by BA Tortuga
Fuck him, there was nothing like being the focus of Hollis’s attention. Nothing at all. Jeremy leaned into that touch, nuzzling in with a low, deep moan.
“God, you’re hot, baby. Might just distract me from food.” Pulling him close, Hollis nibbled his mouth, lips soft, beard scratchy. His fingers slipped under Hollis’s shirt, drawing lazy circles on the man’s belly, fingers searching out each sensitive little spot. Those muscles flexed under his hands, that fucking studly body pushing right up against him, crowding him back against the little counter.
“Mmm….” Beautiful man. Beautiful—
The bus shifted, slamming him hard against the counter. “What the fuck?”
“I don’t know.” Hollis swayed, blinking, before starting to turn toward the front of the bus. “I’ll go see what’s….”
Hollis got about two steps away when everything started tilting, things starting to slide. “Hollis?”
“Fuck!” Cursing viciously, Hollis turned back to him but never made it, that big body hitting the floor of the bus with a sharp thud. Glass started shattering, and shit flew out of the little cabinets, and the whole world went ass over teakettle.
Jeremy saw the weight bench coming at Hollis, saw it like the fucking world had stopped a second. He groaned, throwing himself at Hollis, intending to shove them both out of the way. His hands impacted with Hollis’s back, shoving the man toward the sofa as the bus started to roll. He saw the rack of weights coming, and he curled up into a ball, the metal crashing and banging all around him.
Fuck.
Fuck, he—
Something crashed into his legs, the whole world bloodred and screaming for a second before his back slammed into something.
He’d never been so glad to have the world go black.
Chapter Twenty
“ARE YOU Hollis Lee? Can I have your autograph?” The voice was hardly more than a whisper, and Hollis cracked open one eyeball to see where he’d ended up at the end of his binge. It had to be a binge, because his head was splitting open, and his mouth was dry as a bone, and Jeremy was gonna kick his ass.
Jeremy. Hollis’s eyes popped open, focusing with some effort on the little candy-striped girl in front of him. “The bus….”
“There was a crash. You’re in the hospital.” She popped her gum, holding out a piece of paper. “Please, I never thought I’d meet you in person….”
“And if you don’t get your skinny ass out of here, girl, I’ll beat you to death. Good Lord. You’d think this wasn’t a hospital. You’re awake, good for you!” A round, smiling black face appeared in his line of sight, dark eyes shining.
“Uh. Hey.” Hollis tried for a smile, his face pulling and sore as hell. “The bus. There was a driver. And another man. Are they…?”
“I’m sorry, honey. You’ll have to talk to the doctor about that. I just don’t know. How’re you doing? You were out for a while. Anything hurting?”
“My head hurts. My mouth feels all weird. Achy. Where’s the doctor?” Charlie would be pissed if his face was permanently damaged or something, but he was more worried about Mikey and Jeremy.
“You have a cut on the corner of your mouth, needed a stitch. He’s making his rounds, honey.” A glass of ice water was poured out for him, the straw set on his lips.
Oh. Bliss. Man, water had never tasted so good. Well, unless he was in the shower with…. “I need to get up.”
Struggling, Hollis tried to right himself on the gurney or whatever he was on, pushing at tubes and shit.
“Easy. Easy.” Lord, that woman was strong. “You need a bathroom? There’s one right there.”
“No. No, I need to find out something. Anything. Those guys are my friends.” Hell, they were his family. Mikey had been with him three years. Had two kids. And Jeremy. Well, fuck, he loved the little shit, didn’t he?
“Hollis? Hollis honey? You’re awake!” Ann Marie pushed in, flashing her credentials. “I’m the tour manager, miss. I’m the chick in charge ’til Charlie gets here. Hollis. Honey. Your poor lip!”
“Don’t touch.” He turned his head just in time to miss her reaching for him. She probably didn’t mean to, but that meant he must look like a mess. “Mikey? Jeremy? I need to know if they’re okay. Did we hurt anyone else?”
“I don’t…. Mike isn’t… he didn’t. He won’t be driving for a while, I don’t think.” She teared up, looked away. “He didn’t hit anybody. He says he can’t remember anything.”
