by K. S. Adkins
“Shit,” All these years though I knew her name, loved her name I never said it out loud. She always had power over me and I believed saying that person’s name magnified it, so out of fear I didn’t. Instead I called her everything but her name and most of it wasn’t nice. “What else did she say?”
“She said she went to school with you, she even said she’s a fan.”
“Do you think she’s scared of me?”
“Over the lot bullshit? Please. That didn’t faze her. Actually, I think she’s into you,” she says winking. “Kandace is a woman who knows what she wants Rome, trust me on that. We go way back, like a year even.”
“Pretty sure she isn’t coming back, Boss,” I point out, but dammit I wanted her to. I wanted to apologize, explain and hug her if she’d let me. “I don’t know where to find her either.”
“She’s a doctor over at Henry Ford but, you didn’t hear that from me. She values her privacy and I value the use of my mouth. She’s feisty.”
“A doctor? She did it then,” I mumble remembering how hard she worked at it. Kandace was the most focused person I’d ever met in my life. She finished everything she started and never complained. Hell, she even took the time to tutor a piece of shit like me.
“An ER doc at that. She’s great in a pinch, the girl can stitch, just ask anyone. Hell, she even gave Max a wicked cool lightning bolt when he sliced himself trying to cook.” She says proudly. That’s when an idea formed. It was stupid, it was reckless, but if I pulled it off it was genius. Honestly, it was the holy shit of ideas and Jules if anyone, would approve of it.
“If I asked you for a very violent favor what are the odds you’d do it?”
“Pretty good,” she says checking her nails. “But if for some reason I’m not able to do it, I know Venessa would.” Venessa is the clubs DJ and if any of what I heard about her is true, don’t look her in the eye and don’t let her man catch you looking at her at all. I don’t see Venessa or Jules like that and if Rogan Black is scary it’s because you haven’t met the club owner, Max Allen. Max is my height of six foot seven but he’s quiet and calculated. He’s also married to Jules, who until recently defended our country, the city and her friends, violently.
In Max’s office Jules brings Venessa in and tells her I need my ass kicked. Without even thinking it over she shrugs, and gives me a kidney shot. “My face,” I groan holding my side surprised a small woman can hit that hard. “Hit my face.”
“I can’t hit that face,” she says with pleading eyes. “Come on, Rome, that face should be preserved, yeah? I can’t hit it. I’ll go to hell if I hit it. I’m already toeing the line here.”
“We’re helping him get the girl, V,” Jules explains enjoying this. If I thought Venessa was blood thirsty she didn’t hold a candle to Jules. “We’ve got to make him bleed so he can get stitches.”
“That’s fucked up,” she says looking at me again like I’m insane. “You want your face beat in to meet a chick?”
“Yeah.”
“Who’s the chick?”
“Doc Kane,” Jules interrupts. “She hasn’t been back since the lot incident. Rome is getting desperate, he needs a hospital visit. Actually, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself.”
“Oh, well that changes things, I’ll rip your face off when you’re ready.”
“You know her too?”
“I make it a point to know everybody. The Doc is fucking amazing,” she says happily. She doesn’t smile a whole lot but when she does you never know what’s going to happen next. “She’s a good friend and it doesn’t hurt that she packs the place when she opens her mouth. That and she’s sneaky bad ass, yeah? I mean, damn. ”
Before I could ask what sneaky bad ass meant, Jules nods to Venessa, who gives me a quick wink, then does a spider monkey maneuver with her fist connecting with the skin above my eye splitting it wide open. When blood started to pour, I reached up and felt the gash. Like nothing ever happened, Venessa puts her ring back on the opposite finger and smiles in satisfaction. Rogan bought her a rock, a big one.
“Wow,” says Jules getting on her toes to look. “Nice work V, he’s really a bleeder.”
“I’m going to hell for this,” she says shaking her head looking at the damage.
“I’ll save you a seat,” I tell her with a smile. Walking out the front door to grab my car it takes me three tries to start it up. Anticipation takes over when I merge on to the freeway and nerves kick in when I park and make my way in through emergency.
