The Mercedes screeched its tires as it took off fast, and I heard footsteps bolting down the alley as Wilson fled on foot.
“Shit,” I groaned, reaching up for my left shoulder with my right hand.
I felt the wound, and it wasn't good. Blood was oozing out and was quickly soaking through my shirt. So much for being all dressed up for the evening. Now what was I gonna do? I didn't want to go to a hospital if I could help it – that would bring on way too much publicity, and set me up for a lot of questions that I didn't want to have to answer, because that would mean my cover would be totally blown.
But I sure as hell couldn't just shrug off a gunshot wound. I had to do something. Now I really, really wished I had brought my phone with me. Wishing, however, wasn't going to achieve a damn thing, though. I had to do something, and I had to do it now.
I scrambled up onto my feet, swaying and feeling groggy. Maybe there was a cheap clinic here that could help me. I had to at least try before giving up and calling an ambulance. I staggered out of the alley, looking up and down the street, hoping and praying for the slim chance that there'd be somewhere nearby where I could go.
And that's when I saw it – a sign for a veterinarian. But not just any vet – Jimmy M. Knight, veterinarian. I stumbled across the road, and hope blazed through me as I saw that a light was still on inside the vet's practice; someone was still there at this hour. I staggered over to the door and bashed on it.
“We're closed!” shouted a familiar voice, a voice I hadn't heard for years.
“Even for old Navy SEAL buddies?” I shouted back, hoping it was indeed the Jimmy I thought it to be.
“No way... no freakin' way!” the voice shouted back. “Everett James? Is that you?”
“Yeah, it's me, now get your ass out here and open up!”
A short but powerfully-built man with thinning brown hair and a bushy goatee came shuffling out of the back, with a bunch of keys dangling from his meaty paw.
He saw me through the glass door, and his eyes lit up.
“It is you, Everett! Damn, bro, what on earth are you doing here?”
He opened the door and then saw my shoulder.
“Oh man, Everett, what the hell happened?”
“Gunshot. Nine millimeter, I think.”
“Oh crap. We need to get you to a hospital.”
“Can't. I need... I need you to do it.”
He nodded.
“I don't know how, Everett, but you're damn lucky this happened to you right outside my doorstep. Damn, I heard a bang a few minutes ago, but thought it might be kids letting off cherry bombs or something.”
“No, no... that was me... getting shot,” I said as I staggered in.
“Alright, alright, get into the back room there,” he said. “I'll lock up here and be with you in a sec. Get your shirt off in the meanwhile.”
I stumbled into the back, pulled my shirt off and hopped up onto the stainless-steel table where Jimmy treated dogs and cats.
He hurried in and closed the door behind him, and then put on a pair of thick glasses that he pushed up his nose.
“As you know, this is gonna sting,” he said as he poured some disinfectant onto some dressing cloth and used it to wipe clean the wound. I winced as the disinfectant burned my open wound, but it wasn't as if I hadn't felt this before.
Jimmy shuffled around behind me and looked at the back of my shoulder.
“Oh man,” he said.
“What's the matter? Give it to me straight, old buddy.”
“Good news first or bad news?”
“Good.”
“The bullet went straight through. Doesn’t appear there are any broken bones, so no bone shards. Entry wound and exit wound. So, clean through. Guess they were using full metal jacket rounds or something.”
“They were amateurs,” I grunted. “Likely didn’t know what the hell they were using. I’m guessing that was the good news. Now what's the bad news?”
“You've lost a lot of blood man, a lot of blood. The entry wound ain't too bad, but the exit wound, it ain't pretty.”
“Can you fix it?”
“If I can stitch it up quickly enough and keep the wound closed, you shouldn’t need a blood transfusion.”
“Do it then man, do it.”
“I'll do my best, Everett; I'll do my best.”
“I'm glad you still remember some of your combat medical training now that you're a vet,” I said with a grin as he gathered some things together. “How'd that happen, anyway? You were a great field medic.”
“Well, how come you’re not a SEAL anymore?”
