Loving Graham

by Kenna Knight

  “Yeah, whatever you want, I’m good with waiting.”

  “Thank you.” I place a chaste kiss on his lips and the post-kiss, what now awkwardness sets in. He moves away first.

  “How about that drink then?” he asks.

  “Sure,” I say and poof, awkward sexual tension gone. We spend a couple of hours drinking wine and talking outside next to his pool. More than once, I regret telling him I need to wait, but at the end of the night when I’m home in my bed, I know I did the right thing.

  I wasn’t going to pursue anything with him in the first place because I don’t want to get hurt. But since I did it anyway, I’m glad we’ve agreed to take things slow. I’m going in with my eyes wide open this time. If I sense even the slightest bit of deception, I’ll have time to protect my heart. I won’t allow myself to be blindsided again like I was with Neil.

  Chapter Ten

  Graham

  Leaving a friend dangling when they are in need isn’t my style. I know what drug addiction does to a person, and I hate knowing Jorge is suffering, but I can’t be with him every minute of the day. I have a business to run, and with Jorge out on medical leave, I’m juggling my clients and his.

  That’s why Gloria is at my house keeping an eye on Jorge, and the phone at the receptionist desk is ringing off the damn hook. “Where’s Melody?” I call out, but everyone is too busy with their clients to answer me. “Would you please excuse me for just a sec, hon?” I ask the model in my chair who’s getting six inches of extensions added to her already thick mane of hair. She rolls her eyes and flips the page of a magazine she’s looking at. I don’t blame her, this is the third time I’ve had to answer the phone since she sat down. I’m going to end up giving her a discount for her trouble, and that irritates me.

  Melody races to the desk in her stilettoes snatching up the receiver before I can. She’s been in the bathroom again. That makes five times today so far. Either I have another employee with a drug problem, or Melody has a urinary tract infection.

  Since I already left my client, I stay to find out who’s calling.

  “Sure, yes he’s right here.” She smiles apologetically and hands me the phone. “It’s Gloria for you.” I take the phone and cover the mouthpiece to whisper, “What is the deal today, Mel? You’ve been in the bathroom more than out today, are you okay?”

  Her eyes fill with tears, and I realize my mistake. Don’t ask open-ended questions when you don’t have time to listen to the answers.

  “Hang on, let me see what Gloria needs.” I drape my arm around Melody’s shoulder while I take the call. “What’s up?”

  “Jorge doesn’t look so good, Graham. I mean I know he’s supposed to be cutting back this week before he goes to Seattle, but I think he’s trying to quit cold turkey.”

  “He knows he can’t do that. We talked about it. I told him about the risks.”

  “I know, honey, but he’s so grateful for all you’re doing for him, I think maybe he’s trying to impress you or something, I don’t know. Anyway, he looks like death, kind of like you did when I loaded your ass up in the van and took you to rehab.”

  I hate thinking about that day. The events are hazy, but the humiliation is still crystal clear. I take a deep breath and blow it out. “Okay, let me finish this client and rearrange the rest of my afternoon. I’ll be home, and we can take him early. Do you think he’s safe to drive or should I book a flight?”

  “Book a flight.”

  “Shit. Okay, does he have anything to take in the meantime?”

  “I think he does, but he won’t.”

  “Tell him we’re leaving today, and he needs to take something for the flight. I’ll call you in a bit.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  “Bye.”

  I hang up the phone and look at Melody who is wiping tears off of her cheeks. I don’t have time to deal with another crisis, but I do it anyway. “Tell me what’s wrong, Mel.”

  “You have things to do. I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I promise to take the phone with me next time I have to use the bathroom.”

  “Mel, listen, honey, I don’t have time, you’re right, but I’m not walking away from this desk until you tell me what’s got you crying at work.”

  She looks up at the ceiling trying to blink away more tears. “I’m pregnant.”

  Shit, this isn’t something I can solve with a quick pep talk. “Oh, honey, I take it this wasn’t planned.”

  “No, God no, we have the photo shoot in Milan next week. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Listen to me. I need you to rearrange my schedule for this afternoon. Cancel my appointments or give them to someone else, whatever, but not Katrina, tell her I’ll call her personally. I’m going to get Jorge and take him to treatment in Seattle. Gloria will come and cover you for the rest of the day, and you can go with us so we can talk this out. Sound good?”

  Her eyes go wide, but before she can refuse, I kiss her on the cheek and walk away. My week just got much more complicated, but there’s no way I’m letting my friends down.

  An hour and a half later, I’m saying goodbye to my client who now has so much hair on her head I worry about her skinny neck snapping when she walks down the runway next week in London.

  “I got everyone moved around, and Katrina said not to worry about it, she’ll wait until you get back,” Melody says when my client is out the door.

  “You’re the best. I’m going to my office for a few minutes to book our flights. I’ll give you the itinerary on my way out, and you can run home and pack when Gloria gets here.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Graham, I’m pregnant, not sick. We can talk it out after you get Jorge settled in Seattle. I’ll finish working, Gloria doesn’t have to come.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder, “Are you sure? It’s no trouble, and you could get away for a couple of days.”

