“What happened?” I lean forward in my seat.
“Cheez Whiz happened, that’s what. It was all the rage, and I wanted to offer it, too. But Mikey didn’t want to change anything from how Mom ran the shop, and every time someone tried to order their steak wiz wit, Mikey’d shit a brick. When he found out I’d been offering it under a secret code word when he wasn’t there, we had a huge falling out. Mikey demanded I buy him out, so I did, and he used the money to start his own car dealership, just like his ‘real dad.’ All’s well that ends well, right?” Sammy shakes a pretzel at me. “Wrong!According to Mikey, I started making too many changes. First the Cheez Whiz, then offering seating, but once I renamed the shop to Sammy’s Steaks, he’s been out to get me ever since.”
“Geez.” I sit back. “Do you have any proof?”
“I consulted with a lawyer, but she said all I had was circumstantial evidence, which wouldn’t be enough.” Sammy sighs. “I keep hoping he’ll get tired of ragging me so hard, but it’s been fifty years of his bullying, and everybody just looks the other way. The city council doesn’t care, I’ll tell you that much. They’re afraid of Mikey, too.”
I blink. “But how do we catch him?”
“I wish I knew.” Sammy munches on his pretzel stick thoughtfully. “The weird thing is Mikey’s always had his eye on your building. Thought for sure he’d try to lease it himself so he could spite me from across the street. I was shocked when you got it instead.”
“Really?” I frown, thinking back to all the strings Veronica pulled to get me the first showing. Did we lease the building out from under Tonuto somehow? “How could a city council member lease a building owned by the city, though?”
“Wilson, probably. That man lives with Mikey’s hand up his puppet ass.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket twice in short succession, and I pull it out. “Sorry, I need to make sure this isn’t important.”
JULIAN
Since you are Mr. G’s listed emergency contact, I’m letting you know that Mr. G is suffering from an akinetic crisis, which is potentially life-threatening. I’m driving him to Philly Gen right now.
JULIAN
Could you go to his house and grab all his medications and whatever strains he’s been using, along with a change of clothes and anything else he might want?
I blink at my phone, dread erupting in my chest.
NOMI
On my way!!
After a hasty goodbye to Sammy, I race over to Mr. Gutierrez’s house. The kitchen’s a mess, clothes strewn around, the TV still on. But today’s appointment was not an emergency one—it was a standard checkup. My heart aches as I right the place as fast as I can while packing up what Mr. Gutierrez needs. How long has he been living like this? Unable to care for himself and suffering?
I reach Philly Gen in a fugue state of worry, texting Julian as I approach the reception desk.
“Hi, I’m here for Mr. Gutierrez—Julian, I mean, um, Dr. D’Angelo brought him in about an hour ago for a suspected akinetic crisis?”
The stern attendant looks at me through the glass, one eyebrow raised. “Julian, eh?” She elbows the other attendant. “This one knowsJulian.”
“Oh, are you responsible then?” The second attendant smirks.
“Responsible? Oh, yes—kind of? I’m Mr. Gutierrez’s emergency contact.”
“No, forJulian.”
“What?” I blink down at them. “I don’t—”
“He smiled at me.” The second attendant presses her hands flat against her desk. “Then he brought me coffee!”
“Me, too,” the first attendant adds. “It’s not even a full moon!”
I exhale a helpless, confused sound, struggling to process their gentle conversation as the bright fluorescent lights whine overhead, the smell of hospital antiseptic stinging my nose. Philly Gen is a beautiful, well-funded hospital, but you can’t decorate the terror out of an ER waiting area. Memories of the last time I was here sweep over me like a flash flood. I was struggling to breathe and kept blacking out, the spontaneousallergic reaction to the newest biologic hitting me harder than ever before. My body felt tight and hot, claustrophobic, and my consciousness kept backing out of it, like it wanted to escape for good.
“Nomi.” The swing-doors open in perfect tandem, revealing Julian, broad shoulders stretching out the width of his doctor’s coat, glasses flashing, curly hair perfectly disheveled. He could be the top-billed star in any medical drama, Dr. McFuckMe.
He takes me into his arms and holds me to him, large hand spanning the back of my head so gently, serotonin floods my system. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Oh, she’s responsible, alright,” the second attendant says under her breath. “God bless.”
