Reunion: Diversion Six

by Eden Winters

  Strange. Who in their right mind would consider Lucky a father figure? He shifted into a more comfortable position and faded back to sleep.

  ***

  A hand. Holding his. Quiet humming. The comforting scent of Bo’s cologne. Bo’s thumb stroking the back of Lucky’s hand.

  Gentle kisses across this forehead. A soft, “Told you you’d be all right and wouldn’t die.”

  Not dying. A good thing. The man holding Lucky’s hand made life worth living.

  He lived. No more making decisions under the gun. “Have you changed your mind yet about marrying me, since I’m still alive and all?” Sleep dragged him down without an answer.

  ***

  Sleep, wake up, feel like shit, get meds, go back to sleep. At times Lucky awoke to Bo’s face, sometimes to a nurse’s. Several times to Charlotte’s. They talked, smiled, whatever, but Lucky faded out without really hearing.

  He woke to a darkened room and froze. Every instinct pinged of danger. The lights from the monitors cast a faint glow over the face of a man who couldn’t possibly be there.

  This better be a dream brought on by mighty good drugs.

  If he had to dream about drug lords, at least Nestor Sauceda might not kill him outright. If he’d wanted Lucky dead, he’d had a million chances.

  “What chu doin’ here?” Lucky managed to get out.

  “Would you believe I was in the neighborhood and stopped by?” Nestor stood ramrod straight by the bed, the faint light catching the white in his hair.

  “No.”

  Nestor laughed. “Still the same cynical Lucky. I’m here because you asked a question, and although our mutual friend couldn’t answer directly, we both know you. If you didn’t hear straight from us, you’d pick any answer apart and not believe. So here I am.”

  Conscious thought tried to crawl through the murky, drug-induced fuzz in Lucky’s head. “Wha?”

  “You asked if Victor delivered drugs to your younger brother.”

  Oh, yeah.

  “He’s quite displeased you even had to ask, but I reminded him who you are. He said, and I quote, ‘Tell the suspicious sonofabitch he should know I’d never harm his family.’”

  “If he didn’t, who did?” Lucky forced out.

  “It happened a long time ago, so other than the card your brother saved, the evidence is gone. However, as a favor to you, I’ll use our resources to help find out.”

  “Happened years ago. How’ll you do that?”

  Lucky barely felt the hand on his shoulder through his opioid-induced haze. “You have your sources, we have ours.”

  “Have I ever told you you’re scary as hell?” Oh, crap. Drugs made Lucky’s uncouth mouth even worse.

  Nestor laughed. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  What the fuck ever.

  “I won’t stay long, you’re recovering, but even without the question I wanted to check in on you. I’m sure you expect me to say I’m surprised at your selfless act, but I’m not in the least. You try so hard not to be, but you’re a good man, Richmond Lucklighter.”

  Lucky managed enough energy to shoot back, “Don’t even start that rumor.”

  Nestor’s laugh became a snort. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me, and I’ve made a career out of keeping secrets.”

  “How’d Walter get in touch with you?”

  “He has his ways, though I’d not expected him to use them this soon, and not for this reason.”

  “Huh?”

  Nestor patted Lucky’s hand—the one not sporting a needle. “The job offer still holds, if ever you decide to take it. We can use a man like you.”

  International drug task force. A chance to kick drug trafficker ass on a global scale—without Bo. “Not hap’nin. I’m where I belong.”

  “For now. But if you ever reconsider…” Nestor shrugged and slipped out the door.

  Lucky’s eyelids grew heavy. Sleep, glorious sleep, called to him.

  ***

  “How are you feeling?” Bo sat at Lucky’s bedside, cellphone in hand. Probably hunting down pokies or pookies or whatthehellevers.

  “Like someone cut me in half and forgot to put me back together.” And if Lucky could move now, he’d kick the ass of the nurse who’d made him get out of bed and shuffle ten miles uphill to the bathroom. Of course, the jury hadn’t yet decided the worst of two evils: having to walk to the bathroom to pee or having a tube shoved up his dick. He coughed. Oh, dear God!

  And may he please live the rest of his life without crossing paths with another drainage tube.

