Write On Press Presents: The Ultimate Collection of Original Short Fiction, Volume II
Page 39
~*~
The next morning, the rest of the staff was already sitting at the table when Jesse walked in. Brian was in a deep conversation with Milo who looked upset, again. Jesse overheard enough to know they were discussing the need for even more equipment.
Nick Armstrong was there, front and center.
Jesse saw him right away, her eyes pulled to him as if she had no control. Nick had been laughing at something Emma was saying, but then he turned and looked right at her, as if he sensed her watching him and his laughter disappeared.
For a moment he just looked at her, his eyes unreadable.
She was the first to look away, which frustrated her. Why did he make her so nervous? Okay, maybe it had to do with the memory of that incredibly hot, fierce kiss they had shared recently.
Shrugging, she focused on what Brian was saying. Today was her day to work with Nick. Oh joy.
They were doing another trial run, this time focusing on surgery. All “patients” were going to be treated as if the situations were real, with fake surgery and the whole nine yards. The goal was to create the tension and issues that would come up in the course of treating patients and make certain they had all they needed to treat the patient.
Jesse couldn’t imagine they didn’t. She had never seen such a well stocked, well prepared medical unit. As the meeting wrapped up, she took a deep breath and approached Nick. “Where do you want me to start?”
He glanced at the pad in his hand. “We’ll start with a sample of supposed gunshot victims and a twelve-year old knife wound.”
Jesse waited for her assignment but he just stood there reading his notes. Finally, after an awkward stretch of what seemed like minutes that went on forever, Jesse spoke. “I’ll take the twelve-year old. Which room should I use?”
“You’ll take whoever I say you’ll take, princess. This isn’t your rodeo yet, and I’m not taking any chances with someone’s life until I can evaluate your skill level.”
She heard a commotion down the hall that announced the arrival of the people masquerading as patients. She found herself sputtering. “You...you...who do you think you are? I’m a Harvard graduate, I did my residency in the best surgical hospital in the country, and you’re telling me I have to pass some private smell test of yours?” As mad as she was at his questioning of her skill level, his use of the word princess really stung. He was making it abundantly clear that he not only remembered that night long ago, but that he could care less. Okay, message received.
He was pulling a fresh pair of gloves on striding towards the commotion. With a backward glance he sent her a grim smile.
“Sorry princess, pedigree doesn’t pull the same weight in the inner city that it does in the fancy hospitals. Buying an education and a residency doesn’t say squat about your skill-level as a surgeon. Are you good enough for me to risk the life of a twelve-year old? My call.” He paused a moment.
“Oh, and I think I’m head of surgery, that’s who I think I am, so if you have a problem with my decisions, take it up with Brian.”
Jesse stared after him in shock. Her boss? Nick Armstrong was her boss? How had she missed that piece of information? The rest of his words sunk in. He thought she bought her way into medical school? Why that insufferable, stereotyping jerk—
Seeing the “patients” arrive on stretchers galvanized her into action. She headed towards Nick and awaited instructions, clamping down on her fury.
Nick was leaning over the first patient and was examining him closely. He started smoothly issuing orders. The staff leaped to action. He turned to Jesse. “We’ll be in Surgery Room 1,” he said tersely. He motioned for her to follow him and she had to hurry to keep up with his long stride.