Cake: A Love Story (28 page)

Chapter Twenty-one

Casey

We didn’t talk the rest of the night and into the next day. I was terrified. Jake was definitely pulling away from me. The past week, in addition to the pain he was clearly in, he also seemed sad and despondent. I wanted to help him but he was so defensive. And I wasn’t the only one noticing the change in Jake’s demeanor. He was short-tempered with his crew, with Sean getting the brunt of his anger. Jake seemed focused solely on getting through his concerts, which clearly were becoming more difficult for him.

Sean and Lassen and I had tried to get him to see a doctor but he refused, saying he knew what was wrong and there was nothing that could be done about it. Anytime I brought up his injured knee, Jake rebuffed the topic. I realized that whatever had happened to the knee was somehow related to the kidnapping and, so far, that area of conversation was off limits to me. Last night’s confrontation was proof of that. Something I did triggered a flashback. The look on his face when he jumped out of bed, took my breath away. It was pure, agonizing fear. He was clearly reliving something terrible that had happened to him. My heart ached for him in a way I couldn’t explain. I loved him so much and his pain was my pain. I wanted desperately to help him but I also understood that his pain might run too deep to ever be sated. Just thinking about it made me cry.

That day we kept to ourselves. Jake had things to do to prepare for his concert that night. I stayed in the bus and read a book on my iPad. An hour before the concert I went into the arena and walked into his dressing room. Jake was slumped miserably in his chair. He looked visibly ill.

“Are you okay?” I asked, alarmed.

Jake didn’t answer.

“Jake?!”

“I’m fine,” he whispered.

I got up and walked over to him. I felt his forehead with the back of my hand.

“You aren’t fine. You’re burning up,” I said in concern.

Jake stood up and limped over to his bag.

“You can’t perform tonight Jake. You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick. It’s my knee. The swelling is causing the fever,” he said as he dumped a few ibuprofen pills in his hand then swallowed them down. “It’s not a big deal. I can perform.”

“If you have a fever due to the swelling, Jake, that means you have an infection. You need antibiotics.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware you were a doctor,” he replied in a condescending tone.

Anger gripped me. I glared at him. “Asshole.”

Jake shook his head like I was being annoying.

“Oh…I’m sorry. Am I being an annoying bitch? Forgive me for being worried about you. But, you know what? If you want to pass out on stage, be my guest. I’m going back to the bus,” I said as I opened the door.

“Casey.”

“No…you can talk to me when you can treat me with respect,” I spat as I stomped out of the room.

I breezed past a surprised Sean saying loud enough for him to hear me, “He has a fever. He’s burning up and can barely walk. Someone needs to do something. He won’t listen to me.”

“Wait Casey…where are you going?”

“Back to the bus. I’m not going to watch him pass out on stage,” I said as I stamped off.

I went back to the bus and was changing into my sweats when I got a text from Sean.

“He won’t listen to me either. I’ll keep an eye on him during the show.”

“He’s burning up.”

“I know. I can tell.”

“He needs to drink a lot to stay hydrated,” I text back.

“Okay, I’ll make sure he does.”

“Thanks Sean.”

“He doesn’t mean it, Casey. It’s the pain talking.”

“I know.”

“Considering what he’s survived, it’s amazing he isn’t angry and withdrawn all the time.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But Jake really likes you Casey. I’ve never seen him happier. Don’t give up on him.”

It touched me that Sean cared. We had become unlikely friends in the past couple of weeks. Both of us were worried about Jake’s decline. At first I assumed Sean was only worried because it was his job to worry but now I understood that he genuinely cared about Jake’s well being.

“I’m not going to give up on him. I promise.”

“Good. And I’ll talk to him…convince him to see a doctor.”

“Okay thanks.”

Later that night, after the concert, Jake stumbled in. Somehow he’d managed to stay upright for the show but he was looking worse than before. His skin had taken on a flushed color and sweat was rolling down his face and neck.

“You don’t look good.”

“I don’t feel good. I need to sleep.”

“Did you take a shower?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“You’re just dripping sweat.”

“Sorry. Do you want me to sleep in a bunk?”

“Of course not,” I scooted over and he collapsed on the bed next to me. He was out in seconds. Concerned, I watched him for a while before falling back to sleep. I woke up to Jake screaming out in pain. I shot up in the bed. His body was radiating intense heat. I felt Jake’s forehead. He was on fire. The bus was moving. I checked the clock. It was four in the morning. His screaming stopped suddenly.

“Jake?”

No response.

“Jake, wake up.”

He groaned.

“Jake?” I shook him. His eyes rolled in his head. Something was wrong.

I jumped out of bed and ran to the front of the bus. Lassen was at the wheel.

“You need to get to a hospital, now,” I shouted.

“What’s happening?” He replied in alarm.

“He was screaming in pain and then just passed out. I can’t wake him up,” I said, a sob escaped my throat.

“Jesus…is he breathing?”

“Yes, but he’s burning up, Lassen. I mean you can feel the heat coming off him.”

“Okay, I’ll call Sean and get directions to the closest hospital. Get some ice packs from the freezer and put them on his wrists to cool him down.”

“Okay,” I said with tears running down my cheeks.

“It’s okay, Casey. I’ll get him to a hospital.”

I ran back to check Jake before going to the refrigerator and pulling out all the ice packs we had. I placed two on his wrists, one on his forehead and one on his knee. Jake roused but started screaming in pain again. He threw the ice pack off his knee.

“It hurts. It hurts,” he muttered incoherent. His eyes were rolling in his head. “I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry. Don’t…noooo…just kill me. No more. Just kill me. Please. Don’t hurt me anymore.”

