02: No, I'm In Charge

Anthony screeched into the ER and jumped out. He scooped Harper up and carried her in, cursing at the limpness in her body. Zola grabbed Harper's purse just in case they needed to see the drugs. She followed, running to catch up. Immediately, two nurses and a doctor began to evaluate Harper.

The ER doctor took one look and grimaced. "What's her name and what's she on?"

It was Anthony that answered. "Harper. Ecstasy, alcohol, pot ... for sure. They've been clubbing ... so ..."

Zola dug through Harper's clutch and checked hers. She handed over the remaining drugs. The doctor sighed and shook his head. "Do you know how much?"

Zola's voice caught in her throat, constricting with shame and guilt. "No."

"How old?"

"25."

"Allergies?"

"No."

The doctor looked at the nurse directly across from him. "Okay, she's likely overdosed on some form of impure methamphetamine. Let's get her stable, start monitoring, and detox." He turned to Anthony. "Go to the waiting area and get her checked in." The doctor and one of the nurses rolled Harper off on a gurney, leaving Zola and Anthony standing, stunned.

The second nurse turned to them. She looked as if she was about to give them directions or lead them to the admissions area, but her gaze froze on Zola who was covered in vomit and still "rolling." Her tone was crisp and full of disdain.

"What is your name, young lady?"

"Zola."

"What did you have tonight?"

"Um ..."

"Come with me. We need to check your vitals." The nurse led Zola away, leaving Anthony to go to his emergency contacts on his phone.

----

"Dom, I know! You don't need to tell me." Anthony was pacing just outside the entry of the ER.

"Jesus, Anthony, Jesus!" Dominic Basilio grumbled. "Look, just wait for her and pay the bill. Get her out of there. See if you can get me updated on Harper immediately. I'll contact Harper's parents, but I want to have as much information as possible. DO NOT TELL MY FATHER."

"Well, NO SHIT, Dom, I'm not an idiot."

"Did you give them the drugs?!" Anthony balked, lies were in his hesitation. "No, but you know how it is. I'm not 'mommy,' I'm the driver and the wallet."

"Fine." Dominic had known Anthony for a long time and he was not oblivious.

"But you and I are going to have to come to an understanding next week. This cannot happen again. When I get back in town, I'll have a little 'heart to heart' with Zola as well. Send me a text with all the details so I can call Mr. Embry."

Anthony grasped the phone, watching as the screen faded to black. "FUCK." ----

Zola sat on the edge of a bed in the emergency room. The partitioning curtain was open and she could see a few more beds with patients of various ages and ailments waiting for treatment. Some of the curtains were closed, and she could hear only bits and pieces of conversations floating out into the space.

She could tell the effects of the ecstasy were beginning to wane, and she felt disgusted with herself on many different levels. She wanted a shower, she wanted a bed, but more than anything else, she wanted Harper to slow down and stop treating her like shit.

Anthony stopped by and gave her a quick update. He grimaced. "Miss Embry will be fine. But she is very lucky. There's no telling what she ingested that set off her reaction."

Zola rolled her eyes in disdain. "Oh please, Anthony! You know exactly what goes down when we go out. Don't speak to me like you're Dom. Where did Harper get the 'E' this time? You're the middle man, we all know it.

We're all responsible." Anthony's temper flared and he stepped in close, seething and whispering fiercely, "Listen, Zola, you better not say a single word to anyone."

Zola responded with her own seething whisper, "Or what?! You piece of shit! I'm done with this and I'm done with you. You better hope Dom is willing to give you some other shit-monkey job because I don't want you anywhere near me or Harper, ever again."

Anthony snapped. He reached back, yanking the curtain, obscuring views. Zola gasped suddenly, realizing that she had "poked the bear." His eyes full of contempt and rage, he grabbed Zola's wrist and twisted it sharply, eliciting a wince from her.

"You fucking hypocritical, spoiled brat!" Zola eyes filled with tears from pain, fear, and guilt. "I can fucking end you ..."

"Excuse me, am I interrupting?" Anthony turned at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. It was tight and slightly strained. A woman stood at the opening of the curtain in grey business slacks, sensible black heels, and a classic French-cut white button down. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and her brown eyes were both deep and layered and sharpened as she took in the exchange.

