Chapter 5 #2
She's about to argue, but her eyes lock on her friend's tattoo and she feels her throat tighten. She looks up and sees Noah's bright eyes fixed on her, and she feels awful, because sometimes she only thinks about what she wants and not about how her choices make him feel.
"Okay."
"Okay what?" Noah asks.
"Okay. I'll do whatever it takes."
That afternoon, after Mia has managed to rest a couple of hours in the hotel suite, there are six people in her room.
She's sitting on the sofa with her legs pulled up to her chest, tucked under an oversized hoodie.
Noah is next to her with a tablet on his lap, and Jude is across from them in one of the armchairs, turning one of his two phones over in his hands.
To Jude's right is Violette Hadford — a blond woman in her fifties in a navy pantsuit — the record label's attorney and Mia's personal lawyer ever since Mia met her and decided to hire her for her own affairs.
Next to her is a thin man with glasses whose name Mia can't remember, but she knows he's a rep from the tour's insurance company.
And in the back, standing by the window, is Helen Casterley — Nell to everyone for the past thirty years — the tour's production director: sixty years old, short gray hair slightly disheveled in a way that suits her.
She's wearing dark jeans, a short-sleeved shirt in the same color, a sports watch on one wrist and leather bracelets on the other.
"Let's get to it," Violette says. "Here's where we stand: last night Mia collapsed onstage in front of thousands of people, and another three million watched it on social media.
The label is being bombarded with questions about her condition, and the tour's production company activated insurance protocols first thing this morning," she adds, glancing at Nell.
"The insurance," the thin man says, "covers cancellations for medical reasons as long as they're backed by documented medical grounds.
What it does not cover is continuing the tour after a public loss-of-consciousness incident without visible corrective measures in place.
If the artist returns to the stage without an approved medical plan" — his small eyes settle on Mia — "and a second incident occurs, the insurance withdraws and the losses are absorbed by the production company and the label. "
"Translation," Jude cuts in, "either we stop or we put a system in place that reassures everyone."
"What does stopping cost?" Mia asks, leaning slightly against Noah.
The attorney brushes her bangs to the side.
"Full cancellation of the remaining sixteen dates," she reads in a flat tone. "Approximately fourteen million dollars, not including penalties to the venues under partial force majeure clauses. And that's assuming we can get the insurance to accept the medical condition as valid grounds."
Jude is as pale as the pitcher of milk on the coffee tray.
"What about a postponement — pushing the dates?" Noah asks.
"Depends on how long," Violette replies.
"Two months means five million in non-recoverable operating costs.
Six months, twelve. That's before you factor in losing the major venue dates, which are already committed to other events.
A lot of those can't be recovered — they'd have to be pushed to next year or canceled entirely. "
"Not viable — all of that's off the table," Jude says, rattled. "We'll go with the doctor option. That's reasonable for everyone, right? Mia will be supervised around the clock by medical staff, someone to manage everything that needs managing."
He runs a hand through his damp hair while Helen Casterley, who can't stand him, watches him out of the corner of her eye.
"What do you think about that, Mia?" the woman asks, crossing from the window to the sofa and sitting down on Mia's other side.
Mia looks at Noah and takes his hand.
"I'm fine with it. Canceling the tour would be just as bad as postponing it. I'm okay and I can keep going."
"I'm sure you can, sweetheart, but we're talking about having someone who monitors you from the moment you wake up until you go to sleep."
The singer sighs and bites her lip. She's honestly not thrilled about it and doesn't think she'll last more than three days without losing her mind, but she nods and tells herself she'll do it — not to save the tour or to keep her manager happy, but for her friend's peace of mind.
"Perfect," Jude says, clapping his hands together. "Now we just need to find someone. I'll make some calls — there are medical services that work with artists, and—"
"Dr. Dooley," Noah interrupts.
Mia sits up sharply.
"Who?" Jude asks, thrown off.
"The doctor who was at the Garden and treated Mia."
"The one who showed up to tell me how to do my job?" he asks, uncomfortable.
"Sounds like you weren't doing it very well," Nell says without hesitation, "because if you'd listened to her when she warned you, Mia wouldn't have collapsed in front of thousands of people."
Jude wants to tell her to mind her own business or retire, but he knows that if he tries to push back against Nell, she'll flatten him.
"This isn't about assigning blame," the attorney says, smoothing things over, "it's about finding solutions. Why that doctor, Noah?"
"Because she knew how to handle her. She picked up on Mia's symptoms before anyone else did and managed to calm her down when she came to.
She got the diagnosis right without any tests, and she doesn't care about Mia's fame.
That's what we need, right? Someone this woman can't sweet-talk or bat her eyes at to stay up a little longer.
" Noah smiles, glancing sideways at Mia as if he's joking, though she knows he isn't.
"I agree," Nell says.
"What did you say her name was?" Violette asks.
"Dr. Dooley — I don't know her first name," Noah answers.
"Her name is Erin," Mia says, sinking further under her hoodie. "Erin Dooley."
Jude shakes his head, resigned.
"Let's table this meeting for an hour," Violette proposes. "I need to look into this woman before we talk about it seriously."
Everyone stands, and within a minute Mia is alone with her friend.
"Are you upset that I suggested her?" he asks quietly.
"I'm upset about any suggestion that involves someone telling me what to do — doesn't matter if it's her or someone else," Mia says, but she feels guilty for lying, because part of her wants Erin Dooley to be the right person — and more than anything, she wants her to say yes.
An hour later, everyone is back in the same seats, looking at the attorney.
"All right — I've managed to pull together a fair amount of information given how little time we had.
Here's what I found: Erin Dooley, thirty-seven years old.
She's been a staff emergency physician at the hospital where Mia was treated for the past six years.
Before that, she completed her residency at Bellenueve, specializing in emergency medicine and critical care.
She's been working with MediSupport for some time, covering events — large concerts, games, private events, official visits.
No incidents. Strong references; I was able to speak with one of her former supervisors, and her current one was unavailable. "
"What about her personal life? If she has ties here, there's no point even approaching her," Jude says.
"As far as I can tell, she's single with no children. She has a younger sister, and her mother passed away a few years ago. That's all I have."
"If she accepts, I'm on board," Mia says suddenly, making everyone turn to look at her.
"What? At least she wasn't condescending — she didn't treat me like a diva, she wasn't afraid to talk to me, and she didn't try to please me, which I can't stand in people.
She's a little blunt, but that's fine. I want her. "
"Good choice," Nell says.
"All right," Jude agrees, turning to Violette. "You'll need to put together a formal offer for her, and it needs to go out this afternoon — we don't have time to keep looking if she says no. Make it attractive, lay out the general terms, put together a—"
"I know how to do my job, Jude," Violette cuts him off, and Nell smiles openly.
"Right, of course — sorry. All of this has me on edge."
"I'll reach out to her," the attorney says. "If she accepts, I'll set up the signing for tomorrow and give her a day to get ready. She'd leave with us for Toronto on Tuesday."
"Just like that?" Noah blinks. "What about her current jobs?"
"We'll need to work something out with them, but I can handle it if she's interested," Violette says, as if managing something like that were a minor detail.
Ten minutes later the suite has emptied again and Noah is standing up, about to leave.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Thrilled to have a babysitter with a stethoscope," she jokes.
Noah smiles and tucks his hands in his jeans pockets before turning to leave, silently praying the doctor says yes.