I shrugged.
“Just needed a big change in my life.”
“See? That's why I'm a vet. I just couldn't treat any more soldiers with bullet wounds, shrapnel, limbs blown off, skin burned off... It just got to be too much. Now I'm happy, living a relaxed life, making sure dogs and cats are okay. Way less stress, way less – until you waltzed in here, bleeding out from a gunshot wound!”
“I know, man, I know. Sorry to wreck your Friday evening.”
“Jeez, Ev, don't apologize,” he said as he started to get to work. “It ain't your fault you got shot... or wait, was it?”
“Uh, yeah, it kinda was.”
“What just happened then, man? How did my old buddy end up getting capped right outside my veterinary practice on a summer evening?”
“Well, I'm the principal of JFK High now.”
“No kidding?”
“Yeah, I just started this week.”
“Sheesh, and what a way to start! You must have some rough kids there if they're shooting the principal. In our day, we shot spitballs at our teachers, not freakin' nine mil rounds!”
I had to chuckle.
“Yeah, Jimmy, only thing is, it wasn't a kid who shot me.”
“Well, who was it then?”
“Drug dealer.”
“Everett, you're a high school principal, what the heck are you doing getting involved with drug dealers? Tell it to me straight, man, are you on something? You taking something to help with flashbacks? You can be honest with me, and I can help you to get off whatever it is.”
“No, no, nothing like that. See, at JFK High, and a number of other schools in this town, there's an epidemic with this new, nasty drug called Rocket.”
“Oh yeah, I've heard of that stuff,” he said. “Bad, bad stuff. And the kids love it, huh?”
“Yeah, unfortunately, they do. And that's who these dealers are targeting – kids.”
“Ugh. Scumbags!”
“You're telling me.”
“So you're out there like Batman, trying to shut 'em down, huh?”
“Yeah. I got word earlier that one of the kingpins was gonna be here. I raced out, witnessed a drug deal – and it turned out that I'd been in such a rush to get there that I hadn't brought either my phone so I couldn’t call the police to handle it.”
“Oh, man,” he exclaimed with a chuckle. “You're the worst Batman ever!”
“Tell me about it.”
“Well, there we go,” he said. “You're all stitched up. The wounds should stay closed as long as you get a lot of rest and don't make any sudden movements. It'd be best for you if you slept right now, actually. And I'm gonna put you on a drip; you need it.”
“I... I'm supposed to be going out on a date tonight.”
He laughed.
“That ain't gonna happen, Everett, that ain't gonna happen. Vet's orders. You need to get a drip hooked up to you, stat, and then you need to get into bed and try sleep.”
“But—”
“Call her and tell her what happened when you get home. I'll drive you there right now, set up the drip, and get you into bed. Come on, man, you've just been shot! I know it ain't the first time, but you know as well as I do that it ain't no scratch you can simply brush off. Rest, now. That's an order.”
“Alright, alright.”
“Come on. My car's out back,” he said, and he helped me o
ff the table and supported me as I limped out through the back door. We then got into his car, and he drove me home.
“Nice place,” he said as we pulled up to the house.
“Yeah, I just moved in. And just moved to Irvine two weeks ago.”
“No kidding? Well, I guess that's why you hadn’t called me yet.”
“Yeah.”
“Come on, let's get you inside,” he insisted.
He helped me inside and took me to my bedroom.
“Can you get my phone, man it's—”
“Not yet. I'll get you into bed and get the drip set up, and then I'll bring it to you.”
“I need to pick up my daughter—”
“You have a kid?”
“Yeah, she's at the babysitter's. I was supposed to pick her up between eleven and midnight.”
“I'll do that for you, and I'll bring her back here and get her into bed. You'll be sleeping by then and I’ll hang around just for good measure. Just write down the address, call the babysitter quick, and tell her I'm coming so that she doesn't think that I'm some sort of kidnapper or something when I show up.”
“I'll do that. Oh, man, I owe you big time for this, Jimmy.”
