You Can See Me (7 page)

Ric had been in the VIP room on the upper floor of the bar. He’d decided to take Nurse Sheila up on her offer and come out to hang with a few of his new coworkers. After seeing Pres leaving with that witch tonight, he really needed a couple drinks. He’d actually been having a good time, when he’d come out of the bathroom and saw several people blocking the stairs. So he went back to the VIP room and asked Sheila’s boyfriend what the ruckus was about downstairs.

The short man just shrugged his shoulders. Ric went to the railing and looked down to the lower level. He could see there was some type of commotion going on at a few tables by the bar. They were all the way on the other side of the club, and Ric could barely make out their faces in the dim lighting. He got ready to turn around when he noticed a chick slap this man across his face.

Wow! That look like it hurt.

Ric saw the man fly back over the top of a table and crash to the floor, like he was a stuntman in an action movie. The bar lights were flashing wildly, and there were so many people standing around that Ric could hardly see what was going on.

It wasn’t until the bouncer hauled the man to his feet that Ric took in the man’s outfit and that dark wavy hair.

Pres.

The bouncer was manhandling him roughly. He was slinging Pres around tables while pushing him toward the exit. Ric’s heart ached terribly, and he saw red.

“Stop pushing him, asshole!” Ric yelled as loud as he could as he took the stairs two at a time. At the bottom, the stairs were blocked by people standing around trying to get a better look at the commotion. “Let me through!” he barked, but nobody moved.

The rap music the DJ was playing was deafening, and there were too many people gathered around cheering. You would’ve thought it was a UFC championship match, not a blind man getting assaulted.

By the time Ric was able to get through the large crowd and onto the sidewalk, Pres was being shoved toward the street by some punk. He raced forward to grab him, but Pres fell back into him instead. The man was crying and shivering terribly. His hand had a thin sliver of glass sticking out of it, and blood was running down his arm and into his shirt sleeve. Ric wrapped him in his arms, surprised that he came willingly. Pres looked so relieved that someone wasn’t trying to kill him, he probably would’ve wrapped himself around the devil at that point if he was offering help.

Now he was taking the beautiful man to the hospital to get him stitched up, and then he’d safely take him home.

* * * *

Pres rode in silence while his savior pulled him in and held him to his massive chest. One heavily muscled arm was wrapped tight around his shoulder, while the other still held his injured hand. Pres’s other arm was around the man’s waist. He was being held by a man—he just didn’t know who. As they rode, Pres could hear the man whispering softly to him as he tried to get control of his emotions.

“I’m so sorry, Pres. I tried to get to you, baby. I tried. I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you again.”

He felt the man place a soft kiss on his forehead. It felt…it felt…fucking wonderful! Then he smelled that warm, spicy scent, and the familiarity hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Ric,” he whispered quietly.

He heard the man chuckle softly. “Yes, it’s me, Pres. I see you can still recognize my scent. I’m taking you to my job, and I’m gonna fix your hand. Then I’m gonna take you back home…okay? Don’t worry.”

“Thank you. I was so scared.” He spoke quietly into Ric’s neck and felt the tears building. “I pissed myself,” he whispered. Then there were the tears again. He felt like such a whiny bitch.

“I know, baby. It’s all right. You don’t have to be scared now. I got you.” Ric squeezed him harder. It was more comforting than anything he’d felt in a long time.

“Hey, you’re gonna clean that up back there! I’m not cleaning some grown man’s piss,” the taxi driver yelled into the backseat.

“Shut the fuck up and drive!”

Pres could feel the rumble in Ric’s chest from his growling words.

About ten minutes later, the taxi driver slammed on his brakes, causing them both to wrench forward. “We’re here. Now get the hell out!” the driver barked.

“Here, asshole.”

Pres felt Ric throw some bills over the seat.

“And keep the change to buy yourself a new fucking attitude.”

“Ric, please, let’s just get out,” Pres whispered against the side of Ric’s face. He could feel the heat and anger radiating off of the big man.

“I’m sorry, baby. Okay, come on.” Ric gently eased him out of the back of the car.

“My hand is killing me,” Pres hissed. “Ric, I don’t want to walk in there like this. Is it really busy in there right now?”

“Yes, it’s busy, but I’ll take you straight to the back, okay? I’m not gonna make you wait in the waiting room.” Ric put his arm back around Pres’s shoulder and pressed him closely against his chest, moving them forward.

