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“You inhaled a lot of smoke…”
Didn’t we all need nurses and doctors then? We’d all been in the same building.
“You were inhaling a lot of smoke, too…” I remind, slurping my tea. I hate doctors.
“You were beaten to a pulp before we got to you…”
“I’m fine!” I reassure, more forcefully than I intend. Possibly a little too forcefully.
“Fine,” he complains. “Let’s all just go to the emergency room, then…”
“And get pinched and go to jail?!” He’s too naive, still. If he thinks everything is going to be fine just because we got out of there with our lives… then he has another thing coming.
The Colombos were still blood sucking bastards.
The Giordio’s were probably still going to be after us now that their boss just died on the ground outside of their hideout…
Plus, all their drugs were destroyed…
“I was being sarcastic…” he growls.
A laugh manages to escape my lips.
Maybe heisready…
The unfinished business might seem daunting to most, but for me, I was still ready to squash some people after what I’d been through. Madam Rosa’s dead… but that doesn’t mean my anger is. Plus, the Colombos seemed to do a lot more damage than she did, and the timing still seems fishy to me.
The Colombos attack and Madam Rosa hatches a plan to input her son into my ranks, earn my trust, and kill me at the same time?
It’s just too coincidental.
I can still feel my lungs aching. I cough again, and he looks at me, worried. ”The smoke…” I manage. “That’s all…”
He scowls.
I can feel myself smiling despite myself. He’s worried. It’s sweet. But I’m worried that maybe he’s getting a little big for his britches. He’d been the boss for a couple of days. But he certainly wasn’tmyboss.
As if he can read my mind, he mutters, “Please, get checked out…”
I grumble. I’m in pain. Quite a bit of it if I’m being honest. Broken ribs… A busted head. A bruised face and body. And my lungs …they’re filled with remnants of smoke and debris. It’s thick in my throat as I try to clear it. I still taste it.
I know he’s right.
I need to get looked at. But so does everyone else.
The blood had washed off of me nicely in the shower. It felt rejuvenating, cleaning myself, but as soon as I stepped out, I felt dizzy and heavy all over again.
I wonder if I have a concussion. My ribs still ache with every movement. My head still pounds with every thought. My throat hurts with every word.
“You have to see the nurse…” he says.
“Not without everyone else.” I sit my tea down next to me.
“Then wehaveto go to the hospital…” he states, matter-of-factly. “We’ll just tell them we were in a burning building.”
“They’ll ask where…”
“We don’t tell them…” he cuts. “They have to treat us anyway.”
