Lacey winced at Lena's words even though she knew that the other woman was probably right.
'Rough weekend?'
'You could say that.'
'I don't know how you manage … I mean a screaming brat keeping you up half the night …'
'It wasn't Poppy.'
She cut Lena off, wanting to make it understood that this had nothing to do with her daughter.
'I was at the hospital. A friend of mine had a heart attack.'
'Not that creepy guy with the cane?'
'Mr. Gold.'
'What?'
'His name is Mr. Gold.'
Lacey didn't know why Lena was pissing her off so much. Usually she managed to brush off the pointed comments but somehow that wasn't happening today. The previous night had left her raw. She didn't want to be here. Not in this place, serving greasy treats to people who barely acknowledged her existence. Lacey knew that this was the only job she was really capable of, but it wasn't enough. She wanted … needed to make a difference. Somehow.
'… and I knew you wouldn't mind taking over for me.'
'What?'
'Got to get a bikini wax.'
Raising her eyebrows, Lena nodded towards Angelo.
'It's a special night … if you know what I mean.'
'No … no I can't. I promised.'
Lacey's protests were met with air kisses.
'Thank you, sweetie.'
And then, in a whirl of cloying perfume, Lena was gone. Lacey coughed to clear her lungs of it.
'Uh Angelo… about the extra shift… '
He pulled a batch of onion rings out of the fryer and dumped them on a plate.
'Listen, thanks for helping me and Lena out. Her old man's been cranky lately and she's had a tough time getting away. I'll make sure there's a little extra in it for you. Buy that kid of yours something nice from her Uncle Angelo. '
Lacey closed her eyes. When he put it that way she didn't have a whole lot of choice. He pushed the plate of onion rings into her hand.
'Take this to table five will ya?'
She was halfway through the second shift when the phone rang. Lacey ignored it. Angelo was closer. She could vaguely hear his voice raised above the chatter of diners and thought no more of it until he bellowed across the diner.
'French! It's for you.'
No one ever called her here, not ever. Gods ... Poppy! Shaking, Lacey navigated her way back to the kitchen, coffee slopping from the pot that was still clutched in her hand. She heard someone swear but didn't stop to apologise.
Angelo handed over the phone and she pressed it to her ear,
'Hello?'
'Lacey French?' the nameless voice asked. It wasn't Mrs. Letterman.
'Yes.'
She listened to the dispassionate speech. Nodding along as if she understood what was happening. The only words she recognised were flat line. Lacey let the phone slip from her fingers.
'I've got to go.'
'French? What is it?'
'I've got to go,' she said again as she grabbed her jacket and purse, ignoring the clatter of broken crockery when she knocked a stack of plates to the floor. She didn't care about Angelo or the customers waiting for their coffee and pancakes. But he was standing in her way, his good-natured face wrinkled with concern. 'I got hungry customers here. You'd better have a damn good reason for running out on me.'
'Please … My friend … I think he's dying.'
'Jeeze French, why didn't you say somethin'?'
Angelo wrapped her up in a big sweaty hug and then pressed a fifty into her hand. She squeezed him back, lost for words. He was a good man, far too good for the likes of Lena.
'Now go … get outta here.'
Lacey didn't wait. The door slammed behind her as she tumbled out onto the street shouting for a taxi. Fifty bucks that she could have spent on diapers or formula and she was rushing to the bedside of a guy she barely knew. Yet somehow … Lacey couldn't explain why she was doing this. Even if she managed to get to the hospital she had no idea what she might find. She told herself over and over that he'd be okay. People survived heart attacks all the time.
The traffic was a bitch. Lacey ditched the cab two blocks from the hospital, throwing Angelo's money at the driver without waiting for change. Somehow running along the sidewalk made things easier, she actually felt like she was doing something even if her feet did keep slipping on the barely melted snow. The cold tore into her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath by the time she reached her destination. Lacey was forced to stop for a second and let the stitch in her side ease before she charged into Gold's room.
Gold was lying flat on the bed, hooked up to a respirator. His eyes were urgent, clouded with fear. Lacey followed his gaze and caught a glimpse of red hair. Lena … Lena was there in his room. She didn't know how or why but the woman was obviously scaring the shit out of Mr. Gold. Lena darted towards the door but Lacey blocked her path.
'Keep away from him!'
Lena laughed in her face.
'What are you going to do? Beat me to death with a diaper bag?'
'I mean it.'
'It's pathetic what you've become. A nameless hussy looking for a baby daddy. I can't believe that I actually used to respect you! '
Lacey slammed her fist into the other woman's face, taking pleasure in the crunch of broken bones. She stood over the fallen woman massaging her wrist. Her hand hurt, the knuckles bruised and raw.
'Security!' Lena screamed.
The room suddenly became crowded with nurses, doctors, security guards. To her horror Lacey realised that Lena was being helped to her feet. The woman's face was wet with crocodile tears as she sobbed in the arms of the biggest and burliest of the men.
'She attacked me!'
Lacey looked down at herself - cheap shoes, laddered pantyhose, a purse that had clearly seen the wrong end of a garage sale. A large hand clamped itself around her arm. Who would ever believe that she was playing hero? No one, it seemed … apart from Gold. He was struggling to sit up, his hands clawing at the tube in his mouth as he tried to rip it free. The beep from the heart monitor growing more frantic.
'Mr. Gold … Mr. Gold … please,' a nurse was begging him to lie still. Lacey vaguely recognised her as the woman who had looked after Poppy.
A doctor appeared. A syringe clutched in his fist he tried to inject the contents into the line that snaked its way to Gold's hand.
Gold tore the IV out. The nurse carefully removed the breathing tube.
'Let her go!'
His voice was hoarse as he struggled for breath. But no one could dispute the authority with which he spoke. He gestured for assistance, and was helped to sit up.
'I assure you that Miss French was acting in self defence,' he rasped. 'Get that woman out of here. NOW!'
Lacey shrunk back, trying to make herself as small as possible. The enormity of what she'd done hitting her straight in the gut. She'd tried so hard and now … and now she'd lost every bit of self respect she had. There was nothing left. No way she could provide for her daughter. Her face was wet, she realised. She couldn't stop crying.
The room was quiet now. Gold had been settled comfortably in his bed. She could see the concern in his eyes as he held out his hand. Lacey took it and let him pull her closer.
'How do you know her? Lena?' she asked.
The fear was back. She saw it, just for a second.
'It's a long and very unpleasant story.'
'I need to know.'
'Maybe … one day.'
But Lacey wasn't buying it. Not for a second. A fresh wave of tears threatened to overwhelm her as she found herself sobbing in his arms. Somehow he'd managed to pull her onto the bed with him, holding her close.
'I just lost my job,' she wept.
'Oh sweetheart … it's okay… it's okay. I'll take care of you … if you'll let me?'
He placed a finger under her chin, coaxing her to look at him.
'It would be a two way arrangement. A deal if you like?'
Lacey wiped her nose on the back of her hand.
'What kind of a deal?'
'Don't you think, after all this, that I need with looking after as well?'
She shook her head.
'I want more.'
'And you'll have it. I promise. There's a whole world waiting out there for you … you and Poppy.'
'The world?'
He nodded. Lacey settled back down beside him, letting herself believe in him, just for a little while.