As she was wheeled off to surgery, Jessie groggily looked up and spotted Dee approaching, red-eyed and still somewhat hysterical. She grasped Jessie’s hand, but Jessie turned away from her. She couldn’t look at the woman who all along had been waiting “for the other shoe to drop” as far as Josh was concerned. Despite the fact that Jessie had herself placed the blame for her battered body on him, Dee believed him capable of it all along. Jessie could not bring herself to look at Dee, or to talk to anyone, with the exception of a few whispers to the police, the lawyer or to her attending doctors and nurses. She just wanted to sink into oblivion and sleep the rest of the day away. She would deal with reality tomorrow.
When she awoke after surgery, the lighting in her room was muted. She could make out a murky outline slumped in the corner chair. Squinting so that she could see better, Jessie saw that it was Charlie. Sensing a slight movement from the bed, he wearily made his way over to her. Bending over the rail on the right side of the bed, he looked sadly at his ex-fiancée.
“See? Told ya you should have married me.”
Jessie whispered “thirsty,” prompting Charlie to reach for the call button by her right hand. Soon Jessie spotted pink scrubs with teddy bears on them entering the room. She forced her tired eyes to look up, revealing that an attractive plus-size ponytailed nurse was wearing the scrubs.
“She’s thirsty,” Charlie pleaded, as if by making such a simple request on Jessie’s behalf it would somehow solve this crisis. At the very least it gave him a purpose.
The nurse acknowledged both the request and his sense of futility with a glance at Jessie and a polite nod. She wheeled around and hurried out the door, professional but somewhat awed with the celebrities on her ward that evening. Moments later she returned with a small cupful of ice chips balanced in her left hand.
“How are you feeling, Jessie?” she asked as she helped her patient navigate the chips. Jessie sucked on some ice, relishing the cool comfort of something as simple as frozen water on her parched lips.
“Nauseous,” she managed to mumble.
The nurse removed the little cup from between the star’s lips and placed it on a nearby table. “It’s likely from the anesthesia, honey. I’ll see about getting you some Gravol.” She checked a few vitals and then blushed at Charlie as she walked by him to exit the room. He didn’t even notice her sideways glance. His eyes were on his ex-fiancée, lying in pain on a hospital bed before him.
Jessie couldn’t look at him any more than she could stand to see Dee. They all blamed Josh before she even uttered a word. She was disgusted with all of them. Tears pricked her eyelids as she wondered where Josh was now, and what was happening to him.
Without looking at Charlie, she mumbled softly, “Are Charles and Dee here?”
He stepped forward again and brushed tiny wisps of hair off her sweaty forehead. “No,” he replied quietly. “They were, though. They’ll be back.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to see them. Please. Just tell them to stay away.”
His cool hand stopped moving. “Jessie. They want to see you. Dee will want to be sure you’re living and breathing and…”
She looked up at Charlie, her eyes bottomless pools of grief. “Please. Just for tonight.”
What she needed was some time to compose herself, to quell her anger and disappointment in Dee.
“Okay.” He didn’t understand, but Charlie would do anything to placate Jessie on this difficult day.
After a few moments, the nurse came back with the Gravol and some water. She tipped the tablets into the singer’s mouth and then helped Jessie take a few sips of water. As she turned to leave she gestured towards the door. “Someone here to see you, Jessie.”
Framed in the doorway was a tall, slim silhouette with shoulder length hair. For a moment, in her groggy state Jessie thought it was Josh and her heart quickened. But then the nebulous shape stepped forward and she saw that it was Stephen. Of course. They wouldn’t let Josh anywhere near her, now.
Her friend glanced uncomfortably over at Charlie, whose stiff stance and angry glare were thinly disguising a brooding anxiety bubbling under the surface. Then Steve’s eyes searched the bed and met Jessie’s bruised baby blues, pale icy eyes almost swallowed up by frosty, sallow cheeks and a snowy pillow.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” she forced weakly in response.
