Daddy in the Dentist Chair (Blue Collar Daddies in the City #11)

Chapter 1 Brandon

brANDON

A molar on the left side of my mouth had been screaming at me for three days straight.

I'd been ignoring it with handfuls of ibuprofen, but as I stood on the ladder at the Westfield construction site, trying to thread electrical wiring through a narrow conduit, the pain hit so hard I nearly blacked out.

“Fuck!” My hands were shaking like I’d been shocked, but the spike of electricity was from my tooth. Being jumpy wasn’t good when I was dealing with live wires twenty feet off the ground.

Unfortunately, I hated going to the dentist. Hadn’t gone since I was twelve years old. After Mom died, no one forced me to go back, so I didn’t. I just took extra good care of my teeth and called it good.

That worked for twenty-five years, but my luck seemed to have run out. The way things were looking, I would be forced to face my fear sooner rather than later.

"Cooper! Hand me that junction box!" Mike shouted from below, reminding me I was still on the clock.

“Yeah, hold on.” I inhaled slowly and tried to focus.

A construction site wasn’t the best place to be in pain.

Hammers pounded and saws were whirring from every direction.

All the chaos pierced straight through my skull and settled in that throbbing molar.

As I reached for the metal box, another jolt of pain shot through my jaw.

I closed my eyes, wondering if I should throw myself off the scaffolding to be out of my misery.

"Today, Cooper!"

I managed to grab the box and lower it down without dropping it while kinda wanting to drop it right on Mike’s damn head. Unfortunately, I couldn’t aim for his big noggin because the act of leaning over sent a fresh surge of agony through my face. “Fucking fuck.”

"You alright?" Mike squinted up at me as he reached for the box. "You look like shit."

"Then I look better than I feel." I turned back to the bundle of wires I was working with. I couldn’t keep up the charade for much longer. Three nights ago, the pain in my jaw had started as a dull ache. It woke me from a dead sleep, but I gargled some warm salt water and figured that’d be good enough.

But by yesterday afternoon, it felt like someone was jamming an ice pick into my gums. Now, I would kill for an ice pick because that had been upgraded to a jackhammer.

The last time I went to a dentist, the bastard kept drilling into my head even when I cried out that I wasn’t numb. My dad told me to man up because Cooper men didn't cry. So I sucked it up and vowed never to go back.

After Mom passed, Dad didn’t give a shit about much. Not my teeth or my homework or anything else. I considered the lack of nagging a win and learned to keep my teeth clean so I never had to worry about cavities.

Another throb caused me to inhale sharply, but the cold air hurt even more and my vision blurred around the edges.

I'd been popping ibuprofen like candy, but it wasn't touching the pain anymore. Last night, I even tried some of that clove oil shit I found at the drugstore, but all it did was make my mouth taste like I'd been chewing on a Christmas wreath.

"Coop, you're about to strip that wire to hell."

“Hm? Oh, shit.” Apparently, I'd been mangling the copper wiring because I was so distracted. That was unacceptable. I was becoming a hazard on the job site, and if there was one thing I prided myself on, it was being goddamn professional. “Sorry. I’ll focus.”

My mouth was pulsing with every heartbeat as sweat beaded along my hairline despite the cool spring air. My stomach rumbled, but I couldn't even think about eating.

The thought of anything touching that tooth made me want to vomit, but I had to do something.

For a while, I tried sitting in my truck with my head pressed against the steering wheel as I inhaled aspirin dry. Not shockingly, it didn’t do anything to alleviate my pain.

A sharp knock on my window startled me into even more pain.

Frank, the site foreman, was staring at me with narrowed eyes, so I rolled down the window. "Cooper, you look like death warmed over. What's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm good." The words came out garbled, and I might have winced from the cool breeze passing through my mouth.

Frank scoffed. "Bullshit. Lemme see."

I reluctantly opened my mouth and pointed to the back left where the pain was centered. “‘Ere.”

"Jesus, you’re all swollen.” He backed away, shaking his head. “How long's it been like that?"

"Few days." I shrugged as if it wasn’t too late to play it cool. “It’ll be fine.”

"If by fine you mean grossly infected and probably gonna cost you half your jaw, then yeah, you’ll be fine."

I glared at him, which would have been more effective if I didn’t also cringe from another stab of pain. "I don't do dentists."

Frank laughed as he shook his head. "Well, today you do. I'm not letting you up on my scaffolding when you can barely see straight. You're a liability."

"I'm fine." I straightened up and tried to look less like I was gonna pass out.

"My sister-in-law is the office manager for Dr. Weismann. Good guy, painless as they come." Frank pulled out his phone. "I'm calling in a favor."

"No." I reached for the door handle to get out. "I've got work to finish."

Frank's hand shot out and stopped mine. "This isn't a request, Brandon. You're seeing a dentist today or you're fired."

We locked eyes in a standoff. Frank was one of the few people who called me by my first name. And when he did, I knew he was serious. Not serious enough to fire me, but he wasn’t messing around.

"You wouldn't fire your best electrician." I tried to sound confident, but glassy eyes made that tough to pull off.

"I would if he electrocuted himself because he couldn't focus through the pain." Frank was already dialing. "Dead electricians are bad for business."

I slumped back against the seat, defeated. The pain had won this round.

"Hey, Marcy." Frank leaned against my door frame and turned his back to the sun.

