“We’ve got you,” one said. “Try not to move.”
Addie tried to move her arm to push herself upright, feeling embarrassed to be found under a piece of furniture—no matter how heavy it apparently was. “I’m in a puddle of someone’s spilled liquor. I’m going to get up.”
“Ma’am, there’s broken glass, and you’re bleeding from the…” He gestured at her shoulder where tiny brass tips were poking up from a hole in her blouse.
“Oh.” Addie turned her head and saw that there was a puddle of blood, pinkish as it mixed with the liquor puddling around her.
“The paramedics are almost here,” the other guard said. “Miss Gibson says we have to wait on them. Take pictures and then wait.”
“I can put a blanket over you,” a third guard, this one a woman, said as she approached. “Are you cold, Miss Stewart?”
“Addie. I’m Addie,” she said, staring at the woman with the blanket. Tears were streaking over her temples and into her hair, whichwas bloody and liquor-soaked.Tequila, from the smell of it.And the woman calling her “Miss Stewart” was not Toni.
She wasn’t sure how much later it was when Eric came in, accompanied by Marcela. The paramedics were there almost simultaneously.
“I think there are scissors in my arm,” Addie said. “Embroidery shears? I’m not sure what they are really. Sharp things. They’re definitely sharp. The points came all the way through me.”
“Well, that’s no good, is it?” said a woman in some sort of uniform.
“Cuz…” Eric was staring down at her. “Should I call my mother or yours? Fuck. I don’t know—”
“Let’s get her to the ER before we go asking her to make any decisions,” the uniformed woman said. “Do you know how long you were here?”
“He just got here,” Addie whispered loudly.
“Right you are.” The woman smiled. “What about you? When did this happen, Miss Stewart?”
“Today.” Addie glared at the scissors in her arm. “The scissors weren’t there before today.” She frowned. “I think I hit my head when the sofa fell on me.…”
The next thing she knew, they had moved her carefully onto a stretcher and were carrying her to the ambulance. Addie looked at Eric. “Can you call Toni? Tell her I’m fine?”
He took the phone she had been clutching. He frowned. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
“It is. Tell her I’m sorry I messed up filming and—”
“Because you meant to be attacked?” Eric bit out. “No, I cannot tell anyone that. Was it that homophobe?”
“He was upset that he lost his job, and he blamed me and…” Addie’s words faded as they went down the steps. Even as careful as they were, they had jostled her slightly, and it hurt.
Because there are scissors in my arm.
“I have this, Ads.” Eric squeezed her hand. “You go to the hospital. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Marcela gave her a smile and patted her wrist on the uninjured side gently. “Everything will be fine, Addie. Let’s get you patched up.”
The ride to the hospital and the exam were a blur. All Addie could say for sure was that she was in an operating room, and then she was breathing and counting backward.
When she opened her eyes again, she was in a recovery room with Eric at her bedside.
“Ads!” Eric jumped to his feet, brushed back her hair, and kissed her forehead. “I am going to quit my job and follow you everywhere. We should hire a bodyguard, too. I’m not great at violence.”
“Hush. I’m okay. Fill me in,” Addie managed to say the next time she opened her eyes. “Where’s my sweater?”
It was Toni’s sweater, the cardigan Addie had taken home when she left DC. Although it no longer smelled of Toni’s cologne, the worn-out sweater had been a security blanket of sorts. Addie slept with it beside her.
Eric draped it over her, and she pulled it up toward her face with her good arm. She closed her eyes for just a moment.
Her next clear memory was Eric saying, “You’ll be fine, Ads. Are you staying awake this time?”
