“I’m with Inspiria. I’ve got some Vialita-C samples to drop off, and a special gift from the company. As you probably know, we’re co-sponsoring a gala this week, and we’re extending an invitation to prominent physicians in the area. Mr. Randal would be pleased if you could join him.”
King replaced the card and pulled out the invite (also forged, off a copy shared on Pictogram), setting it on the cabinet beside the doctor.
The doctor’s smile was that of an indulgent predator. “Thank you. You can leave the samples and I’ll use them when I can. Now I really have to go.”
King’s story senses were going wild. The doctor and her clothes looked slightly wrong, like they were in an overexposed picture, even more so than he’d expect with the brutal lighting.
Roman was right, King thought. She’s tied up in the breach in a big way.
King presented his business card again, and social pressure won out as the doctor took the card and slipped it into her lab coat. King waited as the doctor exited and turned right, deeper into the hospital, allowing himself a small exhalation of relief.
The tracker was in place, so they’d be able to follow her as long as she was wearing the lab coat. Plus, they’d be able to piggyback onto any phone calls she made. It might only work for a few hours, but every variable they could eliminate made their work that much easier.
He’d been expecting a little more give-and-take—usually when you came in repping big pharma, most doctors would at least give you the time of day. The question then was why.
King nodded to Miss Susanne on his way out and then closed down, making his presence small as he left the hospital, avoiding anyone else.
Once he hit the street, he tapped off a quick message to Mallery and then hailed a cab.
———
When Theo came in for his next session (this time without the doctor), Roman took the opportunity to dig deeper into his side of the story.
“How are you doing in getting around day-to-day?” Roman asked as he led Theo through slow stretches.
Theo winced, still early in the curve of rebuilding his strength. “Not too bad. I feel pretty useless, but now that I’m getting used to moving more slowly, it’s not too bad. Could have been much worse.”
Roman switched Theo to another exercise and continued the small talk. “That’s the spirit. Are you already back to work?”
“Yeah, mostly. I’m telecommuting this week, then back in the office next week.”
Then it was time to get into the meat of the conversation. “So, this Doctor Thorsson, she seems very hands-on with her care.”
Theo’s reaction was mixed—mostly it looked like uncertainty. “Yeah, she’s been great—stayed with me from the operating room to ICU and recovery.”
Roman didn’t know many doctors that would escort their patient to a PT gym, but this was a story world. And she was part of a breach.
“Are you sure her interest is strictly professional?” Roman stood and led Theo over to the leg press, setting it for the lowest weight “I don’t get many doctors escorting their discharged patients around to physical therapy.”
“She offered to give me a ride,” Theo said while struggling, pressing slowly, “spare me the subway trip”—his leg trembled on the third rep—“so I wouldn’t show up to PT already exhausted.” After the third, he exhaled hard. Not quite there.
“Let’s stop there for now and get some ice on that leg. Taking time outside of work to give a patient a ride. Does that strike you as odd behavior for a doctor?” he asked, not caring how obvious of a leading question it was.
“I mean, I guess? I try not to question generosity.”
Theo pulled an ice pack out of the freezer and set Theo up with the electrical stimulation, ice over top. Theo flinched at the ice, then settled in, leaning back and relaxing.
“What if it’s more than generosity? I saw the way she looked at you on Monday.”
Theo got a deer-in-the-headlights look. “Really?”
“Totally. So, what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. I mean, the accident was like a day after I proposed and my girlfriend responded by leaving the country. I’ve got a lot on my plate already.”
He’d take some nudging, then. Remembering his profile and Mallery’s report, Roman adjusted his approach. “Maybe it’s just me, but I hate that kind of ambiguity. The not knowing. I want to be certain where I stand.”
Theo closed his eyes. “Yeah. Anna hasn’t been in touch since she left.”
That’s not what Anna said. Another note for the debrief.
“Think it over. She’s probably holding back because she doesn’t want to pressure you. If you’re interested, even one date with the doc might be enough to tell you whether the attraction is mostly leftover positive ‘thanks for saving my life’ feelings or something deeper.”
“Am I going to be charged extra for this therapy?”
“This one’s on the house. But next time, we start on the comfy couch and you tell me about your parents. Let that ice work for another ten minutes or so, and then you’re done. Good work today. Let me know if you need anything.”
With that, he let Theo be, not ready to push any harder. He’d already been incredibly forward. This part of the work wasn’t his specialty; he didn’t have the nuance that the others brought to bear. He could play a role, especially in the SF or Thriller regions, but pulling other people’s strings here in Romance? Not nearly so much.
Roman took one more appointment that day, working off the chart to handle the bare minimum work load to not instantly get fired even in the “no one is ever really paying that close of attention to your work” rules of this story world, which would work as long as he avoided eye contact with Benjamin, that Adonis of a senior PT with abs that had nearly led to Roman dropping a five-pound weight on a client’s foot. Assuming he could stay focused, Roman might need to coach Theo through at least one more session if they couldn’t get the plot moving on their patch in other ways.
