by Kylie Parker
Chapter Seventeen
Eddie does not answer his phone after having called him three times, so I start to feel a panicky warmth behind my ears at the thought he would be dumb enough to talk to reporters. There is a reason he never talks to reporters as well as a reason he is only the factory worker and assistant PR rep instead of head PR. He sucks at talking to people; he sucks at making people feel comfortable with a situation. Suddenly my phone rings just as I am running a red light; that was my bad. I got distracted by the phone. I’m lucky I did not get into a wreck just then and that no one had been coming from another direction.
I fiddle with my phone, almost dropping it while attempting to answer it. It’s Eddie. About damn time. “What’s going on?” I practically shriek, “Give me an update. I’m almost there.”
“James…” Eddie sounds hoarse, “Someone else just died. We have two bodies heading to the morgue, and they’re pointing the blame our way. It’s already been confirmed that they were taking supplements from our new line. Five more people have been emitted to the hospital since we last spoke less than twenty minutes ago!”
I feel like I am going to pass out. “Don’t panic,” I say to Eddie, although it is mostly a reassurance for myself. I’m the one with a lot more to lose.
“Our stocks have already hit rock bottom.” I hear Eddie say, “Man –they’re worthless!”
“We’re going to fix this.” I say, “There will be an investigation, I’m sure. I’m sure we will find out it has nothing to do with our supplements. Why is this just now happening now, anyways?”
“It’s our new line of all-natural supplements; they’re saying. We just released it a few months ago.” Eddie says, “We make everything from the new stuff on the site, James. On site! If it is our supplements getting everyone sick, then there is no one to blame but us!”
I cringe. This is not good. The new supplement line with all-natural ingredients had just been released nationwide one month ago after doing a trial run for a few months in LA, our hometown. I cannot imagine what is about to take place. “Are the incidences just confined to LA right now?” I ask.
“No.” Eddie says anxiously, “It’s everywhere.”
“Damn,” I say under my breath, slamming on my breaks to avoid getting into a fender bender with the slowing traffic. Pay attention; I tell myself after almost hitting a pedestrian; the guy flicks me off as he hurries across the street. Can’t really blame him; I did almost hit him, and he had been in the crosswalk. I do one of those awkward apology waves that drivers do when they know they’re in the wrong.
The guy bucks up at me before getting out from in front of my car and completing his journey across the street. “Asshole!” he screams.
I speed away, continuing my unsafe driving. I know I should be more careful, but I am too anxious to take it slow. I need to get to the office and factory building immediately to calm down the press and try to get to the bottom of whatever this is. “There’s some damn protestors here.” I hear Eddie say, snapping me back into the conversation.
“Protestors?” I question.
“A bunch of stupid college kids with nothing better to do.” Eddie hisses into the phone, “I swear, one of them threw some popcorn at me when I pulled up. It’s like they all went to the fucking movies and got bored with the film and headed here instead.”
“Man alive.” I say, “Level with me, man. How bad is it there?”
“The cops are keeping the protesters back –the reporters too, but the cops are here with a warrant, man. I’ve talked them into waiting until you get here, though.” Eddie says, “We’re screwed if they find something wrong with the supplements.”
“What are the chances that they do find anything?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Eddie says.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” I snap, “You’re the head of the factory operations!”
“Yeah, but we’ve never used anything sketchy in our supplements!” Eddie shouts, “Especially not in the all-natural stuff we just released. It’s all herbs and vitamins and dried fruit. Nothing that should be hurting anyone.”
In the background, I can hear the protestors chanting something unintelligible. I could scream, “All right, Eddie just holds them off a little longer. I’m less than ten minutes out, and when I get there-”
I’m not able to finish my sentence. It would happen when I’m actually going through a green light rather than the two red lights I have run. I can’t see what type of car it is, but it t-bones me as I am coming through the intersection. Everything sort of happens in slow motion. I know my car flips. I’m not sure how many times. The screeching sound of metal on metal pierces my ears. I feel my lip smack into the steering wheel before the stupid airbag deploys and slaps me in the face. The side of my head hits the window during one of the flips. I obviously lose my phone, and it flies around the inside of the car –landing God knows where.
It feels like an eternity before my car stops flipping, landing upside down, of course, because my luck is just that awful right now. My head is throbbing. I look at my stomach and see blood on my white button up that I threw on under my suit jacket. My tie is flapping down in my face since I am hanging by my seatbelt. My head…
I can faintly hear Eddie’s voice, “James? James? James!” Is he worried about me? I guess that’s a good sign considering I unknowingly slept with his girlfriend not too long ago. I was starting to think that our relationship was starting to be strictly a business one. I have never been so dizzy in my life. My head is throbbing, and I’m worried about all the blood I see. I try to unbuckle my seatbelt, but my fingers are numb. The seatbelt is jammed.
This is not good. I start to see things through tunnel vision. I can hear someone shouting, “Call 9-1-1! Someone call 9-1-1!”
