“I’m leaving…”
“You know how she was. And he’s cute. Anyway, young and strong, go all night. Change your life, Cheryl Beth. You ought to get one of those.”
***
Cheryl Beth heard the yelling, a man’s voice spewing profanities. A cluster of nurses stood outside a door. As she approached, a compact young Indian doctor came into the hall, handing Cheryl Beth a patient chart.
“Maybe you can deal with him,” she said. “He was in a motorcycle accident.”
“Quad?” Cheryl Beth asked.
“His legs are probably lost to him,” the doctor said.
She quickly scanned the chart amid the verbal barrage coming from the room. Then she carefully stepped inside.
“What the fuck do you want?” The first thing she noticed was the swastika tattoo that snaked around the man’s neck. Involuntarily, she thought of the wound on Christine’s neck. “Bitch!” His scream brought her back to reality. It came from a florid-faced young man encased in bushy red hair and beard.
“I’m hurting here, and nobody will help me.”
“We’re going to help you,” Cheryl Beth said softly.
“I want it now!”
“Take it easy. My name is Cheryl Beth Wilson, and I’m a pain management nurse. Your doctor wanted me to see if we could control your pain better.” She read the chart but already knew she was dealing with an addict. Even before his accident, he had likely been on high levels of OxyContin. So his body wasn’t responding to the level of painkillers he was now receiving.
“Tell me what kinds of pain drugs you were on before the accident.”
“Nothin’!” His eyes bulged.
“I’m not the cops. I’m the pain nurse. I need to see what kind of dosage…”
“Fuck you!”
She sighed. “Mr. Baker, tell me about your pain. Tell me how much it hurts, on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the…”
“Fuck you!” His head rocked violently around the pillows, his arms waving, tossing IV lines around like so much fishing tackle. The rest of his body lay like concrete.
“Stop!” Cheryl Beth yelled, dropping the chart on the bed and clenching her hands. The man was suddenly silent.
“You want to help us help you? Or you want trouble?” She waved her arm, beckoning him out of the bed. “You think you’re such a bad-ass! Get out of that bed. I’m not afraid of you!”
The man looked at her with wide eyes.
“Come on. Let’s get it on.”
“I… I…”
“Get out of that bed. I’ll fight you.”
“It’s okay, lady,” he said. “Just take it easy.”
***
The doctor was smiling when Cheryl Beth left, but just beyond the smile stood the black detective, Dodds. He intercepted her and they walked together toward the elevators.
