More Than Anything

by R. E. Blake

  I close my eyes. “I don’t really care about being a star, Derek. That’s the funny part. I went to New York because of you, and because I had nothing else. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would ever turn into anything more than an adventure.”

  “Well, the adventure’s just starting. I’m shocked by how good that is. And I’m used to hearing you sing every day.”

  I’m suddenly tired, and my body’s telling me to rest. I open my eyes and try to turn to look at him, but Mr. Collar has other ideas. “You want to lie down with me? I’m fading.”

  He doesn’t say anything, just stands and helps me to my feet. We go into the master bedroom, and he leads me to the bed, and I’m overcome by a wave of sadness. This is so not how any of this was supposed to play out. I lie down, and he unlaces my Chucks and puts them by the bedside, and then moves some pillows around until I’m comfortable. A tear rolls from my eye, and I wipe it away.

  “This sucks, Derek.”

  He lies down next to me and rolls toward me, his jade eyes studying me. When he speaks, it’s so soft I can barely hear him.

  “It is what it is, Sage. We’ll get through it, and we have all the time in the world.”

  “It’s not fair.” My voice sounds tortured, ragged.

  “No, it isn’t. But you have me, and I have you. For me, that’s enough.”

  He kisses the tears away, and I wish my body wasn’t broken, covered with bruises, a migraine pounding in my skull. We may have each other, but I’d trade everything I’ve got to be able to spend the next three days with him, healthy and happy, instead of like this.

  The lyrics to the old Rolling Stones song “You Don’t Always Get What You Want” ring through my head as I shut down, and I can feel rivulets of moisture trickling down my face as I drift off.

  Chapter 20

  I wake up to dust motes floating lazily in the sunlight streaming through the blinds. And pain. Everywhere.

  The doctor wasn’t kidding: You’ll probably feel sore for a few days. Talk about a gift for understatement. This is like the dentist warning you might feel a little discomfort right before he drills into a live nerve with no anesthetic.

  I groan and feel Derek stir next to me. His face comes into my field of view, and he looks at me, concerned.

  “How you doing?” he asks, and I groan again.

  “I’m good. Except for every bone in my body being broken.”

  “That bad?”

  “It only hurts when I breathe.”

  “Want some coffee?”

  “You’re a god. There’s some in the cabinet above the sink.”

  “Need help getting to the bathroom?”

  “I think I can make it. If you hear a scream, I was wrong.”

  Derek pads to the kitchen, and I gingerly swing my legs off the bed, marveling at how many pain centers exist per square inch of skin. My wrist is throbbing in time with my back and my head, and someone’s jabbing an ice pick into my neck every time I tense. I manage to make it to the bathroom, and when I see my reflection, almost cry once again. I look like Brad Pitt after the big fight scene in Fight Club, only worse. My lips are split, my nose swollen, purple discolorations under each eye, yellow and mauve bruises all over my face, a cut on my cheek, and my chin scabbed over.

  I inspect my body, and it’s not much better. I’ll take a hot bath later and see if that helps with the healing, but for now, my plan is to stay in bed. There’s no way I’m going anywhere until the worst of this fades.

  Derek is sitting on the bed with two cups of coffee on the nightstand when I return.

  “I look horrible. I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” I say. I’m so mortified I just want to crawl under a rock.

  He shrugs and hands me the coffee after I lie back down against the pillows. “I’m guessing we’re not going jogging this morning.”

  “It’s like you can read my mind.”

  “Eerie, isn’t it?”

  I take a sip of my coffee. My lips burn where they’re split. I’m a mess. “Can you do me a huge favor and get me my phone and tablet?” I ask.

  “Sure.”

  “They’re on the table.”

  I watch as he stands and walks to the living room, my heart skipping a beat at how good he looks. Here I am with the hottest guy in the universe in bed with me – and I can’t move. God hates me. That’s the only explanation. Even Melody would have a hard time parlaying being an invalid into some kind of sexual encounter.

