Chapter 8
JUNIPER
It’s been one of those days where all I want to do is go home, get out of these scrubs, shower, and sleep. Exhaustion is a weak term to describe my current level of tiredness.
Might as well be comatose on the waiting room floor.
The only thing saving me is the new friend I just made. Did I expect to have almost everything in common with Apollo Graves’ mom? Nope. But by the looks of it, we’re practically the same person.
“You just scored some serious cool points wearing Converse, Dr. Wilde,” Tenley tells me, heading toward the exit door with Apollo in tow. She’s my last appointment for the day, and most of the office staff, aside from Gabriella, have already gone home.
I look down at my lilac purple high-tops, marveling at how perfectly they match my yellow-and-lilac sunshine scrubs. “Pretty sure I’m breaking all kinds of protocols,” I laugh. “Gotta hold onto my style somehow. And please, call me Juniper.”
“Juniper,” Tenley repeats, a bright smile cresting her face. “I know this is totally unconventional, and I’m probably violating hundreds of doctor-patient, or in this case, doctor-parent rules, but would you wanna hang out sometime?”
I made a friend. Sooner than expected, too.
It’s nerve-racking to be in a new city and not know anyone, but Tenley wasted no time at all talking to me about her life and getting to know me.
I learned quickly that she’s thirty-nine and doesn’t give a rip what anyone thinks about her.
I knew right away that she was someone I could be friends with.
After I gave Apollo a quick well check-up, we spent a solid thirty minutes talking about life.
My move to Atlanta from Tennessee. Tenley’s dog, Zion.
I also learned she’s married to a professional baseball player, which immediately had my mind drifting to another baseball player I met recently.
In this exact office, to be exact. I instantly questioned if they knew each other but decided not to ask.
Seeing as how I have no friends other than Val and promised myself I’d say yes more, I agree.
“I’d love that. I don’t know many people here yet, and you seem really cool, Tenley.
Apollo, too.” I smile, remembering I almost forgot something.
“Hey, Apollo? Did you want to pick something out of my treasure box?”
He peers up at me from the waiting room rug, pausing the roaring of his toy car engine. “Treasure box?” he squeals. “Are there monster trucks inside? Or sticky hands? Mommy gets so mad when I fling them on the ceiling.”
He might be the cutest little boy I’ve ever seen. His hair is somewhat long and shaggy, bright blond, with the bluest eyes. Reminds me of an island surfer, resembling Tenley’s bohemian style in a way.
“No sticky hands, mister,” Tenley tells him sternly. “Little bitches turned my ceiling from white to blue.”
“You heard the boss,” I tell Apollo, opening up the wooden treasure box.
“No sticky hands. Everything else is fair game.” I started the treasure box when I first began my Peds fellowship.
It quickly became a game-changer for the kids.
Parents appreciate it, too, making the not-so-fun appointments operate that much more smoothly, knowing a prize is coming.
While Apollo searches for his prize, Tenley walks beside me and says, “Here. Let me get your number, and I’ll text you this weekend. Maybe we can do something. Grab drinks or play Dirty Bingo.”
I repeat my number to her, all thoughts running rapidly, wondering what in the ever-loving hell Dirty Bingo is. “I’m sorry,” I choke. “Did you say Dirty Bingo?”
“Hell yeah, I did. Ever played?”
“Nooo, but I’m very intrigued. Is this something you play often?”
Tenley snorts. “Only every month. All of our friends get together at this run-down bar called Joe’s Bar. Catchy, right?” She laughs. “It’s a hidden gem in Atlanta known for hosting monthly Dirty Bingo nights. It’s exactly as wild and untamed as it seems.”
Dorothy, you’re definitely not in Tennessee anymore.
Butttt also, that sounds kinda fun and something dangerously different from how I usually spend my weekends. Well, nowadays, my weekends consist of binge-watching New Girl, hanging at home with my cat, Shakespeare, and ordering takeout.
A game of Dirty Bingo might just take me under, but I’m up for the challenge.
Deciding there’s no time like the present, I clap my hands and face Tenley head-on. “So, when are we playing? And what do I wear?”
A sly grin escapes her, followed by a giggle I’m positive I should worry about. “Oh, girlfriend, the sluttier the better. This weekend is X-Rated Night. Strikers have the place to ourselves.”
“Strikers?” I gulp.
“My husband’s team. Plus their partners. Trust me, you’ll love them. This is the one night we let ourselves forget we’re adults, parents, and professionals.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. I already agreed to go, but that was before I knew that Addie’s fucking daddy would be there. And I really need to stop calling him that. Crew—his name is Crew, and he’s my patient’s father.
