Chapter 7
Josh
Diego: Dude, is your man okay? All that blood looked bad
Ifrowned down at my phone, my brain reluctant to make the transition from editing mode to reality.
Me: What blood?
Wait, was he talking about Hill? I started to google him, but Diego texted back a link from TMZ. The headline said, “Hill Concannon in unknown condition after stabbing.”
Shit! I clicked on the link. Earlier today, Hill had been stabbed as he’d been filming on the street in Paris. He was currently in the hospital, and no one knew any details.
My heart pounding, I searched for more information, but all I found was that they’d caught the perpetrator.
I jumped out of my chair and paced the room, going from the bed to the desk and back again. Who did I know who’d have an update? No one. Even if I had Cole Washburn’s phone number, he wasn’t Hill’s next of kin or anything. Shit, who was Hill’s next of kin?
Back to my computer I went. Hill had no living family. And I was no one to him, barely an acquaintance. I wouldn’t get any special updates.
Unless Hill was well enough to use his phone. Desperately I opened my text messages.
Me: I saw the news. Please let me know you’re okay.
Not that my text would be anywhere near the top of his priority list. He had other people he needed to reassure, much closer to him than I was.
Diego prodded me again, and I told him I didn’t have any information.
“Joshie?” Grandpa knocked gently on my bedroom door. “I’m making sandwiches. You want one?”
Ugh, it was lunchtime, wasn’t it? My stomach was in knots, but going downstairs would at least be a distraction. “I’ll be right there!”
I managed to choke down half a sandwich. When I pushed my plate away, Grandpa gave me a frown. “What’s going on?”
I sighed. I hadn’t been subtle, checking my phone every five minutes. “The guy I’ve been texting, he’s in the hospital.”
Grandpa put his hands on the edge of the table like he was preparing to stand. “What’s wrong? Do you need to go be with him?”
My tone was bitter. “No one with him knows I exist, so I wouldn’t get in to see him. And he’s in France anyway.”
His forehead scrunched up. “How did you find out he’s in the hospital?”
Might as well tell him. I pulled up the most recent news article on my phone and handed it over. He read it, his brows rising higher and higher. “You’ve been sexting with a movie star?”
“Grandpa! Eww! It’s not like that. We’re friends.”
“Huh. You know, your grandmother speaks French. She might be able to—” The phone rang in his hand. Grandpa’s eyes went wide, and he passed the phone to me. Hill’s name was on the screen.
“Oh, thank fuck.” My hand was shaking so much I could barely swipe the screen to answer the call. “Hill! Omigod, are you okay?”
“Mr. Lowry?” I’d never actually spoken to Hill on the phone before, but I’d seen enough of his movies to recognize that wasn’t his voice. My gut turned to ice.
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“My name is Carl Garretson, and I’m the Assistant Director on Safe House. I’m sorry for calling you from Hill’s phone, but his agent gave us his access code so we could get your number, and it seemed more likely you’d pick up this way.”
What the fuck? Why me? “Uh, okay? How’s Hill? He’s still... alive, right?” My voice went higher, and Grandpa reached over to grab my free hand.
“Yes, sorry. I should’ve led with that. He was stabbed on his left side. He was very lucky. It was only a shallow wound, and the knife didn’t hit anything major. The bigger issue is that his head hit the ground when he fell, and he’s unconscious.”
“Oh, no!”
“The doctors believe he’ll wake up sometime tonight, but he’s got a concussion.”
“Oh, shit. Um, thank you for calling me.”
Carl had a smile in his voice. “You can thank Hill. We didn’t know you existed until this morning. He said Cole Washburn introduced you?”
It finally dawned on me that Carl thought I was Hill’s significant other. “Uh, yeah. I live in Bent Oak, Texas, where Cole lives, and I ran into him and his boyfriend Jason at a bar here in town.”
“Great. That’s great.” He sounded distracted now. “So, Josh, here’s the thing. Hill will need time to recover from his concussion before he can travel by plane, but production is scheduled to shift to Brazil tomorrow. We can’t spare anyone to stay here with him.”
I stood up. “You want me to come there?”
“Can you? The studio will cover your travel. You have a passport, right?”
“Yes.”
“Great. So will you do it? Can you? The doctor said it could be a week or so, depending on how fast his concussion heals.”
“Um, hang on one sec.”
I let go of Grandpa’s hand to mute the call. “Did you hear all that?”
“Most of it. They want you to sit by your guy’s bedside? You should go. We’ll be fine here.”
My sister Janice could look in on him and Grandma. “Okay, thanks.” I unmuted the phone. “Carl? Yes, I can come.”
“Great.” The relief in his voice was palpable. “Give me your address. I’ll let you know as soon as we can arrange a private plane, and we’ll send a car to pick you up.”
“Oh, wow. Okay.”
I gave him my address, and with a quick, “I’ve gotta go pack!
” to Grandpa, I ran upstairs. I only needed enough to see me through a few days, and I could find a laundry service if I stayed longer.
Hill would be recovering, so I didn’t need anything fancy.
Everything fit into one suitcase plus my backpack for my laptop and tablet.
Carl texted me—from his own phone this time—when the car was thirty minutes away, so I had time to go downstairs and explain to Grandma and Grandpa what was happening.
Diego and Janice could wait until I was on the way to the airport.
I was so focused on logistics, on making sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, that it wasn’t until I was seated in the luxurious leather seat of the private plane that I wondered how Hill would react to my presence.