Saving Scotty (2 page)

Still, I had to try. I buzzed the nurse to come back in.

She appeared in a few minutes. “Nurse, uh, April,” I said, reading her badge. I wanted to call her Nurse Ratched, but I suppose that wouldn’t go over so well, under the circumstances. “I do not want to be moved from this hospital. Please, I’m an adult. I’m 23 years old. I know my legal rights. And I do not want to be moved.”

Nurse April looked at Mr. Lucas, and she just nodded her head. “I understand your wishes. But your foster father believes that it is in your best interest for you to go to a private hospital. It’s already been arranged.”

“I don’t understand how this can be happening. Why won’t anybody listen to me?” I started breathing heavier, remembering how nobody listened to me before, either. When Mr. Lucas was raping me. There was something about that man - maybe it was his money or his connections or his power, probably a combination of the three – that meant that he could get away with anything that he wanted to. “Please don’t make me leave this hospital. Not with him.”

“There, there,” Mr. Lucas said. Then, turning to Nurse April, he said “I told you. She’s had an enormous shock. She’s obviously not in her right mind, so I don’t see how she can make a rational decision in her state.”

Just then, my heart rate shot up. I guess it was the combination of the frustration of not getting my point across, coupled with being so close to the man who had haunted me for a decade, but, all at once, the heart rate monitor zoomed to 170 bpm, and my blood pressure skyrocketed to 190/120.

Nurse April, obviously alarmed at the state of my vital signs, took it upon herself to give me a sedative of some sort. She gave me a pill and some water, but I stubbornly closed my mouth and turned my face away.

“Please, Ms. James, you need to take this. Your vital signs are dangerously high.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t want it!” And then, just like that, my heart rate and blood pressure started to climb even higher.

And, the next thing I know, I was being injected with something. In a few seconds, I started to calm down. In fact, I started to peacefully float.

Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing bothered me.

So, when the nurse came back in later on, and informed me that I was going to be transferred, and that Mr. Lucas would be the one who would be transporting me, on his private plane, I simply said “Sure. Whatever.” They provided me with some kind of paperwork, and I dreamily signed it, without reading it.

And then I fell fast asleep.

Chapter 2

Nick

I woke up in my loft. My head was pounding, absolutely pounding, out of my skull. There was a bucket next to my bed, and it was filled with vomit.

I had no idea how I got here. No earthly idea.

I had to think about what
had happened right before I got here. What was the last thing that I remembered?

Hmmmm….Portia. Scotch. And her telling me that I wouldn’t be seeing Scotty much longer.
What the hell did that mean?

Ok, so I had some scotch. So, what happened after that?

I didn’t know. I couldn’t think. All that I did know was that I had a headache right at that moment which was, by far, the worst headache I had ever had in my entire fucking life. It was like I had a hangover, but it was so much worse than that. So much worse. There was ringing in my ears and I couldn’t move, because every time I tried to move, my head started pounding all the more. So, I ended up just laying perfectly still, staring at the ceiling. That was all that I could do, because anything else would have had me screaming in agony.

Ok, Nick, just lay there and don’t move. Figure out what happened, and get ahold of Scotty.
I needed to see Scotty. I found her very presence calming for me. I had found something in her that I never thought that I actually would find in anybody. And that was a sense of peace, because it was just so right. Right, as nothing had ever been for me. After the life that I had led, finding Scotty had been a godsend. I never imagined that I could feel like that about another person, but somehow, I did.

But, first things first. I had to find out what happened, and what day it was.
I put my hands on my head tightly, because that was what allowed me to move without shooting pain, and looked for my phone.

I found it on my nightstand, and the first thing I did was call Scotty.

It went straight to voice-mail.
Huh, that’s strange.
I left a message. “Scotty, it’s me. I need to talk to you, so call me as soon as you can. I love you. More than I can say.”

Then I looked at my call log. The last call was from George. I decided to call him, because he might be able to give me some type of clue as to what happened to me. After all, the last memory I had was in Portia’s office, so, obviously, the men at the firm might have some kind of indication on how I got here.

George answered the phone. “George Henderson,” he said.

“Hey,” I said. “It’s Nick. I need to talk to you.”

“Nick. I’m glad you called. I have been trying to call you and check up on you, but you haven’t been answering. I hope you’re feeling okay.”

“I’m not. I’m disoriented and confused. I don’t really know how I got to my loft. Hell, I don’t even know what day it is.”

“You really don’t remember?”

“No. That’s what I just said. I don’t remember. Please fill me in.”

