Chapter 3
CATARINA
For the first time since I’d started coming, I had my own room at the conference in Las Vegas. I’d just come into the next level of responsibility in the National Institute of Health and was finally making six figures after years of sixty hour work weeks and intense research.
I didn’t care much for getting dolled up on a regular basis, but tonight I would make an exception because it was the infamous CSC Friday Night Mixer.
There would be hundreds of doctors, donors, cancer survivors, patients, and celebrities, all mingling together on the bottom floor of the hotel, which included five separate bar spaces.
It was a night when we all could let loose a little, joke, and smile, in spite of the deathly seriousness of the topic which hovered in our thoughts and behind everyone’s eyes.
I put on a red dress with a low-cut top that accentuated my curves.
After I’d put on bright red lipstick and adjusted my cleavage to perfection, a stranger stared back at me from the mirror.
I was so used to my white lab coat, glasses, and hair-up-in-a-bun look, which I sported six days a week at the hospital, and it had been far too long since I had a proper night out.
Snapping a selfie, I sent it to my friend Phoebe, who was accompanying me to the bar.
Phoebe: Holy Mother of Vegas who is that?!
Catarina: Since I’m being deported in one week, I’ve been overcome with an extreme case of YOLO. So I’m going all out tonight
Phoebe: Ugh. We’ll think of something! I have faith. And you look gorge. See you in twenty at the main bar?
Catarina: ok!
Since I had some time to kill, I pulled up my phone and checked the names of the celebrities who were going to be around at the auction tomorrow. There were a few late additions, including one who I’d seen a few times in the news lately: Dustin LeBlanc.
My curiosity piqued, I Googled him and clicked the first article that came up, which was from a site called GritNewsFeed. I couldn’t quite tell if the site specialized in actual news or gossip. But I read it since it was about the guy who I saw get in a fight the other night, and I was curious.
Dustin LeBlanc: League’s Worst Womanizer or Thug?
Chicago, IL --- January 21st
After a bruising, controversial play which left a Washington D.C. Cougars defenseman in the hospital, All-Star center Dustin LeBlanc has no comment on whether he intended to injure his opponent.
“I just like to play good and hard,” DeMarco said, from the hospital after the game, where his injuries were being tended. “Good, hard honest hockey. I’m not sure why LeBlanc needed to throw his weight around like he did, but I just pray to God I can make a speedy recovery after what happened.”
LeBlanc was suspended for nine games, including the All-Star Game this weekend. He is the Tigers’ number one scorer of all time, but lately, his image has taken a hit.
In particular, a New Year’s outing he had with supermodels Danika Merico and Fatima Ryan that he live snapchatted was viewed over three million times. Since videos never die anymore, you can view the archive of that video here.
LeBlanc denied that he was dating either of the two women, but his live snapchats from that night tell a different story.
He also refused to comment on which side of his reputation was currently worse: his thug side or womanizer side.
We’ll let you make up your own mind about the man colloquially known as hockey’s biggest Puckboy.
I twirled a lock of my hair. The article seemed harsh, but there was a certain truth that resonated with me.
Dealing with asshole athlete types was one of the worst parts about these events.
It seemed that most of them didn’t care about the kids.
Or cancer. They just wanted to create the appearance of caring for a news bite or a social media post.
Their egos were so huge, though, they were virtually incapable of such a thing.
Taking one more look at myself in the mirror, I repositioned my bust and headed out into the hallway of my hotel.
It was a little like I had a new identity tonight.
I felt different, down to my core. This sense of finality hung over me.
I was still in some shock thinking about how I would have to leave the country.
I’d bought the plane ticket to head back to Barcelona next Friday.
My worst nightmare was coming true.
Closing the door to my room, I smiled as I walked down the hallway, and thought of my papá. Whenever I was feeling down, I would think of him and tell him he needed to give me some strength, wherever he was.
