Page 2 of Hearts Held
Nancy says, “You know this is rude behavior. I am trying to assist you and all you’re doing is bullying and badgering me, for some nitwit who stole your pocket watch! This is a hospital!”
The door swings open. Four men in beautiful pristine suits stand next to the hospital guard, a nursing colleague and my nursing supervisor, Nancy.
“Oh, Brielle? Everything all right, love?” Nancy looks at me like I have three heads. I swiftly explain my lie, the post-mortem bleeder. How they bled all over the hospital hallway and I rushed to grab supplies to cease the problem. It makes sense and it looks like Nancy buys it.
“Oh, okay, love. Have you seen any young men? Some pocket-stealing-looking fools?” she asks in that soft, pleasant tone of hers, her short white bob bouncing with each word and gesture as she speaks withher hands.
“I have not, I’m…” I can’t finish my sentence, for a man with slick jet-black hair marches toward me and my dead man.
“Well then, senora. You wouldn’t mind if I pay some respects to the dead?” One hand cradles the lapel of his suit jacket as the other reaches out, gesturing to the body before us.
“Excuse me!” Nancy lets out an exasperated huff. “Ever since you gentlemen have come to London, you act like you own everything. This is an outrage!”
The man furrows his dark eyebrows and a hint of murder flashes through his eyes. He’s about to round on Nancy, but for some reason I act without thinking and tap his shoulder, then hope he won’t notice the small specks of dried blood that now cling to his upper arm from my touch. If he is who I think he is, then I’ll be dead for touching an Italian mobster’s suit, let alone leaving blood on it.
“It’s all right!” I state in panic. “It’s okay, you can pay…your…respects.” I hope he won’t say or do whatever he was about to, to my dear Nancy. He turns toward me, flashing a wicked smile in my direction. “Thank you, doll.” His voice is as slick as his hair. His mouth cranes in concentration, sliding his tongue to the inside of his cheek. The movement is unnerving.
As he peels back the zipper to the body bag, I hold my breath. As the flap opens, I decide to stare at the ground, waiting for the verdict.
“Hmm. Poor sucker,” the man lets out, then tosses the flap over the carcass and walks toward the door. I try to be quiet as I take in a large breath of air, feeling my lungs expand within my rib cage. I’m not in the clear yet, for the man turns around and states, “If you see some insolent boys, let us know, please?” He stares at me, sending shivers down my spine.
“Of course, sir,” I spit out, trying to keep my voice from shaking. Before he turns to leave, he gives me a haunting wink. I wait for the door to shut and the lock to click back into place. The sound of their footsteps dwindles down the hallway. Finally, I push the trolly carrying my deceased friend back through the morgue doors. As I come through the other side I glare at Bobby and Marcus. “You’re in trouble with the mob? The Italian mob!?” I try to keep my tone of voice low and not strained or surprised, but fail.
Bobby, looking slightly more alive, explains, “Well, yes, love. To be exact—Sabini. I pissed off Sabini a lot.”
“HOW!? WHY!? By stealing a bloody pocket watch you bellend!?” I ask after safely returning my carcass friend to the fridge.
Marcus laughs and answers for Bobby. “It’s worse. He shagged his daughter.” Then he slaps Bobby’s upper arm, causing him to wince in pain.
“You knobhead.” That’s all I can retort to this ridiculous scenario I find myself in. I want to pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration but am reminded of the blood on my fingertips.
Bobby gives a smug smirk as he slowly hobbles towards me. “Well, love, they can’t help it. The birds love us Adders.”
I crinkle my nose and stare at him in confusion. “The what?” I ask.
His eyes grow wide and in unison Bobby and Marcus repeat, “The bloody Adders, Afton Adders.” With no look of recollection flashing across my face, they deflate and Bobby begins explaining what the hell they’re speaking of. “The Afton Adders. We came up to London to visit some of our bookies and buy a horse for theraces. There was a big get-together, ya see, and everyone was there, including some of Sabini’s men and family. Well, this pretty bird was flirting with me and I couldn’t turn down her mix of Italian and English accents. Next thing you know, she’s grabbing my cock through my pants and tugging me to the back of the barn.”
I continue to stare at him. “And then after getting your cock wet, you decided to sign your own death certificate with it too.”
Marcus’s eyebrow shoot to his hairline. “I ain’t never heard a woman talk like that outside of Lockham. You got a dirty mouth, love!” Marcus chuckles.
Rolling my eyes at him, I retort, “I’m a nurse, man-boy. We see dirty things, touch dirty things and say dirty things. Plus, the war changed me a tick.” I start washing my hands in the morgue sink as Bobby hobbles closer.
“Nah, love, you’re not just a nurse, you’re an angel. I can’t thank you enough for saving me.” As I dry my hands, I look up at his grateful face, and his eyes start to brighten.
Before I can discuss getting them out of the hospital safely, Marcus asks, “You touch men’s cocks?”
My head snaps toward his direction. “Excuse me?” I sneer.
Bobby places his head in his hands. “Marcus, shut the fuck up.”
“I’m genuinely curious. You said you see dirty things and touch dirty things, so do you touch cocks a lot?” The poor man-boy is actually standing in a questioning manner, flabbergasted and waiting to hear the answer.
“Marcus, we have to clean people sometimes. We see much more blood and gore, though. It isn’t what you’re thinking, dear.”
He cocks an eyebrow, still looking confused and contemplating his next question, but Bobby interjects.
“She isn’t giving out hand jobs like our massage house girls. If you dare ask her, I swear on my brother’s grave I’ll slap you. Now let’s get out of here.”
