by Carla Krae
On-call twenty-four-seven, it was good to be busy, except when he woke me up before seven. Meant I didn’t have time to think about my lack of a personal life.
“Bethie?” Jacob called over the intercom.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve got a terrible headache and can’t find the aspirin. Could you come over and find it for me, pet?”
Great, another hangover.
For the past…I don’t know…he’d been coming home smelling of cigarettes and alcohol. So many people in this stupid business smoked. He was…a social drinker, I guess they’d call it, only having a beer or two in the house, but living it up in a club. Thank God he always took the limo.
“Yeah,” I sighed. “Give me a few minutes.”
I fumbled into some clothes and pulled my plain brown hair into a messy bun. Stepping out of the guest house, I groaned, noticing the sun just barely peeked over the horizon. One of these days, I was going to kill him.
Letting myself into the mansion with my set of keys, I trudged up the stairs to his bedroom, hoping he had pants on, and knocked as I slowly opened the door, finding him sitting on the edge of the bed bent over and holding his head in his hands. I’d seen him shirtless more times than I could count and the sight no longer stirred me, especially when he was being an idiot.
“Late night?”
He grunted in reply. His moan of pain when I turned the bathroom light on gave me a small bit of delight. The aspirin was in the medicine cabinet, right where it should be. I brought back two tablets and a glass of water.
“Here. Drink it all. Then drink another glass and get in the shower. You have a photo shoot today.”
“I thought that was tomorrow.”
“No, yesterday it was tomorrow. I told you not to go out last night. I won’t always be around to bail you out of your messes, you know.”
He caught my hand as I turned to leave, his blue eyes bloodshot. “You would never leave me, would you, Bethie? I need you, babe.”
He always called me “Bethie” when he didn’t feel well and wanted to be pampered.
I brushed his highlighted hair out of his eyes. “Don’t call me ‘babe’. Now get yourself presentable. I’ll have Maria make some toast.”
He set the empty glass on his nightstand and smiled at me. “Thanks, babe. You’re the best.” He yawned, wobbled to his feet, and managed to stagger into the bathroom and shut the door.
Many people had come and go since that big blow-out on the European tour a couple years ago and he’d come to rely on me staying. He wasn’t really capable of grudges, and our current relationship was like guardian and child. He wanted to be taken care of and I had nowhere else to go. Talk about dysfunction.
There used to be a time where he wanted to take care of me.
I shook my head and went down to the kitchen. It was going to be a long day.
When the water had been running a half hour, I ran upstairs and pounded on his door, then got a pint of coffee in him and made him eat something in the kitchen. I shuffled him into the limo, sunglasses in place, and we were on our way to Smashbox Studios for the shoot. He slept the whole way there.
I sighed as we pulled up to the building. “Jacob, come on, move your butt. You’re barely on time.”
“Yeah, yeah…how do I look?” His eyes were heavy-lidded with circles underneath them and he sported a five-o-clock shadow. He wore a faded Ozzy tee and blue jeans with a hole in the knee.
I rolled my eyes. “Like a hung-over rock star. Thank god they have make-up inside.” I pushed him toward the doors. “Go!”
He grumbled and strutted into the studio, persona in place. The photographer took one look at him and shook his head, calling for make-up.
Jacob refused the caterer’s offerings, asking only for coffee and, “Can I smoke in here?”
“You can’t smoke inside anywhere in California but home, Mr. Lindsey,” I reminded him. At work, it was yes, sir and no, sir and can I get you something, sir?
He stuck his tongue out at me when no one was looking and slouched in his chair, defining difficult the entire day.
Six hours later, we finally left.
I smacked him hard on the shoulder once we were alone in the limo.
“Ow! What was that for?” He rubbed his arm and pouted.
“You were being an ass! I told you not to go out and party last night, but nooo, you didn’t want to listen, and so you were a royal pain today and now they’re going to write you up as a frickin’ prima donna if I don’t get Lynn to intercede pronto. God, you’re twenty-eight years old, Jacob. When are you going to stop acting like a child?”
His face hardened with anger. “We may go back a long way, Miss Lawson, but I don’t pay you to talk to me like that.”
“Fine…sir. The next stop is your management firm. They want to discuss the promos for your new album.”
“Fine.”
We sat in awkward silence. When the limo stopped, I handed him an itinerary and stayed in the car.
“You’re not coming?” he asked, sounding surprised.
I shook my head. “I have work to do at the office. Marty knows where to drive you today.”
“Oh. Okay.” He nodded, and closed the door.
I let out a breath as the limo pulled away. We had more tension between us than ever before, and I was close to using my escape clause and walking away, though I still had two years on my contract. With his constant partying and swelled ego, I didn’t know how long I could keep supporting him. Or was that enabling him?
Shaking off my thoughts, I concentrated on work while Marty drove back to the mansion to drop me off.
Later, I sat at the kitchen table while Maria bustled about the kitchen.
“It was terrible.”
She leaned against the counter. “You and Mr. Lindsey will make up. You always do.”
