Whore.

Chapter 10: Prowl

His eyes seemed to bore into my skull. I didn't own the handbook on non-verbal communication, but he had just indicated that he wanted me dead. My thoughts flashed to Jason. He must have been attacked by people like this guy. I never understood the deal with homophobes. You can't handle a guy fucking another guy? Well, that's your problem; keep it to yourself. I can't handle noisy women and crying kids, but you don't see me duct-taping their mouths. He continued to stare at me, chewing at his bacon. I thought about Jason, such a lovable guy, stabbed and left to die on the street with 'burn fag' cut into his body. I was getting angry. He wanted a staring contest? Bring it on.

 "Here's your Mikey."

Bridget interrupted my silent showdown with my meal. I started eating, occasionally looking up at the guy. He sometimes stared at me, sometimes down at his plate. I was waiting for him to make a first move. Even after I had finished my meal and paid, he didn't budge. I had no time to waste on this little shit. I stood up and walked out of the diner. Once I stepped out, I peered back in through the window. He was paying for his meal. I decided to stand out of view and wait. No way was I going to risk having this guy follow me. If he had a problem, we were going to duke it out right now.

 He stepped out and scowled at me. He seemed to examine my face intently. Then his expression changed to one of apathy, and he grunted and started to walk off. I felt really irritated.

 "Hey! What the hell is your problem?" 

He turned to look at me and smiled weakly. I got confused.

 "Nothing," he said calmly. "I thought you were someone else."
"Let me guess, Jeff?" I retorted without thinking. He looked a little surprised.
"Yeah. You know him?"

 Know. As in present tense. I shook my head. Maybe the guy hadn't seen Jeff in a while.

 "Not really. Someone else told me I looked like him. Also told me he was dead."

 The guy frowned.

 "Dead? When?"
"A year ago."

He scoffed and looked at me like I had grown a vagina on my forehead.

 "Jeff ain't dead. I saw him two months ago. That little shit owes me money. If you ever see him, tell him Francis is losing patience."

 Now it was my turn to look at him like he had a forehead vagina. He turned away, put his hands in his pockets and stalked off. Jeff wasn't dead? So what did Malone tell me that for? This guy seemed so sure about what he was saying. Was it the same Jeff? I dismissed that thought. How many guys called Jeff could look like me in this town? No, someone had to be lying. And I could bet my ass it was Malone. I would have to discuss it later with him. Right now, I had a hospital to be at.

 I called a cab and ordered it to Saint Joseph's. I asked the receptionist for Jason Fuller and was asked to wait for a doctor. Luckily it was the same female doctor we met yesterday. She smiled when she saw me and began to fill me in on the details. Jason was somewhat stable. His heart rate had gone erratic twice during his waking hours due to his severe anemia. They had barely managed to secure a pint of blood for transfusion, and now they were doing their best to encourage his body to produce more blood cells as his own blood type was very difficult to obtain. In the mean time, they were considering a temporary drug induced coma so that his activity level would be reduced to the barest minimum so as not to overwork his heart. Alex had discouraged the decision for fear that Jason may not come out of the coma, so Jason was being dosed with sleeping medication. I took in all the information and was surprised I could understand alll of it. Due to his treatment, I would be unable to speak to him, but I could watch him and see how he was doing. I looked at Jason sleeping. Ignoring the many tubes and lines that were connected to him, he looked very peaceful. I whispered a "get well soon", thanked the doctor for all her help and left the building.