“Jaime,” he breathed into the phone. “What’s going on? Is everything okay with Gloria?”
I inhaled a gulp of air. How was I going to break the news to him? Finally, I settled on the truth. “It’s not good.”
“What do you mean?” Despair underscored his voice.
“The babies, I think, are fine. But Gloria—” My voice choked up.
“What about Gloria?” His voice rose an octave. He loved her as much as I did.
“She’s in surgery. She had a hemorrhage.”
“Fuck. I’m coming over. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” His voice was instantly tearful.
“Pray for her, Kev.” Tears dripped from my voice too.
“I am.”
Two long hours later, Gloria was out of surgery and now in a small room on Cedars’s intensive care floor. She was resting in a bed, unconscious, still hooked up to myriad IVs and monitors. At least the oxygen mask was off her face, and I could see it in its full glory. Her sensuous full lips were slightly parted, and soft shallow breaths emanated from them. Her chest rhythmically rose and fell, her long platinum braid curling around her ravishing breasts. A serene paleness washed over her. My Gloria looked like an angel. Too much like one.
Tyrone had stopped by earlier with her things along with the little box I’d asked him to bring along. The word fear did not exist for an imposing man like Ty who’d grown up a fighter on the tough streets of South Central. But at the sight of Gloria so pale and frail, fear flickered in the whites of his eyes.
“Is she going to be okay, Mr. Z?” His small, unsteady voice was a sharp contrast to his big, muscular six-foot five physique.
“Yeah,” I lied. I just fucking didn’t know. “Thanks for bringing all her things.”
“No problem, sir.”
In addition to her beauty and grooming necessities, he’d brought along several lacy negligees and teddies from her collection that Gloria’s housekeeper had packed in a small pink overnight bag. One thing, I could count on when—or should I say, if—Gloria woke up, she sure as hell wouldn’t want to be seen in a potato sack hospital gown. As the founder and head of Gloria’s Secret, the largest lingerie emporium in the world, my angel always looked the part of the erotic fantasies she sold. She had even starred in a commercial with me that I’d created for her new BDSM-inspired line, which had brought her company to new heights. The sensuous ad flashed into my head as I watched Gloria sleep and breathe. I prayed she’d be in my arms once again. And live to be the mother of our children.
I urged hard-working, emotionally drained Ty to take the rest of the day off. A man of faith, he told me he was going to his church to pray. I thanked him. That’s all anyone could do at this point. A half-hour after his departure, Kevin showed up, looking like death warmed over. In his hands was an extravagant arrangement of fragrant pink lilies and roses, Gloria’s favorite flowers. He set the large crystal vase on the bureau right next to the small gift-wrapped box I’d asked Ty to bring.
“How is she doing?” he asked anxiously, slumping into an armchair next to mine beside Gloria’s bed. I brushed a few strands of loose hair off Gloria’s forehead. Her skin felt feverish beneath my fingertips. Worry ate at me.
I wish I could tell him fan-fucking-tastic, but his favorite word was a far cry from the truth. I drew in a breath and told him about Gloria’s tenuous situation. “The next twenty-four hours are going to be crucial. There was a substantial tear in her uterus, and she lost a lot of blood. They had to give her a partial hysterectomy.” My voice faltering, I continued on. The fact that Gloria might not be able to bear more children was not important to me. What terrified me was the possibility of a fatal complication. My beloved angel’s life hung in the air I breathed.
Kevin grasped my hand. His eyes watered. “Gloria’s a fighter. She’s kicked death out the door before.”
At the word death, every muscle in my body clenched. But Kevin was right. My feisty beauty was a fighter. She had once survived Boris Borofksy’s near fatal gunshot. I glanced down at the scar above her heart that peeked out from her hospital gown. A vivid reminder that Gloria controlled her destiny. If she had the will to live, she would. I had to believe that. I’d given her my heart and now I’d given her my blood. She had all of me. If I lost her, I would die too.
Changing the subject, I asked Kevin if he’d seen the babies. He shook his head and glanced down at his Mickey Mouse watch.
