Perfect Match, page 15
When she looked up at him, her eyes were watering. “Oh, Roscoe, you are so thoughtful…but…my mom has always had a rule against gifts from strangers. I don’t think she will let me accept it. I mean…she doesn’t know you—”
“Maybe I can meet her soon.”
Selena froze inside. “Well, maybe, but… Her voice drifted. Her hands slid across the computer top and her fingers eased it open, eyes scanning the keyboard. Her delicate hands lightly touched the clean keys.
He knew she was torn. She liked it, but still wanted to mind her mom. His thoughts were racing. “Why don’t we do this to respect your mom’s rule? Let’s say the computer belongs to me, but I’d like to loan it to you for as long as you want to borrow it. You can return it anytime, fifteen minutes, fifteen days, whatever. Would that work?”
Smiling innocently, she said, “Well, Mom never said anything about borrowing...”
“My lips are sealed. I’m not going to tell her.” He laughed.
She pulled her chair closer to his, facing him. She reached up with both arms, pulling his broad shoulders down and hugged him, whispering, “Thank you for thinking of me. I know you’re a good man, Roscoe. Somehow, I just know.” She held his eyes for a moment.
When she leaned back in her chair, she pulled a tissue from her canvas bag and dabbed her eyes.
Roscoe was blinking, thinking what a special daughter this young woman is.
He gave her the other bag. “Some additional accessories are in here, including a couple of flash drives, ear phones, and AC adapter, with surge protector. I had the store install Microsoft Office, and virus protection, plus the computer battery has been pre-charged, so it’s ready to use.
“I’ve checked with the hospital and you’re able to use their wireless service by entering the code posted on your room information packet.” He pulled out a scrap of paper. “Here’s my new email address. I expect to get mail from you.” He chuckled.
“You’ll get plenty.” She giggled. “I probably won’t sleep a wink tonight. I still can’t believe you did this for me.” She shook her head.
But Roscoe was not as excited for the night as Selena was.
After Selena went to her room for supper and her evening meds, Roscoe had worked on his business plans, forced himself to take a two-hour snooze in the hospital lounge chair. He felt refreshed after finishing supper and munched on an orange and apple from the fruit Billy had brought him. He wished he’d asked him to bring a Starbucks.
The next three hours dragged. TV was boring, so he turned on his Tablet, checking out a few details on the internet. He made a call to his brother, Rodney, who was still managing the L.A. office, and got caught up on how his divorce was proceeding.
Roscoe learned that Hollis was facing some serious legal problems. He wasn’t sure he understood fully what had happened with or to Hollis, since he was no longer in the “loop” at Fallington. He could tell that Rodney chose his words carefully when he spoke of the business. Just as well, he thought, I made such a mess of everything. He felt embarrassed, as he thought about it.
He knew he’d made life miserable for Madison and felt terrible about it now. Why didn’t I see how unkind I was toward her? She really was a hard worker in spite of being bullied by me. He grimaced at the irony of his grandmother’s justice, by reducing his wages to $24,000 a year. He thought, how will I be able to face Madison to ask her for a job?
He knew that wallowing in guilt would not solve real problems. He was learning quickly to take the “medicine” given him by the hospital as well as life. He continued mulling over lots of things he wanted to correct or set right once he got out of the hospital.
The sounds of the fourth floor were beginning to lessen. Most visitors had left. Patients were dropping off to sleep. He was glad he’d taken the nap earlier. He was wide awake, listening, waiting.
The clock on his wall was ticking toward 9:50 p.m., when he heard the shuffling footsteps coming down the hall. He was sitting in his wheelchair in the darkness of his room. His door was half open; he had a good view of the hall. He listened. The footsteps had stopped, and then started again. They were coming from his left.
He eased his chair to the edge of darkness, still shielding him. The footsteps shuffled along, and Gregory came into view. He must have come from work. He was wearing a company uniform shirt, with his dirty jeans. The wallet chain made a brushing sound against the denim. Gregory passed on by his door.
