Gregor out with a cue ball.” That made his day.
12
Three Days Later
“Fucking finally,” Gabe said, signing the final discharge paper that would get him sprung from the hospital. The nurse having him sign the papers was older and she gave him a disapproving look. He didn’t care. The nurse he wanted was just outside his room, getting a wheelchair to take him downstairs and out to her car, but first she’d take him by to see Chance. Blackheart had been in the day before and told him that Chance was awake. He’d sent Patrice to see about him later that day himself and she’d read Chance’s chart. She said that the reports on his brain function were good, and although he wasn’t having an easy time of it, he was talking. Gabe was happy about that, but he still had to see for himself. He had so much guilt over not being there, kicking himself in the ass for taking so long to find his brother.
The old nurse finally left after giving him a fifteen-minute lecture about how to keep his leg from getting infected and how to safely take his pain medicine. As soon as she was gone, Patrice came in with the wheelchair. She’d told him she took two weeks vacation time so that she could make sure he was well on the mend before leaving him alone. He wasn’t sure if that meant she was going to stay with him 24/7...but he damned sure hoped so. His whole body hurt, all except the part that stood up and took notice every time his beautiful nurse walked in the door.
“You ready?”
“So fucking ready,” he said, sliding into the chair without putting weight on his leg. It was still sore and swollen, and where they’d put over one hundred stitches into it, it itched like a motherfucker. Patrice helped him put his feet up on the footrests and then said:
“Here we go. And by the way, this is the last time I’d like to push you out of here in a wheelchair, okay?”
Gabe laughed. “I’ll do my best.” It was honestly all he could promise her. Even in spite of his lifestyle, he was accident-prone. He’d spent a good many hours in the ER over the years and his Maw Maw used to say he was going to look like a Raggedy Andy doll someday for all the stitching scars he had on his body.
“I’m not sure, but I think you’ve used at least two of your nine lives since I met you, and no telling how many you already used up before that,” she said. Then just before stopping the chair outside of Chance’s room, the tone of her voice changed to more serious as she leaned down close to his ear and said, “I just found you, don’t make me lose you too soon.” He turned his face slightly and her lips brushed against his.
“I’ll be more careful,” he said. “I promise.” With a smile and a nod, she pushed him into the room. Gabe tried not to wince when he saw his friend’s face, but it was hard not to. Chance’s “pretty boy” features were still so swollen that he was almost unrecognizable. One of his eyes looked like it was only halfway open and his bottom lip looked twice the size of his top one. Sharon was sitting on the opposite side of the bed, and when she saw them come in, she stood up. It was hard to believe sometimes that she was a stripper. Outside of the club she was one of the quietest, most polite people Gabe had ever met. He didn’t know much about her past, but Chance did tell him she wasn’t from the south. She’d grown up on the East Coast somewhere and Gabe had a feeling she’d come from much better stock than a lot of the other women who worked the club. It was also fairly obvious that at some point, even before the Mad Men got a hold of her, something in her life had happened to traumatize her, something she hadn’t ever even shared with Chance.
“Hey, pretty boy, still laid up? When the fuck you planning on getting out of here and back to work?” Sharon gave Gabe a little smile and then bent down and lightly kissed Chance on the cheek, in one of the few spots that wasn’t bruised or swollen. Quietly she said:
“I’m going to go down and get some coffee. I’ll