Chapter 24
Chris
Itossed my bags in the chalet, ready to see Melinda when my phone rang from my back pocket. “Bates,” I answered.
“Mr. Bates? This is New York General Hospital…”
“What did he do now?”
“I guess you’re referring to your brother, Charles. He is back in the hospital, Mr. Bates. It's worse, this time.”
“It’s worse every time,” I mumbled. “Just call me when he wakes up.”
“Mr. Bates, you don’t understand, he might not wake up. He overdosed. We are waiting to see if he’ll make it.”
The phone fell from my hand, landing face-first on the floor, and I heard the screen shatter. I just got that damn phone to replace my other one before I left for the training camp. I tried to process her words, I did, but it was too much right now. I needed to go.
“Mr. Bates?” the woman said, but I left my phone on the floor as I headed to Ben’s bar.
I hardly remembered how I got there. Everything was a blur. I couldn’t believe he was in a coma. He would wake up. He always did. This wasn’t news. I got out of the car and slammed the door, stumbling into the bar.
“Woah,” Ben came over to me as soon as he saw me. “You look like you got hit by a train, buddy.”
“Kind of. I need something strong,” I said.
“Did you and Melinda break up?”
“What?”
The look on his face went from slightly amused to concerned. “Nothing. What’s wrong?” “What’s wrong?” I laughed. “What isn’t wrong? That’s the question.”
He placed me on one of the stools by the bar and went behind the counter to pour me a shot. “Leave the bottle, Ben.”
“Oookay,” he grabbed a shot glass for himself and poured one too. “Want to tell me what’s going on? Besides Melinda being mad at you.”
I groaned and emptied the shot as soon as it was poured. “Why is she mad at me? What did I do? Everything was great.”
“Besides the picture of you surrounded by models? Some who may have been holding onto you rather possessively?”
I slammed my head on the edge of the bar a few times. This was not my day. “It’s not what it looked like. We did a shoot. I represent this clothing brand. So do they. After the shoot, we had drinks. That’s all.”
“And you didn’t think to tell Melinda?”
“Honestly, it never crossed my mind. I don’t even know those women. We did a quick shoot on the slopes and spent thirty minutes in a bar together. I don’t even drink when I train that hard. And seriously, I shouldn't even be here now. I’ve neglected my training for months. I need the gym, the slopes, protein smoothies, and nothing else.”
“So, if the look you had on your face walking in the doors wasn’t about Melinda, then what?”
“Charlie’s Oded again. They don’t know if he’ll wake up. I can’t get my head around it, though. He always wakes up. But if he doesn’t. Fuck man. I don’t want to. I swore I’d stay off trying to help him, but I must go to New York. Again. I just needed five minutes to breathe before I book my flight.”
I went to grab my drink, but Ben took my glass and replaced it with a bigger one. “This is why you're my best friend,” I said.
“I know,” Ben replied. “You should book that flight.”
“I know. It's just… Fuck it, man, I’m tired. It's like Charlie’s problems are always invading my life. I get stressed out and take it out on Melinda. I can’t focus on my work because I have Charlie’s problems to deal with. And they're kind of life or death sort of problems. And by the end of the day, nothing I do seem to have any effect whatsoever. My brother has rubbed shoulders with the rich and famous for years because I keep sending him to the most expensive rehabs. But what good does it do? Nothing. Nothing at all. Sometimes I don’t even think he cares about me. I mean he’s a bloody addict. All they care about is their next fix. They don’t even care if they go dying and leave you behind by having that fix,” frustration, sadness, and anger flowed through me in equal measures.
“He cares. It’s just he isn’t in charge of himself. No one wants to be an addict. Not really.”
“So why doesn’t he stop? Why did he check himself out from the last rehab? I can’t keep going like this,” I pulled a hand through my hair in frustration.
