She finishes for me. “Help. No worries, that’s what I’m here for. It’s what I do. Everything’s confidential, you don’t have to worry, but you do need to remember. I’m not the police, press or a fan. What I am is the one to help you. What kind of symptoms should I be looking for?” She asks offhandedly, like it’s no big deal.
And I find myself talking to her. “The withdrawal kind.”
She kicks off her wedges and without having to be told, removes the case from the bed.
A heavy blanket of sorrow smothers my next breath. It hitches three times before it sobs out of me as she leaves the room with the goods. That one step, the one I just took? I’m trying.
But it’s so hard. Angry tears full of must do’s and should never do’s take flight and I fling myself on the bed. If my dad hadn’t…if Whimsy fucking hadn’t…
Ilsa pulls me into a sitting position, but it’s like dealing with a cranky child. I’ve gone from objector to full on protester. Without a word, she drops two pills in my palm and holds out a bottle of Evian.
Shaking, I take the bottle. “Can you turn the air down?”
Concerned, she puts a hand on my forehead. “The air’s not on. Nova, you’re burning up. I’m calling the doctor. Take your medicine.” She says, and I do though it burns like matches going down.
Chapter 24
Shamus
Pacing the apartment while I wait for the hotel doc to give me the news, feels like old times. Deja dad.
After one of dad’s benders. Maybe I was twelve, and the same question wants to come out.
Will he make it? I almost ask, then remember, the past is no longer my concern, its Nova I’m worried about.
Dr. Melphi puts his glasses on and looks at me like a neglectful owner. “I’ve given her a sedative to help her sleep this off, but Shamus, that girl’s skin and bones.”
“I just got her.” I say before I even think of the ramifications. There’s still plenty of time to fuck this up.
He grips my shoulder. “Son, I’m not blaming you. Just pointing out the fact that the girl is suffering from a severe case of exhaustion and in no condition to run one show a week, let alone five. In the shape she’s in, I’d say, a hospital is where she needs to be. She needs rehab.”
It feels like a lifetime stuck on repeat. It was always the same speech. Call an ambulance, check your father in. Too many accidents to count. Stitches, broken bones, cigarette burns, Dr. Melphi treated my father for every kind of self-abuse, but the one that finally killed him. I didn’t listen then, and I sure won’t now.
“That’s not the way we treat family. You know this Mel.”
He holds up a hand. “And you can stop shaking your head. Miss Kain already made it perfectly clear that isn’t an option. Is that really part of her contract, Shamus?” He asks, clearly mystified.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t my idea,” I say.
“But you condone it. Interesting. You’ll need to keep a better eye on her Shamus,” he warns.
“You don’t have to tell me, I know.” I say.
“And as far as clearing her for the stage? Not until she’s of sound mind and body. You got that?” His report is worried, with a little condensation thrown in.
I nod. With a little condensation of my own, I say. “Well, I wasn’t planning on pouring her in a dress and making her take the stage tonight, if that’s what you were thinking.”
He chooses to look relieved instead of offended. It’s the way we’ve remained friends all of these years.
His phone beeps. “Duty calls. Stomach pains in Room 114.”
He’s part of the hotel medical staff. Staffed with a full-time nurse and EMT, they cater to the overeaters with indigestion, the hangovers, the losers with remorse and the winners with chest pains.
“Don’t work too hard old man.” I say and flip a 1,000-house chip between us. It turns over once before he makes it disappear into his coat pocket. This isn’t his fee, I’m sure I’ll get a bill later, it’s just a generous tip to show I’ve appreciated his services.
Something my father always taught me. Kid, to make it in the hospitality business you need to figure out a person’s vice and then never use it against them. Acceptance and affirmation are better than any fire and brimstone.
The devil’s in the details and doc likes to gamble.
“Thanks, kid.”
“Red 17, right? Don’t bet it all in one hand.” I say.
“You’ve got my number,” he says, but he’s already on his way to the tables.
