by Cecilia Fyre
“Course. I always am.”
“Sleep for a bit. Best medicine there is.”
“I’ll try.” His voice sounded sleepy.
Lea put her number on the table and got up. “If it gets any worse, call me.”
“Will do,” he said, squinting at her from eyes dulled with pain. “Thanks again.”
“No problem. Bye for now.” She hated leaving him like this. But what could she do? Who even said he wanted her to interfere.
Lea forced herself to move, retracing her steps down the stairs. As she returned to her apartment she felt more conflicted than ever. Would he really be okay on his own? And, once his head stopped hurting, what would he think of a virtual stranger leaving her phone number on his coffee table?
3
When the phone rang, Lea had been asleep for less than an hour. In the dark, she knocked against the lamp on the nightstand and swiped her phone onto the bed before she managed to take the call. Bohemian Rhapsody, her favorite ring tone, was cut off abruptly.
“Hello?” she croaked.
“Hey…is that Lea?” The voice was familiar but Lea couldn’t connect the dots.
“Yeah…who’s that?”
“It’s Ricco Como. I woke you up, I’m sorry”
“Don’t worry about it. Are you okay? It’s, uh… two am.”
“My head’s awful tonight.” His voice was terse and clipped and he sounded like he was trying his utmost not to break down crying. “Those goddamn pills aren’t doing anything.”
Lea pushed herself to sitting. “Are you home?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m home as well. Do you want me to come over?”
There was a pause, then a tiny, “Yes.”
“All right. Give me ten minutes.”
“Thanks, Lea. See you soon.” The line went dead.
Lea threw a cardigan over the faded T-shirt she wore to bed. She already had second thoughts. What would he expect her to do?
It was a terrible idea, but… She crouched down and pulled out a large, black suitcase from under her bed. Inside, many rows of small vials were arranged. She took a couple. Before she could change her mind she closed the suitcase and pushed it back under the bed.
She wanted to help Ricco, and this was her only option. Sure, she could insist he went to a hospital. But he wasn’t an idiot, if that was an option he would’ve thought of that himself. Why he had decided against it, she didn’t know. She would have to ask.
Would she have done the same thing if he wasn’t famous, and she didn’t think he was cute? Lea hoped so. She’d worked overtime and put herself on the line with difficult opinions in the past if she thought it could prevent needless suffering, and those patients had been ordinary people.
Sure, it was flattering that a celebrity had asked her for help. But mostly, she felt sorry for a sweet, unassuming guy in pain. And if she could make him feel better, she would.
When Ricco opened the door he looked even worse than she’d expected. Wearing an old, faded T-shirt and sweatpants, his eyes were puffy and swollen. His face looked gray in the hall light.
“How're you feeling?” Lea asked, even though the answer was obvious.
Ricco squinted, his eyes teary. Light clearly made the pain worse. “Been better,” he murmured.
“I bet. C'mon, let's get you back to bed.” Lea ushered him inside and closed the door. This time they didn't climb the stairs. Instead, she followed Ricco into a bedroom that was dimly lit by a small night light.
“You can turn on the big light if you need to.” He made for the king-sized bed on bare feet. As soon as he’d stretched out he buried his face in the pillows.
“Not necessary,” Lea said. “I can see well enough. And it’s too bright for you already.”
“Not wrong.”
Lea went to the far side of the bed and sat down on the mattress. Ricco had put the back of his left hand across his forehead and eyes.
"Can I check you over?" she asked and he took away the arm. Lea placed her own hand on his forehead instead. He felt hot and clammy. Lea frowned. "Do you know why you get migraines?"
“I had an accident on set, in the first season of my show. Hell Riders,” he added when Lea looked blank. “Got hit on the head with a mallet. I was out cold for several hours. Have had the damn headaches on and off ever since.”
“A mallet? Christ…”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Weird job, I know.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Five years. But the migraines are worse this year. I went to see a new neurologist, but the new medication isn’t working.”