Roscoe quietly rolled his chair to his doorway, looking to the left then to the right, watching Gregory shuffle down the hall. He knew he had to time everything just right. He’d thought through his plan over and over. The coast was clear, but he waited.
Gregory paused between room 401 and 400, looking back over his shoulder, then toward room 400. He stepped quietly, no longer shuffling. When he reached the door, he placed his hand on the door handle, pushing down, opening the door about a foot, pausing, appearing to listen. He placed the palm of his hand against the door, pushing slowly.
His next step didn’t happen. The wheelchair from room 405 silently streaked for him, Roscoe’s arms revving the velocity. With split-second timing Roscoe grabbed the wallet chain with his right hand, and a handful of shirt with his left. Gregory spun around. Roscoe held on. His chair toppled, clanging.
Roscoe called, “Security! Security!”
Gregory’s face smashed the floor. “What the hell?” Blood splattered.
Roscoe’s right foot banged the floor. He winced.
They both slid against the wall, Roscoe hitting the right side of his forehead.
There was a flutter of nurses’ feet.
Roscoe had Gregory pinned to the floor. Gregory moaned.
A nurse spoke. “Security’s on the way.”
Roscoe looked up. “I caught this guy coming out of room 400. He needs to be checked out. He’s doped up.”
More footsteps flapped down the hall.
A uniformed arm reached down, helping Roscoe. “Okay, we’ve got him now. You can turn loose of him.”
Nurses surrounded Gregory, tending him according to procedure. A nurse rolled a gurney closer.
Rachel gave assignments to the other nurses and assigned another nurse to assist her with Roscoe. He refused a gurney, insisting on riding in his wheelchair back to his room. Rachel and the other nurse followed alongside, and went to work on his split forehead.
Rachel said, “Okay, let’s take this one step at a time, since this might be a long night. We’ll take you down to ER and have that foot examined. We’ve stopped the bleeding, but ER is going to want to examine your head also. Did you get that, Fallington, you’re going to get your head examined again. Lucky you.”
He managed to chuckle. “You’re wasting your time. Nothing has changed up there.”
“Glad you’ve still got that sense of humor.” She paused. “What happened out there?”
Roscoe gave them a short sterilized version. Guy looked suspicious. I caught him. End of story.
After the other nurse left for her regular duties, Rachel remained in his room.
He asked, “Is Selena okay?”
“Yes, the other patients have all been checked. Selena was still sleeping. We haven’t disturbed her. We’re guarding her room until the authorities complete fingerprinting and investigating. ”
“Good. I know security will want to take a statement from me, but I’d like to remain anonymous in this if possible. I’ve had enough publicity.”
She studied him. “But this is good publicity.”
“Please?”
She heard steps behind her. She looked over her shoulder. “Come on in; here’s the guy you need to talk with.”
Roscoe rolled his eyes.
Security went down their list of required questions. Roscoe cooperated. When finished, he said, “I’d like to remain anonymous. Let you guys be the heroes. You were on top of the situation the second I alerted you. That’s all I did, alert you. I don’t want any publicity from this.”
The security guy studied Roscoe with suspicion. “I’m not quite getting this. What are you trying to hide from? Maybe we need to investigate you.”
Roscoe was shaking his head, with a quizzical look. “In that case, I’ve changed my mind. I want you to be sure that my name is given to the media, because once they have my name they’ll want to ask me some questions. You know how snoopy the media is, right? And I have some statements that I want to make publicly.
“I want to tell them that security is so lax that the poor, sick patients have to protect themselves in the dark of night because drugged up strangers can roam the halls unnoticed, because the lazy security spends all their time in the break room snacking, and gossiping. Furthermore I’m suing security, and the hospital staff for negligence…shall I go on?”
“Okay, Mr. Fallington, I get your point. Sorry to have bothered you.”
“You didn’t bother me. Just let me be an unnamed patient...keep me anonymous.”
“I’ll take care of it.” He turned for the door.
Roscoe exhaled deeply as security left. He was beginning to relax, when the assistant from ER rolled in with a gurney to take him to ER for further poking, prodding, and X-ray.
