Linda turned off her nightstand lamp. Cory crawled into bed. The coolness of the sheets felt good. “Man, I’m shot.”
“Me too, it’s the stress.”
Cory sidled over. “We had some scare today. It can’t get worse for a parent.”
Linda sniffled. “I was so frightened, I kept seeing him being chained in a basement.”
Cory brushed a tear from her cheek. “He’s safe now. And he knows never to do that again.”
“I hope so.”
“What the hell was that idiot at the studio thinking?”
“It’s scary how quickly things like this happen. They probably didn’t train her right.”
“It doesn’t matter, she should have known. That ‘mommy’s hurt’ bullshit is the oldest scam in the world. I get Tommy buying it, but not a twenty-year-old. She should have known better.”
“What kind of world are we living in?”
“One with a shitload of maniacs.”
“It’s that transplant ring, isn’t it?”
“It looks like it.”
“I told you to stop.”
“I didn’t do anything. I bet it has to do with tracing the call. Belfi said he sent a couple of officers to canvass Chinatown. The word probably got back to them.”
“How can they get away with this?”
“The cops can’t be everywhere.”
“Well, they should be.”
“They’re doing what they can.”
“How can you say that? Our son was kidnapped. Other kids had their kidneys cut out of them.”
“So, what do you want me to do? You want me to keep pushing the subject? Keep it front and center?”
“No, no way. Stay away. I’m just frustrated, that’s all.”
“Don’t worry, I’m done. It’s not worth the risk.”
* * *
Getting out of a cab, Cory’s phone rang. “Hello.”
“Cory Lupinski?”
“Yes, who’s this?”
“Marty Breem, I’m with an independent film production company. We mainly work with Amazon. You may have seen one of our pieces, Surviving Death.”
“Oh yeah, the one where people came back after being declared dead.”
“That’s it. You liked it?”
“The first part I did. But the other episodes, there was too much about mediums. What can I do for you?”
“We’re always on the lookout for a subject we can serialize, and this organ-theft story caught our interest.”
“It’s unbelievable it’s happening in America.”
“It’s in the exploratory stage, but we’re whiteboarding ideas for a possible series. You know, maybe start off following someone on the waiting list, then one on the state of transplant medicine, another on the worldwide market for organs, one on the effort to grow organs in a lab . . . But this story where kids are kidnapped could be the pilot, you know, the episode that hooks viewers.”
“And what does this have to do with me?”
“You’d add to the human-interest component; a former pop star who volunteers, working with children on the waiting list, and you urging the public to become donors. I mean, it’s unselfish and ties beautifully into the unselfish act of becoming a donor.”
“I’m glad you’re thinking about doing it, but I can’t be involved.”
“What’s your objection?”
“I’m too busy. Don’t have the time.”
“If I were you, I’d make the time. This hits, like I think it might, exposure will be off the charts. You could relaunch your career.”
“I’m not interested in that. I’m happy doing what I do.”
“We could do a lot of good with this series. It’ll open up eyes and doors.”
“I’m sorry, the timing isn’t right for me.”
“Look, this wouldn’t be something demanding, especially right now. These projects take time, and most of them never end up airing.”
“I don’t know.”
“All we need at this point is a commitment. We tell Almighty ’Zon the whos and whats, and they’ll decide whether to green-light it.”
Cory wanted to do it but said, “I’ll think about it, but at this point count me out.”
* * *
Cory plugged the drum machine in. “All right. This is going to be fun. Last week, we had a tiny problem keeping everybody together. So, I brought this in. I’ll set it at a simple rhythm, all quarter notes. And at the first beat of every measure you’re going to hear a big cymbal crash. Listen.”
Cory hit play. “So, everybody can hear that, right?”
A sea of heads nodded.
“Now if you get lost, you’ll know where the next measure starts.”
He turned the drum machine off. “Today we’ll start off with “Sunflower.” It’s the song we worked on the last two weeks.”
As Cory instructed the kids on the parts they’d each play, he scanned the room. Bobby Kennedy wasn’t there.
After finishing the session, Cory asked Katie, “What’s going on with Bobby?”
She frowned. “I heard he’s not doing good.”
“What’s going on?”
“A bunch of things, from the operation he had.”
“I’m going to see him.”
“He’s in ICU.”
Bobby Kennedy’s mother was holding her son’s hand. His father sat stone-faced. Neither had slept in days. Cory nodded at the parents and whispered, “How’s he doing?”
The father shrugged. “They induced a coma to try and get the septic under control.”
“He has an infection?”
“From the surgery.”
Cory shook his head. “These guys are butchers.”
“I can’t believe we did this to him.”
“Don’t blame yourself, you were trying to help.”
“Biggest mistake of my life.”
“He’ll be okay. Keep the faith.”
Chapter Nine
Cory returned from giving lessons to his paying students. “Hey, tiger, how was your day?”
Tommy said, “Okay, Dad. The policeman came and showed me so many pictures.”
