by Serena Vale
“Can I make you a drink?” the god asked, his voice full of faux sympathy.
“N-no,” the girl said, taking another step back. “I just… oh, god…” She turned and walked away, not even bothering to look back and melted into the crowd.
Once she and the godly bartender were alone she looked back to him, feeling her cheeks flush. “Wife?” she asked, her voice almost a squeak.
He smiled and the full power of the expression returned and when he spoke, so had the mesmerizing tones of his voice. He gave a small shrug. “I’m optimistic.”
Carlie felt her eyes grow wider. This was a dream. It had to be. Men like this didn’t talk to women like her. It just… it didn’t happen. It was like saying that the sun rose in the north every day, it just didn’t fucking happen. And that it should happen to her was even more amazing. Things like this didn’t happen to her… gods never took notice of her. Not ever.
But as she watched him she felt a smile creasing her face. He returned the expression and it felt like a long time had passed between them until his eyes darted up over her shoulder and into the crowd. A small look of regret grew on his features. “Your friend is coming back, looks like she struck out.”
Carlie looked back over her shoulder and saw Jackie pushing her way through the crowd, looking back over her shoulder as if checking to make sure that no one was following her. There was a look of some panic on her face and she could sense instantly that the time had come for them to make a speedy exit.
Shit! She has to fuck up now? Now, of all damn times! Dammit!
She turned back to the god behind the bar. “Uh… I… I…”
He held up a hand to silence her. “It’s okay.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He put it on the bar and slid it towards her. “I’ll call you.”
Carlie felt her heart quicken at the gesture and she looked back up to him, wonder filling her expression. Part of her felt like this was some kind of a joke, but she knew the cell phone on the counter top. It was pricy… too expensive for a bartender to afford. She tried to make sense of it and turn that sense into words, but all that came out was a small string of incoherent words. “Uh… but… what…?”
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll see me before you know it,” he added with a wink.
“Carlie!” said Jackie’s voice from behind her.
Reluctantly, she turned to her friend and saw her stepping towards the bar in a rush, a look of anxiety was on her face. “Carlie! We need to go. Now!” she said tersely.
She knew that tone of voice. Jackie had fucked up whatever pick up tricks she had tried to use. It seemed pretty obvious that she had tried to use her wiles on the wrong biker gang member. Even so, she couldn’t believe how horrible Jackie’s timing was this time. She spared a look at her watch and found that Jackie had managed to completely cluster fuck the whole deal in less than ten minutes.
It was a new record.
“But…” Carlie began.
“No questions, dammit, there’s no time. C’mon!” Jackie said, picking her up off of her stool practically thrusting her towards the door.
Carlie turned back to the bar.
The god that had stood there was gone. All the remained was the cell phone, right where he had left it. She didn’t know what it was that drove her to it, but she impulsively scooped up the phone and slipped it inside the small purse that she carried. Her eyes sought out the handsome figure that had spoken to her… called her his wife… but she didn’t seem him anywhere. Just like a god to up and vanish when she wanted nothing more than to see him again. And as Jackie towed her anxiously towards the door she found it ironic that for the first time in her life, she thought that Jackie had finally picked a good place for them to visit.
Chapter 3
When she woke up in bed the next morning there was a pleasant feeling swirling through her body and the feeling was palpable, like hot cocoa on a cold day. She was partially tangled in her own sheets and her apartment was quiet, like the world had gone away to leave her alone with her thoughts until she had drifted off to sleep. And it had been a pleasant sleep with thoughts of seductive voices… quiet corners… and the handsome bartender in less than what he had been wearing.
The thought made her blush.
This was unnatural for her. Carlie was no stranger to wild and impure thoughts about men she had just met, but this was the first time that it had felt like such thoughts were easily within her reach.
They are, aren’t they?
It was a difficult question to ask.
She wondered, briefly, if the whole thing had been a dream. Some of it seemed so perfect… so surreal… that it could only have been a dream. A god among men, who had the look of a man who could have had any woman that he wanted, and he’d chosen her. But had he really chosen her? Or was this some kind of a game that men were apt to play? Had the whole thing been in her imagination?
The logical part of her mind told her that it was more than likely. But then she found the cell phone that had been given to her by the handsome god sitting on her bedside table and felt a surge of excitement course through her that warmed her better than hot coca ever could. The simple device was proof enough that what she had experienced had been real. Like a god had left her some divine piece of jewelry as proof of the visit to earth.
I got a direct line to a god, she thought with a smirk.
After that, she felt like she was walking on air.
For the rest of her morning everywhere she went, the phone went with her. She showered with the phone on her bathroom counter. She cooked and ate breakfast with the phone sitting on her kitchen table. She dressed with the phone sitting idly on her bed. And when she went to work she put it on silent and slipped it into her back pocket, though it was against hospital regulations.