“No, you don't. I'm just doing one of the greatest guys I've ever had the privilege of calling my friend a favor. Buy me a beer sometime, and we're square.”
He helped me to get into bed and then hooked up the drip. He also gave me a shot. After that, he went and fetched my phone for me.
“Here ya go,” he said as he handed it to me.
With dismay, I saw there had been a call from Vivienne, and it was now after nine. I immediately tried to call her, but her phone was off. I sighed, called Maggie to explain that Jimmy would be coming to pick up Jane, and then tried to call Vivienne one more time. Her phone was still off, though.
“Do me a favor, Jimmy,” I said. “Look at the house across the road; are the lights still on?”
“Friends of yours?”
“Kinda.”
“Let me check.”
He moved over to the window and peered out.
“No, man, it's all dark. Guess your friend either had an early night, or they're out.”
“Oh. Man, I'm feeling a bit woozy,” I remarked.
“Yeah, that would be the shot I just gave you. It'll numb the pain and help you sleep.”
“Aw, no, man, I didn't need anything like that,” I protested.
“Yeah, you did,” he said. “Now just relax and get some sleep. I'll take care of everything.”
I felt sleep washing over me, and within seconds of me laying my head on the pillow, I was out.
Chapter Nine
Vivienne
Thankfully, Angie was a bit faster than she had thought she would be and I didn't have to wait too long for her. After sulking inside for a while, and having a glass of wine to calm me down a little, I finally heard the honking of the taxi's horn outside. Well, it was almost nine o' clock now, and there had been no word from Everett, not a peep. No calls, no messages, nothing. I couldn't believe he had done this to me, and it was really hard not to cry when I thought about it. Still, at least Angie had been here for me, and the evening hadn't gone totally to waste.
I got my handbag, walked out and locked the house up, and then headed over to the taxi. Angie was waiting for me inside, looking pretty.
“Hey, Angie! You look great!” I said, doing my best to be cheery despite how down I was feeling.
“Ditto A-, I mean, Vivienne. It's gonna take me a while to get used to your new name.”
“Don't worry about it. Call me Viv. It'll be easier to remember.”
“Sure thing, Viv. Wow, you really do look gorgeous, though. The guys are gonna be falling at your feet tonight, girl!”
“Yeah... after being stood up, I'm not sure I want to have anything to do with any guys, to be honest. But let's see how I feel after I've had a cocktail or two.”
Angie grinned as I said this.
“Where we're going, you're gonna feel like a million bucks after a cocktail or two! Trust me; it'll be the perfect pick-me-up after what that jerk did. Now come on, get in and let's get this evening going!”
I got into the taxi and we took off. As we turned the corner, another car turned the corner, passing us closely but going in the opposite direction, and a jolt of shock ran through me as I saw Everett sitting in the passenger seat. He didn't see me, and I didn't get a very clear view of him, but from what I could see, he was swaying in the seat, looking unsteady. In fact, it looked like he was drunk, almost. Some guy I didn't recognize was in the driving seat. He looked to be about Everett's age, and he was chuckling about something – some drunken joke they had shared, I bet.
Rage flashed red across my eyes. How dare he! He had ditched me without warning to go drinking with some dumb buddy of his! The nerve of it was staggering. Well, I wasn't about to give him the chance to give me some drunken phone call filled with lousy excuses and lies. I took my phone out of my bag, turned it off, and then shoved it back in.
“So, Angie,” I said, trying to get my attention off what I had just seen. “You're on the prowl tonight, huh? I gotta tell you, I don't know much about this 'wingman' stuff.”
She laughed.
“I'm hoping to meet a nice, rich, handsome guy, sure,” she said with a grin. “Whether that happens, we'll see. Don't worry, being a wingman – well, let's say wing woman – is easy! It just makes approaching guys, or being approached by guys, that much easier. Takes the pressure off. A creepy dude might try his luck if a girl is by herself, but if she's got a friend with her, he might think twice about hitting on her. And also, it's easier to approach a hot guy with a girlfriend on your arm for moral support. Makes for a good self-confidence boost when you're feeling shy.”
