by Gigi Blume
Jane and I dropped what we were doing and ran out with Holly. She filled us in as best she could in the car.
“Cole got her across the border,” she said, speeding down the 101 freeway. “She’s in a Chula Vista hospital.”
“Is that where we’re going now?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Where’s Chula Vista?” asked Nora.
“A two-hour drive, honey,” said Holly. “But I can make it in one-forty-five.”
She was right. She had a lead foot, but she was right. One hour and forty-seven minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot of Chula Vista Memorial.
I hated the smell of hospitals. It always reminded me of band-aids and sadness. But all that disappeared when I saw Lydia in her hospital bed, surrounded by plush toys and balloons. Cole and Stella were at her side, and although I wanted to be the first to throw my arms around her, I held back enough to let Nora have that distinction.
The reunion between the two sisters was beautiful and gave us all the feels. Lydia gave my hand a squeeze when it was my turn to approach the bed. I noticed several bruises on her face and arms. Probably more where the hospital gown covered. Her left eye was swollen, and a bandaged cut trailed across her eyebrow.
“Hey,” I joked. “You look great for a boxer.”
“Yeah.” She smiled, trying not to laugh. Laughing looked like a painful endeavor. “Lightweight champion of Penzance.”
“Maybe we’ll make you a pirate now,” said Cole.
Lydia nodded and cupped a hand over her injured eye.
“An eye patch can be arranged,” said Stella. “Would you like a parrot to go with it?”
“A foul-mouthed parrot,” Lydia said feebly.
“Consider it done,” replied Stella. “But in the meantime, how about some hot chocolate from the coffee cart? Cole and I will leave you to visit with the girls for a while.”
Lydia smiled and said yes to the hot chocolate. “Extra marshmallows,” she said as Cole and Stella left the room.
Nora sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed Lydia’s feet. “When can you go home?”
“Maybe tomorrow,” she answered.
“Then I’ll stay the night.”
Despite Lydia’s protests, Nora insisted she’d be perfectly comfortable in the visitor’s chair.
“I’ve slept in worse conditions,” she said.
She wasn’t fooling anyone.
Lydia was in good spirits considering what she’d gone through. I wanted to ask her how she got those cuts and bruises. Did Jorge do that to her? Holly had told us everything she knew from Cole’s phone conversations, which wasn’t much. She had a fractured rib cage, head injuries, and several skin abrasions. Holly guessed from rope or wire. It was disheartening to see Lydia like this. Still, I was grateful to see her alive.
We joked about the five-star resort she was currently staying at, asking about the quality of the room service and spa amenities. We all laughed when a nurse came in to check her IV. Lydia jokingly asked her if she could change the drip from a cava to a brut. She rolled her eyes. She’d probably heard that one before.
We all did our best to keep the conversation light. None of us wanted to ask Lydia what had happened. Eventually, she was the one to bring it up. The way she told it, one would think she was pitching a movie. She even winked at her sister and said, “Are you getting this down? This is Oscar material.”
I imagined some of the more spectacular moments in her story were elaborated for dramatic purposes, and most likely, the version she would someday tell her grandchildren would be completely outrageous, but for now, she basked in the warmth of being the center of attention and played off our pitiful expressions. She was scarce on the details. But her entire narrative was embellished with sounds and smells and how scared she was, but also brave when faced with the possibility of death.
Long story short. Jorge Wickham: bad, bad guy. Apparently, he had some connections in the Mexican Mafia where someone could make a lot of money in human trafficking. Especially with blond-haired, blue-eyed girls. Like Lydia.
A knot formed in my belly at the memory of Jorge, and how he was always concerned about his finances. The things he had said to me when he had dinner at my parents’ house. And Christmas. What did he mean when he said he was afraid of obscurity? At the time, I blamed it on the Darcys. But now, I knew better. If only I hadn’t been so blind, I could have prevented this. Lydia would be safe at home, and Will and I could…
No. There was no Will and me.
Lydia finished her story by saying she was dropped off in a field blindfolded, and Cole came to her rescue like a knight in shining armor.
