by Lisa Eugene
“Dr. Markson!”
“WHAT!”
He could mentally see Bea roll her dark eyes and bite her tongue.
“I said, Dr. Wasko is here to see you.”
“Fine!”
A moment later, Larry pushed open the door to his office and strolled in. Brad looked up and saw the red blush on his cheeks.
“I see you’ve been talking to Bea. You can pick your tongue up off the floor now.”
Larry sprawled in the seat across from him, his eyebrows raised high. “Bea said you were in rare form. She wasn’t kidding.”
Brad put his pen down and leaned back in his leather chair, silently observing his friend. They’d been best friends since medical school, and though each had chosen different specialties, they’d always been a part of each other’s lives, professionally and personally. No one knew him like Larry did. Larry was a genuinely nice guy and a brilliant physician. And he was usually pretty rational, except when it came to Bea.
“What’s wrong?” Larry asked immediately.
“Nothing. What brings you by?”
“Well, we had plans yesterday to meet at the gym. You didn’t show.”Brad closed his eyes and let out a breath. “I’m sorry, Larry. I forgot. I’ve been extremely busy.”
“I know.” Larry eyed him thoughtfully. “You don’t have to push yourself so hard, Brad.”
His lips twitched in a wry smile. Of course he had to, but he was in no mood to suffer through Larry’s psychological drivel.
“You’ve already proven yourself,” Larry continued.
“I’m sorry about the gym.”
His friend gave him a patient smile. “I forgive you. And I forgive you for leaving me at the club stuck with Diane on Saturday night. All she did was talk about you. She said she was hurt.”
“I broke up with her.”
“I know. Why? I thought you two were getting serious.” Larry pushed back his sandy blonde hair.
Brad barked a low chuckle. “Come on, Lar. You know me better than that. Diane was getting serious. I wasn’t. We had an arrangement. I don’t have those types of feelings for her and it wouldn’t be fair of me to continue seeing her.”
Larry nodded in understanding, but his probing eyes started to make Brad uncomfortable. “Don’t you ever want that, Brad? Love?”
Brad shrugged, but started fidgeting with his pen. “No. I’m too busy for love. I’m focused on my career.”
“You’re already at the top of your field and you’re only thirty-four. You’re wealthy. Respected. Career wise, what more could you want?”
Brad’s hand stilled and silently his eyes rolled up to meet his friend’s.
“There’s always more.”
Larry shook his head. “Now you’re sounding like your father.”
His jaw tightened and he felt frost flow through his veins.
“What about love, Brad?”
“Love is for fools. Relationships are not for me.” He chuckled again, but it seemed hollow even to his ears. “I don’t lack for women in my bed. Why bother with all the strings?”
Larry scratched his chin and continued to stare, his gaze somber. “Seems lonely.”
Brad cleared his throat. “Did you come here to lecture me on relationships, or talk about Bea?”
His friends face cracked with a wide grin. “Ah-ha! Got me! Am I that transparent?”
“As glass.”
Larry laughed heartily and pulled at the lapels of his lab coat. “So, I’ve been thinking…”
Brad bowed his head and groaned. “You know what happens when you do that…”
At Brad’s frown, he elaborated, “I know how we can figure out if Bea likes men…you know, like me.” He grinned excitedly.
“Young and foolish?”
Larry sighed with a flourish. “No! White!”
“We find out? Larry, I really don’t care.”
“You promised you’d help me!”
Brad started swinging his head before Larry had barely started the sentence. “No, I promised no such thing. No way—”
“Come on, Brad. You owe me. Plus, I figured out the perfect way.” Larry stared excitedly. “Women are very complex. If we find out her preferences for other things, we’ll get a clue!”
Brad groaned. Larry was always coming up with the craziest ideas. On Valentine’s Day, he’d sent Bea ten dozen roses anonymously. His office had looked like a damn funeral parlor! Turned out Bea was allergic to flowers and she ended up in the ER, hooked up to an IV and pissed off! Of course, after that Larry had been afraid to profess his love since he’d almost caused her anaphylaxis.
