“You’re fired,” I reply, turning for the bedroom. Davis grabs my dress so hard it tears from the back. Everyone in the room gasps in unison.
“You are not going anywhere,” he says, gripping my arm. “This is breach of contract. They can sue you and so can I.”
I look at his hand on my arm. “You just tore my dress and grabbed me inappropriately. There are fifteen witnesses. I’m pretty sure I can sue you right back.”
I pull away and march into my room, reaching for my inhaler as I wrench the dress off. And then I call Ben. “Pull the trigger. On all of it. Also, do you know how I can get a plane?”
From the car, I call Beth and Jim and tell them I’ve got a plane ready to go. We’ll leave for Ethiopia in ninety minutes, sooner if we get there faster and the pilot does too. I’m calling everyone I know to make sure this is being taken seriously.
“This is so kind of you,” Beth says. “You really don’t have to go there. I know you’re busy.”
She still thinks I’ve done all this simply because I dated Six. It kills me that I can’t tell them, but maybe it’s for the best. Because if they knew, I’d have to tell them he tried to call me, and the fact that he got cut off doesn’t seem good.
“It might help to have me there,” I tell her. “There might be people I can call.”
“You’re right,” she says, and then she’s crying again. “This is so kind of you. I’ll never forget it. I’m still trying to reach Joel. Hopefully he can come with us.”
Normally, I’d think Six’s presence would make a bad situation worse. Except this situation can’t get worse. It might already be over and we don’t even know.
I go online and look up kidnappings in Somalia, and I wish I hadn’t. Josh wasn’t exaggerating about the dangers. Kidnappings are routine there. Kidnapping of doctors is routine. An optimist would see that at least half of them survive. A pessimist, me, sees that of the other half, many die, and many are held for years before they are rescued. I close Wikipedia. I don’t want to know any more.
The plane is ready to go by the time Beth and Jim reach the airport. “I reached Joel,” Beth says, squeezing my hand. “He’s flying out tonight.”
She looks so hopeful about us. I feel all the blood drain from my face but I say nothing. It doesn’t matter. Nothing at all matters as long as Josh is okay.
I let Jim and Beth take the actual bedroom at the back of the plane. I’m sleeping fitfully in one of the reclining seats when she takes the chair beside me. Her face is drawn.
“We just heard from Sloane,” she says, tears rolling down her face. “They’ve been found, but several people are injured and an American is dead.”
The tight knot in my stomach becomes a hole and I feel as if I’m falling right through it. There were other Americans there, but the bulk of the staff was French. And I know how little good hoping for the best does at times like this. Beth begins to sob and I join her, my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking.
“What are they doing with the survivors?” I ask when I can finally get the words out. “When will we know?”
“They’ll be flown to Ethiopia once they’re medically stable,” she says. “The rest of the staff is already on their way there.”
My eyes squeeze shut. Even if Josh isn’t the one who died, that still doesn’t mean he’s okay. And if he is okay, if he did survive, I need to know this can never happen again. Beth goes back to the bedroom and I pick up my phone.
“Hey, Ben,” I say to his voicemail, “when you’re drawing all this up, can you do one more thing? I want to give fifteen million dollars to this refugee camp in Somalia.” I know I’ve got that much liquid right now and I’ll send more later. “And half of it has to be earmarked for security.”
I’m somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean right now—groundless, without a manager, without a record deal or an assistant, and soon to be without most of my money. None of it matters. Josh is the one thing, of all the things I had, that I wish was still mine.
It’s early evening when we arrive in Ethiopia. The air is sweltering, Beth seems exhausted, and just as I’m kicking myself for not arranging transportation, I see a driver holding a sign with the names Bailey/Andreyev on it. Ben has taken care of everything.
Beth’s been told that some of the survivors of the shooting are already on the plane to Ethiopia, so we go straight to the hospital. The first person I see when we enter the emergency room is Sabine. Her eyes go wide and then she launches herself at me, as if I’m family. “Thank you for coming,” she says and she starts crying. “They won’t tell us anything. Please. Do you have news? Please.”
That small, terrified voice inside me thinks: She doesn’t sound like a friend or a colleague. But this is about Josh, and I just want him to be happy, even if it’s not with me. “I don’t know anything.”
She buries her face in her hands. “I should have stayed with him,” she says and she starts to cry. Her friends console her and I walk away with Beth.
“Who was that?” Beth asks. “Is she his girlfriend?”
My stomach sinks. Even Beth thinks there was something there. “I don’t know,” I reply, my heart so heavy it hurts. It doesn’t matter. “She’s someone he works with, I think.”
I know Six has arrived when I hear Jim’s disgusted exhale. I resent him for it, but I understand it as well—even from a distance it’s clear Six is worse for wear. He’s wearing sunglasses inside and I can smell his pot-and-beer odor from five feet away. He hugs his mother, then me.
“Thanks for helping my parents,” he says against my ear. “Can we talk later, once we know the deal with Josh?”
“There is absolutely nothing to discuss,” I reply, detaching myself. “I didn’t do this for you.”
There’s a commotion at the door before he can even react. A gurney is coming in, led by two guys in flight suits. The patient is on oxygen, has lines going everywhere. I clutch Beth’s arm until the guy’s face comes into view.
“It’s not him,” I whisper, relieved and devastated at once. I don’t want Josh to have been badly hurt, but I’d take that over other alternatives. Suddenly, Beth’s legs start to give out. I catch her and Jim sprints across the room to help me get her into a chair.
“I’m sorry,” she cries with her face in her hands. “I was so scared and then it wasn’t him and now I wish it was. He’s still my baby.” Jim places a hand on her back and my eyes tear up yet again. I’ve only known Josh a fraction of the time they have and I’m devastated. I can’t imagine what this must be like for them.
The next time the doors open, I brace myself. It won’t be him. Don’t get your hopes up.
And then I stand to get a better look and clutch the plastic waiting room chair beside me to stay upright, covering my mouth to hide the strangled sob that leaves my throat.
Josh.
He’s bare-chested and there’s a makeshift bandage around his shoulder that’s soaked in blood. He’s being pushed through the doors in a wheelchair, but he’s alive. Tears roll down my face at the sight of him, pale and exhausted, barefoot, covered in dirt. But alive. Thank God.