Page 11 of Doc Rock
Would he be indifferent?
That would be the worst. What if he didn’t care at all?
“Right,”she said, struggling to keep her voice even.“I’ll give him the naloxone first, then set some fluids up. Try and rehydrate him.”
Mai didn’t even bother suggesting he should go to the hospital, as sheknewthey would refuse. If Ryan woke up, the show would go on, like it always did.
Once the drip was inserted, she drew up the vial labelled Narcan and injected it straight into the line, flushing the drug with saline.
“If it’s opioids, he’ll wake up very quickly,”Mai answered the unasked question.
She tried not to be too aware that the band had crowded closer, but shecouldsense Ford. Sheknewhe was only a metre behind her; hecouldreach out and touch her.
She wished he would do that. Just once more, she wanted tofeelhis touch on her.
She shook her head. She was so stupid. It had been sixteen years. The man had lived a million lifetimes since they were together. She was sure he barely remembered her name, let alone craved her touch, like she did his.
Ryan’s chest heaved, then heaved again.
Mai sat back on her heels, grinning with satisfaction.
She pushed her glasses back up her nose. Then she frowned when Ryan made a telltale face, one that was very familiar when you were a doctor.It wasthe face of a man about to vomit.
His head turned toward her, and she did the only thing shecouldthink of; she leapt to her feet and jumped backwards to avoid wearing the guitar player’s stomach contents.
He vomited on the floor exactly where she had been kneeling.
Mai breathed a sigh of relief. She really didn’t fancy smelling like puke all night.
Then she froze.
She jumped backwards alright, right into Ford’s arms, which were now circled around her waist.
Therewas so much more ink snaking up those arms than when they were together. She realised that she hadn’t seen his forearms in any photos, as he always wore leather strips wrapped around them when on stage. She couldn’t stop her eyes from staring at the tattoos, wondering about the meaning behind them. When sheknewFord, every tattoo had a story.
The biggest one was numbers, and when she peered harder, shesawit wasa latitude and longitude.
She tried to commit the numbers to memory, but was too frazzled with awareness of everywhere they touched racing through her, as her back was pulled tightly against his solid chest.
When he spoke, his breath brushed her ear.“Are you alright?”
Mai nodded. She couldn’t talk. She wanted to stay in his arms forever.
Why did she run away from him?
They fit together.They always had.He was so much taller than her that hecouldtuck her under his chin and still be able to look over her head.
“Yes. Thank you.”Her voice sounded stiff when she finally found it, and she stepped out of his embrace and back to Ryan, not daring to look over her shoulder at Ford.“Ryan, I’m going to give you some IV fluids and anti-sickness drugs. Okay.”
Ryan stared back at her glassy-eyed and nodded.
“What drugs did you do?”Mai questioned as she set up the fluids. She didn’t look up at Ford, but shecouldfeelhis gaze burning into the back of her head.
“I didn’t do any drugs,”Ryan denied.
Mai laughed.“Don’t bullshit me, mate. I don’t care what you took. I just need toknowthat I’ve treated you adequately.”
Ryan gazed mulishly ahead.“Can wegetrid of the help now? I’m fine.”
