“Of course, Addie. Whatever you need. We’re here for you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see a figure approaching. It’s Jameson.
I go to him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and he wraps me in his embrace, whispering, “I’m so sorry,” while he strokes my back. I draw back from him to look at his face. His clothes are covered in dried blood. His eyes are wet with tears. He looks as lost as I do.
Reluctantly, he releases me and goes over to Harrison. They glance at me periodically as they exchange words. I only hear bits and pieces of the conversation, but it’s enough for me to realize that Jameson is keeping something from me. But what could it be?
Addie
Hours pass. Shifts change. At some point, I fall asleep on a chair in the waiting room. Someone is shaking me by the shoulder, and I slowly open my eyes and adjust to the harsh lights. Nina is holding my hand.
“Ms. Snyder, Owen, is out of surgery. We removed his spleen. He had a small brain bleed that we fixed, and we had to put pins in his leg. The next twenty-four hours are critical. We have put him in a medically induced coma to help him heal. I will have a nurse come and get you once we get him settled in the ICU. He’ll be in the room next to your father’s. We thought it would make it easier for you to be with both of them.” Gee, that’s swell. I don’t want to see the man who has been masquerading as my father. My questions about the man who I thought was our father would have to wait. Owen is my main concern.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I hear a collective sigh of relief, as if we were all holding our breath.
“I need to get some air.” I rise from my seat and walk toward the doors.
“Want some company?” Jameson’s voice is cautious.
“Um, sure. That’s fine.” We walk to the doors. Cool air greets me, reminding me that fall is on the horizon. I find a bench a few feet from the entrance and sit down. Jameson settles next to me. Our thighs touch. My hand itches to link with his.
“Addie, I’m so sorry about this whole situation.” He rubs his face and turns to look at me.
“Why? You didn’t create this mess. Right now, my focus is Owen, and the rest of the answers to this episode of The Maury Povich Show regarding who my daddy is will have to wait.”
A slight smile crosses his face. “I know I didn’t create it, but I could have helped you avoid being blindsided. Addie, I found out about Richard right before your party. I have had my buddy, Grady, investigating him. I had an inkling that there was something amiss. When I received confirmation, I tried to get to you. I was on my way to tell you. He just beat me to it.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? If you had an inkling, don’t you think you could have given me a little clue? I feel like you’ve kept me in the dark this whole time, only giving me tidbits of information just to pacify me. You might have felt like you were protecting me, but you weren’t. Jameson, you disappeared. No phone calls. No responses to text or emails. You fucking ghosted me. I felt abandoned, and honestly, all of this could have been avoided if you would have just clued me in on the information you had, even if you didn’t have everything figured out. We could have worked on this together, but you shut me out. Oh, my God! Owen wouldn’t be in the ICU if you’d just kept me in the loop.”
I realize that I’ve been screaming and that people coming and going out of the hospital are gawking. He reaches out to touch my hand, but I flinch.
“Just go, Jameson. You aren’t wanted here.” I stand up and move toward the door.
“Addie, please. I know I screwed up. I know I should have told you what I knew, but honestly, I felt like I was doing the right thing for you and Owen. If I could go back, I would do things differently. Please let me help you and Owen. Please.” I’ve never seen him so vulnerable, and if I wasn’t so pissed, it might have meant something. But at this moment, I am numb. My brother could have been killed because of him and the secrets he promised he wouldn’t keep.
“Goodbye, Jameson.” I walk through the doors and don’t look back.
Dorothy
I sit in a dark corner of the hospital waiting room. I am incognito, decked out in a trench coat, a hat, and my Kate Spade sunglasses, because there is no excuse for my fashion not to be on point, even while spying. I watch the scene unfold. The doctors are updating Addie on her brother and Richard. Her distraught state. Ugh. All of these people fawning over her as if she’s important.
And just when I’m getting bored, Jameson and Addie walk outside. I follow at a respectable distance and head over to the smoking area that provides the ideal spot to overhear their conversation. Well, their voices are raised, so actually, anywhere would have been perfect. I can’t help feeling almost giddy over the exchange. I have a front-row seat to their relationship dissolving. This couldn’t work out any better. Addie deserves nothing but misery. She has stolen everything from me…especially the funds Matthew should have inherited. And it should be me who has the bestselling book. It should be me who is wildly successful. I dress for it; I have the personality for it—that special something that makes a star. Not her. Never her.
Jameson watches her walk back into the hospital, and after the door closes behind her, he flags a cab. I realize my opportunity has risen. He doesn’t have the final piece of the puzzle. His little minion, that useless PI who’s been attempting to follow me and gain information, has fallen short. Jameson needs me. And his need will give me my freedom. I can get the money that will buy me a new life away from all of this. Away from Matthew, who is no more than a weak link—I’m sick of his inadequacy. Away from Addie and her annoying fanbase. This is my moment, and I am going to seize it.
Jameson
I watch Addie retreat. The feeling of failure is palpable and just another reminder of how I let down the people I care about—my brothers-in-arms, my mother, and now Addie. I run my hands through my hair. She just needs time, I tell myself. The best thing I can do for her is to wrap up the loose ends surrounding Dorothy and Richard… or maybe I should just leave it. She has already endured so much pain. I am in a quandary.
