Special Delivery

by Traci Hohenstein

  Here we go.

  “What’s going on, Janessa?” I sat down next to her.

  “I’ve been secretly dating Apollo Ortiz. If the tabloids find out we’re seeing each other, let alone that I’m pregnant with his baby…my career will be over. My father will disown me. I’ll never get another decent acting job.”

  I knew that Janessa’s father was some big shot senator from Texas, but I didn’t realize he had such a hold on her. Finding out that you were pregnant, especially when you were single, was daunting enough. But Janessa was taking this too far.

  “Janessa, you’re a grown woman. You make your own choices. Plenty of single, successful actresses have had babies and their careers didn’t suffer. Plenty of soap opera actresses work while they’re pregnant. Some even work their pregnancies into the story line. And as far as whom the father is, that’s up to you, whether or not you want to announce that.”

  Apollo Ortiz was a hot, young, up-and-coming Latino actor who’d starred in several small films. Why a relationship with him would affect her career – I had no idea.

  I got up and found a tissue box in the guest bath. I handed one to Janessa. She blew her nose loudly.

  “Thanks for coming by, Dr. Love.”

  “Look, Janessa. Don’t make any major decisions right now. Come by my office on Monday and we’ll do an exam, then we’ll talk. Okay?”

  She nodded her head.

  “Don’t get up. I’ll let myself out. Relax this weekend. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  Just another day in the life of Hollywood Hills, I thought as I headed back to the office.

  Chapter 6

  I rang the doorbell and waited on the portico with a bottle of very expensive red wine in one hand and my new Jimmy Choo handbag in the other. I also wore the matching Harlequin shoes and a cerulean blue Betsey Johnson sundress.

  Venus answered the door looking lovely as usual wearing a dress from XOXO that I had recently admired on a fashion blog. I could’ve sworn that dress hadn’t come out yet. I think Venus has every hip fashion designer on speed dial.

  “Hey. Sorry I’m late. Crazy day at work.” I handed Venus the bottle of wine.

  “Come on in. No worries. I have the steaks warming in the oven,” she said, as I followed her into the massive kitchen. “We’ll open this first and have some nibbles.”

  I hadn’t had lunch and was famished. Venus had a nice spread of brie cheese covered with raspberry jam surrounded by crackers and red grapes. I helped myself to the delicious goodies.

  “So, how did it go with the scrumptious Dr. Whitford?” Venus handed me a huge glass of wine.

  “Brad? He’s okay.” I took a gulp, looked up at her inquisitive eyes, and then took another gulp.

  “That’s it. Just, he’s okay?”

  “Yep. We’ll see how long he lasts. Those women will run right over him. I give him three months, tops.”

  “Hmmm. He is a nice-looking guy, though. Very charming.”

  “When did you meet him?” I reached for another cracker and smeared it with a generous helping of raspberry Brie.

  “Mr. Vanderbilt brought him by after showing houses yesterday. He was quite the gentleman. Very polite, which I think is rare these days.”

  “Well, I’m not interested. He’s not my type.”

  “Who is your type? Not Jonathan Morro?”

  Jonathan Morro was my last boyfriend. He’s a pop singer with a folksy sound. He has a reputation as a lady killer with a huge ego. While he was dating me, he was also seeing pop star Jessica Blakely behind my back and who knows how many other women. Snake.

  “No. Jonathan was a weak moment. Besides even though we dated – and I use that term loosely – for six months, I saw him about four times in those six months. The rest of the time he was seeing Jessica and who knows who else.”

  “Right. So you and Brad have two things in common.” Venus took the steaks out of the oven. They were sizzling with caramelized onions and mushrooms. The smell was heavenly.

  “What’s that?”

  “For one, you’re both workaholics. And two, you’re both Cancer signs.”

  Leave it to Venus to know Brad’s birthday. She’s big on astrology and believes in dating within your sign.

  “What am I waiting for, then? We should get married right away. He’s a Cancer sign. It’s a perfect match.” I clapped my hands together.

