“Melanie, you know this holiday party is for the cast and crew and friends of the show,” Evie said calmly. The truth was like a tripwire for Melanie. It didn’t take much of it to set her off.
“I saw the pictures you posted from Tiffany’s wedding. Looked like the gang was all there.”
Tiffany Lam and Evie had been roommates on Supreme Chef and ended up in the final two slots. Not only had Evie been the first Black woman to win, but with her and Tiffany in the lead it was the first time two women of color had been the ones to bring it home. Melanie hadn’t been invited to Tiffany’s wedding for pretty obvious reasons. There was nothing more to it.
“I dropped her a little note. Told her it would have been nice to be invited. I mean, she even invited the PAs from our season.”
And that did it. For the first time in years, Evie actually saw red. Rage heat flashed all over her body. Evie resisted the urge to toss back the rest of her champagne or smash the flute over Melanie’s head. Instead she finally said what was on her mind.
“That is so fucked up.”
Melanie jerked back like she had been slapped.
“For weeks you were so cruel to Tiffany. Why on earth would she invite you to her wedding?”
“Cruel?! More like I told her the truth. Truth she needed to hear. Some of us don’t need people like you kissing our ass all the time.”
“You told her she reminded you of your friend from camp, only your friend from camp was skinnier. What grown woman insults another woman’s weight for no reason? What grown woman is still bringing up camp?!”
“Whoa, look at you! All this time, so prim and proper. So calm, so collected. Who would have thought all you had to do was get Chef Yvonne Buchanan away from the cameras and her adoring public and the real bitch comes out?”
Evie hadn’t realized she was raising her voice. She swallowed a different kind of knot that was now blocking her throat, and straightened her shoulders.
“Ah, there we go. TV-ready Evie. You’re like damn pageant robot. No wonder the judges loved you. So lifelike, who’d think she was a real human?!” Melanie said with a harsh burst of laughter.
“Goodnight, Melanie.” Evie turned to leave, but stopped when Melanie grabbed her wrist. She instantly shook her off.
“Wait, we’re not done here.”
“Oh yes, we are. I’m going to say this in the nicest way I can. Stay away from me, Melanie. And please,” she added with more than a hint of disgust, “leave Tiffany alone. Excuse me.”
Evie turned again and started down the stairs. Later she’d have a faint memory of the words “self-righteous bitch” practically seething from between Melanie’s clenched teeth and the feeling of both of Melanie’s hands connecting with her back in a forceful shove. You could always count on Melanie’s reactions to any and all situations to be outsized and hellishly dramatic, but pushing someone down a flight of stairs was way over-the-top, even for Chef Melanie Burns.
Chapter 2
Nicole took her ID back from the nurse at the reception desk and followed her instructions toward the elevator. The sound of her boots squeaking across the tile floor mixed with the sound of her heart thudding in her ears. She’d never been this stressed before. Maybe an indicator of how charmed a life she’d led up to this point. All of her clients were amazing, talented people who shared her desire to aim as high as possible. Evie Buchanan was the best of them all.
Which is why it hit her extra hard when they found Evie unconscious in that stairwell.
Evie was a private person. Like Nicole she was excellent at drawing an appropriate line between the personal and professional, but after Evie had once let it slip just how difficult the holidays were for her, Nicole understood why Evie might need a short break from the joyful spirit of the evening. When an hour passed and no one had seen Evie, Nicole knew something was wrong. She tried to keep her unease about the situation under wraps, but as the clock ticked closer to one a.m. and Evie still wasn’t picking up her phone or responding to texts, Nicole decided it was time to have a conversation with security.
She cursed the gods for the fact that by the time they found Evie and the ambulance arrived, the bulk of the guests had moved on to more exciting after-hour activities. Nicole’s first priority was making sure Evie got the medical attention she needed and then she was going to find out what the fuck happened in that stairwell. Getting answers was made exponentially harder with the party guests scattered to the wind.
