Crack!
I sat upright, my heart pounding. What the hell was that?
Crack!
Crack!
Something was hitting my windowpane. In the few seconds of silence that followed, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and got to my hands and knees. Crack! Someone is throwing rocks at the glass, I realized as I crawled toward the wall. Damn Joey for not getting me a gun! The window was open at the bottom. Curling my fingers over the ledge, I pulled myself up and peeked through the screen into the dark yard. A sliver of moon lit the figure on the grass beneath me.
“Stop!” I yelled in the angriest whisper I could muster.
“Tiny, thank God.” Joey’s shoulders slumped.
“You’re a little late!”
“I’m sorry—can I come in?”
“No. The girls will wake up.”
“Please. I have to talk to you.” He touched his forehead. “And I think I need something for my head.”
Squinting, I realized that blood was dripping down one of his cheeks. “Jesus! OK. Go to the kitchen door.” I threw on my robe and tiptoed into the hall, making sure my sisters’ bedroom door was shut tight before descending the stairs two at a time. In the kitchen I unlocked the door and opened it, sucking in my breath at the sight of Joey on the stoop, battered to hell and holding his hand to his head. Angry as I was at him for leaving me to the wolves, pity squeezed my heart.
I pulled him into the kitchen, which still smelled like burnt bacon. Turning on the light, I set him in a chair and looked him over with a critical eye. His face was marked with a couple minor scrapes and a nasty cut under one eye. A big ugly welt was swelling at his temple, and a jagged slice just above it oozed blood. His hair on that side was matted with blood, and his clothing was soiled too. But the wounds appeared superficial, and I didn’t believe he needed stitches. “What happened to you?”
“I ran into some trouble.” He grabbed my forearms. “What happened with Angel?”
I pursed my lips and pulled my arms away. “After waiting an hour for you on the street, I had to give Angel an envelope that was six hundred light.” I went to the sink and scrubbed my hands to the elbow, soaking the sleeves of my thin summer robe. Briefly I considered taking it off, but I was only wearing a flimsy chemise underneath. And no underwear. It stays on.
“And?”
I dried my hands on a dishtowel and went to the pantry for the first aid kit. “And I handled it.” Eventually I’d tell him what happened—in the office anyway—but I wanted to look at his injuries first. Setting the small metal box on the table, I retrieved a clean towel and wet it. “Now hold still.” Gently, I tilted his head and dabbed at the blood on his face.
“Ow. I can do it myself.” He tried to grab the towel, but I held it away from him.
“Be quiet! I’ll do it.” Staring him down until he dropped his arm, I returned the wet cloth to his cheek.
He sniffed. “You burn something in here?”
“Yeah. Dinner.” When he grinned, I frowned at him. “I said hold still. Where were you tonight?”
“I went with Sam and a few guys to collect at a couple different places. One asshole didn’t want to pay, and he had some friends. Ow!”
“Sorry.” Easing up on the pressure, I wiped his skin clean of blood, holding his thick matted hair back with the other hand. I leaned closer to examine the slice on his temple. “What was the weapon?”
“A broken bottle.”
I sighed. “That’ll do it.” Reaching into the kit for a cotton swab and some iodine, I dotted some along each of the cuts on his face, rolling my eyes when he winced at the sting. After putting a bandage over the bottle cut, I rinsed the towel. Wringing it out, I returned to him and wiped some of the dirt and blood from his hair and neck. “You’re a mess.”
“Thanks. You know, I could do this myself.”
“Shut up already. Coat off.” He shrugged out of his brown jacket and pulled his gun from the waistband of his pants, laying it on the table. Gooseflesh spread across my arms.
“My God, Joey. You’re lucky they didn’t have guns! I’ve got no experience with bullet wounds.”
“They did have guns,” he said. “But nobody was willing to shoot first tonight.”
Tomorrow night could be another story.