The Rise of Rachel Price T-Girl Pt. 36

Charlie didn't have time to argue. She listened to her other phone. There was the sound of the helicopter. You could hear people shouting, but not what they were saying. There was a scraping and fumbling noise as the phone probably moved on the deck. The helicopter didn't stop. Then there was a sound like the phone was being picked up.

"Charlie, you there?" Rachel said. The noise of the helicopter got quieter. She must have been inside.

Charlie jumped in, "Yeah, yeah, I am. What's happening?"

"They picked him up and put him on the back seat. They are going to fly him to the hospital. They said they couldn't take me," Rachel explained, her voice showing signs of coming down. "They had this paddle thing, and he didn't need it. He's got a mask on him."

"Rachel, I will send the sailors out to you. They will bring you to the Asylum, and I will get Peter or someone to drive you to the hospital. Don't drive yourself. You did good, Rachel. OK, you did good. This isn't your fault," Charlie reassured her.

Charlie leaned forward and tapped on the glass between her and Peter. She pointed back with one hand. "HOSPITAL," she mouthed to Peter, who got the idea and looked for a place to turn the car around.

Rachel was taking stock, and you could hear it in her voice. "I was just fucking him. It's my job. Why is everyone dying? Charlie, why is everyone dying? Shit, this is going to court. I'm going to jail, and everyone will find out. Shit, he's dead. It wasn't me!"

"You're not going to jail," Charlie said clearly over the phone. "You did a great job. Don't talk to anyone about this, no one. If anyone asks, say it was a sports accident. Look, if word of this gets out, the stock is going to tank. I need to do some stuff. I will call back soon, OK? But you did fine. Everything is going to be fine. I'll see you in the hospital, OK? I'll see you in the hospital."

Charlie thought for a second; this could be serious. She felt sorry for Rachel, and she made a mental note to send for Samantha. However, she had to be careful with the call. Samantha didn't depend on Levant, so she might talk, and one wrong word could get out. It was the middle of the night, which gave her about six hours to put the company on the same kind of life support Levant was on.

She also had to make the case for becoming the CEO, starting with a temporary position. She would fill the committee with friends from the board to ensure her replacement.

In the perfect scenario, it was rumored that Levant would be dead, and his will would leave all his money and stock holdings to Rachel, making her the primary stockholder. However, Rachel would need protection from accusations of murder. In return for this, she might support Charlie as the replacement CEO. The shorting of the stock would have to boost quarterly earnings if she managed not to get caught for insider trading, considering that many board members held stock. If they made enough money from Levant's death, they would treat this as a mere road bump.

As they approached the Golden Gate Bridge again, Charlie looked out and could help but start feeling sorry for Rachel.

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Critical

Rachel sat in the hospital waiting room while Lucy looked sternly on from the seats opposite. The waiting area was a neat space, furnished by the designers of one of Levant's modern hotels. If this were a hotel, it would be the royal suite. The art on the walls was genuine. The waiting area was comfortable and could allow a number of people to wait. Against one wall was an internal double-glazed window. When open, the family could see the bed and the huge array of equipment adorned around the patient. The other walls had TVs, and even a colorful little play area for children. Outside, there was access to the restaurant, but there was no direct path into the medical area. Everything that could make the slow minutes pass as agreeably as possible was done. It didn't work.

Rachel couldn't believe what had happened. Her plan had been to get Levant hooked on her as much as she was bound to him. This was much worse than she thought. She remembered sitting there on the phone with Charlie while the helicopter people looked after Levant, trying to ignore what she wore. One of them had flown as a paramedic and looked after him. Then they had carried him to the helicopter and flown off.

She held her hands up; they shivered beyond her control under her stiletto nails. She wasn't a killer but knew her dosing of Levant had done it. Soon the doctors would find out and come to accuse her of it.

Now in the hospital, one of the nurses came along with a blanket and wrapped it around her. Rachel had changed into a black evening dress at the asylum. She wanted anyone who saw her to think they had mistaken the elegant evening dress for the slutty feast she had been wearing. It left a good deal of upper skin exposed and was unsuitable for the deep air-conditioning of the hospital.

"How is he doing?" Rachel asked the nurse as she passed.

"Same as he was five minutes ago, I guess," Lucy said.

Lucy wasn't buying the 'whole act,' as she put it. Lucy could see right through her.

"He never said anything about heart problems," Rachel said, possibly for the tenth time.

Dr. Malik Johnson, a young black American consultant, exuded an air of confidence and poise in every step he took as he walked in. His warm, expressive eyes, the color of rich mahogany, reflected both empathy and determination, revealing the depth of his care for his patients. His smooth, deep-brown skin told a story of strength and heritage, embracing his identity with pride.

With a closely cropped head of thick, curly black hair, Dr. Johnson's appearance exuded both professionalism and a sense of individuality. His neatly groomed beard framed his face, adding a touch of sophistication to his overall demeanor. His genuine smile was infectious and spoke of the compassion he carried for those he treated.

