Page 91 of Act Like You Don't Care
Someone chuckled and said, “He’s fine.”
The medic smiled. “Humor me.”
I sighed. “Tam Laydon.”
“And do you know what day it is?”
“It’s Thursday. And yes, I know who the president is and I don’t care. I’ve seen all the TV shows, I know what you’re doing. Can I get up now?” I glared at him, then looked up at the director, whose call this really was.
“Tam, you’re bleeding,” the director said gently. He gestured at his chin.
Startled, I looked down, saw the mess dripping down my chest, then gently probed underneath my chin. “Ow,” I said when I found the spot. “What did I hit?”
“The board fell out from underneath you and you went down through the space in between the other two,” the director said gravely. “I want you to go to the hospital. You need to get stitched up anyway and I want them to check you out. Your chin hit something on the way down and your head snapped back so hard I was sure you’d broken your neck. I’d like to be sure I’m wrong about that andmake sure there wasn’t any other damagebefore we let you run around set again.” He put an odd emphasis on those words and I remembered suddenly that he was one of the few people on set who knew I was pregnant. Well, until Odette’s story came out.
Broken neck. My hand twitched, but I kept it away from my belly. If I was paralyzed, would the baby die? “Okay. What do we do now?”
The director’s eyes widened a little, then he said, “We’ve sent for an ambulance. You do what the medic says, okay? I need to find out what happened here. This scene is done for today.”
I stared up at the underside of the ramp and my mouth tightened. “I don’t want to put us behind, I know the schedule is tight.” I met his eyes and we had a moment of understanding, but still, he shook his head.
“We’ll sort it out. A day or two either way won’t wreck the schedule. We can find ways to make it up.”
“Okay.” I was careful to keep my head still, scenes from medical dramas playing out in my head. I really didn’t want to be the sympathy case that became the catalyst for whatever emotional arc the doctor was supposed to be on. “Can you get Will here?”
“He’s just behind you.” The director made a come here motion with one hand, then his place was taken by my assistant.
“You okay?” Will asked in a low voice. His face was white and his hands were shaking hard enough that the paper rattled against his clipboard.
“I think I’m fine, but I’m going to need my insurance and… Can you call Miles? Let him know what happened?” Just in case, I wanted someone at the hospital who knew. My hand twitched again, wanting so badly to cover the space where the baby was hopefully hiding in perfect safety, but I managed to control it.
“Sure.” Will took my hand and squeezed. “Anyone else you want me to call?”
I frowned. “Maybe Summer? She doesn’t need to do anything, but I can’t remember what my insurance has to cover and what’s covered by the studio. She can look at the contract and let me know. Or she can tell Miles.” I probably needed to make him my medical proxy. My mother had that responsibility right now, but she was literally on the other side of the country and I was feeling unreasonably vulnerable at the moment. “Maybe call a lawyer? I need some papers drawn up.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized my error. Will’s face tightened up and he asked in a strained voice, “Tam, is everything okay? The ambulance is coming, hang on.”
“Damn it, Will, I’m not dying. But I think Miles maybe needs to have some say, if I can’t for whatever reason, all right?” I snapped, then immediately felt like an ass. “I’m sorry, I know you’re just worried. This is me, trying to cover all the things that might happen. I just never thought about… that until today.” I rolled my eyes up at the ramp and made a face. “I think I need to start being more proactive,” I mused, half to get a laugh out Will, which I did, but there was a grain of truth to it as well. I couldn’t just keep going on the way I had been. Not with the baby in the picture.
Maybe it was time to rethink my life a little.
The ambulance must have arrived, because two more medics came rolling a stretcher across the set and no more than ten minutes later, I was on my way to the hospital.
Miles
Iraced in through the doors of the hospital and found the information desk. “Hi, I’m looking for someone who was just brought into the hospital.”
“Can I get the name?” asked the young woman behind the desk, pressing a few keys on her keyboard.
“Tam Laydon,” I said automatically.
She gave me an odd look, then said, “There’s no one here registered under that name. Are you sure he’s at our hospital?”
“That’s what his assistant told me.” I rubbed the back of my neck and glanced wildly around the lobby, as if Tam would suddenly pop out of one of the corridors. Maybe Will had given me the wrong hospital? I pulled out my phone and called him.
“Hello?” he said. “Where are you? Tam’s been asking for you.”
“What hospital is he at? They’re saying he’s not here.”
