Rev Me Twice (10 page)

If she looked past her pride and her warped view of
relationships, she could admit she’d punished Tomas for her jealousy. She
had
resented his experience with Kiesha and the admiration she’d seen in his eyes
for Lisa. But wasn’t he acting on her wishes? Why punish him for behavior she
encouraged?

Inside her dressing room her heart pounded as she rooted
inside her purse for her cell phone. She would call Tomas and promise to cancel
any future ménages. To never hold another sex party. If it meant holding on to
him, she would do what had once seemed impossible. Beyond her capability.

Crystal would promise fidelity.

When she finished showering and changing her clothes,
Crystal turned out her dressing room lights, locked the door with the new
deadbolt and slung her handbag over her shoulder. On her way to her convertible
her sorrow grew, weighing her down. Tomas hadn’t returned the three calls she’d
made since leaving the set.

Footfalls approached from the opposite end of the long hall.
At the sight of Tomas in his MP uniform with Antonio and another agent wearing
FBI emblazoned jackets behind him, Crystal’s initial gladness turned to
consternation. What were the Alvarez brothers doing here in their official
capacities? Why did they bring backup? Fear struck Crystal’s heart. This
couldn’t be good.

Tomas knocked on Marv, the producer’s, office door.
“Police!” he shouted.

The door nearly tore off its hinges as Marv pulled it open.
“What the hell is going on?” he shouted back. He glared at Tomas. “What are the
frigging FBI doing here with you?”

Smooth as satin, Tomas replied. “I don’t have jurisdiction
outside the military, but the FBI do. These are agents Alvarez and Burns. I
brought them along to read you your rights.”

“Rights? For what? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You committed a federal offense when you ordered Sandra to
write threatening letters to Crystal. You’re both being charged with
harassment, conspiracy and terroristic threats. Sandra is already in custody.
She confessed your entire plot. We know she’s the woman who ransacked Crystal’s
dressing room and apartment. There are additional charges pending.”

Marv held up his hand like a stop sign. “Wait a minute. No.
This can’t be.”

Tomas ignored him. “Since Sandra lives in Virginia and
mailed the notes to Washington, DC, from her apartment, the FBI has the right
to investigate those interstate crimes. They made inquiries and the DC police
turned over the information.”

Marv turned to Crystal with pleading eyes. “It was all just
a publicity stunt to boost your ratings. Your popularity was shooting through
the roof! We had no intention of hurting you. We’d never do that.” He turned an
odd shade of fuchsia and held onto his chest. “I need to sit down.” He turned
back into his office and the others followed.

“A publicity stunt?” Tomas glared at Marv with such
malevolence it scared her. Crystal had never seen him look ferocious before.
Apparently there was a side to Tomas she didn’t know. “You’d better start
explaining.”

Marv licked his lips and wrung his hands. Crystal noticed
for the first time how spotted with age his hands were. “Crystal is our first
stripping weathergirl and she’s done great. Everybody loves her.”

The producer looked over at her as if offering reassurance.
“I thought it would boost her ratings to create a little personal drama, so I
asked Sandra to send her a letter. Nothing too serious, just something to spook
her. I waited and waited for Crystal to report it, so I could leak the news to
the press. You know, like she was the victim of some whacko fan, but she said
nothing.”

“So you told Sandra to send another,” Tomas replied.

Marv nodded. “Right. And again, Crystal said nothing. We
kept trying to break her resistance, but she refused to tell anyone about the
threats.”

Tomas folded his arms over his chest. “She was trying to avoid
negative attention. Ironic, huh? In the end, she screwed up your scheme when
she showed me the letters instead of going to you.”

“Exactly!” Marv smiled, as if pleased he understood. “You
should have brought the letters directly to my office. But you took them and
fucked up the entire plan. When you told me your brother was FBI and looking
into the situation, I had to get the evidence back. I watch TV. I know the
rules. No evidence, no conviction. I figured if Sandra got them back, no harm
done, right?”

Antonio asked the next question. “Where are the letters,
Marv?”

“Burned them.” He nodded emphatically. “Charred to ashes.”

“But the plan still worked in the end. You got your
publicity. Reporters got wind of the police report after Crystal’s apartment
was ransacked,” Antonio said.

Everyone in the room stayed quiet for a moment, absorbing
the information.

Marv licked his lips and swallowed. “What now?”

Crystal spoke up. “I don’t want to press charges. Let him
go.”

“What?” Tomas whirled on her. “Have you lost your mind?
Sandra confessed. We questioned her and she caved after less than a minute.
This case is locked.”

“She only did what Marv asked. Sandra’s a kid. She doesn’t
deserve to be prosecuted.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending her after what she put you
through!” Tomas’ nostrils flared with outrage.

