by A.W. Hartoin
Chapter Twenty-Five
THE CENTRAL WEST End was quiet for a Friday night, but then again it was three in the morning. Aaron double parked and lifted me out of the car. Not bad for a fat little guy.
I don’t remember getting in bed and pouring the glass of water that sat on my bedside table. A gentle hand woke me the next morning and that glass was the first thing I saw. Skanky had his head halfway in with his pink curled tongue making lapping noises.
“Aw, Skanky.”
“I’ll get you another glass.” Pete sat on the edge of my bed in yet another stained lab coat.
“Didn’t I leave him at my parents’?”
“I picked him up for you. I thought you’d want him home,” Pete said.
I rolled over and rubbed his thigh. “Were the Siamese tormenting him?”
“I guess so. Your mom said she couldn’t take the yowling anymore.”
“Was there biting?”
“Maybe a little,” he said.
“Those damn Siamese. Why can’t they leave my little guy alone?” I stroked Skanky’s head while he kneaded my stomach, his claws snagging my tee.
“They’re territorial. I know how they feel. The whole world’s falling in love with you.” Pete bent over and kissed me. He looked like he hadn’t shaved since I left for Lincoln and his bristles poked my face. He pulled back and said, “Somebody keeps calling your cell. Your new message isn’t scaring them off.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know. They hang up on me,” he said and waited for me to comment.
I shrugged.
“Has that been happening a lot? The hang-ups, I mean,” said Pete.
“It’s no big deal. Just some weirdoes,” I said.
“That’s what I’m worried about.” Pete touched the fingers sticking out of my cast and flexed each one slowly.
“It doesn’t hurt,” I said.
“Good, just checking. How many pills did you take last night?”
“Two.”
“That’s it? I had a hard time waking you.”
“I’m sensitive.”
“Since when?”
“Sensitive to painkillers, dufus. What are you doing here?”
“Your mom called. Wanted me to check in on you,” he said. “She had a photographer following her too, but apparently he got bored.”
“Getting pretty tight with the parentals, aren’t we?”
“I wouldn’t say that. Let’s get you up.” Pete spoke to me like a patient. His carefully modulated voice made me smile.
“I’m not critically injured, you know.”
“I know.” He kept his doctor voice while drawing a bath for me. I undressed, slightly embarrassed to find I’d slept in my clothes. Aaron was a bad influence.
“You smell like hot dogs and cheap perfume,” Pete said as he poured in a liberal amount of bubble bath.
“You smell like an armpit.”
“It’s been a rough couple of days. What’s your excuse?”
“Aaron.”
Pete laughed and helped me into the bath. I watched while he stripped off his lab coat and scrub top. He gave himself a quick sponge bath and wet his hair. Rivulets of water ran down his back while he shaved.
“I find this kind of sexy,” I said, squashing my breasts against the side of the tub.
“Careful with that cast.”
“Uh huh.” I batted my eyelashes and tugged on his pant leg.
“I have to go. There’s a gall bladder in an hour I want.”
“That’s all you have to say to me?”
“Check your landline messages. Morty called and he didn’t sound happy.”
“He never does.” I set my breasts on the edge of the tub and rested my cheek on my good hand. “You really have to go?”
“I shouldn’t be here right now.” He redressed and kissed my forehead. I recognized the already gone look in his eyes.
“Call me tonight, if you can.” I could be a good girl with effort and Pete left with a flash of his lab coat.
I soaked in my tub for a good hour until the water went cold and the phone started ringing continually. No rest for the wicked, as my mother would say. I washed and went to unplug the damn thing. Caller ID said Uncle Morty. I was relieved until I answered. Another freak might’ve been more pleasant.
“Finally. What took so long?” Uncle Morty yelled. Did I detect a bit of worry in his voice? Not hardly.
“I have a broken wrist,” I said.
“I’ve been calling all morning. Get dressed and meet me at Kronos.”
“Why?”
“I’m hungry.” He hung up with a click so loud it hurt my ear. I lolled on the sofa in a weak attempt to feel rebellious, but curiosity got the better of me. Breakfast at Kronos was a new one. Aaron and Rodney didn’t serve breakfast as of two days ago. Maybe Morty found something and it wasn’t for the phone. Then again, paranoia was his friend and it might end up being nothing.
I put on a polo dress that my mother considered ill-advised. I liked the straight lines meant for a straight body, but I knew I was fooling myself. The dress pulled in all the wrong places. My breasts and hips shortened the hem, so I couldn’t bend over. Oh well, Pete liked it and his gall bladder would be over by lunch. I could stand the hospital cafeteria, if he could.
