by Lissa Del
“I can’t believe you two are fighting over a guy you don’t even know,” I snap, holding out my glass. Leo pours liberally, his eyes a gentle warning that my distress isn’t going to help the situation.
“I do know him,” Jess admits. “We’ve met up a few times.”
“When?” I rack my brain trying to recall if she’s mentioned meeting a man in the past month but nothing comes to mind. I can only assume that her recently mentioned visits to the pub had a hidden agenda.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jess seems to pull herself together and shakes out her arms. “I’m going to the bathroom and then we’re playing. Leo, I would love a glass, thank you.” She manages a small smile.
The second she’s out of earshot I round on Tom.
“What the hell was that about?”
Tom looks pained. “Jackson’s not a good guy, Sarah. I’ve heard bad things around town. Admittedly, I don’t have any proof, but I’ve met him once or twice and I get that vibe, you know? Also, I’m telling you now, the man is gay. I’ve tried to talk to Jess about it but she keeps shooting me down and now she’ll barely speak to me.”
“Jess is too smart to fall for an idiot,” I say, mostly to myself, but I know this isn’t exactly true. Jess is no fool, but she’s a magnet for trouble. If someone asked me to identify the serial killer in a room full of people, I’d send Jess in and pick the one she latched onto first. “Just because Jess likes bad boys doesn’t mean this Jackson person is all bad,” I add unconvincingly.
“Right,” Tom rolls his eyes. “Look, all I know is that there are rumours doing the rounds that he’s into drugs and all sorts of shady business.”
“Drugs?” I shake my head, “Jess would never do drugs.”
“Jess wouldn’t do a lot of things - like ignoring our calls and going out without us, and yet that’s exactly what she’s been doing!”
I open my mouth to protest again but I can’t bring myself to do it. Jess has been acting strange, to deny it would be pointless. Leo is watching me with a guarded expression.
“What do you think?” I whisper, hearing the sound of running water from the bathroom.
“I think we should keep an eye on her,” Leo replies levelly. “If we don’t look out for her, who will?”
“Let’s just keep her calm for now, okay?” I ask Tom. “It’s not worth fighting over. If she’s heading for trouble the last thing we want to do is alienate her.”
“It might be a bit late for that,” Tom points out, but he reluctantly agrees and, by the time Jess returns, the atmosphere has lightened considerably. We manage to get through three rounds of Charades without incident, but I notice that Leo is watching Jess very closely, a small frown pulling between his eyes.
As the red wine warms my chest, I find myself relaxing. Tom is making a concerted effort to be nice to Jess and she is, if not entirely responsive, at least not casting him filthy looks. Progress, I think. Everything will be fine - we’ll work this out. We’ve argued before and it never lasts.
“Let’s go out,” Jess announces suddenly after the final game. Tom and Leo beat us three out of three games, but Jess’s heart wasn’t in it. She’s distracted and fidgety, barely paying attention. She’s also drinking far more than the rest of us, if her frequent trips to the bathroom are anything to go by.
“What exactly do you think she’s doing in there?” Tom hisses after the fourth trip. His eyes are dark with worry, but there’s also an angry set to his jaw.
“She wouldn’t be doing drugs in my bathroom!” I reply, praying that the words are true.
“Well, unless she’s suddenly developed a weak bladder, something’s going on.”
“I think Tom might be right,” Leo says gently, mindful of my rising fear. “She’s not herself.”
“She’s not going anywhere without us,” I reply determinedly.
We’ve all been drinking so we catch a cab downtown. Jess practically falls onto the sidewalk, Tom’s lightning reflexes the only thing keeping her steady. She shrugs off his helping hand and struts inside with barely a backward glance.
The music inside the club is loud and pounds painfully inside my skull. I haven’t had enough to drink to really enjoy this and I’m worried about Jess. I wonder if being with Leo is changing me, feeling slightly guilty that I’m not having as much fun as I normally would, and that I didn’t notice Jess’s erratic behaviour earlier, but I quickly push the thought aside. I’m tired and antisocial because my thesis is sapping every waking hour of my day, and, if anything, Leo helping at home makes my life a whole lot easier. God knows what I’d do without him.
