“Okay, yeah. I’ll try and get her to go back to the hotel with me.” I nod. He nods and then points to the open lounge door.
“Room forty-seven,” he says. “End of the hall on your left. Can’t miss it. There’s a security guard outside.”
I nod and leave without another word. The door to Lucia’s room is closed. I explain to the guard who I am. He nods like he knows but then says, “I have to check with Ms. Castera.”
He slips inside the room, closing the door behind him, but before I can take a full breath, he’s back holding the door open for me to enter. When I walk in, he walks out, and I close the door tightly behind him. Lucia is in her hospital bed, her left hand completely bandaged in white gauze to just past her wrist. Other than that, and some messed up hair and a hospital gown, she looks completely normal. She even smiles at me. “Billy, no flowers?”
“Sorry I… didn’t stop at the gift store on my way in.”
“You should have stolen some from outside the Mirabella paddock,” Lucia jokes, and I smile. “Or at least taken a second to change into something more fancy.”
She winks so I know she’s joking. “I’m here to see if…” I pause and watch Lucia’s eyebrows raise with the corners of her mouth. She knows I’m not entirely here for her, and she’s good with it. “If either of you needed anything.”
“I’m good,” Lucia says. “Got a drip for the pain. Not sure what drug is in here, but I give it five stars.”
Lucia lifts the cord and button she’s holding in her good hand.
“Dilaudid, I asked,” Frankie murmurs.
Lucia motions towards her sister. “This one here could probably do with a rest.”
“I’m fine,” Frankie replies, and I finally look at her.
She looks absurdly normal. Calm and chill standing beside her sister’s hospital bed, glancing down at her phone. That’s the only giveaway she is less than okay. She won’t look me in the eye.
“If you want to do me a favor, Billy, you could drag her back to the hotel and force her to get some rest. Or, you know, de-stress somehow.”
Another doped up wink from Lucia followed by a giggle.
“I’m not leaving you here alone,” Frankie replies sternly, like this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation and she’s a bit sick of it.
“Nick volunteered to stay,” I tell them, and now Frankie looks up but at Lucia, not me.
“Power of the pussy,” Lucia announces.
“Louie!” Frankie scolds, but she’s biting back a bit of a smile.
“Those really are some good drugs,” I mutter.
“Not as strong as the pussy power,” Lucia says and giggles again.
“Oh my God, stop before Dad gets here please,” Frankie groans.
“So, you want to honor your sister’s wishes?” I ask Frankie. “Or is the power of my dick not strong enough to make you?”
Lucia laughs so loud I swear she almost shatters my eardrum. Frankie finally looks at me, hazel eyes wide and fighting to appear indignant, but she wants to laugh. She can’t though, because a laugh might become a cry. I watched it happen to my mum. So many times as she reminisced about my dad after he died, before she found out about Clara and started hating him, she’d bring up a funny memory and laugh until she hiccupped, and then that hiccup would turn into a sob..
So instead of laughing, she shakes her head and tips it down to stare at her phone again. “I want to be here when my father finally arrives. And I have to give something to the press outside. Another quick statement.”
“You can do that on our way out. And then you can FaceTime Bash in the car,” I tell her calmly but firmly, which earns me a grateful, doped-up smile from Lucia. I reach for Frankie but barely get to touch her arm before she pulls back.
“Frankie, seriously. I’m okay. Dad and I will work it out, I promise,” Lucia replies. “But right now, I just want to sleep. Alone. Not with an audience. I’ve been told I snore.”
Frankie looks like she’s about to argue, but the door to the room flies open, and Bash is there. His eyes are red-rimmed, and his cheeks are flushed. Or maybe it’s just that his skin seems so desperately pale any color is jarring. Bash’s coloring is always sun-kissed but right now, he’s downright ghost-like. He stops short at the foot of Lucia’s hospital bed, where he seems to quake. His eyes fill with tears as he stares at his youngest.
“I’m okay, Dad,” Lucia says, but her voice is soft and as shaky as Bash himself. “But I need a hug.”
Bash is suddenly at her side, leaning over the bed and clutching her to his chest. He’s whispering words in French that I don’t try to catch. This is a very private moment. I find myself stepping closer to the door, but then Frankie reaches out and catches my hand. It’s a brief grasp and squeeze, and then she lets go but the message is clear. Stay.
