“Hey, Dad,” I answer, shutting my eyes as if by not seeing the room around me I can make it go away. “I’m, um, Vaughn and me, we’re in trouble. I think we need your help.”
It takes about five minutes to explain everything that’s happened. It takes Dad another five to get online, charter a jet, and call Uncle Joss and Mike. He keeps me on the line as he does all of it, stopping every couple of minutes to say, “You still with me, Pax?” I think he’s afraid if he hangs up he’ll never hear me again. I feel the same way, so I keep the line open, listening as he talks to Joss and Mike on another phone, and curses at the computer while he tries to reserve the plane.
“Okay, son, the flight should get into Birmingham around six, so we’ll be to you by seven. I’ve been trying to reach Vaughn’s folks, but I haven’t gotten through to them yet. I’ll offer them a ride down there if I can reach them. Joss is calling Ethan, and he’s going to send someone from a local security firm to stay with you. The guy should be there within an hour. I want you to stay on this line with me until then, Pax. Do. Not. Hang. Up.”
I clutch the phone like a lifeline. “Okay,” I tell him, my voice hoarse.
“I also don’t want you to leave that hospital. It’s public, you have security staff there and cameras all over the interior and exterior. It’s the safest place for you right now. Once the security guy comes you let him take charge, he’ll decide where you can go. Hold on just a minute, it’s Ethan on the other phone.”
I wait as he talks to Lush’s head of security, then he gets back on the line. “Ethan’s got someone on the way. The man is from Steenan Security, and he will give you the code word Canuck. Don’t let any stranger near you who can’t give you that code word. You got that?”
I’ve started breathing again, my dad’s arrangements already making me feel safer, more in control. “Okay, I got it. I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“Jesus, Pax,” he finally says, his voice weary. “Is Vaughn’s cousin going to be okay? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say what was really going on?”
I sit, listening to the sounds around me, intercoms chattering, voices murmuring, phones ringing. I’m so tired my head is floating, and my chest is aching. I wiggle my fingers, trying to give myself some sort of feeling that I’m still in my body.
“I thought I could handle it, Dad. That’s all I know to tell you. I thought I could handle it. And now, I’m so scared that Carly’s not going to make it.”
“God, kid, when are you going to learn, no one can handle everything on their own? It’s not a sign of weakness to get some help every now and then. It doesn’t have to be from me, I know how you feel about that, but get some help from someone. You should have gone to the police or to Vaughn’s dad, your Uncle Joss, someone.”
Even though he can’t see me, I hang my head. I know he’s right, and I think deep down, I’ve known this was beyond us—beyond me—from the beginning. But I can’t stand to look weak in my dad’s eyes, or in anyone’s eyes really. The thing he doesn’t understand is that he’s my hero. He’s this amazing person—a guy from an ordinary family, with no money, a high school education, and some dreams—who conquered a horrible disease, and became a worldwide sensation.
He’s a multi-millionaire, famous all over the world. And on top of it he has a wife and kids who adore him, friends who would give their lives for him, and fans who wait years to see him perform. When he dies it will be on CNN, his image will grace the covers of countless magazines and newspapers, and people will mourn him in the streets of foreign cities. How do you compete with that? How do you distinguish yourself when you’re Walsh Clark’s son?
The only thing I’ve ever known for certain was that I needed to make it on my own too. I need to do exceptional things without anyone’s help, just like my dad did, or else I’m not worthy of being his son. Everything’s been handed to me my whole life—money, education, friends, family. It’s all been so easy. My dad gave me a life with no challenges left, because he’d already conquered it all. I want to live up to him, to what he’s given me, to the things he’s done. I’ve never been able to figure out how to do that, and this mess didn’t help any.
I think I saw Carly’s problems as my chance to conquer something my dad never did. My chance to be a hero in someone else’s eyes the way Dad is in mine. I realize now that I had no right. No right to use her troubles to salve my insecurities. It’s so much worse than whatever weakness I might have given into if I’d asked for help.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I know I screwed up.”
