“Hmph!” Andrew responds, and Graham laughs quietly as I giggle into his shirt.
Minutes later, Andrew walks over and holds out his cell. “Richter wants to talk to you.”
I take the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, kiddo, I appreciate you being observant enough to realize Reid needed help. If this had gone overnight, he could have been in big trouble.”
“It was more Graham than me.” My eyes flick to him and he squeezes my shoulder.
“Well, you two possibly saved his life. You don’t need to stay, though. I’m sure Andrew can take care of whatever needs to be done tonight.” Andrew, jittery, does look prepared to jump on whatever task needs doing.
“We’ll be back as soon as he gets out of surgery.”
“All right. Give me Andrew so I can make sure he knows how to reach everyone.” I hand over the phone and Andrew strides for the exit, talking. Time for another cigarette break.
I turn to Graham. “How are those patches working?”
“Pretty well, actually. I still have issues with my hands sometimes, though, because I’m used to holding a cigarette. Not sure what to do with them.” He flexes his fingers and turns his hands palm up, staring down at them as though they belong to someone else. I take the one nearest me without looking at him, and we sit, silently holding hands, until the doctor comes to tell us that Reid is in recovery.
The filming schedule is modified to substitute the few remaining scenes that don’t include Reid; he’ll be out a solid week, possibly two. Since he’s one of the two main characters, we do some scenes partially—a stand-in representing Reid’s side of a conversation, or one of us filming a one-sided conversation, his portion to be filmed later, with everything spliced together in the final cut.
Production arranges for us to use the Bennet house again ahead of schedule, and Meredith and I do an emotional scene where her character, Jane, realizes that the guy she loves is gone with no plans to come back. I know from her concentration just before we begin filming that she’s mining her recent breakup for emotional effect. She tells me that she wishes she could use something else, but she knows her leftover feelings for her ex are the nearest thing to a shared experience with her character.
“I talked to Robby last night,” she says as we wait for the set to be readied.
“Oh?” I study her face, and even with the expertly applied makeup, I can tell she had a rough night. Red-rimmed eyes, dark circles still visible under the delicate skin.
“He says he misses me. I’m not an idiot… but it’s so tempting. I know him. He knows me. I’m just afraid that what I’m feeling for him will never be over. Like if I let him go, I’ll just die alone and miserable.”
“Meredith.” I grab her arm, wait until she looks at me. “Please tell me you know better than that. Or else I’m going to have to argue with you about not being an idiot.”
“I know better,” she mumbles. I lower my chin and stare at her. “I do. I don’t want to love him,” she says miserably.
“Mere, what kind of person expects someone he loves to give up what she wants to be, what she needs to do? That’s not love.”
“Yeah.” She’s listening but not hearing, and I want to shake her. “You know what, Emma?” She sighs. “Love freaking sucks.”
Chapter 34
REID
I wake up in a hospital room, and George is sitting on the small sofa. A few seconds pass while I process what happened yesterday. Difficult, because my brain feels numb from what is undoubtedly some sort of analgesic. My manager glances up when I stir. “Reid. Going to stay awake for a few minutes this time?” He comes to stand next to the bed. “They’re keeping you a little sedated, so you won’t move around.”
I look at the IV in my arm. “What happened?” God, my throat feels like I swallowed sand.
“Your appendix decided it didn’t care for Austin so much.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Jesus. I was supposed to film today.”
Chuckling, George says, “Don’t worry, directors tend to let people off to recuperate from emergency surgery. Everything’s taken care of—private room, of course, and your medical care is being filed and paid, so you needn’t worry about that. Your bodyguard is outside the door, and Andrew will be by in a little while to run errands for whatever you’d like.”
I look down at the worn, mint-colored hospital gown. “Tell him not to even bother coming unless he brings me something else to wear. Shorts, t-shirts… I’m not wearing this.” I pick at one of the stupid ties at the side of the gown. “So I guess Dad couldn’t make it, huh? Sent you as his parental doppelganger?”
“What, you aren’t happy to see me?” George looks slighted. He should win a mini-Oscar.
“I’m complaining about the absence, not the substitution. Of course I appreciate you coming. Why it would surprise me that he’s not here, I have no idea. I mean hell, it’s just major surgery. No big deal.” My eyes are heavy; I’m sleepy already.
George grimaces, one hand on my arm. “Go back to sleep, get healed up. We’ll work on your daddy issues another time.”
“Ha, ha. Funny guy, George. That’s why I like you.”
Late afternoon the next day, Emma walks in, carrying a vase of Asian lilies. Maybe it’s the drugs, but her face above the flowers makes me imagine her as a faery. “Hey you,” she says. Tadd and Quinton are with her.
I mute the reality show blaring from the way-too-small television bolted to the wall. “Thank God, I’m bored out of my mind.”
