Chapter 11 #2
“Oh, hey, Ken. I didn’t see you come in.” Ashley didn’t look guilty. She looked pleased. I scowled at her.
“So, who were you two talking about? Was it me?”
Ashley kept her face turned toward Dr. Ken Miles but her eyes slid to me. “Actually we were talking about a friend of Elizabeth’s from high school. She just recently made contact with him again, and he wants to get together, so…no. Not you.”
It took all my Jedi power to keep from smacking Ashley at that moment. She knew my plan for Dr. Ken Miles. She knew he was my best hope for getting laid in the foreseeable future. She knew she was interfering with the potential for an orgasm, maybe several if I was lucky.
Friends don’t pussy submarine friends. Not cool.
“Old friend?” Dr. Ken Miles turned his pale blue eyes to mine. He appeared to be interested and his voice held a slight edge. It was a good sign and a bad sign.
I shrugged. “Oh, yeah, well—you know. I went to my high school reunion this weekend and ran into some people.”
Dr. Ken Miles was chewing gum and holding a half-finished milkshake. He set it down and pushed blonde curls to one side of his forehead then crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah. I saw that….”
I stared at him for a beat. When I spoke, my voice cracked. “You saw what?”
Dr. Ken Miles’s eyes narrowed, moved between mine; his jaw opened and closed as he kneaded the gum between his molars. “The YouTube video with you and that comedian guy. Meg showed it to me yesterday.”
Shitzterhozen! Megalomaniac eyebrow-tweezing Meg.
“Oh. That.” I laughed. I knew it sounded insincere and forced. I grimaced.
He smiled at me in return. It looked insincere and forced. “I didn’t know you had a kid.”
I rolled my eyes and released a long sigh. “I don’t. I didn’t. I was trying to be helpful.”
“See? She was trying to be helpful,” Ashley said sweetly.
“I was, Ashley.” I shot her a stealthy death stare despite the forced smile on my face.
“As I was just explaining, Nico and I were acquainted in high school. One of his closest friends was my boyfriend. At the reunion there were some intoxicated women who were harassing him, so I tried to diffuse the situation by yelling something to shock the ladies out of their inappropriate behavior.”
Dr. Ken Miles had pulled up a chair next to me while I was speaking. He obviously wanted to hear more, but his expression was still guarded. “Why didn’t you yell fire?”
Oh, for the love of God!
“I actually explained that too.” My smile was waning, and I worried that it looked more like a growl than a grin.
I wondered how many times I was going to have to explain the legality of screaming fire in an occupied room.
“It is actually against the law to yell fire in a crowd of people. You know, what with all the panic and trampling to death and whatnot.”
“Hmm…” Dr. Ken Miles leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He studied me. “So, you two hooking up now or something?”
“That’s a very personal question, Dr. Ken.” Ashley’s Tennessee twang reminded him that she was still there. “Unless you have a stake in the dairy farm, the milking pen is none of your beeswax.”
Dr. Ken Miles frowned at Ashley’s untoward metaphor, his eyes moving over her in plain contemplation. He responded with a vehemence I wasn’t expecting. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to work, nurse?”
Ashley and I shared a look of silent communication
Me: That was weird.
Her: What was all that about?
Me: I don’t know. Kinda douchey though.
Her: Yes. My sentiments exactly.
“Well…” Ashley stood from her chair slowly, keeping her eyes on me. “I suppose that is my cue to leave.”
I glanced at Dr. Ken Miles, glowering at his rudeness, then back to Ashley. “No, no—you don’t need to go.”
“Actually, Dr. Ken is right. I need to get back. You two have a nice chat.” She stressed the word chat and issued me a wonky stare as she left.
I frowned at her back, then shifted my attention to him, challenging him to speak, but I didn’t wait.
“That was really rude, Dr. Ken Miles.”
“Yeah, well, she did need to get back.” He ground the gum between his molars. “I’ll apologize to her later, ok? I just wanted to talk to you alone.”
I studied his pretty face. Decided to let it go, for now, but I tucked it away as another reason why I disliked him.
