by Hamel, B. B.
There was nothing he could do for me, unless he wanted to pay off my debt, which I wouldn’t accept anyway. It was bad enough that Cosimo thought he owned me, but if I let Gavin give the man money, then I’d truly be bought and sold.
I let out a groan, sat up, and headed into the bathroom. I looked like shit: bags under my eyes, hair a mess. I ran the shower and stood as the room filled with steam and tried to picture marrying a stranger, some mafia bastard. I tried to imagine living in his house, sleeping in his bed, and yes, letting him undress me, letting him fuck me. I felt sick and gagged, almost retched into the toilet. I spit once down the shower drain and hugged my knees to my chest for a few minutes, forcing the thought from my mind, before undressing and showering away the hospital.
When I was done, I felt better. I got changed into fresh clothes and went to make myself some tea. As I put the kettle on and got down my favorite Elizabeth Warren mug, I heard footsteps on the stairs outside of our apartment door.
I froze like a rabbit. My ears perked up. I heard the water bubbling in the kettle, but I didn’t look at it. I stared wild-eyed as the footsteps stopped right outside the door and I thought I heard male voices, two of them, one a little lower than the other. I couldn’t make out the words but the tone was clear: they were arguing about something.
It was them, the guys from the hospital. I knew it the second I heard their steps. I knew they’d show up sooner or later, but I thought I had more time to plan and figure out what I was going to do. I wanted to spend the night here and get my stuff together, figure out if I had any money, and figure out a course of action from there—instead, they were already outside.
One of them banged on the door. I jumped, let out a yelp, then covered my mouth.
“Are you in there?” he shouted. “Did you hear that?”
A muffled response.
Another knock at the door. I turned away and shut off the stove before walking fast into my room. They banged on the door again, and again, and then the banging turned into something else, more insistent, more violent.
As I grabbed a bag and started shoving clothes into it, I realized they were trying to break down the door. I wanted to scream as I scrambled for my stuff, throwing a random assortment of underwear, socks, shirts, jeans, and my MacBook into the lime-green backpack I used to take to high school. My head buzzed as I tried to figure out what the heck I was going to do, when one enormous thud was followed by a metallic ping, like the sound of a screw bouncing off a hardwood floor.
I stepped into the hall. The hinges of the front door were hanging on by a thread. They were about to break it down, and I didn’t want to be around when they got through. I heard an angry grunt, followed by a shout, followed by another bang, and the door nearly toppled over. I staggered backwards toward my mother’s room then turned and ran as an enormous thump and wooden clatter followed me inside.
I heard their steps as I threw my mom’s door shut and locked it. “Oh, come on now, Erica,” the bastard said. I didn’t know his name and I didn’t want to know—he was just one of Cosimo’s assholes. “We know you’re here. You think you could walk away from the hospital without us realizing?”
My heart raced as I turned toward the far window. My mom’s room was a continuation of the main apartment—nature-themed with an emphasis on barnyard imagery. Her double bed was covered in a red checkered quilt and she had tulle window shades that made the space look twee. I unlatched the window that looked out into the alley next door and shoved it up.
“Erica, Erica, Erica,” the mobster said. “Come on, darling, open up. Don’t make me break another door down. It’s such a pain in the ass.”
I leaned out the window and spotted it— there, attached to the side of the building, was the fire escape. I reached out, missed it, thought I might fall, and steadied myself. I tried again and got it, then yanked it down. The metal creaked with a sickening shriek, but it fell downwards and dropped into position.
“You’re not getting away,” the mobster shouted and began kicking the bedroom door. It wasn’t as heavy or sturdy as the front door had been, and it instantly started to warp and crack. I was terrified, but I climbed out the window and managed to grab onto the metal fire escape. It creaked and groaned, and I realized it must’ve been fifty years old at least—most houses didn’t have anything like it. The wind blew across the nape of my neck as the bedroom door smashed open and the two men came inside.
The first guy was short, compact, and bald. He’d been the one that did most of the talking in the hospital. He showed me his teeth like an animal and came running to the window. I climbed down as fast as I could, and when he reached for me, I felt his fingers whiff the air above my hair.
“Stop right there, you bitch,” he growled. “Goddamn it, Justin, go around!”
The other guy disappeared and I heard him running.
I had to hurry. I jumped down two rungs and held on, the metal sliding along the palms of my hands. I kept going, faster, faster, and above me the bald mobster climbed out onto the ladder. I was tempted to try to knock him off, but I had a feeling I’d lose that battle.
I reached the bottom then hopped off the last few feet. I landed with a thud in the alley and ran as fast as I could toward the street.
“You can’t run from us, damn it,” the mobster yelled, still hanging on the ladder.
I sprinted around the corner, hit the sidewalk, and kept going. I didn’t turn to look back to see if that other guy was following. People stared at me as I whipped past them, my backpack thudding against my back, my hair streaming out behind me. I didn’t care if I looked like a crazy person. I wove my way between couples waking their dogs, turned down side streets, and kept going until I couldn’t move anymore, until my legs felt like lead and my lungs burned deep inside. I stopped on a random street I didn’t recognize and leaned against a tree, gasping for breath, my ribs aching like hell.