“Oh.” Well, shit. Poor guy must have fallen asleep at the wheel or something. “What about Jeremy?” Please let Jeremy be okay.
“They’re calling in a specialist.”
He shot up on the stupid, creaky bed, ignoring the pain that tore through him. “What? For what? Get me the hell out of all this… this shit!”
“There’s nothing you can do, son. Don’t make it where they want to sedate you, now.” That nurse moved way faster than Ann Marie did, hands on his shoulders. “The quicker you settle, the faster we’ll get you up and out of here.”
“He got caught in the wreck, Hollis. They cut him out. It took them longer to get to him.”
“Goddammit!” Well, at least his vocal cords still worked. At high volume. “What do you mean? What does that mean?”
“It means that your friend is heading to surgery, sir.” A tall man who looked about as tired as he could be pushed the little curtain open. “And if you’ll all relax? Ma’am, I need you to go fill out information and sign release forms. Nancy, please get Mr. Lee’s vitals. Mr. Lee, if you’ll calm down, I’ll update you. I’m Dr. Ellis.”
Breathing deep, Hollis winced. Jesus, his ribs…. “Okay. Just tell me what the heck is going on and I’ll be a good boy.”
“Does it hurt when you breathe? Has he had a chest X-ray?”
“Yes, Doctor. He’s got some bruising, no tears, no broken bones.”
“Doc, I don’t mean to sound like some kind of asshole, but if you don’t tell me what’s going on with my friend, I’m going to have a psychotic episode that will make the Enquirer.”
“You wouldn’t be the first screamer I’ve had tonight, sir.” That son of a bitch started touching his head, searching for bumps. “Mr. Hardaway has a broken shoulder and two broken wrists.” Man, poor Mikey. A bump got explored so thoroughly that Hollis thought he ought to ask for a smoke. “Mr. Winger has some fairly extensive injuries—nothing life-threatening, but we’ve contacted an orthopedic surgeon to work on his legs after we get him sutured up.”
Nothing life-threatening. Hollis tried not to shout. That would just make his head hurt worse. “His legs…?”
“It looked like he was twisted up in the wreckage. The EMTs said you were shielded by furniture cushions.”
A low, pained laugh escaped him. Yeah, that would just figure. Him and his charmed fucking life. “When can I see him? Them. Both of them.”
Charlie would take care of the bills, but he needed to make sure Mike knew he’d be taken care of.
“You can see Mr. Hardaway as soon as we’re done here. I believe your tour manager is arranging housing for you close by. He’ll probably spend a few nights there, just to help with his pain.”
“So Mike is gonna be released? What about Jeremy? Mr. Winger?” Mister. Yeah, like Jeremy had ever answered to that. Shit.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Lee. It’s too early to answer that question. He might not even get into surgery to repair the damage for forty-eight hours.”
“You know he’s a personal trainer, right? He makes his living off things like his legs.” Rage was just building up in his chest. White-hot and cleansing. “Get me my manager.”
“I’ll send her in after we’re done.” A light was shined into his eyes, pain flashing in his head.
“No, I want Charlie.” Ping. It was like some loose wire in his head had let go completely, because instruments crashed to the floor and the gurney went out from under him and Hollis was heading for the door, barely feeling the breeze on his bare ass. He f
elt the IV pull out, though. Hoo boy.
“Hollis! Hollis, you’re in a hospital gown! You’re bleeding!” Ann Marie ran after him. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to find Jeremy. Get Charlie on the goddamned phone. I want Mike’s wife here by the morning, and I want that fucking specialist.” He hadn’t made it where he was by being a fucking wimp. He was gonna take care of shit.
“At least let them get you a damned Band-Aid, Hollis! This place is crawling with press!”
Hollis turned on her, his vision graying out for a minute, his hands opening and closing. Something on his head had opened up, warm trails of blood tracing down his cheek. “Then get me my clothes, get Charlie, and find out what the hell is going on with Jeremy. Got it?”
“Okay. Okay, Hollis. Please. I’ll take care of it.” Ann Marie nodded, handed him a cell phone as she pushed him back down the hall. “Call Charlie.”
Tilting like a ship in a hard wind, he made his way back down the hall, barking as soon as Charlie answered. “Where are you?”
