I'm not surprised," I respond. "That ancient buggy of yours should have stopped running long ago."
"Don't bad mouth Gwendolyn," she protests. Melody names her vehicles--one of the reasons I love her. "She's been a good friend. Anyway, I was wondering if I could borrow your car to get my gown."
I hand her the keys. "It's parked in front of my office," I gesture across the street to it. "I'll walk over with you . . . "
And we cross the way to my car. I open the door and watch her slide behind the wheel.
"You go right back there and shmooze the guests," she says.
"Grumble, grumble," I grumble, closing the car door.
"Be nice," she smiles coyly. "Think about later this evening. That should perk you up."
“Hubba, hubba,” I say, step back from the car, and wave. She winds up the window; blows me a kiss, She puts the car in gear and turns the ig . . .
***
Eyes struggle open. Overhead light shines painful. Can't turn head easy. Pokie things in arms. Stiff. Numb. Pain and lots of it just beneath numb.
"He's awake."
"Sort of . . ."
"He'll live?"
"Yeah but he probably won't want to . . ."
***
Eyes open again.
More pain now; all over. Less numb. Small mewing sounds; moans, grunts. Seem to be coming from me.
"Heart rate up; BP rising."
"That's the pain."
"Get some Demerol in the IV stat."
"That'll put him back to . . ."