The professor walked around his desk and leaned on the front, his hands bracing on the edge as he crossed his legs. On his feet were a well-worn pair of burgundy Vans. I almost snickered. The man wore a white lab coat that spoke of his stature in the medical community, not to mention the UCSF Medical Center badge dangling from the coat pocket that demanded respect. Yet, he wore a shoe the local teen skaters would wear. I enjoyed unique oddities from others as I typically felt a little out of the norm myself.
Dr. O’Brien gripped the desk’s edge and glanced at each member of the team. When his gaze hit me, he jerked back, took off his glasses, wiped them with a handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket, and put them back on. Again, his eyes met mine. He frowned, opened his mouth, and shook his head as if he were shaking off a memory or something he didn’t want to think about.
“Welcome to the Joint UC Berkeley-UC San Francisco Medical Program. You have been chosen because you are the best in your fields of study. This five-year program is intense. There will be many nights where you will find your ass sitting in the very chair you’re in now, only for a full twenty-four hours. Some days you will be helping at the hospital in an assistant capacity to the doctors. They may have you run to the supply room, take blood pressures, set up IVs, listen to heartbeats, check pulses, etc. Right now, most of you are peons. In five years, you will be doctors.”
He scanned the crowd again looking at every student one at a time. By the time he got to me, his eyes were hard, cold, and sharp. I shivered trying to shake the sense of unease.
“This program is going to set you up for the rest of your career. Consider it medical boot camp because, some days and nights, that’s how it’s going to feel. If you cannot keep up or handle the level of commitment this program entails”—he lifted his hand and pointed at the double doors with the shining red “EXIT” sign glowing above it—“there’s the door. Use it. You have five minutes to make your decision.”
I’d never heard a room so quiet. A raindrop landing on the roof would have sounded like an atomic blast. Not a single person spoke, shifted, or made a sound. I’m pretty sure I spent five straight minutes holding my breath with only a scant, shallow intake of air when absolutely necessary.
“All right then, let’s get started. We’re going to connect as a team, introduce ourselves one at a time, and give your anticipated field of study.” His eyes came back to mine when he finished his statement. “At the end of this evening, we’re going to pair you off and set you each up with white lab coats. I expect your lab coat to be clean and pressed for every class. The first thing every patient looks at when you enter a room is your coat. Show them, and me, that you have respect and put your best self forward.” The professor pointed at Hai. “Introduce yourself.”
Hai stood up and fisted his hands. “Hello, I’m Hai Cheng. This is my last year in the program. I’m going to be a neurosurgeon. My father died of a brain tumor when I was a boy, and I want to help save the lives of people suffering from neurological conditions. Thank you.” He offered a curt chin dip and then sat back down abruptly.
Lord, please bless Hai and his family and help him achieve his dreams. In you I trust. Amen.
Each person stood up and delivered their information. I said a silent prayer for each member of the team as they finished their introduction. So far, there wasn’t another person who wanted to go into pediatrics. The one running theme was that each student had chosen their field of medicine for a deeply personal reason.
Finally, the instructor came to Landen. “Hello, I’m Landen O’Brien, and the professor is my father.” Dead silence met his admission. He glanced around at his peers. “And no, he does not give special treatment. I promise he’s harder on me than he will ever be on you.” The entire class laughed, breaking the ice once more.
I stared in shock and shook my head. What a phony. He totally played me in the beginning of class acting like a regular Joe, making it sound as though he didn’t know the instructor so personally. Well, I’d have to think of a way to get him back. At least the love comment now made a whole lot of sense. Landen looked down and winked at me. I felt that wink zip through my heart, but it wasn’t the same as when Dash winked at me. Those winks went straight between my legs and sucked all ability to speak from my throat. In this case, there definitely wouldn’t be a love connection with Landen, though he looked the part and had a bright future.
“I’m probably the most boring of the entire crew here. I just want to be a doctor. An everyday man who goes to work and helps those from all walks of life, the young to the old and everything in between, much to my father’s disappointment.”
I shifted my gaze to the head of the class. He huffed and scowled.
“After I get my MD, I plan to set up a practice, marry a beautiful woman…” This time Landen’s eyes were laser-focused on me as he smiled huge.
Oh dear Lord, I think he likes me.
“…and come home to my family. I guess you could say I’m shooting for the American dream.”
“That’s quite enough, Landen.” Professor O’Brien took a deep breath and lifted a glass water bottle to his lips, the kind environmentally crazed people bought. “Next?” He tipped his head toward me before taking a sip.
I looked around and realized I was the last person to answer. Slowly, I eased out of my chair and stood. My five feet ten inches seemed overly large when standing on an elevated platform. “My name is Amber St. James. I graduated from UC Berkeley right where I was born and raised by my grandparents.”
A deafening crash pierced the air. The instructor cursed and crouched down to where he’d dropped the glass bottle to the concrete floor.
“Jesus!” he said as he scrambled to toss the big chunks into the waste bin near his desk. I cringed at the outburst.
The professor stood up and walked closer to me, the mess forgotten after he’d trashed the bigger pieces. “I apologize, Ms. St. James. Please continue. You stated you live in Berkeley with your grandparents. Are your parents not from around here?”
