He’s A Mean One (Content Advisory #8)

Prologue

Um. The element of confusion.

—Coffee Cup

JASPER

It was the beeping that woke me. Not the pain.

At least, not at first.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

God, would someone shut the freakin’ beeping off?

“I want him treated like royalty,” someone nasty said. “I want him treated like the goddamn pope and Mariah Carey had a child, and produced him. You treat him better than you ever treated anyone ever, and I’ll make sure this hospital is rewarded.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Drews,” a timid voice replied.

Mr. Drews.

Was this Bayne Green’s campaign manager? I thought he hated me.

Why would he be here?

“You there, you.” I heard the same annoying voice, likely belonging to this “Mr. Drews” say. “You right there. Look at me. Do you want to be fired?”

God, I sure the hell would if I had to deal with him.

“I’m a volunteer,” the woman’s voice said. “You can’t fire me.”

“I can get you banned from ever working in this hospital again!” he declared loudly.

“Mr. Drews,” the woman said quietly. “Your shouting is not good for the patient. In fact, all studies show that a calm environment helps patients heal. Something that Mr. Green desperately needs right now.”

Mr. Green. Who the hell was Mr. Green?

“Mr. Green won’t remember that I was here,” Mr. Drews growled. “Look at him, lying in that bed. He can’t hear he’s so high on drugs.”

“He can hear,” the calm voice replied. “Trust me on this.”

I was inclined to trust her even more, because it was apparent she was handling the asshole perfectly.

“Listen…”

I must’ve passed out after that, because the next thing I remembered was a woman’s voice saying, “I know that you’re a fancy country singer and all, but your manager is a freakin’ horrible person.”

That soothing voice again.

I wished I knew her name.

As if she’d heard my thoughts she said, “My name is Harlow Degraw. We’re about to become best friends.”

And she was right.

“When you wake up, we’re going to discuss how awful he is, so you can find a new manager. No one wants someone like that working for them.”

What was she talking about?

I didn’t have a manager.

I blinked open my eyes, and pain burst to life everywhere.

It was like all I needed to do was see and then I was reminded.

Fire.

Screaming.

A bomb.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

I blinked twice, even though it hurt worse than anything I’d ever experienced, and focused on her.

What I did not do was turn my head to get a better view.

“You want pain meds?”

I blinked.

She pressed something near my side.

“Two blinks for no. One blink for yes.” She stood up. “You’re on a morphine pump,” she explained. “It’s inside your hand right now, can you feel it?”

No.

No, I couldn’t feel it.

What I could feel was the pain that felt like fire licking at almost every nerve ending.

“You were in a fire,” she said softly. “Do you remember?”

I blinked once.

“You have third-degree burns on fifty-two percent of your body,” she whispered. “They’re very bad.”

I blinked once.

“Do you want me to get a doctor so he can explain?”

I blinked once.

Yes.

“I’ll go get him. He can tell you everything.”

The doctor did, in fact, tell me everything.

Or what he thought was everything.

“Mr. Green,” the doctor said after he recounted everything that had happened. “Is there anything you have a question about?”

Like I could fuckin’ answer.

I’d just learned that those third-degree burns extended up to my face, covering half of it from hairline to chin.

I couldn’t even move my mouth without that fire licking at me.

What I did know was, I wasn’t Mr. Green.

I was Jasper Madden, and these people had the wrong man.