All We Have (Thirty-Eight #4)

by Len Webster

  The large grin on his face had both Stevie and Ally shaking their heads at him. “See, I knew I liked you. Wanna go have extremely loud and obnoxious sex, Blondie?”

  “Let’s go, Serge,” Ally urged not wanting to hear any more of her roommates’ conversation. She followed Serge as he led her out of the apartment and towards the elevator. “Up or down?” she asked, her finger hovering over the panel.

  “Down,” he said.

  Ally did as instructed and pressed the button. They stood in silence, the anxiety already overtaking her system as her fingers jittered. Once the elevator finally reached the sixth floor, Ally and Serge stepped inside. Serge reached over and pressed the fifth-floor button.

  “Fifth?” she questioned.

  “We need to talk.”

  “I’m sure the hallway would have sufficed.”

  He shook his head at her. “Your roommates seem like nice people, Miss O’Connor, but right now, I can’t trust them if you don’t want to tell them.”

  “The lobby?”

  “That man could return.”

  “What man?” she asked as the doors opened to the fifth floor and they stepped off.

  Serge ushered her towards the stairwell door and set his large hands on her shoulders. “The man I know who makes you cry, Miss O’Connor.”

  Rob.

  Ally’s eyelids fluttered as her lips parted, trying to formulate words into sentences. But the rapid warmth in her chest made it difficult. “He’s no one, Serge.”

  “Is this why you’re in Melbourne? Are you risking your health because you’re pining for him?” The anger was thick in his voice and caused her to flinch.

  “I am not pining for Robert Moors. I’m here in Melbourne for me,” she argued.

  Serge’s tensed posture relaxed as he exhaled. “Okay. Good. I don’t want you putting a man over your health.”

  If she weren’t so annoyed with him and his questions, she’d find his concern sweet. But Serge was overstepping a boundary. One she hadn’t really made clear, but he was. He could pry into her health all he liked, but when it came to Rob, he was a topic she didn’t want to discuss. The truth was she was embarrassed. She had humiliated herself that night she met Robert Moors, and she would never get the chance to redeem herself. It wouldn’t matter since she’d never mean anything to him and didn’t warrant her bodyguard’s concern.

  “Is this why you brought me to the fifth floor? To ask if I was putting Rob before my health?” she asked, bemused.

  Her question brought the return of serious, scary Serge. His shoulders squared, his chest popped out, and his jaw tensed. “No. I spoke to your specialist just before.”

  “A-and?” she asked, her voice not as confident as before.

  A sad gleam shone in his blue eyes. “He …” Serge paused and his hands left her shoulders and grasped her hands firmly. “He doesn’t think you should be doing this right now.”

  “Right now? Serge, I have no other choice. Deal’s done,” she stated.

  “Piccola,” he breathed.

  Tears blurred her vision. She already knew that he wouldn’t be telling her great news by his slight Serbian accent. “What did he say?”

  “He thinks with your latest blood pressure … He thinks you’ll need dialysis or a transplant soon.”

  Transplant.

  The ‘T’ word. She knew the chances of getting a kidney anytime soon were slim. Unless she were a high priority, she could be on the waiting list for years. And there was no way she could ask her family to donate. Her father wouldn’t give her freedom let alone a vital organ. Ally had come to terms with the fact that dialysis could be her future. She just hadn’t realised just how soon her future was meeting her.

  “I would give you my kidney if we had the same bloody type,” Serge said. He sounded sad, almost helpless. He hadn’t stuttered or hesitated when he had offered. And for that, the tears slid down her cheeks.

  She would have to talk to Dr Fuller soon. Assess where they went from here. But at that moment, Ally would rather run than face the fact that her health was deteriorating and money could have been her answer.

  However, being healthy and having to live her old life would be like dying. She’d rather have chronic kidney disease over the Sydney social life.

  That she was sure of.

  Ally’s List:

  Secure a job.

  Pay bills.

  Buy a Myki card for public transportation.

  Speak to Dr Fuller.

  Consider dialysis.

