by Amber Burns
“Maybe she wanted a boy,” she waited a minute. “I have to wait for the doctor to come back to check this out. Let me get your vitals again while we wait to make sure you’re okay.” Without much of a choice, I waited while she took my temp and checked my blood pressure. “That’s good,” she murmured. “Not even a slight change. I take it that this isn’t the first time you’ve been in a fight?”
“Nope,” I said, watching as she went about filling out papers. “What now?”
“Try to relax while I fill out your chart, what's your name? Do you have insurance?”
I grunted and shifted so I could get my wallet out and handed her the cards instead of having to answer a dozen questions myself. She went quiet as she took down the information and I tried my best to get comfortable.
Latisha poked her head around the curtain and gave me a good long look over, “You finished already? Damn, girl. How you feeling, boyfriend? You achy at all?”
“I feel like I was stabbed multiple times,” I deadpanned, not at all interested in her flirting.
“It could’ve been worse,” she came to inspect Dylan’s work and whistled low. “That’s some nice tight lines and stitches,” she complimented as she eyed my side. “You’ll see minimal scarring, though from what I can tell the blade used to poke you wasn’t entirely big. So, this should heal nicely,” she looked over her shoulder. “She’s a helluva nurse if you’re going to get in pissing contests with other men, she’s good to patch you back up.”
“Are you volunteering her?” I asked curiously.
“Girl’s been on a dry spell for six months, I gotta help her out,” she grinned and gave me a wink.
“I didn’t ask for help,” she looked up at me with a grimace. If a cry of help could be said with the eyes, hers was clearly begging me for help.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I looked back to Latisha. “You don’t feel bad for trying to hook your friend up with a guy that’s been stabbed? I could be shady.” I was honest because I wouldn’t be good for someone like her.
“Baby, I’m trying to help her out with a dry spell, not a proposal,” she snorted and looked back at her friend. “I’ll see you later, you make sure you get this one’s number.” She gave her a bump with a hip, and I tried not to be amused by their interaction. “I’ll see you later,” she said to Dylan then looked at me, hard, “Here’s hoping for me not seeing you at all, though it’s a shame because you are nice to look.”
“Thanks,” I grunted lightly.
The other girl breezed out of the little room that I was being taken care of in.
“I’m really sorry that was uncomfortable. I would complain about her, but she’s my friend,” she said quickly as if she were trying to cover up the awkwardness of the other woman trying to get her laid.
I chuckled then winced because the burning seemed to flare up with it. I then belted out my phone number without even thinking about it.
“You decide you need to end your dry spell you can give me a call.” I stretched and tried to get comfortable, though it seemed impossible. “How much longer before I can go?”
“Doctor Andrews has to come into give you a last look over and prescribe you some antibiotics,” she paused then seeming to realize something. “I need to take a blood sample,” she took my arm and seemed to map out the veins. “Sorry, I got distracted by her making light of my personal life with a patient.”
“I should be flattered,” I watched as she struck me, with was a slight bit of pain. I winced and watched as she pumped my blood into two vials
“This is going to be tested to make sure there weren’t diseases passed to you,” she put a cotton ball onto of the needle and pulled it out carefully. “How this will go is you will need to keep this clean, try not to scratch at it if it gets itchy which is a possibility. An appointment will be set for you in about two weeks, and we’ll take them out. If you notice any pus or odd smells coming from the area then come back immediately,” she put a band aid on the spot she drew blood. “If the tests on your blood come up with anything we’ll call you on the number you gave me.”
“But you wouldn’t call me with anything else?”
“It’s unethical,” was her quick response. “You’ll be given antibiotics you’ll need to take twice a day and a mild pain medication because you’re likely to hurt for the next little while.” She stripped off her latex gloves and cleaned up the mess she had created from taking care of me. “You need to take it easy, any strenuous activity may cause your stitches to rip out. If that does happen, you’ll have to come back.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I grumbled.
After what seemed like an hour the doctor came into to give me a final once over. I wasn’t entirely sure what his purpose was. He eyed the stitches in my side and prodded them with gloved hands.
“This is fabulous work, Dylan.” He shot her a look over his shoulder, “I heard her giving you the rundown about how to take care of it. She’s giving you sound advice. Follow it, and you won’t end up back in here until it’s time for them to come out.” He stepped away and pulled out a pad to write on, I was handed two scraps that had my prescriptions on them. “Consider yourself released. Take care of yourself and have a good night.”
He was out just as quickly as he came in and I sat up with the scraps of paper in hand.
“Did he actually do anything?”
“Understaffed, remember?” She frowned at me and went about covering the stitches with gauze and medical tape. “Sorry we cut up your shirt, but if you’re willing to wait, I can get you a scrub top so you can save yourself some modesty.”
“Nah, don’t bother,” I slid off the table.
