by Jordan Marie
I’d like to say my next actions are because I am tired, or the fact that I’m on my period. I’d also like to think it is because of this patient’s crappy attitude. Still, I know the truth. The truth is, Mr. Kane hit a sore spot. I’m vain enough to admit it. His words are startlingly similar to the chewing out the chief resident gave me this morning. The reason I was hauled onto the carpet wasn’t my fault, but a mistake made by a nurse. Yet, since the resident in question is busy banging said nurse, I took the hit. So, with Mr. Kane’s words, I can’t hold back. I don’t even try. I snap.
“I do know what I’m doing. I absolutely know, Mr. Kane. The fact that you’ve had sex with someone who has gonorrhea, upped your chances of getting the disease. Now if you did in fact wrap it up, then possibly you didn’t when you gave or received oral sex. Perhaps you had one night of drunken sex and forgot to wrap your shit up, as you so colorfully stated. I do not know how or with whom you transmitted the disease. What I do know is, that you have in fact contracted gonorrhea, or more commonly referred to as the clap, if that helps. So, what’s going to happen, Mr. Kane, is simple. You can keep a civil tongue in that pretty boy head of yours when speaking to me, and be thankful that you do only have gonorrhea, or you can leave. Now, I will warn you, should you choose to leave, that foul discharge that you’ve kept hidden that keeps leaking out of your penis, will only get worse. That burning sensation you have when you urinate, will only increase. Those swollen glands along your neck, will only get worse. What I suggest you do instead, Mr. Kane, is man up.”
He looks at me strangely. I can’t say as I blame him. In fact, had my chief resident walked in during my speech, I would be in major hot water. However, he didn’t, and I’m tired. Plus, Mr. Kane is the last patient that stands before me and a much needed three days off. So, instead of practicing caution, I forge ahead.
“Pretty boy?” he asks. “Did you just call me a pretty boy?”
“I told you to step up. Take your medicine like a grown man, without belittling those of us who are trying to ensure that you receive quality medical care. Take tests to confirm you don’t have something worse and, finally, make a list of your sexual partners to determine where you contracted the disease and make sure they get treated so that the cycle ends.”
“You just called me pretty boy,” he repeats and I try not to blush.
That was probably going a step too far. Well, in actuality, the entire speech was going too far. If he files a complaint, I am most likely through here. I’m not sure I care at this point.
“Mr. Kane, honestly, it’s late. I’ll have the nurse come in to give you a shot, and I’ll need you to follow up with your family physician…”
“Your eyes sparkle, when you’re mad.”
“I really…what did you say?”
“I said, your eyes sparkle, when you’re mad,” he repeats.
“Are you seriously…you’re hitting on me?”
“Is that so hard to believe?” he asks, as he leans back in the chair, and I think that perhaps I’ve lost it. It’s definitely past time for me to go home.
“Considering I just told you that you have a venereal disease, and the fact that I am your doctor, oddly enough, Mr. Kane, I do find it hard to believe.”
“I don’t happen to believe you, but even if what you say is true, I take the meds you give, then I’m good, right?”
I’m at a loss. I choose to ignore the part about him hitting on me. Hopefully, after tonight, I won’t see him again. So, I concentrate on the only thing that matters.
“Providing you make sure the woman or women you have been having sexual relations with are treated, then yes.”
“Sexual relations? C’mon Doc, let’s call what it is. Fucking.”
At his explicit words, I feel heat creep into my face, and it annoys me. I’m not a prude for God’s sake, it’s just this is not the type of conversation I would choose to have with a patient.
“Regardless of what you call it, you need to contact them and find the source.”
“You’re telling me to get a list of names of everywhere I’ve stuck my dick? Hell, I can’t remember that, Doc. It’s impossible.”
“The symptoms have a limited gestation period, so really the last three weeks to be…”
“That’s impossible,” he says again, interrupting me, and I’m taken back. Seriously?
