"You know, you're definitely making progress."
Alan looped his stethoscope around his neck, casting his patient a
grin. "Though that's the third nurse you've had in tears today...so can
you cut it out? We only have so many nurses up here and I don't want
all of them
too terrified to bring you your medicine when it's time."
"I'm bored." Pizzazz glared at him, flexing her fingers idly to examine
chipped nail polish. "You won't let me do any fun things. My nails are
wrecked and you won't let me file them or paint them or anything. My
hair is all over
the place, and you won't let me brush it - some stupid nurse has to
come
do it if I want it brushed! You won't let me do anything!"
"I thought we'd come to an agreement about that." Alan said lightly.
"Besides, it's doing you good, to get some rest. You showbiz types
sleep altogether too little and party way too much. Think of this as
your rest cure. It's
not doing you any harm."
"Rest cure? Bah. Can you die of boredom?" Pizzazz managed to inject
some cynicism into the hoarse whisper that passed for her voice at
present, folding her arms gingerly across her chest. "Because if so I'm
probably well on
the way there."
Alan laughed.
"Nonsense. You should just talk less and sleep more." He told her
matter-of-factly. "And if you don't behave, I'll sedate you and put you
back on the ventilator."
He paused, then, "You know what that will mean."
"No way!" Pizzazz's eyes widened in alarm. "I can make my own trips to
the bathroom, thank you very much! You keep your gadgets away from me!"
"Well, then you shut up and do as I tell you." Alan was immovable.
"Besides, you have a visitor waiting outside. I'll only let her in if
you promise
not to put too much stress on that lung of yours. Talking is a
complicated
business and I want to make sure you heal."
"Fine." Pizzazz grimaced. "A visitor? What kind of a visitor?"
"The young lady who was in the car with you. Miss Burns?" Alan pursed
his lips. "Dark hair. English accent."
"Okay. I guess she won't bore me to death." Pizzazz rolled her eyes.
"Send her in, okay?"
"Yes, your ladyship." Alan's eyes twinkled with amusement, but he
withdrew from the little room. A moment later, the door opened once
more, this time to admit Jetta, her dark hair in a ponytail. She cast
her bandmate a slight smile, dropping down into an empty chair.
"They put you together then." She observed flippantly.
"Yes, more or less." Pizzazz glowered. "The doctor is full of himself
and keeps telling me what to do. I hate him, but Daddy won't let me
change him. Apparently he's some kind of God in this field or
something. I dunno. His attitude sucks."
She eyed Jetta in some confusion.
"Why are you here, anyhow? Playing visitor aint your style."
"Well, I wanted to be sure that they weren't feeding us lies." Jetta
said matter of factly. "And that you were out of danger. Besides, Eric
sent me on an errand, too." She pulled a graphic face, slipping her
hand into her pocket and producing the document. "He wants you to sign
this. Stormer says it's legit but if you want my advice I'd send a
message back that you ain't up to holding a pen."
Pizzazz took it, green eyes wary. Slowly she unfolded it, skimming over
the contents. She frowned.
"What in hell is it?" She demanded.
"Should you even be talking? You sound bloody awful." Jetta eyed her
friend doubtfully, then, "It's apparently somethin' to give 'im the
right to run the company in your absence. Stormer reckons it don't
threaten your control over the company. Me, I think Eric's plannin'
something."
"Right now I could care less about Eric or the company. I ain't in much
position to do anything about either." Pizzazz coughed, pausing to
steady her breathing, and putting a hand to her chest. Jetta bit her
lip.
"You ain't as okay as you look, are you?" She asked quietly. "I mean,
you're gonna be 'ere a while, right?"
"I don't know." Pizzazz spoke in a cautious whisper. "That Alan Garcia
doctor of mine won't commit himself to an answer." She frowned, then,
"Gimme
a pen, huh? I might as well sign this damn thing and get him off my
back.
If Stormer says it's legit, well, it probably is."
She coughed again, taking the pen that Jetta reluctantly offered her
and looping her signature across the sheet of paper, handing both back.
"I'll give it 'im later." she said. "And I'll be keepin' me eye on 'im
too. Don't worry about that."
She hesitated, then, "What 'as Dr Garcia said, then?"
"Not much." Pizzazz shook her head. "I broke ribs and tore my l...lung.