"I suggest you remove your hand from the young lady's wrist and then remove yourself." Anthony stood frozen in surprise. "Now."

Anthony eased his grip but did not let go. Cora could see the pain and fear rippling through the woman's beautiful brown eyes. "It's alright. We are just having a discussion." Anthony's eyes drifted to Zola and they flashed with warning.

Cora stepped closer, demanding Anthony's attention. She smiled tightly. "It most certainly is not alright. And your time is up. Leave now before I 'end you.'" Cora's eyes were unwavering and the tone in her voice was unquestionable.

Her last words had the impact of a slap in the face, and Anthony dropped Zola's wrist, blinking in shock. He stepped back slightly and stumbled over his words. "I'm ... I'm ... her driver ... I'm in charge."

Cora sensed the battle was won. "No. I am in charge. I will make sure both she and Miss Embry are seen home safely. Last. Chance."

Anthony glared in defeat. "Fine." He turned to Zola. "I'll be seeing you soon."

As soon as the driver stepped out, Cora closed the curtain and turned her attention to the woman on the bed. She looked worn thin and she sat staring into space, rubbing her wrist. Emotion was building in her body and washing across her face.

"Miss?"

"Zola. My name is Zola Basilio."

"Yes, Miss Basilio, are you okay?" Cora stepped closer and Zola looked up to meet her eyes. Zola hiccuped with a sob, overwhelmed by the emotional rollercoaster of the night.

Cora closed the distance and sat beside her, gently wrapping her arm around Zola's shoulder, letting the woman lean in and rest her head on her shoulder. Zola shuddered with deep sobs and struggled to draw in air.

She was exhausted, hurting, and filled with disbelief as she tried to reconcile how her life had become so fucked up. She felt breathless both emotionally and literally. The stranger simply sat with her, blanketing her with compassion and kindness. Zola heard her whisper softly, "Just breathe, Miss Basilio, just breathe."

It took some time for Zola to calm herself and regulate her breathing. She could smell a warm sandalwood perfume rolling delicately off of the stranger and her voice was soothing.

"Miss Basilio? Your driver, he directly threatened you. Do you have someone you can call? Can I help you?"

Tears began to build in Zola's eyes again. "Yes. My brother, Dominic."

Cora pushed, encouraging the woman to direct her to help her. "Would you allow me to help you, Miss Basilio? I can help you if you'd like." Zola nodded, still dazed, crying, and staring at her hands.

"Okay, do you have a phone?" Zola nodded and reached for her purse. "Please dial the number on your phone and switch it over to speaker."

When Dominic answered the phone, he spoke in dizzying Italian. "Zolina?! Are you alright?! What's going on? I'm in New York, but I can be there tonight if you need me." Dominic's voice was concerned but also laced with anger. Cora picked up on the tone and "New York" but was otherwise lost.

"Mr. Basilio, this is Cora Sims. I'm a chaplain here at Seton Medical." Zola's eyes snapped up, clearing in surprise. She examined the woman carefully as she spoke into the phone.

"I'm here with your sister. She's a little unsettled, tired, but otherwise," Cora's eyes shifted to Zola quickly, "appears to be healthy."

Dominic switched back to English. "Oh. I'm sorry, Chaplain?"

"Yes, Mr. Basilio, I was just passing by her room and helped her with a situation. It seems her driver has made a direct threat to her safety. His hands were, on her, when I passed."

"What?! Anthony?! Le ha toccato la (he touched her)?!"

Cora balked at the Italian but did her best to bridge the language gap. "Yes, if that's the driver. I'm uncertain of all the details, but I'm sure Miss. Basilio will explain everything. I feel strongly, however, that he might be a direct threat in the immediate future to her. I assume that he has access to her and her home?"

Dominic's voice was tight with frustration, exhaustion, and concern. "Okay. I'll take care of it. May I speak to Zola, please?"

"Certainly." Cora handed over the phone and stood. Before she retreated from the space to give the young woman privacy, she took one more look to gauge her mental state.

Zola looked up and nodded, smiling weakly in thanks.