Ripple Effect

by J. Bengtsson

  No, I needed a warrior, someone who’d come in with weapons raised, prepared to defend me with his life. Someone who could tie up every loose end, get me walking again, and maybe even get me back up on the stage where I’d always belonged.

  I shook my head.

  “Goddammit,” I grumbled to myself. There was only one person I knew capable of such wizardry.

  Tucker Fucking Beckett.

  Julio and I exchanged eye rolls.

  Heather was at it again. Making a giant scene. Pitching a fit. It was her third one in under an hour, impressive even by her standards.

  “He’s going to be hospitalized for at least another week. Under no circumstances are you putting him in there!”

  I wanted to remind her that we were in the ICU and that people were literally dying around her, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

  “We want the VIP room.”

  “Ma’am, it’s occupied right now,” the meeker-by-the-minute hospital coordinator tried to explain. “We can’t just kick the woman out.”

  “Is she Taylor Swift? Beyoncé? Because those are the only two VIPs that have a higher status than my RJ! I demand to speak to your superior!”

  I cringed, wanting to crawl under the covers and be reborn again, to someone with the slightest bit of humility and grace. I honestly didn’t know what she thought was going to happen here. She’d tied my hands, made me a prisoner in her power-hungry game, but she had to realize I’d eventually heal, get out of this hospital, and make her fucking pay.

  “Stop it!” I shouted. “Just shut up. No one cares what you have to say. They just want to get rid of you.”

  You could hear a pin drop. Actually, that wasn’t true. You could also hear the faintest spattering of murmurs from the hospital staff who’d been dealing with her tantrums for four days now, all too afraid to stand up to her. I was actually disappointed I didn’t get a round of applause.

  I turned my head to address the hospital coordinator. “What’s your name?”

  “Laura.”

  “Laura, any room is fine as long as it has a padlock to keep that woman out.”

  Laura looked to my mother for confirmation.

  “Don’t look at her, Laura,” I demanded. “Listen to me. I’m being held hostage by this medical power of attorney bullshit that I signed when I was eighteen and which I no longer authorize. I want an attorney… and an executioner… ASAP.”

  “Stop being dramatic, RJ,” my mother scoffed. “Everything I’m doing is for you.”

  “Oh, I doubt that very much.”

  My mother addressed Laura in a quieter, more conciliatory tone. “Just get him the finest room you have available, and as soon as the VIP room comes up, then you can move him.”

  “Actually, Laura. I’d prefer the shittiest room possible. Maybe then she won’t visit.”

  Poor Laura, standing there in the middle of our feud with no conceivable idea how to end it or even if she wanted to. I had to assume she was deriving at least some satisfaction in watching my mother squirm.

  “Okay, well. I can see there is some discrepancy here, so…”

  “There’s no discrepancy,” I said. “I’m an adult. I pay my own bills. Hell, I pay her bills. I demand full control over all medical decisions pertaining to me, and if someone can’t make that happen, pronto, I’ll be forced to get on social media and let my followers know that I’m being Britney Spearsed over here.”

  22

  Dani: The Command Center

  Okay, I wasn’t proud of what I was doing. I was a twenty-six-year-old woman. I’d outgrown celebrity stalking eight years ago. But I just kept telling myself it was for a good cause. Actually, it was for the best cause—RJ.

  Blacklisted after my run-in with Heather, I couldn’t even get past the front doors of the hospital. It was like they had a poster with my face on it right inside with a list of my crimes. Of course, whatever she’d told them were all lies, but the security guards didn’t know that. RJ didn’t, either. And if he believed even one of them…

  So I’d resorted to this, fan-girling in front of Bodhi Beckett’s mansion. He was RJ’s best friend; surely he’d be able to deliver a message to him. All I had to do was get him to stop his car, and then, armed with RJ’s cryptic clues, somehow get Bodhi on my side. That was the plan, anyway. But I was on day two of my creepy vigil, and while vehicles had come and gone through the giant security gates, none had Bodhi in them, and none had stopped.

