by Paris Rose
“Christoff, I love you so much,” I whispered. “Please, wake up. I promise to never make you drive across town to get me dessert again. Please wake up. I won’t even ask you to come to Chicago to visit me anymore. I’ll move to Germany with you like I should have a long time ago. Just please talk to me baby, please!” I begged.
I heard sirens, but they still sounded like they were in the distance. We needed help now. If Christoff didn’t get to the hospital, he could die right here in my arms. I felt a surge of adrenalin.
“I’ll do anything. I promise! Just wake up for me,” I cried as I stroked his face.
I used every ounce of strength I had to climb into the back seat and pry open the back passenger door. My body was shaking, and I was covered in glass and blood. I crawled out of the back door on my hands and knees. I couldn’t stand.
“Help! Help!” I cried out. “My boyfriend needs an ambulance. He’s dying.”
Paramedics rushed toward the car. Two headed toward Christoff, and two ran toward me. A man and a woman paramedic slowly scooped me up and put me on the stretcher centimeter by centimeter. The female paramedic pulled my dress down from around my waist and covered my legs with a sheet.
“Christoff needs help,” I whimpered. “I think he’s dying.”
“We have a team working to get him out of the car,” she said. “Don’t worry, we will take care of him. Just calm down a bit. We have to check your vitals. And stay still. We don’t know the extent of your injuries, so you need to be as still as possible.” The female paramedic tried to sooth me, but I was frantic.
“I need to ride in the same ambulance with him!” I tried to sit up, but my body wouldn’t let me.
“I don’t think we can do that, Honey. It may take them a little while to get him out of there.”
“Please, I need to see him!” I wailed.
“I’ll see if we can get you two to the same hospital. I think they are going to airlift him. We will take you in the ambulance. What’s your relationship to him?”
“He’s my boyfriend.”
“That looked like Christoff Hartmann from Aus Deutschland. You’re his girlfriend?” the male paramedic asked incredulously.
“Yes, that’s Christoff Hartmann, and, yes, I’m his girlfriend,” I retorted indignantly. My heart sank as I realized I wasn’t really his girlfriend but only hoping I was. Unfortunately, I hadn’t gotten the opportunity to ask him before we’d gotten into a car crash that may have ended his life. I began to cry as I realized that I may never speak to him again.
“Why are you belittling me?! I thought celebrities were supposed to get better treatment!”
“Ma’am, you’re not a celebrity. Christoff is. Now relax and let me check your vitals,” the male paramedic said sardonically.
“No! I don’t want you touching me, you asshole!” I jerked away from him. The pain that shot through my body made we wince. “Get away from me!” I started to get belligerent.
“Randy, why don’t you go over and help the other team, and let me take care of her,” the female paramedic said. “What’s your name, Sweetie?”
“Giavanna Johnson.”
“All right, Giavanna. I’m Olivia, and I’m going to take care of you until we get to the hospital. We have an amazing team taking care of Christoff. Don’t worry, Hon. Everything is going to be okay.”
Olivia’s tone was soothing, and I was happy that she made Randy go away. I couldn’t stop crying, but, for the most part, I relaxed and did as I was told while Olivia took my vitals. She said everything looked good, but they needed to take me to the hospital for a CAT scan to make sure I didn’t have a brain injury since I had lost consciousness. She said she was pretty certain I had whiplash, and she gave me a neck brace. She put me on an IV with painkillers. She said the police wanted to talk to me before we left for the hospital, while my memory was still fresh. I closed my eyes as I lay there and waited for the police to come to the ambulance.
“Genevieve?” a male voice said. “Genevieve?” I flinched when I felt a sweaty palm touch my shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw a short, overweight police officer with salt and pepper hair and a mustache sitting next to my stretcher. He sat with his legs spread open, and his beer belly hung between his thighs, as if he were pregnant.
“Genevieve, what’s your last name?”
“It’s Giavanna, not Genevive,” I croaked. The painkillers made me groggy, and I had lost my voice from crying so much. “Where’s Christoff?”
“I can’t tell you that. That’s confidential information.”
