Page 23 of Hollywood Crush (West Wales Romance #2)
“Ambulance?” I asked. He still wasn’t completely in focus, just a shock of red hair and freckles and blue eyes. I could see why anyone would be honoured to be seen on his arm. “Look, Patrick, I have something to tell you…”
“Do you really think this is the right time?” Another voice, not Patrick’s. Stacey, close by. Another squeeze of my hand. Things were coming more in to focus now, and I looked at where she sat on my other side. “Two secs.”
“Right, if you can all piss off now!” she said to the assembled photographers and journalists.
“As you can see, Mr Ellison is in no position to make a statement. If you could all head towards the tent, a very spiky-haired lesbian is ready to take any and all questions you have. Go on, scramble. She has some great juicy gossip on exactly how the set for this show is being run.”
The assembled mass all moved off in the direction of the white tents in the distance and leaving me, Patrick and Stacey alone. “How are you feeling?” asked Patrick.
“Fine I don’t know what-” I tried to move away from him and was assaulted instantly with pain to my head and ankle, my head a low throbbing ache and my ankle stabbing pains. “Fuck, ow.”
And then it came back to me. The stuntmen. The running. Roland’s greedy little eyes as he pressed an explosive button he really should not have pressed.
I moved my head slowly from Patrick’s lap to look down at my feet. One was twisted at a ninety degree angle to the other and lay limp on the sand. Though my foot was still covered in a slipper, the ankle was deep purple and swollen.
“Oh God, gross.” I couldn’t help but keep looking at it even as it made me want to be sick.
“Yes, quite.” Patrick’s voice sounded faint.
“Ah, wusses. It’s just a scratch,” Stacey joked. I laughed weakly with her. If I didn’t try to move it, the pain lowered to a dull throb. So I laid as still as possible.
After I didn’t know how long, the sound of sirens permeated the air, and Stacey waved some people over.
A friendly face entered my vision. A handsome paramedic leaning over me with a gentle smile. “Hi, Mr Ellison. We’re here now. Everything is going to be OK.”
“With a face like that, I don’t know how it won’t be,” Stacey replied, and I chuckled again.
“We can’t get the ambulance down to the beach at the moment so we’re going to have to move you. I’ve got some painkillers on hand here and we’ll be as gentle as we can. Is that OK?”
“Yeah, sure, anything.” I waved a hand and then looked at Stacey. “Has anyone told Tudor?”
“Hotel guy?” Patrick interjected before she could reply.
“Yes, that one.”
“Why?” he asked. “Actually, not important right now. Once the paramedics have you loaded up on the stretcher I’ll run up and tell him what’s going on.”
“He might have your guts for garters,” I replied. “Not sure you’re the best person to talk to him.”
“Oh.” I still didn’t want to crane my head to see Patrick’s face more clearly, but the sound of realisation was enough to know the penny had dropped for him.
“Right,” the handsome paramedic said. “I’m just going to put a needle into your hand. It’ll just be a little sting and then we can start with the painkillers. Are you allergic to anything I need to know about?”
“No, nothing. Well, celery, but I doubt you’re pumping me with that,” I said. I felt him wiping down my hand and then a little sting as the needle was inserted. I knew there must be more paramedics around but he was the only one in my field of view and I still didn’t want to risk moving my head.
“Right, this is still going to hurt a little bit, but it’s better we avoid jostling your head and neck than your ankle.
” The paramedic moved round so that he was directly over my head.
Another older man was next to him, and together they took a firm grip on my shoulders and steadied my head.
I felt further hands grip on my legs and hissed as my ankle moved slightly.
It wasn’t as bad with the painkillers but it was still no walk in the park.
When they lifted me, I howled in pain. My neck, my head, my ankle and foot all seemed to reach a chorus of agony in unison.
I was settled down into a stretcher and strapped in like a straitjacket, preventing any movement on my part. The paramedics lifted me, and this time with the restraints I was blessedly free of pain, just dizzy as I watched them and the clouds bounce above my head with every step they took.
I could feel the painkillers working. The edges of my vision dimmed and blurred, and every reassurance from the paramedics sounded like they were slurring.
Maybe they’re all on painkillers, and I am completely fine, my brain supplied in all its wisdom.
As the edges of my vision blurred ever further, Patrick’s shock of red hair crept into my vision and his head blocked out the sun .
“I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him.” His voice sounded like he was miles away, shouting at me down a tunnel. It was the last thing I heard before I slipped into blissful, painless sleep. Tudor. I could feel the edges of my mouth lifting into a smile.