She waited anxiously for the phone to ring, feeling her heart quicken to unnatural speeds every time she heard an unfamiliar cell phone ring. But every time she checked, she found that the phone had remained silent. And every time she had a break at the hospital in which she worked she would look through the phone, hoping to find some clue as to the identity of the mysterious barkeep that had spoken to her.
God, I don’t even know his name, she thought every time she looked through the phone. Amusingly, she felt happy enough to simply think of him as ‘God’.
Unlike most phones, she found this one to be strangely empty of any of the usual features. There were only a few pictures in it, and regrettably none of them were of her mystery man. There weren’t even any of people, but of inanimate things. Most of the pictures were of motorcycle parts, there was one of an empty field that stood somewhere on a bluff overlooking the ocean though she could not determine where. There was really nothing revealing in any of it.
She found that the call history was full of blocked numbers, and of all of those that weren’t she recognized them as being from local numbers. She looked those up and found that there was no registry for any of them. In short there was really nothing that she could use to try and identify the handsome bartender contained in the small device. Nor was there any contact list inside of it… no apps… no voicemails… no texts… there was nothing. He hadn’t even enabled any security features on it, she was free to open and scan it at will without any trouble. The phone remained just as mysterious as its owner.
As the day wore on she felt some of her excitement beginning to fade. The handsome man had not reached out to her as he’d promised. There was something demoralizing in that. She felt like a child, promised some prized toy or piece of candy for good behavior by an adult that had failed to deliver.
By the end of the day she felt her heart had whittled some, checking the phone a final time before leaving work and finding that it still had not rung. The feeling took her back to her days in high school when one boy or another had asked her for her phone number and she spent all of her time staring at the phone and trying to will it to ring, but to no avail.
By the tim
e she returned home she set the phone aside and almost forgot about it. Once or twice she gave it a furtive glance and rushed to check it to see if it had rung but found nothing since the last time she had checked it. She felt like a character in all of the old myths that had been visited by a god and left with some token as proof of the visitation only to find that the glittering item seemed to have become dull and faded. Like everything that she had experienced had not been real.
She went to sleep with a heavy heart for it. She tried to imagine the handsome god in her mind once again. And while the image of him lingered perfectly in her mind, she could not hold onto it. It was like watching clouds move in the sky until the shape became unrecognizable and thin until it was gone altogether.
When she woke the next day she again checked the phone. The only thing that had changed about it was that its battery had gone down to half of its life. She put it on battery-saving mode and went about her usual routine, showering, eating, dressing, and finally making her way to work. She managed to restrain herself from checking the phone constantly and only looked at it the once on the cab ride to her job.
The morning passed as it always did for her. She met with patients, conversed with coworkers, did her paperwork, cleaned instruments and washed her hands, and did as her training bid her to do. She did much of it almost mechanically and always that lingering feeling of depression rested on her shoulders like a yoke that she didn’t care to carry.
Her hopes of seeing the handsome god again began to fade. A disappointed feeling entered into her gut and she was prepared to resume her life just as if the strange night had never happened. She still had her life and maybe Jackie would want to visit some other place in the near future where she might meet another captivating man such as the godly bartender.
Not likely, she thought with some regret.
The phone rang.
Chapter 4
At first it didn’t even register until she remembered that she had set the device on silent and the vibrations of it tickled her through her back pocket. When the realization washed over her she felt her heart go into immediate overdrive as she fumbled for the device. She was thankful that she was alone in a hallway when it did ring and ducked into a secluded corner to answer it.
“Oh, please god,” she thought, praying both for help from the true God and from the one that had given her the phone.
She looked at the screen and found that there was no recognized number on it but her excitement overcame her caution as she answered.
“Hello?” she asked tentatively.
“I need you to do something for me,” said a hypnotic voice on the other end. She recognized it as her god. “Don’t react to what’s about to happen.”
The line went dead.
She looked at the phone. The call had indeed been disconnected. She stood dumbfounded, staring at the device. She was uncertain about what had just occurred. She knew only that she felt strange. Like she had been in a crowded room and heard someone whisper her name. And when she had turned to see who had spoken, there was no one there.
She felt… cheated.
“What the…?” she wondered aloud.
The PA spoke overhead and she nearly jumped at its sudden sound.
“Dr. Carlie Kyle, report to J-Ward at once please. Dr. Carlie Kyle, please report to J-Ward at once,” said the PA system before that too went dead.
She stood, dumbfounded for the second time in half as many minutes.
As she rode the elevator up she pondered what had just occurred.
That she should be summoned to the tenth floor of the hospital – the J-Ward – was an unusual request. That she should get a strange phone call from the handsome god just before was even stranger. Had he known she would be called up to the tenth floor? He couldn’t have, she thought. Although gods were omnipotent, weren’t they? It should have come as no surprise.