“What?! Tell me where Christoff is!” I tried to scream, but my voice came out a hoarse whisper.
“You can sort that out with the paramedics. I’m just here to take a police report. Now tell me what happened.”
I lay there in silence. I couldn’t really remember what had happened.
“Umm, there was a car accident. We were driving down Dearborn, and an SUV slammed into us head on.”
“Hmmm. Okay. Do you remember anything else?”
“No, not really.”
“Whoever was driving must have really cared about you,” the officer muttered under his breath.
“Why would you say that?” I asked quietly.
“Because of the way you were hit. From my other reports, it looked like the SUV was coming at you head-on, but the driver of your vehicle swerved so that the SUV hit the driver’s side and not the passenger’s side. The passenger’s side barely took any impact. In most accidents, it’s the other way around. Most drivers instinctively swerve the opposite direction so that the passenger side takes the impact, and they take less of a blow. I’ve been a cop for twenty-five years and have seen hundreds of accidents. I can say that whoever was driving your vehicle had damn good reflexes and, with only a split second to decide, he chose to take the brunt of the impact and leave the passenger side basically unharmed.”
My eyes welled with tears as I absorbed what the officer was telling me. If his assessment of the accident was correct, that meant Christoff had been willing to sacrifice his life to protect me. I had never had a man look after me like that before. I couldn’t believe that, with only a few seconds to decide, he’d chosen to save me. After all that we had been through, I didn’t think that I could possibly love him anymore, but in that moment, my feelings for him reached a new depth. I wiped the tears from my eyes.
“Is he going to be alright?” I whimpered.
“I don’t know, Genessa. Things aren’t looking too good. Your guess is as good as mine.”
My stomach sank. I wondered where Olivia was. She was the only comforting person there. This cop didn’t seem to have any compassion. And he couldn’t even remember my name.
The officer cleared his throat. “Okay. So you two were traveling down Dearborn? Approximately how fast were you two going?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t looking at the speedometer,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Do you know approximately how fast the other vehicle was traveling?”
“No, if I don’t know how fast we were going, how would I know how fast the other car was going?” I snapped.
“Just routine questions, ma’am. I have to ask them. Were you two arguing before the accident?”
“No.”
“Was there anything distracting the driver?”
I hesitated as I remembered that Christoff and I had been fooling around right before the crash.
“Not that I could recall.” I cleared my throat.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” The officer played with his mustache.
I felt all of the blood rush to my face.
“No, officer. I don’t really remember what happened. I’m exhausted. I want to go to sleep,” I sighed.
“No, I have to keep you up. You’re not allowed to go to sleep because you may have a concussion.”
“I’m really drowsy.”
“Okay, I’ll get the paramedics, and they can take you to the hospital.
”
I started crying again, even though I didn’t feel it coming on. I was exhausted, and I just wanted to be in Christoff’s arms. I heard someone climb into the ambulance, but I couldn’t raise my head to see who it was. “Olivia?” I called out through my tears.
“No, it’s June with The National Enquirer. I just want to ask you a few questions. Was that Christoff Hartmann that was in the car crash with you?”
“No comment.”
“Where were you guys headed?
“No comment.”
“What’s your relation to Christoff? Are you an escort he had an arrangement with for the evening?”
“What!?! Are you fucking kidding me, lady?” I spat.
“One of the paramedics told me that Christoff’s pants were open, and there was semen present. How much did he pay you?”
I secretly wondered if she was accusing me of being a hooker just because I was Black or if her presumptuous rudeness was color blind. I used the little bit of strength I had left to reach up and give June the middle finger. I immediately regretted it. Two bright flashes of light forced me to shield my eyes as she took pictures of me with dried blood all over my face and my hair standing on end. I pulled the sheet over my face as she continued snapping photographs. All of a sudden, June screamed. Then I heard Olivia’s voice.
“No press behind police lines! Who let her get through here!?” Olivia bellowed from just outside the door. “Ma’am, you’re going to be arrested if you don’t leave immediately.” Olivia grabbed June and practically tossed her out of the ambulance. “Thank you,” I mumbled from beneath the sheet. I was in so much pain it was hard to speak.
