by Barbara Ebel
It was almost mid-afternoon when she called Varg. “I’m on my way. What kind of response did we get from today’s U.S. Nation’s ad?”
“If this drink were running in an election, we’d have a landslide win.”
“We better enjoy it since it’s our last advertisement with them. But I did get more placed over the weekend with other venues. The exposure should just multiply.”
“Good. We really need your help here the rest of the day, however, especially since you will be in the OR tomorrow through Thursday.”
Rachel frowned. Right now, Blue Bridge was more important than her tech job but she also knew keeping a career day job was safer in the long run. She had trained for those skills and that was something that needed a presence on a resume. Short sabbaticals were okay, but not long absences.
“I’ll be there in about an hour. I’ll work into the evening.”
“Excellent. And how did your business go in Knoxville?”
“It’s over and done with. Thanks for asking.”
“My pleasure, pleasurable woman.”
-----
Like he did normally, Danny bounded up the hospital’s staircase two steps at a time but what an improvement. He just kept getting aerobically better. There was little to no shortness of breath and he had lots of energy. As he wrapped his hand around the doorknob at the top of the stairs, the door opened and he couldn’t help but stumble forward.
“So that’s why you’re starting to look revitalized … you take the stairs,” Steve Reaper said. “I walk the steps, too, but it’s only in one direction … going down.”
Danny laughed. “It puts a bounce in my day because I only get to the gym once or twice a week.”
“That’s once or twice more than I do.” Steve stepped to the side, aborting his departure from the doctor’s lounge for the moment. “I was going to call you again today. I saw one of the patients your colleague with the earring and the sneakers sent over.”
Danny nodded. “Jeffrey Foord.”
“Yes, from the next generation. That’s him. I’ve now seen half a dozen new patients this week that see a wider range of color than what’s normal.”
“Like a tetrachromat.”
“Exactly. Like these people have a fourth type of cone in their retinas.”
Danny didn’t just know about cones from medical school, but his high school and college anatomy classes also taught that retinal cones are responsible for color vision and rods are responsible for black and white.
“So, just to clarify,” Danny said, “unlike normal people, these patients may look at a shadow and see everything but shades of black?”
“Yes. And as your Dr. Foord remarked, how cool is that?”
Danny plunged his hand into his pocket, watching as Steve blinked at least three times. “My colleagues also told me these patients are drinking Blue Bridge,” he said. “The FDA is finally being pro-active on my report about it and, since it’s the end of another week, I expect to hear from Grant Edwards soon.”
“And I have good news. My component society is going to publish the article I sent in about Paula Branson.”
“Congratulations. You might want to give her a copy of the magazine when it comes out since she craves attention.”
“Good idea,” Steve said. “In her histrionic mind, she’ll think she’s a celebrity.” He stepped to the door. “Keep me in the loop.”
“And start going up the steps as well because there’s no elevator to success.” Danny chuckled and hurried to start a scheduled case.
-----
Rachel lingered in her bed an extra five minutes. It used to be, she thought, that she could practically sleep half the morning away on a Saturday. But the past week had been crazy; she testified at a murder trial, worked three days at her new job, and worked her tail off on Monday night and all day Friday with Blue Bridge. And now, she even needed to be at Varg’s office half the day before spending a few hours with Julia.
But she didn’t mind. This was the morning the CPA bookkeeper Varg hired was coming to the office to pour over what kind of business they really had going and Rachel couldn’t wait to get real facts and figures.
When she arrived at Max-Point Realtors, her hair still damp from showering, the number of vehicles parked in the small lot was enough to tell her it was a full office. It was even a larger assembly line than the night before as Varg had added two college kids to help package Blue Bridge.
Varg came up behind her as she entered the front office and put his hand on her waist. “We did a nice job this week,” he said softly in her ear. “That’s Trent working on the books. Maybe we’ll get some stellar news, so how about coming over to my place tonight? We can celebrate no matter what the sales figures are.”
“It’s about time you mentioned your place,” she said, turning around. “I thought you lived here in the office.”
“Not a chance. So is that a yes?”
“If you’re saying it’s going to be all play and no work after I see my daughter this afternoon, then I’m looking forward to it.”
He squeezed his fingers on her waist and then she went straight to a ringing phone while everyone continued packing boxes. She nodded and gave Varg a ‘thumbs up’ when the caller placed a huge order.
The calls continued throughout the morning while small talk kept everyone occupied to break the monotony. They hadn’t heard a peep from the accountant except for an occasional small question to Varg. Finally, before noon, he said, “Where would you like to talk about his?”
Varg signaled him into his office and waved at Rachel to follow.
“The fact that you kept this drink priced at three-fifty a can is remarkable for profits. And your present promotion of one can free for every twelve was sheer genius.” The young man had a crisply-ironed shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He sighed and continued, “If your figures are correct - up until today - you’ve sold 7,917 cans. Separately, you’ve given away …”
“One in thirteen cans, so 609,” Varg said.
Trent double-checked his figures and nodded. “Without expenses, you’ve brought in $27,709.50.”
