Impulse control, he told himself. He couldn’t go trying and sex up everyone he saw, especially right now. He made a promise to Charles that he was going to be more careful. Instead, he tried to focus on the interview coming up. Strawberry’s would take care of things until it passed, he mused, eyes moving back to the guy’s ass again. Every time he shifted, the denim clung to every curve making Carmine want to grab him and lick him from toe to head, while pausing to play extensively right in the middle of his adorable ass. Dammit, if a cute guy in jeans was revving his engine this bad, he was really letting his libido run wild today. At this rate, he was going to explode just thinking about an ass.
“Kieran, relax,” the older man sighed, fussing with the young man’s clothes.
Kieran, he thought to himself. What a cute name for the guy. Carmine glanced up now and then as the older guy pushed Kieran’s dark hair back from his face. He noticed he was clenching and unclenching his hands repeatedly. The taller man shoved what looked like a blue stress ball into one of them.
“Thank you, Thomas,” Kieran exhaled, squeezing the ball again and again. “I know people will not be able to see me, but it does not help my anxiety. I know there are people listening to me.”
So, the old guy’s name was Thomas, Carmine noted.
“Just speak to the host like we discussed about. Just think of this as talking to someone new.” Thomas smiled and put both hands on Kieran’s shoulders
Shifting his weight on his hips, Kieran turned his face up and glared at the older man. Carmine moved uncomfortably because goddamn his cock was threatening to draw attention to himself. He swallowed dryly and kept trying to act like he wasn’t listening. The acoustics of the room carried sound well, so he didn’t have to stare at them to overhear. It was obvious the younger of the pair didn’t care one bit about being overheard, but the older kept trying to shush him. He appeared to be growing more and more agitated.
“You know it does not help at all. I do not do well with people as it is, and new people are even worse,” he stated. “Thomas, how can I do this? I cannot do this,” he whined out, squeezing the stress ball almost hard enough to pop it. Carmine could see the blue peeking through his fingers.
“Just think that you’re talking to Mary,” the older man told him. Carmine noticed he clenched his fists tighter at that thought. “Okay, then pretend you’re talking to Artemis.” Now, the younger man did seem to relax a little.
Thomas adjusted the waistband of Kieran’s jeans then pulled at the plain black and blue striped t-shirt. This drew Carmine’s eyes to Kieran’s stomach where it flashed briefly. It was enough to show the beginnings of his happy trail where it disappeared under the band of the low-rise jeans.
Crossing his legs, Carmine tried to think of anything else. The kid had to be too young for the club, and Carmine was a pervert, but he would never touch anyone under eighteen. Admire, yes, jerk off to afterward, yes, but never touch. If they were too young for the club, he didn’t want to chance it. Thankfully, he had Loki to take his mind off this.
“You know this is what needs to happen. Every time you end up in a confrontation with a patient, you get more and more stressed. I’m afraid you’re going to have one of those episodes again. It’s been years, I don’t want us to return to that. The last time we almost had to put you in a care facility, remember?” Thomas was obviously starting to get annoyed. Carmine could tell he was trying not to be heard.
Carmine’s brow furrowed despite his attempts to act like he wasn’t listening. A care facility? What in the world would someone his age need to go to a care facility for? It would have to be mental health, he thought, remembering his own episode when his bipolar disorder had gotten out of hand, pre-diagnosis. Turned out, not sleeping for two-weeks is a bad thing, and so was having sex with every person he could get while he wasn’t asleep.
A young woman came around the corner and smiled at the pair. “Dr. Sung, come on in, you’re up first.”
A heavy sigh brought Carmine’s attention back to Thomas and Kieran. “Look, ignore everything except the DJ. He’s not there to embarrass you; he’s there to find out about your life and what you’ve been through. You have nothing to hide and I’ve provided him with a basic file. He’s been given the script you were practicing with this week. Stick to answering his questions, and don’t go on any tangents,” he ordered. He gently pushed the young man toward the door with the glaring red light. Carmine noted the way the kid seemed to be resistant to doing this.
