The Sidekick

Chapter One

Tera

Every time someone wearing scrubs walks past the tiny room, my body tenses up with a mixture of dread and anticipation. As soon as they pass, my hands begin to fidget with the hem of my apron again, and I return to studying the room around me.

The hospital waiting room is always empty in the movies except for the main character and her love interest. Maybe a few random family members or close friends. The drama would be loud, and security guards would have to be called to escort the one money-grubbing cousin who got written out of the will away.

Me? I’m surrounded by people, some crying, others as tense as I am, and some numb with shock. And it’s all hushed like no one wants to burden anyone with their grief. The only thing separating me from them is that I have no one here to cry with.

I fidget in my seat as the need to pee gets more urgent. How can I worry about meaningless crap when my friend is fighting for his life somewhere in this hospital. If I leave the room, I”m afraid someone will come in with news, so I grit my teeth and risk it as I think about how I got here.

We were starting the process of closing the bar down a few hours early because it had been so slow. Some servers had already left to be with their families or significant others, leaving the single ladies to close up shop. We hadn’t seen a customer for hours before that except Joe. My old faithful.

We all know that it’s just a matter of time before the bar will have to close for good. I’ve been praying for a miracle for the last three months. That’s when it hit me how slow we had gotten and how many waitresses left and didn’t get replaced.

I made Joe wait at his table for me so I could give him a lift home, a regular occurrence. His car has spent more time in the bar’s parking lot than I like to think about.

We usually turned my music up loud and rolled down the windows of my beat-up Camry, singing the whole way to his place. I’d watch him dance his way down the sidewalk into his house and wave before heading home myself.

Not tonight.

I wish it were a night that I had enough tips to call a ride for him. Things would have been very different. He would have chewed the poor driver out because his abrasive personality is not for the faint of heart. He would call and give me an instant replay of the encounter as I counted down a till. I would give anything to have that dream replace reality.

Some guys came in before we locked the doors, faces covered with black masks sporting white-toothed smiles and demanded money from everyone.

I was the first to lay out my measly tips and hold my hands up, trying to calm my racing heart. They would leave if they got what they wanted with no trouble.

Joe was next, standing to block their view of me as he set his wallet on the table next to my cash.

Sal, one of the waitresses, was at one of the registers, gaping in shock. One of the men started advancing on her, and guns were raised on us all.

Max and Trevor, the busboy and the boss man, came out from the back office, alerted by all the yelling as Sal started sobbing, her voice breaking as she begged them not to kill her.

They began to leave once they had everyone’s wallets and the cash from the registers. It was supposed to be over at that point. Money is not worth the cost of my or anyone else’s life. I don’t care if that makes me a coward. I am not main character material, and I know it. I was waiting for them to get out before I called the cops.

But Joe started yelling at them. I begged him to be quiet and just let them leave. I had just stepped to the side to grab his arm and stop him from moving forward when one of them started shooting, and the rest quickly followed suit. I watched them gun the older man down from not a foot away, clutching his arm like it would be enough to keep him upright.

It was a miracle I hadn’t been shot, too. I was the only one standing in the middle of the room with only tables and chairs to hide me. Everyone else had wisely ducked and covered.

The bar was a chaotic mess around me as Sal screamed and Trevor shouted my name in the most broken sound, all while I dropped to my knees and tried to stop the blood from pouring out of Joe. There were so many holes, though; the stain kept spreading under him as I sobbed.

I don’t remember much after that. Just pressing down as hard as I could in all the places I could see and quietly crying.

When the ambulance showed up, I begged to be taken with him. He had no family, and I knew most of his information by heart. I used to card him for fun when we first met. It gave him an ego boost.

I was the best person to go because Trevor had to stay behind and answer a lot of questions. Sal was in no shape to ride with him, hysterically clinging to Max like a barnacle. She even tried to get me to stay because Joe is just a customer to her. He’s more than that to me, though.

