by Tia Siren
Her fat fingers clenched into fists of frustration.
“Another hang-up,” her nasal voice declared, as her dour gaze went to Jake.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, at the same time that Mark said, “Just call them back.”
Deidre’s close-set big blue eyes blinking furiously, she brushed a strand of black hair out of her face, nodding forcefully.
“Yes Ma’am, this is Deidre speaking from Teller-Sawyer Plastic Surgery, how may I help you?”
Jake gestured me through the room, which was surrounded with more clouded glass. We weaved by chic white leather couches and black satin pillows, as well as a clear table plastered with Fashion and Celebrity magazines.
“As you can see, Mark has a different view of business than I do,” Jake said, once we’d reached another hallway.
Mark snorted.
“You mean better,” he corrected the other man, shooting him a derisive look.
“If Jake had his way we’d be giving out free boob jobs to every insecure college girl who walks through our doors.”
Jake waved his hand.
“And if Mark had his way, we’d be charging every client who comes in for a touch-up after a few weeks.”
Opening a clear-glass door, his tanned hand gestured me inside. I sat down on a plush red leather chair, my gaze scanning the surroundings admiringly.
“Nice, eh?” Mark said, with a knowing grin as he took a seat behind the black wooden desk.
I nodded dumbly, although “nice” didn’t even begin to cover it. This room looked like it belonged in one of those high-end home decor catalogs. With the black panel walls, slick white tiles and huge flat-screen TV, it felt like I was in some kind of Hollywood studio office, not that of a plastic surgeon.
Jake cleared his throat.
I glanced over to the desk to see that they had both sat down beside it.
“So,” Jake continued, “We just wanted to have a little talk with you before you started.”
I swallowed thickly and smiled.
“Yes, of course.”
“What drew you to this industry?” he asked, resting the side of his face in his hand.
I glanced from one expectant face to the other. Should I give them a high-powered ambitious answer such as ‘working in a fast-paced growing environment stimulates me,’ or the real one?
“I-uh, I had plastic surgery as a child,” I admitted, “For a deformity. My mom, well, it wasn’t her fault, but she left the oven door open while she went to answer the front door. There was a bit of cookie globed to the rack. So, I picked it up, pressed it to my mouth and…”
I shuddered, my hand automatically going to my mouth. That had been twenty-five years ago, and still I could remember that indescribable searing pain.
Both Jake and Mark looked horrified.
“Oh damn, I’m really sorry to hear that,” Jake said.
Mark nodded.
“Thanks,” I said, though I wasn’t finished yet, “That surgery changed my life. I’ve seen the pictures and I can still remember the looks I got whenever my mom and I would go out somewhere. It wasn’t pretty. But that surgery—well, that just changed everything. So, ever since I was a kid, I’ve wanted to help people in the same way that surgery helped me. Sure, being a nurse for law school kids was fun, but this is what I’ve always dreamed of doing.”
“So, your dream job, then,” Jake said, with a gleam in his eye.
I nodded.
“So, it being your dream job,” Mark cut in, rising and walking around my chair, “you wouldn’t, say, cash the customer’s checks as your own and steal piles of money from us.”
I turned to face him, my jaw agape.
Jake’s chair screeched as he pushed it back as he stood.
“We agreed we wouldn’t mention that,” he said, frowning at Mark and shooting me an apologetic look.
“Sorry, it’s just—I guess you could say that our last nurse left us with some trust issues. To put it lightly, Helena was a menace. Bad at her job, ill-tempered, entitled, you name it. Not to mention that, yeah, she stole a total of half a million dollars before we’d caught her.”
Jake’s face was somber, while Mark’s was enraged.
“Oh wow, I’m so sorry to hear that,” I said “And no, you definitely won’t have to worry about that with me. The most I’ve even stolen is a chocolate bar, when I was five and did it on a dare.”
“Get out.”
Shocked, I glanced to Mark to see that he was fuming. Eyes narrowed, jaw set into a snarl, he jabbed his finger at the door.
