Code blue, p.32
Code Blue, page 32
Jeremy sagged. “Of course there is.”
And that was what it took. Police to clear the driveway and the road. They had to stand there like some presidential parade to keep the invasive assholes out.
Still, they tried. Camera flashes aimed inside the van as they yelled his name.
The grip of Jeremy’s hand on mine only let up after we’d got through the thick of it. He and I sat in the backseat, Maddox and Roscoe in the seat near the door. Hardwick sat in the front. Sayed drove.
Luke, Wes, and Blake had stayed at the house. They’d called to have the glass door replaced and would stay until the company came to install it, so at least it could be locked up. Using Roscoe’s phone, I’d called for Robbie, Zoe and Ivan, and we’d left as soon as they arrived.
“You okay?” I asked.
Jeremy nodded but he frowned. “It’s sad, isn’t it?”
“What’s that?” Maddox asked, peering over the back of the seat.
“About that woman. I mean, she died. Clearly she had some . . . issues and she caused a lot of damage. But she didn’t have to die. She just needed some help.”
I threaded our fingers. This woman had tried to ruin him, almost had. It was hard to know, considering the fallout hadn’t even begun yet. Maybe she had. Yet all he had for her was sympathy.
“Don’t be worrying about any of that,” I said. “You just need to worry about yourself.”
He put his head on my shoulder. “Hm.”
Maddox must have found his phone by Jeremy’s bed when he went for the glucose meter, because he held it up. “I googled the clinic you’re going to,” he said. “Says it’s the best. It looks fancy. In a hotel-jail kind of way.”
Jeremy snorted. “Great.”
I gave him a gentle nudge. “It’ll be fine. And when you leave, you’ll be feeling a hundred percent better.”
He mumbled, only loud enough for me to hear. “Hope so.”
The clinic had a U-shaped driveway with a front door drop-off area, which meant we weren’t afforded the privacy of an underground parking garage with a basement entrance.
Which meant photographers had a clear view of us getting out of the van. They didn’t come past the front garden, though, which was good because I didn’t think a repeated Hulk Smash would be good for anyone.
Hardwick led the way, Maddox carried Jeremy’s duffle bag, Roscoe shielded him from the cameras, and I held Jeremy’s arm as I walked him in.
A doctor in a white lab coat met us just inside, and the outside noise cut off as soon as the doors closed behind us. The new doc and Hardwick shook hands and she gestured past an admission desk to a set of doors where a guard stood by.
“We don’t get many night admissions,” she said. “How about we come through this way?”
What she meant was away from all the fucking cameras.
We filed through, and I noticed the guard was fit and young, armed, and had a reputable security company logo on his shirt. Certainly not some old, pudgy mall-security type.
“Is he there to keep people out, or to keep the patients in?” Jeremy asked.
I snorted. “Undetermined.”
The doctor smiled. “It’s not uncommon for addicts to assume we hold drugs here. Patients are free to leave at any time.”
Jeremy stopped walking. “Oh good.”
I laughed. “You can’t leave yet.”
Maddox came and took his other arm. “They might have pudding cups.”
“It’s a fucking diabetic clinic,” Jeremy replied.
Maddox made a face. “Oh. Sorry.”
There was a wheelchair in the corridor and the doctor put her hand on it. “Mr. Dalton? I didn’t think you’d want us to bring the chair out for cameras to see.”
I thought for sure he was going to say no way to using the chair, but he went to it and sat with a tired sigh. He was much more tired than he’d let on. He looked pale, tired, smaller. The scar, his shaved head, and unshaven face didn’t help.
He looked a far cry from the superstar singer who modeled luxury labels in magazines.
“I’m driving,” Maddox said, dumping the duffle bag on Jeremy’s lap. He gave Jeremy’s shoulder a squeeze before he took the handles.
The doctor led us to what would be Jeremy’s room. It was much like a nice hotel room, but for the hospital bed and machinery. It was big with a private bathroom, a TV.
