And then I fell fast asleep.
Chapter 2
Nick
I woke up in my loft. My head was pounding, absolutely pounding, out of my skull. There was a bucket next to my bed, and it was filled with vomit.
I had no idea how I got here. No earthly idea.
I had to think about what had happened right before I got here. What was the last thing that I remembered?
Hmmmm….Portia. Scotch. And her telling me that I wouldn’t be seeing Scotty much longer. What the hell did that mean?
Ok, so I had some scotch. So, what happened after that?
I didn’t know. I couldn’t think. All that I did know was that I had a headache right at that moment which was, by far, the worst headache I had ever had in my entire fucking life. It was like I had a hangover, but it was so much worse than that. So much worse. There was ringing in my ears and I couldn’t move, because every time I tried to move, my head started pounding all the more. So, I ended up just laying perfectly still, staring at the ceiling. That was all that I could do, because anything else would have had me screaming in agony.
Ok, Nick, just lay there and don’t move. Figure out what happened, and get ahold of Scotty. I needed to see Scotty. I found her very presence calming for me. I had found something in her that I never thought that I actually would find in anybody. And that was a sense of peace, because it was just so right. Right, as nothing had ever been for me. After the life that I had led, finding Scotty had been a godsend. I never imagined that I could feel like that about another person, but somehow, I did.
But, first things first. I had to find out what happened, and what day it was. I put my hands on my head tightly, because that was what allowed me to move without shooting pain, and looked for my phone.
I found it on my nightstand, and the first thing I did was call Scotty.
It went straight to voice-mail. Huh, that’s strange. I left a message. “Scotty, it’s me. I need to talk to you, so call me as soon as you can. I love you. More than I can say.”
Then I looked at my call log. The last call was from George. I decided to call him, because he might be able to give me some type of clue as to what happened to me. After all, the last memory I had was in Portia’s office, so, obviously, the men at the firm might have some kind of indication on how I got here.
George answered the phone. “George Henderson,” he said.
“Hey,” I said. “It’s Nick. I need to talk to you.”
“Nick. I’m glad you called. I have been trying to call you and check up on you, but you haven’t been answering. I hope you’re feeling okay.”
“I’m not. I’m disoriented and confused. I don’t really know how I got to my loft. Hell, I don’t even know what day it is.”
“You really don’t remember?”
“No. That’s what I just said. I don’t remember. Please fill me in.”
“Well, you and Portia were drinking scotch, and she said that you had way too much. You were passed out on her couch. We couldn’t wake you, so Ralph and I ended up calling Charlie to take you home to sleep it off. I didn’t really want to do that, because I didn’t think that you were in any shape to be alone, but I was overruled.”
I took a deep breath. “And when was this?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“So, what, I’ve been out for…” I looked at the clock. It read 8:55 AM. “Almost 24 hours?” Then, I remembered that I had a meeting set at 9 AM with the Chase people. “And, geezus, I have a meeting in five minutes time.”
“I called them and asked them to come in tomorrow. They said that wasn’t a problem.”
I groaned. I wasn’t unprofessional like that. Ever. Not only that, but I had to teach in the evening. With this splitting headache. It was my first class of the spring semester, so I had to be there.
Everything was becoming surreal. I had to get my bearings, and I had to see my girl. “Listen, George, I don’t think that I can come in today. I’ll be in tomorrow at 9 to see the Chase team, but, right now, my headache is about a 42 on a scale of one to ten. I need to find some serious painkillers. I’ve never had a headache this bad in my life.”
George was quiet for a few seconds. “Hey, Nick. Uh, don’t do that again. Get drunk like that at work. It doesn’t look good. It might even be in Page Six. I hope not, but a lot of people saw you being carried to your limo. You’re too high profile to be acting like that.”
Acting like what? “George, I had one swig of scotch. One.”
“Okay, Nick. Whatever you say.”
I rolled my eyes. He obviously wasn’t believing me. “I see that you aren’t going to be of much assistance to me about this. I mean-“
Then it hit me. It should’ve hit me way before that, but my headache made it very difficult to think clearly.
Portia drugged me.
That bitch.
I mean, I knew that she was a bit of a Fatal Attraction, but I had no clue that she would go to such lengths to get even with me for rejecting her.
But why would she do that?
“Nick,” George was saying. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Listen, George, thanks for your concern. I’ll see you tomorrow. I have to go.”
And I hung up, after George and I said our goodbyes.
I needed something to dull this headache, pronto. I got up, every step making my head pound thunderously, and went to my medicine cabinet.
All I had in there was standard stuff – Tylenol, Advil, things like that. Headaches were never a problem for me, so I didn’t have anything stronger.
Looks like I’ll have to go and see my doctor to get a prescription for something stronger. I called my doctor, and talked to his assistant. He happened to have an opening that afternoon, as somebody had cancelled, so I snapped up the appointment.
I called Charlie to come and take me to the doctor, when the time got near, and he did. As I sat in the back of the limo, I tried to call Scotty again. “Scotty, it’s me. Please call me back. I need to talk to you. I love you.”
I rubbed my temples. It wasn’t like Scotty to not answer the phone, and it certainly wasn’t like her to not return my message to her.
