“I’ll be takin’ ya to hospital.”
I shook my head. “I can’t go to the hospital.”
“Holy Mother of God, ya were shot, mate. Ya need to go to the quack who’ll check ya for a bullet. Judgin’ by ya flushed skin and I expect, hot to the touch, yer runnin’ a fever, Weston.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know my first name?”
He grinned, making dimples appear in his cheeks as his eyes danced. “Raj and Rami told me and I have a likin’ to callin’ ya Weston instead of Chaudry.” When I opened my mouth to argue, he held up his hand to stop me. “Come on now. Let me take ya to hospital.”
“I can’t go.”
“Jay-sus, yer pigheaded.” He frowned.
I felt myself smirk. “So, I’ve been told.”
He looked side to side then down at his shoes before finally sighing. “Fine then. I’ll buy ya brekky, and you’llsit yerself down and tell me why ya left before gettin’ seen by the quack. I’m not leavin’ until I know yer okay.”
I shook my head. “No, that’s not—”
“It’s not a suggestion, Weston.” He peered around me to look at the car before cutting me off. When he looked back, hisexpression was softer and more serious. “Have ya been livin’ here then? I’m guessin’ ya could do with the calories in order to heal.”
I turned around to look at the car, flushing with embarrassment as I looked back at him, shrugging. I knew he was right. I would have to have food if my arm was going to heal properly and what little I had stored in the car, wasn’t going to be enough. My meager savings, two hundred dollars, was every penny I had and I’d have to make it stretch until I got a paycheck.
I’d had no idea how things worked until I found myself in these circumstances. It had certainly been a humbling eye-opener. The church was very good to me, and I could make McDonald’s sandwiches go a long way but some days, I just couldn’t face it. The dollar stores were also a godsend but without cooking facilities, it was hard to eat proper food. The same for eating ramen and the occasional hard-boiled egg, though, nothing sounded good at the moment. “All right.”
“So, you’ll let me take ya for some grub and then hospital?”
I frowned, knowing I had no other option. “I’m not a duck,” I spat out.
He sighed deeply and opened his hands in the universal gesture for “what the fuck.”
“Grub, quack…”
He burst out laughing, the blue eyes twinkling again.
“Food, the doc. Doctor,” he amended. “I’ve got a wee bit of an accent.” He grinned again.
I closed my eyes feeling foolish. My arm throbbed and the heated way my body felt, even standing here in the cold of winter, told me an infection was setting in. “Okay, yes, but I’llneed to change out of this coat.” I looked down at the bullet hole, stained with blood.
“Aye, sun’s out, but it’s enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. You’ll be needin’ somethin’ warm.”
I walked around to the tailgate and pulled out a big, oversized sweater. The second I did, Good was there, standing close. “What do you—”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya. Just thought I’d give ya a hand with yer coat,” he rushed to say.
“I was…only startled,” I argued, letting him help me out of the jacket and then pull the sweater over my head and down my torso as I gritted my teeth through the pain. I wasn’t going to argue with this man about anything. After seeing him in action last night, I had no doubt in his ability to do just about anything he set his mind to.
He grinned. “Grand. Let’s go.” He pointed at a VW bug which was parked across the street. “We’ll take my car.”
I reached out and caught his sleeve with my good hand. He stopped and turned. “What?”
“That’s your car?”
He glanced at the VW and then back at me, giving me and up and down glance as if measuring. “Tight squeeze but you’ll fit.” He grinned again, and I dropped his sleeve as he started toward the car again. I shook my head, glad he couldn’t see the smile I couldn’t hide when he turned his back.
He was right. I’d somehow managed to fold myself into the small car as he drove us to Du-Par’s on Third and Beverly. I hadn’t asked where we were headed but as soon as he turned into the parking lot, I couldn’t stop my smile. The restaurant and their homemade everything menu, was one of the most iconiceateries in Los Angeles. I’d grown up coming here with my parents and even after my father passed away, had brought my mother here at least once a month. The place brought back good memories for me.
Getting out of the VW was even more challenging than getting into it had been. I’d sort of dropped down into the seat, contorting until I could fold my long legs into the car, but getting out one handed was…not fun.
