Mr. Brightside - 6. Chapter 6

Mr. Brightside

Chapter 6

It was 7 am when Jason’s phone buzzed, indicating an incoming text. The apartment was so quiet, and he was so keyed up by the events of the past couple of days that he actually jumped at the noise. Unable to do anything other than toss and turn the night before, he had been up for a while and was on his second mug of coffee already.

Jason reached over for the phone beside him on the sofa. The text, from an unknown number, said “Ramon will pick you up at 8 am and take you to the hospital. VP.” Relieved that he had been granted permission to see Shane, Jason sat on the sofa, holding the phone for a moment or two longer waiting for any further info or instructions, but nothing else came.

He had showered earlier when he had given up on sleep, so all he had to do was change his silky basketball shorts and tank top for some jeans and a polo shirt and throw the supplies he had gathered last night into a backpack.

Jason’s internet research had indicated that many comatose patients benefited from sensory stimulation while being in a coma, some even claiming to remember events and conversations that happened in the room around them. So, he had spent part of his night putting together a playlist consisting of he and Shane’s favorite songs from their high school days. In addition to his iPod, he added a speaker, and his iPad. Remembering Shane’s love of reading, he had downloaded an audiobook app to it, and had bought some titles he thought Shane might like. Jason wasn’t sure whether or not the room would have a DVD player, but tonight, he planned to dig out his box of movies to find some of the ones he remembered Shane liking; if nothing else, Jason could play them on his laptop.

By 7:45, Jason was changed and packed. The unadorned walls of his apartment were closing in, so he decided to fill a travel mug with the dregs of the coffee pot and wait for Ramon outside on the porch. The previous tenant had left a couple of plastic Adirondack chairs, it was on one of those that Jason settled, his eyes glued to the street, watching for the limo. As he waited, sipping his bitter, black coffee, Jason felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle; it felt as if he was being watched.

He tried to ignore the sensation, but it persisted, until finally Jason rose and walked to the open side of the porch looking around trying to see if someone was actually there. He saw no one, but suddenly heard a car horn honk. Startled, he jerked around, splashing coffee on his shirt. “Shit!” he said, looking at the stain as another honk sounded. He looked up and saw the pearl grey limousine waiting at the curb. Sighing as he realized he would be spending the day wearing a stained shirt, he put the mug down on the porch railing, and walked toward the car.

As Jason approached, Ramon silently emerged from the driver’s seat and opened the door for him to climb in. Jason could have sworn he saw the man, wearing another impeccably tailored suit, glance at Jason’s stained shirt and smirk. Jason gave him a forced smile and an awkward “Good morning.” All he received from Ramon was a curt nod. As Ramon climbed back behind the wheel, and the limo smoothly slid into traffic, Jason settled into the luxurious seat. “Jesus,” he thought to himself, “what the fuck is going on, and how did I get involved in this?”

Lost in his thoughts, Jason likewise lost his sense of time, and was startled to feel the car stopping. He had only a moment to realize they were already at Lakeside Hospital before Ramon was opening the door for him to get out. “Thanks,” Jason told Ramon. Ramon’s stony face didn’t register any response; the driver merely said, “I’ll be here to pick you up at 5.” Before Jason could respond, Ramon had smoothly shut the passenger door, climbed back into the front seat and left.

Jason stood on the curb outside the hospital, uncertain what to do or where to go. It hadn’t occurred to him to ask Ramon, even if there had been time. As Jason stood there pondering his next move, he heard his name being called. When he turned, he spotted the pretty strawberry blond nurse from the day before.

“Nurse...ummmm…” he stumbled, trying to remember her name.

“Nix,” she said smiling. “But please, call me Laurie.”

“Thanks. Do you know where I can find Shane?”

“That’s why I’m here. I’m going to take you to him.” She turned and started walking toward the entrance.

“How is he?” Jason asked, falling in step beside her.

“Stable. It looks like the swelling is actually going down a bit. Everything else is healing nicely. No sign of infection or anything.”

“Great,” Jason said, relieved. Then, the initial worry about Shane dealt with, something occurred to him as he walked with the nurse through the glass doors and started across the expansive foyer. “Is this normal?”

