12
Now I wish I had bought another outfit from Cassandra, but I doubt it matters.
I wash my best bra and thong in the bathroom sink, leaving them hanging over the shower curtain rod to dry. It’s not like I’ll be wearing them long, anyway. My heart races and heat floods my cheeks at the thought.
If I didn’t know better, I would think this was a dream. In what reality do things like this actually happen? I went from having no hope, no way out, to having all the money I need—and men determined to give me more.
Not to mention what they do to me. If there is a God, I hope they let me continue my exploration once I reach Philadelphia. It’s a big city. There have to be establishments like Club Sin. There’s so much more I want to do, try, and experience. I can thank my three benefactors for waking me up to what my body is capable of, too. I owe them so much.
It’s only when I turn on the TV and find the news on that I realize the entire day has passed, and I haven’t talked to Thatcher yet. I’ve been too busy looking at apartments, browsing for furniture and seeing what kind of jobs are available in the area that I completely forgot to call her. I’m surprised she hasn’t blown my phone up by now. They probably had a busy day at the hotel. I can’t wait to hear all about it.
Since she would have clocked out by now, I call her cell instead of the hotel front desk.
That’s why I’m surprised when I hear a stranger’s voice on the other end. “Hello? Who is this?” the person asks.
I look at my screen to make sure I didn’t mess up and call the hotel by mistake. No, because they would give me that silly little greeting if I did. “Who’s this?”
“Who are you trying to reach?” she asks.
“My friend, Thatcher.” There’s a high-pitched beeping going on in the background. For some reason, that’s what breaks me. It’s what makes a cold sweat form on the back of my neck and leaves my stomach churning. “What’s wrong? Where is she? Who are you?”
“Miss, I’m sorry to tell you, but your friend is currently a patient at Northwestern Hospital.”
I barely make it to the bed before collapsing. “What happened? Can I talk to her?”
“It seems there was an accident.” Something about the way she says it tells me that’s not true. I don’t know how I know. I don’t even know how I’m thinking right now when the entire world is ending. “Miss Chase has been in the ICU since early this morning.”
“But what’s wrong with her? Why can’t I talk to her?”
“She’s been in and out of consciousness since her arrival. Right now, she’s out of it.”
“But what happened? Why can’t you tell me?” My voice is a high-pitched whine choked with tears. No, with screams I’m barely keeping inside.
“We typically don’t give away this sort of information over the phone. If you come to the hospital, one of our doctors or nurses might be able to better explain.”
“Where is she, exactly? Which room?”
“When you reach the hospital, go to the ICU, and they’ll tell you when you arrive.” She hesitates. “And I am sorry for your friend.” Not sorry enough to stay on the call, though. Three beeps tell me she ended it, leaving me staring at my phone in disbelief.
Thatcher. All I can do is imagine her in a bed, covered in bruises, unrecognizable. I don’t know what happened to her or how bad it is, only that it’s bad enough she needs the intensive care unit.
I can’t sit here and not know. I have to go to her. Even if it means risking seeing Adam. Hell, even if he knew she was in the hospital, he wouldn’t go see her. He hates her. Not half as much as she hates him. It might be the safest place, come to think of it.
It doesn’t matter. Thatcher is worth taking a chance for. She would do the same thing for me.
Even though I doubt it’s a great idea to be behind the wheel when I’m this freaked out, I can’t stand the thought of waiting for a car to get here. Only when I’m on the road, do I remember Northwestern is where my parents were taken after the crash. Some of the worst moments of my life were spent at that hospital.
“Please, please, let her be okay.” I whispered those same words on the way to the same hospital a couple of years ago. Last time, my prayers were answered, but I already know that I can’t go through this again. I can’t lose the last person I have.
The drive to the hospital is a blur. I take the first space I find in the parking garage before running to the entrance. “Where’s the ICU?” I ask the first person I find wearing a name badge. They point me to the elevators and tell me to take them to the third floor. I do, bouncing on the balls of my feet, shaking the whole time. Thatcher. All day long, I had no idea she was here. She must be so scared and feel so alone. And there I was, giggling to myself over going back to the club.
Dammit, I didn’t think about that until now. I’m supposed to meet up with them later tonight. But if she’s in really bad shape, there’s no way. I couldn’t possibly get in the right mood for that. I don’t have any of their numbers, though.
Who am I kidding? They’ll find me.
“I’m here for Thatcher Chase. Where is she?” I can’t believe I’m actually doing this, standing at this desk surrounded by rooms where monitors beep and nurses walk in and out. This can’t be happening.
One of the passing nurses stops and gives me a funny look. “Are you the girl I talked to on the phone?” Yes, her voice sounds familiar. “I’ll take you to her room.” I follow close behind, crossing my fingers and fighting back the tears. Please, let her be okay. Please, don’t let her be hurt too badly.