Find Me (Truthful Lies Trilogy - Book Two) (30 page)

By two P.M. I decide to cancel the
teeny-bopper party I have on for tonight. If ensuring “The show
must go on” is a part of being in the music biz, then I’m out of
it. The mom who hired me is totally pissed. I tell her what’s
happening and she doesn’t give a shit. Neither do I. She says she’s
gonna gimme a shitty review on
Yelp
or
something (I’m not even on
Yelp
)
and I tell her I can send her some automated mixes she could play
for the kids. She flips out even more. “What about dedications!
This is
so
unprofessional!”

Christ!

I call Randy, tell him what’s happening (“OH
MY GOD! NO! NOT DECLAN OF ALL PEOPLE!”)

I also ask him if he could help find someone
to take my teeny-bopper gig.

He says he’ll do it personally.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not, Blaze. I’ll do it.”

“You understand these are Beliebers you’ll be
playing for.”

“
Blaze, I have a confession to make.” My
heart sinks. “Well, Deck and I go back a little bit. Not much, but
he was always there for me when I needed to...
(cough)
...talk...about...
stuff
.”

“Oh.”

“
Yeah, ‘Oh.’ I’m sure Deck never mentioned
nuthin, because he’s that type of guy, you know. He listens, he
cares, he keeps worries away from people. He takes it all on
himself, like he’s trying to smother the bad stuff in the world
with a huge blanket or something. And he does that by listening to
people.” I remember telling him about Savva on my rooftop, just
before Dino (we assume) threw the Molotov into my building’s
window. This thought makes me sad on such a deep level that it
takes all the strength I have to keep holding the phone.

But I don’t cry.

“
So, anyway, the confession is that I’ve
known you guys been dating—you are
dating
, right?”

“Officially.”

“
Right, so, well, when I heard that...
Well, I decided to go out on a limb and tell you I wanted to sign
you immediately, Blaze. There’s vultures in this business and,
well, I wanted to make sure you didn’t get eaten up by one of
them.”

“So it wasn’t just my world-moving
talent.”

He gets the joke, and laughs. “Of course
it was, but there’s a certain etiquette in our crowd. Especially
when someone plays at Gavin’s place. I sort of broke a few rules by
coming out early and asking you first.”

“
So now you’re
persona non grata
?”

“I will be. As soon as they find out what
I’ve done.”

“
They won’t find out. I’ll make out like
you never spoke to me about it beforehand. Maybe I’ll even go to a
few meetings with other labels, just to keep up
appearances.”

“Wow. I’d appreciate that, Blaze.”

“
You know, Randy, that you’re telling me
that you appreciate what I’m doing for
you
only makes me think you’re about the most
incredibly humble and caring person in the world.”

“
Don’t put me on a pedestal, Blaze. We all
have our flaws. And mine would make you run for the hills. But I
appreciate the compliment. Now, send me the Belieber Axe
Murderess’s number.”

I give it to him. “I’ll call her first,” I
say, “and tell her you’re coming. Otherwise she’s gonna rip your
head off when you call.”

“No. You’re under enough pressure, Blaze.
I’ll call her myself.”

“
No, Randy, this is my mess—”

“
Blaze! Accept the help!”

“
You sound like my new best
friend.” I elbow Vikki lightly.
Her eyes are lidded and she’s half doping off next to
me.

“Good. Good. OK, Blaze. Stay there. And if
you need anything else, just call. I’m not kidding. For Deck,
there’s very little you can’t ask me to do.”

“OK. Cool. He’ll be grateful for that.”

“I owe him. And he knows that.”

We click off, and I stare at the screen in
amazement, wondering what it was that he owes Deck so much
for.

At two-thirty
P.M., Vlad brings us a pair of Big Macs and French
Fries. I eat about two of the fries. Vikki eats half a burger. Vlad
shrugs and downs the rest, not wanting good food to go to
waste.

