"The doctor will be here any minute." Frederick enters the room carrying a silver tray. On it, a magnificent silver tea set, a small jar of honey, and a dish of assorted teas. He places the tray on the table in front of Baz while I pace the room.
"We haven't been formally introduced." Frederick turns to me and bows slightly.
"This is Stevie," Baz takes it upon himself to make the introductions. "My fiancée."
Frederick pauses in his bowed state and looks up at me with just his eyes. I share his surprise. Neither Baz nor I have ever used that term before, and for him to toss it out so freely is extraordinarily gratifying.
"It's an esteemed pleasure to meet you, Miss Stevie." Frederick bows lower, and I glance over at Baz. No one has ever bowed to me before. Baz just smiles weakly. Approvingly.
"The feeling is mutual," I reply.
"Would you like to share with me what happened now?" Frederick directs his question to Baz. Worry and concern clearly written all over his long, narrow face.
"We were ambushed. Stevie and I were staying at the safe house upstate, and they found us." Baz closes his eyes and rests his head on the back of the couch. Both Frederick and I take a worried step forward.
"Baz?" I utter. He cracks open his eyes.
"I didn't pass out. But I feel like I'm going to."
"Should I ring Master Gianni?"
"Not to alarm him. But maybe to let him know we're here."
"Of course." Frederick nods just as the doorbell rings. "That would be the doctor." He scurries out of the room.
I sit by Baz's side as we wait. Brushing some renegade strands of hair out of his eyes, I put on a brave face.
"Doctor Levinstein," Frederick announces as he and another older man enter the room.
From the looks of it, Dr. Levinstein just got out bed. He's wearing silk pajama pants and a black sweater.
It's nothing unusual to have a doctor on call. Benny had two on his payroll. Many times, hospital visits are out of the question. As in Baz's case. Too many headaches and too many red flags. In this business, you operate underground. No questions asked or your tongue gets cut out.
"Benjamin, long time no see." The doctor places his leather bag on the floor next to us and pushes his thick, black-rimmed glasses up his nose.
"Hey, Doc." Baz tracks his movements.
"What do we have here?" The doctor pulls Baz's shirt up and over his head, revealing the bloody gauze on his shoulder.
"Gunshot," I answer for Baz.
"I see." Dr. Levinstein clinically removes the bandage to take a look. "Straight through?" He repositions Baz so he can examine his back.
"Yes. Clean shot."
"Mmmm. It looks very clean. You patched him up?" the doctor asks me.
"I did my best to stop the bleeding and dress it." Dr. Levinstein scrutinizes me. I want to shrink. Does he suspect something? Do I look guilty? What does he see? Being in this fucking house is beginning to stress me out.
"You did well." He redirects his focus back to Baz. "We'll have to clean you up a little better and disinfect the openings. When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?"
Baz curls his lip. "I couldn't tell you."
"You're getting one tonight."
"Fantastic," he replies dryly.
Before Dr. Levinstein starts working on Baz, he checks his temperature, blood pressure, and heart rate. His temp is normal, but blood pressure and heart rate are low, as to be expected after a ballistic fucking trauma. Luckily, they're not so low it's life threatening.
"Can I get you anything?" Frederick asks Dr. Levinstein as he stands at attention in the corner of the room.
"Some fresh towels, Frederick, please, and some warm water."
"Right away." Frederick disappears promptly.
Baz begins to ramble as the doctor works on him. "Frederick has worked for Gianni since before I was born. He's one of my uncle's most loyal employees."
Dr. Levinstein grunts. "This guy is, too. They've both taken care of me for as long as I can remember." Baz laughs.
"It's been a long time since I treated you like this. I think the last time was when you were sixteen and you broke your arm in one of those underground fights your uncle told you to stay away from." Dr. Levinstein peers at Baz over the rim of his glasses.
"You used to fight?" I ask, intrigued.
"I told you. I tried to be someone I'm not." There's a tightness in Baz's tone. That must have been when he was trying to be more like Benny. To get his attention. To gain his respect. And his love.
"You found your way," Levinstein attests.
"It made me tougher, can't deny that."