  Find a Melbourne doctor.

  Last six months.

  Research whether university could happen someday.

  When it’s over, seek dialysis treatments.

  If the worse happens, ask to be put on the transplant waiting list.

  Ally focused on number seven. Six months. That was how long she had to last. She couldn’t afford dialysis without her family’s money. A quick Google check came up with an estimate of almost $80,000. She knew it was expensive, but that was two club event appearances. She would make that in two nights. Most people wouldn’t make that in a year. Ally couldn’t come up with that kind of money anytime soon. Her trip to New York had cost her almost $300,000. Had she known long ago how serious her health was, she would have had promoters deposit in her private account rather than the account her father had set up.

  Her eyes fell to number ten. Transplant list. Her research had found out that some patients waited seven years for a kidney. If Serge was that terrified and was willing to donate if he could, then she wasn’t sure if she had seven years of waiting in her.

  “Ally, are you okay?” Stevie asked.

  Glancing up from the list she had written before they left the apartment, she locked eyes with Stevie’s reflection in the rearview mirror. She nodded, not trusting the worry that could potentially lace her voice.

  “Did Liam say something to upset you before he left? You seem sad.”

  “No, I’m fine. I’m just tired from today.”

  “Did my brother say something to you?” Julian asked as he twisted in the front passenger seat to squint at her. “What do you have there?”

  Ally quickly folded her list and dropped it into her open handbag. “Just some things I have to do.”

  “Like?” Stevie asked, eyes on the road.

  She sighed. “I have to pay like rent and bills … I need a job.”

  Julian chuckled at her. “Stephanie and I don’t even pay rent.”

  “Clara doesn’t charge rent. The apartment’s paid for. We only pay things like water, electricity, and gas. Oh, and Netflix. Besides that, you don’t have to pay for anything,” Stevie added.

  “But you said you pay for water, electricity and gas … I should pay, too.”

  Julian shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Why?”

  “Because even I’m not allowed to pay for it,” Stevie explained. “Julian refuses.”

  “Blondie, you have no job,” he said and glanced over at his fiancée.

  “Parking looks like a nightmare tonight. We’re gonna have to walk,” Stevie said as they pulled into PJ O’Brien’s on Southbank. “I have money. I can pay for your Netflix subscription.”

  “I don’t want your mother’s guilt money. No matter how hot she is.” Julian grinned at Ally, wagged his eyebrows, and then once the car was parked, slipped out.

  “Becomes a vice president and look at him,” Stevie said with humour in her voice. She unbuckled her belt and shifted in her seat to face Ally. “Seriously, we don’t want your money. I know how much this means to you. I don’t want you to worry about it. We’ll find you a job. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re family to us. To Clara, too. I know she misses you and wants you to succeed. She wants this more than anything.”

  Clara Parker had meant to marry Liam. Sometimes, Ally wished she had. But it wouldn’t be fair to Clara. It was obvious at the wedding that she didn’t love Ally’s brother like she loved her husband. It had been a
few weeks since Ally last spoke to her. Clara was busy starting her new job as an intern dessert chef in one of Boston’s elite restaurants. With time zones and Clara’s shifts at the restaurant, it was hard for them to chat.

  “Thanks, Stevie,” Ally said, hoping her smile reached her eyes.

  “Come on. Let’s go celebrate that you’re finally free from that life that made you miserable.”

  Ally nodded and then removed her seat belt. As she reached the door handle, she paused, noticing the slight frown on Stevie’s lips.

  “You okay?” she asked as she picked up her handbag off the floor.

  Stevie took a deep breath. “Your father might not be proud of you but I am. I don’t know if it means much to you, but I am incredibly proud of you, Ally.”

  At that moment, Stevie Appleton gave her more belief than anyone else had ever given her. Someone was finally proud of her.