“Fuck. I have to get going. Gotta head over to Greystone and set up tonight’s party. Shit. I don’t want to leave.”
I squeezed his hand. “Gloria would want you to do your job. Just keep her condition under wraps.”
His lips pressed thin, he nodded. As Gloria’s trusted head of publicity, Kevin understood the impact of negative publicity—of news getting out that wouldn’t serve the company well. No one needed to know the precarious condition of Gloria Long Zander. And it would moreover hamper the spirit of the much anticipated, newsworthy event. With all the celebrities attending, I was sure Gloria wouldn’t be missed. If it was an issue, I’d work with Kevin in the morning to spin a story.
I thanked him for the beautiful, thoughtful flowers and then asked him to do me a favor. “Kev, could you tell Ray to cancel all my meetings for tomorrow.” Ray was my right-hand man and talented protégé. Kevin and Ray had fallen in love just like Gloria and me. We adored them both.
“Sure.” Slowly, he rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving Gloria. His Glorious.
And then he flipped around, and facing me, totally broke down. Loud sobs wracked his body. And tears stormed his face. Standing up, I did something I’d never done with another man before—not even my late father. I held him in my arms and let him cry on my shoulders. He had become like a brother to me too.
“Hang in there, man,” I said softly. He nodded against me, tears staining my white tee.
“Before you head out, stop off and see the babies. They’re beautiful. It’ll cheer you up.”
“Do you think they can call me Uncle Kev?” he sniffled, gazing up at me with his soaked, long-lashed hazel eyes. Kevin was going to be Paulette and Payton’s godfather.
For the first time in hours, I smiled and a little laugh gathered in the base of my throat. “Yeah. That would be good. And they can call Ray their uncle too.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” A small smile curled on his lips too.
He broke away, hugging me one more time before he left.
“Hang in there. And call me with any news. Promise?”
I nodded. “Promise.”
CHAPTER 12
Kevin
Gloria didn’t know it, but I was a fucking crybaby. I loved her more than life itself. We were connected. Almost one. If something happened to her, something happened to me. If she died, I died. That’s the way we were.
Seeing her hooked up to all those tubes and monitors, teetering between life and death, had gutted me. Inside I was falling apart. I knew what her husband Jaime was going through. Glorious and I had been together through thick and thin forever and now forever vacillated in thin air.
Cedar’s Neonatal Intensive Care Unit was on the fourth floor of the Saperstein Tower. I stepped into the elevator with a petite older couple who were holding hands. They looked Latino. Distress was etched on their faces and the swarthy woman’s dark eyes were as bloodshot as mine. She’d obviously been crying. Perhaps, they’d lost a loved one. But when they pushed the button of the neonatal care floor, I knew they were headed to the same destination as me. And then the woman burst into a round of tears and cried out, “Dios mío!” Her husband comforted her and then turned to me.
“Señor, forgive my wife. Por favor. We may lose our first grandchild. He was born with a heart defect.” Though his saddened voice was accented, he spoke perfect English.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied, my voice shaky. The elevator arrived at our designated floor, saving me from having to say more. Truthfully, I didn’t know what to say. The doors part
ed, and I let the despondent couple exit first. I followed behind them.
The NICU was a state-of-the art facility with forty-five portable beds in four areas, providing varying levels of care depending if the infant was critically ill, premature, or just under close observation. While the couple was shown to one area, I was escorted to another where newborns were under close observation.
“I’m Payton and Paulette Zander’s godfather,” I told the jovial black nurse whose name was Kashunna.
A wide smile flashed on her face. “Sugar, let me tell you they’re the most beautiful babies I’ve ever seen. And trust me, I’ve seen many.”
My spirits brightened as she led me to the observation window. “Are they doing okay?” Anxiousness crept into my voice.
“They’re doing amazing. And they’re such a good size, too, given they were born a month early. Both a little over four pounds.”
Four pounds? Ray’s sister’s baby was born at seven and he was so tiny.
“Here we are,” said the nurse as we approached the window.
