I tugged on his arm and pulled him alongside me, searching for an empty room.
Down a hall from the vending machine wall was a locked door. I pushed the access button, heard a loud buzzer, and the double doors electronically swung open.
I had no idea where we were, but at least someone had let us in.
He followed dutifully alongside me as I peeked surreptitiously into room after room until I found an empty one.
I pushed him in before me and then shut the door. The lights were off, and the room had a gray hue to it. Half-opened aluminum blinds let in the only light from outside.
He took a seat on the single bed, buried his face in his hands, and started to cry.
I had no idea what to do, so I simply sat next to him and rubbed his back.
After a brief moment, his tears stopped abruptly, and he sat up straight and braced his hands on his knees. Staring up at the ceiling, he blinked a couple of times and swore. Then he stood and went into the bathroom, grabbed a hand towel, and wiped his eyes. “Ah, fuck! This sucks.”
When he stepped out, he put his hands on his hips, puffed out his cheeks, and then exhaled. “Hi.”
I frowned at him. “Hi?”
“What are you doing here? Did Sol call you?” He appeared dazed.
“No, Paxton. No one called me. No one’s called me since Tuesday. Story left the studio Tuesday night, and this is the first I’ve seen of any of you.”
“How did you know to come to the hospital?”
“I came because one of the girls that practices solo fell from the pole, and I needed to have her arm looked at. I think she broke it.”
“Did you get her to fill out a statement?”
“Paxton! What is going on? Why are you here? Is it Myla?”
At the mention of her name, tears pooled in his eyes. I waited while he made himself comfortable on the hospital bed. He pulled his feet up onto the mattress, bent his legs, and then rested his wrists on his knees.
I pulled one knee up and sat on the end of the bed. Waiting.
“She…” He cleared his throat. “Monday morning my lawyers called. They said her parents had dropped the suit. Story had been begging them to let her go—to let them, let me, let her go.”
His chest was shaking as he worked to control his tears. Resting his head back on the inclined mattress, he stared off at the wall. “On Tuesday, we signed the papers to unplug everything. Story was supposed to let you know.”
His eyes met mine; they were filled with sadness.
Quietly, I said, “She didn’t. She ran out Tuesday afternoon. I thought someone would be back yesterday, and then when I couldn’t get a hold of anyone… well, I was getting a little pissed off. Why didn’t you let me know?”
He reached out his hand, and I scooted forward. He pulled me between his legs, held my head to his chest, kissed it, and then stroked my hair.
“I’m sorry. The days have blended together this week. Everything moved so fast, and I didn’t want to burden you. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Forgive me?”
“Is she…Is she gone?”
He laughed derisively. “I have no idea.”
I sat up and looked at him. “What do you mean you have no idea?”
“I have no idea.” He laughed again. “The doctors keep saying, ‘It’s almost time, it’s almost time.’ My parents have been here all day; Solara and Story have been here all day. And she just keeps breathing. It’s like she’s intentionally torturing me.”
“Paxton, that’s an awful thought.”
His tone turned somber. “I know. I’m just so tired.”
I tried to make him feel better. “I’ve heard it could take hours or days. I’ve heard. I don’t really know.”
“Hmm. I guess.”
He put his head back again. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I stood from the bed. “Actually, I should get back. They might have taken her back already, and she needs me.”
“Who is it?”
“Hope.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know who that is.”
I stood from the bed. “She’s a young girl. She doesn’t have anyone.”
He had zoned out again.
I reminded him about the Vegas show.
He stood and came to hug me. Burying his head in my neck, he said with grief, “Solara will go with you. Story and I need to stay behind.”
“Paxton.” I didn’t really know what to say.
“I know. I’ll call you later. I promise.” He took my face in his hands and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. “I’ll walk out with you.”
He held my hand, and we stepped out of the room.
The nurses at the station saw us and addressed Paxton. “Mr. Crown, your family is looking for you.”
I whipped my head up to look at Paxton. “She’s here? In this ward?”
He nodded wordlessly.
Solara came around the corner. “Paxton! Where have you been? You’ve been gone for almost an hour.” It took her half a second to realize I was standing right next to him. “Charlotte? What are you doing here? Did Paxton call you?”
Paxton spoke for me. “No one called her. She’s been running the studio for two days without any of us.”
