Dr. Fake It: A Possessive Doctor Romance

by Hamel, B. B.

  Although to be fair, their questions were exactly what I would’ve asked if I were in their place. Before Erica, marriage didn’t make any sense to me—I didn’t want to get too involved with someone else and risk getting hurt. Besides, my job was all that mattered, and there seemed to be an endless supply of young, beautiful women that were willing to give their bodies to me for a night at a time, and it was hard for me to pass that up.

  I didn’t know how to explain it though. It was like being with one woman took away the burden that followed me around all the time. I didn’t worry about anything but how she felt, what she wanted, and I didn’t have to obsess about dates, or finding the next girl, or anything like that.

  Of course, my marriage was fake, so there was that.

  “It’s easy,” I said. “Once you find the right one.”

  Wayne made a gagging sound and Brian laughed. “Come on,” Brian said. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I’m not joking.” I shrugged, sipped my drink. “Call me a hopeless romantic—”

  “Something I’d never say,” Brian muttered.

  “—but when you find the right one, it’s just easy.”

  “Bullshit,” Richard snapped, looking up from his quiet spot at the bar. “Come on, Gavin. You’ve known her for, what, a few weeks at most? I call bullshit.”

  Wayne and Brian gave him an uncomfortable look. I glanced over and Erica was watching, and I saw the uncertainty in her eyes.

  I didn’t take the bait though. I stayed calm and shrugged slightly, gesturing vaguely into the air with my drink. “I know it’s hard for a misanthropic prick such as yourself to imagine, Richard, but finding the right woman makes all the difference.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Listen to you, getting all preachy. The Gavin I know has been through the whole nursing staff not once, not twice, but three times—and I’m pretty sure you’re the source of more than one STD outbreak.”

  I smirked and shook my head. “Careful, Richard.”

  “I’m just saying, this marriage thing? It’s bullshit. Nobody changes that much overnight. Nobody.”

  “Okay, that’s enough.” Wayne stood up and got in front of me, probably ready to break up a fight. “Richard, you’re flagged and the night hasn’t even started in earnest yet.”

  “Just saying what you’re all thinking.” He glared at me then stared back at his drink.

  “It’s fine,” I said to Wayne, patting his shoulder. “We all know Richard’s washed up already. Let him drown himself in that glass.” I turned away and walked toward the ballroom.

  I felt Erica catch up with me. She slipped her hand through my arm and leaned against my side as we stepped through the two main doors that led into the wide open space. “What was that all about?” she asked as we navigated between tables and skirted the dance floor, heading toward a table in the front corner.

  “Richard doesn’t like me.”

  “No kidding.” She chewed her lip. “All that about the nurses, though. Is that even a little bit true?”

  I glanced at her. “It was more than an exaggeration. I’ve slept with a few of the nurses, I won’t lie to you about that, but he makes it sound a lot worse than it is.”

  She nodded and looked at me thoughtfully. “I like your friend Dean. And the other two seem okay.”

  “They’re not bad.” We reached the table and sat down. “For doctors, anyway.”

  She laughed and we sat together as the room slowly filled. I wasn’t sure what the hospital had in store for the evening, but old women in fancy gowns escorted by rich old men in luxurious tuxedos began to pack the space, milling about, talking about their investment portfolios, talking about how the city wasn’t what it used to be, and whatever else rich old people loved to talk about. I noticed Erica staring around her with a strange, bemused look on her face, like she could barely believe where she was.

  “Ever been to something like this before?” I asked her.

  She snorted. “Not even a little bit.”

  “I figured. You haven’t missed anything, you know.”

  She smiled a little and watched the room. Waiters came around with champagne glasses and she finished her first drink then snagged another. Hors d’oeuvres followed, fancy finger foods that even rich men would gladly shove down their throats, and it always seemed a bit odd to me to serve such unhealthy food at a gathering of doctors.

  But it didn’t matter. After a bit, as the room became full and the other young doctors filtered in, I stood and waded into the crowd with Erica on my arm. We introduced ourselves to other couples, smiled and shook hands, talked about the hospital and all the cutting edge things we were doing, casually mentioned how much money we needed to keep saving lives—and basically kissed rich people ass for about an hour.

  Erica got quieter and quieter as the night wore on. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but it was clear that she wasn’t having fun. Not that she was being a downer—in fact, she was quite charming, and I could tell that the rich old men were taken with her, even if the old ladies weren’t as interested. I was proud to have her on my arm, but I could tell something was weighing on her.

  After a second hour, the hospital administrator got up in front of the room to give some speech. I took the opportunity to grab Erica by the hand and pull her along behind me toward a side door. A waiter came through carrying a tray for empty glasses, and I caught the door and hustled her through into a back tunnel that led toward the kitchens.

  “What are you doing?” Erica asked.

  “Come on, this way.” I pulled her along behind me, past some waiters standing around and smoking who smiled and nodded, past guys washing dishes, past a group of women opening bottles and filling glasses, until we reached a door marked Emergency Exit Only. I shoved the door and stepped out into the night.

