“I guess there’s a small part of me that isn’t convinced they aren’t connected. But the last thing I want to do is make a big deal out of nothing.”
As Daniel silently navigated the twists and turns of the Pacific Coast Highway, rain began dotting the windshield.
“So, what are you going to do?” Mia asked.
“I’m sorry?” he asked, flipping on the wipers.
“I take it you’re not going to give it to any more kids until you know for sure it’s safe?”
The liar is judging you. She of all people.
Daniel’s face grew hot. He was tired of talking . . . even thinking about Respira. “It’s safe,” he said, watching the wipers swipe across the windshield.
“It’s just that you said—”
“All medications come with risks, Mia!” he snapped, his voice so loud, it filled every inch of the car.
He froze, realizing the words had just burst out of him without his consent. His sister and Ben had whittled away at his patience until he had none left.
The alcohol. It makes you angry, too.
Mia’s hand slid off his shoulder. In his peripheral vision, he could see her shift her body toward the passenger door, away from him.
A jagged streak of lightning shot across the dark sky, and the rain began falling in sheets. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and eased off the accelerator. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way,” he said. “I didn’t mean to.”
She didn’t say anything.
He glanced at his wife. She was gazing out the passenger window into the darkness.
You’re also stressed because she lied to you. And we’re going to find out why.
As soon as they got home, Mia excused herself, claiming she was tired and going to bed. When Daniel tried to hug her good night, she stiffened beneath his touch.
She obviously had not gotten over his snapping at her. Nor should she have. He knew he’d been wrong. Yes, her words had hit a tender spot, and yes, dinner tonight had required all his patience and quite a bit more, but the voice had been right. Had he not been drinking, he never would have spoken to her that way.
He walked into the kitchen to get some tea, but when he pulled open the refrigerator and saw an opened bottle of chardonnay, he lingered. He deserved a glass after such a shitty dinner.
And he’d only have one.
One would barely affect him. It would calm him down.
Don’t do it, Daniel. You’ve already had enough tonight.
“One more won’t hurt,” he whispered.
Remember . . . never, ever at home. You don’t want to turn out like your father, do you?
“I’m nothing like him,” he snapped, his words slicing through the stillness of the large kitchen.
He hated breaking rules. In fact, he’d always had a powerful need to do the right thing. Maybe because all his life he’d seen his father do so many things wrong.
Three maximum while out and never at home were his rules. But those rules suddenly seemed too strict. Maybe it was time for new rules. That way he wouldn’t have to break them. Hell, he worked hard, he was an adult, he knew his own limits. Maybe he didn’t years ago, but he’d matured a lot since then. One at home would be fine. Something to chase away the jagged thoughts circling in his head.
He grabbed the bottle, filled a glass, then returned the wine bottle to the refrigerator. He sipped the chardonnay and checked his phone. Andy from the free clinic had tried calling him while they were at dinner. He’d also sent him a text: Hey, call me. It’s important.
Daniel stared at the message, debating whether to call him. But it had been a long, stressful night, and he had a hunch Andy would want to talk about Respira again, which was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. Just thinking about the drug was starting to piss him off again. Yeah . . . he’d wait and call Andy tomorrow.
He opened the refrigerator again and grabbed the wine bottle.
Daniel. No . . .
“Two. Two at home, and that’ll be it. Scout’s honor,” he whispered.
He drank the wine, rinsed out his glass and set it in the drying rack, then trudged up the stairs to bed. Tomorrow would be a better day. He’d apologize again to Mia for raising his voice. He’d make things right.
And maybe send more orchids to Jiminy’s . . . again without a card.
CHAPTER 12
ANDY
ANDY CAMERON FELT the familiar burn start just above his knees and slowly flood his quadriceps.
