Broken Lion (32 page)

“What happened?”

“Something touched me.”

I flipped on the lamp by my head. “What the hell are you doing, Azz?”

He stared at me, squinting because of the light. He sat on the floor near Brigid’s head, one paw hovering above the carpet, not sure what his next move was.

“Were you gonna eat her, buddy?”

“Does he bite too?”

“Naw. I think he’s trying to get your attention.”

He reached his paw up tentatively then lowered it.

She smiled at him, “Do you want something, Aslan?”

He stared at her for a moment then shifted his body weight several times, getting ready to jump.

“What are you doing, bud?” I chuckled.

“Should I be worried?”

“I think he wants to curl up with you.”

“He does?” Brigid liked the idea. “You can sleep with me if you want, Aslan.” She smiled at him.

“That cat never sleeps with me.”

“Probably because you call him Azz. It sounds too much like Ass. Isn’t that right, sweetie,” she cooed like he was a baby.

“You’re gonna make him a pussy talking to him like that.”

She made more baby talk, “You’re just a big pussy-wussy cat, aren’t you Aslan?”

Sure enough, Aslan leapt up gracefully onto the couch and settled in next to her arm. He did a sleepy blink while pretending to ignore me.

“Traitor,” I chuckled.

“You sound jealous.”

“Not even. He’s just getting used to having you around.”

I was too.

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

The next day, Brigid took off for work.

Dean and Cahill both came over to help out. Rhonda came by too and brought her family. All kinds of people came and went that day. It felt good to have friends who cared.

The next day, Dean drove me to the hospital to get my bandages changed. I was back on crutches and my knee hurt worse than yesterday. That’s what happened when they drilled holes in your bones. Good thing I had that Vicodin.

I sat in the waiting area on the third floor with Dean for a while before the nurse called my name. Dean followed as I wobbled back to the exam room on my crutches and waited for the doctor.

There was a knock on the door.

In walked Dr. Hackett.

“Hey, Doc.”

“Mr. Maxwell. So good to see you.” He turned to Dean. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Dean Jackson.” They shook hands.

“Dr. Ivan Hackett. The pleasure is all mine.”

I couldn’t decide if the Vicodin made Hackett seem like more of a douche or less.

“Let’s have a look at that knee.” Hackett pulled up a stool and started unwrapping the bandages and gauze and padding. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but there wasn’t much blood and the swelling wasn’t too bad. “The incision site looks quite good. How is the pain?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Brilliant. Are you icing it?”

“On and off all day. Twenty minutes at a time.”

“Very good. Have you been moving your ankles and flexing your quads?”

“Constantly.”

Hackett lifted my knee and gently flexed the joint. “You’ve got a good range of motion already and swelling is minimal. I think you’ll be ready to start physical therapy in a few days.”

“Can’t wait.” I meant it. Time to get this show on the road so I could finally get back to serious training.

“I’ll have the nurse bandage you up with a lighter dressing. Always a pleasure, Mr. Maxwell.” We shook hands and he turned to go then stopped. “One other thing.”

“Sure, Doc.”

“I was just wondering. If I’m not mistaken, when I stopped by the recovery room after surgery, you said something about Dr. Brigid Flanagan.” His eyes drilled into me.

“I did?” After they wheeled me into surgery, I didn’t remember much until I woke up back home.

“I do believe you did.” He was acting like my pal, but something in his voice put me on edge.

Better to play dumb. “Who is she again?”

“Dr. Flanagan was the doctor who saw you the night you first came to our ECU. You asked me to replace her.”

I nodded bashfully. “Right. Her. I almost forgot about her.” I tried not to lay it on too thick.

“Did you? How very strange. Because I could swear you said you were in love with her. And she with you.”

“No shit?” I played it off expertly. “Why would I have said that? I barely remember her. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“You see, that’s the thing, Mr. Maxwell. It didn’t make any sense to me either.”

“I was flying pretty high after surgery, Doc. I’m sure I said all kinds of crazy shit.” I snorted a laugh and glanced at Dean. He knew the details so he wasn’t saying a word. Kept a stone face. Totally inscrutable.

“Indeed.” Hackett’s eyes were pinned on mine. He was trying to get me to talk.

