Doctor Can't Get Enough Read online

  “Breakfast sounded good.”

  I laugh a little. “Do you eat breakfast this late normally?”

  “Depends on when I went to bed.”

  I lean back and watch her for a beat. She nervously swirls her wine before sipping it. I pick up my whiskey and drink back half, savoring the warmth as it spreads over my body.

  “So, uh. Dr. Turner.”

  “Yes, Bailey?”

  “What do you do for fun?”

  “A lot of things.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You’re making conversation really easy.”

  “What do you do?”

  “Read, mostly.”

  “Like what?”

  “Urban fantasy. Some young adult stuff.”

  “Oh, I know those. They’re the books with magic girls holding swords on the cover, right?”

  “Bingo.” She laughs a little bit. “They’re fun though.”

  “I can’t judge. I read fantasy novels.”

  “Elves and stuff?”

  “Oh, yeah. All the elves.”

  She grins a little. “So you’re a nerd.”

  “Not a nerd. Just a fantasy buff.”

  “Sounds like a nerd to me.”

  “Rich, coming from a magical girl stan.”

  She laughs at that. I grin at her and lean back in my seat.

  “Okay, so, I have to ask. How come you became a doctor?”

  “Why do you have to ask that?”

  She shrugs a little. “You don’t seem like the type that has a calling to help people, is all.”

  “Huh,” I say softly, frowning. “You don’t know me at all, do you?”

  She’s quiet for a moment. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “No, I’m not offended. Just… if you had known me a year ago, you never would think that.”

  “What happened?”

  I hesitate a second. “It’s not a good story to tell the daughter of a patient.”

  “Tell it anyway.”

  “I fucked up a surgery. Left a woman partially immobile. Alive though, and without me, she would’ve been dead. Still, I fucked up, and the hospital paid a lot for it. Grace shut down the risky surgeries… and here we are. But you basically knew that already.”

  Bailey chews on her lip for a second. She sips her wine just as the waitress returns with our food.

  I take a bite of pancake. We lapse into silence, a brief lull, but it’s comfortable.

  “Why do the risky surgeries?” she asks suddenly. “I mean, you were going to mess up sooner or later and get sued. Why even do them at all?”

  “Someone has to. And I’m good.”

  “You can’t be that good.”

  I lean toward her, eyes flashing. “I am that good, dear.”

  She hesitates. “Okay. Fine. You’re that good.”

  “Thank you.” I lean back and sigh. “But it doesn’t matter. All that’s over now.”

  “You think it’ll last forever? Your little ban, I mean.”

  “Maybe. I’ll switch to a new hospital sooner or later, but I doubt any admin’s going to let me do these surgeries.”

  “So what will you do?”

  I just shake my head. “Truthfully, I’m not thinking much past my time with you.”

  She bites her lip a little. “Do you think about that a lot?”

  “I think about it constantly.”

  We’re quiet for a second. “What are you going to do with me?” she whispers.

  “I’m going to keep you in my apartment, take as much time off from the hospital as humanly possible, and I’m going to fuck you into submission. Then, once you’re on your knees, quivering, begging, pleading, dripping wet, then the real fun will start.”

  She stares at me, her eyes a little wide. “That sounds… not too bad.”

  “Oh, you’ll love it.” I smile and shrug. “But we’ll get to that.”

  We eat then. She looks hungry, which surprises me. I didn’t actually think she would be. We lapse back into conversation about normal things, about movies and TV, and we have a lot in common surprisingly.

  I pay the bill after about an hour and we walk out into the night. It’s nice out, clear and crisp, but she walks close next to me anyway.

  “I’ll take you home,” I say.

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll get an Uber.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  I nod a little, turning to face her. “Then just one more thing.”

  She looks up at me. I take her chin gently and kiss her, a soft kiss, lips against lips. I linger there, tasting her, before the kiss turns harder, deeper, passionate.

  We kiss on the street in the moonlight for what feels like an hour, but is more like one minute.

  I break it off. She’s looking up at me, breathing hard. I know I could take her back home, taste her every inch, but I hold back.

  “Another night,” I whisper.

  “For what?”

  “You know what.”

  I turn away and head back to the hospital.

  I can feel her watching as I go.

  I’m smiling the whole way back. I can’t help it. That dinner was exactly what we needed, even if I wasn’t sure. It felt good to talk to her like a normal person, to get to know her a little bit beyond just the pain she’s endured.

  She’s a strong person, a smart person. But we also have a lot in common.

  It’s strange, this feeling I have deep in my chest.

  I thought she would just be a fun little toy… something I’d pick up, use, and be done with. But I’m not so sure that’s going to happen.

  Either way, I’m excited. I feel more alive now than I have in a very long time, and I have her to thank for it.

  9

  Bailey

  I don’t understand what the hell is going on with me.

  I came into this hating that man. I thought he was an arrogant bastard that only wants to use me. I thought he was a piece of shit, but unfortunately, the only piece of shit that would be willing to help me at all.

  But now, the more I work with him… the more I let him touch me…

  Things aren’t simple. They’re so far from simple.

