by Wylde, Tara
“Listen, I’ve been by the hospital myself. Seen a lot of those patients. They’re looking better. Healthier.” He drops a hand on my shoulder. I don’t even try to resist the urge to jerk away. Hell, I go with it, surging to my feet with enough violence to overturn my chair .
“’Course they’re looking better. ” I bark laughter. “’Course they are. ‘Cause they’re not pumped to the gills with cancer meds. But give it a month, maybe two, all those happy, smiling faces... They’ll be... They’ll be grinning their last. In the morgue.” I half-collapse into my desk. “Seen this before .”
“Okay—Say you’re right. What can you do about it now?” Tom’s creeping up on me again. I don’t have to fake my haste to back away .
“Gonna—Gonna admit it. Tell the world. ‘Cause—‘Cause it should’ve worked, would’ve, if I hadn’t...shit, Tom—I fucked up. Been going over and over it—Been ....”
“Okay, yeah—We can do that.” He’s got me cornered. I almost freak out for real when he grabs me by the arms. “Listen, though: there’s a right way and a wrong way to do this. Whatever you’ve done—However bad it seems—There could still be a chance to come back swinging. Make it right for real .”
“Come—come back? I’ve just killed — “
“Ssh—ssh. You haven’t. Nobody’s died yet—no-one who wasn’t at death’s door, anyway. There could still be other trials — “
I sway on my feet, slump against the wall .
“You’re okay. This is... This is a blip. A stutter-step. Come to my office. How about a coffee? I’ll get you a coffee. Sober you up .”
Sober me up—right. “Coffee—yeah .”
Tom slings an arm around my waist and guides me to the door. Forcing myself to lean on him hard is the most unnatural part of this whole charade. Helps a little, knowing what he must be smelling. Still, I can’t help but notice the little detour he takes, to tread on my power bar along the way. Guess he wants my computer good and dead, if I happen to break loose and come back here while he’s grabbing that coffee .
As soon as he leaves me alone, I whip out my phone. Everything’s ready. One tap on my screen, his goose’ll be cooked. I settle in to wait. His office is kinda nicer than mine, and he doesn’t even work here, not really. He’s got one of those Aeron chairs—mine’s just a Sayl. Never noticed that before. And his desk’s a great oaken monstrosity: If it were a dinner table, it’d seat six. Eight, if they squeezed .
“Here you go.” Tom plops down in his fancy chair. “Drink up .”
I take an obedient sip. “What do I do ?”
“A little more, first. Let’s get you sober .”
Time to lay it on thick. I lean over in my chair. “Don’t wanna... Don’t feel so good ...”
“Get that inside you. You’ll feel better .”
“You sure about that?” One last chance .
“Have I ever steered you wrong ?”
Yes. I drain half the coffee. He always puts so much cream in there, it’s barely warm. That’s how he takes it. Never even asked how I like mine. Fucking psychopath .
“So, start at the beginning—Where exactly is it you think you went wrong ?”
I blink. I’m not sure I feel anything yet. Maybe that was just coffee. Gotta stall. “Spent so much time...so much time worrying about the action of the drug inside the tumor cells, I completely neglected delivery .”
“Which means ?”
“I was trying to...to bang in a nail with a sponge .”
“Not sure I quite understand — “
There it is: that familiar drowsiness. I’m not relaxing—I’m fucking high. “Let’s just say....” I fumble for my phone. Hit dial .
“Who are you calling ?”
I hold up one finger. My heart’s pounding. I expected this to happen, but it’s still a lot to swallow .
“911; what is your emergency ?”
I sit up straight. Lock eyes with Tom. “I’m at Dovecote Biotech, on Fallsview. Fifth floor. Just been roofied. Get here quick .”
“Sir, have you—“ I hang up .
Tom’s staring, round-eyed. “We can talk about this.” At least he’s not trying to deny it .
“Yeah? And say what?” My head’s starting to pound. Now that it’s happening, I can’t wait for this to be over .