By three-forty, I’ve read
each the Hospital Notice Board
signs at least three times through and now know that a cough moves
out at sixty miles per hour and that our heart beats around a
hundred thousand times a day. Not to mention seventeen other
equally useless facts that are probably here to take people’s minds
off their friends / family / lovers who are inches away from dying
only a few feet away.

Three fo
rty-five: Trev and Skate arrive.

At five of four, Declan goes into cardiac
arrest.

I’m a wreck. Total wreck. I’m beyond
panicking,
beyond
crying. Beyond shouting and screaming.

Beyond begging.

I’m beyond hoping.

Three fifty-six. Medics rushing past us,
using words I don’t understand. But I know it’s about Deck. I know
it. And this isn’t an episode of
Gray’s Anatomy
, so I’m not so hopeful that some young
Doc-wannabe is gonna come up with a brilliant strategy to save
Declan’s life.

Vikki holds me.

Trevor holds me and her.

Skate holds us all.

Together, each one of us, we cry. And we
hold each other. And we fucking cry some more.

Because there just ain’t nuthin else we can
fucking do.

The
Docs make a noise. I feel time passing by. I feel Vikki’s
waist under my arm, smell her sweat, and Trev’s. Skate’s old
cologne.

I feel their shivering bodies around
me.

Each one of us the lifeline of the
other
.

My boys
, I think.
And my girl.

When the Doc comes by (how much later?),
we separate, like football players getting up from a pile-on on the
ground. Two grown men—Skate and Trev—wipe their tears. The Doc—a
young fellow of black hair—looks at us, serious. I prepare for the
worst. And all I know is
I gotta hold the fuck on!

I grab Vikki’s hand and squeeze for dear
freaking life.

Trev puts a bulky arm around Skate’s thick
neck. Both of their eyes are as red as Vikki’s dress.

Skate, on my left, grabs my
hand.

Lining up for the firing
squad
, I
think.

I ready myself for the worst. Because nothing
can be worse than the worst. And if it happens...

We’ll deal with that
if
it happens.

If
, not
when
.

The
Doc says, somber and serious, “He’s OK. Critical—some
internal bleeding; the head injury is not the worst, not the
best—but he’s OK. He went into severe shock, that’s why the cardiac
arrest. Can happen. We’re gonna watch—”

I feel the earth shift. I notice
Vikki—
my
girl!
—has her hand to
her mouth and is gasping for breath, tears of relief streaming down
her cheeks; her hand shivering and trembling in my own. I hear a
thump next to me—Trev’s fist hitting Skate’s chest, the tears
breaking through his own defenses as well. Skate’s serious, not
crying, but his lips are pressed tighter than a US spy being
squeezed for data by Al-Qaeda. His hand squeezes mine harder, so
hard it hurts.

The Doc is still talking.
What did he
say
again?

He’s OK. Critical.

He’s OK. Some internal
bleeding.

OK.

Not the worst. Not the best.

OK!

Declan is OK, ma’am.

Me:
“He’s...
OK
?”

Doc says, “Yes.”

Trev thumps Skate’s chest harder. Then he
pumps his fist in the air. “Woot! WOOHOO!” Then he jumps up and
throws both fists up like’s he’s just won the Superbowl. “He’s OK!”
More fist-pumping; more chest-thumping; more hugging. And not one
of those crappy man-hugs, either. A real fucking
hug
!

“
Sir, he’s still critical—”

Trev: “But he’s alive.”

“Yes.”

Skate and Trev’s cheers drown out the rest
of the Doc’s words.

He’s alive!
Critical?
Who cares!

Vikki and I joi
n in the cheering. Tears stream, wild and furious.
She and I hug as well. Trembling, quivering, bawling like
incredible babies.

I turn and hug Skate.
He and Trev have meanwhile separated. I
hold Skate’s big and muscular body and I say, “Thank you. Thank you
so much. You guys saved his life. Thank you.” Still holding him, I
gesture to Trev. My eyes are so freaking foggy I can’t see shit.
“Come over here!”

