by Emerson Rose
I lean back in my hard chair and try to get comfortable. As irritating as he is, I can’t leave him. The desperation in his eyes when he asked me to stay hit too close to home for me. I’ve been where he is, but at least I had my family’s support. They took turns staying the night when I was hospitalized. Someone was always there for me night and day. Maybe that’s why it was so hard leaving him all the time?
It’s not long before I hear his familiar soft, steady breathing. Elijah arrives no more than thirty minutes after Marcus’s call. I see him step off the elevator through the half open door and meet him in the hall.
Elijah does a double take when he sees my outfit. “Has he gotten the nurses to change the dress code already?” He smirks, and, for the second time in the past hour, I roll my eyes.
“Of course not. I was out with friends. He woke up asking for me, and I came without changing first.”
Elijah crosses his arms over his chest. “He asked for you specifically?” He sounds surprised.
“Yes, I’ve been taking care of him for two weeks. We met a few days ago, remember?”
“Oh yes, of course, I remember you. It’s just strange. I mean, you’re not his only nurse, and you weren’t even here when he woke up.”
“I don’t know why he wanted me either, although I have been encouraging him to wake up. When he came around, he was upset and the nurse on duty called and asked for help settling him down.”
I try to downplay the situation. I don’t want Marcus’s right-hand man to know his boss went psychotic and tried to take on four security guards while screaming my name.
“Oh, okay. I should see him. He wants his laptop, and I have his new phone.”
“I can take those. He’s resting. I’ll make sure he gets them when he wakes up,” I say.
Elijah is having no part of that plan. He shakes his head back and forth.
“No, he wanted them right away when he called. I can’t just leave them with you; that’s not how it works with him.”
“Well, that's how it’s going to work tonight. He’s been through a lot, and he certainly doesn’t need to jump right back into work. He may not even be sure of what he’s doing. We can’t know if he has any brain damage until we run some tests tomorrow.” My tone and this information have totally taken him aback.
His jaw tightens, but he hands over a laptop bag and the new phone reluctantly.
“He may kill me for this, you know?” He sighs a long defeated sigh.
“Tell him all of his contacts, apps, appointments, and notes are programmed into his new phone. Also, there’s a file on his laptop titled ‘Updates’ that includes everything of consequence that has gone on in every Dominus location since his accident. Please tell him or I’m out of the only job I’ve ever had.”
Marcus must be a tyrant to strike such fear and compliance into such a dedicated employee.
I feel sorry for him. I reach out and touch his arm.
“Of course, I’ll make sure he gets everything and the message the second he wakes up. Don’t worry about your job, Elijah. I’m sure he’ll appreciate you keeping his business running while he was out.”
“You don’t know Marcus. It would be nothing for him to let me go. There is always someone else out there who can take my place. Marcus makes sure to tell all of his employees that on a regular basis.”
“I may not know him, Elijah, but I will say this, he needs a lot of care right now, and he won’t be up and able to work for a while. He needs you more than he realizes. I’ll take the blame for letting him sleep.”
“I think I should wait until he wakes up so I can give him what he asked for personally,” he says, removing the laptop and phone from my hands.
“Suit yourself, there’s a chair outside the door, you can wait there. I’ll let you know when he wakes up.”
Every muscle in his body relaxes simultaneously. He takes another long drawn- out breath and sits down in the chair right outside Marcus’s room. With the laptop on his legs and a straight back, he looks like a soldier guarding his post. I pass him and grab a blanket from the linen cupboard on my way back to the uncomfortable chair next to Marcus. I finagle the blanket just right so that it’s covering my arms and legs and close my eyes just for a minute…
The stench of urine, mold, and sewer invade my nose. The combination burns. Bile sits at the edge of my throat waiting for the right moment to lurch forward despite the fact that my stomach has been empty for days.
The skin on my wrists burns and stings with even the smallest movement. My hands and arms ache from the rope that restrains them above my head where I’m tethered to a pipe, only the tips of my toes touch the ground. My body is so beaten and battered, I can’t help but allow myself to hang slack.
