She smiled. “They might green-light you for some food. Let me check.”
It wasn’t mealtime, though. I’d lost all track of the hour, but apparently lunch was over and dinner wasn’t happening soon. But Angela brought me something resembling Gatorade. And when Denny turned up again, he brought me a small bag of pretzels—the kind you could buy out of a vending machine.
“Thanks,” I said, eyeing them. Not only did I still feel like a heel, I couldn’t open the bag one-handed.
Denny watched me for a second. Then he picked up the bag and pulled it open, setting it down on the table beside me. “Sophie needs to speak to you.”
Shit. “I was such a dick to her this morning. Or last night. Whenever that was.”
Denny perched on the doctor’s stool. “She understands. And she’s not coming up here again until you tell her that it’s okay.”
It wasn’t okay. I was still a disgusting mess. And I didn’t even know whether this moment of relative comfort would last. For all I knew I’d be sweating and hurling again in a half hour. That was the whole problem with me. It was never over. Sophie needed to understand that. She was a smart girl. She should get the hell away from me.
I grabbed a pretzel and tossed it in my mouth. When I chewed, it tasted like the best goddamn thing I’d ever eaten. Seriously. Like ambrosia. Could a guy get high on a pretzel? “Thank you for this.”
“It’s nothing. Is there anything else you need?”
Unfortunately there was. Now that I was able to think straight, I was going to have to deal with the police. “I need to report my attack to the police.”
Denny nodded. “All right, that’s something I can help with. Do you want me to call them?”
“I do,” I said slowly. “If you make that call, they’re more likely to respond.” Sophie’s father would probably throw a parade if someone managed to kill me. It was no surprise that they hadn’t shown up to ask me what happened. And it’s not like I expected them to bring me justice.
But the drug dealers who’d tried to shake me down might get the crazy notion that Sophie knew something. And I couldn’t let that happen.
“Okay. I’ll do it before I leave tonight. Do you need a lawyer?”
“What for?”
Denny studied me. “I don’t know. If you were mixed up in something…”
My head gave a throb. I almost opened my mouth and told him that I’d never been mixed up in anything illegal. But the truth was that I used to steal car parts from an old man and sell them on eBay. My righteous anger shriveled pretty fast when I remembered that. “All I’m involved with these days is car repair,” I said instead. “But I do have to tell the police that the assholes who beat me mentioned Sophie’s name.”
Denny paled right before my eyes. “Really? Why?”
“To get under my skin,” I said. “They want something from me that I don’t have. They were trying to motivate me, which won’t work. So they mentioned her name. And that’s why her father needs to hear about it, even though he doesn’t care if I hang.”
“Jesus. You’re going to get Sophie in trouble,” he said.
“Not if I’m careful. Nobody has to know that we…” I sighed.
Denny looked miserable. “Will you please call her? Once I tell her the Suboxone helped you, she’ll be waiting to hear from you.”
That was probably true. But I’d just proven myself to be not worth the wait. “I’ll call her eventually,” I said. I’d done her wrong again—and not just by yelling at her to get out of my hospital room. My real crime had been carrying on with her these past few weeks. It’s just sex, she’d said. But that wasn’t true. If I kept her in my life, she wouldn’t go off and find someone better. Someone who wasn’t one bad day away from repeating detox.
Denny stood quietly, appraising me. “She has some things to tell you.”
“But I thought you were my social worker?” And now I was being a dick again.
Denny rolled his eyes at me. “I am. But what Sophie wants to tell you is personal.”
Great. “In a couple of days, then.”
He gave me an unhappy look. “Just do it.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card. “That’s our office number. Call her. Or call her cell. She said you’d know the number.” He tossed the card onto the table and walked out.
After he was gone I finished the pretzels. But I did not call Sophie. She’d be better off if I never ever called her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sophie
Internal DJ: A manic version of Jingle Bells
Denny came back down to our office at about six o’clock, where I was still at my desk pretending to work. On Christmas Eve. I’m sure I was very convincing.