''I'd like to see you try.'' Jason challenges
He really thinks I wouldn't hurt him...ha!
I aim the bat at him, pose ready to strike, but he takes two steps backwards so I miss his head by an inch. He raises his hands in surrender. ''You're always so violent. I come in peace, I swear.''
''And you may end up in pieces if you don't tell me what you are doing at my front door and how you knew my house address.''
''Fine. I'll explain everything, just let me in.''
''Leave your shoes outside.''
He comes in and observes his surroundings, taking in the furniture, the décor and the walls. I notice that he is paying very close attention to the pictures on the centre table in the living room. A look of longing appears on his face and it made me wonder what his family background looked like but I don't want to be rude and pry into something that doesn't concern me
''So, would you like coffee, water, or orange juice?'' I ask from the kitchen while he sat on the couch.
''Water please.''
I get him a bottled water from the freezer and place it on his lap. ''Is it poisoned?'' He asks whilst shaking the bottle and turning it upside down.
Idiota!
''If I wanted to poison you,'' I say with an eye roll, ''I would have done so at the diner, but I didn't. The bottle is sealed so you're good.''
He unscrews the cap carefully and takes small sips of the water, watching me carefully with a skeptical look.
Unbelievable!
''So you said you were going to explain. I'm waiting for answers.''
''You're so impatient.''
''Do you want your head to get hit with the baseball bat? Trust me, this time I wouldn't miss.''
''Fine. So when you left, I couldn't find my car at the spot where I parked it. I tried tracking it on my phone but I'm guessing it was stolen cause I couldn't trace it. Long story short, I ended up being lost and walking in circles till I remembered that you mentioned that you lived in the area. How I got your actual address? I ended up knocking on people's doors and asking about you.''
''I never thought I'd live to see the day you'd ask about me. I feel honoured.'' I tease lightly. He gives me a small smile, tugging at the pocket of his joggers. ''Why would you bring a Bugatti Veyron to a shady ass neighbourhood and expect that you'd meet it at the same spot you parked it at?''
''I didn't even bring the Bugatti this time,'' he protests. ''It was a Ferrari 288 GTO.''
My jaw drops open. ''You have a GTO?''
I love that car. Seriously, I can trade my kidney, right here, right now, just to lay my hands on that sweet, vintage baby. Buying it is on the list of things I would purchase once I becomes Jeff Bezos.
He let that car get stolen just like that.
''I had, Jones," he corrects. ''I had a GTO until it was stolen. How am I meant to get home?''
''You could always walk,'' I tease. ''How could you let that sweet car get stolen though?''
''You're into cars?''
''No, but I'm into Ferraris and I want to throttle you for even bringing it here in the first place.''
''The Bugatti was out of commission, so excuse me for taking the next best alternative.''
''Y'all don't own like a Honda Civic or Toyota in your mansion?''
He stares at me confusedly. ''What's a Toyota?''
Unbelievable.
''Since you have no means of transportation and...wait.'' I pause to look at his empty hands. ''Please tell me your wallet is in your pocket.'' He looks alarmed and then searches his pockets, thankfully his wallet was in there.
''See, I'm not that stupid.''
Keep telling yourself that.
As we continue conversing, his hands keep making contact with his right rib and I suddenly remembered our encounter at Sylvia Street. He caught my wandering gaze and clears his throat. I raised an eyebrow which he shruggs off. ''Are you going to tell me why you have bruised knuckles and apparently a broken rib?'' I ask.
''No, drop it.''
''Why should I drop it when you're clearly in pain?''
The bad boy smirks. ''So you care about me or something?''
''No, but the enemy of my enemy of my enemy is my friend.''
He gives me a questioning look. ''That statement doesn't even apply in this case.''
''Besides the point,'' I say. ''You'll probably die of an infection if your wounds aren't treated properly. I'll be back.''
I walk to the kitchen cabinet and get the First Aid kit. Placing it on the centre table, I kneel beside him, open the box and grabb a pair of gloves, cotton wool and methylated spirit. Putting the gloves on, I pour the methylated spirit on the cotton wool. ''Make a fist,'' I instruct. He thankfully complies and I'm able to see just how badly bruised his knuckles are. The flesh had turned an ugly purple and red mix, making me cringe. I dab the cotton wool carefully so as not to hurt him. He would makes a hiss sound every now and then but other than that, he made no sound.
''So Jones, when did you learn to play nurse?''
''My mum works in the medical field so you tend to pick up on a few things. Mind lifting your shirt up for me?''
''Damn Jones, if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask. Your bedroom is upstai...''
''Shut up idiot.'' Applying more pressure to his cuts than I normally wound, his face contours in pain and I smile. ''So can I see the wound now or do you still want to continue saying nonsense?''
''You're mean.''
''I know.''
He lifts his dark sweatshirt up and underneath was a wife beater which was soaked in blood. At the right side of his body, close to his rib cage was a very deep gash, almost like he'd been slashed with a knife or an axe or a very heavy object. Even worse, he was bleeding severely. My face turns as white as a sheet . ''What the fuck?''