In his impeccably tailored white coat, adorned with a stethoscope swinging around his neck as he walked up to Rachel.

"You're Rachel Price? I recognized you from your Instagram account; my daughter follows you," he said, sitting down. He didn't need any help, he could recognise a trophy wife easily enough.

Every consultant in the hospital wanted to be in the room. Everyone wanted to be the Doctor who saved the great Douglas Levant. A nurse had mentioned Rachel and given Levant's condition, Johnson had quickly concluded that the only doctor who would be remembered after this, would be the one who looked after the widow.

"Yeah," Rachel said.

"This is a terrible shock for you. You should know it's not your fault. It happens to extreme bodybuilders," the doctor said.

Rachel looked up her eyes puffy from the crying she couldn't control, "I didn't know he was an extreme bodybuilder. I knew he worked out."

Doctor Johnson looked at his clipboard for notes. "From our chemical tests, he has been doing more than just working out. He was on quite a cocktail of bodybuilding stimulants."

The toxicology report read like one like a list of NCAA's banned substances. Normally athletes would microdose or only take one for fear of being caught. Levant was using the whole lot. Johnson wondered how to explain what happened to Rachel with out using the term rhabdomyolysis.

Lucy came over. "You haven't heard it from me, but he's been pushing it hard. He doubled his doses after he started dating her full-time," Lucy said, looking at Rachel. "He's been under the close guidance of a personal trainer the whole time I worked for him. After her, he wanted more. So he pushed himself; he wanted to start taking, you know, the wrong kind of supplements. The old trainer said no, so he then fired him and got a new one who would agree to the higher dosing and using stuff which, only his trainer could find, you get me? If you want to know exactly what he was on, ask Jerry, if he hasn't disappeared already."

Rachel looked up from her tear-soaked hands. "I didn't know about any of this."

Lucy looked down again. "That's right. He just magically had fantastic abs while sitting at a phone all day."

The doctor took Rachel's shivering hands. "I'm afraid it's quite serious. The MRI scan showed dimmed grey patches in his brain, indicating some prefrontal damage. If it wasn't for your actions, he would be dead already. This way, we have a fighting chance. But you have to prepare yourself for the possibility that he might not wake up. Believe me, we are doing everything we can for your husband."

Lucy gasped at this. "She's not his wife," Lucy said sternly.

The doctor looked up. "Sorry. Oh, that's odd. She's been put down in the role as the next of kin."

"She has?" Lucy said alarmed.

"According to our files, Miss Price is named along with all end-of-life protocols," the doctor said.

Lucy moved down. "No fucking way. I want to see those files now. I'm going to get our lawyers to look over every period. You are not, understand me, not, going to let him die!"

"Understand we are doing everything..." The doctor said, wondering if Lucy was his first wife or something.

"You are going to do more than fucking everything." Lucy said stiffly "Moreover, you are not going to do a word from her until Miss Bechtel is here."

"Miss Bechtel?" the doctor said.

"She is the second in charge of the Levant holdings company. She's an adult who understands the business. She is downstairs. Now she is the one who pays this hospital's wages. Your wages. If you don't want a lawsuit the size of Wyoming when this is done, I'm telling you to ignore whatever this child suggests. You. keep. him. alive." Lucy said, stabbing him with a finger with each word.

The doctor looked at her. "I can assure you we are doing our utmost."

The doctor turned back to Rachel. "He's in a critical state. You can stay here. Know he's in the best hands."

"Go away. Get more doctors. Miss Bechtel will want options when she arrives," Lucy said. "Go on. Go now."

The doctor stood up. "Miss Price, know this could have happened to him at any time. His heart had some very thin tissue in it. His liver or kidneys were on the edge of failure. Please. Don't blame yourself."

A nurse eventually turned up and brought Rachel to a private room. Rachel couldn't lie down but made her peace with sitting numbly. First grandpa, and now this. It was too much to process.

********

"Rachel," Charlie said, touching her shoulder as she came in to the private room. Charlie was dressed in a Yankees tee shirt and slacks. It was the first time Rachel had seen Charlie in anything remotely casual. Charlie looked tired, her face pale, her eyes brimming with concern.

"Who?" Rachel said, coming to. She looked up. "Charlie!" she said.

The first thing Charlie did when she turned up was hug Rachel.

"I didn't know I fell asleep. What's the time? How long have I been out?" Rachel said. It was good to hold Charlie, even if their boobs intermeshed.

"About three hours. You needed some sleep. You've been through a lot," Charlie said.

"I didn't mean to kill him. We were just playing around. Then he..." Rachel said.

Lucy came in and stood over Rachel like a disapproving schoolteacher. "They've finished most of the lab work. Nothing they can pin down so far. The exploratory surgery has gathered some new samples. He's still declining."

"What are the odds?" Rachel said.

