by DeSalvo, Kim
“You’re really brilliant with the kids, Tia,” Dylan said one afternoon as they headed back toward Bo’s room. Tia had done an impromptu history lesson with four upper-elementary aged patients, and Dylan found himself as captivated as the students by her energy and presentation. Having gone to school in Australia, he really didn’t know a whole lot about American history, and he was fascinated by her descriptions of the Patriots and the reasons behind the American Revolution. “I can really see what an amazing teacher you are.”
“You’re pretty amazing yourself,” she replied with a smile, “although I would never have guessed that you’d be such a ruthless “Candyland” player. I mean really, Miller, I saw you pull that double-purple from the middle of the deck.”
“Prove it,” he grinned, raising one eyebrow and lacing his fingers through hers. They got into the elevator to go back up to Bo’s floor and Dylan turned to Tia. “Hey. I’m serious when I say that you are amazing with those kids, love. You don’t bat an eye at their afflictions and that helps to make them forget about being sick for a while. It might be something to think about—if you wanted to do this from time to time, you could do it through the charity…you could still work with children; even set up some activities or lessons to do with them, if you wanted.”
“That same thought is already dancing around in my head. I remember telling you at Sing Along Cassidy’s how much I respected the personal appearances you made through the charity. I would love to be a part of that; especially with the kids.”
“We also have those youth programs at the ranch. Bo helps run one for troubled inner city kids, combining drumming to beat out aggression and taking care of the animals to nurture respect for others. Denny has two-week program for kids with disabilities, and I help out with that one whenever I’m at home. You could jump into those, or even create one of your own if you want to. Just because you can’t teach doesn’t mean you can’t still impact kids.”
She pulled him into a tight embrace just as the doors slid open. “Have I told you today how much I love you? I completely agree—it could be amazing.”
Brie was rushing toward them as they stepped into the hall. “He’s awake!” she blurted, her smile telling all. Tia and Dylan shared an excited glance. It had been over two weeks of standing sentinel over his withering frame, and although none of them would admit it out loud, the hope that he’d come back to them intact faded just a little bit every day. The look in Brie’s eyes, however, told them all they needed to know. Bo was back! “The nurses are in there right now, and the doctors will be up in a bit. His blood pressure’s good, his eyes are working, he’s able to answer questions about what year it is and who the president is…” a tear fell from her eye, and a giggle escaped with a sob. “…he told them the president was Mickey Mouse, and that it was the year of the rat. A rat named Penelope Valentine.” Their smiles grew and they simply nodded to each other; to anyone who knew him, those statements were proof that the Bo they knew and loved was going to pull through just fine. They fell in line behind Bo’s obviously elated older sister and rushed back to his room with grins on their faces.
Bo was sitting up in bed for the first time. When Dylan and Tia walked in, he grinned, then winced at the pain the effort brought to his still-puffy face. He’d had moments of semi-clarity over the past couple of days, but this was the first time he was actually awake and alert.
“You look like a hot fucking mess, my friend,” Dylan said, his smile wide. “But in this case, I couldn’t be happier.” He pulled Bo into a gentle embrace, careful not to squeeze too hard.
“Yeah, well only one of us gets to be the pretty boy,” he teased back, extending his hand to Tia. “Congratulations to both of you. I can honestly say that I’ve never known two people more meant to be together.” His voice was gruff and scratchy, but Bo’s usual quick wit and teasing lightened all of their hearts. He was going to be OK.
Tia leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “It’s so good to have you back, Bo. You had us scared for a while there. And thank you. Now that you’re back, we have all kinds of reasons to celebrate.”
Bo held out his hand to Tia. “Let me see your ring, darlin’.” She placed her hand in Bo’s and his one good eye popped out of his head in fake surprise. “Damn, Strummer Boy—is that thing real?”
“Bloody hell,” Dylan laughed. “Why in the world does everyone keep asking me that?”
