Broken Glass (12 page)

Still no mention of my name. I started pumping him with my mouth, tight as a fitted glove, enveloping my lips around his cock like a vice. I held the base of him, squeezing, tensing my grip, pumping him back and forth. Every now and then I’d take his huge erection out of my mouth and flicker my tongue around his peephole, which was thick with creamy arousal, and circle his throbbing crown around and around. Alternating the rhythm—pumping one moment and teasing the next—I had Daniel in a state of fever, growling and cursing, his thick girth expanding and threatening any second to explode into my mouth.

“Your hot wet juicy cunt is going to get so fucked by me soon. I’m going to take you and thrust myself in so hard—come so fucking hard in your tight pussy . . . aaah! Fuck, baby . . . Christ . . . I’m . . . I’m coming!” His scalding seed, so much of it, fired out massive spurts to the back of my throat. I swallowed several times, so fast and furiously it came shooting out. I was so turned on, I took my hands away and rubbed them vigorously between my legs. It didn’t take much for my orgasm—spurned on by Daniel’s dirty talk—to pound through me.

A few minutes later, when his groans had waned, he let out a chuckle of laughter.

“What?” I said.

“That was great but . . . what’s your name again?”

I froze. Question answered: he didn’t recognize me.

“Janie,” I whispered, placing the sheet over him. I didn’t need to clean him up I’d swallowed every drop, licked him spotless. I could hear voices: chatter getting nearer to the room. I stood up to attention, as if we were innocently discussing the weather or something.

Daniel winked at me, a grin stretched across his face. “I missed you, baby.”

“I thought you didn’t know who I was.” Perhaps he’d been kidding all along. My heart was racing with nerves, excitement, and fear. I’d been through so much the last few days while he had been in dreamland, oblivious to the agony I’d been through—to him, I supposed, it was like minutes, not days—and now he was free to feel jovial and amused. I, on the other hand, was still reeling in shock, terrified he’d slip away again.

“Please don’t ever do that to me again,” I murmured on a breath into his ear, “I thought I’d die of misery.”

“It was a one-off,” he joked. That was the very phrase I’d used, just the other night. “By the way,” he said in a rasp, “I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything,” I said.

“Anything?”

“Anything,” I assured him.

“Marry me, Janie.” He closed his eyes, as if exhausted by the energy expended with my blowjob, but his lips curved into a satisfied, content smile.

As if a tornado had struck, the door flew open in a gust, interrupting our peace, and in came a team of doctors. I glanced at Daniel, but his eyes were still shut, unfazed by the commotion and loud chatter around him.

I looked up. A smiling face I’d seen a hundred times online, in magazines, and even on stage, gazed at me. She was different in the flesh. Not as tall, her hair a shade or two darker, her bust less ample. Vomit rose to my throat, I thought I’d faint again.
I am seeing things, hallucinating, I must be
!

Because there was no way this could be real:

Natasha freaking Jürgen!

I DIDN’T FAINT, but I did collapse onto the floor, my knees like Jell-O. They fussed around Daniel. It sounded as if they were administering extra medication. Their talk was white noise buzzing in my ears. Then the woman spoke louder:

“Get her some water. I’ve heard the poor thing hasn’t been sleeping, has been hanging out here almost 24/7.”

Hanging out
? Was she referring to me?

I looked up, my vision a haze. But it was her. It was Natasha Jürgen. I wasn’t dreaming because I pinched myself. My faculties were all there.

“What are you doing here?” I croaked out, my throat drier than chalk.

“You must be Janie, right? The nurses have told me all about you.”

I felt another rise of bile threatening to spill all over the floor. But my legs were too weak to move.

She leaned down and held out her hand to shake mine. “I’m Kristin, Daniel’s new doctor.”

“But you look like—”

She handed me a glass of water. “I know, I know.” She laughed, her gleaming teeth so white they matched the hospital sheets.

“Who
are
you?” I managed, wondering why Daniel wasn’t saying anything; maybe the drugs they’d just given him were making him woozy. I glugged the water down but my throat still felt dry. My tongue was so thick in my mouth I could hardly get my words out.

“I’m Daniel’s sister-in-law, Kristin. Natasha’s sister. I’m a neurologist, you know, highly trained and experienced in all things to do with traumatic brain injury; it’s my specialty. Here, let me help you up off the floor.” She pulled me up, my sneakers squeaking again on the linoleum.

