"No, we were just in the neighborhood and needed a few things. It seemed easier to grab them—"
"Hey, who's this?" a bright voice interrupts Shana from behind me. Blue eyes are set in a heart-shaped face framed by shoulder length blonde hair, pushed back in a headband. Dressed similarly to Shana, torn jeans are topped by another puffy ski jacket over a slim body.
"This is Josie," Shana says, throwing her arm casually over the other woman's shoulders.
"You're kidding! Hi, Josie, I've been dying to meet you. Tracey had so many nice things to say about you."
Finally, I realize that this must be Heath's ex, Lori. The warmth rushing up my neck in embarrassment causes me to take yet another step back, even as I paste a smile on my face.
"You must be, Lori. How nice to finally meet you." My God, you're so small. "Tracey is a sweetheart. She's made me feel really welcome." Too bad our relationship was probably short-lived.
"You, too. How are you doing?" Again, a note of sympathy has me questioning how bad I must look in this moment. "I told Mark he owes you big time," Lorie continues as I stare at her in stunned silence. "That was a dick move."
"You heard what happened?"
"Yeah," Shana chimes in. "He and Cliff had a big argument about it when Cliff came by to pick up Tracey the other night. He got really annoyed when we told him how shitty his behavior was."
"You did?" My eyes dart around the aisle to assure me that I haven't fallen into some alternate universe, because in no version of reality did I ever expect to find Shana and Lori championing my cause.
"Of course," Lori chimes in. "Cliff was really pissed because I gather he got a lot of the blowback. It sounds like you were a bit hard on him as well. Believe me, whatever flames you were breathing were passed along to Mark. I'm surprised there weren't scorch marks on the wall," she says with a laugh.
"Did he tell you that he knew, too? That he didn't give me a heads up before Mark let me get blindsided?"
"He did." She hesitates, her tone more sober now. "Listen, I know how hard that must have been for you. We both told them that they deserved everything you gave them. Judging by how heated things got, it's obvious you were on fire." The look she exchanges with Shana confirms their surprise at what they must have heard.
"She's right," Shana confirms. "We're behind you, it's just—"
"Cliff's been really happy since he started seeing you," Lori rushes in. "He's more relaxed, which means he's less uptight about Tracey. She's a teenage girl, she wants to adore her dad. It's easier when her dad is happy and has his own life, rather than trying to micromanage hers." The accompanying eye roll would be amusing if I wasn't so uncomfortable with the source.
"I love my brother," Shana adds. "I know it seems like he's a total ass right now, but I've never seen him happier either since you came around." She laughs. "Or angrier, since you told him to go fuck himself. Give him another chance. It's obvious you're hurting, but I've never seen him put so much pressure on himself. I think he's really struggling, too. If there's one thing Lori and I agree on," she waits for Lori's nod before continuing, "they're worth taking a chance."
"Just think about it," Lori adds. "It would be great to have everyone together for Christmas. No one should be alone for the holidays. Besides, guilt can get you some extravagant gifts."
The sincerity shining in their faces makes me feel small, but it's hard to let down that wall. My instincts are screaming at me to burn it all down and start over, while my inner harlot has hidden the matches and attempted to smuggle a fire extinguisher over the wall.
"It was nice to meet you," I say to Lori. "I really need to get going."
"Just think about it. We'd love to have you for dinner one night when Tracey's there. I'm sure she'd really enjoy it."
"Sure, that would be great." I edge farther away with my cart. "Maybe after everything settles down."
"Josie." Shana's voice halts my progress again. "He really does love you."
"What makes you think so?"
"He told me," I stop once more in surprise, before shaking my head and backing my cart away farther.
"He has a funny way of showing it."
"I never said he was smart." Tucking her arm into Lori's, they head off toward the registers, heads together in quiet conversation as I open the glass case and grab a second pint.
