Chapter 14
Whose idea was it to build a two-lane bridge anyway?
Hazel
“I need to do this. This is my best option,” I tell myself as I drive over the bridge to leave Smuggler’s Hideaway.
An emptiness I can feel in my bones fills me as I arrive on the Mainland and drive further away from my home. If I do this – if I accept this job – Smuggler’s Hideaway won’t be my home anymore.
Bullshit. It’s an hour drive to the VA hospital. I can easily commute one hour each way every day. I’ll listen to podcasts or audiobooks. Audiobooks! What a great idea. I never have enough time to read.
This drive won’t be so bad after all. For the next fifty minutes, I try to convince myself I can do this. I can become a commuter. It won’t be forever.
I frown. Except it will be. It’s not as if the population of Smuggler’s Hideaway can grow much to provide me with a larger base of potential clients.
Harpoon a mermaid. This would be forever.
I blow out a breath as I turn into the parking lot of the VA hospital. There’s no reason to stress myself out about this now. I might not get the job.
As I make my way across the parking lot, I notice everyone is dressed either in military uniform or scrubs. I glance down at my silk blouse, black skirt, and heels. Should I not have worn my interview outfit?
I reach the entrance. Too late now.
The automatic doors open and I step inside the air-conditioned building. Goosebumps form on my arms, but I ignore the cold and march to the reception desk.
I smile at the receptionist. “Good morning. I’m Hazel Harris. I have an appointment with Major Phillips.”
“Have a seat. I’ll let Major Phillips know you’re here.”
“Thank you,” I murmur before turning around to find a place to sit. I frown. The waiting room is packed. I scan the area until I find an available seat.
I settle myself on the orange plastic chair. I hope I don’t have to wait long. This chair is more uncomfortable than sitting in wet sand during a thunderstorm.
“Dude, she’s never going to agree to a date with you,” the soldier next to me says to his buddy across from him.
“Why not? I’ve got game.”
“You do not have game. You’re so far away from having game, you don’t know where to find it.”
I cough to hide my giggle.
The soldier next to me turns to me. “Hey! You’re a woman.”
“Last time I checked.”
“Help us settle a debate.”
“I am not discussing bra sizes or whether big butts are better than flat.”
He barks out a laugh before offering me his hand. “Sergeant Barnes.”
I shake his hand. “Hazel.”
He drops my hand and motions to the soldier across from him. “He’s Sergeant Vaquez.”
“I thought your name was Sergeant No Game.”
I’m full of shit. Barnes and Vaquez are handsome men.
Their uniforms strain against their shoulders while their biceps are barely restrained by their short sleeves.
Add in their laughing and joking demeanor and I’m certain they don’t have any trouble picking up women wherever they happen to find themselves.
Barnes chuckles. “Told you. You have no game.”
Vaquez scowls. “Not all of us are bulldozers who think shouting at a woman, ‘I’m sexy and I know it,’ is okay.”
Barnes shrugs. “If it works, it works.”
“But does it work?” I ask. “It’s pretty cocky.”
Barnes winks. “It’s okay to be cocky when you can back it up.”
“That’s not what Tina said,” Vaquez says.
I lean forward. “Oh. What did Tina say?”
Vaquez glances around before scooting closer to me. “Apparently, he has a tiny dick.”
Barnes kicks his knee. “You’ve seen my dick. You know it’s not tiny. Tina was a bitch.” He grimaces. “Sorry, ma’am.”
I wave away his apology. “As long as you don’t think all women are bitches, we’re good.”
He leans back in his chair and spreads his legs out before resting his hand on his belt buckle. “Nope. Most women are sweet as pie as long as you know what you’re doing.”
“And you know what you’re doing?”
“I’ve had a bit of practice.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Horndog,” I mutter.
“What about you? Do you live around here?”
“I’m actually here for a—”
“Ms. Harris,” the receptionist calls.
I stand. “That’s me.”
Barnes and Vaquez stand as well. “It was nice meeting you, ma’am. If you stick around, let us know.”
