Jared is lying still with his eyes closed when I step into his room. The fluorescent light over his hospital bed is on, casting his pale face with a slightly greenish hue. An IV tube runs from a bag on a pole and snakes under the blanket, while a device monitoring his vitals reads out data in green, yellow, and blue numbers. Some high tech stuff they have here at Cedars-Sinai. I don't doubt that the data is automatically uploading to an electronic patient file.
I take a seat next to his bed just as his eyes open. "Hey," he whispers, and smiles. His hand slides out from under the blanket and reaches out to me. I take it in my own. His skin is cool to the touch.
"Hey yourself. Welcome back." I rub his hand between my own. "Your doctor said you came through surgery great."
"Yeah. I guess so." He glances down at his leg, now immobilized in a solid cast. "Damn thing's all the way up to the middle of my thigh. Didn't think they'd have to put my whole leg in a cast."
"Yeah, but you tore your ACL a little, too."
Jared winces. "Great. I was afraid of that." He looks at me again, blinking sleepily. "I'm pretty doped up, but I wanted to see you and tell you I'm happy you decided to come to L.A."
I don't know if I'm happy or not to be in L.A., but I let his comment pass without remarking on it. At least I'm seeing first-hand that Jared's gotten the medical care he desperately needed. But part of me keeps thinking, over and over and over again, what the hell am I doing here?
I think about the hours that Jared was in surgery and how Constance had, for a brief time, abandoned the magazine and joined Shelby in watching the fish in the big aquarium. I could tell she was seeking a distraction, and Shelby readily provided one. They'd talked about the fish, Constance explaining to Shelby the difference between saltwater and freshwater aquatic life, and then Shelby told Constance about finding Jared. But she never mentioned the fact that we'd heard him crying for help the night before, that I'd run and left him to suffer for hours in the dark alone. In fact, Shelby's never said a word to anyone about that. She's been lying to cover for my shame.
A renewed flood of guilt sweeps over me and I look down at the floor, struggling to contain my emotions. Through willful, selfish negligence, I could've killed this man who's clinging to my hand and telling me he's happy I'm here. I could've killed him, and I nearly did kill his brother.
What the hell am I doing here?
"You look...different. Changed clothes?"
I nod and smile wanly. "And cleaned up a little bit, too, as best as we could in the ladies' room."
"Where's Shelby?" Jared asks.
"She fell asleep. Your mom's sitting with her. She didn't have to do that. She should've gone home and gotten some sleep."
"Mmm." Jared closes his eyes. "Mom's waiting for you. She wants you and Shelby to stay at her place until I get out of here."
Startled by this revelation, I can only utter, "Oh." I don't know what else to say to that. I like Constance, though I haven't spent a whole lot of time talking with her. Other than the bit of time she had her attention on Shelby, she's been wholly concerned with her son and we haven't had much of a chance to talk. "No. I don't want to impose on her. I'll get a cheap motel room nearby."
Jared manages a weak laugh. "This is Los Angeles, Lanie. You don't want to stay in a 'cheap motel' in this town." He squeezes my hand. "Anyway, I won't hear of it. Neither will my mom. She's determined to bring you and Shelby home, and if I were you, I wouldn't try to argue the point with her."
So, I guess that settles it. I stay with Jared at his request until he falls asleep and a nurse comes in to change his IV bag. Then I slip out of the room and find Constance and Shelby where I left them at the end of the hall.
"He's asleep," I say.
Constance nods. "Did he mention my offer? About you and Shelby coming to stay at my place until he's released?"
I shuffle my feet awkwardly. "I don't want to put you to any trouble. I know how weird this all is."
The elder woman gets to her feet. Her remarkable eyes, which so resemble her sons', especially Shannon's, peer into mine. "Trouble? You saved my son's life, Lanie. And anyway, I live alone in a house that's far too large for me and my two dogs. It's no trouble. In truth I'd be grateful for the company, and I want to learn more about you. What I've heard is fascinating to say the least, and I think you'll find that we have some things in common." She glances at Shelby, who's curled up in a ball, her braids askew, her mouth slightly open in deep sleep. "She's such a beautiful child."