  A car pulled up and I quickly rose from the curb, holding up my cardboard sign. Please be Bodhi, I thought, my face falling when I saw the familiar face.

  “Hey, stalker. Sorry to be such a letdown,” Simone said, passing me a coffee drink through the window. “Thought you’d like this.”

  “Is this with sugar-free vanilla and extra foam?”

  “Of course.”

  “And half a bag of sweet and low?”

  “Do I look like a loser?”

  “No, you do not. That wouldn’t happen to be my favorite bacon gouda sandwich on your passenger seat, would it?”

  She picked it up and dangled it in front of me. “Can’t be operating on an empty stomach if you really want to creep out the guy.”

  “Ah, I take back everything I ever said about you and your tiny gavel.”

  Simone rolled her eyes. “Wish I could stay, but I have a job… and dignity.”

  Setting my goodies aside, I made a finger heart and blew a kiss through it as she drove away.

  I wasn’t sure what I would’ve done without my LSC siblings. They’d come in clutch for me in the days after the earthquake, providing food, shelter, and boxes and boxes of supplies that filled up Cleo’s living room. If she regretted opening her doors to me, she didn’t show it. No one did. They’d been there for me when I’d come out of the emergency room and again when I’d called them crying after Heather cast me from the hospital. Ross and Charlie even helped me make my sign. Although they did take creative license by making an alternate sign for me to use, which read, Love me, Bodhi. I’m so desperate.

  It was actually the LSC support that kept me from leaving town to go stay with my mother. And it had been a surprisingly tough decision. Once my mother had finally been able to find a route around the destruction, she’d arrived at my side with a blueprint of plans. First thing on the agenda was getting me home, and man, had she ever painted a beautiful picture of what life would be like if I succumbed to her tender loving care. It would be all chicken noodle soup and pedicures and naps in the sun. I’d never seen my mother so concerned or so loving. It made me wonder how much of our mother-daughter struggles had been made up in my mind. That was until she took one look at my makeup-free face and said, ‘Oh, honey, we need to do something about that.’

  Yep, that yanked me back from my make-believe world and made me decide to stay put in LA and fight for my right to see RJ. Heather thought she’d won, but had she known anything about me, she’d realize I didn’t take shit from members of her bloodline. I would stop at nothing to disrupt her reign.

  An hour had passed since Simone rolled away. My drink was gone, and my butt was going numb on the curb. I had just stood up to stretch my legs when a car came down the road and turned into the long driveway. The same car had exited the gate thirty minutes before, and the woman behind the wheel hadn’t even glanced my way. Chances that she’d see me now and read my sign were probably slim to none, but I had to try because this woman was my quickest path to Bodhi. She was his newly wedded wife.

  I held up my sign and called out to her, “Please—I’m a friend of RJ’s.”

  The car drove right on by. My heart sank. This was useless, such a waste of time. But then, to my utter surprise, the car stopped abruptly and rolled back in reverse. The window slid down.

  “Let me see your sign,” she said.

  I held it up. It read, I’m RJ’s gale force wind.

  “Gale force wind? Who told you that?”

  “RJ.”

  Breeze scan
ned the length of me before asking, “Are you her?”

  By her, I assumed she meant the woman from the news. I’d been outed two days earlier, my name out there for the picking. But that was also the day I’d begun stalking Bodhi, so I’d managed to avoid the media onslaught simply because no one seemed to be able to find me out in front of a pop star’s house.

  “Yes, I’m Dani. RJ told me to tell Bodhi I was his gale force wind. I have no idea what it means, but he said Bodhi would know.”

  The woman slowly nodded, seemingly stunned by my revelation. “I’m Bodhi’s breeze.”

  We stared at one another. Breeze? I’d known that was her name, from my online research, but I’d never pieced together the significance of it until now. Was RJ trying to tell Bodhi that I was his Breeze?

  She leaned over and opened her door. “Get in.”

