by Claire Adams
I scanned the people on the sidewalk. Most had leapt out of the way. A few had fallen but had only bumps and bruises. One woman was crying and holding her ankle.
"I know first aid," I said, "Don't move. I'll be right back to help."
Steam pumped up from the black sedan's hood where it wrapped around the lamp post. Inside, the air bags were just deflating. I could see there was only one person in the car. The young man driving was thrown back in his seat, his eyes closed. I yanked on the driver's side door and pounded on the glass when I saw it was locked.
"Sir? Sir? Can you unlock your door? You need help and I know first aid," I called through the glass.
His eyes fluttered and finally opened. With a bleary look, he fumbled for the lock switch and then closed his eyes again. As I pulled open the door, I heard his groan of pain.
"Don't move. It looks like you may have broken your right arm, but I'm going to take care of that cut on your forehead first, if that’s okay with you." I pulled a pack of tissues from my purse and blotted the blood from his face.
He waved my hands away. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I didn't hit anyone, did I?" He struggled to get out of the car.
"You are not fine and if you feel fine, then it’s only the shock talking. I hear sirens, help is on the way. Until they get here, you are going to stay still and let me help you," I said.
He refused and got out of the car. I spied a long scarf on the passenger seat and grabbed it before I caught him and forced him to stop wandering down the hot sidewalk.
"If you insist on moving around, I'm going to have to put your arm in a sling," I said.
"That's my mother's scarf," he said.
"Then she won't mind." I threw it over his shoulder and tucked his injured arm inside. Immobilizing his arm was the only way to keep the break from getting worse. Then, I pressed a wad of clean tissues against the cut on his forehead. I brought his uninjured hand up to hold it in place. "A woman over there hurt her ankle. Everyone else is fine. You're going to stay still while I go help her."
He winced but nodded. I ran over to a free newspaper machine and grabbed a few copies. Rolling them up created a splint that would keep her ankle stable until she could be transported to an emergency room. I used three hairbands the woman handed me to secure the splint in place.
"Nice work," a voice said behind me.
I looked up to see an EMT in a dark blue uniform. "Sorry. I know the traffic on The Strip can delay you guys, so I thought I would try to help."
"And you did. That splint will hold, so it’s better if we don't touch it. You'll be fine, ma'am, your hero did a great job. How's the driver?" the EMT asked.
"His arm is broken, so I secured it in a sling. He's in shock and keeps trying to walk away. There's also a cut on his forehead, but it seems superficial. The bleeding is already slowing," I said. "I am, I mean, I was, a nursing student."
"Doesn't matter about your training," the EMT said. "You've got good instincts and that's what matters out here. I've seen the best surgeons in the world choke when it comes to accidents. It takes a certain kind of person to be able to jump in, assess, and then help people."
"It didn't feel like a choice," I admitted. "I just did it."
"Like I said, instincts." The EMT smiled at me. "Maybe you should consider a change of career."
I heard his words over and over again as I waited at the scene. The police arrived seconds later and asked me to explain the accident. I described the car with the Iowa plates. It had driven off as soon as the black sedan crashed. The pedestrians all agreed with me that the driver of the black sedan was only trying to prevent a worse accident by swerving off the road.
After I was done, an older couple was waiting to talk to me. The officers introduced them as the driver's parents.
"He was coming to pick us up so we did not have to walk in the heat," his mother said. There was a heavy catch in her voice. "He could have been killed."
"Your son is a smart man, he was wearing his seat belt," I said.
"Even so, he got hurt," she said. "Thank God you kept such a clear head. Everyone said you jumped in right away. We wanted to say thank you."
They insisted that I come with them to the ambulance where their son was waiting to go to the hospital and have his broken arm set. He smiled when he saw me.
"You were right, my mother did not care that you used her scarf," he said.
"Oh, Evan, don't be silly," the older woman said. She swatted his foot as he sat on the gurney in the ambulance.
"Thank you," Evan said. "You saved me."
"That's a bit dramatic," I told him.
He laughed, "Well, you at least stopped me from wandering off and hurting my arm more. You should hear the horror stories the EMTs are telling about what people accidentally do when they are in shock."
Evan's father cleared his throat. "Before you go, isn't there something else you wanted to say?"
Evan rolled his eyes. "I'm 30, but they still treat me like I'm a kid. I wanted to thank you properly and invite you to have dinner with us tomorrow night."
I shook my head. "That is not necessary. Thank you, but no."
"Please, we insist," Evan's mother said. "We have reservations at the new Bellagio restaurant. Five stars, or so we heard. You have to join us."
I blinked. It was too much like a fairy tale. It only took a second glance to realize the wealth of the couple and their adult son. She wore diamond stud earrings that flashed brighter than supernovas, her husband had the most expensive watch I had ever seen, and the totaled car was a brand new top-of-the-line Mercedes. And people paid thousands of dollars just for a reservation at the restaurant she had casually mentioned.
"No, really," I said, "I'm just glad I could help."
"At least tell me your name," Evan said. The EMTs helped his parents into the ambulance and then climbed into the rig and got ready to shut the doors.
"Quinn Thomas," I said. "I live nearby."