“We don’t want any child criminals here.”
Slowly I stood up and walked to the door. Behind me, the two burst out laughing.
“If you could’ve seen your face!” Mark crowed.
“Sorry Brooke, this one has a pretty cruel sense of humor,” Jake said, patting Mark on the shoulder.
“Oh no, it’s for the best,” I said coolly. “I don’t really think we’d be a great fit, anyway.”
I’d made it a few steps down the hallway when I paused. Returning to poke my head around the corner, I shot them a cheeky smile.
“Lucky for you two, my sense of humor can be pretty cruel, too.”
It took the two gape-jawed men a minute before they broke into hearty laughter.
Shaking his head, Mark spoke first, “Well, Brooke, you really are something.”
Feeling his eyes mapping my body with admiration, I let out a casual laugh to disguise my blush and smile.
“Where I really shine is the work. Or so I’m told.”
Jake nodded, gesturing to the door.
“Well I guess we’ll see about that tomorrow. That’s enough for today; I think we’ve all gotten a good sense of each other. You’re free to go, Brooke, and we’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Oh wow, thank you!” I told them.
I shook hands with both of them. Jake went first, his long tanned fingers closing around mine. The handshake seemed to last longer than normal, but maybe it was because I was avoiding his intent look. Mark’s handshake was definitely longer and firmer than expected, while his gaze tried to burn into mine which I kept averted.
“Thanks again,” I told them before leaving, “See you tomorrow!”
Then I walked out of the office and down the hall into reception. As I passed by, I gave a shy wave to Deidre, so intent on her work that she didn’t even notice.
Back in my apartment, I gave Karly the scoop over the phone.
“So, my first day was a success—they seem to like me, and I definitely like them.”
“Oh yeah? What, they were like—hot, right?” her eager voice came back. I could practically hear her smirking over the line.
“Hey, how’d you know?” I asked, smirking myself.
“Please, we’ve been friends like twenty years, okay? I can tell when you’re talking to me from the toilet.”
“What—I’ve never. Okay, maybe that one time when I really had to pee.”
“See? Told ya. Now tell me about the hot docs.”
I laughed.
“Well, one ‘hot doc’ is tall, tan, and muscular, with dark curly brown hair and dark eyes. He’s really nice.”
“Mmm,” Karly said, in a low voice. We giggled.
“The other ‘hot doc,’ well he’s tall and muscular too, but paler, with sandy brown hair and blue-green eyes. He’s less nice.”
“But still hot,” Karly added, helpfully. Together, we giggled again.
“So, which one then?”
Surprised, I moved the phone to my other ear to make sure I’d heard her right.
“What do you mean which one?”
“If you had to choose, which one would you pick?”
“Karly, these are my bosses, not my potential boyfriends. Besides, they could be married or gay, who knows.”
Karly let out a skeptical “Pfft” sound into the phone.
“Oh, please. Did you see a ring on either of their hands? And I’m pretty sure you could
tell if they were gay.”
I said nothing. Really, I hadn’t noticed either of them wearing a ring, meanwhile my gay-dar definitely didn’t go off. But I didn’t want to encourage her on this topic.
“So?” she pressed.
I sighed.
“Both. I’d pick both of them. They both seem hot and cool. But it doesn’t matter anyway, Kar. This is my dream job. I’m not going to do anything to endanger it.”
“Mm-hmm,” Karly said, sounding unconvinced.
“I mean it,” I snapped, hanging up the phone. I glared at the screen, even though Karly obviously wasn’t there.
It was only hours later, after I’d slipped into bed, that I realized why I’d gotten so angry with Karly earlier today. It was because she’d been right. At this second, I couldn’t get those hot doctors off my mind. I could see them, their intense eyes on me as they stripped off those pressed white-collar shirts. Oh boy. This isn’t good.
I rolled to the other side of the pillow, shaking my head a little. Karly may have been right, but she was wrong too. As attracted to the two as I felt already, I could handle it.
