Page 26 of Disciplinary Action
A voice directly over Cal’s head responded with, “Hang a bag of saline. Run it wide open, we need to replace his fluids.”
“Can’t you just give him insulin?” Gideon asked from far away.
“Sir, if we give him insulin while he’s hypovolemic we could kill him. We need to know his potassium level first. We gotta get this bus moving. You can talk to the treating physician there with the patient’s permission.”
“Cal, I’ll be right behind you. I just have to make a call.”
There was the sound of doors slamming and movement, and then nothing at all.
“Lucky Leo, what’s up, homie? I never hear from you anymore.”
Gideon rolled his eyes. “Listen, Des. I need you to meet me at Asheville General. Now.”
There was a sound of fabric on fabric as his friend seemed to shift position on the other side of the call. “You okay? You hurt?”
Gideon smiled despite himself. Even after thirty fucking years, Desmond was always ready to help. “Not me. A…friend. But I have this dog with me and they don’t allow dogs in hospitals. You live nearby, and you’re literally the only person I can think of who knows animals and doesn’t hate them. Besides, he appears…menacing.”
There was a snort of laughter. “Menacing. I love when you go all professor on me. Like we didn’t both grow up in the same hood. Yeah, I’ll come watch your menacing dog, Mister Hundred-Dollar-Words. Give me ten to throw some clothes on. I’ll meet you outside the ED.”
Gideon breathed a sigh of relief as he disconnected, side-eyeing the pit bull who now rode shotgun. The dog seemed just as leery of him, refusing to make eye contact. “This is a Tesla, so don’t get any ideas, okay?”
The dog’s mouth fell open, and its tongue unfurled from its mouth as he began to pant loudly. Gideon made it to the emergency room in less than fifteen minutes. Other than a small puddle of drool on his leather seats, the dog had been perfectly well behaved. He let out a breath when he saw Desmond waiting for him, the glow of his bald brown head gleaming under the security lights. He wore jeans and a henley the same color blue as his eyes. He leaned against the wall beside the door. It occurred to Gideon then that he didn’t have a leash for the dog.
When Desmond saw him pull up, he pushed away from the wall and knocked on the window. Gideon pushed the button until the glass was at half mast. The pit bull immediately pushed his face into the crack to greet the man on the other side, like they were old friends. “Be careful. I don’t think he’s dangerous, but you never know,” Gideon warned.
This time, it was Des who rolled his eyes. “What’s his name?”
His name? Dog? He hadn’t thought about it. Gideon had never had pets, and the only time he’d ever asked for one, Grant had told him he wasn’t responsible enough. Grant had always thought Gideon was too irresponsible for lots of things. Pets. Children. Anything that hadn’t fit into Grant’s tidy plan for their lives. Gideon frowned, pushing thoughts of his dead husband from his mind. There was no collar, but the dog at least deserved a name. He’d done his best to protect Callum from harm. “Aloysius.”
Desmond’s face dropped. “You can’t be serious. That’s just cruel. Why can’t you just remove the stick from your ass for one night and name the dog something normal? Rex? Spot? Chance? Buddy?”
Gideon ignored him. “I don’t have a leash either. Sorry.”
“We don’t need a leash, do we?” Desmond crooned, kissing the dog’s nose before popping the door open.
Gideon swore the dog smiled at his friend, hopping down, little nub of a tail wagging his whole back half. Desmond crouched beside the dog, scratching his head. “You need a bath, huh? And a checkup.” To Gideon, he said, “I’m gonna take him to the clinic.” He looked the dog over. “Correction, I’m going to takeherto the clinic. How can somebody as smart as you not realize this is a girl dog?”
“I don’t tend to check the genitals of random animals. Besides, I was a bit preoccupied with the unconscious student at my feet,” Gideon quipped.
“Still want to call this poor girl Aloysius?” Des inquired, still squatting beside the scarred up beast.
“Fine, call her Alexa. They both mean warrior, and she protected Cal when he was in a very fragile state.”
“Of course, she did. You’re the goodest girl, aren’t you?” Desmond pulled a treat from his pocket and fed it to the dog.
“Do you always keep dog treats on you?” Gideon asked.
“Veterinarians are always prepared. We’re like the Boy Scouts but without all the pedophilia and homophobia. Do you always check on your grad students when they end up in the hospital? Or babysit their dogs?”
“He’s not a grad student and mind your own fucking business.”
Desmond snorted. “Yeah, somehow that’s what I thought you’d say.”
Gideon snorted a laugh. “I’ll call you when I can come and get her.”
“No worries. She’s got a date with a flea bath and some nail clippers. Come on, Alexa.”
The dog trotted off with his friend without a backward glance at Gideon. He parked the car in the spot designated for the emergency room patients and jogged towards the automatic doors. Inside, it was quiet as a church. It wasn’t empty by any means, but the people seated around the waiting room were all whispering to each other or just wrapped up in their own misery. Behind a shiny white formica counter sat a man with a buzzcut in teal scrubs.
