Part 9 (1/2)
He couldn't believe he was sitting around, waiting for Rosalie to call. The worst part was that he'd been waiting for three days and driving everyone around him nuts.
He returned the reports to their files and threw them in his briefcase. He was shrugging on his suit jacket when his cell phone rang. ”h.e.l.lo.” ”Having a bad day, Nick?” ”Lee?”
”It's Rosalie.”
”How are you doing? You sound different.”
”I'm well. You?”
”Fine.”
”Look Nick, my meeting broke for a minute, and I have to get back, but I needed to call-” She coughed and cleared her throat.
”About tomorrow night?”
”Well, yes, that, and you have my car. You said someone took it to Romeo's. I thought you would drive it over on Tuesday, but... well, I got sidetracked and forgot to ask about it.”
”Sidetracked, huh? Is that what you call it?”
”Nick, tell me you have my car.”
”I have your car.”
”Good. Do you still want to get together tomorrow night?” ”Sure. Dinner and movie?”
”Could we do takeout and a rental? I haven't been home all week, and Dave is feeling neglected. Besides, I'm working on less than five hours sleep in the last two days, and tonight promises to be another late one.”
”No problem. You pick the menu. I'll pick up a movie. What do you want to see?”
”Anything that's not depressing.”
”Done. I'll see you about eight at your place. Don't stay out too late. You don't sound so good.”
”I have a cough and a sore throat, but it's no big deal. I need sleep.
Nick heard someone call her.
”I'll be there in a minute. Thank you, Gina.” She coughed again. Her cough sounded awful.
”Look Nick, I've got to run. See you tomorrow.” He heard the dial tone before he could say good-bye.
Nick stood in the drama section of the video store, trying to pick out a chick flick Rosalie might like. He grabbed the one with shoes in the t.i.tle. Cameron Diaz was hot, and he'd never met a woman who didn't have a sick fascination with shoes that he'd never understand. He got the movie of that Broadway show what's-her-name had been in while they'd been dating. d.a.m.n, he hoped the movie was different from the play. He'd seen the play a dozen times. And a comedy-couldn't miss with Monty Python. He picked up a box of microwave popcorn, Goobers, and Raisinettes and drove the Mustang to Rosalie's.
Nick stopped to pick up a box of condoms and a bouquet of flowers in the market down the street from her place. All he needed was wine and takeout, and the evening would be complete. He rang Rosalie's apartment and saw Dave barking at the front window, but Rosalie didn't buzz him in. He checked his watch. He was right on time. Dave continued to bark. A man walked out the security door, and Nick caught it before it closed. He went down the hall and knocked on Rosalie's door. Dave whined, and Nick knocked again. He turned the k.n.o.b. She'd left the door unlocked, so he poked his head in.
”Lee?”
The place looked as if someone had tossed it. That didn't bother him, but Dave did. He sat beside the door, whining.
”Lee, it's Nick, can I come in?” No answer. What to do? Aw, the h.e.l.l with it. He walked in, prepared for Dave to jump all over him, but Dave turned and ran to the bedroom. Nick followed and found Dave lying on the bed with his head on Rosalie's lap, and Rosalie sound asleep, looking like someone who'd been dead a week. She wore a ratty T-s.h.i.+rt and held a box of tissues under her arm. Used tissues littered the bed all around her. A bottle of cough medicine sat on the bedside table next to an empty gla.s.s. Dave whined again.
Nick dropped the bag and sat beside her. When he brushed the hair from her forehead, her eyelids fluttered open. She was burning up.
”Nick?” Rosalie coughed for a minute. d.a.m.n, she sounded like she had pneumonia. ”What are you doing here?”
”We had a date, remember? DVDs and takeout? Sound familiar?”
”Didn't you get my message? I called your cell... hey, how did you get in here, anyway?”
”Dave let me in.”
”Oh.” Her eyelids closed.
”Lee, wake up.” She didn't move. Nick picked up the tissues, tossed them in the trash can, and took her gla.s.s into the kitchen. She needed juice and something to bring down her fever. He opened the fridge and found it emptier than his. There was one egg, three beers, a yogurt, expired milk, and the usual condiments. He grabbed a beer, opened it, and took a long pull. He filled a gla.s.s with water, got the bottle of acetaminophen out of the cabinet above the sink, and wondered where she kept her thermometer. He checked the medicine chest, but all he found was Midol and girl s.h.i.+t. No thermometer.
Nick sat beside Rosalie and gave her a good shake. ”Wake up. Time to take your medicine.”
She opened her eyes. ”I hate pills.”
”I know. Take these anyway. You have a fever.” He popped them in her mouth and handed her the water. ”I'm going out to get dinner. Where are your keys? I'll need to get back in.”
Rosalie took the pills. ”I don't know... there's an extra set in the drawer next to the sink. But Nick, you don't have to do this. I'm fine. I need a little rest, that's all.”
”Don't worry about it. You rest. I'll be right back.” He kissed her forehead, and she mumbled something about being tired. He stood and looked down at her. What had he gotten himself into?
Rosalie awoke in the middle of the night, coughing. Nick sat, as he had all night, with her between his legs and her back leaning against his bare chest. He'd been going back and forth, trying to decide what he should do-take her to the hospital, or wait for morning and get her to a doctor. Her fever was high, and the medicine wasn't helping.
She coughed so hard, he worried she'd break something, and she wasn't breathing well. He rubbed her back. ”It's okay.” Heat radiated from her, and she wasn't due for more acetaminophen for an hour and a half.
”Lee, your fever's up. I need to take you to the emergency room. This isn't a cold.”
”Nick? What are you doing here?” ”Taking care of you. Now come on, let's get you dressed. I'm taking you to the hospital.”
Chapter Seven.
Nick stood at the pay phone in the ER. He couldn't use his cell phone in the hospital, and he wasn't about to chance a walk outside in case Rosalie's doctor came to tell him what was going on. He only had two numbers memorized besides his own-his mother's and his cousin Vinny's. There was no way he would call his mother for help with a girl. She'd be planning the wedding before he hung up the d.a.m.n phone. Not that Vinny's wife Mona was much better, but maybe his luck would change and Vinny would answer. ”h.e.l.lo?”
So much for that. ”Mona, it's Nick.”
”Nick? Who's sick?”
”How do you know someone's sick?”
”I hear a doctor being paged in the background.”
”Oh, right. It's Lee. We're at Brooklyn Hospital's ER.”