She paused and turned to him. “Is what normal?”

“This.” He gestured toward her, then himself. “A nurse meeting a visitor and taking him to a patient’s room.”

She gave him a wry smile. “It is when the visitor has come to see a patient who is the personal friend of a large donor to the hospital. Especially if the donor himself has personal friends on the hospital’s board. Apparently Mr. Pamchenko was pleased with my work with Shane and asked that I be assigned to his case. It’s irregular, but, hospitals are like most organizations these days….when money talks, they listen. Anyway, come on, let’s get to his room.”

Laurie turned, and continued across the lobby. When she reached the bank of elevators, instead of hitting the up button, she turned and walked a bit further to a single set of elevator doors set some distance from the others. She reached into the pocket on the front of her scrubs, and pulled out two key cards, one of which she gave to Jason. “You’ll need this to activate the VIP express elevator,” she said. “Try not to lose it….getting it replaced is a pain.”

“VIP elevator?” Jason asked. “What the hell is that?”

The nurse laughed as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. She ushered Jason into the car, which had a marble floor and real wood paneled walls unlike the laminate clad elevator he had used yesterday.

“It’s the new thing in hospitals,” she said as the doors closed, and the car started moving upward. “It’s more for PR than anything, but for people willing to pay extra, we have a group of….well….” she paused and her face scrunched in thought, “.for want of a better word….a group of luxurious rooms. They’re designed to feel like a hotel. You’ll see.”

As she finished talking, the car stopped, and the doors opened. They stepped into an expansive space that did feel much more like the lobby of a nice hotel than a hospital waiting room. The floors were gleaming travertine, scattered with rugs, and straight ahead was a bank of floor to ceiling windows that looked out over Lake Pontchartrain. There were a couple of seating areas scattered around, and a large table holding an enormous arrangement of fresh flowers sat in the middle of the floor. To the right of the elevator doors, a well dressed man sat behind an elegant desk.

As they walked toward him, he rose and greeted them. “Hello, Nurse Nix. And you are?” he continued, extending his right hand to Jason’s.

“This is Jason,” Laurie said, gesturing to him. “He’s going to be visiting our patient in Suite 13.”

“Well, hello, Jason,” said the dapper middle aged man. “I’m Patrick, the concierge for the Pamchenko wing.” At the mention of the name, Jason groaned and involuntarily rolled his eyes toward Laurie, who shrugged, giving him a “what can I tell you” look.

Patrick looked a bit confused at the exchange, but his plastered on smile didn’t waver. “If there’s anything you need, Jason, please let me know. There is a button marked “C” on all the phones in the suite. Just hit that, and it connects directly to me. Will you be here for lunch?” he asked, brightly.

“I guess so.”

Patrick picked up a small leather bound portfolio and handed it to Jason. When he opened it, Jason realized it was a menu. “This the lunch menu for today. For the main course, there is a choice of beef, chicken or fish. Please note there is also a vegetarian option, and most of the items can be made gluten free. And of course, we’re more than happy to accommodate any allergies or religious needs.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Great,” Patrick smiled again. “Take the menu with you and please call when you’ve made your selection. Lunch is typically served between 11 and 1, but we are happy to make an exception if necessary.”

“Thanks,” Jason said awkwardly. He kind of felt like Julia Roberts when she was being sucked up to by the salespeople in Beverly Hills; but unlike her character, he didn’t like it. Perhaps sensing Jason’s discomfort, Laurie said to the concierge, “Thanks, Patrick. I’ll show Jason where everything is in the suite. I know he’s anxious to see Shane.”

“Of course,” Patrick smiled again, and nodded in Jason’s direction; a nod so deep, it was almost a bow.

“This way,” Laurie said, and gestured to a hallway on the left side of the lobby. The same gleaming travertine continued down the hallway which was covered in a metallic copper wall paper. Periodically, large abstract oil painting, lit by spot lights, broke the expanses of wall. The doors to the rooms, dark paneled wood with brass kick plates and handles were set into deep recesses. It looked like something out of a movie.