“Look at me.” He reaches for my hand. I roll my chair back, unable to hide my disgust. “I know this looks bad, but I swear to you, I did it for all the right reasons .”
The right...what the fuck ?
“You were running yourself into the ground. Killing yourself. The first time I did it, it was just so you’d sleep the night through. It was that time—you remember, don’t you? You had that cold, lasted three weeks?” Tom sniffs a little. “You weren’t sleeping. Weren’t getting better. You’d just lost your dad....” He’s doing it—the unbelievable dickwad’s actually doing it, trying to manipulate me, even now .
“And after that ?”
“Keeping you docile. Protecting you from Nasmith .”
I shake my head. My brain’s getting foggy. It would be easier to go along.... “Uh-uh. No. Not gonna work this time .”
“Listen. I’m telling you the truth. You were — “
“Confused. Tired. A little suggestible. Just like you wanted me.” I pound my fists on his desk, to shock myself alert as much as to startle him. “Like when you sent me to break up with my wife !”
“That wasn’t — “
“Y’know, I actually trusted you. Respected you. Even without the drugs. You didn’t have to — ”
“I protected you! I — “
“But what I want to know is....” I lean way over his desk, looming over him. “How much did you have to give me so I’d follow you out my own front door, shoeless and clueless? You even know what a safe dose is ?”
“Yes! Dr. Wells saw to all that. You were never in any — “
“Bullshit I wasn’t!” I give his desk a good shove, trapping him between the oak and the wall. “If this is what I think it is, it’s a fine line between a scary overdose and a fatal one !”
I can hear sirens already. Fast service. Guess it’s time to wrap this up .
“Just one more question: why ? ”
Tom shrugs .
“I mean, I get it—Nasmith needed to keep me in line. Keep me running scared till I finished the job, and it was time to cut me loose. But you... What do you gain ?”
He looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “The hell do you think ?”
“I honestly don’t — “
“Money , jackass !”
The fight goes out of me, and I sag back into my chair. Money—really? All this for a dirty payday ?
The ambulance pulls up and the siren cuts out. I hang my head. I’m not acting any more: I feel every bit as pathetic as I look. Feel like an idiot—how many times did I let this guy lead me around by the nose, and for what ?
“Jim, listen— Don’t — “
I jolt upright, ignoring my spinning head. “You’ll wanna shut the fuck up, right about now .”
“I’ll roll on Nasmith. Wells, too. Anything you want .”
I bury my head in my hands. All I feel is tired. All I want is out .
“Just think about it. None of this would even exist if it wasn’t for me. I could still help you. Still — “
Distantly, I hear the elevator ding. Tom hears it too. He goes still. Like a trapped animal, torn between fight and flight. But the fight’s over, and it’s too late to run .
“Jim. Jim . ”
“I gave you every chance to change your mind, to take that coffee back. Practically begged you. I — “
The door flies open. I close my eyes .
So, this is it .
I win .
22
D iana
The stars are just coming out over San Gimignano when I get the text I’ve been waiting for .
On my way. Arrive Peretola 6PM .
Then another, less r
eassuring: Whatever you hear, don’t freak out. I’m FINE and coming to you .
Fine, huh? I’ll be the judge of that. James’s idea of fine tends to fall anywhere short of dead .
I flip open my laptop and click through to Google News. James is everywhere. Making international headlines—or at least the US papers. I click on the first video link. The picture stutters as the audio starts to play .
“And now, in a story worthy of the daytime soaps, several arrests have been made in the strange case of James Ashby, founder of Dovecote Biotech and cancer research pioneer. What’s come to light is, in an apparent attempt at a hostile takeover, at least four investors have been regularly dosing the doctor with a cocktail of scopolamine, ketamine, and at least two other substances, in order to—ah, actually, I’m going to turn over to my guest, here—Dr. Sharon Goodbridge, addiction specialist. Dr. Goodbridge, what would you use this particular mixture for ?”
