The room resonated with a savage roar and exploded into chaos. The crushing weight was gone. JC wiped frantically at the wetness blinding her view. Sounds of the two men echoed through the shadows of the grey morning light. Reed tackled Luca to the floor, pummeling him over and over, sweat and blood flying everywhere. Reed’s blood. The back of his shirt stained crimson.
“Oh, my God! Reed! Reed, stop!” She ran to his side. He showed no mercy. The sounds of his fists connecting with Luca’s face, punishing. He’d lost his mind, fueled by rage and hatred. By the looks of his shirt, Reed had lost a lot of blood from a gash on the back of his head. Luca lay beneath him, battered and moaning in agony.
She tugged on his arm. “Stop, Reed! You’re going to kill him.”
Panting and pallid, he turned to JC with glazed eyes.
Luca swung, punching Reed on the bloody side of the head, toppling him to the floor.
“No!” she screamed as Luca crawled over Reed who lay nearly unconscious, but he didn’t listen. He reached for the nightstand, grabbing a heavy glass framed picture.
With terrified heartbeats, JC lurched for the bat lying on the floor beside the bed. As Luca raised the frame above his head, she swung for the bleachers. The crack of the bat indicated a direct hit to Luca’s ribs. The splintering sound resonated through the air.
He hovered over Reed, so she hit him again. He folded over in pain, slouching off to the side. JC took aim again, but Reed caught the bat mid-swing with the palm of his hand.
“Call the police.”
She bolted to the kitchen and reached for the phone, her hands trembling violently as she dialed the number.
“Momma,” she croaked. “I need to talk to Tom.”
****
Years of being hounded by the media taught JC invaluable lessons. If Reed or Luca had been lethally wounded, she would’ve called 911. Calling Tom and Tess seemed the most logical choice.
The police and paramedics arrived within fifteen minutes. However, having Tom make the phone call to his in at the police department held the paparazzi for a few hours. As it turned out, Reed wound up with eleven stitches on the back of his head and Luca’s badly battered face was nearly unrecognizable when the authorities hauled him off to jail from the hospital with several broken ribs.
Still, the rumormongers arrived, creating a chaotic scene outside the hospital, snapping photos of JC and Reed. They followed them home, lurking outside his home for two days trying to get a cover story.
Reed’s phone rang off the hook when photos of the two of them exiting the hospital fronted several tabloid magazines. They shielded their faces, but there was no mistaking who they were and the dry blood covering his shirt created cause for concern. Everyone wanted to make sure he was okay, but it was followed up with She’s a handful! or What did you get yourself into?
The Cosmetic Co. chose to stand by JC, stating they had every intention of keeping their contract. She hoped Reed would too. She found herself actually praying he didn’t leave her.
The sun hadn’t shined in five days and neither had Reed. His mood was as gloomy as the weather. JC missed his smile. As the days dragged by, she worried Hollywood drama was too much for him. Her insecurity seeped through the cracks, causing her to wonder if he regretted their relationship, instantly turning her thoughts to Annie. She was probably the perfect wife.
Normally they openly discussed every intimate detail of their relationship, but he was withdrawn and buried deep in his own thoughts. Reed didn’t complain about the fight with Luca or getting stitches, but he wasn’t his happy self. He seemed annoyed and incensed with anger when it came to the paparazzi slithering past the front of his house. He compulsively walked the property, fixating on protecting her from harm of any kind whether it be physical or detriment of her good name. She’d been her own deterrent of her good name years ago and had been working hard to restore it.
Lack of self-confidence resulted in lack of sleep for JC.
Reed tossed and turned at night, unable to sleep well from the swelling, bruising and stitches. By day five of dreary weather and strained emotions, both were exhausted.
On day six, JC finally slept all night. Rays of morning sunlight pushed through the window, warming her exposed bare leg peeking from the sheet. She rolled over with a yawn, reaching for Reed, but only found an empty pillow.
JC sat up, dangling her feet over the edge of the bed, rubbing her eyes and curling her toes on the warm wood. A week’s worth of stress had taken its toll, leaving her feeling as if she had a massive hangover. Raising her hands to the ceiling, she stretched out the aches and pains hoping to release the stress from her tight shoulders.