“Oh hell,” Tom mutters behind me and I turn to him questioningly. “That’s him.” He points at the bar but I already know who he’s talking about because Jess has rushed over to throw her arms around the stocky, raven-haired man lounging arrogantly against it.
“Jackson, I presume?” I ask and Tom nods. Even from here I can see the double, studded earrings in his ears and the ink trailing below the tight sleeve of his T-shirt. “Let’s just keep an eye on her,” I mutter, heading for the opposite end of the bar. We watch for a while, sipping our drinks slowly. Jess doesn’t even acknowledge us and she’s openly making out with Jackson now.
“This makes me really uncomfortable,” Tom says after about half an hour of watching.
“Agreed,” I say.
“It doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere in a hurry,” Leo points out, and then, getting off the bar stool, he takes my hand. “Dance with me?”
Twenty minutes later, sweaty and breathless, we leave the dance floor. Tom joined us for a while but he’s disappeared and Jess is still draped over Jackson at the bar. She’s chugging back a Red Bull and her eyes are unfocused. I wave, finally getting her attention and beckon her over.
“Hey!” she shrieks, descending upon us maniacally. “Where have you guys been?”
“Dancing,” I say, keeping my voice light, “I have a real knack for it. Where’s Tom?”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” she slurs, waving the tin around and sloshing Red Bull over her hand. She doesn’t offer to introduce us to Jackson and I don’t know if I’m relieved or infuriated.
“Hey,” I grab her arm as she stumbles into a couple at the edge of the dancefloor. “Maybe we should get you home, Jess.” I’ve never seen her like this – so drunk and out of control. I notice Jackson watching, a Cheshire cat’s grin on his face and when he sees me looking, he winks. It makes me feel dirty. What on earth does Jess see in this guy?
“Home?” Jess laughs, the sound thick and unnatural. “I’m not going home!” To my horror, her eyes roll up in her head momentarily and she stumbles again. I don’t understand how she deteriorated so quickly and I have the sickening feeling that maybe Tom is right about the drugs. I look around trying to find him, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
“Yes, Jess,” Leo interrupts, his brow furrowed, “you are.” He seizes her by the wrist, none too gently, and starts making his way toward the exit. I almost expect Jackson to intervene, but he watches us go, unperturbed, and I feel the fury rise in my chest. He doesn’t give a shit about Jess. Turning back I see that I’ve lost them in the crowd and I struggle to keep up, pushing through the crush of bodies.
I can’t see Jess’s face but, from the back, it looks as though she’s going along with Leo willingly. Then the crowd parts briefly and I notice that her feet are dragging behind her. Leo must be supporting most of her body weight. I move faster, shoving people aside in my haste to catch up.
The fresh air assaults me the second I step outside and I gulp in a few deep breaths. It’s colder than I remember and my breath billows in plumes of white smoke. I cast a frantic look around and spot Leo a few yards away engaged in a tussle with Jess, who is obviously protesting their sudden exit. Thankfully the icy air seems to have sobered her up, enough for her bolshiness to have returned in force, anyway. I swallow a sigh of relief and hasten over. As I reach them Leo is trying to draw her furt
her away from the exit, away from the prying eyes of the crowds who have come outside for a smoke.
“I’m fine,” Jess insists, yanking her arm back. So typically Jess. Even drunk she insists on her independence, although I can’t help wondering whether, if Mr Vodka-Red-Bull were around she would refuse his help. I am about to ask when her eyes glaze over, and, with the faintest, most terrifying sigh, her legs collapse beneath her. She slumps for just a second in a kneeling position, before her eyes roll back and she hits the ground.
“Jess!” I rush forward. Her eyes are closed. I’ve never seen Jess pass out, from drinking or anything else. “How did she get like this so fast? We left her alone for like twenty minutes!”
Leo kneels at Jess’s side, his eyes relaying a deeper emotion than my own concerned amusement.
“Would drugs make her pass out?” I ask. My limited knowledge doesn’t include frequent known side-effects
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Leo murmurs. He feels gently for Jess’s pulse and my heart-rate spikes.
