by Oakes, Tara
Fuck.
I forgot he knows about the prescription. I think quick on how to back out of this. “Um… it doesn’t really manage it all that well, so I just deal with the pain.”
Dr. Walker’s pen clicks and he begins to scribble loudly on something leaning against his clipboard. A small, white piece of paper is torn clear of the pad and handed over to me.
“This should take care of the pain, if the other last meds haven’t been working. Just make sure to only take them when you have at least eight to ten hours of rest time, so no taking them before work.”
I’m stunned, and take the thin paper between my fingertips. I don’t know what to say. He handed over the script so easily.
“Th-thank you, Harris. I really appreciate your doing this.” I quickly fold the slip and tuck it in my pocket.
“And now… we’re going to fix the low blood sugar.”
I tilt my head. “We are?”
His thin lips break into a smile, showcasing his perfectly white teeth. His eyes twinkle and his face grins, the short stubble of an overnight beard making him look a little rugged.
“Yup. Breakfast. You. Me… and this great little waffle house across town.”
Wow… that was smooth. I think of the prescription in my pocket and know there is no way to gracefully turn him down.
I try to configure this all, to see how I can possible make this work. I would never, ever, have accepted a date from him. Well… maybe in another life I would have, before coming to a place like Chisolm, as he’s exactly what my type used to be.
But since I’ve seen the other type of men out there, the kind that make my body scream and connect with my soul….
Wait!
What am I talking about?
That’s the type of guy who got me into this mess in the first place, that nearly destroyed me. On second thought, maybe I should give Harris a chance. He’s educated, successful, polite… everything that looks good on paper.
He’s safe.
“Breakfast sounds great. Just give me a few minutes to freshen up… that is… if I’m discharged?”
He signs off on the slip, officially releasing me from my little E.R. visit. “I’ll meet you downstairs by the employee entrance.”
With a quick little wink that’s boyishly cute, he leaves me be to wonder what the hell I’ve just done.
~*~
Thank God I have a spare set of clothes stashed in my locker. I don’t remember exactly when I made the decision to keep them there, but I’m thankful regardless, and it keeps me from looking like a shapeless marshmallow in my scrubs.
The skinny jeans and fitted top are slightly wrinkled from being crumpled in my metal employees locker but it’s still an improvement. I throw on a gauzy little scarf and touch up my makeup before heading down to find Harris exactly where he’d said he’d be.
I swallow hard and build up enough courage to look beyond him out the doors to where Clink is still perched. I can’t help but notice the stark contrast in the two men as I shift back and forth between them.
The windows and doors are tinted against the sunlight but Clink lifts his eyes from his phone just as I’m taking him in, somehow aware of it.
It’s been nearly an hour since I first saw him standing guard out there, and a small part of me is surprised he’s stuck it out and is still there, even if he’s unaware of what’s behind my delay.
I guess I had subconsciously wished he would have given up and left, made this easier on me. But then again, Clink never seems to be that considerate to what might be best for others… just himself.
Bastard.
“You all right, Charlie?”
Harris can see the building frustration, no doubt, on my face as the man outside, once the man of my dreams but now the man of my nightmares, is getting me worked up again.
I pull myself together, and decide how best to handle all of this.
And then it hits me.
If Clink is thinking he can just bombard me as I go to my car… then, boy, is he in for a surprise. Let’s see if he likes the little show I’m going to put on for him.
“Me?” I turn on my charm, reaching for his arm and locking elbows with him. “I’m better now, actually.”
I lower my shades, knowing my eyes will be a dead giveaway to Clink.
Harris leads me to the exit, as the mechanical doors work their magic and put us on full display to my fucked-up suitor blocking my car in with his Harley.
As soon as we clear into the sunlight, I make sure to laugh heartily and as femininely as I can, squeezing Harris’s arm.
I see Clink jump to attention, straightening up from his slouched position and ripping off his sunglasses.
I should win a damn Academy Award for the acting job I’m putting on right now. Harris seems to be eating it up and, although he doesn’t know it, he plays right into my plan by taking advantage of the moment and moving his arms to rest over my shoulders, pulling me in tight.
“I’ll drive,” he volunteers.
I laugh again, this time letting my hair whip around.
“Anything you say, doctor.” I seductively play with him.
He seems to like it, and so I up the ante, loud enough for Clink to once again hear.
“Especially if it includes bed rest.” I continue to look straight ahead to where Harris has pointed his car key, at a shiny black Jaguar convertible, but let my eyes spy, hidden beneath the sunglasses, my periphery where Clink is looking dangerously close to attacking.
I broaden my smile as Harris opens the passenger door for me. I settle into the butter-soft leather and enjoy the chivalry as he closes the door before making his way around to his side.
The car hums to life before he’s even entered, the engine starting, the windows lowering, the flexible convertible roof opening to allow us to bask in the warm rays of sunshine.
Once he’s seated and buckled in, I shift closer, gracefully picking up his hand to set on my thigh.
He licks his lips at how forward I’m being, unaware that it’s an act, and his fingers begin to knead into the tight denim that clothes me.
