Chapter 141 - The Devils Bargain (2/2)
”Of course! What do you think of me? We'd go there, and maybe I could be a qualified blood donor. Let's go. Maybe Miguel's waiting for us. Who knows? Maybe my blood is the thing that saves him.”
Mrs. Gomez looks at her, unsure if this is a good idea. She needs donors, but she never consider Michelle Alcantara in the grand scheme of things. ”But Gabriel would be there, and…”
”So what?” Michelle says. ”I'm going there not for him, anyway. Wait for me here, I'll just get my bag. Then you can ride shotgun with me.”
Mrs. Gomez says nothing; she just watches Michelle walk away in a hurry, caught in the urgency of the moment. She wants to call up Gabriel, but then maybe it's not too bad to bring her over. But Claire is there, and something about this whole equation feels wrong; you don't bring a lighted match to a gunpowder keg and expect for everything to be nice, calm, and freaking breezy.
Meanwhile, back at the hospital, Gary Smulders is excitedly writing on his notepad every single juicy thing that comes out of the mouth of the girl, a staff member of The Residence, about what transpired in the wee hours of that morning, right at The Residence's lounge.
”You mean, Miguel is in love with Gabriel's fiancée? And they fought over her because Miguel's that desperate?”
The girl nods, her eyes distracted; the truth is, every piece of information she spills out, she feels a pang of regret, with all that creeping sense of doing something wrong. After all, there's something about the man's demeanor that strikes her to be sleazy, like he's out to cause damage or do some harm. This isn't a proper journalist, she quietly realizes; this is some tabloid schmuck. But she has accepted the money, and she could use it for her personal needs.
”Juicy, juice,” Gary mutters, writing that piece of information down. ”And it all went down just this morning. So you're here because he needs blood donation?”
The girl nods. ”Is that enough? I need to go back to work.”
”Uhh, sure, yes. That's the best two minutes I've ever had.” Gary snickers like a hyena. ”Certainly this two-minute quickie is right up there on the shelf of my personal moments of triumph. Thank you, dear.”
The girl almost runs after her companions, who are all milling about outside, boarding a shuttle bus.
Gary Smulders reads his notes, nodding. ”This is explosive,” he mutters. ”This is going to sell a million freaking copies of Muckraker magazine. A lot better than whatever interview that Claire was promising.”
And yet, Gary doesn't yet leave the hospital premises. He loiters around; he walks back to the spot where he had encountered Claire, hoping she would again show up. He paces the corridor fronting the ICU section, trying to peek through the glass windows. Yet, Claire seems to have disappeared. He takes out the small notepad and rereads it; he couldn't help but smile. This is going to be explosive. This is a career-making scoop. How long has he been working for Muckraker? Five, eight years? And nothing outstanding, no achievement at all. But here in his hands is something solid; maybe they'd make him a bureau editor or something.
As Gary is about to leave, he hears a familiar voice coming out of the ICU. He turns around and Lo! It's Claire and Gabriel in what seems to be a very serious conversation. Two birds with one stone! The gods favor Gary Smulders after all! He runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it, make himself a bit more presentable somehow. He clears his throat. He approaches the couple, with the most winsome smile plastered across his face.
”Hi, Mr. Gabriel, Miss Claire,” Gary says, in a voice too high-pitched for comfort. ”Fancy meeting you here.
Claire blanches upon seeing him. She turns to Gabriel, who seems confused. ”What? And who are you?” Gabriel says.
”I heard about your emergency. So I'm here to offer help. Donate my blood. Maybe I'm qualified?” Gary Smulder smiles, yet there's no mirth, no joy in it; the smile is all teeth, reeking with pure malice.