The Reckless Oath We Made(7)

As I came down the sidewalk, he stepped away from his truck and bowed to me. I will never forget what he said: “My lady. Thy servant.”

I stopped, because there was nobody else he could be talking to, but I had no idea what he meant. He straightened up, but kept his eyes down.

“My lady. If thou wilt allow me to help thee,” he said. When I didn’t answer, he got down on one knee, like he meant to propose to me. “’Tis my honor to carry thee whither thou desirest.”

I was staring at him, but he never looked up. He stayed there with his bare knee on the asphalt, one hand over his heart and the other offered to me palm up. Was I supposed to take it?

He looked off to his left and nodded.

“Yea. I see, man. I am not blind,” he said. Then he went back to looking at my legs. “Thou art wounded, my lady, and I would thee serve.”

I almost kept walking, because the level of crazy there was so high, but then I’d remembered my fantasy about falling down the stairs. If this guy was a serial killer, it would save me the trouble of breaking my own neck.

“Is this your truck?” I said, because I didn’t speak whither thou desirest.

“My lady, ’tis.” He stood up and opened the passenger door for me. Even though he offered his hand for me to get up in the cab, he looked shocked when I put my hand on his shoulder for leverage. Once I was in the cab, he tucked my crutches behind the seat and closed the door.

When he went around and got into the driver’s seat, I snuck a picture of him and sent it to LaReigne. If I get murdered, this is the guy who gave me a ride.

“What’s your name?” I said.

“I am called Gentry Frank.” He glanced over at me for about half a second.

“I’m Zhorzha. Rhymes with Borgia,” I said, like always. “You can call me Zee.”

“Lady Zhorzha, whither goest thou?”

“Okay, you’re cracking me up with that. I need to go past Twenty-ninth and Rock, if that’s not too far.”

I guessed it wasn’t because he took me all the way home. I would have had him drop me off at the front gate of the complex, but I was so tired I didn’t care. I told him the gate code and had him drive me up to the building. He pulled in and parked next to LaReigne’s car. Either she’d lied to me about Loudon taking the car or the dickhead had just come home.

While I was trying to get myself out of the truck, Gentry came around and got my crutches out. He held out his arm for me to take, but I used the doorframe instead, because he’d seemed so freaked out about me touching him.

“My lady, shall I help thee?”

“No, my good sir,” I said, trying to get into it, to be nice. “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

“If thou needest aught.” He’d bowed and held something out to me: an appointment card from the PT clinic with his phone number written on the back. I turned it over and looked at his appointment time. Half an hour before mine. So he’d waited all that time for me to walk out of the clinic. Waiting to give me that card? The corners were damp and worn down like he’d been worrying it in his hand.

“Um, thank you,” I said, but I’d put the card in my back pocket, thinking like hell was I ever going to call him.

In the condo, LaReigne and Loudon were having a shouting match while Marcus hid in the bedroom. As soon as I walked in, the fight turned into Your fucking sister here all the time and she doesn’t even pay rent! Which was pretty goddamn rich coming from Loudon, who didn’t pay rent, either. His parents paid for everything.

“Don’t you talk that way about my sister!” LaReigne always said, and I’d end up offering to leave, even though there was no place for me to go. Sometimes I’d spend a night at my cousin Emma’s, and sometimes with my high school buddy Shelton, but he was homeless about half the time, too. I always ended up back with LaReigne and Loudon.

The next week, I’d seen Gentry at PT again. Waiting for me. I didn’t waste any energy pretending I didn’t need a ride. After all, that’s why he was hanging around, and it saved me the trouble of getting LaReigne to pick me up. The week after that, Gentry had started taking me to my appointments, waiting while I did PT, and then taking me home. By then he wasn’t even doing PT anymore, and I felt like a mooch. Not that I wasn’t used to feeling like a mooch, but I was always trying to start over being a better person. So I offered to buy him lunch before he took me home. I thought he’d relax, and I’d feel better about the whole situation. Except we didn’t talk much and he ended up paying for lunch.

Next week, same thing. Him sitting in the waiting room with his head down over a book, then lunch again. I forced myself to make small talk.

“Are you in school?”

“Nay, my lady.”

“Where do you work?”

“I am a vassal of the Duke of Bombardier,” he said.

“Wait. Bombardier?” I got the giggles, and even though it was probably wrong, I said, “Verily, thou doth build flying machines?”

Some little light went on in him. He smiled and looked at me. Just for a second.

“Yea, my lady. ’Tis my duty to rivet wings upon Learjets.”

“So how did you hurt your shoulder?”

“I was wounded in a joust,” he said.

“Really? Well, obviously, really.” He said so little, and I only understood part of it, so right then I’d decided to take whatever he said at face value.