Breaking News (20 page)
Authors: Fern Michaels
“You must have been here when Granny was in the hospital, having her bypass surgery.”
Bernice kicked Jamie under the table.
The brat.
The brat.
Robert's eyes lit up like a candle. “You had bypass surgery, too? I had mine two years ago. Never felt better in my life.”
Suddenly, Bernice felt like she'd found a kindred spirit. “Me too. Why don't you tell me all about yours, and I'll tell you all about mine?”
For the next two hours, they all talked about their surgeries and whatever else came to mind. When the phone rang, Jamie was surprised to see how long they'd been sitting at the table. She hurried over to get the phone.
“Toots! Abby's coming home today? Hang on. I'll let you tell her yourself. She's right here.”
“Granny, Toots wants to speak to you,” she said as she gave Bernice the phone.
Bernice put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Excuse me,” she said to her neighbors. “This is my . . . sister. She lives here with me, too.”
Chapter 34
A
bby refused to wear the clothes she'd worn the night before when the nurse brought them to her, sealed in a plastic bag with her name and room number marked in black letters. She never wanted to see anything that reminded her of Rag ever again. She'd asked for a pair of clean scrubs to wear home. She'd been allowed to take a shower while Chris took care of her discharge paperwork. Wanting to luxuriate under the hot spray to wash away the sweat and grime from hours spent in that closet, she didn't, because she knew she had very little time to accomplish what she wanted to do before Chris returned to the room. She quickly ran the bar of soap over her body. She'd insisted they remove her bandages. Though bruised and tender, she really was no worse for wear. She looked like she'd been the victim of a beating, but her adrenaline was pumping so fast, she barely felt any pain.
bby refused to wear the clothes she'd worn the night before when the nurse brought them to her, sealed in a plastic bag with her name and room number marked in black letters. She never wanted to see anything that reminded her of Rag ever again. She'd asked for a pair of clean scrubs to wear home. She'd been allowed to take a shower while Chris took care of her discharge paperwork. Wanting to luxuriate under the hot spray to wash away the sweat and grime from hours spent in that closet, she didn't, because she knew she had very little time to accomplish what she wanted to do before Chris returned to the room. She quickly ran the bar of soap over her body. She'd insisted they remove her bandages. Though bruised and tender, she really was no worse for wear. She looked like she'd been the victim of a beating, but her adrenaline was pumping so fast, she barely felt any pain.
Donning the aqua greenâcolored scrubs the nurse had provided, along with a pair of cotton slippers, Abby raced out of her room before she had any second thoughts about what she was going to do.
At the end of the hall, she spied an information desk. A young girl chewing gum as though her life depended on it was manning the desk.
“Excuse me,” Abby said in her best Valley girlâlike voice. “My, uh, friend was, like, brought in here, like, uh, last night. And he, like, needed me to bring a few things. His name is Rodwell Godfrey. He, like, uh, forgot to give me his room number. I think he was, like, kinda out of it when he called.”
The gum chomper tapped a few keys on the computer, then spoke. “He's on the security floor. Cool,” the girl said. “Room two sixty-nine.”
“Thanks,” Abby said, then hurried away. She didn't have much time. She spotted a bank of elevators and practically ran when she saw the doors swish open. Every second counted.
Having formed something of a half-assed plan, knowing that Rag was being guarded, she crossed her fingers that she wouldn't get caught. The doors opened, and she saw several signs with arrows pointing in all directions. When she saw the sign indicating the room number she was headed for, she walked so fast, she had to force herself to slow down. That was as far as she'd planned. She needed an excuse to go inside the room. Abby saw a waiting room reserved for guests. Inside, there were stacks of magazines and paperback novels. She grabbed several magazines and three books.
Slowly, so as not to draw too much attention to herself, she carried the stack of reading material close against her chest, yet kept her head lowered, just in case someone were to get a good look at her. Her face was a bit swollen, and there were marks that she couldn't hide.
