Page 21 of Big Balls
Ethan
The private flightI’ve chartered leaves as soon as I’m on board. Coach agreed to bring my bags and the rest of my gear back when the rest of the team leaves tomorrow morning.
“Get home to your girl, Alexander,” he grunts. Coach is a good man when he’s not yelling at me. The fatherly look he gives me when he gruffly pats my shoulder is almost enough for me to lose my cool, but I’ve got to focus and do what needs doing.
Then I can let myself lose it completely, but privately.
My favorite thing about being on my own private flight is that I can get up and pace for the duration of the flight without anybody giving me crap about the seatbelt sign. The attendant asked me something at one point about a drink, but I gave her a thousand-yard stare that was so off-putting that she sat back down and refused to make eye contact after that.
I’ve called all of my poker buddies and let them know what’s going on with Katy. With any luck, one or more of them will be beside her by the time I can reach the hospital.
There’s already an Uber waiting for me at the private airport’s parking lot. I’m willing to pay someone to sit there and wait for as long as it takes so I can leave the flight and be driven as quickly as possible to the hospital.
Because some things can’t wait. My daughter can’t wait. I’m not going to be okay until I know for sure that she’s going to be okay.
I hustle into the waiting car and tell the driver I’ll give him an extra hundred bucks if he can beat the GPS. He does.
It’s easy to get people to do whatever I want if I flash enough money around—except apparently to take care of my little girl, the only person who makes my life worth living.
Outside the hospital, I pause and take a moment to unclench my jaw. I take a deep breath and vow that I won’t lose my temper until I’ve talked to Katy, made sure she’s okay.
It’s nobody’s fault that it has taken me this long to get here to be beside my daughter. But it’s been eating me up inside ever since I talked to Zoe on the phone.
By now, Sebastian better have come through with the healthcare power of attorney, because if I go to Katy’s room and she hasn’t been treated yet by the doctors, I might spontaneously combust.
I form my hands into fists then make them release. This is definitely not the right mood to carry in to see my daughter. She’s been through enough today, and she definitely doesn’t need my crappy attitude messing the whole thing up.
I force my shoulders to lower and take a deep breath. I have absolutely nothing to gain by making a scene, and everything to lose. I’ve got to keep my head on straight here, and then I can completely lose it in private.
I straighten my posture and wish for the eight-hundredth time that I’d changed clothes before leaving. Hours later, the grime and sweat on my uniform have solidified into little smears that look like I’ve been rolling in mud. I’m sure I smell like I’ve been playing professional football, too.
I should have showered on the plane or something, but the idea of putting my dirty uniform back onto a clean body seemed even worse than just being sweaty and dirty. And Katy’s seen me worse than this plenty of times.
I shove the revolving door a little too hard and it locks up briefly. I jiggle the handle of the door where I’m pushing, then take a deep breath and try again. This time the door moves, but in an even more slowed down manner, like I’ve tripped some sort of safety mechanism. Great.
By the time I exit into the hospital lobby, my nostrils are flared and I’m breathing heavily, as if I’ve just wrestled a wild animal instead of the revolving door.
I stomp toward the heavy wooden desk centered in the lobby. The woman at the desk looks like everyone’s favorite grandmother, with little blonde curls in a halo around her gently lined face. She’s working on some sort of hoop with a needle and thread, but when I look closer at it, the words read “Fresh out of Fu—”. Okay, wait a minute.
My eyes snap onto the information desk clerk and I size her up anew. She nods to me, and it feels likegame recognizing game. She smiles at me sunnily. “How can I help you, handsome?”
My lips purse, and I open my mouth to answer and pause. Did she really? What kind of training do the hospital employees get here?
The little old lady at the desk raps on the counter in front of me. “Not too bright, are you? Pity. The cute ones never are.” She fluffs her hair and then speaks extra slowly to me, “How can I help you?”
I cough out a surprised bark of laughter then start over. “I need to find the pediatric ward. It’s important.”
She pats my hand gently. “Of course it is. Well, my nephew is up there. Let me text him and have him come down and escort you up to where you’re going.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “That…seems a little unorthodox.”
The little old lady tilts her head at me then bats her eyelashes at me. “Ooh honey. You just got so much more attractive. Use some more big words and I’ll even make little Jacky hurry.”
My brow furrows. “Is there some reason you can’t tell me where I need to go?”
The woman flashes me a smile, but it’s got a definite hint of flirtation in it. Okay, more like a sledgehammer’s worth of flirtation, with a little decorative lip curl. “I can definitely tell you where you need to go. It’s not up, so it must be….”
Her voice trails off, and she looks at me expectantly.