  Bo shot to his feet. “Are you okay? Want me to get the nurse?”

  “Nah,” Lucky choked out. “I’ll be okay.” Maybe. One day. A million years from now.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  Bo’s eager puppy act wore Lucky out. “No. But I gotta tell ya, I had the strangest dream.”

  “What kind of dream?”

  “I dreamed Nestor showed up and told me Victor didn’t send those drugs to Daytona.”

  All the color left Bo’s face. He nodded toward the side table. Rett’s sunflowers sat next to Charlotte’s whatever-they-were, and a long-stemmed red rose from Bo with the dragon keychain hanging beneath.

  All were dwarfed but a huge arrangement of orange blossoms. Orange blossoms? Where had Nestor gotten orange blossoms? The scent filled Lucky’s nostrils, taking him back in time to a house in Florida, surrounded by orange trees.

  Victor’s vacation home, where Lucky opened the windows to let the sweetness perfume the house.

  Oh shit. Not a dream.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lucky understood the need for an assigned nurse experienced with liver transplants, but was stalking in the guy’s job description?

  Every few minutes, Nurse Andy insisted on fluffing Lucky’s pillow, taking his blood pressure, or otherwise hanging around trailing the scent of Eau de Hospital in his wake. What’d the guy do? Marinate in peroxide? There’d been a time when Lucky simply hung his own monikers on people. Now, learning names worked better to keep track so he’d know who to chew out later.

  Andy rearranged the water pitcher on the table.

  Lucky tried for a scowl known to send rookies screaming from the room. “Don’t you have other patients?”

  “Now, Mr. Harrison, until we’re done here, no one else matters but you, the patient I’m with now.” Andy fluttered his fingers. Creepy much?

  Pressure cuff on one arm and an IV in the other, Lucky counted ceiling tiles. Sooner or later the overly attentive nurse would wander off and allow some privacy. An itch, right there, demanded attention.

  Pressure good, pressure cuff off. Andy leaving in five, four, three, two…

  Andy fluffed Lucky’s pillow again and rearranged the chair by the bed. “You’ll be going to a private room soon and won’t feel so much like a zoo exhibit.”

  Zoo exhibit?

  The perk of having a window into the hall to do some people watching took an evil spin. Good ole Andy had to go and remind Lucky the window worked both ways.

  Asshole.

  The discomfort grew fiercer. Lucky squirmed, trying to scratch the itch behind his balls with a little thigh rubbing. The itching kicked up a notch.

  Why did Lucky even care? The him of two or three years ago would’ve reached down and had a good scratch no matter who saw what. Damn. Bo’s good manners done rubbed off on him again.

  Nurse Andy stayed. And stayed. And stayed.

  What the hell. Lucky reached his unencumbered hand beneath the sheet and attacked the itch. Ah, much better.

  Andy’s lips twitched.

  One laugh and Lucky’d share his pain. “Well, what am I supposed to do when nobody’ll leave me alone long enough to scratch my balls in peace?” A passing nurse whipped her head around and quickly averted her eyes from the bit of sheet rising up and down with the motions of Lucky’s hand.

  He stopped mid-scratch. In about five minutes, she’d be runnin
g her mouth about the patient in ICU she’d caught jacking off.

  He resumed scratching. From what Charlotte told him, some days hospital work got boring. Public service. Adding something to talk about to someone else’s day.

  Andy snickered. “I have some ointment we can use if you’ve developed a rash, which can happen sometimes with the medications you’re on.”

  Um… Yeah. Private room. No hall windows.

  And no Nurse Andy.

  Attila the Orderly hit every motherfucking bump on the way from ICU to the private room.

  ***

  “Let’s get this over with.” Lucky glared until Nurse Andy backed off to let Lucky crawl out of bed by himself. The man in hospital scrubs stuck to a target better than the SNB’s finest. A new floor should’ve meant a new nurse, but no.

  Lucky wriggled to the edge of the mattress. Oh dear God! Kill him now! Who snuck in while he slept and fucking sawed him in half again?

