Chapter 42 #2
“What do you think, Vito?” I say, almost conversationally. “Roberto thinks we should settle this in court. Lawyers, you know?”
I make an effort to pour more stereotypical Jersey into my accent. It’s more along the lines of what people expect of us.
Vito leans against the wall next to the doctor, arms crossed, all lazy menace.
“Lawyers are slow,” Vito says. “I don’t like slow. And they cost a lot.”
He looks the doctor up and down.
“You look like a guy who’d prefer not to get sued,” Vito continues.
“Your insurance premiums probably go up. You might lose your license. Erica quit school to come home and take care of her dad, who’s a single father, a widower, a hard-working man.
Roberto would eat you for lunch, spit you out, and then go back for seconds. But you don’t want that.”
"We don't want that," I say, picking up the thread. “We think we can settle this out of court much faster.”
Vito leans against the wall next to the doctor, arms crossed, all lazy menace.
The doctor’s eyes flick between us.
“Do you want money? I have money,” the doctor asks.
He’s a fool. No matter how smart he is, he’s a fool.
I shrug. "I like money. You like money?" I ask Vito.
"Oh, I love money," Vito says.
“See?” I tell the doctor. "Easy enough."
“Just—just tell me how much you want,” he says, looking a little relieved. “I can have that for you by tomorrow.”
"Well, I don't know," I say, trying to really play up the dumb angle. "See, that's my girl in there, and that's her dad. If he dies, I’m gonna be the one to hear about it, you know? So, it's really gotta be worth my while. You know women. Nag, nag, nag."
The doctor nods. "Yeah, women. They can be real bitchy."
He really is a special kind of stupid.
Vito laughs. "Got that right."
He smiles, almost relieved. That encourages the doctor enough to joke some more.
“You know,” he says, trying to be one of the guys, “the wife, she’s always on my ass about something. The car, the kids, the lawn… I can’t imagine what a hysterical one like that would be like.” He's talking about Erica now.
Hysterical, apparently, because her dad might die from a stupid mistake made by this asshole right here.
"Right," I murmur.
And the doctor is so oblivious, he doesn't even sense the change in my mood. Just continues to dig his own grave. "Hope she's at least good in bed. Make it worth your while, right?
And the stupid bastard actually winks at me.
"Seems like she'd be. She's got a great rack," he says. “I noticed that the second I saw her. Her dad could have died on the table, and all I could think about was those tits.”
And he actually chuckles like he just said something funny.
The doctor’s chuckle peters out when he sees the look on Vito’s face. Then he looks at me.
And I’m not smiling either.
"Is that what you were doing, doc, when you should've been ordering that CT scan?" I ask, my voice quiet, all pretense of the good ol' boy dropped. "Thinking of my woman's tits?" I ask.
I push myself off the wall, and take one step closer, crowding him in. "Did it make you hard? Thinking about her rack while you were signing his discharge papers without mentioning a follow-up scan?"
The doctor’s eyes go wide, and he shrinks back. "I, uh..."
"What's the matter, doc?" Vito asks, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer, too. "I thought we were all just guys here, talking about bitches and tits?"
The doctor's breath hitches. His gaze darts between my face and Vito’s, and the blood drains out of his, leaving him sallow and sweat-beaded at the temples.
“I—That was—That’s not what I meant—”
I give Vito an exaggerated surprised look. "That's not what he meant, he says."
"It sure sounded like that's what he meant," Vito says conversationally.
“It’s an expression,” the doctor stammers, hands coming up in a placating gesture. “I didn’t mean any disrespect. I was just… trying to relate.”
"That's his future wife, you know," Vito continues.
Future wife.
Wife.
I like the sound of that.
"You jerk off to my future wife, doc?" I ask. "Think about her in your car? The one your wife nags you about?"
“No,” he breathes, shaking his head. “God, no. I was just… talking.”
"See, I think he's lying," Vito says to me.
"Oh, I think he's lying too," I agree. "You see... that rack? It's mine. And that woman? She's mine. And her dad? He's mine."
I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "And you? You just became mine too."
"Always wanted a doctor," Vito says gleefully.
“I didn’t— I’m not a bad person,” the doctor whispers, and it’s pathetic.
“Sure you are,” Vito says brightly. “You’re a terrible person. You got sloppy, you got caught, and now you’re trying to blame the person you wronged. While thinking about her rack. That’s the dictionary definition of a bad person. You might be worse than I am, and I’m pretty fucking terrible.”
"I—I— Money. Just tell me how much you want," he says desperately.
“Money’s not going to fix this,” I say.
The doctor stares at me, his mind scrambling for purchase.
"What are you going to do?" he asks, the question barely a puff of air.
I smile, and it's not a nice smile.
"We make a deal," I say. I lean in closer, my breath near his ear. "If he dies, you die. And since I'm not a doctor like you, I can't guarantee I'll get it right the first time, so I'll have to keep trying and trying and trying."
The doctor’s whole body convulses with a flinch.
"And if he doesn't die," I continue, "you're my bitch. But you'll be alive."
I pull back slightly, giving him some space to breathe. I hold the doctor's terrified gaze for another beat, letting the silence stretch until it’s thick enough to choke on.
"The fuck you waiting for, bitch?" I snap.
And like a shot, the doctor stumbles away, tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape. He doesn't look back. He just runs.
Vito and I watch him go, a dead sprint down the hall toward the emergency department's thrumming heart.
Vito turns to me with a wide, unholy grin.
“I think he’s going to fix your future father-in-law,” he says.
I just watch the empty hallway, thinking about Erica. About the rage in her face. And the way she was ready to take on the world in that waiting room, all by herself.
She doesn't have to do that anymore.
Next to me, Vito punches my arm. "I haven't seen you work someone over like that in a while." He grins. "This was fun. We should do it more often. And, look, we got us a doctor out of the deal."
He’s still grinning as we turn to head back.
"Future wife, huh?"
"Shut up," I say and punch his arm harder. He just laughs, and the sound follows us as we walk back down the hall.