Pres walked stiffly. He was overly conscious where he stepped, not wanting to trip on a curb or any stairs.

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t let you fall, Pres…ever. There are two steps at the entrance about fifty feet ahead, and then it’s a flat surface all the way to the back of the emergency room,” Ric informed him.

Pres immediately felt better at the direction and started to move a little faster. He never removed his arm from around Ric’s waist. He counted to forty-five, and was prepared to step up, when he felt Ric turn him toward him and cup his face tenderly.

“When we get inside, don’t say anything, and don’t stop walking, okay?” Ric was very close to his face, and he could feel the man’s breath blowing into his own parted lips. He smelled so spicy and sweet, like the best Galliano liqueur he used for his favorite flambé, a sexy, aromatic blend of anise, vanilla, and honey with rich, spicy overtones. Pres had to admit that he loved the man’s scent and would recognize him in any crowd.

“Okay, Ric,” Pres whispered back.

“Step up twice,” Ric instructed.

Pres followed the directions and heard the automatic doors open up. The noise was pretty loud, but it was an emergency room on a Saturday night. Pres was glued to Ric’s side as he ushered him through the noisy lobby. Ric was fairly tall, because Pres was able to slouch some and tuck his face into Ric’s armpit. He didn’t want anyone looking at his face—which they probably weren’t since he had a huge wet spot down lower for them to focus on.

Ric did as promised and moved them quickly across the linoleum floor.

“Well, hello there, handsome. I thought you were off tonight?” a female asked. The soft voice held a bit of desire in it as she spoke to his protector.

His.

Pres concentrated on not turning his head and scowling at the woman.

“I am off, Sandra.” Ric didn’t slow his steps, not even for a second. “Send Maggie to private room sixty-three,” he called over his shoulder.

“Okay.” The woman had to yell back at them since they were already turning the corner. No doubt she was wondering why the hell they were practically running down the hall.

“Right here.” Ric took his arm from around Pres and turned him to the left.

Pres heard the door squeak open, and he assumed it was dark because he heard Ric flick a light switch.

“There’s a chair ahead of you. I want you to sit while I help you take off your clothes. After that I’m gonna—”

“You don’t have to do that, Ric. I’m sure you have—”

Pres’s words were cut off. “I know what I have and don’t have to do. Now sit down, Prescott,” which he immediately did. He heard the door squeak open and raised his head to listen.

“Nurse Maggie, can you first get me a suture kit, a ten-milligram syringe of morphine, and two IV bags of fluids.” It was spoken as a demand, not a question. “Bring them stat, please, Maggie. Then, I’ll need some size-large scrubs from the doctors’ lounge.” Ric was busy removing Pres’s soiled clothes while he issued the instructions.

“Sure thing,” the warm voice quickly responded and was back out the door.

“Are you going to stay here while the doctor does the stitches?” Pres questioned, his voice still shaking from the night’s horrific events.

“Nobody touches you but me, baby. I am your doctor. I’ll be doing the stitches. Then I’m gonna get you cleaned up myself. After you’ve rested a little and I’m comfortable that the knot on the side of your head is not a problem, I’ll take you home.” Ric spoke with so much assurance that it made Pres want to beg the man to stay with him forever. It’d been years since someone besides his parents cared so much for him.

“You’re a doctor, Ric?” Pres asked, the shock evident in his tone.

Pres didn’t get an answer because the nurse walked in right at that moment.

“Do you want me to start a chart, Dr. E?” she asked nicely.

“No. I don’t want anyone coming in here besides you, okay, Maggie?” Ric said.

“Of course, Doctor. I’ll go get the scrubs. Did you want me to assist with your sutures?”

“No. I’ll be fine. Just keep this room clear for me.”

“Will do, Dr. E.” The young voice left without another word.

“I didn’t know you were a doctor,” Pres remarked again as he was ushered to the bed.

“You didn’t ask,” Ric’s stated easily, his voice hinted with humor. He concentrated on cleaning the outer part of Pres’s hand with alcohol-soaked cotton balls. “Now hold still. I’m going to give you a shot of morphine in your arm, and then I want you to sit back and relax. I’ll numb your hand real good and remove the shard of glass. Once it’s clean, I’ll give you a shot of antibiotic before I start the sutures. You shouldn’t feel anything, okay, but if you do, just speak up. I don’t want you to hurt at all.” Ric rubbed Pres’s bare thigh as he spoke the details of his treatment.