She smiles at me. “We figured as much.” She places the flowers on the built-in veneer dresser and Quinton hands me gaming magazines.
“Dude, you look like ass,” Tadd says.
I shake my head, try not to laugh because it hurts. “Tact. Ever heard of it?”
“Tact is overrated,” Tadd says, eyeing the television. “Hey, I bet I could get a game console and a couple of controllers hooked up to that.”
“Thanks, but I think I’m getting out of here tomorrow. If I promise to be good, I can convalesce at the hotel. The doc says I’ll still be in bed for four to five more days, and not in a good way.” I wink at Emma and she blushes the slightest pink. “I feel like I’m in prison here.”
“The guard dog is at the door.” Quinton refers to Bob, who’s sitting on a chair in the hall, blocking fan and paparazzi intrusions.
“Yeah, we had an incident with a hospital volunteer earlier.” I laugh and goddamn, it’s like someone stabbed me. I push a call button.
“Yes, Mr. Alexander?” Young, with a little bit of a Southern lilt. Nurse Monica.
“I could use some pain meds, please ma’am.” Tadd quirks an eyebrow at my please ma’am, and I pretend not to notice.
“I’ll be right in.”
“What kind of volunteer?” Emma asks.
“The doing community service for prep school credit type. Allegedly, she took some photographic liberties with my sedated body and a strategically unbuttoned candy-striper outfit.”
“Whoa! Was she at least hot?” Quinton says, then turns to Emma. “No offense.”
She blinks at him. “Um, none taken?”
“No idea. I was drugged out. Bob let her in since she was dressed in hospital threads and had ID, but he had a weird feeling so he checked, and there I was, being violated by an underage candy-striper.”
Nurse Monica comes in with a syringe, which she injects into my IV line. Tendrils of her copper hair escape from the twist at her nape, and Quinton is staring, not that I can blame him.
“There ya go. You should feel that real soon.” She lays her fingers on the bare skin of my forearm, blinking when Tadd stifles a laugh, abruptly jerking her hand away. Clearing her throat, she straightens the bedding. “Do you need anything else?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.” She blushes and hurries from the room.
“Sure you don’t need your pillow fluffed, or maybe a sponge bath?” Tadd mocks.
“So did your juvie stalker sext anything before Bob intervened?” Quinton asks. “Cause that could get ugly. In a legal sort of way.”
“Nah, Bob came in, grabbed her phone, walkied for hospital security, and scrolled through her messages. She hadn’t sent anything yet. She attacked him when he started deleting photos—”
“She attacked Bob?” Emma asks. “Bob’s the size of a tank!”
“I know, right? But yeah. He held her by the wrists with one hand while deleting photos with the other until hospital security busted in. Tragically, during all the madness, her phone was accidentally crushed under his ginormous foot and the memory card went AWOL.”
Emma smirks. “Sounds like Bob is worth his weight in gold.”
“In Bob’s case, that’s really saying something,” Tadd agrees.
Emma
After the guys leave, I stay to keep Reid company for the rest of visiting hours, like I did last night. He’s alert today, though still a little groggy from the painkillers the nurse just gave him; last night he was drugged to the hilt, in and out of awareness—mostly out, and I was glad I brought something to read.
He’s wearing a baby blue t-shirt and black jersey shorts today, rather than the hospital gown. “So is this authorized hospital-wear?”
He ducks his chin, peering roguishly through a few strands of blond hair—clean, which makes me wonder who’d washed it for him—the ginger-headed nurse? “Not exactly, but I tend to get my way about stuff, or haven’t you noticed?” Only he could deliver such a line and have it come out charming and not insufferable. “Did you say they moved filming to the Bennet house? I seriously can’t remember what we talked about last night, sorry.”
“You were pretty out of it.”
He scoots over in the bed to make room for me, grimacing slightly. “Come here. You’re too far away.” I leave the small sofa and climb up next to him, careful not to jostle him or mash his IV line. He takes my hand and kisses the palm. “I hear I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“Well, you were obviously unwell, anyone could have seen that.”
His mouth turns up on one side. “The point is, you were that anyone. Though, was Graham there, too? I’m fuzzy on that whole night.”
“Um, yeah, I told him you weren’t feeling well, so he came up. He was actually the one who knew you needed a doctor.”
“But you were the one who checked on me in the first place. Besides, no offense to Graham, but I’d rather thank you.” His eyes are warm, staring into mine, and I brush his hair out of his eyes, feeling guilty, because I didn’t go to Reid’s door to check on him. I went to his door to tell him off.
Not that he needs to know that.
He leans closer and kisses me, withdrawing with a grimace and leaning back against the mound of pillows. He must have commandeered every pillow on this floor.