Gorgeous Rotten Scoundrel (8 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I fearlessly marched back into the house that afternoon. What was he going to do? Get up and attack me? He could barely wipe his own ass at this point with his bum shoulder. I threw my things on the entry table and strode up the stairs to the threshold of his bedroom door. He was still that lump in the middle of his bed. It seemed he hadn't moved since I left. I glanced over at the untouched mess from earlier in the day.
Disgusting
, I mouthed to myself.

"Alright, that's it!" I shouted loudly, walking over to the windows and pulling open the curtains.

"What the fuck?" Heath asked, shielding his eyes with his available hand.

"Oh come on. Who are you, Nosferatu?"

"I thought I told you to leave."

"Yeah you did and I did and now I am back."

"Well leave again then!" He said pointing to the door, trying to mask a wince.
Serves him right for using that arm to throw plates of food like a two-year-old.

"No! I am not going to sit here and be an enabler to your pathetic pity party and I certainly will not be your punching bag."

"It's not like I am sitting here covered in plaster! My face all busted up."

It's true: his face was bruised, his lip busted, there were cuts, but the doctor assured him that it would all heal, there was nothing to worry about. But I could sense his fear, that his biggest asset might be compromised. Honestly, his pristine skin might benefit from a few small cuts, it would make him look all rugged, and if he added a beard on top of it...
stop it.

"Yeah you are, but you're lucky you're not dead.
Oh poor Heath, rich super model who survived a major car accident with no long term damage.
You should be thanking your lucky stars all you have is a few broken bones. And if you want to get back into civilization, moping around like this won't do anything for you."

"So you're a doctor now?"

"No, but you asked me--begged me--to stay. If you want me here, you better act like you do. I am all you have left right now. You scared the shit out of the nurse, and I don't see any of your party-friends showing up with casseroles. Do you?" Heath went silent. I might have seriously hurt his feelings with that last line, but besides a couple of brief phone calls, no one has showed up since that first day. Even his sweet Illy was a no-show, he mentioned she was at a gig overseas, but whatever. Mindy planned on coming back, and checked in frequently, but she was loaded with projects between NY and LA. Maybe if he didn't act like such a douche, he would have better friends. "Listen, I want to help you. So why do you have to be such a dick about everything?"

"Me a dick? You have been the frigid bitch since we met. All stuffy and miss goody two-shoes."

"And yet here I am." Heath scowled at me silently. Though he said nothing, I could tell he was resigned. "So here's what's going to happen. I am going to prepare a nice dinner, and then I am going to bring it up here and you and I are going to eat like two civilized fucking human beings on your beautiful balcony. And if you want to act like an adult and tell me what crawled up your ass this morning, I'll be here to listen.
Capisce
?"

His face softened from a scowl to shock. He sort of looked like a deer in headlights.

"I asked a question."

"
Capisce
..."

"Alright, I'll see you in an hour." I confidently strode back to the bedroom door and glanced at the mess again on the way out. "Oh, and next time you do that, I am picking it up and throwing it right back at you. I dare you to try me."

***

I ferociously chopped vegetables for the sauté, feeling victorious in my decision to tell off Heath. In fact, I caught myself smiling several times thinking of the shocked look on his face as I marched out of the bedroom. It was about an hour before I carried the tray of vegetables and steak upstairs to his bedroom (as a model who could not exercise, Heath was now on a strict diet of lean meats and veggies to maintain his taut physique).

I was shocked to find Heath sitting in his wheelchair bent over in front of the splattered breakfast, holding onto a broom with his two disabled limbs: one arm in a sling, the other in a cast. Needless to say it was both pitiful and pointless.

"What are you doing?" I asked, as I placed the dinner tray on a table. I hate to say it, but I felt sympathy for him.

"I've got it."

If you can imagine a penguin holding a broom, well then you understand how he looked.

"Heath, I wasn't expecting you to pick this up. I appreciate the gesture, but the food will get cold...and let's be honest, you're not gonna succeed within either one of our lifetimes."