  It was a tight alley, dark cobblestones on the ground, brick wall ten feet across from us. A nearby dumpster overflowed with trash and the smell of waste and dumped liquor wafted in the air. I kicked a crate over until it propped the door open, then walked out into the alley.

  Erica lingered near the door. “Why are we out here?”

  I shrugged and leaned up against the opposite wall. “We always come to this same hotel and this same ballroom, did you know that?”

  “I had no clue.”

  “Always this same place. I think the admin gets a discount or some shit. But I found this spot last year, and I come out here when it gets to be too much in there.”

  “It’s great.” She looked around, eyebrows raised. “I mean, just a lovely place.”

  I laughed and patted the wall next to me. “Come over here.”

  She hesitated, but sighed and reluctantly joined me. I put an arm around her shoulder, and she didn’t pull away like I expected. We stood there in silence for a minute, and I leaned my head against the wall, feeling the brick against my scalp. I stared upward at the moon reflecting off the windows, and felt dizzy, like I was falling somehow, tumbling head over heels next to the glass, flashing past the people inside their rooms—flashing past people living their individual lives separated by walls and doors and time.

  “What was wrong in there?” I asked after a few minutes of silence.

  “Nothing. What do you mean?”

  “I could tell you started to get a little overwhelmed.”

  She let out a breath. “I tried not to show it.”

  “And you did fine. I think I’m starting to know you a little bit better, is all.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “I guess you are.”

  “So come on. Tell me what’s up.”

  She took a deep breath like she had something heavy on her chest and slowly let it out. “I don’t belong in a place like this.”

  I laughed. “None of us do.”

  “No, really, I mean it. Those people in there, they probably make more in a year than my mom made in her entire life. It’s like a totally different world.”

  I was quiet for a moment and
nodded. “You’re right about that. It’s a different world.”

  “I grew up poor. Single mom and a deadbeat dad. He came around and stole anything he could get his hands on, so whenever we were flush, it was just a matter of time. My mom would joke how we were always rich until my dad came home, and then we were poor again.” She smiled a little at the memory. “Doesn’t matter now, I guess.”

  “My parents weren’t wealthy either,” I said softly. “They were good people. Died in a plane crash on vacation, their first trip out of the county. They took some small plane to the Andes Mountains and never came back.” I laughed a little, shook my head. I bet it took all my father’s courage in the world to get on that plane—and it hadn’t been worth the effort. “Things were rough after they were gone. I was in med school, and Jamie was still in high school. I guess I’m just happy they trusted her enough to leave her behind.”

  “Lucky her,” Erica said.

  “I guess. Didn’t do her too much good. She didn’t last too much longer.” I looked down at my feet then forced myself to shake it off. “Don’t let those assholes in there get to you, okay?”

  “I’m trying. I just feel like none of this is real. There’s you, and this dress, and those people—”

  “What about that dress?”

  She gave me a look. “This dress is like $10,000. You realize that right?”

  “I bought it, so I’m aware.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s crazy. You’re spending so much money on me and we’re not really married.”

  I don’t know why I did it. I moved toward her, tilted her chin up toward mine, and looked into her eyes. “You’re right, our marriage isn’t real. But you know what? I don’t think I care.”

  “Why not?” she whispered. “When we get through this—what are we going to do then?”

  “I don’t care about the future. Right now, I’m living for the present.” I leaned down and kissed her, and for half a beat I thought she might not kiss me back.

  But then she took a sharp breath in through her nose and pressed her body against mine, and I knew it, I knew she felt the same way knew, she couldn’t help herself just like I couldn’t help it. When she was around, I lost something, something broke in me, something that held me back from the world. She made me more present, made me happier—and I realized that what I had said to the guys earlier was true.

  That was why Richard hated it. He knew I wasn’t lying and it drove him crazy. He hated that I found something good, something that made me happy, and he couldn’t stand seeing me like that.

  The kiss broke off and I lingered close to her. “What are we doing?” she whispered.

  “Living for right now.” I squeezed her hips and bit her bottom lip. “Now come on, we need to get back in there before I do something drastic.”

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  “Like make you drop down to your knees, ruin an expensive dress, and swallow my cock until tears run down your cheeks.”

  Her lips fell open and I smiled. It was good to know I could still shock her, at least a little bit.

  I turned away and walked back to the door. I pulled it all the way open and kicked the crate aside. Erica cleared her throat then walked over to me, and on her way past, I slapped her ass.

  She glared at me, then smiled and shook her head.

  We rejoined the festivities, walking hand in hand.

  20

  Erica

  Gavin came home late the next night after a long shift, his eyes looking sunken and exhausted. He lingered in the kitchen and stared into the refrigerator, and didn’t seem to hear me come up behind him.

  “Hey,” I said, leaning up against the wall.

  He looked back at me. “Hey.” He reached into the refrigerator, took out some milk, and poured himself a bowl of cereal.

  I watched him sit down at the table with a sigh and eat almost mechanically.

  “Long day?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Long day. New patients, new problems.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  That seemed to surprise him, which annoyed me. He shouldn’t be surprised when I offer to help him out. It wasn’t like I was some monster that refused to listen to his problems or carry my weight around the house. I cleaned up, did laundry, and even fixed a leaky faucet yesterday.