Larry leaned forward and his Irish green eyes lit up.
“So, just casually tell her you want to get to know her a little better. Then you can start asking her a few telling questions that I’ve come up with.”
Brad’s face pinched into a frown. He could already tell he wanted no part of this.
“What are you talking about?”
Larry’s face brightened. “Like, ice cream!”
“What?”
“Ask her if she prefers chocolate or vanilla. Ask if she likes brown rice or white rice.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of!”
“No! I think it’s a great idea! Women are very complicated. Their preferences tend to subconsciously extend to other areas of their lives.”
Brad blinked, then stared dumbfounded at his friend. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could any man let a woman affect him so profoundly that he basically lost his mind?
“You, Larry, are the expert on women now?”
“I know I don’t have your extensive experience, but I know a thing or two.”
Brad sighed. “You’ve been watching Dr. Phil again, haven’t you?”
Larry blanched and squirmed in his seat, while Brad shook his head in wonderment.
“Would it not just be easier to ask her out than go through this absurd ruse?”
“I need to know if I have a fighting chance. You know I don’t take rejection well!”
Brad leaned forward on his desk and huffed. “Bea will think I’m crazy if I start asking her questions like that.”
“No, she won’t. Just say you want to get to know her better. You two have a relationship.”
“Yes, she dislikes me intensely and threatens to quit every week!” Brad shook his head. “You’re insane.”
“Just make casual conversation.”
“Bea is a smart woman. She’ll think something’s up.”
“Please…”
“Why don’t you just ask her?” His voice amplified with annoyance.
“Because she might figure out that I…care for her.”
“Well, isn’t that the point?”
Brad pinched the bridge of his nose and gritted his teeth. He felt sorry for his friend—poor love sick fool, but there was no way in hell he was getting involved in this crazy idea. Plus, he and Bea had a professional relationship…well, except for when they were yelling and screaming at each other. But they never really spoke about anything beyond the superficial. It would be more than a little peculiar if he suddenly asked her about her preferences, no matter how mundane.
“I’m sorry, Larry. I can’t.” Brad sighed at the dejected look on his friend’s face. “Look, I think you should just ask her out, but I’ll think of something,” Brad offered, then stood. “Later. I have work to do.”
Larry smiled broadly and stood, thanking him. After making plans to meet at the gym during the weekend, Larry left. Brad stood staring at the closed door. Again, he couldn’t understand how Larry could be ruled by such passion for one woman. Foolish.
CHAPTER SIX
Chloe filed into the large auditorium of the Hartwick Center in downtown Manhattan. She’d already signed in at the door, received a name sticker and the information packet outlining the events and speakers of the daylong conference. At first she’d been annoyed about this mandated conference, but as she
gazed around the auditorium with its plush chairs and table rests, she decided it might not be so bad to sit back, relax, and absorb the information from the lectures.
She’d spent the last few days running around. Her landlord, thank God, had agreed to take half the rent this month. She’d have to make it up with the next rent payment, but hopefully by then her financial situation would have improved. She’d even contacted her mother’s case worker to see if she could get any extra help from the government to cover the medical bills and aides. They set an appointment to meet next week and Chloe felt optimistic.
She was mandated to attend this conference to acquire more CMEs. CMEs were courses that medical professionals were required to take to stay current in their field, and with her mother’s illness and her busy schedule, she was way behind in her credits.
This lecture was sponsored by Omega Pharmaceuticals. Omega was a private company that had hopes of one day joining the giants such as Novartis and Pfizer. They had a few generic drugs on the market for dementia which she was familiar with, and rumor was they were working on a revolutionary drug for Alzheimers that would put them on the map and produce billions in revenue.