“We put up with a lot from people we care about.” Crystal
met his eyes and searched them for understanding. He blinked away her stare,
but not before she saw a flicker of empathy in their depths. Maybe he would
forgive her one of these days.

Crystal spoke to Antonio. “As Marv has said, this business
is all about ratings. That’s the bottom line.”

Marv chimed in. “Subscriptions went through the ceiling when
we added Crystal to the cast. With 3-D television on the horizon, we knew we’d
found a cash cow with the stripping weathergirl.” He threw Crystal a chagrined
smile. “Not that you’re a cow, honeybunch. Far from it. You’re perfect for the
part.”

“Therein lies the problem,” Crystal replied, deadpan.

Confusion swept over Marv’s features. “What problem?”

“I’m playing the part of a stripper, when I should be acting
as a meteorologist. I have a Master’s degree. I don’t know what I was thinking,
taking this job.” She drew closer to Tomas and put her hand on his arm. “I
don’t want to be a stripper anymore.”

Tomas cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “What are you
saying?”

“I want to change.” She’d take up new interests—wholesome
sports like racquetball, tennis or golf to blow off steam. Those were things
she could play with other men and woman without compromising herself. Or
embarrassing anyone.

Tomas turned away, as if her sentiments came too late.
Crystal bit back her disappointment and swallowed the lump forming in her
throat.

“Wait a freakin’ minute,” Marv interjected. “What do you
mean you don’t want to strip anymore? You’re under contract for another six
months. I’d planned to renew for an additional three years. The station pays
you good money.”

Crystal looked down her nose at Marv. “You manipulated and
used me and scared me half to death. How much is it worth to you to stay out of
jail for that? To avoid a costly lawsuit? Keep this charade out of the press?
How would you like a taste of the hell you’ve rained on me with the paparazzo
at your door?”

Marv didn’t reply, but stared down at his shoes. “My wife
couldn’t handle a scandal. Or me going to prison. It would kill her.”

“Then you’d better take out your pen and start writing,”
Crystal replied.

All eyes in the room turned to Crystal. “In exchange for not
pressing charges against either you or Sandra, dragging your names through the
mud and suing you for big bucks in civil court, I have a proposition.”

Everyone leaned forward. Agent Burns scratched the side of
her nose, but remained impassive. Tomas seemed to hold back an objection, but
let Crystal continue. Antonio crossed his arms and waited. Marv looked up at
her with hope in his rheumy eyes.

“I want a new contract. A better one.”

Marv visibly relaxed. “Oh, well, if it’s a contract you
want, I’m sure we can come to terms. Yes.”

“That’s great, Marv. We have three witnesses to watch while
you write it out on a tablet. They’ll sign it too. Right?” She turned toward
the others and waited for them to agree. “We’ll get the legal department to
draw up the official version first thing in the morning.”

Marv took out an old-fashioned legal sized tablet and
ballpoint pen from his desk. He poised the pen over the paper.

“Now write this down. Crystal Miller has been appointed lead
meteorologist at our parent news station WPZX. I know who our investors are,
Marv. I’ve done my homework.” She dictated financial terms, including health
care and pension benefits that were fair and reasonable, considering her
promotion.

Marv’s surprise washed over his face. The pen wobbled in his
hand. “You want to leave WCNT?”

“I want a better job and you’re the man to make that
happen,” Crystal answered. “You own majority shares at WPZX. They offer
straight news at a major outlet.”

She spread her hands in question to the authorities. “This
agreement is doable, isn’t it? I don’t have to press charges, do I?”

Tomas turned to Antonio. “Should we let Sandra and Marv go?”

Antonio blew out a slow breath. “If that’s what Crystal
wants.” He wrinkled his brow. “Are you sure about this? It’s not too late to
take it back.”

Crystal pointed at Marv. “Write. Just think of the ratings
on my new show. People will watch just to remember what I looked like naked.
I’ll even keep the top button of my blouses unbuttoned. Show a bit of
cleavage.”

Marv began to scribble. “Son-of-a-bitch,” he swore. “You got
me.”

Crystal came up behind Tomas in the hall as the authorities
exited the building. “Wait!” She touched his sleeve. Tomas stopped and turned,
his eyes cool. Antonio and agent Burns waited at a discreet distance. “Did you
really arrest Sandra? Take her into custody?”

Tomas shook his head. “We were bluffing about that. When
Yvette didn’t recognize anyone at the station, Sandra became a person of
interest by process of elimination. Antonio and I went to her apartment this
morning before she left for work. We wore our badges, working a hunch. She knew
why we’d come to her door and confessed.”

“Will the police take action against her?”

“Not if you don’t press charges. The police are busy with
more serious matters. Technically, she never broke into your home or dressing
room. She was given free access. She lied and she made a mess, but didn’t
vandalize. The letters have been destroyed, so there’s no evidence. All we have
is a statement from a scared young woman.”