  The nurse did a piss-poor job of hiding a smirk while helping Lucky to the bathroom. Keeping an eye on the clock and his comments to himself, Lucky finished up what he had to do, shuffled back to bed and glared. “Meds. Now.” No please necessary until Bo arrived, and his shift ended at five, so…

  The nurse hummed what might have been Bad, Bad Leroy Brown while dosing him up, but he didn’t talk. Good. Kept Lucky from having to say things he’d have to apologize for if Bo walked in at the wrong moment.

  Maybe he should’ve said please after all, in exchange for information. “How’s my d… the guy I gave my liver to?” Pain meds disabled Lucky’s almost non-existent brain to mouth filter.

  “He’s doing fine, and you know good and well I can’t tell you more.”

  Damned confidentiality laws. “Do you accept bribes?” Shit. Charlotte needed to get her ass in here and give an update.

  “No, but maybe a family member might.” Andy winked and sauntered out of the room.

  “Asshole. I am family,” came out on a closing door.

  The door reopened. Bo strolled in at precisely five thirty, still dressed for work, the best thing Lucky’d seen all day.

  “Hey, nice room! Bet you’re glad to be out of ICU.” Bo pressed his lips to Lucky’s forehead. “How’re you feeling?” The man sure filled out the SNB regulation slacks and golf shirt well. The bag he placed on the side table promised goodies of some form or other, though a good sniff didn’t give away the contents.

  And who cared if everyone who’d walked through the door asked the same question? Bo actually gave a shit about the answer. “If I whine and complain, will you kiss it and make it better? And while you’re down there…” Lucky did his best to waggle his brows.

  The tight set of Bo’s mouth relaxed into a smile. “If you’re wanting sex, you must be getting better.”

  “How can I get better when I’ve always been the best there is?” Winking he could manage. Brow waggling? Not so much. While Bo slipped the wedge pillow beneath his shoulders, he had the perfect opportunity to…

  Bo jumped and grabbed his ass. “No pinching.”

  “Awww… Why not? I ain’t got nothing else to look forward to all day.” He’d never admit how badly he’d wanted Bo to show up. He hadn’t died—yet—but staying in the hospital freaked him out. He’d been in many hospitals for various reasons without a flinch.

  Suddenly realizing he could die and didn’t want to made him open his mouth and say, “Ahh…” at the right times and not bitch too badly about blood pressure readings. He’d had a lot of fun messing with the oxygen reader thingy on his finger until the nurse took his new toy back for bad behavior.

  “I brought you something.” Bo reclined in the guest chair, snagged the bag off the table, and opened the sack to reveal—a disk?

  “You brought me porn! You know I love you, right?” Lucky batted his eyes, moving the one unhurt part of body.

  Bo swatted his shoulder. “No.”

  “Ow! Nurse! He’s beating up a patient!”

  Bo rolled his eyes upward. “Yup, you’re definitely feeling better. But I’ll save the porn for when you get home. I brought the next best thing.” He slid the disk into the corner DVD player and turned the TV on.

  Familiar music quickened Lucky’s pulse. Yay! South Bend Springs! “Why don’t you get up here with me to watch this?”

  “Actually, I think I’ll lay in the chair so we’ll both be more comfortable.”

  I’d be more comfortable with you in my arms stayed in Lucky’s brain. But any jostling, and he’d scream. And here he’d been worried about dying. He should’ve worried about the fucking pain. Why didn’t someone tell him he’d hurt this much? He kept his mouth shut. Bo didn’t need to worry too. Lucky managed enough for them both. “But I can’t cop feels with you down there,” came out of his mouth.

  “I’ll pull the chair closer.”

  Lucky gave Bo’s cock a quick rub and yanked his hand back to avoid a swat.

  “Behave,” Bo growled, though his eyes twinkled. He wriggled a time or two but settled in before the show started.

  An unfamiliar busty blond strolled into a hospital set. “Who’s she?” Why did all soap operas seem to take place near hospitals? Get reality out of Lucky’s show!

  “She’s a new actress playing Lila.”

  “Another one? They need to bring the first one back. No one did mean girl like she did.” Good folks came a dime a dozen on this show, but the truly bad ones he loved to hate? Priceless. They never should have written off Dr. What’s-his-name, the only man conniving enough to stand toe to toe with Lucky’s favorite soap opera diva.