It was a welcome pain to which he had all but become accustomed during his ritual five-mile run through the hills of Hollywood just before daybreak. He didn’t take the smooth, even roads of Brush Canyon Trail but the rougher terrain just past where the trail dead-ended. It was a hiking trail made of packed dirt and full of potholes and razor-sharp rock. It made the ascent to the peak of Mount Lee a brutal but highly satisfying trek.
Up here, above the Los Angeles basin, the air was cleaner, crisper, and extremely cold. The daily struggle cleared his head and afforded him a bit of solitude in which he could think, plus there was a fantastic view of the Hollywood sign.
Thinking was something he had been doing a lot of these days. Since the clinic started administering Respira, his stress level had skyrocketed. Mothers had been calling wondering if their child’s adverse reactions and trips to the emergency room were due to the drug. Andy had gone to management twice about his concerns. First to his assistant manager, who said the kids’ ailments weren’t connected to the Respira and had given him orders to tell parents as much. Not feeling right about his assistant manager’s direction, he had decided to go to the department manager. But he was told the same thing. The last few days he’d been calling other doctors to get their experiences, but everyone seemed hesitant to talk much about it. He’d reached out to Dr. Winters again because he knew Winters would be straight with him, but Daniel hadn’t gotten back to him yet.
The burn from the lactic acid was now ripping through his calves. But he craved the pain. It was the only thing that cleared his head. He quickened his pace yet again and focused his mind on the repetitive sounds of his footfalls hitting the gravel.
Thud. Crunch!
Thud. Crunch!
He was entering the final stretch. He could almost see the city’s emergency communications center up ahead at the peak of Mount Lee. A moment later, he saw the familiar green sign that read PROPERTY OF THE CITY OF LOS ANGELES.
A man was standing next to it, wearing a jogging suit and smoking a cigarette. Just before Andy passed him, the man tossed the cigarette and stamped it out. Andy nodded as he passed him, but the guy didn’t acknowledge him.
Thud. Crunch!
Thud. Crunch!
Suddenly, there was a new sound. More thuds, more crunches. Someone was behind him. Probably the jogger he’d just passed. He found it strange that a smoker was running up here. This hill wasn’t for novices.
His diaphragm felt like it was on fire as he approached the chain-link fence. The remaining few yards seemed like an eternity. But finally, he reached the metal fence. He collided with it, and the sound of the metal clanking was music to his ears.
He bent at the waist and drew several deep breaths. Then he coughed up phlegm, his lungs irritated from the physical exertion and the frigid mountain air.
But he’d made it. Again.
Feeling a sense of accomplishment, he straightened, then raised his arms above his head to get a deeper inhalation.
About ten yards away, the man in the jogging suit slowed his pace to a leisurely walk. Andy watched him, warning bells flashing in his head. Something about this guy was wrong. Was he about to be mugged?
As the guy drew closer, Andy could see more of his features. He was of medium build. Dark hair with weird bangs. Andy was working up a composite of the guy, trying to store his features in the hard drive of his brain, when a pair of arms grabbed him from behind. They pinned his own arms to his side, and as he str
uggled to free himself, something was thrown over his face. Something that smelled grotesquely sweet.
He went down hard, crumpling to the cold ground. Disoriented, he looked up and saw two men hovering above him. One had a towel in his hand. Andy tried to twist away from him, but the guy was fast. He pressed the towel to Andy’s face again, and Andy inhaled the sweet odor a second time.
As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he could feel hands gripping each of his wrists and holding his ankles. Two men grunted as they carried him.
Who are these guys? he wondered dimly.
And where are they taking me?
Everything was blurry and distorted. He knew he needed to do something. To fight back. Try to get away. But his body felt as limp as a dishrag.
Then he felt a new sensation.
He was tumbling backward.
Falling.
The men must have let him go, and he was rolling. As he watched the blur of dead grass, rocks, and blue sky rush past, he realized where he was. The men had tossed him off the trail, and he was rolling, headed for a cliff. He tried to grab something to hold on to, but his arms wouldn’t respond.
