by Cecilia Fyre
At ‘couple’, Lea’s heart beat faster. She was amused by how he made it sound so foreign. “Is that what people do these days? Sounds dead boring. But you are an old man, so I guess we better start taking it easy.”
Ricco gave a snort. The banter was like a balm after the last few days. The week had been draining, and their collective exhaustion threatened to take the fun out of things. “Watch who you’re calling old, doc,” he said, grinning.
“You’re in Florida, about to go on a race track with a retired Formula One driver,” she teased. “What was your point again?”
“Clever doc, you’re digging yourself in deep there—” A voice in the background interrupted him. “Listen, I found my ride. I’ll text you later, okay? Might be another late night.”
He sounded tired. Again. Lea wondered why he did this to himself.
“Promise me you get some sleep first,” she said. “If you don’t swear I’ll get Stuart to come check on you. I’m not kidding.”
He huffed. “Pinky swear. No convincing needed, I’m beat.”
Lea sighed. “Oh darling, I worry about you.”
“That’s sweet, thanks, doc.” He sounded like he wanted to say something else but then only added, “Speak tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay. Bye.”
The line went dead. Lea let her phone drop onto the sofa. So, here she was with an entire day to herself. She eyed her half-drunk coffee. There were errands she needed to run, and laundry to do at home. The thought alone made her feel tired. With a sigh, she got up and went back to bed.
4
Filming in Florida was great. Mario was amazing to work with, their crew did a stellar job, and they had the best seafood pasta Ricco had ever tasted. He would tell that story to anyone who asked, and it would be true. But it was also true that he was now utterly and completely exhausted.
And he was stuck.
"What d'you mean, canceled?!" he snapped at the stressed American Airlines customer assistant, who had the thankless task of telling passengers that their flights out of Key West were canceled.
And being stuck wasn’t even the worst of it. There was a dull, depressingly familiar throb behind Ricco’s right eye, and his vision was beginning to blur. To make matters worse, he’d raised his voice at this poor woman and attracted unwanted attention. He pulled his baseball cap down over his eyes.
The migraine had been threatening since breakfast. He’d hoped to stave it off with the rescue meds and some Dramamine on the plane, then zonk out on the three-hour flight to JFK. There had been radio reports about imminent snow chaos on the East Coast, but the film crew had been so intent on getting finishing on schedule, and before the local weather turned bad that they'd paid scant attention to anything else. And now Ricco was paying for that oversight.
He'd been at the airport for three hours already, with no hotel room, a steadily worsening headache, and a progressively growing gaggle of people who kept throwing him covert glances and taking stealth photos.
"I'm very sorry, sir," the AA assistant said. "But all flights to JFK have been canceled until further notice."
“Great, just great." He rubbed his aching temple. "Listen, I gotta get back to New York. Is there anything flying that'll get me there tonight? First-class, business class, coach, I don't care."
Angela – according to the name tag Ricco was squinting at – tapped her keyboard, brow knitted in concentration. Ricco closed his eyes for a moment. He could do this. Only a few more hours and he’d be in his dark bedroom, where he could crawl into his own bed.
"I have a first-class ticket to LaGuardia via Miami," Angela said, startling Ricco from his pain-fueled haze. “But the plane leaves here in ten minutes. I’ll call them to make sure they’re okay to wait, if you want the seat?”
“God, yes, I want it!” He didn’t even care about sounding close to tears.
“Have you got any luggage checked in, sir?” Angela asked.
“No, just carry on.”
“Brilliant, that makes it easier.” Angela smiled, and Ricco felt a little better, now that things were moving again.
She conversed briefly with someone over the phone while motioning for Ricco’s credit card. After another minute’s tapping on her keyboard, she handed him the card and a plane ticket. “There you go. Gate D60. You better hurry!”
“Thanks!” Ricco tucked the credit card and ticket into his back pocket. He winced at the furious wave of pain and nausea as he leaned down to pick up his backpack.
“No problem.” Angela frowned. “Are you feeling all right, sir?”