Trev’s monster size lumbers over, arms
open. He grabs Vikki by the dress and pulls her into the hug again.
I catch a glimpse of the Doc’s face. And the Doc smiles as well,
just a little—
tiny!
—smile, but
he smiles. Then his finger goes to the corner of his eye, and he
wipes an obvious tear away. He nods, tightens his lip, nods again.
“He’s OK. Yes”—he gasps a sudden laugh—“he’s OK. That’s right. He’s
OK. Well...uhm...forget it. He’s fine. We’ll monitor him. But he’s
OK. Yes.”

The
Doc decides this is a good time to leave. Just before he
does, he pats Trevor on the back, says nothing else.
Goes.

And here we are again, as we were a minute
or two ago. Crying, for a different reason.
An entirely different reason.

After five or six minutes, we separate.
Skate pulls Vikki in by the
nape of her neck, and she puts her head on his chest. But
he doesn’t kiss her, just holds her.

We sit—all of us—on the blue plastic
chairs of the waiting room. And we hold hands.

And we wait.

Together.

Declan Cox

When I wake up, I’m delirious. The room
looks strange
and misty,
my mind is foggy. And my head feels just about ready to explode. It
takes a little while to figure out I’m in a hospital (the white
curtains and drip in my arm are a dead giveaway.) I groan. Soon a
nurse is at my side, pumping my arm to check my BP.

My first words are, “B—Blaze. Blaze.” And
that’s when the flashes hit me.
Smack. Crack. Thump
.
At which point I panic: “BLAZE!”

The nurse puts a hand on my chest and pushes
me down. “Sir, calm down!”

“What happened!? BLAZE? Where’s Blaze!” My
head feels like it’s about to crack open, and as much as I want to
rip this needle out my arm and throw this roundish nurse against
the wall, I have no strength... “Blaze...” I mumble.

A boot hits me in the head—at least it
feels like it—and I’m back on the pillow. “Blaze. Blaze. Where’s
Blaze?”

“Get the doctor!” the nurse calls out.

Soon
the Doc’s at my side, feeling my pulse.

“What happened? Where’s Blaze?”

“She’s fine, Mr. Cox.”

I fling my head at him, an insanely bad
mistake because it makes me scream with torturous pain. “She—she’s
fine?”

“
Yes, now let me just run some tests on you
and I can have her come in here
briefly
and say hello, OK?”

“Blaze. I need Blaze...”

“Mr. Cox, just a few tests.”

“OK. OK. And I’m thirsty, Doc.”

He laughs. “Good. That’s good. Nurse
Thompson?”

“
I’m on it!” I get a clearer look at the
nurse—a large African American woman with a “Don’t Fuck with Me”
look. But she also has a caring smile, and that kinda reminds me of
Trevor’s mom (if she put on fifty pound or so) and that makes me
smile as well. “Whatchoo smilin at Mr. Cox?”

“Uhm, nothing, ma’am.”

“
Ma’am. Hmmm, that’s right, son. Now open
your mouth and take a sip of this water here.” She puts a straw in
my mouth and I’m so desperate for it that some spills out and onto
my chin and neck. “Easy there, little man.”

After a few minutes of a lot of poking and
prodding, the
Doc says,
“OK, Mr. Cox—”

“
Declan, sir. Mr. Cox
is—
was
—my father.”
This makes me inexplicably sad suddenly.

“
OK, Declan, we’ll bring Blaze here
briefly
. A few
minutes only.”

“Yessir.”

He goes out to get Blaze. Nurse Thompson
stands looking at me like I’ve done something seriously wrong,
arms
folded.

I swallow. “You know,” she says, “I seen
worse. Upper East Side, now
there’s
some crazy shit if I ever seen any. Them private schools is
worse than the damn projects. I had a girl come in once, got
slapped by another high-class girl—damn near broke her
back!”