  “She’s not too bad.”

  Lucky cut his eyes Bo’s way. “And how would you know? Have you been cheating and watching this without me?”

  If Bo tried for an innocent look, he fell short. “I couldn’t exactly bring the disk without checking first to make sure it recorded right, could I?”

  “I coulda watched online if you’d let me bring my laptop.”

  “No, ‘cause then you’d work. And I’m thinking you didn’t miss any episodes during my last assignment.”

  “Well, what if you’d gotten a chance to call me and wanted to know what happened on the show? I couldn’t say I didn’t know, could I? Besides, placing orders for fake drugs so I can bust a few heads when I get outta here ain’t working. It’s more like… a hobby.” Lucky folded his arms across his chest… gently.

  “Then no hobbies until you get better. We’ll watch TV the old-fashioned way. With a disk and a DVD player.”

  Lucky growled, but he’d save his comments for later. The blond stalked up to a taller redhead, poked a finger in her chest, and screamed. Oh? Maybe this Lila wouldn’t be as dull as the last one.

  “How many kids she got now? She’s had at least three since she started on the show. All with different men.”

  Bo ticked off points on his fingers. “Well, it turns out the oldest two are Ross’s, which started a fight with Tom who’d assumed he was Devon’s dad. And they’re still leading us on about the father of her last one.”

  “Still only three?”

  “Yeah. There was a scare a few weeks ago. Turned out to be nothing.” Bo opened a pack of jelly beans, popped a few into his mouth, and passed the bag to Lucky.

  “Bo?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Stop with the spoilers.” Oh, black jelly beans. Nice.

  “Sorry.”

  But at least now Lucky wouldn’t have to try to puzzle out the plot if the drugs knocked him out before the end of the episode. Not like the show wouldn’t recap a half dozen times and only give ten minutes of new content. “You know what they say about the green ones, right?” He held up a green jelly bean.

  “Wrong candy.” Bo held out his hand for more.

  The pain of Lucky’s incision dulled to a low ache, though he’d probably be hollering for pain meds later, if the nurse hadn’t installed a self-serve happy meds button, not to be used with Bo around, though. No telling how he’d react. Ju
st because he never mentioned cravings didn’t mean they weren’t there.

  Lying the closest to Bo he’d been in days, watching TV like they were at home, made everything all right. He placed the now-half empty jelly bean bag on his stomach and laced their fingers.

  Who cared if a family who’d thrown him out of their lives gathered together a few doors down, celebrating his dad’s recovery? Who cared if he’d never join them for Christmas or other holidays again? Who cared if his niece would never know him? Probably for the best anyway.

  He had all he needed in Bo, even if his eyes stung and his throat burned, picturing the Lucklighter clan. Had his mother’s light brown hair turned gray? Had Daytona ever filled out to the point where’d he’d lost the nickname, “Scarecrow?”

  Bo glanced up. “You okay?”

  Lucky hid a sniff. “Yeah. Getting’ sleepy, I reckon.”

  “I can go if you’re ready for bed.”

  Holding Bo’s hand tighter might keep him from leaving. “Stay. We’ve only watched one episode.”

  “Lucky?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Ease up, you’re about to crack bones.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  The credits rolled, the music played, and the next installment filled the TV screen. The redhead again, doing rich people things with her rich father. He’d been in enough fancy houses to know the bookcase didn’t belong. Bo had the same one back at their place. Hard to imagine a millionaire corporate raider shopping at Ikea.

  Blah, blah, blah, hot guy, fashion-model woman, another hot guy. But no Lila. Surely she’d appear in the bar scene.

  Nope.

  Man, he loved a good troublemaker.

  The episode ended. “That’s all? What happened to Lila?”

  “This is Ernst’s plot line. Maybe Lila is in the next one.”

  “She better be. The show’s downright boring without her.” Still no Lila. Lucky stroked a finger down Bo’s neck. He might be talking a better game than he stood a chance of backing up, but it never hurt to remind Bo of the fun times. He reached for Bo’s leg. Damned short-assed arms.

  Oh! If they got creative… “We could jam the chair against the door and…”