Three times in my life I’ve felt nerves like this. The first being every time I was near her, the second when I was waiting to see if I would be picked up in the draft and the third when I was handed my sentence. None of those situations ever worked out well for me either.
“May I help you?” asks the receptionist gawking at the river running down my face.
“Kandace,” when I realized this is the first time I’ve said her name out loud and was breathless when, I said it again. “I need to see Kandace.”
Every Tuesday at twelve on the nose he would come to the library smelling like Polo cologne and I had to check myself, literally stop myself from sniffing him. He was never prepared; he drew out our sessions pretending he didn’t understand the material and wanted to socialize not study. There was this part of me that didn’t want to study either. I wanted to listen to the crazy things he had to say, hear his tales of dominating the field but it always came back to dominating the female population. That, I didn’t like.
Today he was hungover, bad. He smelled like jager and bad decisions, it pissed me off. His clothes were even more wrinkled than usual and if I had to guess, he crawled from some random’s bed to get here. With his sunglasses firmly in place, I couldn’t read him. Opening my book, I wait for him to open his but he doesn’t. Leaning in I see he’s sound asleep.
“Get up!” I scream in his face at the top of my lungs. There were gasps and objects that fell because my scream scared the shit out of every student in the library but, I didn’t care. My outburst had the desired effect, Roman fell out of his chair and on his ass but he was also awake.
Every human on campus catered to this boy and I refused to be one of them, he needed to work for what he wanted.
“You are one mean bitch, you know that?” he says dusting himself off like he fell in the dirt.
“I am one mean bitch who has three quizzes and an anatomy lab to prep for, superstar and if you can’t show up sober,” I growl. “Then don’t show up at all.”
“And miss this?” he asks smirking at me and dammit that smirk was worth money.
As a second year resident, I have decent flexibility in my schedule.
Seeing no reason to turn a shift down since I wasn’t going to Lush anymore, I picked up tonight’s rotation needing the distraction. Though my body was present my mind was miles away. I wanted to sing, dammit. I made myself a promise that if I ever saw him again, I’d find my voice to tell him he didn’t break me. That because of him I never took shit from anyone. That I could defend myself and that I didn’t need him or his big firm juicy muscles.
Oh, who was I kidding? I wanted to tell him I missed him. That every day he was locked up, I worried. But it didn’t matter what I wanted because you can only kick someone so many times before they hide to protect themselves. That’s where I was at the moment, hiding.
In college my focus wasn’t on hooking up, it was on getting done and getting out. On occasion I’d go to a party but wouldn’t stay long because I had to pull long hours and studying with a hangover sucked. Even back then he didn’t look like he belonged with them, he was better than their party bullshit but he wouldn’t listen. He was meant for the NFL but alcohol and one stupid girl ruined it all for him. I was at the infamous party (crying on the side of the house, of course, but still…) where it all went down only because Roman had invited me. Showing blew up in my face then his bad choices blew up in his. That night Roman went from being a God amongst students to a
warning.
The media portrayed him as the black football star who raped a white woman. They used the color of his skin as a catalyst to warn white girls everywhere that black men were to be feared. Coaches, staff, and players all used him as an example from that day on. They crucified him publicly, even took his number down from the stadium wall to wipe away evidence of his reign there. I’ll be the first to admit Roman Peterson was a lot of things but, a rapist wasn’t one of them.
No one from his team stood by him. Michelle Porter’s father was a very wealthy man who could make things happen and he did. He made it a mission to make an example out of Roman. The bastard even started a non-profit called P.O.D Protect Our daughters. The bitch of it all was she wasn’t even a student, just a party girl and a destroyer of life. Yeah, he had enough drama for one lifetime, even if I was still attracted to the guy I knew he could be, I had to stay away. My heart couldn’t handle him breaking it twice.
Putting my notes in the system and handing the nurse the chart for discharge, I was heading for coffee when another nurse comes around the corner for me. “Dr. Kane,” she says nervously. “There’s a man here demanding to see you, he’s uh…”
“He’s uh what?”