Rachel gulped.
“But the cost of U.S. Nation’s advertising wasn’t cheap.”
“I know. And you had the cost of the cartons but you have that covered in the customer’s shipping and handling fee.”
As she smiled as wide as she could, Rachel’s leftover facial numbness and tingling seemed to lessen.
Varg winked at her. “We had our advertising expense but we’re still getting calls from that, and our next ads will be cheaper.”
“Plus, you both have a momentum going with this product,” Trent said.
“With its addictive qualities and word of mouth, sales will only continue to escalate,” Rachel said, “even if we seldom advertise. I can feel it in my bones.”
Varg slipped his checkbook out of the top drawer. “Your first twenty-five percent cut, Rachel. $6,930 if that’s okay with Trent.”
“You’ll pay the other employees from your seventy-five percent?”
“As per the contract you signed.”
Rachel kept smiling. For working ‘on the side,’ she predicted next month she’d pull in about twenty grand ... selling an energy drink sure beat her day job.
-----
“One more hide and seek before you go see your mom,” Danny said to Julia. “Close your eyes.”
He hurried off the porch to the first large maple tree where he squatted behind it in a flurry of leaves.
“You can go find him now,” Sara said acting as the referee.
Julia took her hands down and looked for Dakota who pranced alongside her as she enticed him down the steps. But then he bounded ahead after Danny’s scent and nudged straight into him behind the colorful tree.
“Go away, boy. You’re in collusion with Julia.” He pushed Dakota’s muzzle to no avail as his brute chest tipped Danny over. Julia giggled with glee as she followed and watched her
father tumble with the big dog in playful sparring. Danny grabbed her and continued to wrestle Dakota with his right arm.
“Look at you all,” Sara said from above. “You three are a trip.”
Danny chuckled as he started brushing off. “But we have to stop now, Julia. Your mom will be expecting you for the afternoon.”
He got up and grabbed Julia, holding her horizontally along his side. She giggled again as she looked at the yard and Dakota at a strange angle and they made their way into the house.
Casey was bent over an ottoman tying his shoes when they scrambled into the big room. “You better get your stuff together if we’re meeting Rachel at the gym by one.”
Danny got a duffle bag from behind the sofa and Julia’s tote which he had already fixed for the day. “I’m waiting on you.”
“You guys going to work out?” Sara asked.
“We are,” Casey answered.
She glanced back at them as she left the room. “Soon Danny is going to be faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.”
-----
“You’re late,” Rachel said, glancing at the clock on the wall at Serious Gyms.
“More like a tardy arrival,” Danny said, placing his bag on the floor and letting go of Julia’s hand.
“You’re sounding verbally astute like Varg,” she mumbled as Julia rested her arms on her mother’s leg. Rachel pulled her in close, giving her a squeeze.
“Speaking of Varg, have all the ads stopped in U.S. Nation?”
“There aren’t any more scheduled.” She ran her fingers through Julia’s hair, smirking at the fact that the ad would run in several weekly editions of The Nation in Perspective magazine, the weekend edition of Lifestyle Magazine, and three major city newspapers in Tennessee.
“In any case,” she said, “we’re doing you this big favor, a favor I don’t really think is warranted. We are free to sell this drink any way we see fit. It’s a free country.”
Danny felt his annoyance at her churn like clothes in a dryer. “You know, for once can you shut your mouth?”
He dismayed himself for saying it - especially in front of his daughter - and Rachel was aghast, temporarily at a loss for words. But she quickly recovered.
“I happen to remember a few nights when you didn’t want me to close my mouth.”
Danny leaned over and spoke softly into her right ear. “If you were a guy, I’d hit you.”
Since Casey stood on that side, he heard Danny’s remark. “Wow. I told her that very thing one time. Congratulations, Danny.”
Rachel popped up out of the chair, startling Julia. “I’ve had enough. You can have Julia back at four o’clock. Here’s my address.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her blue jeans and thrust it at him. Julia was like a dog being dragged by a leash as Rachel stormed out.
“I just can’t believe it,” Casey said.
“Me neither. I’m going to have to say three Hail Mary’s and one Our Father or have a serious discussion with the Lord over what I just did.”
“Oh, no, I’m not talking about the things you just told her. She deserved it and more. Think of it this way; her behavior was scarring your soul and you needed to purge it.” Casey sat down and motioned for Danny to do the same.
“I hadn’t seen her since a week or two after her accident,” Casey said. “Her beauty practically paralyzed me. Butter cream skin, luscious lips, and that vertical area above the lip …”
“The philtrum,” Danny said.
“Yeah, the philtrum … like some alluring sex groove. And not to mention the voice she’s always had and those beyond-human eyes of hers.”
“All right, all right,” Danny said, his elbow planted on the table and his forehead resting in the palm of his hand. “Do you have anything else to say?”
“That damn woman is bullet proof.”
