Feverish Love

by Germaine Solomon

  Feverish Love

  Love Under Quarantine Series - Book 1

  Germaine Solomon

  Contents

  Book Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Freetown International Airport

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Ten days later…

  Epilogue

  THE END

  Book Dedication

  As always, this book is dedicated to my one and only child, my son, Solomon III, with all my heart. I write for you, sweet pea, and I love you more than I love myself. This book is also dedicated to my parents, The Honorable Judge & Mrs. William C. ‘Billy’ Randall. I love you, Judge and Lou! Finally, this book is dedicated to my sister, Shirley Renée Randall Pressley, a dedicated and brilliant respiratory therapist who fought and won her battle with COVID-19. My world crashed and nearly crumbled the day you were diagnosed. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I had been stricken too. For three whole days and nights I bawled my eyes out because I was so afraid you were going to leave us. But our God, the true and living God that we were raised to praise, honor, and serve, showed up and showed out and I am eternally grateful. Thank you so much, Corey Pressley, the world’s greatest brother-in-law, for taking care of Shirley and the girls during one of our family’s darkest periods in time. I love you dearly.

  Acknowledgments

  First, I give all honor and praise to God for blessing me with the gift to write amazing stories. Although I’m not worthy of anything, His grace and mercy covers me daily. Thank you Solomon III for loving Mommy and understanding that I am a right-brand creature that works hard for you, sweet pea. I love you so much. Thank you, Lou & Judge for always holding me down and rooting for my success. You two are the wind beneath my wings. Love y’all! Thank you Solomon Junior, my husband of 15 years for taking care of business and being the head of our house so I can chase my dreams. I love you. To my four siblings, Dawn, Lance, Shirley and Nikki, I say thank so much for believing in me and always supporting me. I’d be lost without y’all crazy Negroes. Dawn and Nikki, I owe you two a special shout out for reading as I write and providing helpful feedback with the rest of my dream team screen team, including Ashley Cason, Andra Klyvert, Deborah Anne Blash, Katanga Blash-Foster, Christan May Crear, Valentia Carolyn Walker, and Cherell Rivers. Y’all ROCK!!! Thank you members of the Randall, Fults, and Berewa families for your continued love and support. I love each of you dearly. Thanks Mrs. LaNita Pless King for my BOSS-ASS book cover and book trailer. You are truly the jack of all trades and a one-stop shop. I thank God for bringing us together. One day we will rule the world! Thank you, Jessica N. Watkins, for all you do for my writing career. We don’t always see eye to eye, but we kick butt when we’re on one accord. Love ya! Finally and most importantly, thank you to all my readers and fans. I write for YOU. There would be no Germaine Solomon without all of you. Let me know what you think of this book and drop me some book ideas at iamgermainesolomon@gmail.com. Let me hear from y’all. Thanks for your support & God bless!

  1

  “One last time! We’re taking it to the max! Let’s go! Clear!”

  The eerie yet familiar, high-pitched beep echoed throughout the sterile space, announcing that yet another life had succumbed to the deadly virus wreaking havoc on God’s green earth.

  “Fuck!” Dr. McQueen threw his head back and blew air from his cheeks hidden underneath his mask. “Time of death?”

  “7:13PM,” the nurse responded softly as she glanced at the digital clock on the wall above the monitoring devices.

  “Goddamn it!” Giva snatched the surgical bonnet from her head and flung it thoughtlessly across CV19 Unit room 13. When she flopped down into the yellow, plastic chair and leaned forward, her braids covered her face, hiding the tears flowing heavily down her chocolate cheeks from tired, burning eyes. The moisture saturated her protective mask. “She was so young! My God, why couldn’t we save her?”

  “FYI, Doc, we’re in a full-blown pandemic. And the fact that we’re terribly under-staffed, over-tasked, and in need of protective equipment and supplies to treat so many goddamn patients doesn’t help us! Shit happens. Get over it.”

