A Thousand Little Pieces

by Cecilia Fyre

  “Poor guy,” Stuart sighed.

  “He’d be much better if you hadn’t worked him so hard this week,” Lea said, finding it impossible not to show her annoyance. “Why did you have to shoot so late last night? Ricco barely got three hours’ sleep, and his back’s all black and blue. And he’s been coughing again, it’s too hot and humid, and then he sits around in the air-conditioning all sweaty, and his airway gets all wonky.”

  She glared at Stuart, warming to her theme. It felt satisfying to vent some of her frustration. Stuart had the decency to look abashed. “You’re probably right, but I didn't make the schedule. Take it out on the AD. Excuse me, I gotta have a word with Scott." He rose before Lea could say anything else and hurried away. Lea looked at his retreating back, feeling frustrated. Everyone had been acting weird ever since they'd boarded the Learjet that would take them to the Comic-Con in San Diego. Lea rubbed her eyes. The strange atmosphere was hard to take on top of her worry about Ricco.

  Her eyes met Daniel’s, who was sitting at the very front of the plane with Josh, and her heart skipped a beat. His eyes on her were wistful, almost sad, and for a moment she longed to go to him. Usually, when she worried about Ricco, Daniel was the first person she turned to.

  Instead, she forced herself to look away, and stared down at her phone, pretending to be absorbed in something on the little screen. She could feel her face burning. But she couldn't help glancing around herself to see if anyone had noticed this exchange. Her eyes met Mel's, and the other woman stared at her pointedly for a moment, then looked away. Lea's heart was racing. Had Mel noticed? And what had she seen? Nothing, Lea tried to calm herself, nothing at all. There is nothing to see.

  Daniel and she hadn’t talked since the night of Lea’s return from Texas two weeks ago. Daniel had stayed away from the house, and Lea hadn’t been to set. But of course, if anyone would be suspicious it would be Mel.

  It had been a difficult few weeks. Ricco had tried to be supportive, nervously mindful of Lea’s fragile mental health. They hadn’t talked about the eating disorder again, but Lea sometimes caught Ricco’s worried glance. He was doing his best, she knew, to be there for her, but she also knew that he was afraid, unconsciously, that she couldn't be strong for him when she was unwell herself. It put an additional strain on their relationship because he needed her support just as much as always.

  This trip was a case in point. Lea hadn’t wanted to come, dreading the stress of the journey and the busy schedule at the huge convention. She didn’t need the crutches anymore but was still slow and quickly tired out. She couldn’t stand up for long and didn’t relish the thought of being surrounded by literally thousands of Ricco’s fans.

  But he had pleaded with her to reconsider. "I need you there, babe, to keep me sane." And she knew that he was right. The network would work him ragged, but if she went along maybe she could put a stop to it before he actually keeled over. And she reckoned that if she focused on Ricco she could ignore Daniel and a lot of other things about this trip that made her feel anxious. So, she had reluctantly agreed.

  Lea was absorbed in her thoughts when Ricco began to stir. At once Lea picked up a glass she had standing ready on a small tray next to her and went over to crouch by his side. As he pushed himself out of the tiny space behind the seats Lea reached for him, and he pulled himself up with her help. He leaned against the back wall of the cabin with a grimace, then pulled his legs up and hugged his knees to his chest, coughing deeply a few times with his forehead resting on his knees. Lea didn't like the rattly labored sound at all.

  When Ricco raised his head again Lea pushed a few strands of hair from his forehead and stroked his face. “How’re you feeling?”

  He squinted at her, eyes puffy and glazed. “Like shit. My back really hurts.”

  “You want me to find some Advil?”

  “Nah,” he said, looking queasy.

  “Lean forward a bit.”

  He obliged and Lea put her hand between his shoulder blades and rubbed him hard, up and down on both sides of his spine, then across the shoulders, finally massaging his neck. Ricco hummed in thanks. “That’s nice, babe.”

  "Here," Lea said as he sat upright again. "Ginger ale. Sip it slowly. You should eat something, too. You hardly had anything for breakfast. There's pasta, it's not bad."