Nicole found the elevator and waited for two nurses and a man pulling on his trench coat to step off before she stepped on and hit the button for the tenth floor. Evie had been in the ICU for over forty-eight hours. She was breathing on her own, but even though the doctors were able to sew up the nonfatal gash on the side of her head, she remained unconscious. Nicole had almost dropped her coffee when the text from Evie’s roommate, Blaire, popped up on her cell. She’s awake.
“Come on.” Nicole used her knuckle to mash the door-closed button before checking her phone. She’d told Blaire to update her if anything changed on her way over to Presbyterian. Thankfully, her phone was bone dry. When the elevator finally hit the tenth floor, Nicole paused long enough to read the floor directory mounted on the wall before she turned left and took off at a run. Around another corner she found Blaire pacing outside an open door, tears running down her face. Their eyes met and Nicole’s knees almost gave out. Blaire froze and then, realizing what Nicole was thinking, waved her over.
“What it is?” Nicole asked, her chest feeling tighter.
“The doctors—something’s wrong. She can’t remember anything.” Nicole peered inside the room and felt the air rush out of her lungs. There was Evie, looking pretty worn-out and ragged, but alive nonetheless. She sat up in the hospital bed listening carefully to the doctor. She glanced at Nicole for just a second before turning her attention back.
Blaire wiped her face. “She woke up, so I called the nurse, but then as soon as I started talking to her I knew something was wrong. She just kinda froze and stared at me. It was eerie.”
“Who’s in there with her now?”
“That’s Sophia, the nurse on call, and Dr. Manzo came in to consult. There was another doctor around here somewhere, but he wouldn’t talk to me. Just the nurse.”
“Great.”
“Raquelle went to our apartment to get Evie’s glasses. She said she couldn’t see.”
“She wears contacts?”
“Yeah.”
“Did they kick you out?”
“No. I kinda lost it when she said she didn’t know her name, so I kicked myself out. I’ll go back in when I can keep it together. I can’t believe this.”
Nicole reached out and gave Blaire’s upper arm a firm squeeze. “She’s awake. That’s what matters. Let’s just wait and see what the doctor says.”
“Okay.” Nicole watched Blaire as she seemed to pull it together. It took a lot to bring Nicole to tears, but she didn’t blame Blaire one bit. Nicole was doing her best to hide her own internal freak-out. Evie would be okay. She’d be fine.
“I think we have some friends of yours out in the hallway,” Nicole heard the doctor say to Evie. “I’d like to invite them in and maybe we can talk about this together. Would that be okay with you?”
“Yeah, okay,” Evie said as she looked back in their direction. Nicole could really see it now. There was something off about Evie’s voice and not just the tone of it. She was such a polite person. Most of her sentences included some form of please or thank you. She was never this dry. Dr. Manzo stepped out into the hall and quietly introduced herself. Nicole filled the doctor in on her role in this situation.
“It appears that Yvonne is experiencing some memory loss. This sometimes occurs with head injuries.” Nicole nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. She had to let the doctor speak before she peppered her with questions. “Just to clarify, neither of you are family or her significant other.”
“No,” Blaire said. “She’s an onl
y child and there’s no boyfriend or girlfriend. And—no immediate family either. Everyone passed away. Wait!”
“Yeah?” Nicole urged.
“There was a guy. Shit, I can’t remember his name. Evie grew up on a ranch and the people who owned the place—she made it sound like they were cousins or something. I think Raquelle knows.”
“Okay. Why don’t you come in, introduce yourselves, and we’ll hold off on asking her any questions. Memory loss can be a little scary and very confusing. It’s best if we keep from distressing her any further. How does that sound?”
“We can do that,” Nicole replied before she glanced over at Blaire, who appeared to have pulled it all the way together. She nodded before adding her own confident, “Okay.”
“Good.” Dr. Manzo dipped her chin and motioned for them to head on into room. Just as they were about to start their introductions, Raquelle hurried into the room, flushed and out of breath.
“Here, I’m back. Sorry. Here are your glasses,” Raquelle panted. Nicole wondered for a moment if she ran up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. Dr. Manzo waited until Evie slid the thick pink frames on her face before continuing.
“Is that better?”