I put my face against the glass and my spirits sunk again. About a dozen tiny babies in their little portable beds were hooked up to IVs and monitors just like Gloria.
“But I thought you said they were okay. Why do they have so many gizmos attached to them?”
“It’s normal. We’re just monitoring them.”
She sounded sincere, so I believed her. “Which ones are Payton and Paulette?”
“I’m going to show you.”
Wait a sec. What was she saying?
I watched as she slipped on a surgical mask and a pair of latex gloves. “Now, don’t you move. I’ll be right back.”
In a blink, she was inside the observation room, conferring with another nurse. Heading over to a counter, she opened a drawer and slipped a few things into the pocket of her pink smock. Her back was turned to me so I wasn’t sure what they were. She then pivoted and ambled back to the door. I cranked my head as she stepped outside the observation room.
“I’m baa-ack,” she crooned.
“I thought you were going to show me the Zander babies.”
She winked. “Now, don’t tell me you’ve never heard of the expression, patience has its virtues?”
I had, but patience was definitely not one of my virtues. And it had fucked me up more than once in my life. Acting impulsively had almost cost me my life—and Gloria’s.
Forcing the beginnings of dark thoughts to the back of my mind, I watched as Kashunna dipped her hand into a deep pocket and pulled out a mask and pair of gloves identical to hers. She handed them to me.
“Just put these on and follow me.”
I hastily donned the items.
Beneath her mask, I could see the outline of a wide smile. “Sugar, you look good in anything. Are you a model or something?”
Beneath my mask, I couldn’t help grinning. “No, I do PR for Gloria’s Secret.”
“Get out! I love that store!”
My grin widened. I promised I would send her a gift certificate.
“Have I told you how much I love you?” She laughed as I followed my new best friend through the door to the observation room.
My first instinct was to put my fingers in my ears. Or ask for earplugs. I wasn’t prepared for the deafening chorus of wailing babies. I’d never been inside a nursery before and had no experience with babies. Ray’s sister, Carrie, lived in Wisconsin. I’d yet to meet her and his six-month-old nephew, Conner. We’d only done FaceTime.
“Is it always like this in here?” I asked anxiously.
“Honey, this is nothing. Wait till they all get hungry.”
My eyes took in all the tiny screaming babies, their faces as red as tomatoes. I took hesitant steps, my nerves getting to me, and followed bouncy Kashunna down a long row of see-thru baby-sized portable beds. She stopped at the last two.
“Here they are, Uncle Kevin.”
My heart suddenly melted like a bar of chocolate in the heat. Gloria’s glorious babies! Paulette and Payton. Oh my fucking God. They were so teeny-weeny but so beyond adorable. And neither was wailing. Both in the tiniest of diapers, one was clad in a pink knit cap, the other in a powder blue one. My little fashion statements. Paulette’s platinum hair peeked out from her cap. With her full ruby lips and wide-set eyes, she was the spitting image of Gloria, and Payton already looked a lot like Jaime. Awed, I waved at them. “Hi, cutie pies. I’m Uncle Kev, your godfather,” I said aloud and I swear they heard me. Yawning, their eyes made contact with mine. They had bonded with me.
“Would you like to hold one?” asked Kashunna.
“Seriously?”
Randomly, she lifted Paulette out of her crib, holding her in her palms and then transferred her to me. Nerves wracked my body. I’d never held a baby before, let alone one as itsy bitsy as this.
“Just make sure you hold her head up and you both should be fine.”
“Like this?” I asked imploringly, cradling the infant and following her instructions.
“Perfect. How do you feel?”
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” My racing heart swelled with joy as my confidence soared. I couldn’t stop looking at Paulette. Her blue eyes stayed on mine. My precious godchild. And then just as fast as joy had filled me, a wave of sadness swept over me.
