Shelby takes an inordinate amount of time choosing a spot on which to sign Jared's cast. When she finally selects one, she writes her name slowly and carefully, using a hot pink sharpie borrowed from the nurse's station.
"Wait. I'm not done," she says when I hold my hand out for the marker.
"What do you mean, you're not done? You signed your name," I say.
Shelby just grins, turns back to Jared's cast, and begins to draw something next to her name.
"Oh, no," I groan when I see what she's doing. "Shelby..."
Constance peers over Shelby's shoulder to look. "I think it's perfect," she says.
I look helplessly at Jared, but he's watching what Shelby's doing, a smile playing at his lips. "So do I," he says. "You're really quite the little artist."
"Ta-da," Shelby proclaims, stepping away, allowing us to admire the pink hearts and butterflies she's drawn. "You like it?" she asks him.
"I love it. Thank you, Shelby" he tells her. "You're very sweet, and very talented. Like your mom." His eyes meet mine and I lose my breath a little. What this man can do to me...just one look, one word with that low, smooth melodic voice, and my brain turns to mush. It's ridiculous. I'm ridiculous.
I'm not sure what passes between Jared's mom and him in those few seconds, but Constance says, "Shelby, would you like to go see another aquarium? There's one on this floor too, even bigger than the one downstairs. It's another saltwater tank and this one has starfish in it."
"Yeah!" Shelby exclaims. "Mom, can I?"
I nod mutely and Constance smiles, her eyes flitting between her son and me for a split second before she and Shelby leave the room.
There's a silence then, a silence between Jared and I that seems to grow and thicken with every passing second. I glance at the door, waiting for Shannon, Dr. Lange, Jimmy, or a nurse to enter and end the moment. But nobody comes in.
In the hall I hear a soft ping and the sound of the PA system calling for a Dr. Oliver to come to Oncology. I hear the soft hum of the air conditioner. I hear the quiet whir of Jared's IV as it dispenses a miniscule dose of morphine.
"Lanie," Jared breaks the silence, his voice soft. I look at him, and his eyes are on me. "I...uh...was hoping you'd be willing to...help me with something."
"What is it?" I ask, my voice equally soft, mesmerized under his intense, almost pleading gaze. My heart's racing, and a thousand possibilities rush through my mind about what he might need help with. I can fully admit I'd love to help him with any number of things right now, the way he's looking at me.
Jared's pale face flushes a little. Without breaking eye contact he says, "Um. Remember in Oak Creek Canyon, when I said I didn't want you to have to help me with...something?"
I frown, puzzled. "Not really."
"A...bathroom thing," he explains, his face reddening further. It's kind of adorable, really, and then I remember what it was that had made him so uncomfortable to ask my help with.
Oh. That. I'm pulled back to down earth with a jolt, and before I can stop myself, I begin to laugh.
"Oh, God, Lanie, I'm sorry. Forget it," Jared mumbles, throwing his arm over his face. The IV tube hits his bed rail with a ping. "I just...I don't want some random nurse helping me with it."
"No, don't be sorry," I say hurriedly. "I totally understand. I'm sorry I laughed. I didn't mean to."
Jared moves his arm away from his face and his blush fades a little. "I guess you saw all the photos and shit my mom's got in her living room."
I nod, not exactly getting the point. "She's very proud of you both."
"Yeah. I've done okay; more than okay, but you know, with that success comes a pretty heavy price, sometimes in things people don't really think about. One is a situation like this. One minute some nurse I've never spoken to or seen before is helping me sit on the shitter. And the next, the color, consistency and smell is tabloid news."
While I can't possibly put myself in Jared's place, his expression says it all and I don't have to. I find myself empathizing, even though I cannot imagine how something so ordinary, so part of the natural human condition as needing assistance going to the bathroom, becomes something so problematic that he has to give it such careful consideration.
Once he's back in his bed, Jared turns to me and says, "So listen. That couldn't have been very pleasant for you. I know it wasn't for me."
Well, no, it wasn't, but it needed to be done. I shrug. "Like I said the other day, it's a perfectly normal bodily function. When you gotta go, you gotta go."
Jared manages a smile. "God, I like that so much about you, Lanie. You're so matter-of-fact about everything. Nothing really fazes you. Nothing about me, especially."
Oh God. If he only knew how much everything about him fazes me. "Should it?" I question.