My eye stays on the crack of light underneath her bedroom door. She must be, thinking about me.
No asshole. She’s probably thinking about her career.
Ilsa taps me on the shoulder. “You too, Mr. Malone.”
And hands me my jacket.
Kicked out of my own apartment, I text my brother.
Cards?
Yeah, I need to talk too. He replies back.
Seems we both need to lay our cards on the table.
My place. I text back.
When I get back to the suite, it feels empty. My private table is set up in the study, as I asked. Mint green chips stacked high, cards fanned across the table. I’m unpacking the sandwiches I picked up, when Justice walks in.
“Let me wash my hands.” He says and ducks into the kitchenette. I follow him, and wait, with my arms crossed til he’s finished.
“What? Are you pissed about the soy sauce thing? You said anything.” He laughs.
I nod to the sink. “Wash your hands.”
I wait until he’s dried before I haul back and punch him in the face. Not enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to get his attention.
“Ow!” He says, taking a fighter’s stance.
“Mother fucker. You handled me right out of the picture. You can forget the soy sauce stuff, Nova doesn’t even want me in the same apartment. Thanks for that, dick!” I say as I flick the back of his head.
“Ow." Laughing, he cracks his neck.
“My turn.” He jabs me in the gut but pulls back at the last second.
“What happened to let me take care of it? Idiot. I’m trying to save her life. Mind lending a hand? I can’t do my job halfway. You can’t come in and break things up right when we’re making progress.”
“That’s progress? She doesn’t even want me in the same room, bro.” I ask, pointing to the other tower out the window. My apartment feels like a world away.
“Sit.” He says and I do.
“You gotta let me do my thing. If I speak, you listen.
She can have a seizure. Bad things can happen.” He says.
“Really? Bad things can happen when you give her drugs? What a shocker.” I say.
“No, bad things can happen when I don’t. There’s a world full of people just waiting to steal a piece of her and she’ll run right into their clutching hands. They won’t have a contract and comfy bed. Maybe the next death announcement is real. I’m not a bad guy, I’m no one’s savior.” His eyes darken.
“Did you tell her about the money? I don’t want her feeling like she owes me anything.” I say.
“She knows, almost fainted, but she’s still here, right? You know I’ve always got your back, bro.”
He takes a few calls and I make drinks. Watching him, it’s hard to believe he didn’t grow up in the same household.
“Ready?” He asks, but I’m still hung up on the past.
“How old were you when you took the jet to Vegas?”
Stunned, he thinks about it. “Ten, I guess. Why, what brought that up?”
I shrug. “Just missing my dad, I guess. Remember, he answered the phone when you called the hotel for a car? Ballsy, you said…”
“I’m Shamus Malone’s little brother. Can you tell him I’m here?” He finishes for me.
“At ten, the whole situation stumped me. Looking up at an eight-year-old boy that was a foot taller than me who I’d just found out about. I looked towards my dad and asked. “Is he my c
ousin, or brother?”
When he’s quiet too long, I say. “I don’t know, maybe I didn’t tell it just like him, but it still makes me tear up just the same.”
Justice looks at me thoughtfully. “Nah, you told it fine. You just didn’t finish. You forgot one part. The answer he gave. ‘He’s family.’ With the situation being what it was, your dad could have put my butt on the Malone plane and sent me back to a hell of an ass whooping. Boy, was my dad pissed. But instead, he called me family.”
“You are, but you never told me what wild hair crawled across your ass to get you out here.” I ask, which makes him look uneasy.
“What?” I ask.
“I wanted to come meet you after I found a picture of you.”
Astonished, I say. “A picture? My mom, They never talked about me?”
He shrugs. “Some, but it was always in secret and you know how it was. You started visiting later, not a lot of talking, but a whole lot of yelling. Mom may have stayed in our house, but she made dad’s life a living hell.”
“I’ll shuffle.” I say.
“Another drink? No roofies, I promise.” He hugs my neck on the way by.
