Page 155 of Dust Storm

“Shut your beautiful face and look at the TV,” she demanded.

“I really have to go?—”

“Cass!Look!”

I was a little antsy because Christian hadn’t called back.Was that good or had something happened and Ray took a turn for the worst?I huffed and craned around to look at the TV.

“Oh my god.” I crammed onto the couch with Becks and baby Charlie as I watched Tripp be led away from his apartment building in handcuffs in a flurry of flashing blue lights.

“Disgraced A-lister publicist arrested after client pressed charges for embezzlement.” Becks cackled. “He cheated on you with Lillian Monroe and then stole her money?”

“Spenser Crenshaw must have taken the tip I gave him and worked his magic. This is even better than I had hoped.” I was laughing too hard to even be the slightest bit mad. “Nowthatis poetic justice.”

Becks lifted her coffee and toasted me. “Karma’s a bitch. What goes around comes around, motherfucker!” she shouted at footage of Tripp being shoved into the back of an NYPD cruiser.

I thought about my apartment that had been sitting untouched for months. I couldn’t wait to go back to New York, but only to pack it up and come back here.

To community.

To sisterhood.

To family.

To home.

To him.

32

CHRISTIAN

Ipaced in the corner of Ray’s room as doctors and nurses hovered over his bed, and prayed that his vitals would stay stable as they lowered the drugs that were keeping him sedated.

I pressed my back into the corner and cupped my hands over my mouth, wishing Cassandra was here.

I could have used her grit right now.

She would have had her chin up, striking everyone with that exacting gaze, demanding excellence without even saying a word.

I closed my eyes and listened, keeping a close ear on the steady rhythm of the monitors, listening for any changes that might be cause for alarm.

The sun had risen this morning, just like it had for the last three weeks of constant rotations in and out of the hospital.

I still believed the other two things would happen.

I needed him to fucking wake up.

The doctors were talking in hushed tones to the respiratory therapist, discussing the breathing tube.

I needed room to pace, but I didn’t want to get in the way.

My mom was here today, but she had stepped out to get food from the cafeteria since the doctors said that lowering the sedative would take hours to kick in.

I watched with a grotesque sort of fascination as the breathing tube was slowly removed.

And then all I could do was wait some more.

I sat beside Ray and watched the shallow rise and fall of his chest. The breathing tube had been replaced with an oxygen mask. IV lines and electrical leads still covered seemingly every inch of his body.

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