I guess Tenley is also my patient’s mother, and that didn’t stop me. Maybe he’ll bring his wife, and all will be okay. I won’t be so tempted to stare at him.
I’m just getting new-friend jitters. Totally normal.
Jesus, what if he gets naked? Oh my god. I would have seen a patient’s father naked. I could lose my medical license, possibly even be exiled from Atlanta. I can see the headline now: New Pediatrician in Town Gets Freaky at Dirty Bingo With Patient’s Hot Dad.
There. Will. Be. No. Getting. Freaky. Juniper.
“Amazing,” I sputter with very little zeal. Hopefully Tenley can’t feel my panic. “I look forward to hearing from you.” And the composed doctor persona is back.
Surprising me, but also calming my anxiety a bit, she says, “I’ll text you the details. Come on, little man. Daddy’s waiting for us. Later, Juniper.”
And my new friend leaves me to it.
By to it, I mean, left in both worry and excitement.
Tenley Graves
We’ll pick you up at 7pm. See you then.
The week managed to fly by, and somehow, it’s already the weekend.
I’m finally getting into a groove with work, the days all blending together. One thing that hasn’t, though, is the new friend I made and her promise to text me about hanging out.
And by hang out…she means play Dirty Bingo.
Tonight.
I pull up Tenley’s text message. That was at four, which gave me a total of three hours to pick out an appropriate outfit and overanalyze her text.
She said we’ll pick you up, as in plural.
More than one. Likely more than two, so who does that include?
Definitely her husband, but does her husband have friends on the team he would likely ride with?
In return, leaving me to ride with them.
I’m overanalyzing everything, worried sick Crew fucking Briggs will be in attendance. It would be just my luck.
I’ve circled around what I could wear that would equate to Tenley’s level of slutty, while also keeping a sliver of my own dignity intact. I’ve had my fair share of risqué moments in my life, and would rather let the night play out, rather than anticipate the outcome before it gets started.
I do feel better knowing tonight is strictly a team thing and not open to the rest of the public. There’s no way that kind of news wouldn’t travel fast.
Lucky for me, I’m all out of time to question it.
Tenley Graves
Beep. Beep. Out front.
Be right out.
I exhale, read her text, and give myself a once-over in the floor-length mirror. Not bad.
I look cute. I feel good. I guess that’s what matters.
Not knowing if Joe’s Bar is inside or outside, I settled on a black leather skirt and paired it with an oversized black-and-white striped sweater that hangs slightly off the shoulder.
This is where my attempt at sexy comes in—my boobs are a pretty decent size, but much better to the eye in a push-up bra, making the slip of the sweater reveal nearly half my cleavage.
The black silk lace of the bra adds some extra spunk to it.
Coming from a family with tall genes, I’m 5’9” in height and love to use my legs to my advantage. Paired with studded black pointed heels, I feel desirable without sacrificing modesty.
My long black hair is in a slicked-back ponytail, bringing even more attention to my statement glasses. I typically only wear them while working, reading, or if I’m somewhere I know I’ll need to see something more clearly or up close.
But tonight, I thought the cat-eye frames added an extra edge to the fit.
“Okay.” I let out a full breath. “I can do this. Time to make friends and have fun. In that order,” I hype myself up before grabbing my purse and heading out the door. I can’t risk leaving any time to change my mind.
I’m halfway down the front porch steps before finally deciding to look up, and a blacked-out Chevy Suburban meets me at the end of the driveway. Tenley rolls down her window from the front seat, a giant guy with a mustache, who I’m assuming is her husband, in the driver’s seat beside her.
Maybe it is just me.
“Hey, girl. Hey!”
Attempting to manifest a good night, I hold my purse up, a smile riding high on my cheeks. “I’m ready to get down and dirty!” I cheer, reaching for the backseat door and opening it wide.
“Ah!” Tenley squeals. “We’re going to have so much fun!”
My steps halt, and my knees threaten to buckle when a large body drifts into view, catching my full attention. Or should I say: a large man.
The crowd falls silent as my gaze lifts to Crew’s on the opposite side of the vehicle. “Crew. Hi,” I mutter, careful not to linger too long and slide into the empty captain’s chair.
Something about the coincidence of both men playing for the Strikers made too much sense. Figures Crew would also be the one seemingly closest to the Graves family.
“Doc.” He nods yet doesn’t speak further, and I instantly wonder if I misjudged him.