Alex was not looking forward to returning to LA, to Gerard's huge Bel Air mansion. It was not home on any level to the student, it just made him feel like an outsider. He hated the fact he would not even be able to escape on his bike or do hours of laps in the pool as he was back to being a delicate little flower, when even walking up stairs left him breathless, with his heart beating ten to the dozen, pain radiating as he was gripped by atrial fibrillation, luckily these episodes passed after a few minutes. He was sure Harry was keeping track of these fluctuations and reporting back to his boss, Tony and ultimately the cardiologist in Cambridge. Knowing his papa, he would be dragged to a cardiologist once they got to LA. He did not want a pacemaker. The thought of heart surgery frightened him. Not that he remembered the last time he'd been in surgery, when he had been unaware of the fact he had lost his legs.
They were flying to Phoenix today for some film publicity bullshit. It could have been worse, they could have been flying commercial. Today they were in a business jet courtesy of the film distributors, who were after nominations in the up and coming awards season, Tony tipped for best supporting actor at the Independent Film Awards. The combination of all the parties, lunches and networking meant they would be in LA until he went back to Cambridge in January. Only that was now reduced to an if, by his continued ill health.
Turbulence marred the descent into Sky Harbor Airport and as a result Alex was barfing his recently eaten lunch into a paper bag, with his Papa rubbing circles on his back. Tony was looking tired and worried, keeping up with work obligations but always petrified he would be called to the Emergency Room as his son's condition worsened from manageable to critical. He was clinging on with grim determination as in three days, he and Gerard would be back home as a proper family to take care of his son, who was becoming more depressed by the day.
The two parties split company as they exited the plane, Tony, assistant and film publicist in one car, Alex and Harry in the other.
"At least no queues for security, I fucking hate all that shit. Sorry, Harry but I feel death warmed up again, maybe we can get some sightseeing in after a nap. Bath and nap. I smell like puke, all I can taste is puke, it even came out of my nose."
"No worries on that score, is there anything to sight see in Phoenix anyway?" Harry was aware they were only here for the night and due in Denver tomorrow morning, no time to visit the wonders of the Grand Canyon or the Sonoma Desert.
"Google it while I'm having a soak. Never been here before myself. Golf… its big for golf. I'm fucking shit at driving now. I can whack the ball but I fall over every time. Handicap! Too fucking right. Can you play wheelchair golf? Google that as well."
The hotel was 5star full on luxury resort with its own golf course. Alex noted it was part of Roscoe Holdings Inc. He was in his wheelchair and was for once happy to coast and let everyone ignore him to interact with the responsible able bodied carer.
Only the fascist on reception did not believe Harry and the cripple were part of the Tony Fletcher party . "Do not call papa, Harry, or his uptight assistant. They're in the middle of the film festival press conference. I have a better idea."
"What this time? Tony warned me about your 'I have a cunning plan' moments."
"Chill man, I'm phoning a friend." Alex paused checking the time on his phone and took a chance on waking his friend in London. "Paul, I hope I didn't wake you… Cool still working… Yeah, you got that last coding I did for you, whoever wrote the first draft was shit.…. No, need a favour…. I'm right assuming you are the major shareholder in everything with the Roscoe name on it. I'm in Phoenix at the Golf Resort…. Yeah… Well, the ass-wipe on reception is bring a dick about me and Harry checking in… well I look nothing like papa….can you shake things up, like email the chairman, CEO and the person in charge of crippled freaks… yeah yeah be as shitty as you want… shittier the better…. full Stellenbosch is cool…. well it was either phone you or Gerard's Gestapo assistant, but she hates me. Thanks, I'll ring you back if that doesn't work."
Within minutes, the management team had descended in full grovel mode. Alex wondered what Paul had actually put in his email, as it must have been apocalyptic. It wasn't like Paul was even an active board member. The orphaned billionaire was more interested in his own business start-ups, happy to include Alex when coding required his specialism of cryptology and cryptography. He pulled out his phone and typed quick email as the manager grovelled to Harry.
"You have got Mr. Fletcher's requirements, I hope? His assistant is normally very efficient. Fully wheelchair accessible. Hypoallergenic bedding and products and all room service to be aware of a strict vegan diet. Of utmost importance is the fact Alex is on a full medical alert status… heart problems, double amputee, serious allergies to milk and certain medications, and asthmatic. A doctor needs to be on call, as do paramedics. Stroke and cardiac failure are both high risk. Can we please go to the room as Alex needs rest?"
