by Clare James
Unfortunately for me, she acted more like a spoiled child.
Nate insisted she’d stay away during my treatment. He was right to suggest it. Once my head cleared I didn’t know what I ever saw in her.
“Ava,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m your emergency contact and I’m here for you.”
“I’ve told you, I’m no longer your concern. You should’ve let Nate handle it.”
“He’d let any intern with a pair of nice tits care for you. He doesn’t know what you need, nor does he have the balls to demand the best care for you. You should have seen the mess before I showed up.”
“I’m grateful for that, really. Thank you. But I don’t want you to worry or have to do this anymore. I’m no longer your responsibility.”
“Well, what if I wanted to change that? I know I didn’t handle things the best in the spring. I know you were trying to tell me how bad it was. But I’m here now and I can help. I can be useful to you.”
“I don’t blame you for what happened, Ava. But what we had wasn’t real.”
“It could be.”
The thought of Casey passed through my brain at that statement. What we had also wasn’t real. It was all an act. All to get a story. Just another person in line, trying to take something from me.
Chapter 7
Casey
Anchor/Kiki Stuart: So you thought he was a drug addict.
Casey: I did. And that’s why I got my producer involved. If I had known what was really going on, I never would have said a word.
Finn: But you never gave me the chance to answer your questions, did you? You believed what everyone else had said about me. You believed the reputation, instead of believing your own heart. What does that say?
Casey: I think it says that I was just as messed up as you were.
I needed answers from Finn. Still, I wasn’t strong enough to take his calls. I admit, I felt enormous relief when he texted me. At least he was okay – or as okay as you could be when you were an addict.
I couldn’t help the way I cringed inside at the word, though it made me strong enough not to fall for his shit. It was one thing Mom had lodged in my brain. Addicts are losers. They were undependable, hateful people who broke your heart and ruined your life. Just like my dad did.
I didn’t believe her at first. I still loved my dad. Even after he walked out. But as the years rolled on, Mom’s words seeped in and took permanent residence around my heart. I wouldn’t let someone break me. I wouldn’t become my mother.
After Phil’s second stunt of leaking my story to the newspaper, I was able to extend his two-day deadline.
After a few days passed, I figured out my plan. I’d visit Finn and get the information I needed at the hospital.
So, when I finally got up the nerve, I signed in and made my way up to the secluded area where Finn was held.
One step closer.
Once I got up there, however, I wavered. Do I confront him? Trick him? Try to steal hospital records?
Obviously, I hadn’t thought through my plan. Maybe Phil was right. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for real journalism. Still, no matter how I tried to rectify it, this felt sleazy and wrong.
And no matter how I felt in Finn’s world, (cheap and unwelcome), or how I despised the fact he was ruining his life with drugs, the pull I felt to him seemed out of my control.
I passed the nurses’ station and listened.
“Dr. Hart,” the nurse said. “Patient B needs to see you when you’re free.”
Patient B? Could that be code for Finn?
“As long as his visitor is gone, I’ll make that my next stop.”
“She’s gone. In fact, she left a trail of abused nurses in her wake.”
Ava.
“Okay, I’ll get there in five. I just need to check a lab first.”
I had an idea, but had to move fast.
Once Dr. Hart moved out, I got clearance at the nurse’s station. I was still on Finn’s visitor’s list, which meant he hadn’t read the newspaper yet.
Creeping along the hallway, I felt ridic. Like I was on some detective show – Veronica Mars or something. Though I was pale in comparison. The only thing that would’ve been worse was if I would have been dressed up like a doctor.
The door to Finn’s room was open, but the curtain around his bed was closed.
I tiptoed inside, dashing into his washroom. I closed the door part-way to stay concealed, but still able to hear what was going on.
Dr. Hart followed a few minutes later.
“Mr. Daley,” she said, pulling back the curtain. It rang in my ears. “How are you feeling today?”
“Better,” he said. But it was so quiet I could hardly hear.
Through the crack in the restroom door, I noticed the curtain was still blocking them. She must not have opened it all the way.
With my phone set to audio record, I snuck out from the bathroom to the other side of the curtain.
“You don’t seem better,” the doctor said. “Emotionally anyway.”
“Well, I was hoping we were beyond all of this. I thought we had it all under control.”
Come on, Finn. Had what under control? Heroin? Meth? Prescription drugs?
“It will take time and adjustments to your medication every so often. That’s all. I know it feels like a setback, but you are doing wonderfully, Finn.”
“Doesn’t feel wonderful at the moment, I’m afraid.”
“Is this about the girl you were with during the episode?”
Me?
“Doesn’t matter anymore, I’ve completely scared her off.”
You got that right.
The next thing he said was in a whisper, so I inched closer.
Still nothing, so I moved another step.
That’s when the curtain flew open, and I fell back on my butt.
Fucksticks.
Two sets of very irritated eyes settled in on me.
“Finn,” Dr. Hart said. “I’m so sorry. We’ve been so careful with security.”