I can see light peeking in around the edge of the window. I have no idea where I am, but I’ve been here a long time, too long. I do my best to hold still and lessen the pain, but it’s excruciating.
My head hangs slack with my chin to my chest providing me a clear view of the growing puddle of blood accumulating at my feet. I’m going to bleed to death hanging here, and right now I wish I would.
I hear one of them walking around outside the door of the room I’m being held in, and I stiffen when it begins to open. My sluggish pulse whooshes in my ears as I watch my life pour out onto the floor beneath me. Please, God just let it be over, just let me hurry up and die before they come.
Nine
My back aches and my right arm is so numb it feels like a stump. My hair is being tugged as my mind moves from nightmare to reality. I fell asleep without my medication for the first time in years, and I paid for it in the form of a nightmare about my attack.
I open one eye and find my left hand splayed on Marcus’s six, no, make that eight-pack of abs. We never got around to putting his gown back on last night after he flipped out, and my head is resting on his bare chest.
I have been sleeping with a naked man. I could easily slide my hand down a few inches and lift up the sheet to see what I’ve been hiding from for the past two weeks. Better yet, I could skip the looking and just feel my way around. Good God, what is wrong with me? I am a nurse; I’m not supposed to have thoughts like this about my patients.
How the hell did I end up halfway in bed with him? I try to lift my head but I can’t. Marcus has one arm draped over my shoulders, and his fingers are tangled in my hair.
I’m stuck.
Slowly I begin to move my hand from his abdomen, where it suddenly feels scorching hot. I’ve hardly moved a muscle when Marcus’s free hand shoots up to hold me in place. I cringe and my pulse races, but I lie still and hope he’ll think I’m still sleeping.
“Good morning, Imani, you can’t believe how happy I am that you have joined me in bed.”
I can just imagine the sly grin that accompanies his arrogance. I shake my head to loosen his grip on my hair, and, when he does, I turn to face him.
“Let’s get something straight. This,” I say, following the line of his arm to my restrained hand and back to his eyes, “was not intentional.”
He releases me, and I sit up, still trying to untangle his fingers from my hair. We work together to loosen the mess, and every time our fingers touch I feel that zing of electricity that’s been there since day one intensifying.
The old feeling of heat and desire stirs between my legs. I haven’t been turned on since high school, and, even then, it was nothing like this.
When I’m free, he continues to hold my hand, scrambling my brain with his bright green eyes. We are too close; if I don’t move away soon, I’m liable to do something foolish. This is a man who can have any woman he wants with one look, including me if I’m not careful.
“You have beautiful hair.” I pull my hand out of his and sit back in my chair smoothing the tangles in a pathetic attempt to ignore the way his platonic words heat my core.
He rises onto his elbow and starts in again with the leering. My blanket is pooled on the floor around my feet.
My legs are exposed but for the few inches of mini skirt that is hitched up after sleeping with my feet sprawled out and bent over the bed.
I can almost read his dirty thoughts as his eyes crawl up my legs past my belly and breasts to rest on my mouth.
“I thought you were a dream last night when I saw you here in that outfit,” he says, looking up at me through his long eyelashes.
“Nope, not a dream. Are you hungry? Can I get you some breakfast?” I say, pulling the blanket up over my legs.
“Hmmm, hungry, yes. For breakfast, not so much.”
Is he serious? I swear he’s hard under that sheet, or maybe it’s morning wood. Either way, I need to look away, focus on breakfast, the kind where food is the entrée, not me.
“Uh… I’ll run and get you some eggs and toast, no allergies to foods, right?” I say scrambling out of my chair to make a beeline for the door.
“No, I don’t have any allergies. I only eat egg whites, no bread, and bacon. My God, bacon sounds so good.”
Mr. Bossy Pants is back.
“So bossy…” I say under my breath.
“Yes, I am the boss. I’m also the king and the master. I’m whoever it takes to get the job done, baby.”
