Chapter 17: Don't Meddle

< Shirley >
I had my eyes shut close as Dylan's voice kept getting closer, "Last night I talked to Sienna, she said she really hates you." His eyes were still probably on me.
"What?" The officer sounded shocked.
"Such a pity, isn't it?" Dylan snickered and stood right beside my bench, making me gulp.
Before Dylan could spit out more venomous words, someone cut in, "Been waiting long, Dylan?"
I finally felt at ease as I wasn't in Dylan's focus anymore. At least I hoped I wasn't and hadn't blown up my cover.
"Not you again," groaned Mr. Stratford.
"Wow, you never leave Dylan alone, do you, Mr. Stratford? I would really like to know what is an FBI agent doing at a petty attempt to murder case here," said the newly arrived man whose face I had yet to see.
"Riley, can I leave it to you?" Dylan asked him.
"Definitely. Go back and relax. You have an important race to attend tomorrow after all," said the 'Riley' person.
"Okay. I'm off then. Bye, Mr. Stratford. I hope I don't see you in a long time, better if never."
"You can't just leav—" the officer tried to protest.
"I'm afraid someone's on the call for you, Mr. Stratford. Perhaps, your—" I couldn't hear any more as I was pulled up by my wrist and was being dragged towards the opposite direction from them.
"Leave my hand." I struggled, but Dylan refused to budge, so I decided to go along wherever he was taking me.
I turned my head back and managed to catch the glimpse of the officer Dylan was talking to. He seemed to be in his late-thirties. I couldn't see his eye color but his hair was black, clearly giving off an idealistic and strong-headed vibe. Before we took a turn in the hallway, I noticed the officer's eyes lock on me. Strange.
At last, Dylan let go of my hand when we were at the end of the hallway of an isolated part of the hospital. Before either of us could open our mouths, his cell phone rang up. He stepped away from me and received the call.
Although I tried not to eavesdrop, I managed to hear a few muffled words. "C'mon, as if he's got anything on me... Don't worry me about your worries, please... If it wasn't for you, that guy would be long dead... Stop it, Sienna. Don't. I don't want to listen to any of this. I'm done. Bye."
I was still confused as to why he talked to his mother that way. Although I had my doubts about Sienna Lewiston being his mother, considering how young she was. She clearly couldn't have Dylan at the age of fourteen, now could she?
Then again, she was a celebrity. Age concealing was a petty issue.
"Didn't your parents teach you eavesdropping is bad?" Dylan cut in between my thoughts.
"Um, I'm sorry. I was just—"
"What, are you stupid? What did you think you're doing there, sitting so close to us? What if Tristar saw you? It wouldn't have taken a minute before—" he paused abruptly. "Never mind. The conclusion is, you are an idiot."
"First of all, who the fuck is Tristar?"
"That officer! Tristar Stratford, an FBI agent, who wants nothing more than to hang me to death." Dylan released a huff.
"Why?"
"I don't see any reason to tell you, someone who doesn't matter to me," he said sharply. And ouch, did that cut deep.
"C'mon, he didn't see me. I was fully undercover." I crossed my arms haughtily, acting like he didn't just hurt my feelings.
"Undercover, really?" Dylan scoffed. "Under an upside-down magazine? Seriously, woman? Do you think you're too smart or we're all just fucking dumb?"
"I think I'm too smart," I answered nervously.
"Goddammit, that was rhetorical. You didn't have to answer it," he snapped.
"Aren't you on edge more than usual?" I asked skeptically.
"Oh, nothing much. I was just about to get arrested for attempt to murder your friend when all I was doing was helping you out, and this is the return I get it," he said sarcastically. "Geez, I'm down helping anyone ever again."
"Uh, I'm sorry about that."
He released an exasperated sigh. "Anyways, why did you come here?"
"I just wanted to clear up the misunderstandings in case you got in trouble."
"You're the last person I would take help from." He rolled his eyes.
I released a sigh, trying to calm myself down. "Can you tell me what exactly happened?"
"Exactly. I don't know what the fuck happened there. One moment someone asked to pass up the knife from the table, and the next moment, your friend was lying dead," he let out.
