Doctor's Orders

by Amber Rochelle Gillet

  My new elderly friend chimed in. “Honey, go back and leave that suit at whatever office forced it on you in the first place. Besides, you got a long winter coat!”

  I paused with indecision, caught between someone’s grandma and the man who signed my measly paychecks, which ultimately didn’t justify wearing this non-flame retardant slack set which made my skin appreciate cotton on a whole new level.

  I spoke back into the receiver. “Fine, I’ll be there in 10 minutes!”

  This sudden surge of bravery would cause me to miss the approaching ride, but the fire in my gut needed to be satisfied. After looking over my shoulder for one last nod of reassurance from the Cicely Tyson look alike, I pulled on my mittens with confidence and tore a path down 68th street, making it to the home base in a record eight minutes.

  Barbara, Mr. Meter Maid Boss’ secretary who walked as if she had a carefully placed Dorito between her ass cheeks that she was worried about crushing, nonchalantly informed me that Bob refused to engage me face to face because of the unstable tone I used during our call. But I was determined to accomplish my mission, so I removed my coat, stripped off my uniform and deposited that hideous pile of dark gray material on the counter as the plastic buttons that were bathed in gold enamel created a hollow clanking sound against the laminate top that divided me and the parking ticket empire.

  “And I’ll take a receipt!”

  Everyone in the sitting room stared on in awe; some in sheer horror others with giddy delight, and then it occurred to me that the balls I sprouted on the walk over, were suddenly starting to shrink. A split second decision reminded me that forfeiting approximately fifty dollars at this point could very well be in my best interest so I quickly retrieved my coat off of the floor, and pretty much galloped toward the exit as if the place had suddenly caught fire.

  “Excuse me… hey, wait!” A husky man with a reddish beard and broad shoulders stepped to his left, temporarily obstructing my escape path and extended a folded piece of paper in my direction. He grinned as my clammy fish hand accepted it, and displayed the most magnificent set of straight, white teeth that I had ever seen.

  “You ever wear braces?” I couldn’t help myself, curiosity always won over common sense, no matter what predicament I was in.

  “Never. First time stripping down to your undies, excuse me…union suit, in public?”

  “Definitely.” I studied his eyes closely. “What’s this?”

  “My number. I like your attitude and for whatever it’s worth, you made the right decision on that uniform.”

  “Well thank you…” I opened the paper. “Jace.”

  “You’re welcome cutie.” He pushed the door open and slightly leaned away so that I could pass by before he returned to his seat.

  I’m not sure if it was my newly found freedom from polyester or the unexpected encounter with the strapping man whose warm, buff chest slightly brushed my arm as I finally ran from the building, but the rush that was pumping through my veins was phenomenal. I even unbuttoned my coat while walking, showing off my bad ass self. That’s right; Paula Stone was wearing long underwear in public.

  After returning to the bus stop, I retrieved Jace’s number out of my coat pocket and stared at it. Alice would be beyond livid if she ever caught wind that I had spoken to a stranger without an emergency taking place, it might even result in a whole week of breakfasts without character, but this was a sacrifice worth making. That dazzling smile was pleasantly seared into my memory and although I wasn’t completely positive, it felt like my ovaries hiccupped, similar to when a house boiler adjusts itself the first time the heat is turned on after a long summer. Oddly, I couldn’t recall that same deep feeling after talking to Dr. Tom.

  Carefully, I re-folded the paper and tucked it down snuggly into back pocket of my wallet where money would be kept, if I had any. It was likely that there could be a day when he might just help save me from relying on the fund that Mitexi was hell bent on setting up to pay for my lack of physical encounters.

  High pitched screeching brakes made my ears ring as the city bus collected a mixed group of high school kids and moms with strollers from the stop approximately a quarter mile down the street. I looked down and took note of a growing ice patch that was between me and the edge of the sidewalk when a familiar white SUV pulled into the No Parking zone.

  “Sugar plum!” Cigar smoke billowed from the half open window as Uncle Gordie hollered past Aunt DeDe’s well coifed hairdo.

