Page 21 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

I shot an anxious glance at Lorenzo, who called for Enid. She immediately swooped in with oxygen and a wheelchair, and hooked a tube to his nose. He couldn’t stop coughing, though—deep, jarring coughs that had the power to rattle his ribs loose.

Not good.

A bolt of adrenaline shot through me. “What can I do? Does he need to be in the wheelchair?”

“Yes, but I can do it,” Enid replied.

“I’m right here. Let me help.” I waited for her brusque nod of approval, then scooped Jasper from his seat and deposited him gently onto the wheelchair where he doubled over, hacking and wheezing.

Enid attached some device she said monitored his oxygen levels, cooing sweetly as if soothing a child. It didn’t seem to be working. Jasper was more agitated than ever.

Lorenzo’s eyes were wide and panicky. “Well?”

“It’s too low. Far too low,” Enid reported, reaching for her cell. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No hos-pital. I’m f—”Cough, cough, cough.

Enid and Lorenzo shared a brief look before Lorenzo crouched at the old man’s side.

“It’s going to be okay,” he hummed calmly. “Enid’s getting your bag. She packed your silk pa-jajas and your rhinestone peacock slippers too.”

He heaved, gasping for air. “Th-thank you.”

Tears welled in Lorenzo’s eyes. He blinked them away and nodded.

Enid returned, whisking the wheelchair down the hall to a side entrance off the kitchen where a ramp was attached to the short set of stairs.

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 ambulanceanda 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?”