He says if I ever wanna sing again I gotta do as he says and be
patient. It
sucks. I'm so bored I could scream, only I can't because my breathing
goes
into spasm. I can't even yell at anyone or throw a fit! It's so goddamn
awful!"
"If you ask me, I'd do as 'e says. The bloke bloody well saved your
life." Jetta told her darkly. "I saw you after the accident an' it
wasn't pretty. I thought you were gonna die there an' then and if it
'adn't been for a
good samaritan you would probably 'ave, too. I don't know what they did
in surgery but I know it was a big deal operation. Do as 'e says, huh?
Just
so long as it takes you to get fit enough to get outta 'ere. We don't
want
Eric runnin' the Misfits company an' we don't want the Misfits goin'
under
without you."
"Listen to me. I can't sing." Pizzazz snapped. "I can barely talk!"
"I know, but if listenin' to that doctor will get you better faster,
I'd do it." Jetta shrugged. "It ain't just your job on the line, you
know."
"Is that all you came by to see me for? To tell me to get a move on
because you guys have jobs to worry about?" Pizzazz only just kept a
grip on her
temper. Jetta eyed her for a moment, then she shook her head.
"No. I came because you gave me a bloody fright the other night an' I
wanted to reassure meself that you weren't at death's door." She said
quietly.
"You're one of us, an' it matters. That's why I came. But the other
stuff
is important too."
Pizzazz pursed her lips. She sighed.
"Ain't much I can do about it." She said flatly. "Except wait."
She ran an idle finger over the edge of her thumbnail, frowning.
"Scuffed and he won't let me do anything to fix them." She said sadly.
"The man's a neanderthal."
"Men don't understand nails." Despite herself, Jetta was amused at her
companion's vanity. "I wouldn't worry. Noone's gonna see you while
you're in 'ere. An' I'd be far more concerned about the shade of that
nightgown with your complexion, if I were you."
"I know." Pizzazz glowered. "I made a nurse cry about that this
morning. I'm demanding black. She said I c...can't have black, only
dead bodies have black. I told her that she'd be looking for another
job if she didn't c...cooperate with m...me, and...." She trailed of,
taking a deep breath. Jetta eyed her anxiously, and at length the
singer shook her head.
"Can't do this." She murmured. "Need to stop talking. It's hurting
m...my chest."
"Well, shut up then." Jetta said bluntly. She glanced at her watch,
then stood.
"I gotta cut outta 'ere anyhow. Visitin' ends at eight an' it's five to
now." She said. "I'll make sure Eric gets the bit of paper tomorrow
mornin',
but if you ask me I still think signin' it was a big mistake. You give
that
guy an inch an' 'e will take a mile."
"Not signing it might mean the company collapsing." Pizzazz spoke
cautiously. She shook her head. "Eric will behave. Else he'll
regr..regret it."
"I told you once, shut up." Jetta reproached. "I'll send Stormer to see
you tomorrow. She'll bore you to tears with whichever song she's got
her
mind on at the moment and that'll teach you to test your stitches. Me,
I'm
outta 'ere. I'm glad to see you're gettin' better, but 'ospitals really
ain't
my style."
With that she was gone, and Pizzazz grimaced wryly, settling herself
more comfortably on her pillows. However, Jetta's visit, and the
opportunity to gripe had left her in better spirits, and she closed her
eyes, slipping into a sleep so deep she did not even notice when Alan
poked his head around the door to check on his wilful patient. Finding
her lost to the world, he gave an approving smile, softly closing her
curtains, and then leaving.
After all, he mused, sleep was the best healer for her now.
"Obviously having company wore her out." He mused. "Oh well. If it gets
her to follow my orders, so much to the better. I like a patient with
the
strength to rebel, but not if that costs her her recovery!"
~*^*~PIZZAZZ'S CHRONICLE~*^*~
Part
One: Summer, 1989
Chapter One: Alone
Chapter Two: A Night Out
Chapter Three: Tragedy
Chapter Four: Aftermath
Chapter Five: Alan Garcia
Chapter Six: Fire vs Fire
Chapter Seven: Eric
Chapter Eight: Ambition
Chapter Nine: Eric's Offer
Chapter Ten: Misfits To Arms