This wasn’t right
!

“His new doctor?” My voice was barely a squeak. “Where’s Dr. Bellow?”

“Dr. Bellow has been transferred to another hospital, to another state. I’ll be handling Daniel’s case from now on. Who better than his very own sister-in-law, after all?” She smiled at me again. All sweetness and light. On second glance, I saw that she
was
different from Natasha. Her mouth less lush, her lips harder. Her eyes more feline, too. And she looked several years older than Natasha. But still, they were so alike it was uncanny.

I turned my attention to Daniel. “Daniel, baby, Kristin’s here.” I squeezed his hand. He didn’t flinch, and his eyes remained closed.

“He can’t hear you,” she said coolly, snapping her pen into her clipboard. “He may never come out of this, you need to be prepared, Janie.”

“He’s just sleeping,” I assured her. “He was awake just five minutes ago, before you all came in.”

The other doctor, a slim young man, whom I’d never seen before, prized open Daniel’s lids and shone a light pen in his eyes. “No, he’s out cold,” he confirmed. “The patient is in a full coma.”

“He was awake! I swear it!” I cried. “Just before you came into the room we . . . we were talking and joking and we . . . we . . . ” I broke off, stunned.

Natasha Jürgen’s sister looked into my eyes, a pitiful gaze that told me how sorry she felt for me. “Janie, I can give you something, you know. A sedative, something to help you relax, take away the anxiety, take away some of the pain.”

“What is wrong with you all? He was
talking
to me! More than talking!” I didn’t want to get into details about the blowjob. “You have to believe me. The nurse . . . Barbara . . . where is she? She’ll tell you . . . Daniel has already snapped out of the coma twice, but slipped back again! But he’s on the mend!”

“Nurse Mendez is on leave—she won’t be back for a long while. And I can assure you, there is no evidence of lucidity in Daniel’s medical file. No notes to that effect.”

“What?” I screeched. “This is
insane
! Where are all the doctors who know what’s going on? Daniel is pulling through. Daniel is—”

“Calm down, Janie.” Kristin clinched me by the crook of my arm. “I know this is hard to accept, but Daniel—to put in layman’s terms so you’ll understand—has brain damage from internal bleeding, which resulted in a lack of oxygen to the brain. I have studied his case in depth—unless a miracle happens, he will never recover.”

“No, no, that’s not what the nurse told me! And if that were true he wouldn’t have been able to communicate. He was speaking! There is nothing wrong with him!” I started to shake Daniel vigorously. “Daniel, Daniel, baby, wake up! Tell them you were talking to me! Tell them what happened!” But he wasn’t responding. I turned to the doctors. “He was awake just five minutes ago, what did you just give him? He was awake!”

She shook her head.

“Why won’t you believe me?” I bellowed. “We kissed, we did more, he just had an orgasm, you can check for yourself, we—”

“Give her a shot, she’s out of control.” Kristin’s voice was cool but stern. Unemotional. Calculating. Nurse Ratched in
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
. “She needs to calm the hell down. We can’t have this kind of commotion going on. Prepare the syringe, I’ll hold her.”

I started thrashing, yelling and screaming. “Let me go! You have no legal right to do this! Let me go! What the hell are you doing? Let me g—” I could feel the needle sliding into my vein.

And then I blanked out.

I WOKE UP several hours later, according to the time on my watch. My head hurt, I ached—I felt like I’d run a marathon, or was just recovering from a bout of heavy flu. Then I remembered. I jolted up and rubbed my eyes. That bitch!

I was still in Daniel’s room, lying on a reclining chair. Everything was the same: the vase of lilies Pearl had brought, the roses Star had sent. But Daniel wasn’t there! My eyes roamed around the room frantically: they’d taken him away! I jumped up from the chair and raced to the phone on Daniel’s bedside table. Not “bedside” anymore because there was no bed—they’d wheeled him out of here. I dialed the extension where the nurses’ station was.

A bright voice picked up.

“Where’s Daniel Glass?” I demanded. “He was here, in Room 313, but now he’s vanished!”

“Just a moment I’ll look at my chart. And you are?”

“His fiancée,” I said. I
was
his fiancée—he’d proposed to me—and no, I hadn’t been dreaming.

“He’s been transferred,” she told me.

