Sure enough, it was Monday, June 24; and it was time for Bitsy to be discharged from the hospital. She had not been looking forward to this day in the slightest; not that she wasn't happy to be home, of course. Being on suicide watch sucked. She couldn't be left alone for any amount of time, she wasn't allowed to have anything sharp on her without supervision, and worst of all her medication was out of reach lest she try to intentionally overdose on them.
Not helping matters was having both of her arms in casts and having to keep the promise she made to the doctors about going sober. This whole situation just sucked. All she could really do now was power through it and hope it was all worth it in the end. At the very least, she'd have to give it some time before she could make peace with it.
Helen wasn't pleased with this whole situation, either. Not only was she still having to wait for Bitsy to die so she could get her money, but Bitsy's attitude regarding everything seemed to have hardly changed. Sure, she didn't have to deal with Bitsy being intoxicated for now, but she knew it was only a matter of time before Bitsy felt that she was in the clear and started drinking again. Bitsy could never stray away from alcohol for very long. Still, Helen couldn't help but worry about Bitsy and how this was all affecting her. Sure, she had pretty negative feelings when it came to Shampagne and him getting in the way of receiving the inheritance she so desperately yearned for; but at the end of the day, she still cared about Bitsy's mental well-being.
It was hard to imagine how badly Bitsy must've been taking everything, especially just a short while after Whitney's death. Helen hadn't been doing great herself. If she could've told her things would work out somehow, she would've. If she could've been there to comfort her every time her emotions overtook her, she would've. Try as she might, Helen could never remember a time when she saw Bitsy cry, especially when the latter was in a vulnerable spot. It was probably the way Bitsy had been raised, but who was to say?
For the time being, Helen had decided to hire a senior caretaker to help her with Bitsy. Enter Jasmine de la Garza. Jasmine was a Tejana who had come to live in New York just months prior to be with her long-distance boyfriend. She had honey-colored skin, close-set light brown eyes, and ink-black hair styled in a voluminous shoulder-length haircut that was colloquially known as the Rachel. She was wearing royal blue jogger scrubs from Zamora paired up with matching Converse shoes.
"Welcome home, Miss Brandenham," Jasmine greeted. "I hope you've been doing well this week."
Instantly, Bitsy was simultaneously confused and irritated by her presence. "Excuse me, who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my penthouse?"
Jasmine was a little taken aback by what Bitsy had said, but ventured on. "I'm Jasmine, your caretaker? Your hotel manager hired me to help take care of you?"
"Oh... right." Bitsy then narrowed her eyes. "You're not going to try to embezzle money from me to pay off a drug dealer, are you?"
Jasmine scrunched her face in confusion. "What? What do you mean?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Jasmine. I had an assistant named Aurora pull that shit on me once. She also stole some pills from me and tried to drown me in my toilet when I fired her over it."
"What? I don't-"
Helen put a hand to Jasmine's shoulder before she could say anything else. "Don't try to fight with her on this. She's not going to listen."
"Um, okay, I won't. You really think I can handle her, Helen?"
"Well, 'handle' might not be the best word to use here. For better or worse, Bitsy is a stubborn old witch."
"You can say that again. I can tell you from experience that dealing with old people like this is not a cakewalk, especially someone as suicidal as your boss there."
"Mm-hmm."
"So tell me: what exactly happened to lead her to jumping off her balcony?"
Helen proceeded to tell Jasmine the whole story: beginning with Bitsy getting infected with COVID-19 in 2020 and having to deal with the lingering after-effects, her never-ending quest to purchase Central Park just to have it bulldozed to make way for a new district, the death of her older brother Ambrose in 2024, reconciling with her best friend Whitney with the help of the latter's grandson that same year, losing that same best friend earlier this year, the mental breakdown, and lastly the suicide attempt.
Jasmine just nodded. "Okay, I can definitely see why. I'm really sorry for her loss."
"Me too. I just wish there was more I could do to help her. Also, the doctor says it could take a while before the fractures in her arms fully heal, if at all."
"Understood. These things take time."
