Page 22 of Sweet T

“A text will do. He’ll be worried, but he works like three jobs. He’s busy.”

Evan texted for a moment. When he was done, handed the phone back to Tucker.

Juanita came in again to check Evan’s vitals, and Tucker used the interruption to excuse himself. He punched a number into his phone, moving slowly down the hospital corridor. Pedro picked up on the second ring.

“Hey T, what's going on?”

“Have you spoken with Shelly today?”

“No. Is there something I should know?”

“Last night, she and Ben found a young man hurt in the tavern parking lot. I'm at the hospital with him now.”

“I was wondering why you didn't come home. I was kind of hoping you'd taken my advice, maybe gotten lucky.”

“No.” Tucker sighed. “It’s complicated. I may need some help.”

“Anything. What's going on?”

“He was hitchhiking to Atlanta. Some guy picked him up, beat him, robbed him, and left him with nothing. He has no insurance, and we’re soon to be stuck here with a hospital bill. I don’t know what to do.”

Pedro was silent on the other end.

“P, are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s your gut telling you about this guy?”

“My gut says he’s legit. In the wrong place at the wrong time. He’s small like a kid, but he’s twenty-one. I feel sorry for him, P. That’s why I stayed at the hospital. I want to help him.”

Pedro paused again, then said, “How bad was he hurt?”

“He has a cracked rib and a minor concussion. Bruises all over.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Yeah, P. I do.”

“That's good enough for me. I'll call the hospital desk. Hopefully, Nancy’s working. Don't worry about the hospital bill. I’ll take care of it. Are you going to bring him home?”

“I guess I'll have to. He's got nothing and nowhere to go. He was on his way to a friend’s house in Atlanta. I figure once he's better, that's where he'll go. If he doesn’t pay you back, I will.”

“Don't worry about that stuff now. Baby steps.”

“What about Daddy? How do you think he's going to react?”

“Don't worry about your father. I'll handle that.”

Tucker rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. You seem to be handling it all. I feel guilty.”

“Don’t. It's what parents are for. Besides, you’re my favorite, remember?”

“Thanks, P.”

“Just take care of him.”

“Will do.”

Another pause.

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