Evie blinked, looking around at her captive audience. “Yes. That’s much better.”
“Good. Why don’t you go ahead,” Dr. Manzo said with another dip of her head in Blaire’s direction.
“I’m Blaire. Best friend, roommate, not ride-or-die, but ride-and-never-let you-leave-the-house-in-shoes-that-don’t-really-go-with-your-outfit. I teach AP history at Hope Academy in Harlem. Oh, um. We’ve lived together for four years. It’s been a good four years,” Blaire said with a little laugh. Evie’s lip lifted a bit at the corner, but it was far from a full smile.
“Evie, I’m your agent,” Nicole said. “You have a career as a chef and you cook on a morning show. I’ve been representing you for a little over two years.”
Evie nodded and uttered a quiet “Hello,” but that was it. Nicole could see it in her eyes. Evie had no idea who any of them were.
“And I’m Raquelle. I’m your personal assistant. I do, like, everything you need and I help run your social media accounts. I’m your right hand, really.” The girl was working up to a serious ramble, but Nicole didn’t stop her. “You’re allergic to kiwi, but it won’t kill you. It just makes you sick. You’re mildly allergic to strawberries, but you eat them anyway. Your dirty secret is how much you love Kraft Mac and Cheese. When Fenty Beauty dropped, you requested an extra sample kit just for me and that was the coolest thing ever. Definitely landed you the best-boss-ever award. Oh and you’re a Pisces. Also you just got a new IUD so you don’t have to worry about that for a little while.”
The nurse piped up, giving Evie a warm smile. “These three ladies have been by your side day and night. You’ve got your own fairy godmothers right here.”
“That’s right.” Dr. Manzo gave Evie a little pat on her arm before she turned to the nurse. “I think we should get Miss Buchanan in for another MRI. We’ll definitely want to keep an eye on you for at least a couple more days. I don’t want to get any hopes up, but we’ll try to get you out of here in time for Christmas.”
“You, um—you had a trip planned, but I’ll contact the airline and see if we can get your money reimbursed or get you a flight voucher or something . . .” Raquelle trailed off, withering under Dr. Manzo’s intense focus. Right now the less information they threw at Evie the better.
“Why don’t we get out of their way and then we can check in with Dr. Manzo later,” Nicole said.
“I’d like to stay. If I can,” Blaire said. “I called out for the rest of the week anyway.”
“Me too,” Raquelle added. “I mean Evie’s my boss. This kinda is my work.”
“Can they stay?” Evie said, taking the whole room by surprise. She’d barely said a word.
“Absolutely,” Dr. Manzo replied with a warm smile. “There’s a cafeteria down on three. We’ll send someone by as soon as we’re finished.”
“Okay. I’ll head down with you,” Nicole said. She stepped into the hallway and waited for Blaire to grab her bag before the three of them headed to the elevator. They all stood there in silence, as if they’d made some private pact to wait until they were safe in the elevator before they said another word.
“Fuck,” Nicole said under her breath before saying it again, a little louder. “Fuck!”
“Yeah,” Blaire added.
“So we just wait?” Raquelle asked. Nicole looked over at the twenty-three-year-old. She’d come on as Evie’s assistant two months after she’d signed with Nicole. The three of them had been through a lot together in such a short period of time. A traumatic brain injury was not something she wanted to add to their group bucket list. Nicole let out a short breath, then turned to face them.
“Okay. Both or either of you stay as long as you can, but I think you should take turns and one of you should go home and try and get some sleep. We’re no good to Evie if we’re dead on our feet.”
“I can’t sleep. Sorry. I’m too wired,” Blaire said.
“Same.” Raquelle sighed.
“I’ll probably crash out later, but now—”
“Yeah, no, that’s fair. I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin,” Nicole admitted. The door dinged on five. An elderly black man stepped on and pressed the button for the ground floor. Nicole would have to wait to lay out the rest of her game plan. When the doors opened on three, she ushered Raquelle and Blaire out into the hallway and found a quiet corner next to a vending machine.