  “I’m sure, and I’m not so sure about flying right now. I haven’t been feeling the best, morning sickness, you know?”

  “Yeah, you might have a point there. All right then, if you’re sure?”

  “I am.”

  “Then we are having a sleepover at my house when I get home.”

  “That sounds great. Thanks for being the best boss on the planet.” She hugs me tight, and I rub her back.

  “It’s easy when your employees feel like family.”

  “Graham?”

  “Yeah, honey?”

  “Please don’t tell anyone. I haven’t decided what to do yet.”

  “Of course not, it’s our secret.” I kiss her on the forehead and go back to my office.

  I close the door and plop down in my chair to pull up flights from San Francisco to Seattle. It’s only Wednesday, we hadn’t planned on going until Friday after work, so I’m not sure Levi will be able to go now if he wants to go at all. We haven’t talked much this week what with me arranging to have someone with Jorge all the time and him working.

  I can’t count him out without asking first. I dial his phone, and he picks up on the first ring. “Detective Yale’s phone, this is Officer Peters, can I help you?”

  It takes me a second to catch up. “Officer Peters? Isn’t this Detective Yale’s personal phone?”

  “Yes sir, he can’t come to the phone right now and asked me to answer for him. May I ask who’s calling?”

  “Yeah, this is Graham Blackwell. Could you have him call me right away, please?”

  “Yes, and what may I say your call is in regards to?”

  I’m not liking this guy’s attitude. His words are all fine and well, but his delivery says I’m better than you, and I have all the control. “It’s personal.”

  “Very well then. He has your number?”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “I’ll give him the message.”

  We hang up. Now I’m stuck, I can book Jorge and me a flight right now or wait to see if Levi calls back. I need to get Jorge to the rehab center if he’s as sick as Gloria says. If I t
ake him to a hospital here, they won’t transfer him to Seattle this weekend. I’ve dealt with shit like this before. It’s a liability to move an unstable, detoxing patient once they are being treated. Saint Stone Drug and Alcohol Rehabilitation Center is the best in the country, and that’s where I want him. Good treatment can be the difference between life and death.

  I get up and grab my bag and my helmet. I’ll go home and see what’s happening, and if Levi hasn’t called back, I’ll try him one more time. If I can’t reach him, I’m going to have to leave without him.

  I open my front door twenty-five minutes later and hear the sound of someone retching. Gloria was right, he’s worse. When I left this morning, he was doing a lot of sleeping and not eating, but he hadn’t vomited.

  “Graham?” Gloria yells.

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “I need help.”

  I hurry toward the hall and find a trail of vomit from the guest bedroom Jorge’s been using to the bathroom. In the bathroom, Gloria is holding onto him while he kneels shaking violently in front of the toilet vomiting. His face is greenish white, and his skin is mottled. She’s got him stripped down to his briefs, and for the first time, I see how emaciated he is from the drugs. He’s been wearing bulky clothes for a long time, now I know why.

  “I can’t let go of him, or he’ll hit his head, but he needs to be cleaned up.” She looks at me with desperate, scared eyes, and that’s saying something. Gloria has seen some seriously fucked-up shit with me. I was in near-death condition when she found me on my bathroom floor years ago. I don’t remember any of it, but she does, and her description of me will haunt me forever. She took pictures because she was so mad at me for doing that to myself, but she’s never shown them to me.

  I step around the door and turn on the shower. “Go ahead and use my bathroom to clean yourself up, I’ve got him.” I crouch down and take him from her. She presses her back against the wall and uses it for leverage to stand.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, yeah, go ahead.”

  She leaves us alone, and Jorge tries to say something to me. “Don’t talk, man, just relax. I’m going to get you showered and dressed, and then you’re taking a bump of whatever it is you’re addicted to so we can get you on a plane.” His face twists, he doesn’t want me to think he is weak. “You have to. I know it feels wrong, but there’s no way anyone is letting you on a plane looking like you do, and you’re in no condition to drive. I told you not to go cold turkey, it’s not worth it. You could kill yourself.”

  He grabs the collar of my shirt and says one word. “Sorry.”

  “Let’s focus on getting you better, save the apologies for therapy.”

  I get him as clean as I can between fits of vomiting, he self-medicates, and Gloria and I get him into the backseat of my truck. “Are you taking him by yourself? I can see about a sitter for my kids and go with you if you need me to.”

  “No, I’m going to try Levi one more time, and if he doesn’t answer, I’ll go alone. It’ll be fine. She glances into the backseat where Jorge is curled up almost sleeping. “Call me if you need anything,” she says sternly.

  “You know I will.”

  It’s not until I pull out of the driveway that I realize I haven’t even booked a flight. I need to get ahold of Levi and now. I stop at the end of the driveway and dial his number, he answers on the third ring.

  “Detective Yale, can I help you?”

  “You don’t have me programmed into your phone yet?” I ask.

  “Sorry, yes, I actually do, but I didn’t take time to look at the screen. What’s up?”

  “I’ve had a change in plans with Jorge. He’s not doing well, and I’m going to fly him to Seattle today instead of waiting until the weekend. I’m sorry it’s such short notice, but I can’t wait.”

