Heart and the City Page 5

  Still dazed Lea followed him down to the car. It didn't take long to unload the rest of her things. When Ricco put the last box down in the living room his eyes fell onto the patio door. “You got a balcony!”

  Lea followed him to the screen doors. “It's hardly that, more like a couple of chairs on a fire escape, but yeah, this is the reason I took this place.”

  They went outside and gazed out over the backyard. It had been quite a surprise, finding an apartment building with a beautifully tended yard overlooked by her very own tiny bit of outdoor space. Lea had always yearned for a balcony. It had been one of many contested issues with her last boyfriend in London, but Lea put that thought aside.

  “This is brilliant! Can I smoke out here?” Ricco asked.

  Lea smiled. “My doctor self doesn’t much care for the habit, but of course. You want a cuppa?”

  “Tea, you mean?” Ricco grinned. “See, I speak Brit.” Lea laughed. He really was cute.

  “Tea, or instant coffee,” she said. “No fancy espresso machine here.”

  “Tea is fine. Wait.” Ricco’s face creased in concentration. “White, one sugar. That's what Daniel always says. My colleague on Gone to Hell. He’s from England, too.”

  Lea patted his arm then went to make tea. When she returned Ricco sat in one of the cheap plastic chairs, legs outstretched, gazing out over the yard which lay resplendent in the early evening light. He looked tense again. Lea placed his mug and the saucer that would double as ashtray on the rickety table by his elbow.

  “I'll tell you what happened this weekend if you want,” he said without looking at her.

  “You don't have to—” she began.

  “I think I do.” He was still gazing into the middle distance.

  Lea sat in the other chair. “Okay, then. Tell me.”

  He sat very still, the collar of his leather jacket pulled up, hiding from her rather than because it was cold. For the middle of winter, it was incredibly mild.

  He was still for so long Lea thought he had changed his mind and wouldn’t tell her after all. Yet she waited patiently. The ability to be quiet, and to listen, was something she had learned at work.

  Finally, Ricco shifted and sighed, like he was psyching himself up to say something difficult. “A fan cut me.”

  For a moment it didn’t even register as English, the words sounded so nonsensical. Then their meaning penetrated Lea’s mind, and she leaned forward, staring. “A fan cut you?”

  “Yeah.” He seemed to struggle with that one word.

  “Where?” she demanded.

  “In the autograph session on Saturday—”

  “No, I mean, on you, where did they cut you?”

  Ricco’s left hand disappeared into his jacket and came to rest somewhere on the right side of his chest. “Here.”

  “D’you… I mean, have you had it looked at?” It was obvious that he had, but she still felt compelled to ask.

  “Yeah. It was just a graze. The guy had this tiny knife…” He finally looked at her, misery writ large on his face. “It’s what we do, you see. On the show… My group, they’re called a Band of Brothers. In that world cutting each other is like an initiation ritual. Looks rad on screen. The fan confused the show with reality, is my guess.”

  He lowered his eyes. His lips were still moving but no words came.

  “My god, I’m so sorry,” Lea stammered. “Tell me that’s not normal. Has this ever happened before?”

  Ricco shook his head. "Being cut, never so far, no… but normal? I don't even know what that is anymore."

  “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head again, his fingers knotted so tightly it had to hurt. Lea ached to reach across and insert her own fingers into that tangle and unknot his hands, hold them tight. Focus him in the here and now and take him away from that awful memory. But she didn’t move, sure he would bolt if she tried touching him now.

  “This year has just…,” he whispered. “I mean, is it really worth all this? Things, up in Canada—” He trailed off.

  Lea desperately wanted to console him, put her arms around him. He sounded so sad, so lost. “Ricco—”

  As if galvanized by the sound of his name, Ricco jerked back in his seat, wiping angrily at his eyes. His gaze flicked at her for a split second, a haunted, desperate expression in eyes that were two pools of darkness. He jerkily stubbed out his cigarette in the makeshift ashtray and jumped to his feet. “I’m sorry. I thought I could, but… I better go… Listen, I’ll call you, okay?”