Jared shrugs. "When you came into my room a bit ago and the way you were staring at me, you had a kind of freaked-out look, the look I see in a lot of people, but I've never seen that look in you until now. But I get it. That damn wall in my mom's house with all the pictures. It was a lot for you to take in at once, I guess."
I close my eyes. No, that freaked-out look was guilt, until I realized Constance wasn't even talking about me at all, but about Katia Valkov. "Yeah, it is a lot to take in," I manage.
"Yeah, well, there's something else I want to talk to you about, too."
"What is it?" I ask, opening my eyes again.
"Well, I know you're a little overwhelmed, what with being here in L.A., realizing that yeah, I'm pretty famous and all that, and you're feeling a little lost and out of your element here."
Understatement of the century. I nod. "Yeah. I am. All of that and more." I gaze out the window at the California sunshine. "I—I don't know what I'm supposed to do here. Until Todd is dealt with, I have to keep both Shelby and me under the radar, but I'm not someone who can just sit around."
"I know that," Jared answers. "No more than I am. I also know that for the next several weeks, maybe even months, I'm going to be doing a lot of sitting around, and I'll be a total asshole to people as a result. I'll drive every single member of my staff insane. I wouldn't be surprised if they all quit on me." He pauses and then says, "I want to offer you a job, Lanie."
"A...job?" I blink. "Doing what?"
"Being my constant companion. Helping me get back on my own two legs as soon as possible. At times acting as a buffer between me and other people. Kicking my ass and adjusting my attitude when I need it. A sort of home care nurse, physical therapist, and personal assistant all rolled into one. But most of all, being a good friend." He smiles. "You'll be well compensated beyond just having a safe and secure place for you and Shelby to sleep at night."
"Jared," I say, reaching out and rubbing his arm, "letting us stay in your house is more than enough compensation. I don't want to take your money. Besides, a good friend isn't a friend at all if there's ulterior motives or financial benefit attached."
Jared laughs softly. "Yeah. I knew you'd say that." Then his smile fades. "But in this town, relationships of all kinds, even the most personal ones, are built around those very principles, in one way or another." He blinks several time and sighs. "Okay, you're right. We'll scratch the friend part. But I'm not letting you be at my beck and call night and day and put up with all of my bullshit without being well reimbursed for your time and trouble. You need the money and trust me, Lanie, you'll earn every penny of it. So...do you accept?"
Despite a voice inside wondering just how much bullshit I'll have to put up with—my tolerance for bullshit is pretty much zero—I nod. Because perhaps that's exactly what Jared knows he needs the most—someone to keep him grounded, real, and sane. I only hope I can keep myself sane as well, and my intense attraction to him well-hidden and under control. "Yes," I tell him, "I accept."
A little while later, Dr. Lange invites Shelby and I into his office where we tell him how Shelby found Jared—again, with her skipping the part about hearing and leaving him the night before—and, thanks to my wilderness EMT training, I was able to stabilize him and pull him back from the brink of death.
"Amazing," Dr. Lange says. "Utterly amazing. To think, with all of the advancements in modern medicine, and you were able to save his life without so much as electricity. Truly incredible." He sits back in his comfortable-looking leather office chair and folds his hands in his lap. "Had you not set his leg as well as you did and kept him still, the tissue damage could have been far worse. As I'm sure you know, Lanie, there are branches of the femoral artery in close proximity to the tibia and fibula. Had one of them been nicked or severed...." he shakes his head. "Jared could have lost enough blood internally to kill him. It's truly miraculous that you found him when you did, Shelby. The snake venom alone was lethal enough. But even without that—if he'd moved just the wrong way and one of those broken bones had hit an artery, there certainly would have been a very different outcome."
My daughter and I exchange a glance, and I swallow past an enormous obstruction in my throat. "Yes," I whisper. "I know."
Dr. Lange blessedly moves on to discuss my use of intravenous CroFab for the snakebite, colloidal silver for the ensuing infections, and the aloe vera paste as a topical. He listens intently as I tell him about growing up in northeastern Minnesota near the Superior National Forest and Boundary Waters Canoe area. I describe how from an early age my dad taught me self-sufficiency and survival skills, and how I'd gone on to attend school to further my training. I tell him about working in Search and Rescue as well as with our local fire department.
