by Roxy Sloane
“It’s fine,” I said.
“No, no,” he insisted. “Let us take care of that.”
The nurse got me an ice pack and Dr. Williamson explained what was going on, chemically, in my mother’s brain. He went into it in some detail and I tried to focus on his words, but the memory of my mother’s frantic eyes kept distracting me. Finally, he summed everything up.
“Here’s the long story short, Ellie. The meds your mother was on are no longer effective. You’ve seen how her memory symptoms have worsened over the past six months. So the rest of the team and I determined that the addition of Aproxum could be beneficial, and right now we’re trying to find the right combination of her previous regimen and Aproxum.”
“Is there no other medication we can try?” I asked, staring into my paper cup of tea but unable to drink.
He sighed. “There is a third drug that could work, and it has a lower risk of side effects like those Emma Rose is currently experiencing—the panic episodes, the sleeplessness—but it’s very expensive and it hasn’t been on the market as long as Aproxum, so we decided on this course of action first.”
I was dizzy with information overload. The phrase “lower risk of side effects” was the only thing I could grab onto. “How expensive is this third drug?”
“Well,” he said clearing his throat, “it would take her meds into the $3,000 a month range.”
“Oh, good lord,” I said, my hopes falling.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “there’s a clinical trial coming up that looks promising; your mom might be a good candidate because of her stage of disease. We could look into that as an option.”
“Dr. Williamson,” I said, searching his eyes. “Would any of these medications affect her memory enough so that she might. . . ” I had to stop. He knew what I was going to ask. “Will she recognize me again?”
I wondered how many times he’d looked into the hopeful face of a daughter or son, husband or wife, and had to answer the same question.
“Ellie,” he said gently. “These treatments are intended to slow the worsening of symptoms, not reverse them. In rare cases there can be improvement of memory, but it’s not the norm. And even then, it would be very brief, not permanent.”
I stared at the floor and just listened. The deep sadness that had begun with my mom’s diagnosis more than a year before was settling into my bones. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to shake it off.
“It’s so hard,” I blurted out. “Not to exist in her world. To feel like everything we shared has been wiped away. And then she recognizes Penny.” My voice cracked, and I dug a tissue out of my pocket.
“Ellie, your mom sees us, repeatedly, every day. We’re part of her short-term memory. She’s constantly being reminded of who we are. We’ve become assumed into her reality. It’s not the same as the long-term memory decline.”
I nodded, wiping at my tears. The door opened and Violet entered the lounge.
“She’s resting now,” she told me. Then she smiled and left us alone again. I glanced at the clock on the wall, shocked to find it was already time to leave.
Dr. Williamson walked me out to the front door and gave me a warm handshake. “Take care of yourself, Ellie.”
“You too,” I replied. He turned to go. “Wait,” I said, stopping him. “I’d like to know more about the clinical trial. Can you look into that? Please.”
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll be in touch soon. Good night, Ellie.”
“Thank you for everything,” I said. And I exited into the night.
21
Friday morning I got to work extra early, anxious for the marketing meeting. I had so much to share about Phoebe’s second book, and after the rough night I’d had with my mother, I was more motivated than ever to throw myself into my latest project.
As I walked through the halls, I took a long, steadying breath. It was so peaceful. I love the office when it’s deserted. I feel such freedom in the empty halls.
In the ladies room, I ran into Louise. “JP’s out sick again today,” she said. “Have Carolyn take a few notes at the meeting, yes? I might have to jump out for a call from San Francisco. Thanks.” I smiled and said it was fine with me.
When Carolyn arrived, I asked her if she could sit in on the marketing meeting and take notes for Louise.
“No problem,” she said enthusiastically. “I’ve always wanted to see what goes on at those meetings.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I told her. “They’re usually pretty boring.”
Minutes before 11:00, just as I was placing Phoebe’s cover art into a presentation folder, my phone rang. Carolyn had already left for the conference room, so I picked up. It was Jackson.
