Manny Needs a Nanny - 10. Dispatch to All Units, 10-73 at Charlie's Bar

Between screams, Priscilla heard the ruckus as three police cars skidded into Charlie's parking lot: sirens wailing, lights flashing. She stopped screaming and slowly headed for the door, unsure if that guy Wally was dead or not. As she approached the door, it became obvious that he was. The back of his head was gone. Well, not gone; it was splattered on the door.

The officers all stepped out of their cars and ducked behind the doors, waiting for any remaining gunplay. An ambulance arrived moments later. The officers slowly made their way toward the bar, hiding behind the few remaining cars, guns at the ready. Fortunately, none of them had itchy trigger fingers, else Priscilla would have been blasted to kingdom come when she crashed out the door, yelling.

"He's hurt! Get the fuck in here!"

The cops hesitated, one queried, "Are there any more shooters?"

"He's dead. Two more are hurt, or worse. Please, HURRY!"

The cop in charge told the EMTs to wait for his ‘okay’ and proceeded to the door.

He repeated, "Are there any other shooters?"

"Manny, the bartender, he's over there at the left end of the bar. But he's been shot. Help him for Christ's sake!"

"We'll get to him as soon as I determine, it's safe for the EMTs to enter."

The cop stepped to his left and saw Manny down, a gun a foot or so away from his hand. He signaled that it was alright to come in. As the EMTs came in, he cautioned them to avoid stepping in the blood as much as possible. They were only too happy to comply.

To the customers, "You two, go wait outside. Try not to step on anything."

The EMTs only glanced at Wally, knowing the score there immediately. They crouched down at the fallen customer, one felt for a pulse, then shook his head. The bullet wound in his chest told the whole story. Moving on to Manny, they saw at once that he was breathing. The bullet hole was high on the upper-left side of his chest, just below the shoulder. Bad, but probably not fatal, provided they could control the bleeding. The mirror behind him had a head-high star-burst crack. The EMTs saw some blood under Manny’s head. The shot had apparently knocked him backwards, breaking the mirror and knocking some bottles off the shelf. There was also a bullet hole in the mirror a foot or so below and to the right of the starburst.

They cut Manny’s shirt off him, applied direct pressure to the chest and back wounds, and stabilized his neck and head. Due to the extreme bleeding, one of the EMTs inserted a Foley catheter and inflated the balloon to help slow the bleeding. Once Manny was prepped, they lifted him onto the gurney and started rolling him toward the door.

Priscilla was understandably concerned, "Is he going to be okay?"

One of the EMTs answered, "Should be. It doesn't look like the bullet hit anything critical and went all the way through. The head wound is probably just a concussion in addition to the lacerations. But he lost a lot of blood—that might be a problem."

Priscilla phoned Charles to let him know what happened. Fortunately, Manny had updated his emergency contact information, so Priscilla called Bass. She also sent her husband a text, indicating she'd be at the bar for a while, that Manny had been shot. The Livingston's lived just under a half-hour south of the bar, in Winder. Troy heard the text arrive, and woke Don to let him know he had to run to the bar, his mother was having car trouble. Don and Troy Jr. would not have wanted to stay home if they knew, there had been a shooting. Charles showed up in minutes, living close by. Troy made it there much faster than he normally would have; fortunately, encountering no speed traps on the way.

Priscilla and the two remaining customers gave their views of the shooting. Witness testimony was generally spotty, but all three provided essentially the same facts. The forensics team obtained everything they needed to confirm what the witnesses claimed. Three hours later, all the police's questions and investigations were complete, and Charles was able to lock up. He hoped Danny could work extra hours later; he doubted, he'd get much sleep himself.

At the hospital, Manny was in the Emergency Department being prepped for surgery. The bullet missed his lung, the only organ close enough to the wound to possibly have been affected. The left Subclavian artery, which fed the left arm, had been partially severed, requiring surgery to repair. Wally's bullet forced Manny backward with only sufficient energy to cause a concussion and some cuts from the mirror; but it was significant enough to have knocked him unconscious.