Chloe glanced at the itinerary of guest speakers. There were several neuropsychologists listed as experts in dementia, psychiatrists, neurologists, and nurse practitioners who would speak about different types of dementia, signs and symptoms, stages of Alzheimer’s, current drug research and clinical application. Chloe grew excited the more she read. There was to be an expert speaker on Traumatic Brain Injury and its link to Alzheimer’s. Maybe she would glean more about the cognitively disabling disease affecting her mother. Her eye caught a familiar face across the room and she waved to Nigel. He waved back and smiled. She hoped to be able to talk to him about the night of Mr. Kaplan’s death, but the seats near him were all taken. She’d have to wait until the break. Selecting a seat in the center, she inched her way into the row and settled in.
It was just after noon when Chloe arched her stiff back in an attempt to placate the sore muscles left feeling abused by the deceptive chair.
The morning lectures had been informative. Unfortunately, the lecture on TBI didn’t really teach her anything she didn’t already know. The current speaker was from Omega Pharmaceuticals and frankly, his monotonous voice and innumerable statistics were lulling her brain to sleep and her sore body numb.
The lecturer paused to take a question from the audience, and Chloe swiveled her head as a voice trumpeted like an abrasive horn over the packed assembly. It wasn’t the white-bearded older gentleman who’d posed the question that drew the sharp focus of her attention though, it was the stunningly handsome, dark haired man seated next to him. The one with the piercing blue eyes boring holes right through her with his sharp gaze.
Chloe hiccupped a startled noise and quickly looked way from the disconcerting gaze of Brad Markson. She jerked around and stared straight ahead, her heart fluttering like the fragile wings of a young bird, beating a rhythm that was wild and uncertain. She’d thought she’d been prepared to see him. Thought that if their paths ever accidentally crossed, she’d toss her hair back, give a carefree chuckle and say…Dr. Markson? Hmm, have we met? Oh yes! The really great fuck against the wall! That was you, right?
But that had been at home. In front of a mirror. With a glass of wine…or several. Now, the full force of his presence overwhelmed her, sent a flurry of fine tremors along her fingers and a shallow breath puffing from her lungs. Why did he have to be so damned gorgeous? That fierce blue gaze clawed into her body, gripped tight around her heart, twisted and pulled, flipping her insides out.
She felt the back of her eyes burn and chastised herself for her internal upheaval. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to focus on the speaker, who was responding to the question posed. She struggled to follow along, struggled to control the stubborn neck that wanted to whip her head around.
Don’t look…don’t look…don’t look…damn, not this again! I am so bad at not looking!
The Omega speaker was talking about the promise of the new Alzheimer’s drug, Memoram.
Focus, focus! He’s just a man! Breathe…
“Alzheimer’s is terminal. It’s the sixth leading cause of death. Research shows that the disease can vary from four to twenty years. Memoram can reverse the process. The preclinical research has been extremely encouraging, and we’ve done extensive testing. The FDA—”
“The FDA declined your request to start clinical trials!”
Chloe heard the shocked rush of breaths around the room when the speaker was interrupted. Whoever this person in the audience was, he was obviously not too concerned about academic etiquette.
The Omega speaker looked flustered. He pushed up his glasses and Chloe could see his pink color deepen.
“Yes, but…but that just means we have to run some more preclinical trials…do more testing.”
“More testing? That means put more innocent animals at risk! Didn’t Omega lose its funding because of dosing issues and the documented side-effects with Memoram?”
The speaker frowned, nervously shoving at his glasses again. He hesitated for a second and Chloe noticed his gaze stray to the right of the audience. He then turned back to the man who’d asked the question and continued.
“Those dosing issues have been resolved and we’re proceeding with further testing. We hope to accumulate new data on the drug with in vivo animal experiments and submit it to the FDA at a later date.”
“And where does Omega intend to get the funding, Dr. Gross? Didn’t your investor drop out because of the side effects? Does Phillips think he can fabricate money along with his data? The drug has problems.”
A wave of shocked murmurs crawled through the suddenly quiet room. Everyone was clearly uncomfortable, especially Dr. Gross.