The powerful purr of the imported engine sounds like a tiger waiting to pounce on its prey as we back out of the hidden reserved parking space and slowly navigate our way through the lot.
Clink turns to watch every movement with the low-set car giving him the advantage of seeing everything, including the good doctor’s hand massaging my upper leg,
I lift my hand to comb through my wavy hair just as we pass him on the passenger side. I laugh once again at Harris’s dull humor, but secretly howl with silent satisfaction as I stick my middle finger up at my stalker and flip him off while driving off with another man.
Life is good sometimes… especially when it has an unexpected opportunity for revenge.
“I must say, Charlie, I’m surprised by the sudden change of heart. I’ve been asking you out for months now,” Harris voices his approval of my acting skills.
Oh crap! Now that Clink is left behind and no longer a spectator, I can’t really drop pretenses. I smirk and try to make the best of the situation.
“What can I say? You saved me.” I say, referring to his treating me in the E.R. just a little while ago.
He smiles.
We turn right onto Elm Drive and then quickly park in front of the Waffle Hut. He cuts the engine and we sit in silence for an awkward moment.
I move to open the sleek door, but he calls out.
“No, don’t. Let me.” I pull my hand back and watch as he comes around to help me out like a perfect gentleman.
I blush just a little. Mom would die happy if she saw how Harris is going out of his way to be a polite. A perfect, non-biker, non-tattooed, non-smoking, gentleman.
The décor of the Waffle Hut is straight out of any 1970’s breakfast joint. The yellow and orange color scheme is slightly nostalgic and eerie in its own right.
“It’s not much…” he quickly looks to explain, “but you’v
e got to try the Belgian waffles.”
A sweet little old woman named Edna takes our order of the famous waffles and some bacon before setting us up with coffee and leaving us to ourselves.
“So…” I search for something to say. “Where are you from?”
I’d always gotten the impression that he wasn’t from around here.
“Rhode Island. I left home when I went to Medical School in Texas and haven’t really been back since,” he narrates.
I sip the coffee and do my best to seem interested. His explanation settles the question regarding his mixed accent.
Harris’s eyes raise to the front entrance he’s faced toward. “Excuse me, Charlie. I’ve got to take care of something.”
I nod to signal that I’m fine by myself for a moment. He pulls down his scrub top as he stands and disappears behind me. Maybe it’s my curiosity getting the best of me, but something makes me turn to watch as he walks away.
Immediately, my eyes settle on his ass, rating it and comparing it. It’s not bad… not by any means, but I can’t quite put my finger on why I’m not loving it. Maybe in some jeans, my mind begins to wander, dressing him. Maybe in some boots, some leather--
I mentally scream at myself, reprimanding myself for subconsciously biking him up.
A shady looking guy sitting alone near the door is also watching the doc. He seems to make eye contact with my impromptu date and I see the back of Harris’s head nod as he passes the tan-skinned young guy.
Once he’s cleared the other man’s booth without stopping, the sitting man stands and follows Harris down a side corridor toward the restrooms. Something’s odd about the interaction… off somehow. The darker-skinned man definitely moved to follow Harris, yet they didn’t even really acknowledge each other in passing.
The sound of dishes placed on the formica table breaks my attention.
“Here ya go, sweetheart. Enjoy.”
Edna sets a massive pile of golden deliciousness before me. I know it’s not polite, and I know it’s against everything my mom raised me to believe, but I don’t have the willpower to wait for my companion to return before stealing a bite.
One little slice of perfectly beautiful crispy bacon is all it takes to offer some distraction to the shitty morning I’m having. I haven’t allowed myself more than a second to deal with the emotions Clink’s return has stirred up.
I know I can’t go there… not now. So… I do what my mom would call ‘eating my feelings’, and I devour another piece of bacon.
CHAPTER FIVE
“After you,” Harris once again proves his debonair gentleman status by holding the metal-framed Waffle Hut door for me as I balance the doggy bag of waffles carefully.
True to his word, they were hands down the best I’ve ever had, though I notice he didn’t touch his much. They were cold by the time he eventually returned to the table.
I’ve never witnessed someone take as long in a restaurant restroom as he did, and I made sure to pay attention to when the other man returned to his table. Not only did Harris spend an obscenely long time in the men’s room, but so did his friend.
Also, the man didn’t even take his seat to finish his coffee. He just… left. Very, very weird.
I don’t know Dr. Walker well at all, and I can’t help but wonder if he, how do I say this? Plays for both teams? Could that have been what he was doing the whole time?
It’s not something I care to ask about, and despite my little performance earlier, I have no intention of getting close enough for it to even be a factor.
We nearly reach the car when I notice something just doesn’t look right. Harris stops short next to me.
“What. The. Fuck?” It’s odd hearing that language from such a gentleman, and I do a double take as I watch him storm past me to circle around his very expensive luxury car, wondering what the hell he’s talking about.
“My tires!” His explanation has me immediately searching the two tires I can see, but it takes me a moment before I notice.
They’re flat.
A sudden realization hits me like a ton of bricks and I begin to look around frantically. Left and right and left again until I see him.
Two blocks down the street, on the opposite side, is Clink… leaning against the same bike I saw him near earlier, and nonchalantly playing with his fingernail.
