by Tripp Ellis
"Why tell me?"
"Because you are a problem solver. It’s no secret you’re working with Sheriff Daniels."
He noticed the surprise on my face.
“Not much happens on this island that I don’t know about. So, if you happen to bust Carlos, and he goes back to prison, I’ll feel a tiny bit of satisfaction.”
11
"Tyson," a shaky voice filtered through my phone. "I need you to come get me."
"Scarlett, what's going on?" I answered, my brow tense with concern.
"You're not with Jack, are you?"
"No. I'm just about to leave a poker game. Is everything okay?"
"No," she cried.
I could barely hear over the thumping music in the background. "Where are you?"
"I'm at Bumper. Hurry!”
"I'll be there in a few."
"I'm in the back, in a booth."
She hung up the phone, and I stormed out of the hotel room. I caught a cab over to Bumper on Oyster Avenue. It was a trendy dance club that thumped techno music into the wee hours of the morning. There was a line around the block—girls in black cocktail dresses and stiletto heels, faces painted with sultry makeup. Guys dressed in starched shirts and over-styled hair. It wasn't quite Studio 54, but it wasn't exactly easy to get into.
I flashed my badge and bypassed the line—and the exorbitant cover charge. Inside the club, the music was deafening. Colored lights swirled, and fog hazed the dance floor as the rich and beautiful crowd undulated in a rhythmic motion.
I plowed through the horde, my head on a swivel, searching for Scarlett. She sounded terrified on the phone, and her speech had a slight slur to it. I figured she probably had too much to drink and got into a fight with her boyfriend.
I didn't see her anywhere.
She wasn't in the booth by the back bar where she said she would be. I made a few laps around the club with no success. I asked the bartender at the back bar if he’d seen a girl that fit Scarlett’s description, but he was no help.
The girl standing next to me said, “There is a girl passed out in the bathroom."
I darted down the dim hallway that led to the restrooms. I burst through the door and flashed my badge and shouted, “Deputy Sheriff!"
I was met with awkward stairs, but that was about it. I found Scarlett passed out on the floor in the corner. Nobody bothered to help her. They acted like she wasn't there.
I knelt down beside her and nudged her awake. Her eyes peeled open for a moment. A faint glimmer of recognition flickered in them before she closed them again. Her eyes were dilated and looked like black saucers.
"What did you take?"
"I don't know," she slurred.
I scooped her in my arms and carried her out of the restroom and stormed through the club.
Scarlett faded in and out of consciousness.
I called 911, and the flashing lights from the ambulance illuminated the sidewalk a few minutes later.
“Do you know what she took?" the EMT asked.
I shook my head.
They loaded her on a gurney and lifted her into the back of the ambulance. One of the paramedics started an IV while the other took her vital signs.
Her pulse and respiration were low.
The EMT shined a flashlight into her eyes checking for pupillary response. He administered an anti-opioid, Naloxone. The drug had a high binding affinity for the opioid receptors. It reversed the effect of opioids, and within two minutes of the injection, Scarlett came out of her overdosed state. Her respiration returned to normal about the time we arrived at the ER.
She was triaged and admitted to the ER, and I waited with her in the room while they did blood work and monitored her situation.
“Am I in trouble?” Scarlett asked.
"I'd say you're in a lot of trouble."
"I mean, like I'm not going to get arrested, am I?"
"No. They don't arrest people when they overdose."
"But, is this going to go down on my record, or something?"
“It will be noted in your medical history, but that's not going to go to law enforcement."
"Are you gonna tell my dad?" she asked, cringing.
"I think that's the least of your worries, right now,” I said. "What the hell were you doing?"
"I was just trying to have a good time."
"Well, you succeeded," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Her eyes narrowed at me.
"You are in no position to give me dirty looks. What did you take?"
"I don't know. Obviously not what I thought I was taking."
"Where did you get it from?"
She didn't say anything.
"Scarlett…?"
"Okay, fine. Justin gave me some Molly. At least, I thought it was Molly. Then I started to feel really weird. Like not normal. That's when I called you."
"What happened to Justin?"
"I don't know. He said he was coming right back, and I guess he just took off."
I clenched my teeth. I could understand JD's frustration with the guy—and he had no idea this was going on.
"You can't tell Jack. He’ll never let me see Justin again."
"Why would you want to?"
She shrugged. "I don't know," she said in a sad, pathetic voice.
"How long have you been doing this stuff?"
"What's the big deal? It's just Molly."
"It's not Molly. You realize you almost died?"
"Please don't be mad at me."
I tried to contain my frustration. "I'm not mad at you. I am concerned."
A doctor pushed into the room with a grim look on his face. He was a young guy with dark hair, teal scrubs, and a white lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck. Dr. Patel was embroidered on his lab coat and several identification badges were clipped onto his breast pocket. "You are very lucky to be alive, young lady. We found traces of methamphetamine, an unknown designer drug, and a lethal amount of Fentanyl.” He glanced to me. "You got to her just in time.”
My eyes widened, and I exchanged a glance with Scarlett. She needed to understand how close she came.
