The Complete Box Set: Saving Her Page 3

  “You can sit,” Logan pointed out.

  “Oh, right yeah. Um, good idea.”

  “You seem nervous.”

  “I’m not comfortable in fancy places like this. They’re not my thing.”

  He smiled. “Well, you make it obvious. At the restaurant and in the car you all but told me to fuck off, and here you seem scared to take a seat, so I’m intrigued. Only brave in your element, huh?”

  “I'm not here to be psychoanalyzed, Logan! You need to get those pictures taken down before any more damage is done. Please. Logan, I am begging you.”

  “Wow. Ouch, Damage? Is being pictured with me that bad for you?”

  “It’s nothing personal. It’s just you’re you, and I'm me. I can be fired. People can find out about my life, the people I love. It’s scary. For you, it's no big deal, just one of many girls you are pictured with or rumored to be with. You know how to keep things hidden. I don’t.”

  “Interesting, here I thought the absolute horror on your face was just about being pictured with me, but it turns out this is more about making sure all your secrets are kept hidden.”

  “Are you gonna get them taken down or not?” I snapped.

  “How much is worth to you?”

  “Really?! Like really?! You are a multi-millionaire, and you want my money?! You’ve got to be joking.”

  Logan let out a deep belly laugh. “No, I don’t want your money. That’s ridiculous. What I want is your time. I want to take you somewhere.”

  “What? That’s what you want...still. Every girl in the universe would give anything to be with you, and you want to waste your time with me.”

  “See, I don’t view it as wasting my time. You are very entertaining.”

  “Great. I'm glad I amuse you. Fine. You get those pictures down, and I will let you take me to whatever place it is you want to take me.”

  “Okay. Two of the magazines owe me a favor for a picture I gave them, but the third one is going to be an issue.”

  “Look, Logan, I'm not expecting this to be 100% resolved or anything. I just need it be easier than it is now.”

  He nodded, “I’ll work on it. I promise.”

  “Okay then. I should go. Thanks again for your help. You don’t know how important it is to me that this gets taken care of.”

  “I’ll work on it, Sam.”

  “Okay. Goodbye.” I gave him a quick wave and whipped my hair around as I exited the fancy building and, most importantly, Logan’s overwhelming presence.

  As soon as I reached the door, I realized I still didn’t get the answer I was looking for.

  With one hand still on the doorknob, I poked my head into where Logan fiddled with his pen. “Logan?” I asked.

  “What’s up?”

  “Honestly, what is this all about? Why do you want to hang out with me? Why did you request me at the restaurant? I mean… I am a bitch; I just don’t have time for people right now.”

  I haven’t since I was seven.

  Logan looked at me curiously and then glanced around his office as if making sure no one was listening, “I need a friend. Like a real friend, and for some reason I think you could be a good one.”

  I felt my jaw hit my chest as Logan smiled to himself.

  “Bye Sam.”

  He waved his hand, clearly trying to snap me out of my shock. I slowly walked out of his office trying to process everything that had just happened. I don’t have friends. My natural instinct was to repel human life and the most famous person in the world felt like I’d be a good friend to him. Had he lost his mind? Is the universe playing a cruel prank on me? Fuck, what do I do? I can’t befriend Logan Prescott for God’s sake! I made my way out of the building still reeling from what Logan said. I was bordering on flattered and terrified. I needed an outlet for everything going on inside of me. It had been so long since anyone even wanted to be my friend, wanted to hang out with me.

  I decided to go to the gym, somewhere I hadn’t been in forever. I was probably out of shape, but it was the only place I could think of where I could lift heavy shit, hit stuff and get out whatever it was that was bothering me inside. I couldn’t deal with him and my mom. I just couldn’t. I took the bus to the community gym. Once I got there I did an hour of circuit training, TRX, and boxing and then I took the bus back home. My mom didn’t question me about my sweaty state or why I was home 30 minutes early. I think she could sense something was wrong.

