Chapter Twenty-Six
Drew knew Stevie’s address from the forms the boy had filled out prior to his starting work at the clinic. It didn’t take him more than fifteen minutes to reach Stevie’s foster home in the forbidding area in Red Hook, near the hulking projects. He swallowed his nerves and stormed up the stairs of the ill-kept house. There was no knocker, so he resorted to banging on the door. At eight in the evening, he believed someone should be home.
After several knocks that produced no results, it was apparent he was wrong. No one was home, so he decided to go back and wait in his car. It only took another five minutes of him ignoring several texts and phone calls from Ash before he saw Stevie’s two foster brothers swagger up the street.
He exited the car and met them at the bottom of the steps to their house. “You’re Jimmy and Donny, right?” They looked at each other in surprise, and Drew could see right away Jimmy was the leader of the two.
“Who the fuck are you?” The boy’s hands balled into fists as he swaggered up to Drew.
“I’m Dr. Drew Klein. Stevie works for me.”
Jimmy’s sneering face grew even uglier. “Oh yeah? What’s he do for you, suck your dick? Are you a fucking queer too?” The boy had several inches and about twenty pounds on Drew, and shoved his face up close in an attempt to intimidate him. “We don’t need no more fags, so you need to get outta here.”
Drew prayed his voice wouldn’t shake when he spoke. “I’m not closing down the clinic, and we aren’t going anywhere. So tough shit and get used to it, punk.”
Sirens wailed in the distance. The two young men muscled their way up close to Drew, pushing him until his back pressed uncomfortably into the stairway post.
“Listen, Dr. Queer. We’re telling you to get the fuck out of our hood, or we’re gonna torch the place, and maybe you might still be inside.” Jimmy’s laugh rang out into the night like an evil carnival clown’s. “Maybe we’ll pay your dear old grandma another visit.”
Drew’s blood ran cold, and a red veil of anger descended over him. “You? It was you two who went to her house.” The thought that Nana had trusted them, and they’d almost killed her emboldened him. “You fucking bastards, you dared to put your hands on her? You almost killed her, you sons of bitches.”
Drew never saw the punch coming. A hard, heavy fist connected with his cheek, and he saw stars. Though his head still reeled from the punch, the knowledge that these boys could’ve killed his sweet grandmother sent a surge of adrenaline through him. He charged at the two young men.
He must’ve caught them by surprise, because the quieter one, Donny, got knocked off his feet and sprawled on the ground. Jimmy, however, was a different story. He put his bullet-shaped head down and barreled into Drew, knocking his head against the post. Pain lanced through Drew’s skull. Woozy from the blow, Drew heard a car pull up, doors slam, then shouting from the direction of the street. He thought he heard Ash or maybe Keith, but he couldn’t be sure.
With his head still spinning, he nonetheless shook it off as best he could and began to swing at the two men, trying to hit whichever body was closer. He knew he landed some good hits, but when Jimmy landed two quick punches to his stomach, it sent him to his knees, gasping for breath.
As if in the distance, Drew heard Keith yell out, “Police, halt.” Jimmy, the closest to him, muttered something to Donny. Drew lay on the ground, still holding his stomach, as blood from the gash on the back of his head dripped down his neck. Over his own heavy breathing, he heard Donny pleading with Jimmy.
“No, Jimmy, you can’t. Put it away.”
“Fuck them,” Jimmy muttered.
Drew’s vision cleared, and with horror, he saw a gun in Jimmy’s hand. He heaved himself up and croaked as loud as he could. “Gun. He’s got a gun.”
White-hot pain seared through him, and he thought he heard shots ring out. Then everything went black.
* * * *
A loud beeping noise filled his head, and dull pain radiated throughout his body. His attempt to open his eyes failed miserably, and he groaned out loud.
“Drew, Drew. Do you hear me?”
Where was he? “Ash? Is that you?”
“Yes, baby. How do you feel?” A large, warm palm stroked his cheek. “Can you open your eyes?”
He made the attempt and this time met with success. Ash’s face hovered over his. Drew blinked, and his vision cleared. “Oh, Drew.” Ash kissed his lips and sighed. “You scared me, baby.”
“Where am I?” He sensed movement underneath him.
“On your way to the hospital to get your head checked out.” Ash continued to stroke Drew’s cheek. “You have a nasty cut on the back of your head, and you may have a concussion.”
As if to validate Ash’s statement, an EMS worker appeared from behind Drew with a blood pressure kit. Ash slid back against the wall and allowed the man to take Drew’s pressure. Drew winced as the man’s fingers probed his head, but he had no blurring of his vision nor nausea, signs, he knew, of a possible concussion.
“Lie back, Doctor. You need to take it easy. We’ll be at the hospital in a few minutes, and they can check you out more thoroughly there.”
Drew gave the man a faint smile. “Thanks.” He turned back to Ash, who looked pale and ill.