“Huge,” she whispers, “Really hot and kind of bleeding all over the waiting room. He even growled at the security guard. He won’t see anyone but you.”
“Does this bleeder have a name?” I ask enjoying her anxiety. She was fresh out of school and very big on following the rules. Give her a year, that’ll change. Doctor’s like bartenders get regulars, no doubt it was one of them asking for me. For some reason people liked me and why shouldn’t they? I was amazing. “Roman Peterson,” she says looking at her sheet.
Then it was my turn to feel anxious. He was here? To see me? Shit. “I put him in two,” she tells me with a smile.
“I’ll be right there,” I mutter as I run to the bathroom to check the mirror. I really shouldn’t have checked the mirror. Now I was conscious of my sad appearance and worried about what he thought, I always worried about what he thought.
Running my hands over my lab coat and then through my hair, I open the curtain to exam room two, take one look at the gash above his eyebrow and forgot about my nerves and the past. Roman needed stitches stat, he needed me.
Even with him lying down he was enormous. Feeling small was rare for me. I’m a tall woman at five ten which is why I wear flats, never heels, unless I’m feeling sassy. Putting a glove on, I approach him slowly. He hasn’t said hello but then again neither have I, and this was very awkward. The problem with either of us talking is that it leads to fighting. I didn’t want to fight with him anymore; I never liked fighting with him at all.
“The gash,” I begin looking him over. “Trouble at work?”
“Something like that,” he says quietly. That voice. It was deeper now, grainy and I wanted to hand him my chart and ask him to read from it. He would make medical jargon sexy. “Mind if I take a closer look?”
Nodding at me to proceed, I grab what I need to clean the wound before stitching it. Gently applying pressure to see the depth of the cut he makes no noise or movement. “Lucky for you it’s a clean slice. Looks like the assailant wore a ring, a big one. I’ll call the nurse in to numb the area and then I’ll come back and stitch it. You’ll be out of here in no time.”
“You do it,“ he orders me, which caught me off guard. “Not the nurse, you.”
Nodding in agreement because the sooner I finish the sooner he leaves, I fill the syringe with a small amount of lidocaine and numb the area myself, as requested. “You should feel the effects right away, let me know when you’re ready---”
“I’m ready.”
“Oh,” Grabbing my tray and instructing him to stay still, I begin the task of stitching him up. Reminding myself that he was a patient not a fantasy, I ignored that it was his skin under my gloves. I also ignored the heat I felt throughout my body being this close to him, God I was pathetic. Making sure the each stitch was precise; I wipe his brow and let him know I was finished. “Thanks,” he says sitting up. He was so big and smelled so good, I was getting light headed just sharing room with him, what was wrong with me! I haven’t been laid in so long… “When do I come back to get them out?” asking me this threw me off, again because I wanted him to come back even if it was to remove stitches.
“The stitches I gave you will dissolve on their own,” I explain calmly. “Just keep them clean and let your body do the rest.”
Just then my pager goes off which was a swift reminder that it was time to go. “Take care, Roman,” extending my hand preparing to leave quickly he takes it in a gentle grip and my breath froze. My God, his hands were huge…
“When are you coming back to sing?” he asks, not releasing my hand but rubbing his thumb over the top of it giving me chills. Five minutes, I just wanted five minutes to look at his eyes. Those eyes are the most beautiful, haunted orbs I have ever seen. When they lock on me and because his are so bright blue I could vaguely see my reflection in them. Today his eyes were sincere, calm and curious. But I knew what they looked like when they narrowed, were pissed off and cruel. Taking my hand back he almost reaches for me but stops himself. Shut it down, Kandace.
“I’m not.” I tell him backing away.
“Why?”
“I’m being paged, I’m sorry but I have to go.”
“Is it because of me?” Those eyes in pain about dropped me where I stood. Roman in pain of any kind was difficult, but this was a self-inflicted pain and I had to remember I didn’t cause it. Even though everything in me demanded I fix it.
