“Come back to bed.” She blew out a puff of breath and then fell right back asleep. One leg stuck out; a thin sheet covered the other.
I would’ve, but laughter that came from the street called me to the window. All condensation had dried with the sun, leaving stained streaks and the ghost of two handprints—where Scarlett had braced herself against the pane when I had been buried deep inside of her.
Laughter alone wouldn’t have caught my attention, but the sound of it was familiar—booming. The sound came from Everett. Two of his old buddies were next to him, Travis bringing up the rear. The four of them strode down the street still in their suits, cigars hanging out of the sides of their mouths.
I looked over my shoulder at Scarlett. She was still asleep.
If I had to guess, Everett and his buddies had been out all night at some exclusive gentlemen’s club. Any misplaced anger from the day before had been exorcised by the night. Everett’s face was still flushed, but it was the flush of a night he felt well spent.
Just as the men made it to the door of Everett and Pnina’s place, Everett’s face underwent a change that stopped the entire group. He looked shocked, as though he had seen the ghost of an enemy, and then his hand went to his arm and he collapsed.
Blood ran from underneath his head, where he must’ve split it on impact, pooling with small puddles of water that had formed overnight.
“Scarlett!”
I threw on my pants from the night before, no shirt, no shoes, and was almost to the door. The tone of my voice must’ve brought her awake, and she sat up, like a puppet whose strings had been yanked.
“Brando!”
“Call an ambulance! Hurry!”
“Wha—Oh my God! Brando!”
I caught sight of her movement right before tearing through the house, taking the steps three at a time. Doors were beginning to open, the feel and sounds of panic going from room to room.
Out on the street, the three men hovered around Everett, Travis included. What the fuck was he doing? He was a doctor! I had been trained in the Coast Guard to act, but not knowing as much as he did, I ordered him to get to work until the ambulance came.
Travis blinked a few times, reality a sharp dagger to the soft haze of the night before.
In the distance sirens wailed, and so did a woman, maybe two. I was on my haunches next to my father-in-law, pants soaked in blood, water, and filth. His voice seemed to whisper in my ear, reminding me, as Travis fought to save his life, “you’d be the relief on my deathbed.”
Whatever he had meant to say, he never had.
* * *
“Mrs. Poésy, your husband has suffered a massive heart attack. He needs open heart surgery. Soon.”
The doctor attending to Everett didn’t waste time. He went straight to the heart of the problem, and afterward, went into more specific detail of what that meant for him.
Travis took a step forward, listening intently, his doctor face on. He knew this man both in the professional spectrum and outside of it. They were about the same age, judging by his surfer-boy looks.
My eyes narrowed when Charlotte reached out and grabbed Scarlett’s wrist. Scarlett stood tall, her chin up, a look of strength etched on her features, but I felt what no one else could—the fear.
Most of the conversation was lost on me. Travis was doing most of the talking, but everyone stopped when I recommended that Everett be taken to a specific hospital out of the state. Tito had carried on about it a time or two, forever on the lookout for ground-breaking medical treatments. He was never particular about who he discussed this with, including me.
Pnina took my hand in hers, squeezing. “Yes,” she agreed. “I’ve heard similar things. We will go there.”
With the treatment plan mostly settled—the doctor assuring us that Everett was stable enough for travel and could wait a couple of days to make arrangements—the three women were allowed in to see Everett.
Travis and I both said we’d wait until after, giving them time alone.
Scarlett glanced at me before she went in.
“I’ll be right here,” I said.
She shook her head and the door closed behind her.
I kept my back to the wall, arms and feet crossed, trying to make sense of our lives. The floor beneath my feet didn’t feel as stable as it once had. Mitch. Everett.Death and evil things come in threes.