“You can’t remember who you’ve had sex with in the last three weeks?”
He shrugs. “Not really, no.”
“Of course you can’t,” I mumble, without meaning to. What were my original thoughts of this man? Yeah, scratch that, I’m definitely not attracted now. “Regardless Mr. Kane, that is for you and your doctor to discuss. I will of course give you a shot of antibiotics tonight. Your primary care physician can further treat you when you follow up.”
“Excuse me, Dr. Walker, I heard my boyfriend was here. Oh, Bull baby, are you okay? I told you, you should see a doctor about that cold. How about I take you to my place and make you some soup and…”
I’m frozen as the whore of St. Lutheran’s Hospital walks through the door—otherwise known as Nurse Melissa Allen. The very nurse who was responsible for my ass chewing earlier tonight. Of course, she’s this guy’s girlfriend. Of course. The only bright spot I can find in this scenario is that perhaps Melissa has also passed along the gift of love to Dr. Eldrdige. It really couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.
“I take it you two know each other?” I sarcastically add, since she’s about to smother him in her breasts. To his credit, Mr. Kane pulls away from her and looks more annoyed than anything.
“We’ve been dating for the last three months,” Melissa pipes up proudly.
“Odd, I thought you were dating Dr. Eldridge,” I say, marking the medication orders down in the chart, ready to get out of there.
“We’re not exclusive,” Nurse Allen says.
“We’re not dating, we’re just fucking,” Mr. Kane says, almost at the same exact time.
“I see. Well then, I’m sorry Nurse Allen, but you probably should be tested for gonorrhea and, in fact, you should ask Dr. Eldridge also.”
She gasps and steps back like I slapped her. Oh, if only I could.
“What did you say?”
“It would appear your boyfriend…”
“We’re not dating. We’re just fucking,” Mr. Kane interjects again, and I want to laugh when Melissa shoots him a dirty look.
“It would appear Mr. Kane has contracted the STD. For the sake of your health, you should also be tested. I can order it done now if you’d like?” I say, and I try to keep the glee out of my voice. I would love to ask the hospital tech to run the tests. It would be so much fun to watch it filter through the hospital grapevine.
“That’s not necessary, there’s no way that I have the clap! And if you mention this to anyone, I will make sure that your supervisor…”
“Shut it, Melissa. I think I want you tested,” Mr. Kane interjects.
“I will not,” she counters.
“You will if you want to step foot back in the club.”
Really, this could almost be fascinating if I had any sleep. I haven’t, and I desperately hate being anywhere near Nurse Allen. So, I decide to extricate myself from the situation.
“Well, you two can discuss this later. I’ll have one of the nurses come in to give you your shot, Mr. Kane, and to discharge you. Please make sure you follow up with your doctor.”
“Oh, I will. Don’t you worry about that,” he says and he seems to be smiling a lot for a man who has just been diagnosed with an STD.
I close the door and take a deep breath. Dr. Torres is already being handed charts. I’m officially off duty. Hallelujah!
1
Skye
One Week Later
“You’re looking good tonight, Doc.”
His voice stops me. I hold my head down and breathe out the moment of fear he caused in me. Then I pinch the bridge of my nose, between my eyes, and think ag
ain for the hundredth time…Why me?
“Mr. Kane, this is getting to be a habit,” I tell him, as I turn and lean on my car. He walks closer and doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me. One of his hands rests on my car door, effectively boxing me in as he leans down and gives me a smile.
It should be illegal for a man to look this good. Dark mocha skin reminds me of another weakness I have: hot chocolate. So sinfully enticing that I want to lick every inch of him to see if he’s just as sweet. His dark eyes always seem to glow, and tonight, competes with the diamond stud he’s wearing in his right ear. His body is chiseled to perfection, and he’s a walking billboard-ad for Wrangler jeans. His head is shaved completely bald. I’ve shamefully imagined holding it while he works between my legs. He’s wearing a white t-shirt under his leather cut that proclaims him part of the Savage Brothers’ Motorcycle Club. There’s a patch under his nickname that says Enforcer, and that should be reason number nine hundred and ninety-nine why I should get in my car and run. Not have fantasies about him, like I have from day one. What kind of woman, let alone a professional woman—a doctor completing her residency—already with too much on her plate, daydreams and fantasizes about a man she diagnosed with the clap? A woman who needs therapy, sex, or possibly both. I should be searching for therapists and accepting Dr. Reynolds’ invites out to dinner.
