Casting Debbie

Chapter 5

Debbie didn't want to get out of bed. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept straight through until morning. It was eerily silent. No car alarms or garbage trucks or horns honking-the sounds that punctuated her memories of growing up in New York City. Not even the sound of gardeners, which seemed to be L.A.'s unique soundtrack. Just silence. Oh, and a bird chirping somewhere in the distance.

She'd left the privacy curtains open, giving her a view of the pool through the French doors. What a view to wake up to, she thought. She rolled over and checked her phone. The first thing she saw was a text from Lin.

We're at the hospital. Beverly & San Vincente. Get here as soon as you can.

What the fuck? She quickly typed a reply and then jumped in the shower. She'd planned on spending the day in her swimsuit while she caught up on her laundry. Everything was dirty. "Shit!"

What the hell was she going to wear? She got out of the shower and dug through her suitcase. The only clean thing she had was a blue, flowery skirt she'd yet to wear, mostly because she hated it. It was too high-waisted, but she'd brought it just in case...actually, she had no idea why she'd brought it. Shit.

She put on the skirt and a bra and went into the main house. She had no idea where Lou's bedroom was. She scanned the main floor and decided it had to be upstairs. She opened the first door and found what was obviously a guest room. It looked too sterile to actually be lived in. She closed that door and went to the next. Bingo.

Immediately drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far side of the room, Debbie pushed a white sheer curtain to the side and discovered a balcony with a breathtaking view of the ocean. She wanted to step out onto that balcony, but she stopped when she remembered she wasn't yet fully clothed. That, and she was expected to be at the hospital soon. She turned back around and scanned the room. The bed was made up, the feather duvet carefully tucked in at the ends. Huh. That seemed strange since as far as Debbie knew, Lou didn't have a live-in housekeeper. Were those hospital corners the work of Lou Miller herself? "God, she's tidy."

Debbie went into the bathroom. It smelled like Lou; soft vanilla-ish something or other, and it was just as tidy as the bedroom. The only thing sitting on the two-sink countertop was a toothbrush resting on a neatly folded white towel with the toothpaste tube evenly lined up next to it. On the other side of the room was a huge bathtub that Debbie eyed with envy, since it was a luxury few New Yorkers had.

She flipped the light switch on for the closet and the whole room lit up. "Holy shit!" Shoes were neatly stacked on special lighted shelves. The clothes seemed to be color coordinated and separated according to season. Jesus, Lou. OCD much?

She rifled haphazardly through a rack that seemed to be strictly summer blouses and found a short-sleeved white gypsy-style blouse. She quickly put it on and shrugged at herself in the mirror. It didn't look great with the skirt, but it would have to do. She looked at the rack again and noticed the mess she'd made. Most of the blouses had been pushed to one side and were no longer equally spaced. She tried to separate them but quickly gave up. "Aw, screw it." She didn't have the patience for such ridiculous perfection. Besides, it might do Lou some good to see a shirt or two askew.

She went back into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. No makeup. Wet hair. She opened a drawer and found more perfection. "Who the hell keeps their makeup drawer so organized?" She picked up a blush brush and ran it over her cheeks, then tied her long, wet hair up into a ponytail. Again, it would have to do.

***

Fucking traffic. By the time Debbie walked into the hospital, she was frazzled and hungry and in desperate need of a cup of coffee. She saw Lin sitting in the lobby and headed in his direction. "What happened?" she impatiently asked.