Eventually, Laurie paused in front of one of those doors, and opened it. Light filled the room from another of those banks of windows, but sheers pulled across the glass softened it. The flooring was something dark that looked like wood but felt softer underfoot. Most of the walls were covered in a soft green wall paper; the same sort of impressive oil paintings that graced the hallways decorated them.. A large alcove to the left of the door held a seating area with a large, comfortable looking sofa; floor to ceiling draperies in the same copper color as the hallway framed the alcove. Matching draperies flanked the large window. To the right, a long built in credenza of the same dark wood as the door sat underneath an enormous television flanked by more doors. White orchids in terracotta pots were scattered across the room on every horizontal surface.

But while Jason spent quite some time later exploring these and other splendors of the room, right now only one thing drew his attention. The still figure lying in the hospital bed. The hospital bed and the surrounding equipment made it impossible to pretend that you were anywhere else but a medical facility, no matter how luxurious the other furnishings.

Forgetting he wasn’t, alone, Jason dropped his backpack onto a chair and walked over to where Shane lay. He looked the same as yesterday, though it was only now that Jason noticed Shane’s beard was gone. Bruises still bloomed across his porcelain skin and swelling distorted his face, at least what little of his face could be seen between the ventilator mask and the bandages wrapping his head. Maybe it was the knowledge that there was real reason to be hopeful; maybe it was the knowledge that he loved the man in the bed; whatever the reason, Jason didn’t feel the same despair as yesterday. He felt hope.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispered, leaning down over the still figure. “I missed you.” And he leaned further over, delivering a soft kiss to the bandaged forehead. “How are you doing?” At the sound of Laurie clearing her throat, Jason quickly came to himself and shot upright. Sheepishly, he turned to her, but the nurse had a smile on her face.

“He’s doing fine,” she said. “Really. It’s going slowly, but the swelling is receding. I’ve already done his morning check up, so I’m going to leave you alone. If you need me, just hit this button,” she indicated a red button on the side of the bed. “If for some reason you don’t get an immediate response, the nurse’s station is just down the hallway past Patrick’s desk.”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling at her. “For everything.”

“No problem. It’s what I’m here for. I’ll be back in a bit to check on Shane.”

After she left, Jason explored the room a bit. One of the doors flanking the built in led to a marble clad bathroom with a giant walk in shower; the other a closet. He discovered that the curtains flanking the seating niche could be pulled together creating a private area, which made more sense after he discovered the sofa pulled out into a bed.

Jason returned to the main room, and opening the doors in the cabinet under the t.v., he discovered an ice machine, a mini fridge stocked with water, juice, soda, and any kind of milk possible from dairy to almond, and an entertainment system that included a docking station for an iPod, a PlayStation, and a BluRay DVD player. A single serve coffee maker sat on the credenza’s marble top, along with a selection of coffee pods, cups and saucers, and every sugar/sugar substitute known to man. Another silver tray on the counter help cut glass tumblers, presumably for the contents of the mini fridge. Standing up and closing the cabinet doors, Jason let out a low whistle

He turned to face the bed. “Shane, I’m not sure exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into, but I could get used to this.” Continuing to talk to his friend, Jason walked over to his backpack and retrieved his iPod. “I don’t know what you’re into listening to now, but I remember you used to like The Killers. Hope you still do.” Jason docked the iPod, and spent a few seconds fiddling with the master remote. Soon, the opening strains of “Somebody Told Me” filled the rooms. After adjusting the volume, Jason walked over to the bed, choosing the chair on Shane’s left. He sat down, taking Shane’s good hand is his own, being careful of the tubes and monitoring devices attached to the other man. For the first time in a long time, Jason felt like he was right where he was supposed to be.

Just before 5, Jason gathered his belongings, and after a quick kiss on Shane’s forehead and a whispered “I love you,” he hurried down to the front entrance to meet Ramon. It had been an uneventful day. He had spent most of it listening to music and talking aloud to Shane about their greatest hits of shared good times. Lunch (he had chosen the chicken) had been surprisingly good, much more like the cuisine from an expensive restaurant than hospital food. Jason had also made good use of the coffee machine, drinking enough coffee that Laurie had scolded him about too much caffeine on one of her periodic visits to check on Shane. Other than Laurie and a nurse’s aide, no one else had entered the room.