  And without another glance, he hurried through the apartment. Lea was right on his heels but still didn't dare touch him. "Okay. Or we could just…Ricco."

  Not looking around, he had a hand on the front door already. I’m so sorry.” And then he was through the door, and Lea stopped dead.

  She didn't move for a long time, didn't watch him drive away. When she finally unfroze she merely closed the front door, turned all the lights off, and returned to the balcony. There she sat, staring at their two untouched mugs of tea and his cigarette stub in the saucer until darkness had fallen and she couldn't see anything at all.

  7

  Over the next two weeks, Lea tried not to think about Ricco. There was a real possibility that she'd never see him again. Their last encounter had ended badly. He had no reason now to get in touch. She didn't blame herself but it wouldn't be surprising if all memories of her would now forever be tainted with that painful recalling of… well, of what, exactly? Fans who cut you? As shocking and revolting as that incident had been it seemed to be merely the tip of an iceberg of things gone wrong for him.

  Whatever Ricco had tried, and failed, to tell her, it must have been traumatic. He wouldn’t want to be reminded of his inability to deal with it. Lea wasn’t surprised when he didn’t call or text, but it hurt, and she thought of him a lot. If only there was something she could do to help. But she didn’t have the nerve to reach out to him, either. What could she hope to offer? He had seemed overwhelmed by the double-edged sword of celebrity. She had no experience with that world at all.

  Working in the ER kept her as busy as ever, and sorting out her new place took Lea's mind off things for a while. And she spent some of her limited free time hunting for a cheap car, and finally took possession of a ten-year-old Ford. Seeing the car at a used car dealer in Queens had evoked fond memories of her first-ever car, which had been of the same brand. The car was old, but it still set her back five thousand dollars. It would make the commute to work more bearable, though, and it was bright pink, which cheered her up every time she looked at it.

  Lea had just discharged a patient and was on her way to the ER’s reception to drop off her notes when she spotted Ricco. He stood just inside the doors, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, even though it was overcast. Every few seconds he was jostled by people entering and exiting the ER, but he barely seemed to notice.

  “Kathy, could you take this?” Lea thrust her clipboard to a passing nurse and hurried toward Ricco. He had spotted the reception desk and took a couple of uncertain steps in that direction, then staggered. Lea reached out to steady him. “Hey, careful. What are you doing here?”

  It was hard to make out his expression behind the dark glasses, but he seemed to be staring without much comprehension. Then his hand came up to the side of his head and he groaned, pressing hard against his temple. “My head hurts so bad.”

  He staggered again, and Lea slid an arm around his waist. She glanced around. Were those two women in the waiting area whispering? And that guy beside them, had he just pointed his phone at them to take a picture? Maybe Ricco had had a point when he didn’t want to be seen like this in public.

  They had to get away from here. “Let’s get you a room,” she murmured, steering him past the cubicle area and down a corridor.

  He came with her meekly, struggling to walk in a straight line. The destination Lea had in mind was a treatment room that lay tucked into a corner and wasn’t often used. The c
orridor was much quieter than the main ER.

  But they were only halfway down the corridor when Ricco stopped dead in his tracks. He gripped her hand hard, his fingers cold as ice.

  “What is it?” Lea asked in alarm.

  He tensed, glancing around. Then he let go of her and hurried toward a nearby sink.

  "Oh, Ricco." Lea followed. She placed a hand on his back. He was shaking and heaving painfully. His fingers turned white where he gripped the sink.

  Lea glanced around. They were still alone in the corridor, but if Ricco wanted to avoid being spotted by fans in this condition they had to move.

  Ricco wiped his brow with the back of his hand, groaning. Lea grabbed a handful of tissues from a dispenser and he used them to wipe his mouth.

  “Do you think we move?” she asked.

  He nodded weakly and she put her arm around him again, guiding him down the corridor and into the room. There, she helped him onto the high bed.

  “Let’s get your jacket off so I can examine you.”

  When he was free of his leather jacket he lay back and closed his eyes. Swallowing rapidly a few times he wrapped his arm around his middle. Lea pulled a basin from a cupboard just in time. Ricco grabbed for it and gagged, but only a thin trickle of bile came up. He groaned again and pressed his hand against his head. Lea hung up the jacket and placed his cap, which had fallen off, onto the bedside table.

