Page 99 of Sycopation
Okay—there was definitely something wrong with him. His throat itched all the way down and it felt tight. Tighter by the second. What the hell? He put down his drink and grabbed the little cocktail table to steady himself.
Ohfuck. Oh god. His throat. He tried to gasp for air and only managed a little. Someone grabbed his arm.
“Are you drunk already, Ray?” Carl’s face swam in Ray’s vision.
No. No.He tore away. Not drunk. Couldn’t breathe. He needed Zavier. Where the hell was Zavier? He pushed through the crowd, trying to find those broad shoulders and dark hair. There...!
Noise all around now, though none of it made sense. He tripped over something and stumbled.
“Ray?” Warm hands caught him and Zavier’s voice sounded in his ears, frantic and worried. “Ray!”
He tried to speak, but nothing came out. Or in. You needed breath, a throat that worked, to get words out.
I’m dying.He clawed at Zavier.I’m gonna die. He wasn’t ready. Not at all.Please don’t let me die!
The last thing he heard was Zavier shouting his name.
Ray collapsedinto Zavier’s arms, and his emotions shut down. They had to, he didn’t have time to contemplate worry or fear or anything.
“Call nine-one-one!” he shouted over the suddenly panicking crowd. He laid Ray on the floor and racked his brain for what to do next as people crowded around and a fucking flash went off. “Get back!” His voice was a growl in his own ears. “Get a doctor!”
Blotchy skin. Swollen lips. Breath coming in tiny wheezes. Fuck.Fuck.Allergic reaction? Anaphylaxis maybe. Probably.Shit.
“Zav!” Mish was next to him in an instant, a bright yellow tube in her hand. “EpiPen.”
“I don’t know how?—”
She popped a blue cap off and jammed it against Ray’s thigh. Held it there. Counted. Pulled it away. “I’m allergic to bees and wasps.”
And they’d been playing outdoors all summer. “What’s Ray allergic to?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t know he had any.”
Neither had he.
Zavier’s head swam with every awful outcome as they waited for what seemed like hours for the first responders to arrive. It was probably minutes, eight or ten or something like that. Ray was breathing, though, and the crowd wasn’t pressing too close.
Lots of clicks of phone cameras. Zavier wavered between anger and nausea. Thankfully movement and commotion swarmed around them again, then a woman in a uniform was kneeling with them. A paramedic, with more following. The band answered her questions as best they could and Mish handed over the EpiPen.
“Food allergies?” The paramedic took Ray’s vitals.
“None that I know of,” Zavier said.
Mish shook her head. “Same. He never mentioned any.”
“Where’s Dom?”
“Here.” A quiet voice behind Zavier. “He doesn’t have any food allergies. He’s allergic to penicillin and derivatives.” He fidgeted. “I have power of attorney for his healthcare.”
Of course he did. Made sense—best friends since high school, and Dom had been by Ray’s side the entire time. Didn’t stop thepunch to Zavier’s gut, because he couldn’t doanything. Ray had come to him for aid—and he’d failed. Utterly.
“You should be here.” Zavier rose.
Security and other paramedics were shooing people out of the way as they pulled in a stretcher.
“Zav...” Dom’s eyes were wide, and his face too pale, even with the makeup. Dominic peering out from underneath Domino. “You should go with them.”
He wanted to. God, hewantedto. But he was useless to Ray, and Dom was not. He gripped Dom’s shoulder. “You have power of attorney. I don’t. He trusts you.” The fear in Dom’s eyes mirrored the terror lurking behind the locked-down, rational part of Zavier’s mind. “Itrust you.”
