Page 114 of Where There's Smoke

As soon as she was close enough, I said, “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Simone.” Her voice echoed the panic in her eyes. “She collapsed at an event. They’ve—”

“Let’s go.” I glanced at Chris.

He put his hand on my arm. “We’ll talk more soon. I’ll take care of the tab; you go take care of Simone.”

Numbly I nodded, and my brother and I exchanged a quick hug. As he took off to settle up the tab, I looked at Ranya. “How is she?”

“She’s stable,” she said. “Dean said they’re transporting her by ambulance to an emergency room in San Diego.”

“Where’s Anthony?”

“He’s on the phone.” She gestured with her chin toward the restaurant, where Anthony spoke quickly into his cell. “Making travel arrangements.”

“And she’s all right?” My heart pounded and my mouth went dry. “I mean, they’re not concerned that she’s…that…”

Ranya smoothed the air with both hands. “It doesn’t sound life threatening. From what Dean said, she passed out and they just want to take her in to make sure everything’s all right, but it doesn’t sound like a heart attack or anything serious.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. That was encouraging, but not as much as I desperately needed. If Simone had passed out, I’d have bet money it was a direct result of her eating disorder, which meant she hadn’t been eating much, if anything. Or at least not keeping much of it down. What effect might that have had on her kidneys? Her liver? Her heart? Passing out could have been the worst of it, or it could have been the tip of the iceberg.

Movement out of the corner of my eye turned my head just as Anthony strode into the bar.

“We’re better off driving,” he said. “San Diego’s only a couple of hours away, so by the time we get to the airport and through security, we could be halfway there.”

I tried and failed to moisten my lips. “Okay, let’s go.”

“My car’s got a full tank of gas and has more room than either of yours,” Ranya said. “Anthony, you can drive.”

I didn’t make any of my usual comments about her piece-of-shit car this time. I just followed her and Anthony out to the parking lot, got in her car, and hoped to God we didn’t run into any traffic.

Chapter 23

Anthony

ConsideringSimone collapsed at a public event, it was no surprise that word spread like a wildfire. By the time we arrived at the hospital at a quarter to midnight, news vans swarmed and cameramen lurked outside the hospital entrance like circling vultures.

“Want to find a side entrance?” I asked as we approached the mob.

“This is fine,” Jesse said flatly. “They’ll move.”

They did move…closer to the car. Once someone caught a glimpse of Jesse, we were surrounded. They backed off enough to keep me from running over anyone’s feet, but a side mirror clipped a microphone, which didn’t seem to faze the reporter in the slightest. I didn’t guess Jesse was in the mood for jokes about the zombie apocalypse, but I swore these idiots reminded me of a pack of zombies pawing and groaning around a bunch of survivors. One glance at Jesse’s expressionless, ashen face, and I kept that comment to myself.

I slowed Ranya’s car to a stop in front of the emergency room entrance. Now that the car wasn’t moving, they were even more aggressive. I was surprised no one jumped up on the hood or something, the fuckers, and I wondered if we should have stayed in Malibu for the twenty or thirty minutes it would have taken for Jesse’s private security to join us.

No matter. We were here now.

Of course, the reporters backed off to allow us to open the car doors. After all, they couldn’t talk to Jesse through glass and steel. I got out first, handed the keys off to Ranya so she could park the car, and went around to Jesse’s side.

“Back off,” I barked at the gathered reporters. “Give the man some room.”

They took a collective half step—and that was being generous—back, and I opened Jesse’s door. As soon as he stepped out, the noise and activity around us intensified like a nest of pissed-off hornets. Cameras flashed and microphones waved and voices bombarded us, dozens of people shouting over each other to ask Jesse a million questions, but he ignored them. He ducked his head, and I put an arm around his shoulders—making it obvious I was shielding him, not being affectionate—as we hurried into the hospital.

As soon as we walked through the door, people noticed. Jesse’s face wasn’t hard to pick out of a crowd, and patients and staff alike whispered behind their hands. The triage nurse’s eyes widened, but bless her heart, she stayed professional and, after checking the computer, quickly directed Jesse to the next floor.

The triage nurse must have called upstairs, because when we stepped off the elevator, the doctor assigned to Simone was waiting for us.

“How is she?” Jesse asked, and I swore I could hear his heart pounding.

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