After he got off the phone, Bass woke the rest of the staff to inform them of what happened and asked them to watch Rocky in his absence. They obviously agreed. Bass then rushed to the hospital to get an update on Manny's condition. Manny was in surgery by the time Bass arrived. A nurse led him to the O-R waiting room, and said, someone would come out to give him an update as soon as possible. The average person's definition and a hospital's definition of ASAP are vastly different. Bass waited almost three hours before hearing anything.

While waiting, Bass thought about how he got to where he was in his life. Bass had been a shy, quiet child—always large for his age, but not muscular like he was now until his early-twenties. To say he had been fat as a child and a young man, would be generous. If Gabriel Iglesias were to describe him at twenty, he would have qualified as ‘damn,’ with a head start on getting to ‘oh, hell no.’

Once he had been old enough to drink legally, his first excursion into a bar had been—to say the least—an epic failure. It didn’t help that he had grown up an hour outside of Birmingham, Alabama, and the local bar was a candidate to be the capital of Redneck City. He had been teased mercilessly by both men and women. He had walked out after having only taken a few swallows of his beer, disgusted with himself.

He didn’t work but had reasonably wealthy parents. Living in the sticks of Alabama, one didn’t need to actually be loaded with cash to be wealthy. He had joined a gym, had gotten a personal trainer, and within a year had become buff enough to get a job as a bouncer in a Birmingham bar.

Four months and still more buff later, a man had walked into the bar and asked if he would be his family’s bodyguard. Ivan Tanenov told him he’d hire his personal trainer as well. Unfortunately, Ivan had died a few years later of an air embolism, leaving Bass in charge of the new family head, Ivan’s son, Boris. The embolism had been introduced hypodermically by one of Ivan’s business associates. Boris had told Bass; he’d fired his father’s personal bodyguard at the time. ‘Fired’ wasn’t the usual definition; ‘fired at’ was a better description.

Shortly after Ivan’s demise, Boris’ girlfriend had been killed and another bodyguard had “disappeared”, leaving Bass as the primary bodyguard for the whole family. As time went on, he had become a friend and guardian to Boris’ son, Rockland, and the manager of the household. This had left him very little time for a social life, which suited Bass well. He had known, he was gay since high school, but being gay, and out, in his current position could have been dangerous. The family knew,—and by then trusted him—but preferred, he not let the world know. A couple failed relationship attempts earlier in his life soured him on finding a gay mate, anyway.

His rumination was interrupted when the Vascular surgeon that worked on Manny entered the waiting room shortly after five AM.

"Are you here with Truman Talbot?"

Bass stood, "Yes, I am. How is he?"

The doctor remained a few feet away from Bass, so he wouldn't have to look straight up, "Are you a relative?"

"No, he has no living relatives, I'm a close friend."

Manny did have a few aunts, uncles, and cousins, but mentioning that wouldn't help get him in to see Manny.

"Alright, I suppose it's safe to share this with you. Firstly, the EMTs did a wonderful job to staunch the bleeding. He may not have made it otherwise. He’d lost a lot of blood, needing five units during the surgery. But the surgery went well. We were able to repair the Subclavian artery that was partially severed. It only being partially severed made the surgery a little easier, but a graft from a Saphenous vein was still necessary.

“You look confused. Sorry, I'll use lay terms. The main artery supplying blood to his left arm was partially severed. A vein from the leg is commonly used to repair damage to other blood vessels. His arm was deprived of full blood flow for a period of time, so we'll probably have to wait a day or two before we can really judge if there is any permanent damage. Other than that, he'll recover completely. The lacerations to the back of his head are inconsequential, and the concussion will need to be monitored, but I don't believe that will cause any lasting effects."

"Thank you, doctor. When would I be able to see him?"

"He'll likely be unconscious for another hour or so. I'll have a nurse come and take you to recovery when it is appropriate."

"Thanks again."

"You're welcome, Mr…"

"Blank. Sebastian Blank."

"Someone will be out to get you in an hour or so, Mr. Blank."

Bass waited once again. Early in this wait, it wasn't a doctor that came into the waiting room, but a familiar face.

"Hi Charles. I thought, I may see you sooner or later."

