Rock Chick 07 Regret(17)

I thought about how much energy it would take for me to understand what on earth was going on.

Then I realized, just before I fell asleep (for real this time) that I didn’t have enough energy to figure it out.

* * * * *

I opened my eyes and saw Daisy sitting in the chair where Hector slept.

She was wearing shoulder-to-toe dark denim, fawn-colored fringe falling from the shoulder pads of her blazer, more fringe down the sides of her skintight jeans. She had on fawn-colored, spike-heeled, platform, round-toed boots, her jeans tucked into the boots. There was more than a hint of rhinestones and rivets sprinkling her outfit everywhere.

She looked like she was going to get up and start singing, “Jolene”. Instead, she sat, legs crossed and read National Enquirer.

Darn. Now what?

I couldn’t feign sleep and avoid her forever. Or could I?

“Sadie?”

My eyes moved to Daisy’s and she was looking at me.

There was the answer, I couldn’t feign sleep and avoid her forever.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I sat up and lifted my good hand to pull my hair away from my face. When I dropped my hand, my hair tumbled back in my face again.

I sighed.

“Let me get that,” Daisy said softly and I looked at her again.

Her Enquirer was on the chair; she was up and digging through her purse. She yanked something out and dumped her purse on the night table.

She showed me a big, pale pink clip.

“Voila!” she said as if she’d pulled a rabbit from a hat not a hair clip from a handbag.

“Turn your back to me,” she ordered and even I wasn’t Ice Princess enough to tell her to go jump in a lake.

I turned my back. Her hands went through my hair, her long fingernails gently scraping my scalp.

It felt nice. It reminded me of when I was little and my Mom used to brush my hair at night before I went to bed. Sometimes when my Mom would brush my hair, she would tell me stories. Sometimes they were funny stories, sometimes romantic, sometimes adventurous. I used to love when my Mom brushed my hair and told me stories.

Daisy carefully pulled and scraped my hair for longer than was needed then she twisted it and I felt the clip go in.

Her hands went to my shoulders and she gently turned me around to face her. When I did, her eyes were on my hair. Then her gaze dropped to mine.

“All better,” she said.

“Not even close,” I replied.

There she was, bitchy Ms. Townsend rearing her ugly head.

Daisy’s teeth bit her lip and her eyes sparkled with tears.

“Sadie, sugar –” she started but before she could say more the door opened and Hector walked in.

Really, no more, I got it. I was the daughter of a Drug King, a bad man who probably destroyed many lives. But seriously, how much penance could a daughter do for her father’s sins? I mean, I didn’t sell heroin to school kids for goodness sakes!

I’d had enough.

I picked up the call button thingamabob and stared at it, found the button for the nurse and pressed it.

Then I saw Hector’s belt buckle and abs by the bed.

Darn.

“Sadie,” Hector called.

I kept my head down and hit the nurse call button again.

“Sadie,” Hector repeated.

My head came up and I looked at him.

“Why are you here?” I snapped.

He opened his mouth to speak but before he could I turned my head and looked at Daisy.

“And why are you here?” I asked her.

“I thought I’d –” Daisy started.

“No, actually, I don’t want to know,” I interrupted, reached out and grabbed my IV stand thingie. Then I threw back the covers and scooted to the side of the bed, rolling my IV with me. It hurt but I did it anyway and I didn’t even wince.

“Sadie, get back in bed,” Hector ordered but I had my legs over the side and I stood up.

I walked two steps, wheeling my IV stand thingie with me (the IV stand thingie kind of bit into my bid for Queen Ice but I’d just have to work it).

I turned to them, hand on my IV stand and stood my ground.

“Both of you, leave,” I demanded.

Daisy’s eyes slid to the opposite side of the bed where Hector was standing. My eyes went there too. He didn’t look happy.

“I’ll ask you again, mamita, get back in bed,” he said.

“That isn’t asking, that’s telling,” I retorted.

“Then I’ll tell you again, back in bed,” he shot back.

“No,” I replied.

He started walking around the bed… toward me.

I wondered, in the nanosecond before I started retreating, why he seemed completely unaffected by my Chill Factor. Everyone else went into deep freeze.

Not Hector.

I had, of course, noticed that his body was preternaturally hot. Maybe that was it.