“Hi, this is Fizzy, Frankie’s neighbor. I hear you live in our building.” She grins at me. “Why don’t you come over? We’re having happy hour on Frankie’s balcony.”
“Give me the phone!” I try to wrestle it from her, but Fizzy is on a roll.
“Romeo tells me you’re a wonderful vet,” she says, gaining steam. “I’m going to be your future customer.”
“She doesn’t have a dog,” I call out.
“But I can get one,” Fizzy retorts. “I’m mixing mango margaritas. But hey, if you don’t want that, Frankie’s bar has chilled Coronas.”
Harrison says something and Fizzy gives me an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
“Yeah, apartment 506. Okay, see ya soon,” she says, all smiles.
“Give me that,” I mutter, taking my cell phone away from her. “No more for you.” I wrestle the Corona out of her other hand. “Why did you invite him over?”
“Why not? I wanna meet him. He sounds cute and friendly.”
“Did you know Chloe got me into this apartment building? She’s a realtor in New York. She set me up with her local realtor friend Mariana, who insisted that the best deals in Miami were right here, in this building.”
“That Mariana can sell a hole in the ground.” Fizzy smiles. “I like Chloe, even if I haven’t met her.”
“You’d love her and I know she’d love you. I wonder why Harrison called. Do you think it’s about Romeo’s lab tests?” I fret. “I hope it’s not bad news. Why wouldn’t he tell me over the phone?”
“Don’t be silly. How could he have results on a Sunday?”
“Oh, that’s true…” I feel better now.
The doorbell rings and I jump, startling poor Romeo from his nap. He runs to the door and starts barking. The minute I open the door, Romeo’s tail wags a mile a minute when he sees Harrison. If he isn’t careful, it’ll snap off. For the next few minutes, Romeo performs all the endearing tricks he knows, knocking himself out for Harrison’s entertainment. Harrison scoops Romeo up and lavishes praise on him.
Fizzy is right behind me, peeking over my shoulder. She steps in front of me and claps Harrison on the shoulder.
“So you’re Harrison. I’m Fizzy,” she says, extending her hand.
“Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking her hand. “Did somebody mention happy hour?”
“Sure did. Come on in.”
He glances at me. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I say, feeling a little awkward.
“Go to the balcony with Frankie,” Fizzy tells Harrison, pushing me forward. “I’ll be right back with a round of mango margaritas. It’s my specialty.”
“Sounds good,” Harrison says.
Romeo lavishes Harrison’s hand with licks as Harrison totes him with one hand and follows me to the balcony.
Harrison sinks into a white patio chair with Romeo flopped on his lap. Romeo lapses into a state of nirvana as Harrison scratches his belly. When his hand moves up to scratch under Romeo’s snout, Romeo’s little pink tongue dangles from the side as he drools with delight.
“Nice view,” Harrison says, looking at the bay.
“I love watching the sailboats.” And you, I think privately. Harrison looks rugged and relaxed as he strokes Romeo with his broad hand. Even at ease, his muscular arms look powerful. Man, I could get lost in those arms…
“Do you sail?” he asks, snapping me back to reality.
“Me? Nooo. I’m not too sporty.” I tilt my head and smile at him. “Let me guess, you’re an avid sailor.”
He chuckles. “I’ll take you sailing sometime, if you like. Do you swim?”
“Of course, I was raised in Miami,” I say affronted. “And my dad calls me guppy.”
“Guppy,” he repeats with a surprised laugh. “Why does he call you that?”
“Dad’s a marine biologist. The first time I went in the ocean, I was only a toddler, but he says I took to water like a guppy.”
All of a sudden we hear Fizzy yell, “shiite” from the kitchen. I push the sliding glass door open and dart toward the kitchen. Harrison makes it there before I do.
We find Fizzy leaning over the sink holding a paper towel wrapped around her thumb. In seconds, it’s soaked in blood.
“What happened?” I ask, gaping at her.
“I cut my thumb,” Fizzy says, wincing.
Harrison takes Fizzy’s hand and applies firm pressure above the knuckle of her left thumb. When the bleeding slows down, he examines the cut.
“You don’t need stitches. I have some tissue glue that will seal it shut,” he says.