Charlie acknowledged Steve with a slight nod and a frown, and then he moved back from the bed. “I’ll go grab a tea. I’ll be back, okay Jess?”
“Charlie.” Her voice was small, detached. But the hardened tone was unmistakable. She had something firm to say that caused him to stop and turn back to her.
“Yeah.”
“Tomorrow, okay? I’m not up for company tonight.”
He was quiet, unsure. Charlie wanted to be there with her, to order ice chips and watch her breathe. To make sure she was, in fact, breathing. He fidgeted as he tried to call forth the words to tell her not to send him away, not to banish him as she had everyone else over the past few months.
Nodding towards the doorway where, just outside, a uniformed police officer stood talking to Matt, Jessie whispered, “I’m well protected.”
Charlie’s shoulders sank. “I’ll be back tomorrow, then.” He slumped away.
Jessie called upon some deeply hidden reserve of inner strength to give her the courage to look up at Steve, her dear friend. She was surprised to see that his eyes were ringed with a puffy red tinge. He had obviously been crying, which was unusual for the happy-go-lucky actor.
“Hey,” she murmured again.
His lips moved soundlessly as he tried to find the words, any words, which would be appropriate in this horrible situation. Allowing his body to give in to the overwhelming emotions that threatened to do him in, Steve rested his lanky elbows on the bedrail and avoided Jessie’s searching eyes. Words wouldn’t come, and so he hung his head in his arms and cried instead.
“Jessie,” he choked. “I had no idea. None of us had any idea. Nobody suspected…”
She reached her right hand up to grasp his fingers, and he finally looked down at her through a mask of fear, fighting to regain control of his tattered emotions.
“It’s okay,” she said. She couldn’t tell him the truth - not yet.
She was getting sleepy.
“Steve,” Jessie asked in a draggy voice, her speech firing about thirty seconds behind her brain, “could you lie down with me for a little while? Do you think Sophie would mind?”
He was surprised by her request, but it helped him regain his equilibrium. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I could. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.” After a quick search for the buttons that lowered the rail, Steve carefully arranged himself on his side next to her, with his left arm crooked under his head. Jessie enclosed his right hand in hers and held it close to her, on her belly. She loved the feel of his fingers, and the way he smelled, like old times and cherished friendships.
“I’m really sorry,” he intoned softly. “We all are. We should have seen this coming. We should have protected you.”
“You couldn’t have,” she said, and that was the truth.
Silence.
“Steve?”
“Yeah kiddo?”
“Where’s Josh right now? What’s happening to him?” Under droopy eyelids, the badly beaten Drifters star was staring at the imposing sterile ceiling above.
Steve was stunned. But then again, he rationalized that she would, indeed, be curious.
“Besides burning in hell, you mean?” He immediately felt chastened for saying that as her body stiffened beside him. Burrowing his head in Jessie’s neck, Steve whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I get it.”
“They arrested him. He’s in jail over at the metro police station. Zach’s been called. He’s probably in the city by now.” He groaned, as the weight of Josh’s actions settled further into his brain, etching a permanent angry stain on Steve’s psyche. “Ju
st when everybody thought Josh had gotten his shit together, it all goes to hell.”
Steve thought Jessie had drifted off to sleep, so it surprised him when she spoke.
“Will you be in touch with Zach? So we…so we know what’s going on with…with Josh?” She could barely say his name. It hurt to say his name.
“Yeah. I’m sure Zach will be calling me.”
Curious, but thinking that Jessie would simply want to know Josh’s whereabouts in the weeks to come, Steve resigned himself to the fact that he would likely be the conduit between Jessie and Josh, via Zach, for the next while. It was an awkward, uncomfortable place to find himself, with his best friend on one side - albeit not the guy he’d thought Josh was, all along - and his friend’s ex on the other. But for Jessie’s peace of mind, Steve would take the role.
He stayed with her for a long while, his left arm long asleep, Jessie’s breathing even and controlled.
Occasionally the nurse peeked her head in the subdued room to check Jessie’s vitals but mercifully the singer didn’t wake, although Steve held his breath and tried not to move.