I hear him sigh before he continues. “It’s not so much about this. It’s about your whole outlook on life. No one does it all alone. No one.”
“You did,” I say. “You did it all alone. You overcame your alcoholism, you became famous, made millions of dollars, married Mom, raised Lyric and me. You did everything on your own. I can’t even rescue a girl who I want to be my girlfriend without getting her shot—“ My voice breaks then, and I flex my hands, so angry I think I could punch through the drywall behind my chair.
“Is that how you see it? Is that how you see me?” He laughs harshly. “You don’t know your old man very well, do you?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, ready to tune out because I know he’s going to make up some bullshit to try to placate me.
“When I was your age I had a high school diploma, a drum kit and a serious drinking problem,” he says. “I spent most of my time loaded, while Mom and your Uncle Joss worked to get gigs for the band. I was a child, Pax, a big, selfish child. And I would never have gotten where I am today without your mother’s hard work, and Joss’s talent. Hell, even Mike with all his partying and Colin stoned off his ass day and night were more responsible than me.”
“I don’t believe that, Dad,” I mumble, leaning my head back against the wall.
“Well, it’s true. Mike may have been a tsunami of trouble, but he always showed up to gigs and practice when he was supposed to. He was a genius with six strings, and while he didn’t give a damn about much of anything else, he cared one hundred percent about the band.
“My point though is that I didn’t do anything by myself. Not one single thing. I have no illusions about who I am—an easygoing guy who was just savvy enough to grab myself a whip smart woman for a wife, and a musical marvel for a best friend. You have to know, son, I would never have been where I am today if I’d tried to do it alone.”
I’m still processing what he’s said when a big guy with no hair, khakis and a golf shirt approaches me. I tense, the phone squeezed in my hand like I think it might explode if I release it.
“Excuse me?” the guy says. “Pax Reed?”
“Who’s that?” my dad asks anxiously on the other end of the phone.
I swallow as my eyes take in the guy’s shoulder holster that he’s made no effort to conceal.
“I’m Jason Neal from Steenan Security. The code word is Canuck, and Ethan in Portland sent me.”
The air whooshes out of my lungs in relief, and I sag against the back of my chair. “It’s the security guy, Dad. I should hang up now. I really need to see if there’s any news about Carly.”
“She’s going to be okay,” he tells me with a certainty in his voice that almost convinces me his words are true. “We’ll see you as soon as the plane has landed.”
I end the call, looking up at my new best buddy before I stand and shake his hand.
“Thanks very much for coming,” I tell him.
“It’s no problem. I’ve worked with Ethan in the past—he’s a good man, I’m happy to help him out. Now, first things first, it looks like you need a shirt.”
I glance down at my bare chest and cringe, as I remember why I’m not wearing a shirt. “Uh, yeah. That’d be nice. Then I really need to find out if there’s any news on my…on my friend. It’s been over an hour,” I run a hand through my hair. “I’m going to go crazy sitting here another minute.”
“Alright,” Jason answ
ers, nodding his big shiny head. “Come with me.”
Somehow, Jason manages to sweet talk a nurse into giving me a scrub top, it’s drafty, but at least I don’t look like a vagrant sitting in the ER anymore. He also gets the same nurse to agree to have someone give me an update on Carly’s condition. I pace up and down the floor in front of the nurses’ station as I wait, and Jason stands between me and the waiting room, like a big bear protecting her cub.
When a young doctor finally comes out several minutes later, Jason stops the guy from shaking my hand. “Sorry,” he tells the doctor, giving a small shrug of his anything but small shoulders.
The doctor looks at me like Jason’s lost his mind, but then moves right into discussing Carly.
“Vaughn gave me permission to speak with you about Carly’s condition,” he says, his voice brisk as he pulls out a cell phone and glances at the screen before putting it back in his pocket.
I nod, willing him to get to the part that matters.