“Ha-ha. In her defense, I did take the drink right out of her hand. And then ended up serenading the pop star.”
Oh NovaKain
You give me such a pain.
Right here. Dear.
Big finish, stabbing myself in heart and repeating, Right here, girl. Right here.
“You said you’d do anything to help her, but I don’t think you’ll be writing her songs.” He laughs and deals.
“I don’t think I’ll be much of anything, since she doesn’t want me in the same room.”
“Well, you better find a way. Because she needs handling and you got the job.”
“What do you mean? Ilsa’s with her, not me.” I mutter.
Sitting my glass down, he says. “That’s because Ilsa’s a nurse and you’re not. She’s on code Nova right now and she will be until Nova doesn’t need her anymore.”
“Doesn’t she have a real job?” I ask.
“She doesn’t need it. Her husband left her a lot of money when he passed. But that stays between us.” He says.
“Whatever is said in this room, stays in this room.” I say and turn over four Kings.
My heart double taps when Justice fakes like he’s going to roll the Aces but at the last second mucks.
Chapter 25
Shamus
Handle with Care. That’s what she’s been begging for since I met her. It was obvious in her needs list, one for charity, one for someone else, but nothing for her, not even rehab. Not really a needs list, but I know what she needs. Someone to give a shit about more than her money, her celebrity.
Excited, I pull hotel stationary out and a pen. With the cap between my teeth, I say. “Gimme a sec. Make some more drinks” and begin to draw. Shamus looks over my shoulder. I shade in extra padding where the guitar rests on her thigh. “What’s that fuzzy stuff?” He asks.
“Leather, it’s gotta be soft.” I say.
When I’m finished I snap a picture of the drawing and text it to Randy. He’s the go-to guy in Vegas for instruments.
“Hey Shamus! Long time, no hear.”
I know, it’s been a while. But I’ve got a girl, that likes to play…naked. I need a textured guitar. Maybe leather? And I want it soft as a baby’s bottom. I want Nova to feel special.”
Excited, he asks. “Nova as in Kain?
Yep, she’s headlining the SD room. Do a good job, you might be hearing from me a lot more.” I say.
When I hang up, Justice is staring at me. “Now, I’m seeing it.”
“What?” I ask.
“Why she picked you over me. You’re the guy that makes me stop for burgers because you won’t go visit a sick friend with empty arms. The guy that always looks out for others. Sweet shamus sauce. That’s all she needs. Get some sleep, you look beat. Rest easy, Shame. Tonight, she’s safe.”
Once he’s gone, I go to my apartment. Not to bug her, just to make sure she is…safe.
Chapter 26
NovaKain
Groggy from my medication, I spend most of the week in bed, feeling like a zombie. This morning, Ilsa talked me into coming out on the private terrace. Wrapped in the comforter stolen from Shamus’ bed, I lean back and look at the sky. No clouds today and the fresh air feels great.
“You’re right, it is nice up here.” My voice sounds as sleepy as I feel.
Ilsa sits across the outdoor table, drinking Iced Tea and talks about the dog park, the outdoor BBQ areas. It doesn’t matter what she says, it’s just nice not to be going through this alone. To settle my jangly nerves, I think. I’m not going to quit, just taking a break, until I get better. And my queasy stomach settles a little.
It’s not as bad as the first night.
That was a bad night. I almost ran down to Fremont to find the guy with the dirty fingernails and beg him for that some of the angel dust. But I didn’t need too. Out of my mind, I was halfway to the door before Ilsa stopped me and helped me back to bed.
“What do you need, Nova?” She asked.
“Peace.”
And that’s what she gave. Got me to the bathroom when I was too snowed by the drugs to walk straight. After downing half a cup of juice, which I threw up everywhere, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling when I turned to Ilsa and asked. “Are you my friend because I pay you or…”
“Why’s it so easy to say pay, but you can’t even spit out…because I like you? Of course, crazy. Besides, you don’t even pay me.”
“I don’t?” I’d asked.
