Page 21 of Bobby Green
With a heave he pulled back the covers, settled her between the sheets before tucking them up to her chin.
“Sing me a song, little brother,” she commanded.
He looked around the bedroom and thought about all the work ahead, and his shoulder ached—and still bled. But she looked dazed and lost after her outburst, andOh, V—I owe you so damned much.
His mouth twisted, and he began to sing “Puff, the Magic Dragon,” which was pretty, and he knew all the words to it. He’d heard from kids at school that it was about smoking pot, but that couldn’t take away the purity of the little boy and the imaginary friend Reg had first thought of when his mother sang it to the two of them, or when V had sung it to him.
When he was done, her eyes were closed and she was snoring softly. He stood up and started collecting dishes, thinking he had to have her room and the kitchen clean before he called Dex and asked if he knew anyone who could stitch him up.
IN FACT,Dex knew one of the guys was fucking to get through med school, and within an hour Lance was at Reggie’s house, a tall guy with a square, chiseled jaw, blue eyes, an eight-inch cock, and a little first aid kit of purloined supplies under his arm.
“You’re not going to get into trouble?” Reg asked after Lance had—blissfully—injected the area with some lidocaine and begun irrigating it. “I don’t want you to get into trouble for stealing drugs or anything.”
“No,” Lance said absently, and Reg felt some pressure against his flesh, which told him Lance was doing things that would ordinarily hurt. “I won’t get in trouble because I have a kit for emergencies, and I’m not giving you anything that’s regulated. Butyouare going to be in a world of hurt here if you don’t go to a real doctor and get yourself some antibiotics. What happened, and why won’t you tell me?”
“You know what happened,” Reg said, too weary to play with words or do anything fancy. Lance had been here before to hook up. Had met V.
“She went off her meds again,” Lance muttered, sounding mad.
“It happens sometimes, but she got really tricky about it. I’m gonna have to watch her close for a couple of weeks. It’s okay if I’m gone for short bits—to the gym, to film a scene. As long as I can come home for lunch, I can hold the lights for Dex. But until she gets back online—”
“I get it,” Lance grunted, tugging on Reg’s back some more. “Can I just say, you would have made my job a hell of a lot easier if you’d called me about two hours earlier? Why didn’t you do that?”
Reg thought about all the blood he’d had to mop up from the floor when he’d finished recovering the pills. “I had to clean up first,” he said, embarrassed. “I needed to see how many of her pills I could save, and her room was attracting rats.” He glanced around again. The paint was peeling off the doorframes, the walls hadn’t been washed in forever, and the furniture had been tatty ten years ago. “I mean, it’s not pretty now.”
Behind him, Lance sighed, and Reg remembered their one scene together. Reg had made him laugh and feel comfortable. It had been Lance’s first bottom scene, and Reg had taken charge and done the thing. When they were done, they’d gone out to Hometown Buffet to eat, because they’d both starved themselves for the scene. Lance had cracked jokes like a twelve-year-old, and Reg had gazed into his blue eyes and thoughtI kissed that. I hitthat! How lucky am I?
It hurt for him to see Reg like this.
But Lance dropped a kiss on the top of Reg’s head. “I just want you to be okay, Reggie.”
“Digger,” he said automatically.
“Sure. This is a long cut—I’m talking fifteen stitches long. I don’t care what the house looks like—what are you doing to care for yourself?”
Reg leaned to the side a little, looked up at Lance, and grinned. “I’m having a friend stitch up my owie.”
An odd look of pain crossed Lance’s handsome features. “Yeah. Okay. There’s that. Look, I’m going to call a colleague and see if I can’t get some antibiotics for you to take, and then I’m going to stay here and study tonight so you can get some sleep. Is that okay?”
Reg blinked at him, his eyes stinging again. “Would you?” he begged, feeling pathetic and naked. “I’m never sure the meds are taking—not the first night after an episode, anyway.”
Lance nodded. “Reg—”
“Digger.”
“Digger—I hate to ask, but, are yousureyou don’t want to see about a state care facility?”
Reg shook his head. “She hates them,” he said softly, remembering her violence. “Our mom put her in one when I was a kid, and then they let her out and… and she was different.”
“Where’s your mom now?” Lance asked.
“Who knows,” Reg said, staring glumly at the linoleum. She’d taken off a short time after Queenie. “I think she was just as lost as I am.”
Lance kissed his temple then, not like a fuck buddy, but like a brother. Reg closed his eyes and realized he didn’t know if Lance hooked up with a lot of guys when he wasn’t at work, and then realized he didn’t care. Lance was a friend right now, and Reg needed one of those so damned bad he couldn’t breathe.
LANCE STAYEDthe night, as promised.
Veronica woke up at around six in the evening. Reg—shoulder comfortably numb, as long as he went shirtless with just the bandage on it—made her dinner, and they sat in front of the television for a while. Then he made her take her medication—all of it—and took her up to her bed and her newly cleaned room.