An Angel of A Different Order: Dr Peter VonNetzer, the bloodletter (Danger Angel Book 1)

by S. R. Rashad

“Well, not exactly, Gary, not exactly.”

  “Oh, but we are heading to the office?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “You wanna stop and get a coffee, first?”

  “Oh, Gary. You sweet talker, you. Yes, lets.”

  “It’s really good to see you looking well, miss Danger. We were all praying for you, everyone at the firm. Hey, you know what, even my wife and daughter, little emma, sent up a few prayers. You haven’t met emma, but I told her all about you. She says she wants to be a lawyer just like you when she grows up. And she was so sad when…well just when I told her what happened.”

  “Thanks. I need to hear this.”

  “No problem, miss Danger. If you're not working, what's with going to the office? Or is this none of my business?”

  “No, Gary. It's okay to ask. I just have to meet with a few professions, to make Jim happy, before the firm will let me handle any cases, is all.”

  “Well, Jim knows what he's doing. He's a good man for sure, miss Danger. Don't you think?”

  “Yea, Gary. He is a good man and I'm sure he's acting with the best intentions. It's just hard to not be working on a case. I feel like…oh, I don't need to bore you, Gary. It's fine.”

  “If you say so. I do know for someone who was just in your situation, you look great. That's all I know.”

  “You know what, Gary. I need you to tell Jim this, will you.”

  “Sure, I will but I'm no specialist. So I don't know how much weight my opinion will carry.”

  “You're probably right. I’ll just have to get these folks to give me the ok. How difficult can that be after all.”

  Yea, you're right, miss Danger. Everything will be fine.”

  They arrive at 66 Hudson pl. Laura hesitates getting out the car.

  “Hey, miss Danger.”

  “Yea, Gary?” She says as she sits there while Gary holds the door open for her.

  “Um…”

  “Yea.”

  “Well, it's just that, we’re here.”

  “I know, Gary. I'm just having a moment--ok, I'm ready.”

  “Ok, then. Have someone call when you're ready to head back.” Gary says.

  “Ok, Gary. Thanks so much.”

  “you're welcome, miss Danger.”

  Her first stop is to meet with psychologist Atwater, the noted therapist who also happens to have a practice in the building. Jim first started using her after his wife began attending her lectures at NYU. His wife loves her and that's good enough for him. So when anyone of his friends seem in need of therapy, she is the one he recommends. This time for Laura, he went so far as to set up the first few sessions, and flipped the bill.

  Laura enters her office with tons of trepidation and hesitation. Mainly because, she knows nothing about therapy and this scares her. Not knowing isn't Laura's strong point. It makes her feel too vulnerable, too exposed. But Jim has her up against a wall. She’s worried that he might not give her any really meaty cases if she doesn't go through with this. And now, that she's been given huge cases, she doesn't want to go back to tax evasion and fraud cases. So, she's walking through this.

  Ok, Laura. You're here. How bad can it really be. You don't have any deep dark secrets that you don't want to reveal, or any psycho split personality issues, right? So let's just do it.

  “Hello, I have an appointment with Dr. Atwater.”

  “Laura Danger, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Great. You are right on time… Eager, huh?”

  “Who me? No, not really. But I am here.”

  “Well, that's good. It's hard for therapy to work if you don't show up.” The receptionist says then makes a horrendous snorting noise, some tragic attempt at laughter.

  “Can I go in?”

  “Oh, I'm sorry. Yes you can.”

  Laura grabs the doorknob to Dr. Atwater’s office, turns it, takes a deep breath and walks in.

  “Hello, Laura. Am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great. Have a seat, anywhere you like.”

  Laura looks around and sees a sofa, two side chairs and a recliner far in the corner. And she begins to wonder why is she giving her choices. Shouldn't she sit in the chair opposite her.

  “Doc, I don't understand. Why do you say have a seat anywhere I like? Shouldn't you tell me where to sit?”

  “Oh no, Laura. The choice will always be yours.”

  This is strange. But what do I know.

  “Ok, I’ll lay on the couch.”

  “Ok, then.”

  “Is this the right choice, doc.”

  Laura watches as Dr. Atwater writes in her notepad.

  “What just happened, doc? Did I do something wrong?”

  Again with the writing. That's gonna be troubling.

  "Ok. Doc. So how does this work. What do you want from me?"

  "I want you to be relaxed."

  "You know saying you want me to be relaxed. Is the quickest way to get me unrelaxed."

  "Ok, Laura. Let's start again. You and I know Jim is paying for this and he may want something out of it. That may be true. But what is also true, is that, this is an opportunity to explore your feelings on the matter, or any matter."

  "Ok, doctor. That's interesting. Enlighten me. What are you getting at?"

  "First, you can call me Susan."

  "Well, that's not gonna happen."

  "Ok, Laura. Perhaps, in time, you will. So, doc or doctor or doctor Susan will be fine for now."

  "Ok, doctor Susan. What feelings am I to explore here?"

  "Let's start with coming here. How do you feel about this? You can be as honest as you want but remember the more honest, the more helpful you will find your time here."