According to the slow-as-molasses clock at the front of the room, it’s just after eight o’clock in the morning. He’s been in surgery for over five hours already. I haven’t moved from my seat as people come and go, not even to get the coffee some of them complain about.

My phone vibrates in my apron pocket, and I pull it out in a daze. The no cell phones sign seems like it’s glaring at me, making my shoulders curl with guilt. What if this one call is what shuts down some life-saving machine?

ANDREA MATTHIAS flashes across the screen, and I send it to voicemail immediately and turn it off. She’s been calling nonstop for the last twenty-four hours.

Something must be wrong. That’s the only reason she would try to contact me at this point.

I’ve been forcing myself not to answer as a matter of hurt pride. As the calls continued, I kept the phone on silent so I wouldn’t hear it. Then, like a masochist, I put the stupid thing in my apron to feel the vibrations every time it rang. The jittery feeling of her possibly needing me warred with the angry glee of not answering. I’m becoming a bitter biscuit, and I’m not comfortable with it.

A part of me, the sidekick part, wants to get up and walk out of this cramped space and answer. To find out what’s going on with her. To help her as best I can and push my problems to the far recesses of my mind just like I used to.

I wish I could go back to how things were instead of avoiding her calls like she’s the plague and I don’t own a mask. I miss our friendship so much, especially right now when I need someone there for me.

The new, not so chipper part is thankful when the screen goes black. One less stressor to deal with in this overwhelming crapstorm of a day. I’d be better off calling my oldest, real friend for help. South lives too far away to be here with me now though.

Guilt worms its way around my heart as that thought appears.

Andi is supposed to be my best friend. If anyone should know what’s going on right now, it would be her. If this was a couple of months ago, I wouldn’t hesitate to call her. Now, she probably wouldn’t come if I asked her to. Somehow, she wouldn’t be able to make it, or she’d be too busy. There’s always an excuse. Or maybe she’s finally calling to tell me she never wants to see me again.

Being a sidekick to Andi was awesome. I got to sit back on the sidelines while all the drama flowed around me, maneuvering things from the shadows, watching my bestie gain her love interest and then another and another while dealing with overt threats and death-defying odds. It was straight out of a movie. A hero movie this time.

I helped her a lot, lending her my skills at breaking and entering with a little hacking to get her information. There was always a risk to being a sidekick, but I think I did ok. I wasn’t kidnapped, tortured, or even noticed, for the most part. A silent partner.

When her mafia father sent in the bodyguards, I was all for them. Her dad loves her and wants her to be safe. They are walking proof. It took me weeks to convince her of it. Yeah, they don’t like me, and her boyfriends barely tolerate me, but I wasn’t there for them. I was there for Andi.

Andi lived under threat for seven months before the red herrings were removed through my interference, and the big evil was arrested. It’s been six months since everything wound down, and the Worm was put behind bars. Job well done, guys. Let’s get back to a normal life.

They didn’t change with the lack of stress, though. They seemed to get worse when they realized only a sliver of the things I had a hand in on Andi’s behalf. The boyfriends now can’t stand me, and the guards are still hanging around glaring and making rude comments. They even moved into Andi’s old house, setting up shop in town instead of flying back home to New York. No problem, besties prevail, right?

Wrong.

She’s been too busy with her romance times three to give me much time. No biggie, three guys is a handful, and I have no idea how she does it. Points to her, for real. If anyone could wrangle those three, it would be Andi.

My happy go-with-the-flow attitude began to stiffen up when the cancellations started or she didn’t show up when we made plans. I don’t like hanging out at Andi’s new house because I feel like a tenth wheel, and Andi is the only one who bothers to talk to me.

The rest of them have nothing nice to say. I tried to let it wash over me for her sake, convinced it would get better. It isn’t like they’re mean to Andi after all. If anything, they all worship the ground she walks on, even when she drives them crazy with her adventurous spirit.

Three months into the ‘stress-free’ life, the snide remarks and distrustful glares got old. I decided enough was enough. I wouldn’t be immature about it. I would face it head-on with some advice from my bestie. We could brainstorm together and come up with a solution that everyone would be happy with.