  After I slipped into the passenger seat, she reached her hand out. “Nice to finally meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you too. I’m so sorry I had to stalk around outside your house, but I didn’t know what else to do. Heather booted me from the hospital and threatened to end me after I asked to see RJ.”

  “Ah, yes. Heather.” She spoke the name like it left a particularly sour taste in her mouth. “Don’t take it personally. She’s done the same to all of us.”

  “How is that possible? Is he so sick that he can’t speak for himself?”

  “It’s not that. From what we know, he’s steadily improving, but…” Breeze went on to explain how Heather had wrangled control of RJ’s life by way of a piece of paper he’d signed years ago.

  “So, what do we do?” I asked, already inserting myself in the fight.

  “Bodhi’s father, Tucker, is working on liberating him as we speak. Heather isn’t afraid of too many people, but Tucker… he’s one of them.”

  I drew in a deep, comforting breath, relieved to finally be in like company with people who seemed to care about RJ as much as I did.

  Breeze pulled up to the house and hopped out of the car. Still a bit stunned by what was happening, I remained seated.

  She popped her head in. “You coming?”

  “I… am I invited?”

  “Any type of wind is welcome in our house, Dani. Oh, and bring the sign.”

  Heaving two big bags of KFC from her trunk, we climbed the stairs in front of her mansion, and she opened the door.

  “After you,” she said. I stepped into the foyer of the most beautiful house I’d ever seen. My eyes widened at the wonder of it all. Was this how RJ lived when he wasn’t residing in squalor next door to me?

  “Jesus,” I muttered.

  “I know.” Breeze smiled. “That was my first thought too. In there.”

  I’d only known her for a matter of minutes, and I was already charmed. There wasn’t an ounce of pretension in her. She felt like a kindred spirit. I followed after her until we came into an expansive kitchen. Gathered around a dining table was a group of guys, and not just any guys. These were the other members of AnyDayNow, and suddenly I didn’t feel worthy of being included in RJ’s inner circle.

  Breeze opened her arms wide. “Welcome to the Save RJ Contreras Command Center.”

  The band members all looked up from their plotting to observe me.

  “Guys. This is Dani.”

  “Hey,” my boy-bander crush Hunter Roy said. “You’re the girl hanging around outside with the sign.”

  He noticed me. Was it wrong to squeal?

  “The sign?” Bodhi questioned, locking eyes on Breeze. Clearly he hadn’t left the house in two days, or he would’ve known about the stalker outside his gate.

  Breeze poked me in the side. “Show him the sign.”

  I held it up and watched as his face morphed from one of confusion to surprise.

  “Gale force wind?” Boy-bander number three, Shawn Barber, scratched his head. “What am I missing here?”

  Bodhi ignored Shawn’s question. He was now focused solely on me. “Where did you hear that from, Dani?”

  “From RJ. In the parking garage…just before he thought he was going to die.”

  Breeze helped clarify. “RJ sent her to you to deliver this message. Bodhi, she’s Dani Malone, from the news.”

  That seemed to do the trick. Bodhi crossed the room, stopping right in front of me, and I could feel my cheeks heat up. It’s not every day you come face-to-face with Bodhi Beckett. He was almost as good-looking as a freshly shaved RJ Contreras.

  “Wait—you’re the one who saved him,” Dane Makati, boy-bander number four, spoke up. “The mystery girl?”

  I was still trying to wrap my brain around the idea that people knew who I was, even famous people like Bodhi and Hunter and Shawn and Dane. “I was with RJ in the earthquake, yes.”

  “And he called you his gale force wind?”

  “Which is?” Shawn tried for clarity again.

  This time I ignored Shawn.

  “No. He told me to tell you that I was his gale force wind. But he didn’t tell me what it meant.”

  “Vague as shit, if you ask me,” Shawn grumbled. “Am I the only one who doesn’t know what the fuck is going on?”

  Shawn wasn’t even a blip on Bodhi’s radar. He was singularly focused on me.

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “He said something about looking inside the curtain rods.”

