by Lissa Bilyk
“I know, baby. Don’t go to sleep. We’re going to the hospital.”
Chapter Nine
At the hospital they took him into Accident and Emergency and pumped his stomach, and gave him something to sleep it off. I hovered, uncertain. I wasn’t technically family, and I was sure they’d send me away if I tried to see him. It wasn’t until I asked a passing doctor and she saw the size of my pupils and heard my stomach was still cramping that I realised I’d have to stay in for observation, too.
We were put in different rooms. I was already stable, but they gave me a drip to rehydrate me and some other drugs with long names I didn’t remember. I kept trying to get a nurse’s attention to tell her that I needed to speak to the police, that I hadn’t taken the drug voluntarily, but they fussed and bothered around me and told me to go to sleep, that I could speak to the police in the morning.
“You don’t understand!” I insisted. “The crazy woman who drugged me will have left the country by then! I need to speak to the police, now!”
Then they gave me something that shot cold up my vein, and I remembered nothing else.
When I woke it was still dark. I was drowsy, but I knew I had something important to do. I reached for my calling button, and when a nurse came in, I told her I needed to speak to the police.
After much sighing and fluffing my pillows twice, she went away to make the call. I wished I had my phone with me, and I kicked myself for forgetting to ask. A few hours later a single police officer walked in, a middle-aged, silver-haired gent with kind eyes and a generous smile.
“Now, what’s up with you, lass?” He spoke in a thick Northern accent. “I’m Sergeant Smith. I’m told you wanted to see us last night.”
“I’m in here because last night my boyfriend and I were drugged by a crazy girl who wants him for herself.”
He tried to hide his smile as he jotted down notes. I sighed, and tried to get more comfortable on the bed.
“So you didn’t take anything last night?”
“No, sir. I thought the girl was a friend – she works where we live. She gave me a drink and later I felt sick. She told me she drugged Cameron, too.”
“Is Cameron your man, lass?”
“Yes, Cameron Campbell. He was drugged, too. He’s in a different ward.”
I saw him lift his eyebrows at my assertion, but he said nothing.
“And this lass, what’s her name?”
“Leslie.”
“Leslie what?”
I frowned. “I don’t know. She works at our apartment.” I gave him the address.
“I’m just going to go and make some phone calls. I’ll be back in later.”
I lay back and wished I had my phone. I hadn’t seen Nathaniel since I’d been bundled away, and I didn’t get the chance to thank him. Now I kicked myself. He still had the keys to the Jag, too. What if he’d stolen it? My head swam with how stupid I’d been last night. In my rush I’d let a complete stranger drive Cameron’s car and I hadn’t gotten the keys back off him. I was stupid, stupid, stupid!
“Tori?”
I looked up. Nathaniel stuck his head around the door and smiled at me.
“Nathaniel! What are you doing here?”
He shrugged, looking bashful. “The nurses sent me home to sleep, but I still had your car keys. I’ve got your phone, too, if you want it. The nurses had it, but it’s switched off.”
I tried not to make grabby hands. “Thank you. How kind and generous of you to come back. I was afraid you’d have run off with the Jag.”
He split a smile – he had perfectly straight, white teeth, and it was kind of shocking. “I’m afraid you have me mistaken with some other rogue scoundrel who looks just like me, ma’am.”
“Oh,” I laughed, playing along. “Perhaps it was the rogue scoundrel that looks just like you who kissed me last night.”
His eyes dropped. “Aye, that is were.”
Damn, I’d put my foot in it. “The uh… the nurses won’t tell me how Cameron is.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” He dropped the car leys on my bedside table and handed me my phone. I switched it on. No messages, no missed calls. It sure was lonely in London sometimes. The only person who cared about me lay unconscious in a bed in another ward.
“I thought I’d let you know that I’m not friends with Leslie anymore.”
“That’s a wise decision.”
“I am sorry about what happened, Tori. She told me it was a singles party and that she had a friend who-”
“Let me guess,” I interrupted breezily. “A friend who was desperate to be set up with a little role play and who liked it rough?”
