Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“Sure you are, Miss,” the nurse said with a roll of her eyes. “And who exactly are you? His sister? No wait, his mama?”
I had about all I could take of the bitch. I stepped between King and Bear. “No, I’m his WIFE,” I growled.
She looked up to King and Bear. “No immediate family, huh?” she said with her lips pursed. “You unaware that your friend had a wife?” she asked skeptically.
“It’s complicated,” Ray clarified.
“Take me to my husband. Now,” I said to the nurse, pushing past the guards who stepped aside. Reluctantly, and with a lot more attitude than was necessary, Ivy shoved the paper back into my hands and pressed a button opening the double doors. The security guards stepped away.
I turned back before the doors closed again. “I’ll come out and let you know what’s going on as soon as I know something,” I said to Preppy’s friends. King shot me an appreciative nod before I followed the nurse down the wide hall on the way to find Preppy.
My husband.
****
The nurse walked me through another set of doors and pointed me toward a curtain before stalking back off toward the waiting area, grumbling to herself along the way. Cautiously, I pulled the curtain aside and my breath caught in my throat when I saw Preppy lying there on the gurney with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. He was unconscious.
A doctor wearing glasses and a long white lab coat was hovering over Preppy, a needle up to the IV in the back of Preppy’s hand. When the doctor realized I was there his eyes snapped up to mine and he pulled the needle from the IV and stood up straight, adjusting his coat.
“I’m his wife,” I said before he could protest my presence. “What’s going on with him?” I asked, standing by the gurney and taking Preppy’s hand in mine in a very wifely move. I scanned him over but there weren’t any obvious signs of injury. No bleeding or bruises. “What happened to him?”
The doctor tucked the full needle into the breast pocket of his shirt. “What is that?” I asked, pointing to where he’d just covered his pocket with his coat.
“Just a mild sedative,” he replied, pushing his glasses back on his nose. That’s when I noticed the cheesy smiley face tattoo on the back of his hand.
“He looks perfectly sedated to me,” I said, looking at Preppy who’s mouth was open, a deep snore rumbled from his mouth.
“That’s why I decided not to give it to him,” The doctor replied, jotting something down on his clipboard.
“Why sedate him at all? What exactly is going on here? Why is he here at all?”
“Your husband was found on the water tower about to commit suicide. It was called in by a concerned passer-by and the police called an ambulance who brought him here. Standard protocol for these types of things.”
Suicide? The water tower?
“Who was the passer-by?” I asked. “I’d like to check with them. Talk to them about what it is they saw.”
“You can’t. It was an anonymous call.” The doctor set the clipboard into a slot on the wall. “If you’ll excuse me ma’am.”
“No, I won’t excuse you. There must be some mistake. The bystander is wrong. My husband wouldn’t do that,” I argued.
I knew Preppy’s take on suicide. I knew that even in the worst of worst times he would never take his own life. I was as sure of that as I was about the earth being round and the sky being blue.
I want to be an old man with old rabbit dick dangling between my legs...
“Ma’am it doesn’t matter if you think he would or wouldn’t try to kill himself. We are checking him in to the psych ward for a full evaluation. We will know more in a few days and if everything checks out fine then he can go home in seventy-two hours.”
“A few days?” I asked, dropping Preppy’s hand and taking a step forward toward the doctor. “That’s not going to happen,” I argued. “No, he’s coming home with me.”
“Ma’am,” the doctor said, looking annoyed. “The law...”
“Sir,” I interrupted him. “The law states that he can only be be put on a psych hold for up to seventy-two hours if he is a threat to himself or others or if he’s been arrested and the judge requests a determination of his mental state prior to arrangement.” I knew this because I’d looked it up once after my father threatened me with the very same thing after heroin and I became fast friends. I just hoped the laws in Florida were similar to the ones in New York. “Is he being charged with anything?”
The doctor rubbed his temple. “Not to my knowledge.”
“Okay, and I happen to know for a fact that my husband goes up to the water tower to relax from time to time and look down at the city he loves. If in fact someone called him in as a possible suicide attempt, then they were very mistaken.”