“That can happen?”
“Yes. More with older people, but you don’t want to take a chance.”
“Fine.”
“Dress the wound every day. And no showers without covering it up watertight with plastic.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Wise guy, eh?”
Saks shivered. Wise guy was the slang for Mafia members. Saks had avoided that lifestyle like the plague. Now, he was on the outs with his boss and best friend, he’d lost his girl, one of his brothers in the club had been shot, and he was holing up in his parents’ house.
When did his life turn to muck?
The medic saw him shiver, and stuck a thermometer in his mouth.
When it beeped, he studied it. “No fever. Good. But if you do get one, go back to the hospital. You do not want this to get infected.”
“I’ll remember.”
“You have any pain medicine?”
“The police confiscated it for evidence.”
Without missing a beat or questioning Saks’ explanation, he pulled out a bottle of pills and counted out ten. “This should get you through a day or two. No more than one every four to six hours. I’ll have more delivered to you in the morning.”
“Thanks,” said Saks, marveling at the service. Uncle Vits must pay him well.
“No problem.” He left as Terri, Saks’ sister, sauntered in, rubbernecking the medic as he left.
“He’s cute.”
“I have it on good authority that his boyfriend would take exception to your predatory statement.”
“You lie,” she accused.
Saks chuckled and stopped. His shoulder hurt too much. “Get me a glass of water so I can take a pill.”
Terri came back with a tiny paper cup from the bathroom.
“Gee. That’ll slack my thirst.” He downed one of the pain pills and took the water like a shot of whiskey.
“Momma sent me in here to check on you.”
“I’m fine.”
“You look like shit.”
“Is that your considered medical opinion?”
“It’s your sister’s opinion, which is more important. Damn, Anthony. Why did you have to get shot?”
“I was protecting our cousin, that’s why.”
“Which co
usin?”