Chapter 3
Jake
“You’d fuck her, right?”
Bent over some papers, I didn’t look up at Mark’s question.
“Fuck who?” I asked.
“You know who. Brooke, the sexy new nurse.”
Instead of responding, I choose to sign off on the first sheet of the stack before me. But Mark lingered at the door.
“Oh c’mon, you totally would.”
I lifted my head from the paperwork to deliver him a withering look.
“It doesn’t matter. She’s our nurse, not my girlfriend.”
Mark grinned cockily.
“So, that’s a yes.”
I sighed, my gaze going to the corner of the room. I could almost see it, our bodies entwined, her wailing into the wall—
“Sure,” I said, with a wave of my hand.
“Blam—knew it!” Mark said.
His face assumed a somber expression.
“Though really, from a practical standpoint, I don’t know how productive we’ll be able to be when that—”
His voice abruptly cut off.
“Hello,” Brooke said.
It took me a minute to find my voice myself. Brooke was at the door beside Mark, looking hot as hell. She was decked out in a tight little grey number that came in at the waist and showed off her perfect figure. Luckily, it didn’t look like she’d heard us.
I cleared my throat.
“You’re early.”
Her face fell, those big hazel eyes of hers lowering, as if she was embarrassed.
“Oh, sorry. Yeah. I just thought, my first day and all, I should come early in case you had any special instructions for me. Plus I’ll need some time to get oriented to your procedures, IT systems, and supplies and all.”
Mark’s gaze flickered to mine, while he bit back a smile. Yeah, we could think of some ‘special instructions’ for Brooke alright.
“No. Nothing special today,” I said. “Just going over paperwork before the first few patients come in. Normally Monday is our consultation day, but Deidre scheduled a few for this morning as well.”
I gestured to the same seat as yesterday.
“Have a seat, you’ll find your way around the rest of that stuff in no time.”
She did so, while Mark went over to the other chair in front of the desk and flopped down as well.
“So,” he said, his gaze roving to her, “Seems like yesterday we didn’t get all that much time to talk. Tell us more about yourself.”
Brooke gave a nervous little laugh, tucking a dark strand of hair behind her ear.
“Well, a lot of it is on my résumé. I’ve been a nurse since I finished school. I guess more to know would be that I live around Venice Beach. Oh, what else. Well, I like painting in my spare time.”
“Really?” I asked, “What kind of stuff do you paint?”
“Oh, just about anything really. Modern, impressionism, abstract, you name it. Though I guess my favorite would be the impressionism style.” She gave a half-smile and continued, “It kinda reminds me of how the world looks when I don’t have my contacts in, only prettier.”
“Interesting,” I said, “I like painting too.”
“You see that big old thing there?” Mark said, flicking his wrist at the canvas behind our desk, “Jake did it.”
Brooke’s eyes widened, while her full pink mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ before she spoke.
“That’s remarkable,” she said, her eyes scanning the painting furiously, “The brushstrokes, the chiaroscuro,” her gaze went to me now. “You’re really talented.”
Now I was the one embarrassed and looking away.
“Thanks.”
“So, what about a boyfriend?” Mark continued casually, “Anyone you’d like to invite to our annual holiday ball?”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, seeing as we had all of three employees—four now counting Brooke—so the notion of a holiday ball was asinine.
“Nope,” Brooke said, without elaborating.
“Huh,” Mark said. I could practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighed the pros and cons of fucking our hot new nurse.
A beep from the intercom on my desk interrupted.
“Doctors. Dolores Gisabelle is here about more Botox,” said Deidre, in her typically nervous voice.
“Send her in,” I replied.
Seeing Brooke still awkwardly positioned on the patient chair, Mark rose.
“I’ll grab you a chair,” he said, stepping out of the room.
So, all of us were standing awkwardly when Dolores strode into the room. Behind her with the chair, Mark gestured her to the patient seat.