She grabbed the phone next to Finn’s bed. “You,” she said to me. “Stay right where you are. Security is on the way. We won’t tolerate groupies bothering our patients.”
“What?” I could hardly comprehend what was happening. “I’m not a groupie,” I yelled.
“Yeah, she’s worse,” Finn said. “She’s a reporter.”
“Finn,” I pled, unsure what to say next.
“She’ll be out of here in a minute and we will press charges,” the doctor said.
Double fucksticks.
“No,” Finn told her, and my flight or fight instinct simmered down. “It’s okay, Dr. Hart. I know her.”
Finn’s eyes never left mine. I desperately wanted to crawl in the hospital bed with him.
Once Dr. Hart was out of the room, Finn laughed.
“This isn’t funny,” I told him.
“You’re right,” he said. “It isn’t. It’s pretty sad that you’d stoop so low to get information on me. But what is funny is how pathetic you were trying to get the info.”
Shit, he did read the paper.
“How’d you know?” I asked.
“Your red Chuck Taylors peeking out under the curtain, genius.”
Grrrr.
Another round of laughter bounced off the walls.
“You should’ve seen yourself. There on your ass, face pale, eyes big as saucers. It was priceless. I needed that, Case.”
“This isn’t funny, Finn,” I tell him. “You almost had me arrested. Do you know what that would’ve done to my career?”
“Kinda like what these little articles are doing for mine?”
“Hey, I’m sorry about that. But if you didn’t want people to know about your drug problem, maybe you should’ve stayed clean.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If that’s true, it’s because you lied to me. You should’ve told me that you’re an addict. And t
hat you had a girlfriend for that matter.”
“That’s what you think?”
“Please don’t lie to me, Finn. You OD and end up in the hospital. Then a woman shows up calling me Roadkill, whatever that means, and barks orders at anyone within ear shot.”
“Not that I owe you an explanation after the shit you pulled, but she’s an ex girlfriend. She was called in because apparently I haven’t got her off all my emergency contact lists.”
“So, you’ve been here often?”
“A few times.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“Why you’d throw away your life, your career to get high or stoned or tweaked out or whatever it is you get off on.”
“You are going to feel so stupid in a minute.”
“How could I possibly feel stupid? You are the one fucking up your life.”
“I’m not an addict, Casey.”
“Right, you can quit whenever you want, I’m sure.”
“Aren’t reporters supposed to listen more than they talk? No wonder you’re not getting anywhere.”
His words sucked all the air from my lungs. They hurt more than I’d ever let on.
Chapter 8
FACEOFF (n.):
One player from each team attempts to gain control of the puck after an official drops it onto a face-off spot on the ice.
Finn
Casey’s face dropped the second the words left my lips. I hurt her.
Damn straight.
She deserved it. She crushed me.
But after you see the worst in people – like I did from the agents, team owners, PR people, friends, and acquaintances who wanted a piece of me at one time or another – nothing fazed you anymore.
“Well, then,” she glared at me. “Talk.”
The freaking balls on this girl!
The only reason I didn’t let Dr. Hart bring in security and haul her little ass away was because I enjoyed competition … and revenge. I was not going to let this green, no-name reporter get the best of me.
Plus, I couldn’t help it. Despite how ridiculous it was, she made me laugh.
Sneaking into the hospital trying to get dirt on me, with her little red sneakers peeking out under the curtain. It was fucking hilarious. And hell, I needed some humor.
Yeah, there were plenty of other reasons I couldn’t let her go, but I wasn’t willing to address any of them.
“Are you serious right now?” I asked her. “Why should I tell you anything?”
Casey swallowed, and I could sense she wondered the same thing. This was new territory for her. She wasn’t callous or unethical, but she was driven.
I remember being that hungry. That passionate about what I wanted to do with my life. I would’ve sold out my mother for a chance to play hockey. Not really, but it was close.
Little did Casey know that the moves she made right now – and just how far she was willing to take this – would determine her path long into the future.
I’d been there – as cliché as it sounded – standing at the crossroads. I wondered if she understood that.
Still, this was me she was trying to destroy in the process, and she would have to pay for that.
“You should talk to me,” she began. “Because I’ll give you a chance to tell your side of the story on-air.”
It was a good angle she played. Not bad, Casey. Not bad at all.
Truthfully, I wasn’t all that worried about the drugs storyline. That type of news hit the airwaves daily – happened all the time. It was also something I could quickly dismiss if I wanted to. A public drug screen was all it’d take. But actually, this was a blessing in disguise. Being an addict was definitely more acceptable than my real issues – especially in the world of sports. Casey might have actually done me a favor with this distraction. And I might need her to help continue the charade.
Yes, maybe I should be the user for a change. I’d take what I needed from Casey. And if all went well, I’d be back on the ice in time for the playoffs.
That had been my plan since the beginning. Keep everything on the down low, get healthy, and get back to the only life I knew.
“And what if I don’t think anyone needs to know my business?” I asked, pushing her.
