CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CAPONE
“Answer the phone, Goddamnit! Please just answer the fucking phone.” When I get Holly’s voicemail for the umpteenth time, I throw the phone across the hospital waiting room. I’ve been calling her, and Maverick non-stop since I found Tara on the floor. Hell, I’ve called every member of the fucking club at this point and not one of them has answered the phone.
I spear my fingers through my hair and tug at the ends. Images of Tara lying unconscious on the tile floor, me begging her to wake up and checking her for a pulse only to find a faint one, fill my head. I’ve never been more terrified in my life.
My first call was to Maverick. When he didn’t answer, I immediately called 9-1-1. An ambulance arrived within five minutes, and the paramedics started working on her, but nothing they did seemed to get her vitals back up.
I rode in the ambulance with her, but as soon as we arrived here, they took her into the emergency room, and I haven’t heard a word since. I keep beating myself up because when the paramedics asked me if I was next of kin, I said no. Now, I can’t get in touch with anyone who is, and nobody is telling me anything.
I don’t want to leave her here by herself or I’d go to fucking Sally’s and drag them all out of there by their fucking nose hairs.
I just wish someone would tell me what to do.
Feeling unhinged, I stalk toward the nurse’s station. The same nurse who refuses to give me any updates spots me and rolls her eyes before she whispers something to the nurse beside her. It takes everything in me not to pull a John Q on this bitch. The only difference is my gun has more than one bullet.
“Sir, I already told you, there’s no update on Miss. Burnside. Now, I’m going to need you to take a seat. There was a mass shooting in town, with multiple casualties and several injuries. This place is about to be bombarded. You should be trying to get in touch with her next of kin while you wait, that way there is someone we can speak to when we have something to report.”
Dread churns in my gut. Dismissing her flippant attitude, I lean over the counter separating us and get directly in her face. Her eyes go wide with fear, and for a split second I relish in the satisfaction.
“Where was the shooting?” I grind out.
“I…uh…” Her eyes dart behind me. “Security! This man is harassing me.”
“I asked you a fucking question. How is that considered harassment?”
“Sir,” the security guard calls from behind me. “Please step away from the counter or I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Glaring at the nurse, I clench my teeth. “I pray to God someone you care about gets sick, and you’re greeted with an unhelpful cunt like you.”
I pull myself together and comb my fingers through my hair before turning to the guard.
“You’re lucky I’m not escorting you out of here,” he says. “Another word out of you and I will.”
“She deserved it,” I argue. “She won’t fucking tell me a goddamn thing about the girl I brought in here.”
“The hospital is about to see an overload in which it hasn’t seen in years. The place is understaffed, and everyone here tonight is about to be overworked.” He shakes his head and presses the power button on the television hanging above his head before he starts flipping through the channels. “You think something like this would be all over the news.” Suddenly he stills, then slowly turns to me, his eyes zeroing in on the patches decorating my kutte. He doesn’t have to say a word, the expression on his face when he lifts his eyes to mine is all the confirmation I need.
“The shooting was at Sally’s BBQ.”
“I’m sorry,” he says as he powers off the television. “That’s your club’s place, isn’t it?”
I don’t respond. I can’t even fucking think. My legs start to give out, and I press a hand against the wall to keep myself from falling. Everything around me moves in slow motion. The sliding doors to the emergency room open, and paramedics race through them, pushing a gurney straight into the triage unit. Sirens blare, but I don’t hear them. All I hear is the ringing in my ears. Another ambulance pulls behind the first, and a second gurney flies past me.
The ringing starts to dull, but my vision begins to blur. The room spins and I hear someone call my name. It takes a minute for me to register the voice belongs to my sister, Lucia.
“Gianluca,” she cries, rushing toward me. She throws her arms around me as soon as she reaches me, but I don’t hug her back. My arms feel like lead. “I’m so sorry it took me so long.”
I have no idea what she’s referring to. She pulls out of my arms, but takes my hands in hers, squeezing them slightly. It’s then that I realize she’s in her scrubs.
“She’s stable,” she whispers.
I stare at her blankly, unable to speak.
“I saw them bring her in, but I had other patients. Then I overheard the nurses talking about some guy making a scene, and when they described him, I knew it was you.”
“You’re talking about Tara.”
Cocking her head to the side, she squeezes my hands once again. “Who else would I be talking about?”
Something clicks inside my head, and I fight to make sense of it.
“You work in the cancer wing,” I say numbly.
“Yeah, but it’s all hands on deck tonight…” Her voice trails like she wants to reveal more to me, but something stops her. My guess its the Hippocratic oath.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
She sighs, her eyes bouncing around the waiting room before she brings them back to me and whispers, “Are Tara’s parents here?”
I’ve never been one to disclose club business with any member of my family, but there’s no hiding this one. I stare my sister straight in the eye and give her the grim, ugly truth.
