Roll Me Away: A Smokey's Roadhouse Novel (14 page)

I
was getting bored
and ready to rip out all the lines and tubes and get out of there when the occupational therapist finally showed up two days after my accident. She was a chipper little blonde, which for some reason pissed me off.

“Took you long enough,” I snarled.

“Mr. Hayes, I’m sorry you feel we’ve neglected you. The truth is, you needed this time to begin to heal. This will go better for both of us if you can put aside your anger for a moment. Please understand, I’m not the one who put you in this position.”

“Oh, and I am?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I understand a car clipped your back tire. I’m only saying I’m not the enemy.”

Grudgingly, I backed down. There was no point in alienating the woman. I couldn’t smile, or concede, but I stopped needling her. She was right. It wasn’t her fault.

She put me through my paces, asking me to move this or that, mostly my extremities. I already knew I could clench my hands. Ever since I’d done it involuntarily, I’d been practicing, opening and shutting them. When she praised the strength of my grip on a little rubber ball, I felt I’d accomplished something.

That feeling went down the drain when I tried to move my toes. Her lips thinned, and she made a note on her clipboard. That didn’t look good.

“Well? Did they move?”

“The doctor will be in with a full report.”

“Bullshit. You were happy to tell me when I did well with my hands. What the fuck does it mean when you won’t say? I’m not an idiot. My legs are paralyzed, aren’t they? I’m not gonna walk again, much less get on a bike or fuck my girl. Get out.”

“Mr. Hayes, I’m going to ask you not to use crude language. There’s no reason for it. I understand your frustration. Actually, I should not have reacted to your success with your hands. All my statement meant is that I am not authorized to interpret the tests for you. Please, just wait for the doctor.”

I wasn’t convinced. It was a cop out, a way to avoid telling me a harsh truth, and she was probably right to dodge my question. I was likely to strangle the person who told me for sure I was crippled for life, if I could reach them.

I wanted to punch a wall, or get drunk and pass out. There was no way to relieve my anger except yell at the people who I knew were trying to help me. I should have apologized to her, but I didn’t. After a minute, she left without another word.

If I couldn’t be civil to the medical professionals, how would I act toward Cricket, if she even came back? Mom came to visit, and I asked her about Cricket. Instead of answering, Mom scolded me for turning Cricket away, and changed the subject. After that, I didn’t ask, fearing that the reason for her non-answer was that Cricket had already left me. I knew about her losing her job. Mom saw to that.

It seemed like an eternity before Dr. Wang came in that evening with the results of the tests.

“Good evening, Mr. Hayes. How are you enjoying our hospitality? Does the food suit you?”

I shot him a poisonous look.
Not in the mood for jokes, buddy.
He sighed, and opened the file he carried.

“All right, down to business then. The good news is that you will be going home in a few weeks. We’ve determined that your injury is stable. Normal movement and the exercises we’ll prescribe will not further the damage. The bad news is that you’ll need to be here daily for physical and occupational therapy. We won’t know until time passes just how full a recovery you can make, but I can confidently say that if you’re willing to work, I believe you can walk again.”

What? Did he say…?

It took me a minute to catch my breath. When his words registered, it was as if I’d been right under a plane when it passed the sound barrier. All the air was sucked out of the room, and a psychic
boom
temporarily deafened me. When I found my voice, I shouted, “Doc, are you serious?”

“I assure you, I am not in the habit of joking about such matters,” he said. But his face was all smiles. Maybe I was going to get to like him after all.

“Can you give me anything else? I mean, how long? What kind of work? Will I be able to earn a living while I’m doing this?” As I rapidly fired the questions at him, he tried in vain to answer before the next question, until I had to breathe. Then he took the opportunity to get a word in.

“As to the last question, that depends on your skills. It will be some months before you can perform physical labor. The work will be several hours a day of therapy that we will design for you. I can’t answer your first question. There has been nerve damage, which is difficult to measure. Over the next few weeks, we will perform some other tests that may be able to tell us more. For now, I would guess you are looking at several months of therapy at a minimum. I would not make any plans to go climbing mountains, or surfing.”

I couldn’t keep a silly grin off my face as I tried to answer him in the same vein. “No MMA events, huh?”

“Definitely not.” He gave me a severe look. “You are joking, are you not? Participation in such events may negate my earlier prognosis that your injury will not be aggravated by normal movement.”

That was more syllables in one sentence than I’d ever heard. When I sorted it out, I had to laugh. “Don’t worry, Doc, I’m not an MMA fighter. Just an ordinary motorcycle jock.”

