Clubs (Aces Underground #3)

Chapter 1

HARRISON

I fucking hate March.

The worst month of the year by far.

But Harrison, you might say, it’s the first month of spring. The month of the first blossoms of the trees. The snow is beginning to melt, the sun beginning to peek through the skies of gray.

Big fucking deal.

The city of Chicago goes all out for March.

Every damned window is covered with four-leaf clovers, pots of gold, and mischievous leprechauns.

Then of course there’s the drinking. My hospital, St. Charles General, is always swamped with patients suffering from alcohol poisoning or brawl-related injuries this time of year.

The city’s gravest sin, though, is the millions of gallons of green dye that it pours into the Chicago River to mark the occasion.

Makes the whole thing look like a runoff of toxic sewage.

I have to cross it on my commute from my home in Oak Park every time I come into the city, holding my breath against any noxious fumes.

Of course, these are merely symptoms of my disdain for the month.

The real reason—well, one of the reasons—is because my birthday is the seventeenth.

Yep. You heard that right.

St. Patrick’s Day.

My parents were thrilled. The firstborn son of two second-generation Irish-Americans, born on the day when the Yanks celebrate our culture by drinking more whiskey and Guinness than their livers could ever hope to process.

They dressed me up in leprechaun onesies the first several years of my life and then always made sure my wardrobe had plenty of green in it.

I never wear green anymore. It’s my favorite color, but I consciously stopped wearing it in middle school.

Fuck… Middle school.

Those years are rough on anyone, but for me…

Damn.

I don’t like to think about it.

Because not only was I born on the Irish people’s answer to Christmas, not only did my parents dress me in an all-green wardrobe until I started sprouting armpit hair…

But as luck would have it, I was born with abnormally large ears.

And the school bullies had their way with me about them for years.

Any name you can think of, they called me. A lot of rabbit-inspired options, of course. And once they realized that the first syllable of my name was a synonym for our cotton-tailed friends, they were unstoppable.

I grew into my ears eventually.

But the scars of those formative years will never heal.

The bullying was just the beginning of it.

But I shake the thought from my head.

Look at me now, Mom! I’m an attending physician at one of Chicago’s leading hospitals.

I make a shit ton of money, bought my first home—an actual house, with a yard and everything—in a good part of Oak Park, and I have a prime reserved parking spot right in the Loop. St. Charles treats its doctors well.

The nurses don’t get parking, but whatever. Most of them live right off the L, so their commutes are pretty straightforward anyway. And if they’re not driving, they’re doing their part to save the whales or the pandas or whatever cause we’re all tacitly agreeing to support this week.

I, on the other hand, am driving my car, a vintage 1972 Cadillac Coupe DeVille, into work today.

I’m the envy of all my colleagues except for my best friend, Maddox Hathaway, whose gorgeous 1967 Rolls-Royce makes my vehicle look like a bumper car.

Of course, Maddox got his car from his father, and I worked tooth and nail to be able to buy my little beauty and get her fixed up like new.

And yes, I’m already holding my breath as I pass over the river, even though the city isn’t scheduled to dye it until tomorrow.

It’s probably good sense no matter what time of year it is.

God knows what—or even who—might be interred in that waterway.

Jesus, where did that thought come from?

I mean, it is Chicago. I’m sure the mob has dumped a body or two in the river over the years. And those poor bastards’ eternal home is about to be stained the most violent shade of emerald imaginable.

Oh, well. I guess it’s more interesting than being worm food.

Where was I?

Oh, yeah. Attending physician. Leading Chicago hospital.

I rub elbows with lots of city elites, date lots of beautiful women, and even go to one of the city’s most exclusive clubs, Aces Underground, as Maddox’s guest. He comes from Chicago royalty.

The Hathaways are a local political dynasty. The Kennedys of Chicago.

The O’Rourkes aren’t the Kennedys of anything, except perhaps for binge drinking and baby making, often at the same time.

I was born into nothing. Less than nothing. And I built a damned life for myself. Worked three separate jobs to get myself through medical school. Survived off ramen and Easy Mac for the years of my internship and residency to scrounge up enough money to pay off my remaining student loans.

And now I’ve made something of myself. Something that my middle-school bully could never dream of becoming.

Of course, that’s not entirely his fault, given what—

I slam on my brakes and my car screeches to a halt.

A young woman is crossing the road in front of me, paying no mind at all to her surroundings.

I roll down the window to chastise her lack of awareness—

Shit. I know her. Dinah Miêu. One of the nurses in my hospital.

“Dinah!” I call out. “You okay?”

She turns around, her face flushed. “Oh, gosh. Dr. O’Rourke! I didn’t realize that was you.”

“Who else would be driving this beauty?” I tap the steering wheel. “You should watch where you’re going, Di.”

She swallows. “Yes. I should. So sorry. I guess the coffee hasn’t quite kicked in yet.”

Poor Dinah. She’s been taking on a lot of extra shifts lately.