-----
Rachel shut out the light coming into the room, brought over a dozen jelly beans and matches, and sat cross-legged on the floor. She nestled Julia into her lap and laid the candy on the table. After lighting the array of candles before them, Rachel spoke softly.
“Can we share them, sweetheart?”
Julia nodded while separating out two green ones. She popped one in her mouth and reached up to give her mother the other one.
“Your daddy works so hard. He doesn’t have time like me to play jelly beans with you. He’s a busy doctor. That’s what’s important to him.”
Julia watched the candle flicker as her mother spoke. As the minutes ticked by, she stopped chewing and sucked on the green treat. A sleepiness swept over her causing her to slump further into the space between Rachel’s thighs and, the next time around, they both picked out black ones.
“Sweetheart, how is my dog, Dakota?”
As she moved another jelly bean in circles on the table top, Julia smiled. “I love Da-Ka!”
“Like you and I love each other,” Rachel said, kissing her on the head.
After almost an hour of ‘candle time,’ Rachel let her daughter take a nap and waited for Danny to pick her up.
Chapter 29
At his desk, Danny sat with his hand over his face in prayer. Maybe, Lord, you can give me guidance.
He was in the thick of a dilemma which he wanted no part of. Day by day, Blue Bridge had gained in sales and popularity and the sensationalism about its ultimate effect on the human brain kept growing. And although he had tried to fend her off, Kathleen Fairbanks - the reporter with The Tennessean who had interviewed him after his near-death experience - wanted to interview him about the drink.
Kathleen had called several times during the next week and, begrudgingly, he agreed to see her on Friday afternoon. As he tried to gain enlightenment through prayer, he finally uncovered his face and looked at the interview from a different perspective.
Instead of cautiously saying that some patients were showing up with unusual collateral circulation, he needed to be more forthright about it. Yes, some people seemed to have amazing blood flow which seemed to be giving them other superior side effects. And, yes, they all seemed to have the same history of drinking Blue Bridge. But that could just be a coincidence; perhaps there were other similarities between the patients that no one knew about. What was needed was research so, in the meantime, no one should be ingesting Blue Bridge with the idea it was going to give them enhanced brain power. In addition, the drink could cause unforeseen problems that no one was thinking about. Of course, Danny knew he still wouldn’t condone the product in any way.
He sighed and felt clearer about the stance he would take with the reporter. Besides, he hadn’t heard back from the FDA yet and he could only guess what Grant Edwards would tell him. What would they tell him? He scratched his head.
Danny was so absorbed in prayer and thought that he startled when he realized Cheryl stood across from his desk.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
“Okay, then. Grant Edwards is on line four.”
Danny glanced at the red light and his heart thumped.
“And,” Cheryl said, “take a look at this in today’s paper.” She had a whole section of The Tennessean in her hands. Displayed on a folded half-page was the same advertisement from the U.S. Nation newspaper that he was all too familiar with:
“MAGNIFICENT DISCOVERY IMPROVES THE HUMAN BRAIN!
New drink increases collateral circulation in brains thereby enhancing oxygen flow!
Do you want superior memory, math and IQ skills?
Famous neurosurgeon, Dr. Danny Tilson, …”
He couldn’t read one more word as the first person that came to mind was Rachel and his temples throbbed. Danny placed the paper off to the side. “Thank you, Cheryl. I’ll take the call.”
“Grant,” Danny said after grasping the phone. “I’m relieved to hear from you.”
“I waited until I met personally with all the researchers involved who ar
e working on your reported drink.”
“More and more patients,” Danny said, “are surfacing with the same profiles as what I’ve reported to the FDA. And these are only the ones that I’m aware of. I can’t imagine how many more there are in the region and the country. What have you found out, if anything, about Blue Bridge?”
“This is interesting so I hope you’re sitting down. At first, I had one chemist working on it. But that ended up being three, and then it went to the biochemists and research PhDs to begin animal experimentation. The first word I received was that there are enough crappy ingredients in the drink that my researcher said he wouldn’t be mean enough to give it to a ferocious dog needing to be put down. Rat poison would be kinder.”
“That makes it sound like the drink creates a gastrointestinal problem but, as far as I’m aware, it doesn’t,” Danny said.
“Perhaps. But even the chemical reaction that occurs between the meat sugar and gum arabic produces a compound that is just one carbon chain short of a chemical that is a potent human carcinogen.” Grant became quiet.
That heavy information alone made Danny squirm in his chair. While Grant cleared his throat, he had a thought, one he hadn’t considered before. At Serious Gyms, he had only seen a relatively middle-aged group drinking Blue Bridge. He felt more responsible when he wondered if teenagers might be drinking it, too, as a possible carcinogen could wreak havoc on the rest of their lives.
Had any other physicians taken care of young people with collateral circulation as well? What about his own girls? He had better take his work home with him and advise everyone in the household not to touch the stuff.
“As far as that’s concerned,” Grant continued, interrupting Danny’s thoughts, “my hands are tied because it’s not the exact compound incriminated; it would take time with research to see if this version of it absolutely causes cancer. The best we can do is put a warning on the label.”