Page 44 of Flyboy's Nightingale
“Babe, can you grab me a chair and then take a look at my leg? I think I’ve fucked it up.” I decide being honest is my best option.
Because if I’m giving her something to do then she can't focus on the guilt that I know will be eating her alive after seeing all this unfold at her house. Riley pulls the chair over to me and sits it next to the rest of my brothers. As I go to sit in the chair, the abundance of pain that shoots up my leg causes me to hiss through clenched teeth.
Riley kneels at my feet and starts untying the parts of my brace that come off. She then starts to check every screw and pin to be sure that everything is in its place. When she’s done she stands, going over to the nurse at the table talking quietly. The nurse picks the phone up and makes a call. Whatever the nurse says into the receiver causes Riley to smile wide before coming back to me.
“Mind telling me what that was all about?” I grab her hand kissing the back of it.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve bent or shifted a couple of the pins. Luckily, your orthopedist is here today and has a few minutes to see you before he leaves.”
“I’m not going fucking anywhere until we find out what’s going on with my brother.” Anger rushes inside of me at the thought of her taking control of my life and making decisions on my behalf without consulting me.
Frustration flashes in her eyes as she takes a step back, pulling her hand from mine. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing he’s willing to check in with the other doctors before making his way out here as a favor to me. Now, I’m going to go and speak with the Ol’ ladies while we wait.”
Her words are like a slap in the face. “Riley. Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“No worries, you're under a ton of stress. You worry about your brothers,” Riley says in her ever-pleasant way. When she does this, it makes one feel like they’re two inches tall, she does all this with a pleasant smile spread across her face.
“Every time you open your mouth, you’re a complete fucking ass to that woman. I hope she’s going to punch you in the face one of these days. Hell, telling you to fuck right the hell off would work to,” Pretty Boy chuckles under his breath.
“I’m waiting for the day she decides you’re not worth the disrespect you show and treat her with, and leaves your ass,” Duck chuckles.
Any other day, I’d have a comeback, but right now, they need this moment to let go some of the worry and stress from nearly losing a brother. I flip them off and chuckle along with them. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes, and attempt to relax while I listen to the comings and goings of the hospital. We wait for about twenty minutes when the E.R. doors come open and two men in white coats come strolling out. One is my orthopedist, Dr. Lesly, and the other is one of the doctors that was overseeing my residency, Dr. Thomas.
I go to stand and greet them both, but they wave me off. “Don’t stand, I know you’re worried about some of those pins shifting. Once Dr. Thomas has given you gentleman the information you’re waiting on, I'll take a look at it,” Dr. Lesly advises.
“Can you just give us the fucking news please?” Pretty Boy barks over the small talk.
“Right, sorry! I’m Dr. Thomas. I was the doctor on call when your brother and friend were brought in. Your brother went straight into surgery with our top surgeon. He was able to get your boy sewn up. I don’t know how that man managed it, but he came out of this ordeal with the surgeon only having to remove his appendix. His gunshot wound was a through and throughthat entered on his right side between his ribs. Besides that, he received a gash at the back of the head that needed to be stapled. Our main concern right now, is possible infection from the appendix and the concussion that came with the contusion,” Dr.
Thomas tells us before his face goes slack.
When he stops talking, it’s like the breath that everyone was holding is released all at once. There is a round of cheers and clapping knowing that we haven’t just lost ourselves a brother. Pretty Boy’s legs give out, causing him to slide down the wall with his head tilted back.
Dr. Thomas grimly looks around the room before saying, “I was told that the young lady that was brought in with him had relatives waiting to hear her prognosis as well. Can you point me in their direction?”
“That would be me, Doc,” Pretty Boy grumbles, not bothering to stand.
All the relief and joy in the room dries up faster than a puddle in the arid desert. We all wait with baited breath for whatever the doctor is going to tell us next.
“Would you like to take this to another room?” Dr. Thomas whispers, squatting in front of Pretty Boy.
Pretty Boy throws his hand out in a swiping motion. “This is my family. Whatever you need to tell me you can say in front of them. How bad is it?”
Dr. Thomas gives him a sad, knowing smile, “I’m so very sorry but it appears that the young woman arrived at the hospital unresponsive. All life saving measures were attempted. Regretfully, her injuries were too grave and severe. We weren’t able to restart her heart.”
“Son of a fuckin’ bitch!” Pretty Boy explodes, jumping to his feet and rushing from the hospital.
Torch reaches out thanking the doctor and shaking his hand. Dr. Thomas comes to me observing my leg. When he’s done, hetells me he wants X-rays to make sure everything is still good. I go to fight him when Prez steps in, stating I’ll do whatever the Doc needs me to do. After that, he turns to give orders to everyone before leaving to head for the clubhouse.
“When your ass is done here, get to church,” he throws over his shoulder as he leaves me there.
“He’ll be there as quickly as possible,” Riley yells at his back as he continues walking the path that’ll lead him away from the emergency room.
It takes nearly three hours for the X-rays to be done and Doc to review them. He decided that I did indeed fuck up a couple of the plates that were being held in place by the pins but there were a few that were ready to come out. With the confirmation, he tells me to call his office and set up an appointment for surgery to correct the plates and remove the pins ready to come out. Smith and Wesson are leaning against the van when Riley and I finally make it out of the hospital.
“Prez doesn’t have anyone to cover driving the van so you’re going to have to be good with Riley here driving,” Wesson says with a shrug.
“Whatever it takes to get me back to the clubhouse for church,” I tell them heading for the passenger door.