It took me a moment to realize that Jake wasn’t talking to me. He was having another flashback. He was talking to Ray, the guy who kidnapped him. Tears were rolling down my cheeks as I listened to Jake plead with his kidnapper to end his suffering. How bad must it have been for him if he was begging to die?

“It’s me Jake. It’s Casey. Tell me what I can do to help you,” I cried.

Jake stopped talking. His eyes found me and he tried to focus but the fever was pulling him back.

“I’m here Jake. I’ve got you,” I said as I grabbed his hand. “Look at me.”

“Casey?” he whispered.

“Yes. Keep looking at me,” I urged. I didn’t want him to have to go back to that terrible place in his mind. I started talking to him about all the things we had done and all the places we had gone. Jake listened. He even tried to smile when I reminded him of funny things. I kept Jake’s attention away from his pain…away from his torment.

Thirty minutes later, Lassen pulled the bus up to the entrance of the emergency room at a hospital somewhere in Germany. He ran out of the bus and a few minutes later he came back followed by a doctor and two nurses. By this point Jake was barely conscious. He groaned in pain but was otherwise lethargic.

The three health care professionals circled around the bed. The nurses seemed momentarily stunned by their famous patient but the doctor was unfazed. He checked Jake’s eyes and felt his pulse. He said something to one of the nurses in German and she quickly exited the bus.

“Jake my name is Doctor Stolts. Can you hear me?” The doctor asked in near perfect English.

Jake didn’t answer.

“Jake, open your eyes.”

Jake’s eyes fluttered open but closed just as fleetingly.

“Has he taken anything?” Dr. Stolts asked me.

“Um…he has been taking a lot of Ibuprofen and Tylenol,” I replied.

“He means drugs,” Lassen said looking pissed by the question. “No, Jake doesn’t do drugs.”

The doctor looked at Lassen. “I need to know if he has taken anything so I can help him.” Then he looked at me. “Miss?”

“No.” I said. “At least I don’t think so. Jake isn’t a drug user.”

“How long has he been like this?” the doctor asked.

“Well, like this…about an hour but he has been in extreme pain for about a week.”

“Where is his pain?”

“Left knee,” Jake answered for himself through gritted teeth.

Dr. Stolts moved down to Jake’s knee and lifted the sheet.

“Don’t touch it!” Jake screamed out suddenly. “I need an orthopedic surgeon.”

“I’m just going to take a look,” the doctor said as he went for the Velcro wrap.

“No,” Jake jerked up. “I swear to God…don’t fucking touch it!”

I was absolutely shocked. Jake never spoke to people like that…ever. “Jake, he’s trying to help you,” I tried.

“Only…,” he clenched in pain, “only a surgeon,”.

“Okay. Don’t worry I won’t touch it,” the doctor said. Just then two men came in carrying an ambulance stretcher. “Jake, we are going to transfer you to the cot.”

“I can do it,” Jake responded. He sat up but immediately got lightheaded.

“Just lie back. It will be easier,” the doctor said as he laid Jake back down. To my surprise, he didn’t protest. The two men quickly transferred Jake onto the stretcher. He was strapped in and carried out off the bus. Jake was immediately wheeled away so I went to the waiting room. Lassen sat down next to me. Within 30 minutes the waiting room filled up with roadies and band members. All the busses and trucks in the tour had been notified that Jake was in the hospital and all had turned around and come back. The streets outside the hospital were lined with semis and tour busses all baring the “Elevate World Tour” logo. It must have been quite a sight for the hospital staff as they started trickling in for their am shifts.

I could hear Sean on the phone. The question of whether Jake could perform his next concert, which was scheduled to start in 16 hours, was being debated. I could only hear one side of the story but I could tell that Sean was being pressured into making a decision.

“Look, I’m not doing anything until I talk to Jake. If I cancel it and he’s okay to perform tonight, it’ll be my head. What? No, I’m not saying that. I seriously don’t know if he will physically be able to get up on the stage. Just wait for him to be seen by a doctor, that is all I’m asking.”

I looked at Lassen.

“They should cancel it,” I said. “You saw him. He can’t even stand up.”

“I know but maybe he just needs some antibiotics. I don’t know. But I will say, it’s not that easy to cancel a concert. Sean is right to wait,” Lassen replied.

At least an hour after arriving at the hospital, a pretty dark-haired nurse walked over to me.

“Are you Casey?”

“Yes,” I stood up.

“Come with me please,” she said and waved me toward the door.

“Is he alright?” I asked.

“I’m not allowed to give out patient information. You can ask him.”

I couldn’t help but notice her flawless face and perfect curves as she pointed me through an open door. I made a silent prayer that she wasn’t Jake’s nurse. As I came in, I saw him lying on a hospital bed with his arm over his face. An IV was in his other arm. Jake looked less flushed now but I could tell he was still in extreme pain. He heard me come in and removed his arm then reached it out and took my hand. I sat down next to his bed. We didn’t talk for a moment but I understood that it was Jake’s way of saying sorry. I picked up his hand, turned it over and kissed the back of it. Jake smiled weakly.

“You look a little better,” I said.

“Yeah, they mixed a little morphine in with my IV cocktail.”

“Gotta love morphine,” I grinned. “Have you seen the doctor?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want an ER doc touching it. I’m waiting for an orthopedic surgeon.”

“Yeah, I know. You made that pretty clear,” I smiled.

“Why? What did I say?”

“Well you pretty much threatened the ER doc with death if he touched your knee.”

“No, I didn’t,” Jake groaned.

“Oh yes you did.”

“Shit that’s not good.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure he hears worse. You’re hardly the first aggressive guy to come into his ER in pain.”

“What else did I say?”

I thought about his ramblings about Ray and the kidnapping but I knew to keep that information to myself. “Mostly you were just mumbling incoherently. Blah, blah, blah. I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening,” I teased.