Genrenauts: Season One

by Michael R. Underwood

  Leah leaned over and gave Mallery a healthy peck on the cheek. If she’d done any less after a story like that, it’d just have been weird.

  Anna took another long breath. “I have to call him.”

  Leah shifted in her chair. “Really?”

  Mallery squeezed Anna’s hand again. “Of course you call him. You call, you talk, you meet somewhere, you remember what it’s really about.”

  “I have to head out. Thanks so much for the chat,” Anna said.

  “It’s the least we can do after all of your hospitality,” Mallery said. Leah nodded her agreement and watched as Anna got up in a rush, throwing on her jacket and reassembling her purse, and nearly rushed out of the restaurant.

  Mallery waited until Anna was out of sight, then raised her hand for a high five. The resulting hand slap sounded like victory.

  “I’ll call it in to Shirin so she can let Roman and King know,” Leah said. “By the way, that story?”

  “I know.”

  “That’s the reason why you get the big bucks.”

  “The benefits are really what does it. Let’s have a round. There’s a bar just a block south of here with some great whiskey.”

  “Shouldn’t we get back?”

  “Waiting here means we won’t have to grab a second cab to get back out into the city to make whatever our next move is. It’s just strategic thinking.” Mallery’s smile was half-imp, half-wolf, and all pleased.

  “Uh-huh,” Leah said, standing.

  “Remember to get the check,” Mallery said, chuckling on her way out.

  Leah sighed. At least the story was looking up. Fingers crossed they’d be home by dinnertime tomorrow.

  * * *

  Late the next morning, King put on his best smile as he waltzed into the hospital. He had a pad of scratch-off lottery cards tucked in his suitcoat pocket, and trailed a cart of medical samples in a pristine rolling briefcase. The samples were all placebos and the boxes were a year old, but they were essential props for his cover to get in to see Doctor Thorsson.

  He’d cased the place hours earlier in casual clothes and a big coat, looking disheveled and unkempt. And then, he waited. It’d taken all of ten minutes of eavesdropping on the receptionist Susanne—a black woman of about his own age—to find out what leverage he’d need to get past her. He picked up the scratch-off cards on the way back to the apartment, then returned shaved, showered, and decked out as a Sexy Pharma Rep.

  The room was half-full, people waiting in a cube of chairs surrounding a coffee table with stacks of months-old magazines.

  Susanne was the main hurdle. Get the reception staff on your side and you could get in to talk to anyone. On Earth Prime, this would all be far harder, but in a Rom-Com, genre tropes permitted preposterous things left and right as long as they were in the service of a story. King was banking on the fact that Dr. Thorsson was important enough to the story that he’d be able to pull off this scam…with the right prop.

  King strode up and greeted Susanne. She wore a bright floral print dress and had tightly curled hair. She paused her conversation with a colleague sitting behind and to her left to greet King. He made a show of reading her nametag and started.

  Trusting his gut, King switched out his work-default Ivy League accent for his native Baltimorean. “Miss Susanne, I’m Victor King, with Inspiria Tech. How are you today?”

  The woman’s express grew a shade less tired. “Getting by. What can I do for you?”

  “Just making my rounds, you know. I got some samples for Dr. Thorsson. She in?”

  Susanne turned and looked behind her, to a duty board or a break room or something. King didn’t have a good angle. What he did have was the scratch cards. He slipped the cards out of his suit coat and laid them on the table, subtly and not noticeably sticking out from under some dummy pharmaceutical papers.

  In a low voice, King said, “A fellow rep said this was your game. And I did tell my wife I’d quit.” He said, winking. King didn’t pride himself on his charm offensive like some on his team, but he did alright.

  Susanne slipped the scratch-off tickets off the desk and down out of sight, nodding with vague approval.

  “She’s not here just now, but you can wait.”

  “Any recommendations on how to talk to the doc? This is my first time around here, and it’s always easier when I know how folks like to operate.”

