Lights, Cameras, Outsiders!

Chapter 85

LCO 85

We finished painting one coat of the kitchen and visited the chapel in New Rochelle before flying back to Tulsa to get our things and to wrap up.

And things were going pretty well. Cruise and I were getting along fine, Matt had the integrity of trying to schedule the wedding and attempted on designing an invitation. And yet, he still wanted to get into a gang fight with a couple guys.

"Alright, hon, I'm gonna head out to the fight. I'll see you later," Matt said, walking out of the bathroom. I immediately looked up from my paperwork.

"The fight? What the hell do you mean you're gonna go out to the fight?" I said.

"Nic, Francis, Rob, Ralph, and I are gonna head out and scope a gang fight out. Skin on skin," he said.

"What did we talk about? I said I didn't feel comfortable with you going into a gang fight," I said.

"Francis is gonna be there, they're gonna check for weapons, and it's skin on skin. We'll be okay," he said.

"Matt, I don't like this."

"Well, honey, I'm not exactly doing this to your liking."

"Obviously not."

"Look, sweetheart, I love you, but I'm doing this to improve my performance," he said.

"And what if you get hurt?"

"Then you can say I told you so a million times and on my grave, you can carve it," he said, moving closer to the door.

"Matt....what if you get killed?" I said. He sighed and made his way over to the bed, taking a seat. He put his hands on my arms and smiled.

"I'll be fine. I'm not gonna die. I'm not gonna get hurt. The worst thing is I get a busted lip or a nasty bruise, okay?"

"But people hid weapons."

"People can also be honest. Look, sweetheart, I know it's hard for you to imagine this after what happened to you, but I'll be okay."

"But what about your gunshot wound?"

"It's alright. I took a couple aspirin a couple minutes ago. I'm going to be fine, okay? I love you," he said.

"I love you too," he leaned forward and gave me a soft kiss, but I pulled him in for a hug afterward.

"I'll be fine," he said before letting go.

"Okay," I nodded. He kissed my forehead and got up. He opened the door and walked out.

"I'll be okay!" He yelled outside the door.

**********

"I was thinking like a salmon color scheme," I said to Christine. She scribbled it down on her yellow notepad and stuck the pencil between her teeth.

"Salmon and white? Salmon and beige? Salmon and cream? Salmon and..."

"Salmon and white's good."

"Have you thought about the color coral?"

"Wait, there's a difference?" I said.

"Yes. Coral has more pink in it. Salmon has more brown in it," she said, pulling out color swatches.

"I like coral," I said.

"You wanna see what Matt says?" She said.

"Yeah."

"How far did you two get on the kitchen?" She asked.

"One coat. The living room's gonna be red," I said.

"You okay? You see jittery today," she said.

"Yeah, well, Matt went out to a gang fight with a couple other people," I said.

"And you're worried," she said.

"Yeah. I mean, What if things get bad?" I said.

"He's a big boy, Essie. He'll be okay. And if he does get hurt, he knows you're there to take care of him," she said.

"ESSIE! WE NEED YOUR HELP!" Someone screamed from the hall. Christine and I dropped everything and whipped open the hotel door. Cruise, Rob, Nic and Ralph were holding Matt by the arms and shoulders. Matt was collapsing, blood flowing down his shirt and jeans, his eyes half open, bruises caking his arms and legs.

"What the hell happened?! What is going on?!" I yelled, running forward, and grabbing Matt's arms.

"He got cut up in a knife fight," Ralph said.

"You-You had knives?!"

"No. They pulled one out," Rob said.

"Honey, look at your face," Christine walked forward and started touching around Rob's forehead. He had a cut about the length off my middle finger above his eyebrow.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?" I said, trying to pull Matt's tank top, but he screamed and opened his eyes.

"Get him down to the car. We're gonna take him to the hospital."

**********

"Essie...Essie..."

"Matt, it's gonna be okay, honey, just hold on," I said, tightening my grip around his hand and squeezing.

The paramedics rushed the gurney forward as they pulled apart his shirt to reveal the wound. The cut ranged from below his pec to his hip, going into his gunshot wound stitches. He was pale, sweating and his eyes were half shut, half open.

"Jesus, Matt," I said, moving the hair out his forehead.

"Essie..."

They moved him into an operating room, and held me back.

"You can't go in now," a nurse said.

"But that's my fiancée. I want to be with him."

"You can't. He's having an operation," she said. I moved back and turned around, about to go sit down in a chair because I was shaking.

"Hey...are you okay?" Christine said, patting my arm and sitting down.

"He's in the operating room," I said.

"Operating?"

"It's pretty deep."

"It is?"

"And long. God, I don't know what I'm gonna do if he doesn't make it," I said.

"He's gonna make it."

"What if he doesn't?"

"If you think he isn't, then don't tell me he is. If he dies from this-"

"He's not gonna die from this. He's going to be fine. If you just think positively-" she said.

"How can I think positively if he's bleeding out and unconscious and-"

"Stop it, Essie. He'll be fine, and he's gonna go through the operation and wake up and you know what he's gonna do when he sees you? He gonna smile and hold your hand and tell you he loves you. And you're gonna say everything's alright. And it will be."

"It will?"

"Yes. You two will still get married and have children and grow old, and this will be a great lesson to learn," she said.

"Okay."