“No, I’ll have coffee, black. Thanks, Maya.”
Kaitlyn raised both perfect eyebrows and looked at John with a hint of green in her ice blue eyes.
“Flirting with the help, are we?”
“I was simply being polite, Kaitlyn.”
“Your politeness will have her drooling all over my dinner.” Kaitlyn huffed.
John gave a slight shake of his head but said nothing.
“I have some concerns about our meeting with the Henderson Group tomorrow night. I think–”
John held up a hand in protest. “No work talk. I’m sure you have everything under control, as usual.”
Maya brought their food. John relished every mouthful while Kaitlyn picked at her meal, clearly piqued at John’s lack of interest.
“Would you like dessert?” Maya asked while clearing the plates.
John looked at Kaitlyn. She shook her head.
“No, thank you,” he said, ignoring Kaitlyn’s miffed grumble. “I would like another cup of coffee.” He smiled. Kaitlyn simmered.
When they rose to leave, Kaitlyn swayed slightly and placed a hand on John’s chest to steady herself.
“Ooh, I feel a little tipsy,” she said, looking up through her thickly mascaraed lashes. “Perhaps you should drive me home.”
“Since when do you get tipsy on two martinis?” he said, recognizing her ploy and removing her hand from his jacket. “I’ll get you a cab.”
Kaitlyn straightened, cast him a cold look and said, “I’ll drive myself.” She strode to the door without looking back.
John shook his head, put down a generous tip and left the restaurant.
* * * *
Brianna sat on the edge of the sagging bed, hands covering her ears and cursing the strong Irish frugality that led her to this seedy residence hotel. It seemed like a good idea at the time. She wanted to save money for a real apartment and the pictures on the website didn’t look bad. Now, she was surprised they even had a website. The Washington Plaza. She smirked, a grand-sounding name for such a dump but it was near the bus stop and only a twenty minute ride to work but how was she going to work if she couldn’t get any sleep?
Outside the door of her grungy room a couple of men argued in loud, slurring voices. In the street below her grimy window cars screeched and backfired, sirens blared continuously. The bed squeaked as she collapsed onto it, wrapping the hard pillow around her ears. It was no use, the sounds penetrated and the stench of the pillow made her eyes water and stomach churn.
She got up and walked to the window, pulled back the dusty, tattered curtain and peered over the rusty metal fire escape. The street was lit up like the Vegas strip, neon signs blinking the names of various businesses: Girls, Girls, Girls! blinked one, oe’s Place blinked another—the J was dead, probably hit by a stray bullet. Sly’s Swap ‘n’ Shop was closed and secured with pull-down steel gates, but Candi’s Adult Video with its flashing marquee was doing a brisk business.
Brianna dropped the curtain and returned to the bed. Tomorrow she would buy her own pillow and maybe even some sheets and definitely a fan. And some Lysol–lots of Lysol!
Sunday night will be different. I’ll be able to get some sleep, she thought, hoping the rowdiness of the neighborhood could be attributed to the weekend.
She fell into an exhausted sleep only to be awakened by a loud banging on her door.
“Hey, Sid. Open up,” a man’s voice said.
Brianna sat up, hardly daring to breathe, hoping he would go away when no one answered. She was glad the door had a deadbolt and a chain lock.
“Come on, Sid. Lemme in.” The man continued pounding on the door.
“Sid’s not here,” Brianna said, giving up on the idea he was just going to go away.
“Whoa, Sid. You got a girl in there? Way t’go, Sid. Hey, Tommy. Sid’s got hisself a girl.”
“Aw, shut up Ernie. Sid got arrested yesterday. He ain’t here. Go sleep it off.”
Ernie continued banging on the door.
“Girl, you wouldn’t want to let ole’ Ernie in, would ya’. I need a place to crash for a couple of hours. I won’t be no bother.”
“I’ve got a gun and I know how to use it,” Brianna lied. “Now go away before I blow your head off.”