  The other band members seemed baffled by the cryptic message, but Bodhi did not. Something shifted in his eyes as he narrowed in on me. He understood exactly what RJ had been trying to convey.

  “Curtain rods?” Shawn whined. “Is everyone speaking in tongues?”

  “Jesus Christ. Would someone please slap a gag on Shawn?”

  “You think I’m going to stop.” Shawn was ornery in his reply. “But I’m going to keep asking until I get answers.”

  “Fine,” Bodhi huffed. “RJ used to joke about how he was going to keep an emergency stash of money in the curtain rods—so his family couldn’t find it. Understand now?”

  Shawn thought for a second before shaking his head. “Nope. I still don’t understand what that has to do with Dani.”

  “Think,” Bodhi replied, his eyes on me while he addressed Shawn. “RJ wanted his emergency money to go to Dani—his girl. His gale force wind. Get it now?”

  Bodhi’s explanation might have been directed to Shawn, but it hit me squarely in the heart. In those final moments, when all hope was lost, RJ’s last thoughts were of taking care of me. His girl. His gale force wind. Yes, I belonged here in his inner circle.

  And as I took a spot at the table, Shawn smirked and grabbed some keys off the counter. “Uh, guys? Don’t wait up. I’m going to RJ’s house.”

  23

  RJ: On the Dotted Line

  While waiting to be transferred to a private room later in the day, I borrowed Julio’s phone after my mother had slipped out of my curtained room to maybe ruin someone else’s day for a change. Julio hadn’t really wanted to hand it over, fearing Heather’s wrath, but after I explained the benefits of being friends with me, he relented.

  I dialed up Bodhi. There was no answer. Had he seen my name popping up on his phone, I had no doubt he’d have been more responsive, but as it was, he probably assumed the incoming call from an unknown number was an extended warranty company giving him his ‘very last’ warning.

  The voicemail kicked in, and with my voice barely more than a whisper, I left a message. “Dude, it’s RJ. I need Tucker, and no I haven’t taken a blow to the head.”

  I went on to describe the situation to him before hanging up and handing the phone back to Julio.

  “Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

  We exchanged a handshake.

  “You owe me two.” He winked, no doubt referring to the ‘groupies backstage experience’ I’d offered him in order to gain access to his phone.

  “Hey, I can only get you in.” I laughed. “The rest is all up to you, and let’s be honest, it’s going to be an uphill battle.”
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  Julio took no offense, laughing at the diss.

  Still gripping his hand, I pulled him in close so as not to get him in trouble. “If Bodhi Beckett calls you back, you have my permission to tell him what room I’m in.”

  His eyes widened. “Bodhi Beckett is going to call my phone?”

  “He will if he checks his messages.”

  Julio stared down at his phone as if it had suddenly turned to gold. “Bodhi. Wow. Okay, then. That’s exciting and unexpected.”

  “What the hell, Julio,” I said. “I’m as famous as he is.”

  “I know, but I’ve been changing your catheter for a few days. You’ve lost your shine.”

  The distant sound of my mother’s voice caught our attention.

  Julio peeked through the opening in the curtains. “She’s baacckk.”

  “Watch it, Julio; that’s my mother you’re talking about.”

  We both laughed.

  Julio returned to my side, dropping his voice. “Oh, and if I don’t see you again, her name is Susan Beri.”

  It took me a second to connect the dots. Julio was referring to none other than Sue, my favorite sudoku-playing, senior citizen informant.

  The problem with residing in the ICU for long periods of time, aside from the obvious health perils, was that they adhered to a strict ‘close family only’ visitors rule. Because it was against policy to allow outsiders in, the staff were more inclined to side with my mother when it came to Dani. But now that I’d been transferred into a private room and visitors were allowed, I thought the isolation would finally end. I was wrong. Even after providing my new nurse with a list of the people I wanted to see, no one came. No one. Not Dani. Not Bodhi. Not Tucker. Not even one of my so-called ‘blood’ brothers.