Turn It Up

by Inez Kelley

  “Just call me Mom. Lord knows, I think it’s the only name I answer to anymore. I’ve got four girls. The youngest is just nine but the oldest is seventeen so this is worrying me. I know kids experiment with sex and I’m trying to talk to them about birth control and everything. But I’m afraid I’m just encouraging them instead. Where do I draw the line?”

  “Neither Doc nor I have kids so this is a little out of our area, but drawing from my own misspent youth, teenagers don’t need any encouragement. They’re going to do what they’re going to do. Nothing you can do is going to prevent it, Mom. So give them the tools to handle it, to be responsible for their choices. Don’t make their sexuality something shameful or something to be hidden. Let them know the door’s open if they want to talk, and listen when they do.”

  “Hi, Mom,” Bastian chimed in. “You’re doing great just talking to your kids about sex. Many parents don’t. Sex isn’t dirty and it shouldn’t be taboo. Give your kids the facts, the real ones not scare tactics, and demystify the allure. The forbidden is always more appealing. But let them know that it’s a choice that comes with risks, not just physical but emotional. You don’t get a do-over. Once you do it, there’s no going back to holding hands. Innocence is fleeting, but there’s nothing as sweet. Good luck, Mom.”

  Charlie stifled a wave of longing at Bastian’s words while disconnecting the line. Innocence was a far-distant memory for her. She wondered if it was a sweetness she’d ever really tasted.

  “Hello, lover, You’re on the air with Doc and Honey. Do you have a Cherries Jubilee to share with us?”

  A deep masculine voice regaled them with a hilarious story, including premature liftoff. The two men bantered back and forth with jibes at themselves in younger years, Charlie watching the man at her side. How she wished she’d met him as an innocent. Wryly, she scoffed. She’d have probably chalked him up as too goody-two-shoes and went on her merry way.

  His hard laugh broke into her thoughts. “Oh yeah, got to love high school and hormones.”

  “I’m telling you, Doc, if you want to give a kid a boner, stand him in front of a blackboard. For a while, the smell of chalk was enough to get things moving, you know?”

  “I hear you, Zack. You take care and thanks for calling.” Bastian grinned at her. “Sorry, Honey. A bit of male bonding there. Seems teenage boys are the same the world over, walking woodies.”

  “The phenomenon isn’t restricted to an age limit.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Speaking of taking…ever get the honor?”

  Bastian’s grin slid into a confused frown.

  Charlie verbally nudged him. “Come on, Doc. We won’t tell anyone. Pop any cherries in your past?”

  A soft line appeared at the corners of his lips, a tender, private sort of smile that soured Charlie’s stomach. She suddenly wished she’d never asked.

  “Just one.”

  “Make her see shooting stars? Or were you still fumbling under the hood?”

  “No stars the first time but I made up for it later,” he said.

  “Oh, a twofer?”

  Bastian laughed. “Well, yeah, that plus I married her.”

  Lisa. The perfect doctor’s wife. Charlie was surprised to have to smooth away a sudden lip-curl that threatened. Whoa, where had that come from? She didn’t dislike Lisa, just found her too soft and sweet. In her bitchy moments, she’d wondered what a younger Bastian’d seen in the petite brunette. In her nicer moments, she could see the appeal of fresh-scrubbed beauty. But knowing that she’d put that gentleness in Bastian’s smile—and that Charlie never could—sapped all the sweetness out of Honey sliding into a commercial break.

  “Doc, line three.”

  Justine’s disembodied voice sounded through the intercom and both their heads snapped up. Dread slithered into the room. Personal calls were always discouraged, but getting one after midnight never brought good news. Not even the hospital called here, they used his cell number. He’d only received one call during their show and that involved the sudden death of a colleague.

  His anxious gaze locked on hers for a brief moment, seeking support. She gave it without question. Bastian wheeled his chair backward with a strong push and grabbed the phone beside the printer.

