Perfect Match (19 page)

Roscoe gave him a sideways glance. “Don’t mention that
again. That was partial thanks for you being my friend all these years, when I
wasn’t much of a friend.” He paused. “We’re both in survival mode, but we’ll
get through it.”

Billy nodded, slapping both hands on his thighs, saying,
“Got to get going. Don’t want to be late getting back from lunch. Let me know
if I can pick up anything else for you.”

After Billy left, Roscoe went through all the items in the
bags again, double checking the paper work, and the merchandise. After
rearranging everything back in the bags, he wheeled down to the sunroom,
positioning his chair next to a small table.

Thirty minutes later he heard the soft wheels of Selena’s
chair enter the sunroom.

“I’ve been waiting for the resident writer to arrive. I have
some more questions about your novel.”

Selena smiled. “No rest for a writer. Her public is very
demanding.” She released her giggle, and brought her chair at an angle to his.
“So what’s the burning question?”

“Yesterday you gave me a lot of description of the woman
character, but I was wondering when does the reader learn all of that?”

She beamed at his question. “Not all at once. Yesterday I
was reading from my character description of her. I have several pages of
details about her and other characters, most of which readers will never know.
But as the writer, I need to know each character thoroughly. As the story moves
along, bits and pieces will be revealed that will help the reader form an image
of each character.” She paused. “Think of it this way; when you date a woman
you don’t learn everything about her in the first five minutes.”

He nodded. “True. I think I’m catching on. You’ve really got
my curiosity up.” He looked around over his shoulder toward the nurses’ desk,
and said in a low voice, “Please don’t tell Rachel I’m reading a romance.
That’ll tarnish my image with her.”

She laughed. “For you, I’ll keep it a secret. Oh, my mom
said she’d bring my flash drive and a couple other things.”

“Great.” He reached for one of the bags on the other side of
his chair, and handed it to her. “In the meantime, I’ve got something for you.”

She let the plastic bag rest on her lap. A puzzled smile
crossed her face, as she looked at him. “What is—?”

“Well, take a look and find out.”

She pulled the plastic bag away and stared at the black
leather case. “What…” She unzipped the case and raised the top portion, looking
at the shiny surface inside. “What…a computer…? Roscoe you can’t…this isn’t—”

He interrupted. “I can tell you have a serious interest in
writing. I thought this would help.”

When she looked up at him, her eyes were watering. “Oh,
Roscoe, you are so thoughtful…but…my mom has always had a rule against gifts
from strangers. I don’t think she will let me accept it. I mean…she doesn’t
know you—”

“Maybe I can meet her soon.”

Selena froze inside. “Well, maybe, but… Her voice drifted.
Her hands slid across the computer top and her fingers eased it open, eyes
scanning the keyboard. Her delicate hands lightly touched the clean keys.

He knew she was torn. She liked it, but still wanted to mind
her mom. His thoughts were racing. “Why don’t we do this to respect your mom’s
rule? Let’s say the computer belongs to me, but I’d like to loan it to you for
as long as you want to borrow it. You can return it anytime, fifteen minutes,
fifteen days, whatever. Would that work?”

Smiling innocently, she said, “Well, Mom never said anything
about borrowing...”

“My lips are sealed. I’m not going to tell her.” He laughed.

She pulled her chair closer to his, facing him. She reached
up with both arms, pulling his broad shoulders down and hugged him, whispering,
“Thank you for thinking of me. I know you’re a good man, Roscoe. Somehow, I
just know.” She held his eyes for a moment.

When she leaned back in her chair, she pulled a tissue from
her canvas bag and dabbed her eyes.

Roscoe was blinking, thinking what a special daughter this
young woman is.

He gave her the other bag. “Some additional accessories are
in here, including a couple of flash drives, ear phones, and AC adapter, with
surge protector. I had the store install Microsoft Office, and virus
protection, plus the computer battery has been pre-charged, so it’s ready to
use.

“I’ve checked with the hospital and you’re able to use their
wireless service by entering the code posted on your room information packet.”
He pulled out a scrap of paper. “Here’s my new email address. I expect to get
mail from you.” He chuckled.