Her hand came under my elbow to steady me, and I saw those blue eyes watching me with concern. Did I waiver? Her hands were cool on my skin, and I was looking down at her. She didn’t seem so short when I was on the table.
“Are you dizzy?” she asked.
“No.”
“Do you feel nauseous?” she reached upward and placed her cool hand on my forehead, it drew her close to me, and I felt the brush of her breasts against my chest.
“No,” my eyebrows drew down. “I’m free to go, so I’m going to go.” My hand found her hip, and I drew her closer. She felt so cool that I wanted to warm her up. “Call me, and I’ll help you like you helped me.”
I heard her breath catch, and I knew whatever I was feeling she had felt it, too.
“I’ll consider it.”
5
I got back to the clubhouse without even realizing how I got there. I wasn’t dizzy or faint, but I seemed too disconnected during the drive over. The lot was empty, save a few familiar motorcycles, so I had enough room to pull in and park. I got out and the cool night air seemed to make everything twitch. I hadn’t bothered to get a shirt on, and I hadn’t really felt the need until now. I grimaced and walked into the clubhouse.
It looked empty. The door hadn’t been locked, I went to the office and knocked. Why knock? Because there’s just some shit, I don’t want to walk in on.
“Come in,” Wilson bellowed. Of course, he was here.
I opened the door and threw Billings cut onto the desk, I didn’t even notice Tillman until I heard him growl, “The kid better still be walking.”
At that, I stepped in and gestured to my bandaged side.
“Oh, the fucker is still walking. I used my fists like a man. That pussy had someone come at me with a bat and a knife. He’s lucky I was bleeding otherwise he wouldn’t be.”
“What you can’t beat ass while wounded?” Tillman snipped. He and I normally didn’t see eye to eye, this was probably going to make things worse. Right now I was trying to find a reason to care.
“Let me stab you a few times and see if you can keep going,” I grunted. I looked to Wilson, “I need to recover. Don’t call me unless it’s important.”
“We were just talking about getting back into things,” Tillman went on as if I hadn’t mentioned the fact t
hat I needed time. “Are you telling me you’re too much of a pussy to keep going?”
“You have a choice,” I glared at him now. “I can put my boot in your ass and show you what it’s like to be a pussy or you can shut up and let me recover. You don’t have to like me, I don’t care. The feeling is mutual right this second,” I growled. “But if you are going to poke at me right now you’re going to find out that I don’t have patience for your shit.”
“Tillman,” Wilson stood, and he pulled out a few bills. “Jimmy got what he deserved, and you know it. We need an asshole or two around here to keep things in line, and Jimmy is an example of that. Be angry at me because I brought him on and I told him to go give the kid a beatdown. Cut him a break.” He handed me the bills, and I backed out of the office.
“Fine,” the other man hissed and stood. “I’m going to go see what damage is done and clean up.”
“Don’t,” was growled back at him and I lingered to see the reaction. “He’s not going to learn anything if you go there and pick his ass up. He’ll think that he’ll be able to walk back in here and that,” the older man started snorting like a bull. “Is not the message I wanted to be delivered.”
“Consider it like this,” I said evenly, because I felt like I had to be the voice of reason. “If the Boneyard wasn’t what it is, he would be dead.”
“It was something I considered,” Wilson seemed to be in agreement with the point I was trying to make. “He wouldn’t be a concern if he were eliminated flat out.”
Tillman gave me a hard look before leveling it at Wilson. “I knew him when he was a boy, you can’t expect me to sign off on something like that.”
“I didn’t ask your permission, just like he didn’t ask your permission when he started running meth and God knows what else. He got the cops attention, and it was only a matter of time before he brought their attention to us,” Wilson was logic and reason in a gruff voice. I liked the old man before but standing here still on the edge of my hospital visit I could see him for the good leader he was. “We are still cleaning up from that mess, and we have lost a shit ton of money in the process; even with Redding running the garage. It’s half the income the club made. We hemorrhaged money clearing Redding’s name and all of this could have been avoided if Jimmy had talked to you first.”
I adjusted my footing, my side burning. “I’m taken care of,” I grunted. “You can handle the drama. I’m getting out.”
I turned to leave, I had the prescriptions that I wanted to chew on then crash in my bed.
“Wait,” it was Tillman that got my attention. “We’ll follow you to make sure you get there in one piece.”
This surprised me because the other man didn’t like me. Why care if I made it home? I shrugged lightly and decided I’d wait in the truck. I watched them yak at one another as they closed up then went to their motorcycles. I cranked up and didn’t wait for them, I was too eager to get home.
6
I managed it home, and in bed. After taking the pills they had thrown at me I dozed off. My sleep was restless, every time I shifted pain would flare up through my side, and I was left groaning until I could get back to sleep. When my phone rang, I was ready to smash it against my bedside table.