He watched her chest rise and fall, and a part of him wished she’d chosen him instead of Josh back during those first heady days of shooting Drifters. The shock was too much to bear - Steve couldn’t believe Josh was capable of inflicting such wretched damage on the woman he so obviously deeply loved. Studying the bruises on Jessie’s face and exposed arms, Steve wondered despairingly what the rest of her body looked like.
His body shook as he cried, yet, still, she did not wake.
Small mercies.
***
The Vancouver Police Department was located adjacent to the Provincial Courthouse at Main St. and East Cordova St. in the Metro Vancouver area. It was the second largest police force in the province after the RCMP, which patrols outside Metro Van in nearby municipalities. Earlier that day, while Jessie was in surgery, Zach parked outside the police station and summoned the courage to stumble inside. It took him a while to find and access his brother within the confines of the large building. Although what had happened to Jessie was a shock, particularly for its degree of violence, it was a busy day in Vancouver. Josh was a small part of the fabric of the city’s crime that day.
Finally, in a small neutral washed-out room with a one-way viewing window, Zach Sawyer was able to sit down alone across from his baby brother at a scratched metal table. His chair screeched across the floor when he lowered his body ruthlessly into it. He didn’t hold back, and Josh jumped when the sound of Zach’s fist slamming into the heavy table startled him.
“Fuck, Josh,” was how Zach started, at a loss for any other words. Frustrated, he lifted his palms upwards in resignation and loss.
His younger brother was agitated and scared. He dove in just as quickly.
“Zach,” he pleaded, his voice trembling. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t hurt Jessie. I could never hurt her! So what’s really fucked up about this is that someone did. And whoever did it is still out there. Please, Zach.”
He paused, afraid to voice the rest of the terror that had preoccupied his crazed mind since he’d seen his ex-fiancée on the stretcher that afternoon. “What if - what if he comes back to finish the job?”
Zach sat back and drummed his fingers on the metal table while he pondered his baby brother. Josh stared hard at the fingers as they moved rhythmically up and down. The persistent echo in the acoustically reflective room was going to drive him over the edge. He swallowed. Zach saw a man he hardly recognized in front of him, a man who he thought was-finally-successful, clean, and good. Josh had found and maintained solid friendships, reacquainted himself with his family, was working steady, and even managed to retain some sort of haphazard congenial relationship with his somewhat estranged father, of all things. Who’d have thought either of those two could manage to spend any time in a room together and be civil? Jessie was good for Josh, but she had removed herself from his life the last few months. Maybe she was the missing equation here - without her, the Josh they had all grown to love in the last few years existed no longer.
He shook his head as if to clear the unwelcome thoughts from the cobwebs of his mind. No. He’d known Josh his whole life, they were brothers, for God’s sake. Sure, Josh struggled with some problems, but who didn’t? In his heart he was a good man. He had always been a good man. Was he capable of this-of intentionally, in a fit of rage, hurting so badly the girl Zach knew he desperately loved, just because of her rejection of him? No. No way.
Zach wanted desperately to believe Josh. He wanted his kids to love their uncle unconditionally. He didn’t want to be afraid to leave them in Josh’s company. He lashed out at Hilary earlier that day for even mentioning it, but Josh was known to have a volatile temper, albeit a drug-fueled one. Zach groaned. Blood was thicker than water. Regardless of what Josh did or didn’t do, he chose to take the high road. Zach was a good man, too, and their mother was long gone, although he could feel her presence in the room, coaching him and gently chiding him for doubting her beloved Josh. Their father? Well, he was off on safari somewhere in Africa with his girlfriend. Even if he was around, Zach doubted Wes would believe Josh, but then one never knew how the great and famous patriarch of the Sawyer clan would react, especially to something sinister such as this.
“Your truck was in her parking lot. Empty. Matt has photos, Josh. The few shots the security cam’s building actually got show a guy with a hoodie that could easily be you.” But his voice was quiet and subdued, not angry and accusing. Zach was giving Josh a chance to tell his side of the story.
