by A. D. Smith
My young daughter is unresponsive. She looks as she does any other time she’s resting, but the continuous buzzing of hospital equipment indicates something more.
“Help! Nurse!”
Alicia steps in the hallway to get the staff’s attention. Nurses rush the room. They speak in medical jargon before beginning CPR. Ninety seconds later, Dr. Amali arrives. He shouts orders to the nurses. “Give me one amp of Epi! Now!”
People scramble around the room. Things happen so fast, it takes a minute for me to grasp what’s going on.
“Nurse Statler, start chest compressions,” continues the doctor.
“What’s wrong with her?!” I plead.
“Mr. Myers, ma’am, you have to leave the room now.”
“No!” I cry. “I won’t leave my baby!” Tears flood my face as I watch the moment unfold.
“You have to let us do our jobs!” Dr. Amali shouts back. “Now please leave! NOW!”
Hospital personnel escort me and Alicia out of the room. The door slams, this time with me on the other side.
Chapter 7
“You have fifteen minutes with Bale,” says a member from the celebrity’s security team. His glare signifies he means business, not to mention the mohawk and tattoos that protrude from his torn off sleeves. Arnie, the cameraman, nervously thanks the guard in white as he fumbles with the bulky camera perched atop his shoulder. “Come on, Gloria, keep up will ya!” he shouts. Bet he wouldn’t talk like that to the Scottish version of Mr. T.
Of course, I do just as he says, pulling my cables up from behind me. Assistant Cameraperson is just another name for servant. My duties deal with anything involving not actually touching a camera—mostly lugging around huge cables. At least it’s a form of exercise, as I try to look at the bright side.
“Uhhh, Mr.?” Arnie’s shaky voice barely gets out.
“Balak,” replies Bale’s mohawked security dog.
“Oh, ok. Bay’lock, Ba—Ba—” Arnie fumbles worse than the old running back from State.
“Balak! Fool!”
“Oh, I’m—I’m sorry, Mr. Barack. Yeah, Barack. I love that name.”
Balak—we all know his name now—cracks his knuckles as he stares down my near shivering superior. Nervous, Arnie quickly turns away from the irate guard only to send his camera into the sternum of another security member, who just happens to be the largest of the group. Frozen, Arnie slowly makes his way up the tree of a man. Smoke almost appears to brew from the massive man’s nostrils. With a shaven head, small beady eyes, and a white suit nearly too small for his frame, the enormous bodyguard is menacing to say the least. It’s a wonder the over-hyped celebrity needs anyone other than this monstrosity by his side. I’ve stood next to professional basketball players before and this guy measures up with the tallest of ‘em. His body is made up like a World’s Strongest Man competitor, muscles so swollen I don’t see how he can move around.
The giant’s fierce look causes poor Arnie’s knees to wobble. He never speaks but instead discharges an intimidating grunt. Despite the way Arnie treats me, I actually feel sorry for him in this moment. This guy looks like he wants to eat not just the camera, but Arnie himself.
“Now Amnon, that’s no way to treat our guests, is it?” says its master—err … boss. The giant’s eyes squint as he leans closer to Arnie, now fully terrified.
“Amnon …”
The giant finally relinquishes and moves on. Still frozen, sweat drips from Arnie’s brow.
“My friend, are you alright?”
Arnie doesn’t move, probably too afraid to turn around.
“Oh, don’t mind him. He’s as harmless as a kitten.”
Slowly, Arnie turns to acknowledge the voice. “Why Mr.—Mr. Bale,” Arnie smiles, relieved.
“Just call me Bale,” says a set of exquisitely whitened teeth.
“Why—why thank you sir. I didn’t mean to—”
“Shhh, it’s no problem. Go. Do whatever your team needs to do.”
“Why, yes sir.” Arnie’s tone firms up a bit as he barks orders at me and the other intern/servant, Sam. “Whada you two doing? You heard the man, let’s get moving!”
All of sudden, any feelings of empathy I felt for Arnie quickly leave.