  “You still need this?” She indicated the basin. Ricco shook his head and Lea put it on the cabinet as well. Ricco curled up on his side and hid his face in the crook of his arm. Lea turned the ceiling light off. The only illumination now came from a narrow window.

  “Leave the sunglasses on,” she said, his pain wrenching her heart.

  He nodded and reached out for her, his hand clawing uselessly at the air. Lea took it in both of hers. His fingers were still icy cold.

  “It’s so bad,” he whispered, his voice a hoarse croak. “I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Honey, why didn’t you call?” she asked, despairing. “I would’ve come to you as soon as I could.”

  “Didn’t want you to get in trouble again,” he murmured. “Thought maybe it’d just go away. I left it until I couldn’t take it anymore. I called Dr. Vaughn, but she’s no use.”

  “You need a new neurologist,” Lea said through gritted teeth. “I’ll talk to some colleagues. But first let’s see about that pain, huh?”

  He nodded weakly. “Yes please.”

  “I’ll organize some security, too,” she said. “Can you hang in there for a few minutes? I’ll be back real soon with some meds.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He didn’t sound okay.

  She stroked his wrist. “Try to relax, keep your eyes closed. I’ll send you my favorite nurse with the meds.”

  At that, a grin ghosted over his face. Lea chuckled, relieved. If that gets a reaction, he’ll be all right.

  “Behave, or Kathy won’t ever talk to me again,” she admonished.

  Ricco squeezed her hand. “Thanks, doc.”

  Lea smiled and placed her other hand gently against his face. “No problem, sweetie.”

  She called the pharmacy from the phone on the wall. This would take some time to sort out, but Lea didn’t mind. When he’d needed help, Ricco had come to her, and that made her happier than she could have imagined.

  Jon looked at the cell in his hand, then at the hospital entrance before him. Why here? Shaking his head he walked through the sliding double doors into the hospital vestibule.

  Ricco had texted earlier in the morning: Head’s killing me. Gone to Bellevue ER, take a raincheck? x

  Jon hadn’t left it at that. He had tried calling Ricco’s cell, leaving several voicemails. Then he had looked up Bellevue Hospital on a map, rolled his eyes, and called a cab.

  Why had Ricco come here? Bellevue was nowhere near his place, and he saw the neurologist at Columbia.

  “Excuse me,” Jon said to a passing nurse as he entered the ER. “I’m here to see, uh… Ricco Como?”

  He lowered his voice on the name. Ricco was always nervous about being recognized. But how else would Jon get through to see him?

  The nurse seemed wary. “And you are?” she asked.

  “Jon Gol… I’m a friend.”

  “Is he expecting you?”

  Jon decided to take that as confirmation that Ricco was indeed here. He puffed himself up. “He damn well is. How else would I know he was here? Now, can you take me to him, please?” Inwardly, he winced. He didn’t like pretending to be one of those Hollywood dicks.

  The nurse looked annoyed but beckoned Jon to follow. Gritting his teeth, he trailed her across the ER and down a side corridor.

  There was a security guard outside the door they headed for. At least the hospital had done this bit right. Maybe Ricco had known what he was doing, after all. The nurse held the door open and Jon went inside.

  Ricco lay on a hospital bed in the gloomy room, curled up on his side. His eyes were closed. He wore an ill-fitting gown. His cap and shades lay on the bedside table, next to a plastic basin. Jon drew closer and studied Ricco’s face. He was pale and there was a deep crease of pain across his brow. Several IV lines snaked from plastic pouches into his left arm. A monitor with squiggly lines gave a loud, short beep and Ricco’s eyes flew open.

  “Jonny!” he croaked.

  “Hey, buddy.” Jon made to lean down to kiss Ricco. But Ricco pulled away.

  “Don’t… I‘m all pukey.”

  Jon put a hand behind Ricco's head instead and placed a kiss on top of his hair. Ricco sighed at the touch and his hand came up to lie on Jon's arm.

