Page 108 of His Last Shot
“Johnny.”
“Where is she? How is she? What's going on?” The questions come out in rapid succession.
“I’m still waiting. I don’t know anything.” He heads in the direction of the hard plastic chairs, and we both sit. The smell of sickness clings to the air of the busy ER. The same ER I was in just a week prior when Rachel stitched me up. Scott’s despair weighs heavy as I put my hand on his shoulder; his head is bowed low, elbows on his knees, hands clenching and twisting.
While resting at home, binge-watching yet another TV show while I’m off work for my hand, I got the call from Scott that Laura was in an accident while leaving work. My stomach bottomed out. Not just for Scott but for Laura as well. She’s like a sister to me. I can’t even imagine if she—I shake the possibility from my head. “Do they know what happened?”
He nods, still staring at the stained floor. “The officer over there”—he glances to the registration desk—“said that it looks like the brakes went out in her car.Which makes zero sense. We just had it looked at last week. You know, the annual check-up I always have her get because I’m so anal about her car being safe.”
I turn to regard the cop; his eyes, narrow slits of ice, tear into me, and a prickling sensation spreads across my skin as a chill travels down my spine.
Scott turns his whole body and looks around. “What is taking so long?” Irritation laces his tone. “They said that I could go back with her, but that was like an hour ago. I’m going out of my damn mind. I just need to be with her.” With determination, he stands, but I pull him back down into the chair. Mad Scott is the last thing that poor registration woman needs while she’s trying to do her job.
“You sit. Let me ask her. Plus, I want to talk to the cop. Did you ask about her car? Like where they took it?”
“No.” He runs his hands through his hair. “God, I can’t even think straight right now.”
On shaking legs and a stomach full of knots, I stand. “Stay here. I’ll go over and try to get some answers.”
He looks up at me, a faint, tight smile on his lips. “Thanks, man.”
“SCOTT GIVENS!” Scott bolts out of his chair as both of our heads whip around to a nurse standing in front of industrial-size doors wide open. A few groans echo out from the other patients, frustrated it’s not their name being called.
He practically runs over to her. “That’s me.”
She greets us with a warm smile. “Mr. Givens, your wife is doing fine. You can join her now, and the doctor would like to talk to you as well.” It’s almost as if ten years of stress leaves his body as he sags in relief and lets out a huge sigh. “Would you follow me?”
Scott turns to me, his eyes questioning, and I nudge my head toward the big open doors. “Go be with your wife. I’ll wait here. Come out and let me know what’s going on, though.”
With a strong grip, he pulls me into a bear hug, his hand slapping my back with a resounding thud. “Thanks, Johnny.”
“She’s okay now,” I reassure him as we break apart.
Scott and the nurse disappear through the doors as they close automatically so he can be with the love of his life.
But I have a feeling what happened to Laura has to do with mine and the stitches she gave me last week. And with how that cop is staring at me, I know I’m right.
Does he have the cops in his back pocket also?
With a pounding heart, I head in his direction, and the moment I reach him, he turns and strides down the ER hallway.
I follow.
Past chairs filled with sick patients, past the coffee and vending machines, and through another set of double doors. He turns right, nodding to a few people as we continue our descent into the hospital. We eventually stop at an office with a plaque on the door that reads CHARGE NURSE.
He knocks. A second or two passes, then the door opens. A woman who looks to be maybe in her sixties stands in front of us wearing scrubs that are too small and crocs on her feet.
“Hey, Aunt Helen,” the cop greets her as the biggest, goofiest grin spreads across her face. He’s probably her favorite nephew.
“Hi, pumpkin. Do you need the room, Jason?”
Cop man Jason nods. Aunt Helen arches up onto her tip-toes as he leans down, kissing him on the cheek. “Take your time. I’ll see you on Sunday for dinner. You bringing your famous corn casserole?”
“Of course!”
“And what about that special friend of yours?” sweet Aunt Helen asks with a wink.
“Penny will be there.”
