.
“Well I remember going to the bar and going out for a smoke and now I'm here.” March replied, Healy was still nowhere to be seen.
“Oh god.” Holly said before getting up and leaving the room
What happened last night!? Oh shit I got drunk didn't I. March thought to himself.
March leaned into the back of the couch to see if he could see into the office, he could and Healy was there.
March got up and walked over into the office and sat down in the spinny chair. “Hey, what happened last night?” March asked while he spun in the chair a little.
“Holy shit you're awake!?” Healy said, instantly getting up from his chair to come closer to March. “March, say my name. Please.” Healy continued with his hands on March's shoulders.
“Youre Jackson Healy.” March said looking into his eyes. “Did you sleep last night?” March asked.
“Not much no. March. Listen to me.” Healy said, taking a deep breath, “Tell me about your love life.” he asked.
“Healy I thought you knew this already. I was married to my wife, she died in a house fire, and then…. Then you came into my life.” March said, and as the words escaped his mouth the last bit of the fog left his mind. “You, you are my boyfriend.” March said with full confidence.
“Oh thank god.” Healy said as he pulled March out of his seat and into a hug.
“Now while I am in this lovely embrace of warmth and love, would you mind telling me what happened last night?” March asked, embracing Healy.
“Well you know the whiskey Holly had? That you had? It was spiked with something.” Healy replied while slightly swaying with March in his arms.
“Wait, how did she not know!?” March instantly asked.
“She thought it tasted different because it was a different brand, you, couldn't smell the difference.” Healy responded. “Last night was one of the scariest nights of my life, you couldn't remember anything. You couldn't recognize Holly or me.” Healy continued.
“Really? That's not good.” March said with a considerable pause “You know Hitler was on drugs.”
“Oh March, never change, please.” Healy said, “I mean, even drugged you had priorities.”
“What do you mean by that?” March asked with a laugh as he buried himself face into Healy's chest. Mmm big warm bear he thought.
“You were more focused on flirting with me than figuring out where you were.” Healy mentioned.
“I guess that just shows how much I love you, even when I couldn't remember you I still loved you and found you hot.” March replied.
“Ew you guys.” Holly said, both March and Healy separated themselves from each other, unaware as to how long Holly had been there. “Aren't you guys supposed to work today?” Holly asked.
March and Healy glanced at each other before March said “Yeah I don't think that's happening. Someone needs to sleep and I need a day to process that.”
“Agreed, dad, go to sleep.” Holly said as she pointed at the bedroom. “Oh and dad,” she added, “take a shower before joining him.”