“I think I can do that,” I said with a smile. “Yeah, I don't think it'll be too hard.”
“You'll nail it,” she said. “And I hope you change your mind about picking up a guy. It'd do you good. Get your mind off the asshole who stood you up tonight. And, you know, get past that thing with Simon.”
Ugh. The mention of that name made my skin crawl, and I really wished that she hadn't brought it up. Still, I could understand, though. She had to be at least a little bit curious about how he could have been such a crazy maniac that I had to move hundreds of miles and legally change my name to get away from him. Anyone would be curious about circumstances like that.
Luckily, though, before this conversation could go any further, the taxi driver interrupted us.
“Hey, ladies, we're here: Swanky Frank's Cocktail Lounge.”
“Thanks,” said Angie, and she leaned forward and handed him the fare.
“How much is that?” I asked. “Can I chip in?”
“No, no way. You're the one who got stood up tonight, A-, I mean, Viv. No. I'm not letting you pay for anything. This is my treat. I want you to feel better and forget about that jerk.”
“Come on, really? It's not that big of a deal.”
“No, I insist. Come on, we're holding the poor driver up, get out already!” she said with a cheerful smile.
She seemed pretty set on this, so I figured it would be pointless to argue with her about it, so I just got out. The cocktail lounge looked really great; flashy and smart, but not too over the top. I straightened out my dress, got a makeup mirror out of my handbag, and checked my reflection.
“You're looking smokin' hot,” said Angie as she walked past me. “No need to stare into that thing. Come on, let's get inside and get this party started.”
“Sure thing,” I said, following her after I put my makeup mirror back in my bag.
Inside, it was fairly crowded; this seemed like a popular hangout spot. Everyone was dressed to the nines, and the subtle lighting inside gave the place a muted but glamorous look. Angie was right; this was just what I needed to get my mind off of being stood up.
“Come on, let's hit the bar,” suggested Angie. “Time to get things roll
ing!”
“I like that idea,” I said.
We headed over to the bar, where an attractive young bartender, who was muscular and looked to be around 21 or 22 years old, flashed us a bright white smile.
“Welcome to Swanky Frank's,” he said. “What can I get you two ladies tonight?”
“I'll start off with a Bloody Mary,” said Angie. “And my friend will have...”
“A Screwdriver.”
“Alright, one Bloody Mary and one Screwdriver coming right up.”
The bartender went over and fixed us our drinks, and brought them over to us a few moments later. Angie paid, and then we both looked at the cocktails with grins on our faces.
“Selfie time!” said Angie as she pulled out her phone. “We've gotta put this on Facebook.”
“Uh, hold up, Angie,” I said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “Could I ask you to please not take any photos of us tonight? Or even mention my name on Facebook. It's just that... You know, with Simon, I'm not sure if his friends might be mutual friends of yours, and you know, he and you and I, we were all at the same senior high, and someone might, you know...”
She nodded, smiling sympathetically.
“It's alright, I understand. Wow, he must have done some seriously crazy stuff to have messed you up like this. I mean, you know, to have screwed up your life to the point where you can't even put pictures or get tagged on Facebook because he might hunt you down.”
“I know, Angie, I know. It really is horrible. I had to pretty much erase everything about the person I was before just to make sure he wouldn't find me. And you know, if he does find me, I'm going to have to do it all again to get away from him again. It's not something I want to have to do again. It was hard enough the first time.”
“So, look, I don't wanna pry or anything, so tell me if I'm out of line for asking, but what exactly did he do to you?”
“I don't know if I want to go into the details of it all just yet, Angie,” I said. “But there's a court order, a restraining order against him. He's not allowed within 500 yards of me. He was also not allowed to contact me in any way, but let me tell you, he found out how to get around that. I have to give him one thing: he's smart. Real smart.”
Daddy Boss (A Boss Romance Love Story) Page 104