Jason had hated leaving so early, but Laurie had assured him that it was fine. “Look, you being here does help him. I believe that. But he’s going to need a lot more help after he wakes up, and if you exhaust yourself now, you won’t have the energy you need then. Go home and get some rest.” Jason knew she was right, but as he waited for Ramon, he resented being forced into this 8 to 5 schedule by Pamchenko. But Jason knew he had, at least for now, little choice.

Once he got home, he found himself at loose ends. One of the reasons he had settled in the MidCity neighborhood was its convenience and amenities, including a 24 hour gym near his apartment, one he had planned to join. “No time like the present,” he thought, with an endless night stretching out until his (he hoped) 8 am ride in the morning. So he changed into some workout clothes, grabbed his wallet, and headed to the gym. Signing up took little time, and soon he was sweating through a workout. Periodically his phone dinged, and he sighed. Since this afternoon, Denise had been texting him bible verses; Jason deleted them without reading them. How had he never realized how annoying she was?

Right as he was leaving, Jason’s phone dinged again. As he went to delete the message, he noticed it was from Brad. Jason started to delete, but felt guilty. Brad was his best friend, and Jason hadn’t been in touch since the move.

Jason texted: been at hospital shane’s still in coma

He didn’t bother to explain further. He was sure that Brad had gotten an earful from Denise and knew what was happening.

that’s a shame   anything I can do, let me know bro

appreciate it

“Hi, mom.”

“Hi, sweetie. Just calling to check on things. How’s Shane?”

“He’s stable. But the nurse says the prognosis is good, though we won’t know about brain damage until he wakes up.”

“Oh my goodness.” Barbara Reid paused. “I didn’t realize it was quite that serious.” Another pause. “And Denise? How is she?”

Jason sighed again, trying not to let his mother hear. “Fine. I guess. She feels good enough to keep texting me Bible verses.”

“Have you spoken to her?”

God, he hated having these conversations. “No, I haven’t.”

Now his mother sighed, audibly. “Jason, she’s your fiancee. You need to make up with her.”

“I’m not sure I want to. I’m…..” he stumbled over his words. “I’m starting to think I’ve made a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

‘I don’t think…” he paused. “I don’t think I want to marry her.”

“I don’t know what to say to you. I can’t believe you’re thinking of breaking that sweet girl’s heart over some silly argument.”

“It’s not that.” Jason struggled to explain his feelings without mentioning Shane or his anything that would hint to his mother he was gay. “It’s just….I just don’t think we’re right for each other.”

Another long sigh from Barbara. “I don’t know what to say about all this. You’re a grown man, and I can’t make you marry her, but I think breaking up with her is a huge mistake. I can’t even imagine what people will think when they hear.”

Anger flashed through him. “Maybe, mother, I don’t give a fuck what people think.”

“Jason Reid!!!! Don’t you ever speak to me like that!. I don’t know what’s gotten into you since you moved to that place.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I’ve got to go, my food’s ready.” He hit the button ending the call before she could answer. Before the phone could ring again, he powered it off.

The next couple of days went the same. Ramon picking Jason up at home at 8 and then at the hospital at 5. Talking to Shane, holding his hand, listening to music, listening to a Neil Gaiman audiobook, and watching movies. Working out every night to avoid staying in his lonely apartment. Eating takeout, texting Brad, and dodging texts and calls from Denise and his mother,.

One evening, as he was changing for the gym, a knock sounded. He started, dropping a sneaker in his surprise. In the time since he had moved here, no one had been by but a pizza delivery guy or two. As he walked from the bedroom through the living room toward the front door, Jason called out, “Hello?”

“Jason Reid?” came from the other side.

As Jason made it to the front door, he caught a glimpse of the figure on the porch through the sidelights. Detective Venturi.

Jason opened the door. “Hello,” he said uncertainly.

“Sorry about dropping in like this. I tried calling, but it kept going to voicemail.”

Involuntarily, Jason glanced at his phone lying on the trunk he used for a coffee table. It was, as it was most of the time these days, turned off. “Sorry, I turned my phone off.” Jason looked sheepish. “I’m avoiding my mother.”

The detective’s mouth twitched into what was almost a smile. “I understand, trust me. Can I come in? I’d like to talk to you.”

