Free Second You Sin by Scott Sherman Page A

that. For the nursing staff.” He winked. “Smart woman.” I held up my little white bear. “I brought something, too,” I said, a little defensive comparing my pathetic offering
    next
    to
    Mrs.
    Cherry’s
    extravagant
    indulgence.
    “Bears are good,” Cody said. He grinned. “Not as good as a fifty-pound box of chocolate, mind you, but stil good.”
    “You can never have too much chocolate,” I agreed.
    “Yeah, that Mrs. Cherry real y was a very nice woman,” Cody continued. He stopped and looked at me to see just how honest he could be. “And when I say ‘woman’ . . .” He made air quotes.
    Mrs. Cherry’s drag couldn’t fool a blind man, let alone a skil ed medical professional like young Cody here, who, because he was cute, I wanted to imagine was a genius along the lines of Louis Pasteur.
    “It’s a hormonal thing,” I offered.
    Cody’s “hmmm” indicated a certain degree of disbelief.
    “Or it could be her testicles,” I conceded.
    “That’l do it,” Cody responded.
    At that we both smiled. I could have hung out longer with Cody, but I had to get going.
    “So,” I said, “I guess I should go see Randy. How’s he doing?”
    “Randy, right.” Cody gave a brisk nod to indicate he was turning back to business. “Randy is . . .” He looked at his chart and grimaced. “Randy’s about the same, I’m sorry to say. Stil not conscious. But holding on.”
    I was hoping for better news. “Can I see him?” Cody stepped out from behind the counter. “Come on, I’l take you in.”
    He signaled for another nurse to take over for him at the desk and walked me to see my friend.
    “Whoa,” I said. Randy’s room was fil ed with flowers, bal oons, and a huge pink stuffed bunny that sat in one of the two visitor’s chairs. “Mrs. Cherry again?”
    “She thought the place could use a little cheering up.”
    “The Macy’s Christmas Parade isn’t this cheered up,” I said.
    I went over to Randy. He lay motionless except for the slight rise and fal of his chest as a machine puffed life into his sleeping lungs. I brushed the hair off his forehead. The skin felt thin and cool.
    He could have been sleeping. I wished he were.
    Cody made himself busy checking the IV drip.
    “He’s taking in a lot of fluids,” he said.
    “That good?”
    “Yeah, it means things are working.”
    “Good,” I agreed. “I never thought I’d see Randy looking so . . . weak.”
    “Yeah,” Cody said, “he does have that Incredible Hulk thing going on, doesn’t he?” Cody’s admiring gaze made it clear that Randy’s superhuman musculature worked for him.
    “Maybe you should check him for exposure to cosmic rays,” I suggested.
    Cody corrected me. “Gamma rays. Cosmic rays are what gave the Fantastic Four their powers. Hulk was gamma rays.”
    “Nerd much?”
    “I have a mind for useless trivia,” he admitted.
    “You like him,” I teased.
    “I treat al my patients equal y, with compassion and no preference,” he answered.
    “Yeah,” I said, “but you like him.”
    “I confess nothing,” Cody said. “Although I may have paid his charge nurse fifty bucks to let me do his sponge bath.”
    I laughed. Even in a coma, Randy was the stuff of fantasy.
    “I mean, does he live at the gym?” Randy continued.
    “Not quite. But he’d appreciate knowing you think so.”
    Cody came over to me and looked me in the eyes.

    “I’m sorry your friend is hurt. Do you want to sit with him awhile?”
    “Yeah,” I said. “Do you think he can hear me?”
    “I do. I think he’d real y appreciate a little visit just about now.”
    As Cody was leaving I cal ed out, “Thanks.”
    “No problem,” said cute Cody.

    So, I sat with Randy and told him about my visit with Socko the Clown, and asked his advice about how to ask Cody out for coffee without embarrassing the both of us by making it sound like a come-on. It’s weird—hitting up a guy for sex is easy. Putting the move on a potential friend, though,