  The dark oak counter her hands were splayed on reminded Ally of how tangible it was. It was real. Solid. For the next six months, she’d focus on the real, tangible things that surrounded her. She dug her nails into the wood just as she had done so when she was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease. She had just turned eighteen, and she had no symptoms. Dr Fuller had his practice in Sydney before he returned to New York. When a routine blood test sent her his way, a urine test confirmed she had mild damage. But that had been two years ago. She had remembered Dr Fuller pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, apologising.

  “One in ten, Miss O’Connor.”

  She had been that one. Barely eighteen and her kidneys had shown signs of reduced function. When Dr Fuller went to specialise in New York, Ally had made frequent trips. Only Serge and her specialist knew. She had paid the doctor a ridiculous amount of money for his secrecy and his speciality. She’d call him later next week for a reference and cross off number six. Find a Melbourne doctor.

  “You look pretty lonesome here, princess,” she heard to her left. She didn’t have to look up from her glass of lemonade to know who it was.

  “Hi, Max,” she said to be polite. She liked Max. Found similarities in their lives that brought them closer. Maxwell Sheridan was the son of Gordon Sheridan, Melbourne’s most feared lawyer. Never lost a case he had represented in court. Unlike his father, Max had become a corporate lawyer rather than working on a criminal defence for his client.

  “Shit, Ally, you all right?” His hand settled on her shoulder. She didn’t want to wallow, but she couldn’t help it. Never in her entire life had she ever worried about money, and now, she was. She’d set enough money aside for her medication and had paid Serge and Dr Fuller six months’ worth of services each.

  She tore her gaze from the bubbling soft drink to her friend. His light brown eyes were beautiful and filled with his concern making them breathtaking. Ally glanced down to see him in a grey suit, and she smiled. “How was work?”

  Max sighed. “Gonna dodge my questions, princess?”

  “You know I don’t like you calling me that. Didn’t I make it clear at Noel and Clara’s wedding?” The sourness in her voice had enticed Max’s smile. If she had been any other girl, his smile would woo her. Ally’s heart would beat out of time, and she’d feel the warmth pool in the pit of her stomach.

  But her body didn’t react to Max. Her heart continued its regular beats and a foreign sensation didn’t infiltrate her stomach. Max had no effect. No man did. That was when Ally sighed and conceded absolute defeat.

  Rob.

  Rob made her feel all that and more. He made her nervous, he made her fearless, he made her afraid, he made her determined, and at one stage, he had made her confident, believing that she was beautiful.

  “I won’t call you that anymore. Where are Stevie and Julian?” he wondered.

  Ally picked up her glass and swivelled the straw. “Towards the back, making out.”

  “Ahh,” he hummed. “I shouldn’t be surprised with Julian. Took him four years to get his girl. That lemonade of yours is gonna go flat. Want me to buy you a glass of wine?”

  She tilted her head up at him. “You want to buy me a drink?”

  Max nodded with a smile as he signalled over Mitch, the bartender. “Sure, why not?”

  Ally’s smile faltered in the making as she realised that no one could buy her drinks anymore. She had to live a healthy life. Prolong dialysis. Prolong a transplant that will never happen.

  So instead of the truth, she shook her head. “Thank you, Max, but I’m back on my detox.”

  A lie I’ll tell for the rest of my life.

  “Ally, you don’t need to detox!” he scolded.

  She laughed because she really did need to detox. She had to be careful what she ate. Less sodium. More water. Or so those pamphlets had instructed.

  “Hey, Ally,” Mitch interrupted.

  Twisting in her seat, she smiled at the redheaded bartender. He’d shaved his beard since the last time she saw him, but his green eyes sparkled as he grinned at her. Mitch side-glanced over to Max, eyed him for a second, and then returned his focus to her.

  “I was talking to Julian earlier and he doesn’t think Rogers & Co. is really for you.”

  She had sipped on her lemonade before she set it down. “Huh?”

  “It’s not the best paying job here, but Stevie said something like you already had a Responsible Service of Alcohol certificate so you could serve alcohol here. It’s not a hard job, but I think you’ll enjoy it here. You’ve been here before and have seen what it’s like,” Mitch said, splaying his fingers on the oak counter.

