He scoffed. “It certainly does not.”
I knew I should be taking my health seriously, but part of me enjoyed being chastised by the older man.No, I haven’t been sleeping. No, I haven’t had enough water. What do you plan to do about it, Paramedic Daddy?
“Ruby, I’d like to take you to the hospital. Make sure you’re not concussed. What do you think?”
“But…we have to finish blocking…I’m Persephone…”
One of my cast mates crouched down beside me. “I’ll fill in. Just for today. Go. I’ll come by with notes later.”
“This is stupid, I’m fine.” But the second I tried to sit up, it was as though someone had dropped watercolor paint in my eyes. Blotches of black spread across my vision and I felt lightheaded. I swooned, but this time, I didn’t hit the floor.
“I’ve got you.” My paramedic’s strong hands cradled the back of my head as he carefully lowered me back down.
“Fuck,” I muttered between my teeth, frustrated.
“So,” he said. “Can I convince you to ride with me, Ruby?”
“I guess.” I had to put my stubbornness in the back seat. My brain kept flickering, and that frightened me more than I let on.
He motioned his partner over—a short woman with a tight buzz cut and the word “EMT” on her uniform. Together, they lifted me onto a stretcher and wheeled me out.
“Is this all necessary?” I groaned.
“Absolutely not,” the paramedic said. “We just thought we’d give you the star treatment.”
My director, Thom, nervously followed beside us. “Is she okay? She’ll be okay, right? Mr. Chrystie—he owns the theatre—I mean, if he hears about this…”
“How long has the AC been out?” the paramedic asked. His voice sounded suddenly sharp, not quite the same playful tone he’d used with me.
“A week. Or a couple of weeks. Maybe a month.” Thom wiped sweat from the back of his neck; I couldn’t tell if it was pooling from heat or nerves at the thought of a lawsuit on his hands.
We were halfway out the lobby when the paramedic stopped my stretcher. “One second.” He patted the wall, where there was a hidden door. “Is the unit in here?” Thom nodded. He unlatched the door. The AC unit loomed in the dark—bulky and completely useless. I watched the paramedic climb into the wall. He felt his way around, then smacked the side of the unit. The machine started to click, as though it was chomping its teeth.Then there was a sudden rush and it shuddered out a blast of cold air.
Personally, I’d never been more jealous of an AC unit.
“Look at you,” the EMT smirked. “Mr. Fix-it.”
The paramedic hopped out of the crawlspace and shrugged. “Just needed a little TLC.”
She shook her head. “You have a strange definition of the wordtender.”
“Me next,” I piped up. The words left me before I could stop them, but in the moment, I was convinced a sharp smack on the ass from those strong hands would cure me of any ailment.
Yeah, okay. Maybe I was a little concussed.
It at least pulled a laugh from the pair, before they continued to roll me out. They navigated me out of the theatre and I rattled onto the New York City street. Even the bright summer heat felt better out here than the stifling furnace inside. I caught the curious stares of onlookers. Normally, I loved being the center of attention. This, however, was not ideal. I was grateful for the speed at which the two professionals loaded me into the back of the ambulance and shut the door. The EMT took the wheel while the paramedic stayed in the back with me, locking in my stretcher before settling into a pull-down seat.
He gave two knocks against the wall between the back of the van and the front, and the ambulance rumbled to life, sirens wailing.
“Am I dying?” I asked.
“Not today,” he said. “No one dies in my ambulance. That’s a rule.”
“Oh, well. Can’t break the rules.”
“No, you don’t seem the type.”
“Are you calling me a goody-two-shoes? I’ll have you know, I’m a bad bitch when I’m not strapped down to a gurney.”