  "Is that how it works?"

  "Yes, Laura."

  "Ok, doctor Susan. A friend of mine said I should ask you about some dreams I've been having lately."

  "I see. Ok, let's start there. What about these dreams? How much can you remember? When did they start? What do you think they mean?"

  "What do I think they mean? I thought it was your job to tell me."

  "I see, Laura. Well, that's not what I do here. Think of me more as a facilitator. I'm here to introduce you to your subconscious, your deeper self, to parts of yourself you may be afraid of, or just unfamiliar with. This is how I can best help."

  “Is this what you tell all your patients?”

  “Not really, just the more apprehensive ones. What of your dreams?”

  “To be honest, there is really only one I can truly remember. It’s pretty vivid.”

  “Ok.”

  “I should tell you that I’m bringing this up because I’ve never been able to remember any of my dreams. Besides, it’s not like I’ve had a ton of them anyway.”

  “Ok, what is the dream, Laura?”

  “There’s a gunman chasing me and I’m running and I think I’m looking for help. I can’t remember, but I know I come across a crowd of people, none of whom seem to have any distinguishable faces. In fact, they have no faces really.”

  “I see. Does it end there?”

  “No.”

  “Ok, then.”

  “As I get closer to the faceless crowd, they all turn their backs on me and the gunman points his gun at me and fires.”

  “And that’s all of it, Laura?”

  “Yea, I believe so.”

  “Ok, then.”

  She begins writing. I think this is what it’s gonna be, me talking and her writing.

  “Any thoughts, doc?”

  “Just a second.” She says, still writing. She puts down her pen, looks over at me and something about the way she’s looking, reminds me of my mom.

  “You know, Laura. Sometimes a dream is just the subconscious’ way of having us take a look at some area of our lives.”

  “Is that true? So what area of my life should I look at, doctor Susan?”

  “This is the tricky part, the part that isn’t so cut and dry. Let’s start here.
You were nearly killed, correct?”

  “I don’t know about that but I was shot in the chest.”

  “Most would consider that nearly killed, but let’s not belabor the point. What I’m getting at is that an injury like that might awaken something in the subconscious. Like that, in a flash, one goes from a person doing, to a person being, being mortal. One sees where her life is. Typically, she starts to question her life choices. She now knows at any minute, her life could be over.”

  This is exactly what's happening. Spot on Doctor Susan. I'm a little impressed.

  “Is this a bad thing or a good thing?”

  “Good question, Laura. Do you like homework?”

  “Well, I was good in school if that’s what you are getting at?”

  “Great. Your homework assignment is to see if you can tell whether the place you find yourself now, is a good thing or a bad thing.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “So, is that it?”

  “For now, same time next week, Laura.”

  “Ok, I guess.”

  I feel a little better but I see now therapy isn’t at all what I thought it would be. She’s definitely gonna have me do all the work.

  I still have to go meet with this physical therapist and I know she's gonna have me do all the work for sure.

  Laura takes the elevator down to the physical therapist office. Jim used her once before, when he was hit by a cabbie and needed to learn to walk again after receiving major reconstruction on his right leg. He finds her very no nonsense, a quality he admires in a person. Most importantly, she is affective and she knows when to push a person and when to ease up.

  Laura enters the office.

  “Hey, catch.”

  “What?” Says Laura.

  Eva, her physical therapist tosses a tennis ball in her direction. Laura misses the catch and let's the ball drop.

  “You missed that easy catch.”

  “What? What is this?”

  “You're, Laura. Right?”

  “If I say yes, are you gonna toss another ball at me?”

  “I might.”

  “Well, I am but please don't throw balls at me.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “So, Laura. How do you feel?”

  “You mean physically. I feel like someone who was shot less than two weeks ago but who is ready to go back to work.”

  “Cool. You do any yoga, tennis, any kind of physical activity?”

  “Yes, I run.”

  “Good. Can you still run?”

  “I guess so. I don't know. I’ve only been home a few days.”

  “Are you planning on running any time soon?”

  “Well…”

  Eva interrupts her

  “Hey, come with me.”

  “Ok.”

  “Let's see you run on that treadmill.”

  “I don't think I'm ready for that. Do you have some lighter kind of exercise or activity for me.”

  “Well, sit down a minute and tell me your limitations. Since being home, have you had any major discomfort? And I mean physical.”

  “Of course, that's what you mean. Well, to be quite honest, I feel most uncomfortable in the morning just before getting out of bed then as the morning goes on, nothing really.”

  “So what makes you think you can't run?”

  “Well, cause I just came home from the hospital after just being shot.”

  “Laura, you know in many third world countries, women have babies and immediately go back to work and I don't mean cozy, air conditioned, office work either. I mean they literally have been known to birth a baby and then be back working on the land or in a field, in a couple of days and in some cases, the next day.”

  “And you say this, to say what?”

  “I’m saying the human body is resilient but sometimes our minds don't want to except this fact.”

  “Ok, I see. I think..

