by Mj Williamz
Lana tried to relax while the nurse washed her cheek and neck with cool water. It felt good on her burning flesh.
“How bad is it?” Lana said.
“It’s bad.” Dr. Bremer was back. “I’m not going to candy coat this for you. You have substantial burns on your cheek and neck. It’s going to take some time for them to heal. We’re going to keep you here for a few days.”
Again, Lana went to nod but caught herself. She felt her eyes well with tears, and before she could stop them, they spilled over and trailed down her cheeks to her ears.
“Ah, kiddo,” Dr. Bremer said. “We’ll do all we can for you. And you can always get a skin graft if you choose once this is healed.”
Lana suddenly felt very cold, and she started shivering.
“Poor kid. You’re going into shock. Get her a heated blanket, stat.”
Lana drifted out of consciousness and finally came to feeling warm and toasty. She tried to look around, but her neck hurt too bad. The nurse came in and irrigated her cheek and neck again.
“We’ll be transferring you to a bed on our burn unit soon. Until then, you just relax.”
“I’ll try.”
Left alone to her thoughts, Lana’s brain went to Ronnie. What time was it? She was sure it was past one. Ronnie must be worried. Or pissed. But she couldn’t think about that. She’d have to let her feel her feelings. Besides, Ronnie was likely out of her life for good now that she was a freak show.
Her career was over. The thought hit her like a ton of bricks. She’d never be able to model again. What was she going to do? She felt overwhelming despair.
The nurse came back in.
“You feel up to filling out some paperwork?” she said.
“Sure.”
Lana filled out the intake form to the best of her ability. She filled in Ronnie’s information as her emergency contact. And in the space that asked for her employer, she started to write down the agency, but realized that wouldn’t be the case any longer, so she left it blank.
The nurse looked over the forms and looked at Lana, then back to the forms.
“You’re not employed?” she said.
“I was a model. Clearly, I can’t be anymore.”
Lana’s eyes teared up again.
“Do you have insurance?”
“Yes. My card is in my wallet in my purse.”
The nurse got her bag from the chair and deposited it in her lap. Lana went through it until she found her wallet. She got it out and found her insurance card. She handed it to the nurse.
The nurse asked for her driver’s license as well. Lana handed that to her.
“I’m just going to go make a copy. I’ll be right back.”
And she was back in no time. She irrigated Lana’s burn again.
“I think they have a bed ready for you so I probably won’t see you again. Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
Another nurse came into Lana’s room, pushing a wheelchair.
“Hi. I’m Monica. I’m from the burn ward. I’m going to take you up there and get you settled.”
Lana didn’t say anything. She climbed out from under the warm blanket and sat on the edge of the bed. Monica brought the wheelchair over to her and she sat in it. She held her purse in her lap.
“Do you have everything you need?” Monica said.
“I think so.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
How could she be so chipper, Lana wondered. She knew she had to look a fright, yet Monica didn’t shy away from her. Lana decided she liked her. Lana tried to keep her face hidden from anyone they passed, but it hurt too bad. Fortunately, they only passed nurses and doctors, so no one showed signs of shock and horror. They stared a moment too long, but there was no look of disgust on their faces.
Lana still hadn’t seen herself. She was curious but terrified. Her whole life had just been taken away from her. She couldn’t wait until the police got there so she could tell them, and they’d arrest whoever did this, probably Whitney, and lock her away for good.
The walls inside the elevator were polished metal, but she still couldn’t see herself. She figured that was for the best. The elevator opened on the eighth floor, and she was wheeled to her room. Fortunately, due to risk of infection, burn unit rooms only had one bed each. She didn’t want to share a room with anyone. She just wanted to be left alone. She started shivering again.
“Climb into bed,” Monica said. “I’ll get you a heated blanket to help with the chills.”
Lana did as she was instructed and was grateful when Monica was back with the blanket. She snuggled under it and lay patiently while Monica washed her burns again. The cool water felt good, although the intense burning from the beginning had subsided to a dull roar. After Monica cleansed her, she used some gauze to cover her cheek and neck.
“We don’t want any infection getting in there,” Monica said. “You’re really lucky that acid didn’t splash higher and get your eye.”
“I guess I ducked just the right way.”
“So, the police are outside. Are you up for talking to them?”
“Yes. Please. I want them to arrest the woman who did this to me.”
“Okay. I’ll show them in. But don’t overdo it, okay? You’re in a fragile state. If their questions get too much, you just ask them to leave. They can come back later, okay?”
“Okay.”
Two officers came in. They were the same two who had come out about her slashed tires. She was happy her face was covered.
“Hello again, Ms. Ferguson,” the woman said. Her badge said her last name was Winthrop.
“Hello, Officer Winthrop.”
“Does this have anything to do with whoever slashed your tires?”
“It has everything to do with her I believe. I’m sure it was Whitney LaRoche.”
“Ms. Ferguson, that’s a very serious charge.”
“I saw someone tall and thin. She’s tall and thin.”
“You must have been in a lot of pain, Ms. Ferguson. So, are you sure that’s what you saw?”
“Positive.”