He stared at the ceiling as they rolled him down the hall toward the elevator. I’ve got to get out of this hospital, he thought. Staying in the hospital is hazardous to one’s health.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sunday
It was two in the morning before Roscoe was taken back to his room, after getting six stitches on his right forehead, a re-bandage on his foot, and an okay from X-ray and other exam procedures.
Although tired when he awoke at daybreak, he was not going to stay in the damn hospital bed. He cleaned up, dressed, and was waiting for breakfast, when he made a phone call. “Is Ned Stringer on duty this morning?” He paused, listening. “Let me speak with him please.” He waited listening to the squawk talk in the background.
“Hey, Ned, listen. Remember the Starbucks guy? Yeah, yeah, that’s me, Roscoe. Good. Listen, how about picking us up a couple of drinks this morning. You get what you want, but make mine a Vinti regular coffee, black.” He listened. “I’ll pay you for the coffees, and yes I realize you’re not running a free delivery service.” He cocked his head. “Well, if you don’t want to do this, I guess I’ll give the tip to one of your competitors.” He listened again, chuckling. “Thanks, Ned. I’m in room 405.” He ended the call thinking, everything has to be bargained for.
His breakfast tray had been cleared away, when Ned rustled through the door, holding out the beloved coffee tray from Starbucks. Roscoe reached for the Venti, saying, “Ned, you just made my day. Have a seat.”
Ned sat in the extra chair. “Here’s the receipt,” extending his hand, “and thanks. I got me one of these Frappos, like last time. Man these things are go-o-d, but they must be loaded with caffeine. I was wide-awake most of that night, but I ain’t complaining, my girlfriend was wide-awake too.” He laughed.
Roscoe pulled his wallet out. “How much for the delivery service?”
“Since I was going off my shift, it’ll only be $7.00. So I ain’t gonna charge you extra.”
Roscoe peeled off two tens. “Will a ten work for the tip?”
“Hey, man, you don’t owe me a tip. I got to thinking about the other day. I felt bad about taking that twenty dollar tip from you.”
Roscoe laughed. “I felt bad about giving you that twenty.”
Ned laughed nervously, “Well, too late now. I done spent it on my girlfriend.”
“Good investment.”
Ned pointed to Roscoe’s forehead. “That’s some new stuff, ain’t it?”
“Fell in the shower. Hospitals are dangerous places.”
Ned looked over his shoulder toward the bathroom door. “Hey, that reminds me; we picked up some buzz from the police scanner last night about some guy on drugs attacking some patients in the hospital.” He slurped his drink. “Know anything about that?”
Roscoe shook his head. “Beats me. I must have been fast asleep.”
Ned shook his cup. “I’ll ask around the cab station, see what I can find out. I’ll let you know about any scuttlebutt I pick up.”
“Probably just a Saturday night rumor.”
Ned looked around the room, from floor to ceiling, and wall to wall. “Well, I better scat; see if I can get in trouble with my girlfriend before the day’s over. And thanks for the drink, and the tip.”
“Before you go, what do you do on your days off?”
“Humph. When you drive a cab, you think more about shifts than days. I work as much as I can, especially nights. I started building wooden decks a couple years back, so I got a little business on the side, but business has been slow as snail shit.” He stared at the floor. “Times are tough out there.”
“Which do you like better, driving or building decks?”
“Building stuff. I’ve met too many freaky people driving a damn cab.” He laughed. “And you’re one of ‘em.” He laughed again. “Naw, I’m just jerking your chain Rocky. You’re an alright passenger.”
Roscoe laughed as he extended his hand. “We’ll do this again sometime.”
Ned shook his hand, was on his feet, and at the door. “Like I said, my shift alternates sometimes, but always ask for me if you need a ride. I’ll treat you right. And I’ll let you know if I hear anything about the ruckus in the hospital.” He waved, and hurried down the hall.
Roscoe was left thinking, the ruckus last night is out there on the street, but hopefully I’m still anonymous.