The man from the audience continued accusingly, “The problems have been rectified? The confusion, abnormal blood work, conjunctival petechiae?”
Chloe noted the obnoxious skepticism in the man’s voice. He was clearly mocking the speaker.
“Absolutely! Initially we saw some confusion and spikes in liver enzymes, but with slightly altering the pharmacology, those side effects disappeared. And only a very small percentage developed conjunctival petechiae.”
“Come now, Dr. Gross, I saw some of the data. It wasn’t just some mild confusion. It was acute confusion, agitation, and paranoia in subjects that were cognitively stable! You turned those animals into red-eyed devils! There were even several unexplained, sudden deaths!”
The audience grew eerily quiet again, all listening raptly to the escalating exchange. Chloe realized her inner turmoil had simmered to a niggling disquiet. Her brows pulled together as she listened.
“As I said, those issues have been resolved. We did have a few animals die suddenly, but on some of the autopsies we found congenital heart defects. The other animals died of natural causes from old age. The deaths were unrelated to the drug. ”
“Did some of the subjects not exhibit signs of extreme confusion? Did they not become agitated, even combative and rabid? And what about the hearing loss?” the man probed angrily.
Chloe noticed the speaker’s gaze jerk to the right again. He cleared his throat and responded.
“Transient. And not necessarily a hearing loss, but our scientist surmise that it might be a mild vertigo or even a feeling of fluid in the ear—like being underwater, perhaps. When the hearing tests were repeated, the animals did fine.”
“Fine? You discount the suffering of these poor animals! You ignored protocol! This drug is dangerous and all testing should be stopped! These side effects should not be ignored!” The man’s voice was a loud trumpet in the room, threatening to blow Dr. Gross off the stage. The speaker looked like he wanted to flee.
“The—the side effects all resolved after a decrease in dose and switching to an intravenous delivery.”
Chloe blinked hard and had to remind herself to breathe. All these symptoms
were too familiar to her, too exact to be discarded as coincidence. Alarm bells started ringing in her ears, loud and insistent. Did Brad have the same reaction to this information?
Just then, a well-dressed, silver haired gentleman on her right stood. The low rumblings from the audience proclaimed that he was someone of importance. He started to speak with an authority that would tolerate no challenge.
“Memoram has already passed through Chemistry, Manufacturing and Control. Yes, the FDA has declined our request to move on to clinical trials with humans, but this is only a temporary setback. The side effects you’re speaking of have been resolved and we will prove that with more preclinical testing. The drug would not have made it this far if there were any significant problems. We have solid investors and supporters, and surmise that this drug will change the future of Alzheimer’s.” He turned to the speaker on stage. “This lecture is not about Memoram. I apologize for the diversion. Thank you, Dr. Gross. That will be all.”
Chloe suddenly felt a chill blanket her body. Was she being paranoid? Could this be a coincidence? She ran a hand over her brow, surprised when it came away damp. She needed to discuss this with Brad. She had to disregard the flinching anxiety that burgeoned at the thought of seeing him. She inhaled deeply and turned around.
He was gone.
Chloe searched for Brad during the lunch break, but couldn’t find him amongst the dense crown. She’d also lost sight of Nigel. Figuring they might have left, she sat in the sunlight on the steps outside the hall and ate the sandwich she’d brought from home. She suffered through two more lectures, distracted by her rambling thoughts and suppositions. Deeply disturbed and unable to concentrate, she finally stood and inched out of her row, apologizing to the knees and legs she had to stumble across.
Chloe entered Brad’s office suite, crossing the opulent reception area that seated a few scattered patients. With shaky knees, she approached his secretary’s desk. The secretary’s large brown eyes glided up to greet her, and Chloe couldn’t help the blush that heated her cheeks. The last time she’d seen Brad’s secretary, she’d been running from this office in tears. She prayed the woman wouldn’t remember, but as the dark gaze astutely assessed her, she thought she saw recognition and something like pity in her eyes. Chloe moistened her suddenly dry lips and finally spoke.