"It's me. I've got an emergency case for Dr. Weismann.

One of my guys is practically crawling outta his skin.

.. Yeah... Molar... Brandon Cooper. Big guy, won't give you any trouble.

" He winked at me. "Can you fit him in today? It's pretty bad."

I closed my eyes and prayed the doctor was booked for a month. Or forever. Or at least til tomorrow because I’d likely be dead by then if things kept going the way they had been.

"Three o'clock? Perfect. He'll be there." Frank ended the call and looked at me with a smug grin. "There. He’s on 5th and Maple. Nice building, free parking in back."

I almost shook my head but then remembered that would hurt too bad. "I'm not going."

"Yes, you are. And you're leaving now. Go clean up and then get that gnarly tooth dealt with. The doctor's doing me a personal favor seeing you on short notice, so don’t make me look bad."

I wanted to argue, but the way my hands were shaking, I knew Frank was right. I was a danger to myself and others. "Fine. But I'm coming in early tomorrow to check the progress." Mike was good at his job, but I still needed to check his work before signing off on it.

"Whatever. Just go get that shit fixed before your head explodes."

Fuckin’ Frank. As soon as he walked away, I started my truck and headed home, trying to avoid potholes like my life depended on it.

As always, my house was quiet when I arrived. Three bedrooms, two baths, and a big yard was way more space than I needed, but I'd wanted a place I could make my own. So I bought the worst house on the nicest block I could afford and spent the past two years remodeling it myself.

The guys at work called it my bachelor pad, but it was more than that. It was proof I could build something permanent. Something with potential to be a true home. Someday.

Inside my bathroom, I stripped off my work clothes and hopped into the shower, hoping the hot water would help.

It didn't. Nothing could touch that pain. I dressed in clean jeans and a button-down that I hadn’t worn since one of the guys invited me to his kid’s baptism, and made the mistake of glancing in the mirror.

My face was definitely swollen on the left side. Not my finest hour.

Back in my truck, I considered not going, but the pain... Hell, the pain was getting worse by the hour.

Without any other option, I drove to the dentist's office like a man heading to the gallows. I should be so lucky.

The building was easy to find, but when I saw the sign for Weismann Dental Associates, my palms started sweating even more. I pulled into a parking space with my hands wrapped around the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.

Part of me was still tempted to turn around and drive away, but I didn't. I forced myself out of the truck and walked inside.

The waiting room was... nice and not at all what I expected.

There wasn’t that weird smell that was a mix of chemicals and burning flesh.

I didn’t even hear a drill whirring or people screaming.

There was just soft music and comfortable-looking chairs across from a woman behind the reception desk. "Can I help you?"

"Brandon Cooper." My voice was gruff, so I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. "Frank called."

"Oh, Mr. Cooper. Welcome.” She clapped her hands together like I just gave her some exciting news. “Is this your first time with us?"

"First time with any dentist in more than twenty years." I didn't know why I admitted that, but it seemed relevant in case things went sideways.

Her expression softened. "Dr. Weismann is excellent with nervous patients."

"I'm not nervous." I shrugged as if that were an impossibility. "Just in pain."

“Of course.” She slid a clipboard toward me with a stack of papers on them. "Fill these out, please. We'll get you into a room as soon as possible."

I took the clipboard and settled into a chair far from the other patients.

The forms asked about my medical history, allergies, and insurance.

But when I got to the question about the reason for my visit, I hesitated.

Pride made me want to write something vague, but practicality won out and I wrote severe tooth pain with a possible infection.

Dr. Weismann might not be so happy to see me after all.

Despite physically trying to hold it still, my leg bounced as I waited.

Waiting was the worst. I checked my watch and my phone.

Then thumbed through a magazine without reading a single word.

Every few minutes, the door to the back would open and someone would walk out.

Oddly, they were all smiling and joking around with the receptionist. How the hell were they smiling after a dentist visit?

"Mr. Cooper?" A dental assistant in blue scrubs was holding the door open. "Dr. Weismann will see you now."

For a split second, I considered just getting up and walking out. But another throb from my molar made the decision for me. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The examination room I was taken to was bright, with a large window overlooking a garden. The dentist chair looked ominous as the assistant gestured for me to sit. "The doctor will be right with you."

I nodded and took a seat, not trusting myself to speak. As soon as she left, I gripped the armrests of the chair and focused on my breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Everything is gonna be fine. He probably won’t even need a drill...

The door opened, and a man in his fifties walked in. "Mr. Cooper? I'm Dr. Weismann. Frank says you're having quite a bit of pain."

I nodded stiffly. “Hm.”

"Mind if I take a look?" He put on glasses and a mask as I squeezed my eyes shut.

After a moment of hesitation, I opened my mouth and waited for the drilling to begin.

"Ah, I see the problem. That molar has a significant infection. You've been in pain for how long?"

"Few days," I muttered.

"And you waited because...?"

"Not a fan of dentists." I met his eyes. “No offense.”

To his credit, he didn't laugh or dismiss my fear. "That's more common than you might think. The good news is we can fix this. The bad news is it's probably gonna need an extraction."

The horror I felt must have been written all over my face.

"But you’ll be completely numb, and you won't feel a thing."

That was what the last dentist had said right before he drilled into my very-not-numb tooth.