“Sure,” Jason said, stepping back to open the door fully. “Do you want something to drink. I think all I’ve got is water and milk. Or I could make some coffee.”

“Coffee would be great if it’s not too much trouble.”

“It will only take a second,” Jason assured the detective, walking toward the kitchen as Venturi settled himself on the sofa. “What the hell,” Jason thought to himself nervously as he filled the filter. Venturi didn’t seem upset, but still, nobody, even the law abiding, are prepared for a police detective to show up out of the blue.

“How do you take it?” Jason yelled to the living room after brewing finished. He had spent the time the coffee dripped practicing deep breathing and was almost calm again.

“Black,” came the answer.

After filling two mugs, Jason walked back into the living room and handed one to Venturi who had taken his jacket off and relaxed into the sofa. Jason couldn’t help looking at the detective’s holstered gun as he pulled a stool over.

“So…” Jason started nervously…”What’s this about.”

Venturi looked up from the mug he had been examining. “I’d like you to keep this conversation confidential. Most of what I’m going to tell you is public record, or will be soon, but still…...keep a lid on it.”

“Ummm….sure.” Jason was lost.

“It’s about your friend, Shane. The other morning, I don’t think we told you the whole story.”

Jason almost interrupted him to say that he knew the rest, but something told him to stay silent.

“After Shane was abducted and beaten, he was thrown out of a van. And I don’t know if they told you at the hospital; he was raped.” Venturi paused and looked at Jason as if to gauge his reaction. Jason didn’t know how to respond. He decided to go with the truth, “I don’t what to say.”

“Yeah, it was all pretty cold. Being thrown out of the van was probably what got him so banged up. Anyway, a witness happened to see the dump and was able to identify the make and color of the van, plus give a partial on the plates. We found the van this morning.”

“That’s great. Did you find the guy?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? What do you mean maybe? What did he say?”

“Nothing. It’s kind of hard to say anything when you’ve been shot in the head. Before that…...” the detective paused. “They had been tortured.”

Jason sat there, stunned. “What?”

“Here’s what happened. There was a car accident this morning on Wisner Boulevard; one of the cars went into Bayou St. John. When the team went in the water do the recovery, they found the van. One of them happened to notice it matched the description of a vehicle used in a crime…..when they pulled it out, they found two bodies, both shot in the head, execution style. It’s almost certainly the perps. Their DNA matches DNA from the rape kit. But there was a third DNA that wasn’t identified.”

Jason sat there is silence, trying to process. All he could think of was Pamchenko and his assurances that Shane’s assailant would be taken care of. He was happy the bastards had suffered, but still he shivered. Something Venturi had said penetrated Jason’s mental fog...a third man

“It wasn’t me….I didn’t…”

Venturi interrupted him. “Look, kid, if I thought you had the slightest thing to do with any of it, you’d be down at the station right now. I’m here to try to get some information about your friend and give you a warning.”

“A warning?”

“I’ve been doing a bit of digging. Your friend Shane seems to be…..bad luck.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he just got put in the hospital, and two of the guys who almost certainly put him there just turned up tortured and executed. But this isn’t his first trip to the hospital in the past year.”

“What?”

“Does the name Nikolai Pamchenko ring a bell?”

Jason thought about lying, but decided it wouldn’t be wise. “He’s Shane’s fiance.”

“Right. Six months ago, their place on Esplanade was the target of a home invasion. Shane got banged up, though nothing like this time.”

“What about Nikolai?”

“Who knows?”

“Be serious. You know what I mean. What happened to Nikolai?” Jason demanded.

“I’m being serious. I don’t know. Nobody knows. He disappeared, presumably abducted. Hasn’t been seen since. The case was taken over by the FBI, but when I tried to get some info from my contact there, he said the file has been sealed. Strictly top secret. Off limits.”

“What did Shane say?”

“Said he was knocked unconscious. Said he doesn’t remember anything.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Wasn’t my case. I haven’t talked to him. Just know what was on the report.”

As Jason sat in silence processing the information, the detective asked another question. “Is the name Corey Crowder familiar?”

“Who?”

“Corey Crowder.”

