The crowd remains silent until someone pipes in, “Should I call an ambulance?”
I’ve seen it time and time again, and this was exactly what I told the group when we were forming the plan. A crowd naturally defers to whoever seems the calmest and most confident in an emergency. People won’t take initiative from me—he’sasking me if he should call an ambulance instead of doing it. Normally, it would piss me off because in a true emergency, there’s no time to waste seeking approval.
Not tonight. Tonight, I’m glad for the hive-brain panic mentality. People won’t act for fear of doing the wrong thing.
“I’ll take him—it’ll be faster than waiting for an ambulance. Can someone call the emergency department at Ulysses Memorial?” I ask the crowd, trying to get ahead of the 911 calls by introducing an extra step. Of course I don’t really want that—Fred won’t be going to the hospital tonight.
Well, maybe… depends on how cooperative he’s feeling.
“I will,” a deep, Russian voice volunteers. Even after all this time, it sends a shiver up and down my spine and nearly makes me break character because I want so badly to smile conspiratorially at him.
“Tell them an adult man collapsed and is unresponsive. A medical professional is bringing him for treatment. This appears to be a medical issue with no observable trauma. No airway blockage or obvious bleeding…”
A concerned murmur goes around. I don’t need any more confirmation that I’m selling the hell out of this. I glance up, then do a double take at the tall, dashing waiter no one hired—just for effect. “You.”
His eyes widen as he looks over, phone still clutched to his ear as he makes his pretend call to the hospital. “Me?” he repeats.
“You look strong. Can you help me get him to my car? Call the hospital on the way.”
Pocketing his phone with a grim expression, he gently touches the shoulder of a man in his way, who looks back, then does a double take when he sees the size of Dimitri and scrambles out of the way.
My man leans down and slides a hand under Fred’s armpit as I take the other side. When we discussed this last night, he fought me tooth and nail.
You are pregnant, mymed.You will not be lifting anything heavier than this glass of water until mymilyy rebenokis born.
I looked that one up. Sweet child. It made me choke up a little.
But I argued that if he lifted a grown man into his arms like a baby, no one would ever stop talking about it. It’s too memorable for what is sure to be one of the few things anyone talks about for the rest of the night. Me? The bossy nursewho leaped into action? They’ll forget about me. The massive, scarred waiter with the thick accent? Yeah, he doesn’t need any more reason to burn his image into anyone’s memory.
To the casual observer, it would appear that the enormous, scarred server and I share the burden of getting the barely conscious Fred Harvey out of the ballroom of the Ulysses Grand, when in reality Dimitri is bearing the brunt of it.
People clear a path as we make our way through the automatic doors. Maintaining the ruse, I hurry to Dimitri’s SUV and get into the driver’s seat as he maneuvers Fred inside and slams the back door shut. He hops into the passenger seat, and I back out of the spot.
As I check the rearview, I can hardly believe my eyes. The hotel entrance is empty. No one at the party even followed us out. Either our act was that believable, or none of Fred’s coworkers cares enough about him to check and make sure two strangers aren’t blatantly kidnapping him.
We’re… we’re totally pulling this off.
Oh my God, is this what it feels like to be on the other side of things?
I think I finally understand why they do it. What a rush!
“It is easy to become too excited,” Dimitri coaches me calmly. “Remember to drive the speed limit.”
For some reason, it makes me laugh. Maybe it’s that I’m already kind of giddy because I can’t believe how well that went. I suppose I knew how thoroughly the guys plan everything, but it’s totally different to experience it firsthand. To be part of it.
I look over at him. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, mymed. More than my life. But not more than yours or that of ourmilyy rebenok.So please return your eyes to the road.”
I smile and do as he instructs.
Milly. That’s kind of a cute name for a girl.
Dimitri
I suppose it is human nature to reflect on the beginning when one is at the end. People often say that life is a journey. At the start of mine, I was a man whoenjoyed tying someone to a chair and making him bleed while I pried information I wanted out of his lips. Sometimes with actual pliers.
But interrogation is not a skill I ever thought I would teach to someone else.