As soon as she saw the guard outside Rag's room, she knew her task wasn't going to be nearly as tough as she thought. The guard didn't look a day over twenty-one, and Abby knew this couldn't be the former Secret Service agent she'd been told had the unpleasant duty of watching over Rag until the Feds took over. Maybe they were on break, went to the restroom, whatever; it didn't matter. Now was her opportunity, and she'd best take advantage of it.
She saw the guy and figured that since her dumb Valley girl had worked on the gum chomper downstairs, it would probably work on this guy, too. She stood outside the door where he was seated, then cleared her throat. That got his attention. Abby was sure he was playing a game on his cell phone. Some security guard he was. “Hey, howzit goin'?”
“Oh, yes. Fine,” the guard said.
“I'm supposed to, like, uh . . . offer the patient some like . . . uh, reading stuff. Do you mind if I step inside the room for a sec?” Abby actually batted her lashes at the kid.
“Uh, sure. Why not?”
“Cool. Thanks, man,” Abby said before entering the room.
Inside, Rag was handcuffed to the bed with one hand, and the other had an IV line attached to the inside of his wrist.
Good,
she thought.
Good,
she thought.
He appeared to be unconscious, but she didn't care.
“Hey, you dirtbag.” She leaned as close to his ear as possible. She saw his eyeballs move underneath his eyelids. This son of a bitch was no more in a coma now than she was. Just to make sure, she grabbed his earlobe and twisted it as hard as she could.
“Ouch! What the fuck!” Rag said in a voice that spoke volumes. He was not in a coma any longer.
“Hey there. I guess I should ask how you're feeling.” She continued to twist his ear. “If you make one little sound, I swear to you, I will cut your balls off. Let me see if I remember this correctly? Hmm, you're going to be on an island somewhere, with millions of dollars, and I was going to be locked in a closet. How's that workin' out for you? Just so you know, that CEO of LAT Enterprise you spoke with just happens to be my mother, and you, my old friend, fucked with the wrong woman. Just for the record, kidnapping is punishable by death. I'll see you at the trial, but let me give you a word of advice. Save the taxpayers money and plead it out. You might see the light of day before you're a centenarian.”
He moaned, and Abby released her grip on his ear. Just for good measure, she doubled her fist and, giving it all she had, punched him squarely in the nose. Blood spurted from his nose. With his one free hand, he reached to stop the flow of blood spewing from his nose.
Abby grabbed his head. “Nope, can't do that. Sorry.” Abby spied a roll of gauze on the table beside the bed. She wiped the blood from his face but made sure to use as much pressure as she could. “Don't you dare scream, you pussy. Remember, the balls.”
After she'd wiped the blood from his face, she pulled the covers down to the foot of the bed. Knowing the image would haunt her later, but wanting this son of a bitch to experience just a tenth of the humiliation she'd had to endure at his hands, she yanked open the pale blue hospital gown he wore, leaving his genitals exposed for all to see. Wanting to leave a lasting impression, she looked at him, and said, “Remember, the balls, okay?”
Grabbing the stack of magazines and the three books she'd brought inside the room, she left one of the paperbacks, titled
Retribution,
on his tray table.
Retribution,
on his tray table.
As she raced out of the room, Abby grinned when she said to the guy, “See ya.”
The security here was pathetic. She'd remember this if she was ever hospitalized again. Hurrying to the elevators, she lucked out again when the doors opened the second she reached them. When she reached her floor, she saw Chris walking around in her room.
Shit!
She'd eventually tell him where she'd been, but not just then. Later. For now, she wanted to enjoy the few minutes of fear, pain, and embarrassment she'd caused. Paybacks were a bitch. Account paid in full.
“Hey, I was looking for you,” Chris said as he spied her heading to her room.
“I went in search of a Coke machine. Then it dawned on me: I didn't have any money.”
Chris looked at her, raised his eyebrows, and shook his head. “Whatever you say, Abby, whatever you say.”
With that, a nurse pushing a wheelchair came out of her room. “Miss Simpson, it's hospital policy that all patients leave in a wheelchair.”
“Okay, no problem,” Abby said. She couldn't help but smile when she thought of the
little
shriveled-up image that would greet the next unlucky soul to enter Rag's room.
little
shriveled-up image that would greet the next unlucky soul to enter Rag's room.
