by Amy Brent
That was usually my routine.
I was not happy to be on the receiving end of it.
I didn’t even feel like seeing the Russian twins anymore.
Fuck.
CHAPTER SEVEN: Fiona
From the sound of Kyle’s frantic call, I arrived at the hospital fully expecting to find Ramona Cassidy on her death bed. Instead, she was sitting up in a bed in the ER smiling and chatting as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with her. She was still wearing her ball gown and jewels from the benefit. The only thing she had taken off were her expensive shoes, and they were resting on the foot of the bed where she could watch them.
Ramona Cassidy had always been vibrant and outgoing. She called herself the “personality of the family”. It was an appropriate claim, given that her husband, Edward, had the sense of humor of a prison guard and a serious expression permanently glued to his face, and her son, Kyle, well, we’ve already covered his shortcomings.
A gorgeous, buxom blond in her youth who worked for a time as a pinup model, she had aged well thanks to daily spa treatments and one of the best plastic surgeons in the city. At sixty-eight, her once-blond hair had gone blue-gray but was never out of place, and her makeup, which she hadn’t done herself for forty years, was flawless, even at one in the morning. She was full figured now (her words for chubby), even though she claimed to work out with a personal trainer three times a week. Given her family’s penchant for sex on the side (Edward was a notorious womanizer), I had a pretty good idea what that meant. Ramona was a lot like her son. That apple fell from the tree, but was still tightly connected by an invisible umbilical cord.
Still, I like Ramona. She wasn’t crazy about me at first, urging her son would marry some socialite or daughter of a friend, but over time she came to value my honesty and loyalty to her family. I think she also respected me for sticking it out with her son, whom she knew could be the world’s biggest asshole at any given time.
Ramona was holding court when I opened the door to find her much more alive than dead. She loved being the center of attention, even under these circumstances. She was laughing and boisterous, even with a blood pressure cup tight around her arm and a doctor standing at the foot of the bed with a dour look on his face.
“Fiona, darling, thank goodness you’re here,” Ramona said dramatically, sweeping her arms open as if she were delivering an aria at the Met. She wiggled her fingers to beckon me to her. “Where have you been?”
“I’ve been wrapping up a few details from the benefit,” I said, coming to her bedside to take her hand. Edward and Kyle stood on the other side of the bed. Edward had a look of deep concern on his tired face. Kyle’s expression shifted from concern to anger when he saw me. The doctor stopped talking long enough for us to greet one another. Danny O was standing in the corner with his thick arms over his chest, as if he were charged with guarding the royal family.
“Are you okay?” I asked, squeezing her hand. I looked to the doctor for answers. “What happened?”
“She’s worn herself out,” Edward said in his usually grim voice, slowly shaking his head. The man had a billion dollars in assets and a wife who adored him and an army of mistresses to service him. I often wondered why he was so miserable.
“She had a heart attack,” Kyle said, his eyes fixed on mine. “After you left her behind at the benefit.”
“I didn’t leave her behind,” I said, defensively. “Your mom and dad left before I did.”
“I had a minor episode was on the way home in the car,” Ramona said, patting my hand and giving me a smile. She waved her free hand at the doctor. “Just a little shortness of breath, that’s all.”
“Shortness of breath was a symptom of the heart attack you were experiencing, Mrs. Cassidy,” the doctor said, holding up Ramona’s medical chart. “You have what’s called Congestive Heart Failure. Your heart could not keep up with your body’s demand for blood. The tightness in your chest and the shortness of breath was a sign of the heart attack.”
“How could that be?” Edward asked, looking down his nose at the doctor, as if his wife having a heart attack was too common a thing for someone of her stature. “She has no history of heart disease.”
“Mrs. Cassidy’s heart attack was caused by a buildup of fatty deposits in the arteries called plaque,” the doctor explained. “Which can reduce blood flow and cause a heart attack. If a clot forms and completely blocks the blood flow to that part of the heart muscle, a heart attack results, which was the case here.”
“So she had blocked arteries?” I asked, trying to put this words into layman’s terms we could all understand.
“Blocked arteries? Oh, posh!” Ramona had an air of condescension in her voice, like her husband, as if a blocked artery was somehow beneath her. “I’ve never had heart trouble in the past. I don’t smoke. I’m not a big drinker.” Edward cleared his throat and looked away. Ramona glared at him. “I’m not!!”
“You don’t have to smoke or drink to have a blockage,” the doctor said. I wasn’t sure why, but the doctor looked at me as he explained the problem, as if I were the only one capable of understanding. He illustrated his point by pressing three fingers to his chest. “There are three arteries leading into the heart. One of your arteries is fine, but the other two are blocked to some degree.”
“What degree?” I asked.
“One has 70% blockage and the other is around 50%.”
“But I feel fine,” Ramona said, holding a hand defensively to her chest. She looked at me with pleading eyes, as if I didn’t believe her. “Really, Fiona, I feel fine.”
“So, what does that mean?” I asked the doctor while squeezing Ramona’s hand, which had grown as cold as ice. “Can you treat it with medication or will she need surgery?”
