sexy.
“What’s wrong with your head?” Villanueva asked, wiping the crook of Val’s elbow with an alcohol pad. It took her two stabs, better than most, the second barely hurt. In danger of becoming a heroin addict he was not. He watched the tubing fill up with red.
“It was bleeding from some funny places,” he said, looking away from his arm to lock eyes with Kate, daring her to say anything else.
The doctor looked from one of them to the other. “If you choose to tell me, of your free will, you will feel better about it. Letting me know everything can only help you. I’m going to need to do a drug test.” She let the implication hang there as she unstuck his arm, picked up the two vials he’d filled and left the room: the drugs will come up on the blood test, might as well tell me about them now.
“As if you needed to lose more blood,” Kate said.
“She thinks I’ve been snorting coke.” He closed his eyes.
“You look tired,” she said.
“I didn’t sleep so well. Someone was distracting me half the night.” The other half, well, the other half wasn’t so restful either.
“You’ve mentioned.”
“I’m joking, you know.”
“Yeah. I’m tired, too.” He wanted to tell her it was all right, no one would find TJ, but he wasn’t so sure. Villanueva came back and told him she’d put the sample in for testing and he should have his results within a few hours.
Kate looked at him. Cleared her throat. “Did you tell her about the hum in your head?”
“It’s gone.” He didn’t want to talk about this here.
“All last night he was complaining of this hum,” Kate said to the doctor. She turned to Val.
“Like a low frequency ringing in my ears.”
Villanueva pursed her lips. “I’d like to do some other tests. A CT scan. Just to be safe. A lot of ex-convicts have a hard time adjusting to life on the outside.”
“I haven’t been out long enough.” Val knew he was snapping, but he didn’t want to be here anymore. This place seemed too sterile and too clean, with its white walls and white countertops. A different kind of pressure pushed in on him, but this kind he knew was a panic attack. He knew how to hold them off. You couldn’t melt down like that in prison. They’d be on you like a pack of hyenas on a limping antelope.
Inhale, count to eight, hold for four, exhale counting to eight. Color started to creep back into the room.
“It happens faster than you think,” the doctor said. “You’ve been in a structured routine for years. Now you’re drifting.”
“Why don’t I take a rain check on that CT scan?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She checked some paperwork. “We could have you in by two this afternoon. By the time we get the blood work back, we could have you in for the scan.”
“I think I’ll be all right,” Val said, standing. “Thank you for your time.” His fight or flight mechanism was kicking in, jangling in his hum-free brain, and he didn’t want to start punching anybody, let alone a lady doctor trying to help.
He let Kate deal with the paperwork; he’d deal with the bill later.
Back in the car, Val said, “Can we stop at the Tire Warehouse? I want to get my truck back on track. As charming as it is to ride around in this thing all the time, I’d rather not.”
“Yeah, sure,” Kate said. She looked far away and pensive.
They didn’t talk on the way to the store. Val picked up two used tires, and as he started to move them to the car, Kate made one offhand comment that he shouldn’t be doing heavy lifting after his incident. After he politely told her to blow him, she leaned against the yellow hood of the car and watched him, looking surly, sexy and distracted at the same time, chewing at the skin around her fingernails.
Val popped open the Daytona’s little trunk and tossed the first tire in. He tried to ignore the dried Hershey’s stain that could be nothing but blood. He placed the tire over it, for optimal
“What’s wrong with your head?” Villanueva asked, wiping the crook of Val’s elbow with an alcohol pad. It took her two stabs, better than most, the second barely hurt. In danger of becoming a heroin addict he was not. He watched the tubing fill up with red.
“It was bleeding from some funny places,” he said, looking away from his arm to lock eyes with Kate, daring her to say anything else.
The doctor looked from one of them to the other. “If you choose to tell me, of your free will, you will feel better about it. Letting me know everything can only help you. I’m going to need to do a drug test.” She let the implication hang there as she unstuck his arm, picked up the two vials he’d filled and left the room: the drugs will come up on the blood test, might as well tell me about them now.
“As if you needed to lose more blood,” Kate said.
“She thinks I’ve been snorting coke.” He closed his eyes.
“You look tired,” she said.
“I didn’t sleep so well. Someone was distracting me half the night.” The other half, well, the other half wasn’t so restful either.
“You’ve mentioned.”
“I’m joking, you know.”
“Yeah. I’m tired, too.” He wanted to tell her it was all right, no one would find TJ, but he wasn’t so sure. Villanueva came back and told him she’d put the sample in for testing and he should have his results within a few hours.
Kate looked at him. Cleared her throat. “Did you tell her about the hum in your head?”
“It’s gone.” He didn’t want to talk about this here.
“All last night he was complaining of this hum,” Kate said to the doctor. She turned to Val.
“Like a low frequency ringing in my ears.”
Villanueva pursed her lips. “I’d like to do some other tests. A CT scan. Just to be safe. A lot of ex-convicts have a hard time adjusting to life on the outside.”
“I haven’t been out long enough.” Val knew he was snapping, but he didn’t want to be here anymore. This place seemed too sterile and too clean, with its white walls and white countertops. A different kind of pressure pushed in on him, but this kind he knew was a panic attack. He knew how to hold them off. You couldn’t melt down like that in prison. They’d be on you like a pack of hyenas on a limping antelope.
Inhale, count to eight, hold for four, exhale counting to eight. Color started to creep back into the room.
“It happens faster than you think,” the doctor said. “You’ve been in a structured routine for years. Now you’re drifting.”
“Why don’t I take a rain check on that CT scan?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She checked some paperwork. “We could have you in by two this afternoon. By the time we get the blood work back, we could have you in for the scan.”
“I think I’ll be all right,” Val said, standing. “Thank you for your time.” His fight or flight mechanism was kicking in, jangling in his hum-free brain, and he didn’t want to start punching anybody, let alone a lady doctor trying to help.
He let Kate deal with the paperwork; he’d deal with the bill later.
Back in the car, Val said, “Can we stop at the Tire Warehouse? I want to get my truck back on track. As charming as it is to ride around in this thing all the time, I’d rather not.”
“Yeah, sure,” Kate said. She looked far away and pensive.
They didn’t talk on the way to the store. Val picked up two used tires, and as he started to move them to the car, Kate made one offhand comment that he shouldn’t be doing heavy lifting after his incident. After he politely told her to blow him, she leaned against the yellow hood of the car and watched him, looking surly, sexy and distracted at the same time, chewing at the skin around her fingernails.
Val popped open the Daytona’s little trunk and tossed the first tire in. He tried to ignore the dried Hershey’s stain that could be nothing but blood. He placed the tire over it, for optimal
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