“As I think you know, she received a gunshot wound to her left side, just under the rib cage. The bullet sheared off a piece of her bottom rib, as well as puncturing her kidney.”
“Holy hell,” I gasp. I have to lean against the counter at the nurses’ station or I might not be able to keep standing. “That sounds really bad.”
“Well,” he says with a wry twist of his lips, “it’s not a good thing, but kidneys are pretty durable little organs and we’ve got two of them. We can live a normal life with only one.”
“Will she lose it—the kidney?” I ask, my voice raspy and faint.
“We don’t know that yet. She’s been in surgery for about forty-five minutes now. They’re still assessing the damage and then they’ll develop a plan of action—either repair work or removal.”
“Okay. How much longer until we know more?”
“I can’t promise, but it shouldn’t be more than another hour before she’s out of surgery, regardless of what they need to do.”
I nod my head and awkwardly thank him—the whole ‘no shaking hands’ thing is weird.
He’s about to walk away but then he turns back. “We have policies that have to be followed. We’ve contacted the police and they’ll be here soon.” He glances at Jason. “You can’t leave until they’ve spoken to you.”
“He’ll be here,” Jason says. “But in the meantime, as you might imagine, my client is uncomfortable being out in the public waiting room. Is there somewhere more private he could wait?”
The doctor thinks for a moment, and then gives us a sharp nod. “I’ll have a nurse come escort you upstairs.”
“Thank you,” Jason and I say at the same time.
Five minutes later we’re ensconced in a private waiting room, and Vaughn has joined us.
I stand and put my hand out to clasp his. “I’m so sorry, man,” I whisper as I lean in and put my other hand on his shoulder. “I swear I would have taken it for her.”
He gives me a slap on the back and nods. “I know, dude. I know. There wasn’t anything you could do.”
He looks at Jason as if he’s just noticed him, then back at me.
“My dad sent him,” I say. “Security.”
After I introduce them, Vaughn and I sit down while Jason goes and stands outside the door.
“This was probably destined to happen no matter what we did,” Vaughn says on a sigh. “She should have left town. Come to Portland with me. Her old man did this to her, not you, not me. That dead son of a bitch and Lagazo.”
I shudder thinking about her as she tumbled into my arms. I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin right now.
“You might not think that in a few minutes. There’s something you need to know.” I look at Vaughn, my heart racing, knowing that what I say next might be the end of a lifetime of friendship. “I’m pretty sure that bullet was intended for me,” I tell him.
He blinks at me a couple of times. “What?”
“I’ve been sitting here replaying it in my head over and over. She was hit in the left side. She was up onstage, and when she saw me, I told her to get down and come with me. She leaned down for me to help her offstage, and she had to lean to the left when she did. She leaned to the left just as that gun was fired and when she did she got between me and the bullet.”
Vaughn scrubs his hands over his face, and I can see that he’s had about as much as he can take. He glares at me then turns away, his face a mask of disgust.
“So it finally happened,” he tells me, his voice low and rough. “You finally went so rogue that you got somebody hurt.”
“Vaughn, I never meant—“
“To get an eighteen-year-old killed? Is that what you were going to say? Dammit! I went along on this with you, because I thought you cared enough about her not to push it too far. I thought you loved your family enough not to do something that would put them and you in danger along with Carly. But you did this even knowing Lagazo might find out who you really are. You’re so fixated on being the hero all the time that you may have gotten my cousin killed.”
He stands suddenly, striding to the wall where he takes a big kick at it and screams, “Goddammit!”
The door to the hallway opens instantly and Jason is there, one hand on his gun though it’s still holstered. He sees me sitting, elbows on my knees as I lean over in my chair.
“You okay Mr. Reed?” he asks, eyeing Vaughn.
“Yeah, it’s fine, just blowing off a little steam.” I almost wish it had been me Vaughn kicked instead of the plasterboard. Jason grimaces and nods before going back outside.
Vaughn leans against the wall, looking at the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I honestly thought it was under control.”