“What is your relationship to the patient?"
"Friend of the family," I said.
"Vital signs look good. We’d like to keep her overnight, just to make sure everything's okay. We also want to make sure you don’t go into withdrawals. Are you a regular opioid user?"
Scarlett’s face twisted. "No. I'm not a junkie!”
"I hope you will consider this a wake up call and be much more careful about what you put into your body,” Dr. Patel said. “I don't want to see you back here, or worse, I don't want to read about you in the obituary section."
"I promise. That's the last time I take any drugs," Scarlett said.
"For your sake, I hope so."
12
“As I said, I’d like to admit you to the hospital and keep you overnight,” Dr. Patel said. “We’ll do a patient evaluation and have you consult with an addiction counselor.”
"I am not an addict,” Scarlett said. "It was an accident. I didn't know it was an opioid. I'm fine. I just want to go home."
“Are you refusing treatment?”
“I’m telling you, I'm fine. I didn't OD on purpose. I'm not suicidal. I'm not a drug addict. I just want to go home."
“Scarlett, I think it would be a good idea if you stayed,” I said.
“No!”
“Alright,” Patel said with a frustrated voice. “I can’t force you to stay. I’ll note in your file that you’re declining further treatment and you’re leaving against medical advice. I’ll have your discharge papers ready shortly.”
It took another two hours to push all the paperwork through the system.
"Can you pay for this, and I'll pay you back?" Scarlett asked.
"Don't you have insurance?"
"Yeah, I'm on Jack's policy. But I don't want him to get a bill. Please?" She asked, making a pouty face, looking at me with those a
dorable, sad eyes.
This girl knew how to get everything she wanted from a man.
"I haven't decided whether I'm going to tell your father."
"I swear. I will be on my best behavior from now on. No more hard partying. No more recreational drugs." She paused. "Except weed. Weed is still cool, right?"
I thought about it for a long moment, then sighed. "I'll keep your little secret. But there are a few conditions…”
“Anything.”
“You pay me back every penny. You cut this shit out right now, and if I even think you’re doing something you shouldn’t, I’m telling Jack, and you’re going straight to rehab."
“Deal.” She grabbed my arm and smiled. In a soft voice, she said. “Thank you, Tyson."
“You owe me, big time.”
Once we got her discharge papers, we stopped at the administration desk. I had fat stacks of cash stuffed in my pockets from my poker winnings. The hospital administrator’s eyes bulged when I pulled out the wad and peeled off four crisp $100 bills.
Emergency room visits aren’t cheap.
"Jesus Christ, Tyson! What did you do, rob a bank?" Scarlett asked.
"The cards fell my way tonight."
"Shit, teach me how to play poker."
"I will if it will keep you out of trouble."
“You make one mistake, and you’re branded for life," she said, sighing dramatically for effect.
"Newsflash. You’ve screwed up more than once."
She gasped, feigning offence. "Okay, last time was not my fault."
"If you would have left town like you were supposed to, you wouldn’t have been kidnapped.”
"When you were my age, did you always listen to your parents?"
"Yes, I was a model child," I lied.
Scarlett rolled her eyes. "I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."
We caught a cab over to Drifter’s Diner. The late-night crowd was already starting to straggle in. The hostess seated us in a booth in the back, and we perused the laminated menus.
Scarlett ordered a cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake. I ordered the same, minus the shake.
“Are you sure you're going to be able to keep that down?" I asked.
"All I know is that I've got a hole in my stomach. Greasy fast food always seems to settle my stomach."
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a freight train, but I'll survive,” she said.
"So, what's with you and this Justin guy? Are you dating him just to irritate your dad?"
"Is it working?" A thin grin tugged at her lips.
"If that's your goal, I’d say it’s been pretty effective."
"I'm not trying to irritate anybody. I like Justin. But, it kind of was a dick move to abandon me."
"You think?"
A few text messages dinged her phone. Scarlett chuckled when she looked at the screen. "Speak of the devil."
She showed me the display.
“Fuck him,” she grumbled. “I’m not texting him back."
"Well, at least you’ve made one smart decision tonight."
"How long are you going to harass me for this?"
"For as long as I can."
"Keep it up, and you’re gonna lose your status as my favorite person."
"I'm your favorite person?" I asked, incredulous.
She smiled. "Yeah. You’re cool, laid-back, and always getting me out of tight spots."
I gave her a skeptical glance. "I'm not loaning you any money, if that’s why you’re buttering me up.“
She gasped again. "It was a genuine compliment!” Then she added, “But you are paying for dinner."
"I figured as much.”
The waitress clanked down our plates, and we dug into our meal. Scarlett scarfed the burger down like she hadn't eaten in a month. She didn't seem any worse for the wear.
The resilience of youth.
We finished our meal, and I paid the tab and left a healthy tip. Scarlett's phone dinged with another text. "Looks like Dad is getting lucky tonight. He says he's not coming home."
She showed me the display.
"Can I stay at your place tonight?" she asked, innocently.
"Absolutely not!”