But nobody followed. I stood there for a while, waiting to get caught, but neither of them showed up. I must’ve gotten away, and a strange relief hit me—followed by the sudden realization that I had nowhere to go.
Once I caught my breath enough to think, I crouched down and checked my bag. I had enough clothes and fortunately threw my wallet in the bottom, which had some cash and my cards. I could figure out a place to stay, maybe pay for a hotel for a few nights, but I didn’t know how long that would last. I groaned, hating myself, hating my situation, and halfway wishing I’d stayed back at the hospital.
I stood up straight, put on my bag, and began to walk. As I chewed up the blocks, I came up with a plan: I’d book a room somewhere, the cheapest one I could find, and lay low for as long as my funds allowed. Hopefully in that time, I’d figure something out.
Didn’t seem likely. It was a horrible plan, but I didn’t know what else to do. I was desperate, exhausted, alone, and in pain, and all I wanted was a safe room to hide in for the night.
I took out my phone and started searching for the closest, cheapest hotel in the city.
5
Gavin
The next day I went through my normal routine: gym in the morning, then shower at the hospital, followed by meetings, and rounds, and patients, and more patients, and Fiona’s constant disapproving glares, and more patients. Through it all I kept thinking about Erica, about where she was and what she was doing. I had to imagine she was scared and desperate, and I wished I could find her and do something for her—but I knew I had to let her make that decision on her own.
Around midnight that night, I checked on her mother. Nothing changed, but I sat down by her bedside and took her hand on a whim. I don’t know why I did it—maybe I was exhausted from the long hours, or maybe Erica was weighing heavier on my mind than I realized, but I wasn’t the type of doctor to touch a patient like that.
“Your daughter asked if you could hear her yesterday,” I said, my voice sounding strange in the otherwise quiet room. Erica’s mother didn’t move, didn’t stir, only kept breath
ing in and breathing out. “I told her I wasn’t sure, but you know what? I think you can hear what we’re saying.”
I cleared my throat, not sure what I was doing.
“Your daughter’s in trouble, but I think you might know about that already. I don’t know what happened or how she got involved with those guys, but I can make some guesses.” I took a breath and shut my eyes, trying to push aside my awkwardness. I wasn’t normally such an emotional fucking guy. I’d learned to turn that part of me off, especially in the face of all the stress and death I dealt with as a doctor. I had to be able to separate myself from my patients, or else I’d drive myself insane with guilt and worry and anger—and that would make me an even worse doctor.
“I had a sister,” I said, my voice ringing in my ears. “Her name was Jamie. She fell in a love with a man named Silvo. He’s in prison now, doing a life sentence for murder.” I sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “Sometimes I feel like I let her down. Silvo seemed so normal at first and nobody knew what he was really like. Jamie never said anything, not a single word, and the full story only became clear—afterward.”
I opened my eyes and tilted my head back, staring up at the drop ceiling with its stained tiles and textured paint.
“I let her down, really messed up. I was supposed to be her guardian, I raised her pretty much since she was fifteen, but I was too busy working all the time, too busy doing my own thing to really see what was right in front of me. And I guess I see a little of your daughter in that—and I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”
I smiled and looked down at her mother—then heard a noise behind me.
I released her hand and stood, turning around. I expected to find Fiona standing there, giving me a reproving look. It wasn’t seemly for a doctor to sit with a coma patient like that, much less hold that patient’s hand and talk to her. Instead though, Erica stood in the doorway, her head tilted, wearing a pair of black jeans and a simple gray V-neck shirt, cut low enough to show off a hint of her breasts. I narrowed my eyes and felt a spike of something—shame, maybe, or embarrassment, I wasn’t sure—as she crossed her arms and stared at me.
“Was that true?” she asked.
“You shouldn’t have heard that.”
“You eavesdropped on me. I guess we’re even now.”
I grimaced, clenching my jaw. “Yeah, that was true.”
“What happened to her? Your sister?”
“She’s dead now.” I met her gaze, holding it, and didn’t want to go into detail. She wasn’t supposed to hear that story. It wasn’t something I talked about.
She chewed on that for a second. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a few years ago. I’m dealing with it.”
“Why do you think you can help me?” Her tone wasn’t combative like I’d expected, but instead I sensed a slight hint of desperation.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m not completely sure what’s going on with you, so I can’t say what I can do yet, but I want to try.”
“Because I remind you of your dead sister?”
I must’ve flinched, because she instantly looked like she regretted saying that.
“That’s right,” I said, keeping my tone soft. “I don’t like when men push women around, much less take advantage of them the way those guys were.”
She chewed on her cheek. “I need a place to stay.”
I took a breath and nodded slowly. “Okay, I can help with that.”
“The assholes broke into my apartment, and I don’t have enough money to keep paying for a hotel, and I just—” She stopped herself and let out a frustrated breath. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t your problem.”