“You’re not very nice. Don’t know what Sid sees in ya.” Ernie stopped banging.
Brianna let out a shaky breath. After several minutes of silence she crept to the door and looked through the peep hole. A man lay slumped on the floor, probably Ernie.
She flipped on the TV on her way back to the bed. She found a station with old sitcoms. The picture was fuzzy but watchable, after a few twists of the rabbit ears.
After two episodes of I Love Lucy and one of Happy Days the sun was rising. She watched a couple more shows before her stomach growled, protesting the fact it hadn’t been fed since lunch the previous day. Picking up her purse, she opened the door, leaving the chain intact. Ernie was still slumped on the floor but no one else was around and everything was blissfully quiet. Sliding the chain off, she stepped into the hallway and locked the door behind her. She tiptoed around Ernie and down the two flights of stairs, past the sleeping desk clerk and into the street. She looked around. Other than a couple of winos sleeping in doorways, the street was deserted. A convenience store sat kitty-corner and she walked toward it. She bought coffee and a donut.
“Is there a Walmart near here?” she asked the young man behind the counter.
“Yeah, a couple of blocks over on Cicero.”
“Thanks.” She left the store and headed in the direction the clerk had indicated, munching the donut and blowing on the scalding coffee.
* * * *
After three trips to Walmart and one to the Suds ‘n’ Duds, Brianna returned to her room. Armed with cleaning supplies, disinfectant and a stiff brush, she spent the next eight hours scrubbing every corner and crevice of the tiny room and adjoining bathroom until it shone–at least until it wasn’t so dingy.
She stored her food in the little refrigerator, put the new sheets and pillows on the bed and hung new towels in the bathroom. She sprayed bug spray just in case and turned on the new fan for ventilation.
It was nearly dark when she sank onto the bed, exhausted but satisfied. The bed still sagged but it was clean and smelled fresh. She picked up her new prepaid cell phone and stored Mr. Sharp’s number in it. She curled up on her side, clutching the phone for security and soon slept soundly.
* * * *
Brianna awoke coughing. Her eyes stung. Thick smoke filled the room. Flames flicked under the door. Still clasping the phone, she hugged the pillow to her face and climbed through the window onto the fire escape. Dropping the pillow, she grabbed the ladder, scrambling down to the third floor, then the second. She stepped onto the final ladder. An explosion knocked her to the ground.
CHAPTER Five
John awoke to the sound of his cell phone on the night table. He picked it up. Two o’clock. He glanced at the caller ID. “Cell phone, IL” it read. His irritation mounting, he punched the answer button.
“Hello.”
“John Sharp?” a male voice asked.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“This is Officer Garcia of the Chicago Police. We found this phone next to a young woman who was injured in an explosion. Your number was the only one in it. She’s unconscious and has no identification. Would you come down here and identify her?”
“Yes, of course. What’s the address?” He scribbled the address on a pad. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
His mind raced while he dressed. What woman did he know that would be in that area at this time of the night?
When he arrived at the scene thirty minutes later, he was met by complete chaos. Yellow police tape cordoned off a wide area where fire trucks, police cars and ambulances were parked. Flames engulfed a building. Firefighters attempted to control the inferno. He parked his car and got out. He spoke to one police officer who directed him
to another officer standing near an ambulance. On the curb lay a body covered with a blanket. His heart jumped to his throat.
“Officer Garcia?” he asked the man in uniform.
“Yes.”
“I’m John Sharp. You need me to identify someone.” He nodded toward the lifeless body. “That’s not her, is it?”
“No, sir. She’s in the ambulance. They’ll be taking her to the hospital shortly.” The officer jerked his head toward the vehicle behind him.
* * * *
Brianna opened her eyes slowly to the sound of sirens and shouting. She looked at her surroundings in the dim light. She lay on a narrow cot draped with a white sheet. An ice pack sat on her throbbing head. A plastic bag with a tube leading to a needle in her arm hung overhead. An oxygen mask covered her nose. Something encased her foot and ankle. Outside two men were talking. She saw a fire truck and policemen. The noise was deafening. What happened? Her vision blurred and she closed her eyes.
