Chapter 19
The Escape
It was a little after one and Martin was feeling like a prisoner at the hospital. He had just stepped out of Celia’s room to take a phone call. He walked to the private waiting area they’d been given and talked to Bill for about twenty minutes.
He looked out the window at the back of the room as he grabbed a cup of coffee. His brows rose and he cursed under his breath as he looked down upon three of the biggest paparazzi names in Hollywood.
“Great. How am I supposed to get out of here?” He wondered if Celia had done this but decided she more than likely hadn’t had the time. He took a drink of his coffee trying to think of a way to get out without being seen.
The tabloids had died down somewhat about him, Celia and Randi. He certainly did not want to give them anything more for their papers at this time. He and Bill had just talked about this. The angle was to push Randi out into the open and have them wondering about his new love and forgetting about the triangle.
He could imagine what the press would say if they found out Celia was moving back into his home. They’d have some sordid sex triangle splashed all over the papers. When the door opened to the waiting room, he turned wondering if someone had ratted him out.
Relief flooded over him when he saw Mike. “Deer in the headlights look there, friend?”
“Are we friends again?” Martin asked with a smile.
“I suppose. You’ve been around for a long time - like an old worn out shoe. I’d hate to throw you out over a girl.”
Martin laughed, held out his hand and the two men shook hands briefly. “An old shoe?”
Mike shrugged. “It fits. I take it from the expression on your face that you’ve looked outside. It’s a circus. I just came in with Vicky. They let us in but I’m not sure you’re going to get out of here unless they get to see you.”
“I’d hate for them to find out Celia’s here. That mess was just about to be forgotten.”
“Do you think someone from the hospital called them or maybe someone just spotted you?”
“Who knows?” Martin took another drink of coffee. “I suppose when I step out they’ll be asking all kinds of questions, if they do know. Then again, there are ‘star-spotters’ all over town who just call in when they see one of us.”
“I’m sure there are. Do you think Celia might have done it?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Martin reached into his pocket and took out a pen. He looked around the room for a piece of paper. “I’m not sure if anything is going on between you and Celia but I’m leaving her in your hands.”
“We’re not dating. What are you talking about?” Mike followed Martin over to a table and tried to peep over his shoulder while he was writing.
Martin straightened up and held the paper in his hand for a few seconds. “I know she’s gotten her memory back or she had actually never lost it and just changed her mind. Whatever! I really don’t care either way. I’m just glad it’s over.”
“Me too,” Mike said. “I think she’s ready to move on.”
“Well, she’s ready to move in,” Martin said, handing the paper to Mike and crossing his arms. “She’s all yours, if you want her.”
Mike looked at the paper and asked, “What’s this?”
“The security codes to the gate and the front door of my house. Celia’s moving in until she can walk. I’m not going to be there so she’s in your hands.”
“Again, why me? I don’t want to do this.”
“I think it’s a little late for that. Ever since that day you showed up at my house to move her out, you’ve been doing it. Why stop now?”
“You think this is funny, don’t you?”
“Somewhat. Anyway, I’m out. You can be in or not, it’s your choice. Feel free to pick a room and stay a while if you want. It’ll be closer for you. When you work on that house you’ll be closer than your place.”
“That’s true, but I don’t know about this.” Mike tried to give the paper back to Martin. He held his hands up, shook his head and walked toward the door.
“Stay or not, that’s up to you but someone will need to take her there. The way I see it, that person is going to be you.”
Martin left Mike standing there looking at the paper. He put on his hat and glasses and walked out the door and down the hall. He wasn’t sure what his plan of action would be but he wasn’t staying in this hospital all day even if he had to tell the papers everything.
He went down the elevator and no one paid him any mind. He could have spoken to a director at the hospital and asked them to fly him out, or take him out in an ambulance, but that wouldn’t be good. They had been nice and treated him and Celia’s family well; he wasn’t going to ask for any favors.
When he reached the lobby, he noticed that reporters were waiting at both entrances. They were also more than likely covering every exit. He took off the sunglasses and the hat and walked toward the door.
It didn’t take long for one of the reporters to spot him. There were five or six photographers. One of them looked like a fan, three of them he recognized but the others he didn’t know. As he approached, they all turned toward him and one professional looking young lady stepped up first.
She was very attractive. Her black slacks, white tank top and multi-colored peplum blazer were understated elegance. Her red hair was swept up into a stylish messy bun. She held a mic in his direction. “Mr. Taylor, could I have a word with you?”
“Sure. Why not?” Martin asked, in a dry tone.
“Would you mind telling us what you’re doing here today? Are you ill or did you come to visit someone?” The others moved in closer taking a few shots of him. He knew that it would be best just to let them get their pictures and not argue. If you resisted or tried to avoid them, they seemed all the more persistent.
“Why don’t you tell me why I’m here?” he asked the pretty reporter, with a bit of a mischievous grin.
“I don’t know. We just got a tip that you were here. Stars seldom come to the hospital for no reason. Perhaps rehab… a drunken brawl and you needed stitches?” There was a glimmer in her eye. She couldn’t wait to hear some sensational tidbit.
“Sorry, but it’s nothing nearly that exciting,” said a deep voice behind Martin. He turned to see a tall, rugged looking man in his late fifties walking in his direction. “Martin just dropped by to take me to lunch. I’m waiting for a friend to get out of surgery and I thought this would be a good time for us to get to know each other.”
Martin wasn’t sure what was going on, or who this man was, but he was game. “Have you decided where you want to eat?”
“I’m not picky as long as I’m back in about an hour.”
“I’m not buying this,” the redhead retorted, resting the mic on her arm. “You two don’t even know each other.”
Martin turned to the man who was about to get him out of this hospital without anyone even having to hear Celia’s name. “Why sure we know each other,” Martin replied, casting a hopeful look at the unknown man.
“Then tell me, and it better be believable.” She looked at the older man and so did Martin. They all stood waiting. The man gave them a pearly white smile as he rested his hand on Martin’s shoulder.
“I’d better know him,” he answered, waiting a few seconds before finishing his thought, “after all… he’s dating my daughter.”