  Even as the nurse and her dutiful aides scurried about, removing the IV lines and disconnecting the respiratory equipment and monitoring devices from the deceased, their eyes bucked wide with obvious disbelief at Dr. McQueen’s words. He was one blunt motherfucker, but all of the female workers in Grady Memorial Hospital’s special CV19 Unit in Atlanta, Georgia, overlooked his sharp tongue and detached demeanor because he was so damn good-looking. He was sinfully sexy too with mesmerizing, pewter-colored eyes and perfectly-tanned skin. His ripped and flawlessly-fit body with rolling muscles could cure glaucoma. Dude definitely had mad swagger for a white boy. A few lucky nurses swore his dick was humungous and sweeter than sugar cane dipped in honey. But none of that mattered to Dr. Nyaheigiva ‘Giva’ Kamara at the moment. She was devastated by another death due to the Corona Virus a.k.a. COVID-19 plaguing the planet, and she was pissed to the lowest realm of hell over Dr. McQueen’s insensitivity. He had crossed the line with her for the last damn time.

  After springing from her chair quicker than a lightning strike, Giva landed on her feet with a thud within inches of the gorgeous hunk of masculine perfection. Although angrier than a starving pit bull, she couldn’t ignore her reflection staring back at her in his exotic eyes. He was more beautiful than a Greek god, even with his chiseled features hidden underneath a mask. But she refused to allow his handsomeness to make her panties wet today. Any other woman would’ve been lusting and melting under his seductive heat, but Giva was as cold as ice.

  “How the hell can you say that without an ounce of emotion? You’re a goddamn doctor! Don’t you care about the patients we’ve sworn to care for?”

  Dr. McQueen smirked, obviously unfazed by Giva’s emotional outburst. “Hell yeah, I care about our patients. But like you pointed out, I’m a doctor and you’re one too. Follow the science and deal with it, babe.”

  “I’m not your babe, you arrogant asshole!” Giva fired back in her strong West African accent saturated with attitude. “I follow science too, but unlike you, I’m also human. Too many people are dying from this freaking virus and I want it to stop! Every time we lose a patient I lose a piece of my soul!”

  “I think you chose the wrong profession then, babe. You would make the perfect kindergarten teacher.”

  Giva glared at the nurse and the aides when they gasped in unison at Dr. McQueen’s insult. All three women quickly turned their heads and resumed the dismal task before them.

  With her eyes narrowed to the thinnest slits as her nostrils flared, Giva drew in a quick intake of air before she once again stepped to her attractive colleague secretly known as “Dr. Do Me” around the hospital. Boldly, she growled just above a whisper, “Go to hell, you heartless bastard.”

  “Yes, Papa, we did everything we could, but we still lost her. She was a beautiful, young wife and mother of three small children. It just breaks my heart, Papa.”

  “Calm down, Giva. You are a very fine doctor, but you are not God, my dear. If you did everything within your limited human power to preserve her life, you did well.

  “I suppose you’re right, Papa, but she was the sixth patient to die in our unit today of that dreadful virus. I pray that God will soon have mercy on us.”

  “He will, my dea
r. Our God will have mercy on His children soon if we continue to pray.” Dr. Olufemi Kamara chuckled, and the deep rumbling sound made Giva long for home. “I also pray that God will hear and answer your mother’s prayer one day soon.”

  “What prayer is that, Papa? What does my darling mother want God to do for her?”

  “The woman wants grandbabies, Giva. She wants lots of them too. So, my sweet Fatu prays to God every day and every night that a wonderful, hard-working, handsome man will find you, make you his bride, and fill your womb with lots of adorable babies.”

  “Oh, Papa…” Giva smiled at the possibilities of marriage and motherhood, two dreams she wanted very much to come true in her life someday. But at the age of thirty-two, her career as a physician took precedence over her personal life. “I’m still quite young so I have plenty of time for marriage and children. Today I just want to save lives, especially those infected by COVID-19. I don’t have the time or energy for love and romance right now.”

  “All work and no leisure time isn’t a balanced life, Nyaheigiva.”