There was paperwork to fill out to get him admitted, but Doctor Hardwick and manager Roscoe took care of that, leaving just Maddox, Jeremy, and me in the room.
“Here,” Maddox said, setting the duffle bag on the floor. “Let’s get you into bed.”
I took Jeremy’s hands and pulled him to his feet while Maddox wheeled the chair over to the corner. Jeremy pulled me in close and slid his arms around my lower back, resting his head on my shoulder.
I held him tight for a long second, then helped him into bed.
Maddox fluffed the pillows, pulled the blankets up, unpacked the duffle bag and toiletries, all while I did no more than hold Jeremy’s hand.
He came out of the bathroom, a puzzled expression. “Where am I sleeping?” he asked. “It just occurred to me. There’s no couch to pull out.”
“You don’t need to stay,” Jeremy said.
Maddox raised one perfect eyebrow. “You’ve lost your mind if you think I’m going to let you stay here by yourself.” Then Maddox turned the eyebrow to me. “Sorry, Steve. I’m pulling rank this time.”
I chuckled, because the truth was, Jeremy needed Maddox. “It’s fine.”
Jeremy pouted. “You just gonna give in like that? No fight at all?”
I kissed Jeremy’s forehead. “You need him.” Then I joked, “And anyway, Roscoe asked if he could have a few nights off from Maddox, so I’d be doing him a favor.”
Maddox’s mouth fell open. “He did not. That is un-fucking-true.”
I laughed. “Like Roscoe’d ever say that.” I kissed the back of Jeremy’s hand. “It’s just a day or two.”
He pouted. “You know the code to my house.”
“I have a home,” I replied. “Which I haven’t been to in far too long. I should check my mail before the super thinks I’m dead.”
Jeremy seemed to think something over for a second before he frowned. “If the whole security risk thing is over, then you don’t have to stay at my place anymore . . .”
The doctors and Roscoe came back into the room. She gave us a bright smile. “Okay, now it’s time for everyone to leave so Mr. Dalton can settle in. We have some tests to run tonight.”
“I’m staying with him,” Maddox declared.
The doctor paused. “Oh, uh . . .”
Roscoe tried. “Maddox . . .” Maddox shot him the perfectly arched eyebrow and Roscoe promptly shut up.
“We normally only allow the parents of younger patients to sleep in the rooms,” she added.
“He can be my son,” Maddox said, then turned to Jeremy. “You can call me daddy.”
Roscoe coughed to cover his laugh, and Hardwick sighed. The nice doctor conceded a smile. “I’ll have a cot brought in.”
“Perfect,” Maddox said. “Thank you.”
Then she looked at me and Roscoe. “Everyone else will have to go. I’m sure you understand.”
Jeremy’s hold on my hand got a little tighter. I gave him a smile. “Get some rest, and I’ll see you real soon.”
He pulled on my hand, bringing me in closer. I put my forehead to his and he slid his hand around my neck and kissed me, soft and chaste, so perfect.
A minute later, Roscoe and I walked out of the room. The doctors were already talking about BGLs and an A1C test that checked hemoglobin proteins, plus kidney and adrenal tests.
I hated leaving him, even if I knew it was the best for him.
We got to the double doors near the entrance, out of view of the papzz, and waited. “Sayed’s bringing the van around now,” Roscoe said. “He’ll drop us home.”
I nodded slowly. “Thanks.”
“It’s been a helluva day, huh?”
I snorted. “Uh, yeah. You could say that.” The last twenty-four hours felt like a month long. I was tired. Roscoe looked tired too. This last week had been hell on everyone.
“He’s in the right place,” Roscoe said. “The doctors will get his glucose levels on track.”
I sighed and gave him a nod. “I think he’s a lot sicker than what he lets on. He admitted he’s felt off for months and he’s supposed to be checking his glucose levels, and of course he hasn’t. He needs to be here.”
Roscoe’s phone kept buzzing. He looked at the screen and rolled his eyes. “It just never ends.”
