Hellcat Barbies: Imani

Imani “E” Marks

“It’s getting late, E. You need to take your ass back to Crescent Falls,” my girl and the founder of our riding club, the Hellcat Barbies, Breezy says.

“Yeah, bitch. You don’t live here anymore. Besides, you couldn’t wait to leave Diamond Cove anyway,” Aubree adds.

“And I still can’t live here but damn! Can’t a bitch come back and hang with my girls? I’m still a Hellcat Barbie and last time I check, this was our kick back.”

“Ouch! I’m just playing, hoe. Chill out,” she snaps back but it’s all love.

Today was our annual back-to-school bash.

We are a car club but it’s more than just driving and racing our Hellcats.

We also do a lot for the community and this is one of my favorite events.

Each Barbie donates cash for the school supplies and some of us even collect the supplies at our respective jobs.

Then, we have a big day at the track of racing, food, and fun and supplies giveaways.

Today was that day so I had to come back.

We’ve been girls forever, all of us. The Hellcat Barbies are my safe place. During my lowest time, they were here for me. We are more than just a riding club; we are sisters. Like all sisters, we talk shit but it means nothing. However, because my words might have been harsh, I apologize.

“My bad, sis. This job shit is fucking with me. If they fire me for this bullshit, I don’t know what I’ll do. Being a surgical tech at Mount Sinai was my dream,” I sigh.

Losing my twin brother, Imari, was the original motivation to leave this place, the job chose the location.

The day my brother was killed was the day my heart broke in two.

We came into the world together, only sixteen minutes apart, and he was supposed to always be with me.

A life without him, especially in the city that took him from me, wasn’t an option for me anymore.

“It will be fine, E. They can’t fire you for something you didn’t do,” Breezy tries to assure me but I know better.

In the hospital, there is definitely a clear hierarchy and the surgeons are the highest deity and everyone else are lowly peasants.

They are worshipped like freaking gods. If the choice is between losing a surgeon and facing serious liability and a malpractice suit or firing a scrub tech, the scrub tech is gone each and every time.

It doesn’t look good for my ass, not at all.

I’m in no hurry to drive back and be told I’m fired.

“I hope so,” is all I say.

“I love you but it’s getting late as hell and you still have a three-hour drive back to Crescent Falls. You need to leave now; it’s almost two.”

“Three hours? Please, not with my baby. I’ll make it in two and a half.”

“You drive too damn fast,” Aubree teases.

“Like we all don’t.” I smirk and they laugh too.

We are the Hellcat Barbies for a reason.

We all love fast, bad ass cars, and Hellcats are our babies.

My baby is a 2023 Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat Redeye.

She is pretty as hell, inside and out, and fast as fuck with 797 horsepower thanks to her 6.

2L Hemi V8 engine. She means the world to me because my brother did the majority of her customizations at his shop.

He gutted her out and wrapped her. Her orange insides perfectly match her fire orange chrome wrap.

When I’m riding, I know that my brother is always with me.

“Well, I’m out, sis. Five more minutes and my crazy ass husband, Lucci, will be rolling up looking for me,” Breezy says.

“I know he will,” I say with a smile.

We are parked in a circle and all three of us are leaning on the front of our Hellcats. Breezy raises up first and I follow. We hug then she embraces Aubree next. When she pulls off, Aubree tries to hang but I see she’s ready to leave too, so I let her make it.

“I’m gonna head back. I’ll be back for the next event.”

“I better hear from your ass before then though.”

“You will. I’ll call or text tomorrow to let ya’ll know what’s up. Give me a hug. I need to hit this road.”

We embrace then get into our cars. As usual Aubree has to show out when she leaves the scene.

After revving her engine a few times, she peels out of the parking lot.

I pull out behind her. My baby is beautiful but because of her engine, she eats a lot of gas.

It takes a full tank for each one-way trip between here and CF.

So, before hitting the highway, I stop at the gas station off Ocean Boulevard.

They have a nice coffee section and I’m going to need a cup for this drive and for the bullshit at the hospital in a few hours.

It takes me ten minutes to make it to the station and another twenty to get gas and doctor up a good cup of coffee.

In a large, twenty-ounce cup, I mix two different flavored creamers with pecan roasted coffee and about two ounces of mocha cappuccino.

By two-thirty, I’m on the road, pushing my baby as much as I can without drawing too much attention, and vibing to my R&B playlist. By five, I’m pulling into my garage of my townhouse.

When I moved to Crescent Falls nine months ago, I lucked up on this one bedroom, one and a half bath townhouse in The Falls.

The owner moved out of the country and she is subleasing it with an option to buy after a year.

It’s everything: spacious and open floor plan, high ceilings, granite countertops, huge walk-in closet, stainless-steel appliances, and a private balcony.

As soon as I’m inside, I rush upstairs, put my cute ass faux locs back in a neck bun, shower, and quickly dress in my wine-colored scrubs, and my matching wine Brooks Women's Glycerin 22 shoes. After being a scrub tech for five years, I’ve finally found a shoe that remains comfortable after long hours in the operating room. I have them in every color.

At two minutes to six, I’m badging in and walking into the HR department. I’ve been on paid leave pending an investigation for a week. On Friday, I was called and told to come in Monday for my regular shift but report here. A final determination has been made.

When I walk in, I’m politely greeted then escorted in. My supervising nurse, Bonita Johns, the surgeon who really fucked up, Dr. Rich Stetson, and the HR rep I’ve been communicating with Karen Black are all already seated. I choose the empty seat closest to Karen and sit down.

“Thank you for joining us, Imani,” Karen says.

As if I had a choice.

“Before we finalize this, I did have just a few more questions,” she adds.