I follow Constance's gaze and smile faintly. "Yes, she is."
***
Constance Leto lives in a quiet, residential area about a half-hour's drive from the hospital. On the way, I gaze out at the endless miles of traffic, buildings and lights, awash in a vague sense of unreality that tends to show up around random corners in my mind. Shelby, roused briefly when I carried her to Constance's car, has quickly fallen asleep again in the backseat.
"Have you been to California before?" Constance asks as she comes to a stop at a red light.
"Yes, a short visit a long time ago," I answer. "I've actually traveled quite a bit, just not in the last few years." I don't mention that's because, during one of his days-long meth-fueled paranoid rages, Todd ripped up my passport as well as Shelby's that I'd just gotten for her in anticipation of a trip to Canada.
"Well, it's going to be an adjustment for you both, certainly. Jared told me you were a little reluctant to come here, and I can understand why you would be. But I know how persistent he is," Constance tells me with a rueful smile as the light changes to green and she steps gently on the gas. Well, not the gas—Constance drives a black Tesla that's both incredibly comfortable and incredibly quiet-running. It's the first all-electric car I've ever ridden in. "That persistence is both a blessing and a curse to him, and one he inherited from me."
"It's not just L.A. itself," I say with a sigh, wondering exactly how much Jared and Shannon have told their mother about me. About Todd. About why Shelby and I were in Oak Creek Canyon at the same time Jared was.
Apparently they've told her enough, because Constance's eyes leave the road briefly and meet mine. "I know it's not, Lanie. But I really do think you did the right thing. The safest thing, especially for that little girl. In time, you'll realize it, too."
I only nod, too tired to continue the conversation as the city continues to stream past my window, and endless stream of lights, buildings, traffic, and people. Unfamiliar sights, sounds, and smells assail my senses. I don't know if I've done the right thing. It's far too soon to say. I do know that I've been so wrapped up in Jared that I've lost sight of everything that until a few days ago, had occupied my every thought.
Todd. Still out there. Somewhere. Perhaps close by, perhaps still half the country away. I have no way of knowing right now. I'd planned to make some phone calls just before crossing into Mexico. A part of me wishes I could just forget about it, forget about Todd and everything he is and has done, and let myself get swept away in some kind of Cinderella fairy-tale fantasy that started the minute Jared kissed me.
No. Before that. Long, long before that.
Constance's home is a single-story rambler, quite nice in an unassuming sort of way, with a well-kept landscaped lawn from what I can see in the dark. As she turns into the driveway, a series of motion-activated floodlights switch on over the garage and next to the front door. From inside the house, I hear dogs begin to bark.
"Those two," Constance sighs resignedly. "We'd better get inside quick before they wake the whole neighborhood." She pushes a button on her visor and the attached double garage door opens. The barking is even louder now.
Shelby stirs as Constance drives in and parks. "Where are we?" she mumbles.
"You're at my house," Constance tells her as she shuts off the car.
"I wanna see Jared," Shelby complains. "How come I didn't get to see him?"
"You fell asleep," I explain. "We'll go back and see him tomorrow. Let's get you inside and into bed."
Yawning, Shelby grabs her backpack and follows me out of the car. Constance unlocks the door and ushers us both inside, flipping on a switch that lights up her living room. Two large dogs, both of them appearing to be lab and boxer mix, greet us, tails wagging enthusiastically.
Tentatively, Shelby reaches out a hand and one of the dogs covers it in sloppy kisses. "I love dogs," she says, petting the dog whose tail wags even harder.
"This is Roscoe and Polly," Constance tells us. "They're huge and loud but harmless. The guest room is the second door on the left. I think there might be a bunch of junk on the bed. I'll go look." She hurries off, both dogs following her.
