Remembering Raimondo (Complete)

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“What happened?” I asked. I needed to know who attacked me and how he just happened to be there. He probably knew the attacker for all I know. And then there was the question of who patched me up. It must have been him.

I touched the white cloth wrapped around my waist. He did a pretty good job. If only he was just a bit more good with his hands... I would be very grateful if he heeled the wound all together.

“You were attacked,” he answered. I felt his weight being lifted off of the bed. A few seconds later he flicked the light switch on.

I quickly looked down. My face flared. There was more of my body exposed than I imagined. I was in nothing but my boxer shorts and my rolled up tank. Noticing my discomfort, he lifted the sheet off of the bed from one side and folded it over me.

“I got to you as fast as I could.”

I lifted my head and glared at him. He got to me as fast as he could? Doesn't that entail that he knew I was going to be attacked.

“You got-” I tried to speak but my voice was too scratchy. I cleared my throat, blushing.

“You got to me as fast as you could? You knew I was going to be attacked?” I questioned making him look away. The international sign of guilt.

After a long pause, and I'm guessing he was scaling his answers for the more appropriately lighter one.

“Yeah.”

His body language changed. He must not like being questioned. This only means one thing..

“What happened to Raimondo? Where is he? Where am I?” at the moment, I really didn't care about how he knew I was going to be attacked. My primary concern was Raimondo and knowing what happened after Eddie and I drove off leaving them at the end of each other's guns.

Jeff returned the glare I gave him only moments ago.

Ignoring my question, he turned to leave. Hands on the knob he stopped.

“I'm going to make dinner.” with that he walked out, sightly slamming the door.

If he wasn't going to answer my question, someone else will. My hand went for my pockets, only to remember that I was no longer wearing my pants. Even if I were wearing them, I remembered stuffing my phone into the duffel bag. Did he bring it?

My eyes scanned the floor for my duffel bag. But the fact that I was lying down didn't help improve my vision.

I spotted it a few feet in front of the bed's foot. Now to reach it.

“Who am I kidding, I can't even move.” I murmured. Turning my head to the right.

Jeff's phone was on the bedside table beside some books, a glass of water, and a lamp.

I laughed, talk about something being right under my nose. Slowly, I lifted my hand to reach for it when the door swung open. I grabbed for the glass of water instead.

Trying to look as innocent as possible, I sipped water from the cup and looked at Jeff. He ran his hand through his hair, paced across the room for a moment, and then went back out slamming the door behind him.

Well is that wasn't the weirdest thing...

I placed the glass back and grabbed his phone. The first thing I did was put the ringer on mute. I stuffed the phone under the mattress and relaxed.