“You know, you could always throw it in Jeremy’s pool. I left mine at HQ.”
He smirked. “I know. Half of these are update requests on you two.”
I grimaced but wasn’t entirely sorry. “Sorry.”
Roscoe smiled at that just as his phone beeped again. He read the screen. “Okay, van’s out front.”
We went into the foyer and the security guard pressed a release button to open the front doors. Paparazzi and news cameras flashed and filmed us, calling out our names, but we ignored them and climbed into the van. Roscoe took the backseat, I took the seat near the door, and we both sat with our legs sprawled, leaning against the side of the van.
Roscoe sighed heavily. “Feels weird going home without Maddox. This will be our first night apart. Since we got together.”
Oh wow. “He was staying with Jeremy, right or wrong.”
He smiled. “They have a unique bond. They’re all like brothers, but Maddox and Jeremy are like twins, in a way. You’ll get used to it.”
Would I?
Was it something I’d even have to get used to?
I had no idea.
“Hm. Yeah. I dunno.”
“You don’t know what?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what we are. Or where I stand with him. Or what he’ll want when he’s feeling better.”
“I don’t think you have to worry.”
God, I sounded so whiny. “We got together during a highly stressful time, when he wasn’t feeling well. What if he realizes, after some time apart and when he’s feeling so much better, that he doesn’t need me around?” I banged my head against the side of the van. “Ignore me. I need some sleep.”
“Steve,” Roscoe said. “How long have you known him?” He didn’t give me time to answer. “The better part of a decade?”
I nodded.
“And when have you ever known him to be with anyone in public? To hold hands, cuddle. In all the years, on all the tours, in nightclubs, backstage, parties?”
“Never.”
“What he’s done behind closed doors is anyone’s guess and sealed in NDA’s. But has he ever kissed anyone in front of other people before?”
I shook my head. “Not that I’ve seen.”
“He did tonight. He kissed you.”
Yes, he had.
“Even Maddox said he’s never seen Jer in a relationship. He’s more touchy-feely than I thought he’d be.” I looked over the back of my seat to see Roscoe smiling at me. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Steve.”
I sat back in my seat and smiled.
His phone buzzed again and this time he groaned. He answered the call. “Arlo . . . Yes, he is. I’ll put him on.” Roscoe handed the phone to me and mouthed, “Sorry.”
I took the phone and let out a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be good.
“Steve Frost speaking.”
“Steve, Arlo Kim. You not having a phone makes it rather difficult to contact you.”
I scrubbed my hand over my face and gave him a report, whether that’s what he was calling for or not. “Jeremy’s at the endocrinology clinic. The clinic itself has guards and security measures. The police were controlling the crowd of papzz out front. One person was allowed to stay with him so Maddox volunteered. Doctor Hardwick was also there.”
“Hm, yes,” he said flatly. He already knew all this, obviously, so why was he calling me? “I take it you’ve heard of the events surrounding the FBI investigation?”
“Do you mean Jacqueline Sosa being found dead? Then, yes. Or that she uploaded private footage of Jeremy to the internet before she died? Because, also, yes.”
“The site has been taken down.”
“And you’re sending cease and desists to every single person who uploads or shares footage on social media, right?”
There was a beat of silence. “Our team is working on it.”
I wanted to punch this man.
“And you’ve heard that Jeremy trashed his house in a fit of rage that caused his sugar levels to crash and we probably should have called paramedics, but he was worried that it would just be another media circus that you didn’t need?” I spoke through gritted teeth. “You heard that, right? Or did you need the FBI to tell you to care?”
There was a long, strained pause. “Steve, you’re on two weeks’ leave. Effective immediately. Full pay, but don’t push your luck. And when you do come back, you’ll be expected to have a phone so you can be contacted. I won’t chase you again. I also won’t have a repeat of your attitude. And the next time you’re reprimanded for such insubordination will be your last day at Platinum—”
I ended the call and handed Roscoe back his phone. He was a little wide-eyed. “Everything okay?”
