Chapter Two #2
I walked around to the tailgate and pulled out a big, oversized sweater. The second I did, Good was there, standing close. “What do you—”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya. Just thought I’d give ya a hand with yer coat,” he rushed to say.
“I was…only startled,” I argued, letting him help me out of the jacket and then pull the sweater over my head and down my torso as I gritted my teeth through the pain.
I wasn’t going to argue with this man about anything.
After seeing him in action last night, I had no doubt in his ability to do just about anything he set his mind to.
He grinned. “Grand. Let’s go.” He pointed at a VW bug which was parked across the street. “We’ll take my car.”
I reached out and caught his sleeve with my good hand. He stopped and turned. “What?”
“That’s your car?”
He glanced at the VW and then back at me, giving me and up and down glance as if measuring. “Tight squeeze but you’ll fit.” He grinned again, and I dropped his sleeve as he started toward the car again. I shook my head, glad he couldn’t see the smile I couldn’t hide when he turned his back.
He was right. I’d somehow managed to fold myself into the small car as he drove us to Du-Par’s on Third and Beverly.
I hadn’t asked where we were headed but as soon as he turned into the parking lot, I couldn’t stop my smile.
The restaurant and their homemade everything menu, was one of the most iconic eateries in Los Angeles.
I’d grown up coming here with my parents and even after my father passed away, had brought my mother here at least once a month.
The place brought back good memories for me.
Getting out of the VW was even more challenging than getting into it had been. I’d sort of dropped down into the seat, contorting until I could fold my long legs into the car, but getting out one handed was…not fun.
“Jay-sus! ‘Twas a tight fit after all,” the Irishman said as he hovered close, probably worried that I’d fall as he took my hand, hoisting me out with surprising strength.
“This car wasn’t meant for a man of my size,” I huffed, closing the door as I looked down at Good. I guessed he stood about five seven which made him nine inches shorter than I was.
He snorted. “S’pose not.”
I fell into step with him, trying my best to ignore the pain swamping me as we crossed the busier than average parking lot.
Fortunately, we’d timed our arrival when most patrons had finished their early breakfasts and were headed out to work which explained the congestion.
The smell of breakfast inside the famous eatery made me feel slightly nauseated.
Normally, I would have been famished, but since everything had gone badly last summer and I’d barely been able to feed myself, I no longer had the appetite I once did.
I’d lost a considerable amount of weight since finding myself in this predicament.
The hostess showed us to a booth at the back of the restaurant, and I slid onto one of the padded bench seats, opting for a glass of orange juice with ice since I really was feeling feverish.
“Ya don’t drink coffee then?” Good asked.
“Just feeling a little hot this morning,” I grudgingly admitted.
He looked concerned. “I’m glad to have come lookin’ for ya then.”
I nodded, relieved that he hadn’t come right out and accused me of hiding a fever.
He didn’t say anything more, busying himself with the menu until the server came back with tea for him and juice for me.
I ordered a modest meal of scrambled eggs and bacon with toast while he ordered banana, butter pecan hotcakes.
After she walked away, my stomach roiled a little as I studied the glass of juice she’d set down in front of me.
When I looked up, he was watching me. “Not goin’ to drink it? ”
I grunted. “Feeling a little unwell.”
A concerned look came over his face. “I knew I should’ve taken ya to hospital right off.” He started to scoot out of the booth, but I reached across the table to grab his sleeve with my right hand, wincing as the other throbbed.
“No, please. We’ll eat…I’ll eat. Just feeling a little feverish. I’m not going to die of infection in the next thirty minutes. They’re quick here.” I picked up my juice and sent him a smile before lifting it to my lips and downing the whole glass in one go. “See? I’m fine.”
He cocked his head, tipping it to the side as he glanced across the table. “If ya say so, mate.” He settled back into his seat, taking several sips of his tea before leaning toward me. “Right then. Let’s hear it. I want to know why ya so afraid yer goin’ to be arrested. Do ya have a warrant?”
I vehemently shook my head. “No. It’s nothing like that.”
He sat back, picking up his tea again. “What is it, then?”
I wasn’t a stupid man. I couldn’t lie to him since he was law enforcement and could do his own checking. I had to come clean. “I left because I didn’t want to give the police my name.”
He frowned. “And just why would that be? Ya didn’t do anythin’ wrong.”
“I know that, but I’ve just been offered a contract for a job and they’re in the process of running a background check. I didn’t want anything to come up that might jeopardize it.”
“Again, Weston—”
“Wes,” I corrected. “Call me Wes.”
He smiled. “If ya call me Patsy.” When I nodded, he went on. “Again, Wes, ya didn’t do anythin’ wrong.”
“No, but in Hollywood, you’re not allowed to park your car on the street for more than a couple of days. I’ve had some citations for not moving it fast enough for them. I can’t have any more marks on my record.”
“Why don’t ya just move it?”
I looked down at the empty juice glass, pushing the ice around with my straw.
“Ya don’t have the gas? Would that be it?”
I looked up sharply. He was watching and waiting, but there was no judgment in his expression. I shook my head. “Not much, no.”
“And ya think the police would be hasslin’ ya just because ya sleep in yer car?”
I scowled. “Have you ever been forced to sleep in your car?” I knew I sounded shitty but I could feel my ire rising up. “Because I can tell you, the police do hassle the homeless…all the fucking time.”
He looked thoughtful. “Okay, I’ll give ya that. So, yer worried about this new job, then.”
“Yes, and I can’t let anything jeopardize it.
” I sighed deeply. “The universe has been pretty shitty lately. It’s been hard enough getting back and forth to Pasadena for interviews in the last month.
So until I have a signed contract in my hands instead of a verbal job offer, I’m not going to let anything get in the way of it.
” We looked up then as the server set our plates down, leaving ketchup and Tabasco on the table.
We both tucked into our food, though, I ate slower than the man across from me.
The way he was devouring the stack of hotcakes slathered in syrup and dripping with bananas and pecans, was really something.
For a small guy, he had a hearty appetite.
I slowly tested every bite on my tongue, preferring to eat slowly just to make sure I’d keep it down.
Though the eggs were everything I remembered and loved about this place, this morning, nothing tasted right.
Halfway through the eggs, I picked up a slice of toast, ignoring the bacon which made me feel queasy just looking at it.
When I glanced back up at my breakfast companion, he was watching me with a little frown on his face.
“No appetite?”
I shrugged and immediately regretted it as my arm began to throb even worse. “Very little.”
“Okay,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin before turning to look for our server, who gave the check to Patsy. When she was gone, he looked at me. “I’m ready to go. Let’s get ya seen to.”
“Look, Good, I’m grateful for the breakfast, I really am, but I can take it from here.”
“First of all, I told ya—call me Patsy. Second, yer bloody well going to hospital. Hollywood Presbyterian isn’t far, so it is. I’ll take ya.” He had a way of glaring at me when he wanted things done his way. I almost admired him for it and couldn’t help but smile at him.
“Actually, I have Kaiser. It’s left over from my last job which I had to quit when my mom got sick last year.”
“Grand. Kaiser hospital is over on Sunset across from Children’s Hospital L.A.
I’ll take ya. Ya can tell me the story about ya mam and how you’ve managed to keep yer insurance.
” He fished a bill out of his wallet, leaving a tip before heading to the front.
I followed, feeling slightly bad about letting him pay for the meal and drive me all over town.
“Thanks, Patsy,” I said, liking the way his name rolled off my tongue. “I can’t thank you enough.”
He beamed at me. “No problem, mate. That’s what friends are for.”
I smiled, nodding at him. “That’s what friends are for.”