“Okay, now tell me something happy.” She was so over The Adventures of Lydia and the Mob and was ready to change the subject. She reached out her hand to Jane. “I heard you got a callback in New York. Tell me about that.”
Jane looked warmly upon Lydia, braving it through the pain like a trooper. It was obvious to me that Jane didn’t want to draw attention to herself. She wouldn’t let anyone ask her about her audition since she returned. Maybe it wasn’t the happy news Lydia asked for. But she took Lydia’s hand and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Well,” she began. “New York is cold this time of year. But it’s pretty. Some Christmas decorations were still up when I arrived, so that was nice to see.” Then she turned to Nora. “It’s probably colder in Massachusetts.”
“Oh, yeah,” agreed Nora. “Manhattan is more temperate.”
“Especially,” I added, “if you have a special visitor to keep you warm.”
Jane shot me a knowing glare and went on at Lydia’s insistence.
“Just tell us about the audition already,” Lydia said with a wince at the pain in her ribs.
“The producers at The Majestic were so nice,” said Jane. “Everyone was, really.”
“Aaaand?”
“And,” Jane said, blushing and reigning in a silly grin, “I don’t know how to say it.”
“Just say it!” we all cried in unison.
“They offered me alternate Christine Daaé. I start right after Pirates closes.”
This was big news. Huge!
The congratulations poured forth from all of us in varied expressions and exclamations.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Holly.
“Now I’ll know someone famous,” said Nora.
“You’ll get to do those Instagram story takeovers,” said Lydia excitedly. “I’m going to totally follow you.”
Jane tried her best to answer all their questions and comments. Lydia and Holly could hardly contain their joy, Nora seemed impressed in her own mellow demeanor, and I couldn’t be prouder for my friend. Something inside me knew she’d get the job. I’d been expecting it. And I was so happy for her. Still, a small part of me mourned our friendship because no matter how much we vowed to keep in touch, it was about to change in a big way.
“Well, Beth,” Jane looked directly at me. “What do you think? Want to move to New York with me?”
“What?” How did this conversation get turned towards me? Oh yeah. That was so Jane. She loved to perform for a crowd as long as it was in a theatre, but she couldn’t handle too much personal attention. It was doubtful she’d do any Instagram story takeovers.
“You don’t have to answer right now,” she said. “Just think about it.”
“I don’t see what there would be to think about,” said Lydia. “Just do it. Like Nike.” Then she made the swoosh sound.
Actually, there was a lot to think about. My family. The lease on our apartment. William. Or not William. And when did I start calling him William?
At length, I said, “I’ll think about it. And congratulations. You’re made of star-stuff. You belong on Broadway.”
Tears formed in Jane’s eyes, and she reached over the bed and clamped her hand over mine. “Ditto.”
“All right,” exclaimed Lydia. “Enough sappy talk. Where’s my hot chocolate? Stella’s been
gone forever.”
“I’ll find her,” said Jane, getting up to go. Holly joined her. “I’ll come with. Maybe they have muffins. Anybody want a muffin?”
I declined the offer. We hadn’t had dinner, so I hoped we could stop at Plant Power on the way home.
“Since we’re all getting up, I’m going to track down a nurse to see when you can go home,” said Nora.
The three of them were gone in a parade of yoga pants and messy buns. Watch out, Chula Vista Memorial, musical theatre girls were taking over.
“So,” I said, looking around at all the stuffed bears and balloons. “You got a moving van for all these presents?”
Her room was seriously filled with them. Huge flower arrangements, a bouquet of helium ‘Get Well Soon’ balloons, a giant teddy bear occupying a corner of the room. Somebody went to Costco.
She grinned as she swept her eyes over it all. “Isn’t it great? I should get abducted more often.”
“Not even funny,” I warned. “Were they having a sale at the gift shop?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. Most of it’s from Will.”
Hold the phone.
“Will?” I questioned. “Darcy?”
She nodded and scrolled through her phone. Holly had brought it for her, along with some other items.
