An Unforeseen Turn of Events

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Ozzy spit out the dirty water from his mouth and felt his pockets for a handkerchief. After swearing when he found none, he lifted himself up after a few tries. Blood dripping down his raincoat, he hid behind in a corner of the parking garage holding his coat sleeve against his mouth, wanting to kick himself for being such a wimp and not having a chance to at least deflect the blow. Although his confidence was jolted his resolve stayed firm.

This was only a momentary setback, he reassured himself. He stood in that corner for fifteen minutes before dragging himself to his battered car. He climbed in and turned to the pile of newspapers on the passenger seat. A myriad of homes were circled from the real estate section—the ones he fantasized about owning. He touched the papers but not with the relish and enthusiasm he had experienced before. Upon moving the papers, he found discarded napkins from different fast-food restaurants and applied them to his bloodied mouth.

Don't give up now! You're so close, he exhorted himself, shutting his eyes in an effort to strengthen his determination. He continued his self-coaching while deciding what his next move would be, vowing he would increase the pressure as well as the misery on that hotshot actor. He doesn't know whom he's dealing with! I will never let up on him!

Once he finished his self-talk, he reached for his cell to call his contact from The Boston Globe.

"Jim Thomas." Jim answered. Jim was an administrative assistant, still hoping he'd move up.

"Jim, ready to make a killing? Ready to be famous?" Ozzy said.

"W-what? We hit it big on that lottery ticket?" Jim asked, his voice waiting to burst from excitement.

"Even better. Much better that fifty grand. Meet me for lunch at McDonald's and I'll give you the details. Wait till you hear. In no time you'll be promoted to writing features."

Jim was silent for a moment, taking in Ozzy's words. "All right, twelve sharp," he finally said.

***

"What happened to your mouth, Ozzy?" Jim asked when Ozzy came to the booth with his lunch.

Ozzy waved his arm. "Don't worry about that. "How's it going at the paper?"

Jim shook his head. "Same. I apply every year to be a writer. Get the standard letter they're not hiring now, and before I know it, I see a new writer in the office."

Ozzy shook his head in sympathy. "What if I tell you some information you could write up and present it to them. Wouldn't that get you noticed?"

"I think so," Jim bit into a French fry. "They're always looking for the next big story."

"Well, Jim, my boy, I think you"ll finally get noticed. Have I got a story to tell you." Ozzy's eyes bore into Jim's in a steel gaze.

"Why, Ozzy? he asked, furrowing his brows. "What don't you use it for yourself? I know you want to get ahead too."

"Because I've got other plans," Ozzy told him, picking up his Big Mac. "I'm going to L.A. to be an investigative reporter for a hotshot private investigator. Once he sees how I can deliver, he'll tell me the job is mone for the taking and I can command the salary I want."

Watching his companion take a generous bite of his sandwich, Jim made a face and threw down his fry. "I don't want to go anywhere near L. A. My ex is still there and she ruined any chance I have to make a living there."

"But hey, Jim, you won't need to go to L.A.," Ozzy touched Jim's arm. "You can do just fine here. This will set you up."

And Ozzy told him what he had in mind. Hearing the plan, Jim regained his appetite and went back to his fries.

***

Trudy sat in the waiting room, continually checking her watch and the wall clock.

What's taking him so long! she thought. Uncle Seth was comforting her grandmother while her grandfather had one arm around his wife while gazing downward, lost in his own thoughts.

Trudy felt an arm enclosing her shoulders. She looked into her Aunt Heather's tear-stained eyes.

"They'll be here soon. Don't worry," she told her niece. "They're probably navigating their way through Boston traffic right now. It's a good thing you called Uncle Seth when you did. He was about to leave for Connecticut and it would've taken him hours to get here."

Trudy tried to smile but couldn't. She wasn't able to dismiss the encroaching fear that she may lose the man she has known as her father her whole life. She refused to face the prospect of her biological father coming into her life. It was all too much to process, so she continued waiting while struggling to hold back tears. Her body began to tremble watching her grandparents and waiting for her mother and brother to arrive.

"Was your mother planning to take a few days off from her job this week?" Aunt Heather asked, attempting to fill the vacuum.

Trudy nodded.

Trudy was ready to fall apart crying when her mother and Tim entered the hospital waiting room.

"How is Dad?" Christine ran over to Trudy.

"We don't know yet. We're all hear waiting for the doctor to come out."

Trudy hugged her mother, allowing her tears to flow down at last.

Daniel's doctor appeared. The whole family quickly stood and gathered around him, waiting to hear every nuance of what he was about to utter.

"We're doing all we can," Dr. Sherman told them with a grim expression. "But he's weakening steadily. He's been fighting a brave battle considering he has the worst form of leukemia.

Daniel's mother let out a cry and covered her face with her hands. Daniel's father tried to comfort her but his face crumbled as he took in the news.

Dr. Sherman turned to Christine. "He would like to see you alone."

Christine nodded and followed the doctor, trying hard not to cry, struggling to put on a brave face.

Everyone was silent for a long time. Tim took a seat next to Trudy and told everyone, "Mom lost her cell phone and the phones in Mom's building weren't working this morning. I had to drive all the way to her job."

"Good Lord," Uncle Seth said, shaking his head. "Of all mornings."

Daniel's father wanted to say something but didn't have the strength. He stared at his hands in his lap.

When everyone looked sufficiently distracted, Tim whispered to Trudy, "Ryan Monti was in Mom's office this morning."

"Why? What was he doing there?" Trudy demanded in a quiet voice. She looked horrified.

"It's not what you're thinking. A journalist is blackmailing him, saying he'll tell the press about us if he doesn't pay up.

Trudy stared open-mouthed. "How in the world did he find out? I bet he knew before we did!"

"Mom wasn't up to telling me the whole story, but Ryan's going back to L.A. to see what he can do about getting rid of this guy.

Trudy put both her hands on her forehead and swayed back and forth. She moaned that pain was shooting into her head. Seeing her distress, Tim put her arm around his sister and said, "Hey, don't get bent out of shape over this. Ryan's going to do his best to take care of it. He really isn't such a bad guy." He gave his sister a gentle squeeze when he saw her growing pale.

"I shouldn't have said anything," he spoke more to himself than to her.

"Trudy, are you all right?" Uncle Seth came over and sat next to Trudy, putting his hand tentatively behind her back. "Heather."

"I'm right here, Trudy," Aunt Heather came rushing over and her husband vacated his seat for her. She rubbed Trudy's back. "You just hold on. Your parents are good people. You've got plenty of support here. You're not alone."

When she saw her words did nothing to soothe her, Heather asked her, "Do you need to take something, honey? If you need a pain reliever, we're in the right place."

Trudy tried to smile at her aunt's lame joke but started crying instead.