Chapter 2

Cassandra Waters was awake and busy when I next opened my eyes. She spotted me the second I awakened and smiled her version of the mega-watt smile. Rested, she appeared younger than I first guessed, but even better looking. Her honey blonde hair shined, which meant she'd been up long enough to shower and blow dry. Her figure was perfect for her frame, and her hair accented her skin tones to perfection.

She was on the phone, talking to some family member, based on the familiar way she was speaking. "Yep. The doctor here is a twit. He hasn't got enough personality to be welcome at a Mister Bland Contest, and he behaves like a jerk to prove it ... Uh-huh ... Uh-huh ... Yes. He just woke up and looks much improved over last evening ... Uh-huh ... no ... I don't think so ... oooohhhh. I doubt that ... It will be interesting to find out, I guess. We won't know how this is supposed to happen until I can get him released and home with all of us, and we can get Doctor Jane to give us the scoop. But the big thing is, we found him. If the orphanage hadn't blown up, he wouldn't have been in the hospital and the doctor wouldn't have remembered the alert they got about a patient needing his special blood type ... yes ... I think so ... Ok. See you as soon as possible ... Love you too ... Bye..."

After setting the hospital room phone back in the cradle, Cassandra smile at me, and said, "I'm hoping that the hospital is tired of you, and we can leave today." She ruffled my hair and asked, "Are you up to getting out of bed and having a shower?"

I must have needed one very badly. Bed baths can only do so much, and I slowly raised up, tried my legs to see if they'd hold me, and walked gingerly to the bathroom. It felt good to be out of bed, and my body came back to life to prove it. After taking care of business, I stepped into the shower and let the hot water work its magic on me.

Hospital soap is not exactly spa quality, but it is soap, and I scrubbed everything I could reach, which was pretty much everything. The one thing I couldn't do was wash my back, and I had just decided it would have to wait until I could buy a back brush when the bathroom door opened a crack. Cassandra asked, "How are you doing in there? Is everything Ok? Would you like me to wash your back for you?"

I would, but Mr. Johnson was a traitor and would like something far more adult, which might not set well with Cassandra. Taking my silence for embarrassment, she came in, talking all the time, and soaped up a wash cloth while assuring me it was Ok. "I know how you might feel letting a stranger wash you in the shower, but we're family now, and I'm a big girl. I've seen it all before, and you've been badly injured. Just relax and let me clean you up correctly, so when we do get you out of here, we can buy some decent clothes for you, and get you looking like the handsome, young gentleman that you are." She pulled the shower curtain back and went to work on my back, shoulders, and eventually my buttocks, causing Mr. Johnson to stand up and howl for attention.

It was impossible for Cassandra to ignore something that obvious, and instead of pretending, she softly said, "You certainly won't be taking any backseats in the equipment department, Carl. I'm sorry if I've caused you any discomfort, but we need to get you cleaned up and presentable, so I can convince your doctor to release you. Mother's doctors are far more competent and will know just what you need, which will be far better for you than anything going on here. So, you just relax, let me finish, and I will leave to give you some privacy." In less than a minute I was scrubbed clean enough for her satisfaction, and she rinsed out the washcloth, and left me to towel off and dress.

When she was gone I manhandled Mr. Johnson into submission, dried myself, brushed, and dressed. The hospital had laundered my clothes while I was unconscious, but they were battered and beaten so badly, that when I finished dressing, I looked exactly like the penniless orphan I was. Cassandra's face fell, and she was rightfully ashamed to be seen with me. I waited for her to comment when I came out, but thankfully, she took in my ensemble and smiled supportively, avoiding the obvious.

The doctor arrived just a few moments later, took one look at me out of bed, showered and dressed, and guessed correctly that we were intent on my being released. His final examination was severely curtailed, and as fast as Cassandra made arrangements for her mother's accountants to pay the hospital bills, I was released.

Cassandra had a car waiting for us as we exited the side door. It was a beautiful Mercedes and came complete with a driver and what appeaered to be a bodyguard waiting patiently for us. The driver was holding the driver's side rear door open, while the guard swept the entire area as we approached, and he kept one hand clear of any obstacles in case he needed to reach for his weapon. I'd been around enough wealthy people to recognize the signs. Cassandra, or her mother, had some serious juice and the money to go with it.

As quickly as we were seated, our protectors had us headed for who knows where. Cassandra turned to me and smiled almost lovingly. Her smile was tinged with enough sadness, that I knew she felt pity about my appearance and pitiful financial condition. Her pity hurt me, but she surprised me by saying, "If you are going to make my family swoon, we have to do something about your clothes. Those things have to go.

"I just wish I'd known how ... how ... well, how beat up your clothing got from the explosion, I would have arranged for everything to be delivered to the hospital. As it is, we're going shopping, and then were getting your hair done. Whoever cut your hair needs to go back to barber's school. I will not take you home looking like I don't care about you."

She was emphatic, and since she was not looking for an answer, I didn't give her one. Our driver seemed to adjust on the fly, and soon we were pulling up to Dillard's Department Store at the local mall. Cassandra clucked her tongue as she peeled clothing off the racks and handed them to a sales associate that was trailing along with us. I suspected she saw a ragged young man, who looked positively homeless, and wanted to make sure I didn't steal anything valuable.

When she'd picked the things that most appealed to her, Cassandra turned to the young woman, and said, "Where can we try these things on?"

The girl saw the firm look in Cassandra's eyes and took us to a changing room large enough for a shopper in a wheelchair wiyh a helper. That told me Cassandra intended to stay while I tried things on.

Instead of whining, I let her 'help' me out of my pants and shirt. Both were ragged, stained, and really useless. She handed me a pair of black casual slacks that fit like a second skin. I loved the feel of the fabric, and they fit perfectly. Cassandra smiled when she saw I liked her taste in men's wear, and handed me a shirt to go with the slacks. When I was all buttoned up, and tucked in, Cassandra felt around my waistband for room to grow. As she did, her fingers just barely tapped Mr. Johnson, who was wanted a little out and about time, and he popped up to greet her. Cassandra let my evil behavior slide, and helped me out of the outfit, so I could continue to model the things she'd picked out.