Pres sat there on the side of the hospital bed with a cool sheet draped over his privates. He wasn’t feeling the least bit uncomfortable around the sweet doctor.

“I’ll be fine. Go ahead, Ric. Believe it or not, I’m tougher than you think. I know all evidence points to the contrary…but it was an unusual night.” Pres tried to sound surer of himself. He felt the needle pierce the crook of his arm.

“I know you’re strong, baby. I can’t imagine how it felt to go through what you just went through. I’m just sorry I couldn’t get to you in time.” Ric sounded genuinely hurt.

“Hey. Why do you keep saying that? Were you watching me?” Pres had to know why Ric kept saying he tried to get to him.

“Not really. I was at the club, in the upper-level VIP room with some coworkers, when I came out of the restroom and saw everyone watching the commotion. I didn’t notice it was you until the bouncer was pushing you toward the door. There were so many damn people blocking my way, and I couldn’t reach you before you were tossed out. I’m so sorry, Pres.”

“Shhh. Hey, it wasn’t your fault. And it’s not your job to protect me. I shouldn’t have been out with that crazy broad in the first place. It’s just been pretty lonely over the last few years…ya know? Well, you probably don’t know.”

“No. Believe me…I do know,” Ric said before he went back to working.

They fell into a comfortable silence. Ric was already done with his sutures and wrapping a bandage around his hand. Pres didn’t feel any pain.

“Feeling okay?” Ric questioned.

“Yep. I’m just peachy.” Pres chuckled.

Ric laughed too.

Pres was feeling pretty good with the strong narcotic flowing through his system. Ric informed him he’d been given a double dose to ensure he stayed comfortable. Now he was high as a kite. The previous intoxication from the liquor he’d consumed earlier added to his now-euphoric condition.

Ric was wrapping some kind of plastic cover over his entire hand so Pres couldn’t get the fresh bandages wet while he showered. “All done, baby. Now let’s get you cleaned up.”

He felt Ric helping him off the table, when Pres suddenly stopped short. “You keep calling me ‘baby.’” he slurred a little, his eyes half closed from the drugs.

“It’s just a term of endearment. Am I offending you?” Ric asked carefully.

“No. I think I actually like it.” Pres smiled.

Ric moved Pres slowly to the bathroom.

“So you’re gay, Ric. I mean, like…not bisexual…completely gay?” Pres stopped their movement and waited for Ric’s answer.

“I am gay,” Ric admitted surely.

“Oh. Well, that’s fine. I’m fine with it…really.” Pres held on tighter to Ric’s arm. “You’re attracted to me, Ric?”

“Fuck yes,” Ric answered without hesitation. “Is this going to bother you? I mean helping you in the shower…because I can be professional.”

“No, Ric. I can use your help. I’m feeling a little woozy, to be honest,” Pres said.

“Good,” Ric responded. “Ummm, are you bisexual, Pres? You seem pretty comfortable with me…and, you know, the other night at my place.”

“I did some experimenting, I guess you would say, in college. But, I haven’t been attracted to another man in a very, very long time. I can’t see you, Ric, but you sound handsome. Your voice is very rich and masculine, and your scent is intoxicating,” Pres whispered against Ric’s neck. “Will you describe yourself to me, Ric?” Pres silently hoped that Ric didn’t think that was weird, or too much, but he really wanted to know.

“Of course I will, beautiful. But let me get you cleaned up and dressed first, okay?” Ric took Pres into the small bathroom and started the stand-in shower. “When I get you home, I’ll let you see me.”

“Okay, honey.” Pres smiled warmly, teasing the gentle man.

“You asshole. Get in there.” Ric laughed. “Keep your hand up on the wall so it’s out of the path of the showerhead.”

The small shower was only the size of mini closet, with a small bench protruding from the back of it and a detachable showerhead.

Pres heard Ric unwrapping the soap. He felt him try to press the washcloth in his hand, but Pres didn’t take it. Instead he turned around and put both hands up on the wall, assuming the position.

* * * *

Ric concentrated on not letting loose moan after moan as he watched Pres turn around—showing off that perfect ass—spread his legs, brace both hands high on the cool tiles, and drop his head down to his chest.