Here Kieran felt completely comfortable. Everything about the room relaxed him Here he did not have to worry about scripts and checklists. He did not have to concern himself with angering others and getting himself hurt. Here, he knew what to do without hesitation. He was one of the best neurosurgeons in the world, and those watching knew it. As awkward and abrasive as the young doctor appeared, none could deny the kind of skill he used in surgery.
VARICK JAEGER GRUMBLED under his breath as he got dressed for work. He needed to head out early because his friend Janet was having brain surgery today. Glancing over at the clock, he saw it was almost six. His little sister Clair and Janet worked as waitresses at a local all-night chain diner: Randy’s. He spent a lot of his spare time waiting around for Clair when she got off work because she didn’t drive, so he ended up getting to know Janet. Soon, he was offering to take her home as well.
She constantly told him not to worry, she would be fine going home alone. He didn’t want the young woman walking alone at night, even in St. Peters. He glanced in the mirror and wondered why anyone would want him showing up at a surgery at a fancy private hospital. He knew he’d get the looks from going to visit her. He didn’t feel bothered by it; he was used to it. He knew Janet always got upset when someone said something about him.
Running a hand over his head, Varick wasn’t what most people would consider approachable, especially since he had more than a few tattoos and piercings. He stood at six foot four in height, which was imposing on its own. What made him even more imposing was the fact he was fit and weighed almost two sixty without much body fat to speak of. Since he’d come back to Missouri, he worked at a local tattoo and piercing place called the Japanese Teahouse. Before he came to St. Louis, he’d been out in Santa Cruz where he ran an MCC called The Pride. The Motorcycle Club hadn’t ended well for him.
As he left, his leather riding jacket covered his full colored arm sleeves. He paused and checked the sky, scratching at his dark blond landing strip style goatee. Perfect riding weather, he thought as a few sparse clouds slipped over the morning sun. Chilly yet, but it would probably warm up later. There were advantages to living in the Midwest. Sighing, he pulled his bright teal colored helmet over his multicolored hair and threw his leg over his bike. His motorcycle was a restored ‘69 Triumph, and his most prized possession. Might as well make the trip now, because traffic was going to be a bitch if he waited any later to leave.
It was about six thirty when he arrived at the fancy private hospital. To his surprise, he missed a large chunk of traffic. He got off the bike and let out a low whistle; the place was more than nice. When Clair said it was an upscale private hospital, she hadn’t been kidding. Now he understood why Janet was already worried about how much things were going to cost her. Even with insurance, going to this kind of hospital had be a ton of money. He tried to tell her it didn’t matter how much it cost; her life was worth more.
Walking through the ornately etched glass sliding doors was sort of surreal. He felt eyes on him as soon as he set foot inside the doorway. He had his hands in his jacket pockets and felt a little intimidated by the fancy place. He didn’t fit in with this décor. He went to the elevator and smiled at the pair of nurses who stepped in with him. They seemed to be attempting to disguise the fact they were staring. He couldn’t help grinning because he almost always found it amusing. He pushed the seven and nodded to them. Both looked away, and he ignored them when they got off at the fifth floor. He got off at the seventh and followed the signs to Janet’s room. Of course, Clair was already there. He pushed the door open and caught them mid discussion.
“Are you sure?” Clair was saying as he stepped into the room. Her face immediately lit up as did Janet’s.
Janet smiled. “Hi, Leo.” She used his nickname like everyone except Clair did. “Will you tell your sister I’ve made my choice and I’m having the surgery today?” She craned her neck to look up at the much taller man. “She doesn’t seem to get there’s no backing out now.”
“Sis, you have gotta let the girl get this done. I know you’re worried, but you said this guy was the best in the country, right?” he commented, arching a pierced brow at her.
Clair nodded. “Yeah, but he’s kinda...weird.”
He rolled his eyes at her. “He operates on brains. Of course he’s weird. Now, you just let the man do what he does best. It’s not like Janet here has any other choice. Every other doctor has told her there’s no hope. And I can’t watch her waste away to nothing if anyone can stop it.”
