Just Listen (2 page)

Casey

Anchor/Kiki Stuart:
What do you mean you didn’t break the story? If you didn’t, who did?

Casey:
I stumbled on it. I mean, yes, I planned to uncover the Finn Daley mystery, but then things became complicated. What followed was both a misunderstanding and an accident.

Finn:
Oh,
that’s
what you’re calling it now?

Casey:
Would you pipe down.

Anchor/Kiki Stuart:
Let me tell you, it’s getting a little hot in the studio this morning. We’re going to take a break and be right back with these love birds.

He wasn’t going to take it easy on me – that was becoming increasingly apparent.

Thankfully, Kiki took us to a commercial before I had to explain myself.

Once they called an
all clear
in the studio, Finn’s agent came out for a quick powwow with his client. My agent tried to do the same, but I waved her off.

Before the Finn story, I couldn’t get the attention of a broadcast agent if I showed up at their place of business in my birthday suit. After the story, I had to fight them off.

So much had happened since that night with Finn. I tuned out the lights and cameras and noise and went back to that time in my mind. The way things were before my world was shot to hell.

Finn had me bound, waiting for him, and I was wet and ready. I knew it wasn’t a modern notion, or even remotely appropriate for someone with my feminist beliefs, but I got off on Finn taking control of me.

It was disgusting, but I loved every second of it. Seriously.

He used his hands to guide my legs further apart. Then he took too long stroking them (hip to toe), neglecting my other parts far more in need of his touch. It was the most exquisite form of torture and probably one of the most effective.

Finn should’ve introduced it to the military. Forget water boarding. Torture by orgasm denial would have had the toughest motherfuckers spilling secrets in record time.

His hands moved to my backside in a way that was the closest to being worshipped than I’d ever come. His movements were slow and deliberate, marking me.

I grew wetter and became ravenous – painfully waiting for him to get closer.

He finally did.

And when he brushed his covered chest against mine, I cried out. I had to feel his skin, his warmth, or I’d die. I’d die right then and there and Mr. Daley would have a lot of explaining to do.

As if reading my mind, Finn removed his shirt and closed the distance between us. The skin-on-skin contact was sublime. Fucking incredible. I struggled against the binding, wanting to wrap my arms around him.

Closer, closer, closer.

The words bounced around in my head, and with my arms suspended above me, I nestled my head into the crook of his neck, trying to burrow my way in.

He continued moving at an excruciatingly slow pace. In frustration, I bit him on the jaw. Hard.

And then, well …

He went dark.

But if I was producing this scene – if I was in any sort of control of the situation – my first objective would be to rewrite the fuck out of my ending with Finn.

This was how the story should’ve finished.

In the very next moment, Finn ripped off his pants. He couldn’t move fast enough.

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his eyes raking over my body, hot and hungry.

I bit him again, provoking him further.

“Are you sure you’re ready for me?” he asked.

Before I had the chance to say yes, he spun me around – my arms still bound by the restraint – pushed me up against the wall and drove into me from behind.

Halleluiah!

Then the sea parted and the angels wept.

Yes, that would be my version of happily ever after. Ending with him inside me, followed by an exploding orgasm.

Too bad, I couldn’t rewrite my own life. A point made perfectly clear as the cameraman started counting us down until we were live in the studio.

I took a huge gulp of my water in an effort to cool down so I could get through the rest of this godforsaken interview.

It was times like this that I questioned if maybe my writing skills would be better suited for porn.

I blamed Finn. He brought out the filth in me.

But did porn stars even work off scripts, or was it all ad lib? Like they went into work and the director said, “You’re a lonely housewife; he’s a horny cable guy, and Go!”

I had no idea, but it might be something to consider if this journalism thing didn’t pan out.

Five, four, three, two….

WHEELIN’ BROADS (v.):

When hocke
y players shamelessly hit on girls while on the road, when they had perfectly loving girlfriends back at home.

Finn

“What happened?” I finally asked Nate about Casey and Ava’s meeting, though I had a clue. Ava was a handful, but not in the same funny, spunky way that Casey was. Ava was a demanding, hard-to-please, entitled little – and I hated using the word – bitch.

“She barreled in, like she does,” Nate said in his animated way.

“And then?”

“Then she started barking orders to the staff, demanding they get Dr. Hart to the hospital.”