Then suddenly everything felt and sounded different. He wasn’t tumbling anymore. He was falling. His eyes at half-mast, he stared up at the bright white welcoming letters of the Hollywood sign as he plummeted toward the unforgiving ground below.
CHAPTER 13
RACHEL
THE MORNING SKY was streaked with shades of pink and gold as Rachel pulled onto the on-ramp of Highway 80 West, heading back to Chatsworth.
She and Suzie had just left Dr. Winters’s office, where Suzie had gotten her second injection of Respira. Rachel had been nervous about letting Suzie get the second shot, but Dr. Winters had reassured her once again that Respira was safe. Plus, Rachel couldn’t afford for Suzie to get as much as a sniffle right now. Jeff had been surprisingly understanding about Suzie’s seizure. He said he had two young nephews with epilepsy, so he could empathize, but she knew his patience had about run its course, and she wouldn’t have any more wiggle room with taking off work. If he fired her, then what would they do? It wouldn’t take long for her landlord to evict them if she had no way to pay the rent.
This morning, Dr. Winters had asked them to stay in the waiting room for twenty minutes after the injection. During those minutes, Suzie had behaved normally. In fact, Rachel had barely been able to keep up with her daughter as she’d darted from the little playroom to the aquarium by the registration desk, up to other little kids, back to the playroom, then back to the aquarium. One would never guess she’d been racked with a seizure just two days ago or had been so lethargic and listless.
After the twenty minutes were up, Rachel grabbed her daughter, and they hit the road. Staring out at the highway before her, Rachel forced herself to get out of her head for once and to focus on the world around her. Cars were flying past her ancient Honda, many of them luxury vehicles: BMWs, Lexuses, Range Rovers, Teslas. To her left, a teenage girl drove a sleek white Mercedes sports coupe. Damn, that must be nice, she thought, and wondered—as she had many times since moving to LA—what it must feel like to live such a cushy life.
Hell, if she had the kind of money it took to afford a car like that, she wouldn’t have any problems. Or at least not as many. She’d be able to breathe easier and would be able to make different choices, one being not working for an asshat like Jeff.
Where did I go so wrong? she wondered. Stuck working at a job she was miserable at for a paycheck that barely stretched to the next one. Living in constant fear that she’d lose everything if her daughter got so much as a cold. Tears of frustration slipped down her cheeks, and she wiped them with the back of her hand. You’re just exhausted, she told herself. And it’s making you sad and moody. Everything’s going to be fine.
She was still trying to calm herself down when, about ten miles from Martha’s place, the car once more filled with Suzie’s high-pitched screams.
CHAPTER 14
DANIEL
AFTER SEEING SUZIE Jacobs, Daniel walked to Teddy’s office. He and Teddy had an appointment with Lisa Stockton, a sales representative with the insurance company Santa Monica Mutual. When Daniel walked into his boss’s office, Teddy was watching the news on the seventy-two-inch plasma screen that hung on the wall in his office. The sound was muted, and images of emergency vehicles and a gurney with a body bag being wheeled to an ambulance filled the screen. The caption on the screen read: Man, 30, Found Dead Near Hollywood Sign.
“Jeez, what some people will do in this town to get their fifteen minutes of fame,” Teddy said with a chuckle. Daniel stared unseeingly at the coverage, a lot on his mind.
Lisa arrived, and Teddy flipped the television off. Daniel tried to give the woman his undivided attention as she spoke, but his mind kept creeping back to his personal life.
To Mia’s lie.
To her behavior at dinner.
To how he’d yelled at her in the car. As if the voice had taken over for a few seconds. He shook the thought from his head. It was ludicrous to even think that. He considered shooting Mia a quick text. To check up on her. See what she was doing today.
“Danny?” Teddy said, jarring him back to the present moment. “Did we lose you already?”
“Sorry,” Daniel said, raking his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Newlywed,” Teddy muttered to Lisa.