Chapter 41
Crisis of the Soul
Snuggling into bed with a book is one of the greatest pleasures in life. It's been ages since I've taken time to simply enjoy a story rather than ignoring all the books on my to be read pile to focus on writing instead. Now I remember why.
I haven't acknowledged Lady Sydney and her men since the blow up at work. At the end of the day, it seems silly. Why was I trying to capture readers' imaginations when there's already such a wealth of choices out there? It's not like I have anything unique or different to contribute. No one cares about Lady Sydney's sad existence. She's just a train wreck of a woman who allows men to use her while she dreams that something will change.
There are so many better examples of kickass women who take no prisoners and use men as their pawns for pleasure. Yet, I can't stop my heart from aching for Sydney, who struggles to prove her value in a world where she's treated as a convenient accessory.
Flipping idly through the pages, I realize that the story I'm reading is making me feel worse instead of better. The words mock my efforts that I could ever have lived up to this standard. It was insane to try.
Oh well. As tired as I am, I doubt I'd be able to read much before falling asleep anyway. A crack sounds like a gunshot as I yawn, my fingers automatically massaging my jaw to relieve the pain. I really need to see someone about that. At the rate I'm going, my jaw is going to fuse permanently shut one day from the amount of time I spend clenching my teeth together. Like when your mother threatened that your eyes would cross permanently if you didn't stop rolling them. Clearly, it's just a matter of time before I'm both blind and mute.
Tense is not a strong enough word to describe my state of my mind lately, as my neck, shoulders, and jaw can all attest. So much for meditation. Although, I've been avoiding that lately, too. My mind is a messy place these days. I really have no desire to sit in stillness with my thoughts anymore.
I won't be able to avoid Emma's questions much longer. Luckily, her messages from the road have been oddly brief. I'm surprised that she extended her trip for a second week, but as much as I miss my friend, it's a relief not to be under her microscope, although I know she would side with me.
A mild vibration sends shivers through the covers as I glance at the screen, expecting my nightly check in from Emma, only to see Mark's number flash. Nope, not tonight. I don't have the energy to explain myself yet again. If he doesn't understand by now why I'm so upset, I will never be able to convince him.
Dropping it to my nightstand, I ignore the buzzing as it vibrates a second time and sink down into my covers, picking up my paperback again. Two minutes later, it vibrates once more. Another two minutes, and I grab the phone in annoyance, only to see this one has Heath's number, but I'm not ready for conversations there either.
It's been a week since I last spoke to Heath and almost two since my argument with Mark. It's hard enough to rip off the band-aid without letting someone slice open the wound every day. I've drawn a proverbial circle of salt around me, and I'll be damned if I'm going to allow them to draw me out of it until I'm ready.
Finally, a text hits the screen from Heath, bolting me upright in bed.
Doolittle: Josie, pick up the goddamn phone! I need you to meet me at the hospital!
Snatching up my phone, I call him immediately, my heart racing.
"Where are you? Which hospital? What's happening?"
"They just took Simon away in an ambulance. We're heading to Jefferson. Meet us there."
"What happened?" I cry, scrambling from my bed to grab clothes from the closet, setting the phone to speaker.
"I don't know. A
ll I can tell you is that they took Simon away. It looks like maybe an overdose. Just fucking meet me there."
"Jesus. I'm on my way!" The call disconnects, and Heath is gone as I numbly go through the motions of tying back my hair and slipping on flats.
Grabbing my purse and house keys, I rush to the door, wondering if I should try to call an Uber. The night is frosty, but it's clear and starlit. Finally, I just decide to run and hope I see a cab along the way. Texting Emma, I let her know where I'm going and why, needing to share my anxiety, before finally tucking my phone in my purse and jogging down the street.
* * *
Rushing into the emergency room, I find Heath pacing the corridor while Mark stands propped against a wall, tapping one foot restlessly against the ugly green tile.
"What the hell happened?" I gasp, bending over to catch my breath as I finally stop running and skid to a stop before them.