  “Sammie?” she called while I was drying my hair post-shower. “You’re off, tomorrow right?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “My doctor’s appointment is at 9 AM instead of 2 PM tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” I popped my head out of the shower. “When did that change?”

  “The doctor called this afternoon.”

  “Okay, no problem.”

  “Sammie?” She called again.

  “Yes?” I pocked my head out again, facing her extremely slender frame and thinning blonde hair.

  “You know you can talk to me about anything right? I'm here for you too. I'm still your mom.”

  “I know that mom.”

  Did she hear about the pictures? Would she have told me? Yeah, she would have told me.

  I went to bed early that night. Emotionally I was just done. I hit my stress max. I’m only human after all. Soft hands woke me up the next morning. My mom always woke me up on doctor’s appointment days. It was the only day she didn’t let me sleep as long as possible. She knew without work I struggled to get out of bed. I was dead tired on my day’s off.

  “I’m up. I’m up,” I grumbled. My mom laughed softly and kissed my forehead.

  “Hurry Sammie.”

  When she was gone, I put the pillow over my head and screamed silently. That helped. I rolled out of bed. Threw something that resembled an outfit on, and met my mom by the front door. The taxi was on time to pick us up. I helped my mom climb in first, and I climbed in behind her. I always splurged for a taxi when my mom was going with me. It was easier on her. Buses could be super inconvenient. Plus, it was much faster. Fifteen minutes later we arrived at Dr. Pescowl’s office. That definitely would have taken at least forty minutes by bus.

  I’d known Dr. Pescowl, a.k.a Dave, since I was seven. He’s been my mom’s oncologist for as long as I can remember. He’s been more than her oncologist though. He’s been my teammate. He’s helped me battle insurance companies, helped me get payments delayed and given me moral support when I felt like I couldn’t do another day. He knew what it was like to have a family member with cancer, on a personal and professional level. I considered him part of my very small family/friend group. Dave was in his late 50’s with thick gray hair, a distinguished face and a fairly healthy body. He was a very serious man, probably from working with cancer victims all the time, but once in a while, a laid-back side of him would pop out. Both my mom and I adored him. More importantly, my mom felt completely comfortable with him.

  That morning in the office, as usual with these appointments, I waited in the waiting room while he inspected and talked with my mother. About thirty minutes or so into the appointment my phone rang, and I glanced at it only to see a number I did not recognize, so I screened the call. My mind was with my mom and what the doctor would say. She’d been having more symptoms lately, and I knew during this stage of cancer that couldn’t be good. I was just begging the universe to give me a little more time to raise that money.

  My phone rang several times before I heard a ding, letting me know a voicemail was being left. I ignored that too. My legs bobbed up and down anxiously, knowing the doctor would be out at any moment. Sure, enough ten minutes later a nurse called out my name, and I followed her to the back. She wheeled my mom out of the room, and I gave her shoulder a quick squeeze.

  I walked into the familiar cold, sterile exam room to get an update from the doctor.

  “How are you Samantha?” he asked as he closed the door behind me.

  “Oh fine.” I was lying through my te
eth as the magazine pictures flashed across my mind.

  “Good to hear.” Dr. Pescowl sighed, “Sam, it’s not good news.”

  A lump formed in my throat.

  “Samantha, your mom’s cancer is progressing quickly. I'm afraid if she doesn’t get that treatment we discussed she has just a few months left. Honestly though, Samantha, that procedure is very experimental, so I can’t even promise anything with that.”

  “But there’s a chance…” I asked trying to hold in my tears.

  “Samantha…” He put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Sam!”

  “Okay Sam, I think it's best you let go. I’ve discussed it with your mother. She wants you to have a life and to move forward. For 15 years you have sacrificed everything for her. She’s almost completed her journey here; it’s time for you to have yours.”

  “I’d sacrifice everything for her! I always will!” I shouted.

  “I know Sam, but that scares me. How will you earn over $100,000?”

  “Well the plan was to work as much as possible, but I guess the time frame has moved up, so I’ll just need a new plan.”

