The elevator doors slowly closed. But the air still reeked of alcohol. Debbie heaved a sigh of relief after Carlos walked away, but meanwhile, she felt sadness digging deep into her heart.
She wondered if she and Carlos would be like strangers from now on.
That was not her goal. Things were not going the way she planned, the way she hoped. 'Did I lose Carlos forever?' she thought gloomily.
The elevator arrived at the seventh floor and she walked out, heading for her apartment. Unexpectedly, she saw a familiar figure standing by the door to her apartment, like a bum as usual. Debbie set her luggage by the door and asked coldly, "What are you doing here?" Decker hadn't replied to any of her messages for the past few months. She wondered if he was dead.
Decker said nothing, just stared at her.
Suddenly, another important question popped into her mind. "How did you even get in here?" she asked. Champs Bay Apartments was one of the most high-end blocks in the city. No outsiders could enter without permission. Back when she was actively trying to get close to Carlos, she pulled some strings to enter this neighborhood. It wasn't easy, and random people couldn't just go strolling in.
Debbie didn't think her unreliable brother would know any big shots here—or anywhere else for that matter.
Barely moving, he merely cast her a glance and demanded in a husky voice, "Open the door now."
A hint of blood reached Debbie's nostrils. Worried, she quickly took off her sunglasses and scanned Decker up and down. His face was drained of all color. His T-shirt was stained a deep red. It looked slick and wet.
It was a bloodstain! "My god! You okay?"
Decker leaned against the wall to support his body. There was a pained look on his face. Covering his waist, he closed his eyes and repeated, "Open the door!"
Worried about him, Debbie quit asking questions and quickly opened the door to her apartment. Decker immediately staggered inside and closed the door behind him.
In a split second, as if drained of all energy, he slumped onto the floor at the doorway.
He was not a good brother, but Debbie couldn't bear to see this. She shook her head resignedly and went over to help him up. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into now? Who did you piss off this time?"
Wearing a deathly pale face, Decker managed to get to his feet with Debbie's help. "Medicine…" he said in a weak voice.
Debbie got angry. "What medicine? Are you nuts? This looks serious. But you came to me instead of a doctor. So now you want to die here on my rug? Let me get you to a hospital!"
Decker grabbed hold of her arm. "No…don't…no hospitals. Listen to me…for once…" His voice became weaker.
'Listen to me…' Debbie repeated his words in her mind.
She was shocked. Ever since she tracked him down, he'd never acted like a brother to her.
As far back as she could recall, Decker had always been perpetually short of cash, never bothering with a job for long. He hung out on the streets every day. He was no more than a parasite, draining cash from any woman foolish enough to take up with him.
Anyway, she listened this time. With great difficulty, she helped him get to a bedroom. He was heavier than he looked. She made him sit on the couch, and told him, "I've been gone for a few months. Wait here. I'll make the bed."
With that, she hurried to her own bedroom to grab a clean quilt. When she opened her bedroom door, she was surprised to find a quilt neatly laid on her bed.
She specifically remembered putting the bed set away before going on tour. That was strange.
But she had no time to think too much. She quickly pulled out a clean quilt from the closet, carried it to the room next door and made the bed.
Decker was already on the verge of fainting. She helped him move to the bed so that he could lie down to get a rest. Ugh! This wasn't easy on her back.
Beads of sweat formed on Debbie's forehead. She put her hands on her waist, gasping for air. Looking down at her brother, she asked, "So spit it out. Why no doctors?"
With his eyes shut, Decker said, "I need…disinfectant, bandages, some QuikClot… Go buy them now."
Realizing what he was trying to do, Debbie got mad. What an idiot! He wanted to deal with the wound himself instead of going to the hospital. "So you want to stop the bleeding by yourself? Seriously? Are you a doctor? Dammit, Decker, I'm a singer not a doctor! I'll call an ambulance."
"Debbie…" Decker called out. "I got this. Hurry! Please!"
Debbie's mouth hung open in shock. 'He's serious. But how? I guess I don't know him at all.'
Despite the incredibility, Debbie hurriedly ran out of her apartment, got into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. However, it suddenly dawned on her that she didn't know where the nearest pharmacy was.
Left with no choice, she took a deep breath and called Carlos. The call was connected, but all she could hear was him breathing. He didn't even say "hello."
Ignoring his attitude, Debbie asked anxiously, "Do you know where I can get… Um…where the nearest pharmacy is?"
"You hurt?" Carlos finally spoke.
"No…it's not me. Just tell me, please."
Carlos made a wild guess. She was fine when he saw her in the elevator a few minutes ago. Now she was asking about meds, so it wasn't her. Who, then? "What do you need? I'll have someone bring it to you."
Debbie wanted to agree, but on second thoughts, she decided against it. Decker's wound was suspicious, and he seemed like he wanted it kept secret. So she said, "Thanks, Mr. Huo. I'll get it myself." The elevator arrived on the ground floor. She walked out and began making her way to the pharmacy. "Look, are you going to tell me or do I have to wander around like an idiot till I find it?" she asked Carlos.
Carlos was not a man that liked to be turned down. His mood darkened. He replied coldly, "Turn right at the gate, walk fifty meters, then turn right again. You'll see a pharmacy there."
"Okay, thanks." After hanging up, Debbie started running as fast as her feet would take her.
A minute later, someone opened the door to Debbie's seventh floor apartment. Light footsteps could be heard, faintly. Decker's eyes snapped open; he was listening intently at the sounds coming from the living room.
Debbie had been gone for three minutes. She needed to find the shop and buy the things, so she couldn't make it there and back in such a short time. 'Who's that, then?'
While he was still mulling this over, the bedroom door suddenly flew open. Two pair of dark eyes met.
The two men furrowed their brows deeply at the sight of each other.
"Eckerd?" That was the last person Carlos expected to see. How did Debbie know him? Why would he go straight to her place after getting hurt? Hundreds of questions popped up in Carlos' mind.
Decker heaved a sigh. He scoffed, "Mr. Huo, what do you want by creeping into a woman's apartment at midnight? Imagine what the tabloids will say."
Carlos sniffed the air. Blood. Instead of answering Decker's question, he asked, "Yates' men around?"
"Don't…know." Decker turned his body, trying to hide his wound from Carlos.
Carlos wasn't interested in his grudges with Yates anyway, so he stopped asking. "Why are you here? Who's Debbie to you, anyway?"
"That's…ugh! That's for me to know, and you to…find out." Decker smiled mischievously.
Carlos' face fell. He took out his phone and called Frankie. "I need a background check on Eckerd." Carlos continued, rattling off details over the phone like height, weight, approximate age, and known aliases.
Decker was dumbfounded. This man was so damn efficient.
Carlos didn't know much about Eckerd. All he knew was that Yates hated him, and the feeling was mutual. Last time when Carlos dined with Yates, Eckerd's men started a fight with Yates' retinue. It ended up with shots fired.
"Get…out of here. My home." Decker tried to drive him away. But he wasn't in any position to make demands.
Carlos was possessed of a legendary cruelty. He even outdid Yates when someone crossed the line. 'Why would my stupid sis fall for an a-hole like that?' he thought to himself.
"Your home?" Carlos raised an eyebrow. "What would Ivan say about that?"