The name hovered tantalizingly on the edge of Jason’s consciousness. “It sounds familiar, really familiar, but I can’t place it.” Suddenly, Jason rose and walked over to his bookcase, pulling out a yearbook, and flipping through it. He stopped. “Here he is. He went to high school with Shane and me….he was a year younger. I never really hung out with him much, but he and Shane were good friends.”

“That makes sense. They were roommates in the summer of 2011.”

“So,” Jason said.

“So, Corey Crowder died a couple of years later.”

“How did he die?”

“Fire. He was a hustler; did some porn, streaming stuff for a website. Producer was local. He shot out of his house in the Bywater. Corey and some other guys were apparently doing a shoot at the producer’s house when it caught on fire. No one made it out, including the producer. Cause of fire never determined.”

“Did the police think Shane was involved?”

“He wasn’t mentioned at all in file. But when I was looking into Shane’s background, I came across Crowder’s name and remembered the case, cause I remember it stank to high heaven.”

The detective focused an intense gaze on Jason. “Look, Jason, I don’t know anything about your friend, except he doesn’t have a great track record. In the past four years, he’s been beaten twice, his rapists have been executed, his fiance has disappeared, and his former roommate died under mysterious circumstances. That’s a lot of coincidences. I don’t know what’s going on or what's he's mixed up in, but I want to find out. What can you tell me about him?”

Jason’s mind was reeling. What the everloving fuck? “I don’t know anything, I swear. I mean, his ….I don’t know what you’d call him….his father in law is creepy, but I guess you already know about him?” He looked at Venturi, wondering if he should mention his interview with the S.O.B.

Venturi nodded, “Yeah...Viktor Pamchenko. He’s as sketchy as fuck, supposed to have been tied into the mafia in the 1990s….but I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything on him lately….he may have connections, but he personally has been squeaky clean for at least the last 20 years. And by all accounts, he and his son were really close. He’s offered a huge reward for info about Nikolai. And spent a fortune on private investigators. Maybe…" the detective trailed off.

Jason almost blurted out what Pamchenko had told him but….he was scared of the man. Plus, those bastards deserved what was coming…...and he couldn’t risk cutting off his contact with Shane if Pamchenko traced the comments back to himself. Besides….torture and execution….holy shit…..this was all above Jason’s pay grade.

"Anybody else?” Venturi pressed.

“No”,” Jason said. “At least not that I know. Shane’s a farmer’s son from a hick town. When I knew him before, the closest person to important that he knew,” Jason swallowed thinking of the guy, “was Thomas McAlpin, and he wasn’t important….just his dad was.”

“Thomas McAlpin? Sounds familiar.”

“His dad’s a senator; Thomas works with his office now, I think. We knew Thomas at college. At least briefly. I spent a year with him in high school, and then he spent a semester at Tech. He and Shane…” this part was difficult for Jason, “went out for a bit. But Thomas left school after one fall semester. He ended up in some Baptist university.”

“McAlpin,” Venturi repeated. “Senator Trent McAlpin? He has a gay son? I can’t see that going over well.”

“I don’t think he knew. At least not at first. And when Senator McAlpin found out….that’s when Thomas transferred. But as far as I know, Shane never met the Senator….at least not while he was at Tech.”

“Well, shit,” said Venturi. “I was hoping you might have some missing piece.”

“What now? What’s your next step?”

“I honestly don’t know,” the detective sighed. “If you think of anything else, call me.” He pulled a card out his pocket and offered it to Jason. Glumly, Jason took it. He was getting too used to taking cards from policemen these days.

Thanking Jason for the coffee, Venturi took his leave. Almost in a trance, Jason shut the door, bolting it automatically. All thoughts of the gym were gone. He sank down onto the floor, his back against the door, his head in his hands. “Jesus Christ, Shane,” Jason thought, “what have you done?”

********************************************

A black sedan was parked at the end of the block. The figure inside watched the bulky man leave; the sedan’s driver had already traced the detective’s identity through the car tags. He called his employer. “Your young friend just had a very interesting visitor...a Detective Venturi of the NOPD. He is one of the officers assigned to Shane O’Neal’s case. Just thought you might like to know…..”

“Thank you,” said the deep voice on the other end of the line. “That’s very interesting.” The line went dead.