“We already have the story, Finn,” she said, puffing out her chest. She didn’t fool me, she wasn’t confident about any of this.
I believed – or hoped – it was because of the moral battle she was fighting inside. Knowing that this situation was hard for her made it slightly easier for me.
I was also relieved that it was the thought of me being a drug addict that had her running for the hills. It wasn’t because of my illness – not that she knew about that yet.
“Actually, you have shit, Casey,” I said, fighting my own internal bullshit.
Her face turned scarlet. A beautiful thing. I loved getting her worked up, but that would have to stop. My feelings for her were over. They had to be. I was done with Casey Scott on a personal level.
Done. With. Casey. Scott.
It would become my new mantra. All business from here on out. Though, that meant coming clean to her – the most risky piece to the whole plan I was forming on the fly.
To my complete and utter disappointment, Casey had proven to be unreliable, selfish, and – what hurt the most – disloyal. I didn’t know how I could trust her with this.
Of course, when she leaked the two stories, she believed the worst in me. I knew what that was like.
When she found the invoice for the facility that cared for my mother, she mistakenly thought I was paying for the care of my kid – that I paid off my baby mama to keep my own kid hidden. And then, the most recent development, that I was in the hospital because of a drug problem.
These were things that she uncovered as facts. I could almost see how she justified her behavior.
The question was, would she turn on me again once she knew the truth, or would she finally understand?
I needed more time to think about the answers.
“Then, by all means, fill me in,” Casey said.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Would it make it better or worse when she found out? Once she found out the truth about my mother, she was in awe. She told me she couldn’t take care of someone like I took care of my mother. Said she couldn’t deal with it – which meant she couldn’t (or wouldn’t) deal with someone like me.
Not that it mattered anymore.
Stay on task, Daley.
“Sorry to interrupt.” Dr. Hart came back into the room. Her eyes warmed when she looked at me; but she definitely gave Case the cold shoulder. “Can you give us a minute?” she said to her.
“It’s okay, she can stay,” I said.
It was now or never.
“Okay then,” Dr. Hart said, her eyes narrowed on Casey. “I just wanted to give you your new regimen on paper, along with some material on the medications.”
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s have it.”
“The biggest change is that we’re putting lithium back in, at a lower dose. I think it will stabilize your moods a little better.”
Dr. Hart and I discussed the new treatment – and our backup plan – and she explained what I could expect in the coming months.
Adjusting to the medication was the most difficult part. It took weeks for it to start working properly, leaving me feeling groggy and back in the fog until my body acclimated.
“Thanks, doc,” I said as she finished up. Then I said a private prayer that my new drug cocktail would work.
But when I looked at Casey, her spark was out. She was pale and quiet – something I hadn’t seen before. It was obvious she understood what lithium was and her new demeanor freaked me the hell out.
“Is that for depression?” Casey asked.
“Partially,” I admitted. “That’s the big secret, ya know.”
“What is?” she asked, her voice uneven.
“The re
ason I’m here,” I said, gesturing to my hospital bed. “I’m not an addict, Casey. I’m bipolar.”
Shock washed over her face. It was uncomfortable to watch.
Bipolar.
Such an ugly word. It matched my fucking life perfectly. It was the last word I said to Casey before she took off running.
There’s my answer, I thought, catching one last glimpse of her chestnut hair as it whipped in the air before she turned the corner.
Chapter 9
Casey
Anchor/Kiki Stuart: Whoa! So you find out that Finn Daley is bipolar, not a drug addict like you originally thought. How did you feel in that moment?
Casey: Scared, sad, guilty, I guess.
Finn: And don’t forget freaked out. I’ve never seen someone run so fast.
Casey: I was running to save you from another media blasting, you moron!
Finn: As you can see, she no longer has guilt about my disorder.
Casey: What? You want me to baby you because your brain doesn’t work right? I’ve got news for you pal, we all have issues.
I had screwed things up to such massive proportions, I didn’t know what to do. I officially fucked over the only guy I’ve ever fallen for – all in the name of a career and a life I wasn’t sure I even wanted anymore.
“I made a mistake,” I told my boss when I got to the station.
“About?” he asked, bored.
“About the drugs.” I leaned in on his desk to emphasize my point.
“Aw, did he rope you back in again?” Phil peered at me over his glasses, making him look at least two full decades older than his twenty-something years.
“I’m serious, Phil. We need to kill the story.”
“Kill it? Well, it’s too late for that. Tina’s second teaser article is running this week. And then you’re up. These articles are leading up to your big splash. The moment you’ve been salivating over since you arrived. ”
“Have you ever heard of libel?” I asked, infuriated. He didn’t care one iota about ethics or good journalism. He just cared about getting a juicy story. Or maybe it was getting in Tina’s pants. He insisted that working the cross promotion between the TV station and a newspaper was part of his role – because the Randolph Family Corporation owned them both. Back in the day, the FCC never would’ve allowed a corporation to own a TV station and newspaper, but this was a time where preserving integrity and objectivity wasn’t as important as preserving the almighty dollar.
