by Mia Caldwell
I immediately dialed for Patrick. He answered on the second ring, which told me that his Bluetooth was active – he only turned that on if he was in the chopper. As soon as the call connected, I could hear the sounds of the rotors whirring, and his shouting voice over the mechanical disturbance.
“Patrick, I need immediate pickup from the tower.”
“Copy that, sir – already en route, over.”
“Estimated arrival?”
“T-minus six minutes, over.”
“Good, hold it steady, I’ll be up shortly.”
“Wilco, over.”
“Thank you, Patrick.”
“Anytime, over and out.”
Of course, I didn’t require Patrick to speak in Military grade communications to work for me, but when he was focused on mid-flight communications, he usually reverted into his many years of training.
Realizing that I was still naked, I took a moment to bathe in the morning sunlight pouring through the windows. Nobody could see me up here. It felt liberating.
“Cole?” Kiona was rising from her slumber; in all likelihood, she had been stirred awake by the conversation.
“Good morning,” I hurriedly answered, stepping into my closet to quickly dress myself. I could hear some moving about in the bed, and cursed myself for waking her. It should have occurred to me to step away to call, and now she was going to wake up just in time for me to rush out the door.
I could only blame myself, really.
“Cole, honey, is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes, everything’s fine,” I lied, snapping the last buttons closed and threading a tie. “Just lay back down and get some more sleep.”
“Are you heading into work?”
“No,” I tersely answered while slipping into a fresh pair of slacks, before realizing my absent-minded mistake. Should have just said yes, kept it simple…
“Oh, alright then. Taking a trip?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, good. I’ll get dressed.” She started to get up.
“No, it’s not that kind of – I mean, I’m running late.”
“Not that kind of trip?”
I didn’t have time for this. “I’ll only be gone a few hours,” I told her reassuringly, leaving the closet with a pair of socks and shoes.
“But I thought you said I’d be joining you on your trips,” she said indignantly. Kiona was wide-awake, sitting up in bed and clasping the comforter to her chest.
“You will, but not this one. I’m already going to be late – just trust me and stay here.” I tried to calm her down, but Kiona had not responded to waking up to anything less than a fairy tale morning after. She turned her head in irritation, but I couldn’t dedicate the time to this right now. “Get some rest. I’ll be back, and everything will be fine.”
As I slipped my socks on and tied my shoelaces, she didn’t move a muscle. With a heavy sigh, I stood up, suppressing a quick, raspy cough into my fist. I moved to hold her cheek with my clean hand, but she whipped her face away.
“Don’t be like this, Key,” I pleaded. “I won’t be gone long. You know that I’m busy.”
“Right. Busy.”
Now, my concern was flashing to anger. Gritting my teeth, I restrained myself from lashing out, choosing to simply cast her a glowering look. She was still incensed, but I was already late. Patrick would be waiting for me, and even with the speed of his craft, I wasn’t going to make it in time. I so hated being late.
With a heavy, angry heart, I left her in the room.
Crossing the penthouse, I straightened my tie as my shoes clattered against the tile flooring. Several chambers away, my hired maid peered from her work, and I gave her a curt nod of recognition. As I walked past, I realized that I must look absolutely dreadful – and a mirror came into view around the corner. Catching an image of myself, I remembered that I hadn’t bothered to wash my face or brush my teeth – and my hair was a slight mess from the events of the night before. I tried to tussle my hair lightly in my reflection, but to no avail.
I had woken up so refreshed and happy about said events. It’s really a shame that my fiancé had to dispel the entire illusion, I thought to myself rather coldly.
Yes…coldly, I agreed to myself, taking a deep breath as I strolled towards the foyer. That’s what I needed – coolness. Indifference. Apathy. I needed my fortifications to slide back into place, reinforced from such frivolous thoughts. To think that I had been so foolish to let them down at all!
By the time that I reached the helicopter, clamoring quickly into the cabin with the door shutting behind me, I had already pushed it all aside in my head, and the safety of my mental walls was already securely in place.
* * *
“You’re late,” my specialist observed as I strolled into his office. I had run all the way down the halls, slowing to a casual pace only fifty feet outside. “And you look like you’ve just rolled out of bed. You do realize I have other patients, correct? I understand that you’re rich, but so are the rest of my clients, and they are less forgiving than you.”
“I arrived as quickly as I could, but I am terribly sorry about the delay,” I mumbled groggily as an apology.
Doctor Greene’s office was small, yet tastefully modern. This was a man who could have had his pick of half the offices on the floor, and chose the modest one with the striking view of downtown New York City. It was a wise decision, I’d found, and told me a little of his priorities.