It took another month of failed meet ups before I tried to catch her at home when I didn’t think anyone else would be around. I wanted to talk about my issues in a calm and cool adult fashion without all the cutting words I constantly hear from the men around her.

She wasn’t alone when I used my key to silently let myself in.

Nope, she had her bodyguards in some kind of meeting in the kitchen. Like an idiot, I hung around in the hallway to listen, no stranger to keeping quiet when I broke into a home.

I overheard them telling her to ditch me. It didn’t sound like a new argument because Andi’s responses were mainly frustrated sighs instead of the harpy shriek she usually fights back with. I decided to wait and see what they had to say. Then, I would make a grand entrance, pointing out how wrong their assumptions are.

As long as Andi was with me, I couldn’t lose.

They told her I was the source of most of her problems and that my help could easily be replaced in a more legal fashion. The fact that I stole information to use against the bad guys wasn’t even admissible in court.

They’re right, of course.

And then they started the old Tera is using you for your money tirade, even though I’ve never asked her for anything. They pointed out that if you took away my one skill, the only thing I would be around for is the jokes that aren’t even funny. Andi is the only one of them who appreciates my humor.

Then, the final nail in the coffin got beaten in.

Andi agreed to stop talking to me for a while as if it wouldn’t be any problem for her to cut me out of her life. She didn’t yell or shriek like I’m used to. She sounded worn down and exhausted.

How long had this relentless campaign been going on that she wasn’t fighting back? And why wasn’t she fighting back? She knows me better than that. Did she agree with them now? I had felt so ashamed and hurt that I backed out without saying anything.

It took a week for me to psyche myself up and try calling instead of waiting for the ax to fall. Someone else always answered her phone, telling me she was too busy to talk, or I had to leave a message on her machine. I felt like some hybrid of a stalker and a telemarketer.

I didn’t try showing up at their place unannounced again, too scared I might overhear more spirit-crushing facts.

After an entire month of refused calls, I stopped trying. I finally began taking the not-so-subtle hint to give up, and she never called me. It’s been silence between us when we used to talk once a day, sometimes more.

I”ve gone back and forth, trying to see where I’m the problem, but I can’t figure it out. Most of their accusations aren’t true. Unless you count my arrest, they have zero proof to back up their theories.

I broke down and asked people at work if something was wrong with me. It was a giant mistake and very eye-opening. I got a unanimous yes across the board. When I probed deeper, trying to get a clue and maybe try to fix whatever the problem was, the responses were never-ending.

I’m too happy all the time. I’m weird, and my jokes aren’t funny. My taste in music is horrible. My voice is too high-pitched. I don’t talk bad about people, and that’s weird. I don’t curse, and everyone swears. I’m oblivious to everything around me and live in my own little happy world. The list goes on and on. Someone even told me that my addiction to coffee was basic and ridiculous.

So, everything I do is annoying, and none of them ever bothered to tell me.

I asked everyone but Trevor, my sweet boss, and Max, the surly busboy, because I was terrified they would tell me more of the same. I didn’t think I could handle their answers if they were bad, considering I’m in love with both of them, and they have no idea. It’s definitely one-sided, no matter which one I gaze longingly at.

Max doesn’t ever talk to me, and he glares a lot. He’s the dark-haired, tall, dreamy, hazel-eyed, grumpy hero. I’m assuming he doesn’t like me based on his closed-off expression when I talk to him. I’ve said hi and tried to talk to him a million times with no response except scowls. He also walks away from me in the middle of a story. I’ve stopped trying to get him to speak and started watching him from afar. It’s safer for my heart that way. I can look as long as I don’t talk.

Trevor is a nice guy. A warm, comforting, and steady presence with dirty blond hair, a wicked grin, and gray eyes you can lose yourself in. He would tell me I was perfect. I can’t picture him hating anyone, but I have seen him cringe when I get excited about something, bouncing around because I can’t contain myself. So, I’m even annoying to my sexy boss. I can’t take a lie from him, even if it was covered in chocolate sauce, and survive with my heart and backbone intact.