  “Is he okay? Maybe you should take him to a hospital here instead if he’s that bad off?”

  “No, if I do that, the rehab center won’t take him. It’s all a bunch of red tape bullshit. Can you come or should I go ahead without you?”

  “I can come, what time’s your flight?”

  “I haven’t bought the tickets yet. I was waiting for you to call me back. Did you get my message?”

  “No, you called?”

  I had a feeling there was something fishy about that phone call. I grip the steering wheel tight and grit my teeth. “Yes, a while ago. I told a Sergeant Peters to relay the message.”

  Levi groans. “I’m sorry, I’ll have to talk to him about that.”

  “Yeah, you should.”

  “I’ll run home and grab a bag, how long will we be gone?”

  “At least until Friday.”

  “You want me to book the flights while I’m there and meet you at the airport?”

  “You don’t have to do all that. I can do it at the counter in the airport.”

  “No, I’ll take care of it. I’ll text you what airline and what time as soon as I know, and I’ll meet you both in thirty minutes in the main terminal.”

  “Okay, and Levi?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks a lot, for everything.”

  “You might not thank me when you hear how loud I snore.” I’d like to tell him he isn’t going to have much time to snore, but I’m on speakerphone, and Jorge is in the back. Once I get Jorge settled into the rehab center, I’m hoping Levi and I will have some quality private time before we come home.

  “I don’t mind snoring. Text me when you have the flight time. I’m already on my way to the airport.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Levi

  It wasn’t easy getting my boss to let me off for two days, but I made a deal to put in some extra hours next week. As for Sergeant Peters, we will be having words when I get home. Kyle Peters has had a secret crush on me for over a year, and he’s done everything he can to make it awkward for me at work. I quit leaving my phone on my desk months ago when he did this same thing. He answered it for me and thought it was someone I was involved with. I never got that message, and it was someone calling with important information about a case I was working. I thought we had put this behind us after he was disciplined, but I guess not.

  At home, I hang my gym bag on a hook behind the door and make a beeline for my laptop.

  “What are you doing home this early?” Nicky says from the kitchen where she is preparing some crazy concoction in a bowl. Nicky’s an artist who does a lot of abstract sculptures, and her current work involves random recyclable items and concrete. I don’t ask anymore. I stay out of her way and gawk while she explains the meaning of the piece when it’s finished. And then she takes it to an art gallery, and they sell it for a ridiculous amount of money. I find it incredible that she can make something out of virtually nothing and get paid astronomical amounts of money for it.

  “Graham’s taking Jorge to Seattle a few days early. I guess he’s not doing so well, and he thinks he would be better off in a rehab center.”

  “Why do you have to go all the way to Seattle? Aren’t there treatment centers here in San Francisco?”

  I asked myself that very question, but Graham assured me there is no better place than Saint Stone. I looked it up, and he’s right. They are amazing, and they have the best success rate in the nation. “He said it’s the best place in the country, I guess.”

  She stops stirring whatever is in the giant bucket on the counter and looks at me. “And why does he know something like that?” she asks.

  “I don’t know, research maybe?” I say switching on the laptop and tapping Priceline in the search box.

  “Strange thing to research unless you need it.”

  “He did need it… for Jorge. What are you trying to say, anyway?”

  “Nothing, just an observation.”

  I find three seats on a flight leaving in an hour. The price is astronomical, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. I book them and call my bank
to tell them no one has stolen my bank card before they freeze my account.

  I text Graham and tell him to meet me in Terminal B, and he answers back okay almost immediately. When I find them, Jorge is sitting next to Graham propped against his shoulder sleeping. He can’t get up, so I sit across from them.

  “Hey, thanks for coming,” Graham says looking up.

  “He looks like death,” I say gesturing at Jorge.

  “Yeah, he deteriorated faster than I thought he would.” He is keeping his voice down, but I don’t think Jorge would wake up if he were lying next to an airplane engine.

  “Do you have a lot of experience with this? You seem to know a lot about it.”

  As always, Nicky’s questions have been burning a hole in my curiosity since she spoke them. That’s why she does it. She knows if she plants a seed of doubt or interest in my mind, I won’t let it go until I’ve figured it out. She knows me well.

  “I’ve had a few friends who’ve gone through the same thing. Being a model, you run into it a lot. Constantly striving for physical perfection pushes people to do stupid things.”

  I don’t comment. I’ve become pretty good at being able to tell whether or not someone is telling the truth, and I don’t like the feeling I’m getting that he isn’t. What reason other than being embarrassed about your drug addiction would you have to lie about something like this? None I can think of.

  “When we get to Seattle, I’ll hit up the bank and pay you for the tickets. I’m sure they weren’t cheap,” he says when the awkward silence has hung between us long enough.

  “It can wait until we get back, I’m not worried about it. I’m a cop, and I know where you live.” He smiles, and the tension between us evaporates. “So how does this work? Do they know you’re coming now instead of Saturday?”

  “I called and told them we were coming, but we could have shown up unannounced, and they would have taken him.”

  “How long is he going to be there?”

  “As long as it takes, a month, maybe two or three. I told them to do whatever it takes to help him, and I’ll hold his job however long it takes, too.”