“Okay. Protocol stands. If anyone has any questions you direct them to me.” Nicole hated to sound so calculated, but the narrative was everything. The police had spoken to as many of the party guests as they could and still no one had a clue how Evie had wound up so badly injured in the stairwell. With no real facts, folks were left to gossip.
If people thought Evie couldn’t handle her booze or keep her balance at a simple holiday party, that could cause problems for her extremely clean image that, in her case, reflected the real thing. Evie had worked way too hard for her career and her brand. The last thing Nicole wanted was a set of loose lips screwing things up with Evie and the producers on The Dish. “Has Evie’s phone quieted down a bit?” she asked Raquelle.
“Yes, and I did like you said. Ignored all the general texts expressing concern and responded as myself to personal friends. She slipped when one of her heels broke and bumped her head.”
“Excellent. For now. Evie is doing much better. She’s just going to lay low for the holidays and get some rest. Got it?”
Nicole watched Raquelle’s throat work as she processed her instructions. When she nodded, Nicole went on. “I’ll let the network and production know she’s up and about and will be ready to go when we’re back from the break. I have to run back to the office. I have a meeting at four, but 9-1-1 text me if anything else comes up. I’ll swing back by tonight. You going to be okay?” she asked Blaire. Tears were lining her eyes again.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m just worried about her. She had no idea who we were.”
“I know. Let’s just think best-case scenarios for now. Her memory could come back in the next few hours. We panic when we need to panic. Try to at least take a nap. You’re a good fucking friend, Blaire, but you can’t be there for Evie if you can’t stand up.”
“Okay. I’ll get some sleep. I promise.”
“Oh! What was that business about the ranch? The cousins or something.”
“Right! Raquelle. Evie told me you have all her in-case-of-an-emergency info saved, right? There was some guy she grew up with on that ranch. He knew her grandmother?”
“Oh yeah. Um . . . the last name was Pleasant. I have it my docs. Hold on.” They waited as Raquelle’s finger flew across her phone screen. “Jesse Pleasant. He uh . . . hold on one sec. Big Rock Ranch, Charming, California.”
“That’s it!” Blaire said with a loud snap o
f her fingers. “I knew she was from some town that sounded extra cutesy.”
“But she told me literally only to call him if she dies,” Raquelle said.
“Okay. Well, she’s not dead,” Nicole replied. “But let’s keep that number in the top of the contacts.”
“Why? What are you thinking?” Blaire asked.
“I’m thinking about what we’re going to do if her memory doesn’t come back.”
* * *
Evie snapped out of a deep sleep, her whole body jerking. Her eyes blinked open as her heart thudded in her chest. It was so much so fast, she closed her eyes again. Her head still hurt a little. She’d been dreaming and she wasn’t ready to wake up. She knew she was in the hospital. She’d spent almost a whole day being subjected to tests. There had been an accident and she’d hit her head and now she couldn’t remember a thing. But she wasn’t alone. When she’d woken up the first time, the woman named Blaire, who was apparently her best friend and roommate, had been by her bedside and she’d stayed there most of the day. Blaire answered her questions and helped make a little more sense of what she was missing.
She was a chef who starred on a morning television show. There had been a holiday party and she’d fallen down some stairs. Blaire had showed her pictures they’d taken while they were getting dressed for the party. She now recognized Blaire with her luminous brown skin, beautiful hair, and bright smile, but the woman next to her in the photo was a complete stranger. When Evie asked to see a mirror and was presented with Blaire’s cell phone camera so she could look at her face, she still felt like she was looking at a stranger, but this time the stranger wore glasses and had bandage on the side of her head. Not knowing her own face—hell, being unsure of her own name—filled Evie with a kind of unease that she couldn’t put into words. But something told her at the very least she could trust Blaire.
When she wasn’t having her body’s metrics taken or subjected to various scans, or listening to Blaire, she slept. Three times throughout the day and all through the night, she slept hard. Every time she’d had a weird dream. Bits and pieces of each dream still lingered. She remembered this most recent dream so clearly, she felt like she was still working her way through it.
A Cowboy to Remember Page 2