Chapter 35
F
or the hundredth time in a little over twenty-four hours, Toots's eyes filled with tears. Damn, she was becoming a frigging caterwauling old woman. “Phil,” she said when they pulled up to the passenger drop-off at LAX, “I can't thank you enough for all the help you've been.”
or the hundredth time in a little over twenty-four hours, Toots's eyes filled with tears. Damn, she was becoming a frigging caterwauling old woman. “Phil,” she said when they pulled up to the passenger drop-off at LAX, “I can't thank you enough for all the help you've been.”
Goebel and Sophie waited in the Escalade while they said their good-byes.
“You'll call me as soon as you're in Charleston? Let me know you landed?” Toots asked.
“I will. And when you return to Charleston, will you promise me we'll go on that second date?”
“Oh no, I think we're way past that now. After all we've been through, I think we can jump ahead to that third date.”
Phil raised his eyebrows up and down Groucho Marx style. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
Toots chuckled. “You'll just have to wait and find out, won't you?” Not only was she turning into a crybaby in her old age, but she could also add prick teaser to the list.
Phil kissed her then, stopping further conversation. Toots's world was spinning. In a good way. “Tell Abby hello, and I can't wait to get to know her better.”
“I will. Good-bye, Phil.” Before she started bawling again, she jumped into the backseat of the Escalade. “If you say one word, I swear I will slice your tits off with a dull knife,” Toots said to Sophie.
Goebel laughed out loud. “Remind me to never get on your bad side,” he said as he pulled into the flow of traffic leading out of LAX.
Sophie grinned. “She's all talk.”
“Shut up,” Toots said, then blew her nose.
“Wait a minute. Aren't you the one that said âI'll never get involved with another man,' or something to that effect? Yes, I am sure it was you. And look at you now. You've been on one lousy date with a guy, and now you're acting like a baby because he had to leave just to go cut someone's heart out.”
Toots shook her head. “Sophie, you never mince words, do you? The past forty-eight hours have been some of the worst in my life. I would appreciate a little compassion, you old witch.”
“Do you two ever say anything nice to each other?” Goebel asked.
Sophie looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. “Damn, I thought this
was
nice, didn't you, Toots?”
was
nice, didn't you, Toots?”
Too tired to speak, Toots gave her the single-digit salute. It spoke volumes.
“Fuck you, too,” Sophie replied, smiling.
Thirty minutes later, they were pulling into the hospital's patient pickup area. Toots called Chris to tell him their location.
“I can't wait to get Abby home. She is not going back to that house of hers, either. Nor am I allowing her to go to Chris's apartment,” Toots stated, sounding like the mother of a runaway sixteen-year-old.
“Like you can stop her. She's thirty, not three,” Sophie reminded her, remembering that they had missed celebrating Abby's thirtieth birthday in the immediate aftermath of Bernice's open-heart surgery. “I'm sure the last thing Abby needs is to have you and the rest of us hovering over her like four old mother hens.”
“Well, I am her mother. Abby has always listened to me. I am going to insist she stay at the beach house until she recuperates. If Chris wants to stay, too, that's fine with me. I know they're both adults, but sometimes there is nothing like a little bit of pampering. Look,” Toots said. “There they are now.”
A nurse wheeled Abby outside, where she immediately flew out of the wheelchair as though her ass were on fire. Chris placed his arm across her shoulder and said something to her. Whatever it was made Abby laugh, and that was a good thing. After all her daughter had been through, she still had the ability to laugh, so Toots knew that this, too, would pass.
Toots opened the door, and Sophie jumped out, insisting Abby ride in the front seat.
“I'm fine. I'll just crawl in the backseat with Chris and Mom. God, it's good to be out of that place. I hate hospitals.”
Toots hugged her daughter, then said, “Let's get home, Goebel. I know Mavis and Ida can't wait to see their favorite godchild.”
“What do you mean, their
favorite?
” Abby asked in mock seriousness. “I thought I was their only godchild.”
favorite?
” Abby asked in mock seriousness. “I thought I was their only godchild.”
Sophie, ever the jokester, said, “Listen, kiddo, there are all kinds of things about us you don't know. Give it a few years.”