He caught me off guard with his question. He hadn’t asked anyone else a direct personal question. “My mother’s dead. Anyway, I want to practice pediatrics or gynecology.” I moved to sit down, but his quick response stopped me.
“Any particular reason why pediatrics or gynecology?” He took off his glasses, and his expression softened. His curt speech and cool demeanor when he entered the class were now gone. In its place, a kinder tone, one that spoke of hugs and pats on the head. It was probably the tone he used to connect to his patients. I’d heard that a lot of doctors did that. Lower the voice, get on the patient’s level, and look them in the eye. All of it was part of earning the patient’s trust and respect so they’d feel confident in their doctor’s care and diagnosis.
I licked my lips and compressed them. His eyes seemed to follow the movement, and for a split second, a flash of pain rippled across his face. The expression came and went so fast I couldn’t have catalogued it if I’d tried. He definitely did not want me or anyone to see so deeply into his psyche.
“Well, just like a lot of my classmates I also lost someone. My mother died in childbirth. She was only twenty. I’d like to prevent complications such as the ones my mother experienced, if I can.”
“Childbirth,” he practically gasped. “Twenty years old. Such a catastrophic loss.”
I offered a small smile. “Yes, well. Such is life, I guess.”
“Yes, Ms. St. James. I do believe you’re right. We never know what challenges life is going to put in front of us until the moment occurs.”
He took a slow breath, looked at me, and then at Landen, and turned on a heel, moving back to his desk.
“All right. Now that introductions have been made, and we know why you want to be physicians, let’s try to help you look the part.”
DASH
“That’s him, getting on stage now.” I pointed to my longtime friend, Atlas Powers. His dark brown, curly hair hung down to his chin in loose
waves. He had on denim jeans with a hole splitting the knee as he sat down on the lone barstool under the track lighting. The black, shiny stage was worn and scuffed, putting breaks in the light shining on it. Atlas hooked a booted foot on the bottom rung of the stool, rested an acoustic guitar on his lap, and smiled at the audience. The purple scarf around his neck popped against the black background, sharing space with the single key necklace he had dangling against his shirt. The key sparkled like a camera flash when he shifted. I never did find out what the key was for, and every time I asked, he avoided an answer and changed the subject.
“And this is the guy you wanted us to see?” Jewel Marigold raised her pointed chin toward the stage. “Why, Dash? This is a bar not a yoga studio,” she declared, removing her coat and scooting into the booth next to Crystal.
I’d asked both of my co-owners from Lotus House to come tonight to see Atlas in action before he approached them about working in the studio. His music was such a huge part of his being. Before they chatted about employment opportunities, I wanted them to see his inner light. I believed it would make the case for bringing him on board far easier.
“What better way to get to know a person than to see them broken wide open? Anyone with a credential could technically teach yoga at Lotus House as you’ve mentioned. If my memory serves, the two of you hire instructors who have more to offer than a simple lesson, right? They need to have that something special that makes them unique to the center. Atlas has that. In spades.”
Crystal nodded. “This is true. We want the clients in our house to experience more than a typical class.”
I grinned. “Not only have I personally taken several of his heated Vinyasa Flow classes but also he has an idea for a brand-new class that would set Lotus House apart from all the rest.”
Jewel smiled and leaned forward. Her fiery red hair bounced around her pretty pixie face in heavy waves. “We’re already different. When our clients come to us, they receive spiritual and physical health beyond what money can buy alone. How can this friend of yours do that?”
Before I could answer, Atlas strummed his guitar. The volume in the crowded bar eased as the sound from his instrument began to filter through the space. I closed my eyes and waited for the words to come. Words I knew would settle within the minds and hearts of both Crystal and Jewel in a far more ethereal journey that traversed time.
Open your heart to me…
In there you will see…
I have come to protect and save…
Don’t push me away…
What we have will never again be…
If you don’t open your heart and see me…
Atlas’s voice rolled and crested, a wave with power built of a thousand tsunamis, each one hitting stronger and more devastating than the last. He continued his song, and I opened my eyes. A tear dripped down Crystal’s face. Her ice-blue eyes filled with more unshed tears. She was riveted to the man on the stage. Jewel sniffed and pushed her hair back.
“I want to know more about the new class concept he has,” Jewel said when Atlas sang his last words.
“Absolutely. This friend of yours is beyond gifted. Why is he teaching yoga when he should be in the recording studio?” Crystal asked.
“He’d love to be in the studio, only he hasn’t met the right people. He does these amateur nights every week hoping a scout will find him.”
Jewel nodded and put her hand up for the waitress. “Hot tea, please,” she said.
“Oh, me too!” Crystal jumped in.
The waitress’s expression was a mixture of disbelief and surprise. “You want hot tea? In a bar?”
“Do you not have it?” Crystal asked.
The waitress chuckled. “Yeah, I guess we do. I’ve just never had anyone order tea before. I’ll see what I can pull together. And for you?”
“Beer. Imported IPA. Whatever’s on tap.” I thanked the waitress and winked.
