Tank glances o
ver at me, walking slowly so I can lean on him. “Looks that way. You haven’t seen what your face looks like yet. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I had to, Tank. He can’t hurt Sasha. I can’t let that happen.”
“Sasha is fine. Eli took her to his house. I’m more concerned about you right now. We need to get you to the hospital.”
I scoff. “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’ve been beat up before.”
We’re almost to the end of the street now where Tank’s SUV waits idling at the curb.
“Are you going to be able to get in by yourself or do you need me to help you? Maybe to fasten you into your car seat and give you a bottle, too?” Tank chuckles.
“You’re enjoying this way too much. And the only bottle I need has Johnnie Walker on the label.”
When he's helping me in the car he lets out a curse. "You were stabbed? Jesus."
That's when I pass out for the second time.
Over the next few days things are a blur. There's a lot of noise and voices and then I'm floating on a blissful wave. Fluorescent lights overhead, antiseptic smell all around. That can only mean one thing. I wake briefly to a nurse adjusting my IV line and whatever she gives me knocks me out again.
When I wake again, I hear Zack’s voice. “Shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”
Someone answers, a soft feminine voice I don’t recognize. I open my eyes and then immediately squeeze them shut when the bright lights in the room send a sharp pain through my head.
I glance over at Tank. “I guess the hospital was a good call.”
He lets out a little laugh, relief in his eyes. “Surgery went well. The knife missed the important stuff. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the police haven’t caught the mugger who did this to you.” His eyes narrow and then lift to something on the other side of me.
I turn my head to see a young woman with light brown hair and glasses observing us. She’s wearing a white coat so I assume she’s the doctor. It’s confirmed when she pulls out one of those annoying little penlights that all doctors seem to have and shines it right in my eyes.
“A mugger. Right. How long have I been here?"
She moves the light back and forth. "It's been four days. Do you know where you are?"
"I didn't get hit that hard. Seven times twelve is eighty-four, my birthday is June 17 and ESPN is on channel 561. Can I go home now?”
The doctor frowns. “Mr. Marshall, we need to be sure that you don't have any complications.“
“Just give me some good drugs and I'll be fine. I don't like hospitals.”
Zack meets my eyes and there's a sad understanding there. We spent so much time with doctors when he was a child so I'm sure it's not easy for him to be here.
She finally puts the penlight away. “If you check out it will be against medical advisement.” At my nod, she sighs. “I’ll have the nurses prepare your discharge papers.”
As soon as she's gone, I turn back to Tank. "I broke into the place where Blade was staying about a month ago. My friend Cole was with me. Apparently he went back and stole something from Blade. He wants it back. That's what this is all about."
Zack's face is stony when he says, "We'll take care of it. I'll make sure Tank knows where to find him." By the look on his face he's going to enjoy letting Tank scare the crap out of Cole. After this stunt I'm not defending him anymore. Old friend or not, his actions put us all in danger.
It takes a while for the nurses to get my discharge papers together so it's almost noon before we can leave. Getting home is a long process that requires a stop at the pharmacy for prescription painkillers and the complete loss of my pride when Tank has to carry me upstairs. Thank god Zack didn’t tell our moms that I was coming home today. I remember bits and pieces of them at the hospital while I was so out of it. I can’t deal with anything else right now. Right now, I need sleep.
I take the pills and slide under the covers. My hand brushes something soft and I hold up one of Sasha’s hair ties. She uses them whenever she sleeps over to put her hair up in this ridiculously high ponytail that she calls “the pineapple.” I was never sure what fruit had to do with anything but I’ve gotten used to her strange nighttime rituals and having her soft body next to mine. I've gotten used to loving her, my sweet silly girl.
Squeezing the fabric between my fingers, I slip into the reprieve of sleep. Sasha’s face is the last thing on my mind.
* * * * *
The next morning, I feel worse, if that’s possible. Every inch of my torso aches like a bad tooth and I’m pretty sure the painkillers are making me hallucinate. When I ask Zack why there’s a frog eating my toast, he just laughs and gives me another pill.