“Tissue glue?” That sounds a little iffy to me. “Fizzy, you need to go to the ER,” I tell her in a no-nonsense voice.
“I am not wasting all night waiting there for a little cut,” Fizzy says. “I’d rather have Harrison take care of it.”
“Have you had a tetanus shot in the past five years?” he asks.
“Yeah, two years ago.” Her blue eyes light up. “When I almost lost my pinky toe. It was really gross.”
“Stop, please don’t go into details.” I stare at her bloody thumb and begin to feel lightheaded. “Look how it’s bleeding! What if it gets infected? Gangrene might set in.”
“Gangrene? That’s nonsense. Dermabond forms a barrier against bacteria,” Harrison says in a patient tone.
“Still, I would get stitches,” I whisper to Fizzy. “It looks awful.”
“Stitches are not necessary. I know what I’m doing, Francesca,” Harrison says, his jaw tight.
“But…”
“Will you two stop arguing about my poor thumb?” Fizzy cuts in, giggling.
“How can you laugh when you’re losing so much blood?” The alcohol has probably dulled her pain.
“I’m going to get my medical bag,” Harrison says. “Keep your hand elevated until I get back.”
“I will, Doc,” Fizzy promises, winking at me.
I throw my hands in the air. Let her do whatever she wants. There’s no reasoning with a tipsy bartender.
As soon as Harrison leaves, Fizzy turns to me. “Quit arguing with Harrison. You’re pissing him off.”
“I’m not arguing for the sake of arguing. I’m worried about you.”
“I trust him,” Fizzy counters. “You should too.”
We lapse into silence until Harrison returns carrying his medical bag. He joins Fizzy at the sink, where she’s still standing with her hand elevated, as he told her to do. The paper towel around her thumb is soaked with blood.
Romeo is barking and making a commotion until Harrison gives him a firm command to sit and he obeys instantly. When I start to ask a question, Harrison’s no-nonsense look shuts me up too.
He opens his medical bag and pulls on surgical gloves. I notice Romeo starts to tremble, so I lift him in my arms.
“Don’t worry. He’s not examining you today, baby. It’s Fizzy’s turn,” I whisper in Romeo’s ear.
I let out a loud gasp when Harrison peels the bloody paper towel off her thumb.
Harrison looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Don’t look if it bothers you. It’s not deep at all,” he says, flushing the wound with sterile water and Betadine.
I’d rather not look, but I feel I should. Fizzy is tipsy and she might go into shock.
“Are you sure she shouldn’t go to the ER? I once had a cut like that and the ER doctor referred me to a plastic surgeon,” I inform him.
“He should have referred you to a shrink,” Harrison mutters under his breath.
“Gosh, you don’t have to be insulting.” First I’m nutty and now he says I need a shrink because I’m looking out for Fizzy. How rude.
Romeo gives a low growl as if reminding me that Harrison still has his lab reports. I better hold my tongue.
Harrison remains silent as he meticulously applies the Dermabond in thin layers. Finally, he uses steri-tapes and splints her thumb.
Fizzy doesn’t bat an eye. “Why’d you use a splint?” she asks.
“It’s a precaution so the wound stays closed. It can come off in a couple of days.” He shuts his medical bag. “I’m gonna go now.”
“But you haven’t had your margarita yet,” Fizzy says, exchanging a look with me.
“I’ll take a rain check. Call me if you have any concerns or if it gets swollen or the skin around it turns red. Francesca has my number.”
“Call me Frankie,” I tell him. I wonder why he’s being so formal all of a sudden. He always calls me Frankie.
“Thanks so much, Doc,” Fizzy says with a friendly smile.
“You’re welcome. Take care now.” Harrison heads toward the door.
“I really appreciate how you took care of Fizzy. Thank you.” I hesitate for a minute, but I have to ask. “Are you sure she doesn’t need another tetanus shot?”
“One every five years is enough,” he says in a level tone. The lighthearted mood Harrison arrived with has been replaced by a tense one and he doesn’t look pleased with me.
“Oh, okay, but if it starts looking any worse, I’ll make sure she goes to a doctor.”