  Not that I have any interest right now. There’s nothing to curb your libido like being hit by a truck.

  Derek returns, and I check my messages. As expected, there are a dozen each from Jeremy and Melody, most concerning the news coverage of the accident. I tap in the URL for one of the largest gossip sites, and there are photos of the Mercedes, which is so distorted from the accident it’s almost unrecognizable, as well as one of me leaving the hospital. Even with the hat and sunglasses, I look bad. Beyond bad. Frankenstein bad. Like a science experiment gone wrong. Thank you, kind paparazzi.

  Derek is looking at the images over my shoulder, and I read the site’s commentary aloud. When I finish, he’s shaking his head.

  “Nice. Especially the speculation about whether your friend was drinking or not.”

  “They’re a real class act, aren’t they?” I say, anger seething inside me at the ugly tone of the article. “And good of them to blow up the shot of me to poster size.”

  “Kind of incredible that you walked away from it, though, looking at the car.”

  “Limped away. But you’re right.” I swallow hard. “June wasn’t so lucky. Do you mind if I make a call?”

  “No. I was going to take a shower anyway.”

  He stretches, gives me a chaste kiss on the unbruised part of my forehead, and smiles. “Don’t beat yourself up. This too shall pass.”

  “Doesn’t feel like it right now.”

  “I know. You have every right to be down. I would be.” He walks to the bathroom door and hesitates there. “You’ll power through this, just like you have everything else, Sage. This is a speed bump.”

  The door closes, and I shut my eyes. Easy for him to say. He didn’t spend the last week primping, cleaning every inch of the apartment, and planning four days of romantic bliss.

  I sigh and dial Sebastian’s number, hoping he’s broken his no cell phones in the studio rule. It goes to voice mail, and I curse silently before hanging up and calling Ruby. When she answers, she sounds out of breath.

  “Hello.”

  “Ruby, it’s Sage.”

  “Oh, hey. How’re you doing?”

  “Little by little, you know? I’ll make it. But I look like a Halloween costume.”

  “Do you need anything?”

  “Have you got the number for Sebastian’s studio?”

  “Sure. Hang on a sec.” I wait, and then she comes back on the line and gives me the number.

  “Any news on June?” I ask.

  “Haven’t heard anything. Sorry.” She pauses, and I hear Saul in the background. “Saul wants to say hi.”

  Saul’s voice sounds big even over the little speaker. “Sage, how’s my favorite rock star?”

  “Better, Saul. I should be up and around in no time.”

  “Don’t push it. I talked to Sebastian last night, and he said he’s got you covered. He just needs you for a few backup vocal tracks. Some tag lines, that sort of thing. The rest he can work around.”

  “That’s good.” A thought pops into my head. “I’m not sure how long it will be before I can play again, though. My wrist is kind of thrashed.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get you a band. All you’ll need to do is sing. Piece of cake. I already sent Terry a short list of some of the best names in town for the tour.”

  “That’s great, Saul. I appreciate the support.”

  “Sweetie, you’re going to get everything this label has. Now just take it easy and get better. The rest can wait.”

  I hear
the words, but his tone says he’s got a lot riding on me and he’ll be relieved when I’m back in the saddle. I don’t blame him – nobody planned for this.

  He continues. “Our PR people are making a big deal out of it, though. You’re on the cover of every newspaper, on every website. Talk about free publicity. You’ll sell an extra million just off the coverage alone. Sebastian is working on a sneak preview of that first song you did so we can capitalize on it while everyone’s paying attention. So rest, get better, and leave the magic to me.”

  It figures Saul’s worked out a way to make my misfortune pay. Not that it’s a bad thing – in this business, any publicity’s good publicity, and I don’t blame him, even though it seems extremely calculated. But that’s his job, and he’s clearly very good at it.

  I disconnect and call the studio. It takes six rings to answer, and when it does, it’s an annoyed-sounding John.

  “What?” he snaps.

