Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
I bite my lip to fight my laughter. See, the thing about Katy Dayton is that she never curses. But as it turns out, Katy Dayton on morphine curses a lot. If you asked anyone here at Destin Regional Medical Center, they’d tell you that fuck is her favorite word.
“Are you going to be with her for the next twenty-four hours?” Donna asks, and I nod.
“Yes. We’re staying in the same condo all week.”
“We weren’t supposed to be!” Katy blurts out and starts cackling. “But we’re stuck together like glue. I even saw his ass cheeks yesterday. His fucking ass cheeks, Domma Llama! Can you believe it?”
Obviously, Donna believes it. Partially, if not wholly, because this is the forty-seventh time she’s hearing about it.
All I can do is shake my head on a laugh and look back at Donna again. “I assume she’s not fit for solitude until the pain medication wears off completely.”
“I am, too, fit for schlongs and ’tude!”
“You’re fit for something, girl,” Donna mutters good-naturedly. “Fit to be tied.”
Katy’s laugh is nearly identical to the hyenas in The Lion King.
Donna’s smile is amused as she types a few notes into the computer near Katy’s bedside, locks the screen, pushes the computer cart into the corner of the room, and heads for the door before looking back at me. “Just sit tight, and I’ll get her discharged out of here in the next twenty minutes or so.”
“Thank you,” I murmur with a tip of my chin and a grateful smile.
“Thank you, Domma!” Katy shouts at the top of her lungs. “You’re a fucking goddess!”
I can hear all of the other nurses’ laughter from the hallway.
“Man, she’s nice, isn’t she?” Katy questions through a lazily adorable smile.
“She sure is.”
“You know, Big Mack, it’s too bad you’re not that nice. Actually, you’re kind of a dick most of the time.”
I nearly choke on my own saliva. I guess we’re moving on to cock talk now. “Excuse me?”
“You’re a dick,” she repeats, emphasizing the last word while miming a lewd jerking-off gesture to make sure I get it. “You purposely try to annoy me, your classroom is way too loud, and you also drink my wine and eat my donuts. Total Ricky Dicky move.”
“I already promised I’ll replace the wine and the donuts. And I am sorry about the noise. It’s honestly poor planning that the school put a music room and a math room right next to each other, don’t you think?”
“Whatever.” She huffs out a sigh. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re gonna call thong-wearing Barbie and have a thrumble or whatever tonight anyway.”
My eyebrows climb my forehead in confusion. “I’m going to what?”
“Thong Barbara,” she states slowly, enunciating each syllable like she’s talking to a child. “You gotta clean her tank or whatever. And don’t worry, they don’t care if you live behind a picket fence or not.”
What in the absolute fuck is she talking about?
I’m about to ask some key questions to get to the bottom of it when Katy lurches for her bag that’s across the room as the sound of her phone ringing inside echoes throughout the small space.
“I’ll get it,” I tell her and gently nudge for her to sit back before she falls out of the bed. “You’re not supposed to get up yet.”
“Jeez. You’re so bossy,” she complains before, thankfully, listening. “You’d think you owned this germ-bag of a hospital or something.”
I pull the phone from the beach sack, and she immediately snatches it from my hands. I thought I might get a glance at the screen first just to see how badly she’d be embarrassing herself if I let her answer, but oh well. I guess the cat’s out of the bag.
“Katy?” A deep, male voice bounces out of the receiver when she doesn’t offer a verbal greeting upon pushing the screen to connect the call.
“Hey, Dad. I’m at the hospital,” she responds but doesn’t move the phone toward her ear, instead keeping it in her lap and even turning it facedown.
“What?” her dad questions, unable to hear her clearly.
“I said, Hey, Dad. I’m at the hospital!” she yells back, rather than putting the phone on speaker or lifting it to her ear or doing basically anything to make this phone call function.
I reach over and push the audio button to put it on speaker, and she smiles with a giggle as her dad asks for clarification.
“Did you say you’re at the hospital? What the hell is going on?”
“Wow, I can hear him so much better,” Katy remarks to me, rather than answering her father.
“Katybug, what’s happening? Are you okay?”
I jerk my chin in an effort to urge her into answering the clearly antsy man, but she sighs the beleaguered breath of a woman put out. Before I know what’s happening, she shoves her phone into my chest, declaring, “Here, you talk to him. I am so fucking tired right now. I swear, I could fall into a coma.”