“You’ll get plenty.” She giggled. “I probably won’t sleep a
wink tonight. I still can’t believe you did this for me.” She shook her head.

But Roscoe was not as excited for the night as Selena was.

After Selena went to her room for supper and her evening
meds, Roscoe had worked on his business plans, forced himself to take a
two-hour snooze in the hospital lounge chair. He felt refreshed after finishing
supper and munched on an orange and apple from the fruit Billy had brought him.
He wished he’d asked him to bring a Starbucks.

The next three hours dragged. TV was boring, so he turned on
his Tablet, checking out a few details on the internet. He made a call to his
brother, Rodney, who was still managing the L.A. office, and got caught up on
how his divorce was proceeding.

Roscoe learned that Hollis was facing some serious legal
problems. He wasn’t sure he understood fully what had happened with or to
Hollis, since he was no longer in the “loop” at Fallington. He could tell that
Rodney chose his words carefully when he spoke of the business. Just as well,
he thought, I made such a mess of everything. He felt embarrassed, as he
thought about it.

He knew he’d made life miserable for Madison and felt
terrible about it now. Why didn’t I see how unkind I was toward her? She really
was a hard worker in spite of being bullied by me. He grimaced at the irony of
his grandmother’s justice, by reducing his wages to $24,000 a year. He thought,
how will I be able to face Madison to ask her for a job?

He knew that wallowing in guilt would not solve real
problems. He was learning quickly to take the “medicine” given him by the
hospital as well as life. He continued mulling over lots of things he wanted to
correct or set right once he got out of the hospital.

The sounds of the fourth floor were beginning to lessen.
Most visitors had left. Patients were dropping off to sleep. He was glad he’d
taken the nap earlier. He was wide awake, listening, waiting.

The clock on his wall was ticking toward 9:50 p.m., when he
heard the shuffling footsteps coming down the hall. He was sitting in his
wheelchair in the darkness of his room. His door was half open; he had a good
view of the hall. He listened. The footsteps had stopped, and then started
again. They were coming from his left.

He eased his chair to the edge of darkness, still shielding
him. The footsteps shuffled along, and Gregory came into view. He must have
come from work. He was wearing a company uniform shirt, with his dirty jeans.
The wallet chain made a brushing sound against the denim. Gregory passed on by
his door.

Roscoe quietly rolled his chair to his doorway, looking to
the left then to the right, watching Gregory shuffle down the hall. He knew he
had to time everything just right. He’d thought through his plan over and over.
The coast was clear, but he waited.

Gregory paused between room 401 and 400, looking back over
his shoulder, then toward room 400. He stepped quietly, no longer shuffling.
When he reached the door, he placed his hand on the door handle, pushing down,
opening the door about a foot, pausing, appearing to listen. He placed the palm
of his hand against the door, pushing slowly.

His next step didn’t happen. The wheelchair from room 405
silently streaked for him, Roscoe’s arms revving the velocity. With
split-second timing Roscoe grabbed the wallet chain with his right hand, and a
handful of shirt with his left. Gregory spun around. Roscoe held on. His chair
toppled, clanging.

Roscoe called, “Security! Security!”

Gregory’s face smashed the floor. “What the hell?” Blood
splattered.

Roscoe’s right foot banged the floor. He winced.

They both slid against the wall, Roscoe hitting the right
side of his forehead.

There was a flutter of nurses’ feet.

Roscoe had Gregory pinned to the floor. Gregory moaned.

A nurse spoke. “Security’s on the way.”

Roscoe looked up. “I caught this guy coming out of room 400.
He needs to be checked out. He’s doped up.”

More footsteps flapped down the hall.

A uniformed arm reached down, helping Roscoe. “Okay, we’ve
got him now. You can turn loose of him.”

Nurses surrounded Gregory, tending him according to
procedure. A nurse rolled a gurney closer.

Rachel gave assignments to the other nurses and assigned
another nurse to assist her with Roscoe. He refused a gurney, insisting on
riding in his wheelchair back to his room. Rachel and the other nurse followed
alongside, and went to work on his split forehead.

