by Dahlia Kent
“What’s taking them so long?”
I patted her shoulder. “It’s better they take a while, Jules. They’ll learn more about what’s up with your mom if they’re thorough.”
“You’re right.” She sighed and threw me a quick smile. “Thanks for coming with me today, Angie. I know spending hours in a hospital waiting room isn’t a fun way to spend the weekend.”
“I’m a homebody these days. I’m either at work or at home.” I grinned. “This is literally a party right now for me.”
“That’s sad, but that’s the same for me too.” She took a deep breath. “I think I’m so nervous is because I hate hospitals. I made some of my worst memories in them. Way too much pain and suffering in one place.”
“Maybe associate good things to it so you don’t feel so anxious.” I jerked a chin at a pregnant woman being wheeled in a wheelchair. “That lady’s probably here to give birth. That will be a happy memory for her. Then there are the people who get healed from many diseases here.”
“I guess,” she said, but with a doubtful expression. “It’ll take me a long time before I consider this place good.”
I was about to respond when a familiar person approached us. The handsome man I’d met on the street. Except he wore navy blue scrubs with a white doctor’s coat over it. My initial guess he was a doctor got confirmed.
He glanced at me. If it surprised him to see me, he didn’t show it. Instead he continued over to the trio. Their anxious expressions faded into relieved, grateful smiles as he spoke with them.
“Roll your tongue back into your mouth, Rover,” Julia teased. “Don’t want the cute doctor to get spooked.”
“I met him before.”
Julia straightened in her seat. “Where?”
“Coffee shop near my apartment. We bumped into each other by accident. He offered to buy me coffee.”
“You said ‘no’, didn’t you? You have that whole ‘men are trouble’ stance.”
“I said yes, but his pager beeped. He had to leave.”
Julia made a face. “That sucks. You gave him your number though, right?” When I shook my head in shame, she shook hers in disappointment. “Stop wasting your good looks, girl.”
I didn’t mention how I’d met him another time. I’d have to tell her why we still didn’t have coffee together. That I’d been meeting up with a con artist to discuss art theft.
Residual anger and shame returned when I remembered that moment. I hadn’t returned to the coffee shop ever since. That’s why I hadn’t seen the sexy guy in a while.
It was good to see him again even if briefly. He and the trio of women left the waiting room. On his way out, he gave me a quick nod of acknowledgement which I returned.
Julia smirked. “Guess he remembers you.”
“Guess so.”
Dr. Stein, the doctor attending to Julia’s mom approached us. Julia leaped to her feet, startling him. She peppered him with questions about her mother. The doctor had to hold them back by lifting his hands.
A serious expression came over his face. “I think it would be best if we discussed this in my office.”
Julia nodded then glanced at me. “I’ll be back, Angie. If you can’t wait, I’ll understand.”
“No, I’ll wait. Good luck.”
She smiled. “Then go find the cute doctor and give him your number this time.”
I smiled at her. I watched her disappear with Dr. Stein down a hallway. The TV caught my attention and on it was yet another familiar face. Stacy Gamble, a girl I used to work with at EI8HT. She was the bartender when I was a bar back. We’d become good friends. Even after my debacle with the cocaine incident, we’d maintained a friendship.
But she’d quit EI8HT when she got a breakthrough with her acting career. Last time I’d spoken with her, she’d moved in with her boyfriend, Lucas. He was a wealthy lawyer she’d met at EI8HT.
Seeing her bright, happy face sent a twinge of jealousy through me. I was happy for her. But if I were being honest, I wanted what she’d achieved. I wanted success in my career. I wanted a handsome man to call me his.
Those things weren’t on the horizon for me. My future was murky at best.
I looked away from the screen, fidgeting in my seat. I was the only one left in the waiting room now. I wished I’d brought my tablet. At least I could have done quick sketches to pass the time.
The handsome man from the coffee shop strode toward the nurses station. The two nurses who’d barely acknowledged anyone became attentive. He handed them a clipboard, charming them with a smile. He spoke and one nurse laughed out loud. Like whatever he’d said was the best joke she’d heard all morning.
I rolled my eyes.
Wow, strong is the thirst in that one.
Then he turned and his gaze found mine.
He left the nurses station and came toward me.
Four
—
He looked good in scrubs.
Authoritative.
Magnetizing.
More than ever I wished I got the chance to sketch him. He would come alive on a blank page.
He came to a stop in front of me, his hands in his pockets. A smile playing on his lips.
“Want to get that coffee now?”
I glanced in the direction Julia went with the doctor. Then gave him an apologetic look.
“I would love to but my friend might be back soon.”
He nodded then walked off.
I frowned, put off by his abrupt departure. But a few minutes later, he returned holding two cups. He handed one to me before he claimed a seat beside me.
I smiled at him. “Thanks.”
The coffee warmed my hands. It chased away the cold that had seeped into my fingers. I flipped the lid flap up. The delicious hazelnut scent hit me before I took a sip.