I begin to clench my teeth, tightening the muscles in my jaw, fighting against myself to stomp off and throw these waffles right in his face before kicking him--
“Charlie? Is that you?” I turn on my heel, my eyes still daggers.
I can see out of my periphery that Harris notices the man approaching me, although he’s very much preoccupied with the very flat tires.
Blue, one of the more, er, colorful, Kingsmen, clad in his leather and a white bandana tied around his forehead, walks toward me on the sidewalk. His bike is parked just a few spots behind us.
I stand in shock, but Blue seems to have expected it, with a hidden smile on his lips. He leans forward and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I growl in his cheek, low enough for Harris not to hear.
“You jackass! I know you had something to do with this!” I whisper through gritted teeth.
“Charlie? Do you… know this person?” Harris joins us, wary of the tough-ass biker. I’m guessing Blue’s not the type of company the good doctor is used to keeping.
“Blue,” the shmuck extends his hand. “I’m a friend of Charlie’s. Work for her pop, too.”
Harris cautiously takes the outlaw’s offer and I can’t help but notice the drastic difference in hand size between the skilled medical professional and the criminal as they shake.
“Dr. Walker,” Harris puts extra emphasis on his title, a stark contrast to his not liking when I myself use the term.
Blue is at least a head taller than the smaller doctor, and it’s obvious that he’s a hell of a lot stronger, too. And he’s not even the largest Kingsmen either! Clink could take Blue any day of the week--
Shit!
There I go again.
My momentary lack of resolve with my thoughts reminds me of the asshole down the street and I turn to watch his take on the scene playing out for him.
His arms are crossed, but he rubs his chin with the nearest hand, seeming to laugh as I wish massive diarrhea on him.
“You havin’ some trouble here, doc?” Blue walks around the car, bending down to inspect the nearest tire. I’m impressed with his own flawless acting skills as it seems as if he’s seeing the damage for the first time.
“You got a spare?” he asks.
Harris stands above the biker, both watching the rubber as if it’ll suddenly fix itself.
“I’d need four,” Harris point out.
Clink moves to take sight of another tire. “No shit?” He then nods.
He stands, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Well, doc. Let’s get you a tow.” Blue whips out his cell. “Just so happens, Charlie’s pop owns a garage. We’ll get you fixed up.”
Blue winks at me as he steps away with the phone to his ear to make his imaginary phone call.
“Well, this is convenient,” Harris notes, genuinely thankful.
I bite my lip. “You have no idea.”
“Tow truck’s on its way. Should be here in less than a half hour. The driver can give you a lift anywhere you need. But,” Blue nods to me, “no use in Charlie gettin’ stuck.”
He walks over to his bike and grabs the helmet from the handlebar. When he returns, he hands it to me.
“I’ll make sure she gets home safe and sound,” Blue volunteers.
Harris returns his attention to his imported car, hand pushing through his hair in utter astonishment. “Uh... uh, yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”
And just like that, the game has played out just the way its mastermind had intended. I’m less inclined to play along, so Blue buckles my helmet and steers me along back to his bike.
I have to hand my doggy bag to Blue seated in front of me,
while I swing my leg over the tall Harley.
He lifts it to his nose, sniffing. “Smells good. You gonna eat this?”
“Choke on it, motherfucker.”
Blue hands it back to me when I’m situated and he laughs as he starts the engine. “There’s the Charlie I know.”
We leave Dr. Walker behind as the bike hightails it down the road. We pass Clink and Blue signals him with two fingers in a mini salute, although the bystander’s gaze isn’t fixed on him.
It’s set on me.
Anger wells up in me and I’m not proud of it, but I let instinct take over and I hurl the thin bag of syrupy waffles at him full force.
We pass quickly and I don’t get to benefit from the results, but it makes me feel just a wee bit better.
~*~
CLINK
I kick the Jaguar’s fender hard enough for my boot to dent it. I decide that the damage isn’t enough… so I kick it again.
“Whoa!” Dewey walks up behind me. “What’d it ever do to you?”
He claps his hand down on my shoulder, but I shrug it off, hard.
“Just see that it gets fixed,” I tell the head mechanic. “And put a tracker on it. I want to be able to see where this piece of shit is, whenever I want. Vince here?”
“He’s inside. Take it easy, though, brother.” Dewey begins to rub his hand over the indentation, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ shame. This here’s a beaut.”
I turn toward the clubhouse, leaving the car where the flatbed has left it.
“It’s a fucking tin can with an expensive price tag.” I rip off the driver’s side mirror in passing.
“Ah, fuck!” Dewey stands back as my violent rage plays itself out.
A few of the other brothers witness my tirade and clear a path for me, knowing that this is no time to get in my way. I’ll knock each and every one of them flat on their asses if they so much as say a word to me.
I find Vince soon enough nursing a beer at the clubhouse bar, sitting next to Jay. They both look up as the afternoon sun fills the dark room with me entering.
“Well, look what the fuckin’ cat dragged in,” Jay stands up and holds out his arm to give me a bro hug, but I sidestep him, still growling.