Still, being called up-levels was surprise enough. The tenth floor was well above her usual place on the sixth floor and she knew enough about the hospital’s politics to know that the tenth floor usually catered to those who valued their privacy and paid handsomely for it. Sometimes it was a movie star undergoing plastic surgery. Sometimes it was a politician being treated for a skin condition. Once or twice she had heard it was a professional athlete being treated for steroid side effects or some such.
Such a thing wasn’t common practice for a hospital, but this was L.A. and people with money and power were able to seep their influence into the world in one manner or another. It shouldn’t have come as any shock. But that she should be asked to report to such a place was certainly unexpected.
When the elevator doors opened, there was an elderly man with gray hair, a red tie, and a doctor’s lab coat waiting for her. She didn’t know this man but she could tell from his expensive watch and spit-shined shoes that he was a long time resident of this floor. In his hands he held a manila folder and he passed it to her in lieu of a “hello” or “welcome” as soon as the doors clanked open and before she had taken her first step.
“Dr. Kyle,” the elder man said as if he’d known her for her entire professional career. “Dr. Soren, patient relations. Please follow me.”
A short introduction, she thought as she followed the older man. Before she could speak Dr. Soren began to answer all of her questions.
“The patient asked for you, specifically.”
“Who is it?” she asked the elder doctor as they walked on.
“No idea, I’ve never seen him before. But that doesn’t matter. Confidentiality is a must up here, doctor,” replied the other, almost impatiently. “Speed is second to that. This isn’t the walk-in waiting room up here. If a patient comes in on this floor and asks for someone specific, we oblige as quickly as we can. You can check the file for references to the patient’s disposition if you need,” the older man said.
She took a quick look down at the file in her hands and looked perplexed as they walked. She didn’t even bother to open it, but found only a name written on the folder’s label: Damian Crowe. In order for there to be a file on him, he would have had to have come in here before now. She found another question rising into her throat. “You’ve already examined the patient?” she asked curiously.
“His pertinent medical information was sent in ahead of him from a private physician’s office,” the elder man explained. “That means that he has connections and our board of directors responds very well when we take care of people with friends in the right places. This isn’t the F-Ward, doctor. The people that we treat here don’t come in with scraped knees or sore throats. If they ask for special treatments, we give them. If they ask for sweets on their way out, we ask what flavor. If they ask for a doctor by name, we provide them that doctor. That means you,” he said, bringing her to the door of a private ward. “Now, I don’t know how you know this person and I don’t care. All that matters is that he asked for you and it’s up to you to put a good face on our service here. So, off you go!” he said with a bright and cheery voice that she knew he did not feel.
And with that the elder doctor pointed out a single door to her that was marked “Privacy Ward 2” and walked off as if he were an unconcerned parent leaving a child to a day at school.
Carlie stood there with the folder in her hand that was labeled with a man’s name that she had never heard before in her life. She felt as if this was some kind of a joke meant to get a rise out of her, like something she had once experienced in medical school. But the expensive carpets, the fragrance of rose oil, and the fact that there was a pair of waiting chairs in the hall made of oak told her practical jokes were unheard of on this floor. Not when money literally paved the walkways here.
She turned to the ominous door that concealed a patient behind it and blew out a short breath before tentatively reaching for the handle and opening it.
She passed into the private ward and found that it was an anteroom. It was shaped almost like the kitchen of a small apartment with a counter,
a small table, a pair of chairs, a sink and even a coffee pot that sat idly on its surface. It was the kind of place where bodyguards, public relations people, or family could wait close by if someone of wealth and privilege was being tended to.
The only thing that looked out of place in the whole of the area was a leather jacket that had been draped over the back of one of the chairs. Sewn onto it were a number of patches that she did not recognize, but the simple garment looked out of place in a setting as this. But there mere sight of it alone made her skin tingle with anticipation.
The phone call… the summons… the jacket… All the signs pointed to the god she had met at the bar. And strangely curious as it all was, the excitement that was simmering inside of her threatened to become a full out boil.
To her left was a second door that was marked “Examination Room”. She took a short breath and walked to it, pushing the door open. She felt a gentle flutter of fear and confusion as she did so but the feeling evaporated the second she passed fully into the next room, leaning on the door for support.
Sitting on the examination bench was her god.
He looked just as she remembered from two days before. His appearance had not changed, save that he wore a white t-shirt underneath his leather vest and the smile that he wore was warm and inviting.
“Hello,” he said with his soft and hypnotic voice. “I think I have a problem, doc.” His smile endured and his eyes looked her over from head to foot. “A problem that I think only you can cure.”
His words were suggestive and she caught their meaning without needing to dwell on them. It felt as if he was fucking her already… with his voice. If he could do that she wondered what the rest of him could do. The feeling made her – to use one of Jackie’s favorite expressions – damp in her panties.
She rolled her eyes excitedly, trying to conceal her emotions. In the course of it she took in the sight of the rest of the room.
