by Sylvia Frost
“My daughter needs me.” A tall woman stepped out from behind John. In her early fifties, Mamma had perfectly coiffed charcoal hair and a waist-line so thin that just seeing her could make a super-model combust in a jealous rage. Even after a red-eye flight, she still managed to rock a wrinkle-less ivory dress and lipstick red enough to belong under stage lights
“Mamma!” I laughed through an open-mouthed smile.
“Baby.” Mamma’s stilettos clicked as she walked to my side, leaving the nurse in the dust. Before I could say anything else, she had sucked me up into a hug so tight, I wondered if she was trying to squeeze my internal organs out like toothpaste from a tube.
“Ugh, Mamma. I’m doing fine,” I squeaked.
Mamma let me go and gave me a skeptical once-over, hands on her hips. “I think I need another hug to be sure.”
Then she was enveloping me in another hug, this one a little looser. Her cheek pressed against mine, and I heard her murmur something that might’ve been, “Please God don’t ever worry me like that again,” but I couldn’t be sure. She smelled like French perfume and airplane but felt like home. I forgot how much I missed her. It’d been over a year since I’d last seen her. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I wiped them away on her shoulder.
The nurse butted in. “As I was saying, visiting hours are tech—”
“If you think I’m not going to see my daughter after she was in a coma, you are sorely mistaken.” Mamma patted my back before releasing me, her strong mask back in place.
The nurse put up his hands. “I can give you fifteen minutes, but then she has an appointment with Dr. Ward to process her release from the hospital.”
Dr. Ward? My stomach flipped.
Mamma crossed her arms. “I’ll stay here for that too.”
The nurse turned to check with me, probably only a legal requirement. Usually around Mamma no one ever checked what I thought.
I gave a small nod. “It’s all right.”
Mamma shot the nurse a look of calm superiority. Mamma was good at getting her way, that was how she had started her Internet clothing company Amazon Glam, now worth half a billion dollars.
With a well-worn sigh, the nurse left the room. I had a feeling he was used to doing other people’s bidding.
Mamma ignored him, pulled up a chair, and clutched my hand. Hers was soft and warm. “What happened? They said something on the phone about you running into the street.”
I placed my hospital tray on the night-stand not near Mamma. I knew showing her the rice would lead to a long lecture about how the hospital cuisine was the next industry she’d revolutionize. “I was crossing the street when a cab came out of nowhere.”
Mamma raised her eyebrows, not fooled.
I rubbed the miniature magnesium sword still hanging around my neck, as if I could summon Naomi’s bravery like a genie from a bottle. “I may have been a little distracted.”
“Rose Briar, being hit by a car because you didn’t look both ways is how household pets die, not full-grown women.”
“Should I buy myself a leash and collar?” I asked dryly.
“Don’t sass me.” Mamma clicked her tongue, grabbed my other hand from where it was clenching the sword, and laced all my fingers into hers. “I was terrified. I got on the first flight over when they called.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” The sword swung back against my chest. “I just had a bad day and wasn’t paying attention. I’ll do better. I promise. And actually it turns out I’ll be going off the Erostoxifam. Hopefully that will help with some of my focus issues.”
Mamma brushed my braids behind my ear, just like she did when I was little, checking for new growth to see if it was time to go back to the salon. “You’re too hard on yourself, baby. You didn’t have any focus issues when you worked for me. You should come back to Illinois. It’s this city.”
“I can’t just leave. I have a job here,” I said.
She frowned. “As a secretary.”
“That’s what I was for you, an executive assistant.” I tried my best not to sound bitter. I was more than blessed to have a mother who gave me a job right out of college. No one else was hiring English majors. But I didn’t just want a job out of pity. I wanted to earn it. The irony was the only reason Rex had hired me was because I had “assistant to the CEO of Amazon Glam” on my resume.
“If the title’s a problem we can make it director of marketing and you’ll work with Louisa. Whatever you want, baby,” Mamma cooed.