Toots reached over the front seat and yanked Sophie's long hair. “Stop right now! I can't have you ruining my motherly image at this late date!”
“That'll never happen, Mom. I promise. And before I get all teary-eyed, just let me say this. Thanks for being the kind of mom you are, and, Sophie, thank you for being the best, well, one of the best, godmothers a girl could ask for. Again, you have all bailed me out.” When Abby was finished, tears were streaming down her face.
“I don't know who's a bigger bawl bag, you or your mother,” Sophie said, even though by then her own eyes were filled with unshed tears.
As though on command, Toots, Abby, and Chris all flipped Sophie the bird.
They all laughed, the atmosphere among them relaxed and happy.
“I think you and Chris should stay at the beach house the next few days. That way, I'll be able to watch you and keep you out of trouble,” Toots said, realizing her words were just that: words. Abby and Chris could do whatever they desired. Though she hoped they would take her up on her offer. They all needed some family time together, especially now.
“Sure, Mom, if that makes you happy, I'll stay. I just need a few things from the house,” Abby said.
“Yeah, I suppose I could hang out with a houseful of women for a day or two. It's not as though I have a long client list just waiting for my advice. Actually, I don't have any clients, at least not in the entertainment area.”
Abby appeared stunned. “Really? When did this take place?”
“Since Laura Leighton's last episode. I know you haven't forgotten that little escapade,” Chris said. “After that, all the glitz and glamour seemed silly to me. These Hollywood people are here for two things. Fame and fortune. No one seems to have any morals here, no concern for what's right or wrong. I guess you could say I've had my fill of the place. Maybe I'll go work for a district attorney's office somewhere. Though not in this city. I know most of the people I'd have to prosecute.”
“They have a great district attorney's office in Charleston,” Toots said, warming up to the idea.
“I don't know what my plans are at this point, but I'll keep that in mind,” Chris assured her.
Abby's face brightened. Maybe she should consider this, too? A temporary leave of absence might be just what the doctor ordered. She didn't know how her mother would take this, given all the millions she'd put into
The Informer
to make it the number two tabloid newspaper in the country. But still, it was something to think about.
The Informer
to make it the number two tabloid newspaper in the country. But still, it was something to think about.
When they arrived at the beach house, Mavis and Ida, along with Chester, greeted them at the front door.
Abby was barely out of the vehicle when Chester came bounding down the steps. Standing on his hind legs, he placed both front paws on Abby's shoulders and started licking her as though she were a giant beef stick.
“Hey, boy, I hear you helped save my life,” Abby said as she wrapped her arms around the big dog's neck. “It's good to see you, too, my friend.” Chester dropped down on all fo n urs, allowing Mavis and Ida a chance to embrace Abby.
“When your mother said you were coming home, I just started making everything I knew was a favorite of yours. I'm afraid there isn't much left in the house right now, but we'll worry about that later,” Mavis said, leading Abby to the kitchen, from which all kinds of delectable smells were emanating.
“Smells good in here,” Abby said as she walked toward the doors leading out to the deck. Without saying another word to the others, she stepped outside and took a deep breath, grateful that she was able to do so. Thank God they'd found her in time. Drinking in the scene before herâthe ocean, the beach, and all the sounds and smells that went along with itâmade her realize she'd truly been given a second chance. Did she really want to spend the rest of her life writing articles, if you could even call them articles, about Hollywood's screwed-up starlet of the moment or the latest actor to go into rehab one day and get arrested a week later for possession? Life here could turn on a dime.
One day you're at the top. Then the next, you come crashing down like a falling star.
How important was any of it in the scheme of things? She decided then and there that, if one really understood the meaning of the word, it really wasn't important at all. She supposed you could think of it as a game, but even that glorified it too much. Games had winners, yet all she saw in Hollywood, at least from the perspective of a tabloid, were the losers. She just didn't know if she wanted to be a part of it anymore.
One day you're at the top. Then the next, you come crashing down like a falling star.