Unfortunately, I’m not that smart. I haven’t been since I met him in the emergency room. Because, here I am, one week after diagnosing him with the clap, standing in a parking garage at the butt-crack of dawn, engaging in a conversation with my own personal stalker. Again, this is becoming a regular thing… every other day, just like clockwork, he’s here waiting for me, boxing me in against my car, talking to me. Flirting, invading my space, making me feel alive, making me get a little more addicted to his smile, his humor, and to his presence…that’s what he’s doing. I should run screaming, but instead, I find myself flirting back. Like I said, I’m not that smart.
“I told you to call me Bull,” he reminds me, letting a finger from his free hand twirl in one of the loose tendrils of my hair.
Once again, I shore up my defenses, which admittedly, are weak around him.
“I remember,” I tell him, turning away, and tucking under his arm so I can open the driver’s side door of my car.
He takes the door out of my hand and holds it. I look over my shoulder at him, already knowing I wouldn’t make my escape that easily.
“Then why do you keep calling me Mr. Kane?” he asks. In our previous meetings, he just says hi, tells me I’m pretty, flirts, and lets me go. Leaving me thinking about him and fantasizing—like an idiot. Apparently tonight, it’s not going to be that easy. This could be bad.
“Because, we’re not friends. I’m the doctor who gave you bad news, and you’re the man crazy enough to date a nurse I work with. A nurse I’m not real fond of and, therefore, I don’t think I should be calling her boyfriend by his first name. Or, you know, even talking to her boyfriend. So, if you’ll excuse me….”
“Sweetheart I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s boyfriend, and I sure as hell ain’t going to start in my thirties. I’m a man,” he says, like I have any doubt.
“Fine, dating. Whatever.”
“I told you I wasn’t dating Melissa. We were just fucking.”
“Yes well, that’s just reason number one thousand.”
“One thousand?” he asks, and I curse my big mouth for the slip. I’m too tired to be talking to this man.
“One of a thousand reasons I should call hospital security instead of humoring you. If you don’t mind Mr. Kane, I’m exhausted. I’m going to go home, kiss Matty and sleep,” I tell him, sliding behind the wheel of my car. I can’t close the door though, because the damn man won’t let go of it. I wonder if I started beating my head on the steering wheel, would he feel sorry for me and let me go home?
“Is Matty your old man?” he asks.
“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”
“Depends on if you’re telling the truth,” he answers, watching me.
“He’s my son,” I sigh out my answer. “My very young son, who hasn’t seen his mom in over twenty-four hours now. It’d be great if you would move so I could close my door and go home. That’d be really good.”
“You got a kid?”
Why didn’t I think of this sooner? All men run when they find out you have a readymade family. Apparently, even man-whore semi-stalkers.
“Yes. So, you can see, you’re wasting your time with me.”
“I don’t think so. I like that you have a kid. In fact, Doc, I’m liking everything I learn about you.”
With that, I do bang my head against the steering wheel. Just once, but still…
“Did you learn the part where I don’t date men who would have anything to do with people like Nurse Allen? Or, who are so careless with their health that they get a venereal disease, and then can’t remember the names of the mountains of women with whom they’ve had sex within a very short, three-week period?”
“Cute, Doc. But, I didn’t ask you out on a date. I’m not really the dating type.”
“Oh yes, I forgot. You skip that part and go straight into sleeping with a woman.”
“Fucking. There was never any sleeping going on. Women get all weird you start letting them stay in your bed.”