Days passed since Jasmine started working with Bitsy. As Jasmine quickly came to find out, it was a thankless job. She had no idea how Helen was able to put up with the cantankerous hotel owner and her frankly impossible demands; nor did she know how the Brandenham Hotel had managed to survive for as long as it did without getting sued to oblivion by disgruntled former employees. All she knew was that pretty much everything Helen had said about Bitsy was true.
Still, Jasmine knew from the moment she started working in senior care that it was never going to be easy work. All she could really do was treat Bitsy the same she would any other client. Shouldn't have been too hard, right?
And that's what Jasmine set out to do, no matter how demeaning the work got. Today was certainly not going to be any different in that regard... at least she hoped it wasn't. By now, she'd gotten the routine down: wake Bitsy up, help her with breakfast, accompany Helen to get Bitsy a (non-alcoholic) drink from the bar, help Bitsy with her work, help her with lunch, more work, help her with dinner, get her ready for bed.
"You need anything, Miss Brandenham?" Jasmine asked.
"I need another drink," Bitsy replied.
"You just had one."
"Did I stutter? I need another drink."
Jasmine inwardly sighed. "Alright. Mind if I ask what kind of drink you want this time? And remember, you promised the doctors you weren't going to drink anymore, so no alcohol."
"I only told them that so they could do the surgery!"
"That figures. What kind of drink you want?"
"Ugh... virgin mojito, I guess. God, I hate being sober. It's so boring!"
"Alright, I'll be back."
Bitsy just watched as Jasmine went down to the bar to get her the virgin mojito. With both of her arms in casts, Bitsy didn't have much of a choice but to wait and wait. Several minutes later, Jasmine came back with the virgin mojito (complete with a straw).
"Ooh..." Bitsy's eyes lingered a little longer on Jasmine's hand than expected as she handed her the virgin mojito. "I hope it's not going to turn into an English Patient kind of situation."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jasmine asked.
"You know... caregiver and patient? A strong bond develops? Intimacy?"
Jasmine instantly caught on where this was going. "Miss Brandenham, I have a boyfriend."
"So? He doesn't have to know."
"Yeah, no, that's not going to happen. Just take the drink and drink it before you get me fired, okay?"
Bitsy huffed. "Fine."
Just as Bitsy was about to consume the drink, the phone started to ring.
"Uh, do you want me to get it?" Jasmine asked.
"Yes, get the phone," Bitsy replied. "I'm expecting someone important today."
Jasmine did as told and held it out for her patient. Bitsy didn't even seize the opportunity to grab the phone.
"What are you doing?" Bitsy asked, irritated. "I can't hold the phone properly right now, dumbass. Bring it to my ears."
Jasmine did as told and had to keep herself from talking back to her. Besides, Helen had told her this was something Bitsy tended to demand very often anyway, so there wasn't much she could do about it.
Bitsy just started speaking into the phone. "Who is it? Oh, hello, Mrs. Eguchi! I was waiting for you." Her voice had shot up an octave at this point in an attempt to sound more genial. "You want to meet us where? Las Vegas? I think that can be arranged." Bitsy just nodded as Mrs. Eguchi kept speaking on the other end. "Alright, we'll do it. Just let me bring my caretaker and my dog. Bye."
With that, Jasmine hung up the phone on her patient's behalf. "I think I already know the answer to this one, but should I know who Mrs. Eguchi is?"
"You'd be stupid to not know who that is. Hibari Eguchi is the matriarch of a yakuza group known as the Torii Clan."
"Hold up. In addition to working with Russian gangsters, you've also affiliated yourself with the yakuza?"
"Of course. I'd do anything to demolish Central Park faster."
"Of course you would. I just hope for your sake you know what you're doing. I don't know how dangerous the yakuza are, but I've heard that they're on par with, like, the mafia."
Bitsy was getting a little flustered. "Of course I know what I'm doing! You think I'd be trying to tear down Central Park if I didn't?"
"I guess not." Jasmine started to leave. "Okay. I guess I'll leave you to it. Good luck with your... plan."
"Of course. I'm going to need all the luck in the world for this."
