Taxi (Take It Off #11)

by Cambria Hebert

  I wrapped an arm around her waist, returning the hug. After a moment, I eased away, and she pulled back to smile. “You done for the day?”

  “Thank God,” I said.

  She smiled. She was a pretty woman with blond hair and brown eyes. “Get some rest. You earned it.”

  “That’s the plan, right after I hit the gym.” There was no way I could just go home right now and expect to get some sleep. I needed to work off some of the frustration of the day.

  “What’s your schedule like this weekend?” she asked casually.

  I wandered over to my locker and entered the combination into the lock. She was going to ask me out.

  We’d kinda been dancing around this for a while now. In fact, we’d actually had a date planned once, about a month ago. But I got called in for a transplant and couldn’t make it. She hadn’t been upset; she knew the drill. But after that, I never made an attempt to reschedule.

  I had a feeling she’d been waiting, though, wondering why I hadn’t.

  I’d been the one to ask her out in the first place. She’d put out interested signals almost since the day we met. We were a good fit. A natural fit. Both of us were hella busy. We both worked long hours and were committed to our jobs. Those things made it hard to hold on to a relationship.

  Hell, I’d had more than one woman dump me because of it.

  Those break-ups never really bothered me. I didn’t miss a beat. Those women were better off, obviously. If I didn’t even notice they’d vacated my life, then they didn’t belong there anyway.

  I was pretty sure Reggie had a called-off engagement under her belt. I heard some gossip about it. But that’s all I knew. Honestly, I tried to stay out of the drama going around (unless of course they were talking about people having sex), so when I heard the whispers, I made myself busy.

  Our failed romances was another reason we would work. Expectations wouldn’t be very high and the understanding that work came first would be a given.

  So why hadn’t I rescheduled our date?

  She was hot. Had good tits.

  Side bar: I was pretty sure they were fake. I wasn’t hating. In fact, fake meant they’d always stay nice and perky.

  And of course, we had similar careers and could see each other at work to make up for when we didn’t see each other outside of work.

  Because dating someone who would “work” doesn’t seem like a good enough reason to date.

  “I’m on call, but hopefully I’ll be off,” I said ruefully, digging around in my locker for my gym clothes.

  Aaand, I just gave her an opening. I had to give her props. She was tired of waiting for me to set something up so she was gonna do it herself. It was another reason to like her.

  I had a sudden craving for coffee.

  I never drank coffee until a couple months ago. I didn’t even like the shit. Until I was bewitched by a barista I was convinced poured something addictive into the cup before she handed it over.

  I liked her coffee.

  Almost as much as I liked her red hair and freckles.

  It probably wouldn’t work with her (dating I mean). Hell, it was the reason I only flirted and never asked her out.

  Even though an invite for a movie or dinner… or sex was always on the tip of my tongue when I stepped up to her coffee truck.

  I wouldn’t actually invite her to have sex; that would guarantee I wouldn’t get any. But damn, how could I not think about it when I’d see her round ass bouncing around inside her café on wheels?

  “I’m off this weekend, too,” Reggie said, and I was almost startled. I’d forgotten she was still there.

  I spun from the locker, my gym bag and car keys in hand. “Yeah?” I echoed. What the fuck was she talking about?

  “So since we are both off…” She started.

  Fuck. I wasn’t up for this right now.

  I couldn’t say no because it might make things awkward at work. But if I said yes and we went out and I wished I’d said no, it would make things awkward at work.

  Double jeopardy. That’s what women were.

  Damned if I did. Damned if I didn’t.

  The lounge door flung open, and we both looked up.

  Saved! I mentally fist pumped in the air.

  “Dr. Kelley!” A nurse rushed in, looking around.

  “Yeah, Beth?” I replied, instantly alert.

  Shit, not another emergency tonight. Not another patient failing.

  “You have a phone call.”

  I felt myself relax. Then I stiffened again. “Why the urgency?”

  Her eyes rounded; her reply was breathless. “It’s from the national registry list. I think it’s for him.”

  I left my locker ajar, dumped the shit I was holding in my hands on the floor, and rushed for the door.

  “Good luck!” Reggie called behind me.

  I didn’t even look back.

  This was it. The call I’d been waiting for. The only thing in the entire world that could turn this shitty day around.

  4

  Derek

  The phone on the desk was probably a dinosaur.

  Hell, these days, if a phone didn’t fit in your pocket, explore the web, and literally talk back when you asked it a question, it was practically ancient.

  This particular phone was large, square, and had a twisty black cord. About thirty buttons adorned the square, flat surface, and there were about ten little blinking lights all going off that made me feel bad for the nurses.

  “Line two,” Beth called as I skidded around the counter and picked up the black receiver.

  “Doctor Kelley,” I said briskly into the line. My heart was hammering. Anticipation and hope tingled my fingers and made my chest tight.

  If this was a false alarm or not for him… there was a bottle of whiskey collecting dust in my kitchen that just might have to be introduced to the back of my throat.

  “Dr. Kelley, this is Stacey from the national donor registry list.”

  “Yes,” I said, mentally shouting for her to hurry the hell up.