As I work, I try to take in my surroundings. I’ve never been to the Peabody Hotel before. It’s one of those things where you know about it because you live here and people come to visit it from all over, but you’ve never been to it because … well you live here.
The star known as Jason Bale takes a seat on an exquisite European sofa. The luxurious hotel is known for its handsome decor. Usually a privilege only afforded to the rich and famous, it has been a staple of Memphis for decades. ‘Mr. Famous’ removes his white suit coat to reveal a finely tailored white button-down shirt. It wraps his torso perfectly, also revealing a finely-toned upper body. Not my type at all, even excluding the age difference, but I can definitely respect a guy who works out. His white pants are creased exceptionally. Even his socks and shoes are bone colored, with the rest of his entourage.
“So, are we ready to do this?” smiles our lead reporter, Julie Blaylock. Jason Bale smiles as well, but more from the high hem of her skirt than for his excitement over the interview.
“I’m so excited to have this opportunity,” she speaks while shaking the superstar’s hand.
He grips back, eyes still focused on Julie’s figure. One can hardly blame him. Her skirt is so tight I don’t know how she’s gonna sit down. And they have the nerve to lecture us on professionalism. But I get it. It’s about ratings, sensationalism. I’m sure God cries out for the world we live in today. As a young woman, this is what I have to compete with. Guess I’ll never make it to the other side of the camera.
“An exclusive interview with Jason Bale!” Julie giggles. “Here I am just a local Memphis reporter scoring one of the biggest opportunities of a lifetime!”
“Well, life is all about opportunities,” smiles the movie star.
Julie takes a seat on the sofa. She’s definitely attractive; no one can take that away from her. Although I do think she tries too hard. We’re only three years apart in age, but a lifetime apart in status. Casually, Julie attempts to pull her skirt down, but the already shortened garment rides up with the contour of the furniture. Jason Bale watches her legs intensely and Julie definitely notices. The look on her face goes from flattery to embarrassment.
“How‘re we looking, Arnie?” Julie asks.
“Ready when you are, Ms. Blaylock,”
“Great,” she smiles towards Jason Bale. “Okay, so what we’re going to do today—”
“It’s Julie, right?” the celebrity interrupts.
“Sure is!” she beams.
“Okay, Julie,” says the star, not once looking up from her legs. “I’ve been to the rodeo a few times, so you just fire away and I’ll be ready. And what are you? About a size six? A hundred twenty … two—no, twenty three pounds?”
“I beg your pardon?” she asks, incredulously.
“Okay, we’re on in 20!” Arnie shouts before glancing over his shoulder. “Get with it, Gloria!” I go back to pretending to be busy. Guess I was engrossed in their conversation.
Julie takes a moment to gather herself. She continues to tug on her tight black skirt, to no avail.
“In 5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … ,” says Arnie, mouthing the one and pointing to Julie.
“… Today we have a special treat everyone. We’re here with none other than Time Magazine’s “Man of the Year”, Jason Bale! How are you today, sir?”
“I’m great Julie!” The mysterious star’s tone has completely changed. He continues to watch Julie intently, now only at eye level. His smile is infectious and his manner, engaging. Julie is nearly thrown off guard, in fact. I’m not a fan of his movies, but maybe he is a good actor.
“… okay, so Jason—”
“Julie, just call me Bale,” grins the performer.
“Okay. So Mr. Bale—
”
“No sweetie, just Bale. That’s what my friends call me,” he says throwing his trademark smile.
“Okay, Mr—umm, Bale. Well, since you brought that up let’s start right there. You are a man known for your … let’s say idiosyncrasies. You go by your last name only and everyone wants to know what’s up with the all-white suits all the time for both you and your security detail. I heard somewhere you call them, Angels?”
Bale answers back, proudly. “Why yes, they are my angels. They protect me.”
“Okay, makes sense,” Julie nods.
“And I just love the color white. It’s so … pure.”