So, I called George again. “George, it’s Nick again,” I said.
“Yeah, Nick. What can I do for you?”
“I know that it’s not her day to work, but have you seen Scotty?”
“Oh, no. You haven’t heard.”
My heart started pounding. George’s tone did not sound good. “Heard what?” I asked, alarm bells ringing in my ears.
“Scotty was hit by a car when she tried to cross the street.”
Hit by a car. My breathing started coming, faster and faster. Abrianna, my beautiful Abrianna, flashed in my brain. No. No. No. Not Scotty too!!!! No. No. No. My head started pounding even harder. “Hit by a car. Is she, is she…”
“She was taken to the hospital. I think that she’s ok, except for a broken leg. She was lucky.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t well, but not dead. If she had died…I shook my head, not wanting to contemplate that thought. “What hospital?”
George gave me the name of the hospital, and I immediately started pounding on the window to alert Charlie.
Charlie turned around. “Yes, Mr. O’Hara?”
“Take me to..” And I gave him the address to the hospital that Scotty was taken to.
“Very good, Mr. O’Hara,” Charlie said. And he headed back to the midtown hospital where I hoped that I would be able to find Scotty.
My headache would have to wait. I tried to will away the pain, but nothing was really helping. I probably would end up in the ER of that hospital, after I saw Scotty and made sure that she was okay, so that I could get some prescription painkillers. But only after I saw Scotty. It was suddenly urgent that I knew that she was okay.
I finally arrived at the hospital after what seemed like hours stuck in traffic, and I gingerly stepped out
of limo, trying hard not to jar my pounding brain too much.
I got to the front desk.
“May I help you?” the receptionist, whose name was Carly, inquired.
“Yes. I need to know what room Scotty James is in.”
She looked on her roster on the computer. “Ms. James was in Room 222. But, it looks like she has already been checked out.”
I was confused. “Checked out. How is that possible? She was brought in here yesterday, and she has a broken leg.”
Carly looked at her computer screen again. “Yes, well, let’s see. She was released into the custody of her father. The notes say that he is taking her to a private hospital.”
“Her father? I’m sorry?” To my knowledge, Scotty didn’t know her father.
“Oh. Sorry. Legal guardian.”
My heart started pounding, harder and harder. “Does it say a name?”
“Yes. Paul Lucas.”
Chapter 3
Scotty
I was feeling groggy, and I was vaguely aware that I was on a plane. A private plane. I was strapped in, and Mr. Lucas was sitting across from me. Drinking a glass of whiskey. He rattled his ice in his glass and I heard crunching noises. “Ruth,” he said, addressing the sky hostess who was standing right in front of him. “Give me another.”
“Please,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
“What?” he asked.
“Give me another, please.”
He gave me a look like he was absolutely pissed. “You always were an insolent bitch. I suggest you show me some respect, considering you’re going to be in my care for the time being.” Then he leaned closer to me. “And I can’t wait to make up for lost time.”
Chills ran up and down my spine. “You won’t get away with this,” I said, trying to sound as defiant as I could under the circumstances. I tried to tamp down the feeling of ice-cold fear that froze my veins.
“Listen, you little bitch. And you listen good. I can and I will get away with it. I got away with it for an entire year. I know you told people. And I know that they all told you that you were delusional. So, yeah, you’re nobody and I own this fucking town. I’ll get away with whatever it is I want.”
Wealth and power. That’s what wealth and power get you – the ability to do whatever you want, to whomever you want, and get away with it. I was but a pawn in his sick game.
Nick was different. Or so I thought. Nick was powerful and wealthy, but so kind to me. So good to me.
I was so naïve for ever thinking that he truly changed his man-whore ways, though. I was still so madly in love with him, like I never thought that I could feel about anybody. But he betrayed me. He betrayed me, and any pain that was going to come from Mr. Lucas paled in comparison to the pain I felt about Nick’s behavior.
Ruth was back, and Paul took the whiskey off her tray without even a thank you. She quickly retreated back into the serving area. Paul looked at me and snarled a little. Then he raised an eyebrow. “So. Tell me what you’ve been doing with your life these past nine years.”
I sat there and said nothing. He didn’t need to know. He wasn’t privileged to know.
“Tell me, Scotty. Tell me, or the punishment that I’m going to give you is going to be so much worse.”
“Punishment. For what? What did I do?”
“For opening your mouth. Telling all those people all those things about me.”
“All of what I said was true.”
“Be that as it may. It still did a hair of damage to my reputation. Just a hair, though. I mean, I’m sure that 99% of those people felt that everything that was coming out of your mouth was a big, fat lie. But there’s always that 1% that wasn’t so sure.”
I still wasn’t going to volunteer any information to him. So, I sat there, and crossed my arms. Deep down, I knew that it was stupid to act that way. After all, I was incapacitated with my broken leg, and at the mercy of Mr. Lucas. I should have probably tried to not antagonize him any more than I had to.
But I hated this man so much that I didn’t want to come across as the least bit friendly.
“Ok, then. Be a little contemptuous cunt. You’ll get what’s coming to you, and I won’t be gentle.”
