A Deal with Ethan Stratvoski

"Hello, hello. Who's this?" I spoke into the phone, gesturing to a co-waiter to take over.

I slipped past him, through the back doors and into the kitchens. One cook was huddled over a pot, ladling stew into a plate.

"Hello. Hello?"

"Darcy? Is this Darcy Henley?"

My heart got caught in my chest. "Yeah. Yeah, who's this?"

"Darcy, this is the hospital calling. One mister Adolf Henley just did get admitted. Reports says he slumped in a pub. His emergency info says you're family. Here's the address."

I tore a sheet from the waiting notepad and jotted down the address, my heart hammering. Not another problem. Not now. Not dad.

I ditched my apron and dived out the doors into the parking lot. It had gotten pretty dark out. I was soon in my rickety car of five faithful years and pulling out unto the road. I could barely keep my hands steady. I brought up the hospital's address on Google maps, and it was a good distance driving.

It was all just too much. I already had a lot going on for me for chrissake. I did not need the old man's help in adding to it.

I was just about halfway to the hospital before my cranky 10-year-old 1980 Chevy truck decided to take one of its expensive irregular naps. I was left stranded in no man's land, with cars zooming past at full speed. I got out and leaned against it by the side of the road, willing myself to not break down. Calm Darcy. Do not dent your stupid car further by kicking it. Calm does it.

Soon, the beams of a car's headlight that seemed to be slowing down shone straight at me. Thank God. A sleek black beauty pulled up behind my car. I did not recognize the brand, but it was definitely a car for royalty. A young man in his early thirties glared at me from behind the wheel as I walked up to him.

"What is it?!" He sounded rude. I didn't do well with rude people. But the cold had started to get to me.

"I don't know. I'm not a mechanic," I yelled back at him. "Could you help drop me off at Princeston Hospital? I do not know when I'll be able to get a mechanic at this time and it's urgent I get to the hospital..."

"I could," he interrupted. A sly grin appeared on his stupid face. "But what am I to gain from it? Perhaps the rest of your night?"

A headache, summed up. I turned to walk away but then, thought again. It was dangerous for a pretty helpless-looking girl to be alone at this sort of place. Especially at night.

I turned back to his smirking face. "Now, look here, my man..."

But his phone rang, and he held up a hand to silence me. I groaned in frustration. What I wouldn't give to get back at this spoilt, rich-ass smirking at me.

"Now?," he yelled into his phone. He turned and mouthed that I hopped in. I ran around the car and got into the seat next to him, thanking whoever had interrupted our game. The car jerked forward and pulled into the road. The man had only a hand on the wheel while he yelled into his phone.

"I am coming home with my fiancé. She is right in the car with me!"

I turned to see who else was in the car, the fiancé he was talking about. There was none. The man handed the phone out to me and ordered arrogantly,

"Say hello, to my father, Sally."

I froze. What in the world! He did not even know my name! Perhaps this Sally was his fiancé he had to pick up but was late. Not wanting to seem like bad business, as he'd actually stopped to help, even though he'd taunted my through it, I took the phone.

"Hello. Good evening ma... Uh, sir?"

"Oh. He's actually serious?" The voice was a rich baritone. Probably that of a rich, old man. "Well darling, I'm waiting. See you in a bit."