Left Field (New Hope #4)

Chapter Nineteen

Lucy

The shower in Jade's hospital room is bigger and has better water pressure than the one in our apartment. That's just sad. A nurse takes pity on me. She lends me green scrubs and a pair of old sneakers. Someone probably died in them, but I choose not to ask. The scrubs are three sizes too big, so I tuck the shirt in and roll up the pants. It's better than wearing my dress from last night, which smells like sweat and sex.

The clock strikes six in the morning when I step out of the bathroom. Jade is sitting cross-legged on the bed, signing her discharge paperwork. When she glances up at me, the shadows under her eyes are deep and heavy.

"You look like Christmas," she comments.

Yes, red hair and a green outfit will do that to a girl. I hold my stomach, chanting, "Ho, ho, ho."

"Don't call yourself names."

I cross the room, slipping my soiled clothing into a plastic bag. "What are your instructions?"

"This doctor gets paid a hundred dollars an hour to tell me, 'Drink more fluids,'" Jade huffs, tossing the paperwork toward the end of the bed. She leans over, tying her shoelaces. "It's not the consumption I have a problem with. It's—"

"Keeping it down," I finish, flipping through her discharge instructions. "It also says to use a humidifier when you sleep, and to eat more foods containing liquid. Soups and smoothies."

Jade stands, pulling her beanie over her pale head. "Old news."

"You don't have a humidifier," I point out.

"They're expensive. Not to mention, our electric bill—"

"We have the money, Jade," I tell her, dropping the pages into my bag.

"For how long?" she fires, her expression a mixture of concern and anger. "You got me out of debt again, Bee. When are you going to quit escorting?"

Henrietta won't let me go until clients stop requesting my services. I suppose that'll be when my tits aren't as bouncy and my hair isn't as shiny. Ten years, give or take. But I haven't told Jade about Henrietta's threat, or even her connection to the Bratva. I'm ashamed that I'll be putting our lives at risk if I ever decide to quit. So, I never will.

"You ready?" I ask, ignoring her question.

Jade slings her purse over her shoulder, beating me to the door. "Yup."

The corridor is quiet and bright. Jade's scowl remains in place, but I smile at a few passing nurses, thanking them for their help. When we walk through the automatic sliding doors, humidity hits me square in the face. It's a gray morning, the low clouds an indicator it will be a wet one as well. Pigeons and swallows fly to nearby tree coverage as the wind gains momentum. My damp hair whips around my face.

"Dad says you still aren't answering his calls," Jade states, slowing her stride as we approach the bus stop on the curb in front of the hospital. We have twenty minutes before the next line arrives. "When he gets out, he's going to live at Grandma Patty's old place. Remember? She passed it down to him in her will."

I remember being irate that our grandmother gave her home to a man who already had a bed in prison, leaving me and Jade to continue fending for ourselves. It's just as well. That house in Kenso was falling apart, anyway.

"I'm not paying the mortgage for him," I declare, wrinkling my nose when a raindrop lands on it.

"He's been paying it for years, Bee," Jade explains, shivering despite it being almost ninety degrees. "He had a groundskeeping job in prison. It didn't pay well, but he managed to squeak by."