Chapter 1 #2
As usual, Larry tries to smooth over the whole awkward situation with a tasteless joke. “You want another beer or are you off to devise more clever ways to impress the ladies with your doctoring skills?”
I shove my now empty mug back across the bar and shoot him a disparaging look. “One day soon I’m gonna get tired of your sense of humor. When that day comes, don’t expect me to patch you up after I mess you up.”
He snorts a laugh as he draws me another beer. “Doctors don’t break people. They fix them.”
I take the beer he shoves my way and say lightly, “When did you become an expert on what doctors think?”
Larry leans across the bar on one arm and grins at me. “You, my friend, are not making friends and influencing people tonight. You know that, right?”
I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but his eyes lift to look over my shoulder. He whispers, “Head’s up, my friend. You’ve got a whore incoming.”
I frown at him. Larry has been warned about calling club girls whores, yet he persists. It’s almost like he has a personal grudge against all of them.
I spin around on the barstool, just in time to see Roxy weaving her way through the throng of bodies to get to me.
When she sees me watching her, she stands up a little straighter, throwing her chest out.
Roxy is my least favorite club girl, but she does have talent when it comes to capturing a man’s attention.
Tonight, she’s all long legs in a frilly skirt, spiked heels and a sparkling halter top.
Her long hair sways when she walks and she’s wearing dark red lipstick.
Roxy’s the kind of woman who should come with a warning label.
Some of the single brothers are really into her, but others refer to her as bad decision with great marketing.
Suddenly, she’s standing in front of me for the hundredth time.
When she lifts her chin and flicks her hair behind her shoulder, I find myself frowning at her.
“Doctor Patch,” she purrs. “You look stressed. Are you looking for some company tonight?”
I meet her gaze, keeping my response mild. “Nope, sweetheart. I’m just gonna drink my beer and head home for the night.”
“I could come with you,” she says. “I know just what to do to help you destress.”
I catch her meaning. Her offer is more than just hooking up.
I can tell by the intense look in her eyes that her offer is threaded with a fantasy of becoming my old lady.
She doesn’t usually go for prospects, but doctors are a whole other ballgame.
She sees me as her ticket to a better life.
Unfortunately, she’s not the first and probably won’t be the last. Several nurses tried the same when I was interning at the hospital.
I can see the logic, but that doesn’t mean I have to like or accept it.
“I’m a busy man,” I tell her in no uncertain terms. “I have a practice and I’m prospecting for the Legion. I don’t have room for anything more. You should set your sights on another man, someone who can give you the time and attention you deserve.”
She runs one finger down the front of my vest. “You could make room. I’m worth it.” She leans in, bringing her face to mine.
I back up just a tad, because allowing her to kiss me would send the wrong message. “Not tonight, Roxy,” I say firmly.
Offended, she turns on her heel and stomps away, climbing into the lap of the first single brother she meets. She throws me a triumphant look over her shoulder as if to say, see, I’m wanted, if not by you, by a real, fully patched brother.
I literally don’t care, so I swivel back around in my seat and finish my beer.
Larry leans on the counter and whispers, “You handled that like a fuckin’ pro. That woman is nothing but bad news.”
“Yeah, I know. She talks trash and tries to run off all the women who come here before they can become old ladies.”
“Not only that, but she also tries her darndest to split brothers and agitates them into fighting over her. Thankfully, most of them see right through her bullshit. She’s bad news and you’d do well to stay away from her.”
Something about the tone of his voice tells me there is more to this story than anyone suspects.
But I decide to let it go for now. We shoot the shit for a bit, like prospects are prone to do.
I put an hour or so between my last beer and me heading home, mostly because I want to make sure I’m sober enough to drive.
When I finally step outside, I stand next to my bike and look up at the stars.
I’m surprised by the sight of a shooting star.
My mom always said if you make a wish on a shooting star then your wish will come true.
I could wish for a lot of things but find myself wishing for all my patients to get better.
I want them all to live productive, happy lives.
I feel like a bit of candy ass for not wishing for my patch or a hot wife to fall into my lap, but shove those thoughts right back out of my mind.
I head home, turning the situation with my mother over in my mind. I wish there was some way I could get her to understand that I’m too busy to date right now. I just need another year or so to get my life in order before I settle down.
Instead of going to my house, I park behind my medical office because the tiny apartment above it is closer than my place.
I’m tired and don’t trust myself riding the extra thirty minutes it takes to get to my place.
So, I take refuge in the small space I once called home when I first opened my practice.
Not bothering with lights, I pull off my cut and drop it on a chair, kick off my boots, and crash into the full-size bed. Even though I’m still wearing my clothes, I drift off fast. My last thought before I fall asleep is of that wish I made.