Ty gave him a little shove and laughed with him. “I think the last time I saw a rock that big, I was at the Tower of London, checking out the Crown Jewels.”
Angelo chimed in. “I’m so sorry guys; we really should have celebrated that.”
Dylan shook his head and Tia smiled. “Yeah, well we’ve had a few other things on our minds, and rightly so. It wasn’t a time for celebrating.”
“And it wouldn’t have felt right without Bo,” Tia added.
“Well, it sure as hell is time for celebrating now,” Bo said, picking up the remote and punching the call button repeatedly.
Within seconds, the nurse came rushing into the room. “What’s wrong?” she said quickly, scanning the scene with her practiced eye.
“We need some champagne in here right away,” Bo demanded. “We’ve got a few things to celebrate, and we just can’t do it without some bubbly.” He flashed her a crooked grin. “So get on it, will you?”
The nurse, a heavy-set black woman with tight curls and an even tighter expression, put her hands on her hips and glared at Bo. “Mmm hmmm,” she said, shaking her head. “Is that so? The only bubbly in your future, young man, is the possibility of a sponge bath. And if you hit the call button like that again, you won’t even get that. You’ll be so raunchy that no one’ll come to visit you, and you won’t have anything to celebrate. Is that clear?”
“Oh, I like her,” Brie laughed.
Bo stuck out his lower lip in a pout.
“I said, is that clear?”
Bo nodded like a chastised child and mumbled, “Yes ma’am.”
She pointed her finger at him. “I’ve got your number, Mr. Collins, and I won’t forget it. Now you behave yourself or I’ll have a word with your therapist and make sure you’re too beat to be a nuisance.” She forced a serious face, but there was a twinkle in her eye that shone with amusement.
Bo dropped his head, and she turned on her heal and marched out of the room.
“Well, she put you in your place, now didn’t she?” Chloe said. “And if you give any trouble to these people trying to help you, I’ll put you over my knee.” Her stern face was belied by her wide smile. Ten years had melted off her since Bo was declared to be out of the woods, and it quickly became clear where both Bo and Brie got many of their best qualities.
“I woke up for this?” Bo said. “Should’ve stayed in the damn coma.”
Two doctors strolled in and kicked everyone out of the room so they could examine their patient. The group paced the waiting room with nervous excitement until Tommy showed up with a huge sack of sandwiches. They fell on the food like a pack of starving wolves; none of them had had a proper meal in longer than they cared to remember, but their appetites had returned with Bo’s consciousness. The doctors came to see them nearly an hour later, and gave them the best news they’d had in a long while. There didn’t appear to be any brain damage, and, aside from a long upcoming stint with physical therapy and a few lingering effects from his injuries, he was expected to make a full recovery. They breathed a collective sigh of enormous relief, and walked back into his room with smiles on their faces.
“Do you remember anything that happened, Bo?” Tia asked. “The accident, I mean.” Bo’s immediate and extended family crowded into his room, celebrating his recovery and catching him up on what he’d missed over the time he was in the coma. His mom and sister were able to corroborate his recollections of Christmas; but it seemed that his memories were scattered after that.
“Not a thing. And I don’t mind if it stays that way. Doc says I ma
y have some fuzzy memories, or be forgetful for a while, but I’d be more than happy not to relive any of that. Hard enough livin’ with the aftermath,” he yawned, holding up his casted arm. “Man, those docs put me through the ringer,” he said absently, shaking his head. “It’s really not so unusual for people not to remember New Year’s Eve,” he said to his frowning mother. She just put her hands on her hips and pressed her mouth into a thin line, staring him down and giving him the slightest shake of her head. He knew that she wasn’t buying it. Neither was he, but that was a worry for another time. Right now he was so exhausted he could barely stay awake.
“You know I love you all, and it’s great to be back among the living. I really appreciate y’all bein’ here, but I don’t think I can hold my good eye open much longer, so I do hope you’ll excuse me. I need to rest up for my sponge bath.” He waggled his eyebrows, but his eyelids drooped, and they all knew that even though none of them wanted to go, he really did need his rest.