  Every time he talks about the days after the surgery, I feel like I should be afraid. I should be terrified, in fact. I’ll be giving a man my whole self, to do with whatever he wants, whenever he wants, however he wants it. I don’t know what he’ll need from me or what I’ll end up doing for him, but I know I’ll do it all.

  That should terrify me. Instead, it makes me so excited I can barely breathe.

  Then we go to dinner. Right when I figure, okay, he’s a bastard, but it’s just about sex… right when I think things can’t get weirder, we actually bond.

  I mean, we get to know each other. Turns out, we have a lot in common and he’s a normal human being.

  I don’t know how this happened. I don’t know how we got here.

  But now I’m starting to wonder where the hell we go after.

  The next night is a checkup. I go to my mom’s place late, and she’s only half awake when I show up. I hate myself a little for it, but I have to get her up. “Mom,” I whisper.

  She starts a little. “Oh. Bailey, honey.”

  “We have to go see Dr. Turner.”

  “Right, I know. I just, I was dozing. Resting.”

  “Come on.”

  I help her up. She groans in pain, but we manage it. I help her outside, out to the car. Getting inside is really hard for both of us, but she gets there.

  I drive to the hospital, my mother wincing at every bounce on every piece of gravel. I hate seeing her like this, withered and barely able to move. I hate myself for going through this.

  I get to the hospital and as I pull around front, trying to figure out what I’m going to do with Mom while I work, I spot Westin standing out front with a wheelchair.

  Relief floods through me.

  I guess he’s good for something.

&nbs
p; “There he is,” I say, pulling up in front of the doctor.

  Mom smiles. “My hero.”

  I feel a pang of fear at that. Her hopes are up, too high up.

  Westin helps her out. “Nice to see you, Myra. How’s your pain??”

  “Bad,” she grumbles.

  “I’m sorry. But we’ll do something about that soon.”

  He gets her into the chair and she lets out a sigh.

  “See you down there,” he says to me, waves, and heads inside.

  I park the car and meet them in the basement. He already has Mom up on a table, sitting as straight as she can, her shirt off. I feel a little embarrassed, seeing my mother like this, but it’s not the first time.

  He’s inspecting her back, pressing it in places, asking for her pain levels.

  “You know, doctor, I love being prodded like that,” she says when he’s done.

  “I’m sure you do. Feeling like a test subject?”

  “Something like that. More like a crash dummy.”

  He laughs. “I’m sorry, Myra. I just need to get a sense for where the infection is right now. Your last images were three weeks ago and things could’ve changed.”

  “Oh, they’ve changed. I’m in more pain.”

  He nods a little, frowning. “Okay. We’ll deal with that.”

  I stand next to Westin and study my mom’s back. “Something wrong?”

  “No,” he says quickly. “Nothing I didn’t anticipate.”

  Mom pulls her top back on. They go through some more inspections. He takes some blood, checks her blood pressure, goes through the whole song and dance.

  We’ve done this all before. But this is the first time that it might actually lead somewhere.

  “Okay, Myra,” he says to her. “You’re in perfect health.”

  She snorts. “Good one.”

  “Well, honestly, aside from the back, you’re actually not looking too shabby.”

  “Flirting now, doctor? I won’t be tipping, just so you know.”

  “Oh, please, Myra. Your presence is all the tip I need.”

  I smile a little bit as my mother laughs then winces. It’s nice to see her having a good time, or at least having fun with someone.

  Once she’s dressed, we help her back into a chair. “Mom, why don’t you wait outside while I talk with Westin?”

  “First name basis, huh?” She makes an impressed face. “You’re really moving on up.”

  “Mom.”

  “Okay, okay. I know when I’m not wanted.”

  I wheel her into the hall. “Stay here.”

  She rolls her eyes and pulls her phone from her pocket. “Don’t be long.”

  I head back into the room and walk over to Westin. He’s frowning at some notes and looks up at me.

  “Well?” I ask him softly.

  “Nothing’s changed,” he says. “Or at least nothing that matters. I think the infection might’ve spread. So it’ll only be a bit more complicated.”

  “Spread where?”

  “Nearby. It’s still local. We won’t have to open much or drain much, but still. Just another piece we have to consider.”

  I nod a little bit. “I’m still shaky on the details of the actual procedure. I mean, where are we doing it?”

  He blinks at me. “In here. Obviously.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “Look, we can’t use an actual operating room. That just won’t happen. So we’re turning this room into a temporary space.”

  “You’re insane. This… this isn’t clean. It’s a basement.”

  “People used to do operations in theaters with hundreds of their colleagues watching.”

  “They also used to use leeches. So what?”

  “We’ll clean it. Top to bottom. It’ll take a couple days, but we’ll scrub it until it’s clean enough to use.”

  I hesitate a second. “That might work?” I ask.

  “It will work,” he says seriously. “That’s all they do with a normal OR, anyway. It gets scrubbed constantly, but that’s all it is, scrubbing.”

  “So we clean this place. Okay, then what?”

  “Then—”

  Before he can continue, there’s a noise in the hall.