“No, yes... I mean yes. Yes it is because of you, but not in a personal way. Given your situation and our turbulent history, no, I won’t be back. So that’s a yes and a no, I think…” stumbling with my words was new for me. I didn’t like not being able to make my point. Taking a deep breath I avoid his eyes in favor of my hands. “We don’t know each other anymore, if we ever did. Ten years ago I would have come back, because you asked. But we both know what happens when I take a chance on you. I’m not her anymore, Roman.”
Turning away, I head to my next emergency who like me, wasn’t so lucky. More than anything I wanted to spend time with him, ask him about his life but it wasn’t in the cards for us. Yes, he’s changed but the hurt he left me with hadn’t and I wasn’t sure it ever would.
“I’ll be seeing you again, Doc.”
His promise froze me in my tracks because I knew that tone, he was serious. And if he was serious, I was fucked.
Roman Peterson should come with a warning label.
“I don’t see you at parties,” I tell her wondering why a hottie like this wasn’t blazing campus in a bikini. Now, I’d be pissed if she did but I would like to see her relax just once.
“Probably because your vision is always blocked by a cheerleader’s tits.” She says flipping the page.
“I don’t always bang squad members,” I tell her, pissed by her dismissal. “I’ve had a few rounds with the tennis team, they have firm grips. Oh and the swim team chicks have the tightest thighs.”
“And the basketball players have big hands, the track team can go long distances, I get it.”
“You have a sense of humor, teach,” I laugh. “Who knew?”
“Clearly not you.”
Epic-fucking-fail.
Going back to work without a date or at the very least a number, was going to get me razzed for eternity. I’ve known Jules and Venessa for a few months now and they are, by far, the most hard core women in Detroit. They don’t see obstacles, they just plow through whatever’s in their way. The word ‘no’ is not in their vocabulary. In college, I never hurt for female company. In fact, back then I didn’t even have to ask, they just threw themselves at me and that was that. Granted it got old in a hurry, but it also didn’t help me learn to talk to girls the right way either.
Kandace wasn’t a girl anymore, she was a woman now, a fucking doctor. That
year at school with her was the highlight of my college career. We talked about a lot of shit and I couldn’t believe she found me entertaining. She also never found my extra curriculars interesting but, I always had her full attention otherwise. When I spoke to her about real shit she listened. Then I always ruined it when I brought the notches up.
When she opened that curtain I stopped breathing. Man, was she fucking perfect. When her tits were inches from my mouth while she stitched me up I wanted to cup them, put my face between them and worship them. Kandace had large full tits. Christ, her tits are all I can think about then and now. In school she wore baggy clothes and hid herself. I wanted under that lab coat, bad. Christ, I could still smell her. This wasn’t over, fuck no, it was just getting started. Now I just had to get creative. Coming in through the back, I do my best to ignore everyone like always. I’m here to work not make friends but when Jules spots me, I knew she’d have me talking in under thirty seconds.
It’s impossible to tell her no.
“Details,” she says checking out Kandace’s handy work.
“I saw her obviously,” I say pointing to my head.
“And? Did you score a date? Get a feelski?”
“She was called to emergency before I could ask,” I lie. Bottom line was I bitched out but I wasn’t telling her that. I also wasn’t sharing shit about who I used to be either.
“Did you punk out, Rome?”
“She’s really not coming back here,” I mumble like a kicked puppy.
“Well, I know how to fix that!” she says slapping me on the shoulder. “Meet me back here tomorrow after your shift, you’ll see her again, pinky promise.”
Nodding to her, I wonder how Jules would make the impossible happen. Had I pursued Kandace in college I had a feeling life would have taken a different turn for me. As in, I’d have had one.
While I was serving time she was saving lives. The woman was out of my league then and now, period. Proving myself to her wasn’t going to be cake, it would take work. After training in my basement to clear my head I walked over to the mirror to see what she sees. A pissed off twenty nine year old ex-con bouncing at a bar with no degree and no friends.