“This time was worse. He pulled rank on me. I just don’t know how long I can stay, Maria. I know PAs are basically slaves to the whim of the stars, but with Jacob…I haven’t had a day off in forever. I’m a workaholic, always have been, but…he’s not the guy I used to know.”
“So tell him. Men aren’t mind readers, you know.”
I sighed. “I can’t right now. There isn’t time. Maybe after the album release. Besides, I don’t even know if he’ll listen anymore.”
****
That evening, Jacob walked over to the cottage to apologize. He glanced in the window, seeing Beth bent over a giant date planner, glasses sliding down her nose and hair in a sloppy ponytail. She looked exhausted, but he still found her beautiful.
He knocked as he opened the door.
“Yes, Mr. Lindsey?”
Ouch. Formal title. “Look, Bethie, I’m--”
“You were right. We should conduct a professional relationship as professionals. Please call me Beth or Miss Lawson, sir.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry I took my discomfort out on you today, Beth. Um…goodnight.”
“Goodnight, sir.”
He nodded again and turned to leave. Wait…
“Beth… Are we still friends?”
She finally looked up at him. “Friends share equal footing. That hasn’t been us for a long time.”
“You’re right. Of course.” He managed to get out the door without revealing how much her words hurt.
Had he finally managed to drive her away? The work wasn’t any easier, but he tried most days to be nice, to get along. They’d been through a lot in almost three and a half years, most recently the delay of his second album. The label wanted it out last year and she supported his creative decision to get the songs out right, not fast, and it was even her idea to release a deluxe single months ago to appease the higher-ups and whet the fans’ appetites. Now, it was nearly Spring with the special edition album drop a week away. He’d need her by his side more than ever.
****
Jacob surprised me by being showered, shaved, and dressed on time.
Being on time was aga
inst his rock star sensibilities. Hell, I’d known him since he was sixteen and never seen him wear a watch. Meant he felt guilty for the fight we had yesterday and was sucking up.
I had errands to run, so I gave him his itinerary and sent him off after breakfast.
“List of things to do—check. Wireless earpiece—check. Cell phone--”
Jacob’s first single played as my ringtone. Great, I’m barely out the door and the calls are starting.
“Beth Lawson.”
His publicist was on the phone. Lynn was good at her job, but the woman seriously needed to lay off the caffeine, for one, and two, realize we were human and couldn’t be in two places at once.
“No, no, no, he can’t do a signing next Thursday. He’s going to be in New York.”
Dammit, that jerk manager of Jacob’s didn’t fax the booking schedule to her again. I hated that guy. Asshole treated women like they were cute little servants (assistants like me) or commodities to be used until they dried up (the talent).
“No… The discs aren’t even back from the printer’s, yet.”
It sucked being the middle man, uh, woman. Would she call the printer for the label to check on the CDs? Nooo, she couldn’t be bothered.
“Lynn, you’re his publicist. You talk to his manager. I’m just the walking Dayplanner.”
She complained some more about things out of my control and reminded me what I already knew Jacob was scheduled to do. Blah, blah, blah…annoying. I’d been handling his career for three years--what did she expect me to do?
“Yeah…he’s there now. Okay…okay. Bye.”
Geeze, Louise—you’d think these people would talk to each other! One of these days, she was going to have to talk to the manager directly and stop using me as a message service. If I ever got up the guts to say it to her face.
I pulled out of the gated driveway my boss and I shared and headed toward downtown L.A.
Jacob’s leather jacket needed to be picked up from the cleaners, his mother’s birthday was coming, I had to do the grocery shopping because Maria insisted on denying him junk food, and a signed contract needed to be dropped off at the post office. He also wanted me to return a two-hundred-dollar pair of jeans he didn’t bother to try on when he bought them.
“Come on, come on…”
This light was taking forever. Everything needed to be done by four so I could accompany him to a press event.
The light turned green and I stepped on the gas pedal.
Never saw the car blowing the red until it was too late.
****
It was Interview Day. Jacob sat in a suite of a Beverly Hills hotel with the rest of the band to promote the upcoming album release. Press junkets were always tedious, doing hours of interviews with rarely a unique or interesting question.
“At least the last chick was hot,” Bob said. They chuckled and nodded. No question the girl was fine.
Jacob started to ask Beth for another bottle of water, then remembered she wasn’t here. He snapped his fingers to get the attention of some anonymous go-for.
“They’re ready,” his publicist said.
They wandered onto the makeshift set for the camera interview with him center-front, one camera on the band and the other on the interviewer.
“And…three…two…one… We’re here with Jake Lindsey to talk about the release of Personal Attention. After the amazing success of Chances, is there pressure to come out even bigger on this album?” she asked.
“You look smashing today, Linda, by the way,” Jacob said. She thanked him. “Uh, yeah, of course. You always want to top your last effort. I’m not worried, though. You’ve seen what the single did on the charts.”
“Right. Does it still surprise you when a song takes off like that?”
He scratched his cheek, considering the question. “Yes and no. We get a feelin’, you know? I mean, sometimes you think they’re gonna love it and that’s not what they latch onto, but everybody knows a hit when they hear one. It’s just the nature of the experience.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Bob said. “He shits bricks until the first numbers come in.”