“Waiting on a plane. We’re boarding in ten minutes. How’re you, son? You okay? What can I get you right now?”
“I’m fine. I’m…. Mike’s wife needs to be flown in. And Charlie, Jeremy… they say he’s hurt bad. I want him to have the best.”
“I’ve already cleared the money part for now. Donelle’s in the air already; she’ll beat me there by twenty minutes.” This was why Charlie was his manager, just this. The man made shit happen. “Stay away from the press. Don’t answer any questions—cops or reporters, either one. How bad’s Jeremy?”
“They won’t tell me. They say his legs are messed up and he needs surgery, but they might not be able to get to him. Jesus, Charlie. And Mike, they’re releasing him, but Ann Marie keeps saying he won’t be able to drive, his arms are all broken….” Nausea rose in his belly, his legs starting to shake with the strain of staying upright.
“Okay. Okay, son. You need to breathe. I’ll be there in three hours. You find a quiet spot and sit.”
“Uh-huh. I’d… I’d best….” Whoa, spinny. Goddamned fucking body, betraying him like that.
“You pay me to worry, son. You let me do it. Give me Ann Marie.”
Ann Marie and that nurse helped him back down on a bed. Shit. Swimmy. Goddamn.
He handed the phone to the nurse, murmuring, “He wants Ann Marie.” Then he felt the prick of a needle, and everything turned blue.
Chapter Twenty-One
THE FIRST time he opened his eyes, he told himself it was a dream, and he closed them again. The second time, he told himself it was a nightmare. By the third time, Jeremy knew he couldn’t be dreaming. Dreams didn’t hurt so fucking bad.
He swallowed, trying to figure out where he was, if there was some water. Why he fucking hurt.
“Well, hey there.” A young man with cropped black hair and sweet brown eyes bent over him, smiling in that weird “stranger sitting by your bed” way. “You want some water?”
“Yeah.” Okay. Okay, was he supposed to know this guy? “Wh… who are you?”
“I’m Lawrence. I’m your private nurse. Are you hurting? Do you need something for the pain?”
“Pr… private… I don’t. Yeah. Yeah, I’m hurtin’.”
Okay. Think. Think. He remembered the steak salad. The olives. The….
“Hollis.”
Oh God. Oh God.
“Mr. Lee? He’s going to be fine, honey. He’s been waiting to see you, but the doctors won’t let him in until you can be awake more than a few minutes. Now, let me get you something.”
“I. No. No, I need to see him. Please. I’ll stay up.” Awake. Whatever. “Please, man.”
Going to be fine.
Going to be.
Shit.
“Calm down, Jeremy. It’s okay. I’ll tell the doctor you’re awake. Just breathe.” Lawrence was gone before he could say anything else.
“’Kay. ’Kay.” He leaned back, scared to close his eyes in case the doctor came in, and scared to look and see what all the white blankets hid. Things were sure as fuck lumpy down there.
It wasn’t the doctor he saw when he opened his eyes, though. It was Hollis. Okay, now he was hallucinating.
“Hollis. You’ve got bruises.”
“Yeah. Stitches too. The nurse is guarding the door.” Hollis eased into the chair beside his bed, hand coming up to rest on his arm. “You been out a bit, baby.”
“You okay? Mike okay?” Was he okay?
“I’ll live. Mikey broke some bones, mainly in his arms.” Hollis leaned down, kissed the corner of his mouth. “You’re kinda broken, baby. Gonna take some work to make you all better. But nothing you can’t do.”
“How—how bad?” He knew it was bad, knew it had to be, because it hurt too bad to feel.
“You’ve got a rod in one leg. The other leg is broken, but they were able to set it just fine.” Those crazy-colored eyes just stared right into his, like Hollis was just willing him to be okay. Like now.
“A rod.” Okay. Okay. A rod. In his leg. Okay. “You’re okay, though?”
“I’m beat up a little, but nothing is broke.” Those fingers stroked his arm. That he could feel. “I have to leave for California tomorrow.”
“The Hollywood Bowl.” Guess his time with the tour was over. He let his eyes close a second before opening them back up again. “You’ll rock it.”