I’m not sure I want to hear this. Regularly dosing him? I need to hear his voice, see his face, know he’s all there .
The doctor clears her throat. “Well, Maria, that’s a good question, and one that’s difficult to answer without knowing exactly what was going on at Dovecote, but scopolamine in particular has a reputation for making people very docile, very open to suggestion, especially in high doses. It’s been linked to a number of robberies, where people have literally emptied their bank accounts for complete strangers, and been left with little to no memory of the encounters .”
“So what you’re saying is, they could’ve told him to do just about anything, and he’d have gone through with it ?“
Anything? Like...marrying me ?
“No—not anything. I don’t think—it would be very unlikely he’d have, say, committed a murder, robbed a bank, something he’d never do on his own. But something simple, something that’d sound reasonable, at least on the surface—yes. Yes. That’s entirely possible .”
“And—Thank you, by the way, Dr. Goodbridge—And it looks like what they were doing was getting Dr. Ashby to act out in ways that would’ve allowed them to invoke a morality clause that — “
I click the video away. This isn’t what I need to hear. I know what they were doing. I need to see him , know he’s safe .
The next couple of links are more of the same, but the fourth shows a freeze-frame of James outside the hospital, holding up his hands to fend off a microphone. I take a deep breath for courage, and pull up that one .
It opens on chaos. “Dr. Ashby! Dr. Ashby! Do you have — “
“Dr. Ashby !”
I wince. He’s got to hate that. James has never been big on crowds .
“Hey—Could you answer — “
He holds up his hands. It’s hard to tell—the angle’s odd and the video’s low-quality—but he looks like he’s laughing. “One at a time !”
“Sir, where are you headed now ?”
“Uh, home—home to my wife. That’s really all I — “
“Dr. Ashby, these revelations put a whole new spin on your former playboy reputation. What do you have to say about that ?”
James starts to say something, but the crowd’s babbling over him. I turn up the volume. “Shut up—let him talk !”
“Listen, I—“ He laughs again, waits for the chatter to die down. “I gotta take responsibility for most of that. Truth is, I did like to party. But there was one night—and that’s actually—there’s no... There’s no proof yet, but I think that’s when they first figured out they could give me a little more, create a situation where I’m... Well, not just sleeping through the odd board meeting.” He grins a hangdog grin. “I really stepped over the line that night—can’t guarantee I wouldn’t have done the same on just champagne, but the difference was, I ended up... Woke up on Monday, no idea where Sunday went. Huge wakeup call. Got me on a whole other path .”
“So, what you’re saying is—you’re saying they did you a favor, in a way ?”
“Well, they could pretty easily have killed me, so, no—I wouldn’t put it that way. But I did meet my wife—she was driving the Uber that took me home that day. So I’d say... I’m a family man, now. Couldn’t be happier with that .”
“And you got a kid on the way, is that right ?”
James positively beams. “That’s—yeah, that’s right. I’m just...ready to get down off this drama llama, concentrate on being a dad .”
“And that was Dr. James Ashby, coming to you from — “
I snap my laptop shut. I’m shivering in the balmy afternoon, not sure whether to be relieved to hear him joking with the reporters or horrified at the casual revelation he could’ve died .
I wonder if anything would’ve been different if I’d driven him to the hospital that morning instead of taking him home. They’d have drawn blood, found the drugs—But would he have figured out where they came from? Ended up in even bigger trouble? Guess we’ll never know .
On impulse, I crack open my laptop one more time, search my own name. I’m only a footnote in one of the stories on James: Diana Ashby, unjustly maligned in the ongoing smear campaign against her husband ....
I step out onto the balcony—the same one where we watched a horse plod by the first night of our honeymoon. The street’s lively with tourists, now, barely recognizable. Their voices drift up to me, a muddle of accents and languages I can’t place. Not sure I can even pick out any Italian. I kind of preferred the place in winter, but right now, it’s nice not to feel alone. Tomorrow evening seems impossibly distant .