“What?” I snapped at the unfamiliar number. My voice sounded harsh, and the lack of sleep was getting to me.
“Mister Cole,” a soft voice cut through the sleep deprivation. “Are you alright? It’s..” the voice faltered after a beat. “It’s nurse Dylan from the ER.”
I relaxed back into my pillows, grimacing as the fire lanced through me.
“Why are you calling?”
“I,” I could hear the indecision over the phone like she couldn't make up her mind as to why she was calling. “I need this dry spell to end,” she said after a beat. “You offered to help me, I thought I would take you up on your offer.”
“Sugar,” I groaned into the phone. “I would love to tap that ass, but I have had a shitty night.”
“What’s the problem?” Her tone went clinical, and any apprehension in her voice disappeared. “Talk to me.”
“Every time I move it’s like someone poured acid on my side,” maybe it was the fact that I was so tired I was blabbing. “It’s throbbing and burning.”
“Did you already take the painkillers that you were prescribed?” I grunted out an affirmative, “Do you remember what time it was that you did?”
“What time is it now?”
“About eight,” she sounded concerned. “Are you running a fever or anything like that?”
“Fuck I don’t know,” I closed my eyes. “I just want to sleep.”
“My shift just ended,” she informed me. “I would like to come check up on you. This is just to be sure you're alright. Not for anything else, of course,” she was speaking quickly, and it was apparent she was embarrassed.
“You called me with the intent of getting sex,” I said blandly. “While I would love to take you up on the offer now, I’m not sure I can manage. However, if you’re offering to come over to make this a little more bearable, get over here. Fuck ethics.”
I didn’t give her the chance to second guess it or argue, I hung up on her and threw an arm over my eyes. I hurt so much, and I was so tired. It hurt more now than it did when the asshole stabbed me the first time.
I got settled for the most part despite the throbbing in my side and managed to doze off again. Time drifted, and I had no idea how long I managed to sleep before pounding of a different kind woke me up. Growling, I sat up and winced immediately. I got out of bed and made my way to the door, not bothering with the lights. It was early, but the sun was up. I felt like I hadn’t got any sleep at all. I jerked the door open to glare at my visitor.
My nurse from before stood in my doorway, she looked mildly disheveled and just as tired as I felt.
“Jeremiah Cole?” she looked unsure before she caught sight of me and stepped in without an invitation.
“Cole,” I corrected with a sneer.
Whatever intimidation tactics I had been using was ignored, and I was directed to sit on the threadbare sofa I kept in my living room. She shut the door behind her and clicked on the lamp. The unsure woman on the phone had turned into a practical nurse that wouldn’t be halted from doing her job. She put a cool hand to my brow.
“Do you remember when you took your medicine last?”
“I took them when I got home, around two,” I glowered at her as she cupped my face in her hands, her fingers scratched over the bit of growth I had there. I wasn’t going for a beard, but I hadn’t bothered to shave lately, so the hair had started to fill in regardless of what I wanted. “If it’s after eight can I take another pain pill?”
“Do you feel dizzy or nauseous?”
“No,” I grumbled at her. “Just really fucking tired.”
“He prescribed you a low dosage of Lortab, you shouldn’t take more than what was instructed. Do you have any ibuprofen?” Her hands on my face felt good, and I closed my eyes, “I’m going to check your stitches to make sure they’re okay. Alright?”
I grunted an affirmative, I was sitting in my boxer shorts, so it wasn’t like she had to undress me. I’m not sure why she even asked. She let go of my face and knelt in front of me, close enough to where I could smell her.
Almonds? Vanilla? It was something like that but a mixture, it stood out over the smell of latex and iodine I couldn’t make sense of it. She was so close, carefully pulling at the medical tape on my side to look at the stitches she had put in hours ago. I turned, and my nose brushed the hair at the crown of her head, I still couldn’t figure out the scent. Why did I care? I shouldn’t, but I did. Then, her sharp fingers probed me, and I couldn’t help but grunt.
“They’re red, predictably. But they’re not bleeding, the blood clotted like it was supposed to,” she was speaking, but I didn’t really gather the reason. “I don’t see any pus. In this one,” she replaced the tape and went to the next repeating her
inspection of the other two wounds. “The pain you’re feeling,” she pulled away and looked up at me. “Is normal. It’ll be like this for a day, maybe two unless something is wrong.”
“I can’t fucking sleep like this,” I grunted in annoyance.
“What about the ibuprofen? Did you have any?”
“If I have any drugs it's in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom,” I motioned in its general direction.
“C’mon,” she took the hand I had been waving and pulled me to my feet. “I know you’re hurting, and it’ll be hard for you to sleep, but rest is the best thing you can do.” She fit herself against my uninjured side and started walking me towards my bedroom as if I were an invalid. “I’ll do what I can to help you get settled.”