“For just me or me and him?” I ask for clarification. With him being present, this doesn’t feel right. In fact, it feels like a fucking set up.

“With all of us,” she says.

“No. I don’t think so. If you are going to question me about his negligence, I’m not answering anything with him here. Nothing about that seems fair or sounds right,” I say as calmly as I can considering. E wants to curse all their asses out but Imani is trying to remain professional.

“It’s just some simple questions,” Karen insists.

“Simple or not, I’m not answering. Are you questioning him in front of me?”

“Of course not,” Dr. Stetson’s smug ass says.

“Then, of course not for me.” At this point, I realize that I need to be recording this shit. “I need a minute,” I utter then stand before they can resist.

“Imani,” Karen says.

“This is too much. I feel like I’m being railroaded and I don’t like that. So, before this goes left, I need to go to the restroom. Five minutes please.”

“We really need to get this settle,” Nurse Bonita finally joins the conversation.

“Let’s give her five,” Karen says and I just walk out.

I rush down the small hall and locate the Women’s bathroom.

Once inside, I take a deep ass breath to calm my ass down.

Then, I start my voice recorder and walk back to the conference room.

The moment I’m back in my seat, Karen starts back. “Are you okay now?”

“Not really but if I’m going to be forced to answer questions in front of my supervisor and the surgeon that actually left the sponge in the patient, I guess I have to be.”

“The scrub tech counts the sponges not the surgeon. I’m too busy saving lives,” he yells. His entire face is beet red.

“Dr. Stetson, please lower your voice,” Karen advises. “Yelling is only going to aggravate the situation.”

This situation is already aggravated.

“Let’s just take a final look at what happen. Imani, during the initial instrument count, how many sponges were there?” Karen asks.

“Twelve,” I respond.

For the next twenty minutes, Karen asks me the same damn questions that was asked when the sponge was discovered in the patient during recovery and asked a-damn-gain at the start of the official investigation.

My answers remain the same and at the end of the day, Dr. Stetson, left a sponge in the patient and when I did my final count, I told him I only had eleven.

In his usual, bully, intimidating behavior, he berated me in the operating room and basically forced me into saying twelve even after I initially told him eleven.

I told Nurse Bonita immediately after the surgery and she knows it.

Unfortunately, her and the good doctor both have amnesia now and everything was my fault.

They are full of shit and so is this investigation.

“What’s the verdict?” I ask, pissed off. “Because I need to know what I need to do next.”

“Need to do next?” Bonita asks.

“Yeah. Next. If I get fired for this shit when we all know that he left that sponge in the patient, I’m going to have to do something.”

“The final count is on you not me,” he argues.

“But you forced me to say eleven.”

“Unfortunately, it’s your word against mine,” he says and I want to hop across this table and slap the smugness off his face.

“We’ll see,” I say threateningly. Honestly, I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do if they fire me. I need this damn job. I just moved here and I refuse to go back to Diamond Cove.

“Let’s just calm down. Obviously, we need more time to investigate,” Karen says.

“What does that mean? His negligence ass still gets to operate and I stay on leave because that’s not fair at all. That makes it look like a decision has been made. I can’t stay quiet about that.”

“If you are on leave, you are not allowed to discuss the investigation,” Bianca warns.

“I won’t. I’ll just talk about what happened in the OR,” I snap back.

“Bianca and Dr. Stetson, I’ll update you two on this later today,” Karen says, dismissing their asses. At first, neither moves but when Karen doesn’t change her words, they get the hint and leave. When they do, she turns to me. “What resolution are you looking for in this?”

“Selfish me just wants my job back. But professional me, the CST, wants Dr. Stetson also held responsible for his actions.”

“Now, I’m just asking this. I can’t make any promises or even say that this is an option but would you consider another specialty?”

“Out of trauma and emergency?” I ask for clarification.

“Yes. Just asking,” she says.

“Depends,” I say honestly.

I started off in cardiovascular, moved to orthopedic, then to trauma and emergency. I’ve been in trauma for the last two years. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind a switch back to cardiovascular or orthopedic. I love my specialty but trauma and emergency is mentally, emotionally, and physically draining.

“Good to know.”

“So now what?”

“We need to discuss a few things further.”

Damage control.

“Give us another forty-eight hours. Report back Wednesday morning and we will have the final, final decision.”

“And what about Dr. Stetson?”

“I can’t discuss another employee’s situation with another employee,” she has the nerve to say. After that shit show just five minutes ago, she tried it.

“I hope I get that same courtesy. Will I still get paid while I’m off?”

“Yes. It’s paid extended leave.”

“I guess I have no choice but to see you Wednesday,” I say then stand.

I damn near run out of that conference room. In less than ten minutes, I’m back in my ride, taking my ass home so I can sleep. My coffee is wearing off and I’m tired as fuck. I left for Diamond Cove yesterday at noon and I haven’t slept since Saturday night.

When I make it back to my townhome, I rush upstairs, strip, take another shower, then climb my naked but moisturized body in my extra comfy king size bed. I don’t even bother to turn the damn tv on. I don’t open my eyes until ten hours later when I feel my stomach eating itself.

I drag my hungry self out of my bed, relieve my bladder, brush and gargle, then head downstairs to raid my fridge and pantry.

Unfortunately, I don’t find shit but food that needs to be cooked and a box of my favorite 7Days soft vanilla croissants.

I grab a croissant to eat while I decide on real food.

Two things in life make me extremely happy, cooking and driving my baby and with this bullshit going on with my job, I need to do both.

I saw an interesting teriyaki salmon bake recipe on Skroll the other day and I screen shot it.

I think I’ll make that. So, with my croissant in hand, I head upstairs to get dressed.

My next stops are the grocery store, the Marketplace, and a gas station.