  “Just think about it, okay? And talk with your mom. Hear her wishes. She’s ready to go Sam.”

  “She’s not allowed to quit,” I shouted as I stormed out of the room.

  I heard him call my name, but I didn’t care. I met my mom out in the lobby and silently rolled her out to the car. She seemed calm and sat quietly waiting for my anger to cease. The minute we arrived at the car my mom turned to me.

  “Sammie, I need you to let me go, baby. I can’t go peacefully knowing you are $100,000 in debt or did something horrendous for a treatment that is not even guaranteed to work. Please baby. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you fighting and providing for me all these years, and how much it has broken my heart, but please do this one last thing for me.”

  “You know I’d do anything for you, but I can’t do that. I won’t quit on you mom. I won’t do it.”

  “Sam, babe….”

  “I won’t!” I shouted much louder than I intended as tears rolled down my face. “Mom, I won’t.”

  My mom slowly nodded, and we rode the rest of the way in silence. Before cancer, my mom and I joked all the time. We laughed and played girly songs and danced around like all the other cars weren’t judging us. Cancer had warped our little family unit into nothing but serious life decisions and financial problems.

  Chapter 3:

  The shrill sound of my alarm woke me the next morning. My head hurt from staring at my computer for hours on end the night before googling ways to come up with 100k fast. The results came up to with nothing of real benefit to me unless I wanted to become a prostitute or do something even crazier. My mom would slit her wrists if she ever found me doing that. Honestly though, if I knew I could get away with it and save my mom I would do it.

  The second I got to work that work that day Shaunna came running over to me.

  “Oh my God, you look like shit. Are you okay?”

  I had a bitchy comment in my head but was genuinely too tired for that.

  “Shauna, I'm fine. I just want to work.”

  She looked at me with wide eyes, “I’m freaked out by how calm and un-bitchy you're right now.”

  “Un-bitchy?” I said, almost letting a smile hit my face.

  “It’s a word!” she shouted across the room.

  I laughed. The rest of my shift went by fairly quickly only because I didn’t want to go home and face my reality. A few people asked me about the magazine, but it was so few I knew the magazine thing had been taken care of. For the first time since I met him, I didn’t hate Logan. I was beyond grateful to him, because despite his incredible celebrity status that had to have been hard to do.

  After my shift ended, I avoided talking with Shauna about the magazine and immediately headed to my house. It’s not that I didn’t like Shauna. In fact, she was a wonderful co-worker. I just didn’t want to talk to anyone.

  I had to admit I was a little shocked to not have a run in with Logan after our talk at his office. When I walked out of work, I found myself looking around for him, but when I got halfway home I gave up and figured he came to his senses and changed his mind.

  When I finally reached my neighborhood, I walked up the usual grassy crooked pavement. I opened the navy blue front door and walked into the living room, hanging my bag on the hooks to the left of the front door.

  “Mom, Mom…” I called out as I headed into the den.

  As soon as I entered the den, our main living area, I almost stumbled backward onto my ass. In fact, I would have if I hadn’t hit the doorway before going down. In front of me stood my mom, fully dressed in nice clothes, a rare occasion, sitting on the couch with Logan.

  Logan fucking Prescott.

  “Logan, what the hell are you doing here?” I shouted as my whole body shook with rage, but more than that fear. “Outside with me right now!”

  “Samantha!” my mom yelled, but I was too busy glaring at Logan to acknowledge her.

  “Outside now!”

  Half amused and half sad, from meeting my sick mother, he started to follow me outside. When he got to the doorway, he turned to my mom.

  “Nice to meet you Ms. Perkins.”

  “You as well Logan,” my mom said with a friendly smile.

  The minute she finished I stormed outside. Once we were outside I whirled around to face him, instantly softening at the sight of his grim face. I wanted to be angry, to yell, but I was too sad, too scared. Too vulnerable.

  “How did you find out about my mom?” I tried to fight the tears coming to my eyes. “How?”