“What did she do to Casey?” I asked.

“I’m not sure we should go there, dude. You’re finally up and moving around. I think this discussion can wait. I don’t want you to get upset right now.”

“Don’t you fucking dare start with that shit,” I yelled. “I won’t have it. You treat me like normal, or you leave. That’s the deal.”

“Yes. That’s always been the deal, but this is different. You’re better and I don’t want anything to trigger another episode. I’m not trying to be superior or trying to withhold information from you, but can’t I give it out in palatable doses?”

“No,” I said.

“What do you mean no? Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said?”

“Yes, and my answer is no. Tell me the rest or get the hell out.”

“Jesus, between you and Casey and fucking Ava. I deserve a metal dealing with you assholes.”

“Fine, I get your point. Now finish the goddamn story.”

Nate hung his head in defeat. “When Ava started making a stink all over the place, Casey heard the commotion, and came out of our private waiting room.”

“So there was a confrontation?”

“You could say that, but I’d use two other words. Cat. Fight.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Nate shook out his hands. “And even though all this shit was going on, I couldn’t stop watching it. It was beyond hot.”

“Jesus Christ, Nate.”

“You wanted me to treat you like normal? This is normal.”

“Who started it?” I asked.

“Are you serious? I just tell you about the hottest cat fight to hit the Twin Cities and you want to know who started it? I think the more appropriate question would be, what were they wearing?”

Nate was really starting to get on my nerves, but I kept quiet. The more I encouraged him, the more he’d withhold from me.

I leveled a look at him, and he finally gave it up.

“Ava started it,” he said. “You would’ve thought that she’d gotten over all the shit from last year, but when she zeroed in on Casey, all of it came flying out.”

“I need more details,” I told him.

“Ava ranted about the drugs. We’re damn lucky we live here instead of L.A., or TMZ would be all over your shit. Then she accused Casey of being Roadkill – just another hit on your long list of conquests.”

Shit, it was worse than I thought.

“What did Casey do then?” I cringed, not wanting to know the answer. The worst of it was that Ava wasn’t that far off in her assessment of the situation. Not about Casey, of course. Shit, it burned me that Casey had to listen to Ava’s accusations. But Ava had her reasons. I used women, brought them to my hotel room, fucked ’em and forgot ’em. Even when I was with Ava.

“You know Casey better than I do,” Nate said. “I’m sure it’s what you’d expect. She slapped Ava across the face; told her to eat a hamburger, because she wouldn’t be such a bitch if she ate once in a while. Then Ava grabbed Casey’s hair and pulled, saying it didn’t matter if she pulled it out because it was like straw since Casey never heard of conditioner. Then Casey grabbed Ava’s hair and they were pulling and yelling. Finally, Casey got the upper hand by getting ahold of Ava’s dangling earrings and threatening to rip them out. Ava let go, and Casey head-butted her – fucking head-butted – then she called me a motherfucker and left. It was beautiful.”

***

I tried calling Casey, but didn’t get an answer. Not that I expected to. So I was forced to text.

I need to see you,
I wrote.

Are you okay? She responded.

Physically, yes. But I need to talk to you.

I can’t.

Been out of it for days, I need you.

I’m glad you’re up and moving around, but I can’t.

More like won’t.

Semantics. I can’t get involved Finn.

Why?

It’s complicated.

That was the last I heard from Casey, no matter how many times I called or texted her.

The only good thing that came out of it was increased motivation to get out of this fucking place.

Each day I felt better, stronger, more alert. Just as I had been before I met Casey and my life turned inside out. The staff secured a private physical therapy room for me to help get me back on schedule and let off steam. Nate usually came to work out with me, and though the nurses got on me for overdoing it, Nate didn’t say a word. He knew as well as I did that I was losing valuable time being cooped up in here. He also knew it wasn’t a choice. Getting my head right was just as important as my body.

Still, I wasn’t ready to give up on Casey. I’d simply come clean; force her to listen to reason. She’d come around.

That’s what I thought, until Nate came to see me the next day with the newspaper in his hands.

Casey

Anchor/Kiki Stuart:
Pretty bold move to jump from Sports Girl to News Reporter, am I right?

Casey:
Not really, I had been doing news in college and I first came to KXAA as an intern. It’s what I was trained for.