“Do you get nausea as well as the light sensitivity?” Lea asked.
“Yeah.” He groaned and shielded his eyes again.
“Have you been sick tonight?”
“Once. As long as I lie still in the dark I should be able to keep it together now, though.”
“How long has this particular attack been going?”
“It never went away since Pearl… since you were here last time. But until tonight it was bearable.”
Lea felt for the pulse in his neck. He gave her an odd look from under his hand. She pulled back. Sometimes people needed more detailed explanations about the examination process. “Can I take your blood pressure if that's okay?”
“Sure.” He stretched out his left arm.
She got the machine from her bag and pushed the cuff up his arm. He closed his eyes as the cuff inflated. Lea waited for the numbers on the little screen to stop flashing, then made a note of them and pressed reset. When the cuff inflated again Ricco opened his eyes, looking at her questioningly.
“Best out of three,” she explained
“You're thorough, huh?” He gave her a lopsided grin.
“I’ve never had any private patients before. Just making sure.”
“Put it on my tab.” He closed his eyes again. He had to be hurting bad, despite the banter. Maybe actors learned to only show their best side. Lea wondered if anything he’d said to her so far had been genuine, then told herself off for being a cynic.
When the machine had beeped and deflated for the third time, Lea pulled the cuff off. Ricco opened his eyes. “What’s the verdict, doc?”
“It’s a little high, probably because of the pain.” Lea folded the cuff and put the machine in her lap. “Right, time for the truth, Ricco. Why did you call me? What do you think I can do for you?”
In the dim light, she couldn’t tell whether he was blushing, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. He gave a shrug. “Dunno. You’re a doctor, I don’t know any other doctors… I thought, maybe you’d have an idea…” His fingers worried the corner of the bedsheets. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Lea’s irritation turned to pity. He was in pain. He was hoping she could make it go away. “You were hoping I’d bring painkillers?”
He looked at her and swallowed. “Yeah.”
At least he wasn’t trying to deny it. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?” He shook his head.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” he whispered. “They’ll see me, there’ll be photos…it’s not just paps these days, though they’re bad enough. It’s everyone with a cell phone, and then it’ll be all over the internet.” There were tears in his eyes. “I can’t deal with that, not now.”
“All right,” Lea said, soothing. “No hospital. Do you have any other prescriptions except for the Diclofenac?”
“No.”
“Who is your neurologist?” Lea asked.
“Dr. Rachel Vaughn,” Ricco said. “She's with the pain clinic at Columbia.”
Lea asked, “Do they have an out-of-hours service?”
“Yeah... She works nights sometimes.”
“And you didn't call her, because?”
He looked embarrassed. “Her pills make me feel awful. I don’t feel like she listens to me.”
Lea considered. This was her last chance to just stay out of it. But straight on the
heel of that thought, she realized that she'd made her choice already.
“This is what we’ll do,” she said. “I call your Dr. Vaughn now, ask her some questions. If she has no objections I’ll give you a one-off dose of strong painkillers so you can get some rest. But I'll also make an appointment for you to see her asap. Deal?”
"Deal." He sounded embarrassed but mostly exhausted. He craned his neck. "Number's in my phone. In the back pocket, over there." Ricco pointed at a pair of jeans lying crumpled on the floor by the mirrored wardrobe. Lea went to get the phone and handed it to him. Squinting, Ricco typed in the passcode. Then he closed his eyes with a groan and his arm went back over them.
"Let me do it." Lea frowned down at the phone. She was an Android user herself and didn't have the first clue about iPhones. Eventually, she located the phone book and scrolled through what seemed to be hundreds of names.
Her eyes widened. More than a few of the names scrolling past were familiar. Lea knew these people from movies and TVs, and here were all their phone numbers…
“’s alphabetical by last name.” Ricco squinted at her, pain dulling the blue of his eyes. He seemed to have no inkling just how bizarre this was for her.