“Mamma.” I closed my eyes, unable to turn my head in bed, but needing to look somewhere other than her. “I can’t.”
“No, you just don’t want to.”
I bit my tongue. Since the day my Mamma had lost the court case against the drunk driver who hit Daddy, I’d never seen anybody beat her in an argument. In my weakened state, I was not about to break her lifelong victory streak.
I wished I could though. I wished I could tell her how much I loved cuddling up with her on the couch, watching The Bachelorette and throwing popcorn at the TV any time one of the bad boys made the bachelorette cry. Then she’d rant on and on about how the only time Daddy ever made her cry was the day the doctors told us that he wasn’t going to wake up from his coma.
I wished I could tell Mamma how much I loved coming up with new names for Amazon Glam dresses with her while eating Cherry Garcia ice-cream. My favorites were: “He Loves Me, He Loves Me Naut-ical,” a beautiful sailor print vintage dress, or “The Rouge Brouge" for a dashing pair of Oxfords, and “Beauty and the Bonnet” for a hat that reminded me of what a costumer designer might craft for a romance novel that was a lovechild between Jane Austen and the Little House on the Prairie. Sometimes I even wrote little stories about girls galavanting around town in Mamma’s clothes. My stories always increased sales.
But Mamma never let me actually change the main copy on the website. She said it was too a big a project for me, but I think the truth was she was too afraid I might fail. She could never bear to see me disappointed or hurt. But I needed to take risks and live my own life.
I wished I could tell Mamma that. Except I already had.
What I really wished was that she would listen.
“I do want to,” I said finally. “It’s just—” The sound of the door opening, and the feeling of my neck prickling, stopped me. Dr. Ward was near. I don’t know how I knew, but I did.
Then he was striding into the room, the white tails of his doctor’s coat trailed behind him like a noble cape. His tawny hair looked neater than I remembered it, pulled back behind his ear, and I noticed he had a nametag pinned to his chest. I waited for him to meet my gaze, but he didn’t.
Like everyone else in the world he stared at my mother first and gave her a curt, professional smile. “Hello, you must be Rose’s mother.”
Mamma stood and she offered Dr. Ward a hand. “Alycia Briar.”
Dr. Ward shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Briar.”
She angled her body so that she had the dominant position in the handshake. A firm handshake, Rose, that’s how I got through Harvard. That, hard work, and your Daddy’s support. I winced for him, but he didn’t seem to notice.
She released Dr. Ward’s hand. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did for my Rose. The nurse said that chelation therapy isn’t a usual way to deal with these things. Sounds like you had to do some innovative thinking.” Mamma nodded, like she always did when praising an employee.
“Thank you, but I’m just doing my job,” Dr. Ward said. I kept trying to meet his eyes, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was avoiding me.
“Don’t be humble.” She pulled a business card from her purse and I winced again. “Tell the development team here to give me a call when they throw their next benefit.”
He took the card, bemused, like he had never seen one before. “Of course I will. Now, Rose. Shall we get you checked out?”
Finally, Gods, finally he turned to me. But the face I sa
w now wasn’t the same one I had seen when I woke up yesterday. His rugged jaw was stiff, his golden eyes just as dull as the nurse’s when they updated my chart. Like I was just another statistic. I knew that he was looking at me, but I couldn’t help but feeling as if he was just staring at the point in between my eyes.
My face felt numb. I tried to smile. “Sure.”
He didn’t smile back. “Good.”
The rest of the appointment was agonizingly normal. He stood a healthy distance away from me, and Mamma kept rubbing the back of my hand as he asked me standard questions. Was I experiencing any head pain? Did I need a referral for a new primary care physician? Would I be sure not to take the pills? I must’ve just imagined our rapport yesterday.
I ignored the words and listened to the rhythm of his voice. I’d never tell Mamma, but it made me feel even safer than her hand in mine.