“I haven’t gotten my shots yet,” I say as I walk away.
Their laughter trails me as I reach the receptionist. She points down the hallway. “Third door on the left.”
I knock on the door. “Major Phillips?”
He smiles and rounds his desk to reach me. “Hazel Harris. It’s been a while.”
I met Major Phillips when I did my internship at the Army Medical Retention Processing Unit back in college. He was a captain then.
I shake his hand. “When did you get stationed here?”
“When I got promoted.”
He ushers me to a chair before sitting across from me. “I was surprised to come across your resume. Didn’t you say you’d never leave Smuggler’s Hideaway?”
“I plan to stay on the island. I can commute.”
“That’s your choice.” He snatches a stack of papers off his desk. “Now, tell me what you’ve been doing since you graduated.”
I clear my throat. “I started my own practice on Smuggler’s Hideaway.”
“Impressive. Having your own practice. Why would you want to give it up to come work for us?”
This is where things get tricky. How to sell myself to this man without making myself appear to be a loser who can’t build a PT practice.
“Major! Major!” An elderly man says as he rushes into the room.
“What is it, Frank?”
Frank notices me and stumbles to a halt. “Are you busy?”
“I’m always busy, Frank. But it never stops you.”
“Do you work here?” Frank asks me.
“Not if I can’t finish this interview.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize. I better go. I wouldn’t want this pretty young thing to tank her interview.” His eyes sparkle. “We can always use more pretty things to look at around here.”
“I’m happy to oblige.”
“Oh, she’s good. You should hire her, Major.”
The major sighs. “I need to interview her first.”
“Right you are.” Frank salutes before pivoting toward the door.
“Frank,” the major calls before he reaches it, “did you have a reason for interrupting me?”
“Shoot. I nearly forgot. The vending machine’s out of pretzels again. You know how much I enjoy those little pretzels.”
“I’ll notify Command.”
Once Frank wanders off, Major Phillips stands and shuts the door behind him. “Let’s see how long we last before the next interruption.” He sits across from me again. “You were telling me about your practice back home.”
“Yes, Major, I—”
“Ed. You’re not in the military. Feel free to call me Ed.”
I smile. “Okay, Ed.”
For the next thirty minutes, I explain my situation while Ed asks me questions. When he stands to end the interview, I feel pretty good about how it went.
“If I could hire you right now, I would. Unfortunately, bureaucracy.”
Yes! Told you I nailed the interview. I’d do a fist pump but it’s not professional. I clear my throat.
“I understand.” I shake his hand before saying goodbye.
I sing along to the radio as I drive toward Smuggler’s Hideaway. This could work. I could drive to the VA hospital every day.
The job is awesome. I love working with military men and women. They’re always super motivated. And Ed is great. He has tons of experience as a physical therapist. I could learn a lot from him.
I’m fifteen minutes out from the island when the cars in front of me come to a complete standstill. What in the name of mermaids frolicking in the sea is happening? I strain my neck to peer past the cars in front of me, but all I see is more cars. Was there an accident?
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel as I wait for some movement. I need to be at the restaurant soon. I can’t be late today. I’m opening.
After a few minutes, the car ahead of me starts to move. At a snail’s pace. I’m barely going five miles per hour. And then – boom! – we grind to a halt again.
As long as we’re stopped, I figure it’s safe to check my app for a reason why there’s so much traffic. I scroll through until I find a notification about this highway.
Heavy congestion ahead. Expect a twenty-minute delay at Smuggler’s Hideaway Bridge.
Cause: Tourists.
Tourists? It’s not even tourist season yet, and the traffic is horrible. How bad will it be in the summer? It’ll take me two hours to get home from the hospital.
Smoking smugglers. Maybe I can’t commute to the hospital. Maybe I’ll have to move after all.
But do I want to move when Miles recently proclaimed his intention to build a relationship with me? I purse my lips. I can’t believe what he said. He’s always claiming his love and desire for me when he’s drunk. And then, when he’s sober, he forgets all about his claims.
I guess it’s time to seriously consider leaving the island.