Then something came over her face. It was an expression of remorse and panic. She immediately recognized what she had done, and she pushed him off of her. She screamed.
He tried to stand and follow her, to check on her, but he was feeling lightheaded. Everything had fuzzy edges around it, and her voice sounded like it was underwater. As Vann opened his mouth to speak, he passed out.
Chapter Twelve
GiGi
“I told you everything I know, Officer.”
GiGi was being held in an interrogation room at the hospital. Between sobs, she told the investigating officer who had been called to the hospital everything she could remember. Everything except the part where she had started to transform into a panther in the middle of having sex with one of the city’s most beloved celebrity chefs.
The half-truth had been embarrassing enough. They’d been having sex. Things got out of hand, and she had scratched him with her nails and bit his chest. She had bitten and scratched harder when he had egged her on. And that’s all that the DuChamp family attorney would let her say.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. The attorney glared and held up his head. “No more, GiGi. That’s it.” Then he pointed to the officer. “She did not apologize, she committed no crime.”
“Stop!” she cried. “Somebody tell me if he needs blood. Does he need blood, because I can donate! I have a universal blood type!”
“Ms. DuGrey,” the officer said, “I just need you to calm down and tell it to me one more time.”
The attorney stood up and put a hand on GiGi’s shoulder. “Is she under arrest? Because we are done here unless you’re going to charge her.”
The officer glared up at the attorney and then looked at GiGi with an expression of not so much anger as concern. “Ma’am, you are free to go. For some reason, he won’t be pressing charges, against our advice. Probably because he’d like to keep this out of the tabloids. But I’m going to caution you to be careful of who you get mixed up with in the future. Drugs are not your friend.”
Was this happening? Was she getting a D.A.R.E. lecture now when Vann was lying in a hospital bed? Was Vann really not going to press charges?
She didn’t know she could feel so many things all at once: guilt, sadness, remorse, terror, relief, and guilt again.
And then, an overwhelming need to see Vann.
As the attorney led her from the room, she made a beeline for the emergency room.
“Not a good idea, Ms. DuGrey.”
“I have to see him.”
“Your uncle gave specific instructions—“
But then the attorney’s voice was cut off by a loud clatter of metal and a man’s voice booming, “Where the FUCK is she?”
It was Vann. He was okay. And he wanted to see her.
Gulp. Better go and face the music.
She freed her arm from the half-hearted grip of the lawyer and bolted toward the sound of Vann’s voice.
“Vann!” she screamed through her sobs.
“GiGi, where the fuck have you…ow! Get that fucking IV away from me, and no I don’t want any fucking Jell-O!”
The crowd around Vann made it seem that everyone in GiGi’s family, as well as Vann’s people, had descended on the emergency room at the same time.
GiGi’s stomach fell to the floor, and she felt like she was going to throw up. So. Many. People.
Rosemary, Aunt Betsy, and Uncle Lionel were talking to the attorney in one corner. Ash, Bobby, and a few others she vaguely remembered from the engagement party all surrounded Vann. And there was the mysterious Pen LeFleur, who was still giving Rosemary a semi-cold shoulder. And, oh my God, Ash’s father was there, too. She recognized Jimmy Boudreaux from the chicken restaurant commercials. Good grief, was every New Orleans food celebrity here to behold the woman who tried to murder Vann West in the middle of coitus?
Vann had a large bandage on his neck, and he was wearing a ridiculous hospital gown. And yet somehow he still resembled a Viking god. His friends all looked like they were trying to get him to calm down so the nurse could stick him with a needle. He was having none of it.
When he saw her, his face transformed instantly from irritation and pain into relief, though she couldn’t fathom why.
GiGi was prepared for him to start accusing her of assaulting him, to ream her out, and declare that he never wanted to see her again. She held her breath and braced herself for the onslaught.
Instead, he pushed away his pack mates to make room for her to come to him. “Peaches, are you okay?”
She cried, “How are you asking me that?”
He didn’t answer, but stood up and squeezed GiGi so tight her feet lifted off the floor. He planted kisses on both her cheeks and lips and nose and forehead.
“You must be on some good hospital drugs,” she said, laughing and crying through their kisses.
“No, I’m just relieved you’re okay.”
She sniffed. “But your back! Your neck! I can’t believe you still can look at me.”
He set her down and held her face in his hands. “You got it backward. I only want to look at you, just you, ever again. And anybody that keeps you away from me again is going to get flayed.”
This comment was aimed at his crew, who stood watching the scene just as incredulously as GiGi’s people were doing.
Her Uncle Lionel approached in the middle of their mini-reunion. “Excuse me, Mr. West. I was wondering if you and I could discuss how we’re going to keep this out of the papers, in the interest of both parties.” He pulled a checkbook out of his breast pocket.
Vann didn’t even look at the old man. Instead, he smirked and kept his eyes on his girl. “Put your money