Kieran chewed at his thumbnail before stopping to stare at his hands. Carmine could tell they were shaking. Hmm, interesting, he thought to himself, thinking the kid had pretty bad stage fright. Kid, wait, she called him doctor... He couldn’t be a kid. Carmine had no idea how long medical school took, but his degree took him four years after high school. He’d been twenty-two when he graduated from UMSL, so that meant he had to be older than that.
“Thomas, squeeze me before you make me do this,” he muttered in a quiet tone. “I know Father normally does it, but I need it now or...”
Thomas pulled him into a very tight embrace, only letting go when Kieran relaxed a bit. He pushed him back to arm’s length. “Better?”
Curious, Carmine thought as he watched him go into the studio. Kieran glanced at Thomas and sighed again. Carmine stood up and went to stand beside Thomas to see the interview. He smiled as he saw the doctor get into the chair and look around with flittering eyes. Watching the interview would be more interesting than years old magazines on health and wellness.
He nodded to the other man, “Hey man, what’s up?”
The gray-haired guy smiled. “Just very happy. This is the first of many interviews for him.”
Carmine cocked an eyebrow. “He didn’t seem so happy about doin’ it,” he informed Thomas, then turned back to the window as the doctor got ready.
“No, but he’ll do them. He’ll do what I tell him needs to be done,” he explained, crossing his arms and staring through the glass.
Carmine gave a sideways glance to the guy for the tone of voice he used. Something about the statement bothered him. He hated making assumptions, but to him it sounded almost too controlling to be good for this young doctor. He decided. He’d get him away from this old man and ask him out after the show.
KIERAN PUT ON A SET of big, cushy headphones and smirked a little because they fit. He looked up to see the DJ grinning at him. The man was a decent looking man, he thought. The DJ had trim dark brown hair and a set of wide-set hazel eyes. Kieran could immediately read the military posture on this man. Normally that would have made him worry, but he had a ready smile and winked at Kieran before he started talking into the microphone.
“And welcome back, listeners! As promised, I have a special guest for you today on Local Talk with CJ. Today we have local neurosurgeon, Dr. Kieran Sung from McKellar hospital!” he said and pressed a button; there was a weird bonging noise in the headphones.
Kieran frowned and squeezed the stress ball again, wishing Artemis was there to hold his hand instead. He looked across the table and saw Thomas standing on the other side smiling in encouragement. There was another man next to the doctor watching him with an amused smirk. Kieran took a deep breath and reminded himself this was only the first of many interviews. Thomas had said this was for the best and he trusted him to tell him what was best.
“So first off, doc, can you tell us how you managed the monumental feat of becoming the head of neurosurgery at the ripe old age of twenty-five?” he asked, leaning forward expectantly.
Swallowing the rising fear in his throat, Kieran tried to quiet his nerves. Even though he could not see the listeners, knowing they were there was giving him an immense amount of anxiety. One or two people, and he was alright, but he had no idea how many people could hear him at the moment. He swallowed again, his throat clicking dryly.
“My father is a pediatrician, and I suppose it was always going to be my calling. I started reading his medical journals wh
en I was around six or seven I believe. At the time, I was fascinated by the brain. I suppose the fascination I had with the brain led me to neurosurgery,” Kieran dictated with a nod to the DJ. It seemed to be going well so far.
“Folks, I’d like you to understand he started reading medical journals at six. Now Dr. Sung, how is it you could do such a thing?” Charles requested, leading the questions just as they had scripted. Kieran let out a slow breath.
“Well, at the time, my father suspected I was a little advanced in reading, but he noticed I understood the journal articles. When I was eight I was failing school, and was picked up for special education testing. It was through the testing they discovered my problem was the material was too simple, and I needed to be advanced. The school could not account for my...ah...special needs properly. I was transferred to a special school and graduated at 16. I finished a double bachelor’s program in two years, to get my first degrees at 18,” he recited from his script. He had practiced it so many times over the last week.
