All I'll Ever Need

by J. P. Bowie

  So what was going on? He glanced at his watch. Ten o’clock—there was a good chance Blanca might be at his house. Worth a try. He speed-dialed his cleaning lady’s number. Even if she wasn’t there right then, she might have been in the past couple of days. He never could remember her schedule anyway.

  “Si?” Blanca answered on the third ring.

  “Oh, hi, Blanca, it’s Alex.”

  “Seňor Alex. Como esta?

  “Muy bien, gracias, Blanca. Are you over at my place right now?”

  “Si, you want me to do something especial?”

  “No, I have a friend staying there… Edward. Have you seen him?”

  “No, but someone has been here,” she replied in her careful English. “There is a cell phone on the countertop. He must have left it behind.”

  That explains why he hasn’t returned my calls, but why hasn’t he been back for it? “Has the bed been slept in?”

  “Not unless he left it exactamente like I make it. No, I would say it has not been slept in.”

  Damn, now I’m worried. “Okay, thanks, Blanca.”

  “What should I do about the phone?”

  “Just leave it there. He has a key, so in case he comes looking for it…”

  “Si, I’ll leave it.”

  After they’d hung up Alex considered calling the local hospital in West Hollywood or the police precinct, but just then he was distracted by a knocking and Lena’s voice calling, “Alex, are you there?”

  Groaning, he hurried to the door and opened it. Lena was, as she had been off and on since he’d arrived, in tears. She brushed by him and threw herself onto the nearby couch.

  “I can’t do this movie, Alex, I just can’t,” she sobbed, clutching her cream-colored silk robe about her. “That son of a bitch Harrison is making my life a misery.”

  No, you’re making all our lives a misery. His expression did not reflect his weary thought. Being around Lena for the past seventy-two hours had been a nightmare. Working with her must be total hell. He’d seen the looks of anguish and frustration on her co-actors’ faces. As for Will Harrison, the director—he’d appeared to be either suicidal or homicidal—Alex wasn’t sure which—the last time he’d seen him storming off the set.

  “He’s making me do the same scene over and over until I’m ready to scream.”

  “He’s a perfectionist.” Alex sat beside her on the couch. “Will just wants to make sure you give your very best.”

  “I’ve given him all I can, Alex. I called Jeff and told him I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  “But the studio will sue, Lena.” Alex sighed but tried to hide his exasperation. “Jeff won’t agree to you quitting the film. It’ll give you a bad reputation for being difficult to work with. Just take it easy, get to bed early tonight. No drinking, no pills, no parties. When shooting’s done for the day, we’ll go for a nice dinner and—”

  “No, Alex, no!” Lena stood and paced around the room, running her hands through her long auburn hair. “I want you to call the airline and reserve us three seats back to Los Angeles. If Will Harrison wants me so badly for his film, then he can come shoot the damn thing there.”

  “But economically—”

  “I don’t give a damn about the fact it’s cheaper to make movies in Canada. I want to go home. If Hank were still alive he’d never put me through something like this. He’d— Oh, God, I miss him so. And I know you do too. Why do you never want to talk about him? Are you still in love with him, Alex?” She flung herself down on the couch again and stared at him weepily through her smudged mascara. “You still blame me for his death, don’t you?”

  “No, of course I don’t, Lena.” God, but he so didn’t need this right now. “I don’t think it’s good for you to constantly talk about him, that’s all. You have to let him go, move on with your life. You need this movie to put you back on track.”

  “But the media won’t let me forget him, Alex. That horrible report about the incident in your office had them showing news clips from the night he died.”

  “You shouldn’t have watched any of that crap.” He’d asked Sophia to make sure none of the TV sets in her dressing room or hotel room were tuned in to the tabloid newscasts, but she’d seen it the night before he’d arrived, and hadn’t stopped talking about it ever since.

  “Just call the airline, will you please?” She slumped back into the couch pillows and closed her eyes. “And tell Sophia we’re leaving.”

  Sighing, Alex picked up his cell and punched in Scott’s number. He and Jeff, Lena’s agent, were just going to love this, and no doubt Jeff would want to blame him for not doing a better job of controlling Lena’s tantrums. Maybe it was time to look for a new job.

  * * * *

  Edward opened his eyes and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling with its overly bright fluorescent light. Where the hell am I? He moved his head to the right a little and took in the sterile surroundings. Shit, a hospital room. But why? He ached all over and when he glanced down he could see his arms were bandaged. Jeez, was I in a car accident or something? He had no memory of that. In fact the last thing he did remember was being at that awful party with Troy. And he’d been going to leave to do something…

  That’s right, look for my phone so I could call Alex. Alex… Does he know I’m in this hospital? I’ve got a date with him in Vancouver. I remember that all right.

  He glanced toward the door as it opened and a nurse peeked in. She smiled on seeing he was awake. “Good morning, Edward, how are you feeling today?” she asked just a little too brightly.

  “Okay, I guess. I’m just not sure what happened, why I’m here.”

  “You’ve been unconscious for three days.” She walked over to the bed and began checking the levels on the IVs attached to him. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake so he can give you a proper diagnosis.”