“Sorry it’s taking so long,” she said. “Apple always confuses me.”
"'s all right…" He sounded half-asleep, half nauseous, and Lea threw him a worried, nervous look. Then, on the little screen, finally: Vaughn, Rachel MD
Lea pressed the dial button. The phone rang half a dozen times, and she was about to hang up when someone answered at last.
“Hello?” said a clipped voice.
“Dr. Vaughn?”
“The same. Who is this? It says this is Ricco Como’s number.”
“It is his phone. My name’s Lea… Dr. Lea Holm. I’m an ER physician at Bellevue Medical Centre, and I’m Ricco’s neighbor. He’s currently suffering from a severe migraine attack.”
“Can he come up and see us?”
“No, he really can’t travel right now,” Lea said firmly. “I’m calling to discuss a possible rescue treatment for tonight. You can talk to him if you want to check I really am who I say I am?”
“I’ll have to do that before I say anything else.”
Lea tapped Ricco on the arm with the phone and he took it. Without opening his eyes Ricco brought the phone to his ear, and Lea listened to his side of the conversation.
“Yes, it is… hmm, yeah… Yeah, she does. Okay, yes, thanks, Dr. Vaughn.” He passed the phone back. “She’s happy that you are who you say you are.”
Lea took the phone. “Dr. Vaughn.”
“All right, doctor. What’s your suggestion?”
“A one-off dose of point five milligrams of Dilaudid IV. It’s the best thing I’ve got on me. And he’ll come to see you as soon as he can, to discuss more appropriate long-term medication. The Diclofenac is doing very little for his pain.”
“Sounds acceptable. Have you checked his BP?”
“One hundred forty-two over ninety-six.”
“Could be worse… and I can confirm there are no contraindications to opiates in his medical history.” There was a brief rustle of paper. “As for the appointment, ask him if he can come this afternoon at three pm. Providing he can travel.”
Lea relayed the message and Ricco nodded. “He says that’s fine.”
“Good. I’ll see him later then. Good night, Dr. Holm.”
“Good night,” Lea replied, but the doctor had already hung up. Lea thumbed the phone off.
“Charming,” she muttered.
“She’s a scary woman,” Ricco said.
Lea couldn’t suppress a giggle as Ricco rolled his eyes, but when his face contorted into a grimace of pain she pulled her kit close and began preparing the injection.
“Before we do this I have to explain a few things,” she said. “This is a strong opioid narcotic. It’s the only thing I’ve got here. Ricco, listen.”
He opened his eyes, and Lea held his gaze. She wasn't smiling now. It was important that he understood. "This is an emergency measure only. This medication isn't meant to treat migraine headaches or any kind of headaches. But you need to get some sleep, and Dilaudid is the only thing I've got. Tomorrow, you need to have your meds reviewed. Understood?"
“Yeah.” He looked both frightened and defeated. Lea’s heart went out to him. She hardly knew this guy, but he seemed kind and sweet, and surprisingly normal. She was beginning to really like him. And he didn’t deserve to be in this kind of pain. Making him feel better gave her satisfaction, even though the unease about using opioids she shouldn’t even have in her possession lay heavy on her conscience.
Before she could overthink this any more Lea squeezed his shoulder. "Let's do this." She put a tourniquet on his left arm and found a vein. She picked up the syringe she had prepared but then hesitated. "I forgot to ask. Do you need the loo before I do this? You'll be out of it for the rest of the night, and it would be better if you didn't have to get up. You might fall over in the dark, or hit your head on the bathroom cabinet."
He gave a grin despite the pain. “You’re definitely not from around here.”
Realizing what he meant Lea blushed. “Sorry!”
“Don’t apologize. It’s cute. There are some Brits on our show, they’re so funny… and no, I don’t need the loo.” He grinned again, “I went before I called you.”
“All right then,” she said. “And you don’t have to be anywhere first thing tomorrow? Or today, rather.”