"We don't know," Mark says. "I just got back into town. Apparently, someone on the floor below Simon called the security desk because they heard Brutus whining and howling nonstop. They thought it was unusual enough to call downstairs. The security guard went up and knocked on Simon's door. When Brutus wouldn't stop barking and Simon never answered, they used a master key and found him passed out on the floor."
"Who saw him last? And where is Brutus now?" I ask as Heath and I look to Mark for answers.
"I'm pretty sure they locked Brutus in the apartment when they brought Simon here. One of us will need to go back and grab him. Simon will never forgive us if we let anything happen to Brutus."
"When was the last time you saw Simon?" I ask while Heath and Mark exchange guilty looks, each trying to figure out what to say.
"I guess no one has talked to him in at least a week or so," Mark says.
"Oh my God!" I explode. "I told you guys to watch him. What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Well, no one has been overly chatty since we've all had to retreat to our various corners," Heath grunts. "I guess there's just been some self-absorption all the way around. When was the last time you spoke to him, Josie?" Heath asks pointedly.
"About the same," I admit, guilt flooding through me like a wave. "I've been running myself ragged at the store, and I was avoiding Simon because he was poking. He wanted to know what was going on between all of us."
"Well then, I guess you're going to have to take some of the blame, too. Stop passing the buck. If you're going to make unreasonable decisions, you should at least have the guts to own them," Mark snarks from where he slouches against the wall.
"Really, Mark? I don't think it's unreasonable to expect someone you trust to have your back."
"Will you two stop!" Heath says sharply. "I'm getting tired of hearing it, and I really don't think this is the time, do you?"
Looking away, I shift uncomfortably, ashamed to realize he's right. This isn't a time for blame, this is a time for us to be supportive of our friend, who is in crisis. Leaning against the opposite wall, I reach out my hand to grab Heath's on his next pass, pulling him to a stop next to me.
"What do we know?"
"Nothing. It's a wonder the guard even thought to call Mark. I hope the press doesn't get a hold of this." Heath looks at Mark. "That could get messy."
"Why did the guard call you, Mark?" I ask quietly.
"Matt's a good guy. I got him reservations for dinner last year when he wanted to surprise his wife for their anniversary. He's seen me and Simon together a couple times, I guess. I also think he just hated the thought of Simon being at the hospital without anyone. From what I can tell, he rarely has friends up to his place. I guess I was the only one that Matt thought might know if he had family around."
"Well, I guess we should be grateful for that." I press myself into Heath's side, wishing he would put his arm around my shoulder but unwilling to force it.
"I don't think we need to worry about the press. They've been pretty much leaving Simon alone for the last couple months or so." Mark shrugs. "Up until this, he's been keeping a low profile. I guess it depends on how bad this turns out."
"Have you even seen a doctor or anyone to speak to yet?" I ask, nibbling at my dry cuticles and huddling against Heath's warmth, yet still feeling desperately cold inside. The guys shake their heads as everyone falls silent, waiting for something to happen.
Emergency rooms used to fascinate me. Maybe it's knowing that just as the city is going to sleep and silence begins to reign on the streets, that's when the emergency room becomes a veritable hotspot. My Uncle Richard used to love working the night shift, especially during the full moon. He said it was the best show in town.
The hustle of activity as doors swish open and closed, the wail of sirens as ambulances arrive and depart—it's like the heartbeat of the city shifts it's internal organs after every sunset to settle into this kaleidoscope of sights and sounds. Just add a disco ball, and it's like some macabre rave of the lost and the hapless.
The sea of people come and go, but the sounds wash over and through me as I kick myself for leaving Simon to his own devices. Deep down, I sensed that he wasn't taking care of himself the way he should, and yet I chose to ignore it. Instead of paying attention to his attempts to reach out, I allowed him to joke it away when I rebuffed them. Mostly, so that I wouldn't be tempted to insert myself into his life and make more choices that would be divisive to our little unit.