“I am a doctor. Where do you think I got my diploma from, the drugstore?” he asks, losing patience.
“But you’re an animal doctor, not a people one,” I say before I can stop myself. Why did I have to slurp down that second margarita like it was a smoothie? I can’t stop blurting out every dumb thing that pops into my mind.
“Francesca!” Fizzy admonishes. “Don’t mind her, she’s had one too many.”
“I have not!” I say indignantly.
“Thanks again, Harrison,” Fizzy says, trying to smooth things over.
“You’re welcome.”
He leaves without saying another word to me. I turn to Fizzy and shrug. “What got his shorts in a bunch?”
“Hmm, let me see…” Fizzy taps her chin. “Could it be that you doubted his medical ability? Really, Frankie, I don’t know what got into you.”
“Oh, no.” I clutch my head. “Was I that bad?”
Fizzy snorts. “Hello? You second-guessed him every step of the way. Then you acted like he wasn’t a real doctor. I hate to tell you this, but you were a little rude to him.”
I groan. “He was rude to me too. I didn’t appreciate his comment about the shrink. Anyway, who knew he’d be so sensitive?”
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about. I’m the patient and I thought he was kind and caring.” Fizzy gets a dreamy look on her face and I know she’s up to something. “Harrison can take care of me anytime…he has such big strong hands, yet his touch is so gentle.”
“Stop already. I know he has amazing hands,” I wail. “You’re making me feel worse. I should apologize to him, right?”
“Damn right. I wouldn’t be surprised if Harrison tells Chloe he never wants to see you again.”
“Not if I apologize to him first.”
The doorbell rings and we both jump.
“Here’s your chance,” Fizzy crows.
“I hope it’s not Harrison. I was hoping he’d cool off first.”
Fizzy starts clucking and flapping her crooked arms.
“So I’m a chicken. What else is new?” I ask.
Fizzy darts up from her chair and races to get the door before me. She flings it open and Harrison is standing there.
“You’re back!” Fizzy exclaims. She claps a hand over her scarlet mouth to muffle her giggles. “Boy, are you a glutton for punishment.”
Not cracking a smile, Harrison looks straight at me.
Romeo: Grrrr… What a fiasco! Francesca’s antics are going to make me lose the best doctor I’ve ever had. She had the nerve to second-guess my hero and now he’s mad at her. I don’t blame him one bit.
I agree with Fizzy—Harrison has magical hands. When he pets me I go into a trance. Scout is one lucky dog.
Lady, you better grovel at Harrison’s feet and make it up to him, especially since he came back. Otherwise, I’ll take matters into my own paws.
Ruff!
Chapter Seven
“You were right about Harrison,” I tell Chloe over the cell phone. “He’s great.”
I’m in my little white VW Jetta on my way to the hospital to visit Elise. Chloe and I have been chatting and catching up.
“I knew you two would hit it off,” Chloe gloats, relishing her victory.
“Well…” I pause. “We’re okay now, but he got mad at me yesterday ’cause I insisted that Fizzy had to see a real doctor for her injured thumb.”
“Frankie!” she exclaims in a pained voice. “What is your problem? Harrison is a real doctor. He’s smart and he’s a super vet. How could you do that?”
“I feel bad about it, but he wasn’t very nice to me either. When I told him I was once referred to a plastic surgeon for a cut, he said they should’ve sent me to a shrink instead!”
Chloe chuckles. “He doesn’t mince words, does he? You must have really riled him up.”
“I guess. Anyway, I apologized when he came by later to drop off an ointment for Fizzy. He stayed a while and chilled with us…and I enjoyed getting to know him better.”
“When are you gonna see him again?” I can hear the eagerness in Chloe’s voice.
“Maybe tomorrow,” I say, nonchalant. “This morning I was reading Dr. Escobar’s heart health column and I realized I haven’t been exercising enough.”
“Here we go again. Dr. Escobar this and Dr. Escobar that,” she interrupts in a singsong voice. “Why do you worship the man so much?”
“I don’t worship him, I think he’s brilliant. I’ve learned a lot from his column.”
“Yeah, you’ve told me that before,” she reminds me.
