noticed a reed-thin man with thick hair and a scholarly air about him had joined those gathered. As she and Leo wandered over, Rhett introduced him.
“This is Dr. Tony Eckert. He’s associated with Twin Hills and is here to help us reach out to Zak.”
Dr. Eckert smiled warmly. “I’ve been involved in over seven hundred interventions. Most go pretty well. A few turn south. From what Rhett says, it sounds like Zak knows he needs some help. That’s the biggest step for him to take right now.”
He eyed the group that had formed into a circle around him. “Zak will probably be moody. Downright angry, actually. He’ll more than likely say a few things to hurt you. He might protest that he doesn’t need to hear what you have to say. Don’t let that stop you. Whether Zak realizes it or not, he’s craving the love and attention you’ll be dishing out. Don’t let him sidetrack you. Say what you want, if you want. Just being here for him speaks volumes. But if you speak, keep it short and from the heart.”
At that moment, the door to Zak’s private room opened and a stout man in a white lab coat exited. He smiled as he recognized and greeted Tony Eckert, who ushered him off to the side and spoke with him briefly.
The two men looked up and walked back toward Zak’s room.
“Showtime,” Rhett said under his breath as they moved en masse behind the two doctors.
Zak’s physician entered first and Cassie caught a few phrases about visitors that wanted to see him. Dr. Eckert led the group inside and they surrounded Zak’s bed.
The comedian looked absolutely awful. Cassie saw the huge discolorations under his eyes and the swelling of his mangled nose. A cut above his eye had been neatly stitched. Zak’s red hair stuck out in all directions and his normally pale skin looked ashen, the freckles standing out in stark contrast.
“If it isn’t Hotshot and the Sunshine Band, all decked out with half-ass smiles. Come to make the beat-up comic feel good about himself, huh? Maybe you should’ve brought Santa Claus and his elves instead. You are one morbidly cheerful group of people for this early in the morning.”
His lips snarled in disgust. “Ken getting up outta bed the day after his big-ass premiere. Way to go, bro. Love ya for it. Chris, must be your day off from the firehouse. I know that little wife of yours keeps you on a short leash so I’m glad she let you join in the reindeer games.”
Zak reached for the plastic water pitcher and poured himself a drink. No one said anything as they watched him painfully sip through the straw.
He looked around expectantly. “Who else is here? My poker pals, Darin and Leo. My money-grubbing agent, who’s about to shit bricks if I don’t get my act together and keep his percentage rolling in. I can see he thinks I’m money pouring down the drain in my present condition. And Emyli. Glad you could stop humping your latest motherfucking boyfriend and swing by to say hi.”
Zak’s eyes narrowed. “My two favs here have to be the friend who beat me up, resident Hollywood stud, Rhett Corrigan, and his little pony-tailed assistant. How ya doin’ today, Cass? Getting a little free, unexpected press?”
Dr. Eckert interrupted Zak’s monologue.
“Hello, Zak. I’m Tony Eckert. I’m—”
“—some asshole mediation expert from rehab, I’ll guess. I’m sure Hotshot organized this little wake-up call and put you in charge of the festivities. This is called an intervention, right?”
“That’s correct.”
Zak thought a moment. “Intervene. That means to interfere or meddle, doesn’t it? To intrude on someone’s privacy?”
Dr. Eckert coolly replied, “You’re exactly right, Zak. We’re here to interrupt the path your life is on and convince you to make the decision to try a new fork in the road."
“Hmm. I like that, Tony. You don’t mind if I call you Tony, do you? I mean, you’re calling me Zak and all like we’re buddies from way back.”
Dr. Eckert didn’t rise to the bait. Cassie shuffled uncomfortably. It surprised her how bitter Zak was.
“Quit messing around, Zak,” Rhett ordered. “You agreed last night that you needed some help. Well, the Marines have stormed your beach and we’re ready to take no prisoners.”
“Oh, Hotshot, gotta love those metaphors. You know, there’s more to you, Pretty Boy, than meets the eye.”
Rhett pulled the tray that extended over the bed out of the way and roughly shoved it aside. He sat down