“And my deal with Marv.”

Tomas smiled for the first time. “That was a brilliant
maneuver, Crystal.”

She took a step closer. “I did it for us.”

“Us?” He asked the question like there was no
us
and
Crystal’s heart seemed to stop beating. Tears welled.

“Will I see you later?” she asked, the words choking her.

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t think so. I’m going to
take off for a while. My commander approved a short leave.”

“You’re going away?” The tears that formed fell freely down
her cheeks.

“Yeah. Someplace where it isn’t freaking raining.” He turned
away without kissing her and walked out of the building with his brother and
Agent Burns.

Crystal went to her convertible in the parking lot, sat
behind the steering wheel and cried until she had no tears left.

* * * * *

The phone in her bedroom rang at three a.m. Crystal sat up
in bed and turned on the bedside light before answering. “Is this Crystal
Miller?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Who is this?” Crystal’s heart nearly leaped from her chest.
Calls in the middle of the night rarely brought good news.

“I’m calling from the nurse’s desk at Metropolitan Hospital.
A patient named Tomas Alvarez was admitted from the emergency room after an
accident. A card in his wallet named you and his brother Antonio as his personal
contacts.”

“Accident?” Metropolitan Hospital was near Virginia. Tomas
must have been driving to Antonio’s place near Quantico.

She gripped the receiver so hard she was sure it would
break, if her hand didn’t shatter first. Fear closed her chest until she
couldn’t breathe. Her skin turned to ice.

Crystal fought back her panic and counted to five until she
could croak out the dreaded questions. “What happened?” and “Is Tomas all
right?” She knew that second question was redundant, but asked anyway. He couldn’t
be all right, could he?

“Mr. Alvarez has been in a motorcycle crash. From what we’ve
been able to learn, he swerved in the rain to avoid an oncoming car. A drunk
driver crossed the highway dividing line and almost hit him head-on.
Unfortunately, Mr. Alvarez lost control on the slick road surface and was
thrown from his vehicle during his defensive move.”

Terrifying visions of debilitating head trauma and
disfiguring injuries filled Crystal’s mind. Her stomach roiled. She fought back
bile and tried to steady her hand on the phone receiver. Her next words barely
came out in a whisper. “How bad?”

“The good news is that Mr. Alvarez wore a safety helmet and
thick protective clothing against the inclement weather. The helmet snapped in
half, but saved his life. The not-so-good news, Ms. Miller, is that Mr. Alvarez
has been placed in the Intensive Care Unit. He’s fallen into a coma.”

Crystal hurried to the bathroom to pee, brush her teeth and
run a comb through her hair. She steadied herself against the countertop and
lifted her face to the mirror. A woman with red-rimmed, haunted eyes stared
back. One word pounded like a drum through her mind.
Coma
.

She rushed back into her bedroom and yanked clothes from her
closet. Crystal slipped on shoes, grabbed her purse and was on the road to the
hospital within ten minutes. Windshield wipers slapped away the falling rain
and she mentally beat out their rhythms. “Tomas will be fine, Tomas will be
fine,” the wipers seemed to say as they moved back and forth across the window.

She had to believe that. She couldn’t imagine a world
without Tomas. The realization struck her like a punch to the chest. Why had
she resisted committing to him for so long when it was clear from the beginning
they belonged together?

When she reached the hospital forty minutes later, she
rushed to the Intensive Care Unit. A nurse pointed out Tomas’ room. The
curtains across the glass windows were closed, revealing only slivers of light
at their base. Antonio stood in the hallway outside Tomas’ door, looking tired
and drawn. He ran a hand through his hair and held the back of his head as if
he were injured too.

Crystal hurried to Antonio and reached out to hug him. “How
is he?”

Antonio released her and took a step back. “The doctors are
still with him. I’ve called my mother. She and her new husband are catching the
next flight from New Mexico.”

“Pilar is on her way?” She’d met Tomas’ vivacious, doting
mother at his graduation ceremony from the Academy. She only traveled from her
home for major events.

This certainly qualified.

“When can we see him?”

Antonio angled his head toward the curtains. “We have to
wait for the doctors to finish their evaluations. They promised a full report.”

Crystal paced, prayed and bargained with God for Tomas’ full
recovery while they waited. Each minute the clock at the nurse’s station ticked
by at a snail’s pace. Her heartbeat sounded in her ears. The air was stifling.
Perspiration formed at the back of her neck, under her arms and across her top
lip. The floor lifted and tilted beneath her feet, yet she couldn’t sit still.

When she thought she’d scream if she waited another moment,
relief came in the form of a tall, lean man with pitch-black straight hair. He
wore a white coat over green scrubs and a nametag that said
Dr. Kandahar
.
Neurology.
“Are you Mr. Alvarez’s family?” he asked, holding out his
free hand for a handshake while he introduced himself. In the other hand he
held a computerized chart.