"No, just Dr. Vaughn now," he said. "I canceled everything when my head got worse. Oh, can you turn my phone off?"
“Sure. I’ll do that before I leave. I’ll stay for twenty minutes or so to monitor you. Point five is a pretty small dose, nothing should go wrong, but just in case there’s an adverse reaction.”
“Always the perfectionist,” Ricco sighed theatrically. Then he lifted his arm. “C’mon, doc, don’t make me beg for the good stuff.”
There was pain under the banter, suppressed and controlled by an iron will. Lea’s heart hurt for him. What a strange life it must be that made you so good at putting on a show even when miserable. She gave Ricco an encouraging smile. “Okay, here goes.”
Lea inserted the needle into his vein and he looked away. It was a good vein, and she had no trouble. As the plunger went down Lea watched Ricco’s face. When the last bit of liquid disappeared down the needle his features were already relaxing.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
Ricco hummed. “Floaty…”
“That’s good. Go to sleep now.”
His smile was lopsided as he regarded her from under heavy eyelids. His hand felt for hers and he brought it up to cradle against his chest.
"Thanks, doc." And with that, he was out. His heart beat against Lea's fingers, his chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm.
Lea didn’t move from the spot by his side until her arm fell asleep. Then she extracted herself, thinking that a little discomfort was nothing compared to the fact that Ricco Como had fallen asleep holding her hand.
4
Lea heard nothing from Ricco for ten days. Sometimes this bothered her, but she didn’t try to make contact. He was probably busy. Lea knew all about being too busy to have a life outside work. She glanced at his door every time she returned home, but never gave in to the urge to knock. Maybe he was embarrassed.
But she kept thinking about him, hoping he was feeling better. He had been her patient, even if just for an evening. That wasn't all of it, though. She liked him. He was cute, and sweet. And, goddammit, he was sexy. Lea wanted to see him again, no use denying it.
On the night when she had given him the injection, she had stayed true to her word. When after thirty minutes his breathing and heartbeat were normal and not compromised by the opioid she had let herself out of his apartment, making sure the cats stayed inside, which was no mean feat. Only when she had returned to her bed and lain down in the dark did it dawn on her how much Ricco had tr
usted her. She had since done some research on him and his show - she did know how to use Google even if the world of celebrity was alien to her - and had been astonished to discover that there were scores of women (and men, Lea had been interested to learn) who would have given their right arm to be in Ricco Como's home unsupervised.
Of course, it made no difference one way or the other. As a doctor, her patients’ trust was inherent in her work and disregarding that responsibility, regardless of fame or popularity, would be the ultimate betrayal. But now that she had lifted the curtain a fraction into that strange life of his, Lea wondered how he could stand it.
Just when she thought Ricco had forgotten her, and work had become so busy that she would go days without sparing him a thought, Lea got a text.
U free Fri? Friend’s exhibition is opening. Wanna come?
It was just after nine pm and her shift was about to start. Resisting the temptation, she put the phone into her locker. The last thing she wanted was to seem too eager. And she had to process his invitation first. Was it a date? A thank you for coming to his aid? An 'I need to bring someone so the fans leave me alone'? The whole thing made her nervous, she couldn't get it out of her head all night. By shift end, she had decided that it didn't matter. This was a chance to see him again, and that was all that was important.
Back in the staff changing rooms Lea pulled out her phone and wrote, Definitely. What time?
The reply came quickly. Be ready for 8 pm. There'll be booze and food. It's not far.
Feeling silly, heart beating in her throat, Lea typed another text with fumbling fingers. Stupid question: What 2 wear?
Again there was only a short delay before his reply flashed on her cell’s screen. Come naked, nobody will care. I’ll wear my rattiest tee. Srsly, rly lo key. Maybe 20 random ppl this dude knows.
Lea suppressed a nervous giggle. Ricco Como had just told her to attend a gallery opening with him in the buff. Of course, it had been a joke.
Or had it?