  Leaning in, Susanne spoke softly. “Normally, the doc’s cold. Efficient, doesn’t hang around for socializing.”

  “That’s too bad.” King matched her low volume. “You sure there ain’t nothing you know to help a brother out? This beat is rough.”

  She looked at him for a hard moment, taking his measure. “There’s this patient of hers. Handsome Chinese boy. Got her all twitterpated, taking vacation days for the first time I’ve ever heard. She’ll need to get her siddity self calmed down a bit before she can be happy. Maybe this boy will do it.”

  King nodded along, letting her fill the air. A moment passed, and Miss Susanne added. “She doesn’t like anybody wasting her time, you understand?”

  King nodded along as she spoke. “I’ll have myself a seat, then. Thank you kindly.” He gave an appreciative smile and returned to the waiting area, filing away Susanne’s commentary. The way Roman described her protectiveness at the physical therapist’s made him think False Fiancée, but if Theo was helping her come out of her shell, changing her way of being in the world, maybe the story was fixing itself. He’d need to talk to her directly and see what his instincts had to say.

  * * *

  Around a half-hour later, Susanne cued King and buzzed him through to see Dr. Thorsson. He rolled his cart back and tucked a placebo-tastic packet of Vialita-C (imported from Earth Prime, where Vialita had a wider product range) into his suit coat.

  Dr. Thorsson stood beside a file cabinet, looking over patient charts as he walked in.

  “I have a patient waiting. What did you give Susanne?”

  Blunt as a mace. Got it, King thought.

  He defused with a smile. “A gentleman never tells his secrets.” He drew out an Inspiria business card (printed in the safe-house) and presented it to the doctor. She did not take it.

  “I’m with Inspiria. I’ve got some Vialita-C samples to drop off, and a special gift from the company. As you probably know, we’re co-sponsoring a gala this week, and we’re extending an invitation to prominent physicians in the area. Mr. Randal would be pleased if you could join him.”

  King replaced the card and pulled out the invite (also forged, off a copy shared on Pictogram), setting it on the cabinet beside the doctor.

  The doctor’s smile was that of an indulgent predator. “Thank you. You can leave the samples and I’ll use them when I can. Now I really have to go.”

  King’s story senses were going wild. The doctor and her clothes looked slightly wrong, like they were in an overexposed picture, even more so than he’d expect with the brutal lighting.

  Roman was right, King thought. She’s tied up in the breach in a big way.

  King presented his business card again, and social pressure won out as the doctor took the card and slipped it into her lab coat. King waited as the doctor exited and turned right, deeper into the hospital, allowing himself a small exhalation of relief.

  The tracker was in place, so they’d be able to follow her as long as she was wearing the lab coat. Plus, they’d be able to piggyback onto any phone calls she made. It might only work for a few hours, but every variable they could eliminate made their work that much easier.

  He’d been expecting a little more give-and-take—usually when you came in repping big pharma, most doctors would at least give you the time of day. The question then was why.

  King nodded to Miss Susanne on his way out and then closed down, making his presence small as he left the hospital, avoiding anyone else.

  Once he hit the street, he tapped off a quick message to Mallery and then hailed a cab.

  * *
*

  When Theo came in for his next session (this time without the doctor), Roman took the opportunity to dig deeper into his side of the story.

  “How are you doing in getting around day-to-day?” Roman asked as he led Theo through slow stretches.

  Theo winced, still early in the curve of rebuilding his strength. “Not too bad. I feel pretty useless, but now that I’m getting used to moving more slowly, it’s not too bad. Could have been much worse.”

  Roman switched Theo to another exercise and continued the small talk. “That’s the spirit. Are you already back to work?”

  “Yeah, mostly. I’m telecommuting this week, then back in the office next week.”

  Then it was time to get into the meat of the conversation. “So, this Doctor Thorsson, she seems very hands-on with her care.”

  Theo’s reaction was mixed—mostly it looked like uncertainty. “Yeah, she’s been great—stayed with me from the operating room to ICU and recovery.”