Rachel said, “Okay, let’s take this one step at a time,
since this might be a long night. We’ll take you down to ER and have that foot
examined. We’ve stopped the bleeding, but ER is going to want to examine your
head also. Did you get that, Fallington, you’re going to get your head examined
again. Lucky you.”

He managed to chuckle. “You’re wasting your time. Nothing
has changed up there.”

“Glad you’ve still got that sense of humor.” She paused.
“What happened out there?”

Roscoe gave them a short sterilized version. Guy looked
suspicious. I caught him. End of story.

After the other nurse left for her regular duties, Rachel
remained in his room.

He asked, “Is Selena okay?”

“Yes, the other patients have all been checked. Selena was
still sleeping. We haven’t disturbed her. We’re guarding her room until the
authorities complete fingerprinting and investigating. ”

“Good. I know security will want to take a statement from
me, but I’d like to remain anonymous in this if possible. I’ve had enough
publicity.”

She studied him. “But this is good publicity.”

“Please?”

She heard steps behind her. She looked over her shoulder.
“Come on in; here’s the guy you need to talk with.”

Roscoe rolled his eyes.

Security went down their list of required questions. Roscoe
cooperated. When finished, he said, “I’d like to remain anonymous. Let you guys
be the heroes. You were on top of the situation the second I alerted you.
That’s all I did, alert you. I don’t want any publicity from this.”

The security guy studied Roscoe with suspicion. “I’m not
quite getting this. What are you trying to hide from? Maybe we need to
investigate you.”

Roscoe was shaking his head, with a quizzical look. “In that
case, I’ve changed my mind. I want you to be sure that my name is given to the
media, because once they have my name
they’ll
want to ask me some
questions. You know how snoopy the media is, right? And I have some statements
that I want to make publicly.

“I want to tell them that security is so lax that the poor,
sick patients have to protect themselves in the dark of night because drugged
up strangers can roam the halls unnoticed, because the lazy security spends all
their time in the break room snacking, and gossiping. Furthermore I’m suing
security, and the hospital staff for negligence…shall I go on?”

“Okay, Mr. Fallington, I get your point. Sorry to have
bothered you.”

“You didn’t bother me. Just let me be an unnamed
patient...keep me anonymous.”

“I’ll take care of it.” He turned for the door.

Roscoe exhaled deeply as security left. He was beginning to
relax, when the assistant from ER rolled in with a gurney to take him to ER for
further poking, prodding, and X-ray.

He stared at the ceiling as they rolled him down the hall
toward the elevator. I’ve got to get out of this hospital, he thought. Staying
in the hospital is hazardous to one’s health.

Sunday

It was two in the morning before Roscoe was taken back to
his room, after getting six stitches on his right forehead, a re-bandage on his
foot, and an okay from X-ray and other exam procedures.

Although tired when he awoke at daybreak, he was not going
to stay in the damn hospital bed. He cleaned up, dressed, and was waiting for
breakfast, when he made a phone call. “Is Ned Stringer on duty this morning?”
He paused, listening. “Let me speak with him please.” He waited listening to
the squawk talk in the background.

“Hey, Ned, listen. Remember the Starbucks guy? Yeah, yeah,
that’s me, Roscoe. Good. Listen, how about picking us up a couple of drinks
this morning. You get what you want, but make mine a Vinti regular coffee,
black.” He listened. “I’ll pay you for the coffees, and yes I realize you’re
not running a free delivery service.” He cocked his head. “Well, if you don’t
want to do this, I guess I’ll give the tip to one of your competitors.” He
listened again, chuckling. “Thanks, Ned. I’m in room 405.” He ended the call
thinking, everything has to be bargained for.

His breakfast tray had been cleared away, when Ned rustled
through the door, holding out the beloved coffee tray from Starbucks. Roscoe
reached for the Venti, saying, “Ned, you just made my day. Have a seat.”

Ned sat in the extra chair. “Here’s the receipt,” extending
his hand, “and thanks. I got me one of these Frappos, like last time. Man these
things are go-o-d, but they must be loaded with caffeine. I was wide-awake most
of that night, but I ain’t complaining, my girlfriend was wide-awake too.” He
laughed.