57. JOEY
JOEY
B y the time I saw the car, it was too late. The blacked-out windows, the engine purring. It was too late when I recognized it, too late when I saw the figure lean out from the passenger side. I heard the sound before I even felt the impact.
A gunshot.
The searing pain that shot through my chest made everything go white. It jerked me back, knocking the air straight out of my lungs. I could feel the heat of the blood rushing out of me, soaking through my shirt. This wasn’t good. Adriana’s scream reached me like it was underwater. I couldn’t hear anything but the thumping of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in my throat.
Adriana’s hands pressed against the wound in my chest, but it wasn’t enough. I could already feel it—the blood draining, the weakness spreading like a wildfire through my veins. I glanced at her face, her eyes wide with horror, her lips trembling as she cried out my name. But I could hardly hear her. I wanted to reassure her. I wanted to tell her I was fine, that everything was going to be okay.
“ I’m okay ,” I mouthed, hoping she could read lips tonight. I needed her to believe it, even if I didn’t.
I could feel Adriana’s palms pressing against my chest, holding me in place. It felt like I’d left my body, watching everything unfold from somewhere far away. People poured out of The Wise Guy, their faces twisted in fear, towering over me. Their mouths moved, their shouts urgent—but I couldn’t hear a goddamn thing. Just static. A relentless, buzzing noise drowning everything else out. But it was getting harder to focus. The edges of my vision were blurred.
Paul and Marco rushed toward us. I felt hands beneath me, lifting me, and dragging me into the backseat of Marco’s car. The movement made my head spin. Adriana was still holding on to me, her grip so tight I thought her fingers would break through my skin. I could see Marco in the driver’s seat, speeding through the streets, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. I wanted to slap him, tell him to keep his damn eyes on the road, but I didn’t have the strength. Paul and Adriana were shouting at each other—Paul was probably telling her to calm down, but she was hysterical. I wanted to tell her the same, but I couldn’t get the words out. And I knew she wouldn’t listen, anyway—not with my blood smeared up her arms, drying in streaks.
I was sure the only thing keeping me alive was Adriana’s touch. I didn’t know what would happen when they separated us.
I felt the car come to a standstill. Paul and Marco rushed out, yanking open the doors and lifting me from the backseat. A few nurses ran forward, shouting as they helped me onto a stretcher. The fluorescent lights were so bright I had to clamp my eyes shut. I felt them rip off my tie and force the buttons on my shirt to reveal the wound, then a sharp sting in my arm, an ice-like sensation crawling through my veins.
And then, there was nothing but silence.