“Unbelievable,” I mutter and start my car up. I’ll just drive off and drag him, until he lets go of the door if I have to.
“You know what you should be asking, Doc?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“Ask me how many women I’ve fucked since I met you.”
“Mr. Kane…”
“Not a damn one,” he says, interrupting me. “My dick wants you. And you, Doc? I think you’d be different. You I’d like to date. I think I’d even like sleeping with you.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I tell him, ignoring the small thrill that runs through me. I really need to start therapy soon. I must be close to breaking with reality. That can be the only explanation for this madness.
“Why? You can deny it all you want, Doc, but you’re attracted to me. Your nipples are so hard right now, they’re about to burst through your shirt.”
“That’s because it’s cold out here, and you’re not letting me close my dang car door!” I’m only partially lying, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Whatever you say, Doc.”
“Mr. Kane…”
“Tell me why you won’t go out with me, and I’ll let you go.”
“I think I’ve already made that clear, but since those other one thousand reasons haven’t penetrated, how about the fact that I got your toxicology reports back, and I know about the drugs that you have in your system? Or how about the fact that your eyes are dilated right now? So, even if I am…were attracted to you, you would never be someone I would date. I have my health, my career, and my son to think about. I can’t afford to make bad decisions, like dating someone who could potentially put my health, career, or child in jeopardy. You, Mr. Kane, are a walking poster boy for bad dating decisions. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home to my son.”
He stands away from the door and a look moves over his face that I can’t quite figure out. I want to take my tirade back, because I think it hurt him. I won’t do that, however, and it doesn’t change the truth in what I said anyway. I take off, leaving Mr. Kane in my rearview mirror—exactly where he belongs.
2
Bull
I stand and watch until her taillights blend into the early morning fog. It shouldn’t surprise me the doctor knows I’ve been popping pills. It does. I thought about trying to defend myself, but there really isn’t a defense to give. This is the part where I should turn away and not think about Dr. Skye Walker again. But, I find that I can’t do that.
Something about this woman makes me feel alive in ways I’ve never experienced before, even when I thought I was falling for Carrie. Carri
e had more to do with wanting to protect and care for her. Skye challenges me. The problem is, I’ve dug myself into such a large hole that I’ll never be able to crawl out of it to even see what this woman could possibly be to me. An overwhelming feeling hits me square in the stomach, like a punch, and I know exactly what it is—regret. This woman could have been my future, and I’ve ruined it.
I need to make some big changes if I want to try and pursue something with her—or even just try to get her to talk to me. I rub the back of my neck, hard. It’s another of those fucking headaches coming on. I feel it starting, and like always I’m helpless to stop it. Here’s where I’d take a pill to dull it. Here’s where I’d go lose myself in the pills, booze, and maybe a woman, before trying to sleep it off. I reach in the pocket of my jeans and take out the small brown bottle. The medicine inside rattles, and the sound is a siren’s call, beckoning me to take just one more taste.
I start to do that very thing, until I remember the look of disgust on Skye’s face as she called me on it. She’s a good woman—a strong woman. She’s the type of woman a man could hold on to and never worry about what the future holds. She’s a woman worth trying for.
That’s the thing right there. I haven’t felt like getting out of bed in so fucking long, let alone trying. Skye changes that. I palm the bottle in my hand and tighten it up. I can feel the plastic bending under the weight of my grip. I sit down on the concrete ledge that separates section A from this one. I put the pills beside me and stare at them while I dial my phone.
It takes three rings before the sleepy sounding voice answers, “Hello?” she asks, sounding confused.
“I need a favor,” I tell her straight out, not beating around the bush.
“Who is it?” I hear Crush in the background saying. “It’s just Nic, go back to sleep Cowboy,” she says before her voice comes back to the receiver. Her voice is stronger now, clear and definitely wide-awake. “Let me go into the bathroom. I don’t want to disturb, Zander.”
