“Last question. I promise,” my firefighter said. “I just need RJ’s last name. Oh, and do you know what his initials stand for?”
I searched my memory banks for any mention of RJ’s real name, but I was pretty sure I’d never heard it spoken before. “Sorry, I don’t know what the initials stand for…”
I thought of RJ’s instructions. Tell them RJ Contreras is trapped in the parking garage. And yes, this did seem the right time to name-drop my celebrity crush.
“But his last name is Contreras.”
“Contreras?” Parker questioned, his eyes dancing with amusement as he scribbled it into his notepad. “That can’t be an easy name to go through life with—everyone thinking you’re the boy band singer.”
“Unless you are the boy band singer.”
“Right.” He chuckled, still not getting the hint.
“Actually, my neighbor—the guy awaiting your rescue—is the RJ Contreras.”
Parker looked up from his notepad, his disbelieving eyes scanning me for insanity.
“So, let me see if I have this straight. You’re saying that RJ Contreras from AnyDayNow lives here?”
“Yes. I mean, he did until the earthquake.”
My firefighter buddy met the eye of the paramedic who, in turn, shook his head and grinned like he just assumed I’d been sideswiped by a block of concrete to the head and the blow had rendered me a delusional groupie girl. His colleague’s reaction seemed to convince Parker that I was kidding.
“Dani, come on. You can’t really believe a multi-millionaire pop star lives here?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but I’m not lying. It’s him. He knew all their songs.”
“I know all their songs.”
That was a good point. I was going to have to dig deeper to convince him.
“Why would I make up a story like this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you had a picture of him on your wall and were staring at it just before the building came down.”
Oh, well, that did make more sense than my story except… “I was in the garage, so no wall and no poster. Try again.”
“Okay, maybe you had an AnyDayNow air freshener hanging on your rearview mirror. I’m just being realistic. RJ Contreras does not live in this building.”
“But what if he does? What if it really is RJ, and the truth is just a rescue away? Think about it, Parker. You have a chance to save a legend. And imagine how grateful RJ would be. Maybe even enough to gift his favorite firefighter with VIP backstage passes for life.”
“Are you bribing me?”
“Only if it’s working.”
“It’s not.”
I sighed, long and loud. “Parker, you frustrate me. I’m trying to focus your attention on the bonuses of celebrity rescue and you’re just poo-pooing it away.”
“Poo-pooing?” he questioned with a lift of his brow.
“I’m a first-grade teacher.”
“Ah, that explains it.” Parker chuckled, shaking his head as he walked away. “I tell you what, Gladys. I’ll be sure to add ‘international pop sensation’ next to RJ’s name. Will that make you happy?”
“You’ll see, Peter Parker. You’ll see.”
I knew he thought I was crazy, and that was okay, because as more survivors called for help from the rubble, I wanted the only thing on Parker’s mind to be saving RJ Contreras and collecting his prize. And, no, I didn’t feel bad about name-dropping either, because while I didn’t think celebrities deserved special treatment, in this particular instance, RJ had earned his spot at the top of the triage list based on peril alone.
“Alright,” the paramedic said once his colleague had gone. “Blood pressure is better. And my patch up job should suffice until we get you to the hospital and a surgeon can safely remove the glass from your arm.”
My head shot up. “Hospital? No.”
“Hey, don’t worry. The surgeon should have you fixed up in no time. It looks like you got lucky. The glass appears to have missed the brachial artery which runs down the underside of the arm.”
Bruce didn’t get it at all. Of course I’d prefer a safe, sterile environment for the glass extraction, but there was no way I was going to sit in some hospital, waiting my turn, while RJ was underground with the threat of hypothermia looming on the horizon.
I sighed, glancing down at the windshield sticking out of my arm, realizing I was past the point of anesthetized surgery. If, as Bruce predicted, my injury was superficial, then the end result would be the same whether it was removed in a sterile environment by a trained, board-certified surgeon or removed right here on the back of the ambulance… by yours truly, Doctor Dani.
God, my mother would be so proud.
Dragging life-saving oxygen into my lungs, I grabbed hold of the glass and tugged. This right here—this was what separated the ladies from the heroes.
I blinked up at the paramedic from my spot on the curb—the place I had sunk to after pain stole the breath from me.
Bruce was not happy. He’d spent the time tending to my post-surgery care listing all the things that could have gone wrong—but hadn’t. I let him vent while he layered gauze and wrapped bandages around my arm. “If you’d severed the brachial artery, it would’ve resulted in unconsciousness in as little as fifteen seconds, and death in as little as ninety.”
“Well, then, we’re lucky it didn’t sever the brachial artery.”
“Do you think this is a joke?”
“No. But you don’t understand the predicament I’m in. If I had any other choice…”
“You did have a choice,” he squealed. “It’s called a hospital.”
“I know. I’m sorry, it was stupid,” I replied, choosing to appease him to speed the lecture along.
Bruce stopped tending to my wound and looked me square in the eye. “What predicament are you in? What is that brain of yours planning?”
“Nothing,” I lied. “I couldn’t go to the hospital because… I’m afraid of needles.”
“Uh-huh. This wouldn’t have anything to do with saving ‘RJ Contreras’ would it?” He used air quotes to shame me.
“No.”
“Dani, there’s nothing you can do for him.”
Oh, yes, there was, but I knew better than to disclose my plan to Bruce. He would tell Parker, who would then escort me out of the danger zone.
So I lied again.
“No, but I can be here for him when the rescue personnel bring him out. I can be the first one he sees.”
Bruce considered my words carefully before finally accepting them.
“Okay, but you need to stay back, away from ground zero. Do you hear me?”
“I do. And thank you, Bruce. I feel better already.”
The cautious expression on his face told me he really wasn’t sure what to do with me, but he had more pressing issues to deal with than some silly girl with rock star fantasies.
“All right, fine. We’ll play it your way. I’m going to release you now, but listen to me carefully. This bandage is just a quick fix. Once your superstar is saved from the rubble, you need to go to the hospital and get your arm stitched up. Do you understand?”