“Stop tryin’ to move.”
A warm handed rested on my arm and pressed me into the bed.
I moaned and managed to crack open an eye. “Let me go.” My words were weak and barely a whisper. I didn’t like being told what to do, especially by someone telling me not to move. Not like I could do much about it right now.
“Stop moving around, and I will.”
My eyes focused on Monk’s face. “You need to shave,” I muttered. My whole body felt like I was stuck in molasses, but it somehow still seemed essential to point out Monk’s facial hair.
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” he gruffed. “You overdosed three hours ago, and you’re worried about my beard.”
I closed my eyes and sighed. “I didn’t overdose.” To overdose, I would have to actually do drugs. That was one road I only skirted along for a little bit years ago.
The weight of Monk’s hand left my arm, and I heard a chair scrape on the floor. “Ya did, Mitzy. I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but it needs to fucking stop.”
“How did I overdose, Monk, if the strongest drug I take is Tylenol?” What in the hell was he talking about? I lifted my arm and felt a sharp tug.
“You’ve got an IV in, Mitzy. Stop moving around so much. You’re gonna yank the fucking thing out.”
I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “You’re gonna have to go into detail about what the hell is going on, Monk.” The last thing I remembered was grabbing some Tylenol from the girls' dressing room.
“Six-Gun told me you wanted to talk, so I walked into your office, and you were face-planted on your desk, barely breathing.” He sighed and sat back in the chair he had pulled up to the side of my bed. “Six called 9-1-1 while I kept you breathing.”
I tried to wrap my head around what he was telling me. I mean, I was lying in a hospital bed, and I didn’t think Monk would ever lie to me about something like that. I just couldn’t understand how it had happened. “It’s not an overdose.” It had to be something else. “All I did was take two Tylenol,” I insisted.
Monk shook his head. “You may think you took Tylenol, but they fucking weren’t, Mitzy. Whatever the hell it was, it almost killed you.”
“It’s at the club. You need to get the bottle before one of the girls takes one.” My anxiety went through the roof. This could happen to one of the girls.
“Way ahead of you, doll. Six-Gun took every pill bottle from the dressing room and turned them over to the cops. They’re gonna test all of that shit.”
I sighed and closed my eyes. “Thank God.”
There had been an explanation for why I had almost overdosed. Except now, I was worried maybe one of the girls was doing some hard drugs and I had accidentally grabbed whatever the hell they were doing. I had just grabbed the bottle that said Tylenol. There was a community basket of medication that all of the girls took from. Tylenol, Motrin, Midol, Tums; you name it, we had a bottle of it.
“Just rest right now, Mitzy. Doc said you’re gonna be exhausted for a bit. They pumped the fuck out of your stomach. They’re giving you fluids and shit in your IV.”
I opened my eyes and glanced over at the tall thing-a-ma-bob that had bags of clear fluids and long hoses that hooked into my arm. “Is all of that really necessary?” I mumbled.
“Not a doctor, doll, so I can’t say, but I’m gonna just go with whatever the doc says.” Monk crossed his leg over his knee and folded his arms across his chest. “So, go to sleep. Doctor’s orders.”
I rolled my eyes. “What time is it?”
“Half-past two,” he grunted.
“You should go home.” I smothered a yawn with the back of my hand. “You need sleep.”
“Not as much as you.”
My eyes fluttered shut. “Everyone needs to sleep, Monk.”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, doll.”
I hmphed and settled as much as I could into the stiff hospital bed. “You don’t need to be here, Monk. I’m used to taking care of myself.” I had gotten this far in life with no one taking care of me. I didn’t need Monk sitting by my bedside watching me like a hawk.
“Sleep, Mitzy,” he growled. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
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