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The original queen of mayhem, who was nearing eighty and was as fiery as her bright red hair, was a force to be reckoned with. She wasn’t afraid to tell Tito when she thought he was overstepping the line with movie names. She didn’t like him fucking with the classics. And she would stir him up when she told him so.
“Cade is in charge of Head Quarters, Tito. Speak to him about it.”
“I can’t talk to Cade about this. She’s his grandmother… you’re the president, can’t you do something about her?”
I rubbed my temples. Between Tito’s whining and the sexual tension tearing at my body day after day, I was going to have a fucking stroke.
“She’s a seventy-something old woman. Speak to her yourself,” I said.
“Hello, have you met Sybil?”
Point taken.
“Fine. Tell me exactly what I am confronting this elderly lady about?” I asked wearily.
“It seems every other week she’s yelling at me about something. Can’t you ban her from Head Quarters?”
There was a conversation I didn’t want to have. I’d rather spoon my eyeballs out of my sockets with a fucking fork, than tell Sybil she couldn’t do anything.
“I am not banning Sybil from Head Quarters.”
“Why not?”
“Because I value my balls, Tito.”
Plus, Garrett Calley had already banned any queens from stepping foot in Head Quarters, following the day Sybil tore through the production set of Some Like It Hard because she was pissed about it dishonoring Marilyn Monroe’s memory. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I had never upheld the rule because it was ridiculous. “Let me talk to Cade, see if he can make her see sense.”
“You need to do something, Bull, because I don’t know how much more of her I can take.”
“I’ll handle it,” I said.
After Tito left, I planted my face on the desk.
Some days being president was a headfuck. Give me something tactile like war and revenge, something I could make sense of, not a problem between a control freak in a fucking safari suit, and the original first lady of the club.
A sudden ruckus coming from the clubhouse lifted my head off my desk. The female cry that followed had me off my chair and out of my office within seconds, tearing down the hallway.
In the bar, I found Taylor on the floor clutching her arm, with Randy crouching over her.
“What happened?” I asked.
“She was standing on the bar changing one of the lightbulbs—”
I glared at him. “Why the fuck did you let her do that?”
“I wasn’t here. I walked in just in time to see her fall.”
“Goddamnit!” Taylor winced.
I dropped down next to her.
“Where does it hurt?”
She was shivering. “My shoulder.”
I took a closer look. Her shoulder was grotesquely warped, clearly dislocated.
“Want me to call an ambulance?” Randy asked.
“It feels like I’ve been hit by a truck,” Taylor moaned, her beautiful face showing her pain.
“Fuck the ambulance,” I said, scooping her up into my arms. “It’ll take too long.”
It was a fifteen-minute drive to the hospital. We made it in nine. If we’d called an ambulance, we’d still be waiting.
I glanced over at Taylor leaning her head against the door as I drove. She had gone pale, and I could see the pain in her eyes, but she barely made a noise.
“You ain’t gonna pass out on me, are you?”
Her eyes shifted to mine. “And miss out on your awesome driving skills?”
I smiled at her sarcasm. “That’s my girl.”
When we pulled up, Indy was waiting for us because Randy had called ahead. “What happened?”
“She was trying to impress me with her acrobatics.”
Fighting back pain, Taylor was still able to give me a sarcastic laugh. “You’re hilarious.”
Indy took a quick look. “You’ve dislocated your shoulder. Let’s get you inside. Do you need me to help you walk?”
“I got her,” I said, protectively placing my hand at the small of Taylor’s back.
Indy’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at me. But as quick as a flash, her questioning look was gone, and she led us out of the sun and into the hospital.
“I’ll order some pain medication, then see about fixing your shoulder back into place,” she said, directing us into a cubicle where I helped Taylor onto the hospital bed. I took her hand in mine as Indy prepared a syringe. “This is going to sting a little, but I promise, it’s going to help.”
Indy gave her an injection, and immediately Taylor’s big eyes grew hooded. She relaxed and sagged back into the bed, a drunk grin spreading across her lips.
“I’ll let that take effect and be back in five, okay?” Indy said and Taylor nodded dreamily.
“Looks like it’s gone straight to her head already,” I said. “A few more minutes, and she’ll be singing karaoke.”
Indy gave her wink. “I gave her the good stuff.”
“How do you feel?” I asked when Indy left.