  “We are calling to let you know we have matched an organ for one of your patients. It will be ready for transport tomorrow and only take a few hours to arrive at your hospital.”

  “Which patient?” I asked.

  There was a pause. “Rocco Kelley.”

  My whole body jerked, and I exhaled loudly. “Best news I’ve gotten all day.”

  “Will you be available tomorrow evening for the transplant?” The woman went on like she didn’t just change my life.

  “Of course,” I said. “Don’t you need me to fly to the organ and either remove it or pick it up for transport?”

  I did that a lot, and I fully expected to do that for this kidney.

  “It isn’t necessary at this time. We have a transplant team already onsite. The organ is being harvested from a donor who is being removed from life support. There will be several removed during the procedure.”

  “What about transport?” I pressed.

  “That is also already taken care of.”

  “By who?” I demanded. This was important. I needed to be sure it was done right. Transplanting an organ wasn’t like delivering a bouquet of flowers.

  “An organ from the same donor is being picked up and delivered to St. Vincent’s via a chopper at the same time. The pilot said he would touch down to deliver the kidney to your hospital on his way.”

  St. Vincent’s was another very large hospital about four hours from here. “So a doctor from St. Vincent’s will be overseeing the transport?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Which doctor?” I pressed. I knew them all over there. They had a large transplant wing, and sometimes we worked together. “Dr. Ross, Dr. Peter…?” I asked, impatient.

  “Dr. Ross.”

  I nodded. He was a good doctor. I could trust him with the organ.

  “You’re sure this kidney is a match?” />
  “Positive.”

  I smiled, so ready to celebrate.

  We talked a few more details, and then I hung up the phone. Beth, a regular nurse on this floor, was right behind me when I turned.

  “Well?” she asked, anxious.

  “It’s a match!”

  She grinned, and we hugged quickly.

  “Best news I’ve had all week!” she exclaimed.

  “I gotta go tell them.” I pulled back, grinning.

  “When will it be here?” she asked as I was rushing away.

  “Tomorrow!” I called out. “Clear my schedule!”

  “With pleasure!”

  I ran down the hall, my sneakers making an obnoxious squeaking sound against the buffed linoleum. I’d been rushing so fast I’d overshot the doorway all the way at the end of the hall, and on my way past, I grabbed the doorframe to slow me down.

  My sister, Laura, jerked up from her chair when she saw my antics.

  “Derek?” she said, alarmed. “What is it? The tests…” A look of absolute fear screwed up her face, and I watched her try and hide it.

  I glanced at the bed, where my nephew Rocco was sleeping.

  I grabbed up my sister and hugged her tight. “Derek,” she insisted against my chest.

  I pulled her back, holding on to her shoulders. “There’s a match.”

  She gasped. “Are you sure?”

  “I just got off the phone with the registry.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh my God.”

  I nodded.

  “And it’s a match?”

  “Yes,” I said, hugging her again.

  She sobbed into my chest, and I glanced again at the kid in the bed.

  At ten years old, my nephew Rocco was small for his age. From the time he’d turned three, he’d been sick. It didn’t take long to realize both his kidneys were on a steady decline and he was going to need a transplant.

  His illness was an incredible blow for my entire family. The sun rose and set with Rocco. He was the only grandchild, my sister’s only, and my best friend.

  Even though he’d been sick most of his life, he was still an amazing kid. I liked him better than almost every adult I knew. He was bright, funny, and played a mean game of poker.

  It wasn’t fair he was plagued with bad kidneys. It wasn’t fair he was restrained to a hospital bed more and more as the years passed.

  He’d been on the list for a kidney for years now. The odds of finding one to match his rare blood type and the fact he was a kid (a smaller organ was ideal) made it that much harder.

  In the past six months, his health had been on a steady decline. I’d done everything I could. I researched alternative therapies, tried traditional ones. Called in consults from doctors with more experience and man hours. I even typed myself to see if I could give him one of my kidneys.

  The entire family did. No one was viable.

  His prick of a father left when he was one. No one could find him. He literally drove away one day and never came back. He might be a match… but he was nowhere.

  I’d hired private investigators. I’d email and called every place he’d been seen or spotted. If he knew his son desperately needed a transplant, he didn’t care. He was the shittiest human being I’d ever had the displeasure of meeting.

  I’d become more of a father figure to Rocco than an uncle. I was his doctor, too. He’d been admitted in this hospital for over two weeks now.

  Things were looking pretty grim.

  I spent my off time researching, looking for anything that might buy him time.

  If he… if died before we could get the transplant he needed… I was afraid of who I’d become. I knew it would change me in the core of who I was.

  The change wouldn’t be a good one.

  “You’re one hundred percent sure?” Laura asked again, pulling away and swiping at her eyes.

  “They have an entire process of making sure.” I assured her. “You know this.”

  She nodded. She knew almost as much as I did about transplants now. The only person who was more desperate than me to make sure Rocco lived was her.

  “When?” She glanced over at his dark head on the pillow.

  “Tomorrow night. They have a team bringing the organ to me.”

  “You’ll be here for the surgery?”