Wasn’t gonna work. I shrugged. “I can’t help ya, Doc.”

“You and her aren’t….” He arched an eyebrow, waiting for me to answer, trying to draw me out. Did this guy think he was Sherlock Holmes or some shit?

I waited him out.
Elementary, my dear Douchebag.

“You and her aren’t perhaps…” He wasn’t letting go.

“Aren’t what, Doc?” I turned on the mad dog eyes. Just a bit. I didn’t want to scare him. But he was making me nervous.

His wheels were turning. “Oh, nothing.” He laughed it off. “Just another one of my silly ideas.”

Bullshit.

He knew.

Now I was in double trouble. Not only did Donald Wright know, but Sherlock Hackett had somehow figured it out.

Actually, I wasn’t the one in trouble. Brigid was. Nothing would happen to me if the hospital found out. But Brigid would get screwed from both ends.

The odds of keeping Brigid in my life just got worse.

When I walked in here an hour ago, I’d thought my knee hurt bad. But that pain was nothing compared to the fear tightening my guts on the way out.

Chapter 37

BRIGID

Over the next several weeks, I was at Lion’s house as often as possible. The first few days he needed a lot of help with preparing food, laundry, looking after the cats, etc. I hovered over his wound care like a mother hen, but Dr. Hackett had done good work. The incisions were healing nicely and there was no sign of infection. Within a week, Lion was already starting therapy. I knew the physical therapy protocols for ACL reconstruction, and I grilled Lion about every step. Based on his answers, I was confident his PT knew what they were doing and Lion was in good hands. I would’ve liked to watch over the process, partially out of interest and partially out of concern, but I didn’t want to risk anyone at the hospital finding out, especially not Dr. Hackett.

Lion and I continued our frustrating holding pattern of not dating. His recovery was a good excuse to get away from worrying about it for a while. Rehab was his focus now. For the next few months, everything would be about getting his knee back to what it was before the injury.

For me, life was business as usual. Work and Daniel. His school was starting soon, so I wanted to do as many fun things as we could in the time we had. Sadly, much of our activities were done without Lion.

One of those activities was spending time with Grandma Linda. Unlike Grandpa, Grandma didn’t work. She had loads of free time. Ever since Lion came along, she hadn’t seen Daniel as much as she was used to. So she suggested a trip to the Will Rogers Polo Club. She wanted Daniel to get some culture.

The day of the trip, I drove to the Wright Estate in Beverly Hills. I still had a remote in my car for the gate, which I used. I parked and knocked on the front door. As always, a maid answered. The Wrights had a full time staff that kept the house up.

“Good morning, Miss Flanagan, I’m so happy to see you.” Maria Flores the maid wore a traditional maid’s uniform with the white apron. The dress wasn’t the standard black because Linda thought black made her home feel like a funeral parlor. Instead it was a bright lemon yellow. Maria had been working for Linda for years. When I had lived here before the divorce, I saw Maria every day. I hadn’t seen as much of her in the past several years, but I considered her a friend.

“Good morning, Maria.” I hugged her. “Good to see you too. How are the kids?”

“Very good, Miss Flanagan.” She was always impeccably polite. Linda demanded it.

“How is Francisco?”

“Very good.”

“Is he still doing construction?”

“Yes. Now Alejandro is helping him.” Alejandro was her eldest son.

“How old is he now?”

“Eighteen.”

“My goodness.”

“My little mijo is already a man. Can you believe it?”

“He was eight when I met him. Time sure flies, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” she smiled.

I had watched Alejandro and her other children grow up in the photos Maria kept on her phone. On a few occasions, the Flores family had been invited to the estate to celebrate holidays like the Fourth of July or Thanksgiving. But never for Easter or Christmas or any “family” holidays. Linda had distinct opinions about that. I had never heard Linda call Maria or any of the house staff “the help” but she never called them friends either. They were her employees and she treated them as such. Linda wasn’t exactly a classist bitch, but she liked to think of herself as above other people. If you worked for her, she was above you. I was grateful that I didn’t. As her ex-daughter-in-law, I dealt with other burdens.

“There you are, Brigid!” Linda waltzed out of the kitchen and glided across the intricate Italian marble floor in her flowing white summer suit, complete with an outrageously large white straw hat. Her makeup was perfect, as always. “So good to see you.” She air kissed both my cheeks.