The doctor closed the chart and tucked it under his arm. He braced his palms on the foot of the bed and gave Ramona a serious look that made her fingers tighten around mine. “We could try medication, but I think we would just be postponing the inevitable.”
“The inevitable being another heart attack?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes, a far more serious one perhaps.”
“So, what’s the surgery?” asked Kyle, giving the doctor a wary look. He stood across the bed from me holding his mother’s other hand. His eyes were red, but I couldn’t tell if it was from crying, drinking, or the stink of Wendy’s cunt. I almost felt sorry for the cheating son of a bitch. Almost.
The doctor talked with his hands. “We’ll do what’s called an angioplasty. We make a small incision in the groin area and insert a balloon-tipped catheter and feed that to the heart. We put a stent, a small mesh tube, over the balloon tip and direct the catheter into the blocked artery. We then inflate the balloon to open the artery, which also expands the stent, which locks in place to hold the artery open, allowing the blood to flow again. We deflate the balloon, remove the catheter, and leave the stent in place.”
“Amazing what they can do now,” Ramona said, forcing a smile for Kyle and Edward, who looked far more concerned than she did.
The doctor slid his hands inside the pockets of his white lab coat and put on a positive smile. “It’s very simple, really, Mrs. Cassidy. The chances of something going wrong are very slim. It’s a relatively routine procedure these days. Just takes a couple of hours under local anesthesia, with minimal recovery time.”
I felt Ramona’s fingers flex around mine. “And when would you do this procedure?”
The doctor let his thin shoulders go up and down. “As soon as we could schedule it.” He glanced at his watch. We all did. It was nearly two in the morning. He lifted his eyebrows and rubbed his stubbly chin. “I’ll need to bring in the cardiologist, then he can get it scheduled.”
“Cardiologist?” Edward grunted.
“Yes,” the doctor said. “We have a staff cardiologist, Dr. Patel. He has done hundreds of…”
“I think we should confer with our family doctor first,” Edward said, giving the doc
tor the scolding look as if he’d said something silly. He looked down at Ramona and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure Brooks would be offended if he wasn’t kept in the loop, my dear.”
“Brooks?” the doctor asked.
“Dr. Brooks Benton,” Edward said, our family practitioner. I’d like to get his input before anything is done to my wife. If he confers your diagnosis I’m sure he can recommend the best cardiologist in the city.”
“That’s certainly your prerogative, Mr. Cassidy,” the doctor said with a frown. He stared at Edward for a moment, then swung his eyes around to me. “Time is of the essence. This isn’t something that should be put off.”
“I’ll call Brooks now,” Edward said, reaching inside his jacket for his phone.
Romana grabbed his arm. “Oh no, don’t do that. He will be furious if you wake him up in the middle of the night. Call him in the morning.”
“This can’t wait,” I said forcefully. I gave Edward a hard look. “Call him. Now.”
He grumbled at the phone as he put on his glasses and stepped away to wake up his doctor in the middle of the night.
“I assume you’ll admit her tonight regardless of who does the procedure?” I asked.
“That would be best,” he said, giving me a smile that I thought was out of place. I caught him glancing at my cleavage and remembered that I was still wearing the little black dress and thong that had dried to a crusty film between my legs. I had also forgotten to check my hair and makeup before I ran out of the restroom after having sex with Nick. I wondered if the doctor could tell what I’d been doing. Could he smell the sex on me? Could the others? I found myself suddenly self-conscious and wanting to escape. I squeeze my thighs together and hoped it contained my scent.
“You want to keep me?” Ramona’s voice became tinged with fear, as if she hadn’t considered the fact that she would have to remain in the hospital until the procedure was performed.
“It’s okay, mother,” Kyle said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. Kyle was a shitty husband but was always the dutiful son. He worked his face into a serious frown and directed it at the doctor. “Is that necessary? For her to remain here overnight?”
“Mr. Cassidy, your mother has had a heart attack,” the doctor said incredulously. “She needs to be kept on a heart monitor on oxygen and medication until the procedure can be performed. And she’ll need to stay at least a day afterward so we can monitor the success of the procedure.”
“Oh, I hate hospitals,” Ramona said. “My stomach can’t take the awful food. And I don’t want to be in a room with someone I don’t know.” She started working herself into a frenzy. Her round face flushed and little beads of sweat popped from her upper lip. She looked at Kyle, then at me. There were big tears in her eyes. “Oh, Fiona, please don’t let them admit me.”
“Ramona, you heard what the doctor said,” I said softly, patting her hand. “You should stay here so they can monitor you until the procedure is done.” I glanced at the doctor. “I assume she can have a private room and have food brought in?”
“She will be on a restricted diet for the rest of her life, no fatty foods, low salt,” the doctor said. “I would be happy to meet with her private chef to discuss her diet.”
“How did you know she had a private chef?” Kyle asked suspiciously.
“Because people like you always do,” the doctor said flatly. “I’m going to get the paperwork started and have her admitted. Let me know the name of her preferred cardiologist so I can confer with him.”
“Thank you, doctor,” I said. He gave me a curt nod, then shook his head as he went out the door.