“Well, you and Portia were drinking scotch, and she said that you had way too much. You were passed out on her couch. We couldn’t wake you, so Ralph and I ended up calling Charlie to take you home to sleep it off. I didn’t really want to do that, because I didn’t think that you were in any shape to be alone, but I was overruled.”

I took a deep breath. “And when was this?”

“Yesterday afternoon.”

“So, what, I’ve been out for…” I looked at the clock. It read 8:55 AM. “Almost 24 hours?” Then, I remembered that I had a meeting set at 9 AM with the Chase people. “And, geezus, I have a meeting in five minutes time.”

“I called them and asked them to come in tomorrow. They said that wasn’t a problem.”

I groaned. I wasn’t unprofessional like that. Ever.
Not only that, but I had to teach in the evening. With this splitting headache. It was my first class of the spring semester, so I had to be there.

Everything was becoming surreal. I had to get my bearings, and I had to see my girl. “Listen, George, I don’t think that I can come in today. I’ll be in tomorrow at 9 to see the Chase team, but, right now, my headache is about a 42 on a scale of one to ten. I need to find some serious painkillers. I’ve never had a headache this bad in my life.”

George was quiet for a few seconds. “Hey, Nick. Uh, don’t do that again. Get drunk like that at work. It doesn’t look good. It might even be in Page Six. I hope not, but a lot of people saw you being carried to your limo. You’re too high profile to be acting like that.”

Acting like what?
“George, I had one swig of scotch. One.”

“Okay, Nick. Whatever you say.”

I rolled my eyes. He obviously wasn’t believing me. “I see that you aren’t going to be of much assistance to me about this. I mean-“

Then it hit me. It should’ve hit me way before that, but my headache made it very difficult to think clearly.

Portia drugged me.

That bitch.

I mean, I knew that she was a bit of a
Fatal Attraction
, but I had no clue that she would go to such lengths to get even with me for rejecting her.

But why would she do that?

“Nick,” George was saying. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Listen, George, thanks for your concern. I’ll see you tomorrow. I have to go.”

And I hung up, after George and I said our goodbyes.

I needed something to dull this headache, pronto. I got up, every step making my head pound thunderously, and went to my medicine cabinet.

All I had in there was standard stuff – Tylenol, Advil, things like that. Headaches were never a problem for me, so I didn’t have anything stronger.

Looks like I’ll have to go and see my doctor to get a prescription for something stronger.
I called my doctor, and talked to his assistant. He happened to have an opening that afternoon, as somebody had cancelled, so I snapped up the appointment.

I called Charlie to come and take me to the doctor, when the time got near, and he did. As I sat in the back of the limo, I tried to call Scotty again. “Scotty, it’s me. Please call me back. I need to talk to you. I love you.”

I rubbed my temples. It wasn’t like Scotty to not answer the phone, and it certainly wasn’t like her to not return my message to her.

So, I called George again. “George, it’s Nick again,” I said.

“Yeah, Nick. What can I do for you?”

“I know that it’s not her day to work, but have you seen Scotty?”

“Oh, no. You haven’t heard.”

My heart started pounding. George’s tone did not sound good. “Heard what?” I asked, alarm bells ringing in my ears.

“Scotty was hit by a car when she tried to cross the street.”

Hit by a car. My breathing started coming, faster and faster. Abrianna, my beautiful Abrianna, flashed in my brain.
No. No. No. Not Scotty too!!!! No. No. No.
My head started pounding even harder. “Hit by a car. Is she, is she…”

“She was taken to the hospital. I think that she’s ok, except for a broken leg. She was lucky.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t well, but not dead. If she had died…I shook my head, not wanting to contemplate that thought. “What hospital?”

George gave me the name of the hospital, and I immediately started pounding on the window to alert Charlie.

Charlie turned around. “Yes, Mr. O’Hara?”

“Take me to..” And I gave him the address to the hospital that Scotty was taken to.

“Very good, Mr. O’Hara,” Charlie said. And he headed back to the midtown hospital where I hoped that I would be able to find Scotty.

My headache would have to wait. I tried to will away the pain, but nothing was really helping. I probably would end up in the ER of that hospital, after I saw Scotty and made sure that she was okay, so that I could get some prescription painkillers. But only after I saw Scotty. It was suddenly urgent that I knew that she was okay.

I finally arrived at the hospital after what seemed like hours stuck in traffic, and I gingerly stepped out of limo, trying hard not to jar my pounding brain too much.

I got to the front desk.

“May I help you?” the receptionist, whose name was Carly, inquired.

“Yes. I need to know what room Scotty James is in.”

She looked on her roster on the computer. “Ms. James was in Room 222. But, it looks like she has already been checked out.”