She looked at me in surprise. “I thought Story told you.”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Oh, Charlotte, I’m so sorry.” She enveloped me in a hug. “We’re having a bit of a family crisis. Are you—”
“She’s here with one of the solo members. She fell and broke her arm.” Paxton said.
“Really?”
I looked at her, perplexed, and nodded my head. “Yes, Solara, really.”
Solara rubbed her temples. “I’m sorry. This has just been a really rough week.”
“I know. I’m sorry too.”
She looked back at Paxton, with sadness and compassion. “It’s time, Paxton. Really. It’s time. Her parents are asking that we’re all there with her.”
A deep sorrow settled in my heart.
He turned back to me, stroking my cheek. “I have to go.”
I nodded, and he leaned in to kiss me chastely. My chest tightened as I held in my tears.
Solara took his hand, and the two of them walked off. Paxton’s back was straight, and his head was head up, steeling himself for what was to come.
Shaking off the solemnity, I remembered I needed to get back to Hope.
I made my way back to the emergency room and learned Hope had been taken back to X-ray. The nurse led me to the room they had reserved for her. I waited on the reclining chair they had in the corner for visitors.
She was wheeled back in half an hour later, her arm wrapped in a neon orange cast.
The grandfatherly doctor smiled at me as he entered. “You must be Charlotte?”
I stood, wiped my hands on my pants, and shook his hand. “Yes, sir. How’s our girl?”
He smiled at Hope. “She’s going to be fine. Broken arm and a bunch of bruises, but otherwise intact.”
“She said her clavicle hurt. It’s not broken?”
“Not broken. But no more dancing for a bit. She needs to heal. And I want to see her back in four weeks.”
He turned his attention back to Hope. “You’ll be back dancing in no time. But try and stay away from the top of the pole, if you can. It’s a long way down.”
I was so impressed with his non-judgmental demeanor. It was refreshing to hear, and I was so grateful for his acceptance of her.
She smiled tentatively at him, and I said, “Thank you, Doctor.”
“My pleasure. The nurse will be in shortly with her prescription and discharge papers.”
After the doctor left, Hope started to cry.
I rushed to her side. “Why are you crying?”
She hiccupped. “I don’t have another job, Charlotte. If I can’t dance, I can’t pay my bills, my rent, or my groceries.”
Inwardly, I seethed. This girl was a minor, and someone had allowed her to live like this. “We’ll figure it out, okay? Maybe you can help out at the studio? I’ll talk to Paxton and Solara. Don’t worry. You just focus on healing.”
By the time we returned back to the studio, and Hope’s car, it was dark. The studio’s only visible lights were the flooring lights that went up the stairs from the lobby to the top’s open area.
Hope had fallen asleep, her prescription pain meds shoved in the top of her bag.
I gently nudged her. “Hope. Hope, wake up.”
She woke, wiping drool from her cheek. “Where are we?”
“Back at your car. I don’t think you should drive, though. What’s your address? I’m going to drive you home.”
“No. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. What’s your address?” She mumbled it, and I put the car back in drive.
The neighborhood was not the most desirable, and the apartment complex looked shabby even in the dark. I could only imagine its deplorable state during the day. A group of teens was smoking in the parking lot. Hope’s head hung in shame as I circled through the parking lot.
She pointed toward the last building. “It’s the second one on the left, up ahead.”
I drove right past the building, left the complex, and turned on the main road that lead to my parents’ house.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re coming home with me. You need someone to take care of you, and I’m going to be out of town this weekend. I’m taking you to my parents.”
“You live with your parents?”
Her tone was laced with disdain, and hearing it from her point of view, it did seem a little embarrassing. I should accelerate my own apartment hunting. If she only knew what I used to have.
Interesting how easy a teen could shame me. “I just moved back a few weeks ago and haven’t had time to find a place of my own.”
She stared out the car window and mumbled, “Fine.” A sullen expression flashed on her face, but her body visibly relaxed.
I was doing the right thing.
When we reached my parents’ house, I gave her a brief tour that ended in the kitchen. I told her it was okay to help herself to whatever she wanted. My mom had heard us rustling around in the kitchen and came in to greet us.
“Hi, Mom. This is Hope. She’s going to be staying here for a week or so.”
“Hi, Hope.”
“Hi, Mrs. Chase. Thank you for letting me stay.”
I shook my head at my mom from behind Hope’s back, hoping she wouldn’t ask me anything just yet.
My mom was gracious and asked if we were hungry.
Hope responded that she just wanted to go to bed.