Lisa laughed, then cleared her throat. “I was saying that Santa Monica Mutual couldn’t be more excited about Respira. Reducing rhinovirus in children. Possibly even eradicating it. That’s just incredible.”
“Our words exactly,” Teddy chimed in.
“But, while it’s great for the kids, their families, and businesses,” Lisa said, grabbing an iPad, then looking directly at Daniel, “let’s be honest: healthier kids mean fewer doctor visits. Your practice is going to take a major hit. Plus, there are the costs of administering and storing Respira. We know it doesn’t come cheap. But we’re all in this together, which is why we’ve put this incentive program in place for you. I know you guys are busy, so I’ll make this short and sweet.”
She held up her iPad for everyone to see. “Based on the size of your practice, if you get sixty-three percent of your patient base to complete the three-stage series of Respira by the end of the year, you’ll receive . . .” She started talking figures.
Significant ones.
Daniel frowned as he listened.
“Those numbers are approximate, of course, depending on how your patient base shakes out throughout the year, but it’ll be pretty close to what I mentioned.”
Teddy elbowed him. “And this is just from one insurance company.”
“I don’t understand. Why would an insurance company give us a bonus like that?” Daniel asked.
Teddy turned to Lisa and smiled. “He’s new to the business side of things.”
Lisa smiled back, then addressed Daniel. “That’s okay. That’s what I’m here for. Try not to get too hung up on semantics, Dr. Winters. It’s more of a reimbursement than a bonus. We develop these programs to help physicians offset their losses. You’re running a business, and what’s best for the patient isn’t always what’s best for your bottom line.” She paused, as though giving him a moment for her words to sink in. “For us, it’s the opposite. The more patients who get this treatment, the fewer illnesses we’ll have to pay out for. We’ve done the actuary studies and predict that Respira will be saving us . . . well, let’s just say a lot of money. And we’re sharing that windfall with you. It’s a win-win for everyone.”
Teddy smiled at Daniel and winked. “Do your part with the prescribing, and you’ll get a nice cut. I see another trip to the Caymans in your future.”
Daniel sat out on the covered deck of Margot’s in Malibu and breathed in the intoxicating aroma of steak being grilled on an open flame. For the second time today, he tried calling Andy, but his call went directly to voice m
ail.
He set his phone on the table and stared out the window of the restaurant, but instead of marveling at the beauty of the ocean, he was replaying his workday. It had practically flown by. Suzie had come in for her second dose early that morning. He had been relieved to see the little girl back to her usual self. Her color had looked great, and she’d been as energetic as ever, chattering away and playing with the stuffed bunny she was carrying. Rachel had reported that she had been doing well. No additional seizures, GI issues, or fevers. Her listlessness was gone, and her appetite and mood were back to normal. Still, despite himself, Daniel had felt a little queasy when he’d sent Deepali to administer the girl’s second injection. He’d also been glad when he’d seen that his sister had canceled his nephews’ appointments.
Taking a sip of his drink, he surveyed the restaurant. He was waiting for Billy Hayes, a high school friend he’d met back in Tyler, Texas, who was late as usual. Billy was the only person from his childhood he’d kept in touch with over the years. He was also the one who’d introduced Daniel to drinking way back when they were just sixteen. Usually, they’d coordinate their dinners for when Daniel volunteered at the free clinic in the valley because Billy lived out that way, but since Daniel was taking a hiatus from volunteering, they were meeting in Malibu.
He glanced at his phone. Mia was working at Jiminy’s again tonight. He’d sent more orchids as an apology for snapping at her and had received a notification an hour ago that the orchids had been delivered to the restaurant. But Mia hadn’t texted him yet.
He decided to text her. Maybe she’d mention the flowers, and he could give his mind a rest.
Hey. How’s work going?
A few minutes later, Mia responded: Very busy here.
He typed: Thinking about you.
Her reply was short: Got to go.
Daniel reread the messages. They were very impersonal for Mia. Short. Maybe even a little cold.
She also didn’t mention the orchids again.
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