“Anyway, I called Harrison to see if he wanted to jog together before work.”
“You did?” Chloe’s voice perks up. “What did he say?”
“He didn’t answer, so I left a voice mail.”
“Are you flirting with him?”
“No, I’m just being neighborly. Do you think he’ll get the wrong idea?”
“I sure hope so. You need to buy a few jogging outfits. The sexier, the better. Harrison may be a vet, but he appreciates a cute figure when he sees one. And let me add that there are plenty of girls who appreciate him.”
“I only want him as a friend, but Romeo’s another story. You should’ve seen when Harrison returned last night. Romeo wrapped his little paws around your cousin’s ankle in a death grip.”
“Sounds like Romeo’s already attached to him.”
“Yep, he loves Harrison. Hopefully, he’ll have the same reaction when I start dating my Dr. Hot.”
Chloe groans. “Why are you still searching for a Dr. Hot? Pay attention to Romeo, he has more sense,” she says. “Anyway, gotta go. I have a client waiting to see a loft in Tribeca.”
“K, talk to you later.” As I hang up with Chloe, I see the South Miami Hospital sign. I’m looking forward to seeing Elise and her babies.
Elise Richards amazes me. She’s the type of person one would love to hate for being so accomplished and fearless, yet she’s genuine and nice, so you can’t help liking her. She’s organized, selfless, and even-tempered. Not only is she a registered emergency room nurse, but she also has a master’s degree in broadcast journalism. She has traveled around the world, particularly to Africa and Haiti to help children with AIDS and to inoculate infants. For years, she has traded her vacation time to volunteer for Operation Smile. I am in awe of her.
Elise and I have been playing phone tag for the past few days and now I get to meet her twin boys.
I open the door, juggling the weight of the blue gingham-lined wicker gift basket I’m carrying and hoping the two attached helium balloons don’t pop.
“Hey, Elise,” I say in a soft voice not to disturb her.
When she looks up, my jaw drops in shock. I can’t believe my eyes! Surely this haggard woman cannot be Elise Richards.
“Hi,” she says in a wan voice. “Thanks for the basket. You shouldn’t hav
e, but I love it.”
“You’re very welcome.”
I can barely get the words out, I’m so stunned. Poor Elise is a wreck. Her usually sleek blonde bob looks like a Brillo pad that’s been pulled apart with the ends frayed and sticking out in every direction. I want to do something special for her right away to lift her spirits. I know—I’ll treat her to a Keratin hair treatment as soon as she can get to a beauty parlor.
I set the basket down on a table beside the window and approach her side. “How are you feeling?” I ask, noting her bleary, red eyes and the dark circles underneath.
Elise’s pale body is hunched over in a wrinkled hospital gown pooled around her waist while she struggles to breastfeed both babies at a time.
“I’ve had better days,” she says, her lower lip quivering. “My nipples are sore, my stitches itch, and I have hemorrhoids for the first time in my life.”
“Oh no—not hemorrhoids! Do they hurt much?” I ask, cringing. I shouldn’t be cringing, but I can’t help it. “Will they go away?”
“They better go away!” Elise wails.
“I’m sorry,” I say, sympathizing with her despair. I set down the basket and move closer to her side. “How can I help you?
“Please tell me everything’s going to be fine,” she implores me.
“Everything’s going to be fine. Of course it is!” I say with conviction. Privately, I hate to be a pessimist, but from where I’m standing things don’t look so good. “Have your parents arrived yet?”
She nods. “They’re downstairs having lunch.”
“Oh, good.” Elise is the youngest of six children. Her retired parents already have fourteen grandkids including the twins, so they’re experts at child-raising.
“Man, these babies are glued to me like I’m serving whiskey!”
“They are too cute,” I coo, awed by how identical they are.
“Thanks. I guess the upside of nursing is that I’ll lose the fifty pounds I gained faster.” Elise sighs. “I’m worried about getting in front of the camera again. I’m forty, wrinkled and as big as a moose.”
I wave my hand. “No, you’re not. You’re beautiful and smart and talented. You’ll be back in shape in no time. No time, I tell you! The baby weight will melt away,” I say cheerfully.
Paging Dr. Hot Page 6