Anchor/Kiki Stuart:
Your producer never mentioned any of that.

Casey:
Yeah, well he wouldn’t.

Anchor/Kiki Stuart:
Bad blood?

Casey:
Let’s just say, I don’t play well with others. Especially when I’m being screwed over.

“Tell me what’s wrong with him,” I asked Nate once we got Finn settled in at the hospital.

“For the tenth time, woman, this is not my story to tell.”

“So there is a story?” I asked, this time for nothing more than my own knowledge. I didn’t even care about the story anymore. The man I was falling for was sick. With what, I didn’t know. And I desperately wanted to know. I wanted to help.

After I got ahold of Nate, he made some calls. Shortly after, an ambulance made its way to Finn’s house. They didn’t turn on sirens or make a big deal – if I didn’t know better, I’d say they had done this many times before.

A paramedic gave Finn a shot, put him on a gurney, and away we went.

We were ushered into the hospital through a side door and brought up to the third floor in a private elevator. The whole thing was mysterious and creepy. It made me uneasy.

And watching Finn in that half-comatose state, hurt more than I thought it could. He had come to mean so much to me in such a short amount of time.

I just wanted to go back to our little bubble – just the two of us in our own little world. I ached to have him back there with me.

Nate met us at the hospital. He also looked like he knew exactly what to do.

As the minutes passed, and as I began to realize the fact that Finn had this completely other side to him, I grew incredibly pissed off.

I knew I had no right to feel this way, especially when I was living a lie. But where Finn was concerned, I couldn’t be rational.

And when
she
showed up, I lost it.

Long flowing blonde hair and legs – that’s all there was to her. Only one word came into my head when she walked in.

Flawless.

But over the next few minutes, that word would turn into two:
raging bitch.

“Shit,” Nate said when he saw her walk by the waiting room.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “Wait here, I’ll be right back. Or better yet, go home. You need some rest. I’ll call you and give you an update in the morning.”

Then he shoved money at me for a cab, and pushed me along. I’d never felt so cheap in my life.

I fought back the tears threatening to give me away, and nodded to Nate so he would think I left.

Take a fucking cab. Right.

He followed the leggy blonde into Finn’s room.

“What the fuck, Nate?” she asked. “How’d he end up back in here? I thought you were keeping your eye on things.”

“Calm down, Ava.”

“I’m not going to calm down. I’ve been staying away like you asked, but he obviously needs me.”

She yelled down the hallway. “Nurse. Nurse.”

Classy.

When the nurse showed up,
Ava
started barking orders. “We need Dr. Hart and we need her now.”

“She’s not on call, ma’am. Dr. Willingham is here and he’s taking care of Mr. Daley.”

“Oh really?” Venom slid down from her lips. “Do you know who Mr. Daley is and how much he recently donated to this facility.”

“I do,” she said.

“Then you know that not only will you lose your job if one word of this leaks out, but that Dr. Hart always works with Mr. Daley.”

I listened, trying to absorb just what the hell was going on. What was wrong with Finn? And who the fuck was Ava?

“What about the drugs?” she asked.

“He’s been stabilized,” the nurse said. “But it’s going to take some time to get everything out of his system. This is a process.”

“Just get Dr. Hart,” Ava spit.

It was well past time for me to get answers. I didn’t care how scary the blonde devil was, I was going to march over to Nate and demand he fill me in.

Determined, I made my way toward Finn’s room.

“Nate,” I said, just outside of Finn’s door.

They didn’t let me in his room when they were working on him; Nate wouldn’t let me in after. I was paralyzed seeing Finn lying there. His face was pale and lifeless and he was hooked to all kinds of monitors. He even looked small in the white hospital gown with the tiny blue pattern. He would’ve hated all of this.

But what did Ava mean about the drugs? Shit, please no. It was the one thing I couldn’t handle. Drugs. Addiction. It was the things nightmares were made of. I grew up without a father because of fucking drugs.

I was so angry and disappointed in him. I thought he was so much more than these spoiled fucked-up athletes.

It made sense, though. He didn’t have any booze in the house, no drugs. Not even Advil. That was it. He was an addict.

“This is perfect,” Ava said when her eyes zeroed in on me. “A fucking Puck Bunny?”

“I’m not a Puck Bunny, you bitch.” The words came out before I had control of the situation.