  “Hey there.” I did my best to avoid eye contact.

  “Don’t you have a car yet? Business hasn’t picked up much for you I see.”

  “It’s only been like a week since I officially opened!”

  Aunt DeDe cut him off and rolled the window down all the way. “Where are your clothes? Please tell me you are not moonlighting as a streetwalker?” Her eyes shrunk into tiny slits as though she was turning on her x-ray vision before looking back to Uncle Gordie. “You know, I always wondered if those girls only worked in warm weather because of the skimpy clothes, but it appears that Paula must be wearing the alternative.”

  “It’s been a long day and I’d rather not talk about it.” Shifting the topic of conversation back to her would hopefully save me. “Looks like you are all tarted up. Big plans?”

  Immediately her rigid face lit up. “Off to the Social Club! It is the Annual Winter Fashion Show.” Then she winked at me, which meant Tad was working. Yuck.

  Uncle Gordie popped the lock. “Hop in; we’ll drop you wherever you are going.”

  “There is no way I’m sitting in the back of that truck unless you have a fresh towel laid down.” He looked at me anxiously as if to say shut the fuck up. Granted, last time I saw his naked ass it was humping against the hood, but what happened on rainy days? I couldn’t imagine the interior had never been tainted.

  “Gordon! Is there something else I should know about?” Aunt DeDe’s mood reverted full swing and downgraded to pissed off. Her boney hands trembled as she lit a cigarette so long it put Cruella de Vil to shame.

  “Awe come on De, I don’t know what the girl is talking about! She is wearing thermals in public for god sakes!”

  “Did you bang that slut in the back of this truck? I knew we should have taken mine, you are so disgusting! We are trading in this hotel on wheels tomorrow, do you understand me?”

  I like to think I am successful at jumping on most opportunities that come my way and now was my chance to dive. They had become so engrossed in their argument that all interest in me and my attire had become obsolete.

  I took indiscreet baby steps backward until I was out of window view, and then briskly scurried to the next snow pile opening as the bus slowed down just enough for me to step on. Quickly I tossed my token into the cup, watched it spin six times before it finally slipped into the hole and rested atop the others.

  The driver questioned me as I passed his seat. “You know them?” He pointed to Uncle Gordie’s Escalade.

  “No sir, I have no idea who they are.”

  4

  Thankful to have finally reached my destination; I pushed open our office door, which had a new frosted window with ‘PMS Private Investigators’ etched in the glass, and took off my coat while observing the room with relief and appreciation. Mitexi had really done a fantastic job at pulling the place together the past few days.

  At the entrance, a mahogany desk and chair sat opposite to the camel back sofa which had recently been upholstered with durable navy corduroy. In an effort to create privacy while engaging clients on their cases, we purchased an Oriental rice screen divider which was framed with Rosewood and positioned two khaki Coaster club chairs and a simple rectangle coffee table behind it. The walls were painted a soothing light blue that made you feel like the water from the harbor outside was gloriously spilling into the room from the enormous picture window with sliding panes, that we were so grateful to have.

  “What happened to your clothes?” Alice’s color faded as she
waited for my response.

  “Someone robbed me!” The tips of my ears were starting to crisp from the heat they let off.

  “But you still have your purse?”

  “He didn’t want it! I tried to hand it over but that masked culprit threatened to hurt me in ways that I can’t bear to repeat, unless I gave up the uniform. Luckily because of the cold, he let me keep these on.” I pulled at my thermals to emphasize what was already very obvious.

  Mitexi immediately offered to grab me a cup of water and hang up my coat, allowing me ample time to regain my composure after such a ‘traumatic experience’.

  Alice gasped in disbelief. “My baby girl! What kind of world are we living in?”

  “You were right mom, if I had let you take all of it to the Goodwill box this morning, this probably never would have happened. I should have listened to you.” My head hung low like a child who was caught drawing on the dining room walls, in an effort to play up the moment.

  “Does that mean you are done with that job forever?”