I wince as I shift in the uncomfortable seat. I want to leave. I want to go home and sleep for a few years. I could emerge from a cocoon like a butterfly to flit away. South doesn’t have a problem with anything I do.

No, I’m not leaving.

I owe it to Joe. He’s the only one outside of my coworkers to whom I asked my question, and he chewed me out about not loving myself. The only person genuinely happy when I walk into a room is a seventy-year-old alcoholic who’s currently in surgery, and I’m not sure if he will make it.

I feel like I’m standing in the dark with a flickering candle as my only light source, and it’s a windy night.

“Miss Evans?” An exhausted voice beckons me from my wandering thoughts.

I spring out of my seat and rush to the middle-aged man wearing green scrubs. I can’t wait to never see that pale shade again. I don’t let the grim look on his face stop my hopes from rising. He has to be grim, right? It’s his job, and he’s obviously tired. Everything is fine. Joe is fine.

“Yes?” I manage to squeak out, lips trembling up in a hopeful smile. My voice is a little choked from all the crying.

He sighs and shakes his head slightly, “Did you find any relation to Mr. Douglas?”

“No, he always told me it was just him. I didn’t want to leave here and ransack his place to find out anything just in case he needed me.”

I probably shouldn’t have said that.

His hand drops heavily on my shoulder, and my body reacts instinctively, tears welling and tension stealing up my spine. My stomach and heart drop at the same time, and my brain flatlines.

“Mr. Douglas didn’t make it out of surgery. As he has no relatives present, I’m hoping you can identify him and give us any information you might have about him.”

“I-I filled out the paperwork,” I stutter dumbly as the realization that Joe didn’t make it washes my brain into a numb state.

“Yes, miss. But we’ll need you to fill out more.”

“Of course,” the words come out faintly as my brain drifts without settling on a single thought.

A nurse leads me towards their desk, and I hear a familiar voice call my name in a shocked shriek.

I turn sluggishly to see Andi and all five of her bodyguards hustling toward me.

I have no idea what the rush is. He’s dead. It isn’t like he’s going anywhere.

Oh, gosh. I choke back the hysterical laughter that wants to escape me, distantly shocked at my lack of sensitivity.

“Jesus,” she slides to a stop, gaping at me as she stares at my uniform in horror. “I didn’t know… Are you hurt?”

I look down and realize I’m covered in blood. It’s splattered on my white shirt and denim skirt. Even my waitress apron is dotted with red and a handprint where Joe held on to me. I bet this will finally convince Trevor that white is a stupid color for them. From the knees down, it looks like I was wading in reddish brown paint, my white sneakers ready for the trash. It’s even coating my hands and under my nails. I must look horrible. No wonder no one wanted to talk to me.

“Tera, are you ok?” Andi reaches hesitantly towards me as if she’s afraid to get dirty.

That thought annoys me, bringing my bitterness back to the forefront of my mind. What is she even doing here? I wanted that a second ago and now I regret it. I don’t want to deal with her drama right now. I have my own for once.

“Miss?” A gentle voice interrupts my thoughts, and I turn back towards the nurse, grateful that I don’t have to answer Andi’s questions. The nurse has a kind, gently rounded face and the softest, sympathetic blue eyes that match her scrubs perfectly. I’m so thankful that they aren’t green.

“I know you’re upset, but we need you to fill out these forms before you leave.”

She hands me a packet, and I leave a smear of not-quite-dry blood on it as I take it. My sweaty hands are turning this into a messy affair. I can’t even look at the sheets as my hand drops back down like an anchor looking for sand.

“If you would come with me downstairs for just a minute, I’ll help you through all that as soon as we’re done. I’ll be with you the entire time.” She wraps an arm around my waist with a slight squeeze, unafraid of the blood staining me.

