Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
The blare of sirens and flashing red lights cut through the tranquil afternoon, jolting the residential neighborhood like a cattle prod. A pedestrian walking her dog paused at the bottom of the driveway. The house was set far from the street, making it difficult to see anything clearly, but the emergency vehicles backing into the driveway told the story. And yeah, they sent an ambulance and a fire engine.
Enid flashed credentials and stepped aside to let the EMTs transfer Jasper from the wheelchair to a gurney. Once he was situated on the truck, she hopped aboard and gave a thumbs-up sign to Lorenzo. A few seconds later, they were gone.
But the fire engine was still there and in the ensuing chaos, I forgot to worry about anyone recognizing me. That didn’t last long.
A firefighter built like a lumberjack waved as he approached us, then stopped dead in his tracks, squinting at me with his mouth wide open. Shit. Before I could work out what to say, I spotted Raul charging forward like a badass, his lips stretched in a firm line as he barked something into his headset.
“Oh, my God! This is a lot,” Lorenzo squeaked.
“You handle the fireman, I’ve got Raul.”
“Handle him…how? He’s going to ask oxygen and breathing questions or something about you and—” He blinked wildly and licked his lips. “What am I supposed to say?”
Fuck if I knew.
“Okay. I’ve got this.” I held up one hand in Raul’s direction and pasted a friendly smile on my face to greet the firefighter who was now unapologetically gaping at me.
“Are you—is this? I—uh…Pierce Allen, right? Baxter?”
I swallowed my sigh and inclined my chin. “Good to meet you.”
“Oh, wow. Yeah, man. It’s an honor. I’m Brian, and I’m like…nutso crazy about your movies. Not kidding either,” he gushed enthusiastically.
“Thanks, Brian. That means a lot. Hey, I need to get my friend to the hospital, so—”
“Hop in. We’ll take both of you.”
Raul stepped forward as if to quietly remind me of protocol. There was no such thing as an anonymous ride to ER for me. I couldn’t get in that truck without creating a buzz. The media would descend and the circus would begin.
“Thanks, but it’s not for me,” I replied vaguely, gesturing to Lorenzo. “Will you take him, please?”
“No, that’s okay. Thank you very much. Mr. G is with Enid, and she’ll give me an update.”
The firefighter smiled kindly, then turned back to me.
“Can I get a selfie?”
4
LORENZO
This couldn’t be real—the movie star, the bodyguard, the throng of admiring firefighters, Mr. Gowan in the hospital…
That last one freaked me out. This wasn’t Mr. G’s first rodeo. His respiratory issues were the reason Enid was hired in the first place. I knew he’d been to the hospital on multiple occasions over the past year or so, but never while I was around.
I’d never heard him cough like that. He’d sounded…awful. I didn’t know how I could possibly help. But hanging out with a bunch of fawning firefighters striking their best Baxter poses with the legend himself was not it.
I hooked my thumb toward the house. “I should clean up. Thanks for everything.”
Pierce called for me to wait up, but I was already racing for the kitchen door.
My hands trembled as I checked my cell. I sent a quick text to Bran to let him know that I’d been delayed, but would be at the store as soon as possible. Then I cleared the dishes from the dining room and rolled up my sleeves.
Pierce walked in just as I opened the dishwasher. “That was—fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t see that coming.”
It was tempting to blame him for sending an old man to the hospital, but that wasn’t fair.
I sighed. “Mr. G’s health problems aren’t your fault. Though I wish you’d been a tad more delicate about your accusations.”
“Delicate? I was as nice as I could possibly be.” He threw his hands in the air and paced from the side door to the refrigerator on the opposite end of the kitchen. “He answered one question and gave me something else to spin over. And now he’s in the hospital. I mean, who the fuck is David?”
“Maybe he’s your cousin?”
Pierce grunted, pushing his fingers through his hair as he completed another lap. “Does Gowan have dementia?”
“No, and you need to relax. You’re making my head hurt.”
He held his hands up in surrender. “Yeah, well, I can’t help it. Adrenaline is buzzing in my veins now, and I’m sort of trained to be paranoid about anything that might end up being a PR nightmare.”
I sent an incredulous glance his way as I rinsed a bowl. “Get over yourself, Mr. Hollywood. Mr. Gowan is harmless.”
“Maybe. Probably. But you gotta admit, he remembered an awful lot about a child he knew seventy-plus years ago and didn’t see very often.”