“I got two weeks and an official warning. I think? I dunno. I cut him off before he could finish.”
“Oh.”
I shrugged. “Fuck him. He cares about his company, the money, and the reputation and prestige. He doesn’t care about those boys. Not anymore. I’m not the only one to notice it. Even Hardwick mentioned it.”
Roscoe nodded. “And Maddox. And Wes.”
“Jeremy said he and the boys are gonna talk about the band’s future. When he gets out of the clinic. They wanna go up to the cabins.”
Roscoe met my eyes. “I know. Remember when we went to my uncle’s property in Vermont? When Maddox had his breakdown in New York?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
“You asked me then if I thought they’d call it quits. I knew they needed a break, Maddox in particular, but I was sure they’d get through it and the band would kick on.”
“But now?”
“Now I’m thinking no. I think they’re done.”
I ran my hand through my hair. “Same. Jeremy told Maddox he wanted out. But he hasn’t been feeling his best so it might change. I doubt it though. I think he’s done. Has been for a while. This whole shitshow just kinda sealed the deal. Or, at the very least, what Atrous is on the other side of this will be different.”
Roscoe met my eyes and nodded. “Yeah. And that’s not a bad thing.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Ah, Steve?” Sayed called out from the front. “Your stop, coming up.”
I looked out the front and saw that yes, we were on my street. The van slowed to a stop. “Will you be okay?” Roscoe asked.
I gave him a tired smile. “Yeah. Will you?”
He smiled right back. “Yeah.”
I pressed the button and the door slid open. The night was dark and quiet outside, and I realized without a watch or a phone, I had no idea what time it was.
In the space of a week, I’d gone from living a regimented life, structured and organized down to the minute . . . to now not even caring.
My apartment was just as I’d left it, kinda gray and tiny compared to Jeremy’s mansion. His place was so huge, but it never felt sparse or museum-like. It was a home.
My place, on the other hand, felt vastly empty despite it being the size of a shoebox.
I missed Jeremy, which was ridiculous, considering I’d just left him an hour ago.
I cleaned out the fridge. I had a shower. I lay on the couch and stared at the ceiling, still without any idea of what time it was. I was so tired I just couldn’t bring myself to care.
Was my job at Platinum over?
As good as.
I wasn’t sure I cared too much about that, either.
What I cared about was Jeremy.
I closed my eyes thinking of his touch, his smile, his kiss. I knew he was in good hands. He was being monitored by some of the best endocrinology doctors in the country. He was with Maddox, in a secure facility. The FBI investigation was over. He was safe.
I could finally take a minute to rest . . .
I woke up to sunlight streaming into my living room, a sore back, stiff neck, and a very persistent buzzing noise.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It took me a second to realize the buzzing noise was my intercom. I got up, rubbing my neck, and pressed the button. “Hello?”
“Steve? It’s Elsie.”
Elsie . . . Elsie.
“From Platinum?” she said. “I have a package for you.”
Oh, Elsie, the woman who ran all sorts of errands all over the city.
“Sure thing,” I said. “I’ll come down.”
I went down to the entry hall, squinting at the glare of sunlight coming in through the glass door. Elsie was there by herself, holding a large envelope.
I’d seen those envelopes before. They were Platinum Entertainment signature legal or HR envelopes. I opened the door. “Morning,” she said brightly.
“Morning.”
She handed the envelope over. “For you.”
It was heavier than I’d expected, and sure enough, there was a Platinum Entertainment logo in the corner. “Hey, what time is it?”
She looked at me as if I’d asked her which planet we were on, then glanced at her watch. “It’s just after nine.”
God, I must have slept for what? Ten or twelve hours?
“Thanks,” I said.
She waved and went on her way, and I headed back up to my apartment in dire need of coffee.
I made it strong and black, went back to my couch, and stared at the envelope. Last night, I’d been ready to throw my job away, and now . . . regardless of what was in that envelope, I was pretty sure my time at Platinum was over.