“Giavanna, it’s going to be okay. I’m sorry about all the chaos. We’ll get you to the hospital now.” Olivia squeezed my hand as I heard the ambulance doors close and the sirens wail. My lip quivered as I wondered if I’d ever see Christoff again.
Chapter 2
It was 3 a.m., and I hadn’t been home yet. At the hospital, they bandaged my cuts and gave me a neck brace and prescription painkillers for my whiplash. They said I should feel better within a week or so. Olivia was able to tell me what hospital Christoff was taken to, and I took a cab there as soon as I was released.
At first, he was in ICU, so I hadn’t been able to see him, but the nurses showed me to a private visitors’ lounge outside of his room. They blocked off the entire floor for Christoff, so it was eerily silent. I was getting jittery from the stale coffee I had been nursing all night and from not knowing what was going on with Christoff. I would have given anything just to hold his hand. I would never forgive myself if he didn’t recover. I felt like I was partially to blame for the accident even though the police cited that the other driver was at fault because he failed the breathalyzer. Even if the other driver was drunk, if Christoff had stayed in Germany instead of visiting me, the accident would have never happened. I sighed as I tried to adjust my weight so that I wasn’t in so much pain. The seats in the visitors’ lounge were extremely uncomfortable, and I was hesitant to take the painkillers the doctor prescribed because I wanted to be lucid when I was finally able to speak to Christoff. The air conditioner was giving me goosebumps. I still had on my strapless lace dress. I wished I had stopped back at my apartment to grab a hoodie on my way, but I was too anxious to see Christoff.
The sound of footsteps and voices in the distance distracted me from my thoughts. I was hoping it was one of the doctors with an update. I slowly lifted myself from my seat and walked to the doorway. When I glanced down the hall, I saw Johannes “The Hans” Hoffman and Jasmine, his wife, coming toward the lounge. Johannes was the drummer for Aus Deutschland. He was tall with a slender swimmer’s build, bright green eyes, and dark wavy hair that framed his face. He was a very talented musician, and, in interviews, he was the most personable one in the band. Christoff didn’t like to talk to the press at all, and the other guys were usually aloof or antagonistic during interviews—all of them except Johannes and the guitarist, Axel Dietrich. The difference was that, though Axel was gregarious, he was usually obnoxiously egotistical, whereas Johannes always came across as warm and genuine. His love for his bandmates and for his family always came through in every interview. Johannes was the only member of the band who was married. His wife Jasmine was an adorable, petite, Black woman with cinnamon skin, big brown eyes, and long dark curly hair. She was the costume designer for the band, but she wasn’t in the public eye much. I recognized her from awards show photographs. She designed her own gowns, which always looked especially stunning on her petite frame. Both Johannes and Jasmine looked shocked to see me.
“Hi, I’m Giavanna.” I extended my hand. Johannes took it.
“I’m Johannes, and this is my wife Jasmine,” Johannes said hesitantly. Jasmine extended her hand, and I took it. She sandwiched my hand between both of hers and rubbed them together. Her touch was warm.
“You’re so cold, Hon,” she said sympathetically.
“Yeah, it’s the air conditioner.” I pointed to the ceiling.
Johannes said something to Jasmine in German that I didn’t understand. She shrugged, and they continued talking back and forth in their native tongue for a good five minutes. I knew a little bit of German, but they were speaking so fast, and they had such heavy accents that I couldn’t make out much of what they were saying. Finally, Jasmine looked over at me.
“How is Christoff? Can we see him?” she asked.
“No, I don’t think so. The last time they spoke with me, they had just moved him out of ICU, and they won’t let him have any visitors. I’ve been here since 2 o’clock and I haven’t been able to see him.”
Johannes looked at his watch.
“God, it’s almost 4 a.m. here,” he gasped.
“Did you fly in from Germany?”