“Hey! I’m stepping into a meeting,” I said. “Can I call you back in a couple of hours?”
“No,” he said. There was something desperate about his voice. “I need you now.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my stomach dropping.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, sounding more like himself. “I just need you. I can be quick.”
I purred at the thought, but this meeting was important for Phoebe’s book and I couldn’t afford to lose focus. “Jackson, Louise’ll have my head if I’m late again.”
“I don’t give a fuck about Louise.” His voice had an edge to it, and I wondered if he’d hit a wall in his writing and really did need my support in order to move forward. As his editor, I owed him that much. I sank into my chair and adjusted the phone against my ear.
“Sounds like you could stand to release some tension,” I joked. “Why not break out those cross country skis?”
“Do you want these pages, or not?” he taunted, ignoring my attempt at humor.
That got my attention. “Yes. Of course I do.”
“What are you willing to give me in exchange?” I could hear the smirk in his words. He knew he had me.
“What do you want?” I asked, low and throaty. I glanced at the clock. I could be five minutes late to the meeting. Carolyn would cover me. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”
“You know what I want, Ellie. It’s what I’ve wanted from the beginning. I want to fuck your ass.”
Heat crept into my cheeks and my pulse quickened. There was an element of danger in his voice that was new and it turned me on. I felt my nipples harden beneath my blouse. God, he knew how to get me wet. Every time.
“What about my mouth?” I said to him. “I thought you liked to come in my mouth?”
“Not today,” he said. “Today I’m gonna take Lions and Lambs and thrash your ass with it. I want raised welts. Then I want to separate those burning cheeks and bury my cock to the hilt and fuck you relentlessly. Tell me you want my cock in your ass.”
“I want your gorgeous cock in my tight ass,” I said, my voice ragged.
“You like it rough, don’t you?” He was breathing harder now, his voice more urgent.
“You know I do,” I said, spurring him on. “Fuck me, Jackson. Fuck me hard.”
“Oh, I am,” he said. “Because you deserve to be punished. And today is the day.”
Suddenly I heard a commotion outside my door. Carolyn burst into my office, hyperventilating, her face flushed red. “Ellie! Ellie, oh my God, drop the phone!”
I set the phone down and raced to her side. “Carolyn, are you okay? What happened? Just breathe.”
“Ellie,” she said between gasps. “Your phone call! It’s in the conference room! They can hear your call in the conference room, it’s on speaker! I ran as fast as I could, I took the stairs, but they heard it all—”
“Oh, God.” I sprinted back to the phone. “Jackson? Jackson?” The line was dead. Shit.
Then I ran, past Carolyn, practically flying through the hallway, the art on the walls seeming to warp as if I was in some acid nightmare. When I reached the conference room, through the glass walls I could see Louise seated at the head of the table, looking a little shell-shocked. Mitchell, Luke, and Je
nnifer were all standing, packing their things. I stood in the doorway, my heart pounding in my ears, with no idea what to do or say or—
Jennifer broke the silence. “You know, I really couldn’t figure out how you ended up with Ford,” she said. “You sure as hell didn’t earn it. But now it all makes perfect sense.” Then she looked at me with contempt. “And after all that. . . you’re just a punch line.”
“Just go, Carpenter,” said Louise. “And keep your mouth shut.”
“But—” Jennifer started.
“That is not how you speak to your colleagues.” Louise’s voice was steel.
Jennifer whined, “But you do—”
“I’m the editorial director,” Louise said. Jennifer cowered. “And you are leaving. Now.”
Jennifer glowered at Louise, staring daggers at her, but she was no match for Louise’s laser glare. Slamming her chair against the conference table, Jennifer strode past me, avoiding contact as if I were contaminated. Then Mitchell filed past, unable to look me in the eye. And finally Luke. He paused as if he was going to speak, then just shook his head and moved along.
When they were gone, Louise and I remained unmoving, as if we’d been buried in ash by Mt. Vesuvius.
It’s funny, but all I could think about were the logistics. “How did our call get rerouted here?” I asked.
