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Brea frowned, switching the phone from one ear to the other. “And you’re feeling a little bit better?”
“Sure am,” Kenny said.
Brea allowed herself to smile, if only for a moment, then told Kenny how much she loved him and that she’d be home soon.
“I told you. Enjoy your wild night,” Kenny urged her.
Brea returned the phone to the cradle and hurried back to the club, rejuvenated. Maybe the doctor hadn’t called because there was nothing to report. Maybe he’d decided he needed to call all those other sick people— and not Kenny. Never Kenny. He’d even found a way to sleep. God bless his heart.
Inside the club, Oriana and Walter had met a new friend. He was in his early thirties, maybe, with just as much charisma as Walter. He was dressed immaculately, and his hair was flung back in a mess that was, Brea, knew, incredibly stylish in this day and age.
“Brea! This is Nick!” Oriana called over the pumping music. “Walter knows him!”
“Hi, Nick!” Brea shook Nick’s hand.
“Brea! I’ve heard so much about you,” Nick said, although Brea wasn’t sure she believed him. “Walter has fallen in love with the both of you. And do you know how picky my man is about his friends?” Nick guffawed with laughter.
Oriana and Brea exchanged smiles just as Walter returned with a platter of shots of the club’s most expensive tequila. Brea accepted a glass, her head swimming with alcohol. But she knew she couldn’t say no. Walter expected a show.
“To one hell of a night!” Nick said, clicking his glass against theirs.
After another round of drinking, Oriana grabbed Brea’s hand, told the guys they were headed to the bathroom, and dragged her through the crowd. When they were out of their line of sight, Oriana spun around, gripped Brea’s shoulders, and squealed, “We did it, Brea! He just told me on the dance floor! Four million! He’s going to pay!”
Brea stuttered with surprise. It felt as though they’d just climbed an impossibly tall mountain. She flung her arms around Oriana, and they leaped up and down together, giggling.
“And I think that Nick guy is made of money, too,” Oriana said as their hug broke. “He asked me to show him a few of our other pieces this week. Brea, if we keep this up, there’s no way we won’t be back in Martha’s Vineyard, working on our own, by the end of next summer. It’s happening. It’s really happening.”
Brea finally managed to escape the nightclub around one in the morning, when she splurged and took a taxi back home. She would remember this taxi splurge for the rest of her life.
When Brea entered the apartment, she heard Kenny again, getting sick. Her heart sank into her stomach.
“Kenny?” She hovered outside the bathroom for a moment, waiting until Kenny appeared, looking worse than ever. His skin was gray.
“Hi, baby.” Kenny limped toward the couch and fell to the edge. “How was the night?”
Brea sat beside him and placed her hand on his leg. All she wanted in the world was to take his pain away.
“It was okay,” Brea said. “I’m sorry you woke back up. Maybe I shouldn’t have called you in the first place.”
“It was okay that you called. I loved hearing your voice,” Kenny assured her, his shoulders slumping.
Brea’s eyes filled with tears. Something was very wrong. “Kenny, what did the doctor say?”
Kenny mumbled to himself. She could tell now that he’d been lying earlier to her— that he’d just wanted her to have a last night out before everything fell apart.
“He says I need a kidney transplant,” Kenny said quietly.
Brea’s eyes widened. “What? What do you mean?”
“I have an autoimmune disease. I guess I’ve always had it, but it’s only rearing its ugly head right now,” Kenny explained. “And if I don’t get a new kidney…” He shrugged. “It’s over.”
Brea would not stand for this. “What are you talking about? Over? You’re twenty-five years old!”
Kenny remained silent, staring at his feet. Brea had no idea what you were supposed to say in a situation like this. She and Kenny had only ever lived a life of romance, singing songs and running around the island of Martha’s Vineyard in the sun. Their lives had never been threatened; neither had their love.
Finally, Kenny turned to look her in the eye. “I don’t have insurance, Brea. So, let’s get realistic about what’s next, okay? It’s easier if I just stare this thing in the face.”
Brea’s jaw dropped. “Kenny! Come on. We’re going to get you that kidney.”