  Ricco took the glass from her but shuddered at the mention of food. “I’ll definitely puke if I eat anything now. Once we get to the hotel, okay?”

  “All right, then. I’m sorry you’re feeling shitty, hun.”

  He shrugged and drank some ginger ale but held the glass out to her with a queasy expression after a couple of sips. Lea took it with a sigh.

  “You feel better lying down?”

  “Bit, yeah.”

  "Then I suggest you crawl back into your hidey-hole. Try and catch some sleep, I'll keep the others off your back."

  Ricco's eyes were dark with the nausea he was fighting. "Oh babe, this sucks so hard already. Thank you for coming along, it really helps."

  Lea pushed away all thoughts of guilt and her discomfort and stroked his face briefly. He needed her, badly. Nothing else mattered for the moment. "Of course, hun. Any time."

  7

  San Diego felt wrong from the moment they disembarked the jet. A huge wall of heat met them, humid and stifling, and Lea could see Ricco’s t-shirt sticking to his back by the time they entered the terminal building. He looked very sick when Lea got a good look at his face in the black car that waited for them and didn’t speak a word to anyone on the drive.

  Right away when they entered the hotel hundreds of people were vying for their attention. Fans were screaming, ushers telling them where to go, and a dozen conversations around them about timetables, panels, and parties that Lea couldn't follow. It took Stuart forever to get Ricco away from the fans. Lea, hovering by the elevators, her hip throbbing, wondered about her man's sense of obligation to these people. He was feeling dreadful right now, and yet he signed autographs and took selfies with anyone who wanted them. The problem with this was that more and more people were arriving, clearly drawn by some kind of Chinese whisper system.

  Finally, Stuart delivered Ricco to Lea, one hand in the small of his back. “Go freshen up now, buddy. Gotta conserve your energies, the day’s not over yet.” His voice was kind, but Lea could see the worry in the director’s face.

  In the elevator, Ricco took Lea by the hand, and he held on as they walked down the long corridor to their room. "Your hip's aching, babe?"

  “A little, yeah.” When they got into the room Lea made straight for the bed and flopped down, savoring the cool, quiet peace. But Ricco didn’t even sit down. He grabbed a fresh shirt from his bag and headed for the bathroom. Then he stopped at the door and looked down at Lea. “You should stay here, babe. The evening stuff’s so dull, and it’s hot, and you’re sore. Order room service, go to bed early. Wish I could stay here with you.”

  She felt guilty to abandon him, but he was right. She was exhausted and sore. "I will if you're sure. Why not just stay here, too? Tell them you're too tired to go out. You really aren't fit to work, hun. I'll write you a doctor's note if you want."

  “I can’t. That’s why we’re here, to party with the people who put bread on my table. I know what I’m doing. I can keel over after.”

  "I'd rather you didn't," Lea said quietly but wasn't sure Ricco had heard her as he disappeared into the bathroom at last.

  Ricco got ready, and Lea's sense of guilt increased. He looked so tired; his movements were so clumsy with exhaustion. But she didn't offer to go with him when he finally left. Instead, she ordered dinner to their room, took some painkillers, and was asleep before ten.

  She woke up when he came back at just past one am. Ricco went straight out onto the balcony and didn’t come back inside. Lea could hear him pacing and coughing and finally, the clock nearly showing two am, she couldn’t take it any longer and got up.

  “Hun, you need to come to bed.
It’s really, really late, you’ll be dead on your feet.”

  He leaned against the balcony railing, one hand carding through his hair again and again. “I already am. I’m just so wired, dunno if it’s any use even trying to sleep.”

  “Why are you wired?”

  Ricco shrugged, and Lea squinted, trying to make out his expression in the moonlight. "Dunno, I always am, here. All the cameras and everyone expects me to let something slip, or do something stupid." He stubbed his cigarette out and came over to her. "And I worry about you, too, babe."

  “Why?” Lea’s heart sped up as he put his arms around her and pulled her close. “I’ll be okay, I’ll just hang back.”

  “Don’t want anyone to be mean to you,” he said and pressed close. Lea could feel him growing hard.

  “Nobody is going to be mean. And if they are I’ll just ignore them. Ricco,” she added sternly and pulled away a little as he tried to kiss her. “Is this a good idea now?”