“Ellie,” she said, her voice unnatural. “Jackson placed that call. He conferenced us.”
It didn’t make sense to me. Was she implying that Jackson had conferenced our call purposefully? There was no imaginable reason why he would have done such a thing. Maybe he had wanted to conference everyone afterwards, check in with a progress update, and screwed up the timing?
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Listen to me,” she said slowly. “Jackson called the conference room line first. Then he added you. He knew what he was doing.” I continued to stare at her, blankly. She got up. “Come with me,” she said, a grave look on her face.
I followed her to her office. I felt like my body had disappeared and I was a mere ghost floating in her wake. Then she said, “Wait here,” and placed a paper cup of water in my hand. I sat in the outer office while she went into hers, closing the door behind her. My career was fucked. My professional credibility gone. Had I lost my job? Was my life officially over now? And what about things with Jackson? I couldn’t process it all. Breathing was difficult. I took a sip of water.
Over the next half hour, fragments of Louise’s heated conversation with Jackson crashed through the walls into the room where I waited, still somewhat dazed. Finally, she opened her door. Relief washed over me because she seemed like herself again.
“Come on in, Ellie,” she said kindly.
I entered and sat down.
“Okay,” she said. “This was intentional, as I suspected.”
“What? Why?” I felt like I was losing my mind.
“I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but he is on the warpath. He wants you off the book. And he wants Jennifer Carpenter to edit his work going forward. Otherwise, he’s threatening to leave DR.”
I was so shocked, my mouth fell open. I hadn’t really heard anything after, “It was intentional.” What did she say about the book? About Jennifer Carpenter?
“What are you saying?” I asked her. “I don’t understand.”
“Listen, Ellie.” She got up and came around to my side of her desk. She pulled up a chair and sat opposite me. “I don’t know the details. I don’t know why he’s gone ballistic. I can guess, but the truth is, I don’t want to know. The bottom line is, he wants you removed as editor of his work, and he has asked that I assign the project to Jennifer Carpenter. There’s nothing I can do at this point; he threatened to go to Sebring.”
“He can’t do that. His contract. . . ”
“He can.” Louise shook her head pityingly. “Yes, our lawyers could tie up the book in court, maybe even get it back for us, but the legal battle would be very costly and very bad for publicity—it’d make Denton Rifkin look like publishing villains. And we both know he’d turn in an ugly manuscript to us in the end. Then he’d bring his next book to Sebring anyway. We’re fucked and I’m sorry but I have to do what he says.”
I stared at her in disbelief, my mind reeling. “I have to speak with him. This doesn’t make sense. I have to find out—”
Louise placed a gentle but firm hand on my arm. “He won’t talk to you, Ellie. He’s scheduled a sit-down with you and Jennifer Carpenter for Monday, which he will attend. But he doesn’t want you contacting him or going back up to the Berkshires. He was very clear about that.”
It was impossible to comprehend. “But Louise, this manuscript, we’ve already—”
“Ellie, let me repeat that,” she said. “Do not go to the Berkshires. Right now, you have your job. But if you go up there, I don’t know if I can protect you. If word of this spreads, if Ford is out to ruin your name, he can throw his weight around and you could lose other authors. DR could lose other authors. And that would be a disaster. So right now, you need to step back and lay low.”
“But this is insanity,” I said. “You’re telling me I can’t find out why he’s upset? Something is very wrong. I know Jackson, and this isn’t like him at all.”
Except it was like him, the more I thought about it. But why? Surely there was a reason why he’d done this to me, why he’d felt justified in destroying me. Something set him off. I just had no idea what it was.
“Ellie, you’ll see him on Monday,” Louise said. “That’s the best I can offer you. You’ll know more then. Maybe you can straighten this out, I don’t know. But please, in the meantime let him be.” Then she said, “Look, take the afternoon off. Get out of here. Go take care of yourself. Don’t worry, I’ll deal with Carpenter.”
There was nothing to be done. We stood. She walked me to the door.
