The Cartel Lawyer by Dave Daren (ebook reader below 3000 TXT) 📕

fell away as he stood up straight. “Cancer’s a bitch. My Tia went through that a few years ago. I’ll do what I can to stay out of the way… but I still have to follow you.”

“I’ll take it,” I said with a sigh. “See you later.”

“See ya,” the man gave me a little salute and then strolled back over to his black car.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I steadied myself. I couldn’t march into the ER when I was this angry, and if it was my son in a juvenile detention center, then I would probably do what I could to motivate the lawyer to hurry it along. Still, to follow me to the hospital when my mother had just collapsed was a bit too much, and the next time I talked to Osvaldo, I would kindly ask him to have his goons stalk me from a bit further away.

Once I felt more prepared to face my mother, I forced a smile onto my face, cleaned my glasses, and then marched toward the ER. I could feel the goon’s eyes on me as I walked across the parking lot, but I made myself ignore it as I focused all of my attention on finding my mother.

Cool air washed over me as the sliding glass doors parted to let me into the ER. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, like someone had cleaned ten minutes ago, but there were no janitors in the expansive lobby.

There was a wall of windows behind me as I entered, a tall desk with monitors and nurses directly in front of me, and metal chairs with black cushions to the left and right that were filled with patients in various forms of need.

One had his arm wrapped in a white shirt that had been stained red by blood from what I assumed was a gash. Another was a young mother who rocked back and forth as she tried to comfort the wailing infant in her arms. There was also a young boy of about six who looked a good deal less concerned with his bloodied knee then his mother did, and an elderly couple who held hands as they blindly stared at the local newscast.

“Can I help you?” a middle-aged woman behind the desk asked when I stopped in front of her.

She wasn’t unfriendly exactly, but I could tell from the puffy eyes and the tight lines around her mouth that she was probably at the tail end of a long shift. Her long, black wig had given up some time ago, and she now wore the long tresses pulled back with a plastic clip. There were remnants of dark wine-colored lipstick along the edge of her mouth, and acrylic nails that were so long I wasn’t sure how she could type. Her dark-blue scrubs spotted a coffee stain that looked even less fresh than the nurse.

“Yes,” I said with a nod. “My mother was brought in on an ambulance just a few minutes ago.”

My stomach did a flop as I said the words out loud, and my anger at Osvaldo’s goon was quickly replaced with concern for my mother.

“Name?” the nurse asked as she stifled a yawn. “Sorry about that. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s okay,” I responded. “It looks crazy in here.”

“It always is,” she muttered. “So what’s your mother’s name?”

“Oh!” I gasped as I realized I hadn’t told her. “Sorry… her name is Jasmine Torres.”

“Okay,” the woman muttered as she began to tap her long acrylic nails on the keyboard faster than I ever could. “Right, here she is.”

She glanced around her desk and then flashed a smile as she found her star-shaped sticky notes. She jotted down a room number before she tore off the top piece of paper and handed it to me.

“Thanks,” I said as I took the offered sticky note. “Room one-eighty-one?”

“Yeah,” the tired nurse said. “It looks like all of her vitals have been taken, and the doctor should be with her soon if he’s not already.”

“Perfect,” I said with a bob of my head.

I glanced around at the various doorways that fed into the emergency room and tried to sort out which one would take me to the assigned room.

“The door on the right,” the woman answered my unasked question. “You’ll take a left at the first hallway, and it should be down on the right.”

“Great,” I replied. “I really appreciate your help. Have a great night.”

“You, too,” she muttered before she grabbed her coffee and took a long swig.

The nurse’s instructions were perfect, and I found the room without any problems. I spotted Laura first, as she hovered near the foot of the bed and patted what I assumed was my mother’s foot beneath the blanket. Laura spotted me before I could enter the room, and she quickly scurried over to me.

“Roberto,” the petite Cuban woman said as she pulled me into a hug just outside the door. “Your mother con el doctor ahora. I came out to buscarte.”

“Thank you,” I told her as I wrapped an arm around her. “I appreciate you keeping an eye out. You’re truly a great friend.”

“Of course, I am,” the older woman preened as she flipped her long curly hair over one shoulder. “Let’s go see what this doctor says.”

“My hijo,” my mother greeted the second we walked through the door. “You made it so fast. You didn’t speed, did you?”

“Only a little, Mama,” I said as I walked over to give her a kiss on the forehead.

She looked so tiny in the large hospital gown, and the fluorescent light made her cheeks look sharper. The hand she patted me with seemed skeletal, and I wondered how long she had been this thin. But she still had a smile even though