Lana felt tears of frustration forming in her eyes. She tried to blink them back, but they spilled over, running down her cheeks and dampening the gauze covering her burn.
“Okay. Here’s a clipboard. I want you to write down what happened, what you saw, then sign and date it, and give it back to me.”
“Gladly.”
She wrote down the details of the attack, signed, dated it, and handed it back to Officer Winthrop.
“I hope this will get her put away for a long time,” Lana said.
“We’ll certainly investigate it to the best of our abilities.”
“There’s nothing to investigate. I saw her.”
“Is there any reason she would have to do this?”
“She’s crazy.” Lana drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry. She’s jealous. She used to sleep with my girlfriend, but once we got together, obviously, that didn’t happen anymore. Then, after she kept harassing me by slashing my tires and keying my car, Ronnie, my girlfriend, told her she wouldn’t photograph her anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“Ronnie is a photographer. She takes pictures of models. She called Whitney’s modeling agency and told them she wouldn’t work with Whitney anymore. Whitney showed up at the studio the other day and threw a glass coffee pot filled with hot coffee at me.”
“So you’re thinking she’s escalated.”
“Yes.”
“Did you file a report about the coffee pot incident?”
“No. I just chalked it up to a temper tantrum. I never dreamed she’d go this far.”
Lana felt the tears threatening again. No matter how hard she fought to keep her composure, it was no use. The tears flowed freely.
“Okay. Well, thank you for your information. We’ll be in touch.”
“Please arrest her.”
“We’ll do our best.”
They left
and Lana sobbed. What was the big deal? Why didn’t they believe her and go arrest Whitney?
Monica came in and saw Lana crying.
“Was that too much for you? You didn’t have to put up with it if it was.”
“No. It was fine. Just frustrating. I mean, I saw who did this to me. You’d think that would be enough. But no. They have to investigate? What the hell does that mean anyway?”
“Sh. Calm down. You’ve had a bad day and the frustration isn’t helping. But I need you to try to stop crying if you can. Your gauze is wet and I’m going to have to change it, okay?”
Lana drew another deep breath. She managed to stem the flow of future tears.
“I think I’m okay now,” she said.
“Good. Now you just relax, and I’ll be right back with some more water and gauze.”
Monica was back in a few minutes.
“I’m sorry,” Lana said.
“For what?”
“For crying.”
“Aw, honey, that’s to be expected. You’ve been through hell today. Now lie back and let me take off this wet gauze.”
Lana did as she was instructed. The cool water Monica rinsed her with felt good on her hot flesh. She covered it with gauze again. Then she pulled a little table up next to Lana’s left side.
“What’s that?” Lana said.
“We’re going to get you started on IV fluids and antibiotics. We don’t want to take any chance of infection. I’m also going to give you some pain meds to help ease the throbbing, okay?”
“Sure. That sounds good. What time is it, by the way?”
“It’s a little after four. Now sit tight. This might sting a little.”
But it didn’t sting at all. Monica was obviously adept at what she was doing.
“All done. Now, I’m going to leave. If you need me, there’s a button by your bed. I suggest you try to get some rest now, okay?”
“Okay.”
She left Lana alone with her thoughts. By now Ronnie knew she wasn’t going to show up. She wondered if they’d called her. Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. Of course they’d called. She should have left Ronnie out of this. She should have just let her go. It would have been easier than facing the rejection when Ronnie saw her disfigured face.
The pain meds had started to take effect. She was feeling a little woozy, but not in a bad way. She pulled the warm blanket around her and drifted into a drug-induced sleep.
Chapter Eighteen
Ronnie was beside herself with worry. Lana hadn’t shown up for her shoot and wasn’t answering her phone. She dismissed everyone at the studio and hurried home to check on her. Maybe she’d just overslept, but that wasn’t very likely. Lana was a professional. If she had a shoot, she’d make it. If she could.
Ronnie was surprised to see Lana’s rental car sitting in the driveway just as it had been before she’d left for work. She opened the front door.
“Hey, baby. It’s me,” she called.
No answer. She went down the hall to the bedroom. The bed was made. She walked into the bathroom. No Lana, but all her cosmetics were in their place on the sink. She looked around the house for her purse but couldn’t find it. So she had it with her. Where had she gone?
Ronnie pulled out her phone and called Madeline’s office. She had to wait a few minutes before Madeline picked up.
“Ronnie? To what do I owe this pleasure? No problems with another model I hope?”
“No, ma’am. Nothing like that. Um, the thing is, Lana didn’t show up for her shoot today. I’m at the house and she’s not here. Her car’s here, but her purse isn’t. I don’t suppose you’ve seen her today?”
“Oh. That doesn’t sound like Lana to just disappear without a trace. I wish I could say I’ve seen her today, but I haven’t.”
“Hm. Okay. Thanks.”
“And she’s not answering her phone?”
“Nope. And now it’s just going straight to voice mail.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” Madeline said.
“This morning before I left for work. She was supposed to come by the studio at one with lunch.”
“I’m really sorry, Ronnie. If I hear from her, I’ll be sure and let you know.”