One of my favorite nurses, Alissa Maravilla, just banked in all the vacation time she’d allotted over the last few years to go on some sort of romantic escape with Maddox.

Yes, the same Maddox of Hathaway fame. Still crazy that the two of them met. Talk about worlds colliding.

“No worries,” I say. “Just be careful. I’ll see you upstairs.”

She nods and heads into the building.

I turn the corner and park in the hospital garage catty-corner to the front lobby.

This garage spot is great. I’m often downtown after hours.

Sometimes I like to go to the theater, and every so often I snag a ticket to a black-tie gala for some charity I’ve never heard of.

And then there are the clubs, Aces Underground chief among them, but there are others as well.

They’re great places to pick up women. Flash your medical license and they’re putty in your hands.

I get out of my car, making sure the window is rolled back up and the doors locked. This garage has twenty-four-hour surveillance, but you can never be too careful in the city of Chicago. I walk out onto the street, into the lobby of the hospital, and take the elevator up to my ward.

I cross over to the nurses’ station where Dinah is sitting, drinking what I’m guessing is her third cup of coffee of the day.

She looks up and smiles at me. “Dr. O’Rourke.

So sorry again for that… I mean… I’ve just been so busy ever since Alissa up and ditched us for her little rendezvous abroad with Maddox.

” She sips her coffee. “Do you know when she’ll be back? ”

I raise an eyebrow. “I figured you’d know. Aren’t you her best friend?”

She sighs. “I’d like to think I am. But I’ve heard so little from her since she left.

” She pulls out her phone. “Just this, a text from nearly a month ago. February the fifteenth. Hey girl, just a heads up that Maddox and I are going on a little trip. Going to be away from the hospital for a while. Lots of love!” She scrolls down.

“And then, a week or so ago, after not responding to a dozen messages I sent trying to check in, she said Vacay is going great! Will let you know when I’m heading back. ”

I scratch the side of my head. “That’s pretty vague for Alissa.”

Dinah nods. “Right? Like, all of this is so unlike her. Taking off last minute on a trip with a man she’s been dating for, what? Two weeks?”

“It’s unlike Maddox, too. He must really have it bad for this woman to abandon his shop for so long. It’s not like he has paid time off. He’s the boss. So every day he’s not opening the shop, he’s not making any money.”

Dinah sighs. “Yeah, but he has plenty of that Hathaway money.”

I shake my head. “His father disinherited him. Left all his money in a trust, available only to Maddox if he ditches the shop and follows in his father’s political footsteps.”

Dinah widens her eyes. “Then how on earth are they affording to go on a trip for nearly a month? I mean”—she shifts her gaze—“I know what nurses make here. It’s not poverty wages or anything, but a luxurious month in Europe or South America or wherever it is they’ve flown off to…”

I shrug. “Could be they know someone whose place they’re staying at. Then they’d just be responsible for their airfare and incidentals.”

Dinah bites her lip. “So they could just be out of town indefinitely?”

I grab a patient’s chart. “She only has so much vacation time left. I imagine we’ll be hearing from her soon.”

“Or else, what? You’ll fire her?”

I run my hands through my hair. “It won’t come to that. Alissa is a wonderful nurse. She cares so much about the people in this hospital. She’s just having some sort of…liberation moment.”

Dinah crosses her arms. “I don’t know, Doctor. Two of her favorite patients, Carol and Lou, are here. They just went home a week or so ago after their transplants. I’d think Alissa would at least want to check in and see how they’re doing.” She frowns. “This is just so unlike her.”

“But weren’t you saying that dating Maddox seemed to bring out a different side of her? One that wasn’t so straight-laced?”

“Yeah, but…” Dinah rubs at her forehead. “It’s one thing to try something new with a romantic partner. Something like sky diving, or bungee jumping. To take off out of nowhere for a trip lasting God knows how long…”

“I see your point.” I stroke my chin. “And the only correspondence you’ve received from her is by text?”

She nods. “Those two texts. That’s all the word I’ve had in a month.”

I pull out my own phone, scroll through my mail app. “And the only communication I have from her is when she sent an email to the St. Charles admins telling them she was taking some time off.” I scratch my head. “Only texts…”

“Doctor?”

I hold up a hand as I call Maddox.

“Hey. This is Maddox Hathaway. If this is related to my shop, please call the Hathaway Haberdashery’s landline directly. If not, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

The phone beeps, but I end the call. No point in calling the haberdashery. I know Maddox isn’t there.

I call again. Again it goes straight to voicemail.

“Alissa’s phone does the same thing every time I call her,” Dinah says. “Is it possible the two of them decided to unplug for this trip?”

“That could be it. Still…” I rub at the back of my neck, where my hairs are standing upright. “You’ve only received texts from Alissa, right?”

“You already asked me that, Doctor.”

“You’re not understanding my question.” I set down the chart. “When was the last time you heard Alissa’s voice?”