Pop singer Michael Anderson has just finished a concert in the Bronx when he gets a call informing him his old friend Christopher Moore has been in a horrible car accident. Though Michael has no idea why Christopher listed him as his emergency contact since they haven’t spoken or seen each other in ten years, he hurries to the hospital. He and Christopher once dated in high school, and if Christopher needs him, Michael will be there for him.
Fashion model Paul Smith is married to Christopher, who is a travel photographer. Paul, separated from Christopher and living in Paris with his current boyfriend, returns to the Bronx after getting a call from Christopher’s father about the accident. Imagine his surprise when he gets to the hospital and discovers Michael, the guy he stole Christopher from when they were sixteen, holding vigil over him in the ICU.
As he lies in a coma, Christopher’s conscious returns and he overhears two voices. One is his cheating husband, and the other is the only guy he’s ever loved. It’s Michael’s face he sees when he finally awakens. Old memories come rushing back, including the reason he’s with Paul instead of Michael. Christopher wants to undo the injustice he did to Michael years ago, but first he needs to rid Paul from his life. Will it be enough for Michael to take him back?
“What do you mean you’re staying in America for a while?” Adam Kelso asked Michael as they sat in Michael’s hotel suite early the next morning. They were having breakfast.
“I’m taking a break,” Michael answered. The tour had ended and they were due to fly back to London in a couple of days.
“Since when?” Adam asked.
“Since now. An old friend of mine got into a terrible accident last night, and I need to check on him to make sure he’s okay before I fly back. Plus, I need to stop by and see my folks.” He’d already planned to do the latter before he got the call about Christopher.
“What friend?” Adam asked. He had been Michael’s manager for ten years and knew basically everyone in Michael’s life.
“Christopher Moore?”
Adam stared at him. “Christopher Moore? Your Christopher Moore?”
“He’s not my Christpher Moore anymore and hasn’t been since high school.”
Adam gave him that look.
“Yes, that Christopher Moore.”
“What happened?” Adam asked.
“The doctor said he drove his car into a cement piling at the foot of the bridge,” Michael explained.
“Was he drunk?” Adam asked.
Michael shrugged again. “The doctor didn’t say.”
Adam hesitated for a moment like he was trying to choose words that wouldn’t offend. “Doesn’t he have a husband?”
Michael nodded. “Yes. He’s in Paris. Or he was. He’s enroute here.”
“Oh, so you’re only here for moral support until he gets home?”
“I guess. Christopher has me listed as his emergency contact. Someone must have known I was in town for the concert and they called this room.”
“Why? Why are you his emergency contact?”
Michael shrugged for the third time. “I have no idea.”
“What’s Christopher’s condition?”
“He’s in ICU. He has a severe head injury. They’ve put him into a medically-induced coma.”
“That’s serious,” Adam said. He sighed. “I’ll make sure everything and everyone gets back to London.” He rose and patted Michael on the shoulder. “Remember that you have no place in his life anymore. He has a husband. Step back when the time comes.”
Michael nodded. “I will.”
Adam left.
Michael looked down at his watch. It read ten A.M. He needed to get to the hospital. The rental car was still in the parking lot. He grabbed his things, made sure the coffee maker was off and left the suite. Once again, he was leaving without security, which was something people like him shouldn’t do. He planned to be incognito and not cause trouble.
Michael made it to the elevator and took it down to the lobby. The rental car was just where he’d left it last night when he got back from the hospital. He climbed inside and drove out of the parking lot. He was glad there wasn’t much traffic on the streets.
Once at the hospital, he found a spot to park, and entered the building. He was just wearing a pair of slacks and a pullover shirt. He also sported sunglasses. Michael made it to the information desk. “Good morning. I’m here to see a patient. His name is Christopher Moore. He was brought in last night after a car accident. He was supposed to be moved to a private room.”
The male behind the desk looked up something on the computer. “Yes. He’s been moved to from five-sixteen on the fifth floor.”
“Thank you,” Michael said. He headed to the elevator and pushed the button. The door opened and Michael stepped inside. He pressed the button and the door closed. They reopened again on the fifth floor. Michael looked around until he found the direction to go, then he found Christopher’s room. It was still a part of ICU. The place was freezing. He was so glad he’d decided to grab his jacket as he left his hotel room.
Michael walked over to the bed. He had to put his hand over his mouth to keep from crying out. Christopher, his Christopher, lay perfectly still. His face and head were swollen. There were wires and tubes in his mouth, nose and both arms. Machines beeped and made noise. And he was so pale.
Michael had never seen an accident victim before. Christopher had two black eyes, probably from the airbags imploding. This disturbed Michael, because it marred Christopher handsome face. Michael finally spoke. “Hello, Chris.” He knew Christopher couldn’t hear him. And he never, ever called him, Chris. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