Something gently brushed her arm.
“Miss Ryan,” a deep voice said.
Brianna opened her eyes. Mr. Sharp sat on the bench across from her. I must be dreaming. She closed her eyes.
“Brianna, wake up,” the voice said. “The paramedics are taking you to the hospital.”
Brianna opened her eyes and struggled to sit up but a strong hand on her shoulder prevented it and she hadn’t the strength to resist.
“What are you doing here? I don’t need a hospital. I’m fine. Just let me go home.”
“The police called me. Apparently, I’m the only number in your cell phone.”
Brianna groaned; a single tear trickled down her temple into her hair. “It’s new.”
“What were you doing in this neighborhood at this hour?”
“Sleeping,” she stated. “I can’t afford to go to the hospital. Everything I had was in there,” She pointed at the burning building.
“That’s where you rented a room?” He stared at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses.
She closed her eyes and nodded. John shook his head.
“You are going to the hospital. They want to take some x-rays. Insurance will cover most of it. Don’t worry about the rest. Try to relax. I’ll see you there.” He got up, stepped to the ground, exchanged a few words with the paramedic and left.
“‘Try to relax,’ ‘Don’t worry about it,’” she sniffed. “Easy for him to say.”
The medic climbed in, shut the doors and took the seat John had just vacated. He took her blood pressure, listened to her heart, checked the oxygen and IV and squeezed her big toe. When he was satisfied that she was stable he signaled the driver and the vehicle lurched forward. The IV bag swung rhythmically as sirens faded into the background. She closed her eyes again. She opened them when the paramedics set her gurney on the ground and raised it with a jolt.
They wheeled her into the emergency room, transferred her to a bed and left. She wanted to sleep but the bright overhead light made it impossible. She waited and waited for what seemed like hours. She considered leaving but she was barefoot, it was two thirty in the morning and she had nowhere to go. For the first time in her life Brianna was depressed. She was alone, hurt, tired and homeless. With all her money literally gone up in smoke, she was destined to remain that way. And now she would have a hospital bill on top of everything else. She cried giant tears.
She wiped her eyes on a corner of the sheet that covered her and glanced around the stark, green-curtained enclosure for tissues. She finally spotted a box on a stainless steel tray across the room. Desperately needing to blow her nose, she sat up, scooted past the guard rails to the end of the bed and swung her legs over the edge, sliding until her feet touched the cold tile floor. Intense pain shot up her leg when she put her weight on it. The room tilted. She lurched at the tray and it crashed to the floor, taking her with it. Suddenly the tiny cubicle filled with people that seemed to materialize from the curtains. Through an opening she could see a man in a white coat talking with a tall man wearing gray pants and a black polo shirt. Mr. Sharp? Why is he here?
“I need a tissue,” she said.
“We’ll get you one,” said one of the green-clad people as they picked her up, laid her back on the bed and raised the side rails.
“Thank you,” she said as a nurse handed her the tissues. She blew her nose.
Her eyes locked on Mr. Sharp as he conversed with the other man.
“I’m sorry. Unless you are family I can’t give you any information,” the man said to Mr. Sharp.
“He’s my husband.” She looked around. Had those words tumbled from her mouth? Apparently the connection between her brain and tongue had been completely severed but the thought of a familiar face made her feel a little better.
The man and Mr. Sharp simultaneously turned toward her. The doctor raised a skeptical eyebrow while Mr. Sharp just stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. Brianna blushed. They spoke a few more seconds before approaching her.
“Hello. I’m Dr. Holloway,” he said, shining a penlight in her eye. “I was telling your, uh, husband–”
Brianna flicked an embarrassed glance at her boss. He stood with his arms crossed and a grave look fixed on her.
“–I don’t think it’s anything serious. We’re going to take some x-rays and a CT scan just to make sure. You’re a very lucky young lady.” The doctor patted her shoulder, spoke to John and disappeared through the curtain.
