Page 26 of Hollywood King
Ten
Cathy
The sheetof paper wouldn't stay still. No, I stared at my hands, barely processing they shook as I clutched the page. My name came from somewhere, and I had to focus through the sudden haze seemingly surrounding me. The woman on the other side of the desk said my name again, softer this time.
"Ms. Earnshaw?"
I finally met her eyes, determined not to let the gathering tears fall. It's one of the first rules you learn growing up in the public eye.No matter what happens, never let them see you cry.
"I'm sorry. I zoned out there for a minute. Are these numbers accurate? Is there anything else I can do? Any benefits that we haven't talked about yet?"
Her face went a little pink, and she wouldn’t meet my eyes this time.
Pity. Perfect.
The beige room closed in on me. Walls, furniture, window dressings, all in shades of beige and off-white. The colors of hopelessness. I took a deep breath and forced myself back to the task, and finally, she answered.
"Well, experimental treatments are expensive. And most insurance plans won’t cover them.” She brightened before continuing. "But you're an Earnshaw. I've seen your pictures in magazines. This is probably nothing compared to what you're able to pay."
Why did everybody always assume my father's money was my money? Am I not a woman and a doctor in my own right? Certain bitterness would lace my words if I spoke, so I gave her a nod and a vague platitude instead while I scanned the numbers one more time. I wish I were alone right now, so I could come to the conclusion filtering into my brain with no one else to see me crumble. With Earnshaw Pictures in bankruptcy, my trust fund didn't exist, and I knew only one man with this kind of money.
Oh, but Heath would make me pay for it. Not in cash, or checks, or gold. And he wouldn’t be crass enough to demand my body in restitution. But I knew damn well I would be the only form of payment he would accept.
Instead of waiting around for her to question me further, I left. I went home to my empty house, my empty bed, my empty world. I didn't know how to be this woman. No job, not enough money to pay for treatment, nothing to do but wait.
In my mind, the only option was to ask Heath for the money. But I couldn't tell him about my diagnosis, or he'd feel responsible and try to care for me like he did last time. I wouldn't be his burden.
When I made it home, I plopped into an oversized gray chair and swung my legs over the arm. I had slept in this chair more times than I slept in my own bed. For some reason, now it felt lumpy, and I felt out of place. Or maybe the chair wasn’t to blame at all, only me.
I didn’t know how to be this woman.
My cell phone rang loudly in my coat pocket, with the crumpled invoice which decided my fate. I dug it out and pressed it to my ear before looking at the screen. I regretted that decision when his voice cut through the line and right through me. I closed my eyes against it, though it didn’t matter.
“Cathy, are you there?”
I cleared my throat softly. “Yes, I’m here. What do you want?”
Silence answered me, and I cushioned my tone and tempered my mood with an apology. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. Did you want something, Heath?”
Thankfully, he let my rudeness go. “Yes, I wondered if we might talk.”
“Not sure if you noticed, but we are talking.”
“No, I mean in person. It would be easier.”
The last time we spoke flashed in my head, and I could still feel his hand print on my ass even though the red marks had faded away. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. You seem to bring out my bad side.”
“Oh, I wasn’t aware you had another.”
“Har har. But still…things got out of hand the last time. I don’t know if that’s a good idea. We…”
“Were both tired and grieving. We don’t need to talk about that. And it’s not really what I wanted to talk about anyway.”
Shit. If he didn’t want to talk about the spanking thing, what on Earth could he want to talk about? “Ok, well tell me then.”
“In person. I’ll send my car for you in an hour.”
He hung up in typical high-handed Heath fashion, with a demand and nothing more. “Goodbye to you too.”