Dr. Wang attempted a severe expression as he said, “I would advise you to stay off of motorcycles for the time being, as well.”

W
hen Mom came
by that evening, she had Carl in tow. He hated the hospital. It was written all over his face and showed in the way he fidgeted the whole time. I could tell he had something to say to me that couldn’t be said in front of Mom. Too bad. He should have come on his own. But the looks he kept giving me when Mom wasn’t watching finally made me ask her if she’d get me a coffee from the vending machine. I hoped that would be enough time.

As soon as she left, he came closer.

“I have a message from Jake.”

“I don’t want to hear it. That fucker threatened to mess me up, and as you can see, I’m already messed up.”

“You need to hear it. The cops are going to be here tomorrow to ask you about what was in the saddlebags.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

He leveled a stare at me. “That’s what the message is about. You need to know. There was enough crystal in there to warrant a felony rap. You’re gonna take it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You might as well. Lamest excuse in the book is ‘it wasn’t mine’.”

“I’m not going to prison for a club I’m not even a member of. I have a chance to walk again, Carl. I need therapy, though. I can’t go to prison.”

“You also have a chance to get dead if you roll over on Jake. The old men, they’re no threat. But Jake and his boys are a different matter. And besides, if you don’t cooperate, I could lose their business.”

“Fuck you, Carl.”

The words were barely out of my mouth before Mom breezed through the door with three cups of coffee balanced carefully between her long fingers. Holding them out to Carl as she passed him, she shifted them so he could take the outside cup and then handed me one. While her back was to him, Carl narrowed his eyes at me.

I smiled at her. “Thanks, Mom. Hey. What’s Cricket doing? Does she know I’m sorry she lost her job? I need to see her.”

Mom beamed back at me. “I’ll tell her. She’s been sad you wouldn’t see her before.”

“I’ve got better news for her now.”

Carl jiggled his knee while I told Mom what the doctor had said, and she made happy noises. When the nurse came in with my pain meds, both of them got up to go. Mom kissed my cheek and then went to the door. Carl came over and squeezed my shoulder. “You know what to do,” he said.

A
fter several days
, I’d stopped looking over my shoulder. I was convinced that I’d just been paranoid. What Jake had yelled about the accident being my fault didn’t even make sense. I couldn’t think of any reason it would have been my fault, so I came to the conclusion he’d just lashed out because he could see me, and he was angry about his bike.

When Rose told me Zach was ready to see me, and also told me the good news that he should make a full recovery, I was over the moon. Therefore, I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have been when I started to cross the street from the bus stop to the hospital on the morning following his invitation.

I was halfway across the street when an unholy roar alerted me to motorcycles coming straight for me. Instead of running for the safety of the sidewalk, I froze. With my shoulders hunched and my arms held straight to my sides in an effort to make myself as small a target as possible, I stood in the middle of the street while five motorcycles raced past me so close I could feel the air being sucked into the vacuum the left as they passed.

First one on one side, and then one on the other, even two at a time. And it didn’t stop. As soon as they were past, they’d skid in a U-turn and race back at me. It seemed to go on forever, until suddenly they were gone.

When the noise cleared from my head, I took a tentative step forward only to realize that I’d peed myself. Ugh. I couldn’t go in to see Zach like this. I looked down the street, trying to remember where the nearest department or discount store was. I needed to buy some underwear. Before I’d even made it onto the sidewalk, a serious-looking man grabbed my arm, forcing a scream from my throat.

“Take it easy, Miss Baxter. I’m Detective Rogers, and this,” he continued, indicating a woman I hadn’t seen before, “is my partner, Detective Billings. We’d like a word with you.”

“I…”

“We saw what happened. If you’d like, Detective Billings can take you somewhere to calm your nerves. Would you like to go into the hospital for a cup of coffee?”

“No! I mean, no, thank you. May I speak to Detective Billings privately?”

With a mystified expression, Rogers backed off. I spoke in a low voice to the female officer. “I need to change… uh…”

Her eyes widened. “Of course. I’ll take care of it.”

She led me to the sidewalk and had me wait while she explained our errand to her partner. At this rate, I was racking up humiliation after humiliation. At least he made an attempt not to laugh.

L
ess than an hour later
, I sat in an interrogation room in the precinct, attempting to explain why I doubted very seriously that Zach was guilty of dealing the cocaine they said they’d found in the wreck. They weren’t buying my reasoning. “I just don’t think he would.”

The next question made my blood run cold.

