“Ace has him, Dillon.” Nate came over, rolling his shoulders, all exhausted. “Coop’s hurt pretty bad. They’re shipping Coke to Montana with me in the morning to work the big show. Ace is doing the arrangement thing.”
He stared at Nate, trying not to scream like the damned diva they all accused him of being on occasion. Cooper was hurt. That should mean more than his own desperate need to make sure Coke was good, that they were good. Sighing, he turned to Jonesy.
“Let’s go. Quicker we get this done, the sooner I can make some calls.”
“You know it. Night, Nate.”
Nate nodded to Jonesy. “Night, man.”
“Night, Nate. Get some rest, yeah?” Dillon followed Jonesy to sports medicine, where ninety percent of the guys once again stared at him like he’d grown two heads.
David was there, right after he got settled, eyes dark and warm, concerned. “Lord, Lonnie. My heart stopped when I saw you. How’re you doing?”
“Huh? Oh, I’m okay. My arm doesn’t work.” He grinnedand did an Igor kind of shuffle walk, letting his bad arm dangle. Gross, but cool.
“Shit. God, don’t do that. It’s freaky.” David helped him up onto the table and pulled out a handkerchief. “For your face. You and your damned makeup.”
The tease was familiar, making them both smile.
“Hey, I used to do it for tradition. These days it hides the wrinkles.” The grease paint came off easier than usual. He must be sweating up a storm.
Jonesy came over with a cupful of pills and a syringe. “Take the pills, and then we’ll get you this muscle relaxant.”
“What kind of pills?” Pills could make him pretty goofy. He did stupid things. Like climb out on a fourth story balcony and singYou Light Up My Lifeto people who broke up with him.
“Percocet and Levaquin. You’ll need ’em, Walsh.” Doc came over, shaking his head. “This’ll hurt. You done X-rays yet, Jonesy?”
“No sir. Fixin’ to.”
“Wait. X-rays?” He stared at David, starting to get a little panicky.
“Easy, Lonnie. Easy. What’s up, Doc?”
Doc smiled a little. “No big thing. I just want to make one hundred percent sure it’s just dislocated and exactly where things are. That way we pop it in quick and easy.”
“Well, that sounds reasonable.”
David’s buttery voice soothed him, calmed him down a little, even if he wished Coke was there. Maybe that meant he was well and truly over David, and one hundred percent in love with Coke.
In fact, he was pretty sure that was it.
“Take the pills, Dillon.” Jonesy touched his hand. “The X-rays will take two minutes.”
“Oh. Sure.” Man, he wasn’t good at cowboy up, was he?The guys were all determinedlynotstaring at him now, so he sucked the pills down and put on his show face. “Ready.”
“Good man.”
The little portable X-ray machine was wheeled over, David and everybody stepping back.
It was weird, how the X-rays didn’t hurt like they had the time he’d broken his ankle ice skating. Dillon could see now how the guys could ride with a shoulder out. Oh, it wasn’t pleasant, it hurt. A lot. But he made it through without screaming or passing out. Heck, he didn’t even make a sound.
“Good deal. Now. I’ll give you this shot, and we’ll put things back.” The injection happened damn fast, and the rush of dopey hit about the time he realized scissors were slicing through his shirt.
“Shit! You could have taken it off!” His sponsors would shit a brick.
“You have more than one.”
He was going to whack Jonesy with a shovel.
