Page 37 of Follow the Rhythm
“Stop it,” I snapped. “We’re not doing the jealous Alpha thing; neither of you has earned it.”
“I’m notjealous,” Charlie spluttered.
“Do you want to ride in the ambulance?” Stevie asked me. The paramedics had Ursula strapped to a stretcher and were wheeling her out. “Someone should go with her.”
“Absolutely,” I said and escaped the stew of Alpha pheromones bubbling up around me.
“You were incredibly lucky,” the doctor told Ursula. “Especially for a woman your age.”
Ursula rolled her eyes and scowled at the X-ray image of her pelvis. There was one long crack in the right side of her hip, the wing that jutted out to the side.
“Because of your age, I’d like to do surgery to stabilize the bone and make sure it heals properly. We’ll insert some screws here,” the doctor mimed inserting screws with his finger.
“Is surgery necessary?” Ursula asked. She was on serious medicine, but her face was still contorted in pain. I was glad I’d come, even if my motivation had been a bit selfish in the moment. I’d started to really like her in the weeks we’d been working together.
“If you were a decade younger, no. But you’re already at higher risk for fractures and falls, so I’d like to be conservative,” the doctor replied.
“Do you need to decide right now?” I asked sharply. “Her daughter is on her way. Can she just rest for a few minutes?”
Ursula’s daughter lived a few hours away. I didn’t want Ursula to make any big medical decisions high off her ass on pain meds.
“Of course. I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” the doctor said and left.
“Prick,” I muttered. Ursula was like sixty, not an ancient old woman.
She huffed a faint laugh, then glared at me. “Don’t make me laugh; it hurts.”
“Sorry, he’s just acting like you’re some fragile old lady!”
“Tiny, I’m seventy-three. Iama fragile old lady.”
I gaped at her. “You’re lying.”
“Fiona wanted me to retire years ago. She’s going to use this as an excuse to push the issue. You need to promise me you’ll make sure this tour looks fucking fantastic, especially if it’s the last production I have my name on,” she said fiercely.
Panic. Sheer panic. “I have no idea what I’m doing, though.”
“Bullshit. You’ve learned so much over the last weeks. You won’t have to do any of the technical stuff, just make sure Stevie doesn’t start changing things to make her job easier. And don’t let the fucking costume people make Ellis look like a deranged fairy like they did on the last tour,” she growled. “Charlie will be on your side. And I’ll make you a list.”
“Ursula, Ican’t. I’ll just fuck everything up worse.”
“Stop being a coward. You’ve got a good eye; you know the vision for the show. Buck up and do this for a fragile old lady,” she said, and grabbed my hand. Even through the haze of pain, her eyes were lit with a burning passion.
“Are you sure they'll be okay with me taking your place?” I asked, looking for another angle.
“Who?”
“Exactly! I don’t even know enough to know who might be pissed off.”
Ursula smiled wickedly. “Tiny, I’ll let you in on a little secret. No one knows what they’re doing. Ask for forgiveness, not permission, or you’ll never get anything done.”
I closed my eyes briefly in frustration. “I still think there has to be someone better than me.”
“Ah, fuck you. You want me to stroke your ego? Not gonna happen. But I thought you had more guts than this,” she said, turning her head away.
I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath through my nose.
“Fine,” I bit out. “I’ll do it. But I’m not happy about it.”
