“Ouch,” Vivien said. “I’m very glad you aren’t allergic.”
“That makes two of us,” Jake muttered. “Pop, I have no idea what possessed you—”
“Now don’t you lecture me, Elwood,” growled his father. “I’ve had enough pain in my ass for one day. I don’t need you on there too, like a damned boil.” He turned his attention to Vivien and managed to look adorably pathetic. “Got stung so many times, I got to feeling all weak and lightheaded. Started getting a pain in my chest, too. Genius here don’t care about that, he just wants to lecture me about—”
“Pop, that’s not true,” Jake said, his eyes bulging and his jaws clamped tight. “You almost went into cardiac arrest. Your blood pressure was dropping—Christ, Vivien can tell you I was terrified all the way here that something was going to happen to you before I could get here, like—like Mom.”
That last bit plopped right down there among all of them, landing like a meteor, and Vivien winced a little inside. There was a flash of grief in Ricky DeRiccio’s eyes, but it was gone in an instant. The silence was broken when the blood-pressure cuff on his arm turned on with a little hum and began to tighten for a reading.
“Well, I’m glad you’re all right. I’d hate to have to recast Mr. Gibbs,” she said, interrupting the two men as they eyed each other with mingled fury and sadness.
“Yeah, that reminds me,” said the patient a little grumpily. “Mr. Gibbs is aPresbyterian, isn’t he? I don’t think I can play a Presbyterian—and I don’t look like one of them either,” he said, as if they were easily identifiable or contagious. “Can’t you make him a Catholic? With a good Italian name?”
Jake muttered something that sounded suspiciously as if he were taking the Lord’s name in vain, but Vivien ignored him. “I don’t see why not. It’s a small role and it’s only in one scene. Let me know what name you’d like to use, and—”
“Excuse me,” said a nurse, peeking in from around the curtain. “Mr. DeRiccio, your room is ready, and so we’re going to move you there in a few minutes.”
“Room? I thought I was going home! I don’t want to stay here,” Ricky said, suddenly looking upset and even frightened. “He’s a doctor—my son—so he can stay with me. At home. I’m going to go home.”
“Pop, they just want to keep you overnight for observation,” said Jake, exchanging meaningful glances with the nurse. “Your blood pressure was pretty low, and you did have chest pain.”
“I don’t want to stay here,” Ricky said again, his brow furrowing. “I don’t like hospitals. And their food is inedible—no offense, miss,” he added to the nurse.
“None taken. And I happen to concur with your assessment,” she said with a smile. “About the quality of the food, anyway, but not about you going home. And neither does Dr. Frantner.”
“And neither does your son,” added Jake, “who, as you’ve so kindly mentioned, is a doctor. It’s just overnight, Pop. Oh, I know—how about if Vivien and I go and get you something from Luciano’s? It’s one of his favorite old haunts from when he lived in Grand Rapids,” he told Vivien. “Not far from here.”
“They closed down two years ago,” replied his father in disgust—probably for his son not knowing this vital information, not because the eatery was closed. “Luciano dropped dead of a heart attack while he was rolling out pasta—ended up with imprints from the metal thing all over his face—and his wife retired and moved to Florida.
“But now that you mention it, you could go get me something from Federico’s—they’re down on Ionia. Their osso bucco is almost as good as mynonna’swas.” His eyes had lit up, and Vivien swore he was salivating. “I canhaveit—I didn’t have a heart attack! They said my heart’s just fine, sonny, so just shut your mouth and don’t argue for once.”
Jake sighed. “Fine. I suppose you deserve something after all of this. Oh, man, Vivien, I’m sorry. Would you mind terribly?” he asked, as if suddenly remembering she was stranded at the hospital with him for as long as he was here.
“Not at all. Italian sounds amazing to me—I haven’t had a real meal in two days.” She was completely fine with ignoring the fact that she had two granola bars and a couple bottles of water in her bag. Authentic Italian won the day over granola bars, Thai, and—if she were being honest—even Mexican, every day.
Plus it would give her an excellent excuse not to be back at the theater for a little while.
Just so she could think about things.
Not Jake.
Definitely other things besides Jake.
Chapter Fifteen
Jake would never have imaginedhis first “new” date with Vivien would be at an Italian restaurant getting carry-out for his father in the hospital.
“You get going, sonny,” ordered his pop. “It’ll take’em an hour to get me settled in my room—no, you don’t need to wait with me. Where the hell am I going to go anyway? They’ve got me all wired up and stuff—look at this crap in the back of my hand and in my arm. It’s like I’m on my deathbed or something. And I’m sure as hell not going to get lost—this pretty lady isn’t going to let me go anywhere but to the john or to my room is she?” he added, giving the nurse a wink.
“Not a chance, there, sir,” she replied with a laugh. “We’ll strap you down if we have to, and jam a catheter up your urethra if need be.” She was about fifty years old with a very capable air, and Jake figured she’d seen it all when it came to feisty old men in the ER. He concluded his dad was in excellent hands.
“The sooner you get going, Elwood,” continued hisannoyinglybossy parent, “the sooner you’ll be back with my osso bucco…which I haven’t had madeproperlyfor at least twenty years. Don’t mention anything to Mattie, though, because she made it for me last year on your mother’s recipe—which never turned out right in forty years, but I never told your mother—and Mattie’s was so tough that I had to chew it for five minutes—how can anyone make osso buccotough?—but I didn’t tell her that, of course.”
Jake hadn’t seen his father so animated since…hell, he didn’t know when. He could hardly believe that less than three hours ago, Pop had been on the verge of cardiac arrest, his blood pressure in the toilet, and he’d been almost catatonic from the numerous bee stings.
Amazing what the thought of a good meal could do for a guy. Oh, and drugs.
“Elwood,” Pop said, plucking at Jake’s sleeve just as he was ready to leave the little curtained room.