He nodded, shamefaced. How easy to fall for the fat lonely girl scenario.
“Don’t worry about it. She was just using you to get me out of the way so she could get her claws on Cameron.”
He put his hand close to mine – not quite touching, but close enough. “I’d like to be friends.”
My heart warmed. It would be lovely to have more than one person care about me – to have someone else leave text messages when my phone has been switched off. “I’d like to be friends, too.”
He shifted his pinkie so it just touched mine.
The police officer wandered back in and shook Nathaniel’s hand.
“Cameron?”
“No sir. My name is Nathaniel Henderson. I’m a friend.”
“Do you know this Leslie woman?”
“Yes. We used to work together and stayed in touch.”
“Do you mind if I ask a few questions?”
The two left my room and I fidgeted. I couldn’t stop thinking about Cameron. I wanted to see him, but I was still hooked up to a drip and the idea of accidentally ripping it out of my vein and spraying blood everywhere kept me put.
After a long time Nathaniel came back into the room.
“The sergeant says he’s sending a team around to pick up Leslie at her house, but he doubts she’ll still be there.”
“He needs to talk to Cameron, too.”
“I’ll tell him.” Nathaniel left the room and returned a minute later. “The nurse says Cameron’s awake.”
I shot up. “I want to see him!”
“I think you’re otherwise occupied at the moment.”
I hammered my calling button until a nurse came in to see what the racket was about. I thrust my hand at her.
“Please take this out. I feel great, and I need to see my boyfriend.”
The nurse raised her eyebrows at Nathaniel, but did as I asked. I chased them both from the room and threw on my discarded party clothes. Then I stepped out of the room and Nathaniel took me to Cameron.
He was propped up in bed, groggy but awake. His face lit up when he saw me. “Princess!”
“Hi, baby,” I said, taking his hands and kissing his finger. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t remember anything since the party. What happened?”
“We were drugged, honey. Leslie drugged us.”
He looked appalled. “Why?”
“Because she wants you and I keep getting in the way.”
“I can’t believe she’d do that. Are you sure it was her?”
“Yes. She confessed to me when I found you-” I bit my tongue. I wasn’t sure he was ready to hear what I’d caught her doing. He’d been raped, and I had better break it to him gently. “Anyway, I’ve spoken to the police and when we go back home I’m filing a complaint with the apartment management. She’ll be fired and hopefully arrested.”
His eyes darted behind me. “Who’s that?”
“That’s Nathaniel. He drove us from the party.”
Cameron half-waved. “Thanks, man.”
Nathaniel tipped an imaginary hat. “No problem.”
Cameron laughed. “He sounds like an Aussie. I like him.”
I spoke to the doctors after that. Because they’d had to pump his stomach and fill him with other drugs, they wanted to keep him under observation for another night an
d would release him in the morning. Since I’d vomited earlier, I’d gotten the drugs out quicker and wasn’t required to stay. My heart fell. It was selfish, but I’d grown used to having Cameron’s warm presence in my bed every night. I asked the nurses if I could stay, but when visiting times closed they pushed me firmly out the door. Happy Valentine’s Day indeed.
Nathaniel had left hours earlier, so I drove home by myself, jumping at shadows. Leslie still hadn’t been caught, and I was afraid she was lurking, waiting to finish me off. I thought about asking Nathaniel to stay with me, but dismissed that idea. Our relationship was off to a weird start and I didn’t want to send him any mixed messages. I missed Cameron, missed his warm comfort and his reassuring presence by my side. It was going to be a long night.
I parked in the underground car park, just to be sure. It was dark, and I was exhausted already. Whatever they’d used to knock me out last night had hit me good and I was ready to crawl into bed with Bronte warming my feet. I locked the car and turned just in time to see something large and solid fly at me.