“How about dinner?” Chloe suggested. “There’s a little Italian place down the street. Bo’s treat, since it’s his fault we’ve been surviving on take-out and cafeteria food for the past couple weeks.”
They said their goodbyes to Bo, and gathered their belongings. “Gonna be a chilly one,” Brie said as they made their way to the elevator. “Unseasonably cool, the weatherman said.”
“Oh, I left my jacket,” Tia said, “I’ll be right back,”
She tiptoed in—Bo’s breathing was already in the early stages of sleep. She plucked her jacket from the chair and heard him whisper. Not sure if he was talking to her, she leaned in. He exhaled slowly and said what sounded like, “Soooo…sorrrry… sexy…” He repeated the phrase again, and Tia tucked the blanket over his casted arm. “You’ll be sexy again Bo, I promise,” she whispered back, but he was already snoring softly.
“Thank God,” Lexi said, falling onto the couch as Tia recounted their afternoon with Bo.
“The old Bo’s still there,” she said gratefully. “Right now there’s some memory loss, but the doctor says that’s normal, and they may come back in time. Headaches, dizziness and that kind of thing are to be expected, but they’re pretty confident he’ll make a full recovery. He didn’t remember anything about the accident, but he remembered that Dylan and I are engaged, so that’s a good sign, I think.”
“And he was cracking jokes and pissing off the nurses within minutes of regaining consciousness? Sounds like Bo to me. Oh, Tia, I’m just so relieved. I’ve been so worried I haven’t been able to think straight. Tell him how happy I am, will you?”
“I will, but it would be even better if you told him yourself. I’m sure your voice would cheer him up.”
“You think so?” she asked. She wished it were true, but she was probably the last person he wanted to talk to. “I don’t want to intrude—he has his family, and you guys—just tell him for me, OK?”
“OK. Hey, Dylan’s flagging me from the table. I think our dinner is here. Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Lexi said, wishing that she could be there, with all of them, as they celebrated Bo’s recovery and Tia and Dylan’s engagement. “Talk to you then.”
Bo sat alone in his room; an InHap album vibrating in his ear and pictures spread out on the bed all around him. He remembered a lot and for that he was grateful, but there were enough fuzzy bits at the edges of his brain to cause him concern. He was more than OK with not recalling the specifics of the accident—as far as he was concerned, those details could keep to the dark recesses of his mind forever. He had recognized his family; both his biological one and his band one; right away, and he was completely confident that once he had a pair of sticks in his hands he’d still be on top of his game. He’d listened to two of their albums already, tapping out the rhythms with the tips of his fingers.
Another headache started squeezing at his temples like a vice and he pulled the buds from his ears. The doctors said they were to be expected, but a couple had been goddamn vicious and he rang for the nurse in the hope that a little magic juice via his IV drip would knock him out and nip it in the bud. He scooped up the pictures and put them back into the box, saying a little silent prayer of thanks that he wasn’t a vegetable who didn’t remember his own name. As he waited for the medicine to take effect, he propped his laptop on the little tray attached to his bed and pulled up the video.
He’d watched it at least a dozen times already, frustrated by the haze that covered his memory like an opaque curtain. There were tiny glimpses—shadows mostly— behind the veil, but no matter how hard he focused, he couldn’t get any clarity. He remembered Lexi; he had a lot of damn good memories, actually. He saw himself strolling down the red carpet with her at Icon, dancing with her at the little club in Northampton, and clearly recalled the way they shamelessly flirted. He remembered the way everyone around them rolled their eyes at them whenever they were together, and the way they finished each other’s sentences. They were all good memories, which is why he had no explanation for why seeing her on the video provoked a profound sadness in him.
Most of Christmas was fairly clear, brought into focus by photos his mother and sister had given him, but his memory was a game of hopscotch after that. Bo had no idea how he spent New Year’s Eve, but did remember Dylan’s voicemail about their engagement. No matter how hard he concentrated though, he couldn’t recall appearing on After Dark, despite all the times he replayed it. And for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why watching Lexi jump into his arms over and over again filled him with a deep sense of regret.
