Between the Lines
“Ha, ha. Funny guy, George. That’s why I like you.”
***
Late afternoon the next day, Emma walks in, carrying a vase of Asian lilies. Maybe it’s the drugs, but her face above the flowers makes me imagine her as a faery. “Hey you,” she says. Tadd and Quinton are with her.
I mute the reality show blaring from the way-too-small television bolted to the wall. “Thank God, I’m bored out of my mind.”
She smiles at me. “We figured as much.” She places the flowers on the built-in veneer dresser and Quinton hands me gaming magazines.
“Dude, you look like ass,” Tadd says.
I shake my head, try not to laugh because it hurts. “Tact. Ever heard of it?”
“Tact is overrated,” Tadd says, eyeing the television. “Hey, I bet I could get a game console and a couple of controllers hooked up to that.”
“Thanks, but I think I’m getting out of here tomorrow. If I promise to be good, I can convalesce at the hotel. The doc says I’ll still be in bed for four to five more days, and not in a good way.” I wink at Emma and she blushes the slightest pink. “I feel like I’m in prison here.”
“The guard dog is at the door.” Quinton refers to Bob, who’s sitting on a chair in the hall, blocking fan and paparazzi intrusions.
“Yeah, we had an incident with a hospital volunteer earlier.” I laugh and goddamn, it’s like someone stabbed me. I push a call button.
“Yes, Mr. Alexander?” Young, with a little bit of a Southern lilt. Nurse Monica.
“I could use some pain meds, please ma’am.” Tadd quirks an eyebrow at my please ma’am, and I pretend not to notice.
“I’ll be right in.”
“What kind of volunteer?” Emma asks.
“The doing community service for prep school credit type. Allegedly, she took some photographic liberties with my sedated body and a strategically unbuttoned candy-striper outfit.”
“Whoa! Was she at least hot?” Quinton says, then turns to Emma. “No offense.”
She blinks at him. “Um, none taken?”
“No idea. I was drugged out. Bob let her in since she was dressed in hospital threads and had ID, but he had a weird feeling so he checked, and there I was, being violated by an underage candy-striper.”
Nurse Monica comes in with a syringe, which she injects into my IV line. Tendrils of her copper hair escape from the twist at her nape, and Quinton is staring, not that I can blame him.
“There ya go. You should feel that real soon.” She lays her fingers on the bare skin of my forearm, blinking when Tadd stifles a laugh, abruptly jerking her hand away. Clearing her throat, she straightens the bedding. “Do you need anything else?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.” She blushes and hurries from the room.
“Sure you don’t need your pillow fluffed, or maybe a sponge bath?” Tadd mocks.
“So did your juvie stalker sext anything before Bob intervened?” Quinton asks. “Cause that could get ugly. In a legal sort of way.”
“Nah, Bob came in, grabbed her phone, walkied for hospital security, and scrolled through her messages. She hadn’t sent anything yet. She attacked him when he started deleting photos—”
“She attacked Bob?” Emma asks. “Bob’s the size of a tank!”
“I know, right? But yeah. He held her by the wrists with one hand while deleting photos with the other until hospital security busted in. Tragically, during all the madness, her phone was accidentally crushed under his ginormous foot and the memory card went AWOL.”
Emma smirks. “Sounds like Bob is worth his weight in gold.”
“In Bob’s case, that’s really saying something,” Tadd agrees.
*** *** ***
Emma
After the guys leave, I stay to keep Reid company for the rest of visiting hours, like I did last night. He’s alert today, though still a little groggy from the painkillers the nurse just gave him; last night he was drugged to the hilt, in and out of awareness—mostly out, and I was glad I brought something to read.
He’s wearing a baby blue t-shirt and black jersey shorts today, rather than the hospital gown. “So is this authorized hospital-wear?”
He ducks his chin, peering roguishly through a few strands of blond hair—clean, which makes me wonder who’d washed it for him—the ginger-headed nurse? “Not exactly, but I tend to get my way about stuff, or haven’t you noticed?” Only he could deliver such a line and have it come out charming and not insufferable. “Did you say they moved filming to the Bennet house? I seriously can’t remember what we talked about last night, sorry.”
“You were pretty out of it.”
He scoots over in the bed to make room for me, grimacing slightly. “Come here. You’re too far away.” I leave the small sofa and climb up next to him, careful not to jostle him or mash his IV line. He takes my hand and kisses the palm. “I hear I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“Well, you were obviously unwell, anyone could have seen that.”
His mouth turns up on one side. “The point is, you were that anyone. Though, was Graham there, too? I’m fuzzy on that whole night.”
“Um, yeah, I told him you weren’t feeling well, so he came up. He was actually the one who knew you needed a doctor.”
“But you were the one who checked on me in the first place. Besides, no offense to Graham, but I’d rather thank you.” His eyes are warm, staring into mine, and I brush his hair out of his eyes, feeling guilty, because I didn’t go to Reid’s door to check on him. I went to his door to tell him off.