Chapter Ten
Pain exploded in my face and I staggered back, my body colliding with the car. My head reeling, I lost my balance and fell awkwardly to the concrete, grazing my elbows. I gasped in pain, reaching for my tender cheek – whatever had hit me had split the skin and warm blood trickled down my hand.
High-heeled feet moved into my line of vision, and I didn’t need to look up to know it was Leslie. Ignoring my pain, I rolled to one side to avoid the smashing of wood meeting car.
“Die, you bitch!” she screeched, aiming for me again. I rolled again but was trapped between my car and the one next to me; the plank of wood she wielded smashed into my leg, shooting pain up and down it.
Don’t cry! I yelled at myself. Think!
There was a silent alarm in the foyer. If I could get to the foyer before her, I could alert the police.
I had to distract her! What could I say? What did she care about enough to stop her vengeful attack on me?
“He nearly died!” I blurted.
It worked. Leslie hesitated, her arms above her head ready to come down into a crushing blow. I pushed my advantage. “Whatever you gave him, it nearly killed him. Must have been a bad mix. He’s in intensive care, has been since last night. I’ve just come from there.”
Her arms drooped. “No…”
“Whatever you were trying to achieve, you have no chance now. I told him everything – how you lied about me, how you drugged him, how you raped him.”
“I didn’t rape him!” she cried, readying her arms again. I scrambled to my feet. I was taller than her, heavier. If I could get rid of the weapon, I could overpower her.
“You did,” I said trying to look non-threatening as I advanced on her. “He didn’t consent to that blow job.”
“He would have wanted it,” she said, but her arms were wavering. Her eyes were wild, but unsteady, unsure. Conflicted.
“If he wanted it so bad, why did you have to drug him?”
Her eyes hardened, and her arms rose once more. “Because you were in the way, you fat slag!”
Before she could get the momentum to hit me again I punched her in her vulnerable stomach, right below the ribs. I had to steel myself to do it. I needed to incapacitate her. It was her or me.
She gasped and dropped the wood, which clattered behind her, and clutched at her stomach, staggering backwards. I mentally kicked myself – I hadn’t hit as hard as I’d wanted to. Even now, I couldn’t bring myself to hurt another person. Still, with her winded and trying to catch her breath, now was my moment.
I turned and sprinted for the elevator, dragging my key card from my purse. I’d be safe in the foyer: only residents have key cards.
The elevator was already on the basement floor, so it opened the instant I pounded the button. I heard a scream of rage behind me, threw myself into the tiny box and hammered for the foyer level and the ‘close doors’ button. Leslie had recovered – next time I would hit her harder – and was running towards the elevator. The doors started to close, but too slowly. She was going to make it. She was going to get me!
I saw her stumble as she drew something long and pointy and sharp from behind her, something that glinted in the low basement light.
A knife.
She meant to murder me!
How could I defend myself against a knife? I ran some self-defence moves through my mind, trying to stay calm. With her only a metre away from the elevator, the doors slammed shut. I heard a frustrated scream, a whirring, and breathed a sigh of relief as I was ferried safely away.
With a ding the elevator dumped me into the foyer and I sprinted for the other side of Leslie’s half-moon desk. I dropped to my knees, found the silent alarm, and slammed my fist into it. A small light started flashing beside it. I took a deep breath. Leslie could run all the way around the grounds, out of the car park, and in through the side door, but I’d be up and safe in my apartment by then.
I tried to steady my breathing, confident I’d foiled her, when the elevator dinged again.
I had two seconds before it opened. I threw myself under the desk, carpet burning my knees, and huddled as best I could beneath it.
“We were going to be married.” Her voice echoed through the foyer as she took one high-heeled step after another, clickety-clacking on the tiles. I huddled under the desk, trying to stifle my breathing. “Did you know that, you disgusting fat cow? We were going to be married one day. I’d watched him date girl after girl, each other them uglier than the last. I was getting to know him. I was just about to give him my phone number when he turned up with you.” I heard a sob escape her. “I was so close!”