  “I know, Papa. I know. Maybe after the pandemic I’ll sign up for online dating on one of those match-making websites,” she teased.

  “Nonsense! You’ll do no such thing! I forbid it! You will meet a man the traditional way!”

  Giva laughed mischievously and tossed a bundle of wayward braids over her left shoulder. “I was only kidding, Papa. Please settle yourself. I’ll make time for a social life once the pandemic is over.”

  “I’m going to hold you to your word, my dear. It appears you are your mother’s only hope because your brothers are sworn bachelors for life. They have no interest in marrying or fathering children, so it’s all up to you to make your mother a grandmother.”

  “I promise to start dating after things return to normal in the world, Papa.” Giva yawned, stretching her arms high above her head. “I will talk to you later, Papa. I’m very tired and in need of sleep. Please give Mama a kiss for me when she returns from her shift at the hospital.”

  “I certainly will.” Dr. Kamara released a hearty laugh. “Then I will give her lots of my special kisses and other affections.”

  Giva’s brain immediately went on strike, rendering her speechless. The thought of her fifty-seven-year-old, super religious parents making love was a little too much to process. It was actually disgusting.

  “Giva, are you still on the line, my dear?”

  “Um… Yes…yes, Papa, I’m still here.”

  “One day after you’ve fallen deeply in love with a good man, you’ll be able to relate to the connection your mother and I share. It’s not just physical, though, Giva. We’re kindred spirits, eternal soul mates. Love between a man and a woman is a wonderful thing. Your mother and I will continue to pray that you’ll experience it someday in the near future.” Dr. Kamara sighed. “Hassan is still—”

  “I must sleep now, Papa. I will call you tomorrow. I love you.”

  “I love you too, darling,” he replied in a flat and defeated tone that wasn’t lost on his only daughter’s ears.

  After Giva ended the call, she crossed the compact room to connect her phone to its charger on a small desk. Instead of going home for the night to relax in the luxury of her Buckhead condo after her 12-hour shift, she’d decided to secure one of the single-occupancyrooms in the physicians’ private quarters just in case she was needed to assist in her unit. Giva hadn’t been recruited for extended duty, though. It was her deep passion for saving lives that had prompted her to remain at the hospital as she’d done many nights since COVID-19 had descended upon Atlanta. The room was comfortable enough and it was sterile. More importantly, it was a quiet place where she could rest close to the sick people who needed her.

  Giva padded back across the room and returned to her twin bed for the night. She’d covered the modest hospital spread with an exquisite handmade quilt her grandmother, Yetoma, had given her. The quilt was made from scraps of authentic African fabric in vibrant colors and patterns. It was extremely beautiful and one of a kind, made especially for Giva before she left her family and her beloved home country ten years ago to attend Johns Hopkins University Medical School in Baltimore.

  An image of Hassan floated through her mind. Giva had left him behind ten years ago as well. But unlike her family, her steady beau of three years had bucked against her decision to study medicine abroad. In fact, the pompous obstetrician-gynecologist had forbidden her to leave, insisting that she stay home and put her brand-new nursing degree to use by helping poor Sierra Leoneans in the villages. Needless to say, that didn’t happen. With the blessing of her family, Giva left her homeland and her boyfriend anyway with no regrets.

  Hassan had visited his sweetheart in Baltimore as often as he could in the early days of her medical school experience. But eventually, the demands at his OB-GYN practice back home and Giva’s hectic study schedule took a toll on their relationship. Ultimately, Hassan and Giva amicably agreed to a friendship with a promise to possibly reunite as a couple after she completed her residency. Unfortunately for the good doctor, his lady love decided to put her dream of saving lives ahead of a future with him when her best friend and fellow resident, Kyle, told her about great employment opportunities for physicians in Atlanta. After a phone call to Simche and Mannah, her older neurosurgeon twin brothers in London, Giva was able to leave the bone-chilling winters of Baltimore and start her new life in the sunshine of the Peach State. And just six weeks later, she was hired as an ER staff doctor at Grady Memorial, a job she’d loved with her whole heart until recent weeks.