“I want to help.”
She shook her head. “I don’t get it. Why would you want to get involved with someone like me?”
I spread my hands and shrugged. “I guess I care too much.”
She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“You can stay at my place as long as you want. I doubt those guys will think to look for you there.”
She nodded, staring down at the floor. “They followed me home from here.”
I digested that for a moment. “Do you think they followed you again?”
“I don’t know. I bet they’re watching the hospital, though.”
“Okay,” I said, my brain running through scenarios. “I think I have an idea.”
“If it’s too much trouble—”
“Sit down, talk to your mother, and I’ll be right back.”
She gave me a look, but I was already moving to the door. She stepped aside to let me pass but my hand brushed against hers. I felt it again, that spark, and I wanted to linger close to her body, breathe in her smell, kiss her long, delicate neck, but instead I forced myself to keep moving. I felt her eyes on me as I marched toward the nurses’ station and found Fiona sitting alone scrolling through her phone.
“Hey, you busy?”
She looked up at me and put her phone down. “Not really. What’s up?”
“I need your help. It’s kind of… unorthodox though.”
“I’m not helping you do something that’ll get a patient killed.” She said it with hard eyes and a flat tone.
I gave her a look. “Why the hell would you think that?”
“I’m just saying.”
“No, look, remember that girl who left a couple days ago? The car accident victim?”
“Sure, her mom’s still in the coma.”
“She needs my help and I’m going to let her crash with me. There are some guys looking for her, and—”
“Whoa, hold up,” she said, raising her hands in the air. “You’re going to do what?”
“I’m letting her crash at my place. It’s not like that so quit giving me that look.”
She shook her head, disgust plain on her face. “I’m not helping you take advantage of a patient.”
“Fiona.” I said her name in the tone I used with Jamie back when she was still a teenager and I needed to get her to listen for once—to try to block out her teenage hormones and actually digest my words. “This girl is in trouble. There are men looking for her, the sort of guys that might do something bad, and I’m going to let her crash on my couch for a couple days until she figures out what to do.”
Her eyes remained narrow, but her tone softened. “The guys that visited her?”
“Them, yeah.”
“And this isn’t some kind of weird sex thing?”
“I swear, Fiona. I know you don’t like me, but have I ever done anything to endanger a patient? You watch me like a goddamn hawk, if I were some kind of psycho sex freak, you’d have noticed by now.”
“Well, that’s true,” she said and sighed, putting her hands flat on the desk. “All right, what do you need me to do?”
I grinned a little and leaned toward her. The plan was simple and straightforward: all I needed was for her to take Erica back to the nurses’ locker room and put her in some scrubs. Then they’d walk out together and meet me around the corner at this bar called Revel. From there, I’d take Erica back to my place.
Fiona digested that for a few seconds then shook her head. “Fine, but I have to come back after and finish my shift.”
“No problem.”
“And you owe me, like, a million.” She hesitated and stood up. “And I’m going to check on her to make sure she’s okay.”
“I’d like that, actually.”
She gave me a hard look then nodded. “All right, fine. Where is she?”
“Her mom’s room. I’ll head out now and I’ll see you two in a little bit, all right?”
“This better not end bad. You hear me, Gavin?”
“I swear to you, we’re helping this girl.”
She let out a breath and walked off, heading toward Erica with purpose. I smiled a little bit and watched her go.
She was a stuck-up prick and a huge pain in my ass, but she was a good nurse and a good person. I tr
usted her to keep this to herself, at least so long as it benefited Erica, and that was enough for me. I turned and left, stopping off to grab my stuff. I exited out into the Philly evening and felt cool air whip across my scrubs as I found Revel and walked inside. It was a local dive, lots of punks and hippies, and the drinks were all way overpriced. I ordered a beer, found a seat in the corner, and sat down to wait.
It didn’t take them too long. I was halfway through my pint when Fiona appeared in the doorway—followed by a blonde girl in pink scrubs. I almost didn’t recognize Erica, and a smile spread across my lips. Fiona headed in my direction with her arm around Erica’s shoulder and gave me a dirty look.
“What are you smiling at?” she asked.
“Nothing, it’s just—”
Fiona leaned toward me and slapped a palm down on the table. “Listen to me, you dickhead. I decided I like this girl, and we’re going to be friends, so you’re going to treat her like a queen. You follow her orders, you give her whatever she wants, and you don’t cross any ethical or moral boundaries. Understood?”
I gave her a bemused laughed. “Absolutely.”
“Good.” She stood up straight. I glanced at Erica, and she was stifling a laugh. “Now, I’m heading back before I get in trouble, but I’m coming over to your place in the morning to check on her. And I swear to god, Gavin, if she reports any bullshit, you’re dead.”
“Roger that. And hey, seriously, Fiona, thank you.”
She gave me a look and her expression softened. “Yeah, well, you’re helping someone, and I’m not going to be the asshole that stands in the way.”
Without another word, she turned and stormed out.
Erica stood there, watching her go, then turned to me. “Wow, she’s pretty intense.”