Eventually, he reached the end of his routine and tapped the tablet with an authoritative swipe of his thumb. “So I think that’s everything.”
“Great.” Momma stood and brushed off her dress, as if that would get rid of hospital germs. “See if a nurse can bring a wheelchair.”
“Mamma—” I gave one last hopeful glance at Dr. Ward. Maybe he’d at least smile at me before we’d left. After I’d woken up he’d touched my face and been so kind to me.
“I have to agree with your mother.” Dr. Ward’s hand stilled on the tablet, as I swore he caught my gaze out of the corner of his eye, but then he just nodded. “I think a wheelchair sounds like a good idea.”
I crossed my arms, hating how like a teenager they both made me feel. I was twenty-three god-darn-it. “I can handle myself.”
Mamma rolled her eyes. “If that’s true then you need to stop running into the street.”
But I wasn’t paying attention. Dr. Ward was actually meeting my eyes for the first time today. He smiled softly at me.
My stomach fluttered.
“I know you can look after yourself, Rose. You’re very capable.” A strand of his tawny hair had escaped from behind his ears and I swore I caught a glint of golden fire hidden in the depths of his eyes. “But I’ve done everything I can for you now.”
His soft smile twisted into something lonely, which reminded me of my own reflection when I stared out the windows of the offices of Rom Investing. All the lights of the far-away offices would twinkle like stars and I’d make wishes on them, knowing that they’d never come true.
But then Dr. Ward’s face reformatted into professional coolness, he tucked the strand of his hair behind his ear, and he gave Mamma a terse nod. “I think that’s everything.”
When he walked to the door and opened it, he didn’t look back at me once. The numbness on my face spread down to my toes, and the only part of my body I could still feel was the back of my neck. The thing that I had once thought was a matemark. The thing I now knew was nothing but a symptom of a disease. It hurt.
Chapter 6
DANIEL
It’d been six days since I’d last seen my mate.
On the first day, I’d stood at the end of the hallway, hidden among the moving throng of nurses and patients, watching as her mother wheeled her to the parking lot and out of my life.
On the second day, I’d tried to throw myself into my work stitching up a gunshot victim. With every suture, I’d made myself promise that Rose was safer away from me and my secrets. For the first time in three years, my patient died on the table. They said it wasn’t my fault.
On the third day, I’d visited the hospital gym and ran around their little brown track until I almost lost consciousness and half-collapsed against the cool, metal water fountain. Even then I still heard my lion whispering inside my head that Rose was in more danger without me than with me.
On the fourth day, I bought a sound machine that was supposed to imitate the wilderness. Unfortunately, I could count each of the different birds and tell when the loops started and ended. When I finally did fall asleep, I didn’t dream of her.
On the fifth day, I searched for every scrap of information I could on GR Scientific, and found even less than I had the first time. Someone had removed Erostoxifam as a listed drug from their website.
On the sixth day, I felt her again.
I was walking through Soho on my way to the grocery store to buy my usual favorite meal of bagel and smoked salmon, when the back of my neck began to warm. It hadn’t done that since before the scientists told me Rose was dead. I forced myself to keep walking, past the chalk-drawn signs outside of the cafes.
Sunset reflected in the skyscrapers looming in the distance. It made it look like the whole city was on fire. I stopped right on the edge of the crosswalk, not caring as busy pedestrians pushed their way past me. Underneath the skin on my neck, I felt something moving, like a fishing line being tugged by something far away.
Let us go to her, my lion crooned.
I shook my head, wishing I could toss out my full lion’s mane, shift and bound straight toward her. I clenched my fist and stepped out of the way of the crosswalk, vowing that I’d regain my bearings and keep going in the opposite direction, but just as I did a glare glinted off of the windows, blinding me. On the back of my neck my matemark went cold. The tugging turned to a pull.
She needs us, my lion hissed. Something is wrong.
So on the sixteenth hour of the sixth day, I watched the stoplight change from red to green and turned and ran in the other direction.