  “No, that’s okay,” he said. “I just need a good night’s sleep. I’m off tomorrow, so that’ll help.”

  “I’ll probably go in and see my mom again if that’s okay.”

  He shrugged. “Sure, whatever you want.”

  I lingered and wanted to ask him more about his day. I didn’t know why—maybe I was curious, or maybe I wanted to help him destress. I was tempted to give him a back rub, or to kiss his lips, or to sit on his lap and hold him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t know why—that kiss in the alley behind the hotel still lingered on my lips, and I knew we were moving in that direction, turning a fake marriage into something real, or at least something much more. I didn’t know where that would leave us, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever figure it out.

  But a knock at the door stole my attention away. I glanced back at him as he stood with a weary sigh and walked over to answer it. I followed, curious who would show up at this time of the night, and stood a few feet behind him as he pulled the door open.

  I recognized the guy right away. He was one of the men from the bakery, the one that had stood for Gavin to sit down. He lingered down at the bottom of the stoop with his hands shoved in his pockets.

  “Boss wants to see you,” he said.

  Gavin tensed. “Right now?”

  “Right now. He’s got news or some shit.” The guy looked around. “We’ve got a car.”

  Gavin hesitated. “I just got off a long shift. I need to change.”

  The guy eyed him then shook his head. “You’re fine. Come on.”

  Gavin grunted and looked back at me. I didn’t know what to say or do, and my heart raced. He wore scrubs and a sweatshirt, and looked exhausted—and might’ve had a bloodstain on his pants.

  “Let’s go then,” he said with a sigh.

  I went to follow but the thug held up a hand. “Boss asked for you, not the girl.”

  “She’s coming with me,” Gavin said, staring at him.

  “Don’t make this difficult.”

  “This meeting is as much about her as it is about me, so she’s coming with.” Gavin stared the guy down.

  He grunted and shook his head. “Whatever, fine. Your funeral. Come on.” He led us to a black SUV and got behind the wheel.

  Gavin climbed into the back and I joined him. The guy didn’t speak as he drove. The car smelled like smoke and licorice, and the guy turned on a Spanish language radio station. He sang along, nodding his head to an upbeat tune, before pulling up in front of what looked like a closed dry cleaner’s.

  “That’s it,” he said. “You get out here.”

  “What are we supposed to do?”

  “Go in that green door. You’ll see them, in the back.”

  Gavin hesitated then got out. I followed, hurrying to stay close. I wished I’d gotten changed too, but it didn’t matter, at least my clothes were clean. He approached the dry cleaner’s and found the green door, a rusty thing with no markings or signs on the front. It was unlocked and opened easily into a long hall with several doors on either side.

  He shut the door behind us. “Think we’re about to get whacked?” he asked.

  “Don’t joke.”

  “I’m serious.” He didn’t smile at me as he walked down the hall toward the sound of laughter and music playing. “This is a weird situation, right?”

  “They’re mafia guys. I have no clue what’s normal to them.”

  He grunted and reached a door on the left. He glanced back at me then opened it and pushed it open. The sound of conversation and music got louder as we stepped into what was clearly the back of the dry cleaner’s. Clothes were stacked and hung all over, some
of them in various states of repair and disarray. Chemicals were stacked in tubs, and cleaning equipment lingered all along the walls.

  The space was dominated by a large poker table with green felt and five men spaced around it. I recognized Dante sitting across from us, but didn’t know the others. Dante saw us and smiled, leaning back in his chair and gesturing with his cards.

  “There’s the man I’ve been talking about,” he said, waving at Gavin. “Dr. Majors. Glad you could join. And you brought a surprise guest.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest as Gavin stepped forward. “Dante, thank you for seeing us,” he said, his tone caught between confused and polite.

  “Dr. Majors, this is Vincent Leone.” Dante gestured at the man to his right, a handsome man with black hair, dark eyes, and a trim beard. “That over there is Steven, and that man is named Hedeon, and that’s Luca. We’re having something of a reunion.”

  Each man was large, intense, and handsome—and looked exactly like what I imagined a gangster would look. Except for the man named Hedeon, who pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and smiled. He looked more like a college professor than a full-on criminal.

  “Nice to meet you all,” Gavin said. “What can I do for you tonight, Dante?”

  “We’ve been talking about your situation,” Vincent said, dropping his cards down. “Hell of a thing. Cosimo’s a difficult guy, no doubt about that.”

  “Very difficult,” Dante echoed, “but a good earner.”

  “Very good earner.” Vincent frowned at Gavin. “Doc, I’ve got a proposal for you.”

  “I’m listening.” Gavin stood straight, his hand clasped behind his back.

  “I want to make this simple for you. I’d like you help you out, doc, but like I said, Cosimo’s difficult.”

  “And he doesn’t like to follow orders,” Dante said. “Makes him hard to work with.”

  “But, a good earner.” Vincent grinned and I got the feeling that this was something they rehearsed, or something they did all the time—trying to downplay the situation, make someone feel at ease before they got what they wanted. It was smart and it put me on edge.