Look like a damn meth-head.
He pulled out his patient slips with the names and various orders. He scanned the list trying to make up his mind who to go to first
He found a name, and from her lab tests he not only remembered her, he knew she was pretty damn sick. He took several long, deep breaths, found the right room, and walked in.
The woman was alone and the room was very quiet. He walked around the bed and saw a urine bag attached to the post. The output was scant and it was very dark. The patient most likely was having some kind of kidney problems. The piggyback of meds hooked into her IV was only half empty.
He had some time.
He looked at the order slip and whispered her name, “Ms. Baker? I’m Russell from the lab and I’m here to take some blood.” He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, and he was still angry. His heart was pounding hard and fast.
She grunted, “Uh-huh,” and started to moan.
He swayed in place, thinking.
Too soon. Should wait.
His mind jumped from Gina to Jenni and back again.
He felt something ruffle the hair on his neck and his mind became crystal clear. He took a 60cc syringe from deep inside the tray and wrapped a tourniquet around the woman’s arm.
* * *
Gina didn’t like the look in the lab tech’s eyes. There was something off about the man, and it was more than just anger.
“You know, Jenni, at first I thought you were being oversensitive about Russell, but now I think you were right about him. He seems more than a little weird.”
Jennie said, “You don’t know the half of it.”
Gina looked closely at Jenni. The nurse was still hiding something. Gina picked up her pen from the counter, tucked it into her scrubs. “I’m just going to check things out.”
She walked down the hall, smiled at the nurse techs returning to the station to enter vitals in the computers.
As she moved, she looked into each room, trying to find Russell. Now, she had a really bad feeling about him, just as Jenni did.
She almost passed up Ami Baker’s room because it was so dark, but she saw the flash of a white jacket as she passed by. She turned and went back.
Was she imagining it? No, it wasn’t her imagination. The phlebotomist was startled when Gina stepped in. He had a 60cc syringe filled with the patient’s blood.
“What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?” he said. “Are you checking up on me?”
“That’s the second time today you haven’t answered a question I’ve asked,” she said, noticing Ms. Baker was starting to fully wake up.
“Look, I didn’t want to wake her, so I drew her blood all at once to inject into the tubes.”
“That’s not how you usually take blood,” Gina said, watching him squirt blood into the half-dozen tubes lying on the patient tray stand.
“I know,” he said with a smile. “But it seemed like the best way to do it today.” He took off the tourniquet and folded it neatly and put it back in his tray. “She has difficult veins to find. The syringe was the easiest way.”
Gina stood there and watched as he applied labels to each tube and placed a Band-Aid on the patient’s arm.
Something was wrong ... for sure.
* * *
Gina tapped her fingers on the desk in the nurses’ station waiting for the lab manager to pick up.
“This is Rod.”
“Hi, this is Gina in Internal Medicine and I have a technical question I want to run by you.”
Jenni walked into the station at that moment and gave her a probing stare. Gina shrugged and Jenni went into the medication room.
“Yeah, sure. What is it?”
“Do phlebotomists usually collect blood with 60cc syringes?”
“Sometimes. Veins can be hard to snag. It’s individual.” The manager paused. “What’s up?”
Gina was holding the receiver so tightly her hands were sweaty and slippery. “Oh, probably nothing. I’m not used to seeing blood drawn that way.”
“Who are you talking about?”
Gina hesitated, then blurted, “Russell Thorpe.”
There was only a beat missing before the manager said, “I know, that guy’s really strange. He takes getting used to ... and I’m not there yet. But he knows his stuff. You know the needle-in-a-haystack bit?”
“What?”
“Well, he can find a vein in there, too, if there is one.” The manager thought that was pretty funny.
Gina was not laughing.
Chapter 13
Dominick was in a long, dark tunnel ... something, someone chasing him. No! He was chasing someone, something. Running, running so hard he could barely breathe.
Up ahead, a slim line of piercing light drew him in. The closer he got, the wider the stretch of blinding light. He opened his eyes, snapped them shut.
“Turn it off,” he shouted and tried to turn away.
“Mr. Machado! You’re in the hospital. If you don’t lie quietly, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
Dominick’s head throbbed, pounded. He drifted in and out of consciousness, but with each awakening things become a bit clearer.
Left El Peso loaded. Must have done something stupid while driving. How long have I been here?
Doctor talking to me ... something about my neck. Don’t know about that, but my chest sure as shit feels all weird.
He tried to move, but felt glued to the bed. He rolled his eyes around and saw the edges of some kind of neck brace that had him trapped.
He snaked a hand up, moved it across his shoulders, touched the brace, and then felt thick bands of tape wrapped around his upper body. Every time he took a breath there was piercing pain, but he knew that without the tape he wouldn’t be able to breathe at all; his ribs had been cracked before, more than once.
What did he say? That doctor? What was it he said? I was lucky ... lucky ... his name’s Lucky. Harry Lucky. Not a doctor, a damn male nurse.
Heard that voice before. Where?
His mind jumped back to Frisco ... hiding ... watching Gina’s ancient Fiat ... seeing her get into it ... some dude bending over, kissing her.