This woman should get a raise. This is the best service I’ve ever received.

What a horrible thought!

“Can we go with her?” Andi insists from behind me. The rest of her guards have formed a half circle surrounding her, eyeing the innocent people milling around as if one of them will rush her with a knife if they stop.

“I’m afraid not,” the nice nurse says softly. “Unless you knew the deceased?”

“Why would we know some drunk pervert?” Blaze asks with a cringe.

He isn’t a pervert. He has a dark sense of humor.

“He died?” Andi’s eyes widen with shock as her hands go to her mouth, and she stares at my wan face.

“Isn’t this the guy that sexually harassed her all the time?” Felix mutters, not entirely under his breath, to his twin Blaze. Brody reaches out and slaps the back of his head, causing him to wince.

“Go home.” The words burst out of me. They’re weak and shaky, but I mean it. I want them gone.

“Tera,” Andi tries to say something, but I turn away from them and nod to the nurse.

“We’ll wait for you downstairs,” Ira calls in his no-nonsense voice as we walk away. I can hear Andi’s harpy shriek as she assures them that Joe was harmless and the harassment was a joke between us. I don’t know why she’s bothering. They’re only going to see whatever they want to. It’s a little late to defend me now, isn’t it?

I hope they don’t wait. Maybe they will get called away to some epic main character emergency and forget all about me. If I draw this out, they’ll get bored and leave. They have to eat sometime.

I cringe at the horrible thoughts running through me. Joe deserves better than me acting like a jerk. Deserved.

More tears come up and spill out quietly as that numb sensation gets thicker around me.

The identification portion shocks me so much that the monotony of the paperwork isn’t that bad. He looks waxen, and still, not a shred of what made him Joe is left in there. Over money. All of this over stupid paper that means nothing. It wasn’t even a good haul. It was a slow night.

When they hand me his belongings in a clear plastic bag, I start crying loudly this time. It makes everyone uncomfortable except that one nurse.

The only things left are a set of keys, a chapstick, and the picture of his wife, which he dragged out when he felt sad. He always keeps it folded in his pocket because he loses his wallet too often to keep it there. I always tease him about the possibility of wearing the same pants daily and how unhealthy it must be. Lots of mold jokes.

I ask if I can take the picture with me, and they tell me I can’t have any of the belongings because I’m not related to him.

A pair of police officers arrive to take my statement as we’re finishing up, and it takes another hour and a half for them to run out of questions.

You would think I’d hate cops after my arrest when I was younger, but I don’t hold it against them. They’re just stuck in a crappy job, dealing with the dregs of society like the rest of us. It isn’t their fault we’re criminals.

When I leave the hospital, I make the mistake of using the front doors. You would think I would have found a side exit, but I’m too numb. The sun is so bright after the hospital lighting that it startles me. It was dark when I arrived, and now time has fast-forwarded to midmorning. I never peed.

“Tera,” Blaze waves at me as if I can’t see him standing on the sidewalk by the valet booth.

So much for them getting bored and going home.

I decide to knuckle under and get this over with. I don’t want to fight. I’m too tired to deal with calling a ride, and even if I got to my car, I don’t know if I’m in any shape to drive. I don’t have any money either. Where is my head right now?

He moves smoothly towards me, and I stand there watching him. Of course, he’s gorgeous, but under the good skin and sexy muscles, he’s a jerk. I used to think he was swoon-worthy. Now, I can’t stand him.

He takes my elbow in a gentle hold that I frown at and begins guiding me into the crowded parking lot. I don’t want him touching me, ever. What if being a jerk is a disease, and they all have it? Like a stomach bug that makes you heartless instead of nauseous. I don’t have the strength to pull away, the numbness washing back in like a tide.

They have VIP parking close to the building, and that’s where they parked. At least the walk is short. I’m starting to lose that numb feeling as quickly as it came. All the double-takes people give my appearance make me more aware of my current state as a horror movie victim.