He issued me a flat smile. “So, then, you had a nice time at your reunion?”
I nodded. “It was different from what I expected, but not unpleasant.”
“So….” He opened the lid to his plastic cup and spit the gum into it. Gross. “I heard about your latest prank.”
“Really? From who?”
“Dr. Botstein.”
“Huh.” I shrugged. I was just happy he’d dropped the Nico Babygate scandal so fast. “Really? Was he still mad?”
“He asked me if I thought you should be disciplined.”
“What? Why would he do that?”
“Because I’m the chief resident.” Dr. Ken Miles looked a little affronted that I would even ask the question.
This annoyed me. I decided to cover my annoyance by flirting. Maybe I could kill two birds with one stone: disguise my irritation that Dr. Botstein had consulted dull Dr. Ken Miles on my antics, and push my getting laid agenda.
Thoughts of getting laid made me think of Nico.
My stomach flip-flopped. For a single second I entertained the possibility that my strange, chaotic, messy, tangled feelings for Nico were just a byproduct of engorged hormones. Maybe all I needed was a nicely built partner.
But I wasn’t that stupid.
I couldn’t convince myself that Dr. Ken Miles was a suitable substitute for Nico any more than a Pinto was an adequate stand-in for a Ferrari. I wanted to be touched, kissed, held, caressed—and I wanted Nico, but I couldn’t use him in that way. I liked him too much.
So I flirted with Dr. Ken Miles.
“I guess it’s a good thing then that you and I are such good friends.
Besides, the prank was meant for you, and it was April Fool’s Day.
” I leaned forward and batted my eyelashes in his general direction.
Rebalancing my hormones was a top priority, but I might have slathered on the flirt a little too thick.
Dr. Ken Miles cleared his throat and shifted his attention to the plastic milkshake cup in his hand. “I didn’t know the prank was meant for me.”
“How am I expected to contain myself around you on April Fool’s Day?” I ran my index finger down the length of his arm. I was bracing myself for one of his poor flirting attempts, but it didn’t really matter. I didn’t care if he was bad at flirting.
“I thought you’d like to know that I stood up for you to Dr. Botstein.”
My eyes widened with genuine surprise. “You did?” Maybe Dr. Ken Miles was likeable after all.
He nodded proudly. “I did.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him that there was no way to definitively prove that it was you who planted the box of gloves.”
I felt badly for Dr. Ken Miles. He wasn’t a bad guy. He was just boring.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Ken Miles. I admitted it to Dr. Botstein when he confronted me. But, thanks for trying to cover for me.”
“Oh.” He looked disappointed, and then his expression suddenly changed to aggravated. “Elizabeth, I think…we need to talk.”
I sat up a little straighter and watched his growing somberness through narrowed eyes. “Is there something wrong?”
“Yeah, there is, actually.” He glanced around the lounge then set his cup on the table and leaned closer to me.
“If it had been anyone else, anyone but you, I would have told Dr. Botstein that I didn’t think a hospital was an appropriate place to play pranks.
” His jaw ticked before he continued. “As this is your third time acting so unprofessionally, I would have told him I thought you needed to be held accountable.”
“Ok.” I withdrew my hand from his arm and placed it back on my knee. “I guess—thank you for not saying that to Dr. Botstein.”
“This doesn’t change how I feel about you. In fact, I’d like very much for us to be more than friends, if you want to know the truth. But if you keep behaving in immature and reckless ways….”
“Immature and reckless?” I could take a reprimand from Dr. Botstein, who I respected and admired, but I had difficulty accepting a lecture about maturity from Dr. Ken Miles, who was not much older than me.
“Now, wait a minute. I was playing a harmless prank on April Fool’s Day. It’s not like I was….”
“Switching a training video with a porn tape?”
I didn’t respond. My aggravation was alert level red. Dr. Ken Miles had laughed when I pulled the porno tape prank, and now he was using it as ammunition.
He breathed through his nose, his mouth clamped shut, his nostrils flaring. My eyes shifted to his flaring nostrils.
His flaring nostrils were just…aggravating.