He remembered following her to her apartment, looking at the names on the lobby mailboxes. The anger came back with the visualization of the two names opposite on the bell-push button: Gina Mazzio & Harry Lucke.
He forced his eyes open, tried to ignore the harshness of the lights. Finally, the piercing eased and his eyes adjusted; he could focus on the name tag hanging from a cord looped around the nurse’s neck.
Harry Lucke, RN was standing next to the bed, looking down at him.
Yeah, that’s the guy that was living with Gina.
Right here, served up on a silver platter.
Chapter 14
Brad Rizzo sat at the telephone doing a should I, or shouldn’t I while thinking about calling Gina Mazzio.
He knew he was in deep trouble the first time he even considered asking her out. He’d made it a point to avoid dating women from Ridgewood, knew it could turn into a real nightmare. Or at the very least problematic.
Way too much potential for messy and embarrassing situations at work.
His attitude had a firm foundation, started when he got into a tangled relationship with one of the pediatricians a few years back. It not only ended badly, it left him feeling gun-shy about any romantic involvement. He didn’t blame her for leaving; one of them had to go. They’d both become nothing but raging egos that fought without an ounce of give or take.
When she’d left Ridgewood and headed for a Southern California hospital, he’d closed the door on the memories, left all his regrets behind, and dove into his work. Of course, there’d been a very brief fling with a nurse who was now camping out with Gina—Jenni Webb. But that hadn’t gone anywhere.
Now, watching Gina Mazzio had become a habit. He’d eyed her in the cafeteria; he was drawn to her, couldn’t help himself. Not beautiful in the classic
al sense, but striking, with her dark hair and dark eyes. More than that, she seemed so animated, so alive. When he heard rumors that Harry was out of the picture, he jumped in.
That alone surprised him.
He listened to the phone ring several times and just before it would probably go to message mode, Gina picked up.
“So how was your day?” Brad said, caught off guard.
“Hi, Brad. Jenni and I were fixing dinner.”
“Well, before you get too entrenched, how about we go out for some deli? An ex-New Yorker like you should love that stuff.”
He held his breath before she answered.
“Well, it’s been a long time since I had some really good deli.”
“Are you kidding me?” He knew he had her interested. “You haven’t been to Schlomo’s? Well, let’s fix that right now. It’s even there in your part of town.”
* * *
When the bell rang, Gina turned to Jenni. “You sure you’re okay with being alone?”
“I’m fine. Go have some fun.” Jenni pointed a finger at her. “But stay out of trouble, Ms. Mazzio. You haven’t been a single woman for a long time.”
“Between you, my brother, and Helen, I’m suddenly being treated like a teenager.”
She waved goodbye and hurried down the steps to open the front door to the apartment complex. Brad was all smiles, dressed in jeans, sports shirt, and bulky, rust-colored wool sweater.
“Hi, Brad. You would pick the one thing I can’t turn down.”
“You know, I knew I’d reel you in by dangling a little chopped liver as bait.”
The MGA was double-parked in front. She dropped into the seat and started laughing.
“What may I ask is so funny?” he said.
“I still can’t wrap my mind around your driving such a small car.”
“My small mind finds it a fine companion.”
It took them several circuits around three or four adjacent blocks in the Sunset before Brad could find a parking place. Finally, they snagged a spot about four blocks away.
At the restaurant, the aromas knocked her over from the moment they walked in the door.
A surly hulk of a man in white coat and pants greeted them from behind the counter, if you could call it a greeting.
“You gonna eat somethin’ here, or just stand around blockin’ my door so payin’ customers can’t get in?”
Brad bent over and whispered in her ear. “That’s Schlomo. Don’t take it personally ... he’s that way with everybody.”
“Hey, I was raised with that kind of guy,” she said, laughing. “But I’ve never been able to figure out why they’re so gruff all the time.”
Gina felt like a little kid back in the Bronx, looking through the glass front of a cooler filled with every kind of deli imaginable.
Not only that, there were trays piled high with half-sour pickles, the kind you can only find in a Jewish deli―the right kind.
“When I was a kid,” she said, “I would run into a deli, buy a pickle, and walk down the street chomping on it.”
“Yeah, I saw kids like that in New York; they’re still doing it.”
It took Schlomo several minutes to take their orders. Gina went for a chopped chicken liver sandwich on corn rye, with a large side of potato salad and three large sour pickles”
“Three?” Brad said.
“And I may have more, so be prepared.”
Brad ordered pastrami on Russian rye with a side of kishka, better known as stuffed derma.
They could see their sandwiches being made—perhaps constructed was a better word—behind the counter. Schlomo created sandwiches that were so stuffed with food they looked more like mountains by the time he was finished. And all without once breaking into a smile, or changing expression.
“Chicken liver! Pastrami!” Schlomo yelled at them when he was finished.
“I’ll take a bottle of Dr. Brown’s cream soda, if you have it, please,” Gina said.