Someone is looking in through the shattered driver’s door window. I’m hardly able to move as my mind catches up with me; I start to realize that I am in a lot of pain, but the realization comes slowly as it works its way into my reality. The person staring in at me reaches in and puts his finger to my throat –is he checking my pulse? Do I look dead to him? “Sir, can you hear me?” the man asks. “Can you tell me your name?”
“James.” I say, “James Mont.”
“Sir?” he did not understand me, “Sir, can you tell me your name?”
“James,” I say again, but this time, I can hear myself. I’m not making any sense. My words are slurred. I open my mouth to speak again, and I see blood drip onto the roof of my car. The blood is starting to rush to my head –which is not good considering that I think I have a gaping wound somewhere on my head or neck or something like that.
“Help is on the way.” The guy says and I feel him gently lift my head up, “I can’t get you out.” He says, but I’m just glad he’s moved my head to where it’s not dangling anymore.
I groan loudly. My tunnel vision gets worse. I pass out just as I start to hear the sound of an approaching ambulance in the background.
Chapter Eighteen
I wake up slowly, but I don’t open my eyes –not yet. I can tell I’m in a hospital bed, though. I can hear the beeping sound of the monitor nearby. Everything hurts, but I can tell that they have morphine pumping in me; otherwise, it would be way worse. I’m afraid to open my eyes and see the damage. I move my head slightly, and I realize I have a neck brace on as well as a bandage around the top of my head. My face is throbbing, so I guess that I, at least, have a broken nose. Just what I need; I model for my supplement line, and now my face is probably jacked up.
When I move my head, I let out a slight groan. “James?” I hear Eddie’s voice.
I decide I have to face reality eventually, so I slowly blink my eyes open. I’m honestly surprised to see Eddie sitting by me. “What the hell?” I grumble.
“Damn,” Eddie sounds somewhat relieved to see me awake. “You all right, man?”
“My head….” I grumble slightly, and when I move my right arm, I realize it’s in a slin
g. “What happened?”
“You got into a car accident on your way to the factory.” Eddie says, “Hold on, let me go get a doctor now that you’re up-”
“Wait.” I say, “What happened at the company? What are the reporters saying?”
Eddie had started to stand up from his seat beside my hospital bed, but after I had asked for an update, he started to sink slowly back into his chair. He sits and nervously wrings his wrist, “Nothing good. The cops are swarming the factory now.”
“Then why are you here?” I ask, “One of us should be there.”
“Because you got into a car accident.” Eddie says, “Man when they called me, they made it sound pretty bad. Your car flipped five times and hit a telephone pole. The other driver has a broken spine. You’re lucky you’re just walking away with a broken nose and a few hairline fractures.”
“Everything hurts,” I complain as I slowly sit up.
Eddie puts a hand to my chest, “Lay down. You need to rest.” He gently pushes me back, and I do as he instructed.
“Eddie, did you talk to the reporters?” I ask.
“Not yet.” He says, “But it looks like I’m going to have to now.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” I say.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t.” Eddie sighs, “I’ll send the head PR guy out to give a statement.”
“All right. That works.” I groan again, “You really should go to the factory while the cops are there. Oversee that, and see what it is they find. I need you to get on the phone with my lawyer for me.”
“I can do that,” Eddie says.
“Have my assistant call me. I need to talk to her about what we’re going to do next.” I groan again; seriously, my bones feel like they’re almost burning. “Would you mind telling a nurse I could use some stronger pain killers too?”
Eddie nods, but he seems frozen in his seat for the time being. There is something else on his mind. Maybe he is just worried? I am worried, so why shouldn’t he be? But there is something else bothering him. Maybe I freaked him out. I had been on the phone with him during the accident. It probably sounded pretty horrifying from his end, but I don’t think that’s it either. I finally ask, “What’s wrong, Eddie? We’re going to figure this out. What’s with that worried look on your face?”
“Were you trying to kill yourself?” Eddie asks, and I can tell he is serious.
“What?” I question, “No. Why would you ask that?”
“That’s what they’re saying on the news,” Eddie says, breaking the news to me about the ridiculous borderline tabloid material.
“What?” I sit up, and instantly I am overcome with pain. I grit my teeth, but I refuse to lie down this time, “They’re saying I tried to kill myself? Why would they say that?”
“They’re saying you found out about the lawsuit… that you had a guilty conscience and tried to kill yourself to avoid the lawsuit.” Eddie explains, “You don’t know anything about this whole poisoning thing, do you? There’s nothing you’re not telling me, right? You didn’t sign off on anything sketchy did you?”
“No, of course not.” I say, “You got to squash those rumors, Eddie. It was just a car accident –nothing more.”
“If you say so.” Eddie stands. He stretches his back slightly and stares down at me, “I’m glad you’re all right.” He says half-heartedly. I can tell he means it, and I can also tell that it kind of killed him to say it.
“Thanks,” I say. “Just get back to the factory and try to calm things down. Just don’t make it worse, all right?”
“I’ll do my best. I’ll send your nurse in.” Eddie heads out, assuring me that he is going to handle things. I lay back down, still feeling sore.
