Noirville

Lucky Guy

Johnny awoke to the rhythmic beeping of medical monitors and the antiseptic scent of a hospital room. His eyelids felt heavy, and as he blinked the haze away, the stark white ceiling tiles came into focus. A dull ache throbbed in his ribs, and his left eye was swollen, the skin tender and tight.

Turning his head slowly, he saw his mother seated beside the bed, worry etched into the lines of her face. Her usually neat hair was slightly disheveled, and her eyes betrayed a sleepless night.

"Morning, sunshine," she said softly, a mix of relief and gentle admonishment in her tone.

Johnny managed a faint smirk. "Hey, Ma. Fancy meeting you here."

She reached over to clasp his hand. "Gave me quite a scare this time, Johnny. Found you unconscious on the docks, battered and bruised."

He winced slightly as he shifted in the bed. "Must've been one hell of a party."

Before she could respond, the door opened, and a doctor in a crisp white coat entered, clipboard in hand. "Mr. Lovegood, glad to see you're awake."

"Can't keep me down for long," Johnny replied, trying to mask the pain with bravado.

The doctor approached the bedside, adjusting his glasses. "You're a lucky man. Aside from a black eye and some cuts and bruises, there's no serious damage. Mild concussion, but with rest, you should recover quickly."

Johnny nodded. "Appreciate the good news, Doc. So, when can I get out of here?"

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "I'd like to keep you for observation until tomorrow, just to be safe."

Johnny opened his mouth to protest, but his mother shot him a stern look. "You'll stay as long as the doctor says."

He sighed, resigning himself to her authority. "Fine, fine."

The doctor gave a slight smile. "I'll check on you later." He made a few notations on his clipboard before exiting the room.

An awkward silence settled between mother and son. Johnny broke it first. "So, you were the one who found me?"

She shook her head. "No, a dockworker spotted you and called for help. Your wallet had my number listed as emergency contact."

"Good thing I never updated that," he mused.

She squeezed his hand gently. "Johnny, what's going on? This isn't the first time you've ended up in a hospital bed, but it's been a while since it was this bad."

He hesitated, debating how much to reveal. "I've been working on a case. It's... complicated."

"Complicated enough to get you beaten up?" she pressed.

He gave a slight shrug, wincing at the pull on his bruised muscles. "Comes with the territory."

She studied him, concern mixed with frustration. "Maybe it's time to consider a different line of work. You know, the offer still stands—you can move in with me. At least until you get back on your feet."

Johnny chuckled dryly. "And have you fuss over me every day? I'll pass."

"Is it so terrible to let someone care about you?" she retorted softly.

He met her gaze, the walls he'd built over the years wavering slightly under her earnestness. "It's not that. I just... have things I need to take care of." He paused before adding, "Besides, I'm not alone. There's someone—Vivian."

His mother's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. "Vivian?"

"She's... a friend. Caught up in this mess, same as me," he explained, avoiding the depths of his feelings for the moment.

A hint of a smile played on her lips. "Must be special if you're mentioning her."

Johnny felt a faint warmth creep up his neck. "It's not like that—well, maybe it is. I don't know."

She patted his hand. "It's okay not to have all the answers. But be careful, Johnny. I don't want to see you get hurt again."

He nodded. "I will. Promise."

She glanced at the small duffel bag resting on the chair. "The nurses collected your belongings from the ambulance. I brought them here."

Johnny's eyes widened slightly. "My coat—is it in there?"

She gestured to the bag. "Yes. Though I can't imagine why you'd want that battered old thing."

He reached over, a sharp twinge reminding him of his injuries. Carefully, he unzipped the bag and pulled out the coat. His fingers slipped into the inner pocket, feeling the reassuring shape of Frankie's package.

His mother watched him curiously. "What's so important about that coat?"

"Just sentimental value," he lied smoothly, slipping the package deeper into the pocket.

She didn't seem convinced but let it go. "Johnny, I know you like to keep your cards close to your chest, but maybe you should consider taking a step back. This case—whatever it is—is clearly dangerous."

He leaned back against the pillows. "Can't do that, Ma. Too many people are counting on me."

"Are you sure it's about others? Or is this about Vinnie?" she asked gently.

His jaw tightened at the mention of his old friend. "It's all connected. Things from the past resurfacing."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps you should visit his grave. Sometimes talking to those we've lost can provide clarity."

Johnny looked away, the suggestion stirring a mix of emotions. "Maybe."

She stood up, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on her skirt. "Think about it. And please, consider staying with me for a while. Just until you recover."

He offered a small smile. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask." She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Get some rest."

As she made her way to the door, he called out softly, "Thanks, Ma."

She turned, her eyes softening. "Anytime, Johnny. You know I'm always here for you."

After she left, the room felt noticeably quieter. Johnny stared up at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He pulled out the package again, weighing it in his hands. Despite the ordeal, he'd managed to keep it safe.

"Frankie owes me big time," he muttered to himself.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. The doctor peeked in. "Need anything before you rest?"

"Just a timeline on when I can get out of here," Johnny replied.

The doctor chuckled lightly. "Eager to leave already?"

"Places to be, people to see," Johnny said with a hint of impatience.

"Well, as I mentioned earlier, we'd like to keep you until tomorrow for observation. Assuming no complications, you should be discharged by noon."

Johnny sighed. "Guess that'll have to do."

"Get some sleep. It'll do you good," the doctor advised before closing the door.

Johnny settled back, fatigue washing over him. As he drifted toward sleep, he couldn't shake the feeling that time was slipping through his fingers. Timmy was still out there, Vivian might be in danger, and the clock was ticking.

"Tomorrow," he whispered to himself. "Tomorrow I'll make my move."