Bale’s voice is soothing to the ear. His words are purposefully thought out, his delivery eloquent. Almost too eloquent. Like a mother’s lullaby, his voice produces hypnotic-like effects, mesmerizing with every syllable spoken. You try your best to stay awake as not to miss anything. Although, the point of a lullaby is to put you to sleep …
“It seems you can do just about anything. You’re a self-made millionaire, a businessman, an accomplished actor, and I’ve also heard you play five instruments, speak four languages, and can even cook. Wow, what a catch!”
“Oh, stop it Julie,” Bale smiles. The two definitely know how to put on a good show.
“But seriously, I just want to be remembered as a man of the people.”
“Umm hmmm … so is there a chance for public office later down the line?”
“Who knows, if the conditions are right, and the people want it—right now I’m just focused on my company, Bale Media. We have an exciting announcement coming up in the near future.”
“That’s right. You just recently completed a huge merger with LabTech, International. That had a lot of people talking and it sent Wall Street into a frenzy.”
“Yeah, but we’re all about rebuilding this economy, Julie. We plan to create 30,000 jobs in this great country within just the next couple of years. Plus many more than that within the next five to ten years.”
“Wow! That’s great! You definitely have a lot of tricks up your sleeve. So how did you get an established tech giant like LabTech to merge with an up and coming media firm? I mean, it’s unheard of.”
“Let’s just say, I presented them with an offer they couldn’t refuse.”
Julie laughs for the camera. “Like a line out of one of your movies, hunh?!”
“Hey, what can I say?! I’m an actor!” Bale laughs on cue.
“Okay, okay. So, what about this exciting announcement? Can we get a hint?”
“Come on now, Julie. If I gave you a hint, it wouldn’t be so exciting now would it?”
Julie turns toward the camera. “Well, as usual, Jason Bale keeps us in suspense. I guess just like his latest movie, we’ll all just have to wait and see. Reporting live from Downtown Memphis, Julie Blaylock, signing—”
Bale leans over into the reporter’s parting camera shot. “Oh, and to all my fans, I’ll be at the Sin City Nightclub this weekend, so come and party with yours truly, Bale.”
Julie waits a second, making sure he’s finished. “Wow. Most celebs like to keep a low profile when they’re in town, but I guess as we’ve figured out by now, there is nothing usual about Jason—well … Bale. Reporting live from the Peabody Hotel, Julie Blaylock, signing out.”
“And we’re … out!” shouts Arnie—my signal to start rolling up line. Julie stands, still tugging on her skirt to magically make it longer.
“Thanks again for the interview, uh, Bale,” she says. Gone is the flirtatious tone heard during the interview.
“Don’t mention it,” he replies. I step in closer to take Julie’s lapel mike. Really, it’s so I can get a better listen. Bale briefly smiles in my direction as I approach. I smile back, keeping my eye contact to a minimum. He continues the conversation as if I’m not even there.
“So Julie, can I persuade you to join me for … let’s say … dessert tonight?”
Any hint of Bale’s “Man of the Year” persona has disappeared as well.
“Wow,” says Julie. “At least you get straight to the point. Thanks, but no thanks.”
I’d imagine any curiosity or slight attraction Julie held before the interview has all but left.
“Besides, I’m engaged.”
This is the moment Julie’s been waiting for as she flashes her over-sized engagement ring in front of Bale’s face.
“Even better,” says the unfazed actor. He moves closer, gently brushing the side of her face before she instinctively moves back. The playboy celebrity smiles as he turns and walks away. The giant—I believe called Amnon—joins his side.
“Now, you’re sure you won’t join me?” Bale calls out.
Julie looks puzzled, as if she has something important to say but can’t remember.
“W—we—well, I guess I can stop by for a little while,” she slowly commits.
I can’t believe it! What is she doing? Why would she even give this creep the time of day?
“Great, see you at 10,” says Bale, never looking back. “My Angels will provide you with details.”
The tattooed one, known as Balak, waits for us to gather our equipment so he can escort us out. I look to Julie to express my disapproval. We’re not friends in the slightest, but we are two young women who both despise creeps. That’s what I thought, at least. As I watch Julie, I’m not so sure she even knows what she’s done. She shakes her head as if she’s just been under a trance. Is that the effect stardom can have on people?
