“There’s one around the corner,” Kacen chimes in, showing us his phone screen. “They close at eleven as well.”
I’m just about to call a cab when Gavin and Tristan climb on board, carrying all of our stuff. “Clyde,” I address the driver. Kacen rattles off the address as Clyde takes his place behind the wheel.
Kace was right; the urgent care is literally right around the corner from the venue. Stacy stands, and I bend down and pick her up in my arms.
“I can walk,” she squeaks out.
“Shh, I know you can, but you don’t have to. I got you.” I carry her from the bus with Gavin hot on my heels. He gets the door for me. I set Stacy in a chair, and Gavin takes the seat beside her. The receptionist at the window immediately recognizes me.
“OH, MY GOD!” she screams, and I cringe. “I can’t believe it’s you. I wanted to go to your show but I couldn’t get off work. This is so much better. EEEK! Gavin too!”
I hold up my hand to quiet her. Surprisingly, it works. “Thank you, but we are here for a reason. My girlfriend is sick.”
Her face falls as soon as the word “girlfriend” falls from my lips.
“Can I have your autograph?”
What. The. Fuck.
I place both hands on the counter and lean through the window. “Listen, my girlfriend is sick and needs to see a doctor. Do your damn job and get her signed in,” I seethe.
She instantly starts tapping on the keyboard in front of her. “I’m sorry,” she says before asking for all of Stacy’s information. I don’t have her insurance info—hell, I don’t even know if she has any. Instead, I hand over my Amex—it doesn’t matter what it costs. I just need her better. “Hand me that.” I point to a piece of paper sitting beside her. I scrawl out my name with “thank you for your help,” and give it back to her.
She beams, my tirade long forgotten.
I don’t even get to sit down before they are calling Stacy back to a room.
“We’re good, man. Thanks,” I say to Gavin. He nods and heads back to the bus. Stacy gives me a look, daring me to carry her. I don’t want to embarrass her, so I place my hand on the small of her back and walk with her into the exam room.
“Hi, Stacy. I’m Todd. What’s going on with you today?”
Todd? That’s not exactly professional. I watch while “Todd” types a few things on his laptop as Stacy starts to speak.
“I. . . .”
I place my hand on her arm. “She just started feeling bad earlier today.” She nods her agreement. “She’s got a bad sore throat, headache, body aches and I think she might have a fever.”
Stacy, who is sitting on the exam table, leans in to me where I stand right beside her.
“Have you taken anything?”
“She had three Advil about fifteen minutes ago. That’s all?” I ask Stacy.
She nods.
“Okay, let me take your vitals and then we’ll swab your throat. The doctor will be in to see you after,” Todd says.
Doctor? What the hell? I thought he was the doctor?
“Male nurse.” He smirks.
Shit. I must have said that out loud.
The room is quiet as he takes her vitals. When it’s time for him to swab her throat, she squeezes my hand tight. I know how she feels; I hate that shit.
“This takes about five minutes to run. The doctor will be in with the results,” Todd tells us then leaves the room.
“At least he didn’t ask for an autograph.”
Stacy smiles.
“Can I do anything?” I know there is really nothing I can do for her, but it kills me to see her not feeling well.
She doesn’t answer, just leans back against my chest. I stand there by the table and wrap my arms around her, trying to comfort her any way I can. This is new to me—taking care of someone, caring that they’re ill. I know it’s a sore throat, and after some meds and a few days of rest she’ll be good to go, but I want to take that from her. It’s a feeling that I couldn’t explain if I tried. I don’t ever want to see her less than happy, without that blinding smile on her face.
I rub slow, lazy circles on her back. That’s how the doctor finds us.
“Hi, Stacy, I’m Doctor Gilbert. Looks like your throat culture came back positive for strep throat. Let’s take a look.” He stands to look in her throat and feel around on her neck. “Any other symptoms?” he asks as he checks her ears.
Stacy shakes her head.
“Are you allergic to any medications?”
“No,” she rasps.
“Great. I’m going to put you on a seven-day regimen. Make sure you take them all. If you’re not feeling better in a couple of days, come back to us or see your primary care,” he says, never taking his eyes off his computer screen. “Which pharmacy do you use?”
“We’re from out of town. Can you just write it and we’ll find one close by that’s still open? If that’s even possible.”
“Sure, we can also fill it here. Although, our prices are a little higher as we don’t have the volume the retailers do,” he explains.
“Fill it.”