I flag a taxi and head home. My mind wanders to the first time I met Owen. His snarky, cheeky attitude about not letting me in their apartment without the password. Watching him capture the hearts of everyone he meets. I had never met anyone with Down syndrome before, and I’ll be honest, I had some preconceived notions, but he shattered my assumptions. He has quickly become my best friend. “You’ll always be my wingman, right?” Tears prick my eyes.
As I sit in the backseat of the cab, the driver peeks at me in the rearview mirror. I realize that I am mumbling to myself. Reasoning out the chaos that has infiltrated my brain. I shake my head in an effort to clear it. He stops in front of my building as I toss him some bills, my phone rings. Hopeful that it’s Addie, I whip my phone out of my pocket, but it’s an unknown number.
“This is Jameson.”
“Well, well, well. I understand that Addie has dismissed you. It seems that you might need some information that will get you back into her good graces.”
Ugh. It must be Dorothy. I need to play along because I know she has the missing piece of the puzzle.
“Dorothy, what do you want?” I growl.
“I give you information, you give me money,” she purrs.
“So, you are essentially bribing me.”
“I would call it a mutually beneficial business transaction. You get back into Addie’s good graces, and I get some financial gain in order to create a new life somewhere else.”
“How much?”
“One million should do nicely. Cash, of course.” Her smug tone seeps through the phone.
“It will take me a while to get that type of money.”
“I will give you twenty-four hours—I’m not unreasonable. You’re a smart guy, so don’t do anything stupid. I am watching you. If you slip, I’ll simply go to the media with my information.
There are plenty of those gossip rags willing to pay good money for what I know.”
“There’s no way I can get that kind of money in twenty-four hours. I need more time.”
“You see, that isn’t my problem. I’ll be in touch.” And with that, she disconnects. I grin to myself as I stop the voice recorder on my phone. Gotcha, Dorothy.
Jameson
True to form, Dorothy calls within twenty-four hours demanding a meeting at a seedy bar located in Harlem. I enlist the help of two FBI agents who served with me. Todd Thomas and Gil Thorpe took my recording along with the information that I had received from Grady to build an extortion case against Dorothy. They supplied me with a wire along with a canvas bag full of marked bills.
I enter the bar, my eyes adjusting from the sunlight to the dank, dark décor. Dorothy is tucked away in the corner. I make my way toward her while staying vigilant of my surroundings. I don’t trust her not to throw a little surprise into our meeting.
“Hey, Jameson. Sit down. Let’s have a drink.” She gazes at me as she taps her fake fingernails on the table.
“No, thanks, Dorothy. Let’s get this transaction over with so that we can all move on with our lives.”
“You said we. So cute. What exactly do you see in Addie? I mean, she is so plain. She’s chubby, and then there is that disabled brother.” She shudders as if Owen is some sort of sickening illness.
“Addie and Owen are two of the most amazing people on the planet. You aren’t good enough to utter their names,” I say through gritted teeth. My fists are clenched. I don’t believe in hitting women, but she challenges my restraint.
“I’m a writer, too. I mean, I was writing long before Addie. She copies everything I do. Always trying to one-up me. That book she wrote should have been mine. Her success and fame should be mine. She stole it from me. She’s always stealing from me.” Now she’s ranting. Her eyes are bulging as she whisper-shouts.
I try to pacify her. “Oh, I had no idea you were a writer too. Well, now, with this money, you can make a new life and pursue your writing again.”
“Yes, that is exactly what I am going to do. Just have some loose ends to tie up. Here is the information I told you I would provide in exchange for the money. You’re going to be floored when you read it. It looks like Addie’s mother was quite the conniving bitch. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Addie has always been in it for herself.”
She slides the manila envelope toward me. Her words, “Just have some loose ends to tie up,” concern me, but I have it all covered. She is easily falling into the trap that I’ve set for her.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Her life is destroyed. She has lost everything she has ever loved, and her career is ruined. My work is done.” She giggles. Her delusion is disturbing.
I don’t tell her that since the disaster at the hotel, Addie’s book is holding at number one on every list known to man. She is a media darling. The public is rallying around her and Owen. She is loved, especially by me.
Holy shit.
I am in love with her. I love Addie Snyder—and the realization doesn’t scare me.
“I guess you’re anxious to get going. Here’s the amount requested. Now don’t contact Addie ever again.” I hand her the bag containing a tracker I slipped into the side pocket. This meeting was never about arresting her now. No. The FBI wants to continue to observe her. They don’t think she will leave the country, but they’re covering all the airports and bus terminals just in case. She is so obsessed with Addie that they believe her next move will be to contact her. Walter is still with her, and I have kept him abreast of what’s happening. He has become a fixture anyway, as he and Owen really bonded. The FBI wants to bide their time as they continue to build a solid case.
“Aren’t you adorable? So protective of your chubby buddy. Well, don’t you worry. I’m going to start a new life, and I’ll finally get everything I deserve. Fame. Money. Hot men. I’ll get it all!” She has crazy eyes, and it is seriously disconcerting. It makes me want to pop a piece of chocolate to help me relax. Jesus, I miss Addie.
