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My phone rings and I grab it, hoping it’s Aubrey. Cam’s name flashes on the screen and I fight off disappointment.
“Hey, man,” I say, forcing myself to sound normal.
“Hey. So I’ve totaled up our earnings. The bad news is we barely broke five thousand.”
“Ah, shit,” I mutter. I swing around and park my arse on the arm of the couch. Lifting my hand, I rub the back of my neck, feeling defeated. With that figure, it’s not even worth continuing. I was sure we’d crack at least twenty. “Well, that sucks.”
“Let me finish before you stress yourself out,” Cam urges me. I sigh but shut up, though I’m not sure what he could say that will make this any better. “I had a call from a dude in Sydney who does the event management for one of the biggest hotel chains in the country. They want to book us exclusively, and they guarantee if we commit to ten shows, they’ll fund Max’s treatment. They’ve got sponsors lined up and everything. All we have to do is agree.”
“Seriously? Just like that?” I laugh. “That’s great news. Have you told the others yet?”
“Nope. You’re the first. I’ll call Sam and Nash if you can let Aubs and Em know?”
“Yeah, no problem. I was about to go and see Max, too, so I’ll let him know.”
Ending the call, I dial Em and get her voicemail. I think about calling Aubs but decide to go and see her after I visit with Max and give him the great news. At least I have a good excuse to see Aubrey now and won’t look like some sort of pathetic fuckwit, even though I kind of am. I grab my jacket and keys and walk out, checking first that Darla isn’t hanging around, waiting for me.
“Maxwell Rosewood’s room, please,” I state to the middle-aged woman sitting at the information desk.
“Bed fourteen. Visiting hours for the I.C.U are over in an hour,” she informs me, then goes back to typing away.
The lift ride to the floor that holds the I.C.U is filled with stops on almost every level—doctors and nurses getting on and off, family members carrying balloons and flowers. When my floor finally illuminates on the indicator overhead, I breathe a sigh of relief. I follow the signs to Max’s room and softly knock before entering, just in case he’s actually getting some rest.
“Come in,” he responds, but his voice isn’t strong, not like it usually is.
“You’re really milking this whole cancer thing, aren’t you?” I ask, joking of course. Looking around his room, dozens of cards and vases fill the window sill, and there’s just about every kind of boxed chocolates you can imagine lined up on this bedside table.
“I should have thought of this years ago. Cancer mixed with pneumonia makes all the kindness come out in people. Though, I do have to ask, what’s a guy gotta do to get a decent feed around here?” He laughs and coughs at the same time. With all the machines beeping, buzzing and dripping, I’m surprised he’s able to get any kind of rest at all.
“How ya holding up, mate?” I step over to his bed, sitting down at the very end, careful not to sit on the cords connected to some weird compression sock-looking things that seem important.
“It could be worse. Actually, it will be. My mother went to harass the doc for more pain meds. She’ll be back soon.” He rolls his eyes, and I laugh. I know the man loves his mother, but one person can only take so much before they snap. Rosalind Rosewood happens to bring that out in a lot of people, especially her children.
“Want me to break you out of here?” I waggle my eyebrows and try to convince myself that if he says yes, I can manage to free him of all the equipment surrounding him.
“If I thought you could take out an IV without killing me, I might take you up on it.” Excellent choice, Max. I probably wouldn’t kill him, but I would most likely hurt him badly.
“We made about five grand last night,” I offer, wanting to get the bad news out of the way before I hit him with the good.
“Well, that’s shit, isn’t it? Not even enough for the flight,” he sighs in defeat and closes his eyes.
“Before you go dying, I have better news.” I go on to tell him about the hotel chain, the deal, the treatment, and that we’re actually getting to go as soon as everyone signs off on the contract. It’s perfect; a blessing that came at just the right time.
“You mean to tell me you guys were so good, a hotel wants to book you for nearly a dozen shows?”
“Yeah, so you’re gonna need to get your shit together so you’re able to fly.”
“I have another chest x-ray scheduled for later today. Hopefully, the fluid’s gone and they can send me home. This is insane. Is this really happening, or did my mom get back with the good stuff and I’m tripping?”
“It’s happening, mate. Before you know it, you’ll be in Switzerland getting the best treatment by the best doctors the world’s ever seen. You’re going to be just fine. And I hear Swiss nurses are the hottest in the world. Nothing but straight blonde hair, giant tits and legs for days, brother.”
“You guys are pretty fucking awesome. I’d be lost without you.” He starts coughing again, and the wheezing concerns me. I’m going to say a few prayers. If that kind of stuff works, now’s the best time to use it because Max can’t fly with fluid on his lungs. He has to just have the cancer, no other life-threatening diseases or illnesses. He needs this. We all do. Especially Aubrey. He’s got to get well enough to travel.
“Shut up, you big softie. I’m going to head out and talk to you later.”
On my way out the door, I run square into Rosalind, who looks pissed and irritated. “Hey, Ms. Rosewood.”
“Where is my daughter? She should be here with her brother. He’s not doing well.”