  I instantly knew by the look on his face.

  “Shauna,” I whispered. “Shauna told you!”

  “Yes, but don’t be mad at her. I can be very…. persuasive. I’m used to getting my way. She felt bad right after she told me. She said you’d be pissed, but that was only because you were….” he paused, scrutinizing me for a second, “scared.”

  “Look,” I began, fire flashing up inside of me again. “She’s my mom! Not some publicity stunt or business opportunity. I want you out of my house. I don’t want ever to see you again. I didn’t work my ass off for more than ten years to have it torn apart by some Hollywood playboy!”

  “This is why the magazine thing freaked you out so much. You didn’t want this coming back to your mom.”

  I glared at him, but the anger quickly dissipated as tears pushed to the surface.

  “I’m so sorry Sam,” Logan said softly after a beat. “I am.”

  “Get out of my house.” My tears were on the surface now. My hands shook as I fought for control.

  Logan ignored what I said and grabbed my shoulders, gently encouraging me to the ground. I let him sit me down on the brick step. I was too close to crying to resist. Having someone else in on my secret, someone I knew, someone who could see her with their own eyes and know what she was going through was overwhelming, no matter who it was.

  “What type of cancer does she have?”

  “Lung cancer-stage 4.”

  He looked down and fidgeted with his hands.

  “Shit, that’s not fair. She’s a good woman.”

  “No, it’s not, but that’s reality.” I stood up, “It’s what happens when you are not in Hollywood!”

  I turned around to walk back inside and ran straight into my mom, who was standing in the doorway with her walking stick.

  “Mom…”

  My mom looked past me to Logan.

  “Logan, why don’t you join us for dinner? Sam pre-made some Lasagna for the week.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not on his diet,” I said through gritted teeth. My mom shot me a dirty look.

  “Well, I'm sure we have a salad.” My mom tone left no room for discussion. She was as stubborn as I was.

  “Lasagna’s fine. I’d love to join you guys.”

  He didn’t even look at me as we all headed inside. O
nce we were in the living room, I grabbed my coat off the coat rack.

  “I’m heading out. You two enjoy the dinner.”

  “So, you can go to the bar, meet up with that sleazy bartender and sneak back in the side window,” my mom shouted at me.

  I turned around so fast it hurt my neck. “How did you… how did you know about that?” I stuttered. “I...shit. Mom...”

  “I’m your mom. Just because I have cancer and you feel the need to hide everything from me and deal with the world’s problems on your own doesn’t make me any less your mother and any less aware of what you are doing. I keep up with you Samantha.”

  “I swear it doesn’t happen often. Like, I swear.”

  “I know Sammie,” my mom said, gently brushing my hair back like she did when I was young. “Only when you are truly overwhelmed, but tonight I want you home with friends and family.”

  That brought me back to the situation and to Logan, who stood smirking in the corner of the room.

  “He’s not my friend!”

  I whirled back around to my mom.

  “That’s not what he said,” my mom said stepping back.

  That pissed me off even more, and I yelled at them. “I don’t have friends! None. If someone tells you that they are my friend they are lying.”

  My mom looked heartbroken. “Sam put dinner on the table. Now please.”

  Her tone was soft. She hated when I said stuff like that. I tried not to, but sometimes it just slipped out because it was true!

  I couldn’t say no to my mom no matter how overwhelmed I was, so I headed to the kitchen. Logan still stood in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. As I walked past him, slightly embarrassed, he grabbed my arm. I was half expecting some form of pity statement, but the minute I looked up into his eyes I saw he was deeply amused

  “The bartender? You really are full of surprises,” he said with a glimmer in his eye. Then he winked at me as he let go of my arm. Asshole.

  I rolled my eyes and brushed past him. The second I was out of his eyesight I let out a slight smile. He was trying to lighten the mood. It worked.

  I pulled the lasagna out of the fridge and sat it in on the counter. I felt a presence behind me and didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.