“Sorry.” She rolled her eyes. “Roadkill, then.”

“She’s not a one-night hook up
,
” Nate defended me, pathetically, I might add. “She’s Finn’s …
friend
.”

“Oh, yes,” Ava said. “I know all about his
friends.
But right now, I’m more concerned about the drug issue. Now get her the fuck out of here, Nate. I don’t have time to deal with this.”

I stared at Nate, waiting for his next move. Waiting for him to defend me. Waiting for him to say that Finn wasn’t on drugs. That this was just a misunderstanding.

He didn’t.

“Casey,” he said. “Please go. I’ll call you later.”

The blood was boiling inside; I felt so betrayed. So belittled in front of – whoever the hell this was. It didn’t matter that I was the woman in Finn’s home, under his hands, in his bed. Apparently this happened all the time. In fact, he was probably high every time we were together.

“Thank you,” Ava said to Nate. Then she tipped her head in my direction. “And don’t come back.”

This is why I couldn’t fucking stand fancy people!

That was all it took. Everything started spilling over and before I knew it, I felt the tingling in my hand from smacking the bitch across the face. Then it was an all-out lady brawl. Slapping, and hair pulling, and maybe a head butt or two.

It felt good, but I knew it was really time to leave now. So I departed with a few choice words to Nate.

I held it together until I got home. Then I cried myself to sleep.

***

The next morning, I was a mess. I’d never felt so helpless or used or stupid. I was due into the station in thirty minutes.

I pulled myself upright, but fell back down again. I couldn’t do it. In all my time working in news, and all through college, I never missed a day. Never. No matter what happened, work came first.

With the minimal energy I had left, I grabbed my phone and made the call to my boss, Phil.

“I can’t make it in today,” I told him.

“Why?” he said in his sharp voice. We had yet to talk about my stunt at Buns-n-Bowties – when I did my live shot from a male strip joint – so this was so not the time to call in sick.

“It’s personal.” I tried, hoping to play on his sympathy, even though I wasn’t sure he had any.

“Not good enough,” he said.

“Look, Phil. I was with a friend at the hospital all night. He passed out, lost consciousness. It was a big deal. Trust me, you would not want me on air tonight. I’m sure Mack wouldn’t mind covering for me.”

“Well, Casey,” he began. “That would be just fine if it wasn’t for your stunt the other day. Turns out people are asking for you.”

“I will do a follow up or whatever you want, Phil. I just can’t make it in today.”

“Oh.” He laughed. “That’s funny. You think they want you for your great reporting?”

“You just said viewers are asking for me after my report.”

“Don’t kid yourself. It was nothing to do with your captivating reporting. The viewers find you cute.”

“Cute?”

“Yes, remember when I told you to lighten up? Well, after you finally listened, you now have some fans. But don’t confuse your newly found fame. It’s not for your brain.”

“Why do you have to be like this?”

“Just speaking the truth. Now get up, and get your ass in here.”

“Did you not hear anything I just said?”

“I did. And I don’t care. Not really interested in your pathetic life outside the station.”

I was shaking. How fucking dare he? Between the hospital and this new tongue lashing from The Mole, I lost it for the second time in two hours. He was just lucky it was over the phone, or I’m afraid I would’ve slapped him senseless.

“For your information, I was following a lead,” I said, making my first mistake.

“Right. Which one is this now?”

Fuck it. I didn’t need to protect Finn anymore. Not when he was an asshole drug addict, sex addict, pathetic excuse for a human being.

“The Finn Daley story,” I said.

Phil was quiet. No quip or sarcastic comeback. He waited, until he finally said, “You were with him at the hospital?”

“I was.”

“Tell me, Casey. This might be the one break that saves your ass. What happened?”

“I’m still figuring it out.”

“Okay,” he said and I could hear him type on the other end. “What are we looking at?”

“As far as I can tell, it’s an addiction to drugs. He’s at Regions now.”

“What kind of drugs?”

“I don’t know, Phil. He was completely out of it. I have no idea. And there may even be a logical explanation.”

Deep down, I was praying for it.

“Oh, Casey. Really? He blacks out and is hospitalized. You might not know the kind of poison yet, but you know what’s going on.”

“I need to do more research.”

“You got a few days. That’s it.”