I glance around uncertainly. Constance Leto's house is decorated in an understated and eclectic way, with an interesting mix of antiques and modern furnishings, and an array of photos on all of the walls. One wall in particular is devoted to both of her sons and I can't help but step closer and study the pictures. The photos feature Jared and Shannon in multiple environments; in the recording studio, on a mammoth concert stage, out on a hike with mountain scenery behind them, and Jared on stage receiving his 2014 Oscar for Best Supporting Actor.
"Wow," Shelby breathes beside me. I look down, startled, having forgotten she was even in the room. Shelby's staring at the pictures one by one, open-mouthed. "That's Jared? He's a singer? He's famous?" She points at a performance photo of Shannon during the era I remember him, with longer hair and wearing heavy black eyeliner. He's behind the drums, a fierce, intense expression on his face. "Look!" Shelby exclaims. "Shannon is, too!"
"Shannon's the drummer in Jared's band," I explain. "Yes, Jared is a musician and a very good actor." I point to the photo of Jared, Constance, and Shannon together, with Jared resplendent in a white tux, clutching his gold Oscar. With his hair falling around his shoulders and only a hint of beard stubble, he's absolutely stunning. "That's an Academy Award he's holding. That means he was the best actor in his category that year."
"Wow," Shelby whispers. Her eyes move to another photo, this one of Jared on stage, an endless sea of people in front of him. "He must be really, really good."
"Yes, he must be," I answer.
Constance returns to the living room where Shelby and I are looking at the many pictures of her sons, and she smiles. "Jared changes his look quite a lot, doesn't he?"
I think about the blonde-streaked emo-punk boy fourteen years ago, all of the changes since which are on display on this wall, and the heavily bearded, chestnut-haired man I instantly recognized the moment I saw him. "But those eyes and that smile never change," I say softly, almost to myself.
Before letting Shelby crawl into the clean bed with its crisp pale blue sheets, I unbraid her hair and make her shower in the bedroom's en-suite. She does so more than willingly, groaning with pleasure at the hot water, fragrant soap, and shampoo washing away days worth of grime. "Jared'll probably never recognize you," I tell her when she comes out wrapped in a soft, fuzzy towel, her hair clinging in damp tendrils to her face. I'm dying for a shower myself, even though it means staying up even longer until my hair is completely dry.
When I'm done showering, I feel almost like a different person. But only almost. The layers of grime and sweat are gone, but...I towel off and I stare at myself as the mirror clears itself of fog. I take in my appearance with a critical eye I'm now incapable of blinding.
I'm clean at long last, but I still look like...well, like Lanie. The same tanned skin, the same unkempt, straggly dark blonde hair with dreads interspersed throughout, and wide-spaced greenish-hazel eyes. Thin face, lines of tension around the mouth, more lines of weariness around the eyes. A woman who's far more at home in the wild than in suburban Los Angeles as the guest of a grateful mother who believes I'm some kind of heroine, when I'm anything but.
What the hell am I doing here? That question replays itself over and over in my head as I brush my teeth, pull on a clean pair of panties and a favorite oversized flannel shirt, and leave the bathroom.
Shelby's already asleep, her towel protecting her pillow from her damp hair. I work my towel through mine until it's reasonably dry, and finally I slide in between the luxurious sheets. I'm so tired. I've never been so tired, and despite the turbulence in my mind, I'm very quickly asleep.
***
We arrive at Cedars-Sinai shortly after nine the next morning. Constance parks the Tesla and glances around, her eyes covered in shades, before moving to open her door. There's a new kind of tension in her this morning that wasn't present last night or this morning as we ate a breakfast of surprisingly good vegan waffles and fresh fruit, and I wonder what's bothering her, why she keeps looking around the parking ramp. I see a few people going in and out, a couple of them in scrubs. Constance watches them, and heaves a sigh, reaching for her purse and opening her door.
"I'm looking for the pap," she explains when I ask her what's wrong. "It's only a matter of time before they show up. I was sure one was following us since Westwood."
"Pap?" I frown. "What's that?"