“Same for me,” Brad said. He picked up the plates with their huge sandwiches and carried them to a table in the back, but he had to return for the cream sodas and a large pile of napkins. Gina carried the plate of kishka.
“Wow!” Gina said. “Stuffed derma. That’s an acquired taste, and I know you’re not a transplanted New Yorker.”
“I caught a residency at Mount Sinai Hospital.” He filled his fork with derma and offered her a bite, took one himself, and gave her an OMG kind of eye-roll. “In four years I managed to get gobs of deli and Italian food. I liked to go to Central Park and pig out—no joke intended. Best people-watching spot in town.”
“That is pretty close to Mount Sinai.”
“What have you got against marriage, Gina?”
“Whoa!” she almost choked taking in a huge chunk of pickle. “That’s a loaded question ... and from out of nowhere. Are you trying to ruin a fun evening, Doctor?”
“Hey, doctors and nurses ask all kinds of personal questions. And they flow from our mouths faster than a flash flood.” He took a large bite of his sandwich, chewed on it slowly, and swallowed. “You don’t have to answer. You know that.”
“That’s all I’ve been thinking about recently because marriage seems to be the focus of Harry’s entire existence.”
“You’ve been with him for a long time. It’s not an unnatural thought if you love someone.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “What’s the truth, Gina?”
Gina finished her sandwich, dabbed at her mouth. “The truth?” She started picking at one of the stray napkins, not really knowing how to answer him. Finally, she just blurted it out. “The truth is, I probably can’t have children and I think that not having them would be a real disappointment for Harry.”
Brad reached across the table, took her hand. “Are you sure that’s Harry’s take?”
“I know him ... it would eat at him.” Gina sat back in her chair. The rickety wood squeaked every time she moved.
“Why don’t you tell him?”
“I have, but like most people, he hears only what he wants to hear. He thinks modern medicine can do anything. I don’t have the same opinion.”
“You don’t?”
“Why are we talking about this, Brad?”
He took the last bite of his sandwich. Gina could see he was a very intense, measured man, the kind who probably never jumped into anything without thinking about every aspect, every possibility—really not unlike a lot of internal medicine docs she’d known throughout her career.
“I want to see more of you, Gina.” He squeezed her hand. “You know?”
She looked into his intense green eyes and his smiling face, and for the first time in a long stretch of time Gina felt lighthearted.
Chapter 15
Russell slammed the door behind him, stomped into his apartment and flung his backpack across the room. It hit the sofa and bounced onto the floor.
“That bitch! That fucking bitch!”
He looked around and realized he’d been screaming the words. He’d also begun to talk to himself out loud at work, sometimes in the bathroom.
What’s with you, idiot? You’re going to get caught if your mouth keeps flapping. Keep it shut, for crissake. If you don’t get smart, you’re going to get nailed like you almost did this morning when that nurse walked in on you.
That damn nurse, Gina Mazzio, had been jumping around in his head all day. He knew she didn’t believe him this morning. She’d seen right through him with that large, blood-filled syringe in his hand.
Man, two minutes earlier and she would have nailed me red-handed emptying drained blood into the toilet. Damn good thing I had those tubes ready. She must have been the one who called Rod ... the bitch. Forced me to sit through another of his stupid lectures.
“Don’t rile the nurses.”
“Not smart to get on the bad side of the nurses.”
Fuck the nurses! What does Rod know, all comfortable in his little spot in the world? He may be the manager, but he suc
ks.
“Thinks he can get away with telling me how to draw blood ... got another thing coming.”
He dug his nails into his arm. “Stop it! Stop talking out loud!”
Russell paced around the room, heart thrumming. Nothing changed that feeling of raw malice he kept gagging on, nothing got rid of the pain in his chest. He tore off his shirt; two of the buttons popped off and flew out of sight.
“Stop it! Stop it!”
A current of cold air circled around him.
But nothing stopped ... stopped his head from exploding, stopped his stomach from turning into a flaming furnace.
He ran into the bathroom, dropped to his knees, and vomited his fast food dinner into the toilet. The retching continued until all that was left were painful dry heaves.
On watery legs, he went to the sink, rinsed his mouth, and looked up into the mirror at his eyes. There was no trace of his violent anger. It had drained from him, flushed away with his dinner.
Russell took off the rest of his clothes, piled them on the toilet lid, and stepped into the shower. He surrendered to the water’s hot, stinging fingers. He rotated in place, allowing the moist heat to find and slide across every part of his body.
He pictured the smart-ass nurse’s mouth while he soaped and rinsed every inch of his body, hands moving across his chest, down his sides, along his thighs, around his ass, back and forth on his cock. He visualized her spread out nude before him, her legs wide open, his cock entering her as smooth as silk. He rode up and down, up and down ... slowly at first, then faster, then faster and harder until he could hear her screams.
Water off, he stepped out of the shower to dry himself. The steam-fogged mirror held a smudged view of his dark, searching eyes
“No!”
He saw a dim image of his mother; she was holding a bottle of cheap gin.
I can’t help it, Russie. Don’t look at me that way. I love you. I love you.
“Sure, Mom. You love me. Sure.”
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