“Yes, well. Be that as it may,” he grumbled, standing up from his desk to rummage in a nearby cabinet.
I flicked the button of my blazer open as I took a seat in one of his guest chairs, afraid that I might need to rely on the positioning. Swallowing my concerns, I glanced casually out the window, although my own view was not particularly exquisite from this angle. It was the doctor, after all, with the good spot.
And despite my success and all my wealth, I was willing to switch spots with him in a heartbeat…of which I found myself limited, so it would appear.
“Let’s see…” He flipped through files in the drawer.
I was well aware that he not only could have pulled this information up prior to my arrival, but that it was likely stored in digital format on his computer. Growing impatient, I bit my tongue again – why is it that everyone around me insists on these grand, sweeping gestures? First, it was Alphonse…then this morning…
My tolerance was at its limits when he finally pulled the folder free, closed the drawer, and stepped back over around to the desk. “Yes, we’ve got the lab results in now,” he murmured absentmindedly, reviewing the folder as he sat down across from me.
“When I was here last week, you said that the treatments were no longer responding. You also gave me a time frame for my…expiration.”
“This is true,” he agreed.
“But you had some tests performed anyway,” I pressed. “Surely, you must have thought there was something else…perhaps something that was overlooked.”
“Correct,” he confirmed again.
If this man doesn’t start giving me some answers soon, I’m going to strangle him with my bare hands.
“So…give me the news, Doc.”
Doctor Greene sighed, setting the folder down. “There might be a way…but it is a last resort, and a highly improbable one at that.”
“Will it save my life?”
He took a deep breath. “There’s no guarantee.”
I processed this information while he continued.
“And it’s going to come at a cost.”
“I can afford any cost,” I chuckled bitterly.
“There are costs that money can’t cover,” he told me. “You’re not going to be able to snap open your checkbook and fix this one…the disease is too rampant now.”
“So, what are we talking about here, doctor?”
He sighed, whipping off his glasses and looking me in the eyes. Finally. No more bullshit. My doctor’s gaze was resolute, but stained along
the edges with something akin to pity.
“Your lungs are in almost critical condition. These international flights of yours are only degrading them further – cabin pressure, altitude changes, you’re not doing yourself any favors. I have access to an experimental drug trial out being run by Parapharm, but to have a hope of qualifying you’re going to require a double lung transplant.”
“Double?”
“It has to be both. Otherwise, the infected tissue filling the native lung will simply compromise the fresh lung. With both lungs swapped, you might just escape this thing – swap out one, and you’ll have bought yourself not even months, but weeks.”
“So, I get a double lung transplant.”
“If it were only that simple, I would have already scheduled the surgery.”
He sighed deeply again, watching me carefully. Instead of stalling or simply being a bother, I could tell that he was simply gathering his thoughts.
It didn’t make it any easier to hear.
“There are no matches in our system to your genetics. Unfortunately, your immune system is over-reactive from the condition. Your body is openly hostile to the options. It will automatically reject virtually any lung we can find you…even if we could find a partial match, the anti-rejection drugs would destroy your standard of living. It’s possible that a partial match transplant and years of experimental therapy could extend your time, but it would be… Painful.”
“I can’t accept that, Doctor,” I told him calmly.
“I am…very sorry to hear that,” Doctor Greene paused. “Then I’m afraid that the likelihood of us finding a suitable lung in time – two lungs in time – is simply impossible.”
“Then you called me here to waste my time?” I stood up furiously, hands on my hips as I stared out at the skyline. “Doc, I already knew that I was dying. Do you have any fucking idea of how little of that I have left?”
“You pay me to provide options at any cost. I’ve provided one. A partial match transplant might buy you a few years of time. It may be years of excruciating pain and every breath will be difficult, but time brings possibilities. You will remain bedridden, but drugs can reduce the pain. Medicine will advance in the time you gain. New therapies are on the horizon that could potentially improve your quality of life. Perhaps a second donor with a genetic match will miraculously appear. Without this risk there is no hope. I respect how little time you have left. According to the revisions we received with the latest results,” the doctor calmly but sadly waved to the folder on his desk, “you have, if we are being optimistic, less than three weeks.”
I took a deep breath, angry at the way it failed to fill my lungs the way it might have a few short years ago. I could sense their impending failure.
“I’ve taken the liberty of putting you on the transplant list.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Part Three
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Chapter 18
Kiona
Just like that, Cole Andrews left.
I thought that we had something the night before. Sure, maybe I was overreacting a little bit, but it had been the first time I’d had sex in over five years, so I considered myself up for a little indignation at how dismissive he had been.
Did I want a nice, relaxing morning-after?