  “Are you … Are you offering me a job?”

  Mitch’s grin showcased teeth. “I sure am.”

  “But why? You know …” It was difficult for Ally to admit she was worth millions. Jobs weren’t easy to come by and she felt guilty for even thinking about taking it. “I can’t. There are other people who need this job more than me.”

  “Even a cut-off heiress? Ally, I’ve interviewed people all week. They’re all shit.” He shrugged. “You know how to control a crowd. And you have a certificate that proves you can serve alcohol. It’s a pain in the ass to get a new employee down to take the course. Plus, we rich kids gotta stick together.”

  “We do?”

  Mitch’s green eyes flashed with understanding. “My family might not make the kind yours does, but my wine exporting family would believe so. We import and export for the rich. We’re Australia’s best.”

  Ally’s eyes widened. “Mitch Rockfield,” she breathed.

  “That’s me. Saw you at my parents’ benefit last year. You didn’t even give me a second of your time. Glass in hand, you looked like you didn’t want to be there. I was gonna join you, but your entourage was pretty forceful that I didn’t make the cut. Must be ‘cause I’m ginger.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mitch.”

  His hand made a dismissing motion. “Nah. You’re all right. Made me think Allison O’Connor was a spoilt brat. Until you came here to Melbourne and I saw the real you. Rich kid wantin’ some freedom. Plus, you’re hot. So I have to hire you. So what do you say? Wanna start Monday?”

  She blinked. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Monday.”

  The excitement in her grew. She would have an income. She would have independence. Though it wouldn’t be the kind of money she needed, she was sure she could save what she made for dialysis if it came down to it. Later on, when she was in the safe confines of her bedroom, Ally would cross off number one on her list.

  Secure a job.

  Tick.

  The child: If you love me, you’ll come to PJ’s. The Olympics aren’t tomorrow.

  Rob: I’m sweaty and at the gym. I’m not drinking with you tonight.

  The child: Hey, am I allowed to come to Rio to cheer you on?

  Rob: Have to make it onto the team first.

  The child: That’s nothing we have to worry about. But would that be something you’d like? Me in Brazil with you?

  Rob: Julian, why wouldn’t I want you the
re?

  The child: Thought I’d ask.

  Rob: I need your loud, annoying voice so I know where the finish line is.

  The child: Sounds about right. So could you please come to PJ’s?

  Rob: I got work tomorrow, filling in for Quinn.

  The child: Ally’s here.

  He set his gym bag down on the bench of the changing room and stared at her name. He’d only ever expressed his feelings for Allison to Julian. Rob had admitted he loved her. And as he had believed those few months ago, she didn’t deserve to be loved by him. She deserved someone far greater. Someone far more open. Someone willing. Someone who didn’t have the dreams of the Olympics.

  Rob: Don’t care.

  Instead of a reply like he had expected, his phone rang and a picture of Julian eating a hotdog appeared on his screen. Pressing his thumb against the screen, he answered his brother’s call and sat on the wooden bench in the middle of the changing rooms.

  “Rob, could you please come to PJ’s?” Julian sounded desperate and not his usual teasing self.

  He shook his head even though he knew his younger brother couldn’t see it. “Can’t. Quinn’s taking the weekend off and I’ve already worked out my training with Ralph. Seventeen months till Rio.”

  Julian sighed. “Okay, fine. But don’t get your ugly panties in a bloody twist when I tell you this …”

  “Tell me what?” he asked, more intrigued than he should have been.

  “So I know you love Ally.”

  He cringed. He did love Allison. And the only person who knew was his brother. And it had to stay that way.

  “Julian, I don’t have all day!” he scolded and got up from the bench.

  When he grasped his gym bag in his hand, he heard Julian say, “Max is with her, and he’s getting close.”

  Rob stilled. “How close?”

  “Andrea close. Hell, probably even Sarah close,” he revealed.

  Fuck!

  Maybe Max being interested is what I need.

  “He can have her,” Rob spat out and picked up his gym bag. “I told you; I don’t care.”