In the elevator Alex, let it known he was less than impressed with the way Harry had stressed his charge's ill health "Way to play I'm about to drop fucking dead card, Sergeant."
"Look we get in the suite, get you in a bath and I'll order your favourite, gazpacho with a side of crudités, hummus and flatbreads."
At the attempt at bribery, Alex went into mocking mode. "Don't forget your favourite, roast beef dinner with yorkshire pudding and all the trimmiings. No poor nursie is reduced to my diet choices as well. When we get back to Cambridge, I'll take you out to the local for that and skinful of bitter"
"Now, I can say just chill, baby. Just think on Tony's reaction when he finds out about your phone a friend moment. He will either laugh or throw the teddy out of the cot. Paul did not copy you into his email, did he?"
"No. He is well aware that I'm crook as you put it. He did visit me at Addenbrooke's and I told him all the grim details of nearly karking it. I also was emailing him throughout my complete bedrest period last week. I think he might have gone postal. I'll email Cass to see if any of the Grenoble crew were copied in. Wait, if they were it will be posted on Joe's blog."
…
At 10pm, Tony Fletcher arrived in the suite to see Harry Dixon sat reading with soft classical music playing from the iPod dock.
"How is he?"
"Asleep, has been since 2, I'll wake him now. We can all eat. He had a good lunch. I feel extending his diet is a must as soon as we get him home. Maybe a visit to the nutritionist and immunologist is advisable now he's sleeping better. His delicate stomach is worrying, I daren't suggest travel sickness tablets without their input."
Tony went to the minibar and pulled out a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. As he sat down and sipped the too cold wine, he let it known he was well aware of receptions faux pas earlier. "So, Paul Roscoe emailed my assistant and copied in the CEO of the film distribution company, also a subsidiary of Roscoe Communications. It was rather abrupt. Well done for Alex thinking outside the box. Although, I fear everyone and I mean everyone I work with is aware he is very ill. It will be in the papers. We were lucky that the TV interview he did had no mention of his current difficulties. Get, Alex up I think we've got our own personal chef awaiting our order downstairs, from an award winning vegan restaurant in downtown Phoenix."
…
Gerard Marshall was glad to be home, only hours before Tony and Alex were due. Missy had gone home to rest and recuperate from the stress of the last few days when they had been inundated with offers of support and concern regarding his sick step son. He had always been a very private man and the openness of emotion had been very unexpected. Not a decade ago his lifestyle had often been treated with blank stoniness or open disgust. It was as if being a parent had changed everything. He had never been like Tony, with his early political activism fighting for inclusion and acceptance.
All messages had been answered with the fact that Alex was stable at the moment and may need surgery in the New Year. Thank you for your thoughts and prayers. They would still entertain this Christmas, but to had been noted Tony was looking drawn, tired and had wept when one interviewer had mentioned Alex.
Worst had been Marie, who had insisted on coming over for New Years to look after her favourite nephew personally. He could just see a mountain of problems as the supremacy of his housekeeper was challenged. Connie had lived and worked here for nearly twenty years and she was wonderful, organising everything efficiently and seamlessly. She too was forgoing her winter holiday, concerned over Tony's lovely boy. Gerard knew Alex was likely to be sullen, moody and rude, as Tony had already flagged up depression was a certainty for the young man used to full independence.
It was seven, and Connie had prepared watercress soup, with pilau and roasted vegetables to follow for supper. To keep himself occupied, Gerard had been down to his wine cellar to select a nice burgundy to accompany the meal as champagne seemed inappropriate. They were all waiting on tenderhooks.
Connie then asked "the nurse, Mr. Dixon, I assume he would prefer meat, poultry and fish?"
"Yes, he is a typical dour Yorkshireman according to Tony. Until he met Alex he thought all meals incorporated meat and potatoes, the only acceptation being curry. I still cannot understand the duality of these two cuisines. Alex loves curries blisteringly hot as well. Not at the moment though. He can barely stomach normal vegan food never mind chillies."
"A Mr. Roscoe sent over two cases of beer from London for Alex. Is he allowed alcohol?"
"All things in moderation. The exception being dairy. I'm afraid none in the house is the best policy. I hated the first aid refresher Missy booked me on in New Zealand. Alex's heart has been shocked three times to get it back into rhythm, that machine being in my house is the scariest development in my life. I hear both you and the gardener were also party to her zealous attention to detail."
"I just hope it stays in its box." That had been in Connie's prayers since the defibrillator had been delivered.