There was genuine concern in the customer assistant’s gaze. The genuine emotion caused Ricco a stab of longing for Lea, who looked at him like this all the time.
“It’s just a headache,” he mumbled.
"If you're sure." She didn't seem to like that response but was distracted by a voice announcing the imminent departure of Ricco’s flight. “Oh, you better hurry, if you want to catch that plane.”
He nodded and hurried away. As his heart rate increased with the rush, his head started to pound. He'd never make it home before this headache upgraded from inconvenient to unbearable.
But at least he was going home tonight, where his doc was waiting.
A few hours later, he was in a Miami Airport bathroom, and things were getting worse by the minute. He held his phone to his ear, willing Lea to pick up, and trying his utmost not to let the nausea win. When she finally answered, he had to suppress a sob.
“Ricco? Where are you?” came her voice from far away. “I’ve been trying to reach you. Better stay where you are, no flights are getting into New York today.”
“I’m in Miami,” he gasped. “No…no direct flights from Key West… Shit.” He leaned his head against the cubicle door as the agony in his head doubled.
So far he had managed not to be sick, but it was inevitable now. He still had three-quarters of an hour before his connecting flight to LaGuardia. The airport announcement as he'd searched for the nearest bathroom had confirmed that they would be able to land just ahead of the storm, as long as there were no delays.
“You okay, honey?” Lea asked.
Ricco swallowed before daring to open his mouth again. “Migraine’s coming.”
“Oh no! Take a hotel room and wait this out. You got your pills, and you can call room service for anything you need. Or go to the hospital.”
"No!" The suggestion was too awful to contemplate. "It's only three hours to LaGuardia. I can do that. Got a first-class seat, so if I puke… oh, god.”
Saying the words out loud made it happen. The cubicle gave a great lurch. Feeling eerily, sickeningly reminded of the misery on the yacht Ricco wheeled around, dropping to his knees.
“Shit,” he whispered when he could breathe again. He sat back on his haunches, gasping. He lifted the phone. “Can you—” Ricco bit back another heave. “Can y’come to my place? Please.”
Lea sighed. “Honey, even if your plane can land at LaGuardia, you won’t find a taxi to take you into Manhattan. It’s pure chaos. Come to my place instead. It’s closer to the airport, you might find someone to take you.”
“Good…good point,” he gasped.
“I’ll text you the address again, just in case. Oh,” she exclaimed. “What about Carl and Bob?”
Ricco’s brain was sluggish. “Can you call Carmine?” he said at last. “I gave him a key.”
“You did?” She sounded surprised, then caught herself. “Okay, sure. I’ll call him now, then I’m off home. They’ve closed the ER if you can believe it."
Ricco could. He’d live in New York for twenty years. “I’m not surprised. Winter storms can get truly awful in town.”
“Darling, be careful,” Lea said. “Call me if you can once you touch down. Try and take some pills, too. I’ll bring meds home with me so you don’t run out.”
“Will…will do.” Ricco was so close to tears, he couldn’t even pretend otherwise. “Oh, babe, I wish you were here�
��dunno if…if I can do this.”
“You can, darling,” she said soothingly. “You’ll be home soon.”
Ricco dropped the phone. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t get on that plane. Hell, he couldn’t even get off this bathroom floor. He leaned his forehead against the stall wall and closed his eyes.
Why did these things keep happening to him?
“This Lea?” The gruff British voice was unfamiliar.
“It is,” she replied cautiously. “Who’s asking?”
“Name’s Joe,” the voice said. “I drive a cab. Got this guy in me car, says you’re his missus? Picked him up from LaGuardia just now.”
Lea’s heart skipped several beats. “Is he all right?”
“To be honest, luv, I’m not sure. No disrespect, but does he always drink that much?”
A judgmental cabbie, just what they needed. "He's not drunk, he's sick." She resisted the temptation to use a few choice swearwords he'd certainly know. "Can you still get through? The roads are bad."
"Your guy gave me five hundred quid, so I'll do me bloody best," Joe grunted. "Might take a wee while, though."
“How long?” Lea pressed through gritted teeth.