My heart raced. I felt tears streaking down my face. I looked at Mr. Lucas, and he was smiling. Then he laughed. “Still with the crocodile tears, Scotty?” He shook his head, and mockingly made a face. “Oh, poor dear. Poor little Scotty. Being raped every night by the big, bad Mr. Lucas.” Then he smiled again and laughed. “Raped, my ass. You wanted it. You loved it. You wanted in my pants from the moment you came into the house. Little whore, just like your mama. I was just giving it to you just how you wanted it. And I gave it good.”
I blinked my eyes. I was eleven years old when Mr. Lucas first fostered me. Eleven years old. In what world was an eleven-year-old a seductress????
I felt myself retreating into myself. Which was how I managed the first time, when I was young, small and terrified. I willed myself away from the abuse and what was happening to me. It was almost like those stories I read about people with multiple personalities, and one of the personalities took the abuse to protect the person being abused. I mean, it wasn’t quite like that – I never went into an altered state – but I did manage to find a way to protect my fragile psyche from what Mr. Lucas was doing to me.
It had been awhile since I had done it, but I knew that I would have to do it again. I would have to will myself away from my own reality. Because I knew what was coming. I knew what would be happening to me when Mr. Lucas and I landed wherever it was we were going to land.
I knew what was going to happen, and, in my state, I was powerless to stop it.
Chapter 4
Nick
My breath started coming faster and faster, and, suddenly, my headache was forgotten. At least for the time being. Paul Lucas. That was the name of Scotty’s foster father. I mean, when she told the story to me about him and what he was doing to her she used an assumed name – Sam Johnson. But she repeatedly slipped up and said the word “Paul,” and she also slipped later on and referred to him as “Mr. Lucas.”
I took a deep breath, not wanting to completely go off on this poor receptionist who was innocent of any wrong-doing. So, I slowly and deliberately said “Paul Lucas. Could you please let me speak to the physician in charge of this?”
The receptionist looked at her computer screen. “That would be Dr. Bullox. He’s doing rounds right now. If you could please take a seat in the waiting room, I’ll alert him to come and talk to you as soon as he is free.”
“Free. Okay, how long will that be?”
“Probably a couple of hours,” she said. “That’s typically how long it takes.”
I put my hands on my head, willing the head to stop throbbing. I had to think clearly. Scotty was in the clutches of that man, and two hours would be too long to wait to try to track her down.
I nodded my head at the receptionist. I sat down in the waiting room, and tried hard to decompress. Panicking right at that moment wouldn’t do anybody any good, so I took several deep breaths and worked on getting a plan together to find Scotty ASAP.
Okay, Nick, just relax. I looked at the clock, realizing that it was already 3 PM. My night class started at 6. I was going to have to find somebody to cover for me, which was completely unprofessional, I knew. But saving Scotty took precedence over anything else, right at that moment.
First things first. I looked on my phone for my roster of other instructors, and called the first three that was on the list. I got voice mail for all of them. But, on the fourth one, Jewell Bass, I struck gold.
“Jewell, this is Nick O’Hara.”
“Oh, hello, Nick. How are you?”
“Fine. Listen, I have an emergency. I can’t teach tonight. Can you cover?”
“Yes, sure. What is the course?”
“It’s a history of architecture course. History of Architecture, Urbanism and Art, Level II.”
“Ca
n teach that in my sleep. Sure, I’ve got nothing going on tonight. What’s the emergency? I mean, do you need me to cover for you on Thursday night too?”
“Oh, god, could you? You don’t know how much I would appreciate that.”
“I certainly can. What is your Thursday course?”
“Environmental Systems, Level II.”
“Not a problem.”
“You’re a godsend. I owe you.”
“Well, if I need a cover, I can count on you, huh?”
“Any time.”
I got off the phone, and took another deep breath. I was going to try to get some painkillers from the ER, but that would take too long, and, besides, I didn’t need to be doped up. I needed to think clearly. So, getting rid of this headache without taking prescription level painkillers was going to be my next order of business.
I took several deep breaths, and then looked on my phone about how to get rid of a splitting headache without taking drugs. I found an article about pressure points, and tried everything that was suggested. To my relief, these pressure points actually worked, and my headache was reduced to more of a dull roar, as opposed to a raging inferno.
Okay, now Nick, you took care of the really pressing things. It was like what they say about oxygen on airplanes – if you are a parent, you are supposed to give yourself oxygen first, and then attend to your child. In this case, I needed to take care of the immediate problems, so that I could think of the long-term problem.
Which was, essentially, that Scotty was with a man that I didn’t know the first thing about. Where he lived, where he worked. Nothing. This was going to be challenging, but I knew that I would rise to it.
I had to. Scotty’s well-being, possibly her life, depended upon my thinking clearly and deliberately.
Now that my mind was cleared, and I wasn’t worried about leaving a room full of students without an instructor, I was able to continue on with a plan. I needed to find this guy’s address. Of course, I knew that there was very little chance that Scotty would actually be at this guy’s house, or apartment, because I doubted that he would be that stupid to take her there. But that was the only thing that I had to go on just then.
Saving Scotty Page 2