Avoiding Amy Jackson

by N. A. Alcorn

  I jerk away from her. “Nothing had me in a daze. I think I’m just tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night. And stop looking at me like that! You can go ahead and put your interrogation skills away, Detective Cum Twat.”

  She stifles a laugh and tugs me in for a tight hug, her pregnant belly pressing up against me. I feel a small movement against my stomach and look down at her bump. “Did I just feel the baby move?” My eyebrows rise in surprise as I place both of my hands on her stomach.

  “Yep. You sure did. Meet crazy Baby Hamilton. She’s in constant motion these days, twenty-four-seven.” Ellen’s eyes glance down to where my hands are resting and a warm, beautiful smile spreads across her lips.

  Did she just say she?

  “Hold up. Did you just say ‘she’?” My mouth is agape as I watch her face closely for any clues on whether or not she and Trent actually found out the sex of their baby at their last ultrasound.

  “Umm…” Ellen nervously bites down on her lip. “James! Trent! Do you need any help in there?” she hurriedly asks as she tries to walk away from me.

  “Not so fast, preggo.” I stand in front of her with a resolute look on my face. “Did you two find out what you’re having?”

  Ellen’s eyes go wide as she looks over at Trent for what I’m assuming is help to get out of this situation without having to answer my question.

  The two of them have gone back and forth on whether or not they were going to find out the sex of the baby. I had a feeling Ellen wouldn’t be able to resist waiting until the baby was born. If she found out, my pregnant friend better tell me, because I’m dying to know if I’m going to have a niece or nephew.

  “Ellen! You better give me some answers. I’m not afraid to cunt punch a pregnant lady.” My hand is on my hip as I impatiently tap my foot on the hardwood floor.

  Trent chuckles huskily behind me. He moves towards Ellen, pulling her into his lap as he sits down on the black leather sofa. “There will be no cunt punching the mother of my child.” He looks at Ellen with a ridiculous grin on his face before whispering into her ear. She smiles and places her hand on his cheek, nodding her head lightly. James is now beside me, watching Ellen and Trent, waiting for them to give us the big news.

  “Okay. I was planning on telling you tonight over dinner, but I guess since you’re so fucking impatient, I’ll just tell you now.” Ellen stops talking and just smiles mischievously at me.

  “Seriously? Enough making me wait! Spit it out! Is it a girl? Are we having a girl?” I urge noisily with a combination of excitement and irritation in my voice.

  Ellen nods her head in two fluid movements and finally puts me out of my misery. “Yes. We’re having a girl. Baby Lucy.” My eyes immediately fill with tears as I take in the fantastic news, especially the name.

  “Lucy? Baby Lucy!” I squeal with enthusiasm. “I can’t believe we’re having a girl! I’m going to have a little niece!” I’m nearly jumping up and down in thrilled hysterics. I pull Ellen from Trent’s lap and wrap her in a giant hug. “I can’t believe you chose Lucy as her name,” I whisper in her ear.

  Tears are streaming down her cheeks. “Of course I’d name her Lucy. Only the two most awesome chicks I know have Lucille as their middle name.” Her statement and overwhelming joy has a domino effect as my tears start to spill out, flowing down my face.

  “Wait, what am I missing with the name Lucille?”

  “Both Ellen and Amy have the same middle name—Lucille,” Trent responds to James with pride shining from his face.

  “How did I not know your middle name was Lucille?” James gives a fake pout. “I thought we were best friends, Amy. This hurts.”

  “Oh shut up, dickhead,” I cajole and smack him loudly on the chest. James snickers and proceeds to give the happy couple a hug, telling them both congratulations.

  Trent pulls me into his embrace as I offer my congratulations to him. “I can’t believe you’re going to have a little girl, Dr. Thrust Me.” Trent’s body vibrates heartily with laughter at the mention of his former nickname.

  “I really hope that nickname will get retired once my daughter is born.”

  “Eh. Probably not. You’ll always be Dr. Thrust Me to me.”

