“Thank you for everything. You’ve been really good throughout all of this.”
“Yer all good, Wes.” He pulled into the driveway and then took the ramp down to the subterranean parking lot.
PATSY
The hospital personnel triaged Wes in the ER, then sent him off to radiology so the docs could see where the bullet was before removing the thing. I called Candy when he was out of earshot, just to check in and let him know what the story was. I also called my sponsor, Greg, to give him a quick rundown about the schemozzle last night.
“Are you doing okay, Patsy?” he asked after I’d told him what’d happened.
“I’m good as gold. Really. Shite like this happens on the job. I’m not goin’ out to pick up a bottle of vodka. Have a wee bit of faith, Greg.”
“First of all, I hate your job. Second, I havegreatfaith in you, Patsy. I’ve been your damned sponsor since you moved from Texas last summer and I’ve talked with you through a lot of on-the-job situations. This one is different, though.”
“Because I was in a shop and ran up against a robber?”
“Unarmed, Patsy.”
I knew why that made a difference to him. He was well aware of my past struggles with PTSD after the war. Greg had a list of my excuses as long as my arm that I’d made for self-medicating with alcohol after Candy and the guys had found me and my best mate, Tommy O’Malley. They’d dragged us out of that hellhole where we’d been tortured for almost five days. Tommy had carked it, internal bleeding from the beatings he’d endured. I was a complete shambles and I’d given in to my own weakness afterward.
“Anyway, like I said…I’m grand, Greg. Ya don’t have to bother.” I cringed even as the words came tumbling off my eejit tongue.
“Bother!”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You’resupposedto bother me, Patsy. I’m your goddamned sponsor. In fact, you should’ve called me as soon as you got done with the LAPD last night.” He paused and I could hear his heavy breathing, instinctively knowing his next words. “In fact…where are you right now? I’ll come over and we’ll meet for tea.”
“Can’t right now, Greg.”
“Then right after work.”
I sighed. “I’m not at work. I’m at the Kaiser on Sunset with the fella who got shot last night. He needed me to vouch for the bullet wound since he didn’t trust the coppers not to put in a report about him.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the pregnant pause on the other end of the line wasn’t good.
“What do youmean? Is this guy dangerous? Why didn’t he go to the hospital byambulancelast night?”
“Long story short, Greg. Suffice it to say, I’m takin’ care of it and no, before ya ask, the stress of the situation won’t be makin’ me pick up a bottle. I’m grand. Promise we’ll meet tomorrow. I want to get him home to my place and—”
“Why are you planning on taking a total stranger home to your place, Patsy?”
I didn’t know why I said things without thinking about them first. My best mate, Napoleon, was always telling me “to quit oversharing.” He was right. “He’s homeless, okay? The man who was shot is homeless and I can’t let him go back to his old bomb of a car and let him sleep there when he’s just been shot!” I could hear my voice ratcheting up in volume and indignation.
“But you don’t know him, Patsy.”
“He’s quite harmless, he is. And you’d be agreein’ with me that I’m a better judge of who’s harmless and who isn’t, wouldn’t ya say?”
“Patsy Good…you try my patience.” When I didn’t respond, he muttered, “Meet me tomorrow morning for tea and we’ll talk more about it then.”
“Goodo. That’s grand. I just wanted to check in.”
“At Candy’s urging, no doubt.”
He sounded angry but I knew his worrying came from a place of caring over dodgy past decisions I’d made. He knew I hadn’t picked up so much as a bottle of beer the last eight years, but the program motto was—take things one day at a time. “I would’ve called ya anyway.”
Greg chuckled. “See you tomorrow, Pats.”
“Aye, mate. Bye.”
