Northern Rebel Daring in the Dark - By Jennifer Labrecque Page 0,121
out her breath. She wanted to make this call about as much as she wanted another hole in her head. Double not.
She hit the speed-dial number.
He answered on the second ring. “Tawny?”
She jumped in without preamble. “We’re at City North Hospital. Simon’s mother’s had a heart attack. You need to get here as quick as you can.” She paced the sidewalk, past a couple sharing a bench and a cigarette.
“But I’m locked in at the gallery,” Elliott protested.
“Then get unlocked. Didn’t you hear what I just said? Simon’s mother’s had a heart attack. He needs you. Here. Now.”
“I don’t know if—”
Elliott exhausted her patience. “I know. I know your very best friend in the world needs you now more than he ever has, and if you have to blow the damned door off the hinges, you better haul your butt down here pronto.” An ambulance, lights flashing but siren silent, pulled up to the double doors. “Don’t make me come get you, Elliott.”
“Tawny—”
“Elliott, I’m not playing with you. If I have to, I will come and drag you out of there.”
“Hold on a sec.”
The back door of the ambulance opened and they wheeled out one very pregnant Hispanic woman. Very pregnant. Very distressed. Now there was something to be thankful for—that she wasn’t that woman.
Muffled conversation came through the line and then Elliott was back on the phone.
“Richard’s coming with me,” Elliott said, defiance ringing in his voice.
Whatever. “I don’t care if you drag in the whole rainbow coalition, just get here.”
“But there aren’t any cabs out and the subway’s dead.”
“Elliott, you’re a New Yorker, for God’s sake. Walk.”
“Be reasonable, Tawny. I’m wearing my Bruno Ms.”
If one more man told her to be reasonable tonight... Tawny barely held on to her temper. She wasn’t at her most patient when running, literally, on maybe an hour of sleep. “Elliott, I know how fond you are of those shoes and I will personally pay to have them resoled. Now listen to me and listen good. Pretend you aren’t the center of the universe. Pretend you care as much about your friend as you do those damn shoes. You put Simon in a helluva position tonight and he covered for you. I don’t care if you have to crawl, get here. You’ve got one hour to show up. I swear to you, if you don’t, I will make your life a living hell.”
“All right. I’m on my way.”
His petulance didn’t further endear him.
“And Elliott...”
“Yes?”
“Don’t bitch about the shoes when you get here.”
She hung up, fairly certain Elliott would drag in within the hour. Nagging him to come through for his friend hadn’t been nearly as effective as promising him a life of misery if he was a no-show. And Elliott knew she would.
Tawny turned off her cell and made her way back through the sea of humanity lining the emergency room.
She ducked into a bathroom. Ugh. She hated public toilets. She wrinkled her nose at the antiseptic smell. Must be a prerequisite for hospitals that they use the cleanser with the nauseating stench. Why’d the urge to pee always strike at the most inopportune times?
She did her business and then stood in front of the sink washing her hands. Ew. She was positively frightening. No makeup. Sweaty. Scraggly, greasy hair. Dark circles from lack of sleep. She’d undoubtedly scare small children. She splashed cold water on her face and repaired her hair as best she could, but she still wasn’t winning any beauty pageants tonight.
She left the bathroom behind and navigated the labyrinthine halls to the elevator bank. City North was clean and boasted a reputation for excellent care, but it was one of the older hospitals in the city and its elevators ran slowly. Eventually she reached the fourth floor, a relatively quiet hall that wasn’t part of Intensive Care—a very good sign for Simon’s mom that she was well enough to warrant a regular room. Two nurses sat engrossed in conversation behind the nurses’-station desk. Tawny followed the sign directing her left to the room number they’d been given downstairs.
Her rubber soles squelched on the spotless tile as she walked down the hall.
A distinguished-looking man who bore a striking resemblance to Simon stood outside the door. A little taller than Simon, gray hair, clipped goatee, chinos, a short-sleeved button-down and thick fisherman sandals. Distinguished didn’t impress her. Her father and his colleagues were all distinguished and it didn’t make them any more or less decent human beings than anyone else.