I can kill some time in the morning, picking up a few of his favorites: some thick-crusted Italian bread; that rich cocoa he likes; nice plate of cheese. Then I can linger over lunch, and the afternoon—well, that’ll be all restless pacing, no matter what I do. But there’s still the vast chasm of night in my way .
I drift back to my computer. There’s a message waiting. From James .
“Hey,
“Just got done dropping Percy with the sitter. Occurred to me I probably freaked you out worse with my message. Listen—don’t go online. Stay off the news sites. They’re playing it up to the hilt, but truth is, it’s over, and everything’s fine. Everything’s GOING to be fine .
“Tell you all about it when I get there .
“Love you ,
“James.”
Yeah, bit late for that. Still, I appreciate the effort. He does sound like himself .
I settle in to wait out the next nineteen hours .
23
J ames
I spend half the eleven-hour trip practically bouncing in my seat. The other half, well, I quit biting my nails when I grew out of short pants, but if there’s ever a time I was tempted, this would be it. Obviously, I’ll be over the moon to see Diana—but there’s still the question of how she’ll feel about seeing me. I’ve put her through a lot, and I can only imagine what she thought of the news coverage .
Still, most of what I feel is excitement. Especially as the plane drops through the thin cloud cover, revealing Italy spread out below. The guy in front of me even reprimands me for setting his seat vibrating with my constant foot-tapping .
I can’t help it. Everything I want—everything I’ve been working for—is about to be mine .
Diana’s waiting for me at the airport. Waiting with outstretched arms, and a smile as big as mine. Never been so happy to see anyone in my life. I barely have time to drop my suitcase before she’s in my arms .
“Idiot—idiot—what the hell were you thinking?” She tweaks my ear, hard enough to hurt. “Thought I wouldn’t find out what you did ?”
Guess she wasn’t impressed with my little sting operation. “Ssh—ssh, I’m fine. Look at me. All good.” But Diana can’t look at me: she’s squeezing me too tight .
“Where’d you even come up with a plan like that ?”
“In the dumb part of my brain .”
“I’ll say!” Finally she lets me go. “Hey! We need you alive. Healthy. For a long time to come .”
> I summon up my best cocksure grin. “Gonna live forever .”
“If I have anything to say about it .”
She pulls me in for another hug, soft and sweet this time .
Truth is, I feel bad. I wouldn’t have done what I did if I’d had any idea it wasn’t just scopolamine in that coffee. Little of that, well, it’ll make you dozy, a bit foggy, but not much else. Add ketamine, morphine—they’re not even sure what else yet—Who knows ?
I had plenty of time to think about that on the trip. I should’ve known. The stuff took effect way too fast, made me way too woozy. If I’d taken a minute, really worked it out ...
“Listen, I—“ I take Diana’s hands. I want her to hear this, believe it. “I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. Not thinking. And I can’t blame it all on the drugs. A lot of it, well... I’ve been immature. Irresponsible. That’s gonna change, starting now. And if you ever see me falling back into old habits — “
“I’ll swat you on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.” She’s still smiling, but there’s a grim note to her voice .
I lean in and kiss her on the nose. “I’ll deserve it .”
The drive to San Gimignano’s undeniably picturesque, but I find myself staring at Diana instead. She’s got this determined look on her face, this fine little line between her brows. Same expression she had the first time we met .
She catches me staring. “Something on my face ?”
“Nah, just... You’re driving me around again .”
“What are you talking about? I always drive you around .”
“That’s ‘cause you like driving.” I stretch out as far as I can, till all my joints pop. Feels good, after the long flight. “Hey. You should go back to school, though .”
“What? Where’d that come from ?”
“Just something else I was thinking about on the way over.” I look away, across the hills and fields. “Your life’s been nothing but making me look good for months. Time you had something for yourself .”
“I’ll have a kid pretty soon.” She laughs. “Not sure there’ll be time for much else after that .”
“Maybe not for the first few months, but I mean, I’ll be there too.” I can’t take her hand, so I settle for her knee. “You won’t be alone .”