While sipping the rest of his coffee, he scanned the Sunday edition of the Asheville Citizen-Times. So far nothing in the paper regarding the ruckus, or the arrest of Gregory Styles. Maybe hospital security was able to suppress it.
He picked up the Business Section. The headline on the front page caught his eye. New CEO Spurs Fallington Enterprises. The article was the Business Profile of the Week feature, accompanied by two professional color photos of Madison Winston. The first photo was a straight-on shot of her smiling, looking into the camera. Her smile, face…attractive, he thought. The second photo was a profile shot with her standing, looking at an angle through the office windows at the Asheville skyline. The profile, striking…her figure…um, does she really look that attractive…I never really gave her a second look, did I, he asked himself.
He moved on to the article. He felt a wave of anger stirring. He looked away from the paper reasoning that his anger needed to be directed at himself, not Madison. Rodney had been right about her; she really was a very smart woman.
But still, his financial status being turned upside down by his grandmother gave fear a free reign with his emotions. He wanted out of the hospital, but at the same time he felt very insecure stepping back into the world outside the hospital. Yeah, he had some plans, on paper, but for all he knew they might be just wishful thinking. He shook his head and told himself he had no choice but to succeed. No choice.
He turned back to the article, chuckling at a couple of Madison’s quotes. She was a feisty woman. He had to give her that. He looked at her photos again, thinking, she is rather attractive. Well…very attractive.Thirty-four, he tilted his head at the photos, but she really doesn’t look thirty-four…maybe twenty-eight? He breathed in between teeth on edge. Twenty-eight? That’s a big number, well…
After finishing with the paper, he tossed it in the trash can. All of the paper, except the article of Madison. He folded it carefully and tucked it in his portfolio, after looking at her pictures one more time.
Another boring hospital lunch came and went. Visitor traffic picked up in the hall. Maybe he should call Ned, his personal cabbie, to come pick him up for a Sunday ride around the city. That would stir things up around here.
He clicked on the TV, just as a local station was announcing, “Our guest this week on North Carolina Business is Madison Winston, newly appointed CEO of Fallington Enterprises, with headquarters in Asheville.”
The cameras were busy with alternating angles of the interviewer and Madison. Roscoe was glued to the channel. She was dressed in a medium dark business suit, bright blue blouse, and a string of pearls. The cameras picked up her lustrous long, full tresses framing her smiling face. She sat relaxed in the plush red studio chair, with her legs crossed.
He listened at the ease with which she responded to the questions put to her by the lanky business anchor. “It’s known in the business circles that D.R. Fallington, grandson of Edna Fallington, was ousted as CEO and replaced quickly by you. Is there a rift at Fallington?”
Madison gave a light laugh, and said, “Ousted would not be correct. D.R. and his brother Rodney have played significant roles in Fallington Enterprises. There is no rift, and I don’t have anything negative to say about the Fallington brothers. Leadership transitions happen all the time in business. I’m the current transition, and my job is to build upon past accomplishments.”
Roscoe nodded, thinking how poised and smooth her answers were. Why didn’t I see that she’s business savvy and talented, he questioned.
As the interview continued, he was impressed with Madison’s performance. He put himself in her shoes, realizing that he would have fumbled the questions. He felt tense just thinking about it.
As the program was coming to a close, the interviewer said, “We have time for one more question, one that has stirred much talk in the business community. Many business leaders believe your anti-globalization position is really anti-business. How do you feel about that?
Madison leveled her smile at the camera over the interviewer’s shoulder, and said, “I’m not against globalization. That’s like a person being anti-oxygen. The United States has been an exporter globally since the first colonists in the early 1600s. Fallington Enterprises is pro quality products, produced under quality working conditions and that can be bought and sold for value.
“Ultimately if a customer is dissatisfied with a product, it doesn’t matter where the product was made. The customer probably will not buy the product again. Fallington will be searching the globe for quality in all areas, and that does include products made in the United States. Quality up and down the economic chain is the only thing that is pro-business at the end of the day.”
