I breathed in deeply before I began. I obviously didn't want to just unload all of the details of what had transpired on her. All morning I had been thinking of a condensed version of events to tell her. One that would let her know that I was involved with some serious stuff, but not give too much away, and also not make her too worried about the prospect of going out with me again…for the first time.
“Alright, well, let me start with a bit of background information.”
“Sure, background info is good.”
“As you know, I've just started as principal of JFK High. And at the school, there's a pretty serious drug problem. Have you heard of this new drug called Rocket?”
She nodded. “I heard about it on the radio the other day. It sounds like scary stuff.”
“It is scary stuff, and it's getting into JFK in a pretty bad way. Myself and the deputy principal, we're on a mission to get Rocket out of the school. Targeting the kids who use it, however, doesn't fix the problem, it only treats the symptoms. We want to go after the root – the guys who distribute it and sell it at high schools.”
“A noble endeavor, but isn't that something the cops should be doing?” she asked.
“They're on it, but they're not making any headway. That's why the deputy principal and myself have taken matters into our own hands. Anyway, we managed to get an inside source, someone who is working for these scumbag drug dealers. And last night, at 7:15, just as I was getting ready to come over and pick you up, I got a call from this source, an urgent call. He said I needed to be at a certain place in less than 10 minutes to catch one of the major kingpin dealers. Of course, I raced off to do this, figuring I'd call you on my way to meet him to let you know I'd be late. However, in my haste – and I fully acknowledge that this is my fault and that I should have known better – I left my phone on my dresser. So, I got halfway to the apartment building where the dealers were meeting, looked for my phone to call you, and found that I had left it at home. That's why when you tried to call me, I didn't answer. And then, by the time it was all over, I got back and tried to call you, but your phone was off.”
“Did you at least catch the guys?” she asked.
I sighed heavily and slumped back into the cushion of the sofa. “No... they got away.”
“That's a pity.”
“Yeah, it is, it really is. But there's more. Jane came down with a bad stomach infection and was running a high fever last night. I had to rush her to the hospital at two o' clock in the morning.”
Vivienne’s face changed completely. I could see that she had been a little skeptical about my drug bust story, but when she heard this, a look of genuine concern came across her face.
“Oh no! Is she alright?”
I sighed and looked away.
“I don't know, Vivienne, I don't know. I stayed by her side all night. She was crying a lot, in and out with the meds, sweating like crazy. They managed to finally bring the fever down a little this morning, but she's still not doing so great. She’s sleeping right now and the babysitter is sitting with her at the hospital in case she wakes up before I get back.”
“I'm so, so sorry to hear that,” she said softly. “And... I'm sorry that I totally misjudged you, and thought you stood me up for no good reason. One question though: I went out to meet a friend last night, and on the way out, I saw a man driving you back to your place. You looked kind of... well, you looked like you'd had a few beers. Would you mind putting my mind at ease and explaining that?”
Shit. I hadn't counted on her seeing that. I literally had three seconds to decide on the best course of action to take here. Should I come clean and show her the gunshot wound?
The truth was always the best policy, and I figured that sooner or later she would probably find out about it anyway – it had created a decent wound and there was no doubt going to be a scar – so I went ahead and told her.
“Yeah, uh, that guy was an old buddy of mine. A doctor, kinda. You see, there's something about the drug bust thing that I kind of left out.”
“Well, go on, let me hear it,” she urged.
“I, uh, I got shot last night.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “Shot?! You mean, with a gun?! A real, you know, a gun?!”
I nodded.
“What?! Why didn't you say anything earlier? Are you alright, are you hurt? What are you even doing here, shouldn't you be in the hospital or something?!”
“It's alright, seriously. It’s just a flesh wound. Luckily the bullet didn't hit anything that mattered much. It went straight through. My buddy cleaned the wound and stitched it up. I'll be right as rain in a few days.”
“But... but... it's a freakin' gunshot wound!”
I chuckled. “They're not always fatal, and sometimes they're not even that serious. Last night, I was lucky. Well, unlucky to have gotten shot, but lucky that it wasn't a much more serious injury.”
“Uh, yeah I guess you could look at it like that,” she muttered, looking uncertain. “But seriously... are you okay?”
I could see she was genuinely concerned for my well-being, and I had to admit it felt pretty good to have someone actually care. “I really am, trust me.”