Baby? Oh no, I’m a little nuts for this guy, but I am nobody’s baby. I bite my lip hard and rein in my anger and even then I just barely succeed. If this were a cartoon, smoke would be shooting out of my ears.
“Imani. My name is Imani, and you could say please; it wouldn’t kill you.”
“It might. Imani.” His tone is different, less cocky, more melancholy. He lowers himself onto his back. I use his mood change to my advantage and make my way to the door, detaching myself from the magnetic hold he has on me.
“I’ll be right back.” I scoot through the door before he can give me another urgent stay with me look.
I pull the door shut and turn around to find Elijah sitting with Marcus’s laptop and phone on his lap, exactly where I left him.
“Elijah, did you sit there all night? Didn’t you sleep?” I ask.
“I couldn’t leave. Marcus told me to bring his things. I’m used to staying up all night. I work at Dominus, in the restaurant and the club. We only close for a few hours in the morning.”
I can’t decide whether to feel sorry for him or admire him for his dedication. He’s either fiercely loyal or incredibly afraid.
“You’re a dedicated man, Elijah. That’s a quality you don’t find in many people these days.”
“He’s a good man. I’m lucky to work for him.”
I get the feeling Elijah wouldn’t say a bad word about Marcus if he cut off his pinky finger.
“I’m going to get him some breakfast. Can I bring you anything?” I ask.
“No, thank you, but is it ok if I go in and give him these?” he asks, holding up the laptop and phone.
“Yes, he’s awake. Go ahead, I’ll be right back.” I only make it halfway down the hall when Courtney pops out of a patient’s room and grabs me by the arm.
“Hey, ease up, that hurts.” I frown and peel her fingers off of my forearm.
“You can’t seriously expect to walk out of his room dressed like that with no explanation. Come on now, Imani. Spill.”
“I’m sure you heard that he woke up last night,” I say. The rumor mill here is like posting something on Facebook or YouTube. The story probably went viral within seconds last night. I’ll bet she’s heard a dozen versions of the same incident.
“Yes, but I want to hear it from you. Why are you dressed like that, and why was he screaming for you specifically?” she says the last part in a hushed tone like it’s a big secret. I should go and type up a newsletter and post it in the break room.
“I don’t know why but he did, and I came because Shelia begged me to. I was out with some friends for drinks, hence the inappropriate attire,” I say, gesturing at my outfit. “Oh my God, that’s crazy. What did he want? Why are you still here? Is something going on between you two?” She shoots her questions at me with all the subtlety of rapid gunfire.
Maybe I should introduce Courtney to Lana. They’d get along famously. I should have let Marcus starve. Hiding in his room seems like a pretty good idea right about now. But it’s too late now. I guess if I have to tell somebody it may as well be the Queen of Seattle Trinity’s gossip column.
“Ok, Courtney, because I know you’re relentless I’ll answer all your questions. First of all, I’m assuming he asked for me because I’ve been talking to him every day when I take care of him. Second, I’m still here because he asked me to stay, and third, no, nothing’s going on between us. For God’s sake, Courtney, he’s been in a coma, what could possibly be going on between us?”
“Ok, sorry, it just seems weird.”
“Yeah, it is weird. I’m going to get him some breakfast, may I be dismissed?”
“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead,” she says, staring at me with glazed baby-doll eyes. She’s thinking, imagining, trying to figure it all out.
I hope she fills me in when she does.
“Why don’t you let him order from his menu?” She blurts the question out when I’ve taken three steps away.
I stop and turn around. “I thought we were done with the questions?”
“Sorry,” she says, looking over my shoulder toward the door to Marcus’s room. Elijah is stepping out, sliding his arms into his coat when he catches my eye.
“I’ll get his breakfast. I know what he likes, and he asked me to. Please don’t argue, it’s what I do. Oh, and he wants to see you,” he says, breezing by on his way to the elevator.