“I’m no prophet, but I’d say an hour, hour and a half?”
Lea’s heart sank. Poor Ricco. “Be careful, you hear me? Last thing Ri… I mean, he doesn’t need to be in a crash now.”
“Keep yer hair on, lassie,” the driver growled. “I grew up in Yorkshire, we got snow there like ya wouldn’t believe.”
“Yeah, well, this is New York, not the Yorkshire Dales,” Lea snapped. “Just get him home in one piece.”
“Aye, pet. Will do.”
Joe called again when they were about ten minutes away by his best reckoning. The drive that should have taken twenty minutes in decent weather had taken them over an hour. Ricco would be in a bad way, and Lea was growing more anxious by the minute.
Bundled up in many layers she went out to wait on the curb. The street was deserted, there were no cars or pedestrians in sight. Snow fell in thick flurries and was already piling up. Visibility was about zero, even with the street lights on.
There, finally. A yellow cab edged around the corner. The driver kept to the middle of the road, avoiding the piles of snow and parked cars. In Joe, it seemed, impertinent as he might be, Ricco had found someone who knew what he was doing.
Lea waded out into the road through the drifts of snow to help Ricco out of the car. Navigating the treacherous, icy street with him when she couldn’t even see where she was stepping herself would be a nightmare.
The passenger side window descended and Lea peered inside. The middle-aged balding driver pointed to the back seat. “Don’t think he can get out on his own. Want a hand?”
“No, thanks, we’ll manage.” Lea opened the back door. “Ricco, hey. You’re home, you made it.”
He lifted his head to reveal a pinched face, the red-rimmed eyes framed by black shadows. Lea’s heart gave a lurch. His hair was sweaty and sticking to his forehead. He clutched a paper bag, which Lea took and dropped into the snow.
“Doc.” His voice was raw and sore, and he sounded close to tears.
“I’m here, darling,” she murmured. “C’mon, time to get out.”
“Can’t…can’t move.” He shivered.
“Yes, darling, you can,” she coaxed. “Come on. I’ll help you.”
She grabbed his backpack and slung it over her back. Ricco reached for her hand but missed, so Lea took him firmly by the upper arm and held him steady as he clambered awkwardly from the car.
“He going to be okay?” Joe asked.
“Course he will,” Lea said, wishing she could believe it. “Thanks for getting him here in one piece.”
“No problem.”
Lea slammed the door shut and the cab crept off down the street. She focused on Ricco. He was barely upright and clung to her with icy fingers.
She wrapped her arm around his waist. “Lean on me as much as you have to, but we gotta move.”
Ricco was shaking. He was fading fast. And he was heavier than he looked. Lea considered the distance they had to cover and wasn’t at all sure they could. Maybe she should’ve accepted the cabbie’s help.
They began to pick their way through the snow and the gathering darkness.
Despite the cold, by the time they made it into the building, Lea was drenched in sweat. She pushed the door shut with her foot, then shrugged off Ricco’s backpack. She could get it later. Ricco had no strength left, and he and the backpack were simply too much.
Ricco's breaths came in painful sounding gasps. He clutched the banister, fingers white against the dark wood. Lea tucked his other arm over her shoulder. He was listing badly, and she struggled not to crumple under his weight.
But she said with all the conviction she could muster, “Almost there, darling.” Ricco groaned in reply.
They somehow made it up the stairs. At one point Ricco stopped, looking completely bloodless.
“Stay with me, honey,” Lea called. “Almost there, don’t give up.”
She rubbed his chest hard through the jacket. That would’ve been much more effective without the layers of clothing, but it was enough. Ricco’s eyes snapped open. They were vacant and unfocused. “Gotta…sit.” His voice came out a whisper.
Panic bubbled in Lea’s gut. “No, darling, not here!” She’d never get him up again. “We’re almost there, two more minutes, c’mon.”
It took a lot longer than that but finally they were through Lea’s door.
