“Goddammit, Everett! You scared theshitout of me,” I yell above the wind noise.
“Fuck, my upholstery,” he grits out, staring at the ceiling. Ah, that’s where the first shot got to.
“Baby, my husband was rich. If you live, I’ll buy you new upholstery.”
In the meantime, Parker has set up Anders on the Bluetooth, cranked all the way up to hear his East Texas drawl crackle across the line.
“Everett, buddy, save some of the action for us.”
“Anders, you asshole. Why didn’t you tell me getting shot sucks so bad?”
“I figured some things are best learned on your own. Parker, darlin’, how far out would you say you are?”
“About five minutes.”
“Go to the emergency entrance, I’m not far behind. Wait for me.”
Four minutes later we’re careening into the hospital parking lot and pulling in under the portico, no fucks given. As I’m opening the back door, a yellow Jeep on huge tires comes squealing into the parking lot. Anders hops down, pulling on a white doctor’s coat, with Omar hot on his heels.
Well, shit. Doesn’t Anders look all official?
In the meantime, ER staff greet us with a gurney and questions. Anders holds up his hand and points to two burly nurse types. “You two, help me get him on here, I’ve got this case.”
I jog alongside them, struggling to keep up.
Anders pulls up Everett’s shirt, tilting him to the side slightly, nodding, then rattles off, “Alright, folks, what we’ve got is a through and through, likely large-intestine involvement. Looks too low to have invited the spleen to the party, but he’s lost a lot of blood, so we need to make sure.”
I open my mouth to ask questions when a warm hand is placed on my shoulder. I turn and Omar is there with Parker.
Suddenly, I’m so very tired.
“Rafi, let’s go in. We need to make sure that you’re okay,” she says, her face edged with concern.
“His guts are perforated and he’s bleeding out, so, I’m like, way not the priority here.”
Parker pats my cheek. “Rafi, sweetie, you look like you washed your face in sacrificial blood.”
Now that she mentions it, I can feel the blood drying and cracking on my skin. I also notice that the rest of the people in the ER are staring at the two of us with varying levels of concern. “Alright, Ms. I’ve-still-got-some-guy’s-brain-in-my-hair. I’m not the only one bringing the gore factor to these fine country folks.”
She finally notices her ruined Garfield nightgown and laughs. “Good point.”
“Anyway, it’s just a graze, but you know how head wounds are. I don’t need any help.”
We approach the door marked Hospital Staff Only, and Anders barks orders at a nurse in the ER. “Check out that head wound. It’s shallow, but have a plastic surgeon look at it. His shoulder took a round as well.”
Oh, yeah. The fucking shoulder. “I don’t need it!”
Anders and Omar speak at the same time,
“Nonnegotiable.”
“You will absolutely get that looked at.”
Omar gives Anders an appreciative nod, which I hope hurt.
Parker pulls me aside. “Honestly, youlooklike you’re in worse shape than your boyfriend there. Let them at least give you a washcloth and some gauze.”
With Everett disappearing behind hospital doors, I allow a guy who looks like he’s twelve to pull me behind a curtain area and wash the blood off my face. He also helps me out of my clothes, which turns out to be an unreasonably painful affair, then gets me some women’s extra-small scrubs, which are only moderately huge on me. Several minutes later a trim, butch-looking woman with my haircut lets herself into the curtained area. She gives me her name and examines the head wound, declaring that stitches will not be necessary. The shoulder is a different matter.