My jaw almost fell off its hinges. “Why would Will Darcy buy you your own Hallmark store?”
She looked up from her phone and blinked at me with those blue doll eyes. “He was there when Cole rescued me,” she said plainly. Then she went back to her phone.
“He was there?” I cried. “In Mexico?”
Lydia’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh no,” she said. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. Just forget I said that.”
“I can’t forget you said that. It’s like trying to put toothpaste back in the tube.”
“Well, I don’t know why he was there. Just that he was.”
It floored me how Lydia could be so cavalier about this whole thing. She barely got out of there with her life. A guy we were all smitten with betrayed her. She was dumped in a field blindfolded. But whatever—a movie star came to her rescue and filled her room with get well wishes. So what?
My fingers itched to call Will. I had to know what his involvement was in Lydia’s rescue. How did they do it? Did they have an altercation with El Chapo? Was he hurt? What happened to Jorge? Did he get away?
But I couldn’t bring myself to call him. He didn’t want anything to do with me. That was clear. Cole must have called him for help. That’s why he was there. Did Will speak Spanish or something? Ugh! I had to stop asking questions to the air. I’d just drive myself bonkers.
“Dang, girl, I look hot in this pic.” Lydia had gone back to scrolling through her phone. From what I could see, she was deleting the photos with Jorge, but her lighthearted commentary was her coping mechanism.
Stella and Cole returned a few minutes later with the hot chocolate and some cookies for Lydia. Jane and Holly followed soon after with muffins. By the time Nora came into the room, the noise level had gotten so high, we were gently reminded that visiting hours were over, and they’d appreciate it if we took the party elsewhere. We tried to protest that there’d be no party without Lydia, but our quips didn’t work on the night nursing staff. So we left Nora behind and took our turns hugging Lydia goodbye.
“So, what did the doctor say?” Jane whispered to Cole as we walked through the hospital corridors towards the exit. We were told to hush more than a few times, so Jane exaggerated a stage whisper.
“She’ll be fine. She suffered a few blows, broken ribs, first-degree burns. But there’s no organ damage, which is good. She’ll get to go home tomorrow, but she’ll need to rest for the next six weeks.”
“So, she can’t do the show?” asked Holly.
“No.” Cole shook his head with extreme disappointment. “You girls will have to fill in the gaps in the choreography. It’ll work out.”
Lydia didn’t have any solos, so the most negative effect her absence would toll on the show would be an imbalance in the pirate to maiden ratio. Poor Denny would be the single pirate.
“Should we finish this conversation over dinner?” I asked the group. It was way past dinnertime, and I was fairly certain Plant Power was closed, but I was getting hangry. I wanted an opportunity to ask more questions of Cole. Like where did Will fit into the whole scheme of things kinds of questions.
“Cole and I had something resembling food at the cafe,” said Stella. “So, we’ll pass. Which reminds me, I should use the loo before that long car ride back to L.A.”
She broke off from the group to find a bathroom, and I joined her in the search. I didn’t have to go. I hadn’t eaten in hours, so there was nothing there. But I wanted to talk to her alone. I needed answers. My questions were really for Cole, but I figured Stella might be more straightforward with me than he would, especially after our little bonding time at the gala.
I waited until she was washing her hands, so it wouldn’t be too awkward. I didn't want to discuss this through a bathroom stall door.
“Thank you for all you’ve done for Lydia,” I said. “You’re a good friend.”
“You’re the good friend,” she said. “I’m just tagging along.”
“And Cole’s gone above and beyond,” I added.
“That he has,” she agreed.
She was drying her hands. Once we left the bathroom, I’d miss my opportunity to talk to her alone. I didn’t want to sound too eager in bringing up Will, but it was now or never.
“Lydia said something,” I hinted. “I thought it might have been the pain killers or maybe she wasn’t in her right mind when Cole found her, but she mentioned Will. Was he there? In Mexico?”
Stella stared at me blankly for a long moment and then responded, “You don’t know?”
“Is this something everybody knows but me?”
And if so, why was I the last to find out?