  “I think it’s about time you retire the whole Limp Dick thing,” James declares from the kitchen as he pulls plates from the cabinet and places them on the counter.

  “In your dreams, buddy.” I stifle a laugh before adding, “Although, I might consider renaming you to Dr. Idiot, seeing as you enjoy talking in third person so damn much.”

  James fist pumps in the air and cheers loudly. “Hell yeah! I consider that a damn accomplishment!”

  All I can do is shake my head at his overzealous reaction. He might be right though. It kind of is one hell of an accomplishment for me to even contemplate downgrading his name to something that doesn’t ridicule his cock and only manages to insult his intelligence.

  Dinner with my closest friends is wonderful. The four of us always seem to get along amazingly, and I’m thankful that I decided to stop being such a bitch towards James. Becoming close friends with him has benefitted me in more ways than one. James has become such a huge part of my life these days. We spend a lot of time together, and this in turn has allowed me to spend more time with my best friend. Ellen gets me like no one else, and I’m finding that James seems to get me the very same way. I guess this is what makes us work so well together. I know it’s blaringly obvious that James and I share an uncanny attraction for each other, but we’re friends first and foremost.

  Do I wish there were more between us?

  I don’t think I’m willing to even think about this question. I’m still baffled about my possessive reaction towards seeing that woman at his doorstep. I was angry, furious even. The thought of him being with someone… Fuck…I don’t really want to think about that. But I don’t have control over his love life. I can’t prevent him from dating or finding a woman to settle down with.

  Could I risk our friendship for something more?

  What if we attempted more and I hurt him?

  I would lose him as a friend forever. The idea of James not being a part of my life makes my heart hurt…a lot. Too much, actually.

  Watching Trent and Ellen together tonight is a combination of heart-warming and gut-wrenching. The knowing looks that pass between them. The way Trent always watches her, his heart practically bursting with love. Seeing them together, seeing their relationship and the unquestionable love and adoration they have for each other, would make anyone contemplate wanting more. They make me think about wanting things I’ve always told myself I could never have.

  I see Ellen and her adorable pregnant belly and automatically start thinking about wanting babies. Could I really be someone’s mother someday? I’ve never seen myself as the type of woman who could be a good parent. Shit, I have a near full-blown panic attack over my snatch getting too hairy.

  How would I handle being pregnant?

  My body would go through a lot of changes during pregnancy, but the end result is that I’d get to be someone’s mother. I’d get to experience being pregnant and raising a beautiful, little person. Trent and Ellen and their picture-perfect fairytale relationship have truly fucked with my head. I can almost hear my internal baby-clock starting to tick inside of me.

  Tick, tock. Tick, tock…

  I’m nearing thirty years old and I’m not even sure what I want in life when it comes to marriage and babies and families. I’ve always just pushed these thoughts aside, telling myself I couldn’t have them. I’m twenty-nine years old and I’ve never let myself have a successful long-term commitment. My priority has always been to find the hottest guy with the largest cock to bring me the most orgasms. This is a fantastic priority for a twenty-year-old woman but not such a smart priority for someone nearing thirty.

  If I continue down this path, where will I end up?

  I contemplate this question and can only see myself as an old, bitter lady who
is addicted to porn and masturbation and has far too many cats. That’s not a pretty sight. I can’t turn into that woman. I can’t be the crazy, masturbating, porn-addicted cat lady! Just thinking about this is making my heart palpitate.

  Deep breaths.

  You will not be the crazy, masturbating, porn-addicted cat lady.

  I can’t become that woman. I don’t even like cats. That woman sounds awful and pathetic, and I can guaran-damn-tee she doesn’t worry about keeping her vagina groomed. She probably sports sweatpants and ponytails and spends her non-masturbating time watching Lifetime movies and reading Harlequin Romance novels. Oh my god! I’m on my way to being the only ninety-year-old woman who attends frequent Porn Addicts Anonymous meetings.