  Venus put the steaks and homemade mac and cheese on plates and carried it to the outside terrace. Her ten-thousand-square-foot mansion had fabulous views of the city. The sun was setting in brilliant hues of red, orange, and yellow. It was a fabulous way to cap off the day.

  “Okay, Ms. Smarty Pants. Let’s eat.”

  I swear I’d never tasted a steak that good in my life. I didn’t need a knife. The steak was so tender it cut through like butter with my fork.

  “Oh my goodness, this is sooo yummy. What does Mabel do to these steaks?”

  “She rubs them down with a secret spice mixture, puts them in a plastic bag overnight in the fridge, takes them out the next day, and whispers sweet nothings to them before shoving them in a hot oven to broil for a bit,” Venus said. “Seriously.”

  “Mmmm,” I said with my mouth full. “She should call these better-than-sex steaks.”

  “I’ll let her know.”

  I looked over at Venus’s plate. She had only taken two bites of her food.

  “What’s wrong with you? You’ve barely eaten anything.”

  “I had a big lunch,” Venus said, looking out over the terrace.

  I may not have known Venus very long, but I could tell when she was lying.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “Mr. Vanderbilt is seeing someone else.”

  “What?” That stunned me. I almost choked on a piece of steak.

  I couldn’t imagine Mr. Vanderbilt cheating on her. He seemed so…so business-like. Cold. The few times I’ve seen him, he was distant. I never could see why Venus was attracted to him. She was vibrant and outgoing, although a little reserved with her private life. I thought maybe he was just a tiger in the bedroom or something.

  “I don’t know who, but I do know that he’s seeing someone.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He’s been working later hours, never home for dinner. And when he does come home, he heads straight for the shower.” Venus poured us another glass of wine. “His clothes smell of cheap cologne.” She shuddered at the thought.

  “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?”

  “Hire a private detective.”

  “Wow. Here I am going on about my problems with the new doctor and my insane patients, and Mr. Vanderbilt is cheating.”

  “It’s okay, darling. It’ll sort itself out. Always does.”

  Venus is like that. She has such a good attitude about everything. She’s wise beyond her years. Even though, come to think of it, I have no idea exactly how old she is. I think late forties, but I’m really not sure. Botox is her other best friend.

  “Let’s talk about something else,” Venus tapped her well-manicured fingernails on the table. “Give me some dirt on your patients.”

  I told her about Hilary asking me to help out with the Heart Ball. What I don’t tell her about is the lump or Janessa’s pregnancy scare. Some things I don’t feel comfortable talking about, not to mention the doctor/patient privilege I’ve got to uphold. I don’t think Venus will say anything, but you never know when something will slip out.

  We talked until midnight, when I told Venus that I needed to go home. I finally had a Saturday morning off – unless someone went into labor – and I wanted to go home and sleep in. When I left, Mr. Vanderbilt was still not home.

  Chapter 7

  Saturday morning, the Santa Ana winds were blowing with ferocity. I put on a light sweater and headed to my favorite coffee shop for a bagel and chai latte.

  Mr. Beans was crowded and I had to wait in a long line for my caffeine fix. Last night ha
d been awesome. For the first time in a long time, I got a good night’s sleep.

  While I waited for my order, I heard someone call my name. It was Aubrey, a patient and family friend. Aubrey is the daughter of Ava Spivey, another close friend of mine. Ava is a high-profile divorce attorney whose clients are the most famous in the business. Despite their wealth, Aubrey is also one of the most caring teenagers I have ever known. She has a heart of gold, which is extremely rare among Hollywood kids.

  “Hi Aubrey.”

  “Hey Dr. Love. Please sit down.”

  “Thanks. I haven’t seen you in a long time. What have you been up to?”

  “College. I’m studying fashion design at UCLA.”

  “That’s right. I ran into your sister not long ago and she told me you were doing really well.”

  “Yeah, I just wrapped up an internship with Jules Tate.”

  That was very impressive. Jules Tate was a new, hip designer, and I loved his clothes.