  “John, it’s Sage. Sorry to interrupt.”

  “Sage! No, no problem. We’re just all a little tense right now. You want to talk to Sebastian?”

  “Yeah, if it’s not a bad time.”

  “Never.”

  I hear a murmured discussion, and then Sebastian’s voice comes on the line. “Sage, how are you?”

  “Pretty thrashed, but I’ll live. Have you heard anything about June?”

  “She’s in the ICU. They think they got all the internal bleeding, but they’re worried about her head MRI. Apparently she had some bleeding in her skull.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds, apparently. They don’t think it did any permanent damage, and the meds she’s on are breaking it up. It’s dissolving. But she’s not out of the woods yet.”

  “When can I come by to see her?”

  Sebastian hesitates. “I’ll call you after I get back tonight, okay? Hopefully tomorrow. But no guarantees.”

  “I know.” I pause. “I can’t believe you can work with all this going on.”

  “It’s actually good I have something to do, because otherwise I’d be bouncing off the walls. I don’t do well with this kind of thing,” he admits.

  “Don’t forget to call me.”

  “I won’t. I have your number.”

  I hesitate. “Sebastian? Thanks for going the extra distance. It’s got to be hard.”

  “The fact that I’m working on my favorite project ever doesn’t hurt.”

  “I’ll try to make it in as soon as I can.”

  “I don’t have a whole lot for you to do. But I definitely want you in the mixing sessions. This is a collaboration, not a dictatorship.”

  “Says the guy who schedules my bathroom breaks.”

  I can hear him grin over the phone. “Guilty.”

  “Call, Sebastian.”

  “I will.”

  Derek comes out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around his waist, and I almost drop the phone. He’s incredible, especially glistening with water. If I’d forgotten any of the details from my peek at him at Bull’s, they all come rushing back, and in spite of my condition I feel a stirring.

  Which instantly turns into pain as I try to twist my neck.

  End of awesomest moment of my life.

  “Sorry. I forgot my stuff,” he says, his hair askew. In spite of the agony I’m feeling, I want to jump on him. I’ll have to settle for another moan. He comes over and kisses my forehead again. I turn my face up to meet his, but my lips sting a reminder when I pucker them. I hate my predicament with a passion. His lips graze mine so lightly it’s like an angel’s breath on my face, and then he pulls away.

  “Don’t stop,” I say, but it’s no good. The vision of my brutalized face in the mirror jumps to the forefront, and the mood disintegrates. He eyes me, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and then shakes his head.

  “Rain check?”

  “It’s always raining lately, isn’t it?” I grumble.

  He laughs, and the sound’s as musical as wind chimes. “It only seems that way. I…I want it to be right. This is special, Sage. You’re pretty banged up. I can wait a little longer.”

  Derek’s right, but I hate reality. Then again, I can see his point. It’s probably not all that arousing to be kissing someone covered with bruises and cuts. And I too want our time together to be special. This is only special in the sense of how much pain I can endure when I move.

  I sigh. “It’s so frustrating.”

  He nods. “It is. But everything happens for a reason. I’m not sure why this happened, but it did, so I’ll roll with it.”

  “This is going to be the longest four days of my life.”

  He wipes a strand of wet hair off his face, and his bottle-green eyes flash in the sunlight.

  “At least you’re alive, Sage. We both have a lot to be thankful for. I know I am.”

  I reach out and touch his face with my fingers. “You’re right, Derek. But I can still be an ingrate, can’t I?”

  He laughs. “Of course.” He stands, and I resist the urge to pull him on top of me. Partially due to my incredible self-control, as well as the surge of pain radiating from my temples. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he bends over and lifts his bag, the iron muscles in his arms and chest bulging as he effortlessly hefts it, and I curse under my breath.

  “What’s that?” he asks.

  I flash on my tattoo with the line from Bobby McGee, and offer a sad smile.

  “Nothing.”