Linda had filled him in on the phone. “Did you see the bad man?”
“No. I couldn’t find him.”
“That’s okay. You still helped the police.”
“I did?”
“Yes, they now know all the pictures you looked at weren’t the bad guy, so they won’t waste time on them.”
Tommy smiled. “That’s good, right?”
“Yep. You have homework to do?”
“Yeah, I have to make up a story and write it down.”
“That’s fun. Go get started, and if you need help, let me know.”
Cory pecked his wife’s cheek. “He doesn’t seem fazed by all this.”
“I hope not. But we’ll see.”
“Did the police say anything about seeing this bastard on any surveillance cameras?”
“He said they checked everything in the area. They have one from the jeweler who they think is him, but it’s only his back.”
“Man, we need a break.”
“That’d be nice. How was your day?”
“Pretty good, except I’m super bummed over that kid, Bobby Kennedy.”
“What happened?”
“They put him in a coma. He’s got a bad infection.”
“Poor kid.”
“They probably didn’t sterilize something.”
“Ugh.”
“You should’ve seen his parents. Like zombies. I couldn’t stay in the room more than five minutes.”
“It’s horrible having a sick child.”
“I hope he pulls through.”
“Yeah, and they better catch these guys doing this.”
“What time is Ava getting home?”
“She said she’d be back around four.”
“We got to leave by five thirty latest. They want me there early to take some pictures.”
* * *<
br />
The man at the podium had silver hair and wore a royal-blue suit. Smiling, he looked over the ballroom. “It’s life-affirming to see so many supporters here this evening. As our chairwoman stated, the challenges that face us and our children are formidable. But that reality shouldn’t deter us from our mission. We’ll keep pressing and making progress for our children.”
A burst of polite applause petered out and he continued, “Tonight, as we continue the fight against childhood cancer, we take time to honor someone who not only has donated his treasure to the cause but graciously gives him time. Earlier, he warned me about reciting his biography, and I’ll honor his wish. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome CURE’s man of the year, Cory Lupinski.”
Cory squeezed Linda’s hand. He rose, kissed both his children, and made his way to the stage. As the applause died down, he gripped both sides of the lectern.
“Thanks. When John asked me to come this evening, I wanted to say no but realized whatever publicity we get, it helps drive donations, and that is the fuel we’re using in this battle. Everyone here tonight probably knows that childhood cancer kills more children than any other disease. Think about that.
“How many people do you think know that sad fact? I had no idea until I joined the fight. Tell your friends and family. See if they’ll help kids battling cancer. Ask them to help us save kids’ dreams by finding a cure to childhood cancer.”
He held up a plaque. “Thank you for this, but it’s not about us, it’s about the kids. Enjoy your dinner.”
Cory left the stage to a standing ovation. He settled into his chair.
“Yay, Dad. You did good.”
Cory tussled his son’s hair. “You think so?”
“Yeah.”
Ava said, “I’m proud of you, Dad.”
“Thanks, honey. I’m trying.”
“You’re doing better than trying, you’re leading people by example.”
“I hope so.”
“You’re the least selfish person I know, Dad.”
“Thanks, hon. It took me a while to make whatever progress I made.”
As the servers laid down dishes of pasta, a woman, press credentials hanging off her neck, said, “Mr. Lupinski, I’m Sandra Wells from New York One. Can I have five minutes?”
Cory rose. “Sure.”
Linda said, “Make it fast, your macaroni is going to get cold.”
They stepped to the side of the room.
“Thanks, I just wanted a couple of quotes for an article I’m doing.”
“Fire away.”
“How much money has your foundation donated to finding a cure?”
“Oh, I should know this but don’t. It’s been about seven years, so, I’d say it’s more than three million dollars.”
“That’s a significant sum of money.”
Cory shrugged. “We need a heck of a lot more.”
“Is there anyone else raising that kind of money?”
“Oh, there’s a lot of people helping. Some big organizations like Brave Hearts and Alex’s Lemonade—”
“I was referring to an individual giving their own money.”
“It’s not something I focus on.”
“How does it feel to be one of the most selfless people around.”
“This isn’t about me, Sandra. It’s about the kids.”
“Is any of your generosity an attempt to make up for some of the trouble you’ve been in?”
“Like most people, I’ve made mistakes, but my involvement has nothing to do with anything like that.”
“Where does it come from?”
“Most people go through life trying to find something that makes them feel fulfilled. I’ve been lucky to have two things that light me up: music and helping kids.”
“You have two children of your—”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t talk to the press about our children.”
“I understand. You recently waged a campaign to elevate awareness about the need for organ donors.”
Cory nodded.
“Would you like to say something about that?”
“Since we’re here, let’s keep the focus on childhood cancer.”
“Fair enough, but could you say something on the recent kidnapping of Down Syndrome kids?”
“What’s to say? It’s disgusting. We have a responsibility to protect the most vulnerable, and we’re failing. Miserably.”