Searching Heath and Mark's stony faces, I'm saddened to realize that it didn't matter. Look where we ended up anyway. I need to stop ignoring my gut instincts and avoid worrying about consequences. From this point on, I'm sticking to Simon like a burr in a troll patch, no matter what anyone thinks. It's not in my nature to ignore someone who needs my help. I won't let that happen again.
"Westcott?" I look to the nurse in pink scrubs who searches the room. "Is there anyone here for Westcott?"
"We are!" I push away from the wall as Mark and Heath straighten, all of us united in a line as the nurse approaches.
"Are you family?" she asks, eyes searching each of us.
"N—" Heath begins as I kick his ankle, interrupting him with a frown.
"I'm his girlfriend. All of his immediate family are in England. We're the closest thing he has to family here." I gesture to the guys, who nod seriously to reinforce my point.
"Oh, well…normally, we would only speak to immediate family." The nurse lowers her voice conspiratorially. "I heard he was living here, but I didn't hear he had a girlfriend. I'm glad he's not alone." Raising her voice back to a normal level, she continues. "He's going to be fine. We had to wake him up to run some tests and get a neuro status, but we've given him something to put him back to sleep for now. We'll keep him for the night, but he should be ok to leave tomorrow."
"Do you know what happened?" I chew on my lip, relieved that it wasn't as serious as I feared, but concerned as to how to keep it from happening again.
"You need to get him to take better care of himself and to stop self-medicating. Mixing alcohol with sleeping aids is always a slippery slope. I don't care whether they're homeopathic or not. Even valerian and melatonin can be dangerous in excess. Add alcohol, and you're flirting with liver damage over time. He was also severely dehydrated, so get him to drink more water and eat better. His iron and potassium levels are severely low as well."
"Got it," I say in relief. That's so much better than I hoped, although it doesn't mean I won't kick his ass when I get him alone.
"Can we see him?" Heath asks.
"One at a time. We're going to keep him down here for observation and not move him to a regular room unless necessary. It would be better if we're able to just discharge him from here in a couple hours if we can."
"I want to see him." My voice is firm. "I don't want him in there alone. Someone needs to see to Brutus."
"I can take him to the clinic overnight, but you're going to have to convince them to let me take him, Mark. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea for us to keep him for a few days so that Simon
doesn't have to worry about walking him and such."
"He's not going to want to go home without Brutus," Mark points out.
"He's not going home," I say. "I'm putting him in my guest room for a few days until I'm sure he's ok. I'm not risking him going back to his old tricks. He's getting an intervention, whether he wants one or not."
"He could stay in my spare room," Mark ventures. "That way he's still close to his stuff. You can stay, too, if you want."
"No, I still have to take care of Daisy, and I can't ask Emma. She's still away." I avoid Mark's eyes. I'm not ready to venture back into his territory. I have absolutely no willpower in his domain, and I'm not putting myself in the path of temptation. "Besides, won't you be heading back to New York?" Defense is always the best strategy.
"I'll be here for the weekend. I have to catch up at the restaurant."
"Well, there you go. Also, if the press do catch a whiff of this, no one will be looking for him at my place," I maintain. "Heath don't you have Tracey this weekend?" At Heath's nod, I continue, "Simon would probably be ok with you keeping Brutus at your place with Tracey. At least he'd know Brute was getting plenty of attention."
Sighing, Heath puts his hand on Mark's shoulder.
"Let's get Brutus. One of us can come back later and pick up Simon and Josie. The poor dog is probably desperate to get outside. Who knows when Simon walked him last. He's probably hungry, too." Turning serious eyes my way, Heath asks, "You sure you want to be the one to take him home? It makes sense for him to be at Mark's."
"No," I say stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest. "I want to be able to watch him. Just make sure Brute is safe. Leave the rest to me."
"What about work?" Mark asks. "I thought you were on thin ice now from my unbelievably insensitive and thoughtless transgressions."
"It's three am," I say wearily. "Can we table our sparring for another day? I can only take so much drama in one night."
Corsets and Quartets Page 38