“Not necessarily,” she said. “Not if William didn’t want it known.”
“Why wouldn't he want it known?”
Stella took my arm and led me out of the bathroom and around a corner where we wouldn’t be seen by our friends.
“I’m going to tell you this,” she said in a whisper, “but if William wanted it to be a secret, you have to honor that and tell no one.”
“Okay,” I said feebly.
“All right.”
She took a deep breath like she was about to settle into a long campfire tale.
“We wouldn’t have been able to find Lydia without him,” she said.
“What?”
“And even if we had, none of us could have negotiated her release the way he did.”
“What do you mean?’
“Those guys never release anyone,” she replied. “They’re not some small fry operation. They have international ties with who knows which human trafficking rings. Lydia was going to be shipped off the continent. Like cattle.”
My head was spinning. I was still confused.
“So what did Will do?”
“I’m not entirely sure. All I know, is that he tracked down Jorge. If anyone knows Jorge’s hideouts, it’s Will. Then he paid to get her out.”
“Will paid the bad guys.”
“Oh, yes. They’re businessmen at the end of the day. Money talks.”
“How much?”
“I really couldn’t begin to guess. But I’ll tell you this. Whatever they paid Jorge, they’d be stupid to accept less than ten times that amount.”
My stomach dropped to my knees. Any appetite I had was now obliterated.
“And what about Jorge?”
“Don’t worry. He won’t bother us again.”
“Is he? You know…” I ran my forefinger across my neck.
“No, heavens no.” She laughed. “He’s in custody. But let’s not dwell on these things. What’s done is done.”
She started towards the hospital exit to join our friends but stopp
ed abruptly. “Don’t tell Will I told you this.”
I promised I wouldn’t with a vigorous nod.
“If you must bring it up, blame it on Lydia’s big mouth. It will be more believable.”
29
T Minus One Day
Will
If anyone were to ask me what my ideal Mexican getaway would entail, I would probably wax poetic about the white, sandy beaches of Cozumel or the rich culture of the Teotihuacan pyramids. Mexico, with its deep history, unique flavors, and humble citizens has always been a favorite destination of mine. And not just the tourist traps. I spent two weeks on location in Durango for one of my Fast and Dangerous films. I loved it there so much, I stayed on for an extra week, meeting the locals and exploring the best places to get street tacos or homemade ice cream. I did the same thing in Zihuantanejo and Mexico City. I even caught on to a little bit of Spanish. I’d choose a Mexican vacation any day of the week.
But crossing the border to negotiate with a human trafficking cartel sits almost at the bottom of my bucket list. Almost. Adding Jorge Wickham to the itinerary claimed the prize for last place. Yet, off I went like Steve Martin in Three Amigos to face El Guapo. Because of course, he was in-famous. I was only regular, run-of-the-mill famous. What I found out was that it was nothing like the movies. It was almost like making a transaction on Wall Street with the added edge of fearing for my life. I got to throw my celebrity status around, which was oddly exciting. One of the guys asked for an autograph, repeating his favorite lines from my movies. Who knew we reached that demographic with the Fast and Dangerous franchise? Then, once he had his autograph and selfie, he made some vague threat on my family jewels if I dared to tell anyone. Those guys mean business.
In short, I wasn’t completely confident we’d get out of there alive, but we did. We only stopped looking over our shoulders when we reached Chula Vista Memorial.
Ah, good times.
After that experience, any or all theatre drama or Hollywood intrigue thrown at me was like a trip to Disneyland. It helped me see things in a new light. What was I doing? I’d gotten so caught up in work, I had forgotten why I got into acting in the first place. I didn’t realize until I stepped away from churning out one movie after another that I was more than a box office cash cow. Months on the road with the national tour taught me that. Pirates of Penzance confirmed it. Staring down the barrel of a gun put it all into perspective. If things had gone downhill in Mexico, the news programs announcing my death would report, ‘Will Darcy made really bad movies and died a sad bachelor. The last girl he kissed turned him down flat. He’ll be easily forgotten.’