Part 50: Terror

Lucy thought being up for 24 hours straight was tough. Going on 36 hours now, she felt damned near hallucinatory. She remembered when Faye's twins were babies, the late nights she spent helping her sister feed and change them. One time at about four in the morning, she walked into the living room to see Faye sitting upright in a chair with glazed eyes, cuddling what she thought was one of the babies. It was actually a blanket. She'd never seen anybody as tired as her sister when she was a young mom of newborn twins. In a cab racing from the airport after travelling for days, she finally had a sense of what Faye went through back then. She lay back in the taxi, the light making a kaleidoscope behind her closed eyelids. She fought the seductive pull of sleep with everything she had; she couldn't rest now. Quinn needed her. Lucy's phone rang in her purse and she jumped at it. It wasn't Quinn calling her back, but the next best thing. "Jasmine, what's going on?" "I'm glad I got you. Just landed in Paris. Lucy, it might be the flu. I don't know, but I've never seen him so sick. Where are you?" "I'm ten minutes away. Have you called his parents?" Jasmine sighed with relief. "Oh, good. No, because it might be nothing and I don't want to worry them. Just make him see a doctor. I couldn't drag him out of the apartment. You know how stubborn he is." "Oh, I know. And don't worry. He's going if I have to carry him on my back," she said, anxiety twisting in her belly. "Can you go any faster?" she said to the cab driver, and he stepped on it. She hung onto the handle above the window as he swerved in and out of traffic; Lucy's stomach lurched in time with the car. "He was right about everything, Jasmine. Lex is pretty much evil incarnate. Does Quinn hate me?" Jasmine laughed. "Yeah, right. No, girl. He's as crazy about you as he ever was. Just make sure he's OK. You two will figure out the rest of it. All will be well," she said. Lucy closed her eyes with relief. "Are you sure?" "Yes. And don't forget, I'm one of his groomsmen when you guys get married. You don't have a problem with me wearing a tux in the wedding party, do you?" Lucy laughed. Jasmine always knew exactly what to say to make her feel better where Quinn was concerned. "I'll be very disappointed if you didn't. I'm almost at the penthouse. I'll text you." "Good. And Lucy?" "Yeah?" She threw a wad of bills at the cab driver and gathered her things. "He loves you so much. Like nothing I've ever seen. And I know how much you love him. What you both have is real and very special. Some people will want to ruin it or take it from you, because they're small and mean and they want what you have. Don't ever let them." "I won't," she vowed. "Thanks, Jasmine. You're the best." "I know. Take care of my buddy. And let me know what's going on." "I will, she said, racing into the building. Some people will want to ruin it or take it from you. Ain't that the truth, she thought, reflecting on the past couple of days. God, can't this elevator go faster, for Christ's sake? Lex Brady was already vanishing into memory; a strange footnote she'd forget eventually. The most important thing was Quinn and making sure he was OK. Everything else faded away. She fumbled with her keys, finally getting them to work and bursting through the door. A pert, skinny blonde in high-end yoga pants and a silk peasant blouse was setting the table, looking like she owned the goddamned place. Lucy blinked, and shook her head in disbelief. "Where's Quinn? And who are you?" Lucy slammed the door. "Sian Gould. We met on the set of Quinn's show, remember?" She had a flawless smile that was an equal combination of ice and venom. Lucy had a shuddery familiar feeling, and realized it was the same type of smile that Brady had — reptilian. "Look, Quinn told me what happened," she shook her pretty, blond head as she came towards her. "I don't want to make things awkward, but he wants nothing to do with you. I'm taking care of him now." She folded her skinny arms across her chest. Lucy noted she was wearing Quinn's favourite apron, the one his staff had made for him that said 'In Quinn We Trust.' "Where is he? And get that off, he doesn't like strangers touching his stuff." She dropped her bag and took off her coat. "Quinn?" She made her way to the bedroom, Sian following close behind. "I told you, I'm looking after him." Lucy's pulse was pounding. She found him in bed and raced to his side, pressing her hand to his forehead. "Oh my God, he's burning up. And why does he smell like spaghetti sauce?" She looked up at Sian. "Why didn't you call a doctor?" she shouted. Sian pouted. "I put coconut oil on his temples and sprinkled him with Wellness Dust!" "What the fuck is that?" Lucy wondered vaguely if panic would be considered a reasonable defence for murder, because she felt seconds away from strangling the international model and lifestyle blogger. "I sell it at my pop-up boutique! It's a healing powder made of talc, essence of lavender..." Quinn mumbled something unintelligible and she stroked his hair. "I'm here now, love. You're going to be OK, but you have to wake up." She shook him. "Quinn, wake up. Quinn!" She was yelling, in a full panic mode now. The concierge. What was the number for the concierge? No, wait — Lucas left a page of instructions for housesitting, including his personal physician's number in case of emergency. Lucy bolted from the room. She became aware of a noise in the background, like a mosquito buzzing around her ear. It was Sian, still talking. Lucy paused to stare at her, incredulous. "Are you still here? Get out!" She turned her back and went to the door; she needed her phone. Relieved, she saw the info sheet with the doctor's number in the kitchen and grabbed it from the bulletin board, then went for her purse. She dialed the number. Sian was still yelling while she spoke to the doctor. Lucy fought to keep rage and fear in check so she could concentrate on answering his questions. She plugged her phone-free ear with her hand so she could block out Sian and listen more closely to the doctor. "No, I can't wake him," she said, her breath catching in her throat. Saying the words made it real, and she burst into tears. She'd never been so scared, not even the night of the fire. "Call an ambulance," the doctor was saying. Focus, Lucy. "Go to Cedars-Sinai, I'll meet you there," he said before hanging up. Lucy called 911 and said everything the doctor told her to. She got off the phone and grabbed her purse, searching for Quinn's wallet. The background noise was still there. She turned, and Sian was in her face, calling Lucy a cheater, saying she and Quinn were in love. "I don't have time for this. Get the fuck out!" The blonde stopped talking, blinking in confusion. Astonishingly, she seemed to be weighing the options of leaving versus staying and continuing the argument while the love of Lucy's life possibly lay dying. "NOW!" Lucy roared into her face. She jumped back about a foot, wrestled the apron off, and ran out the front door. Lucy went back to Quinn, crouching by the end of the bed. She let the tears fall now, smoothing his damp hair back and kissing his face. "I'm here, my love, I'm here." She pressed her cheek to his; the skin on his face was like fire and yet he was trembling. He still hadn't opened his eyes. She needed to call his family, she needed to find his wallet but for now, she wrapped her arms around him and spoke to him in soft whispers. Her eyes closed in relief when she heard sirens in the distance.