“I know, I know, I just...” Clair turned to Janet with tears already gathering in her eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, love. You’re like the sister I never had.”
“Clair,” Janet shook her head as she spoke, smiling at the other woman. “Look, I know I’m only nineteen, but you and Mom have got to stop hovering. I heard one of the nurses talking last night, and I gave Mom a stern speech to afterward. Apparently, she got rude with Dr. Sung. I’m a big girl; I know what I’m doing. I’m prepared for anything, Clair.” She paused and took the other woman’s hand in hers. “If I don’t come out of this surgery, that’s what’s meant to be. You know that. I don’t believe in God like Mom does, so I’m not leaving it in God’s hands. I’m leaving it in the doctor’s hands and I know he’s going to do whatever he can to save my life.”
“Even if it seems like he couldn’t care less about you as a person? You know that, right? I’ve looked up stuff online about him. There are some terrible things I read on doctor review sites and message boards. Like about how he doesn’t care about patients as more than puzzles to solve, and he doesn’t do this to save people. Some say he only does it for his own benefit...” She squeezed Janet’s hand gently.
Janet snorted in response. “Clair, tell me, does it matter why he does this? I don’t really care about his bedside manner, his past, his age, any of it. All I care about is the fact he is good at doing the impossible. So what if he sees surgery like a puzzle? He saves people, so does it really matter?”
Varick recognized the look on her face. She just realized she wasn’t thinking logically. “I guess you’re right, I... I just didn’t think of it like that.”
Moving over next his sister, Varick patted her on the back. “Sis, sometimes folks with the worst people skills are the best at what they do. They don’t waste time on the bullshit. Sometimes it means they really are the best choice.”
The door opened, and they looked up to see a nurse come in wearing a set of bright yellow and white striped scrubs, pushing a cart in front of her. She was shorter, with a round figure and face.
“Nurse Mary, this is my big brother, Varick,” Clair explained with a smile.
Varick nodded and offered his hand to the plump little nurse. Well, she’s a cute little thing, he thought. Good curves and a nice set of bright hazel eyes. But, the expression on her face had judgment written all over it and he was instantly on the defense with her. He immediately knew when someone made assumptions about his appearance.
“Nice to meet you.” He gave her a strained smile. “You can call me Varick or Leo, if you like. Everyone but my sister calls me Leo.”
“Hmm, yes, good to meet you. Now, Miss Edison, we’ll be going over to the surgery theater in a few minutes. Dr. Sung is already in pre-surgery prep, and we’ll be getting started soon. Any questions?” she asked looking around.
Shaking her head, Janet turned toward Clair and Varick. “Mom is already down in the pre-surgery room, and then she’ll be out in the waiting room with you. Aunt Jane and Aunt Reatha will be coming by about four this afternoon after work, but Mom will stay the whole time. Are you guys staying?”
“Clair is,” Varick smiled at her encouragingly. “I’ve got a full load of appointments scheduled today, but I’ll be here when you come out tonight.”
Janet sighed and glanced at Mary. “I’m ready.”
With that, Mary called another nurse to come help her unlock and move the bed. A few m
oments later, Varick and his sister were alone in the empty room. He felt her lean against him.
“She’s going to be okay, right Varick?”
“She’s going to be fine, sis,” he responded, squeezing her shoulders. He steered her out of the room to the surgery waiting area down the hall.
He knew his sister so well. Both had become overprotective of each other, then they became protective over everyone else they cared about. Clair got wrapped up in appearances now and then. It was one of the things Varick thought was odd, considering what he looked like. She sometimes made snap judgments of people which he found frustrating, and never failed to call her on it.
“Promise to come back?” Clair stared up at him with pleading eyes as Varick pushed her to sit down in one of the chairs.
Varick shook his head. “I promised once already, didn’t I?” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be back after I’m done at the Teahouse. Probably with a hand cramp.”
