Joseph Kanon - Stardust

His hand went to his chest so fast that the room saw only the body slump forward, but Ben had been watching for it, waiting, so as he leaped out of his seat, pushing past the lawyers, he saw the hand clench, grabbing suit cloth, as if it could stop the pain by squeezing, then the head hitting the edge of the table as he fell over. There was a frozen moment of shock, then screams, gasps, everyone standing, beginning to surge toward him, but Ben was already there, turning Lasner over on his back, reaching into his pocket.

“Oh my god,” one of the lawyers said.

“Where are his pills?” Ben said, searching, not even aware he’d said it aloud.

“Here.” Fay, dropping to her knees next to him, clawing at her purse, behind them a roar of noise.

“Give him air! Call an ambulance,” Ben yelled to the circle around them, grabbing the pills and shoving two into Lasner’s mouth. “Water.”

A glass appeared out of the air and Ben forced water between Lasner’s lips, waiting to hear him choke, afraid the white, sweaty face was beyond responding. But there was a kind of hiccup, a faint sign of life, not yet gone. Ben undid the tie, tearing the collar open, as if the problem were air, not his heart. Lasner had cut his head in the fall, so now there was blood, too, seeping in a small stream, inching toward Fay’s nylons. She was clutching Lasner’s hand, watching Ben as he undid the collar, then massaged Lasner’s chest, the rhythm a makeshift substitute for the heart, a pretense that you could keep life going from the outside. He bent down to Lasner’s mouth, listening for air.

“Give him room.”

Behind them the crowd tried to back up without really moving, pressing against each other. Polly had wedged her way to the front.

“Oh,” she said, distressed, her hand at her mouth. “Is he dead?”

“Give him air,” Ben said.

Lasner’s eyelids fluttered open for a second, taking in Ben and Fay, the circle of faces, then closed again.

“Did you get them down?” Ben said to him. “Try one more.” He pushed the pill between Lasner’s lips. “Swallow. Try.”

Lasner opened his mouth a little, obedient, and Ben watched his throat move, his face tightening with the strain.

The committee had now reached them, Minot pushing his way through. He stood for a second looking down, appalled and confused, then stepped back when he felt the flashbulbs go off, catching him looming over Lasner, an unintended boxing ring pose.

Ben took out a handkerchief and wiped Lasner’s forehead, then held it against the cut to stanch the bleeding. “They need a minute to kick in,” he said to Fay, then grabbed a folded paper and started fanning Lasner’s face, forcing air toward him.

“Breathe,” she said to Lasner. “Sol, can you hear me? The ambulance is coming.” She tightened her hand on his.

Now that Lasner had responded, the crowd grew louder with talk. “All of the sudden, like that, ” someone said, snapping his fingers. Ben opened another button on Lasner’s shirt.

Fay glanced up at one of the studio people. “Did anybody call Rosen? Dr. Rosen. Bunny knows the number.” She turned to Ben. “You knew about the pills. What, on the train?”

He nodded. “It’s worse this time. We have to get him to the hospital.” He felt Lasner’s wrist. “It’s weak.”

“I’m not dead,” Lasner said, then winced.

The ambulance was there in a few minutes. As the crew lifted Lasner onto a stretcher, more flashbulbs went off. Fay grabbed Ben’s hand, drawing him along with her. Lasner opened his eyes, aware of the movement.

“They’re here,” Fay said. “Just hold on.”

Lasner struggled to say something, but managed only an indistinct sound.

“Don’t try to talk,” Fay said. “You’ve said enough.”

Lasner glanced at her and started to smile.

In the ambulance, Fay and Ben in the back with him, Lasner began breathing more regularly, his color better.

“That’s twice you’re there,” he said to Ben, his voice scratchy but intelligible.

“Shh. Don’t excite yourself,” Fay said.

“You see his face?” Lasner said.

“Quite a finish,” Ben said.

“I told you. He didn’t know how to play it. He’s done.”

“Don’t talk crazy,” Fay said.

“He should fucking go out and shoot himself. Like Claude Rains.”

Ben laughed. Fay shot him a look, but Lasner, pleased, smiled and closed his eyes again.

“What did you give him?” the doctor said as they brought the gurney into the emergency room.

Ben handed him the pills. “Two, three.”

The doctor nodded then said something to a nurse, ordering an IV, and after that nothing made sense, medicine its own foreign language. Ben and Fay were shunted aside into a waiting room, the air stale with smoke. Ben opened a window. Fay sat down, covering her eyes with her hand.

“Thank you,” she said, and then neither of them spoke, trying to slow things down, all the urgency of the last half hour finally wheeled away somewhere else.

Ben glanced around the room: a pastel seascape on the wall and a stack of Reader’s Digest s on a coffee table. No wonder people paced.

“How bad was it on the train?” Fay said finally.

Ben shrugged. “Not great. But he got through it.”

“How many times can you do that?” She started to cry quietly and Ben looked away, giving her room. “What am I supposed to do? A house that size?”

After they moved Lasner to a room, Ben and Fay were allowed to sit with him, a vigil, until Dr. Rosen arrived and put them in the hall while he conferred with the hospital doctors.

“Is he going to be all right?” Fay said, when he came back out to them.

“That depends what you mean by all right.”

“He’s going to live?”

“Not like now.” He looked at her. “No studio.”

“He won’t.”

“He’ll have to. This time it went off,” he said, pointing to Lasner’s chest. “It goes again, he’s gone. I’m sorry, Fay. I don’t mean to-”

She waved this away. “And that would buy him what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Odds?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“He’ll ask. A few months sitting around? Is that all he’s going to get anyway?”

“A month is a lot, if it’s your last. A year-? What’s numbers? Don’t go soft on me, Fay,” he said, seeing her face begin to tremble. “You’re the only one can talk to him.”

She flicked the corner of her eye, drying it. “Wonderful.”

Bunny arrived when they were sitting with Lasner, awake now but not talking much, preoccupied.

“Now he gets here,” Lasner said, but patted his hand, affectionate.

“Sol, I-” He didn’t finish, turning instead to Fay, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m going to be out a few days,” Lasner said.

Bunny nodded, playing along, but his eyes were examining Lasner, appraising without the pyramid fingers, and Ben watched him grow paler, shaken, and knew that Lasner was dying, the doctor’s assessment just something to comfort Fay.

“He didn’t call Rosemary like we thought,” Lasner said, talking business.

“He might.”

“Let’s release the picture anyway. Fuck him.”

“Let’s talk about it when-”

“We’re talking about it now.”

“No, you’re not,” Fay said, playing nurse. “Doctor’s orders. Look at you. It’s not enough for one day?”

“What do the doctors say?” Bunny said, but Fay didn’t answer, instead rolling her eyes toward the door.

“What do they always say?” Lasner said. “Listen to them, everybody should go live in Laguna.”

“Watch I don’t take you there,” Fay said. “You look tired. Close your eyes for a while.”

“Don’t leave,” he said, a child’s voice.