“Poppet,” Lola whispers, face as white as a ghost's. “Poppet's as good as dead.” Her knees buckle, and she sags down like the air's been let out of her. Ronnie keeps her propped up for a second before deciding it'd be better to act all chivalrous and shit. He swings her up in his arms like she weighs nothing, and my heart flutters a bit. It's been a long, long time since I've seen him happy. Not that he's exactly glowing right now, but I see the promise of happy buried in there somewhere and that's all that counts. Without a word, he starts carrying her down the hall, following after Milo's brisk steps. “What am I going to do about Poppet?”
“Well,” Ronnie starts, thinking carefully. His eyes are glowing, shifting information around, trying to determine the best course of action. He's always been good at figuring out tough situations. Or at least he was until Asuka died. It was like he died that day, too. Like the air had been suctioned from his lungs, his heart torn from his chest. I've never seen anything as terrifying as Ronnie's face the day she died. I'd rather be tortured in the depths of Hell for eternity than ever experience the feeling that gave him that look, that broken, bitter, torn up and fucked up despair. I shiver.
Turner cuts in, gesturing wildly, slamming his fist into the wall at random intervals. The hospital staff looks at him funny at first, but then they get a better view of who exactly is roaming their halls and everyone gets all fluttery. I swear, I think I see a male nurse jumping up and down in excitement.
“It's not like that crazy Southern fuck can see what we're doing right now. You can always pretend you're still on his side or whatever, that you fought all valiant and shit.”
“Oh, he knows,” I say. I could tell; the look on his face when he commanded her out of the elevator gave me all the information I needed. “You were already on his shit list, sweetheart.”
“Shut the fuck up, Sydney!” Turner screams at me, getting up in my face and forcing me a step back. Everybody stops when Turner stops because well, that's just how things have always been. I squeeze my fists at my sides, but I don't hit him. I want to, but I can't. He started third grade with no teeth. Turner might be an arrogant piece of shit, but he's been pummeled around enough. Besides, I slapped him once the other day. Doubt I could get away with it again. “You don't know crap about crap, okay?” He backs away from me almost immediately, running his hand through his dark hair and glancing up at the ceiling like he's praying for some divine miracle.
“You're right,” I say as I move forward and get ahead of the pack. I'm the only one who knows where we're going anyway. “I don't, but I will. As soon as you tell me everything.”
“Agreed,” Milo concurs, nodding his chin at Ronnie who squeezes his eyes shut like he's in pain. “A man just … ” Milo gets quiet and leans in conspiratorially. “Pulled a gun on us and we're not pressing charges. That, and … ” He pauses again and looks around. “Our security team seems to have mysteriously disappeared. Is there a reason I shouldn't be alarmed?”
“Oh, you should be alarmed alright,” Jesse grumbles, scrubbing at his hair like he's still in shock at the length. If it were the time or place for compliments, I'd tell him he looks a hell of a fuck better that way. I've always hated long hair on men. Yuck. “But we can't do shit about shit.”
“What am I going to do about Poppet?” Lola asks again, redirecting the attention back to her. She's pushing at Ronnie's chest like she wants down, but his arms only tighten, biceps flexing as he squeezes her against his chest. “I told you what they said to me, that if I pissed them off, my sister was as good as dead. Well, now what? Now, the bloody fuck what?”
Turner and Ronnie share a private look. Obviously, they're the only two here who really know what's going on.
“It's kind of a long story,” Ronnie begins, finally giving into Lola and setting her on the floor with a click of her high heels. She stumbles a bit, face blanched and eyes wide, lost in another time, another place. I get that look, but I don't know how to help her. I can't help her unless I know all the dirt. Not that this shit storm is any of my business really, but … I love my boys. They're all like my little brothers. I can't just let them bury themselves. “Let's just get to Trey's room and then we'll talk about it, okay?”
“I have to go find Tyler,” Lola says, pausing at the end of the hall and putting her hand against the white washed walls. “I have to find him and see if there's anything I can do to redeem myself.” Her eyes water, but she blinks back the tears, holding up her other hand to stop Ronnie when he tries to move towards her. “Even if it means the end for me, even if … bad things happen. I can't leave her there alone. It's all my fault she's tied up in this crap anyway. If I hadn't had my head halfway up my bloody sash, then maybe I'd have been thinking clearly.”