I felt my eyes welling with tears once more. Fuck. It wasn’t fair. My Glorious deserved to be a mother. She’d found true love with Jaime, but she’d suffered so much in her life. My mind scrolled back to our childhood together in a little redneck town in upstate New York. Me a skinny little boy who liked to play Barbies with pigtailed Gloria, when my macho bigoted father, the town sheriff, wasn’t looking and when her crack whore mother wasn’t abusing her or dragging her around to meet men. We were the town outcasts. The bullies at school picked on me—calling me a faggot and physically took advantage of my small size while they tried to pull poor Gloria’s panties down, thinking she was just like her slutty mother, who’d likely fucked everyone of their fathers. I hated them all. So did Gloria. We didn’t belong there, and we had dreams. So, at the age of sixteen, I stole one of my father’s guns and robbed the dickwad of a few thousand dollars, and together we ran away. Ending up in Brooklyn where we found a new life. We shared a small flat in Brighton Beach together and struggled. Our dreams grew bigger. And when Gloria wanted to buy the lingerie store from her beloved employer and mentor, Madame Paulette, I had an idea: rob the safe of the nefarious, gay-bashing nightclub impresario I worked for—Boris Borofsky.
An unexpected wail from Paulette cut into my thoughts. And a sudden chill fell upon me. Another memory was triggered. That of Gloria, crying out in pain after she’d been shot by the pink-eyed monster who’d caught us stealing from him. Nobody steals from Boris Borofsky! His thick, accented, threatening voice thundered in my head. The motherfucker! He’d hurt my Gloria! With vengeance, I shot the bitch in the face with my father’s gun, and then I caught my beautiful accomplice in my arms as she crumpled to the ground. A sharp pang of guilt zapped me. Oh my, Glorious! This was all my fault! I should have never made her rob Boris! And now God was again paying me back. Taking her away from me! Taking her away from her beloved Jaime and from her beautiful babies! A deep shudder ran through me as a tear leaked out one eye. A tsunami was verging.
Nurse Kashunna’s hearty voice cut into my despair. “Sugar, you okay?”
Fuck no. “G-gotta go.” My voice thin and watery, I made up an excuse and thanked her for letting me visit the babies.
“You sure you don’t want to feed her?”
As Paulette’s wails grew louder, my anguish consumed me.
“Positive,” I murmured, fighting back tears.
“You have yourself a nice day,” Kashunna said cheerfully as she gently set beautiful Paulette back in her little crib.
That wasn’t happening even with the fun after-party ahead. With an aching heart, I glanced down one more time at Gloria’s tiny miracles. I would always be there for them
. Forever. But right now, I had to do something else. With tears streaming down my face and a chorus of wails piercing my heart, I hurried out of the nursery.
The hospital Chapel was located on the Plaza level between the North and South Towers. A lapsed Catholic, I hadn’t set foot in a church for years. But now, I had the burning urge to be seen and to be heard.
While the hospital had a Jewish affiliation, the airy Chapel was non-denominational and was opened to people of all faiths and from all walks of life. I was not alone. Several grieving people sat in the pews, including the Latino couple, whom I’d met earlier on the elevator. Both were on their knees and had their hands folded in prayer. The woman was still weeping. While I could sit just about anywhere, I chose to sit next to them. I got down on my knees and silently began to pray.
For Gloria. For Jaime. For their babies. Please, God, make Gloria live and be there for her family. Please!
And I asked for God’s forgiveness.
And then I prayed hard for the couple next to me and their grandchild.
The day had been unusually dismal for LA. Gray and overcast.
Suddenly, a ray of sunshine beamed through the stained-glass window.
And a ray of optimism streamed through my being.
God had heard me.
Now, I just had to wait.
CHAPTER 13
Jaime
Day turned into night. I stayed with Gloria, never leaving her side. Oh my sweet angel. So pale. So lifeless. Yet so beautiful. I was relieved our precious babies were in excellent health—each miraculously weighing a little over four pounds—and in one of the best neonatal intensive care units in the world—being monitored by wonderful nurses and doctors. I longed to be with them, but I couldn’t leave Gloria. Not even for a minute. So, I settled for the next best thing. Babytime. An innovative marriage of healthcare and technology that Cedars had pioneered. With an iPad, I could see our babies—talk to them and interact with the nurses on duty, even ask them questions. And that’s just what I did before I called it a night.
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