"Paparazzi," she explains, glancing around again. "Let's get inside."
Paparazzi. I might be completely foreign to celebrity life, but I do know what paparazzi are. They're one of my worst fears about being in L.A. While Todd's more a fan of Alex Jones than TMZ, it's inevitable that at some point, should someone snap our picture, he'll see it.
"Shit," I murmur and I hurry Shelby along as the three of us enter the hospital.
Just outside Jared's room, a bald African-American man about my age and with the build of an ox lounges in a chair, studying his phone. Constance lets out a quiet sigh at the sight of him. She visibly relaxes, and I understand now. The man is a hospital security officer, or perhaps a member of Jared's own security detail.
"Hi, Jimmy," Constance greets him. Yep, he's definitely with Jared's personal security.
"Good morning, Ms. Leto," Jimmy replies, his stoic face unchanging. Jimmy glances at me and Shelby. "You're Lanie and Shelby?"
"That's right," I affirm.
"Jimmy Quentin, Mr. Leto's chief of security," he says, and rises to his full height of six feet, four inches. He puts out his hand, and mine disappears completely in its firm grip. "Very pleased to meet you both." He then extends his hand to Shelby, who's staring up at Jimmy like he's got two heads. Please don't say anything embarrassing, I plead silently. Todd's most recent paranoid rants were often interlaced with racist diatribes, and I know Shelby's heard them because I'd been forced to explain the meanings of several derogatory slurs. I've done my absolute best to keep her father's vile teachings from sinking into Shelby's impressionable mind, and I can only hope I've succeeded. Shelby's very seldom ever even seen black people except on TV.
But Shelby only looks up at him in awe as she shakes his big hand. "Wow. Are you like a football player or something?"
Jimmy's impassive face cracks into a sudden friendly grin. "No. I was a pro wrestler awhile back, though. Ever watch WWE?"
"Uh-huh," Shelby nods. "On TV. It's all fake though."
Jimmy's grin broadens and a chuckle rumbles from his chest. "Yeah, I didn't do so great with it. I quit wrestling and now I work for Mr. Leto."
"Have there been any...problems?" Constance murmurs to him.
"None yet. So far, all quiet," he assures her. "Can't expect that to last though, 'n that's why I'm here."
"Thank you, Jimmy," Constance tells him, and nods at the closed door. "Is he awake?"
"Yeah. His doc's with him, n' from the sounds of it, your boy's none too happy this morning."
"Shelby and I will wait," I tell Constance as I lead Shelby to a seat by Jimmy. I don't feel it's my place to listen in on a conversation with his doctor, especially not if Jared's having a rough morning. He's probably in pain and trying to get used to the heavy cast on his leg. The last thing he needs right now is the two of us distracting him.
"Well...all right," she murmurs. "It shouldn't be long. I know he really wants to see the two of you." She turns and steps inside Jared's room, closing the door behind her.
Shelby's not happy about being kept outside and makes it known. "I wanna see him. He said I could sign his cast as soon as he gets it put on. And now it's on, right?" She slumps in her chair, staring sullenly at the floor.
"Just wait until Dr. Lange is done talking to him," I reply.
"Yeah, but—" she sighs heavily.
"Hey, Shelby," Jimmy says. "So how old are you?"
Shelby looks up at him. "I just turned eleven last month."
"Really!" Jimmy exclaims. "What grade are you in?"
"I'm not in school right now, but when I go back, I'll be in fifth grade," she tells him.
Jimmy smiles at her, his cocoa-brown eyes kind and soft, wholly at odds with his otherwise tough, imposing demeanor. "My boy Tyrell is your age. He's almost eleven and in fifth grade. He goes to Canyon View Elementary School, just up the road not even a minute from Mr. Leto's house. Since you're going to live there too, you'll go there, and maybe even be in Ty's class."
"Yeah?" Shelby turns to me. "That would be cool, huh?"