I relive the moment over and over again. I have a professional driver; from now on, I’m using him. I clearly suck at driving. Although, it was not my fault. I had gotten hit by a driver running a red light, so that wasn’t my fault. It was horrifying –the accident. I thought for sure I was a goner for a second there. I should probably find the name of that random guy who came running to the rescue before the emergency vehicles showed up and thank him. I can’t believe I got into a car accident. I can’t believe the media are accusing me of trying to kill myself –who do they think they are? That’s just what we need right now; if people believe that, it’s going to make all this sketchy business look all the more suspicious.
Everything is just falling apart. This is the last thing Eddie needs too. He is already dealing with debt. His life is stressful enough dealing with me as a younger brother. I don’t know why, but I start thinking about my dad. I am still so angry with him for what he did to Eddie. He had raised Eddie as his own and then had dropped the bombshell in his will that Eddie was a result of our mother’s affair and had really cheated him out of much inheritance –leaving him a crappy summer home, a tiny fraction of his fortune, and a lot of questions. Eddie has been dealing with his shitty half-siblings he has only recently learned about –more bastards belonging to his biological father. They put enough stress on him always asking for money, and recently I have not done much to make it any easier on him. Now he has to deal with this too, and he has to deal with it without me for a while since I’m out of commission. This is not what we needed right now.
The door to my room opens, and a young male nurse enters. Just my luck. I can’t even get a hot nurse to take care of me. I get stuck with the young college graduate. I sigh. The nurse is kind enough to turn on my television for me and show me how to work the remote after giving me some pain killers. The news is on, and I grimace slightly. Of course, the story about the faulty supplements is playing over and over again on the local channels. I don’t know what to do.
Chapter Nineteen
I really lucked out being able to walk away with nothing more than a mild concussion and a few hairline fractures in my right arm and ribs. There is a video circling around online of the accident, and after watching it for the fifth time, I’m thankful to be alive. It looks pretty rough. I put my phone back on the bedside table; I’m still in my hospital bed, bored out of my mind. I’ve been here all night, and it looks like they’re going to make me stay here another night to monitor my head injury. Just my luck. My company is falling apart, and I’m stuck at the hospital. I’ve already spoken to the doctor, and I did my best to convince him that I am fine, but he had been pretty insistent on me staying since I live alone. I have not been able to get in touch with Sylvia; she probably does not even know about the accident yet.
After finishing my sub-par hospital breakfast, I decide to create a game for myself. I tear up the paper napkin I had been providing and begin to ball up the pieces into balls about the size of my thumbnail. There is a trashcan on the far side of the room, so begin to play hoops with my left arm since my right is in a sling. This is what boredom can do to me. I’ve already played on my phone through half the night last night –unable to sleep because of my own discomfort, so that is out now. I’ve watched television, but the hospital only gets a few channels. So now I am playing trashcan basketball with rolled up napkin bits.
The room door opens just as I am making a terrible toss, and I see my nurse-man roll his eyes, probably really glad he is about to get off shift after dealing with me all night. I silently pray for a sexy, female replacement. “Mr. Mont, you have a visitor.” The nurse says with an annoyed pout on his brow after spotting the substantial amount of balled up napkin pieces scattered around the trashcan.
“Who is it?” I ask, “Because I’m not talking to any reporters.”
“A Miss Éclair Beauchene.” He says and completely butchers her last name.
I nod, “Yeah, okay, I know her.”
The man grumbles again when he looks at the trash can before leaving the room. A few minutes later, Éclair enters the hospital room. I’m honestly surprised she has come to see me. Truthfully, I’m glad. It’s nice to see a familiar face. As my biggest business rival who doubles as my side chick, we have a very complica
ted relationship, so I’m not really sure what to expect from her right now. That beautiful blonde hair of hers is let down, which she rarely does anywhere except in the bedroom, and her unusual purple eyes are sparkling. I can see she has been worried about me, and that strangely makes me feel really happy.
“Are you all right?” she asks as she approaches the bed, putting her hand on the hospital beds hand rail.
“I’ve been better,” I say.
There is a hesitation within her words. I can tell she has been listening to the bullshit reporting about me being suicidal. “Good.” She says, and I can see her taping her fingers.
“I wasn’t trying to kill myself, Éclair,” I say, knowing that that is what is one her mind, “That’s just a bunch of bullshit reporting. Besides, I was the one who was hit –not the other way around. The other car ran a red light, and I was just not paying attention.”
Éclair seems relieved. Apparently I’m going to have to tell everyone I know that I was not suicidal when the accident occurred. I could probably sue over that. “A relative of mine sent me a video of your accident. It’s gone viral, and it’s quite terrifying to watch.”
“I think it’s cute that you were worried about me, Éclair,” I say, and she looks really annoyed.
She gives me a jab in my sore arm, and I flinch terribly. “Ne pas être un trou du cul.” She says, and I know she is insulting me, but that French half of her really turns me on. It always has.
I rub my arm and say in a firm tone, “That hurt! Don’t be like that, Éclair.”