Antonio returned the introductions. The doctor frowned
slightly at Crystal. “Hospital policy states that only family members are
allowed in the Intensive Care Unit.” He swallowed and pursed his mouth, clearly
uncomfortable with the announcement.

Crystal looked up at him and her face crumbled beneath the
weight of his words. “You have to let me see him. Please. I’m his girlfriend.”
She wiped away the droplets over her lip with a trembling hand as her tears
fell. She choked out another plea. “If you don’t let me see him, I’ll die.
Seriously. I can’t take this.”

I’m not that strong. It’s all been an act. A cover-up,
like the part I play on television.

Concern, and then pity, swept over the doctor’s angular
features. He tightened his lips and nodded, once. “I didn’t hear that, all
right, Miss? I incorrectly assumed you were his wife.”

Crystal offered the most grateful smile she could muster and
nodded in return.

The doctor met Antonio’s gaze. “The good news is that Mr.
Alvarez’s coma is considered mild. In these situations, patients usually wake
up within four weeks. If not, they fall into what we call a persistent
vegetative state. That, of course, would mean his brain trauma is more serious
than it appears at this time.”

Crystal clutched Antonio’s arm to keep from swooning. “Four
weeks
?”

No, no, no—this couldn’t be happening.

Dr. Kandahar glanced at the chart in his hand and continued.
“Mr. Alvarez’s MRI looks encouraging. He has a small amount of brain swelling
and hemorrhage. His Glasgow Coma Scale 15 reading offers the best possible
prognosis. He has several fractures, contusions, hematomas, lacerations and
abrasions.” The doctor flickered a tight smile. “Nothing we can’t fix there.”
He inclined his head toward Tomas’ door. “The rest is really up to him. His
brain has to heal and wake him up.”

Within four weeks or he would fall into a vegetative
state.
“May I see him? Please. Just for a few moments.”

“Only a few.” The doctor stepped aside and allowed Crystal
and Antonio to pass.

Crystal didn’t know what she expected to see when she
entered Tomas’ room, but the sight of him sleeping beneath a respirator and
saline drip nearly undid her. A large computer monitor at his bedside beeped
while his blood pressure rose and fell. His heart rate made jagged horizontal
lines across a dark blue screen. Bandages surrounded his scalp and portions of his
arms. One leg had been cast.

Crystal stood on one side of Tomas’ bed while Antonio took
the other. She laid her hand on Tomas’ chest and whispered, “Come back to me,
mi
amor
.”

A pretty nurse with auburn hair entered the room. She
offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but you have to go.”

Crystal nodded. “Just let me leave something with him,
okay?” She rummaged through her purse for her
Pleasing Plum
lipstick,
ran it over her mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of Tomas’ hand, leaving an
imprint on his pale skin. She found a piece a paper and repeated the process.
Using a bit of cloth tape from a roll on the bedside table, she attached the
paper kiss to Tomas’ bed rail. “When he wakes up, he’ll know I was here,” she
explained.

Antonio whispered in Tomas’ ear and then stood by the edge
of his bed, tears welling. “
Así conseguir pronto, hermano
,” he said. He
repeated the words in English. “Get well soon, brother.”

Crystal walked through the doors of the hospital and out
into the early morning air as if her world had come to an end. Without Tomas by
her side, it probably had.

* * * * *

She caught a two-hour nap at her apartment and headed to
work in her convertible. The rain had abated, but cloudy skies draped the top
of each building, making the city look as gloomy as Crystal felt.

A local radio station played her favorite country music
song, but she barely heard the lyrics as she maneuvered across town. When the
newscast followed, she was unprepared for the lead story. The announcer said,
“Washington DC’s cable television stripping weathergirl, Crystal Diamond, spent
the night visiting an area hospital. Naval officer Tomas Alvarez is listed in
critical condition…”

Crystal pulled over to the side of the road and
double-parked while her heart slammed blood to her ears. Her pulse soared while
the story continued. “Sources confirm that Ms. Diamond, whose real name is
Crystal Miller, has accepted the post of lead meteorologist at news station
WPZX. Since our radio station is an affiliate of WPZX, we wish Tomas Alvarez a
speedy recovery and welcome Crystal aboard.”

Crystal pulled her cell phone from her purse and called
Marv. When he answered, she hollered, “Did you leak the story of Tomas’
accident to the media? Did you use his coma as an excuse to tell them about my
new job? Jesus, Marv, you’re ruthless!”

Marv chuckled. “We
are
the media, honeybunch.
Sometimes I think you forget that.” Marv began to cough and muffled the sound
away from the phone. “Fucking rain. I think I’m getting a cold.”

“How the hell did you get the story already? I hadn’t even
told you yet.”