“Lucky? Hmfp,” she grumbled.
“He’s right. You’re lucky you weren’t killed. I saw a couple of people who weren’t so lucky. What in the world possessed you to get a room in that building, in that neighborhood?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to go ho… somewhere.” Tears clouded her eyes as she remembered she didn’t have a home to go to.
“You don’t want to talk about it. Well, young lady, you are going to have to talk about it whether you want to or not. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
“Stop talking like you’re my father.” She met his eyes. “It’s not– I’m not your problem. I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, you’re doing a smashing job so far.” A smile twitched the corners of his mouth.
Brianna glared at him and opened her mouth but an orderly stepped into the room to take her to radiology before she could say something she would most likely regret.
* * * *
Mr. Sharp sat in the cubicle sipping a cup of coffee when she returned.
“Why are you still here? Actually, why were you even here in the first place?”
“The police called me. I told you in the ambulance.”
“You were in the ambulance?”
“You don’t remember?”
Brianna shook her head. “Well, you can go now. I’ll be fine.”
The doctor returned. He shuffled through papers on a chart before looking up.
“Just as I suspected, you have a mild concussion and a badly sprained ankle. We’d like to keep you overnight for observation. I’ll see about getting you a room.” John left the room with the doctor and returned a few seconds later.
“Where am I?” Brianna asked.
“Mercy Medical,” John answered.
Brianna groaned.
“Don’t they usually take indigents to Cook County? I can’t stay here.”
“Where do you plan to go?”
Brianna looked down at her hands as they twisted the sheet. She had nowhere to go. She looked up at Mr. Sharp.
“I - don’t - know,” she said, tears trickling down her cheeks.
He handed her a tissue, looked at her intently and stroked his chin.
“Since you declared yourself my wife, I guess I should take you home with me.”
Her head jerked up and she stared at him.
“You most certainly will not.”
“Unless there is someone else you can call you’re stuck with me. The doctor says you can’t be left alone for 24 hours.”
John reached into his pocket, retrieved the phone and handed it to her. She took the phone, looked at it for several seconds, then looked back at Mr. Sharp.
“I can’t remember her number,” Brianna said, tears welling in her eyes again.
She handed the phone back to him as the doctor re-entered the room.
“We have a room all ready for you. Someone will take you up shortly,” he said.
“I’ll not be staying.”
“I’m afraid my wife can be quite stubborn at times,” John said, moving to her side and placing an arm around her shoulders, drawing a mutinous glare from Brianna. He smiled down at her. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll take her home. She’ll rest better there.”
The doctor looked from John to Brianna, then back to John. “Well, okay but I want her to see her doctor on Monday. In the meantime, keep the foot elevated with an ice pack – fifteen minutes every hour or two. And, most importantly, wake her every two hours for the next twenty-four. Make sure she is not disoriented, or nauseated. If she is, bring her back in here immediately. Some short-term memory loss and mood swings are normal.”
“You can count on it, Dr. Holloway,” John said shaking his hand. “And, thank you for everything.”
“I’ll send someone in with a splint and a wheelchair.”
“That’s not necessary,” Brianna said.
“Hospital policy.” Turning to John, he said, “Bring your car up to the entrance, she’ll be right out.”
“I’m not your wife,” Brianna stated when the doctor left.
“Hey, you said it, not me,” he laughed.
“The words just sort of fell out,” she sighed. “I don’t know why you bothered. I’m just another employee and a rather bothersome one at that.”
He smiled. “Everyone needs a helping hand occasionally.”
“Yeah, the ‘luck of the Irish’ seems to have abandoned me.”
“So it seems.” He smiled, brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and added, “But I won’t.”
A young male nurse came in with a wheelchair, a pair of crutches and a splint. John left to get the car. The nurse placed the canvas and plastic contraption around her foot and leg fastening it with Velcro straps.
Love Is a Breeze Page 4