  He grinned at her, his face pale but his eyes sparkling. “It’s a great idea. Y’want me t’sleep, this’ll put me right out.”

  He was drunker than Lea had realized, but he was also sweet and cuddly in her arms and was now starting to nuzzle her neck. She felt her body react and pushed the guilt away that bubbled up with the sensation. He was still her guy, and he wanted her, for the first time in months.

  “Ok then, c’mere and show me what you got.” Lea took his hand, and Ricco, giggling, followed her inside.

  Lea would later remember that night as the last one that held any real happiness for them together. After they had made love he finally slept, but it was a restless, broken sleep, and only around daybreak did he finally settle down properly in her arms, and they both got a few hours of real rest.

  When Lea woke Ricco was gone. There was a note on his pillow that read, Gone swimming with the gang, then off to the Andaz. Meet us there @ 9.30. N x

  Lea got out of bed and ready quickly, worried because she had no clue what the Andaz was and how to get there. Ricco had promised several times that he would give her a copy of the itinerary, but it had never materialized.

  She skipped breakfast and hurried downstairs where she found out from the nice concierge that the Andaz was a hotel and that she would need a cab to get there. It was just after nine-thirty when she finally arrived.

  "I'm sorry, ma'am," the security man guarding the lifts told her, and he looked it, too. "Without a badge, I can't let you up top."

  Frustrated, Lea glanced around the swanky hotel lobby. What to do? If he was in the middle of a press conference Ricco’s phone was likely to be off, as well as everyone else’s, too. She tried his cell anyway, without success. Then she paced the lobby, agitated.

  Why had Ricco not woken her? Why had he gone swimming without her? Her hip was much better, she hadn’t even brought a crutch. And even if the swimming thing was just for the cast he could’ve at least told her where he was going, and also remember to make sure that she knew where she was supposed to be and when, and that she actually got into the place. After all, he had begged her to come on this trip.

  "Lea!" Stuart came hurrying toward her while getting out his phone at the same time. "There you are! What happened? Ricco's climbing all over us with worry!"

  “They wouldn’t let me go upstairs. I tried, Stuart, I’m sorry.”

  He waved that away. “Never mind now.”

  “I tried to call him, too,” Lea added, but Stuart wasn’t listening. He pressed a key on his phone then listened intently. “Ricco? Yeah…yeah, I got her. all right, meet you out back.” He motioned to Lea who tried to keep up with the director’s long strides.

  “He’s an idiot, you know,” Stuart said grumpily. “I hadn’t even realized you weren’t there until he freaked out just now. He’s so tense, and the heat’s already getting to him. This gig always makes him crazy. Try not to take it personally, we’re all high strung when we’re here. So many eyes watching, and you gotta always be polite, and not give any spoilers away. And these dumb questions, the same shit, over and over. still, he oughta remember you, once in a while.”

  They emerged into a back street, and the heat hit Lea like a hammer after the air-conditioned cool of the hotel lobby. Several dark cars were lined up, and Ricco stood by the nearest one. He glared at her as she went over. "Where you been? You held us all up."

  “They wouldn’t let me through without a badge. I tried to call you.”

  But he just turned his back on her and climbed into the car, moving as far into the opposite corner as he could. He looked sweaty and disheveled already, and Lea could see him start to shiver with the air conditioning. They didn’t talk, and the fifteen-minute drive passed in frosty silence, only broken by Ricco’s coughing every few minutes.

  Lea was angry. He was being unreasonable. But there was nothing to be gained by making a scene, and she could see how tense he was already. The cough sounded worse than ever, and he kept shifting around as if his back was hurting him. More than anything Lea wanted to put him to bed. But she kept her own counsel. He wouldn't want her fussing now.

  The rest of the day passed in the same vein. They rushed from one interview to the next, interspersed with panels, photoshoots, and parties. Lea hung back, watching. She was bored, her hip was getting sore, and Ricco was ignoring her. You'd never know he was feeling unwell when he was out there playing it up, joking with the journalists, writing autographs, taking pictures. But as soon as they were back in the car she could see the toll all this was taking on him. The coughing was getting worse, his shoulders were tense, and he kept pressing down on his bad eye. The amounts of Tylenol he was taking increased constantly, as did the number of coffees he chugged as they waited around for the next gig, and the conspicuous lack of food anywhere near him. His eyes were red and swollen when he took his glasses off to wipe his sweaty forehead.

