Find Her, Keep Her (CFTM Sequel)

Chapter 11 (Part 2)

"Whatever. Anyway, when do you think I can start handling the little man again?"

Stacey taps on the edge of the table and signals me to sit up.

"Depends on how fast you heal. But I wouldn't recommend it for a good two weeks."

Nope. Not possible. Unless she wants to see me back here with a case of blue balls.

"Then what am I supposed to do? I'm a guy, Stacey. I gotta do something."

Especially with Jersey living across the hall looking the way she does. How am I not supposed to pay attention? That long hair is messing with me. Real talk.

"Maybe try yoga or meditation. It helped me. Especially after our fiasco at the hospital last year. God knows how long I would've kept thinking about you if I hadn't started taking classes."

Okay. Never mind about that apology. She's just as psycho as she used to be. I gotta get outta here. Stat.

"Cool story, Stacey. Are we done? I gotta get going."

She stares at me for a couple seconds too long, but eventually snaps right out of stalker mode. Thank God for yoga.

"Yep! Go ahead and get dressed but don't forget to take Dr. Garrett's prescription with you."

She shuffles over to the counter and hands me a small piece of paper with more big, fancy medical words written all over it.

"What's this for?" I ask.

"Well, the cream will help heal the area and prevent infection. Dr. Garrett also ordered you some gauze so you can change your dressing daily for the next two weeks. The ibuprofen he listed will manage the swelling, and the pain killers will help with any discomfort."

Painkillers.

I don't have a great relationship with pain killers.

Let's just hope these ones don't make friends with my bouts of depression like they did last time.

"How many can I take a day?" I ask.

Stacey eyes me like I'm still the same guy who tried to get high off a morphine pump.

But I'm not.

I promised my family I'd be better than that.

I promised myself I'd be better than that.

I just hope to God I can keep it.

"Take two ibuprofen a day, apply the cream and change your gauze three times a day, and only take Vicodin once a day."

"Right. Got it."

I nod like I'm actually gonna remember all this, but I'm probably not. Whatever. I'll figure out the dosage details later, I need to find my way back to Jersey so I can try to fix everything I just screwed up.

I slip into my boxers as carefully as possible, pull my shorts on, and figure my way out of that paper dress and into my t-shirt.

"Take care of yourself, Mr. King. And don't hesitate to call if you have any questions."

"Sure thing. Thanks."

She grabs one of my hands and shakes the hell out of it while I slide the other into my pocket to grab my--

Wait.

Where the fuck is my phone?

"Stacey, have you seen an iPhone? I had it when I came in here earlier."

She scans the room and then stiffens up like a bolt of lightning just blasted through her mane of curly blonde hair.

"Was it in a steely blue case?" She asks.

"That's the one!"

"That nice girl took it with her earlier. She said it was hers, but she let you borrow it."

First she scalds my balls and then she robs me? Who is this girl?

"Two questions. Where is the pharmacy? And how many pain killers do I need to take to chase down a pick pocket?"

Stacey opens the door ahead of me and points down the hall toward the exit.

"You can pick up your medicine at the CVS in Westwood. And keep the pain killers to a minimum, okay? Just stick to your dosage and you'll be fine!" She says.

But I'm barely listening.

I'm too busy trying to limp/sprint down the hall so I can go get enough drugs in my system to track down Jersey.

Once the Vicodin kicks in I'll be good to go.

First stop Westwood.

Second stop, Quad 3.

I've got a bad girl to catch.

And this time, she's not getting away from me.

***

If I were a phone stealing pissed off ex-girlfriend, where would I be? Quad 3? The dining hall? She did say she was going to lunch earlier. Nice. Covel Dining Hall here I come. Get ready, bae, 'cause once I find you I'm gonna--

"--And those are your doctor's dosage instructions, Mr. King. Is that clear?"

Was what clear? Oh well. Fake it till you make it, E.

"Totally...How much is all this gonna cost?"

My burnout of a pharmacist scans the mountain of medicine into her machine and my mouth drops open the second the price pops up on the screen.

"$102.45, sir."

"Fuck that. What can I not get?"

She rolls her eyes like she's seen these kind of tantrum one hundred times over.

"I mean, you don't have to get anything if you want a gangrene infection."

I--don't even know what that is.

"How about I give you $50 for all of this and an autograph. You can sell it on Ebay to make up the difference. I'm kind of a big deal"

The girl doesn't look like she's fangirled over anything in her life so...there goes that plan.

"$102.45, sir. Other customers are waiting."

"You know what? Just give me the cream, the cheaper gauze stuff, and the painkillers."

She points to two bottles that look exactly the same and then glares at me for the umpteenth time.

"Which ones?" She asks.

"The stronger ones. Here's fifty bucks, take it or leave it."

I yank a fifty out of my wallet, but she she's too busy scanning in my med's at snails pace to take it right away. The second she finishes, I grab my stuff off the table and b-line for the door before she even has the chance to give me a receipt.

Walking back to UCLA to track down Jersey's probably gonna make my nuts feel like they've been dipped in napalm.

So I pop open my painkillers, throw back three and swallow them dry.

I gotta girl to find and no time to pussyfoot around with these pills.

Besides, I'm pretty sure the pharmacy lady said I was allowed to take these three times an hour.

Or was it three times a day?

Eh, fuck it.

Guess I'll find out.

(Thanks for reading guys! Next update is on Tuesday/Wednesday! Who's listening to audiobook?)