Page 146 of Summers at the Saint
“Shannon?”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Don’t panic, okay? Promise me you won’t panic.”
“What’s wrong, dammit? Nobody calls in the middle of the night with good news.”
“You’re right,” Traci said. “First, Livvy is okay. She’s gonna be fine.”
“Traci Eddings, if you don’t tell me what’s happened to my kid, right now, I will—”
“There was a fire at the dorm. Felice woke up, smelled smoke, and got Livvy out safely.”
“Why didn’t Livvy wake up and get herself out?”
Traci hadn’t been expecting that question. Shannon could almost hear the wheels turning in her old friend’s head.
“They were drugged. Both of them, but Felice apparently didn’t drink as much as Livvy.”
“Jesus H!” Shannon leapt out of bed and began pulling on clothes. “Where’s Livvy? Who drugged them?”
“They’re both on their way to Bonaventure Memorial. I got to the dorm just as the EMTs were about to load them into the ambulance. From what I could see, Livvy just had some cuts on her feet from where Felice broke Livvy’s window to get her out. They were giving her oxygen for smoke inhalation, but otherwise—”
“Who did this to them?” Shannon cut in.
“It looks like the other two guys who lived in the dorm. I’m on my way to the ER now.”
“Me too,” Shannon said, searching for her shoes. “I’ll meet you there.”
Traci was at a standoff with the emergency room admitting clerk.
“I need to see Felice Bonpierre,” she said.
The clerk tapped some keys on her computer and looked up. “Nobody gets back there unless they’re next of kin.”
“I’m her mother,” Traci said without hesitation.
The clerk didn’t blink. “I saw them bring that girl in here a little while ago. If you’re her mama, my mama is Beyoncé.”
“Her father is Black.”
“I bet he is. Anyway, there’s a sheriff’s deputy talking to her right now, so even if you were her mama, which you’re not, I couldn’t let you see her.”
“Just tell me if she’s okay,” Traci pleaded.
“Looks like it to me. The doctor dressed her cuts and burns. She ain’t on oxygen.”
“Thank God,” Traci murmured.
The sliding doors from the ambulance bay whooshed open and Shannon rushed inside, planting herself in front of the clerk.
“Where is she?”
“Who?”
“Myrna, do not fuck with me,” Shannon said, her voice low and lethal. “My daughter Olivia was brought in here by ambulance. Now let me back there or I’ll—”
“No point. She’s still out of it. Dr. Ochoa saw her. She’s in good hands. Now, why don’t you just set over there in the waiting room and I’ll let the nurse know you’re out here.”
