Page 2 of Absinthe Dreams
I called 9-1-1 for myself, and the rest? The rest came in flashes as I went in and out of consciousness.
I remember hearing the sirens and feeling the grating, burning, lancing, and screaming pain as I was lifted to be slid into the back of an ambo.
I coded, I guess. Came back to light shining in my eyes, people talking, people shouting. I came too again in the trauma center, lights flashing intermittently between ceiling tiles as I screamed out for anyone who would listen to call Saint or Hex from my phone.
There were people, shears cutting off clothes, a snarky male voice – surly and unimpressed, and then I heard her.
Her voice was lyrical and sweet. Thick like honey, and the sound of it alone made me believe that I would survive this. I fumbled, hand and arm full of tubes and lines, and grasped onto her wrist.
Her face came into view. She was beautiful, with the face of an angel. I watched her full lips move as she said, “Don’t worry about them. We’re going to take care of you.”
“Can you gimme something for the pain? Please?”
Her seafoam green eyes softened into something like pity, and the wrinkles of concentration across her forehead smoothed in realization.
She barked out something at one of the others rushing and fussing, doing whatever at my side. She ordered them to order me some goddamned pain meds and said, “I’m sorry. Just rest now. We’re going to stabilize you and get you up into surgery as soon as we can.”
I grabbed her wrist as she pushed off the railing to leave, and she focused on me, some of her blonde hair falling over her shoulder in the ponytail she kept it in. It was bright against her black scrubs.
“Don’t let them take my leg off or anything.”
She smiled empathically and said, “It’s bad, but it’s notthatbad. You’ll keep your leg. I promise.”
I let her go and murmured, “Thank you,” just as the drugs took full effect.
A FEW WEEKS LATER…
Saint was manning my wheelchair as we rolled down the hallway. I was finally busting out of here. My leg was still in a cast, from hip to foot. You’d like to think I’d laid my bike with it being cast up like that rather than shot, but the bullet had almost shattered my fuckin’ femur, and it was part of the fuckin’ process, I guess. My arm was in a sling because of the bullet I’d taken in my shoulder. Apparently, I would be sporting fragments of some of the slugs Ratfuck and Spoon had put into me forthe rest of my life. But the dipshits hadn’t double-tapped me or finished the fuckin’ job, so I was alive, and alive meant I could have my revenge.
The boys had pulled some strings, and I was a ghost as far as Ruth and the rest of the club were concerned, which meant I could heal in peace to get my fucking revenge, which was honestly all I could think about. That and making things so I was square with the pretty ER doc or nurse – whoever she was, who’d treated me with respect.
It felt good to be back in my colors again. Saint had stitched them back together for me and brought them with him – blood-soaked patches and all. They’d cut right across the top of the shoulders, and again, it was the pretty ER nurse or doc who’d cut them with care. Made me wonder if she had family that was part of the life, or something. She seemed toknow,you know…
“I still think you’re crazy,” Saint grunted.
“I’m telling you. I’ll know her when I see her, brother. Just wheel me on out through the ER and let me have a look,” I said.
“Fine,” Saint grated. “But you’re supposed to be dead.”
“I know it, but you know me…”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, but he did what I asked, and rolled me through the emergency department.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” a doctor said, pushing off from around the central desk’s wrap. “You can’t be back here.”
“Sorry, Doc, couldn’t figure out where to park and ended up in the lot out this way. I thought it’d be okay to cut through. Not tryin’ to cause any trouble,” Saint said. I was focused on looking for her…
“Saint.” I interrupted the doctor and my brother, and thrust my chin at the woman who’d just emerged from the curtained area.
“Hey, Doc!” I called out, and she looked up and over our way. Her smile was a genuine one as she wandered over our way.
“Well, hello again,” she said with an amicable smile. “Looks like you’re getting out of here today.”
I nodded and extracted one of my cards from inside my cut. It was my last one and had a bit of my blood just starting to soak one corner. I tore that corner off, because gross, and handed the paper with nothing but a number inked onto the front in nondescript block numbers.
“You need anything or anyone taken care of, you just call me,” I told her and held it up to her.
She took it from me with a nervous laugh and said, “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind…”
