8. Ethan
8
ETHAN
M y phone rings, pulling me away from the book in my hands. I close the book and check the time on my watch. 12:26 A.M.
Who in the world would be calling me this late?
I turn to grab my phone off the end table, noticing that it isn’t my personal phone ringing; it’s my emergency phone for the hospital. I grab it quickly, not recognizing the number.
I hit the accept button and move the phone to my ear. “Ethan Cole.”
All I can hear is the sound of loud music, a deep bass that feels like it vibrates my eardrum even over the phone. I hear people yelling over the repetitive beat and know the only person it could be is Ally.
“Ally? Is that you?” I ask, tossing my book onto the couch as I put my feet on the floor. “Hello? Are you there?” I ask, louder this time so that maybe she’ll be able to hear me over the music.
The music fades, and I finally hear her voice. “Hello?”
“Ally? Are you okay?”
“Dr. Cole? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me. Did you pocket-dial me or something?”
“Shoot, I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call.” She sounds so panicked that I start to stress for her.
“What’s wrong?”
“I came out with some friends. I was up dancing, and when I came back to the table, everyone was gone, and my purse was just sitting there, open. Someone took my wallet and my personal phone. I have no way to call anyone, and I don’t have any money for a cab.” I can tell by the tightness in her voice that she’s one the verge of tears.
“Alright, calm down,” I tell her. “What club are you at?”
“I… I don’t know. All I know is that it’s new and on the south side.”
“Alright. Go to the bar. Sit there and wait for me. I’ll pick you up. Don’t talk to anyone and don’t drink anything. Understand?”
“Yes,” she says, hiccuping.
“Go now.” I hang up the phone and push myself up. I haven’t bothered undressing yet, so all I have to do is shove my feet into my shoes. I grab my wallet and keys and rush out to my car.
I drive through the city, to the southern side of the south side, past the neighborhoods to the business district. There’s a coffee house, restaurants, smaller grocery stores, several bars, and the newest addition: Club Rossi—a club owned by a famous Major League Baseball player who got his start in this area. He’s become a spokesperson for underprivileged youth in the city, trying to bridge the gap between race and class.
I pull up to the curb and kill the engine, locking it so the horn honks. I look around, finding people moving in and out of the club. Others are just loitering on the sidewalks. I find the biggest one and walk up to him. “You looking to make some money?”
He frowns at me. “Whatchu got in mind? I’m on probation, and I ain’t lookin’ to go back to jail.”
I pull my wallet out of my pocket and take out a hundred-dollar bill. “Watch my car. I won’t be long. If I come back out and it’s still in perfect condition, I’ll give you another hundred.”
He takes the money from my hand and gives me a nod. “You got yourself a deal,” he says, walking over to the car.
I push forward, moving past the line of people waiting to get into the club. They all yell at me, but I ignore each one until I get to the doorman and pass him a twenty. “I’m just picking someone up.”
He takes the cash and removes the rope, letting me pass, and the people in line bitch some more.
I step in, hit by the pulsing bass and dancing neon lights. The smell of sweat and stale alcohol wash over me, making my throat tighten to hold back my gagging reflex. I move deeper and deeper through the crowd and sweaty bodies, looking for the bar. Finally, the space before me opens, and I’m able to sort through the areas. I find the dance floor, the tables and booths, and finally, the bar. I glance over the barstools, moving down to the last one where she’s sitting, just like I told her. I breathe a sigh of relief. That’s when I see the guy beside her. His eyes move lazily down her body and back up. That’s when he leans toward her. His left arm is on the back of her chair, and his right elbow is on the bar. He touches her shoulder with his left hand, and when she turns to look over her shoulder for who touched her, I see him use his right hand to drop something into her drink.
I rush toward her just as her back straightens from realizing that he’s the one who touched her. My hands shoot out in front of me, pushing the guy back several steps.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I hear, several guys closing in around us.
“Dr. Cole!” Ally says, grabbing my arm because she doesn’t know what’s going on.
“Hey!” the bartender yells at us. “I’ve already called a bouncer. Don’t fucking start.” She points at me. From the untrained eye, it looks like I’m a jealous boyfriend who walked in to find my girl with another guy. She didn’t see this douchebag put anything into her drink. I hold up my hands, showing them to her. “I’m not starting anything,” I say, but my words fall away when a man twice my size steps up.
“What’s going on over here?” he asks.