“I don’t even know if Tara’s parents are alive.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That shooting everyone is talking about—it was at Sally’s. Tara’s parents were there with her little brothers. Fuck, my whole club was there, Lucia.” The weight of those words finally gets to me, and my eyes sting with unshed tears. “Everyone except me and Tara. No one is telling me anything. Not about them, and not about her.” My voice cracks. “I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m fucking drowning.” I pull my hands free from hers and lift them to my head. Tugging at my hair, I bend my knees and pray to a God I wronged.
My sister wraps me up in her arms, and I cry for the first time in years.
I cry for Tara.
I cry for her parents.
I cry for my brothers.
I think I even shed a tear for me.
“Listen to me, okay. I know this is hard, but you have to pull yourself together,” Lucia whispers. “If we can’t find her parents, we need to locate someone else who can make decisions for her.”
That makes me lift my head from her shoulder, and I roughly wipe my eyes. The only person I can imagine Holly and Maverick trusting to make decisions on behalf of any of their children is Shady. I don’t know why I didn’t think to call him. Holly wasn’t specific when she said everyone was going to Sally’s. Shady and Bianca could’ve been home this whole time, and it never occurred to me that I should call him.
I reach into my pocket for my phone, but then I remember in my fit of rage I threw it across the waiting room. I’m about to fetch it when I pause and turn to my sister.
“You said she was stable. What does that mean?”
She hesitates for a minute. “The doctors are running tests to try and figure out what’s wrong with her. Everything has come back clear so far. No strep. No flu.” She runs her fingers through her hair. “You told the paramedics she was sick all day and yesterday too. Is that right?”
I don’t know where she’s going with this, but it’s clear my sister knows more than she’s letting on. She definitely had to look at Tara’s chart or speak with the doctor assigned to her case.
Struggling for patience, I sigh. “Yes, I told them she had a fever, and that it came and went, but she didn’t have any cold symptoms. She was weak and slept most of the day. At one point I thought she was in pain, but I figured it was a headache or something like that.” I pause, recalling when the paramedics first got to the clubhouse. “They made it seem like she passed out from dehydration, but judging by the look in your eye, it’s a lot more than that.”
“I could lose my job for this.”
“Tell me,” I growl.
“I lied to you,” she whispers. “I didn’t see them bring Tara in.”
“Then how did you know she was here?”
“They called for oncology consult.”
Of course that made sense seeing as I knew she worked in the pediatric cancer wing, but it wasn’t registering. Tara had a fever; she didn’t have fucking cancer.
“Why would a doctor do that?”
“I’m guessing her blood panel flagged something, but if you wany my honest opinion, she has symptoms that correlate with Erwing Sarcoma.”
“Lucia, talk to me in English. Not all of us went to fucking medical school.”
“It’s a rare type of bone cancer that presents in people around her age.” She takes a step closer and lowers her voice. “The day you brought her to mom’s she had that leg pain, remember?”
“She’s been having that leg pain.”
“Okay, and you said there was a lump on her hip.”
I don’t know the difference between a lump and just a plain old bump, but slight as it was, there was something there. Still, I’m not convinced. Tara’s seventeen years old. She’s just got a virus or something. Maybe there’s an infection somewhere and it traveled from her bloodstream into her bones. I’m not sure that’s possible, but it sounds better than cancer.
“Are you telling me those are all symptoms of this…Irving Sar-whatever you said.”
“Erwing Sarcoma, and yeah, those can be prominent symptoms. Most of the time they ignored or misdiagnosed. Then other symptoms start to occur. The doctors are going to do a full a workup on her, they already ordered a CT scan and an MRI.”
The security guard appears again, interrupting us.
“Excuse me, the nurse over there said this is yours,” he says, handing me my phone. Thanking him, I take it from him. He nods and walks away, and I turn to my sister.
“Tell me I’m gonna wake up from this, that this is all one big nightmare,” I plead. I can barely recognize the sound of my own voice. It’s like I swallowed a bunch of nails, and they’re constricting my throat.
Lucia cups the side of my face and frowns. “I wish I could.”
I close my eyes and pull in a deep breath. I don’t want to insult my sister, or shit on her education, but she’s just an intern, and a CT scan and an MRI are just tests until they have results. Tara doesn’t have cancer, and her parents aren’t buried in a pile of rubble. This might not be a dream, but I refuse to accept it as reality.
Eyes open, I glance down at the phone in my hand, and I pull up Shady’s number. Hitting send, I press the phone to my ear. It rings, and rings until it goes to voicemail. I call again and he picks up.
“Please tell me you got Tara,” he begs.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I realize this is God doing me a favor, that telling Shady Tara is in bad shape will be hard, but not as devastating as it would be if it were Maverick I had to tell.
“Capone,” he shouts through the line. “Is Tara safe?”