  “Awesome. I love his stuff.”

  “I’m so glad I ran into you. I was just thinking about you the other day.” Aubrey leaned closer to me. The little café was getting crowded and noisy. “I’m putting together a fashion show next month to benefit breast cancer awareness.”

  Aubrey’s aunt had passed away from a rare form of breast cancer. Coming from a close-knit family, it had affected her a lot.

  “That’s great, Aubrey.”

  “Jules has offered to show some of his samples at the show and loan me a few of his models. I wanted to see if you would make a brief speech about the importance of self-breast exams.”

  “Sure, on one condition, though.”

  “What?”

  “I get to help pick out the models.”

  Aubrey laughed and stuck out her hand. “Deal,” she said as we shook on it.

  While I listened to all the details of the event, I couldn’t help but think this was the perfect event for Brad to take part in. And I had just the plan for him.

  Chapter 8

  Saturday night made up for my quiet Friday evening. Two of my patients went into labor. So much for the C-section trend. In the last few years, all the movie stars wanted C-sections, because it was easy to plan the birth around their schedules. But now, the trend was back to natural births and all the stars wanted doulas or midwifes – at least until they realized how hard labor was and started screaming for drugs after the first contraction.

  I had Chloe Knight in one delivery room and Tara Cranston in the other. The funny thing was that they were fierce rivals on the big screen. Now it seems they would be fierce rivals in the delivery room. Who would deliver her baby first?

  “What’s going on, Candy?” I asked the on-duty labor and delivery nurse.

  I knew that Chloe wasn’t due for another two weeks – she had just been in my office on Wednesday for her weekly checkup. Tara had been in labor for the last few hours.

  “Chloe is progressing fairly quickly. She’s at seven centimeters and Dr. Soloman just gave her an epidural. Tara’s labor slowed down when she got to six centimeters. She’s been at six for the last couple of hours.”

  “Ok, I’ll check both of them out and we’ll go from there.” Tonight would be a long night. I could feel it.

  Chloe Knight and Tara Cranston had a long history. Chloe was fairly new on the Hollywood scene. She was your classic how-I-became-an-actress story. She’d moved to California at the age of twenty-one and waited tables to make ends meet while taking acting classes. She’d hit it big with her first movie, and even though it was a minor part, she stole the show. After that, movie scripts poured in, and she had her pick of the best roles. In her third movie she met and fell in love with her co-star, Brett Peterson. The only problem was Brett was married to Tara Cranston.

  Tara has been in the acting business since she was six years old. Her mother, Penelope Cranston, was a well-known soap actress who had been through seven husbands. Tara starred in many movies – mostly feel-good dramas – but had never won any major awards. She was your typical California girl, blonde, tan, blue-eyed, and gorgeous. And she had been married to Hollywood’s most wanted actor, Brett Peterson. His career was sky-rocketing and she stood by his side the whole way. Until Chloe showed up and ruined the party.

  Chloe and Brett heated up the big screen with a thriller-romance called Meet the Johnsons. Brett denied rumors about a hot and steamy off-camera attraction between the two the day the story hit the tabloids. But two weeks later, he asked Tara for a divorce and within three months he married Chloe.

  Tara felt betrayed and heartbroken. She dated a slew of actors and musicians, but never quite settled down. Now approaching forty, she decided she didn’t need a husband to start a family. She got pregnant with her boyfriend, Nick Phelan, the lead guitarist for Wanted.

  Then it was game on. Which Hollywood diva would deliver her child first and score a coveted front page cover on People magazine?

  I walked into Tara’s room.

  “Hi there. How’s it going?”

  Tara was sitting up in bed thumbing through the latest issue of OK magazine. Her boyfriend, Nick, was sleeping on the couch.

  “Dr. Love, thank goodness.” Tara closed the magazine. “I was doing so well. I went from three to six centimeters in no time. Two hours later, I’m still there.”

  “Let me take a look. Sometimes labor will progress fast only to slow down later.”

  I examined her. Sure enough, she was still at six.

