Page 13 of Dr Feel Good
While I brought medical supplies because all types of emergencies happened, I never expected to need a fucking IV pole. My goddamn mistake.
I only had isopropyl alcohol to disinfect her wound. Only one of the five stitches opened, so I let it be and bandaged her up again, irritated to high fucking heaven. I was used to state-of-the-art medical equipment, not rudimentary supplies that might do more harm than good.
Over the next two days, changing her bandages and monitoring her fever became a careful ritual. Not wanting her to feel pain and hoping rest would restore her, I administered a half a sedative each day, peeled away the soiled bandages, cleaned the wounds, and winced each time I saw her raw, tender skin.
The blizzard outside hadn’t eased, but inside the fire’s glow flickered against the rough wooden walls, casting long shadows that danced like ghosts.
As the second day bled into the third day, her fever finally broke. Though she was pale, her breathing was shallow but steady. I laughed in pure fucking relief. Fuck, I don’t remember the last time I felt such fucking relief. It felt as if she and I were the last two people on earth and had vanquished other worldly marauders.
When I awakened, the first thing I noticed was the dryness of my throat. Before Fendi and I left for the run, it’d been hours since I’d drunk anything, and I was fucking parched.
A toasty fire blazed in the fireplace directly across from the bed I lay in. I frowned, started to sit up, but pain streaked through me.
“Fuck!”
Drawing in a deep breath, I stared at the ceiling, the wooden crossbeams as unfamiliar as my agony.
“Fendi,” I croaked. “Fen…”
The events of the disastrous run rushed back to me. Those cunts finding us. My VP’s body falling.
My gaze misted, and I blinked. I didn’t cry often but knowing that such a vibrant woman’s life had been snuffed out made me emotional. Fendi and I were frenemies more than besties, but as Harlots, we were sisters, and she’d had my back more times than I could count.
Now she was gone, left in the middle of the wilderness. If the Femmes hadn’t doubled back to desecrate her body, a wild animal likely made a meal of her flesh. I shuddered at the thought, and nausea rose in me.
The snowstorm blanketing her corpse and protecting her body until I could retrieve it was the best-case scenario. A sob bubbled inside me, but I shoved it away. There was no time for weakness. I wanted revenge.
Or fuck me, a fucking hug.
Sniffling, I sank lower under the covers. The soft bedding was a novel experience.
Where the fuck was I?
Gingerly, I pressed my hand against my aching thigh. Not the best idea since the movement hurt my shoulder. After a quick exploration of myself, I realized I was bandaged in four places, including my hand.
What the actual fuck?
I was dreaming. I had to be. Fendi was alive. I was in my trailer with my spoiled pit bull, handling club business behind the scenes and listening to my little sisters.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I tapped my toes together, ignoring the pain and chantingthere’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.
Yes, I was one of the Kansans firmly on the side of appreciating the cultural phenomenon known as theWizard of Oz. For better or worse, the movie shaped the world’s perception of my adopted state. Many people wanted nothing to do with it.
Me? I was ten, and still in Tennessee, when I discovered Toto was long dead. I think I cried for a week.
The innocence of childhood.
Swallowing, I opened one eye and gritted my teeth when the same surroundings greeted me.
Besides, the bed, softer than the one in my trailer on the Royal Harlots’ premises, was a dead giveaway and hadn’t changed since I awakened. It was the most comfortable mattress I’d ever lain on, and the cotton felt amazing against my skin. I had no idea where I was, but I knew it wasn’t a hospital.
For once, luck had smiled down on me and put a good Samaritan with medical knowledge in my path.
If only Fendi had been so lucky.
The door creaked open, and I struggled to sit up, but movement hurt me like blue blazes and... Holy fuck!
The handsomest man I ever saw stepped into my line of vision. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, tall and muscular, he was like a Greek god stepped out of a mythological tale.
