Public Secrets

at that, a low, amused sound that made the sweat break out on the back of his neck. “Don’t be soft, Stevie. I’ve been involved since I was three. Do you really believe I had no idea what went on at the parties, on the tours? Give me some credit.”
He had believed it, because he’d needed to. She was, and had always been, the quiet light of innocence in all the noise and madness. “I—I’m tired, Emma.”
“Tired? Need a lift? A little buzz to take the edge off reality? Give me the name, Stevie. After all, I saved your life. It seems only just that I should help you lose it.”

“I didn’t ask you to save my life, goddamn you.” He lifted a hand as if to push her away, then let it fall limply on the sheet. “Why didn’t you leave me the hell alone, Emma? Why didn’t you just leave me alone?”
“My mistake,” she said briskly. “But we can do our best to fix it right up.” She leaned closer, bringing him a whiff of soft scent as her voice and eyes hardened. “I’ll get the fucking drug for you, Stevie. I’ll get it. I’ll feed it to you. I’ll push the needle in whatever vein you might have left. Hell, maybe I’ll even try it myself.”
“No!”
“Why not?” She lifted a brow as if amused. “You said it was a good drug. Isn’t that what you said to Da? It’s a good drug. If it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough for me.”
“No. Goddammit. Look what I’ve done to myself.” He held out his scarred and scabbed arms.
“I see what you’ve done to yourself.” She threw the pad and pencil across the room. “I see exactly what you’ve done to yourself. You’re weak and pitiful and sad.”
“Miss!” A nurse came through the door. “You’ll have to—”
“Get out of here.” Emma whirled on her, fists clenched, eyes blazing. “Get the hell out. I’m not finished yet.”
She left. The hurried sound of her retreating feet echoed.
“Leave me alone,” Stevie murmured. The tears were spilling out of his eyes, seeping through the fingers he pressed to his face.
“Oh, I’ll leave you alone, all right. When I’m done. I found you lying on the floor, in your own blood and vomit, beside the gun and the needle. Couldn’t you make up your mind which way you wanted to kill yourself, Stevie? It was just too damn bad, wasn’t it, that I didn’t want you to die. I pumped life back into you, right there on the floor. I cried because I was afraid I wouldn’t be quick enough or good enough or smart enough to save you. But you were breathing when they took you away, and I thought it mattered.”
“What do you want!” he shouted. “What the hell do you want?”
“I want you to think—think about someone else for a change. How do you think I would have felt if I’d found you dead? Or Da—what would it have been like for him? You have everything, but you’re so hell-bent to self-destruct you could have twice as much and it wouldn’t matter.”

“I can’t help it.”
“Oh, that’s a poor excuse, poor and pitiful and sad and completely suitable to what you’ve made yourself.” She was near tears now herself, but she fought them back, letting the bubbling anger pour out instead. “I’ve loved you ever since I can remember. I’ve watched you play and year after year been astonished by what you’re capable of creating. Now you’re going to sit there and tell me that you just can’t help killing yourself. That’s fine then, but don’t expect the people who love you to stand and watch.”
She started out, only to be stopped in the doorway by a petite brunette. “Miss McAvoy? I’m Dr. Haynes, Mr. Nimmons’s psychiatrist.”
Emma’s body braced, like a boxer readying for a new match. “I’m on my way out, Doctor.”
“Yes, I can see that.” The woman smiled and offered a hand. “Nice show, dear. I recommend a brisk walk, then a hot bath.” She moved by Emma to go to Stevie’s bed. “Ah, Scrabble. One of my favorites. Care for a game, Mr. Nimmons?”
Emma heard the tiles hit the wall, but kept on walking.
She found Brian outside, leaning against the hood of his newest Jaguar. When he spotted her, he took one last drag on his cigarette, then flicked the butt away.
“I thought you might stay a bit longer.”
“No, I said all I had to say.” As she spoke, she fastened the bottom snap on her dark blue bomber’s jacket, then pulled up the zipper. “I wanted to ask you if I’d heard correctly. Did you buy drugs for Stevie?”
“Not the way you mean it.