“No. We live in L.A. We flew out as soon as we got the news around 9 p.m. our time,” Johannes explained. “We actually found out what happened before Christoff arrived at the hospital. The media was already all over it. Our manager called us and the rest of the band. Everyone else is on their way. Fleisch and Adelmo won’t make it until early tomorrow… or later today I should say… because they are coming from overseas. Axel should be here soon. He left from Vegas soon after we took off from L.A.”
Abel Fleischer, a.k.a. Fleisch, was the rhythm guitarist for the band, and Adelmo played bass. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to meet the entire band. I just really wished it was under better circumstances.
“I hope they let us see Christoff soon,” I sighed.
“Yeah, me too,” Jasmine said quietly. Johannes put his arm around her, and she returned his embrace. “God, I hope he’s all right.” It looked like she was starting to tear up.
“Christoff is strong, Honey. If anyone could make it through a car crash in one piece, it’s Christoff. Hell, Christoff could probably jump out of a plane with no parachute and land on his feet with no injuries,” Johannes soothed as he rubbed Jasmine’s shoulders.
“You’re right about that, Hans.” Jasmine chuckled as she leaned into his touch. “Christoff is as strong as a bull.” I noticed that she had dimples when she smiled. She and Johannes made a cute couple. “Why are we standing in the doorway? Let’s sit down,” Jasmine said matter-of-factly.
“Good idea.” Johannes nodded and led the way to the row of chairs that lined the wall facing the door. I sat in the row of chairs facing them with my back to the door.
“So how do you know Christoff?” Jasmine looked up at me. “I take it that you were in the accident, too, unless you are wearing the neck brace for fashion?” She smiled.
“No, I can’t wait until I can take this thing off. I got whiplash. But I can’t complain. I clearly didn’t get it as bad as Christoff. He and I were on our way to get dessert when a drunk driver hit us. He’s in town visiting me for the week. We’re kind of seeing each other, I guess.” I shifted my weight. I was so uncomfortable. I didn’t like talking about our relationship status because I had
no idea what was going on between us. Although it would have been accurate, I didn’t want to refer to him as an “ex,” and, despite what I’d told the paramedics, I knew I wasn’t his girlfriend, either. I didn’t think we were at the level where he would want me to meet his friends yet. He certainly hadn’t met mine.
“Ohhh! You’re Giavanna Johnson.” Johannes’s face lit up. “I just put two and two together. You’re the entertainment reporter he met last year, right?”
“Yeah,” I responded hesitantly. I felt awkward not knowing what Johannes knew about me. I wondered what Christoff had told him.
“Ohh, Gia…” Jasmine nodded slowly. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head.
I was trying to figure out how to respond when I heard heavy footsteps behind me. Johannes and Jasmine stood up. I tried to look behind me, but I couldn’t move my neck. I gasped as a sharp pain shot through my entire body. I stood up and turned around as Axel Dietrich, the lead guitarist of Aus Deutschland, stormed through the door. Standing at about 6'2", he was almost as tall as Christoff. Axel had broad shoulders, a defined chest, and a small waist. He had crystal blue eyes that were so light that he sometimes looked extra-terrestrial. Tonight, he was wearing dark eyeliner that accentuated them, and he had spiky jet-black hair, an eyebrow piercing, and an earring. Out of everyone in the band, it was clear that he used the most hair and beauty products. He was larger than life. I could feel his presence even though he wasn’t on stage and wasn’t performing. He was wearing a tight white V-neck shirt, black fitted jeans with a studded belt, and black combat boots. It looked like something Christoff would wear. In fact, I had seen Christoff wear that exact outfit before. I wondered if Axel and Christoff swapped clothes with each other the way I did with my girlfriends.
Axel hugged Johannes and kissed Jasmine on both cheeks before turning to me.
“Hi, I’m Axel, and you are?” He extended his hand. I noticed he was wearing black nail polish. His touch lingered as he shook my hand. I had to pull away first.
“I’m Giavanna Johnson. I’m a good friend of Christoff’s.” I cringed immediately after the words had left my lips. I didn’t want to be known as Christoff’s friend, but I guess that’s what I was until further notice.