  “Dr. Talbot…shit, Boo, don’t scare me like that.” Relief sapped harsh lines from his frame for a split second before he stiffened again. Apprehension stabbed at Charlie’s belly but the secretive way he turned away from her blocked it from settling. She scowled at his back. Bastian was up to something.

  “…until you run out…No…In my top desk drawer there’s more…The pediatric unit…Yeah, thanks. See ya.”

  The receiver hit the cradle and she pounced. “Secrets?”

  “More like presents. You’ll see soon enough.” Rolling back to the console, he refused to look at her. “I’ve got an entire weekend of surprises planned for you.”

  “You have to work Saturday and Sunday.” Her reminder brought his eyes to hers.

  “No, I switched shifts with Brett.”

  “You can’t do that. You’ve got less than two weeks left at the ER. If you messed with your schedule that means—”

  “I pull a double tomorrow and next Wednesday. Not a big deal. I’ve done it before. I did worse during my residency.”

  His shrug might suggest nonchalance to others but Charlie knew better. He hated working double shifts and rarely initiated a trade. Bastian was nothing if not organized. “Why are you doing this? Whatever you’re planning could have waited.”

  Swiveling his seat, he leaned close. His buttermilk thick voice washed over her. “Some things couldn’t be rescheduled, so I adapted the best I could. You’re worth it.”

  “You’re going to be exhausted.”

  “Probably, but it’s a small price to pay. I can’t wait to see your face.”

  “Tell me now and I’ll act surprised.”

  “No. Live and wonder.”

  There was so much more she wanted to say. But the commercial break was over and the words were all jammed and jumbled in her head. Years of practice let the Honeypot tones fall from her lips with hardly any thought as her mind tossed deeper reflections back and forth.

  “Caller, you’re on the air with Doc and Honey. Care to share your Cherries Jubilee tale with us?”

  “No, I want to hear about you and Doc.”

  “Now, sugar, at the top of the show, we agreed not to discu—”

  “Oh, I know the Wed or Bed thing and I hope Doc wins, but how did you two meet? What was that first time like when Doc met Honey?”

  Bastian’s wide smile warmed the room and hers added to it. “Doc bit me.”

  “He bit you?” The caller’s astounded voice screeched through the phone lines. “Like an apple?”

  Loud male laughter propelled her heart somewhere south of her chest.

  “Something like that. Do you remember, Doc?”

  “Late August, a Saturday, somewhere around noon. City Park over by the fountain. Remember it well, Honey.”

  His eyes locked with hers and the magic of memory transported her back to a sunny day years ago. Charlie told the tale but she could see Bastian reliving the same memory.

  “It was totally random, one of those cosmic things. Some friends and I were spending the day in the park as mimes. We’d set out an old bowler hat, follow people around, do the silent comedy thing and then go to lunch on whatever we made that day. It wasn’t a bad way to make a couple bucks. But everyone cut out early because it started getting too hot. I was restless and stuck around. I wanted to see how much I could make on my own.”

  Bastian smoothed a lock of her hair behind her ear and she faltered, losing her place in the story.

  “Uh, as a mime, you want someone to mock who will interact with you but not take over. You learn to be a good judge of character. I spotted this tall blond man in a wrinkled white coat who looked like he hadn’t slept in a million years.”

  “A
bout right.” Bastian’s soft voice caressed her. “I had a half hour for meal break and had to escape the hospital. The park’s just across the street. I went out to just soak up some sun, grab a pretzel and get a breather.”

  “I followed him. Doc has a kind of ambling stride when he’s being lazy. I mimicked it and he turned around and caught me.” She recalled the sparkle of amusement in his tired eyes. It echoed now in full happy shine.

  “I needed a smile that day. So we played. She pretended to eat my pretzel.”

  “He caught my invisible ball.”

  “We did jumping jacks.”

  “We made faces.”

  “We played peek-a-boo.”

  “Doc gave me an imaginary flower.”

  “Then my pager went off.”

  “I figured he’d wave and walk away but instead he held his hand out in front of my face, palm down, just an inch from my nose.”

  “Of course, Honey did the same, an inch from my nose.”