“Your fault for doing something like tattooing people,” she responded and patted his arm.
“Hey, what else is a starving artist gonna do with his life?” He shrugged expressively.
Shaking her head, Clair spoke softly. “You could go back to school and finish your literature degree, Varick. There’s no reason not to. Or get an art degree. Considering what you do on skin, I can’t imagine what you could do with other media.”
“Sis, it has been way too long since I started. Besides, I used every stitch of cash I had to get back here to St. Louis. Remember, no college fund left?” he reminded her, a frown crossing his face.
“I know, I know, I’m just glad you’re back. I missed you while you were gone. And I wish the trip out to Santa Cruz hadn’t been for nothing.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. She’d worn it down today and had forgone makeup. That, in and of itself, showed how worried she was about Janet. Clair was the type who never left the house looking less than perfect.
He shook his head again before scratching the back of his neck thoughtfully. “I still can’t believe the bastard. Call outta nowhere and tell me he’s in trouble and then fucking run off with some piece of tail before I even get there.”
“And you would do it again in a heartbeat, you big teddy bear.”
“Hey, don’t let people in on that secret, I’m a big tough guy, remember?” He mock glared at her.
She laughed and shooed him. “Don’t be late for your first appointment today, tough guy. It won’t look good on your spotless record. You were lucky to get a job so quickly around here when you came back.”
“Well, it helps I know one of the guys who works there.” He shrugged at her.
Before he left, he kissed her on the forehead. He already had the place mapped in his head. If there was one thing he was good out, it was remembering places like this. He got down to the bottom floor and glanced into the gift shop as he passed. There was a stuffed lion sitting there. It was funny, considering his nickname. He almost left...but he stopped, going in and buying the silly thing.
Once he got to his bike, he put it in one of his saddlebags. He had no idea why, he just wanted the thing; it was cute. He peered up at the bright morning sun and got onto his bike and took off back to St. Charles.
LUCKILY, VARICK HAD not started the complicated baby portrait he was about to tattoo onto his client’s arm when the door to his office slammed open. Varick’s space was half of a room that he shared with another tattoo artist. The client jumped in surprise where he sat in the padded seat. He looked up to see Mischka Seath, his best friend and coworker. Varick put down his tattoo gun and smirked at him. Mischka stood almost five eleven, and didn’t quite break the two-hundred-pound mark. But when he was angry, he appeared to grow.
“Varick Jaeger, you told me this shit would wash out,” he growled.
He tried his hardest to avoid snickering. “Um, my mistake? I swear, I thought it was wash-out dye.”
Mischka narrowed his gray-blue eyes at him, and shook his head, light pink strands among the blond falling into his face. “Like hell, you feckin’ bastard! You dye your hair every color under the sun, yeh know the damn difference between wash-out and permanent! I washed my hair eight times last night, Leo. Eight motherfeckin’ times! And look at it, still as freaking obnoxiously pink as yesterday!”
At that point, he lost his ability to control himself and started laughing. Mischka blew air out of his mouth and the pink tipped hair fluffed up all around his face. It was frizzy and unruly, but it wasn’t nearly as pink as the day before, even if Mischka was acting like it was. It looked more like a corona of cotton candy.
“Yeh bastard, I’m gonna kill yeh!” Mischka said and took a menacing step further into the room toward him.
Varick’s client glanced between them, appearing scared this guy was going to attack the tattoo artist he was paying a lot to work on his arm. But he was still laughing, holding his stomach.
“Hold on, hold on, I can’t breathe, Mischka,” Varick said, trying to get control of himself. “You look like a puffed up mieze!” He could barely talk as he wiped the tears from his eyes.
“You are so going to regret this, Leo,” he growled, this time more menacingly.
“Oh, poor mieze, will you hiss and spit at me?” he teased, smirking. “Now go on, I have a piece to do. That’s what I work here for, right?”
His friend glared at him and turned around, storming out, slamming the door as he continued to chuckle. He picked up the gun again.