I leaned down to give Ramona a reassuring hug. “Listen, you’re going to be fine. They will put you in a private room and you can rest easy until your doctor gets here tomorrow.”
“I know, dear,” she said, managing a weak smile through the tears. She patted my hand. “You go home and get some rest. You must be exhausted after the night you’ve had. And don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ll have Kyle call you as soon as the procedure is scheduled.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” I asked.
She glanced at Kyle and tugged her hand from his. “Kyle, go check on your father.” Kyle frowned between us, then turned and went out the door. When the door closed behind him, Ramona squeezed my hand again and gave me a devilish look.
“You go on home, dear, and take a nice hot bath.” She gave me a playful look and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You reek of sex.”
I blinked at her for a moment, then kissed her cheek and told her to get some rest.
I stepped into the hallway just as Edward was coming back in. I eased the door closed behind me and asked, “Did you speak to your doctor?”
Edward stuffed his cellphone inside his jacket and sighed. “Yes. He is in Antigua until Sunday night. He will be in to see Ramona first thing on Monday.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” I asked. “I mean, that’s in two days. Don’t you think it would be best to have the hospital staff cardiologist do the procedure in a few hours?
He gave me that “silly girl” look he’d been giving me for ten years and shook his head. “Brooks said he will call the ER doctor to access the criticality of the situation. He didn’t think things were nearly as dour as the young recent med school graduate they have working here. I’m sure Ramona will be just fine until Brooks arrives.”
“They are going to admit her now,” I said, putting a hand on his arm before he pushed open the door. “She needs rest and so do you. When they get her settled in you should go home and get some sleep.”
“I can’t leave her, Fiona,” he said quietly, brushing a knuckle under his nose. I thought I saw a rare tear in his eye. He turned so I couldn’t see him wipe it away.
I watched Edward Cassidy’s face age in a matter of seconds. Even though he was nearly seventy years old, he was still strong, vibrant, and tough as nails. But at that moment he looked like a tired, old man. I could tell that he was struggling to keep his composure. He cleared his throat and put his hand on the door. He didn’t look at me when he spoke. “I’ll have Kyle fetch me some clothes. I’ll be fine.”
He put a hand on my shoulder and thanked me for coming. He leaned in to kiss my cheek. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled back and cleared his throat. He was far too tactful to mention that I smelled like a whore house on Saturday night. He just gave me a look that was both scolding and playful, then went in to be with his wife.
Kyle was leaning sullenly against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. He stared at me while I talked to his father, his squinty eyes drifting up and down my body. Danny O was standing next to him, leering at me. I glanced at them for a moment, then turned and headed down the hall in the opposite direction.
“Hey, hang on,” Kyle called, trotting to catch up with me. I glanced over my shoulder but didn’t stop until I reached an elevator around the corner. I pressed the down button and stood holding my purse over my crotch, as if that would help mask the aroma wafting from between my legs.
“I have nothing to say to you, Kyle,” I said, bouncing on the balls of my feet, my eyes glued to the floor counter. We were on the third floor. The elevator was slowly descending from the tenth floor.
“I have plenty to say to you,” he said angrily.
“Lower your voice,” I said, glancing around at the nurses who were manning the station behind us. They were pretending not to be listening.
“Where have you been?” Kyle asked, lowering his voice to a loud whisper. “You look like you just crawled out of a dumpster.”
“You know all about that,” I said, cutting him a sideways glance. “You reek of Wendy’s Wal-Mart douche.”
“You’re one to talk,” he said, leaning in and sniffing the air between us. “You stink of sex.” He narrowed his eyes at me as if he were trying to read my mind. “Where have you been? Who have you been with?”
“That’s none o
f your business,” I said, eyes on the floor counter, watching the elevator slowly descend. Two more floors. I gritted my teeth and tried to maintain my composure. It would have been so easy to scream and cry and punch him in the goddamn balls.
“It is my business,” he said. “You are my wife.”
“Not for long,” I said.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means that I am divorcing you, Kyle,” I said with a decisive sigh that was long overdue. “I’m going to go home and take a long hot bath and get a good night’s sleep, then on Monday I’m going to call a lawyer and file for divorce.”
“Bullshit,” he said, snorting. “We have a prenup. You divorce me and you’ll get nothing. You aren’t cut out to live on the streets, my dear. You’ll walk away with nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing. Not a fucking thing.”
“No, I don’t think so,” I said as the elevator doors slid open. I stepped inside and pressed the button for the lobby. Kyle put his hand on the door to keep it from closing.
“What does that mean?
“It means that I will be fairly compensated for putting up with your shit for ten years,” I said forcefully, gritting my teeth. “You will be presented with a fair settlement and you will approve it.”
He sneered at me. “Now why the fuck would I do that?”
“Because if you don’t I’ll march right back into that hospital room and tell your dear mother and father what a lying, cheating, piece of shit their son is. And then I’ll call the IRS and the state’s attorney to have them look into the gratuity fees you’ve been charging your clients for years.” The sneer melted from his face. He sucked in his cheeks and glared at me.