“Okay, dear. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Hope said good night. I showed her to the guest room, got her settled, and gave her something of mine to sleep in.
When I returned to the kitchen, my mom had made me a cup of tea and a half sandwich.
She waited until I’d taken a few bites and washed them down. “Oh, my God! This is either so good or I am just so hungry.”
Resting against the sink, she said, “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
I relayed the events of the day. By the time I reached the end of the story, my mom had made her way to the stool beside me and was holding my hand. “Oh sweetheart, how terrible for them. I am so sorry. You had a rough day, didn’t you?”
“Not as rough as Paxton and Solara, but yeah, this is one for the books, for sure.”
“What are you going to do about the girl?”
“I have no idea. I wasn’t really thinking clearly, but as soon as we drove by her apartment, I knew I couldn’t leave her there.”
She laughed. “Aren’t you leaving for Vegas tomorrow?”
I looked at her sheepishly. “Can you take care of her until I get back on Sunday? I promise I’ll figure something out while I’m gone.”
She patted my hand and said, “Sure. I can do that. But she’s not a lost dog; you can’t keep her.”
“I know, Mom, I know.” I stared at my plate. “Life was certainly more peaceful in Houston.”
She patted my hand again and then left me for bed.
By the time I changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and crawled into bed. I felt like I was a hundred years old. How had life turned so fast?
Solara was late for the plane. She was the last to board, and she looked horrible: tired and wrung out.
I waited until she was settled in the seat next to me before asking how she was doing.
“I’m okay. I stayed with Story last night. She’s not doing well.”
“And Paxton?”
I was hurt that he hadn’t called me.
Solara looked at me with sad eyes. “He’s okay, Charlotte. Just give him a little time. I know he cares about you. I can see it. I can feel it. But he just, from his point of view, killed his wife. Ex-wife, kind of, but that’s a burden no one wants.”
She took my hands in hers and turned sideways in the seat. “I knew you were someone special as soon as he came home from Houston. He complained about you when he told me you would be calling, but he was standing up straighter, and his eyes weren’t flat anymore. There was something there, even though he was fighting it. Don’t give up on him. Let him get through this.”
I put my head back on the seat, squeezing my eyes shut so I wouldn’t cry.
“And now, we need to tough through this weekend. It’s just me and you and the Vegas crew, so it will be crazy busy. But we can do it. We’re strong.” Solara said.
“Fake it until we make it?”
“Fake it ‘til we make it.”
The flight to Vegas was uneventful. As soon as we landed, Solara shifted into professional mode. She was much better at it than I could have been, and I simply followed her lead.
I knew what to do now, so I wasn’t a burden to her, but it was certainly taxing on just the two of us.
By the time the event was over Saturday night, we both looked like we hadn’t slept in a week, and neither one of us wanted company. But Solara was determined that we would press on. We would take the crew to dinner with smiles on our faces—and no complaining. This was their event, and we were going to celebrate them.
When the evening ended, and Solara and I were comfortably settled in an Uber back to our hotel, the smiles dropped. We both audibly sighed.
“You did good this weekend, Charlotte. Thank you for being here.” Her eyes were closed.
I whispered, “You’re welcome.”
We both went to our own rooms at the hotel, and we agreed to meet in the lobby the next morning for breakfast before the flight back to Phoenix.
Flinging myself face first on the bed, I was out.
Shortly after midnight, my cell phone buzzed in my hand: Paxton.
I answered. “Hello?”
“Sleeping?” His voice was slurred.
“No.”
With a masculine laugh, he asked, “How was the show?”
“Uneventful.”
We were both silent.
“How are you, Paxton?”
He groaned. I imagined he was sitting in his bed, leaning back against the headboard.
“I’m okay. I wish you were here.”
I closed my eyes and whispered, “Me too.”
Another moment passed, each of us listening to the other breathe.
“I’ll call Solara in the morning, but I wanted you to know that the funeral is on Monday. I’m closing the studio on Monday and Tuesday. We don’t have anyone to work with, and I know you and Sol will need to recover from the weekend. I asked Story to send an email to our clients.”
This wasn’t the time to tell him I had someone in mind to help out at the studio. Instead, I simply responded, “I understand.”
“Do you want to get dinner this week?”
My heart broke for him. He was trying to be normal.
“I’d like that.”
“I’ll call you in a few days.”
“Good night, Paxton.”
“Charlotte…” I waited. “Good night.”