Page 24 of Wild Card
“You love him?” I repeat, laughing at how unbelievable this is.
“Yes,” she assures me. “I’m not asking you to understand. I never asked you for anything. Just please let this go.”
“How thefuckcan you love someone that did that to you? Ruby, your guy should be the person who protects you, someone who would die before he lets you come to any harm. Not the person who fuckin’ causes it.” I feel myself getting frustrated. “You can’t go back to him.”
“Says who?” she challenges me. “You don’t know me, you're just some guy passing through town who will be gone in a few weeks. I got swept away this afternoon. I forgot who I am.”
“You don’tknowwho you are, at least that's how it seems. If you did, you’d value yourself more.”
She closes her eyes and tries not to show how much what I’ve said has hurt her. “Look in the mirror. Take another look at what he did to you, and get real used to how it looks, because he’ll do it again,” I warn her. “He’ll keep doing it till he’s taken everything outta ya.” I hate that my words cause her smile to fade, and I want so badly to comfort her. “You're better than this. You deserve to be happy. Don’t settle for anything less than perfect.” I’m not claiming that I’m that perfect. Losing her to a man who was worthy wouldn’t be so bad, but to Brett Preston…
“Like I said, you know nothing about me.” Ruby turns around and leaves without looking back, and I lash out and kick the end of the bar with my boot as she slams the door.
It’s nine thirty and Earl still ain’t back; neither is Ruby, so I assume all is well at the Porter house. I’ve spent all night trying to get my head around why she’d be so stupid, and I still got nothing. Nothing but frustration and an urge to find Brett and kick his ass all over again.
I can’t count how many times I’ve had to talk myself outta leaving here and going to Porter’s house. I can’t just sit back and watch the girl make such a big mistake, even if she is right and I don’t fuckin’ know her. Someone has to try and make the girl see sense.
I’m clearing up some glasses when I hear the commotion. Some teenage girl rushes in through the door, screaming for help and looking scared to fuckin’ death. When I see how panicked she is, I abandon what I’m doing and follow her outside.
“I don’t think he’s breathing,” she tells me, looking down at the tall, lanky teenage boy who's passed out on the sidewalk.
“What happened? Did he take somethin’?” I check, tapping the kid’s face to try and get a response outta him.
“Should I call an ambulance?” A voice calls from behind me.
“Did he take somethin’?” I yell at the girl. He ain’t bleeding from anywhere, I can’t see any injuries, but he’s pale as hell.
“I…I…” The girl looks as if she doesn't wanna answer, which pretty much answers my question.
“You want him to live? You gotta tell the truth,” I tell her straight. Looking up at her.
“He took something, it was just a couple of pills. I told him not to.” She bursts into tears, while I quickly set to work.
“What are you doing?” Her face turns horrified as she watches me ram my fingers to the back of his throat and roll him on his side.
“Come on…Come on!” I scream at the limp kid, shaking him a little before attempting to make him hurl again. He’s not responding, and so this time I force my fingers back a little further. Eventually, he gags and retches, vomiting all over me and the sidewalk. “That's right, get it up!” I breathe a sigh of relief, patting his back.
“Jamie?” The girl leans over him, fussing with him and sounding relieved. “Jamie, are you okay?”
“He ain’t outta the woods yet,” I tell her. The kid is barely giving a response; he’s still out of it, so I take my phone and call an ambulance while a few people surrounding us join in on checking he’s okay.
One of the local guys, who's been sitting at the bar all night, comes out with a glass of water for him, and when I notice that the girl is shaking, I take off the hoodie I’m wearing and wrap it around her shoulders. “I’m sure he’s gonna be okay. Paramedics are on their way,” I assure her. “But you do need to tell me where he got those pills from.” I can see she’s scared of getting into trouble, but I can’t let that hold me back. The sooner I fixthis fuckin’ drug problem, the sooner I can get outta town and pretend I never met that damn girl I’ve been worried about all night.
“Sweetheart, I ain’t gonna talk to the cops,” I promise her.
“You really can’t make that promise.” She shakes her head and looks back down at her friend.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. You can trust me,” I assure her. She has to know something. The kid on the floor starts to shake, probably outta shock, and luckily, a woman rushes from the other side of the street already carrying a blanket. I nod at her gratefully before I get back to pressing the girl. “Your boyfriend could have died tonight. There are gonna be plenty more like him if you don’t tell me where he got those pills from.”
“He’s not my boyfriend, we’re just friends, and I told him not to take that shit, but he didn’t listen.” She snuffles back more tears.
“Who supplied him? I just need a name.” I screw my hands into fists and try not to get agitated.
Her eyes drop down to look at her friend, and when she raises them back up to me, I can see she’s still debating.
“We met him just off the freeway, at a motel. I don’t know his name, but he had a tattoo on his hand of a scorpion. He wasn’t very old, maybe a few years older than us. Our parents are gonna freak.” She starts to cry again.
“Listen, we all make mistakes, you just gotta make sure you learn from 'em.”