In fact, everything about Dr. Ken Miles in that moment aggravated me—the leftover milkshake with a gob of gum floating on top, his prettiness, his lack of humor, his hall monitor goody-goody attitude.
I shifted my weight to stand and his hand reached out to still my movements. “Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving. I have work to do.”
“I just told you that I want to be more than friends, Elizabeth. I think I deserve a response.”
I scoff-snorted. “You also just told me that you think I’m immature and reckless. I think you’ll excuse me if I need some time to process this new information first.”
Dr. Ken Miles leaned forward, his voice lowering to a harsh whisper, “This is why I haven’t acted on my feelings, Elizabeth. I can’t be with someone who is incapable of behaving like an adult.”
“Says the guy who is always attempting a clandestine nose excavation.” There—I said it before I could stop myself. I knew it was childish to reference Dr. Ken Miles’s constant nose picking, but I was angry and reacting as such.
He blinked and flinched visibly. “What?”
I rolled my eyes. “Nothing. Thanks for your honesty.” I forced a smile and nodded vigorously. “Mind if I go now?”
His eyes looked straight into mine, cornflower blue and wide with disbelief. He released my arm abruptly, sniffed, and glanced at his shoes. “Fine. Go.”
I stood and walked blindly out of the lounge, past the still dozing doctors on the couch, and into the corridor.
Plan hide the salami with Dr. Ken Miles was officially on hold.
I was in a terrible mood, and Janie was still in Boston with Quinn.
Stupid Quinn.
Quinn, the friend usurper.
Actually, I liked Quinn. He reminded me of me. And I knew he’d be great to my best friend. But that didn’t make the time she was gone any less difficult to bear.
Usually, when either of us were feeling the funk, Janie and I would drink mojitos and watch movies based on comic books—her choice—or 1980s Jon Hughes movies—my choice.
Instead, I went to bed early Sunday night, tossed and turned, and had two dichotomous types of dreams: disturbing dreams about Nico being in danger and frustratingly fantastic dreams about Nico and me en coitus.
The worst of the nightmares, although I couldn’t explain why, involved me running through a crowd trying to find him.
Every time I thought I’d found Nico, it turned out to be Dr. Ken Miles.
I would turn away from him and continue my search, just to find Dr. Ken Miles again.
I experienced a high degree of interdream anger and despair.
I needed to contact Nico about his security firm. He needed to hire better guards. His lack of appropriate security was interrupting my sleep. Thoughts of him naked were also interrupting my sleep, but I couldn’t do a thing about that except enjoy them while they lasted.
I woke up for my early morning shift feeling hung over. The worst kind of injustice is doing nothing to deserve a hangover and waking up feeling like you have a hangover.
Still yawning by the time I walked into the hospital, I noted that the ibuprofen I took for my headache seemed to be working. I allowed myself a moment of optimistic contemplation—Monday could only be an improvement over Sunday.
I was so distracted by my bad dreams and trying to figure out a way to get Nico’s security team replaced, as well as the unfairness of my undeserved hangover that I didn’t notice the buzzing of my pager.
It vibrated off the shelf of my locker while I was pulling on a freshly laundered lab coat over faded teal scrubs.
As I retrieved it from the floor, I felt a twinge of disappointment; the day was already starting with a hectic bang and my shift hadn’t technically started yet.
I’d arrived to work early. I wanted to spend a few minutes drinking coffee and eating a doughnut.
Instead, now abandoning my plan for ten minutes of peace, I gathered a deep breath and glanced at the message.
CRU rm 410 asap; VIP peds ready cg1605 cf iv
I stared at the message.
Oh, shit.
Roughly translated, the message meant Please come to the Clinical Research Unit, room number 410, as soon as possible. The VIP pediatric patient is ready to enroll on a clinical trial, protocol number 1605, cystic fibrosis infusion study.
I stared unseeingly at the empty contents of my locker. My mind was in a blank panic. A moment later the original message was followed by a second message that was infinitely more cryptic: !!!!!!
Well, I wonder who it could be I thought drolly as I mentally prepared to trudge to the Clinical Research Unit.
Nico had returned with his niece.
They’d decided to enroll her in the study.