Valium, not roofies, that’s what I’ve been on for the last two days. Along with vitamins, nausea medication, and supervision.
She stays close, but not in the fatal Mabel way Kiki had. Not her fault by the way. The only reason I’d hired Kiki was she always seemed to score when no one else could, and bonus, she loved to get high and make out with me.
Ilsa’s qualified in real ways. She makes sure I don’t partake too much and she gets my medication, the real one, not the drugs.
“If I’m going to throw up, it’ll be some of Shamus’ wine. You want anything?” I ask.
“I’m good.”
My joints ache as I hobble into the kitchen. I can’t imagine clapping, let alone over my head, at this point. Under the teak counter there’s a fully stocked wine fridge.
“Maybe they didn’t get the memo. I’m an addict.”
Above the sink, stemless wine glasses. “Maybe they did.”
Speaking of which, “Ilsa?”
“I’m here,” she says.
I hold up the stemless goblet with a question in my eyes.
“If you drink that, no Valium today.”
“I can live with that.” I say and down the glass.
“Netflix later?” She asks.
“Sure, but I need a shower first. I smell like old sweat.”
After a shower, I change from my sick pajamas into my getting better ones. Sipping, like a fucking lady, I pick up my phone. Plugged in, it’s at 100% and I’ve got about that many missed messages.
Rebel Records called seventeen times. Too bad they didn’t have my back when I was down. I made them a lot of money, but at the first sign of trouble, all they wanted was to give me an unlimited supply of trouble. I delete them from my contacts.
Lots of texts from well-wishers as famous as me, but they don’t know me. Delete, delete.
Not one text from Shamus. I don’t even know his number. What if I needed some MSG?
There is, however, a text from…Rusty.
My wet hair unravels from the towel as I lay back and read the text.
Nova, What is this non-disclosure agreement bullshit? Is that how it is now? If you wanted me out of the house, all you had to do was ask.
I roll my eyes. It goes on, griping about the paltry three grand a month Fuckimony. His word, not mine.
A basic buy out
that screams Fuck you very much. Justice didn’t agree with it, but I’m glad he took care of it, like I asked.
A ton of bricks falls from my shoulders. One less thing, you know?
“Siri, call Justice.” I’m still not used to all the gadgets but it’s beginning to feel like home just the same.
As the phone rings, I hear the front door close softly. Ilsa makes her way out to give me space. She does that a lot. Gives me a lot of rope. But I’m not going to use it to hang myself. Not this time.
“Yes, your majesty.”
“Ha friggin ha. Found the phone charger and my phone, thanks for that by the way.”
“I can’t take credit. That was all Shamus. Didn’t want you to wake up and feel like you were a prisoner. For the record, I was against it.” He says.
“Me too. It took me three days just to be able to pick it up. Anyhoo, that’s not why I’m calling. Just got a text from Rusty.”
He has the nerve to sound busy. “And?”
Annoyed, I ask. “What are you doing?”
“None of your business. Is there a point to this call?” He asks.
I laugh. “Thanks for taking care of the Rusty business.”
“Thought it was way too much, but it’s your money. You’re too nice, Nova.”
“Don’t you mean Naïve?” I ask.
“Told you I’m on your side, always. Bye.” He says and hangs up.
He is like a big brother, one that has my best interests at heart.
I grab the pad next to the bed and jot, Fuckimony across the top. Tapping the pencil on my cheek, I start trying to think of radio friendly ways to say fuck, when my eye falls on a white leather guitar case. Pushing up from the sick bed, my eyes never leave it.
Stamped on the front, in seafoam. Property of NovaKain. All official and shit. The lining is mint satin and reminds me of Shamrock shakes.
Tears spill when I see the card inside.
A tiny kitten fiercely roars at the world. Behind her, a Pitbull glares as if daring the world to get froggy and jump.
Written inside, ‘You don’t have to fight alone. I’ve always got your back. Here when you need me, Shamus.’
Rock Bottom (The Handler Series Book 1) Page 16
