Anticipation(3)

     



 

Blue had been a part of his life for ten years and was as dear to him as  his brother. She kept Eddie honest, goading him to do better, to look  his faults square in the eye and attempt to mend them. She celebrated  with him, teased him, partied with him. She was his friend, his  confidante, his conscience.

If she died …

"Jesus."

He wasn't aware that he'd spoken out loud until he felt the warm weight  of Maggie's hand on his arm. He stopped pacing as she slipped her hand  into his.

"She's going to make it, Eddie."

"She's five foot nothing. I can lift her with one arm."

She might have personality to spare, but Blue was tiny. No match for a motorbike.

Maggie simply squeezed his hand again before putting her arms around him  and giving him a hug. He stood like a rock, resisting her comfort.  Needing to hang onto his fear. At the moment, it felt as though it was  the only thing keeping disaster at bay.

"You're waiting on Ms.Sullivan, is that right?"

Eddie swung toward the voice. A nurse dressed in baggy theatre scrubs stood in the doorway.

"Is she okay?" he asked, taking a step forward.

His heart was pounding so hard and fast he could feel his chest vibrating with the force of it.

Please let her be alive.

"The doctor will be with you shortly, but he asked me to tell you that  she came through with flying colors. He'll give you more detail."

"So she's going to make it?" Eddie asked, unable to trust what his ears  were telling him. Unable to accept that his worst fear wasn't going to  eventuate.

"She is. She'll be sore, and she'll be on crutches for a while, but  she's a very lucky lady." The nurse gave them all a weary smile before  slipping back into the corridor.

"Thank God," Maggie said, and he could hear the tears in her voice.

She crossed to Rafel and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his  neck. Eddie stared at them, his mind blank, aware of a sudden, crushing  pressure in his chest. Rafel said something, but Eddie couldn't hear it  past the white noise in his ears.

He took off, striding from the room, leaving behind the walls that had  been closing in on him, speeding up when he spotted the glowing green  sign for the exit. And then he was outside in the cold night air, away  from the sights and sounds and smells of the hospital, away from his  brother's gaze. He let his head drop back, staring at the stars, the  knowledge that Blue was going to be all right finally sinking in.

Which was when relief hit him, taking out his knees, stealing his  breath. He sank into a crouch, his butt barely an inch from the ground,  his eyes burning with unshed tears. He dropped the rest of the way down,  letting his head fall forward as emotion slaughtered him.

She was okay. The indomitable force of nature that was Blue Sullivan would live to fight another day.

Thank God.

Thank the universe.

Thank whoever was in charge of small, very important mercies, because he  never wanted to know what life would be like without her.

Someone exited the hospital, and he heard their steps falter as whoever  it was registered the grown man sitting in the middle of the sidewalk.  He didn't look up. Screw it. So what if he was a blubbering mess? Blue  was okay.

After half a second, the interloper moved off and he heard the snick of a  cigarette lighter. A faint hint of smoke wafted his way, and a memory  washed over him, dragged from some deep, dark corner of his brain by the  sensory trigger - Blue delivering a lecture on Big Tobacco to a  six-foot-six, tattooed hulk of a man who'd dared to light up in her  vicinity.

It was an old memory, as old as their friendship. From the day they'd met, in fact.

He'd been sitting in the tattoo parlor where she'd been doing her  apprenticeship, waiting to get his second tattoo, ink-fever having  already made its mark on him. She'd had long blue hair then - he'd never  seen it any other color - her makeup gothic-dark and heavy on the  mascara and kohl, her jeans so tight it was a wonder she could breathe.  Every guy in the shop had watched as she moved around the studio,  cleaning workstations, answering the phone and sharing her unsolicited  opinion on smoking with the bearded bear Eddie had later realized was  her boss.

Typical Blue, never short of an opinion and never shy about sharing it.  She'd hovered nearby when the artist got to work on the tattoo on  Eddie's bicep, her gaze eagle-sharp as she watched the artist's  technique. She was the one who cleaned him off afterward, her touch  impersonal and brisk as she applied antiseptic cream to his  angry-looking skin.

