Chapter 20
TWENTY
RONAN
With my pulse racing, I stood in my kitchen.
It was Monday and time to call the doctor’s office.
While standing in my kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee on the counter, I glanced at the television.
Watching Florida win their conference with Evan last night had been so much fun.
And now, he’d have two home games before he’d hit the road.
But in the next few days he’d prepare for the Stanley Cup games, and we’d only have brief moments together.
And then, the band had scheduled studio recording sessions for the following week.
I was stalling. With a long sigh, I dialed the number for the doctor’s office and set the phone on speaker.
It rang a few times, and when it picked up, the answering service gave the standard choices to make an appointment, leave a message for my doctor, or speak to billing.
Should I speak with the billing department? As I rested my ass against the counter, I hit the button for billing.
“HonorHealth Oncology billing,” a woman said.
“Hi, uh, my father is a patient there and I’m paying for his treatment. I guess the insurance company wouldn’t cover it, so I will be.” Was I saying this correctly? Maybe I should have called the front desk? I glanced at Bean, watching me from his bed against the wall.
“Okay, we can accept payment over the phone. Do you have his account number or an invoice number for the services?” she asked.
“No, he hasn’t received the treatment yet. His appointment is on Wednesday, but he said he pushed it out until next week.” I twisted around and fingered the handle on my coffee mug. “I, um, was calling also to see if you offered a discount for paying in cash.”
“Oh, let me see. Can you give me your father’s name and date of birth?”
Fuck, what was his birth year? Quickly, I opened my calculator and entered the numbers in. “His name is Jeff Johnson, and his birthdate is…” God, I hoped this was right. I gave her his birthdate and the year I’d calculated.
“Okay, let me see.” Clicking sounded through the connection. “Um, I don’t see anyone in our system with that name and birthdate. Is it possible you’ve gotten it wrong?”
“I might not have the birth year correct.” As tightness grew in my throat, I breathed in deeply.
“No, I don’t see anyone even with that name,” she said. “Does he already have an outstanding bill with us?”
“I, I don’t know. I expect he does. He told me he saw Doctor Barlowe, and the doctor recommended him for a new type of liver cancer treatment. He’s scheduled for the first one next week.” Maybe this would be harder than I thought. I grabbed my coffee, strode to my couch, and sat on the edge.
“Well, it’s possible that since he’s a new patient, he’s not in my system yet.” She paused. “We offer discounts for paying in cash, so if you can get me a procedure or service code, I can tell you the cash pricing.”
Bean padded to me and hopped up, then snuggled in beside me.
He could tell I was anxious. I sipped my coffee. “How would I get that information?”
“You could try the front office. Are you listed in his HIPAA records?”
Fuck. Me. “I don’t know. I’ll try them though. Thank you.” I petted Bean.
“Sure. Goodbye.” She ended the call.
I didn’t have a definitive answer, but it wasn’t looking good. His first appointment with the doctor would have been a month ago. How were the billing records not there by now? With my stomach knotting, I called the number again and hit the number for scheduling.
A woman answered. “HonorHealth Oncology. How can I help you?”
My hand shook as I set the phone on speaker and placed it in my lap. “Yes, hello. I’m trying to find information on my father. I-I need to pay his bills for a doctor there.”
“Oh, you need billing, let me—”
“No, no, I’ve already spoken to billing, and they don’t have any records for him.” How could I get the information I needed? I gritted my molars and then huffed a quick laugh. “Maybe I have the wrong doctor’s office. Can you tell me if he’s a patient there?”
“Are you listed on his HIPAA forms?”
Fuck it. Why was this so goddamned hard? “Yes, it should list me. You don’t have to tell me details. I just need the procedure or service codes so I can estimate the expenses.” I clenched my free hand next to my coffee cup, propped between my thighs.
“What’s his name and birth date?”
Again? I gave her his name and the birth date I’d calculated.
“Um…” She huffed a breath. “I’m sorry, I’d really like to help you, but I see nothing here, not even with that name.” Her voice grew soft. “Technically, I’m not permitted to tell you this, but I don’t see any records showing he’s a patient here. I think you have the wrong doctor.”
I tipped my head back, my chest swarming with heat as nausea balled in my gut. Had Drew been right? What the fuck? How had I been so stupid? “Thank you very much. He might have given me the wrong name. He hasn’t been well, so…”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. Goodbye.” I ended the call and stared across the room for a moment, then set my coffee on the table and rose. “Fuck!” I screamed at the ceiling, fisting both of my hands. Thank fuck I hadn’t given the asshole any money.
