Authors: Stacey Grice
“You’re not a joke. You’re not a failure. I failed Liam last night. I’m the reason why he’s lying in that hospital bed right now. And I cannot apologize enough.”
He stared at me, tears steadily streaming down as he listened. His lip started to quiver and he lowered his head, burying his face into the palms of his hands. “If he doesn’t make it…if I lose him…I can’t. Drew, I just can’t. I won’t be able to live if he dies.”
I nodded my head towards the bartender, motioning him to take our two glasses of whiskey away, mouthing “water” to him, which he understood. I set a tall pint glass full of ice water in front of Pat, making sure he noticed.
“A parent isn’t supposed to outlive their children,” he groaned. “This is just a cruel, fucked up world. Why? What the fuck did I do to deserve this? What did Liam do to deserve this? And Bree? Jesus, God, how am I going to tell her?”
“I called her last night,” I said, achieving eye contact again out of shock. “She’s already here, at the hospital. She wanted some alone time with him and asked me to leave her for a while.”
“Christ in Heaven, I’m a mess. What kind of fucked up wreck doesn’t call his own daughter when her twin brother is taken to the hospital? What kind of royal selfish asshole heads straight to the bar for solace instead of to his family?” Pat was full on crying now, complete with a contorted face, sharp inhales of snotty breaths, and scene-making sobs.
“Pat, just take a few deep breaths,” I said softly. “Bree’s here now. She’ll talk to the doctors and get the details on his condition. Let’s get you upstairs and you can catch a few hours of sleep. We’re all exhausted.”
“There are pictures. Did you know that?”
Shocked and confused, I asked, “Pictures of what?” like an idiot.
“Pictures of the fight. At the bar last night,” he moaned. “Someone snapped pictures on their cell phone of the whole thing and it’s everywhere. They twittered it out, or whatever the fuck it’s called. The media is eating it up. It’s all a complete shit storm. My son is in a coma, fighting for his life, and they want to exploit this into front page news. It’s so fucked up, this world we live in. Fucking technology. Fucking vultures.”
He rambled on and on as I helped him off of the barstool. I left a few twenties on the counter, nodding to the barkeep, and walked away with Pat to get him up to his room.
It didn’t take long for him to crash, falling asleep the second his head hit the pillow. I meandered to my room after settling him in and went straight for the shower. Standing under the stream of water that I just couldn’t seem to be able to get hot enough, I thought about a lot. I never should’ve gone out last night to celebrate. I never should’ve taken Liam with me. I never should’ve even responded to Purifoy and his entourage of douchebags. We should’ve walked away. I never should’ve taken that picture with the two fans, who were probably the very people who posted pictures of the entire fight to social media outlets. I obviously had a lot to learn and I was unsure at that point if I would even get another opportunity to learn it. When the truth of last night’s events was revealed, I could very well be banned from the UFC within the same twenty-four hours that I successfully entered it. What a nightmare.
I heard knocking on my hotel room door and quickly wrapped a towel around my waist. Looking out of the peephole, I saw an older man dressed in a dark suit accompanied by a slightly shorter, uniformed man.
“Who is it?”
“William Dalton, sir. I’m the hotel manager. And with me is Mr. Smithwick, our head of security.” I slowly opened the door, gesturing them in. “We’re sorry to intrude, sir, but we were notified that you wished to speak with us both. I have been made aware of the events that transpired this morning outside on our property and I assure you that we are taking every measure possible to eliminate the crowd of media.”
“I appreciate that very much, gentlemen,” I replied, shaking each of their hands. “I’ll need to use the back door or whatever separate entrance you have. The front desk girl mentioned it.”
“Yes, sir, absolutely. Just let us know when you wish to come and go and I will make the appropriate arrangements to ensure that you are privately escorted in and out of our establishment.” The gangly, awkward hotel manager’s eyes darted around the room, avoiding looking at mine as he spoke, while the security supervisor stared straight ahead like he was fucking secret service or something.