  Roman didn’t know many doctors that would escort their patient to a PT gym, but this was a story world. And she was part of a breach.

  “Are you sure her interest is strictly professional?” Roman stood and led Theo over to the leg press, setting it for the lowest weight “I don’t get many doctors escorting their discharged patients around to physical therapy.”

  “She offered to give me a ride,” Theo said while struggling, pressing slowly, “spare me the subway trip”—his leg trembled on the third rep—”so I wouldn’t show up to PT already exhausted.” After the third, he exhaled hard. Not quite there.

  “Let’s stop there for now and get some ice on that leg. Taking time outside of work to give a patient a ride. Does that strike you as odd behavior for a doctor?” he asked, not caring how obvious of a leading question it was.

  “I mean, I guess? I try not to question generosity.”

  Theo pulled an ice pack out of the freezer and set Theo up with the electrical stimulation, ice over top. Theo flinched at the ice, then settled in, leaning back and relaxing.

  “What if it’s more than generosity? I saw the way she looked at you on Monday.”

  Theo got a deer-in-the-headlights look. “Really?”

  “Totally. So, what are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, the accident was like a day after I proposed and my girlfriend responded by leaving the country. I’ve got a lot on my plate already.”

  He’d take some nudging, then. Remembering his profile and Mallery’s report, Roman adjusted his approach. “Maybe it’s just me, but I hate that kind of ambiguity. The not knowing. I want to be certain where I stand.”

  Theo closed his eyes. “Yeah. Anna hasn’t been in touch since she left.”

  That’s not what Anna said. Another note for the debrief.

  “Think it over. She’s probably holding back because she doesn’t want to pressure you. If you’re interested, even one date with the doc might be enough to tell you whether the attraction is mostly leftover positive ‘thanks for saving my life’ feelings or something deeper.”

  “Am I going to be charged extra for this therapy?”

  “This one’s on the house. But next time, we start on the comfy couch and you tell me about your parents. Let that ice work for another ten minutes or so, and then you’re done. Good work today. Let me know if you need anything.”

  With that, he let Theo be, not ready to push any harder. He’d already been incredibly forward. This part of the work wasn’t his specialty; he didn’t have the nuance that the others brought to bear. He could play a role, especially in the SF or Thriller regions, but pulling other people’s strings here in Romance? Not nearly so much.

  Roman took one more appointment that day, working off the chart to handle the bare minimum work load to not instantly get fired even in the “no one is ever really paying that close of attention to your work” rules of this story world, which would work as long as he avoided eye contact with Benjamin, that Adonis of a senior PT with abs that had nearly led to Roman dropping a five-pound weight on a client’s foot. Assuming he could stay focused, Roman might need to coach Theo through at least one more session if they couldn’t get the plot moving on their patch in other ways.

  News of King’s scouting mission and Mallery’s success came through during the appointment, so Roman cut out at three, catching the subway back to the condo. The tracker they’d placed in Theo’s shoe was still showing him at home, so they’d be able to arrange a chance encounter later on, but not without a plan.

  * * *

  Back at the condo, Roman changed out of gym gear into everyday wear. He joined the others in the living room, where Mallery was holding court. They’d ordered in Italian from the restaurant they’d visited the night before —lasagna, gnocchi, spaghetti, cannoli, and more. Leah was seated on the sofa chair, a good foot farther back than it had been that morning. Odd.

  “Our Leading Lady is on board,” Mallery said. “I pulled out a Friend Monologue, and it looks like it’s done the trick. She said she’d call our loverboy today. We can monitor the situation and hope it resolves itself, or double down and try to create the reconciliation moment.”

  Roman shook his head, doubtful. “Theo’s tracker has him at home. Unless he’s out with different shoes.”

  “Couldn’t plant it in his wallet?” King asked.

  “Never had a clear shot.”

  “Well, we’ve got Anna’s phone number now, so I can track her GPS,” Shirin said, standing from the couch and moving to the workstation.