''Does it look that bad?''
''That bad? This gash requires stitching and I'm not trained to do that. I'm calling 911 and you're going to the hospital right now.''
He holds out a hand to stop me. ''No, I'm not going.''
''For once, can you keep your stubborn ass in a cooler,'' I yell. ''This is not the time to argue. I'm not a nurse or a doctor and my mum isn't here right now.''
''I'm not going. They'll ask too many questions, questions that I can't answer, so you have to stitch it.''
Why is that?
''I've never stitched a gash before,'' I protest.
''Well there's a first time for everything. I'd guide you through it.''
Wait, so he's done this before? This plot just keeps getting better and better.
I hear footsteps coming downstairs, turning I see that it's Sophie and her eyes are as wide as saucers. ''What in the name of Grey's Anatomy?''
''Hey Soph, it's a long ass story but I need you to get me a needle, thread, a cloth, a bucket full of water, soap, scissors, a needle driver, and a tetanus shot now.''
''There's a bleeding man in our house and he might die.''
''He wouldn't die if you don't stop talking and get what I asked for.'' I snap impatiently.
She forces her mouth open, but then closes it and scrambles up the stairs. I turn my attention to Jason who had managed to get on the floor and he looks dizzy.
Oh NO! You will not die in my house!
''Hey Jason,'' I say, slapping his cheek. ''You have to sit up. You can't fall asleep 'cause you have to guide me through this.''
''You're so pretty when you're worried,'' he answers sleepily.
''Jason, you're losing it already! Stay with me.''
''I'm awake, don't worry. He stares right into my deep brown eyes and grabs the side of my face. I'm keenly aware of just how close our proximity is and how fast my heart is thumping, and no, it is not from nervousness. ''You're the one who needs to breathe because you're about to be a surgeon.''
Sophie comes back with all the materials I asked for and stands besides me. ''Who's this guy anyway?"
''A friend.'' I say absent-mindedly.
''You have friends?'' she snickers.
''Good one.'' Jason says and raises his arm to high-five Sophie but I shoot her a dirty look. ''Don't you dare.''
She sticks out her tongue and I give her my signature eye-roll, not in the mood to entertain her behaviour.
''So wash your hands thoroughly with the soap and water,'' Jason instructs. I nod wordlessly and he continues. ''Now, use the needle driver to grab the needle and make sure the clamp locks in place.''
''Like this?'' I show him, unsure of what I'm doing. ''Yea, like that. Now get the thread and put it in the needle.''
''Soph, the thread please.'' She snaps out of her daze and hands it to me. I insert the thread into the needle and made sure that the ends where the same length.
''Okay, now open the wound a bit with your hands so you'll see what you're working with, then you'll put the needle through my skin at a 90 degree angle.''
This is crazy, and I'm even crazier for agreeing to do this
My hands are shaking and my heart is beating faster than usual but I swallow my fear. If he dies, it's his fault for entrusting his life in the hands of an amateur. Lining the skin so I could get a proper view of where I was suturing, I put the needle through the skin carefully so as not to go below the fat.
''Shit,'' he hisses.
''Sorry.''
Okay, I'm doing it. He's not dead yet.
He's not dead yet but he sure as hell is in a lot of pain and everywhere is a bloody mess. Literally. How I'm meant to explain this 'murder scene' to mum is beyond me, but putting pettiness aside, I have to save a life.
''Good. Now twist your hand in a clockwise manner so the needle comes on the other side of the wound,'' he grunted. ''Make sure you pull the thread and release the needle.''
''You are so going to pay for making me do this."
''Hey, I can pay later. Just focus on me not dying. Also,you can totally thank me for discovering that you need to be a surgeon in the near future.''
''Blah blah blah.''
''Real mature.'' he adds. ''So you've made a stitch, now repeat the whole process again and bandage me up.''
Thirty minutes passed and I can proudly say that I stitched him up successfully without blocking an artery, causing an organ failure or leading him to the graveyard. I bandage him up, wash my bloody hands and make him lie down on the couch.
''How do you feel?'' I ask with concern. He laughs painfully as I hand him a bottled water and two tablets of aspirin.
''Like I've been hit by a train.''
''You know you still have to go to the hospital right? What if you have like an organ damage or something? What I did was a rookie job.''
''You actually did okay for your first suturing,'' he compliments. ''Could've been better but hey, I'm not complaining.''
''Is that a compliment laced with an insult?''
''Call it what you want, Jones.''
.....
The clock on top of the kitchen counter reads 5:30 am. Sighing, I put all the ''surgical tools'' back in the First Aid kit, throw the bloody water in the bathroom and get the cleaning products out in order to clean the bloody mess....and also to hide the evidence from my mum.
''What are we going to tell mum when she gets back? Sophie asks, arms folded across her chest as she stood on the steps.
''I have no idea Soph, but I do know she'd kill us both.''
''Both!'' she exclaims.. ''I am no part of this mess. You dragged me into it.''
''Hey, Melody? We both turn to look at Jason who was half asleep on the couch. ''Thank you.''
I am so dead.