“Well, ok then.” Courtney and I look at each other in surprise, her mouth hanging open and mine twisted in irritation.
When she recovers from the initial shock of seeing Elijah, the questions start again. “Who was that? He’s gorgeous. He acts like your boyfriend's wife, though. Are they gay? Is he single? If he’s not, can you introduce us?”
I had assumed her shock was related to Elijah’s all-business attitude, but of course not, it was his looks. She’s always on the hunt, and as for him being gay, well, I hadn’t even considered that. I don’t know why. I know nothing about him. That would explain the absence of women in the photographs online.
No way, he was totally coming on to me this morning. He can’t possibly be gay, can he? Maybe he swings both ways? How do I feel about that? Oh, who knows? That’s way too much to think about on zero hours of decent sleep riddled with nightmares.
“Marcus is not my boyfriend, and that was Elijah, Marcus’s right-hand man, slave, servant, I’m not sure about the dynamics of their relationship. And, yes, he’s good looking, and I have no idea if they are single or gay or straight. I haven’t exactly asked them about their private lives.”
I don’t bother asking if we’re done this time. I make the executive decision that we are and head back into the lion’s den. I want to shower and change into something comfortable, but I’m not sure if a certain bossy someone will allow me to leave. As foolish as I feel in my inappropriate outfit, I can’t bring myself to deny him.
“Elijah is going to get your breakfast. Apparently, he knows…” I stop in my tracks when I see Marcus holding the sheet away from his body, examining his cock.
I didn’t knock before entering, oh God, why didn’t I knock?
“What is this?” he asks, pointing under the sheet.
“Uh… if you have to ask, you must have hit your head harder than I thought.”
I chuckle to myself and close the door. I’m a nurse, after all, I’ve seen my share of dicks, but I’ve taken special care not to look at his.
“No, this tube coming out of my cock, what the hell is it? Get it out.”
I smile and try to stifle the laugh bubbling up from my belly. I do, however, move closer.
I’ve been avoiding this because he was unconscious, but if he’s going to show me, I’m going to look.
I bite my lip and smile when he pulls the sheet back for me. I�
�m glad I waited for him to show it to me. I’ve seen a lot of naked men and all their glory parts, but Marcus has a lot to be proud of, pun intended.
I know there is a standing order to remove the catheter when a patient becomes conscious, so I ask, “Do you want it removed? I’ll get your nurse if you want me to?”
I give it the old college try, but it’s impossible to ignore what that V has been pointing at for two weeks. He raises his eyebrows and ducks his head, bringing us eye to eye. I snap to attention and put my hands behind my back, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.
“You are my nurse. I want you to do it.”
“Well actually, there’s a day nurse assigned to you right now,” I say, but he doesn’t even let me finish my excuse.
“No, I don’t want anyone else touching me, just you.”
There is something about the angst in his eyes that makes me agree against my better judgment.
“I’ll take it out if you insist, but you do know I can’t be here all the time, right? You’re going to have to accept help from another nurse eventually.”
This is such a bad idea. I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t find it in me to say no to him. I retrieve a pair of gloves from the box at the bedside and a syringe out of the drawer. His eyes widen almost comically at the sight of the syringe.
“What is that?” He leans away from me and pulls the sheet tight around his waist. “You are not going to inject me with something, are you?”
“No, there’s a balloon of fluid at the end of that catheter inside of you holding it in. You really want me to deflate that before I take it out, trust me,” I say in my reassuring nursing voice.
“I do,” he says, but I’m not so sure.
I turn and put my gloves on, silently wishing someone would reassure me.
“You look really sexy in that outfit with your gloves on, looking at my cock.”
Okay, so maybe he does trust me, or maybe flirting is his way of dealing with stress.
“I’m a nurse. This isn’t my first rodeo. Try to get your mind out of the gutter, Mr. Castillo.”
I’m firm and professional, but, honestly, I feel like I’m in a porn flick right now. I’m going to have to really touch him to do this. Like, touch him, touch him.
