Page 10 of One for the Money
At Dario’s encouragement, I follow my breathing techniques that were taught to me in trauma therapy, and center myself. I can feel the tension drip from my body as I breathe in tandem with my brother.
I’m man enough to admit that I’m a little scared. That having an Omega here has the potential to send me spiraling into a black hole of horrible memories. I’ll just have to avoid her as much as possible, and have Dario by my side when I can’t.
It’sfour in the morning, three hours after the curtain closed, and that was our last show at this location. While it’s not my job, I like to help the crew pack everything up so we can get moving. I’m always revved up after a show, with my adrenaline still riding me hard. This helps calm that down a bit.
This is the least glamorous part of things, when our trailers are hooked up for relocation, the stands and tent have to be packed up, and we have to leave the spot better than we found it. It’s why we typically do longer engagements than this one.
If it were always three nights, we’d burn out from the constant relocation, but this location couldn’t hold us for longer, and we sold out last time we ran through here, so it seemed like a good stop to make.
It was. Our stands were packed, our crowd was incredible, and Jude went on a radio show that covers a broad range, so it should help us at other stops down the line.
The dew on the grass wets the bottom of my sweats and sneakers, but doesn’t bother me. I’m searching for where I’m needed when the trailer beside me opens and Dr. Shields comes tumbling out.
At this early hour, her hair is wavy and loose, looking unstyled and clearly slept on. She’s in her pajamas too, a pair of plaid shorts and a baggy back shirt that brushes the bottom of her curvy ass.
Fuck, she shouldn’t be here. She’s too fucking pretty. Too delicate.
Too dangerous.
If she weren’t an Omega, I think I’d be a goner. Those dark eyes would trap me in their depths.
It’s not like I spend much time around women. Dario will bring some back to his trailer every few stops, but that isn’t my cup of tea. It takes a while for me to warm up to people, and I don’t have the time for that when we move on so quickly.
I don’t think I’m missing out on much, but I worry that will change if I allow myself to think about the doctor that way.
Dr. Shields doesn’t even notice me, taking off at a run. I’m nosy as hell, so I follow behind her, curious about what has her moving so quickly in the early morning hours. She doesn’t seem to realize she has a shadow.
I see where she’s going at the same time she does. A cluster of people surrounds someone lying supine on the grass.
“Out of the way!” she says, shoving through the crowd smoothly. They part for her seamlessly. I push through after her, the crew not so welcoming at my intrusion, hoping I can get a good look at what is happening.
One of our stagehands, Edmund, is on the ground, a massive gash gushing blood on his forehead.
Oh shit.
“Has anyone called Jude?” I ask loudly. No one answers, so it looks like it’s up to me.
He picks up on the second ring. I know he’s not sleeping at this hour. He’ll crash in the trailer once we’re on the road.
“What’s up, Dex?”
I step out of the circle. “Edmund’s hurt. Massive head wound. Lots of blood.”
“Fuck! Why did no one call me? Did you call the doc?”
“Not me, but someone did. She’s here. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Yeah, I do. Thanks for the heads up. I’m on my way.”
I elbow my way back to the front of the circle, where Dr. Shields sits in the wet grass with Edmund’s head on her lap. “Hey, Edmund,” she says softly, gently. It’s nearly a purr, and I can see the tension seeping out of him like the blood does from his forehead. “You need a couple of stitches. We have two choices. I can do them right here, right now in the field, or we can get you back to my trailer to do them.”
“What do you suggest?” he says, voice tight with pain.
She wipes the blood from his head with a piece of gauze, humming softly. “I can do neater, prettier stitches in my trailer. It’ll minimize the likelihood of scarring.”
“Why wouldn’t we do that, then?”
She shrugs, eyes twinkling with laughter. “Some people find scars cool, and you won’t get to lie in my lap in the trailer.”