  I wonder if there really is a porn addicts’ support group…

  Is there actually a group of people who get together to discuss their addiction to porn? That sounds like the perfect place to find new website recommendations. My current porn sites aren’t really cutting it these days…

  Now is not the time to be thinking about finding new porn sites!

  Fuckin’ A, I have got to figure my shit out.

  I cannot become the only old lady who’s Friday night out includes a quick stop at the supermarket to load up on TV dinners because I have coupons before my final stop at my weekly Porn Addicts Anonymous Meetings. If I don’t want to become that woman, I’m going to have to start rethinking my tendencies towards one-night stands. Yeah, threesomes with two guys in a dirty bar bathroom—that shit can’t happen anymore. Those types of nights are just bringing me one step closer towards a life of kitty litter, porn gifs, and Costco-size boxes of batteries for my future vibrator collection.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I want to be a Saber-Tooth when I grow up.” - Amy

  “I thought you said we were going camping in a few weeks. Were you just saying that to find a reason to call and check up on my date?” James sits next to me in the nurses’ station as I print out discharge paperwork for another sufferer of the common cold. We’ve got serious problems going on here in the ER at Regency tonight. People should just stay home in isolation because the pandemic of the common cold is reaching out to households across the nation. Don’t bother going to work. Just go ahead and quit your job. And while you’re at it, stop by Regency’s ER tonight and I’ll be sure to write you a note letting your boss know how devastatingly ill you are.

  I fucking love my job.

  Let’s face it. When you work in this field for as long as I have, you are bound to have some things that just set you off, and for me, one of those things is coming to the ER when you should keep your ass at home. Just take some god damn Nyquil and go the fuck to bed, you ass-clowns. The ER is for E-mergencies. People should come here if they’ve been shot or stabbed or have large body parts that are no longer attached. Not colds, not toothaches, not constipation, but actual life-threatening situations.

  “What’s with the scowl, sweetheart? You’re practically mean-mugging everyone who steps foot through those doors.” James nudges me with his elbow, which causes me to misspell something on my current patient note.

  “Knock it off, dickhead. I’m trying to work here!” I scoff at him and then continue to type away on the worthless hospital computer sitting in front of me. I swear this computer is from the year I was born. Morse code would be a quicker option to chart my patient notes than this piece of shit.

  “God, you’re sassy tonight. And to answer your earlier questions, yes we are still going camping, and no it wasn’t a ploy to interrupt your date. I thought we were set for March, but looks like it’s being pushed back to May. One of my buddies wasn’t able to get the initial weekend off work—” James stops midsentence. His eyes assess my current surly state. “And could you seriously stop throwing dirty looks at everyone? You look like you’re plotting someone’s murder.” James runs his hand through his stupid, sexy hair, and I’m disgusted that I’m turned on right now.

  “Stop being so damn good-looking and running your hands through your hair like you’re on a shampoo commercial. We get it. You’re hot. You have awesome sex hair,” I mumble under my breath in irritation. I’m peeved at everyone. I’m even pissing myself off tonight.

  “Awesome sex hair?” He chokes out a laugh and looks over at me, latching those infuriatingly gorgeous jade eyes on mine.

  My heavy sigh blows my loose brunette strands away from my face. Figures he didn’t miss that little rant. I’m not even sure how he heard me. I scrunch my forehead in crossness as I stare back at his smug grin.

  He points a finger in my direction. “Don’t even thinking about rolling those gorgeous eyes at me.”

  My jaw drops open and my eyes wiggle a little from side to side as I stare him down with my nastiest glare. Don’t even think about rolling my eyes at him? Who does he think he is?

  “Don’t do it. I’ll drag your ass right out of this ER,” his husky voice warns as he continues to keep those emerald eyes sealed with mine.

  We’re staring at each other like we’re ready to throw down.

  Is this Fight Club?

  Are James and I in Fight Club right now?

  I tilt my head from side to side, cracking my neck, getting ready to unleash the fury.

  “What are you doing? Why are you gearing up like you’re ready to jump in the ring and box someone?” His eyes are perplexed yet slightly entertained as he continues to watch me.