  Jon sat on the bed. He pushed a few strands of hair off Ricco’s forehead. “You don’t look so good, baby. What’s going on? I thought you had new pills for your head?”

  “They’re shit, they don’t work,” Ricco said. “Oh Jonny, I can’t do this anymore.”

  Jon stroked Ricco’s face and wiped away the single tear that had escaped from under his lashes. “Shh, baby… we’ll find something that’ll work. We always do, don’t we?” Ricco nodded. Jon asked, “Why did you come here, though? Bit out of the way. What is it, three different trains from your place?”

  “Two. There’s a new doctor, she works here.”

  “You got a new doc, and she works in the ER?”

  Ricco shook his head. “She’s not my doctor. She just works here." Before Jon could try and unravel the confusing narrative, the door opened. Ricco's eyes lit up. "That's her."

  Jon gave the woman entering the room a quick once-over. She was in blue scrubs and trainers. Her long blonde hair was in a loose bun. Mid-thirties, maybe five foot three, and not exactly skinny. Still, she was nice looking, and Jon understood a little better why Ricco’s mood had lifted at her sight.

  She narrowed her blue eyes suspiciously. “Who are you, and how did you get in here?” Her English accent gave her words a clipped edge.

  Jon felt a grudging admiration for her protective tone. She looked at Ricco for an explanation.

  “This is Jon,” he said. “He’s a friend. Hackles down, doc.”

  Jon had the feeling that he was missing something. Did these two know each other? That light, teasing tone was Ricco at his most familiar and relaxed. Before he could ask any questions, however, Ricco gave a groan. He pressed a hand to his head and struggled to sit up.

  “Grab the basin,” the doctor said and Jon did as asked. She helped Ricco to sitting. Her hand stayed on his shoulder as Ricco retched. When he was finally able to draw a breath it sounded more like a sob. The doctor squeezed his shoulder. “Just remember to breathe. It’s over for now.” She glanced at Jon. “Could you stay with him while I get some IV anti-emetics?”

  Jon nodded. “Sure thing.”

  She helped Ricco lie back on the pillows, then indicated the basin. “Don’t put that too far away, just in case.”

  “What about his headache?”

  The doctor indicated the IV bags. “ The m
eds are already running. It’s the best stuff we have, but it takes some time to work. I gave him some Zofran orally for the nausea, but that obviously wasn’t enough. I’ll find something better to make him comfortable until the migraine meds kick in.”

  She patted Ricco’s arm and smiled at him. “Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

  He returned her smile with some difficulty. “Yeah.”

  “I’ll be right back. Try and relax.” She left.

  Jon turned back to Ricco. “I’m real sorry you’re feeling so shitty.”

  “’s okay,” Ricco said hoarsely. Then his expression changed again. “It’ll pass. D’you like her?”

  Jon’s hunch that these two were more than doctor and patient grew stronger. “Your doc? She’s quite protective.”

  “You two have that in common,” Ricco grinned. “She’s really good, real thorough. She’ll sort me out.”

  “I get a feeling I’m missing something,” Jon said. “Do you two know each other?”

  “We’ve hung out a couple times,” Ricco replied. His expression grew somber. “I fucked it up.”

  A nurse entered the room and Ricco broke off. She brought a fresh basin and a cup with ice chips, which she handed to Jon. “Give him a few slivers, but slowly. Dr. Holm will be back in a few minutes.” She left again.

  Jon held up the cup. “You want some now?”

  Ricco shook his head. “Not a good idea.” He had closed his eyes again, and his hand was back on his temple.

  Jon put the cup onto the bedside table. He had experience with Ricco’s headaches. Carefully, so he wouldn’t get tangled in the IV lines, he got onto the bed. Ricco gratefully leaned against him. Jon hugged him close and Ricco shuddered. Jon reached for the basin.

  They had spent many nights in Ottawa like this, Ricco sick and miserable, propped up against him or Daniel, waiting for the latest medication to take effect.

  “It’s all right, baby,” Jon murmured. “I’ll stay with you, you’re gonna be fine.”

  New doctor or not, his friends know what he needs when things get fucked up like this.