Charles nodded, glancing down at the script in front of him. “You mentioned testing; I assume one of those was an IQ test?”
Kieran narrowed his eyes at him and nodded again. This was not in the script. “Um, yes, I test in approximately the range of 120 or 130, but IQ tests are somewhat skewed for people like me. Most of my ability has come from a lot of study and hard work. I have a natural inclination toward medicine, and that does help me with my interest in brains and neurosciences. Really, more than IQ, my study habits and dedication to the material has made me who I am today.”
“You imply normal IQ testing isn’t effective on you. Why?”
At the question, his eyes widened a bit. He knew the script the host had been given did not have such information, however it was in the biography. He wondered why this DJ was so stuck on talking about his IQ scores. They were arbitrary measures of potential in individuals, and they most certainly were not the reason he had become as successful in neurosurgery as he had become. His potential ability helped, of course, but IQ was something that he never put much interest in since it was so varied. This DJ, however, appeared to want to discuss it further. There was no reason not to discuss it since the book was the reason he was on the show.
“Well, um, as it details in my biography, I have autism, mild or high functioning, as much as functioning labels matter. Because of the fact autistic people test differently, there is a possibility my brain differentiations make my IQ testing difficult. I also have hydrocephalus.” He paused, seeing the confused look on the DJ. “Hydrocephalus is a condition characterized by ‘water on the brain.’ The technical definition is a condition in which fluid accumulates in the brain, typically in young children, enlarging the head and sometimes causing brain damage.” It wasn’t like he asked, but Kieran just wanted the interview to move forward.
Unfortunately, Charles returned to the subject of Kieran’s autism without missing a beat. He leaned back in his seat and smiled. “Really? And how does this affect you? Autism, I’ve heard it is nearly a sentence of intellectual inferiority...”
Kieran visibly bristled, making the DJ frown. “It most certainly is not! Unless you are going to count Einstein among those inferiors. Many people have incredibly talented minds, and are able to accomplish much, if given the time and the patience. My focus is on brains and I am able to dedicate myself to a singular pursuit of studying, neurosurgery, and how best to heal the brain.”
“Please, Dr. Sung, tell us how you’ve learned to cope with this disorder.”
Kieran gritted his teeth as he felt frustration start to mount. The DJ had used the one word to describe his autistic nature that Kieran despised. Disorder. “It is no more of a disorder to me as having brown hair is to you. To put it simply, I think differently. I sense things more sharply and it gives me the ability to completely focus in on surgery and calculate hundreds of variables in my mind at the same time.”
“Ah, yes, well, the obvious reason you are agreeing to interviews is due to the book coming out in the next month, which will be available...”
While Charles ranted for a bit about the book, Kieran focused on his breathing as his hand tapped against his thigh.
The show went to commercial. He looked up to see Charles staring at him as he pushed the mic away a little and leaned toward Kieran.
“Hey, I’m sorry, man, didn’t mean anything by it, just surprised. They didn’t get me an advance copy of the book...all I had to go on is what the old doctor told me on the phone,” Charles explained with a sheepish smile.
Kieran bit his lip. “Yes, I understand. But you went off script and it is not easy for me to handle on a good day. Being in this unfamiliar situation makes today not one of those good days.”
“I’m sorry, really. We’ll chat a bit more about your childhood and then we’ll go to the next guest and he might ask a couple things, I’m sure.”
Kieran’s eyes went wide. “I cannot leave when I am done?”
Charles smiled nervously. “Well, I guess you could but it would be awkward explaining to the listeners since you’re slated for being on for the whole hour...”
Kieran nodded. “Alright, but I can just sit there, right?”