Visibly relieved that Zach was at least being reasonable, Josh exhaled and sat back. “She was all over me at the after party, Zach. Jessie was drunk - yeah, I get that - but whatever. If I’d ever hurt her, would she be hanging onto me like that?”
“You can love someone and still be hurt by them. Maybe she was giving you a second chance.”
“Aw, man, Zach,” Josh responded in frustration. A second chance. Yes. He had hoped for that for months. He felt it in the air last night. She asked him to run away with him. She nuzzled his neck. He could still feel her tender lips and see a faded hope in her eyes. He closed his own eyes as his throat contracted at the memory and his heart seized. He looked away and swallowed, trying to get a grip.
When he got it together, Josh forged ahead through the no man’s land in which he and his brother found themselves, although the barbed wire was tearing him apart, inch by painful inch. “It was weird last night. I admit, after she left I was hoping that maybe – that maybe she was sending me some kind of message, that she was reconsidering our breakup. Maybe she missed me.” He said it as if now, in the light of day or rather, in the light of the harsh fluorescents that buzzed above them, it was impossible to even comprehend. What was he thinking? He guessed now that the magic spell of the evening overpowered him. Watching her on stage again…there was so much love and affection in that arena, all aimed at Jessie. Why was she still so tormented? Well. That question was at least partially answered once and for all for Josh. Unfortunately, it was answered for Charles and Dee, Jonathon, Charlie, their friends…but grossly inadequately, as if the crime had led its all too willing followers down the wrong road.
“I went to her place, yes, I parked there, yes. I just wanted to be close to her. I wandered around a little. But mostly I sat on the concrete wall on the west side of the building and drank a coffee and thought about everything. About life. About the fucking muppets, whatever! I swear to God, Zach, it was just surreal, the way she hung on to me at the after party. I just wanted the feeling to last a little longer. If I had known…”
If I had known…the words hung there, on an invisible clothesline with no breeze, damp and stiff. Like soldiers who’d gone mad in their useless wars and no longer knew which way to run. Josh was there, just outside Jessie’s building pondering life and love like some lovesick 1970’s flower child while, upstairs, someone beat the shit out of the woman he loved. Tear
s stung his eyelids. The futility of the situation was killing him. All he had left was Zach. He doubted anyone else would come to see him. Jessie’s word was respected and cherished, no one would doubt her truths. Thank God for Zach, who was sitting there pondering him like he did when they were children, after their dad hit Josh and hurled verbal assaults at him while Zach and Kayla received praise. Confused, wanting to help, unsure, disbelieving.
Zach filled in the silence with a dose of optimism. “Okay. So if you’re telling the truth, and Josh I gotta tell you I want to believe you but at this point I just don’t know…”
At the fear in his brother’s eyes Zach paused, and then summoned the courage to continue. “Well, first things first. Jessie’s safe. She’s well guarded, but I’ll ask Charles to up her security even more, maybe put someone at the entrances to the hospital and more on her floor, I don’t know. Matt will take care of that. Second, I’ll get them thinking about who is out there who might want to hurt Jessie.”
He hesitated, looked up at his brother, squinted at him. Josh recognized from childhood that this was Zach’s way of processing, of giving some kind of orderly thoughts to the chaos in his brain. “Josh. Do you know who might want to hurt her?”
Josh raked a hand through the layered hair Jessie loved. “That’s the thing,” he said. “I don’t. I mean, the thing is, it could be anybody, couldn’t it? A grip on Drifters, Charlie, frigging Carter for all I know. Or Christian, that doe-eyed piano player who’s obviously head over heels in love with her. One of the dancers, stage crew at Rogers Arena. I have no idea, Zach. Although…she still won’t talk about Charleston. Maybe it’s someone from her past.”
A thought he was afraid to voice bounced around in his brain like the rectangular cursor in an old Atari game. Dark eyes implored his older brother to tell him the truth. His tentative voice was a throaty, gravelly mess. “Was she raped? Zach?”
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