"This sucks," Heath said with a sigh, finally relenting.

"I know. Now, let's just forget about everything and go enjoy some dinner on this gorgeous evening on your fantastic balcony, you lucky bastard. I'll get it later."

"I'd hardly describe myself as lucky."

"That's your problem. You lack perspective."

Heath had already done me the favor of getting into his wheelchair (miraculously I might add), so I wheeled him outside and served our dinner. He was disheveled, his tan had faded slightly, but he was still a treat for the eyes. Surprisingly, the stubble and bed-head served to make him more approachably good-looking versus the flawless statue of David look he typically walked around the earth with.

"How the hell did you get in the wheelchair?" I had to ask.

"You have no idea. It took me the better part of the hour."

"You could have hurt yourself."

He glanced down at himself, "Can it get much worse? What's left to break? My dick?"

We both laughed. "Now that would be the end of you!" It was surprisingly nice to have glimpse of the old jokester, even if for a few seconds. Once the laughter subsided, his face turned unusually serious.

"Sadie...I'm not good at this...but...I'm sorry...for the outburst."

I was taken aback by his apology. So far Heath had done a myriad of things to me, but apologizing was one I had yet to experience.

I nodded in acceptance. "What was that all about? This morning?"

"I don't handle shit like this well. I mean, can you blame me?"

"No, but you can't act out like that. It's just not acceptable."

"I know...I know...I guess. It's just that...never mind."

"I hate when people do that. Spit it out. You can talk to me."

"I don't have anyone. I mean really have anyone. I thought I did, but I knew I really didn't. And even when people don't have real friends, they have family, but I don't have that either."

"Where's your family?"

"I don't know. I was raised in foster care. I have a biological aunt somewhere, but I haven't seen here since I was 13. I have a foster brother, but he's in Wisconsin and he can't get out here often."

I felt a bit like an asshole. See, as soon as I met Heath, I pegged him. I saw who he was in the present and I carelessly made unfair assumptions about him. I assumed he had always had it easy. In my defense, he had an easy, carefree way about him. His manner made you believe he never knew what it was like to worry.

"Is that why you always have people around? You're afraid of being alone?"

His eyes narrowed in on mine, as if I discovered a secret no one was ever supposed to know. "Well, not afraid."

"Afraid," I confirmed.

"What makes you think that?" he asked, mystified with a touch of disdain.

"I just have a way. I can sense these things. I could tell that you focus on the number rather than the quality of people who surround you. And that makes sense, if your concern is having no one around."
Post-Kenneth Sadie had become hyper-aware of common traits among attention whores and whores in general.

"Except for now."

"I'm
heyah.
" The tail end of "here" flopped out of my mouth like drool. I had to be careful with my tenderness, I had to guard it. I tried to stop the word from coming out, but it had full momentum and so, I sounded fresh off the first stages of a stroke.

"You okay there?" He asked. "Too much to drink?"

"Oh shut it," I said, mildly embarrassed.

"Truth is, the people I could call I don't want around. Sure, they're fun to party with, but honestly, I can't stand most of them: they're superficial, all they care about is money and status. I don't want those people to see me like this and I don't want to just sit around with them." His assessment of his so-called friends nearly mirrored my early assessment of him and I wondered if there was more to him or if he had a huge blind spot when it came to self-awareness.

Heath slid his left arm out of his sling, wincing in pain. Again, my instincts kicked in. No matter our differences, I didn't want to see him in pain.

"Let me get that."

"No, it's okay."

"You asked me to take care of you. Let me. This is what you pay me for. We need to let that shoulder rest."

"Okay," he sighed.

I slid my chair over to him and cut a piece of steak. Heath did not look thrilled by the prospect of being fed, so I used the same tactic that people use with babies to make them eat.

"Choo!Choo! Here comes the food train!" Heath's facial expression went limp, but it was hiding a smile. "It's coming!" I said as the steak approached his lips. Then it just kind of smooshed into them as he held his deadpan expression. "Oh come on! Eat the damned steak!" Just as I said that, he chomped at it like a angry dog and I squealed.