How important was any of it in the scheme of things? She decided then and there that, if one really understood the meaning of the word, it really wasn't important at all. She supposed you could think of it as a game, but even that glorified it too much. Games had winners, yet all she saw in Hollywood, at least from the perspective of a tabloid, were the losers. She just didn't know if she wanted to be a part of it anymore.
“Hey,” Chris called. “Everyone is waiting for you. Come inside, have something to eat, and you'll feel better.”
Abby wasn't sure food would cure what ailed her at the moment, but she was hungry. “Of course. I'm ravenous.”
Mavis outdid herself. She'd made Abby's favorite: shrimp scampi, a Greek salad, and the garlic rolls she knew Abby would eat one too many of; and then there was dessert. Abby eyed the kitchen table. Plates and cloth napkins. Hmm, this was new. Usually when she came for dinner, they ordered a pizza and used paper plates and napkins. But this was a special occasion, she realized. Her godmothers were just trying to show her how special she really was.
“This all looks scrumptious. I know I'll gain ten pounds at least,” she said as Mavis filled her plate.
Chris sat on her left, and her mother to her right. Sophie and Goebel seated themselves directly across from her, and Ida and Mavis sat at either end of the table. For the moment nothing was said. The sounds of silver clicking against china were the only sounds to be heard for the next few minutes, as they all filled themselves with Mavis's goodies.
When they were finished, Toots and Sophie went to the deck for their usual after-dinner smoke. Abby and Chris joined them, though they stayed upwind of the smoke so as not to get a noseful of the nastiness.
“I'm quitting soon, Abby. I promise,” Toots said as she puffed on her Marlboro Light.
“Same here,” Sophie said. “I'm just not sure when.”
Abby just shook her head. “I guess it's just like any other habit. Once you're sick of it, you'll decide it's time to call it quits.” Which made Abby think about
The Informer.
Did she really want to call it quits, or was this just a typical survivor-like reaction to all she'd been through?
The Informer.
Did she really want to call it quits, or was this just a typical survivor-like reaction to all she'd been through?
“True,” her mother said. “But I want you to know that I am sincere. I know how much you dislike smoking. Phil said there was a prescription drug on the market that could help me give these up. I might take a look into it when I'm home.”
Abby's eyes twinkled, and suddenly she was more grateful to be alive than ever. “Uh, Mom, this Phil. Just how friendly are you two? Should I anticipate a number nine?”
Oh, crud!
Toots thought.
Leave it to Abby to call an ace an ace and a spade a spade. No beating around the bush with her.
Of course, she was
her
daughter. She'd expect nothing less. “For your information, young lady, I have had one measly date with Phil. So to answer your question, no, he is not, under any circumstances, being considere d as husband number nine. Remember, after Leland died, I swore off marriage?”
Toots thought.
Leave it to Abby to call an ace an ace and a spade a spade. No beating around the bush with her.
Of course, she was
her
daughter. She'd expect nothing less. “For your information, young lady, I have had one measly date with Phil. So to answer your question, no, he is not, under any circumstances, being considere d as husband number nine. Remember, after Leland died, I swore off marriage?”
“I thought that you swore off men, too. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding on my part,” Sophie added, a wicked grin lighting up her dark brown eyes.
“If you two don't stop ganging up on me, I'm going inside,” Toots said.
“Hmm, must have hit a nerve,” Sophie said as she blew out a giant puff of white smoke. “What do you think, Abby?”
“I don't think I've seen that look in Mom's eyes for a long time, if ever. I know she had it for my father, but I was really too young to understand what all those gaga eyes were about then. Speaking of my dad, this is weird. When I was in that closet, I don't know if I was sleeping or unconscious, but I had a kind of conversation with him, even though I know I couldn't have actually been speaking since Rag had all that duct tape covering my mouth. Still, I would swear we spoke.”
Sophie looked at Toots; then Toots looked at Abby.
Hesitantly, Sophie asked, “What exactly did he say?”
“This is the weird part. It was almost like he was trying to apologize for dying when I was so young. He said he was going to make it up to me.”
No one uttered a word. The only sounds to be heard were those coming from the beach below. The occasional shout from a parent, a child's cry, and the whooshing sounds as the water sloshed back and forth on the beach.
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