“I’ll try.” Hollis looked almost pissed. “Wish you could be there, baby.”
“Yeah. When can I go back to work?”
“I don’t know. They hardly tell me anything. Charlie says he’s gonna take care of things for you until you can come back.”
Well. That was… good.
“Okay. Okay, yeah.”
Speaking of Mr. Gill, Jeremy could hear the man’s voice booming down the hall. “Hollis? Hollis, where the hell are you, son?”
“Shit.” Taking another soft kiss, Hollis met his eyes. “Get well, baby. I’ll need you on the road.”
“Yeah. Do good, huh?” Do real good. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Get well soon. I’ll be back on my way to Nashville.” Charlie came in then, and Hollis sat back, face closing up like a locked door.
“Hey, kid. You’re awake.” The man’s voice just boomed out, sort of crashing into him.
“Yeah. Yeah, hey.”
“Hey. Hollis, you need to get your ass moving. I’ll take care of Jeremy just fine. Ann Marie is waiting on you, son.”
Giving him a look, Hollis nodded. “Let him rest, okay, Charlie? He’s hurting, I can tell. I’ll check in on you soon, Jeremy.”
Then Hollis was gone, leaving a hole in the ozone a mile thick.
“He’ll be okay, right?” He blinked over, frowning a little as the world sort of shifted.
“He’ll be fine. So will you. That orthopedic guy is top-notch.” Charlie stared down at him, brows beetling. “He’s gonna need a new trainer. Who would you use?”
Oh. Okay. Ow. “Uh. Chris Martin is good. Hal Donoghue.”
They’d work well with Hollis, keep him on track. Keep him going.
Take over where he….
“Either of those guys are top-notch,” he parroted. “When can I go home?”
“Well, that depends on how well that last surgery went. They got drains and shit….” Mr. Gill’s cell went off, and the man gave him a big smile. “Lawrence will fill you in. See you, son.”
“Drains.” He was going to be sick. Really. “Did… can someone call my folks?”
Mr. Gill nodded, phone to his ear, waving and giving him the thumbs-up as he headed out.
He looked over at the IV stand, pushed the pain button.
Lawrence was there, those kind brown eyes so much darker than Hollis’s. Weird. “Your folks are on the way, honey. They’re driving, not flying, just in case. You sleep now. Okay?”
Everything was fading out, the pain just floating away. But okay?
No. No, he didn’t think
he was.
THE FIRST day wasn’t bad. Hollis slept, sort of drifting on the painkillers and shit. He figured he would close his eyes, and when he opened them, everything would be right again.
Too bad he woke up on the second day without Jeremy, knowing things were very, very wrong. Hollis grabbed his little cell before he even hobbled to the bathroom and called Jeremy’s hospital room.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Lee,” the switchboard lady told him. “He’s not taking calls. He’s still very weak.”
“Oh. Right. Sure. Sorry.”
He’d hung up before he thought about messages and shit. He’d send some flowers. Yeah. With a note that just he and Jeremy would understand.
And maybe a sausage biscuit.
That thought made him smile, the first one he’d managed since the accident.
They’d figure it. He wasn’t going to let Jeremy go that easy.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“JEREMY? BABY?”
His mom’s voice was too weird for color TV, and he blinked up, still dazed from the anesthetic, throat raw from surgery. “Mom?”
“Yeah, yeah, honey. Me and Dad are here. The doctor says the surgery went well; he says you’ll be fine.”
“I…. Did somebody let the guys in the tour know?”
“I’ll see if someone left a number, Jeremy.”
He couldn’t quite focus, and he didn’t really want to, not with Hollis waiting for him in his dreams.
“GODDAMMIT, CHARLIE, I want to know how that surgery went! I don’t care if you don’t want me to know, you sneaky bastard. You find out.”
Charlie sighed on the other end of the line. “You need to let it go, boy. I got you a new trainer.”
Hollis refused to even hear that. “No. Nope. No new trainer. Jeremy will be back. I want to talk about getting an attached weight machine, by the way. No more flying barbells.”
“That I can do, son. You just let me handle everything.”
Hollis sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You get me that information, Charlie, and I’ll let you handle shit. Okay?”