“Now, Jameson, we are going to walk out together. I have a car waiting. You won’t try anything because I have several media outlets that would love to publish my story about Addie and her daddy issues. It doesn’t paint her in a very good light. So we will simply part ways. Pleasure doing business with you. Give Addie my best. Tell her to lay off the chocolate.”
We walk out, and she gets into the waiting car. As it pulls off, I give a thumbs up to the guys in the unmarked van. The driver is an FBI agent as well. She won’t be going anywhere without their knowledge. Now we wait for her to make her next move.
Addie
It has been twenty-one days since I last saw Jameson. Not that I’m counting. My new home consists of the chair that resides next to Owen’s bed. He hasn’t woken up yet. He made it through the critical twenty-four hours, and his doctors remain hopeful. He is no longer in a medically induced coma, so now it’s all up to him. He has always done the exact opposite of what I want, so it isn’t a surprise that he’s not awake yet. Richard, on the other hand, is at death’s door. I haven’t gone into his room, but the doctors have been keeping me apprised of his status. Oh, and would you like to hear the irony? I’m listed as his power-of-attorney, so I get to make the decision about whether to pull the plug or not. You can’t make this shit up.
The door opens, and I look up. It’s Nina.
“Hey, sweetie. How are things today?” She reaches for Owen’s hand and sits down in the chair on the opposite side of his bed.
“No change. The doctor is still hopeful, though.” I sigh.
“Well, that’s good. He just needs time. Have you made a decision on Richard?” She knows my dilemma and has been amazingly supportive as I find my way through this situation.
“No. As soon as Owen wakes up, I will make that decision. I just can’t right now.” I close my eyes.
“Of course. I get that. How about I stay here with Owen, and you go home for a bit? Get a shower. Take a nap. There’s a car waiting for you.”
George breezes in looking like he just came off the runway just as I say, “Are you trying to tell me that I smell?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Well, yes. Honey, you haven’t left in days, and the hospital smells better than you do.” A small smile plays on her lips.
“Oh, dear.” He tsks, shaking his head as he looks me up and down. Seriously? Doesn’t having a family emergency give me an excuse to be less fashionable?
“You don’t approve?” I tease. It’s the first time I’ve felt the heaviness lifting, even if it is just for a moment.
“I. Can’t. Even. Nina is right, and I’m going with you. You need a little George time and so does your wardrobe.” He smirks. I roll my eyes but secretly need his sense of humor and friendship more than ever.
“Okay. I’ll go, and I guess you can come, George. However, I’m only showering. I’m coming right back.”
“Correction. You’re showering, but I am styling your hair, and you will be wearing a cute pair of jeans with ones of those tops I will pick out for you. Trust me, you’ll feel so much better with a little self-care. I will allow you to go without makeup, though. That is my only concession. I’m not totally unreasonable.”
I sigh. He laughs.
“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Nina blurts, “but Jameson calls me every day to check on you and Owen. At some point, you need to sit down with him. He has the full story on Richard.”
“I know, but not now. I need Owen to wake up first. Then I’ll deal with the rest.”
“Fair enough. Go, and I’ll be here when you get back. Oh, and Walter is going with you two. You know, just in case crazy lady jumps out at you.”
“Do you think Dorothy is going to emerge? It’s been quiet for three weeks. That’s the longest I’ve gone without hear
ing her annoying voice.”
“I don’t know, but it would make me feel better if Walter was with you.”
“Did Jameson put you up to this?” My eyes narrow.
“He just wants you to be safe.” She reaches for my hand. It’s warm and comforting. “Go and take some time for yourself. Let George take care of you. Then come back. Owen would probably appreciate you more if you didn’t look like you slept in a dumpster.” George laughs as Nina squeezes my hand. I am too tired to argue.
“Okay, Nina. You win this round. Just call me if there are any
changes.”
“Of course, I will.”
I rise from my chair, kiss Owen’s forehead, and head to the door. I glance at the room to the right. As if I was on autopilot, I walk right in for the first time and observe the man in the bed. I have a hard time feeling compassion for him, yet there is a part of me that is overflowing with sadness. What kind of life can you live based on a lie? Oh wait, maybe I can relate to him since the whole foundation of what I believed about my life has crumbled. You’re probably wondering why I’m not angry with my mother. Well, there’s currently a “no vacancy” sign in the feelings department. I simply can’t deal with any of it.
Of course, I’m curious about the mysterious man who impregnated my mother and what the backstory is. I also wonder if Owen and I have the same father. And then I think about my mother’s last words: “I’m sorry.” I had always dismissed them, as I thought it was simply a blanket statement. There are so many things that come to mind where an apology would be in order. The way she verbally assaulted me with her disapproval of everything I did—everything I was and wasn’t. Her excessive drinking. Leaving me to raise Owen myself because of her lacking maternal instincts. Honestly, Owen wasn’t a burden to me. He filled a void of love. He simply accepted me for me. He’s the only person who allows me to believe I’m good enough, that I’m simply enough by being me. God, I love him so fiercely that it’s physically painful.
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