Chapter Ten
Cory stood in front of the room and put his guitar down. “I thought it’d be fun if we played around with using just our voices to create a rich, layered sound. Let me play you an example of a group of people singing without musical accompaniment. It’s called ‘a cappella’. You might have heard about this group, they’re called the Pentatonix.”
He played a sample of a song. “Isn’t that cool? You can hear them singing the different chord tones.” He took a step toward the kids. “Let’s go around the room. I’d like each of you to sing one line. How about ‘Happy Birthday to You’? I want you to hear the different qualities of each of our voices. They’re all good, and when combined, they’re amazing. Okay. How about you start it off, Brian?”
The kid sang and Cory said, “Excellent. Everyone hear how deep and sonorous his voice was?” As the kids nodded, Cory said, “His voice is what is called a baritone.”
A girl went next, and Cory said, “We got lucky. Brian was a baritone, singing at the low end, and Beverly sings in the high range; she’s called a soprano.
“Check out this.” Cory sang “Happy Birthday” in an unnaturally high voice. “I’m sure you’ve heard that before. It’s called falsetto. It’s where you sing higher than your normal voice.” Cory sang it within his normal range and then falsetto.
“Let’s all do that. Sing it normally, then in falsetto.”
The room erupted in a cacophony of voices. “Wow. You guys are super amazing. Let’s get back to having everyone sing ‘Happy Birthday.’ I’m betting we’ll find some tenors and altos out there.”
After the last kid sang, Cory said, “I’m psyched. You guys sound super. Everybody here like Taylor Swift?”
Most of the room yelled out a yes.
“Cool.”
Cory broke into one of her biggest hits, perfectly emulating her voice. The kids went wild.
Cory smiled. “That’s ‘Shake it Off.’ What I’d like to do is take it and see if we can sing harmonies on it. Here, let me cue up the part of the song where there’s more than one voice singing the line. Let’s have a listen.”
After playing the song, he said, “Everybody hear that? The two voices?”
Everyone nodded.
“Now, what I’d like to do is start simple. I’d like someone I said was a soprano and one who’s a baritone to sing the line together. That way we’ll have the high and low ends covered. It will sound cool.”
* * *
Cory was packing his guitar up when Katie came in. “Hey, Cory, heard you guys had a blast today.”
“Yeah, it went good. It always amazes me how quick kids learn. They’re sponges.”
“That’s because they got a great teacher.”
“Nah, that’s got nothing to do with it.”
“No way. I remember this math teacher, he talked like a drone. Almost half the class failed.”
Cory spoke in a monotone voice, “Two plus two equals nine.”
“Close.”
Cory laughed. “Say, how’s Bobby Kennedy doing?”
“About the same.”
“Damn. What a shame.”
“Did you hear about that poor kid they found?”
“What kid?”
“A cop found a boy dumped in an alley on Eleventh Avenue.”
“Don’t tell me he was another Down Syndrome kid.”
“I don’t think so, but they took most of his liver out and—”
“Another transplant?”
“I guess so.”
“They botched it?”
“I don’t
know. He’s in ICU. I heard he’s not going to make it.”
He put his guitar down. “I’ll be back for my ax.”
Cory waited for Evans to get off the phone. He knocked on the window and cracked the door open. “Sorry, Doc. I need five.”
“I’m sorry, Cory. It’s a madhouse.”
“I heard they brought another kid who was butchered for his liver. Is that true?”
“Close the door.”
Cory shut the door. “Is it true?”
“You know I can’t say much about a patient.”
“Come on, Doc. Is it true or not?”
Evans nodded.
“What happened?”
“We don’t know exactly. When he was brought in, he was unresponsive. He’d lost a lot of blood and was bleeding from a wound in the abdomen. The emergency room originally thought it was a knife wound.”
“But it wasn’t. It was another botched transplant.”
“An MRI revealed that a large segment of his liver was removed.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“If I had to speculate, I’d say it went into a recipient.”
“This has got to end. How old was this kid?”
“I believe he’s twelve.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Critical. We’re doing our best to save him.”
Cory’s stomach dropped. “Save him?”
“He’s vitals are unstable. The prognosis isn’t good.”
“Why?”
“From what we can tell, the segmentation of the liver was done well. It appears to have been performed by a qualified surgeon.”
“Then what the hell happened?”
“He began to hemorrhage. I don’t know if they were under a time constraint or perhaps were interrupted, but the suturing was either rushed or done by someone other than the surgeon who removed the liver section.”
“Damn it. What about his parents? Do they know what’s going on?”
“We were able to locate them, and they’re here now.”
Cory exhaled. “This makes me sick.”
“It’s never easy to lose a patient, especially a child.”
“What’s the kid’s name? I want to go to the chapel to pray for his recovery.”
“Nathan Hendry.”
Cory took the elevator to the Intensive Care Unit. He checked the board. Hendry was in room 7B. He turned down a corridor and stopped in his tracks. A man and woman were sobbing outside of the kid’s room.
Cory's Shift Page 4