“Are you aware of any other criminal dealings by your boyfriend, his stepfather, or the motorcycle club the Dust Devils?”

“Th-that’s a b-broad question.”

“Not too broad for you to answer it, Miss Baxter. It’s a simple yes or no.”

“I think I’d like a lawyer.”

“That’s all right. You’re free to go.”

That was the last thing I expected to hear. “I am?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for your cooperation. Do you need a lift back to the hospital?”

The turnaround was baffling. They had to know that my asking for a lawyer meant the answer to their question about my knowledge of criminal activity was yes. Why were they letting me go? And offering to take me back to the hospital? It made no sense.

W
hen I finally got to
Zach’s room, he was sitting up in bed, and he looked pale but good. He smiled when he saw me, even though I was late and probably looked like I’d just been through an ordeal, which I had.

“Cricket! Thanks for coming. I thought you’d be here before.” He didn’t make it an accusation, but I was so on edge I snapped back at him.

“Well, if your club hadn’t played dodgeball on their motorcycles with me as the ball, and if two cops hadn’t picked me up right after that, I
would
have been here sooner.” I felt bad for it immediately afterward. Neither of those things was his doing, but I’d been blaming him anyway. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a rough hour or two.”

I raised my eyes to look at him, and noticed he looked stricken. “Zach? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“What did they do exactly?”

“Who? The club? Or the cops?”

“The club first.”

I told him, and then told him about the cops saying there was cocaine in the saddlebags.

“That’s bullshit. Jake’s not a Boy Scout, but that’s not what... Something’s wrong with this picture.”

Ignoring the sentence he’d cut off abruptly, I continued my story. As I related the strange happenings at the precinct, Zach grew more and more puzzled. Finally, I came to the part where they simply let me go and offered me a ride to the hospital.

“I was pretty sure they’d arrest me when I stopped cooperating, but they just
gave up
, like I’d convinced them I didn’t know anything instead of the opposite.”

“Yeah, it’s strange all right. Maybe Carl can shed some light on it. Let’s not worry about it right now. I have some good news!”

I pasted a smile on my face, even though I had more concern than he apparently did about what had happened to me. “I heard! Your mom says you can make a full recovery?”

“Well, the doctor says he’s cautiously optimistic. But he has to say it that way. He can’t hold out false hope. Cricket, I have to ask you something.”

I dreaded what was coming, but it wasn’t what I thought.

“Do you hate me for making you lose your job?”

“No! Of course not. I mean, I’m bummed that I lost it, but I don’t blame you. I blame Jake and those assholes he calls friends.”

“Well, I’m not without blame. But if you don’t hate me, is it too much to ask for you to stay here in Rawlins? I think we have something, and I’d like to know if we can see where it goes. But I can’t hold you back. It’s going to be a long time before I’m back to normal, if I ever am. Was what we started enough to make you want more?”

Instead of answering him, I countered with a question of my own. “The other day, when you were brought in and then Jake and his gang showed up, they said you wrecking the bike was all my fault. When I got kicked out of the hospital, I didn’t know if they’d be waiting to beat me up or what. Thank God they weren’t around, and I got home okay. But then they did that thing today. I want to know what they were talking about, it being my fault. And I want to know if I’m in danger.”

“I don’t have a clue, Cricket. Maybe Jake thought I was distracted or something. I think if they were going to do anything, they’d have done it already. Not just frightening you, but something worse.”

“Worse how?”

He shook his head. “Honestly, baby. I don’t know. I can’t figure out any of it. But if you’re scared, you should move. Go to Denver or somewhere. Far enough away they won’t want to chase you there, but close enough I can maybe see you sometimes. If you want me to, that is.”

“Can you handle it if I don’t know yet? I care about you, Zach. I care a lot. I just don’t know if I’m prepared to…”

“To live with a cripple.” He finished my sentence with no emotion in his tone, but I felt the judgment.

“No! You aren’t going to be ‘
a cripple
.’ By the way, who says that? You aren’t going to be paralyzed, and even if you’re somewhat
physically challenged
, it’s not that, Zach, I promise! I don’t know if I’m a good enough person.”

“I think you are, but I won’t hold you back. Yeah. If you mean can you stick around and see what it’s going to be like, and will I be okay if you leave after that, then give me some credit. I’m not a fucking fifteen-year-old. If you break my heart, I’ll live.”

“Zach! Would it really break your heart?”

“Yeah, I think it fucking might.”

In that moment, I knew I had to give it a chance. Because I thought it might break my heart to leave, but I was scared to death I’d let him down.