“Go ahead and sit down, Dolores. I was just getting a chair for our new nurse, Brooke.”
Brooke gave the woman a wan smile.
“Hello,” I said, trying to redirect her attention back to me. No since exposing Brooke to her wrath so soon.
Dolores swiveled her head to me without a word. Truly, she was a frightening specimen of a woman. A walking talking cautionary tale of too much Botox, so when she spoke, only her mouth moved.
“You know why I’m here.”
Her voice was cold and curt, although no emotion showed in her eyes.
I glanced at Mark, who nodded. Being somewhat of a dick himself, he was better equipped to deal with our dick patients.
“Look Dolores, Deidre already told you what we said. We aren’t in a position to give you any more Botox.”
The woman closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her finger stabbed at the side of her cheek.
“You see what that is? A wrinkle. Do you know what gets rid of wrinkles? Botox. I will have it and if you don’t give it to me, I’ll get it somewhere else.”
Mark nodded, smiled.
“That is your prerogative, though of course we caution you against it.”
Dolores rose, eyeing us all with a glittering glare. Her impassive face was terrifying with its emotionless fury. All the anger seemed concentrated in her frizzy white hair.
“Fine,” she finally said, throwing her pink tulle scarf over her shoulder as she stomped off.
“So, this job, it’s not all sunshine and roses,” Mark said, still glaring at the chair Dolores had occupied.
“You’ll see, though,” I cut in with a valiant smile, “It’s like any profession, you’ve got good customers and bad customers. We have more good, though.”
I glanced at Brooke’s face nervously. For some reason, I wanted her to believe me, to like this job and to stay. She looked less shaken than I’d expected, and gave me a valiant smile.
“You have to take the good with the bad,” she said.
“Mr. Antoine Toutou with his wife, Helga,” Deidre’s voice chirped over the intercom.
“Send them in,” I told her.
As soon as they stepped in, we settl
ed and went to work.
The rest of the morning passed uneventfully in comparison to our first consultation. Brooke saw our usual mix of customers, most of whom were harmless, either wanting to improve on what they already had, or to correct an actual deformity.
By one o’clock we were all talked-out and slumped in our seats.
The ting of my metal clock sounding the hour stirred me to life.
“Want to get lunch?”
Brooked nodded.
“Definitely.”
Deidre, as usual, declined to join us with a decided shake of her cropped glossy dark hair. She was always using lunchtime to catch up on her work, and today was no exception. So, that left the both of us accompanying Brooke to Pablo’s.
“Best pizza in town, you’ll see,” I said, as we approached the little open-air hut.
“And if you don’t like it, I could be persuaded to finish yours for you,” Mark quipped.
It turned out that Brooke loved Pablo’s as much as we did. She loved Henrietta, the kindly stout wife of Pablo. She loved the vibrant piñata’s lining the walls. She loved the bright orange and blue tables. And, most of all, she loved the pizza.
“I never would have thought mushroom and pineapple could be so good,” she admitted, surprise still clouding her features, as she took another big bite of her slice.
“We discovered it when Jake tried to do the whole vegetarian thing,” Mark explained. “Lasted about… a week.”
I elbowed him before setting the record straight. “It was two weeks.”
Mark snorted.
“Yeah, and thousands of little piggies and cows owe their lives to you.”
Brooke was a surprisingly quick eater, and was the first to finish.
“So,” she said, her eyes going from me to Jake, “You two know a lot about me now, but I don’t know all that much about either of you.”
“Ask away,” Mark said, spreading his arms, “I’m an open book.”
So, she did. She asked us about how long we’d been in L.A. (forever), and how long we’d been surgeons (three years). She asked me about my art and I told her gladly.
“I’ve even got a studio in my house on the beach. Perfect setting to inspire an artist; the play of the waves, the setting sun on the water. You should—”
I paused mid-sentence after a glance at Brooke found her gaze enrapt, her mind converting my words into pictures in her head. This would be the perfect time to invite her to come see it, and try it out herself.