  Then, at the last party of the evening, he suddenly disappeared. One moment he was close by her side, the next he wasn't anywhere. Lea asked Stuart, Mel, and Josh who were standing nearby if they'd seen where Ricco had gone, but neither of them had a clue. Nor did anyone else when Lea slowly circled the field, asking anyone she recognized. She quickly got worried. He was in a bad way, and she didn’t want him to fall out somewhere none of his friends could come to his aid.

  The one person Lea didn’t go near to ask for help was Daniel. When he appeared at the periphery of a group, Lea would make an excuse and walk away. She couldn’t face him yet.

  When the extensive grounds of the Hard Rock Hotel yielded no result, Lea went inside. She was aware that some of the fans who had somehow gotten admitted to the party were staring at her, and she was starting to feel nervous on her behalf as well.

  She finally found Ricco on a balcony off a second-floor corridor she was pretty sure neither of them had any business being on. He was crouching against the wall behind the door, a cigarette in one shaking hand, the heel of the other pressing hard into his bad eye.

  “Ricco!” Lea went down on her knees by his side. He tried to focus on her but his eyes, bleary and vague, couldn’t manage the task. Then they started to fill with tears. “Oh doc,” he whispered, and reached for her, at the same time slipping onto the floor in a heap.

  Lea caught him and he leaned into her, trembling. “Shh, hun. don’t cry, you’re making it worse.”

  He couldn’t speak. Every time he tried he started to cough, a blocked-up painful sounding cough that wouldn’t stop. Lea took the cigarette from him and crushed it out, then held him, stroking his back and waiting for the coughing and crying to subside.

  When Ricco finally hiccoughed himself to silence Lea said, “All right, here is what we’re gonna do. We’re going back to the hotel now, where you’ll drink a gallon of water and I’ll give you some IV rescue meds, so you’ll sleep.”

  “You brought IV meds onto the plane?” Ricco asked, voice hoarse.

  “I brought several things. We talked about it; don’t you remember? I checked with th
e studio and they submitted a list, and I told you it was so easy because we were coming on the private jet.”

  "I bet you told me, but my brain's a mess. Oh, Lea, I was such a dick, again. I have to—"

  “Forget about it,” she said firmly. “I know why you were, it’s okay. Now, let’s get you to bed.”

  But he resisted when she tried to get him to his feet. “Wait, there’s something I have to tell you. I should’ve told you weeks ago. I’ve known since Texas.” He took a deep breath, which rattled in his throat, but he didn’t cough again. “This year’s our last here.”

  “Here?” Lea was confused. “You mean in San Diego?”

  "Yeah. We…the show… Hell Riders has been canceled." His voice was a mere whisper and he winced at the words.

  “Oh, hun! I’m so sorry!” She hugged him and he clung to her.

  It suddenly all made sense. The way everyone had been so weird, throwing each other looks and speaking in low voices. The way Ricco had behaved, running hot and cold and being so remote with her. She just wished he’d told her. But now wasn’t the time to berate him. He was shivering, and heavy against her. Her hip started aching again. “Let’s talk about it at the hotel. You need to rest.” He didn’t resist this time when she hoisted them both up.

  Somehow, they managed to get off the balcony and down into the hotel lobby, where they waited in the shadows until the cab Lea called pulled up out front. Finally, back in their room, Lea insisted that Ricco try to eat something. "Your blood sugar's tanked, this is partly why you're feeling so awful. You didn't touch anything, but coffee today, how do you expect to work like that, huh?"

  While he nibbled on some peanut butter toast and drank sweet tea Lea called Stuart to tell him what had happened, and to reassure him that Ricco was going to be just fine after a proper night’s sleep. She didn’t mention what Ricco had told her on the balcony, even though she would’ve liked nothing better than berate the director about keeping such a secret from her.