The Rock Star Next Door, A Modern Fairytale

by Lily Silver

  “But . . . but . . .” Jessie didn’t know what to say in response. Jack’s words made sense, in theory. “We ran away, Jack. Eight years ago. We ran away from her.”

  “Yeah.” Jack agreed. He stood up, and turned to face her. “We were kids, Jess. Now we’re adults. So, who opened the gate and let the dragon into the castle this time?”

  “Me.” She admitted, realizing the truth of his words. She called their parents, and told them about the wedding. She invited them to come. She invited the dragon in.

  “If we can’t tame the dragon, dear sister, then we have to hire a dragon-slayer.”

  Jessie made a strangled sound in her throat. “You’ve been watching too much late night Sci-Fi.”

  The investigator’s office was neat, tidy, lacking any personal touches to make it comfortable. It was sterile, Lex mused as he waited for the PI to see him. Functional, nothing more. Lex’s agent assured him that Rolly Gibson was highly professional and discreet with an unshakable reputation among his rich and famous clients.

  “Mr. Gibson will see you.” The secretary rose from the designer glass desk to escort him into the inner office. The man was short, trim and athletic for a man in his late fifties.

  Lex shook the extended hand. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. Gibson.”

  “No problem. Call me Rolly, everyone does. Your agent called me before you arrived. He gave me a few details, Lex, if I may be so bold?”

  “Lex is fine.” Lex grinned, in spite of the desperation that drove him here. It was like being sucked into a 1940’s movie plot, minus the black and white atmosphere and zoot suite detective. Rolly Gibson wore a blue polo shirt, faded jeans and high end running shoes. He could blend in anywhere; the golf course, the grocery store, or walking the pier as a tourist. To his credit, the guy did have a gun harness strapped about his shoulder and he was smoking a cigar. The P. I. sat back in his chair and gave Lex a long look.

  Lex had the impression of being sized up in an instant by the sharp gray eyes in spite of the fact that he was the client, not a suspect.

  “So, Lex,” Rolly stomped out his cigar in the antique silver tray and smiled in a friendly manner he must use to put his clients at ease. “Tell me about your fiancée. Has she split up with anyone recently? Say, someone wanting to get even with her for breaking his heart?”

  “No. She hasn’t dated for over two years. There was a guy at Universal studios, a stunt man. They parted on bad terms. Her brother and his friends roughed him up a bit, broke his arm. I don’t recall his name.” He didn’t want to make this into a big deal. He didn’t want Rolly to go turning up tinsel town over something that happened a long time ago. He just wanted Jessie to be safe.

  “Gang assault? What did he do to Ms. Kelly?” The question was rapid fire.

  Lex fingered his earring, not really wanting to go into the sordid details of Jessie’s past affair with a complete stranger. “I doubt it’s Kevin. He would be crazy to harass her after all this time.”

  “Kevin, huh? Thought you didn’t know his name.”

  “I don’t. It’s just Kevin the stunt man, that’s all she told me.” Lex fidgeted in his chair, regretting his decision to come here.

  “You never can tell.” Rolly rocked the leather desk chair back and forth in a casual, hypnotic fashion as if it were an old habit. “Old boyfriends tend to get weird when they find their former lover has achieved superstardom. And, if he had a broken arm, could be a loss of income, a job . . . you’d be surprised at what triggers people. I’ll check him out. I’ll get a printout of the incoming calls to the house. A land-line, that’s pretty easy to track. It should tell us who called last night and from where.”

  “You can do that?”

  “With a good software program and a little hacking experience, yeah, you betcha! And if I can’t get in I know rogue IT guys who’ll do it for the sheer challenge.”

  “You’ll be discreet?”

  “Count on it. I have a good rep in this town because I don’t make a habit of calling the Inquirer to discuss my client’s business. Is it possible to talk to your fiancée? She might give us some leads. Even if she doesn’t know the guy she might be able to tell us if he’s got an accent or she may have heard some background noise that could clue us in on where he hangs out. The skate park, Hollywood and Vine, that sort of thing.”

  The memory of her paralyzed with fear, unable to speak without stuttering, spurred Lex on in his quest. “She’s home now if you don’t mind the drive to Malibu.”