A feeling of warmth came over me thinking of him, the strongest man I’d ever known. In spite of the challenge put before me, I made sure I hung onto my sense of determination. I was used to people thinking my goals were a little far-fetched.
Like on the day after my dad died when I was eight, and I declared I would be a doctor, and announced it to my third-grade teacher.
You think that now, Cata. But trust me, it’s better to be realistic. Maybe you can be a good wife and a nurse.
No, I’m going to be a doctor.
Ms. Lopez laughed in my face and patted me on the head. Sure you will, Cata. Sure you will.
And now, I knew there was a way to stay in the United States. I just hadn’t examined all the angles yet. There had to be a way. And I would figure it out.
My mind flickered back into doctor mode when an extremely drunk young man got into the elevator with me. He rode down a couple of floors.
I resisted intervening, reminding myself drunken behavior was commonplace here in Las Vegas.
After the elevator dropped off the man, a young couple got on and started making out right next to me. I gave them the stink eye, but to be honest—I was slightly envious of them.
They went at each other with such fury—I just wasn’t used to that. They were young and seemed in love.
I expected the elevator to take me down to the bar on the first floor, but it was going up, not down, and we stopped all the way up at the eighty-second floor.
I didn’t even know this building had an eighty-second floor.
But when the elevator doors opened, the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life stood in front of me.
His blue eyes sparkled with intensity, and his jaw clenched.
He smelled minty and the navy blue suit he wore didn’t have a wrinkle to be found.
His short brown hair had this messy without trying to be messy look going on.
Time slowed and my lips parted as I realized he was glaring directly at me.
My palms started to sweat a little, and my heart sped up. I forced a nervous lump to the back of my throat and swallowed. I suddenly felt bare, like I’d made a mistake by going full out with my red dress tonight.
He stepped toward me and I felt a chill roll down my spine.
I don’t know why, but as crazy as it was, I got a feeling like this gorgeous stranger was about to just make a move on me.
My heart beat out of my chest and I contemplated what I would do if he did. And I couldn’t believe it myself when I decided I was ready to just go with whatever this man wanted to do with me.
And then I realized he was wasn’t looking at me at all.
His eyes steadily gazed at the couple behind me, still making out. As he slipped past me, I moved to the side as our elevator finally started to head down.
“Yo, what’s up Shane?” he bellowed, slapping him on the back. “Was your room taken or something!?”
A moment earlier, I had been either afraid or aroused by this handsome man; I wasn’t sure which. Now, I felt silly that I had just completely imagined a scenario where hot suit man would make a move on some girl in an elevator he didn’t know.
And also, I felt a little gypped, if I was being honest, since I was in Vegas and this was YOLO weekend for me.
The couple behind me paused in their makeout session, looking up to address the man in the suit. I leaned up against the side wall of the elevator with my eyes on the door, and nonchalantly eavesdropped on their conversation.
The young man, Shane, his name apparently was, shrugged. “What can I say? I couldn’t keep my hands off her.”
“False,” the women interjected. “It was me who couldn’t keep my hands off you.”
Oh, aren’t you two just adorable.
“I thought you had a private elevator?” Shane asked the man in the suit.
“I do. It’s broken though. Bullshit. So this is . . .”
“Natalie,” the young woman said, reaching her hand out. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Obviously.”
Keeping my eyes forward toward the elevator doors, I smiled. I was learning all about another group of friends, and I had to admit I was enjoying eavesdropping. Why had Natalie, Shane’s girl, not met Handsome Suit before? I stole a glance at her. She was blond with sun-kissed skin.
I stole another glance at the Unnamed Handsome Suit.
“Well thanks for whatever role you played in that, Dustin LeBlanc. Such a pleasure to meet you. I didn’t even recognize you without your jersey,” Natalie said.
Dustin LeBlanc. Holy shit.
“I know, I know. I hate this thing,” he said, tugging at his collar.
“They’re making me do this silly happy hour appearance for the CSC.
