Chapter 3

"Shelley ... Shelley, wake up." It took her a minute to recognise Rick's voice. He was shaking her gently. "Honey, you're hot."

"So are you," she mumbled through the haze.

"No, really," Rick said, brushing her hands away. "You're burning up. How do you feel?"

"Like shit." Her head was still pounding. She felt cold even though her body was covered in sweat. Everything from head to toe ached.

Rick's hands put his hands on her forehead. They were cool to the touch.

Opening her eyes, she saw the worried expression on Rick's face. He was sitting on the edge of the bed. He had a glass of water in one hand. "Sit up."

He pushed a pair of white pills into her mouth and then put the glass to her lips. She swallowed them without bothering to ask what they were.

"How long was I out?" she mumbled.

"You were asleep for about two hours."

Two hours? she thought. The last thing she remembered was her Jesus-take-me-now orgasm. Surely she hadn't blacked out and gone straight to sleep. For just a second, she felt guilty for not returning the favour to Rick. But that passed quickly as the room began to spin again—and this time, not in the good way.

She closed her eyes and then fell back on the bed.

Rick let out a sigh and then reached for the phone. She only barely heard him through her delirium.

"Hello? I'm in room 1038; is there a nurse on the premises? ... No ... Okay ... Yes, that would be fine ... Would you have a car ready in ten minutes? ... Excellent ... Yes ... Thank you."

After hanging up the phone, Shelley heard him get up and start going through the armoire in her room.

He returned after a minute and sat her up again. "You have to get dressed for me, honey."

"What for?"

"We're going to the ER."

"Why?"

"Because I could fry an egg on your forehead."

"You're not supposed to be putting my bra on..."

"That does seem strange, doesn't it?" he said, and she was sure he was smiling. He put a sweatshirt on her and then a loose pair of pajama bottoms.

The room started to spin when he stood her up. Her stomach churned.

"Are you going to be sick?" he asked.

It took her a second to calm down. "No ... I'll be okay."

Finally, he got a pair of flip-flops on her and her hair pulled back in a scrunchy. He found her purse and then went into his own room to throw on some clothes and get his wallet.

The pair stumbled down the hall to the elevator. Shelley had to lean on him for support. The lights stung her eyes.

The night staff had someone waiting for them and she was eased into the limo. It seems like everything in Vegas operates 24/7 and walk-in clinics were no exception.

Rick filled out the forms for her and dug through her purse for her insurance card. All she had to do was sign in a couple of places.

Half an hour later, they were sitting in an exam room. Shelley kept nodding off. She didn't remember much about the visit, except for when the PA stuck a swab down her throat.

She dozed off again only to have Rick shaking her awake once more. The PA had a lab report in his hands. "I've got good news and some bad news."

"What's the bad news?" Rick said.

"You've got strep. Both of you," he replied.

"And the good news?"

"The worst is just about over," he scribbled something down on a pad. "Are you taking any other medications?"

"No," Rick replied.

"What about you, Shelley?"

"I just had some ibuprofen with dinner," she said feebly.

"And I gave her some Tylenol before we came here," Rick added.

"That shouldn't be a problem." He handed two forms to Rick. "Here's a prescription for each of you. Antibiotics. Take three per day for the next week, even if the symptoms go away. There's a 24-hour pharmacy up the street. I'll call this in for you now and you can swing by there on the way back to the hotel."