"I like this design," she'd said. "Where'd you find it?"         

     



 

"I drew it."

"Yeah?" He could still remember the way she'd looked him over as though  she was mentally recalibrating her opinion of him. "It's good."

She'd said it simply, absolutely confident that her opinion counted for something in the world.

"My brother and I are studying at the Victorian College of the Arts," he'd explained, trying to flick it off casually.

"La-di-da-da. They give you a free polo pony with your degree?" she'd said.

He'd been so used to getting what he wanted when it came to women that  it had taken him a moment to realize he'd been shot down in flames.

"Don't waste your time with Blue," one of the other clients had told him. "She doesn't do men."

Eddie had glanced at Blue to get her reaction to the comment, catching  the sly little smile that curved her lips for a bare fraction of a  second before she schooled her expression. Later, when he was handing  over the money for his tattoo, he'd checked that no one was listening  before leaning closer and lowering his voice.

"Your secret is safe with me."

She'd glanced at him, and their gazes had locked for a long beat. He'd  known without her saying a word that she understood exactly what he was  referring to.

"Let me guess what you want in exchange for your silence," she'd said.

"A drink after work. That's all."

She'd crossed her arms over her chest and given him a look that was dark with knowledge. "For starters, you mean."

There'd been so much world-weary cynicism in her expression he'd felt insulted.

"You think I need to blackmail women into bed?"

"Oh, no. I'm sure you're used to them falling like nine-pins, pretty boy like you with your fancy accent."

It was so close to the truth that he'd shifted his weight onto his back foot.

"One beer," he'd said, even though a part of him wondered why he was bothering.

She'd messed around with something on the register for a long moment  before nodding curtly. That night, they'd bellied up to the bar at the  local pub, cold glasses of beer in hand, and she'd confirmed his  suspicion that she'd started the lesbian rumor to protect herself from  being hit on by clients. She'd been different away from work, less  guarded, but also wary in a new way. As though she was waiting for him  to make a move again, maybe. As fascinated as he was by her small but  very perky body, he'd resisted the urge to try his luck again. She was  too prickly, and he wasn't sure he was up for the challenge. He'd never  really had to work for sex before. Then Rafel had joined them, and she'd  lit up as she realized they were identical twins, and the great  formative friendship of his life had taken off in earnest.

It was Blue who had inspired both him and Rafel to quit their fine arts  degrees and secure their own tattoo apprenticeships, and it was Blue who  had allowed him to ink his first painstaking lines into her skin. She'd  been there when he and Rafel decided they were sick of working for  other people, too. In fact, she'd been the one to name Brothers Ink,  something she liked to remind them of every few months or so. Just in  case they were in danger of forgetting.

"She's got a broken leg, two broken ribs, a torn liver and concussion."

Eddie lifted his head to find his brother standing in front of him,  hands dug deep in the pockets of his jeans. Eddie had been so lost in  thought he hadn't heard Rafel approach.

"A torn liver?" Eddie asked, focusing on the important stuff.

"The doctor called it a laceration and said she'll be fine with bed rest."

Eddie pushed his hair off his forehead with both hands. Trying to think,  to get past panic and relief to the place where normal services could  resume.

"Can I see her?"

"I don't know, I didn't ask."

Eddie stood. "You should have."

Rafel followed him into the hospital, where Eddie made a beeline for the  nearest nurses' station and asked questions until he was directed to  the surgical ward. From there he was taken to recovery, where he had to  talk his way around a formidable looking woman who gazed at him through a  pair of steel-rimmed glasses.

"Who are you in relation to Ms. Sullivan again?" the woman asked.

"Her friend. She doesn't have family. I'm it."

And Rafel, and the other crew at Brothers Ink, but Steel Glasses didn't need to know that.

"You can have five minutes. She's woken from the anesthetic, but she'll be groggy and sleepy."