  “We can increase the Pitocin and see if that helps speed things up a bit. I see you got your epidural. Is that helping with pain?”

  “Yes. But I’m ready to have this baby. Do whatever you need to get it done.”

  I called Candy in to increase her meds. “I’ll check on you later.”

  Tara looked over at Nick to see if he was still sleeping. “Dr. Love, I heard Chloe is here,” she said in a low tone.

  I hesitated because I didn’t want to get involved in the middle of any drama between the two of them. I choose my words carefully.

  “Yes, I haven’t seen her yet.”

  Tara gently rubbed her stomach and said, “I just want this little one to be healthy. It just irks me that she is here delivering the same day as me. What did she do – eat some spicy Mexican food and buy stock in enemas so she could deliver before me? Why does she always have to steal my thunder?”

  “You’re doing everything right, Tara. Just relax and let the medicine do its job. Okay?”

  The nurse’s station was a buzz of activity. I grabbed a cup of coffee from the break room and relished the hit of caffeine. I finished the coffee in about three gulps and then headed over to Chloe’s room. As usual, I was struck by her exotic beauty. While Tara was a classic beauty and looked like any other California girl, Chloe was exceptionally pretty. Her long dark hair was straight and shiny, her lips were naturally full and pink, and her almond-shaped eyes were emerald green.

  Even though I was used to treating high-profile celebrities, I always got tongue-tied around Chloe, like I had a school-girl crush on her. I guess she was used to that. It didn’t seem to faze her when I stumbled over my words. Brett sat by her side, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead. He was just as handsome as she was pretty and they made a striking couple.

  “Hello, Dr. Love,” Chloe said in her gravelly, famous voice.

  “You guys ready to have a baby?”

  Brett came up and gave me a hug. He smelled amazingly wonderful and I held on to him a little longer than I should. Chloe was probably used to that, too.

  “Ready as ever.”

  I checked Chloe and she was already at nine centimeters.

  “You’re about ready to push. How’re you feeling?”

  “Good. Some pressure, but that’s all.”

  “Okay. I’ll be around. Candy will call me when you’re ready to go. It shouldn’t be long now.”

  I gave Brad another hug because it felt so good the first time, and then I left them alone.<
br />
  It looked like Chloe would be getting all the glory. Again.

  Chapter 9

  I went back to the doctor’s break room to catch a cat nap before all the action started. I turned off the lights and lay down on the worn leather sofa, pulling a blanket over me. Thoughts of Brad filled my head, and I tried hard to think of something else. Anything but Brad. Just as I was about to doze off, Candy came in the room.

  “Tara’s BP is shooting up, and her baby is in distress.”

  I shot up off the couch and walked quickly to her room.

  Candy had turned Tara on her side and put an oxygen mask on her face. I checked her vitals. She didn’t look good.

  “Tara, we need to go ahead and do a C-section. Your baby’s in distress and her heartbeat is falling fast.”

  Tara lifted off her mask. “Whatever you have do.”

  I looked over at her boyfriend, Nick, still on the couch, now white as a ghost.

  “She’ll be okay. The nurse will take you to get suited up in scrubs and I’ll meet you in the operating room.”

  I went to scrub up for the operation.

  “Dr. Love, Chloe is ready to push. She’s at ten.” Another nurse, Patrice, shouted out to me as I walked into the OR.

  “Okay. Get Candy in there to help. Be there as soon as I can.”

  This would be a close one.

  After Tara was prepped and ready to go, Nick walked in. He sat down on the stool next to her. He was still white in the face.

  “Are you okay?” I asked him.

  “Yeah, I think so. I don’t like blood.”

  “That’s what the sheet is for. Just keep your eyes on Tara.”

  I started the surgery and worked as quickly as possible. After a few minutes, I was making headway.

  “Okay, Tara, you’ll feel a little pressure,” I said as I reached in to pull the baby out.

  “It’s a girl.”

  Nick made the mistake of standing up to see his daughter. As soon as his eyes glanced to the other side of the curtain, he swayed and hit the floor.