Flirt with some doctors, I don’t know. At this point, I just do whatever my coach tells me to.
I need to get back in the people’s good graces. It’s all for show, anyhow.”
My blood boiled when I heard those words. Dustin LeBlanc was a walking example of why I so strongly disliked the athletes at these sorts of things. Just here for the good PR.
Too bad your personality isn’t as good as your looks, old Dustin.
“Is he still threatening to trade you?” Shane asked.
“After the fight and my suspension? In a word, yes. Old man Bells—” the man glanced at me, and I kept my eyes on the door, feigning like I wasn’t listening to every single word of their conversation.
“Let’s just say he’s got a screw or two loose.
But whatever, I’m here to show the world cancer sucks and all.
It’s a good cause, sure. I just hate dealing with doctors. ”
Well, maybe doctors hate you too, ever think of that?
Natalie folded her arms. “What do you have against doctors?”
I cheered her on, as she’d just stolen my talking point. I liked this girl already.
Dustin shrugged. “We hold them up to this crazy standard of wisdom, but what do they actually know? I sometimes wonder if they even do things in their patients’ best interests.
It’s all about those Benjamins. Prescribe the expensive drugs, keep people coming back.
Don’t get me started on the painkiller epidemic.
It’s gotten out of hand back home in Middletown. ”
Take the thing one doctor did—overprescribe painkillers—and blame all doctors. Sounds reasonable.
Dustin shrugged and added. “Plus, they don’t know how to just let loose and have a good time.”
Clearly, you’ve never hung out with me and Phoebe on Karaoke Thursdays.
“That seems a little harsh, don’t you think?” Shane interjected. “Doctors do a lot of good too.”
“Sure, they do some good surgeries and stuff. I’ll give you that. They’re not totally useless. But there’s a ton who just have no idea what they’re talking about.” Dustin said, his tone sounding definitive.
I felt amped, and I couldn’t help it. I turned around, hand on my hips. Normally, I might not have cared.
People talked crap about doctors. I knew this.
But the fact that one of the esteemed celebrity guests for the CSC was putting down my profession in public truly irked me.
“Hi,” I said with a giant, fake smile. “I’m a doctor, actually. So glad you could make it for the conference.” My tone oozed sarcasm.
I was surprised when Dustin smirked and didn’t budge.
“You’re a doctor?” he remarked, his tone emphasizing his surprise.
I nodded.
He ran his eyes up and down my red dress, and I hated to admit that this asshole had just made my skin tingle like he was shooting lasers out of his gorgeous blue eyes, which landed on my face after they were done exploring the rest of me.
He smirked. “An audition for an ER extra doesn’t count, just so you know.”
The elevator dinged for the first floor—finally—and my nostrils flared. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I don’t believe you.”
“Why not?”
“There are no doctors as hot as you.”
I opened my mouth, wanting to spit out a quick come back, but words failed me. I couldn’t figure out if he meant it as an insult or a compliment.
I was flummoxed for words, and he stuck a hand out. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dustin—”
“LeBlanc,” I completed his name for him. “I know who you are.”
“Well, that’s flattering. You know all about me.”
“I also know you’re also an idiot,” I blurted out.
He didn’t miss a beat, and the smile didn’t even leave his face. “Takes one to know one.” He winked.
He freaking winked at me, after dishing out a first grade come back.
The worst part? My brain froze up, and I couldn’t come up with a hasty reply. So I stepped off the elevator without looking at him again, and luckily I saw Phoebe sitting at the bar, so I made a beeline for her without turning around. I left Dustin in the dust, so to speak.
As I walked away, I ground my teeth but I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of my lips.
I seriously just got ‘takes one to know one’d.’
I especially hated that somewhere inside me, even though he was clearly being a dick, I kind of liked it. Even though I felt like I was back in third grade for a moment.
No. I really liked it. And I wished there had been no one in the elevator except us.