"What the fuck do you care? You don't give a fuck if he lives or dies." Lucy said.

Charlie looked around at Lucy, "Lucy. You're stressed, I understand that. BUT I run things now. If you speak to Miss Price again like that, I will personally fire you. Then I will make sure you never work for anyone ever again. She has gone through a lot. Cut her some slack or cut yourself your last paycheck. Got me?"

Lucy looked at Charlie and paused. "Yes, Miss Bechtel."

Charlie looked at Lucy. "OK, go get me an ETA on the consultants."

Lucy said nothing but walked away, pulling her phone out.

"Forget about me, are you OK?" Rachel asked.

Charlie nearly rolled her eyes. "I've been reading the real accounts. It's a shitstorm," Charlie said.

"Really?" Rachel said.

Charlie sat down. "Look, a business like this. We have suppliers - who give us credit, and people we owe money to. It's like one of those banks in the 1930s, it's all about belief. If they believe we are sound, then we are sound. If they think they are going to get paid no problem. If they start to doubt it - say if the CEO dies - then they start to doubt they will get their money, and that alone can cause problems. He never had any real succession plan, didn't think it was necessary. Lucy only gave me the password to the real accounts a few hours ago. He spent all of the reserves and some of the pension funds on the election and this project Zeitgeist. We are in deep over our heads. So I'm having to talk to investors, banks, and suppliers to get them to be confident in me. Kind of an uphill struggle. The longer he lives or the longer people think he lives, the more time I have to sort things out."

"Poor you. That's terrible," Rachel said.

"No, what's terrible is you being here with no one proper to look after you," Charlie said. "I sent for Mimi from the Asylum to come over. I'll phone Sam."

"No, don't. Let her sleep. Call her in the morning. You concentrate on the company," Rachel said. "Will it collapse?"

"I think I can save it. It all depends on confidence; that's hard to predict. As long as people think they will get their money back, we are good. Worst case, someone will take us over, but the Thornbury is a passion project. It loses money. Why do you think he put me in charge of it originally? If Levant Holdings goes under, the Thornbury will go under, and everyone will be fired."

"Crap."

"Look, this is my problem. I just didn't realize it was this bad. I went over some of the accounts - we are leveraged badly for this thing called Project Zeitgeist. He's expecting a huge return but from overseas investors like that Prince in Qatar. Unfortunately, he would only tell people about things on a need-to-know basis. The contracts are vague and sketchy"

At this, a nurse ran in to the private room.

"He's regaining consciousness. He's asking for you, Miss Price," the nurse said. "You can't have long, and he might not recover."

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Final proposal

Levant lay on the bed entangled in a network of tubes. Beyond him, a plethora of machines relayed their sad litany of numbers to the doctors. He looked like an Egyptian pharaoh in a tomb of golden technology, with bandages covering the wound from the operation. His face appeared as grey as ashes, and his expression was somber, as if life had already left his cheeks. Only his eyes remained truly alive, and they began to shine as Rachel entered the room. A group of doctors, consultants, specialists, and nurses stood around like priests before the alter of a jealous god.

To the side the viewing window to the waiting room was open allowing Charlie and Lucy took look in.

"Douglas," Rachel said as she grasped his hand. It felt cold like a stone taken from a river.

"Cinnamon," Levant weakly croaked. "I feel like this is the end. I had to say goodbye," Levant said.

The room smelled of strong disinfectant. Levant's breath smelled like it already was in hell.

"I'm sorry, Douglas. I didn't know," Rachel said, touching his forehead.

"Don't it wasn't your fault. I wanted to say this has been been the best year of my life," Douglas said. "I have nothing to regret. Except maybe not marrying you."

His eyes closed slightly.

"You've got to be strong. Hang on," Rachel said, thinking of Charlie. "Is there anything you would like? Shall I get your mother?"

The doctors, who had moved away for some semblance of privacy, now came closer. Time was nearly up. His heart was beating slower.

"Yeah, there is one thing you can do. Marry me, Cinnamon, say you will marry me," Levant said.

Rachel looked around. Even in his weakened state, the doctors were close enough to hear him. If she refused, she would look like a callous cow. It felt so like him that the last words spoken to him were a lie.

"Sure, yeah. I'd be delighted," Rachel said sniffing and smiling.

In the booth Lucy could hear on the inter-com, her face went white and her expression came from the brush of Edvard Munch. Charlie's face remained passive except for look of thanks in her eyes and a slight nod of appreciation.

Levant broke into a fragile shallow grin. "I'm in here, but why do I feel like the happiest guy alive?"

The machines began to twist and dip. A doctor came over and nodded at the nurse to came over to Rachel.

"I have to go," Rachel said as a pair of hands respectfully put themselves on her arms.

There was no reply as Levant's eyes had already closed.

Rachel felt herself guided away. The doctors started to swarm like bees around a hive. This felt like a terrible ending.