  “I’m free for the afternoon.” Rolly rose, and after gleaning the address from Lex, he promised to follow him out to the Malibu compound.

  Jessie had showered and finished off the last of the vanilla yogurt while Jack brooded over his coffee nearby. He finished his coffee and went upstairs to finish dressing. Steve came in from his morning run, removed his T-shirt and leaned against the granite counter near the fridge. As he wiped his brow with the fluorescent green fabric Steve pushed the voicemail button on the house phone as he was waiting on a call from a friend in Santa Monica.

  Jessie was just pouring him a glass of orange juice when her mother’s jarring voice filled the kitchen.

  “I’m putting a stop to this wedding business once and for all. You’re not going to shame us by marrying that pervert. I’m calling his mother in Phoenix and telling her what a little slut my daughter is. And an idiot for getting herself knocked up.” Bleep.

  The juice pitcher fell to the floor with a crash. Jessie felt as if she’d been struck in the chest. She gasped. Steve guided her to a chair as she struggled to breathe.

  “She won’t do it, Jess. She doesn’t even have the number.” Steve assured her.

  “She does. I gave it to Dad two weeks ago. He said they wanted to coordinate a wedding gift with Lex’s parents . . . Oh--No, No . . .”

  “Jess, she won’t go that far, not with a complete stranger.” Steve insisted as he bent over her.

  She gazed up at him, unable to breathe, unable to think. Her chest burned. She would swear she could feel a knife blade penetrating deep inside her heart. It hurt. It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Jessie gasped, and splayed her hand over her heart, hoping the pressure of her hand would ease the agonizing pain.

  “JACK.” Steve screamed, realizing that Jessie was holding her chest, her face distorted with pain. “Jack, get down here, now.”

  “What the hell?” Jack took one look at Jessie and slid across the floor on his knees, catching her in his arms as she slumped forward from the chair to the floor.

  “She heard the message . . . I’m sorry, dude, I wasn’t thinking . . .”

  “Damn.” Jack swore, “She’s not breathing. Jessie.”

  “Oh, Jesus.” Steve whirled around in a panic and grabbed the phone. With shaking fingers he dialed 911.

  “Jess. Come on. Don’t do this to me.” Jack’s sharp growl echoed in the house.

  The dogs began barking. Steve rushed to the door to let in the arriving paramedics.

  Lex brushed past an ashen Steve. Jack was on his knees on the kitchen floor, holding Jessie. Jack was screaming at his sister, losing control, shaking her to try to make her open her eyes and look at him.

  “Step aside.” Lex commanded, taking Jessie from the distraught Jack. He took her into his arms and felt her pulse. Everyone was talking at him at once; Jack, Steve and then detective Gibson was there asking if they’d called an ambulance. Lex focused on Jessie, trying to ascertain if she were breathing, she seemed so deathly pale and still.

  She was still breathing. She was just coming around from a deep faint. The paramedic siren flew into the driveway, and the dogs rushed at them, snapping and snarling, refusing to allow them entrance.

  It was chaos. Frightened by the reality of his sister’s deep swoon, Jack could barely talk. Steve wrestled with the dogs while Rolly admitted the ambulance attendants.

  Lex stepped back and let the paramedics take control of the situation.

 
They took her pulse, opened her eyes to study her pupils, and monitored her heart. She was placed on a gurney and carried to the ambulance. An oxygen mask was strapped over her face.

  Lex grabbed the stunned Jack and led him to his car as the attendants refused to allow either of them to ride with her to the hospital.

  Jack was babbling, unable to explain what happened to his sister. He said something about another message on the machine and Lex put two and two together.

  “She heard it?”

  Jack nodded. “Steve said she wasn’t breathing.”

  “She was. She just fainted, Jack.” Lex assured him.

  Within minutes they were entering the parking lot of the Malibu Medical Center. They entered the ER and were escorted into a cubicle so the admission clerk could interview Jack regarding his sister’s registration. After Jack answered what questions he could, Lex and Jack sat together in the visitor area waiting for someone to come out and tell them what had happened to the woman they loved.