I said nothing. She didn’t know for sure I was here. I would stay here as long as I could. Next to me was a footrest, the sort you use to prop up your feet when you’re sitting at a desk all day. It wasn’t heavy, but it was solid. I wrapped my hand around one corner.
I heard the creak of a lavatory door opening and the second clickety-clack of high heels on tiles.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Leslie demanded.
“I’m covering your shift,” Roxy said. “You weren’t answering your phone. Is that a knife?”
“Get the fuck out!” Leslie roared.
Roxy squeaked and fled, clacking across the tiles, and throwing herself with a thud against the exterior door. In rushed a gust of wind and cold, and the door slammed shut again.
“Do you know how I almost had him?” Leslie continued in a calmer, soothing tone. “I put the magazine with the pictures of the different girls in your letterbox. I called the paparazzi and told them where his audition was. You left the imprint of the address on the writing pad. It took some sleuthing, but I recovered it. I was clever, see. I even took your key card, and I laughed when they fined you. I only wish I’d stolen your house keys as well – I was so close to getting into his home, into his bed. And you had no idea. The whole time – you had no idea! How clever I was.” She laughed with her own self-congratulation. “So, he not only likes them fat and ugly, he likes them stupid as well.” She paused, then said insidiously, “I know you’re here, Victoria.”
I still said nothing, but wondered how long it would take the police to arrive. I heard her footsteps coming closer on the tiles, clickety-clack, and gripped the footrest. She moved from the tiles to carpet and I drew in a deep, calming breath. I had the upper hand. She didn’t know for sure that I hadn’t done a Roxy and run straight for the outside door. She meant to check under the desk, and then I’d surprise her and make my escape.
Leslie’s feet stopped to the right of me.
The phone rang.
I jumped a mile but refrained from crying out in surprise or alarm. Leslie didn’t fare so well. She was so intent on seeking me out that she jerked in surprise and half-turned towards the phone. My fingers tightened around the footrest one more time and I swung it out with all the power I had sitting cramped under the desk, swung for her –
but not blindly. I aimed for her heel. In her thin stilettos maybe I could break the heel from her shoe – or if I was lucky, bruise or even break an ankle.
WHAM.
The footrest collided with her ankle.
SNAP.
The heel of her shoe broke off. Leslie screeched in pain and I lurched from my hiding place, still brandishing the foot rest. I scrambled to my feet. Leslie was down, one hand cupping her ankle, the other still gripping the knife.
“Put down the knife,” I said, proud of how calm I sounded. “And I’ll forget this ever happened.”
Tears of pain and anger leaked from her eyes. “Why you?” she demanded. “Why someone like you? I’m exactly the kind of girl he always goes for. Why did he pick you?”
“He was tired of your type,” I answered honestly. “He needed a change. He could never be happy otherwise.”
“I could have made him happy.”
“I know,” I said, trying to soothe her. My head spun. I was exhausted, but I had to keep her talking, keep her distracted, until the police got here. Maybe Roxy had gone for help. No, Roxy didn’t know I was hidden under the desk.
It was just me and Leslie.
“I could have,” she insisted.
“You could have,” I agreed. I loathed the idea of approaching her and attempting to take the knife – she had that fragile a hold on reality and I didn’t want to snap it.
Sirens. Far away but coming closer. My heart leaped in hope. Leslie heard them too and turned her eyes up at me, her pretty blonde hair wild from exertion.
“I’ll never get to say goodbye,” she said.
“I’ll tell him,” I said. Anything to keep her quiet and motionless.
It was the wrong thing to say. Her mouth turned down and the knife wavered as she gripped it harder and lunged to her good foot.
“I’ll tell him myself!” she screamed, lurching at me with surprising speed for someone with no heel on her shoe and a bruised ankle. I backed away, guarding against the knife with the footrest like a lion tamer facing a snarling, angry big cat. “I’ll tell him you never loved him, you only wanted him because he was famous!” She slashed the knife at me. I squeaked and flung the footrest at her. She fended it off and it clattered to the ground. “Because he was hot! You never knew him, not the way I know him!”