Blaze opens one of the rear doors, and I slide in quickly so I’m out of everyone’s sight. He gets in on the other side, pushing Felix to take the center. He stiffens as his side brushes mine and leans away. Brody and Shade are in the back-back seats, with Ira driving and Andi in the passenger seat. It’s weird because usually, she sits between the twins back here, and Brody is up front.

She swivels to face me, straining the seat belt. “I have your purse. We went to the bar to find you when you weren”t answering your phone. I thought you forgot it again.”

I forgot I even had it on me. Pulling the device out of my apron pocket, I power it back on absently.

“You had it on you the whole time?” Blaze asks in disbelief.

Andi glares at him and mouths, “Shut up.”

“You can’t have a cell phone on in the waiting room,” Ira glares at the rearview mirror.

I have over a dozen missed calls from Andi, starting from before the shooting until a few hours ago. Several demands from her via text to answer my phone. Trevor called a few times but didn’t leave a message. An unknown number appears three times but doesn’t leave a message. I don’t recognize it.

I should call Trevor and let him know Joe didn’t make it. I don’t want to do that here with so many people. I want to cry privately, where jerks can’t comment on it. My sweet boss wouldn’t do that to me, but these people wouldn’t hesitate.

Andi hands me my purse, and I stare at it too long because Felix grabs it and drops it in my lap. I squeeze the phone between my hands and lean against the window, letting the chill work through my budding headache.

Everyone is so quiet that I’m lulled into a false sense of security, the numbness flowing back in. When I notice that we’ve just passed my neighborhood, I frown.

“Where are we going?” I ask softly in confusion.

“My place,” Andi assures me, twisting around again to reach out and pat my knee. It doesn’t happen when she notices the blood staining my skin.

“I want to go home,” I protest. I just want some privacy to grieve for someone they would never understand or accept.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” Andi glances at Ira with concern, and he shakes his head with a frown.

“Take me home,” I try to force some steel behind the words when I feel so weak I might crumble at the first push.

“If she wants to go home, let her,” Blaze puts in, sounding impatient, and Andi lurches in her seat, stopped from jumping up by the seat belt holding her in place.

“Shut up, Blaze. She shouldn’t be alone right now,” her voice starts to rise in pitch, and the men around me flinch in response.

“I want to be alone.”

That stops the building tirade as Andi looks at me with surprise. I’ve never asked to be left alone before; I’m too social. Maybe she’ll take me seriously instead of making this even more uncomfortable.

“Take me home.” I close my eyes tightly and rest my head against the window again, willing them all to disappear.

Felix shifts uncomfortably beside me, and I slide farther away from him on the seat, pressing into the door to give him more room. I have no idea why I’m trying to make him more comfortable. It’s not like he would do the same for me. I blame my customer service training.

When we pull up in front of my building, there are a few protests about how unsafe it looks. I forgot that they’ve never been here before. One look at this place will have them ranting about how I’m using Andi for money again. I’m surprised they haven’t started now.

Andi offers to walk me to my apartment, which starts an argument about her safety. I shake my head and slide out of the seat, closing the door softly behind me. Despite the look of the building, this is a pretty safe neighborhood.

Before I can get inside, I hear one of the windows lower, and Andi’s voice calls out, “I’ll call you tonight, ok?”

I don’t acknowledge her as I open the entrance door and begin the trek up the stairs to my apartment. No one bothers me on the steps, although I get a few concerned looks.

I don’t remember getting inside or starting the shower until I burst into tears again. I forgot to take my clothes off, and the tub is a mess now. Cleaning it up seems like an impossible task. Undressing is just as bad. At least I dropped my purse and phone somewhere. I can’t even remember if I locked the front door.

I stay under the water until it runs cold, finally undressing and scrubbing my skin until it’s raw. I check that the front door is locked on autopilot and pick up my phone to charge it, keeping it on silent. No matter how selfish it makes me, I don’t want any more contact with people right now. Then I lay in bed and cry myself to sleep.