  Giva’s entire life changed quickly and drastically a little over a month ago when she was recruited by her supervisor, Dr. Avi Patel, to join a group of ER physicians he’d handpicked to form Grady’s new and much-needed COVID-19 Unit. It was a special isolated ward exclusively for patients with the virus. Once again, Giva’s passion for saving lives took priority over everything else, and she found herself working endless hours under risky circumstances as she witnessed multiple deaths daily. Her job was more challenging now than ever, and sometimes she wanted to toss her bat to the ground, head for the dugout, and never return to the game. But that wasn’t an option because God had created her to save lives, and she’d rather die than fail to fulfill her life’s calling.

  When sleep began to tug at her eyelids, Giva got in bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She whispered a prayer for all the souls in Grady’s CV19 Unit fighting for their lives, and she asked God to give her the wisdom and strength to help them all survive.

  2

  “Hogan, this is your mother.”

  “No shit,” he grunted, sneaking a peek at the GPS map on his dashboard display as Celeste McQueen rambled on in her voicemail message.

  “I haven’t spoken to you in days. I’m worried about you, son. You have no business in Atlanta, of all places, working like a slave in an emergency room for pennies. You shouldn’t be there putting your life at risk. God forbid if one of your patients should cough on you and infect you with that nasty virus that’s spreading all over creation.”

  The young, rebellious doctor sucked his teeth and shook his head at his mother’s brashness. God knew he loved the woman more than life, but he’d always considered her a first-class, snobbish bitch. As he turned the corner that led him closer to his destination in one of Atlanta’s least desired neighborhoods, he silently thanked God for a pause in his mother’s rant even though it was brief.

  “I want you back home in Beverly Hills immediately, Hogan! This is where you belong. You should be here working side by side with your father, siblings, and the rest of your family members at The Castle making millions. You’ve proven your point and now it’s time to end your little bratty game. Just face it, son. You are a McQueen and you’ll never ever fit in with common people. Your father and I—”

  Hogan pressed the end icon on the dashboard screen to give his brain a break from his mom’s insanity. He’d heard more than enough. It was the sa
me ole shit on a different day. He would never understand his parents’ disappointment in him. He’d done everything they had ever asked him to do except for the one thing they seemed to have wanted the most. It didn’t matter to them that he had graduated summa cum laude from Harvard School of Medicine with no scandals, arrests, drug addictions, or unplanned babies to claim. All his life Hogan had followed every fucking rule of the so-called McQueen dynasty without protest. But after finishing classes at Harvard, he decided to follow his heart in selecting his residency much to their disapproval.

  Hogan smiled at the memory, although it wasn’t a pleasant recollection at all. He would never forget how his parents, Dr. and Mrs. Harlan W. McQueen, Senior, had had twin conniptions when he’d spent a day with the family during his final spring break at Harvard, to announce his plans, before heading off to fun in the sun in Hawaii. Instead of following the footsteps of his father, uncles, and three older siblings to pursue a career in cosmetic surgery, Hogan had announced at a big family dinner that he wanted to be an ER doctor. He’d decided to do his residency at a rural hospital in South Georgia. The McQueen family dynamic had been unfavorable for Hogan ever since that day. They just didn’t understand his need to use his medical degree to make a difference and save lives as opposed to making insecure rich people look like mannequins.

  After two left turns and a right down a dark, narrow street lined with abandoned houses and graffiti-covered buildings, the GPS announced that he had reached his destination on the left. Hogan parked his “work vehicle,” a white, fully-loaded 2017 Toyota Avalon as close to the streetlight as he could and killed the engine. Young men were gathered on the corner smoking a joint and freely passing it around their small huddle. The lyrics and the deep bass line of a rap song filled the air space, blasting from the stereo of a burnt-orange, tricked-out Impala. Hogan’s car vibrated from the boom. Although it was way past ten o’clock at night, children were still outside playing, laughing, and riding bicycles. It angered the young doctor to see that no one was practicing social distancing or wearing a mask or gloves.