  “Was I in a car accident?”

  “We’re not sure. You were found on the side of the road in Hollywood Hills—but the doctor will give you the details. He‘ll be here in a few minutes. Do you feel like having something to eat?”

  “Maybe just some water. My mouth feels like it’s full of sand.”

  She nodded and filled a sippy-cup with water. “Here you go.” She held the straw to his lips. “Can you manage? Be careful when you move your arm. You have quite a lot of cuts and bruises.”

  He winced as he moved to hold the cup. What the hell had happened? He couldn’t remember anything that might have led to having an accident—car or otherwise.

  “I’ll hold it for you if it hurts to move,” the nurse said. “I’m Joan by the way.”

  “Thanks, Joan. I think I can manage.”

  “Good. I’ll just go and get the doctor so he can fill you in on the details I’m sure you can’t wait to know.” She gave him another bright smile then left.

  Edward was quietly stunned by this development. In the back of his mind he sensed that whatever had happened to him was not of his own volition. He’d been with Troy, had driven him to the party—so where was his car? If he’d been in a wreck, surely he would remember actually driving his car away from the party, with or without Troy. He knew he hadn’t been entirely comfortable with what was going on. Troy had got him a beer, then disappeared, and…? There was nothing after that. He’d wanted to call Alex.

  He looked up as a tall, fairly young man, wearing dark horn-rimmed glasses, entered the room.

  “Good morning, Edward, I’m Doctor Wingate. I’d offer to shake your hand but I think that might still be a little painful for you.”

  “What happened, Doctor?” Edward asked, trying to put his cup of water to one side. Wingate stepped forward and took it from his hand, placing it on the tray next to his bed.

  “You’ve been in some kind of accident. At least we think it was an accident. You were found lying in the road by a lady driving her car on Laurel Drive. She called nine-one-one and waited with you until the paramedics arrived. You were in pretty bad shape when
you were admitted here. Fortunately most of your injuries are superficial—cuts and bruises, a whack on the head, that kind of thing. You did some damage to your knees, but nothing’s broken. You’ll heal in a week or two.” He paused and his expression grew solemn.

  “But there’s something else, isn’t there,” Edward said, with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

  “I’m afraid so. We did a blood analysis and it showed positive for Rohypnol.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Its more common term is ‘roofie’, or ‘date rape drug’.”

  Edward stared up at Wingate, the queasy feeling in his stomach now churning to the point where he thought he might throw up.

  “I was raped?” He could barely get the words out. “Oh, my God.”

  Wingate put a calming hand on Edward’s shoulder. “No, you were not raped, Edward. In cases like this it’s usual to medically examine the victim, and I can assure you, you were not violated in that manner.”

  Edward didn’t know which emotion of the many that swamped his psyche at that moment was the most powerful. Relief at the knowledge he hadn’t been sexually molested, that there was no danger of him having contracted HIV, or the deep, burning anger that started to build inside him at the realization that someone had done this to him—had drugged him in order to—do what? And why was he so banged up? Why had he been found lying on the side of the road? Who the hell had done this?

  Well, there was one person who just might have some idea— Troy.

  He became aware that Wingate was still talking. He’d been so chewed up by his emotional reactions he’d tuned the doctor out. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I asked if there was someone we could contact to apprise of your situation. You have a North Carolina driver’s license. I understand the police tried calling the phone number they linked to your home address, but so far no one has responded.”

  What a surprise. I could be at death’s door and my family still doesn’t give a shit about me.

  He blinked away the tears welling in his eyes. “No, there’s no one.” He certainly wasn’t going to have them contact his roommates. He’d deal with them when he got released from the hospital. “Wait, I have a friend, but he’s in Vancouver right now. Maybe you could let him know?”

  “Sure. Do you have his phone number?”

  “Uh, it’s on my cell.”

  “I’m afraid there was no cell phone among your personal items. No cell and no car keys.”

  Damn. He struggled to recall what he’d assigned to speed dial once he and Alex had exchanged numbers. “I think it’s five-five-five thirty eight hundred. His name is Alex Martinez. Oh, and maybe someone could call the bank where I work. They’ve probably fired me by now for not showing up or calling.”

  Wingate took the name of the bank and said he’d have one of the nurses call both numbers as soon as possible.

  “When will I be released?” Edward asked.

  “Another day or so. It takes time for the drug to completely leave your system, especially the large dose you were given, mixed with alcohol. You can suffer from disorientation and a tendency to fall asleep. Now that you’re awake the police will want a statement from you.”

  “The police?”

  “Yes, Edward. You are the victim of a crime, so they’ll want the details, or as much as you can remember. In the meantime, we’ll keep you on the pain meds and get you some real food to build up your strength.” He made some notations on the iPad he carried. “I’ll look in on you later today.”

  After the doctor had left, Edward closed his eyes and let the full weight of his situation fill his mind. He’d been unconscious for three days. If they were including Saturday in that number it meant he’d only missed one day of work so far. Maybe once someone from the hospital called, his boss wouldn’t fire him out of hand. If they got a hold of Alex, he might call him here. He would really love to hear Alex’s deep, soothing voice, but more than anything, he wished Alex were here with him now. It was silly, he knew, to put so much faith in Alex’s ability to make things better, but right now, what he felt was, vulnerable… alone.