“Why are you doing that?” I ask, a feeling of dread coming over me. Leo doesn’t answer, completely focused and I snatch up Jess’s other hand. It’s cold and clammy. “What’s going on?” I demand, but Leo holds up a hand, silencing me immediately. He lowers his head to Jess’s chest and listens for a long drawn-out minute.
“What’s wrong with her?” I repeat.
“Phone 911, Sarah,” Leo announces suddenly, without a trace of humour. “We need an ambulance here, now.”
CHAPTER 22
The ten minutes we spend waiting for the ambulance to arrive are the longest ten minutes of my life. Leo doesn’t speak to me once, all of his attention on Jessica. Every few minutes he feels for her pulse, watching his wristwatch as he does so. I don’t ask him what’s wrong with her. She’s pale and still unconscious, and, despite my craving for information, I am too frightened to ask again.
The sound of the sirens is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard and I watch with relief as the flashing lights draw nearer.
“Sarah!” Leo’s voice interrupts my daze. “Flag them down!” He is so calm under pressure and, grateful for something to do, I step onto the street, into the path of the ambulance, waving both hands in the air. It pulls up onto the curb drawing the attention of the nearby crowd of people. Curious, they shuffle forward, craning their necks to see what is going on, but I don’t pay any attention as two paramedics leap onto the tarmac beside me and immediately move toward where Jess is lying. Both are dark-haired and of average height, but one is wearing glasses, making him distinguishable from the other. He meets Leo’s eye and falters for a second, but recovers quickly.
“Leo.” I hear his single-word greeting and watch in confusion as he inclines his head toward Leo before dropping to his knees beside Jess.
Leo doesn’t respond. Instead, he says, in a voice I have never heard before, “She’s been drinking all night, including a lot of Red Bull and she may have taken drugs.” I cringe at his bluntness but I don’t contradict the statement. The truth is he’s probably right and now is not the time to worry about Jess’s reputation. A titter runs through the gathered crowd and I fight the urge to scream at them. This tragedy isn’t gossip and the fact that they find it entertaining makes me sick to the stomach.
“Her pulse is fast and I listened to her chest,” Leo continues, throwing out facts with complete calm. “Her heart-rate is definitely out of rhythm. I can’t be certain,” his eyes flicker briefly toward me, “but I think it may be an atrial fibrillation.”
The entire time he is speaking, the paramedic is assessing Jess, following the same pattern Leo did. At the words “atrial fibrillation” he lifts his head from her chest abruptly and gestures for his crewmate to assist. Between them they lift Jess off the ground and carry her over to the waiting ambulance. Leo follows behind.
“Drip,” the first paramedic instructs and the second starts prepping without question.
“Matt,” Leo breaks his silence. “While he’s prepping the electrolytes, run an ECG, will you? Just to be sure.”
I stand, frozen, as the man named Matt nods, reaching for leads and stickers. The doors slam as they cut open Jess’s tank top and, with a whirr of the sirens, the ambulance pulls away.
Leo doesn’t hesitate. He grabs my hand and hauls me down the street, flagging down the first cab we see. He barks my address at the driver, tells him it’s an emergency and hands over a twenty for good measure. Catching sight of my panic-stricken face he takes hold of my hand again and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t panic,” his voice is level and soothing, “she’s going to be okay.” The words are clichéd and contrived – something you say to make someone feel better, whether or not you believe them yourself.
“What is it? What’s wrong with her?” I try to recall the exact words he used but my mind draws a blank.
“I can’t be sure, Sarah. We’ll know soon enough.” He fixes his eyes on the road ahead, seemingly unable to look at me.
“You seem to know a lot more than you should.” I can’t help myself and the words are cold and accusing.
Leo shakes his head, opens his mouth as if to explain and then shuts it again. Choosing the lesser of two evils he returns to discussing Jessica’s condition.
“It’s hard to explain, but basically it’s an electrolyte problem. The booze and drugs in Jess’s system may have created a short circuit in the electrical pathway of her heart. It may not be pumping properly.”