  Steve managed to get the dogs into the bathroom off the kitchen and was about to hop in his car and follow them to the hospital when he realized there was a strange man in their kitchen, a man with a notebook looking dangerously like a reporter.

  “Who the hell are you?” He snapped, picking up a vase on his way in from the foyer. “Get out or I’ll call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing."

  “Roland Gibson, Private Detective.” The graying man with the tennis shoes and tweed blazer extended a hand. “Mr. Coltrane hired me to find out who is harassing his fiancée. We came together, I assure you. He wanted me to ask Ms. Kelly some questions.”

  Steve shook the vase at him, ignoring the extended hand. “It’s private. If Jessie wanted him to know, she’d tell him herself.”

  “An old flame? An overzealous fan?”

  “I have to get to the hospital.” Steve insisted. “You need to leave.”

  “I’ll find out, either way. I’m about to have the incoming phone calls printed out. I can do that, as a former FBI operative. Or, you could tell me, save me the trouble.”

  Steve didn’t know what to do. He lowered the vase, stepped over the broken juice pitcher and started picking up the jagged shards and tossing them into the sink. Jessie might kill him but Jack was right; Lex had to know. Sooner or later, Lex would find out. Maybe he could give the guy a clue without actually telling him who it was.

  He turned to the detective, studying him for an uncertain moment as he argued with himself. He was doing Jessie a favor, really, he was. With one fluid movement, he pressed the voicemail button. Marcie’s emotionally charged voice filled the kitchen.

  The detective’s eyebrows shot up. The short, wiry man scribbled some notes on his pad and then stepped over to where Steve stood and pressed the button again to replay the message a second time. He scribbled some more. “The prank caller is her mother?”

  “I let you listen to the message. The rest you’ll have to figure out on your own. That is what Lex is paying you to do, isn’t it?” Steve challenged, crossing his arms in a resolute pose. “I have to leave and that means you do, too.”

  “Thanks.” The detective shot back as Steve followed him to the door. “And, a bit of advice, son. You might want to put a shirt on if you’re headed for the hospital.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “A Panic Attack.” Doctor Tsai told them as Lex and Jack stood outside the room where Jessie lay. “A serious one, but she should be fine in a day or so. I gave her a strong sedative. She’ll probably sleep for the rest of the day and through the night.”

  Lex and Jack heaved a collective sigh of relief.

  “Can I see her?” Jack asked. Giving Lex a quick look, he amended, “Can we see her?”

  “First, a few questions. Has your sister been under an unusual amount of stress in the past few weeks?”

  “Yeah.” Jack answered, licking his lips nervously as he looked to Lex. “Yeah, she’s been really upset. Harassed by . . . someone from her past. Phone calls in the middle of the night, threats, that sort of thing.”

  “Ms. Kelly is reasonably healthy, but she does have a slight heart murmur, which indicates a defect. Normally, such a thing is caught in infancy and corrected with minor surgery. Your parents never discussed this with you?”

  Jack looked pained. He avoided the penetrating gaze that Lex was giving him and looked down at the floor as he spoke in a mumble. “Our mother suffers from mental illness. And our father . . . wasn’t around much when we were growing up. Truck driver. On the road a lot.”

  “As I said, this condition is minor and correctable by surgery--in the early years. It seems odd the physician attending your birth didn’t pick up on it and inform your parents of the inherent dangers.” Dr. Tsai insisted, giving Jack a penetrating look. “If she were to use street drugs she would be placing herself in mortal danger. Her heart would be stressed to the point of death. If she were to take speed, for example.”

  “She doesn’t do speed or anything like that. She drinks coffee and once in a great while, a glass of wine or a margarita.” Jack whispered, shamefaced by the doctor’s declaration. He kept his gaze down, almost as if Jack sensed his own drug use might be surmised if he faced the doctor square on and looked into his eyes.

