Read Online Coma Girl: part 2 by Stephanie Bond - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stephanie Bond
Tags: General Fiction
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postcard.
“You’re going with me, aren’t you, David?”
“Of course.”
“Oh, my goodness—what am I going to wear?”
“Relax. We’ll get you something spectacular for your TV debut.”
More licking ensued.
“Okay,” ‘David said. “This has to be a homerun, so we need to get prepared. Let’s start thinking of things we’ll need to gather. They’ll want visuals, for sure.”
“We’ll take lots of pictures—maybe you can take some of me and Marigold together?”
“Sure.”
“And maybe one of us Skyping with Alex. That will appeal to the military families.”
“How about some family pictures of you all growing up? You know, Olan Mills type stuff?”
“Er, I’m sure I can find something,” Sidney said.
I’m sure she can’t. But there’s always Photoshop.
“And pictures of Marigold before the accident, you know happy and smiling.”
“Let me work on that,” she hedged.
“And maybe some pictures of you and your parents working with Marigold, reading to her, massaging her limbs, doing things to help her recover.”
Yes, let’s stage all those pictures of fake family rehab.
“Sure,” Sidney said. “Wait—I paint Marigold’s nails.”
“That’ll make a great picture.”
I couldn’t care less about the photo opp, but if that’s what it takes to get my nails painted again, terrific.
“What we really need is something exclusive for the show,” David said.
“Like what?”
“Some inside scoop on Marigold’s condition.”
“Yeah, that would be great,” Sid said. “But so far, her doctor just keeps saying there’s no change, no improvement.”
“With the other woman in her room waking up, we need to toss the producers a bone or Marigold will be upstaged.” He snapped his fingers. “Hey, what if we arrange to live stream video of Marigold from her bed. And maybe have someone ask her to open her eyes. I mean, think of it—if she opened her eyes for the first time on a live stream, the ratings would go through the roof!”
This guy didn’t leave anything on the table.
“I’ll get Mom to do it,” Sid said. “In fact… who would question Mom if she said Marigold squeezed her hand?”
“I love the way you think,” David gushed.
I don’t even know how to respond to that. I want to say Mom would never go for it, but I’m sure Sid could convince her it was in the family’s best interests.
“Oh, and we need to talk about the money,” David said.
“What about the money?”
“The producers have already asked what’s being done with all the donations.”
“We’ll tell them they’re for Marigold’s medical bills.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be good enough. We might need to come up with a foundation of some kind to share some of the donations with other causes.”
Sid made a frustrated noise. “Do we have to?”
“Trust me, a foundation will bring in enough incremental donations to more than pay for itself. And you’ll be named the executor, of course.”
“Okay, then!”
“So we have everything we need to get started?”
“I think so, yes,” Sid said.
“Then let’s go.”
After the door closed behind them, I realized if I inconveniently croaked between now and the show, they would probably put me on ice and bring me out to thaw during the sound check.
No one would know the difference.
August 27, Saturday
THE DOOR OPENED and from the banging and clanging, I assumed a new piece of equipment was being wheeled in.
Maybe it’s time for more tests. Dr. Jarvis has been stopping in regularly to check me for motor reactions, but so far, I haven’t been able to respond. And at some point I know Dr. Tyson will be checking my brainwaves to make sure they’re still flapping.
“Hello, r-roomies.”
It took me a few seconds to realize the slow female voice belongs to Audrey Parks.
My heart took flight. For all the grousing I’ve done about Audrey getting what I want, I’m so happy for her.
“They
“You’re going with me, aren’t you, David?”
“Of course.”
“Oh, my goodness—what am I going to wear?”
“Relax. We’ll get you something spectacular for your TV debut.”
More licking ensued.
“Okay,” ‘David said. “This has to be a homerun, so we need to get prepared. Let’s start thinking of things we’ll need to gather. They’ll want visuals, for sure.”
“We’ll take lots of pictures—maybe you can take some of me and Marigold together?”
“Sure.”
“And maybe one of us Skyping with Alex. That will appeal to the military families.”
“How about some family pictures of you all growing up? You know, Olan Mills type stuff?”
“Er, I’m sure I can find something,” Sidney said.
I’m sure she can’t. But there’s always Photoshop.
“And pictures of Marigold before the accident, you know happy and smiling.”
“Let me work on that,” she hedged.
“And maybe some pictures of you and your parents working with Marigold, reading to her, massaging her limbs, doing things to help her recover.”
Yes, let’s stage all those pictures of fake family rehab.
“Sure,” Sidney said. “Wait—I paint Marigold’s nails.”
“That’ll make a great picture.”
I couldn’t care less about the photo opp, but if that’s what it takes to get my nails painted again, terrific.
“What we really need is something exclusive for the show,” David said.
“Like what?”
“Some inside scoop on Marigold’s condition.”
“Yeah, that would be great,” Sid said. “But so far, her doctor just keeps saying there’s no change, no improvement.”
“With the other woman in her room waking up, we need to toss the producers a bone or Marigold will be upstaged.” He snapped his fingers. “Hey, what if we arrange to live stream video of Marigold from her bed. And maybe have someone ask her to open her eyes. I mean, think of it—if she opened her eyes for the first time on a live stream, the ratings would go through the roof!”
This guy didn’t leave anything on the table.
“I’ll get Mom to do it,” Sid said. “In fact… who would question Mom if she said Marigold squeezed her hand?”
“I love the way you think,” David gushed.
I don’t even know how to respond to that. I want to say Mom would never go for it, but I’m sure Sid could convince her it was in the family’s best interests.
“Oh, and we need to talk about the money,” David said.
“What about the money?”
“The producers have already asked what’s being done with all the donations.”
“We’ll tell them they’re for Marigold’s medical bills.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be good enough. We might need to come up with a foundation of some kind to share some of the donations with other causes.”
Sid made a frustrated noise. “Do we have to?”
“Trust me, a foundation will bring in enough incremental donations to more than pay for itself. And you’ll be named the executor, of course.”
“Okay, then!”
“So we have everything we need to get started?”
“I think so, yes,” Sid said.
“Then let’s go.”
After the door closed behind them, I realized if I inconveniently croaked between now and the show, they would probably put me on ice and bring me out to thaw during the sound check.
No one would know the difference.
August 27, Saturday
THE DOOR OPENED and from the banging and clanging, I assumed a new piece of equipment was being wheeled in.
Maybe it’s time for more tests. Dr. Jarvis has been stopping in regularly to check me for motor reactions, but so far, I haven’t been able to respond. And at some point I know Dr. Tyson will be checking my brainwaves to make sure they’re still flapping.
“Hello, r-roomies.”
It took me a few seconds to realize the slow female voice belongs to Audrey Parks.
My heart took flight. For all the grousing I’ve done about Audrey getting what I want, I’m so happy for her.
“They
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