The magic juice flowed through his veins, causing the shade to thicken over his thoughts, and he drifted off into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 24
“Hey, Lex, what’s up?” Ryan said into the phone as he shrugged into his coat. “I’m just heading over to the deli for an Italian beef. You in the neighborhood?”
“No, just working,” she answered, “and I’ve got an appointment coming in about fifteen minutes. I just wanted to ask if you were getting off at a decent hour today,” she said.
“Should be, yeah,” Ryan answered. “Just getting some things rolled over for the start of the year…not too much to do. It’s been pretty quiet here, actually. Want to do dinner or something?”
“Yeah, I was hoping to. Tia and Dylan invited us out for a little engagement celebration. They just got back this afternoon, and I can’t wait to see her rock up close and in person. They’ve got reservations at the Signature Room for 7:00.”
Son of a bitch, Ryan thought, bringing his free hand up to massage his forehead and wishing he’d been more proactive with his social calendar. He’d known they were coming back, and should have figured that Lexi would be itching to spend some time with them. Frankly, he’d rather be fed to a den of starving lions; the past few weeks had been trying, to say the least, with all the buzz about the so-called “royal couple” and he was already sick of it. He’d finally managed to quiet things down at the office—at least all the secretaries weren’t asking him on a regular basis how Tia and Dylan were doing—but the club was still buzzing, and he couldn’t seem to get the ringing out of his damn ears.
Tia’s parents were members, of course, so there was constant chatter about the engagement and speculation about when and where the nuptials would take place. Then there were the guys who kept asking if Dylan was thinking about joining the club, talking about how cool it would be to get invited to concerts and parties and drooling over the actresses they could meet. Of course the ladies were the worst—every time he and Lexi were having dinner or drinks they were constantly popping by the table, asking for updates about the drummer and sucking up to Lexi, who was always happy to be in the know and share the gossip. It seemed that everyone wanted to be her friend these days, and she was getting invited to more parties than a birthday clown. At least she was smart enough to realize that none of them really gave a shit about being her bosom buddy, but she seemed to love the attention, nonetheless.
<
br /> He was willing to bet that Tia had never even heard of The Signature Room until a few months ago; she certainly couldn’t have afforded to frequent the place on her salary. Suddenly, though, she was the queen of the world, wearing a ring with a freaking diamond big enough to be called a rock and having people willing to fall down at her feet as well as Dylan’s. La dee fucking da.
It was too late to try and come up with an excuse not to go, so he was going to have face another night of being invisible while Lexi basked in the fringes of the spotlight and everyone in the place whispered and stared at their table. He and Lex had been on some rocky ground the past few weeks, especially since the drummer kept popping up in conversations. He’d come to the conclusion that she hadn’t slept with the guy—he was hardly her type—but he was getting sick of hearing about the dude. Obviously, that would be a big topic of conversation over dinner tonight. Yup, a den of lions sounded pretty damn good right now.
He really needed to get over this whole thing; had to find a way to make it fit into his life and his life with Lexi or it was going to eat him alive. He’d already spent way too many hours pondering it, and realized that there wasn’t going to be a happy ending—not for him anyway. As a lawyer he prided himself on being able to see all sides of the story, and to decipher squarely where to put the blame. Problem was; there really wasn’t any blame to place in this situation—it just sucked of its own volition. Lexi really didn’t deserve to be punished because her best friend landed a rock star; and who wouldn’t jump at free trip to Europe to tour with the band and live the good life for a while? It was Tia who’d sworn her to secrecy—hell, she didn’t even tell her own parents—and Lexi was a loyal friend. He had to give Tia props for not flaunting Miller in everyone’s faces the minute she met him; he knew a lot of people who would; and he respected that she kept him on the down-low and went on with her life.