  “How fortunate.” The doctor wrote on Jessie’s chart. He peered over the rims of his glasses at Jack. “Her abstinence may have saved her life, this far. I see patients every week who are enslaved by their addictions, mostly the famous who believe they are invincible. They overuse street drugs and prescription meds, and eventually they come to see me, usually on a gurney.” He shook his head sadly, as if remembering certain celebrities who didn’t make it on his watch. He clicked the pen and slipped it onto the clipboard. “I hope I won’t be meeting you on a gurney in the near future.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jack mumbled, wiping his reddened nose with the back of his sleeve. He kicked at the floor with the toe of his boot, avoiding the doctor’s knowing gaze. “Mom left Jessie in the hospital. She took me home and didn’t even tell Dad she’d delivered twins. Dad was out of town, on a truck route, you see.”

  Lex didn’t know what to say. Neither did the doctor. Lex placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder and squeezed, just to let him know that he was with him.

  “My mom didn’t want another girl.” Jack continued, looking at neither man, but fixing his gaze on the granite floor tiles. “According to my aunt, she just called a cab, took me home and left Jessie in the nursery.”

  “Are you saying that perhaps your mother knew your sister had a defect in her heart and for that reason, abandoned her at the hospital?” Dr. Tsai queried with raised brows. “I’ve heard of that, on rare occasions, when a mother feels threatened by the idea of taking the infant home, afraid that it will die without professional care 24-7.”

  “No.” Jack straightened from his slump, growing agitated. “I’m saying that our mother went bonkers way back, before we were born. Who knows why she left Jessie behind.” Jack shrugged. “Aunt Rachel, that’s our mom’s sister, was the one to go to the hospital and bring Jessie home where she belonged. If mom knew Jessie had a heart defect, she never said so.”

  Lex stood stock still. He closed his eyes. He felt his jaw grow tight as he fought to contain the vile expletive struggling to be unleashed. How cold and cruel. He knew now why Jessie grew so uncomfortable and quiet whenever he brought up the subject of family; her only real family was the band.

  “What exactly is the diagnosis with her heart?” He asked as Jack drifted into a fatigued daze. “Do you have something specific or do we need to have more tests to discern the problem?”

  Dr. Tsai looked at his chart, pushed his glasses up on his nose, and then fixed Lex with an impervious stare. “Pulmonary Valve Stenosis.” The physician closed his chart with a snap. “The pulmonary valve is narrower than usual and the right ventricle is linked to the lungs via the pulmonary valve. When it’s narrower, it has to pump harder to make up for the defect. Extr
eme stress, such as you mentioned, can have an adverse affect upon the patient. I ordered a chest x-ray and an MRI, but I strongly recommend she sees a cardiologist. They can do an Echocardiography to determine the extent of the damage.”

  “Damage?” Lex and Jack exclaimed as one.

  “Yes, in theory. There is no telling how extensive the damage is to your sister’s heart, yet, given she’s lived with it for twenty four years without knowing she has the defect would suggest the situation is not critical--at this point. This condition can deteriorate rapidly under extreme stress and that is why I’m referring her to a cardiologist for further tests. Usually, drugs can be prescribed to keep the valves open.”

  “This has never happened before.” Jack protested. He looked from Lex to the doctor for reassurance. “She’s always been healthy. She walks daily and eats practically vegetarian.” He threw up his hands in exasperation. “I don’t get it.”

  “We’re not talking about high cholesterol caused by diet.” The physician corrected. “This is a birth defect that has gone unnoticed, probably because it was minor, until now. The stress of her career may have had some damaging affect and more specifically, the harassing phone calls she mentioned as an immediate stress factor.” Dr. Tsai pulled Lex back from his reflective indignation. “Have you contacted the police? Your sister’s condition is serious, Mr. Kelly. She should see a cardiologist. And whatever is causing her stress should be avoided. Perhaps a change of residence would ease her anxiety.”

  “Agreed.” Lex jumped in. “She’s coming home with me, no argument.”

  Jessie was still shaking. The oxygen mask had been removed, but she still felt her breath coming in uneven gasps. She couldn’t talk, it was too much effort. Lex and Jack stood over her cot, one on either side, each one holding her hand as they told her she was going to be staying with Lex for a while.

  Both of them were stern, yet full of tenderness and concern as they stood looking down at her. She couldn’t fight them, not together, not when she felt so dizzy and sick. Later she could figure out what to do, much later, but for now, she just wanted to go home and lie down, take a good, long nap.