  “And he bit my finger.”

  “And she screamed.” A dimple appeared beside his lip.

  “I never expected him to go all rabid dog on me. The crowd loved that someone had made a mime break character and speak. I made over a hundred dollars in fifteen minutes.”

  “And I made a friend forever.” Bastian stroked the back of his hand along her cheek.

  “Since he was the reason I did so well, I found out his name and that he was still on duty. I took him dinner as a thank-you. The rest, as they say, is history.”

  Her life changed that day and she hadn’t known it until much later. Their first shared meal of meatball subs and chips was the first of countless, the laughter the beginning of thousands of laughs, the connection the foundation for a friendship that evolved into more.

  Classic movies and cartoons came first, a shared secret passion no one else seemed to understand. Lisa would roll her eyes and leave the room when Bastian pulled Steamboat Willie or The Jazz Singer from the shelf. Out of those classics, conversations grew that spanned every niche of their lives. Often they would talk through the night. The bonds got stronger but had never pinched. Remembering a time before Bastian was like seeing life with a hole in the center, a spot waiting to be filled. He was as vital to her as oxygen, water and air.

  Air. As in airwaves.

  Jerking her attention back to the caller’s chuckling, Charlie finished up the call and took another. And another. And another. Emails followed, full of teasing laughter and jibes. Mindless chitchat to cover her racing heart.

  “Time for a breather, lovers. Sit back, catch your breath and Doc and I’ll be right back. It’s time to check in on the Race for Yes, Wed or Bed. Has either submitted? Did Doc give it up? Am I changing my name? Stay tuned, back in three.”

  The theme song eased into static and she raised her face to the partition in silent communication. Justine nodded and tapped a few keys.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re up to something?”

  Bastian’s wary tone brought her tongue to her lip. “Now whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Knowing you. What do you have up your sleeve, Charlie?”

  Eyes deliberately wide, she pointed to her shirt. “Hello? Sleeveless. Not real observant tonight, are you?”

  “I noticed you avoided talking about your first time. Makes me wonder why.”

  Charlie focused on straightening papers on the clipboard. Knowing Bastian, he’d probably tried to make Lisa’s first time something special, given her a dose of extra love in his loving. That was just the type of man he was. In comparison, Charlie’s first time fell way below the mark.

  “I told you about that a long time ago.”

  “Not really. I know you were fifteen and his name was Bobby. That’s about it. Oh, and it was in the back of a truck. What, no shooting stars?”

  Her snort was far less than feminine. “Hardly. More like the day after Christmas. Don’t get me wrong, Bobby was a nice guy, it just was weird. I felt like a frog.”

  “A frog?” Chin in hand, he leaned on the console and studied her with an indulgent smile. “This I’ve got to hear.”

  A shrug softened her sigh. Fine, if he wanted to know the nitty-gritty then he had to expect to get the dirt as well. “Buck naked, flat on my back, spread-eagled, legs pinned open by an overgrown marine leaving huge bruises on my thighs. Frog in a biology class.”

  “Marine? I thought you were fifteen? How old was he?”

  “Oh, twenty-two, I think, maybe twenty-three.”

  Bastian’s brows slammed together. The glare he settled on her was hard. “Twenty-two? He was an adult, he should’ve known better.”

  “Yeah, well, that was kind of what I was hoping for, you know?”

  He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what you wanted, he knew it was wrong. That’s borderline molestation. Or statutory rape. You were jailbait. He could have gone to prison for that.”

  “It was bad but not that bad. Lighten up. I knew what I was doing as much as you did.”

  “Two kids fooling around are a lot different than an adult taking advantage of a child. He shouldn’t have touched you.”

  “Well, he did. Poorly. Why is this bothering you? It’s over and done with.”

  His lips were a tight slash outlined in white. “No grown man should ever touch a child and you were a child, Charlie.”

  “Wearing a C cup.”

  “I don’t care. It was wrong.” His eyes flew to hers. Under the anger, something lurked inside, a compassion so deep it scared her. “And he hurt you. For that alone, he should be taken out and shot.”