“Thank you my friends,” says Bale as we pack up our equipment. “Now leave me. I must continue to be about my father’s business.”
Before I even realize it, words tumble out of my mouth. “Wow, that’s from the Bible. Wouldn’t have pegged you as a reader.”
No, Gloria! What have you done! It was supposed to be a thought, but my frustrations at today’s happenings materialize audibly. Everyone stops as the focus shifts to me. My eyes widen as I freeze in my tracks. Arnie, Julie, those huge bodyguards—everyone turns and stares at me—even Jason Bale stops and turns. How did he hear me nearly out the room? Still yards away, he takes a few steps closer.
“You know what? You’re absolutely right,” he smirks before turning back around. His security or angels or whatever, follows. Whew, glad that moment’s over. The men continue to the door as I hear one more statement from the shrewd icon.
“… oh, but I was referring to someone else …”
Am I the only one who heard that? Guess so—no one else turns. Or maybe they just don’t care, diligently wrapping up our gear. Arnie mugs me with his eyes. I know I’ll be hearing about this later.
Chapter 8
Nearly an hour later, still no word on Christina. A steady stream of medical personnel comes and goes, but none can give specifics on what’s happening. My leg stiffens as I frantically pace up and down the recently waxed floor. Alicia begs me to sit but I won’t hear of it. The creaking sound of Christina’s door being opened catches my attention. Dr. Amali quietly steps out.
“Doc, what’s going?” I say rushing to his side. “Tell me something. Is she—”
“Mr. Myers I’m going to get straight to the point. Right now, Christina is in a medically induced coma. We couldn’t revive her heart without the aid of a life support system. If we take her off the machine … she will die. I’m sorry, but we have to get your permission to reverse the coma.”
His words barely make sense to me. I feel light headed. The room closes in. I haven’t felt like this since …
I have to focus. “You said the support system has her heart running, right? You can leave her on that until she gets better—”
“You don’t understand, Mr. Myers. Your daughter is—”
“That’s right. My daughter! SHE’S MY DAUGHTER!”
“I know Mr. Myers, and I’m sorry. But she is not going to get any better. She’s unable to hear, talk, even breathe on her own. I’m sorry, but for all intents and purposes, it’s over.”
>
Those words incense me as I grab the doctor by his collar. This can’t be happening again. I won’t let it. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that!”
He pushes away. “I’ll give you some time with your daughter. I’m afraid we’ve done all we can do.”
As Dr. Amali proceeds to the elevator, I lean over, my hands on my knees—it’s too much to process. The hurt engulfs me. I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing I can do. My daughter is—WHY ME?!?!
Alicia sobs as she embraces me. My eyes look up to catch a glimpse of the doctor right before he enters the elevator. It looks as if—no, can’t be …
It looks as if a black, smoke-like haze of some sort is radiating over his entire body. As the doors shut, the swaying mist lingers outside the elevator shaft. My eyes are so glossed over with tears, there’s no telling what I really saw.
-----------T H E A S S I G N E D-----------
More than an hour has passed since I promised my brother a ride, yet my location still remains Round One. Martin will understand. Besides, this isn’t your typical hunny down the way. Low-cut yellow top is pre-med.
My phone flashes. Six missed calls. Conviction tries its best to override temptation. It’s a tough battle to say the least, especially with temptation being aided by strong drinks and a college sweetie.
I try to leave … again … for real this time.
“Look, I’ll be back in 20, 30 minutes, tops.”
Low-cut yellow top grazes the side of my neck with her face. “Don’t go,” she whispers. “We’re just getting started.”
“I know, I know,” I whisper back, her ginger-themed perfume further adding to my intoxication. Reaching for her hand, I’m met with a peculiar tattoo resting under her palm. Two identical shapes inverted, with a dot placed directly in between. “What’s this babe? The new sign for Gemini?” I laugh.
“Maybe if you’re good, I’ll tell you about it one day,” she smiles back.
“Well in that case, why don’t we continue this party at my place?”