  Chapter 21

  The next day I’m back at the hospital for my appointment with the doctor, who wants to see me every forty-eight hours for the first week. He doesn’t seem concerned about the headaches and constant pain, and prescribes some Vicodin. He shows me the CT scan that was done when I was admitted, and after a thorough exam proclaims that I’m healing nicely.

  Of course, it doesn’t feel like I’m mending. It feels like my world’s collapsing in on me like a building in free fall.

  Derek’s been awesome, and once I stop feeling sorry for myself and accept that we’re not going to be doing anything romantically on this trip, we’re really enjoying each other’s company. I forgot how much I like just hanging out with him, talking about nothing, passing the time. It reminds me of our cross-country trip, of that easy camaraderie we had in the early days before we hit New York, back when we were penniless and relatively carefree. A time that now seems as distant as the Stone Age.

  After I’m done, we make our way to the intensive care ward, where Sebastian is waiting for us – I told him about my appointment, and he suggested he come to the hospital. June regained consciousness last night, to everyone’s relief, although the doctors are still concerned about her bleeding and the cracked vertebrae she suffered.

  Sebastian eyes me as we walk down the cold corridor toward the waiting area, and he rises as we near. He gives me a gentle hug and shakes Derek’s hand. I can see the stress lines around his eyes, and he looks fatigued.

  “How are you doing?” he asks, sizing me up.

  “Doctor says I’ll be ice skating again in no time.”

  “That’s a relief.” He glances at Derek. “Just in time for Central Park.” He sees the puzzled look on my face. “The lake in Central Park freezes over in the winter, and people skate on it.”

  “Oh,” I say. I forget sometimes that Sebastian has been all over the world, and that New York, even though it seems like it’s a million miles away, is just a business trip for him, probably round-trip in one day.

  “Is your sister doing any better?” Derek asks.

  Sebastian nods. “I think so. But it’s hard to get a straight answer out of anyone. All the doctors will say is that they’re optimistic, that she’s young, that she’s not out of trouble yet, but making progress…it seems like they don’t really know.”

  “That’s frustrating,” I say, thinking about my meeting with my doctor.

  “Yeah, but she’s conscious, so she’s obviously getting bet
ter.” His eyes narrow as he takes in my face. “I see the bruising’s going down.”

  “Doesn’t seem that way, but it looks a little better than yesterday,” I say.

  “How does it feel?”

  I debate a candy-coated answer and instead tell the truth. “Terrible. Everything hurts.”

  “I’ve never been in a car accident, but my friends that have been all say the same thing – that when it first happens, you’re still in a state of shock, and it’s only afterwards that you realize how hurt you are,” Sebastian says.

  “I’ll vouch for that. It was worse the day after the accident.”

  “The good news is that means you’re healing.”

  “If you say so.”

  Sebastian walks to a nearby door and cracks it open. After leaning in and saying something, he motions us over.

  June’s got the twin of my collar around her neck and is giving me a close run for my money on most bruised girl of the year. She tries a smile, but I can see the pain in her eyes.

  I approach the side of her bed and look down at her, which is tough given that I have to lean my whole body forward to do so, thanks to my own collar.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she says, her normally effusive voice small.

  “That’s the last time I let you drive.”

  She closes her eyes in a long blink, and when she opens them, they’re moist. “Yeah. Next time…limo.”

  “June, this is Derek. We were going to the airport to pick him up.”

  Her eyes swivel to him, and one side of her face twitches. “Nice to…meet you.”

  “I’m really sorry about this. I should have taken a cab.”

  June sighs. “I’ll say.”

  “I owe you a car,” I joke.

  Sebastian clears his throat. “Nah. Insurance covers everything.”

  “I want a red one,” June says. I laugh once before grimacing as my ribs signal that they’re nowhere near healed.

  “I’ll go with you to the dealer,” I say.

  June raises an index finger and looks away. “All…crooks.”

  It’s clear that just that short interaction has tired June, and my heart is heavy when Derek and I make our way back down the hall, leaving Sebastian with his sister.