  “Mom,” I hiss, running.

  Westin is right on my heels. We step out into the hall together, but Mom looks up at me, eyes wide.

  “Someone,” she whispers.

  I grab her chair and pull. I wheel her into the room, Westin closing the door behind us. He snaps off the light just as a janitor comes around the corner, a radio on his hip blaring Spanish music. He’s whistling along, bobbing his head, oblivious.

  My heart’s racing as he gets closer. I’m terrified he’ll come in here and see us and everything will be over.

  Nobody moves. Nobody speaks.

  The man keeps walking, comes closer… and keeps going, down the hall.

  The sound of his radio recedes away.

  I finally let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. Westin snaps the lights back on, a smile on his face, although I can tell he’s worried.

  “I think that’s a sign,” he says. “Let’s call it for tonight, shall we?”

  I nod and my mother sighs. “But I was just having so much fun,” she says.

  He grins at her. “Come on, Myra. Let’s get you home.”

  We take her up together. He wheels her out front, I get the car, and pull it around. He helps me get her in, and just before I go, he leans down and looks in through my window.

  “You’ll be okay,” he says.

  Mom smiles. “I know.”

  He smiles back, but I’m pretty sure he was talking to me.

  I nod and he steps away. He watches us pull out and drive off.

  My heart’s racing the whole way back to my mother’s house. But we didn’t get caught. It was close, but we didn’t.

  That whole thing just underscored the insanity of what we’re doing. Still, we’re doing it. He has a plan. We’re making an OR, we’re going forward.

  I can’t stop. I won’t turn back.

  I’m saving my mother’s life.

  10

  Westin

  That near miss in the basement should’ve put me on edge. But as soon as I got Myra and Bailey out of the hospital, I couldn’t stop thinking about one thing.

  We were going to need supplies.

  Scrubbing down the room and turning it into an OR wasn’t the hard part, not really. Sure, that was going to take a ton of physical labor, but the hard part was actually getting the equipment we’d need.

  It’s actually terrifyingly daunting just thinking about all the things we’d need. Gurney for starter, plus a full surgical kit. Then we’d need lighting, and suction, and anesthesia, and an emergency kit just in case something went wrong. It’s a lot of stuff and I’m only thinking about the bare essentials.

  There’s no way we’d be able to outfit that room with everything a typical OR is stocked with. But we can get the stuff we absolutely need.

  At least we can try.

  As I go through the next day, I keep thinking about this problem. Doctors don’t typically check equipment out. They don’t really take part in the mundane aspects of s hospital. Doctors stay above the fray, don’t get their hands dirty, so to speak. Other people move equipment around, check it in and out, do that sort of stuff.

  Other people, namely, nurses.

  And as I’m walking out of a patient’s room, it hits me all at once.

  I need a nurse.

  Not to assist in the operation, although that would be nice. Bailey’s getting there, but she won’t be ideal.

  No, I need a nurse just to get me all the stuff I’ll need.

  That presents a problem.

  The more people we involve in this whole thing, the more likely it is that something will go wrong. If I had my way, we’d only tell me, Bailey, and her mother. Nobody else would know or ever have to know. We’d do it all in secret then move on with our lives
. I know Bailey and Myra won’t talk, at least.

  That’s just becoming more and more unlikely.

  Which isn’t a good thing.

  Because if we get caught… well, jail is likely.

  And Myra will never get the care she needs.

  This world. This stupid, broken, fucked-up world.

  “We need help.”

  Bailey frowns at me from her usual spot. She’s wearing a tight long sleeve t-shirt with a scoop neckline that just hints at her beautiful, perky breasts. Her hair’s piled up high on her head in a messy bun and her jeans are practically skin tight.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was coming here dressed up just enough to entice me, but not enough to make it obvious that she’s trying.

  Damn girl is smart. And drives me fucking insane.

  “What do you mean?” she asks. “I thought we were doing this all on our own.”

  I sit down in a chair across from her and sigh. “That’s what I wanted to do, at least. That was my plan.”

  “I don’t like that past tense.”

  “It’s a perfectly fine tense.”

  She doesn’t laugh.

  “Look, I’ve been thinking,” I continue. “We need a lot of equipment for this surgery to work. Some of it I can just swipe and sterilize, but some of it won’t be so easy to move.”

  “Like what?”

  “Suction and anesthesia, for one. Plus most ORs have a full surgical kit with emergency medicines we might need. I’m thinking we can get away with the bare minimum here, maybe not a full kit, but still.”

  “Can’t you just get all that stuff?”

  I sigh. “Doctors don’t procure equipment.”

  “Of course they don’t.”

  “I didn’t make the rules.”

  “No, but you love them, especially when they make you special.”

  “Don’t get annoyed with me, Bailey.”

  She clenches her jaw but doesn’t say anything else.

  “So we need help,” I say again. “And I think I know who I want to approach.”

  “Who?” she asks, but I can tell from her tone that she doesn’t like this.

  Not that I can blame her.

  This is her mother’s life, after all. She doesn’t want this to go down in flames any more than I do. And nobody is as motivated to save her mother than she is.