“I’ll also need my name on the reservation changed to something different. Something anonymous. I want NO phone calls to my room or anyone else who is with me.”
“Yes, sir, we’ll take care of that immediately,” William Dalton replied. “Of course.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry to bring all of this unwanted attention to your hotel and I’m very appreciative of your willingness to accommodate us. I’ll need another fifteen minutes and then I want to leave, to head to the hospital. Can you call a taxi for me?”
“Even better, sir, I will have a car service take you wherever you want to go. This will be a much more private option.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“Mr. Smithwick will be back up to your room in fifteen minutes to accompany you down. And if you need anything at all, please do not hesitate to call me directly.” He handed me his business card and they both excused themselves.
***
I was happy to see the hospital entrance clear of any media crowd when the car pulled up. It had been a few hours since I saw Bree, but I knew she would still be here with Liam. I made my way up to Liam’s room and was buzzed in by the keepers of the Critical Care Unit. I was actually thankful for the locked down unit after my experience in front of the hotel. I went right to the desk to speak to the secretary.
“I need to talk with someone about making a patient confidential, please.”
“Um, okay. And you are?”
“I’m Liam Murphy’s brother. He’s in room 514 and we need to make his being here confidential please. We only want family to have access to him. No one else is to even know that he’s here.”
“Yes, sir. That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll have our charge nurse come and talk with you as soon as she becomes available.”
“Thank you.”
Rounding the corner to Liam’s room, I was hit in the face with the most beautiful display of love that I had ever seen. Liam, lying still in his hospital bed, the same as before, and Bree, squished up next to him with her head on his chest and her right hand holding his left one across his body. She was asleep and subtly snoring, her breathing almost in perfect rhythm with Liam’s and the beeping of the monitor. I gently touched the top of her shoulder, making her immediately flinch and awaken.
“Jesus! You scared me!” she whispered and yelled at the same time.
“Sorry. You look so uncomfortable. I wanted you to know I was here so you wouldn’t wake up and get creeped out.”
She laughed a little at that and carefully scooted off of the bed into the chair next to it.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“I’m starving, but I don’t want to leave him. What if he wakes up and no one is here?”
“Let’s just get something from the cafeteria then. Or they have a little café across the street. We’ll be quick and get it to go. It will only take a few minutes. You’ve got to eat something.”
“Okay. But we have to hurry. I have to be here when he wakes up.”
A woman wearing scrubs approached us as we walked down the hall towards the unit’s exit, looking right at me with an odd expression. “Are you the brother of Liam Murphy?”
I glanced over at Bree, noticing her confusion, and answered, “Yes.”
“We’ve taken care of making Mr. Murphy’s identity confidential. Anyone wanting to visit or anyone who calls inquiring about his condition will be required to give this five-digit number.” She handed me a sheet of paper with the number printed on it. “We won’t let anyone have access to him or even know that he’s a patient here without this number, so give it out wisely and selectively.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered. “Thank you for taking care of that for us.”
I ushered Bree down the hall quickly and we were buzzed out. She didn’t say anything for a few minutes, not until we were getting off of the main elevators.
“What was all that about?” She looked confused but hesitant, like she knew something was going on and wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear about it yet.
“Uh, there was a little bit of an incident at the hotel this morning when I got back there to shower. Apparently someone tweeted pictures of the fight at the bar and now there’re all sorts of media and photographers trying to get the story. I just want Liam to be protected.”
She turned to face me, shocked and worried and shaking. “What do you mean, incident? What happened now?”
“Well, I got out of the cab at the hotel and was ambushed by a herd of paparazzi yelling and snapping pictures of me, asking questions, yelling details that I was stunned they even knew.” She stopped walking and stood there staring at me in disbelief. “I don’t want you to be worried about this. I’ll handle it. I just don’t want anyone near Liam.”
“What about you? You’ve got to move hotels.”
“I’ve already taken care of the hotel. It should all be fine now.”