  I was offended she had to ask. “Wild animals couldn’t keep me away,” I vowed. I’d do this surgery half dead.

  “My team will start getting him prepped. I’ll get some stuff going tonight. Then I’m going to go home, shower, and try and get some sleep. I want to be on top of my game tomorrow when his kidney gets here.”

  She nodded. “Of course. You need to go home. Rest.”

  I was so tempted to wake the kid and tell him the good news. I wanted to so badly my fingers trembled. But I held back. He needed his sleep. He needed all his strength for tomorrow.

  “I’ll get the ball rolling. I’ll be here in the morning.”

  “Thank you, Derek,” Laura whispered, tears welling again.

  I hugged her one last time before retreating to the door. Renewed energy coursed through my system. This was why I loved my job. Because even though I lost some good people, I got to save some, too.

  Rocco was going to have a full and healthy life after tomorrow. I’d make sure of it.

  “Derek?” Laura whispered as I was leaving.

  I turned back.

  “It’s going to be okay, right?”

  I retreated back to her side and looked into her eyes. “He’s going to be just fine. This is exactly everything we’ve been praying for.”

  She nodded, seeming to steel herself. Even though he was getting what he needed, he still had a surgery to get through. That was enough to worry any mother.

  I’d be worried, too, if I wasn’t going to be the one in the operating room with him.

  “No one will take better care of him than you,” she said as if she read my thoughts.

  “Damn straight.” I agreed and smiled.

  The sense of relief I felt was incredible. It was like a two-thousand-ton weight had been lifted off my shoulders. A weight I’d been burdened with for years. The fact that I couldn’t find my nephew a kidney—me, a goddamned transplant doctor—kept me up at night.

  But transplant doctors don’t get head-of-the-line privileges. It doesn’t work that way. It was a heaping dose of learning what my patients went through.

  I hated it.

  “Maybe I should just fly to where the kidney is, just in case,” I said, almost to myself.

  “What?” she asked.

  “They said they had a skilled transplant team in place already and a doctor who would bring it. I know the doctor. He’s a good surgeon. But this is Rocco… I want to oversee the harvesting. Get a look at the kidney.”

  “But then you won’t be rested for the surgery.”

  “I can sleep on the plane.”

  She frowned. “You said you trust the doctor overseeing it?”

  I nodded. “He’s from St. Vincent’s.”

  She nodded immediately. She knew the hospital. Rocco had been seen there several times.

  “The doctors there know him. They will take care of his kidney. I really think you need to go home, rest.”

  She was right… I’d just come off a double shift. I was exhausted and beaten down from today. A night of sleep would be ideal for the surgery tomorrow.

  Laura stepped up. “Derek, I know you’ve done everything humanly possible for Rocco. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with his surgery, but you need to rest. This has been just as hard on you as the rest of us. Please. I’ll worry.”

  I relented. Dr. Ross was a good doctor. I knew he’d handle this well.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said, running my fingers through my hair. “I’ll see you in the morning.” I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

  She smiled, looking more relaxed already.

  “Once he’s recovered, we’re going to Disneyland,” I
announced.

  She nodded. “He will love it.”

  I spent a while getting the ball rolling on the surgery and calling my team to let them know. After everyone had their instructions, I went back into the lounge to pick up the bag I’d left on the floor. It wasn’t lying out anymore. Everything was back in the locker, the door was closed, the lock on.

  Quickly, I opened it up and glanced inside. There was a yellow sticky note almost at my eye level stuck to the front of the metal shelf inside.

  Sending good thoughts your way!—Reg

  I smiled, left the note where it was and grabbed my shit.

  Reggie was definitely good people. Maybe I should give her a chance.

  She isn’t the one you want and you know it, a voice in the back of my mind declared.

  I couldn’t even argue.

  It was true.

  5

  Rose

  A chain is a formidable opponent.

  It is entirely maddening to see an escape route, to know you’re alone and could make a legit attempt at freedom before anyone came back, only to have the knowledge taunt you mercilessly.

  I struggled.

  No. What I was doing went beyond struggling. I had no idea where I was, why I’d been kidnapped, or how long I was going to be alone until they came back. I didn’t know if I would ever see my home again, my coffee truck… my family.

  Everything as I knew it, life as I knew it, could be over.

  I was emotionally battered, and now because of the stupid and barbaric chain around my wrist, I was becoming physically battered as well.

  The second my captors left me here alone, I got to work. I tugged and yanked. I pulled and fought with this chain. It was impervious to my attempts at somehow yanking it off the pipe it was wrapped around. When my arms were literally shaking from effort and my fingertips red and raw from gripping the chain, I sank onto the still damp concrete floor and dropped my face into my hands.

  I allowed myself about a minute of pity. Then I shut it down.

  If my arms and legs were too weak to keep fighting against these stupid yet impossibly strong inanimate objects, I would change course.

  The metal cuff around my wrist wasn’t loose. I tried to push it down over my hand in several different ways. When it was locked around my skin, it was done so tightly my wrist was already becoming raw. Even just sitting here would likely make it rub because they’d placed it on so snug.