"Keep feeding me like a toddler and I might just poo my pants to teach you a lesson."

And just like that, an invisible door had opened, a new level of comfort had been reached. Those moments happen all the time, when you realize a person is not just an acquaintance, but someone who you could spend hours with, someone with whom you could sit for long comfortable silences. One hardly remembers the exact moment that that happens, but I remember when it happened with him.

He went back to our previous conversation: "I know you're here and thank you. We kind of got off to an interesting start, but thank you for being here when everyone else seems to have forgotten."

"It's my job and I'm sure people care, people are busy, ya know?" I was fibbing to make him feel better, which is something I promised I wouldn't do, but there was a tenderness about him that elicited my sympathy.

"I know, but you quit before this happened. I know you stayed because you have a big heart."
Don't say it, don't say I have a big heart. It's the weapon that has been used against me the most. Suckers have big hearts. I am not a sucker.

"I stayed because it was the right thing to do."

"I knew I liked you as soon as you walked in the door that morning of the interview," he smirked.

"Oh?" I said, looking down at my plate.

"I don't mean it in the way I said before. I know, I'm a jackass...I mean, you, there's something refreshing about you. And then I was sure of that once I hired you. You had standards, you told me what you really thought of me. It's weird, you think you don't want that, but when you are surrounded by people who only tell you what you want to hear, who give you what you want without hesitation or thought for your longterm well-being, you start to crave the opposite: Someone who doesn't fear being banished."

I finally felt as though he was really speaking to me without all the pretense. He was just guy talking to a girl.

I picked up my glass of wine.

"Let me have a sip."

"You're not supposed to, you're healing."

"Sadie, come on. I'm healing just fine. Throw this poor puppy a bone."

I shrugged and passed him the glass. He raised an eyebrow -- of course, he couldn't hold the thin glass up at an angle with his shoulder injury. I placed one hand underneath his chin and used the other to tilt the glass to his mouth.

Up until this moment, if I looked at his face for too long, I would get caught in a mini-trance. He was just so exquisite: every contour, the curve of his cheekbones, the flush in his cheeks, the perfect pout of his lips, his plentiful eyelashes. I would get sucked in like one would looking at an intricate work of art at a museum. This time, he shifted his eyes over and caught me. Our eyes locked, and my heart fluttered for a bit. I put the glass down. He licked a drop of wine from his lip and then tugged his lip with his teeth.
Yum.
When our eyes met, I felt tense, the way he had made me feel when I first met him, all over again.

"Heath. I want to tell you that I know what it's like. To an extent." I had to say it. Because it was true and because I needed to shift the mood.

"What do you mean?"

"To be alone. To not have people."

"Your family?"

"My mom and dad...I lost them when I was little." I took a deep breath. "They were murdered."

He paused. I could see that he was both shocked and moved by this unexpected information. I observed him as he searched his thoughts for what to say. I was used to dealing with the awkward reactions from people when I told them, so I waited for him to find some words to say back. Finally, with more sincerity than I'd ever heard in his voice, he said, "I'm so sorry that happened to you and your family."

"It's okay. It was a long time ago. I don't have siblings. My parents didn't either. All I have is my grandma, but she's getting very old. So at least I have her, but that's it. And friends, I have always had a hard time really connecting. They just know me on the surface, but I don't have girlfriends who I can talk to about everything. People just kind of float in and out of my life. That consistency doesn't exist for me."

"What about Minds?"

"She might be the closest friend I have, but we can go for months without talking to each other."

"Well, at least you don't pay her to be your friend like I do."

"Don't say that. She very protective over you. It's not about the money with her."

His expression softened in a way I had only seen when he begged me to stay that night at the hospital. He looked into my eyes and I felt weak. "I'm
heyah
," he said. It broke the heaviness and we both smiled, which then escalated into chuckles. I found myself leaning into him and his smell...it was the faintest hint of musk and something lighter, like a citrus, mixed with the natural scent of his skin.
It was like catnip to me
.