“Um, he seems angry.”
“Don’t worry about him. He’s a big pussy cat,” he assured the client as he set to work transferring the portrait to his arm.
After he finished with the portrait a few hours later, he completed a few more appointments. He’d only scheduled one intricate piece for the day, so the rest were simple cartoons and symbols. When he was done with his last client, he stood up and stretched before taking his break. He left the office he worked in and headed into the hallway where he could see down into the front area.
The Japanese Teahouse was arranged with for their clients’ privacy. The business was set up in an old shop front on Main Street in St. Charles, Missouri. The entry was an open glass front with a large desk on the left side. Their main receptionist and accountant sat there most days. On the right side was an L shaped display counter with the various jewelry available. There were example piercings on silicone body part displays ranging from ears to intimate piercings. The intimate piercings were inside a little ornamental looking case with a sign on the front reading “adults only.” Framed artwork and examples of the tattoos offered by the artists covered the walls around the room. There were binders of artwork and photos shelved on top of the case to show off even more of the artists’ work.
Beside the desk, it opened into a small waiting area. There was a set of intricate wooden stairs leading up to the piercing parlor on the left. In the center, the waiting area opened into a long open space. Either side had four rooms, with an office at the end for the owner of the shop. In the middle open space, each artist had a small desk where clients could see some of their work posted. This way, clients didn’t disturb any of the tattooists in the closed-door areas.
Of the twelve regular tattooists, only three others were in today. As he entered the main area, he noticed Mischka was at the front desk talking to someone. Varick walked across the larger room to the small breakroom and grabbed his lunch from the fridge. Going back out, he sat down at his desk and flipped open his laptop to check the news. He wasn’t the best with technology, but he did like to keep up to date on with current events so his computer was set up to go directly to a major news website.
When he opened it, he stared for a few seconds, he stared before he growled. He stood up, looking for Mischka. He went to the front and found the receptionist filing invoices at the back file cabinet.
“Dannie, where is he?” he nearly whispered with a furrowed brow.
“Mr. Seath?” she asked, confused.
Dannie shook her head, blond hair bopping back and forth in the high ponytail she wore. “I’m not sure, Mr. Jaeger.”
As she left, he saw Mischka move toward the front where Dannie was going. He started chatting with her as soon as she came up.
Varick stormed over toward him. Mischka looked up, grinning at him as Varick came up to him and glared. He dropped both hands on either side of Mischka’s legs and leaned over him.
“What’s the password?” His voice had lowered an octave as he narrowed his eyes at him.
“What password, Leo?” Mischka stared up at him with his hands folded in his lap and smirking at him.
“The fucking password to my computer so I can get the pornography off the screensaver, Mischka,” he said in a flat tone.
Mischka just continued to grin at him. Varick knew why he’d done this; it was revenge for dying his hair pink while he was napping on his desk yesterday. Mischka was well aware he had an intense dislike for all pornography, anything with women in particular. It would have been easy for Mischka to set up the screensaver and set a password so Varick had to ask him for it.
“Fine, Leo, I’ll tell you on one condition. You fix my hair before work in the morning,” he said, still smirking at him.
Varick sighed and felt his eye twitch. “I’ll come by before we open and fix it, password.”
Mischka grinned wider. “Mieze.”
He growled again and went back through the curtain to his laptop, changing the password and screensaver before picking up his food again. Now that Mischka couldn’t see him, he felt himself smile. If it hadn’t been for Mischka, he wasn’t sure where he’d be at this point in life. Mischka had been the one to help him bust his own Motorcycle Club for the illegal shit they were starting to get into. He wasn’t sure he could have gotten out of the situation alive if it hadn’t been for his friend. At least he’d been able to get out of there. He paused, staring at Mischka as he came back through the curtain talking to a customer. Though he does look cute with the pink in his hair, he thought. He really was a little mieze. Varick shook his head. Thinking a of a man almost as old as he was as a kitten. Where the hell did that come from?
Stolen Innocence Page 5