  “Good. Get on the treadmill, Laura. Let's run.”

  Laura fearfully and reluctantly gets on the treadmill and begins to run.

  “Good. Look at you. Any pains, Laura?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Good. How often and how long do you run for, during a typical week?”

  “Usually and hour a day, every other day.”

  “Good. So are you gonna run tomorrow?”

  “I wasn't planning on it.”

  “I’ll need you to be physically active this week, Laura. Run, play tennis, do something and keep a journal of your activities and any pain or discomfort you feel. Be specific. I want the types of pain and the duration of the pain or discomfort. Do you understand?”

  “Yea, I should run or something and write about it.”

  “The sooner you get a physical routine back, Laura. The sooner you regain control and ownership of your body. Lastly, Laura, I want you to talk to your body. Have a conversation with it. Tell it what you want. What you demand from it. You can push it. Don't be afraid, ok. Do you have any questions, Laura?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Great. I’ll see you in two days. Start that journal.”

  “Sure, let the healing begin.” I say a little sarcastically. But I don't think ‘fun’ Eva catches on.

  “That's right, Laura. That's that spirit!”

  Chapter 24

  She's mine. She's yours. She's ours.

  Peter will get to his sister’s eventually, but right now, the hunger is dictating his movements. Peter’s back in the filth and grime of the sweet metropolis: Where at any given moment, hundreds of people are engaging in hundreds of obscene acts; acts of both addiction and passion, so why shouldn't he be among them. His desires, however bizarre, are chiefly based in passion, weird deadly passion, and addiction, mood altering, mind agonizing, blood lust addiction whose needs demand attention.

  His attorney tried to hide her from him. He knows she has to be an attorney at Kern, Davis and Kern, or perhaps a paralegal. Whatever the case, he will find her. Today, he’ll drop by and thank them for their dedication and unwavering commitment to serving justice and the law, while helping his insidious cause, of course. First, he's got to get cleaned up and fitted for a proper suit. After all, he's no animal. There’s an old world tailor on the upper east side. His father had occasion to use. Peter loves his craftsmanship. He's a tailor who is precise and dedicated to his art. No one cares about precision anymore and art is wasted on the amateur, the immature, the visionless. Petrov is the kind of man, one would use when he's in need of making a great impression. And Peter knows that the clothes make the man.

  Peter walks into Petrov’s small unassuming shop on 83 and Madison.

  “Hello, Petrov.”

  Petrov knows his voice. He doesn’t lift his head as he is trying to fix an improper hem job his protégé stitched earlier, for an important client.

  “Peter, the papers can be vicious, no?” Petrov says nonchalantly.

  Petrov is a child of Cold War Russia and he has seen brutality, the works and torture imposed by the hidden police. He has been in the company of crazed animals and dangerous men. Peter neither scares, nor intimidates him.

  “Yes, Petrov. They can be.”

  “Let us not talk of it, here.”

  “Yes, Petrov, you are a wiseman.”

  “Well, Peter, I don’t know if I am or not, but I am an old man for sure. What would you like?”

  “I need to look my best I have someone to impress.”

  “Yes, a special lady?”

  “I am hoping so. Indeed, Petrov.”

  “Come let us measure you.”

  Petrov calls for his grandson who is trying to learn the family business in order to keep fine craftsmanship alive, but the poor kid is all thumbs and not too bright either. But Petrov will not give up.

  “Yuri, Come. This fine man needs a great suit. Pick out the best and take the measurements, please. And Yuri, take your time and do it well. I still have to fix what you did earlier. I’m gett
ing too old for this. You need to do it correct the first time, no.”

  “Yes, grandpa Petrov.”

  “Da”

  “Peter, when would you like the suit?”

  “As soon as possible, I have a pressing engagement.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Great, Petrov. My father always cherished you.”

  “Yes. Your father is missed. Give me a call in a couple hours. We will see where we are at, no?”

  “Ok.”

  Peter checks into the W hotel in Union Square, for rest, a shower and a proper styling. He calls up for a men's stylist, for a mani and pedi, and an old school barber. New York loves its celebrities. It often doesn't matter what you're famous for. The city will welcome you with open arms. On occasion, the more wicked or notorious, the better, everyone knows this city can be a fine mistress to scandal.

  He’s enjoying being pampered and waited on by a team who must know exactly who he is. After all, he’s not hiding now. As the Parade of pamperers leaves, Petrov calls, saying his suit is ready. Peter likes this news. He leaves the hotel, hops into a taxi and heads back to Petrov’s.

  Peter arrives with a fresh new hair cut, shave and manicure.

  “Yes, Peter. You look good. My suit, too, looks good. Let’s have you two look good together.”

  “Ok, Petrov. Where is it?”

  “Come. Step back here.”

  Peter tries on his new suit and he sees why his father continued to use him. The suit is pure perfection.

  “So, Peter. She’s nice, no?”

  “She’s nice, yes.”

  “Thank you, Peter. The VonNetzers have been good to this little shop. An old man is grateful. You want me to wrap her up?”