Bean stood on the couch cushion, glancing at the floor as if he was readying to bolt.
“Yes, little buddy, Daddy almost got taken to the fucking cleaners.” As an ache wormed through my heart, I shoved it away. “No, I refuse to feel shitty about this.” I picked up my phone and stabbed the number for Evan. He wanted to know the outcome. But damn, Jeff had tricked him too.
His phone rang repeatedly and then cut to voicemail.
Where was Evan? God, I needed him, needed…something. As my gaze landed on my liquor cabinet and my bourbon bottle, I strode to it, my ears ringing. If I ever needed a drink, now was the time. I poured a shot into a lowball glass and tossed it back. As the burn glided down my throat, I called Drew.
“Hey, man. How’s it going?”
“You were right. Fucking Jeff isn’t seeing that doctor. He probably doesn’t even have cancer,” I said, sneering and staving off the pain threatening my heart. I couldn’t wait to tell the fucker he wasn’t seeing a dime from me. I poured another shot of bourbon.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Ronan.” His breath snagged. “What are you doing right now?”
“Nothing. Having a few shots.” I downed the next one and let the pleasant buzz calm my frayed nerves. I deserved this.
“Ronan, don’t do that. Fuck, I’m coming over.” The call ended.
After pouring another shot and stuffing my phone into the pocket of my sweats, I strolled to my patio doors and gazed along the clean lines of my swimming pool.
I needed a distraction. A swim? The water should be warm enough, since today it would be over one hundred degrees.
Hell, it was June and time to escape this hellhole.
But Evan…my chest ached. Why didn’t he answer his phone? I sipped my bourbon.
Drew burst through my front door and slammed it shut. “Ronan? How many drinks have you had?” He jogged to me and grabbed the glass. “Give it to me.” Pressing his lips together, he glared at me.
“Relax, it’s only my third, and I just got started on it.” I ripped it from his grasp, turned around and stomped across the room. “That fucker. Can you believe the shit he pulled?”
“Ronan?” Drew followed me as if I were a toddler about to fall over. “Come on, man. Give me the bourbon and let’s talk this out.”
“We can talk, but I’m keeping the bourbon.” I swiveled and almost smacked into his chest. Did I historically lose my shit in booze when things went badly? Maybe. But I deserved to lose my shit right now.
Grabbing my arm, Drew said, “Okay, okay, let’s sit on the couch and figure this out. You didn’t give him any money, right?” He pulled me along.
“No, I didn’t. I sold a bunch of my fucking investments though.” I shook my head as my chest pinched. “Fuck, what’s the market doing today? I’ll bet it’s up.” Now I sounded like a raving lunatic, but I didn’t fucking care. It was all Jeff’s fault.
“I don’t know.” Drew dropped onto the sofa and pulled me down beside him.
Bean trotted to my feet and eyed me.
“Yes, Bean, Daddy’s an idiot.” How could I have let him trick me like this? As pain prickled through me, I hung my head. I had to stay mad. If I didn’t…I would not cry over that fucker.
“Okay, so you gave him no money, and you can just call your financial guy and let him restore your investments, right?” Drew’s attention fixed on me.
“Yeah, I suppose so.” I drank more bourbon. “I have to call Jeff and tell the fucker he’s not getting any money.” How satisfying would that be?
“We should handle it in person, don’t you think?” He peered at my drink. “In fact, he tried to scam you. You should probably press charges. We should include the police as well.”
“Drew, I didn’t give him any money, and I don’t want to see his fucking face ever again. Not even in court.” Hell, I only wanted to walk away. I didn’t have time for this shit. I took another sip of my drink.
“Okay, then call him and tell him he’s full of shit.” He held his hand out. “Give me your phone.”
I fished my phone out of my pocket and handed it to him. “There.” I gave him a lop-sided grin and then swirled the liquor in my glass. Hell, I might need to sneak another.
He opened my phone with my face, called Jeff and put the phone on speaker. The call went to voicemail.
“Fuck, no one wants to talk to me today.” As the voicemail beeped, I said, “Hey, Jeff. This is your long-lost son. Just wanted to tell you I know the truth. There is no doctor. I called him. You do not exist in their records.” I grabbed the phone from Drew and yelled, “And you’re not getting any of my fucking money, you son of a—”
“Stop, Ronan. Fuck.” Drew stabbed the end call button. “Jesus fuck, I haven’t seen you like this since…” His eyes grew big.