We continued to walk toward the main entrance of the hospital together, headed for the sandwich shop across the street. The second that we walked outside, the distinct sound of cameras clicking and flashbulbs shining in our eyes accosted us. I felt Bree shield herself behind me, gripping and fisting onto my shirt. We couldn’t move. Unable to even take two steps forward, the noise of their questions overwhelmed me. It had to be at least double the crowd of photographers that greeted me at the hotel earlier. And they were even more ruthless now, screaming out their questions and snapping away with the camera repeatedly, blinding us.
“Drew, are you injured? Why are you in the hospital?”
“Drew, who did you put into a coma?”
“Is he going to live?”
“Is this your girlfriend? Who’s the pretty girl, Drew?”
“Is it true that you are under review by the UFC Commission after last night’s bar fight?”
Feeling Bree shaking in fear behind me, I stepped forward more aggressively, pushing our way through the crowd.
“Drew, is your real name Brian Dougherty?”
I made no comment other than to say, “Please move. Leave us alone.”
“Brian Dougherty, did you really murder your parents?”
That. Was. It.
I turned around, gathered Bree in my arms, and barreled my way through the group of photographers, back into the hospital lobby. I didn’t stop walking and didn’t release her back onto the ground until we were safely inside. I slowly let her down until her feet touched the floor and she backed up to lean against the wall.
She was still breathless, scared, and pissed. “What the fuck was that?”
“We need to talk.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
BREE
It felt as if I had just been punched in the gut. No. Not punched, kicked. Or struck with a baseball bat. Or t-boned by a semi, leaving my car crunched into a totaled tin can while I remained trapped inside. The absolute terror that we just experienced was enough to give me a heart attack. I didn’t understand. Why? Why was a mob of paparazzi outside the entrance of the hospital where my brother was fighting for his life? Why were they mobbing Drew? My Drew? He isn’t famous. He won a fight. One fight. It just didn’t seem to jive in my small town mind that winning one UFC fight, not even a featured or championship fight, would warrant that kind of fame instantly. And the things that they were yelling...the horrible questions they were asking. What the hell?
I thought that I knew Drew, but maybe I really had no idea. And now he was standing across from me, in this moment, with a look of betrayal and sorrow written all over his face. I knew I was about to learn things about him that I could never unlearn. Drew was about to devastate me.
“So, talk,” I urged, just wanting to get it over with. I had been devastated in my life before. I had loved and lost. I supposed I could do it again.
“I’m sorry that you had to see that, to hear those things. You have enough on your plate with Liam being in the condition he’s in and you shouldn’t have to deal with me and my drama on top of that.”
“What drama, Drew? What the hell is even happening?” He reached out for my hands but I pulled them away. I needed to just listen without my thoughts jumbled by his touch.
“Look, last night was a big night for me. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. I won, Bree. I beat someone that I had no business even being in the octagon with. I felt on top of the world. So we celebrated. I didn’t think I had a reason not to. But it all turned to shit. And now Liam is hurt, my picture is everywhere, and those scavengers are looking to expose and exploit me to earn an extra dollar.” He spoke while pacing around, desperately needing to explain but acting as if he had trouble finding the words. He rubbed his hands over his hair, back and forth, his palms coming over his face to shield his discomfort.
“What is there to expose, Drew? Enough of the secrets!”
He stilled and lowered his head, staring at the pastel green tiles of the hospital floor. I could have sworn that time stopped in that moment.
“I’ve never really told you about my parents.” He spoke in a muted tone, with a timbre of fear in his voice.
I had never seen Drew scared before. I had never heard him sound like this. I didn’t like it at all. The man that I loved was breaking in front of me. I reached down and took his left hand in my right, squeezing it and intertwining my fingers with his. I stepped closer to him, more into his space, and slowly brought his face up to look at me with my left hand.
“Just tell me. Whatever it is, just tell me. I love you, Drew. I love all of you, your past, present, and future. Nothing that you could tell me would change that.”
“It will change everything.”
“It won’t change how I feel about you,” I assured him, “but you have to open up to me.”
He hesitated, battling with himself, shaking his head back and forth and breathing heavily. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve any of this success.”