  “And as long as the doc keeps her lab coat on, we’ve got her tracked as well.”

  “I’m still nervous about this doctor,” Mallery said. “Theo and Anna’s accounts don’t line up. Did Anna really call him? If so, what happened to those calls?”

  “Think the Doc’s got that much sway over him?” Leah asked. “Or maybe she messed with his phone, deleted the calls?”

  “Hard to say,” King said. “She was pretty forceful, and it fits the tale type.”

  Mallery shook her head. “We need more on her. Did you get her card, any body language cues?”

  King crossed his arms. “She was closed off like a North Korean border. My best read is that she’s either just a controlling workaholic. Or she’s gone into protective mode about Theo, working his case extracurricular.”

  “Extra-curricular,” Leah said, elbowing King to accentuate the joke.

  Mallery scoffed with amusement. Roman managed to restrain himself, as King was not amused.

  Roman’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the number.

  “Is this her?” he asked, showing the phone to King, who nodded.

  “Gym sounds,” Roman said, giving the phone another ring. Shirin slid over to the computer and pulled up an audio file. It played the indistinct sounds of grunting, metal on metal, and fast footfalls on treadmill rubber. King put the phone on speaker and set it on the desk.

  “Fairness Gym, this is Howard King; how many I help you?”

  “This is Dr. Thorsson. I wanted to let you know that I’ve cleared things up with Mr. Long’s insurance, and he’ll be returning to his proper physical therapist. I’m sorry for the mix-up,” she said without a drop of sincerity.

  She really couldn’t leave things alone, could she? Thorsson didn’t even have the authority to be making those calls. Pushing back would pull her into the forefront of the story even more. They’d need to find a way to sideline her entirely, and this wasn’t the time.

  “Not a problem, ma’am; we’re here to help. Please give our best to Mr. Long and wish him a speedy recovery on behalf of all of us at Fairness Gym.”

  “Goodbye,” the doctor said, then hung up.

  “Well, she’s lovely,” Leah said, gushing sarcasm.

  Mallery stood. “This is heating up. I think we may need to go for a Hail Mary. Anna’s not going to be ready for a surprise reconciliation if we spring it on her.”

  Mallery shook her hea
d. “And…”

  “And that means we need to do some shopping. If you approve.”

  That smile meant she approved.

  Leah looked to King and Shirin. “Keep tabs on our leads?”

  “Of course. GPS and phone taps are still up and running, so we should have some warning.

  Leah laughed, going whole-hog on the glorious zaniness of the genre, hand-in-hand with Mallery. “Let’s build ourselves a Hail Mary makeover in a bag.”

  “Spend sensibly!” Shirin called halfheartedly.

  * * *

  Thanks to the wonders of story timing—where people always entered scenes right as something was about to happen, in order to avoid dead air or page time—Mallery and Leah were just setting their bags down from the shopping trip when King shushed them all, turning up the mic on the computer and leaning his head in, closing his eyes to help focus.

  Theo’s voice came through the speakers via the bug King had planted on the doc.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Theo. This is Doc…Andrea. Andrea Thorsson.”

  Behind him, the team jockeyed for position to listen in.

  A pause for a moment, then Theo’s voice again. “Oh, hi. Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. This is…It’s a personal call. I wanted to see how you were doing, if you needed anything.”

  “Her game is weak,” Mallery said, interrupting.

  “But she’s going for it,” Roman added.

  King shushed them.

  “…fine. I get around okay, but I have a newfound respect for anyone trying to get around this city with a cane or wheelchair.”

  “I could imagine.” A pause. “So, Theo. I also wanted to ask if you might want to have dinner sometime. With me.”

  Another pause. “Oh. Sure!”

  “Excellent. I’m free tonight. Say, seven?”

  “She doesn’t waste time,” Mallery added.

  “Tonight is fine. What do you like?”

  “What about that pizza place you mentioned? Pizzeria something?”

  “Trio. Oh, sure. They know me there.” King picked up a hint of doubt from Theo on that one.