“Dude, you can’t say that on film!” Dylan said.
“It’s taped. They’ll beep me, won’t you, honey?”
Linda the interviewer gave him a plastic smile. “Moving on--”
A phone rang. Jacob’s cell. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the display. “Sorry, gotta take this.”
He walked into a different room of the suite mid-protestations from Linda and his publicist.
“Hello?”
“May I speak with Mr. Jacob Lindsey?”
“Speaking, love. Who is this?” His number was private and unlisted.
“Mr. Lindsey, this is Theresa Lopez. I’m an ER nurse with UCLA Medical Center.”
A hospital? Why would a local hospital be calling him? His mother was in London.
“Sir, Elizabeth Lawson has been involved in an accident. She’s in--”
“Oh my God, what happened? Is she alright?”
“Sir, Miss Lawson listed you as her emergency contact. We need you to come to the hospital and--”
“I’ll be right there. Give me the address.”
He scribbled the information on a napkin and ran out of the suite to the lift. Footsteps pursued him. He turned around to see Lynn with the band behind her.
“Jake, where are you going? We’re in the middle of an interview!”
“Hospital.” He looked over her head to Bob. “It’s Beth.”
“Go. I’ll handle this.”
Jacob nodded to his best friend and stepped past the open doors of the lift. He punched the Lobby button and prayed the car would go straight down. Outside, he jumped in the limo and gave Marty the napkin.
“On it, sir. We’ll be there in minutes.”
****
Jacob ran into the hospital lobby, his boots skidding on the tile. A bodyguard and Marty the chauffeur trailed behind him.
He reached the E.R. admittance desk and demanded, “Beth Lawson—where is she?”
“Sir, if you’ll just--”
“Beth. Lawson. She works for me and they told me she was taken here. Where is she?”
Please, God, be alright. She had to be all right.
The girl at the desk looked up from her computer finally and recognized him, her eyes widening. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Lindsey. Uh, ‘Lawson’…did you say?” She typed the name into her search engine. “She’s up in surgery now, sir. They can answer your questions.”
“Thank you.”
She cowered and nodded, calling “next” once he stalked away to the elevators.
He repeated the process upstairs, rushing to the desk and demanding to know Beth’s status.
“I’ll have a doctor speak with you as soon as they can, sir,” the nurse said. This one wouldn’t be cowed by his intimidation.
“Fine. Where can I wait?”
She pointed down the hall.
He couldn’t sit, popping back up a second later and pacing, running his hands through his hair every few minutes. The smell of the place filled his nose with disinfectant and illness.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine, sir,” Marty said. “I’ve heard they got good doctors here.”
“They better be. Beth…she’s…important. God, I don’t even know how to reach her parents.”
“They, uh, probably got contact info from her purse, right? Miss Beth has that book.”
“Right, right… What is taking the doctor so long?” Jacob had never been described as patient, and what little he had was wearing thin.
He spotted a man in blue scrubs coming their way and ran to meet the doctor.
“Mr. Lindsey?”
“Yeah.”
“Miss Lawson listed you as her primary emergency contact.”
“She’s…” He couldn’t put it in just a few words. “We’ve known each other since we were kids.” But why did she pick him over her family?
“Just tell me how she is.”
“Miss Lawson was broad-sided in her car by another vehicle running the red light. The car struck the driver’s side. She suffered head trauma, a broken left humerus—the upper arm bone, a compound fracture of her left femur, and internal bruising from the seat belt--”
“But she’s going to be okay, right? You’ve repaired the damage?”
“Her arm is in a cast and the leg was repaired in surgery. What concerns us is the head injury. We won’t know until the anesthesia starts to wear off if she will wake up immediately or not.”
“What does that mean?” Was it possible she wouldn’t open her eyes again?
“Concussions are…unpredictable. Miss Lawson could wake up in a few hours, a few days, or longer…we have to wait and see.” He patted Jacob’s shoulder, trying to be reassuring. “A nurse will come get you once Miss Lawson has been moved to a bed.”
“Give her a private room. Anything she needs. I’ll pay for it.”
The doctor nodded and left, leaving Jacob with a heart constricting with worry.
He never told her he got through university by thinking “what would Beth do” when it got hard. They ran in different circles at high school, but more of his free time belonged to her than anyone else. And then there was that one summer…no, focus on the present, mate.
He owed her a portion of his success. She was his right arm, his oldest friend, his sidekick. Doing this without her…wasn’t something he could fathom anymore.
It felt like days before they finally let him see her.
“Bethie…” he whispered.
She looked so small swaddled in casts and bandages. He cautiously approached the bed, afraid of touching something he shouldn’t, and slid his hand under hers and squeezed it.
No response.
He didn’t know anything about pulse rates or heart rhythms, but the numbers on the monitor didn’t seem bad. Her forehead was wrapped in gauze and he could see bruising spreading down her left cheek. It was the first time he’d seen her glasses off in years. There was a stabilization collar around her neck, probably to treat whiplash. Her left arm had a hard cast from shoulder to wrist, and her leg was wrapped in gauze and stabilized in a Velcro cast thing. Probably so they could check the stitches.