"So, how about you, Shelby?" Dr. Lange asks her. "I'm so impressed at your age that you have all of this knowledge and skill. Would you like to be an EMT someday like your mom, or perhaps become a nurse or a doctor?"
Shelby shakes her head. "I want to be an actor, like Jared."
I glance at her in surprise. Shelby's never professed any interest in acting before. "An actress," I correct her. "Girls are actresses."
"Yeah. I want to be an actress, but I want to be in action movies, not dumb mushy romantic ones."
Dr. Lange laughs. "Well, I think you'd be a fine actress, Shelby."
***
As Shannon predicted, Katia Valkov returns to the hospital that afternoon. This time I see her for the first time, as I'm returning from dropping Shelby at the hospital's teen room to play video games. Katia steps out of the other elevator at almost the same time that I exit mine. She's on her phone and as she speaks, I immediately recognize her voice.
She's much younger than I'd imagined, no older than perhaps twenty-five. I can't take my eyes off of her.
Tall, check.
Light brown hair, curled in a few soft spirals that tumble down her back without a hint of frizz or split ends, check.
Thin to the point of anorexia without the slightest bump of muscle definition, check.
Exotic, green cat eyes, check.
Cheekbones that could cut butter, check.
Pale, flawless skin, check.
Perfect but very understated makeup, check.
Beautifully dressed in an expensive-looking white mini-dress that barely skims the hem of her non-existent ass, paired with calf-high black heeled boots made of some kind of soft leather, check.
Regal, cold demeanor, check.
Carefully blank, imperious expression as she sweeps up and down the corridor, check.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Jimmy's not at his post outside Jared's door right now. Shannon's not on the floor, either. He and Constance are in Dr. Lange's office, discussing Jared's post-release physical therapy needs. There isn't even a nurse behind the station desk across from the elevators. All that stands between Katia Valkov and Jared is me.
Is running interference between them part of my new job description? Jared's never mentioned it. Would he want me to enforce his wishes not to see his ex-girlfriend? I have no idea, but I assume so, since he's previously made it clear he doesn't want her here. Okay, so, how do I do this? I'm not good at confrontations, never have been, and especially not with a complete stranger, even one I loathe, however irrationally that I do. Bottom line, this woman intimidates the hell out of me, and I have no idea what to do.
Katia turns in my direction and looks right at me. Correction—she looks right through me, as if I'm not even there. She breezes past with a dismissive glance, muttering something to whoever she's talking to on her phone. A waft of perfume passes over me in her wake.
Does she know what room Jared's in? If so, how did she get that information? As she strides in exactly the right direction, I swallow hard and make a decision.
"Ms. Valkov?"
Katia stops and turns, her eyes piercing right through me but not quite meeting mine. She slips her phone into her bag. "Yes?" she snaps.
Unnerved, I summon up my courage and inject as much authority into my voice as I can manage. "Jared has requested that you not be allowed to visit him. I know you're aware of this."
Katia's eyes flash. "And who are you?" Strange, her accent is nowhere near as pronounced as it was when she was here earlier.
I cross my arms in front of my chest. "I'm Jared's new assistant." Boy, does that sound odd.
Katia's narrowed eyes sweep me up and down, and her lips curl in a sneer of disgust. "Really. Where the hell did he dig you up?"
Now I'm no longer intimidated. Now, I'm pissed. "He doesn't want you here." I speak between clenched teeth. "I don't want to make a scene and call security to have you escorted from the premises, but I will." Of course, that's probably exactly what this bitch wants. A scene. Her flair for the dramatic is palpable. But why? What can she possibly get out of chasing a man who wants nothing more to do with her?
Katia smiles, revealing blindingly white, perfectly straight teeth. "Well, whoever you are or claim you are, obviously you're not much of an assistant if you don't know that Jared personally called and invited me to visit him." With that, she turns and sweeps into Jared's room, the heels of her boots clicking on the polished linoleum.
She knows what room he's in. I've allowed her to go into his room. Already, I've failed at my job. Shit! I cringe, waiting for the explosion.
It doesn't come.
I hurry to Jared's room, trying to formulate how to apologize for this first colossal fuckup. I step in, the words racing up my throat, and I stop so abruptly that I nearly lose my balance.
Jared's half sitting up. Katia's leaning over his bed, her skirt hiking up even further into dangerous territory. They're embracing, and their mouths are joined in a fevered kiss.