  “A lot of girls hurt their first time.”

  “But they don’t have bruises.”

  The belated protectiveness touched her and hushed her words. “Some men leave them and not just on your thighs. Not everyone is as noble as you’d think. But I can take care of myself. I have for a long time.”

  “Shouldn’t have to,” he muttered.

  A smile twitched one corner of her lips. Bastian had solid, definitive ideas on what made a man. Private rules, codes of ethics and some internal invisible ruler he measured everyone against, most stringently himself. Not that he’d ever tell someone they didn’t measure up. It wasn’t in his nature to be outwardly critical. After learning of his sterility, he’d come to define the word man as something other than penis-owner.

  How many times had she listened to him rant about some injustice in life? Like the teenaged scum who’d knocked up four different girls yet shunned condoms because they weren’t “natural”? One entire televised football game had been muted as he railed against the players who owed back child support and refused to pay though they were worth millions. And once, when a newborn was found in a Dumpster and brought to the ER barely breathing, she’d held the heavy punching bag while he beat the shit out of it, bitching at the unfairness of it all.

  Slowly he came to realize those rules applied to both genders and didn’t signify a real man but a decent human being. Decency and kindheartedness made the difference, not fully functioning reproductive equipment. He’d accepted the hand he was dealt but still, that rigid code of morality was there. Now it was directed more inward than outward. He strived every day to prove to himself that he was worthy of the title man.

  He was more than worthy of it. It was what made him who he was…and she loved him for it.

  Charlie blinked away sudden shininess in her eyes and slid into her Honeypot mode.

  “Welcome back, lovers. Are you ready? Are you panting in anticipation? Has Doc realized the error of his tightly zipped ways and caved to my womanly wiles? Did I fall victim to his prescription for a white veil and a gold ring? Who said yes first?”

  “Wasn’t me.” Bastian chuckled.

  “Me either. But I did get you something. I found you a new theme song. Want to hear it?”

  “Don’t think you’re going to give me much choice, are you?”

  “No way. This is for you with all my lust.”


  The push of one button filtered in the rapping tones of 2 Live Crew’s “Me So Horny” through the room. First his mouth fell open. Then his eyes widened in horror as the explicit lyrics sailed over the airwaves. Charlie bounced and popped in her chair, singing along with the prostitute’s accented lyrics. When he’d suffered enough, she slid the volume down and spoke into her mike.

  “Me love you long time, Doc.”

  “You’re evil.” Head shaking, he blew out a slow breath. “But you aren’t the only one who’s been busy. I thought you needed a new theme song too. This is for you with all my love.”

  Shocked into silence, Charlie watched him nod to Justine, and the soothing strains of the Dixie Cups’ “Chapel of Love” overshadowed the rap beat. The all-girl band sang of going to the chapel and getting married in innocent tones. Amazement sank into her bones. He’d outdone her, known her tactics and used them against her with help from Justine. The “gotcha” look he beamed at her illuminated the room.

  “I really love you and we’re going to get married. We’re going to the Chapel of Love, Honey.”

  The lyrics sounded like a promise. The volume faded, eased by Justine, who grinned through the partition, enjoying this one-upmanship game. Charlie had to search for her tongue. She found it buried in bravado.

  “All right, musically the score is even. I’d say, zero to zero. No wait, I think I might have scored a point or two last night. I almost got you naked. What do you think? And be honest. Santa is watching.” Dangerously close to sharing too much personal information on the air, she knew she was playing with fire.

  He gaped at her. “You are evil. Okay, I’ll give you two points. But I’m claiming two for myself.”

  “Really? For what?”

  “I showed you a way to get rid of your headaches.”

  Seemingly innocent, his words fell like a bomb. He fought the fight to win and the prize was her heart. Measuring the intensity in his face, she conceded. “Okay, two points all.”

  “We’re tied, Honey, and here’s a warning. Brace yourself, because I’m going rock your world in a few days.”

  “Awfully big words.”

  “I have a medical degree. I know a lot of big words.”