Ronnie left her number, thanked Madeline, and hung up. She had no idea where to even start searching for her. She thought of Galveston, but she would have needed to take the rental car for that.
She sat on the couch and rested her head in her hands while she tried to think. She almost didn’t register the knock on the door.
She opened it, hoping to see Lana. It was two police officers. Her stomach curdled. What if something really had happened to Lana?
“Hello. How can I help you?”
“Are you Ronnie Mannis?” Officer Winthrop said.
“I am. What’s going on? Why are you here?”
“May we come in? We have a few questions for you.”
“For me? Why? Is this about Lana? Is she okay?”
“We need to ask you about Whitney LaRoche.”
“Come on in,” Ronnie said. “And what do you want to know about Whitney?”
“Anything you can tell us.”
Ronnie relayed every story she could think of about Whitney’s animosity to Lana, including the coffee pot incident.
“Why would she behave that way?” Winthrop said.
“Because she’s nuts.”
Winthrop simply raised an eyebrow.
“I guess it all started when I was sleeping with Whitney. Which I did. Twice. She promised me it was all fun and games with no strings attached. And then I started seeing Lana and she got all jealous. After she’d slashed her tires and keyed her car, I decided I didn’t want anything more to do with her. So I called her modeling agency and told them I wouldn’t photograph her anymore. That’s when she threw the pot of coffee at Lana. Now, will you tell me, is Lana okay? Do you know where she is?”
“Ms. Ferguson will be fine,” Winthrop said.
“Oh, sweet Jesus, what has Whitney done now?”
“Thank you for your time, Ronnie. If we have any further questions, we’ll be in touch.”
Ronnie closed the door behind them and bolted the lock. Where the hell was Lana, and why were the cops investigating Whitney finally? Ronnie had an idea. She got in her truck and drove over to Lana’s house. She pounded on the door until her hands hurt, but there was no answer.
With no other options, she drove home. It was then she noticed her favorite rose bush looked dead, almost burnt. She wondered what happened and reasoned nothing was going right for her that day.
She opened a beer and sat on the couch. She dialed Lana’s phone again. Still no answer. Surely if something bad had happened to her, like if she had ended up in the hospital or something, she would have listed her as an emergency contact. So, she would have heard from them, right? She reasoned with herself there was no real reason to panic. Lana probably went somewhere and lost track of time. But without her car? None of it made any sense.
She had another beer and thought some more. That was all she could do. She felt impotent. Her mind whirled like a cat chasing its tail. She couldn’t come up with anything. She finally finished her beer and decided she had better eat, even though she wasn’t hungry. She went to their favorite Chinese restaurant, wondering if maybe she’d see Lana there. No joy.
She ate her dinner then went home. She turned on the television but couldn’t focus. She couldn’t imagine what had happened. She and Lana had seemed so solid. What could have made her disappear without a trace?
Finally, her eyelids were growing heavy so she went back to her room. She hated the idea of spending the night alone, but clearly Lana wasn’t coming back. She tossed and turned all night, hating the empty feeling of the bed. She finally gave up around five and got in the shower. Regardless of where Lana was, she had a job to do. Maybe Lana would show up at the studio. If she was just leaving Ronnie, she could show up and break up with her there. The thought ma
de Ronnie sick to think of, but at least she would know she was okay.
She had just stripped and was climbing into bed when her phone rang. Lana? She grabbed it. Unknown number. Should she even bother answering it? What if it had something to do with Lana?
“Hello?” she said.
“Hello. Is this Ronnie Mannis?”
“Yes.” Ronnie told herself to calm down. “Who is this, please?”
“I’m calling from the Memorial Hermann Hospital Burn Unit. Did you not get the message I left on your phone earlier?”
Ronnie had a cold fist in her gut. This couldn’t be good.
“Why are you calling me?” Though she already knew the answer. She was getting dressed while she waited for an answer.
“One of our patients who was admitted today requested that we call you.”
“Oh, God. Not Lana. Please, not Lana.”
“Yes. A Lana Ferguson.”
“I’m on my way.”
Ronnie hung up, tossed her phone on the bed, and finished getting dressed. She grabbed her phone and her keys and drove to the hospital. Her stomach was in knots the whole time. What had happened to Lana? Was Whitney somehow involved? No. That didn’t make sense. She’d just have to find out when she got to the hospital.
She punched the elevator button ten times, wishing it would hurry up and arrive so she could see Lana. She was shaking with fear. What had happened, she asked herself for the millionth time. The elevator finally arrived and took her to the eighth floor. She practically ran to the nurses’ station.
“I’m here to see Lana Ferguson,” Ronnie said.
“And who are you?”
“I’m Ronnie Mannis. I believe you just called me?”
“Do you have some ID, Ms. Mannis?”
Ronnie fished out her driver’s license and handed it to the nurse.
“Thank you. Sign in on this visitors form, please, and I’ll have someone take you to Ms. Ferguson’s room.”
Ronnie felt like she was in a bad dream. Lana was really in the hospital. Why? She wished she could wake up and start the day all over again.
A nurse approached Ronnie.
“I’m Monica,” she said. “I’ll take you to see Lana now. Have you been briefed on what happened?”