“I’m Dr. Ethan Cole, head of the pediatric cardiology department at the Children’s Hospital,” I tell him. “I was coming to pick up a colleague, and as I was walking up, I saw this dipshit drop something into her drink. I’d call the police if I were you.”
“Dr. Ethan Cole? I’ve heard of you,” the bouncer says, shaking my hand. “You operated on my nephew a few years back. Saved his life.”
I force a smile. “I’m glad I could help.”
“You say this guy is drugging people?” He looks around me at the guy whose eyes are darting around as he tries to figure out what’s going on.
I nod. “Yes, this drink right here. Give it to the police.”
The loser guy finally understands what’s going on and makes a run for it, with the bouncer chasing after him. I don’t stick around to find out what happens, I just grab Ally and steer her toward the front doors. She’s wobbly on her feet. If I hadn’t been holding her upright, she’d have fallen over. We’re almost to the doors when I drape her arm over my shoulders. “Come on. Stay awake,” I tell her as her head lulls to the side.
Pushing through the doors has icy air washing over both of us. I hear her gasp and her eyes spring open. On the sidewalk, I stop and turn her to face me, keeping my hands on her shoulders to make sure she stays upright. Her head falls forward, and I bend my knees to try and get eye contact. “Ally, what’s your address so I can take you home?”
“I think I’m going to be…” She doubles over and releases everything that’s been fighting its way up. Luckily, it’s all liquid. Unluckily, it splatters all over my shoes. My jaw tightens in annoyance.
This is why I don’t do clubs.
“Motherfucker,” I curse. Her knees give out, and I rush to catch her before she can fall in the puddle of vomit. “How much did you drink?” I ask, tightening my hold on her as I start carrying her over to my car. When we make it, I prop her up against the side and pay the guy who’s been watching my car.
“Thank you,” I say, handing over the money.
He takes it with a nod. “No problem. Although, you probably should’ve saved some money for detailing after she pukes all over your shit on the drive home.”
I turn my attention back to her. “Are you alright?”
She’s leaning against my car, fighting to stay awake. “Please take me home,” she says.
“Alright, get in the car.” I open the door and help her in. She flops over and I bend down to put her seatbelt on her. Then I recline the seat back slightly and she falls asleep instantly.
I climb behind the wheel, realizing now that she didn’t give me her address. What the hell am I supposed to do with her? I start the car and turn up the heat after I see her shiver in her sleep. I look up to see several people staring in our direction. I can’t stay here all night; it’s not safe.
Not knowing what else to do, I drive back to my place. I’ll put her in my spare bedroom, and when she wakes up, she can give me her address, and I will take her home.
Once we’re in the garage, I move around the car, open her door, unbuckle her seatbelt, and pick her up. She’s so out of it that she doesn’t even wake up. Using my hip, I close the car door and I carry her into the house.
Once I set her on the bed in the guest room, a strand of hair is in her face, so I brush it away and tuck the lock behind her ear. I tug the blankets down, but before pulling them up over her, I take off her shoes and smile at her red toenails. She has beautiful feet, small, soft, and narrow with high arches. Once I have both heels off, I pull the blanket up over her, making her nuzzle deeper.
I look down at her, blown away by how gorgeous she is despite her state. Her hair is a mess and her makeup is smeared, and looking at her still takes my breath away. I tell myself it’s time to walk away, but something inside of me won’t let me. What if she vomits tonight and aspirates? I know staying in the same room as her will look like I tried to take advantage of her. I move across the hall to the bathroom, bringing back a small wastebasket that I place beside the bed in case she gets sick again. Then I place a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol on the bedside table. Satisfied, I turn off the light, move to the chair in the far corner of the room, kick my feet up on the ottoman, and cover myself with the blanket draped over the back of the chair.
I look over at her as she sleeps, starting at her feet and moving up as I remember the way she was dressed. The dress was far too revealing to be wearing to a dangerous club like that. It was too short, too tight. It left too little to the imagination, and the parts you had to imagine are parts I don’t want anyone thinking about but me.
What the hell am I doing? Why am I so invested in a woman I just met? I don’t know anything about her. She’s also a coworker and much, much too young for me. Even if she was interested in me, nothing could happen between us. It would look bad for the hospital and could cost us our jobs. Maybe Noah is right. Maybe I do need to get laid.
I close my eyes and imagine the way she would’ve been dancing tonight, and the way her dress would’ve clung to her hips. My imagination gets away from me and before I can stop it, I can see myself stepping up behind her on the dance floor, pressing my groin against her, and feeling my body burn and come alive as I think about how good she’d feel pressed against me.