News of King’s scouting mission and Mallery’s success came through during the appointment, so Roman cut out at three, catching the subway back to the condo. The tracker they’d placed in Theo’s shoe was still showing him at home, so they’d be able to arrange a chance encounter later on, but not without a plan.
———
Back at the condo, Roman changed out of gym gear into everyday wear. He joined the others in the living room, where Mallery was holding court. They’d ordered in Italian from the restaurant they’d visited the night before —lasagna, gnocchi, spaghetti, cannoli, and more. Leah was seated on the sofa chair, a good foot farther back than it had been that morning. Odd.
“Our Leading Lady is on board,” Mallery said. “I pulled out a Friend Monologue, and it looks like it’s done the trick. She said she’d call our loverboy today. We can monitor the situation and hope it resolves itself, or double down and try to create the reconciliation moment.”
Roman shook his head, doubtful. “Theo’s tracker has him at home. Unless he’s out with different shoes.”
“Couldn’t plant it in his wallet?” King asked.
“Never had a clear shot.”
“Well, we’ve got Anna’s phone number now, so I can track her GPS,” Shirin said, standing from the couch and moving to the workstation.
“And as long as the doc keeps her lab coat on, we’ve got her tracked as well.”
“I’m still nervous about this doctor,” Mallery said. “Theo and Anna’s accounts don’t line up. Did Anna really call him? If so, what happened to those calls?”
“Think the Doc’s got that much sway over him?” Leah asked. “Or maybe she messed with his phone, deleted the calls?”
“Hard to say,” King said. “She was pretty forceful, and it fits the tale type.”
Mallery shook her head. “We need more on her. Did you get her card, any body language cues?”
King crossed his arms. “She was closed off like a North Korean bor
der. My best read is that she’s either just a controlling workaholic. Or she’s gone into protective mode about Theo, working his case extracurricular.”
“Extra-curricular,” Leah said, elbowing King to accentuate the joke.
Mallery scoffed with amusement. Roman managed to restrain himself, as King was not amused.
Roman’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the number.
“Is this her?” he asked, showing the phone to King, who nodded.
“Gym sounds,” Roman said, giving the phone another ring. Shirin slid over to the computer and pulled up an audio file. It played the indistinct sounds of grunting, metal on metal, and fast footfalls on treadmill rubber. King put the phone on speaker and set it on the desk.
“Fairness Gym, this is Howard King; how many I help you?”
“This is Dr. Thorsson. I wanted to let you know that I’ve cleared things up with Mr. Long’s insurance, and he’ll be returning to his proper physical therapist. I’m sorry for the mix-up,” she said without a drop of sincerity.
She really couldn’t leave things alone, could she? Thorsson didn’t even have the authority to be making those calls. Pushing back would pull her into the forefront of the story even more. They’d need to find a way to sideline her entirely, and this wasn’t the time.
“Not a problem, ma’am; we’re here to help. Please give our best to Mr. Long and wish him a speedy recovery on behalf of all of us at Fairness Gym.”
“Goodbye,” the doctor said, then hung up.
“Well, she’s lovely,” Leah said, gushing sarcasm.
Mallery stood. “This is heating up. I think we may need to go for a Hail Mary. Anna’s not going to be ready for a surprise reconciliation if we spring it on her.”
Mallery shook her head. “And…”
“And that means we need to do some shopping. If you approve.”
That smile meant she approved.
Leah looked to King and Shirin. “Keep tabs on our leads?”
“Of course. GPS and phone taps are still up and running, so we should have some warning.
Leah laughed, going whole-hog on the glorious zaniness of the genre, hand-in-hand with Mallery. “Let’s build ourselves a Hail Mary makeover in a bag.”
“Spend sensibly!” Shirin called halfheartedly.
———
Thanks to the wonders of story timing—where people always entered scenes right as something was about to happen, in order to avoid dead air or page time—Mallery and Leah were just setting their bags down from the shopping trip when King shushed them all, turning up the mic on the computer and leaning his head in, closing his eyes to help focus.
Theo’s voice came through the speakers via the bug King had planted on the doc.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Theo. This is Doc...Andrea. Andrea Thorsson.”
Behind him, the team jockeyed for position to listen in.
A pause for a moment, then Theo’s voice again. “Oh, hi. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. This is…It’s a personal call. I wanted to see how you were doing, if you needed anything.”
“Her game is weak,” Mallery said, interrupting.
“But she’s going for it,” Roman added.
King shushed them.
“…fine. I get around okay, but I have a newfound respect for anyone trying to get around this city with a cane or wheelchair.”
“I could imagine.” A pause. “So, Theo. I also wanted to ask if you might want to have dinner sometime. With me.”
Another pause. “Oh. Sure!”
“Excellent. I’m free tonight. Say, seven?”
“She doesn’t waste time,” Mallery added.
“Tonight is fine. What do you like?”
“What about that pizza place you mentioned? Pizzeria something?”
“Trio. Oh, sure. They know me there.” King picked up a hint of doubt from Theo on that one.
“Excellent. I’ll make a reservation. See you then!”
The doctor had grabbed the opportunity and run with it.
“Respect for her hustle,” Mallery said.
“That does mean we need to move,” Shirin said.
