Chapter 29
“This is Ariel. We met this afternoon.”
“I remember.”
“I hate to bother you. You’re probably busy right now.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m not feeling so hot. I’m still a little dizzy, and I puked twice. Sorry. TMI.”
“Look, I think we need to get you to the ER and get you checked out.”
“Okay, but I can’t drive like this. I don’t want to call 9-1-1, and I don’t want to get into a strange cab.”
“Tell me where you’re at, and I’ll come pick you up.”
“Are you sure that’s not too much trouble?”
“Positive.”
She gave me an address, and I told her to stay on the line with me. I got the keys from Jack, then hustled down the dock to the parking lot and hopped in the Porsche. With a twist, I fired up the flat six, threw the car into gear, and pulled out of the space.
I told Ariel it would take me a few minutes to get there with traffic.
She lived in the Coronado, not far away.
The upscale midrise was popular with well-to-do twenty-somethings.
With the following Ariel had amassed on social media with her shark pics, I’m sure she had a nice stream of income from endorsements—bikinis, dive gear, sunscreen, cosmetics.
I pulled around the fountain at the Coronado and parked at the main entrance.
The valet hustled to my door, and I flashed my badge and told him to keep it running.
After slipping a few bills into his palm, I stepped to the glass doors.
With another flash of the badge, the concierge buzzed me in.
I hurried through the opulent lobby, up to the 6th floor, and trotted down the hall to unit #610.
“It’s the enemy,” I shouted as I knocked on the door.
Footsteps shuffled down the foyer a moment later.
Ariel flipped the deadbolt and pulled open the door.
She looked a little under the weather, with tousled hair and pale skin.
The purple knot on her cheek, which was yellow and green around the fringes, had grown larger.
She covered her eyes and said, "I'm so embarrassed. "
"Don't be. Everybody needs a hand now and then."
She had a small pack slung over her shoulder, presumably with anything she might need for an overnight stay—toothbrush, toothpaste, makeup remover, phone charger—the necessities.
Ariel stepped into the hallway and locked the door behind her.
"Can you make it?" I asked. "Do you need me to carry you down to the lobby?”
"No. Absolutely not. I'm fine. I'm just moving a little slow.”
She touched the wall as she took a few steps and used it to steady herself. She was looking a little uneven.
I helped her down the hallway and into the elevator. She looked a little queasy when we plunged down to the lobby, but settled quickly.
I walked her outside and helped her slip into the Porsche. "There's a bag there if you need it," I said, pointing to the white kitchen bag I had taken from the galley. Just in case of an emergency.
Once she was situated, I closed her door and hustled around to the driver’s side. I slid behind the wheel, dropped the car into gear, and zipped out of the lot. I turned into traffic. Fortunately, it only took about 15 minutes to get to the ER. But that was 15 minutes too long.
We had a little incident along the way, but that's what the bag was for. It sure came in handy.
I parked at the main entrance, helped her in, and brought her to the front desk.
I flashed my badge in hopes it would get priority treatment.
The place was packed with drunk college kids.
There were kids suffering broken noses, broken ankles, dehydration, alcohol poisoning, drug overdoses, you name it.
Overhead fluorescents cast a pale green glow, and a flatscreen on the wall squawked with a 24-hour news channel.
I told the receptionist, "She suffered a head injury six hours ago. Punched in the face. She declined further treatment at the time."
I recapped the situation.
The triage nurse took her back for an immediate eval.
I took the opportunity to hustle outside, move the car, and find a real place to park.
By the time I got back into the ER, they had put her on a bed in the hallway. She was on the wall. There weren't any rooms available. I found her and asked, "How are you feeling?”
She lifted a so-so hand.
"You're going to be just fine. You're in good hands.”
"I'm so embarrassed. I puked in your car.”
I smiled. "It's not my car.”
She laughed.
A nurse came by, did a blood draw, and got her started on a saline IV. “This is Zofran for the nausea. You think you can keep it down?”
“I’ll try,” Ariel said.
The nurse gave her the pill and a small paper cup of water. Ariel sat up and swallowed the pill.
A few minutes later, a tech came and got her for a CT scan.
"You don't have to stick around," Ariel said.
"It's no problem. It won't take long. I’ll just make sure you're out of the woods.”
"Thank you,” she said, as they wheeled her away.
I loitered in the hallway for a while, watching nurses scurry about, listening to the moans and groans of patients. It was pure chaos, and this was just the beginning.