  “Mr. Meter Maid Boss said there was a backorder on uniforms since Margie, the hefty Creole woman split the seam on her 5th pair of pants this month trying to retrieve spare change off the sidewalk for her rainy day fund. So we amicably agreed to part ways because I was so close to reaching my end date anyhow.”

  While being pulled in tight and subjected to five years’ worth of hugs I had apparently missed out on, I grinned at Mitexi over my mother’s shoulder, completely overjoyed at my ability to spin such a tale of misfortune. But within seconds, my high quickly bottomed out to nonexistent as I noticed the lime green catastrophe I regrettably chuckled over this morning, dangling from a pink satin hanger which was hooked over my fancy new wrought iron curtain rod.

  “What the hell is that? Is that what you brought me to wear?” The blood drained from my face and my fingertips tingled.

  “Yes! Remember you asked to borrow it?” Pride beamed from Alice’s eyes as if I would be absolutely delighted that she had remembered. “After you called and asked that I drop you something to wear it came back to me; I know it will look fantastic, the clingy material may even be successful in showing off the limited shape you have! Everyone knows if a man can see some hips, his primal instincts trigger and he’ll automatically be inclined to try and bed you.”

  “I was joking!”

  Mitexi interrupted our bickering. “Well hips or no hips, it is 4:15 so you need to make a decision on your style. Are you going with Deliverance or Cagney and Lacey?”

  5

  I promised Alice I would choose Cagney and Lacey if she would please, for the love of God, leave before the Pediatrician arrived. After several minutes of relentless coaxing, she finally took the bait when Mitexi offered to bring Phillip, Enola and Istas over for dinner tomorrow evening.

  I hastily donned the crisply ironed pantsuit and although I preferred to leave the coat open, Alice insisted that when buttoned, it cinched my waist just enough to show some resemblance to actual curves.

  Dr. Tom arrived exactly at 4:30, which bothered me. Timely people made me nervous; I believe in at least waiting a few minutes and not appearing too eager. If he was going to continue to be so prompt, I would really have to rethink my willingness on engaging in a future together.

  He had changed from his raggedy morning jogging pants and faded sweatshirt to a silk sweater and John Varvatos dark indigo jeans; his Gucci loafers kept his look professional.

  “So should we get right to business?” I escorted him to the back side of the divider and waited as he settled into one of the club chairs before I sat.

  “Wow! That is some retro outfit you pulled together!” He spoke as if he hadn’t even acknowledged my question, clearly he was distracted and I’m not sure it was in a positive way.

  “I guess you could say it’s an heirloom.”

  “I’ll say. Are you going on another stake out after this? You really have some great disguises!”

  I released an extended sigh. “Thanks.” What else could I say?

  Dr. Tom straightened his posture. “So do you follow pets or just people?”

  This was interesting. “There shouldn’t be any reason why I can’t follow pets too; I guess I’d never really considered it. What kind are we talking about?”

  Several of the defined wrinkles in his forehead began to smooth as he relaxed and let his body sink deeper into the chair. “My dog Triangle, he’s a chocolate lab. Zach has a thing about shapes and since he picked him out, I couldn’t object to the name.”

  “So what is the situation?”

  He folded his hands on his lap as if he was prepping for a speech and I realized that they were hairless and quite smooth. How could I have not noticed before? This potential partner check off list was steadily declining; a thirty something man who was on time and soft to the touch was not exactly what I had in mind. Now Jace on the other hand; he was rugged, reeked of testosterone yet displayed a refined mannerism that…

  “Ms. Stone? Are you listening to me?” He crossed his legs and reached out to tap my left knee.

  “Oh yes! I’m so sorry, please continue.”

  “As I was saying, we adopted him as a pup, but within months he began to display a very specific and unusual talent, so we decided to enter him in a few dog shows. Everyone was really taken aback by his performances; several judges even confided to us that a small fan base was beginning to take life.”

  “What kind of unusual talent?”

  Edging forward even closer to me, he expressed the same delight of a stage mother who has her eye on the 1st place trophy.