“She wasn’t at Sally’s, she was with me, but I had to call an ambulance.”
“What happened?”
“She collapsed. I tried calling Maverick and Holly but…” My voice catches, and I have to force a swallow to continue, but I don’t get a chance to say another word because the phone dies in my hand.
Before my sister went back to her shift, she called our dad. Twenty minutes later he showed up to the hospital, dressed in the same clothes as he was that morning. He didn’t say anything as he sat down beside me, he just put his arm around my shoulders and let me know he was there. It’s been at least an hour since he arrived, and I still haven’t said a word or acknowledged his presence.
I keep glancing at the door, waiting to spot someone I know whether they be on a gurney or in a body bag, but every time those sliding doors open, it’s chaos. I stopped asking the nurse for an update on Tara. Everything Lucia had told me was more than I wanted to know.
So I continue to sit here helplessly with nothing but the memory of her smile to keep me going. I won’t let myself think about the kiss we shared. Recalling the feel of her lips and the way her body responded to mine is too much, and part of me wonders if that’s why we were here.
Is this punishment for taking something I shouldn’t have?
My dad clears his throat beside me. “Are you hungry? Your mother sent me with a sandwich for you, but I ate it on my way over here.”
Normally his antics would make me laugh, but all I do is shake my head.
He lets me be for a moment, then he tears his arms away from my shoulders and leans for his elbows on his knees.
Without looking at me, he says, “We can pray.”
The answer to everything in the Capizzone family.
I swallow hard, struggling to find my voice. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
His eyes slide toward me. “You begin with the Lord’s prayer, son.”
I stare at him quietly as he wills me to believe in a faith he instilled in me years ago, and he almost gets his wish, but I get derailed when I hear the familiar sound. It’s faint at first and muffled by the sound of sirens. But I know those pipes.
Rising from the chair, I leave my father where he sits, and I start for the entrance to the emergency room. An ambulance pulls up, those red and blue lights threatening to temporarily blind me. The paramedics rush out and race to the back doors. My gaze cuts to the truck that parks behind it, and it feels like I take my first full breath since finding Tara on the floor. Maverick rushes out from the driver’s seat and makes his way to the back of the ambulance.
The relief I felt only seconds ago vanishes as the paramedics try to push him out of the way. That familiar sound grows louder, and I divert my attention to the convoy of motorcycles that surround the entrance of the hospital. I try to take inventory, matching the bikes I recognize to their owners, but I get distracted when I see Shady rush for Maverick’s truck, Bianca hot on his heels. They open the back passenger doors. Shepard gets out first, looking completely unscathed, then Shady reaches in and lifts Theo into his arms. The kid is hysterical crying, clinging to his uncle. It’s like I scene from a movie, and I wish I had the power to turn it off.
Six patrol cars speed into the port, and it becomes a sea of men in uniform mixed with men who have made it their mission in life to fuck every law and every rule. My eyes cut back to Maverick, and that’s when Holly comes into my view. He lifts her from the ambulance and brings her to stand in front of him. A bandage is wrapped around her arm, but the injury goes ignored, as she laces her fingers through Maverick’s and they turn to the sliding doors I’ve been staring at for hours. Together they rush through the doors with Shady, Bianca, and the boys at their backs.
A hand touches my shoulder, and for a fleeting moment, my faith comes back to me, and I think it’s the Lord.
My Nonna has this plaque in her room. It’s a poem or maybe a prayer called Footsteps In The Sand , and it goes on to tell the story of a man walking on the beach. At first, he sees two sets of footprints in the sand, one is his and the other he attributes to being the Lord’s. Toward the end of the man’s life, he started to only see one set of footsteps and he questions it. After all, the Lord promised him if he chose to follow him, he’d walk through life with him. So why did he leave him all alone? The Lord responds, telling him the times he only saw one set of footprints in the sand represent all the times he carried him through the trials and tribulations of life.
It's my dad’s hand I feel on my shoulder, that I know—but maybe the good Lord put his hand there to remind of something I long forgot.
Maverick and Holly enter the emergency room, but it’s Maverick’s eyes that meet mine first. For as long as I live, I will never forget the look on his face.
“Where is she?” he rasps.
When I don’t answer quick enough, Holly rips her hand out of Maverick’s and charges for me. Tears stream down her cheeks as she beats her fists against my chest.
Just like I won’t forget the look on her husband’s face, I won’t forget the shrill sound of her sobs.
“Where’s my girl!?”
Maverick steps forward, hooking his arms under hers, and pulls her toward him, her back meets his bloodstained shirt, and they both stare at me expectantly.
“She’s stable, but…”
“But what?” Maverick demands.
I know Lucia told me all those things in confidence, but I can’t keep them to myself. Tara is their whole fucking world. They deserve to know.
“It’s not good, Maverick.”