Page 32 of Crocodile Tears
“What time is it in LA?”
“It’s not even midnight, D-man,” Zeke said. “And money never sleeps.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know how quickly I can gain twenty pounds of muscle,” I said. “I pay Ricardo to know that stuff.”
“He just flew out for a photoshoot with Chris Hemsworth in Australia,” Zeke informed me. “He probably won’t pick up for another . . . five hours.”
“And you need an answer in five hours?”
“I’ll just tell them yes.”
“Wait—”
“Hasta luego, D-money,” Zeke sang and hung up before I could reply.
Great. Why did I have a feeling I was about to be relegated to six months of chicken breasts and protein smoothies? God, I wanted to eat some cake and not think about my fucking macros for a few weeks. I hadn’t had to think about any of this shit when I’d been a musician. Nowadays, every single role wanted me to be shirtless . . . even one where I was voicing a CGI alien, which they still hadn’t quite explained to me.
I was lost in my thoughts of already missing bread and cheese when a figure darted past me through the shadows. Even only in silhouette, I knew it was Dove. Knew it from her height and gait and smell of her lavender shampoo.
“Dove!” I called, darting after her. “What’s wrong?” Even being two heads taller than her, I had to jog to keep up. “Dove.” Her eyes were wide and frantic as I caught her arm. “What’s going on?”
She wrenched her arm free, her eyes scanning back and forth, and I couldn't stop myself. I took her face in both hands and brought her eyes to mine.
“Hey, hey,” I hushed, trying to calm her enough to speak to me. “Tell me what's going on.” Something about the contact of my hands on her cool cheeks seemed to snap her out of it.
“Hannah's water broke.” Her voice thick. “And her contractions are really close together and we're hours from the hospital and oh god, she can't have her baby in that gross ass boat. I haven’t cleaned it yet and I—they were supposed to leave the island tomorrow and?—”
I released her, already grabbing for my phone. Luca answered on the first ring.
“There's an emergency. Call James and have the chopper ready to lift off immediately,” I instructed, trying to remain calm. “Going to . . .” I looked at Dove, whose eyes were still blown wide with panic. “Where?”
“Yale New Haven Hospital.”
“Yale New Haven Hospital,” I repeated. “When you get off the phone with James, call them so they're ready for her.”
“Got it,” Luca confirmed and immediately hung up to ring the helicopter pilot.
I thanked every lucky star right then that Cody had insisted we take the chopper to the photoshoot in New York the following morning. I’d wanted to drive, but since we had to be back for shooting the following day, Cody had called the chopper to arrive the night before. Fortunately, the Holloways had a helipad.
Dove was already on her phone, relaying the new information to her family.
“Thank fucking God.” I heard Hawk's voice on the other end, the sound of a very much in labor Hannah shouting curses in the background.
That same shout echoed down the hill, and I stared up into the darkness of the nighttime zoo. A truck peeled out and screeched down the back road, speeding toward the Holloway Estate.
“The chopper will be in the air within the next five minutes.” My breath curled into the nighttime air. “They’ll be at the hospital in no time.”
“Can the chopper hold four passengers?” Dove asked, hyperventilating.
“It can.”
“Good, uh, Finch is going with them, and Mom.” Her voice wobbled. “In case she has the baby in the helicopter.” She rubbed her hand over her eyes. “Oh god, she can’t have her baby in a helicopter.”
“That’s a pretty badass story to tell his friends one day,” I countered, trying to lighten the mood.
“I guess.” Her voice was hoarse, like she was holding back tears.
Dove was a hard one to make panic, at least when it came to herself, but when it came to her family, that was something else entirely.