Evan waved through the doors of the ambulance as they pulled away. I wondered why I had included the information about where I was from, but then again, it was not every day that I saved a handsome rich man.
"Quinn? Are you alright? What the hell happened out here?" Owen grabbed my arm from out of nowhere.
"Oh, I was just walking along when Evan swerved to avoid hitting another car. He totaled his Mercedes and broke his arm. I put it in a sling and helped stopped the bleeding on his head before the EMTs got here." I stopped, realizing that I was rambling.
"Who the hell is Evan?" Owen asked.
His jealousy hit me off guard and I did not know whether to laugh or scream.
Chapter Sixteen
Owen
My heart was hammering. I had watched Quinn leave the Luxor ballroom. She had marched out without looking at anything. That was when I had realized her father had not talked to her. She had no idea why I suddenly was giving her space. In her mind, I had slept with her, then publicly turned away from her again and again.
I had pushed my way through group after group of Dark Flag fans. By the time I had reached the front doors of the Luxor, I could hear the ambulance sirens. My heart had dropped onto the pavement as I ran down the sidewalk to find Quinn.
Half a block away, I had overheard two women talking about a heroic bystander. She had jumped forward to help when everyone else was still standing back in shock and fear. I had prayed it was Quinn; it had sounded exactly what she would have done. Then, when I saw it really was her, the relief left me unfiltered.
She glowed, and it never even occurred to me it was the adrenaline. The way she smiled at the handsome injured man in the ambulance pushed my blood pressure to the clouds. His name on her lips was too much.
"Who the hell is Evan?" I asked.
Quinn's eyebrows crashed together in a frown. "The driver. The man that just went off to the hospital with a broken arm."
"And let me guess, he was just dying to find a way to thank you," I said.
She push
ed past me and stormed down the sidewalk. I caught up to her in two steps and grabbed her elbow. I wanted to tell her how afraid I was when I heard the sirens, but the words would not form.
"His parents wanted to take me to dinner as a thank you. What is wrong with that? It’s not like I have plans with anyone," Quinn said.
"Then let's make plans," I said. I wrapped her arm in mine and pulled her back towards the Luxor. "I don't care if it’s pizza in your parents' basement, but whatever you are doing tomorrow night it’s with me."
I did not have time to decipher the narrow flash of her eyes. As soon as we walked into the Luxor lobby, I caught sight of Anya. Despite the small knot of fawning young men, she pursed her lips and gave Quinn a hard stare. She then stepped over to the judge that happened to be standing nearby and whispered something in his ear.
"What is up with her?" Quinn asked. She had noticed Anya's barbed looks.
"Whatever it is, it looks like we have to address it right now," I said.
Anya marched the judge over to meet us. "I've heard from quite a few other players that Quinn's performance was remarkable. Too remarkable. I'm sorry, Owen, but it seems like maybe you coached her."
"And what's wrong with giving pointers to newbies?" I asked.
"It’s against the rules for sponsored players," the judge said.
Quinn yanked her arm out of mine. She grabbed the judge's phone from his hands and gave him her login and password. "There. Now you can check my play from last night. Owen's alibi happens to be standing right here." Quinn gave Anya a sharp look.
The judge scrolled through the play log and found the moment she detected the Shattering Mirror Charm. "Yes, it’s right here. And I'm to understand that you were with Mr. Redd last night at 11 p.m.?"
Anya crossed her hands over her chest. "Yes, that's right."
"Then, it is clear that Ms. Thomas discovered the move on her own and there was no direct coaching involved. Now, if you'll excuse me." The judge disappeared back into the ballroom with Anya on his heels.
"That was awful," I said. I reached for Quinn, but she stepped back.
"Kind of like this whole morning. I can't even enjoy my one success."
"You're right. It was a huge success. You should be proud."
"Really? Where was all of that an hour ago? You know, when you ignored me in the ballroom. I know I'm just a newbie, but I thought maybe we were closer than that," Quinn said.
"I know, I acted stupidly. I thought you wanted your space. I mean, with your father watching and everything that happened yesterday."
"Yesterday is exactly why I thought I could expect a little more from you," she said.
Her eyes flashed over me, and I remembered them turning to dark brown chocolate as she had melted underneath me. The memory was enough to make me feel hot again.
I cleared my throat. "Was that before or after you quit your nursing program and then agreed to go back and live with your parents? I'm sorry if I had some trouble keeping up."
"If it’s so much trouble, then why do you keep butting into my life?" Quinn asked. "It’s either you or my father telling me which way to go and I'm getting sick of it. I came here and did a great job on my own, and not only does that go unacknowledged, but I'm accused of getting my skills directly from you. No one believes I can do anything on my own." She looked towards the doors and bit her lip.
"That Evan seems to believe you did just fine on your own," I said.
"And what's with the jealousy?" Quinn asked. "Coming from a man that spent the night with a friend who clearly has the hots for you, it seems ridiculous."
"You know it’s not like that between Anya and me," I protested.
"No. I don't know that. You just expect me to believe it. Just like my father expects me to believe that what he decides is best for me. I'm sick of it! Life should not be this complicated."