  The police had called his parents and they hadn’t bothered to find out if he was okay.

  How in hell did I ever become a product of such a cold, unfeeling bunch? If my son were hospitalized, I’d be at his side day and night.

  Once again, tears formed behind his eyelids, and he blinked them away impatiently. There was no point in grieving over the lost love of his family. There never would be a happy reconciliation. Not now. Not ever.

  * * * *

  Alex sighed with relief after he had deposited Lena back in her Beverly Hills home. The flight from Vancouver had felt like the longest trip in the world. Lena was losing it, without a doubt, but with Jeff waiting for her at her home, Alex had decided it was better if he wasn’t around for their ‘talk’. He was expected back at the office for a meeting with Scott, but first, he wanted to check up on Edward.

  Probably the best place to start is at his apartment.

  He took a cab from Lena’s to his house so he could pick up his car. He went inside just in case Edward was there, even though there was no sign of his car in the driveway. His cell phone was still on the counter so Alex pocketed it before he left. There was no doubt in his mind now that something bad had happened. Maybe he’d gotten the flu, or food poisoning?

  Just as he was about to get in his car, his cell phone chimed. “Alex Martinez.” He answered the call without checking the ID.

  “Oh, Mr. Martinez, my name is Joan. I’m a nurse at Saint Patrick’s Hospital. We have a patient here, an Edward Conway, who says you’re a friend. He knows you’re in Vancouver but just wanted you to know where he is.”

  Hospital? “Yes, yes, I know him. Is he all right?”

  “He’s improving. He was unconscious for a time, but he’s awake now. Perhaps you can come see him when you’re back in town.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Alex said and hung up. Despite his worry over Edward’s condition, he smiled wryly as he thought of Joan the nurse’s surprise when he said he’d be right there. Vancouver to LA in twenty minutes or so. He’d tell her he doubled as The Flash in his spare time, if she asked.

  * * * *

  When he arrived at the nurses’ station at Saint Patrick’s and asked to see Edward he was told he’d have to wait as there was a detective in the room getting a statement from the patient.

  “Detective?” Alex exclaimed. “What happened to him?”

  Before the nurse could reply, a tall bespectacled man who had been scribbling something on a pad turned to him and said, “I’m Doctor Wingate. You’re a friend of Edward’s?”

  “Yes, Alex Martinez.”

  The doctor’s expression showed his surprise. “Edward told us you were in Vancouver.”

  “Yes, my trip got cut short. What happened to him?”

  “He was drugged and left lying on the roadside. He has no memory of what took place, but happily his injuries aren’t too severe.”

  “Drugged. My God.” Alex immediately recalled Troy’s invitation to a party he’d described as having ‘all the drugs and sex you need’. Had Edward gone to the party? He couldn’t imagine him being a part of something so seedy, and he hadn’t mentioned going when he’d dropped Alex off at the airport. But what did he really know about Edward? They’d only been seeing each other for just over a week, and he’d been gone for most of the time.

  “Can I see him?” he asked.

  “Once the police are out of there, yes.” Doctor Wingate gave Alex an appraising look. “Just so you know, they tried to contact his family in North Carolina. There has been no response from them.”

  Alex grimaced. “He parted from them on bad terms.”

  “Came out to them, I expect?” Wingate’s tone was gentle.

  Alex nodded. “They gave him a rough time from what he told me.”

  “Not unusual. He’s going to need a lot of TLC to help him overcome t
he trauma of his experience. Are you and he lovers?”

  “We’ve only been seeing each other a short time, and my job took me away for a good amount of that time, but I’d say we’re close, yes.”

  “Good, he’ll need that.”

  They both watched as a wide-shouldered, sandy-haired man approached the station.

  “Did he manage to remember anything else, Detective?” Wingate asked.

  “Not enough to help find out who did this to him. He did give me the approximate location of the house where he said the party was held. Didn’t know the actual address as his roommate was directing and got lost a couple of times. We’ll check the neighborhood and see if anyone recalls hearing a party going on nearby.”

  “Have you questioned his roommate?” Alex asked.

  The detective flicked hazel eyes his way and gave Alex the once-over. “And you are?”

  “Alex Martinez. I’m a friend of Edward’s.”

  “Detective McLennan.” He didn’t offer a handshake. “Were you at this party?”

  “No, I was in Vancouver, and I’d hazard a guess Edward was only there because Troy asked him for a ride to the party.”

  “Well…” McLennan tapped his iPad and glanced at the screen. “He was able to give me the address of his apartment and his roommates’ names. Troy is the one you mentioned, so we’ll have a talk with him first.” He turned to the doctor. “Are you releasing him any time soon?”

  “Tomorrow maybe, if he keeps showing improvement. There’s a tendency for some people to feel the effects of the drug for a few days. Being unable to stay awake can be a lingering result.”

  “These injuries he’s sustained—they don’t really line up with being hit by a car.” McLennan gave Wingate a questioning look. “Would you agree?”