To my mate.
Chapter 7
ROSE
Hello, world,
It’s me again, The Book Addict. I know it’s been a while, but picture me sitting cross-legged in my polka-dotted pajamas guilt-eating Cherry Garcia because I didn’t post an update and you won’t be too far from the truth.
However, I’ll be honest, I’m a little embarrassed about my old blog post. Who writes about their dumb day-dreams and puts them on the Internet? Me, that’s who, I guess.
Recently, I’ve decided to turn over a new page and focus on the “non” side of fiction. To my surprise, the world has cooperated by giving me something actually interesting to write about! Ready? Here goes!
I’m going on a date. No spoilers, but this guy seems around my league of cuteness and he actually didn’t send me a picture of his genitals, ask if I was “DTF” or just write, “Hey.” He wrote three whole sentences, thank you very much, one of which referenced his interest in movies about werebeasts, too.
But, guys, there’s even better news (sort of!). I’ve had other adventures besides arranging to go on an online date. I’ve done a little corporate spying. Okay, okay. Really I just Googled the name of this drug company that manufactures the pills that may or may not have put me in a coma. (Long story.) But still, here are three intriguing facts I found:
1. Preliminary searching led me to believe that the maker of Erostoxifam was a company named GR Scientific. (Seriously, could their name sound more generic?) BUT after I used the Way-Back machine to check page history, I found out that GR Scientific was actually a subsidiary of the McDermont Collective.
2. I won’t deduct points if you don’t remember, but the McDermonts were one of the biggest old-money werebeast hunting families in the US. Odd.
3. Odder still, the McDermont Collective seems to have contracts with the US Department of Defense. I thought of filing a Freedom of Information Act form to try and request the paperwork, but that was when I realized the truth.
Are you ready?
My whole conspiracy theory was just another symptom of my need to turn the world into a novel. Except this time instead of being determined that every hot guy is in love with me because, reasons, I’ve started writing a thriller.
I have to stop, which is why I’m closing up my laptop and going on this date. But I am curious, sound off in the comments. Do you think I’m crazy?
Yours,
The Book Addict
***
My dinner date’s dry, cold hands grazed the small of m
y back as he directed me toward what he had dubbed the hottest new bar in Tribeca. The sign above it read “The Tavern.”
“So I have to ask, what’s a girl like you doing on an internet dating website?” he asked.
I forced myself not to cringe from his touch as we ducked through a door framed with fakes rusted pipes. “I wanted to break out of my shell.” And to stop lusting after a doctor I’ll never see again.
“Well, I’m glad you chose me to help,” my date said.
“Me too,” I lied. I hoped if I said the words aloud it would make them true.
I needed this date to work. I’d spent so long holding out for a prince to sweep me off my feet, I’d literally ended up in a wheelchair for the last week. I was done waiting for my day dreams to just come true.
Mamma would be disappointed, but it was easy for her to say, “Trust your gut and never date a guy that doesn’t make you comfortable.” She got at least one marriage proposal a month.
But I was still a virgin, because I’d been waiting for a guy who didn’t make my skin crawl. With all the books I read, my dude radar was off-kilter. Sometimes I wondered if to me, anyone who wasn’t Prince Charming seemed like the evil villain.
I smiled weakly over my shoulder at the man whose username was TheMagpieKing.
He smiled back, and it wasn’t a bad look with his neatly trimmed dark hair, even if no happiness reached his sea-glass green eyes. He, unlike me, fit in with the crowd of thin women and men in black. There were no wrinkles in TheMagpieKing’s button-down and his jeans looked fresh enough to still have the tags on them.
Yes, his wristwatch had more bling to it than any white-guy’s should’ve, but all in all my date wasn’t unappealing. Really. He wasn’t. Plus, his real name was Lonan, which sort-of sounded like an Irish warrior.
Lonan raised his hand to motion at the hostess, a leggy blonde.