“God, these fucking artists,” she said. “They’re all insane. What a fucking nightmare.”
I walked slowly down the hallway, mind still reeling in shock. I knew it was irrational, but I felt like every eye was on me.
When I reached my office, Carolyn was waiting. I closed the door and leaned heavily against it, closing my burning eyes against the sting of tears that I refused to let fall. “Are we fired?” she asked.
“No,” I said softly. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what else to say.
“Well,” she sighed. “You were right. That meeting was pretty boring.”
And a tense moment passed, and then we both laughed, a little bit hysterical, and then Carolyn pressed a hot mug of tea into my hand and I wiped away the stray tears that had managed to slip from the corners of my eyes and sank into a chair.
“What exactly happened in there?” I asked her, sipping the Earl Grey. “I’m still putting it all together.”
“Ford called on the conference room line,” she said. “He asked Louise to keep it on speaker, but mute our end of the call. We figured he was going to make some announcement, or maybe read a few pages from the manuscript. We just waited around for a few minutes, and then Jennifer started recapping the Mark Stella launch. And then all of a sudden your, you know, your call came through and it all happened so fast. . . everyone was kind of stunned. Even Louise! You were saying something about exchanging sex for pages—”
I winced at the words.
“— and Luke tried to get the phone—it was in the middle of the table and I think he wanted to end the call—but Jennifer grabbed it. So the call kept going and that’s when I ran out, as fast as I could, to come find you.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Ellie, you don’t have to thank me. It was the right thing to do. And you’ve always treated me as more than your assistant, so I consider us friends—”
“We are friends,” I said. “And you won’t be an assistant forever.”
“Well.” Carolyn smiled and went on, “You’re a kickass editor, Ellie, and whatever you do in
your personal life outside of that is nobody’s business. You don’t deserve this. It’s so fucked up. Did you tell Louise that you guys are dating?”
“I don’t know what we’re doing,” I said, bewildered. “We hadn’t figured it out, yet. Maybe we never will.” I got quiet, tears forming in my eyes again. I resolutely blinked them away. “Anyway, there’s a sit-down with him on Monday. Jennifer Carpenter is going to be editing Ford from now on. Louise says I have to back off, so I guess that’s just how it’s going to be.”
“Jennifer? What a bitch!” she said. “Couldn’t Louise put someone else on it?”
I sighed. “No,” I said. “He asked for Carpenter specifically.” I drank my tea.
Carolyn shook her head. “That meeting’s going to be torture. I’m so sorry, Ellie.”
Again, I just sighed.
“But honestly, you’ve been amazing,” she said. “I can’t believe you just marched right into the conference room like that! And look how composed you are. I think it’s really going to be okay.”
“Thanks.” I forced a smile. “Listen, I’m taking the rest of the day off. Feel free to do the same, if you want.”
“Thank you. But maybe I should stay. Fallout, you know? I’ll let you know right away if there’s any news.” From Jackson, she didn’t say, but I knew what she meant. I packed up my things and headed out.
I walked down eleven flights, just so I wouldn’t have to stop at the elevator or ride down to the lobby with anyone else. I walked quickly along Madison. By Fifty-seventh, I was running. And I didn’t stop running until I burst through the doors of the Winthrop Gallery.
As soon as she saw me, Bianca rushed to my side and wrapped her arms around me. “Oh, Ellie. Is it Emma Rose?” she asked.
“No, no,” I said. “Bianca, help me. Help me.” And then I finally let myself cry.
22
Somehow we ended up at Bianca’s apartment. I know there must have been a cab involved, but for the life of me I have no memory of the ride. In fact, a lot of that afternoon, until Maggie arrived, is kind of a blur. I know that Bianca gave me half of a valium that she still had from her last visit to the dentist. Then she got me to undress and put on some yoga pants and a sweatshirt of hers, both of which were too long. She kept trying to get me to drink tea but I couldn’t. I’m a lightweight when it comes to pharmaceuticals, so I think the valium knocked me out.