She dodged around me and headed for the doors.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"To get a cab."
"Come on, let me drive you home," I said. "It’s the least I can do to make it up to you."
"Don't you have work to do?"
I shook my head. "It’s optional. I'd get paid, but I don't have to do it. And right now, the most important thing to me is driving you home safely."
She did not talk as we found the car and started towards Summerlin. I racked my brain to find a safe subject to talk about.
"So, what would you like your non-complicated life to look like?" I asked.
Quinn frowned out the window. "That's easy. All I want is a job that I like that supports me and lets me be independent."
"Sounds practical." I wondered how much her parents had lectured her the night before. "What happened to using your talents? The game today showed you are really good."
"Turns out I'm really good administering emergency first aid, too," Quinn said. "So I don't see anything wrong with finding both a job and a hobby that I love."
"The hard part is figuring out which is which," I said. "It took me years to realize gaming was more than just a hobby for me."
"Well, not that many people can make a lifestyle out of it. You either have to be well-connected, experienced, and sponsored like you, or filthy rich like Anya. I didn't see many other people like that today. Everyone else had day jobs, but they were not enjoying themselves any less," Quinn said.
"True. But you stood out," I said.
"So does Anya. Are you going to tell me what's going on with her or not?"
I scowled and wished we were not so close to Quinn’s parents' house. "I already told you there is nothing going on between us. She would like there to be and we've flirted in the past, but I have never been interested in her that way. Don't let her get in your head."
"It’s kind of hard not to when I walk in and find you two together this morning. You admit she has the hots for you and you two spent the entire night alone together," Quinn said.
"No. We were not alone. In fact, she spent most of the night hanging out with Jasper. He'll tell you all about it," I said.
Quinn opened her door just as I stopped the car at the end of the driveway. "Fine. I believe you. It’s just one more reason this is all too complicated for me right now."
Before I could say anything else, she shut the door and walked away. I drove home and ran up the steps to my apartment two at a time. Jasper was spinning on one of the kitchen stools and chatting with a few of his odd friends.
"Hey, there he is," Jasper said.
I jerked a thumb towards the hall. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
He looked at his phone and jumped up. "Yeah, sure, buddy, but make it quick. We've got to get out of here."
His friends cleared up their stuff and headed towards the back stairwell. I watched them go.
"They parked out back. Checking out the best way to help me move," Jasper said. "So, what's up?"
"Did anything happen with you and Anya last night?"
"Oh, whoa. She's hot, but no. We just flirted. I thought when you disappeared that something might happen, but she crashed solo on the couch."
"Would you be willing to tell Quinn that?"
"Kill a little jealousy? Sure, man, whatever you need. I'll check in and call her later," he slapped my shoulder and disappeared down the back stairwell after his friends.
I walked back into my apartment and felt the hair on the back of my neck go up. Something was off. Jasper was going to be helpful with Quinn, but why was he in such a hurry to leave?
I shook off the feeling. I had been off all day. Ever since Mr. Thomas confronted me about breaking up with Sienna, I had felt jumpy. He had said what I had always felt sick about. I had broken up with Sienna and then she committed suicide. Was I to blame?
I replayed the rest of the day in my head. At the tournament, I had thought it best to stay away from Quinn. Not only was Mr. Thomas watching my every move, but he had to have told her about it on the car ride. Only later did I realize he had said nothing to Qui
nn. She was the only person that did not blame me for Sienna's suicide. And I had treated her badly.
I paced around the kitchen island. I had to tell her about what her father had said. It wasn't so much that he blamed me, but that he was right in thinking the timing of our breakup affected Sienna's decision. There was no good way to broach the idea that Quinn’s sister had died because I broke her heart.
Even as I thought about it, I knew it did not feel true. Sienna had not been brokenhearted over the breakup. Things had not been right with us for a while. But if Mr. Thomas was going to try to keep Quinn away from me, it was exactly the kind of accusation he would level against me.
I picked up the phone and dialed Quinn's number. It rang and rang before her voicemail picked up. I hung up and tried again. The third time it had not yet reached her voicemail when a heavy knock shook my door. I hung up the phone.
The police were back, and they pushed their way into my apartment without a word. One of the uniformed men tossed me another search warrant and they started to take the place apart.
Like my life, I thought. Everything getting knocked out of place.
Chapter Seventeen
Quinn
I got in the door and was relieved to find both my parents were out. My father was meeting with a client in preparation for an upcoming trial. My mother had decided to indulge in a spa package in order to relax. All I needed to relax was a pizza and the quiet house.
The only problem was after I had ordered the pizza, all I could do was pace. I still felt the rush of adrenaline from the accident scene. It played over and over in my head, and each time, I was amazed. My body had reacted before my brain caught up. Then, my mind worked faster and more fluidly than it ever had during class. I made decisions quickly, recalled what I had learned in first aid training, and it had all felt so natural.
When the phone rang, I was so distracted that I did not notice the unknown caller icon. "Hello?"
"Is this Quinn Thomas?" a cheerful male voice asked.
"I'm sorry, who is this?"
"My name is Evan. Is this the Quinn Thomas that used my mother's Hermes scarf as a sling?"
