Page 2 of Seen
“Um…yeah, okay.”
Blowing out a long breath, I flick my sensory wristband. Here goes.Dermatologist coming through.
I pick my way around a couple of desks littered with mugs and unidentifiable pieces of dismantled guitars. The back office is an eco-system of barely contained clutter; amp cables slither across the floor like tree roots. A whiteboard covered in illegible scrawl and post-it notes also sports an excellent caricature of Ezra in red felt tip, capturing his expressive eyebrows perfectly.
“Luke! There you are. Thank fuck. Neil’s smacked the back of his head. He says he’s fine but, typically, he’s also being a dick about it. Listen, do I need to call for an ambulance? Alaric’s buggered off early, so I can’t ask him. I phoned Isaac, and he suggested you could have a look. Maybe I should just phone for one, to be safe, yeah?” Ezra clucks around Neil like an anxious mother hen. “Neil. Luke’s here, Isaac’s friend. You know, you’ve probably seen him at the bar before. Open your eyes and say hello.”
Neil’s on the floor, in amongst the cables, his top half propped up against a wall. Not only is Ezra fussing around him, but the drummer hovers too. One of the women who works behind the bar is crouched down, trying to coax Neil into sipping from a glass of water, and a couple of people I don’t recognise peer through the open doorway. An overhead fluorescent light shines directly into Neil’s face. With blood tracking down his chin, he’s like a ghostly mannequin from a horror movie. No wonder his arm shields his eyes and he’s ignoring all of them.
I indicate to the strip light above. After the darkness of the bar, even my eyes are smarting, and I haven’t smacked my head. “Um… can we turn that thing off, or down? Please? And maybe everyone could back off him a little?”
“What? Yes, sure.” Ez darts to the switch, leaving enough light streaming in from the corridor and the streetlamp outside the window.
Aware of several sets of eyes on me, I squat down in front of Neil. We’ve been in the same room several times prior to now, not that he’ll ever have noticed. “Hi, I’m…um…I’m Luke. As Ezra said, I’m friends with Isaac and Alaric. I’m also a…uh… doctor.”Specialising in dermatology.I can hear Alaric pissing himself laughing already.
Neil’s lips twitch. “Cool resumé. And I know who you are, I’ve seen you around. But maybe some other time, yeah? Just turn that fucking light off.”
“I’ve done it,” Ezra says. “Relax.”
“It’s still too fucking bright.”
“It’s not, not now. Don’t be an arse. Luke’s trying to help you.”
Except for mascara or eyeliner or some other coloured shit bleeding down his cheeks, Neil’s face is deathly pale. The trail of blood leads to his split lower lip.
“Okay, anyhow, I’m …um…a doctor,” I start again, cringing. Goodness, it’s hard doing this outside the security of a name badge, a hospital, and everything within at my disposal. I’d be a useless paramedic.
“So you said. Congratu-fucking-lations.”
“Pack it in, Neil.” His expression stern, Ezra joins me on the floor. “What’s got into you lately? Luke’s going to take a look at you, and if he thinks you need it, then we’ll either call for an ambulance or I’ll drive you to the hospital to get checked out properly. And if you don’t cooperate with him, I’ll drag you there anyway, whether you need to go or not.”
“You can fuck right off with that idea. Just banged my fucking nut, that’s all. Too pissed.” Neil’s volume swells to ashout. “And how many times have I got to tell you? It’s too fucking bright in here.”
“Not anymore, it’s not. For fuck’s sake.” Ez shakes Neil’s shoulder hard. “Put your arm down, stop being an obnoxious dick, and let Luke examine you.” He turns to me. “Sorry, he’s usually a little more charming. Too much of this, probably.” Ezra makes the universal signal of someone knocking back a drink.
I finished my last shift in ED three or four years ago, so I’d be the first to admit my emergency skills are a tad rusty. But you never forget the sour-sweet stink of the boozed-up late-night clientele. Strangely, the only thing I can smell on Neil is stale cigarette smoke, fresh sweat, and a faint whiff of aftershave, something earthy and outdoorsy. He’s not slurring either.
“Do you know where you are?” I begin, seeing as Neil’s in no hurry to acknowledge me further.
“Yeah, on the floor of the office surrounded by this bunch of tossers, when I should be back out there. Some lad promised a blow in the bogs at the end of the set.”
Not an image I’m going to entertain, at least not now. “Do you know what day of the week it is?”
“Saturday. And the prime minister is a useless wanker who lives at 10 Downing Street, and yes, I can count backwards from twenty, but I’m not going to because I can’t be arsed. Because I’m fucking fine. And don’t ask me to spell Saturday, ‘cos I’m dyslexic.”
He’s cerebrating okay, so there’s that. The dislike of bright lights is a worry though.
“Did you lose consciousness when you fell?”
“No.”
Pointedly, Ezra clears his throat.
“Maybe,” Neil corrects. “For, like, seconds.”
“Do you remember falling?” I ask.
“Yes.”