“Didn’t the doctor say I shouldn’t be left unsupervised tonight?"
I cringed. "He said you should be admitted to the hospital so you can be supervised. I can call JD and tell him your situation. I'm sure he'd be happy to come home and babysit you."
She snarled at me. "I can stay in the guest stateroom. I won't cause any trouble. I'll be gone before you wake up in the morning." She paused, trying to think of something to sweeten the pot with. “I’ll even cook you breakfast in the morning, if you want."
My face crinkled with indecision. This was a bad idea, but the last thing she needed was to be left alone.
"Come on,” she pleaded. “What if I need medical attention during the night?”
"No shenanigans. And you're out at sunrise."
Her pearly teeth sparkled as she smiled bright. "Yay, sleepover!"
I shook my head.
This was definitely going to be a mistake.
We caught a cab back to Diver Down. The parking lot was empty, and Madison had already closed the bar for the evening.
We strolled down the dock and climbed the transom to the Slick’n Salty. I unlocked the hatch and let Scarlett into the salon. "You know where everything is. Make yourself at home. Guest quarters are there, and you’ve got a private head."
“I know my way around this boat,” she reminded me.
“Oh, and no visitors."
She rolled her eyes. ”Do I look like I want to entertain visitors? I’m going to take a shower. I feel gross. Do you have towels?"
"There's one in there,” I said. “I’ll look in on you during the night, make sure you're okay.”
She smiled and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks, Tyson. I really appreciate this."
I went into my stateroom and locked the hatch behind me. I stuffed my winnings with my other cash, got undressed, and climbed into bed.
13
I woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon. I crawled out of bed, slipped on some shorts, and pushed into the salon.
Scarlett was doing something you should never do—cook bacon naked.
I covered my eyes and tried not to look, but that initial glance was already etched on my retinas. "Would you put some clothes on?"
"Please, it's not like you've never seen a pair of tits before."
"Not yours."
"I'm quite fond of them. What do you think?" She demonstrated her gravity defying properties by extending her chest and bouncing slightly.
I kept my eyes covered. "I think you need to get dressed now."
She huffed. "You're no fun."
She sauntered past me, brushing against me on purpose before she slipped into the guest stateroom.
I swallowed hard, and my cheeks must have been a brilliant shade of red. I took a deep breath and tried to regain my composure, then stepped into the galley and took over breakfast.
Scarlett emerged a few moments later with her skimpy black dress on from the night before, holding her pumps in her hand. "Do you have a scrunchie or something I can pull my hair back with?”
"I'm fresh out of beauty supplies.."
She made a pouty face.
I dished up our breakfast—bacon, eggs, toast, hashbrowns, and orange juice—and we took a seat in the lounge.
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
"Not too bad, surprisingly. I mean, considering I almost died. Do you have any ibuprofen?"
"Yeah.” I moved back to the galley, and pulled a bottle from a storage compartment and tossed it to her. It rattled like a shaker when she caught it. Scarlett popped the top and swallowed three gel caps with a gulp of orange juice.
"You swear you're not going to tell Dad?"
"I'm not going to lie to him if he asks. But if he doesn't ask, we can pretend it didn't ha
ppen—as long as you don't do something stupid like this again."
"My stupid days are over. Promise." She held up her hand like a scout.
Her promises were about as good as a banknote in Venezuela.
I took a seat back at the table and Scarlett shoveled down her breakfast. When she was done, she checked her phone and her social media accounts. "What a jackass. I am so not talking to him anymore."
"Justin? I think that's a good idea."
"Look at this." She showed me her phone. "I got 30 texts from him last night."
"Don't answer."
"I'm not going to. I'm so pissed off at him."
I finished my eggs, and Scarlett took both our plates to the galley and washed them. "So, what are we doing today?"
"We?"
"I meant that in the general sense, as in what are you doing today?”
"You are going home. I'd have a hell of a lot of explaining to do if Jack caught you here."
“Aw, you’re not afraid of my dad, are you?" she said in a saucy tone.
"I don't think you want him getting a full explanation of last night’s events, do you?"
Her sassy smile faded. ”I’m gone."
Scarlett strutted out of the galley, grabbed her heels and gave me a hug goodbye. "Thanks for saving my life.”
She lifted on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek."
Somebody turned up the heat. It felt hot and stuffy in the salon all of a sudden. My body tensed, and I swallowed hard.
“It’s so much fun making you squirm.” She whirled around and sauntered to the aft hatch. Before leaving, she called back into the salon, “Stay out of trouble.“
I chuckled, and breathed a sigh of relief when she was gone.
A few minutes later, an enraged Madison called. "Did I just see what I think I saw?"
"It's not what it looks like."
"Really? So, you want to tell me why Scarlett was leaving your boat this morning, doing the walk of shame?"
"Nothing happened."
"Yeah, right. You expect me to believe a hot 18-year-old stayed at your place and you didn’t bang her?"
"She got in a little bit of trouble last night, and I helped her out. That’s it."
“I’ll bet you helped her. And just when I was starting to think you might be a decent guy. You better hope JD doesn't find out."
