They set us up like a blood donating factory. One in each bed and one in a chair all at the same time.
Ky, Gerard, and Hawk go first. Ky and Gerard donate like champs, but Hawk turns a bit green.
“You all right over there, Hawkeye?” Ky messes with him, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.
“All good, Prez.” Hawk’s eyes roll into the back of his head as his blood slides through the tube.
When it’s my turn, both Kira and I climb on the beds, but I notice Fender doesn’t move from his spot in the corner.
“Is the paramedic afraid of needles?” I ask as the nurse ties the rubber band right above my elbow and pokes around for a juicy vein.
Fender extends me this dark and mysterious expression, but doesn’t humor me with a response.
I look away from him when I feel a small prick, then I notice Ky glaring at me. He shakes his head in an ominous way, and I realize I must have asked a very wrong question.
What else can go south today?
I more than willingly accept the orange juice and cookie offered to me after the donation, as it dawns on me this is the first thing I’ve eaten all day.
“When Mr. La Rue is out of surgery, the doctor will be out to speak with you,” the nurse in the pink scrubs, whose name tag reads Betty, pleasantly informs us once we’re back in the waiting room.
Back to waiting. God, the torture. At least giving blood was a welcome distraction.
We all make ourselves as comfortable as possible, Kira snuggling up to Ky next to me on a double-wide couch. Hawk and Fender stretched out on chairs with Gerard left pacing.
The last time I remember looking at the clock, it read half-past eleven. When I look up at it again, it’s nearly two a.m., and Betty is nudging me awake.
“Dr. Patel is coming out. Thought I would give you all a heads up.” She smiles.
By the time I rub the sleep out of my eyes, a tall, slim man with dark olive skin and spectacles is standing in front of us.
“Are you all here for Mr. La Rue?” He has bit of a foreign accent.
“We are,” Gerard confirms, crossing his thick, tattooed arms, the patriarch in the room.
The doctor pushes his thin spectacles up his nose and begins to speak. “Mr. La Rue made it through surgery and is resting now. His wound was severe, and there was some internal bleeding, but we were able to repair the damage, and thanks to your generous blood donation, you more than likely saved his life.”
Hearing that alleviates my strung-out anxiety for the first time today. “Unfortunately, Mr. La Rue will be permanently blind in his left eye. Did any of you happen to see the eye before you brought him in? I’m particularly curious to know how he lost it.”
We all shake our heads. We don’t know exactly how he lost it, but we all have a pretty good idea. None of us are going to cop to it, though.
“Your friend is very lucky to be alive. You can see him in the morning, when he’s stable enough to be moved from the ICU.”
“The morning?” I protest.
“Yes, I’m sorry. He needs his rest. Doctor’s orders.” He’s stern.
Guess I can’t argue with that.
“C’mon, Liv, we’ll go back to the hotel. A shower and some sleep will do you good.” Kira wraps one warm, reassuring arm around me. “You can stay with Ky and me tonight so you don’t have to be alone.”
What other choice do I have, really?
Disappointed but finally relieved, I leave with everyone else.
Kira was right about the shower. It did make me feel better, even if all I could think about was Damon.
There was a whole bunch of damage control to be done when I got back to the hotel. The cleaning ladies reported the incident, and hotel security wanted to know if I wanted to fill out a police report. I mean, what’s the point really? They’ll never find Lev or Dima, so I just signed a waiver and let it go. If my father is right, they’ll get what’s coming to them.
