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Pure agony is the only way to describe waiting the forty-five minutes until my jet refueled. Unbearable is the only way to describe a fourteen-hour flight when my woman is sedated in a hospital.
As we coast to the gate at the private landing strip, I spot the helicopter waiting on the tarmac. The jet comes to a stop. The crew has been privy to my shit attitude this entire trip so they give me a wide berth when I push past them and bound down the stairs. The pilot waves me over. Hurriedly, I jog to the door at the side and take my seat. Buckle in. We’re already confirmed for special clearance on the hospital helipad.
A few hospital personnel are waiting when we land. The second I disembark, I’m whisked downstairs to Clover’s room. I peer in the door where she’s sleeping peacefully.
“Mr. Jacoby?” A nurse tugs at my suit jacket. “Show me your ID please, then I’m cleared to let you in.”
I reach for my wallet to find my pocket empty. Fuck.
Frantically, I pat and press all my pockets. Empty. Fuck!
“I left my wallet on the plane,” I plead with the nurse. “What do you need for me to prove who I say I am?”
A doctor walks up beside her. “Problem?”
“I’m Joar Jacoby. My girlfriend is in that room. I just flew fourteen hours to get here. Can I go in?” I’m about to get on my hands and knees if it will help me get to her.
He grimaces. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jacoby. It goes against hospital policy.”
I’m on the brink of losing my shit when I realize my energy in this atmosphere will exacerbate the situation.
“I’ll find my ID. In the meantime, how is she?” I keep my voice calmer than I feel inside.
He looks at his clipboard, then back at me. “You’re not her family so I’m not authorized to discuss her medical care with you.”
Fuck.
Now I’m getting frustrated.
“Clover doesn’t have any family. I need to be by my girlfriend’s side, so I’m a little stressed.” I make sure to appear cool and collected. “Thank you in advance if there’s anything more you can do. Or make an exception. In the meantime, where should I wait?”
He points off to an area in the back, where I take a seat on a disgusting plastic couch. Check my phone. Twenty-four missed calls and texts.
I fire off a text to Seth to get my ID from the plane, then I turn my attention back to the task at hand.
Fifteen are work-related calls, mostly because I blew off the meeting in Australia to get here.
A few are from Ronni. As I scroll through them, I’m equally touched, annoyed, and angry by her demands to come back to LA to be there for Clover. Touched because my girl has a real friend looking out for her. Annoyed because her friend has the impression I wouldn’t drop everything for the love of my life. Angry because Kris Blakely told Clover about the surveillance. Which is what we were talking about when Clover realized her house was on fire.
I decide to text her while I’m waiting.
Joar: Do you have a problem with me?
Kris: Hi Joar
Joar: My girlfriend is in the hospital.
Joar: You had lunch with her.
Joar: I know what you said.
Joar: Don’t fucking play games with me.
Kris: You put a tail on her. I asked why.
Joar: WTF?
Kris: Didn’t you?