“Good to see you too, Linda. Where’s Daniel?”

“Probably in his room playing video games. Maria, will you be a dear and go fetch him?”

“Yes, Mrs. Wright.” Maria did a quick curtsy before walking upstairs. After all these years, I still couldn’t believe Linda’s female staff were expected to curtsy for their queen.

“Are you ready to enjoy some sunshine, Brigid?”

“I am.”

“Good. I see that for once, you have some color on you. The outdoor look suits you.” She meant my tan, but coming from her it sounded vaguely racist. I didn’t know why, it just did. She looked me up and down like I was nothing more than a collectible doll she was considering adding to her collection. “The porcelain look never goes out of style, but it is summer.” That meant I was supposed to be tan. Like her.
Supposed
to. I didn’t know who the invisible judging panel was that graded these things, but Linda obviously knew them personally and cared about what they thought more than I ever did. “Love the outfit, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Knowing Linda as I did, I had picked out an appropriate outfit in advance. Despite my minimal tan, I wore a short sleeve full length floral print dress to block out the sun, and sandals. I’d even worn a hat. Not as large or outrageous as Linda’s, but when was anything as outrageous as she was? Linda meant well, but she was strange. “Is Ronald coming with?”

She waved her hand. “You know Ronald. It’s Saturday morning, so he’s at the country club. Probably starting a second round of golf as we speak.”

“Of course.”

Daniel thudded down the stairs. “Hey, Mom!”

“Don’t run, Daniel,” Linda chastised. “Life isn’t a horse race.”

“Sorry,” Daniel said and slowed to a walk. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he gave me a side hug. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Slowly turning from a boy to a man.

“Shall we?” Linda asked.

Outside, we all climbed into Linda’s Mercedes. The one thing everyone in LA did, no matter how rich they were, was drive themselves. It was a point of pride. When Linda went anywhere, she
always
drove. Nobody took the wheel in Linda Wright’s game of life except Linda. Not even Ronald. He may have run their insurance company, but Linda ran the show the rest of the time.

Linda took the scenic route along Sunset Boulevard. When we passed the UCLA campus, Linda said, “It seems like just yesterday that you and Donald were students at the university. Those were good times.”

They were. But that was a long time ago.

“What’s UCLA?” Daniel asked.

“That’s where your mother and your father went to college,” Linda said. “It’s also where you were conceived.”

“What’s conceived?”

Linda smiled at me. She prided herself on being progressive. “I’ll let your mother answer that.”

Gee, thanks
. I was a doctor, so I didn’t beat around the bush where the birds and the bees lived. I talked about ovum and spermatozoa and fertilization. Daniel was perplexed.

“Here we are!” Linda cheered as we parked at the Will Rogers State Park in the Pacific Palisades. The 200 acre polo field was part of Will Rogers’ ranch. His widow Betty had willed their home, the stables, the field, and the surrounding land to the State of California on her death in 1944.

We toured the grounds and had lunch before the first polo match. Quite a few of the spectators attending were in period dress. The men wore classic seersucker suits and the women wore summer dresses and extravagant hats as ridiculous as Linda’s. Before the match began, a rider from each of the opposing teams explained the basic rules of the game, and likened it to playing golf during an earthquake. The game itself was intensely exciting. The horses and riders in their colorful uniforms thundered up and down the field chasing after the ball. They routinely bumped into each other while fighting to gain control of it. I was constantly in fear that the horses would trip over each other and someone would break their neck or a horse would break its leg, but nothing like that happened today. There were a few falls, but nothing the horse and rider couldn’t shake off moments later. Daniel and I both cheered for whoever had the ball. One of the teams won, but it didn’t really matter which because we’d never heard of either.

Between games, everyone took to the field for the classic divot stomp. The kids loved it and the adults helped too. Daniel ran ahead of me and Linda, stomping as many divots as he could back into place. Linda and I trailed behind. Linda did not stomp a single divot. I wanted to make a joke by asking her if she considered it beneath her, but I didn’t want to offend her. She didn’t know how to joke. As we walked, she sipped champagne while I turned a few divots over with my sandaled toe.