I gritted my teeth and corrected, "He isn't dead, you know?"
"Like I care." He rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his disheveled black hair. I controlled my urge to flip him over my shoulder, seeing his distressed demeanor.
Being the sort of composed bastard he was, I wondered why the officer's word cut so deep within him, so I couldn't help but fidget before asking, "That officer, was he someone close to you?"
I flinched a little at the sharp, indignant look he threw at me; his eyes missing the always blatant gaze, rather filled with malice. He walked closer to me and said spitefully, "Don't try to meddle into my business, Shirley Hamilton."
I stood there frozen as he walked away from me.
What did I even do?
Being the usual insensitive idiot you are, replied my subconscious.
"It's not like I have no other work than to meddle in your business," I hollered, knowing he was out of earshot by now.
The more I got to know Dylan, the more complex he got. He was like a puzzle too difficult to solve. But I believed, one way or the other, there had to be some way that he could be figured out. I sincerely hoped for him to meet a person like that—someone who would open the closed door to his frozen heart and let the warm summer winds in—as cringy as it might sound.
It was almost midnight by the time Ryan was shifted to the ICU after the operation, which was a huge success, and he should be alright soon enough. But for the night, he was unconscious. Also, his parents were on their way, who had planned to shift him back to New York in the morning.
And since the nurse said that only one of us could stay for an emergency, a fight broke out between my other friends, while I watched them with bored eyes; it was too much of an effort to interfere until now. Although, it would have been nice if there was popcorn to watch the drama as they dug each other's horrible history.
However, It was already decided that I would stay for the night.
"Want us to grab some change of clothes for you?" Grace asked. I glanced down at my long dress and smiled sheepishly.
I was about to open my mouth to reply just when the elevator door opened and Richard came out, singing, "Why fear when Richard is here?"
I eyed the shopping bag in his hand and raised an eyebrow in question.
"Change of clothes for you," Richard chimed and handed me the bag, which contained a pair of new tee and jeans. "At first, I thought of grabbing some gender-neutral pajamas, but the thought of getting beaten by all your pointy heels changed my mind."
My friends snorted, and I rolled my eyes as I thanked him. By the way, I had sworn Richard to secrecy about what happened back there where a truck almost crushed him and I saved him like the heroin I was.
"Well, then why have you brought only feminine clothes? For all you know, any of us boys could have stayed," said Eric, eyeing Richard skeptically.
Richard shifted his glance sideways and chuckled nervously. "We can just take off our suits and we are comfy," he said, earning smacks from both Eric and Daniel.
After a few more bickerings and mindless chats, everyone left wishing me goodnight, not before ranting out the safety guidelines a thousand times.
Waving them goodbye, I went to the restroom to change into the new pair of clothes. It was a light pink cotton t-shirt and ripped blue jeans. I put my fancy gown in the shopping bag without folding it; it was sure to get crinkled—not that I would wear it again. I glanced at my high heels and cursed Richard for not getting me a pair of new comfortable shoes.
I splashed cold water on my face from the sink, not caring about the makeup. I looked at myself in the mirror to find the familiar pair of oceanic blue eyes staring back at me. There were specks of red on the inner corner of my eyes.
Huffing, I grabbed the face tissues from the cabinets and started taking off the foundation from my face. Once I looked decent enough with the smudged black lines from the eye-liner still there, I exited the washroom with the paper bag in my hand.
The hallway was secluded, filled with the faint beep sound of the heart monitors. As I was walking by, I felt like I was being watched, but there was no one, so it ought to be my mind playing tricks on me, and I refused to believe it to be some kinda ghost. Ghosts freaked me out more than anything; I would really not think of that as a possibility here.
I sat on the bench outside the ICU where Ryan was admitted into. I rested my head backward, still feeling someone's intent gaze on me. It was slightly getting on my nerves.
The exhaustion of the whole day started catching up to me as sleep started crawling into my brain. I jerked up and sat straight up since I couldn't afford to sleep. What if Mr. Creepy Stalker came to attack Ryan again? What if Ryan needs something and the nurse isn't there? What if Mr. Creepy stalker was here right now?