“Is she going to die?” I find that my mouth forms the words even though I cannot accept them.
“Her blood pressure is low and her heart-rate’s skyrocketed, but she should pull through. We caught it quickly and she’s getting the best treatment.”
Even through my panic, the word ‘we’ jolts me. I don’t think he intended to say it – to lump himself in with the emergency services – but he did and the words were natural, almost habitual.
“You knew,” I mutter, roused from my stunned silence. “You knew what it was. You knew she needed to get to the hospital. How… how could you possibly have known that?” Had Leo been a paramedic before? And if so, why wouldn’t he tell me?
“I think we should discuss this later, Sarah. Once we know how Jess is doing.”
“No,” I shake my head at him. “No! We discuss it right now. Atrial fibrillation,” I pull the term triumphantly from my memory, “that’s not exactly something you learn in your average high school biology syllabus. How did you know, Leo?”
“I…” he curses, the word filling the space of the moving cab and raising the tension even higher. The cabbie casts me a concerned look in his rear-view mirror. “Not now, Sarah,” Leo repeats, as the driver swings the wheel and makes a tight left turn. I slide across the seat toward Leo, but the second we’re on straight road again, I shift away from him.
“We’re almost there,” Leo speaks again and I recognise the familiar views of my neighbourhood. I sit in stunned silence, my brain trying to process this new information and what it could mean.
I leap from the cab as soon as it stops, reaching the Porsche seconds before Leo, who stops to pay the fare.
“Keep the change,” I hear him say, and then he is there, unlocking the car and we both tumble inside. We don’t speak a word as Leo navigates the roads at alarming speed.
It’s a merciful relief when we finally pull into the hospital parking-lot. Leo screeches the Porsche to a halt in one of the parking spaces reserved for emergencies and medical professionals. At this moment I don’t give a damn that another patient could be affected by our discourtesy, I only care about Jess. I scramble out of the car, leaving my purse on the seat, but Leo still reaches the automatic glass doors before me. He gestures me through first though, ever the gentleman, even in a crisis, and I fight the urge to laugh. Or punch him in the face.
The reception table is a broad half-moon manned by two identical, immaculate dolls with all the poise and grace under fire that one would exp
ect of hospital staff; the same courteous detachment displayed by the paramedics earlier and by Leo when he spoke to them.
“Jessica Atkins,” I manage, looking between the two interchangeable women. “She was brought in just a few minutes ago?” The brunette on my left gives me a patient smile and taps a clean fingernail to her screen. The brunette on the right, however, has spotted Leo and her words, when they come, fill my ears with a statement that brings my world crumbling around me.
“It’s nice to see you again, Doctor Russell.”
“Julie,” Leo nods, his voice clipped. To my credit, I don’t react. I don’t take my eyes off the woman on the left who is now squinting at her screen with zero-urgency. “We don’t have time for this,” Leo insists. Brunette number two flushes under his scrutiny, her fingers taking flight across the screen as she tries to find information on Jess. “They’ll have her in the ER,” Leo says, finally dragging his eyes to mine. “You wait here, I’ll go and see what’s happening.”
Somehow, my feet drag me to the uncomfortable sofas in the reception lounge. The inquisitive stares of the women follow my progress, but from here I can only see their eyes over the high counter of the reception table. I get the sense that below my line of vision their lips are moving – talking about me, talking about Leo. My gut churns with fear for Jess. If Leo’s expression back at the club was anything to go by this is serious. If only I had been with her, if I hadn’t left her alone. Usually, though, Tom was Jess’s wingman. Oh God! Tom! I should let him know what’s going on but I’ve left my purse back in the car with my phone tucked safely inside it and Leo has disappeared with the keys.
Doctor Russell. She called him Doctor Russell. There’s no way I imagined that and no way she was mistaken. Leo knew her, he called her by name – Julie. He knew Matt, the paramedic, too. The memory of Hannah, Dylan’s posh girlfriend, flashes through my mind. “Have we met before?” she had asked. Leo had denied it, but I remember his discomfort under her scrutiny. Hannah sells medical equipment – her clientele would include doctors.