I was confused. “Ch
ecked out. How is that possible? She was brought in here yesterday, and she has a broken leg.”

Carly looked at her computer screen again.
“Yes, well, let’s see. She was released into the custody of her father. The notes say that he is taking her to a private hospital.”

“Her father? I’m sorry?” To my knowledge, Scotty didn’t know her father.

“Oh. Sorry. Legal guardian.”

My heart started pounding, harder and harder. “Does it say a name?”

“Yes. Paul Lucas.”

Chapter 3

Scotty

I was feeling groggy, and I was vaguely aware that I was on a plane. A private plane. I was strapped in, and Mr. Lucas was sitting across from me. Drinking a glass of whiskey. He rattled his ice in his glass and I heard crunching noises. “Ruth,” he said, addressing the sky hostess who was standing right in front of him. “Give me another.”

“Please,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Give me another, please.”

He gave me a look like he was absolutely pissed. “You always were an insolent bitch
. I suggest you show me some respect, considering you’re going to be in my care for the time being.” Then he leaned closer to me. “And I can’t wait to make up for lost time.”

Chills ran up and down my spine. “You won’t get away with this,” I said, trying to sound as defiant as I could under the circumstances. I tried to tamp down the feeling of ice-cold fear that froze my veins.

“Listen, you little bitch. And you listen good. I can and I will get away with it. I got away with it for an entire year. I know you told people. And I know that they all told you that you were delusional. So, yeah, you’re nobody and I own this fucking town. I’ll get away with whatever it is I want.”

Wealth and power. That’s what wealth and power get you – the ability to do whatever you want, to whomever you want, and get away with it. I was but a
pawn in his sick game.

Nick was different. Or so I thought. Nick was powerful and wealthy, but so kind to me. So good to me.

I was so naïve for ever thinking that he truly changed his man-whore ways, though. I was still so madly in love with him, like I never thought that I could feel about anybody. But he betrayed me. He betrayed me, and any pain that was going to come from Mr. Lucas paled in comparison to the pain I felt about Nick’s behavior.

Ruth was back, and Paul took the whiskey off her tray without even a thank you.
She quickly retreated back into the serving area. Paul looked at me and snarled a little. Then he raised an eyebrow. “So. Tell me what you’ve been doing with your life these past nine years.”

I sat there and said nothing. He didn’t need to know. He wasn’t privileged to know.

“Tell me, Scotty. Tell me, or the punishment that I’m going to give you is going to be so much worse.”

“Punishment. For what? What did I do?”

“For opening your mouth. Telling all those people all those things about me.”

“All of what I said was true.”

“Be that as it may. It still did a hair of damage to my reputation. Just a hair, though. I mean, I’m sure that 99% of those people felt that everything that was coming out of your mouth was a big, fat lie. But there’s always that 1% that wasn’t so sure.”

I still wasn’t going to volunteer any information to him. So, I sat there, and crossed my arms. Deep down, I knew that it was stupid to act that way. After all, I was incapacitated with my broken leg, and at the mercy of Mr. Lucas. I should
have probably tried to not antagonize him any more than I had to.

But I hated this man so much that I didn’t want to come across as the least bit friendly.

“Ok, then. Be a little contemptuous cunt. You’ll get what’s coming to you, and I won’t be gentle.”

My heart raced. I felt tears streaking down my face. I looked at Mr. Lucas, and he was smiling. Then he laughed. “Still with the crocodile tears, Scotty?” He shook his head, and mockingly made a face. “Oh, poor dear. Poor little Scotty. Being raped every night by the big, bad Mr. Lucas.” Then he smiled again and laughed. “Raped, my ass. You wanted it. You loved it. You wanted in my pants from the moment you came into the house. Little whore, just like your mama. I was just giving it to you just how you wanted it. And I gave it good.”

I blinked my eyes. I was eleven years old when Mr. Lucas first fostered me. Eleven years old. In what world was an eleven-year-old a seductress????

I felt myself retreating into myself. Which was how I managed the first time, when I was young, small and terrified. I willed myself away from the abuse and what was happening to me.
It was almost like those stories I read about people with multiple personalities, and one of the personalities took the abuse to protect the person being abused. I mean, it wasn’t quite like that – I never went into an altered state – but I did manage to find a way to protect my fragile psyche from what Mr. Lucas was doing to me.

It had been awhile since I had done it, but I knew that I would have to do it again. I would have to will myself away from my own reality. Because I knew what was coming. I knew what would be happening to me when Mr. Lucas and I landed wherever it was we were going to land.

I knew what was going to happen, and, in my state, I was powerless to stop it.