Before Ricco’s arrival, Lea had closed all the curtains and dimmed the lights. She took him into the gloomy bedroom where he collapsed onto the bed with a whimper. She sat next to him and he leaned into her, shaking. “I’m so glad…t’be here.”
She stroked his neck. “So am I.”
It was a challenge getting him out of his clothes. He’d sweated through his T-shirt and sweater, and as soon as the jacket was off he began to shiver.
“You got anything clean in your bag?” Lea asked.
“Just some boxer shorts.”
That wouldn't do. He was completely soaked, and the cold and fluid loss was starting to turn his lips blue. He’d have to strip completely and get dry as quickly as possible.
“Lie down, honey,” she said. “I’ll get your things.”
She helped him lie on his side and went to retrieve his backpack from the hall, rummaging through it as she hurried back upstairs. She located a rolled up, clean pair of boxer shorts at the bottom. She got a bowl of warm water, washcloths, and towels, and returned to the bedroom.
Ricco was shivering hard. Lea moved as fast as she could to get him out of his sweaty clothes, then washed his face, neck, and chest. She dried him off and did the same on his back. She grabbed an old T-shirt of hers that she had worn when she was much bigger. She'd kept it because even though it had a Coca Cola logo on the front it was good quality, and great for sleeping in. For Ricco it was a little tight in the shoulders, but it would do.
“There we go,” Lea said. Ricco sank into the pillows and curled up. Lea drew the covers over him. She sat on the bed and pushed damp strands of hair off his face. “How’re you feeling?”
“Better already.”
“And you’ll feel better still in a moment,” she said. “I brought IV meds from the hospital.”
He glanced at her with such gratitude it broke her heart. “You’ll get…in trouble.”
She smiled. “No I won’t. You’re still on the books as my patient. I’m making a house call, that’s all.”
“Y’re the best, doc…thank you.” His eyes clouded with pain.
Lea got up. “You relax, I’ll get the meds. Keep your eyes closed, there’s nothing to see anyway.”
“Hmm…” He turned over to face the wall.
Lea quickly got her kit. She was nervous, despite what she’d said. Treating Ricco away from the hospital was becoming too much of a habit. But what was the alternati
ve? He’d been through so much and she was desperate to save him more pain and suffering.
She returned to the bedroom. When she sat down and pulled out her equipment he reached out, took her hand, and pressed it against his right temple. Tears escaped from under his eyelashes. He sighed and Lea's heart threatened to burst. “Oh, darling! What a week you had.”
He gave a half-laugh, half-sob. “Yeah.”
“Well, you can relax now,” she said. “Nobody in this town is going anywhere this weekend.
“Coming home to you was worth the pain,” he sighed. “And puking in that gross airplane bathroom…I hope there’s no pics.”
Lea stroked his face, and his eyes fluttered shut again. Why did he put himself through this? Having to worry about picture evidence of the lowest moments of his life was just dreadful. Lea was devoutly grateful that she had never felt the need to be famous. “Let’s make you feel better now. Turn over, and give me your arm.” He did as he was told. “This is for the migraine.” She lifted a small pouch from her bag. “I’ll plug that in and you can go to sleep while it runs. We’ll do another one tomorrow. Sounds okay?”
“Sounds awesome.” Ricco took her hand and gave it a kiss. He looked half asleep. “Love you.”
Lea’s stomach flipped. They hadn’t said the words before. It was likely his migraine talking. Oh, what the heck. She cupped his chin. “Love you too, darling.”
And it was the truth.
By the time Lea finished hanging the migraine meds Ricco was fast asleep. She tidied away her equipment, then took Ricco’s clothes into the living room. She sorted through everything she’d chucked from the backpack on her search for the boxer shorts. Since he was stuck with her for at least a few days she’d have to wash some clothes for him to wear.
As she picked up a paperback copy of Mario Andretti’s biography several condoms fell out. Lea chucked them back into the backpack with the book. Her hand wandered onto her belly. Why had he brought condoms on his trip? She pushed away her suspicions. The condoms had probably been in the bag when he’d packed for Florida. He was a famous guy, after all. He’d been with plenty of people. Good for him to be prepared.