I squirm. Even Jared's chief of security, the guy I figured would be the last to welcome us, acts as though Shelby and I are going to move into Jared's huge mansion and settle right in. Everyone seems to think this is all set in stone. Everyone, that is, except me.
"Sure," I answer weakly. "Listen, Shelby, I really don't—"
A sudden commotion near the elevator bank interrupts me. There's a female voice, heavy with an accent I can't identify at first. Whoever she is, she sounds pissed off, and getting more pissed off by the second.
Jimmy's instantly alert. He pockets his phone and gets to his feet faster than I imagine a man his size can move. "Excuse me, ladies," he says, and with a muttered curse, he sets off toward the elevator bank.
The woman continues speaking angrily. I now hear Shannon's voice as well as Jimmy's as he rounds the corner by the nurse's station. Around the thick accent I begin to decipher her words, and all at once I know exactly who the woman is. Curiosity compels me to go see what she looks like, to see if my imagination is anything close to accurate, but at the same time I seem rooted to my chair and unable to move as the woman continues arguing.
"What you mean Jared refuses to see me? This...this is ridiculous!" she exclaims.
"Geez," Shelby murmurs. "That lady sounds like Natasha on Bullwinkle."
There's a string of foreign words, but interspersed in them, I hear his name again.
I hate the way she pronounces it—Jal-led.
I hate her voice.
I hate her accent.
And even though I know I have absolutely no earthly justification to, I hate her.
At last silence descends, and a moment later Jimmy returns, followed by Shannon. He spies me sitting outside Jared's room and gives me a wave and a half smile. "Hey, Lanie. Hi, Shelby."
"Hi," we say in unison. I nod toward the nurse's station. "Everything okay?"
Shannon looks grim. "Word's gone out about Jared being here. By noon it'll have gone viral." He points with his thumb over his shoulder. "Katia was here. Making a production out of it, just like I said she would."
"Yeah. I heard her."
"She'll be back. With her father, no doubt." He looks at Jared's closed door. "Is my mom in with him? Why are you guys sitting out here?"
"Yeah, she's in with him. So is Dr. Lange." I shrug. "I didn't think we should be in there while his doctor's with him. That's a private thing, just for family."
Shannon glances at Jimmy. "See what I mean?" he says with that crooked half-grin.
Jimmy looks at me and nods. "Uh-huh. Sure do."
I frown, looking from one man to the other. "What?"
But Jimmy and Shannon just exchange another knowing smile, and then Jared's door opens and Dr. Lange steps out.
"Morning, Doc," Shannon greets him.
"Shannon, hello," Dr. Lange replies. He sees me then and smiles. "Ah, Lanie and Shelby, isn't it?"
I nod.
"I've been hoping to have a word with both of you. Of course, you'd probably like to see Jared first."
"If it's all right, yes, we would," I say.
"Of course. Go right in." Dr. Lange indicates the open door.
"Thank you." I rise and take Shelby's hand and we step inside Jared's room.
Constance is standing with her back to me, looking out the expansive window. She's speaking, and Jared's attention is wholly on her. He doesn't see us come in.
"But I just don't understand," Constance is saying, "why she would play these games and keep a secret this big from you, all for her own selfish gain. Who even does that?"
As I hear her words my entire body goes cold, and then numb. It's like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. Cold dread coils in my stomach. My head begins to spin and my heart drops to my toes. I want to race out of the room before either of them see me. Race from the room, race from the hospital, from the city, state and country. I can't bear to see their faces looking at me with total disillusionment. I can't bear to have Jared look at me and in his eyes, see the person I really am.
And so it takes a moment for me to realize that Jared has turned, has seen me and Shelby there, that Shelby's left my side and hurried to him. She's now leaning over and giving Jared a hug, which he's returning as best as he can with an IV tube sticking out of one hand. He's looking over her shoulder at me, that familiar warmth in his eyes and smile. No trace of anger, hurt, or disillusionment anywhere in his face.
"Are you all right, Lanie?" Constance asks me as I stand there in total confusion.
What the hell just happened here?