Claimed Darker by Em Brown
Chapter 26
BRIDGET
Past
Although I didn’t want to leave Darren’s bedside, I’m glad for the chance to go out and get noodles because it feels like a normal activity. Pacing a hospital room while Darren is undergoing surgery to remove bullets from his body is not normal. Being pinned to the ground while shots are fired overhead is not normal.
“I’m just…numb,” Amy replies when I ask her how she’s doing on the drive over to the noodle house. “I’ve never been more scared in my entire life. More scared than the time I was five, and there was a minor earthquake and I thought the whole world was collapsing.”
Now that the worst is over and we’ve all survived the shooting, I would rank hearing that the cancer had returned for my grandmother as the scariest event of my life. But this is definitely a very close second.
“I’ve never had more adrenaline spike through me,” I say. “I’m still on edge.”
It’s been surreal. Fearing for my life. Worrying about Darren. Being interviewed by the police. I didn’t have anything helpful to provide, only what I heard.
“I want to call my mom,” Amy says, “but JD doesn’t think I should wake her up just to make her worry.”
“I thought about calling Aunt Coretta, but I kind of agree with JD. No need to wake them up in the middle of the night.”
“I think I still feel scared.”
I put my hand over hers and we lock fingers. I wonder if we’ll have PTSD.
“We are so lucky,” I say.
“I know, right?”
“All I’ve got is a bruised knee and scuffed arm from when Darren pushed me to the ground.”
“I couldn’t tell if JD pushed me or fell into me. I’d like to think he tried to get me out of the way.”
We arrive at the noodle house and order four bowls of noodle soup. The driver declines any food.
“I don’t know what I’d do if anything worse happened,” Amy says as she pays with the cash JD gave her. “I mean, it’s still bad what happened.”
When we arrive back at the hospital room, Cheryl and Marshall are there.
Cheryl gives me a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
I set Darren’s bowl of noodle soup on the overbed table and ask him, “Did the police come and talk with you already?”
“They did,” he answers.
“Do they have any idea who it was or why this happened?”
“Sergeant Trawley thinks it’s either a random drive-by or we were mistaken for members of a Chinatown gang. You know, ’cause all Asians look alike.”
“Does that mean it’s not likely to happen again?”
Darren pauses for a second before replying, “Trawley didn’t think we had anything to worry about.”
“Thank God,” Amy says. “I’d feel better if they caught the guy, though. Do you think they will?”
“They might. Cheryl’s going to give the police access to whatever our video cameras outside the club might have picked up. They’ve got ballistics. They’re on the lookout for a black Accord.”
Darren turns to Cheryl. “How are the staff doing?”
“Shaken up, but they’ll be fine,” she replies. “I sent them home early after they talked with the police.”
“We should keep the club closed for a few days.”
She nods in agreement. “I think I’m going to call it a night myself, but you can reach me anytime.”
“Can you give Bridge and Amy a ride back first?”
I straighten. “I can stay.”
“For what? So you can sleep upright in a chair? It’s late. You should get some rest.”
“I don’t know that I’d be able to fall asleep anywhere. Besides, what if you need help?”
“What am I going to need? There are nurses here.”
“And me,” Marshall says. “I’m staying.”
Darren sighs. “I’m not a fucking baby. I got shot in the arm, not the chest.”
“I’m not off the clock,” Marshall replies.
They seem to exchange a look of understanding. Darren turns his focus back to me. “Finish your noodles, and then you’re going with Cheryl.”
“I’m not that hungry, and I don’t want to keep her waiting,” I relent.
“Take my jacket.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Take it.”
I grab the jacket that he was putting over my shoulders when the shooting started. I had picked it up off the ground and brought it with me into the ambulance. After putting on the jacket, I realize there’s a bullet hole through the sleeve.
If Darren hadn’t knocked me to the ground…
A nurse walks in to do her periodic check-in of JD and Darren, so the rest of us minus Marshall take our leave.
I sit in the front passenger seat of Cheryl’s BMW.
“You think Sergeant Trawley’s right about it being a random drive-by or a case of mistaken identity?” I ask her.
“What else could it be?” Cheryl replies.
“The neighborhood doesn’t seem the drive-by kind, though I guess it’s a stereotype that drive-bys only happen in rougher neighborhoods.”
“Sergeant Trawley is good at what he does.”
“You’ve dealt with him before?”
“When the club first opened up, he wasn’t a sergeant yet, but we had to call the police when a fight broke out between two guests who were way too drunk. He handled it well and figured out who’d instigated the fight even though eyewitnesses told conflicting stories. I trust Sergeant Trawley.”
“What made him think it might be a case of mistaken identity?”
“He mentioned there’s been an uptick in activity around the Chinatown gangs.”
“I didn’t even know there were gangs in Chinatown still. It’s scary that they could be so off base.”
“I can’t believe JD is taking it so well,” Amy says from the backseat. “Like someone didn’t just try to kill him, even if it was accidental in that he wasn’t supposed to be the one shot.”
“Considering they were shot, they do seem to be taking it better than us, even,” I agree.
Cheryl offers an explanation. “They’re on a lot of painkillers right now. But regardless, I wouldn’t worry about them. They’re tough guys. I’ve known them since they were in high school.”
“Really?”
“I did some work for both their dads at different points.”
“What was JD like in high school?” Amy asks.
“Your typical high school goof-off.”
“But he’s smart, right? Otherwise he couldn’t have gotten into UCLA. Though I guess it helps that he was a star breaststroker.”
“They both grew up swimming a lot and playing water polo. That’s why they have those broad shoulders.”
“I love those broad shoulders,” Amy gushes. “I bet JD had a lot of girlfriends in high school?”
The rest of the ride is spent talking about JD and Darren’s time in high school. By the time Amy and I make it back into our apartment, Amy is in better spirits. We warm up our noodle soup in the microwave and sit down to eat.
“Simone and Kat are not going to believe what happened,” Amy remarks as she separates her disposable chopsticks.
“You’re so good at that,” I say with envy. “Mine are always uneven.”
“I’m bummed we didn’t get to go to Ishikawa West.”
I slurp the noodles. “This is good noodle soup, though.”
By the time we crawl into bed, the night sky has already lightened, but sleep eludes me. I realize I didn’t thank Darren for possibly saving my life.