“Hail Mary time?” Leah asked.
Mallery grabbed herself a fork-full of cold spaghetti from the table, took a bite, then pointed the fork at Leah. “Newbie, you’re point on this operation. Shirin is the wild card, since she’s not in either narrative, but you can use any of the rest of us if you can stitch the story together. We interfere with the doc’s potential to have a big moment with Theo, open his eyes to how much of a controlling neatnik she is, and how much he misses Anna’s free spirit.”
Mallery gestured to her plans on the whiteboard, which showed football-esque plays, lines and Xs and Os, but for plays like THE CLUMSY WAITER and THE HAIL MARY. “We take this two by two,” she said. “We need to be ready to approach in any configuration. Roman, whatever you had planned for interference, let’s bring it along. Maybe we can’t bring it home all at once, but we need to head the doc off before she can deepen the breach.”
“I’ve got the outfits.” Leah said.
“Pack some spare clothes for both of us, too. I expect we may need to commit some alcohol abuse to escalate the situation.”
Leah frowned. “More drinking?”
“She means spilling booze,” Roman said.
“Where is our Leading Lady?” Mallery asked.
Shirin checked the screen. “Headed downtown, probably on the E train.”
“Let us know when it looks like she’s back on the street. No sense in chasing her around the city through the subways. Not that I mind a good game of subway tag, but if we can get this one in the bag by tonight, that’d be groovy.”
“Groovy?” Leah asked.
Mallery shrugged. “It fit the moment. Come on, let’s get cracking.”
———
Anna’s GPS went still ten minutes on the road, so Mallery and Leah checked her apartment first.
She wasn’t there.
Leah decided to improvise, and they started trekking around the neighborhood, checking at the studio. They left a voicemail and two texts with Anna during their rounds.
“Any more than that is excessive,” Mallery said. “She should be answering by now.”
And yet nothing. Roman settled in across the street from the pizzeria, with Shirin waiting in the wings for the doc and Theo’s reservation.
“I’ve got movement on Anna’s GPS!” King called through the comms.
Leah sighed in relief.
“That mean’s she’s back in the apartment or will be soon.”
Unfortunately, they were a twenty-minute walk from the apartment, and it was closing in on seven.
Mallery stepped out to the street and whistled. “Taxi!”
Ten seconds later, they were off.
———
At six forty-five, Shirin put on her I Am Supposed to Be Here face and strode straight toward the side entrance to fast-talk her way into Pizzeria Trio to assert herself as a server. The place was as chaotic as any story-world restaurant during the pre-show dinner rush, which meant everyone was distracted. She caught enough gossip on the way in that by the time she made it all the way up to the hostess, a tiny olive-skinned woman with big eyes, she had her story in place.
Shirin affected a broad Long Island accent. “I’m here to replace Susan.”
The hostess froze for a second, processing. “Who are you?”
“I’m Sherry. Her neighbor’s aunt. She called in, then asked if I could cover for her. I mostly take catering work, but she figured you could use the help. You want it or not?”
She focused her full presence on the tiny woman, who was maybe twenty-two. Shirin had been slipping on identities like outfits since before this girl was born. While the hostess considered, Shirin pegged Theo in her well-trained peripheral vision. Their Leading Man wore a dapper vest that was a bit big on him. He was doubtless down a few
pounds after the accident. He fiddled with his hands and took a long sip of water.
Finally, the hostess relented. “Yeah, okay. Here’s the menu, specials are on the board in the back. Orders go to Joaquin.”
No restaurant on Earth Prime would work this way, but on a story world, where an active breach had just walked in? Force of personality went a long way. The story breach had its own narrative gravity, and the restaurant was caught up in it. Shirin rode the turbulent tides into position. She had thirty minutes, maybe an hour before the server came to her senses or the manager caught wind of what was happening. Hopefully, it would be enough.
“Doc is incoming,” Roman said over the comms.
Shirin looked up to see Doctor Thorsson walk in. Just in time.
The doctor’s hair was done up and back, and she wore a curve-hugging little black dress with a deep V neck. In Rom-Com terms, this was coming out swinging.
“Doc’s here and not pulling any punches,” she said under her breath, grateful for the earpiece’s sensitivity.
Shirin put on a smile and hit her first table, keeping an eye on the pair but giving them time to settle in before her first pass.
Theo stood to greet the doctor as she arrived. Their energy was halting, awkward, his body language cueing uncertainty, hers uncertainty and hope.
They had a very short window to intervene. If this date went well enough, the breached narrative might grab hold of the two of them in a powerful need for relief, for resolution.
All that would do is make the breach permanent—it’d scab over and the ripples would continue. Less, but never quite the same as if they reunited Theo and Anna.
She placed her first table’s drink order with the bar and checked in on the girls.
“Hurry,” she said over the comms.
———
Mallery told the cabbie to hurry, but the taxi couldn’t go any faster and avoid an actual collision. Their driver, a chatty Grenadian woman by the name of Karla, alternated between gesturing in frustration at other drivers and relating her life story to Leah and Mallery.
The Cupid Reconciliation Genrenauts Episode Three Page 8