“She doesn’t deserve it,” Vaughn answers. “Not her dad, not Lagazo, not you. She’s a good person. She’s smart, and even after everything she’s been handed she’s never once been bitter, not once. She didn’t deserve to have you blow up at her like that, and she didn’t deserve to have you put her at risk because you’re a rich rock star’s son who thinks he’s invincible.”
My insides shrivel like a piece of newspaper in a fire, leaving only ash behind in my empty body. And bit by poisonous bit the reality, my reality, sinks in. It doesn’t matter what my name is, it doesn’t matter how far I run, or what I do for a living, I am Walsh Clark’s son, and nothing can ever change that. I can fool a few people for a short time, but in the end, they’ll always find out, and when they do, they’ll always see me in his light. The weight of it crushes me utterly.
“Why would they want to kill you?” Vaughn’s question interrupts my thoughts. “You’re only useful for the ransom—no offense.” He doesn’t sound like he really cares if I’m offended.
“I don’t think they were trying to kill me,” I answer, my voice weighed down with grief. “Maybe they just wanted to injure me, make it that much easier to grab me, put the fear of God into my folks.”
“Poor Carly,” he whispers, and my chest clenches, choking any words right out of me.
“My dad and Joss and Mike are on their way.”
He raises an eyebrow at me.
“They got a chartered jet. I’m not sure what happens next…”
He shakes his head like he doesn’t know either, but before we can wonder more the door swings open and the doctor I spoke to earlier steps in.
“Hi,” he says as he approaches us. We both stand immediately. “Your cousin is out of surgery. Everything went very well. We think we were able to save the kidney, although complications could still develop in the next few weeks. For now, she’s been moved to recovery and she can have one visitor at a time.”
“That would be me,” Vaughn says, shooting a look my way that makes it clear I’m not welcome anywhere near Carly.
“Okay,” the doctor says. “She’s in room 316, you’re welcome to go on up.”
The doctor walks out the door, Vaughn is a few steps behind him, but he stops before he leaves. “We�
�ve been friends a long time, and that’s meant a lot to me, but it may take me a while to get past this—if I even can. I don’t want you anywhere near her from now on. I appreciate your old man coming down, but my family will handle this from here on out. My mom’s on the way, we’ll be talking to the police and taking Carly back to Portland with us. I’ll get my gear out of your house before tomorrow morning.”
**
Jason refuses to let me go into Carly’s room until he’s seen the layout, so I stand in the doorway as he checks the closet and then the bathroom.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asks.
I nod. There’s no way I’m leaving this hospital without seeing Carly first, no matter what Vaughn says.
The nurse who’s dealing with Carly’s chart looks at both of us with some serious mistrust.
“Hi,” I give her a little wave as Jason ushers me in and steps back out into the hall to guard the door. “The doctor said she could have a visitor?”
“One at a time, and she probably won’t wake up for a while.” Her tone is cold—she obviously thinks I’m not good for Carly either. She’s right.
“Thank you,” I mutter as she walks past me to exit. I pull up a chair next to the bed and sit, getting my first real look at Carly since she collapsed in my arms. Her skin is pale and her lips are dry. Her lashes lie like soft bird’s wings across her cheeks.
I gently lift a strand of hair off of her neck. “Hey,” I say, my voice soft and hoarse. “You scared the crap out of me.”
She breathes deeply, her lashes fluttering for a brief moment.
I smooth my knuckles over her soft cheek, swallowing hard at what I have to do now.
“Carly,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry that I accused you of selling me out. I’m so sorry that I got you mixed up in my stupidity at all. I should have been honest about who I was. Hell, I guess I should have been honest with myself about who I was. I’m not Pax Reed, I’m Pax Clark, and no matter what it’s who I’ll always be. But even though you knew all along, you never treated me like the rock star’s kid. Not once. I can’t thank you enough for seeing the real me, and wanting to be around that guy even though I’m an idiot.”
Bittersweet Chronicles: Pax Page 13