My pulse was thundering in my head, in my stomach, my heart; so much so, I thought I’d black out again. I needed to eat something. “Where?”

“I’m sorry, I do not have that information at this time.”

“Don’t have it, or won’t give it?”

“I do not have that information, ma’am, you’ll have to speak to his doctor.”

“Dr. Bellows?” I said hopefully.

“No, ma’am, Dr. Bellows left us yesterday. He is no longer working at this hospital. Dr. Jürgen is in charge of Mr. Glass’ case—you’ll need to speak to her.”

“Can you tell me where Dr. Bellows has been transferred to?”

“I’m sorry, I do not have that information at this time.”

“What about the nurse who was looking after him? Barbara. I think her last name is Mendez. Can you tell me where she has gone?”

“I believe she is on leave.”

“How can I contact her? Do you have her phone number? Address?” I didn’t need to hear her answer; I knew what it would be.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I do not—”

“Have that information at this time,” I finished off. “At this time? Or any time? How can I find out?” I begged, my voice a desperate plea.

“I’m sure Dr. Jürgen will be most helpful, she’s a very respected neurologist; we’re lucky to have her with us. I can arrange an appointment with her tomorrow, if you wish.”

“That won’t be necessary, thank you.”

I tried to put down the receiver but my hands were trembling so badly, I didn’t manage to get it on its cradle. I needed back up. It was dangerous for me here. What Kristin Jürgen did to me was unethical, illegal, and insane, but she was in her own environment, a star in her neurological world, obviously. Doctors were bad enough at the best of times—always backing each other up, even when it came to malpractice. I could sue the bitch for what she did to me, I thought, for what
she was doing now
to Daniel . . . whatever, I needed to get away from here and organize backup, not be here alone. I glugged down an entire glass of water, grabbed my purse, then made for the door, half expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t.

I wanted to run around the hospital, screaming for Daniel, demanding his whereabouts, but I knew that would be crazy: I’d end up sedated again. No, I needed to come back, armed with an attorney, and maybe even a police officer. Somehow, I had to find another expert, another neurologist who could offer a second opinion about Daniel’s condition. Subpoena Dr. Bellows, Barbara, and all the original medical notes they took. Whatever was going on was ominous, like something out of a psychological horror movie.

This Kristen Jürgen was a coldhearted, scheming bitch and, for some strange reason, she wanted Daniel to stay in his coma.

A light bulb flashed in my brain . . . duh,
how could I be so slow on the uptake
?

Natasha Jürgen didn’t come out of her coma, either. A coincidence?

I don’t think so.

I HAILED A CAB and started to dial the numbers of everyone I knew, starting with Pearl, kicking myself that I had never asked for the nurse’s personal cellphone number. With all Pearl’s contacts and her husband’s money, they were bound to know the most powerful attorneys in the country. Not to mention the fact I needed to let her know that her pearl necklace had vanished along with Daniel. Her phone went to voicemail. Then I called Star. Damn voicemail. I left a frantic message. And when I finally tracked down Pearl’s PA, she told me that she and her husband were on their “no email, no cellphone vacation.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, bewildered. Who went without their cellphone these days? Apparently they did. For two whole weeks a year, Alexandre Chevalier had a no contact rule, except for direct members of family, his dogs, or if one of his houses was burning down, strict instructions not to be disturbed. The PA gave me numbers of all their lawyers, but Star had once told me that Alexandre Chevalier had “underground methods,” to deal with “severe problems”—her kidnapping, I remembered Star telling me, was solved in part because of him.

I thought of Daniel’s marriage proposal just a few hours earlier, and wondered if he was aware of what he was doing. For that short minute, before Kristin psycho Jürgen and her team entered the room, I entertained images of our future together: walking down Fifth Avenue, arm in arm, maybe ice skating in Central Park, the lake frozen in winter, or diving into glittering turquoise waters in the Mediterranean on his island hideaway in Hydra. Me pregnant, maybe. Collaborating on plays, always the husband and wife team; an everlasting marriage, growing old and gray together.

And now, all this seemed impossible.

I paid the cab driver and made my way through the revolving doors to Daniel’s apartment. I needed to shower and change, and cash in that $25,000 Bellagio chip. I walked into the shiny marble lobby, forever fearful now about too-polished floors. Daniel never kept a key for his apartment, because there was a twenty-four hour concierge.