"Hello, Bass. Any word?"

Bass recounted what the surgeon said. Since they had some time to wait, they found a vending machine, and each had something that was supposed to be coffee. They both felt it was better than nothing, and returned to the waiting room.

It was a lot closer to two hours than one before someone finally came for them. It was a nurse that didn’t look like she loved her job.

"Thurman Talbot?"

Bass answered, "Truman; yes, we're both here for him."

"Okay. He's still a little groggy, but he's awake for now. You can visit for a few minutes. He'll probably sleep for most of the next eight to ten hours due to the painkillers. Follow me."

They followed the nurse into the recovery room, where Manny was temporarily placed. Manny heard them enter and turned to look toward them.

He spoke slowly but apparently high on whatever pain medicine he’d been given, "Hi guys. Am I a mess, or what?"

Charles replied, "I've seen you look worse with a hangover.”

“I doubt that. Only my head hurts with a hangover. This arm is killing me.”

Bass replied, “You’re not far off. The bullet hit an artery. Without the EMTs, you could have bled to death.”

“Gee. Thanks for cheering me up.”

“Sorry, I’ve been waiting forever. Well, we have.”

“Is Priscilla okay, Charles?”

“She’s fine. A bit freaked out, but unharmed.”

“What about the customers?”

“Two only shaken up. The third took a bullet to the chest; never had a chance.”

“Shit. What about the guy with the gun?”

This time Bass spoke up, “Your time at the range paid off. You literally got him right between the eyes."

Charles added, "I think, seeing the results of that was the most disturbing thing for Priscilla.”

“Dead?”

Bass offered, “As the dinosaurs.”

“I guess, that’s fair since he killed that oth… wait, it was him, right? I didn’t shoot that customer?”

“You’re good. Only took out the bad guy.”

Nurse pissy-face looked in and said, Bass and Charles had to leave. They said ‘goodbye’ and that they would come back later. Charles went back home to try to get a little sleep after leaving Danny a message about possibly coming in earlier. There was a lot of clean-up to do.

Priscilla had gone home with her husband, too nervous to drive. She tried to sleep but would wake up yelling Manny's name shortly after falling asleep. Troy gave her an over-the-counter sleep aid to help her sleep better. He felt a double dose would do the job without causing any issues. He was right.

Bass went home, and tried to get more sleep. His main hope was that Manny wouldn't lose any functionality of his arm. Needing to wait to find that out would be difficult. Waiting seemed to be a common occurrence today. He was woken a few hours later when Rocky could no longer stand not knowing what happened to Manny, entering Bass' room and waking him up.

Trying not to show his fear, Rocky prodded, "Come on, Bass. Everybody wants to know how Manny is."

"Okay, okay. Go downstairs and tell Sandy to make me a coffee and something to eat. I'll be down in a minute."

Rocky tore out of the room to do as he was asked; also telling Linda and Patrick that Bass was coming down. He sat at the kitchen table, fidgeting, impatiently waiting for Bass to come downstairs. All he'd heard was that Manny was shot. Obviously fearing the worst, he couldn't sit still. He felt like it was taking Bass hours to get down, even though it was only a few minutes. Bass wasn't two steps into the kitchen before Rocky started firing questions at him.

"Is Manny going to be okay? Where was he shot? When is he coming home? Can I go see him? Will…"

"Slow down, Rocky. I know you're concerned. He'll be okay. He was shot in the shoulder but lost a lot of blood. His left arm was deprived of blood for a long time, so the doctor doesn't know if he'll regain use of it. We have to wait. But otherwise, yes, he'll be okay."

"Thank God. I don't know what I would do if I lost him too. I…"

Rocky's strong facade came crashing down. He started crying uncontrollably. All the grief for his parents, that he was keeping inside himself, exploded to the surface. Bass picked Rocky up and held him on his lap, letting the tears flow—both Rocky's and his own. None of Sandy, Linda, nor Patrick could hold back the tears either, all empathizing with Rocky. Finally, after almost fifteen minutes, Rocky's tears abated.

"When can we go see him, Bass?"

Next up - "Progress? Or Surgery, Round Two"