In short, she looked like hell.
Still, beyond the cuts and gauze, Richard found a determined and beautiful woman. His mind flashed back to the sight she gave him through the hospital gown. Petite legs and a perfectly shaped ass met his memory.
Her eyes fluttered from his to the phone on the wall.
He stepped forward and stopped her before she could pick it up. “Where am I taking you?”
“You don’t have to drive me home, Mr. Ritter.”
“Richard, the name is Richard. My dad is Mr.
Ritter.”
She chuckled, shook her head. “Okay… Richard.
Really it isn’t necessary.”
He glanced at his watch. It was almost six.
“What time do you normally get home from work?”
“Six forty five.”
“By the time the cab gets here you’ll be late.” He watched her weighing her options, flashes of frustration visible in her eyes.
“All right.”
Relieved to have won this battle, Richard led her out the back door of the ER and to his car parked in the spot designated for the police.
“Are you a cop?”
“No, but I know one of the nurses.” He gave her a cocky grin.
He held open her door and waited for her to buckle up.
She rambled off her address. He had to restrain his expression when he recognized the neighborhood.
It wasn’t South Central or South LA as they called it now in an effort to change the image of gangs and violence, but it was close. No wonder she wouldn’t let her son ride his bike on the street.
“How long have you lived there?”
“Only a couple of months,” she admitted. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“I wasn’t saying anything.” Not out loud anyway.
“Bad neighborhood, bad place to raise a kid.”
“If you think that, why not move?”
“It’s not that easy when you consider rent, food, and gas prices where they are. Waitresses don’t make very much money.”
He wanted to ask about any family she might have to help her out, but didn’t.
“Damn!” She shot up in her seat, taking him by surprise.
“What?”
“I can’t work with this arm.”
“I’m sure temporary disability will pay.”
“Yeah, but not tips. They only go on estimated income, not actual income.”
Her good hand wreaked havoc with the paper gown she wore. Richard pulled off the freeway, already backed up with the morning commute. Her graffiti filled neighborhood didn’t suit her. His Lexus stuck out like a sore thumb. Or maybe people would view him as a drug dealer. Either way, he didn’t fit.
The sun had broken through the morning fog by the time he pulled up to the apartment complex.
Bars covered all the windows, even those on the
third floor, giving the building a bleak appearance.
“You can drop me off here.” She pointed to a space in front of the building.
“I’ll walk you up,” he said while putting the car in park.
“That isn’t necessary.”
“I insist.” He eyed her paper scrubs and didn’t give her room to argue.
Richard came around the car and helped her to her feet. She still swayed slightly, making him catch her around her waist for support. Her lithe little body pressed close caused him to realize just how fragile she was.
“I guess I’m still a little shaky.”
“You had a rough night.”
She chuckled. “Understatement of the year.” Kate pushed the buzzer at the door. Static, along with a Hispanic voice crackled over the intercom.
“It’s me, Manuela,” Kate told the woman.
“Why you not use key?” Manuela asked in broken English.
“My purse is at work.”
“What?”
“Just open up, please.”
A metallic click signaled an open security door.
As they moved through, Richard glanced at the flimsy lock and knew he could bust into the door in less than two minutes.
So much for safety.
The broken elevator matched the rickety handrail on the stairway. Janet lived on the top floor. The sound of babies crying for their morning meal mixed with the blaring noise of TV’s turned up way too loud. A piercing female voice yelled out, “Get your lazy ass out of bed, you good for nothing deadbeat. It is time you got to school.” Moving through the shadows of the dimly lit hall, they stopped at the first door on the right.
Kate’s knock met with an eye from the peephole and several chain locks coming free. When it opened, the woman he assumed was Manuela stepped back; her dark eyes took him in before settling on Kate.
“Aye, aye, what happen to you?”
“I had an accident at work.”
“Mommy, is that you?”
A bouncy, six-year-old boy attached to the voice, rounded the corner. His disheveled hair and Spiderman PJ’s indicated he had just leapt out of bed. Kate bent down to accept her son’s hug, her groan muffled when Joey squeezed her too hard.
That must have hurt. But she’d done a good job of hiding it.
“Hey, buddy. How did you sleep?” Joey let go and stepped back. His head turned to the side and his eyes squinted before coming to rest on her arm. “What happened?”
Kate glanced up at Richard, clearly distressed over how much she should tell her son.
“I, ah…”
“She fell.” Richard interjected with a white lie.
“Some guy spilled his coffee and your mommy fell.” The child’s discerning expression rested on him.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Richard.”
The boy marched right up to him and put out his hand to shake. Richard had to swallow his smirk.
Little Spiderman, with dried up drool on his lips, seemed so serious.
“I’m Joey Davis.”
Richard shook his hand and smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Joey.”
“You need to get ready for school, sport.” Kate stood and put a hand on her son’s back to guide him away.
“Okay, Mommy.”
“I go,” Manuela said while gathering her purse.
She stopped long enough to extend her hand, palm up, in front of Kate.
Kate shuffled slightly. “I’m sorry, my purse is at work. Would you mind if I paid you tonight?” Clearly irritated, Manuela placed her hand on her hip. “How I use the bus if I have no money?” Richard stepped forward, his hand already fishing in his back pocket for his wallet. “Here.” He thrust several bills at the woman.