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“Nah. I’m sorry I’m doing this now. My parents are going to have a fit.”
“They’re probably inside,” Dale said.
Looking out the window, I saw my mother’s car parked in front right away. “Lillian is already here. Oh, God. That’s all I need.”
Dale stopped the car and looked over the seat. “You ready? Should I get a wheelchair?”
“No, I’ll carry her,” Brian said.
“Do I have any say in this?” I asked.
“No, actually, you don’t,” Casey said, bringing the blanket around to the rear door. “This is your fault for not coming here first thing.”
“You can let up on the nagging,” I said, scooting to the end of the seat with Brian’s help.
“We’re telling them you were fine, and all of a sudden Dale noticed your pupils,” Brian said. “That way, no one will blame you, darling.”
Nurse friends of my roommates met us at the triage desk, and I was taken in right away. I noticed curious onlookers pushing in closer to me.
“Stand back,” a security guard called out.
“That’s the girl that saved Flynn Safadi,” someone said, with the murmuring around me getting louder.
Flynn Safadi? I had saved Flynn Safadi? Everything fell into place in that moment. Mr. Christmas’s bad-boy son was Dr. Flynn Safadi. He was famous in Ann Arbor at the big university hospitals for his plastic surgery practice.
Appearing in the gossip columns, he was known for his supposed romantic antics, but the thing that saved his reputation was his charitable trips to developing countries, where he did surgeries correcting disfiguring ailments. Every six months, you couldn’t miss the reports of his entourage hauling expensive equipment across the ocean for a month of good works.
What had Flynn Safadi been doing in Detroit, at Busy Bee Auto Wash and Filling Station, at midnight?
The thought kept me occupied as I was poked and prodded, with my friends looking on.
I looked at Brian. “Why was Mr. Christmas’s son driving around Detroit after midnight?”
“He came to Children’s consulting on that young girl who was shot in the face last week,” he answered. “I asked around. She’s breathing on her own now, and they’re going to put her back together.”
“Oh, wow. I hope he’ll be okay to do the work,” I said.
“It’s on the news again.”
“Oh, God. I’m not going to survive this.”
“Yes, you will,” he said, smoothing the hair back from my forehead. “By the way, I love my new flannel boxers. It’s freezing in here, and I’m toasty.”
That made me happy, and I laughed. “Finally appreciated for my gifts.”
“I appreciate it. Just don’t buy me more. I don’t have room in my drawers. I mean my chest of drawers.”
“Everyone’s getting underwear for Christmas.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” Dale said, coming in to see me. “We’re putting the tree up this weekend.”
“Count me out,” I said. “I’m going to work every weekend until it’s over.”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but your boss is here,” Casey said. “He’s talking to Lillian right now.”
“Honest to God, I’m going to sue him if he talks to my mother about this!”
“Gird your loins, Bellabug. Here comes Lillian,” Casey said.