She grinned and swayed her hips delightfully. Man, I loved the female form. Long legs, narrow waists, curvy hips, and voluptuous breasts. Instantly, my mind went back to Amber walking away from me earlier in the week. She had an athletic body from all the yoga but with enough curves that a man would have a little bit of something to hold onto when he made love to her.
“Oooh and fresh honey if you have it. I don’t do sugar or aspartame,” Jewel called out.
The waitress held up a hand and waved. “You got it.”
“So, no liquor?” I asked.
“Nope,” both women said simultaneously.
“Yet you agreed to meet me in a bar on a Thursday night?”
Crystal put her hand on my shoulder. Jewel canted her head and pressed her lips together. Both of them looked at me the same way my stepmother who raised me did. Like I was the best thing that ever happened to them.
“Dash, honey, you asked us to come and hear your friend play. You are important to us. Been with us for years. You’re part of our yoga family. Of course we’d accept the invitation.”
I laughed and sat back farther in the booth. “But you don’t drink. Why is that?”
Jewel clasped her hands together on the table. “For me, it’s part of my enlightened path. You know I’m a vegan. In order for me to find my truth, I need to protect my body and only put things into it that are good for me. Alcohol, my young friend, does nothing but alter your perceptions and dull the richness of life around you.”
I swayed my head from side to side, thinking about what she’d said. “I don’t know if it dulls life. Some would say it magnifies it.” I grinned.
Crystal pushed a long lock of golden-blond hair behind her ear. For a woman just hitting her sixties, she could easily bed a man half her age if she wanted. Though I knew her husband, Rick, doted on her and worshipped the ground she walked on, and rightly so. Crystal Nightingale was a knockout. Jewel was no beggar, either. Her slight body and pixie-like features would capture the eye of any man who enjoyed a petite woman.
“To each his own,” Crystal said when the waitress set an entire teakettle and two coffee mugs on the table and then set my pint on a coaster.
“Apparently there is honey in a few cocktails,” the waitress remarked.
“Life is full of surprises wouldn’t you say?” Jewel replied.
Once the waitress left, Crystal nudged my arm. “How did class go with the new assistant? It’s Genevieve’s neighbor Amber, right?”
“They’re neighbors?” I was soaking up any bit of information on the woman that had so recently captured my attention.
Crystal nodded. “Amber lives next door. They grew up together. Smart as a whip, that girl. She’s going to be a doctor.”
“I know. Only twenty-two and already has her sights set and her future laid out.”
“She’ll do it, too. I must say that I caught the two of you talking after class. Seemed a bit friendlier than you usually are with your assistants.”
“Don’t you normally avoid your assistants after class? Something about them all falling in love with you?” Jewel batted her eyelashes playfully.
I groaned. “Am I that predictable?”
They both nodded and waited for me to dish about the tall brunette who very recently had become my favorite morning fantasy. Imagining her naked and sudsy each morning while I stroked myself to release in the shower worked wonders for easing the tension.
“Amber is working out great. I’m helping her out as a favor to Genevieve. I owed her one.”
Crystal sipped her tea. “What did you owe her?”
“She helped me out assisting for a while until her man came along. He doesn’t like the idea of her assisting a Tantric class.”
“I can see that. It’s a very personal experience, and you teach the class so well. Rick loved the course when we took it last year. We were actually thinking about discussing you doing a couples’ Tantric weekend up at Lake Tahoe. A yoga retreat for couples only. The pay would be consistent with what other yogis make at these types of events. What do you thi
nk?”
I grinned. “What is that saying?” I tapped the edge of my bottom lip. “Cash is king?”
Jewel and Crystal both balked. “That’s not funny, Dash.”
I full-belly laughed as the two mother types frowned and chastised me. Then they lectured me for the next thirty minutes on the benefits of why money shouldn’t be worshipped, nor should a lot of time be spent on making it. The women believed that if a company provided a service or a product and offered kindness, honesty, and good will toward mankind, the money would simply make its way to the facility.
I believe in a lot of things that could be considered modern, or inlaid in spirituality, karma, and other alternate forms of thought, but that isn’t one of them. Money is money. We use it to get what we need and some of what we want in life. The trick for me has always been to make enough to obtain what I want and want what I have. So far I’ve been successful.
After we finished watching the show, I introduced Crystal and Jewel to Atlas Powers. We spent the night chatting about his ideas for a unique offering that would set Lotus House apart and put it on the cusp of edginess in our chosen field. When we said our goodbyes, the owners offered Atlas two classes a week for heated Vinyasa flow and one spot for his new idea. I couldn’t wait to see what the other female teachers were going to think about Atlas. From what I understood, he’s considered a good-looking guy, and the ladies all swooned for him. That would definitely help him book clients initially. Keeping them, on the other hand, was where the hard work and talent would come in.
Chapter Six
Boat Pose (Sanskrit: Navasana)
This pose can help fire up your sacral chakra. Designed to provide the body with a solid core and abdominal workout, when you sit with your spine straight, and extend your legs and arms out, you are working almost every major muscle group in perfect harmony. Holding this position for thirty to sixty seconds will give any yogi a sense of pride and accomplishment.
Sacred Serenity (Lotus House Book 2) Page 6