“Sure!” Charles responded with a grin. He paused and pulled the mic back around. “Welcome back!” he said into the mic. “So, now I know you are all dying on some actual facts about our amazing doctor here. I’m going to go over this impressive life here. You can of course read more details of in his biography. So, to cover the basics, it says here you were born July 26th of 1990, at a mere twenty-six weeks gestation. Wow, you were one pound and seven ounces at birth? It is a simple miracle you survived, man,” he marveled looking over the blurbs in the file. “The good doctor had a shunt put in for his hydrocephalus when he was three. It says here he was first diagnosed with autism at two due to non-development of language skills and a severe delay in motor skills. A diagnosis of dyspraxia at five, and then of course, at eight you were tested for intellectual delays and learning disorders only to find your IQ was over 120. You attended Channings in Chesterfield, and then you shot through the programs to finish your degrees, including doing the impossible and completing a five-year medical program in four. He took a job as head of neurosurgery at his father’s hospital at the age of 23.”
Charles looked up at Kieran and whistled. “This is amazing. Folks, this young man is phenomenal! Twenty-five years old and already well ahead of most of the men and women in his field thirty years his senior!” He nodded toward the assistant who turned to go out.
“After this next commercial, we’ve got our next guest, Carmine Deangelo, local stage actor who is starring in Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing this weekend at the brand-new Highland Theater!” Charles boomed and clicked off. When the assistant left the room, Kieran noticed she grabbed the other person that had been standing with Thomas.
The door opened and the other man, Carmine Deangelo he assumed, entered the studio, grinning at Kieran and then Charles. Kieran noticed the assistant took a seat at the open end of the table once more.
“Hey, Charles, how’s it going?” Carmine inquired, sliding into the chair next to Kieran.
“Great, great! Better ratings than I’ve had since I started.”
Kieran glanced over at him and felt a strange sensation he was figuring out was attraction. He rarely felt it, but lately, he was feeling it more often. This Carmine was attractive, he decided. His skin was darker, so he was of African American descent and his hair was black and close cropped to his head. He was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and Kieran could see a tattoo of a snake coiling around his left arm up onto his shoulder. He noticed he had pierced ears as well, and his voice was rich and strong. It made Kieran’s mouth go a little dry for some strange reason. He supposed an actor would have to have a good voice, he thought as Carmine and Charles chatted.
“Hey, you sounded good,” Carmine told him, jostling him out of his thoughts.
Kieran nodded, t
aking off his headphones so he could hear better. “Th-thank you, I do not do so well with these things.”
Charles motioned to them to put on the headphones and put on his own and started talking again. “Welcome back! And now, we have local stage actor, the incomparable Carmine Deangelo!” he crowed. “Tell ya a secret folks, if you didn’t know it: Carmine here grew up with me down in Skinker DeBaliviere. He is a St. Louis boy, and something tells me he always will be. We’ve been friends since we were kids sneaking pieces of his ma’s cannoli right off the pan before it was cool. Man, would we get in trouble for messing up his ma’s kitchen! So, Carmine, you came here because I begged ya, right?”
“Too true, CJ,” Carmine responded, looking at Charles, but Kieran noticed Carmine glanced to him again. “So, what didja want to know about me that ya don’t already know?”
Chuckling, Charles shook his head. “Ain’t me who has to find out about you! Our listeners need to know this information. First, tell us about your current projects. We need the information about the new Highland Theater. You’re a member of the newly created Highland Company now, and your fans won’t have to be looking for you all over town anymore!”
Kieran tuned out the next conversation, trying to focus on his stress ball. He heard Carmine talk about the role he was playing, who else was in the play, details on when and where it was taking place, before moving on to other projects the actor was interested in. Kieran felt like it was taking forever. Wait, he thought to himself, an hour? His interview had only taken fifteen minutes... That meant he’d have to talk again. Or they were going to have callers. He looked up at Thomas who stood in the window nodding to him. Why didn’t Thomas give him the details about how this worked before he came in here? Kieran was more than a little exasperated with him over this.
“So, there we have the basics! Now we’ll start taking callers. We know you are wanting to ask these two gentlemen questions!” Charles remarked smiling. He then clicked some buttons on the keyboard. “Caller, you’re on!”
Stolen Innocence Page 8