  “He could walk on his hind legs! Occasionally when we would call him in for dinner or to go for a ride in the car, he’d sit up and then just rise to his back legs and walk over, as if he was you or me!”

  Okay buddy. “You say could walk on his hind legs…he doesn’t anymore?”

  “Well he can, but it’s a much bigger challenge these days. You see, all of that talent was partnered with some very bad habits.”

  “Like pooping on the wrong lawns?”

  A look of disgust overtook his even expression, as if he was too well bred to talk about dog crap. “He’ll chew on gum he’s snagged from the sidewalk, eat trash like a goat and will lick our kitchen floor from one end to the other, never missing a crack. Oh! And let’s not forget that he eats his share of rocks, nothing smaller than a golfball of course.”

  “I’ve heard that some Emperor penguins eat rocks to help with digestion.” I was proud of my knowledgeable fact, although Dr. Tom didn’t seem equally impressed and continued on with his story.

  “Well, one morning after a regular vet checkup, I loosely looped his leash around the door handle to my car so that I could buckle Zach in and…” Tears began to well in his eyes.

  I called over my shoulder to Mitexi. “Bring in some tissues!” Reaching out for his bald hand, I encouraged him to continue. “It’s okay, take your time.”

  Mitexi, whose ear had obviously become one with the rice screen that separated us, appeared without hesitation and extended the box to our client. Her devious expression blossomed into a half grin over his weakened state. Without waiting on a formal invitation, she pushed me over and sat close, both of us intent on the outcome of his intriguing tale.

  He dabbed the inner corner of each eye. “He wasn’t a wanderer! There was no reason for me to secure it tightly, but the leash came loose and Triangle, curious by nature of course, made his way two cars over and began to ingest a Styrofoam cup sticky from hot chocolate residue, which was partially tucked under a tire.”

  “Oh boy.” Mitexi and I chimed in unison. We held hands, feeling joint devastation over the fact that I could never have sex with this whimpering man.

  “I know it.” Tears rolled down Dr. Tom’s even toned cheeks. “Before I realized that he had broken free, the car began to back up and even though Triangle scurried to move, he wasn’t quick enough.” The sobs grew louder with each breath. “His
right rear leg was crushed!”

  As his hyperventilating gasps fell to heavy signs, I dove right into my next question. “Well what happened? He must have survived or you wouldn’t have asked me to find him.” Unless he was hoping that I could track down the dog’s spirit. He did say pets, not ghosts’ right?

  His somber mood prevailed as he slumped back into the chair again, looking exhausted. “Triangle survived, but the leg didn’t; it needed a full amputation.” After retrieving a snap shot from his sweater pocket, he extended it our way. “Take a look for yourself.” .

  “Whoa, no way!” Mitexi, who has always been driven by straight emotion, offered no excuses for offending the man and stood to return to the reception desk. “That is one photo I don’t need to see.”

  I gently accepted it as he loosened his grip. “Holy shit!” I couldn’t believe my eyes, but there that dog was, standing on one back leg and leaning against a center island in their kitchen; while Zach and another unidentified, but very good looking man, ate breakfast.

  Dr. Tom’s eyes came back to life. “I know it! He wasn’t even deterred by the missing limb. The dog is simply amazing!”

  “Who is the gentleman next to Zach?” Let’s not forget about the smoking hot fella.

  His response was agitated, as if I had taken away from the emotion of the story. “Seth, we are very close, almost like family.”

  To ensure I wouldn’t lose this account because of my sex deprivation and wandering eyes, I administered damage control and returned the subject back to the Triangle’s welfare. “Maybe he is more of a circus dog then a show dog.”

  “What an ironic observation!” He quickly rose and stared out the window, his own reflection grimly mirroring back at him, as if the pain was too unbearable to manage. “Upon full recovery, we began to enter him in shows again and his followers became obsessed! T-shirts could be found at the concession stands with screen prints of the dog, enclosed in an upside down triangle, each of his paws touching a point. Our very own three legged sensation!”