  “Fight Club, James. You just entered into my Fight Club with that eye-rolling comment.” I crack my knuckles and turn my chair towards his, regarding him up and down, attempting to use intimidation.

  “Fight Club?” His facial expression is nothing short of outrageous as he tries to figure out what I’m talking about.

  “Yep. Fight Club. I hope you brought your A-game, sweetheart.”

  James laughs stridently. His voice reverberates throughout the entire ER department, causing several curious looks to turn our way. “You. Are. Out. Of. Control.” He pronounces every word slowly and meticulously. “But I’ll join your Fight Club. The idea of you pissed off and trying to wrestle me to the floor sounds like something I would want to be a part of.” His smug grin makes its appearance again, showcasing that one perfect dimple that makes my toes curl.

  I catch myself before I release the eye roll and choose to scratch the side of my face with my middle finger. “Never mind. You’re not in my Fight Club anymore. I can’t have you trying to hump and grope me while I’m kicking your ass.”

  James just chortles lightly as he stands up, grabbing a patient chart and heading for bed nine. Just before he opens the curtain, he glimpses back at me. “Just remember, sweetheart. Your mind took it there, not mine.” His eyes smile at me with delight as he turns away, closing the curtain behind him.

  Ugh. Dr. Idiot and his stupid, sexy, smug grin and awesome sex hair.

  Not even ten minutes later, James strides back out of bed nine and leans over the counter, looking down at me. “You have to come with me to talk to this patient. I can’t do this by myself.”

  “Huh? What are you talking about? I thought you had an eighty-year-old lady in there with a possible hip fracture?” I reach up and snatch the patient chart from his hands, scanning the demographics and patient medical history sections. And sure enough, it’s an eighty-year-old woman who came in by squad because she pushed her Lifeline button after falling down the steps.

  “The patient is an elderly lady with a possible hip fracture, but I cannot go in there by myself. You have to go in there with me while I chat with her and assess her hip.”

  He looks so serious and uncomfortable right now that I’m not even sure what to think about this entire situation. James is practically on his hands and knees begging me. This is very un-James-like. What could have him so uncomfortable? Is she naked? Are her tits tucked into her geriatric gym shoes? Are her dentures falling out of her mouth while she talks?

  “Stop trying to figure out why I’m asking you to go
in there with me and just get off your cute little ass and come find out for yourself.” He unleashes those damn green eyes at me again, nearly pleading.

  He looks so earnest that I find myself shrugging my shoulders and standing up to walk into bed nine with him. “Whatever. But if some weird shit is going on back there, you owe me big time, buddy.”

  “Anything you want,” he agrees as he takes the patient chart from my hands.

  His bizarre appearance has me tremendously curious. I inspect James’s face as he holds out the curtain to bed nine so I can step inside. His face is stoic and doesn’t provide a single hint or clue as to why he’s acting so weird.

  “There he is! There’s my sexy doctor!” A voice squeaks out as James and I stride inside.

  This lady looks like someone’s adorable grandma. Her white hair is perfectly permed and her little old feet peek out from under the stark white hospital sheet. She’s giving James a wicked smile as she continues to eye his body up and down, not even attempting to hide the fact that she is quite literally eye-fucking him. This has got to be a first for me. I’ve honestly never seen a little elderly lady blatantly ogle someone.

  James peers over at me with an exasperated look. He’s trying to stay professional, yet he seems to be having a difficult time handling the fact that his patient is continuing to give him the once-over. “Okay, Mrs. DeMarco—”

  She cuts in before he can finish his sentence. “Ms. DeMarco. I’m widowed.” She wags her grey eyebrows up and down cheekily.

  James sighs and continues. “I apologize for the wait. I wanted to make sure I had a nurse in the room with me. This is Amy. Amy this is Ms. DeMarco.”

  “Oh I bet you two just got back from porking in the supply room.” She’s glancing back and forth between us. I feel slightly violated that this woman is practically drooling over the idea of James and me getting our freak on. And porking? Seriously?