Yeah. Of course I did. After all, we’d just consummated this sham of a marriage!
Cole had never said a word about having some pressing matter in the morning. I fell asleep to mental pictures of being woken with breakfast in bed – he said he was an ace in the kitchen, after all – and of snuggling together and enjoying our own intimate company for the remainder of the day. Maybe I’d take the reigns this time. I’d show him what pleasure truly could be…
At least, that was the plan until he rushed out on some business trip or something. I didn’t really want to come along with him when he was dashing off to wherever the hell he was going, but I wanted to save a little of the magic from the previous night. Foolishly, I thought that showing some interest in joining him on his trip would demonstrate that I cared.
And then, he wouldn’t tell me a thing about what he was doing! I mean, what the hell was up with that?
I rose from the bedding furiously, leaving my clothes where they remained on the bed. My fresh garments were still in the suitcases, sitting in the guestroom that he had given me for my trip, and I walked naked across the house towards it.
In my fury, I hadn’t heard the maid working in the kitchen, and accidentally padded straight out in front of her.
“Aiiiii!”
“AHHH!”
She was covering her eyes as I ducked back the way I’d come, additional indignation thrown onto the fire. I quickly, quietly darted back towards the room, tossing my clothes back on and heading back out that way. When I crossed around the kitchen this time, I was performing another walk of shame, thanks to one Cole Andrews – and this time, there was actual sex involved in the proceedings.
The maid clearly tried to ignore me as I walked past, both of us eager to try and forget the entire thing. Strolling over to my guest room, I pulled out a change of clothes, and then stepped into the refreshing, soothing relaxation of the shower.
I took the time to try and really enjoy the hot water as it cascaded down my body. Cole had gone out of his way to supply a number of beauty care products – he had probably hired someone to pick them out and have them delivered. It was a nice, gracious touch, even if I was totally pissed at him for his dismissive departure this morning.
After the shower, I dressed myself in the prettiest dress that I owned. That was when I realized that I was probably trapped here until he came back, considering that I lacked a key to the private elevator.
Grumbling furiously to myself, I started unpacking my clothing into the furniture of the guest room. It was only when I was storing my socks away that I noticed something glimmering in the light on a shelf near the door. Temporarily preoccupied, I walked over and snatched up a key on a ring, a note, and a guest credit card with a microchip.
Dear Key,
Here’s a little something to get by if I need to pop out for a little while. Enclosed is a private key to the elevator – DO NOT LOSE THIS – along with a credit card exclusively for your use. The credit limit is fifteen thousand per day, so don’t go too nuts.
I smiled to myself.
Cole had apparently never learned that the last thing you do with a woman scorned is arm her with money, although a) he probably did this yesterday and b) fifteen grand a day, to him, was very likely the equivalent of pocket change.
Still, I happily took the card and the key, depositing both in my purse before pausing on the unpacking front. After all, I now had not only a “Leave as you please” pass, but enough money that I could actually touch to finally take Aiswarya up on some libation-based merriment!
I whipped open my phone and sent her a text – Hey girl, let’s get drinks!
Deciding to go ahead and clean up the mess of my open trunk while I waited, I giddily tossed the clothes in their respective drawers and hung up a few dresses, blouses, and miniskirts before she finally texted back:
I take it you’re back in town. Free at 6PM.
“You know,” I spoke aloud to myself as I glanced at my open suitcase, “I really didn’t pack enough clothes to last me however long I’m staying here…I mean, I couldn’t have, anyway. There’s no way my wardrobe was fitting in these suitcases…”
My eyes fell on the open closet. It’s so empty.
“I have the resources…might as well throw myself on Cole’s generosity…I mean, it would be rude not to, right?”
With a smug glance in the mirror, I snatched up my purse and high-tailed it for the private elevator. My little patch of embarrassment with the maid was totally off my mind as I confidently powerwalked past her, my heels clicking on the tile.
I am going to MAKE this day awesome.
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&nbs
p; Chapter 19
Kiona
The first thing on my agenda was breakfast. Cole had left in such a hurry that he hadn’t bothered to think of how I was going to feed myself, so I thought I’d start by treating myself to the fancy restaurant I’d passed on the street for years – Adlebaum’s.
Adlebaum’s styled itself as an ostentatious little spot in one of the most happening streets in my almost day-to-day life. Formerly known as Harry’s, then Harry’s Cuisine, the proprietor had eventually stepped up his branding game by going with his weird but somehow posh surname. The menu, itself, experienced some sharp turnover with the name change – formerly known for somewhat uninspired and unfulfilling meals, he’d invested in an infamously difficult but inspired top chef, as well as some quality line cooks for support.