When I looked at him, I found him watching me. Like if he was trying to memorize my face. I felt self-conscious of his direct stare. I dropped my gaze to the name tag clipped to his coat. I was fed up of calling him ‘sexy guy’ in my head.
DR. MADDIX FLINT, MD, SURGEON, read the tag.
“What kind of surgeon are you, Dr. Flint?” I asked.
He smiled. “A very good one.”
I smiled too. “I guess it’s true what they say doctors have huge egos.”
“It’s a necessity to have an ego as a doctor.” His deep, smooth voice sounded so good. “You need an extraordinary belief in yourself. That you’re the only defense against sickness and death. Or else your work is mediocre. Even deadly.”
“That’s intense,” I said. “That’s a scary and heavy responsibility. Good thing my dreams of being a doctor died early.”
“What new dreams came to life after?”
“A bunch, most of which were insane and unfeasible.”
“Give me an example.”
I rubbed my lips together. I tried to remember all the things I wanted to be. Things my family were always against. Sometimes just because it wasn’t what they considered proper, but sometimes with good reason.
“One time, I saw a poster for trapeze classes. I wanted to be a trapeze artist. Travelling all over the world to perform daring acts sounded exciting.” I laughed. “I signed up and plonked down the cash. Then I remembered I had a serious fear of heights. So I settled on being just an artist.”
“What kind of artist?”
I smiled. “A very good one. A painter.” I extended a hand, deciding to introduce myself. “I’m Angela.” He took my hand in his big warm one and gave a firm squeeze. It sent a spark of electricity through me. I was both reluctant and relieved when he released my hand. “Although I figure you already know.”
Amusement sparkled in his brown eyes.
“Seems you have a large ego as well to assume I’d know who you are.”
“So you don’t know who I am?”
“I know you’re exquisite.” The words startled me, even more so when his gaze trapped mine. “In the time I’ve spent looking at y
ou I’ve yet to find even the tiniest imperfection.”
His gaze was so intense, so sincere. I didn’t know how to react or what to say. I swallowed and looked away. He thought I was perfect? Maybe he didn’t know who I was.
“Maybe you haven’t looked hard enough.”
“Because I can’t. Not like this.” He reached into his pocket and took out a small notepad. He unclipped his pen and scribbled numbers down before tearing off the paper and handing it to me. “I look forward to seeing the real you, the imperfect you. Call me when you’re free to show me.”
I took the piece of paper. With a parting smile, he stood and walked away. I watched him leave, holding the paper with his number on it. Confusion roiled inside me.
What did he mean by any of that?
Julia returned, her shoulders slumped. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. Julia was the strongest woman I’d ever met. A lot had happened to make her tough. Seeing her looking so vulnerable was unnerving.
“Brain tumor,” she hissed, sinking into the seat beside me. “My mom has a brain tumor. If it’s not removed, she’ll die within a year.” She shook her head. “And that’s not even the worst part. The surgery costs seventy thousand dollars. Neither of us have insurance. How am I going to pay for that?”
“Julia, I’m so sorry.” I wrapped her in a hug and she let me hold her as she cried. When she stopped, she sat up straight and swiped at her eyes.
“This is stupid, I shouldn’t be crying.”
“It’s not stupid. And this is the time you should be crying.” I looked away from her, my fists tightening. “I wish there was a way I to help. I can ask my parents—”
“No, that’s OK,” Julia said. “This isn’t your fight, Angie. Your heart is in the right place and for that I’m grateful. Besides, your parents disowned you for some shit that wasn’t your fault. I doubt they’ll be generous to a perfect stranger.” She breathed. “I’m just going to figure out a way to get the money.”
“We could rob a bank together,” I said, trying to inject humour. “I’ll distract the guards with my tits while you get the money.”
Julia laughed. “Don’t tempt me. That sounds like a great plan.” She stood, and I got up too. My butt felt tender from sitting for so long. “I want to stick around a little longer with my mom, OK? You can head home.”
“You sure you don’t want me to stay?”
“Nah, I… I need time to process what’s happening.”
I nodded in understanding. We shared a parting hug. As we headed our separate ways, she called out to me.
“Did you ever give that cute doctor your number like I told you to?”
“No, but he gave me his.” I patted the pocket where I’d stuffed Maddix’s number.
Julia grinned. “That’s my girl.”
Julia returned to her mother’s room while I left the hospital. The weather outside was much more tolerable. I breathed a deep lungful of the fresh air before setting off.
It saddened me I couldn’t help my friend. She’d been so helpful to me when I was at my lowest. After my three month probation, my dad had kicked me out and Julia had been the one to take me in. She’d been a great friend in my worst moment. We’d been roommates. Then she had to move back in with her mom to take care of her.
She was right that asking my parents would be no help. They’d been all too eager to dust their hands of me. According to my dad, I was a ‘liability to his approval ratings’. He valued the opinions of the citizens of Melbrooke City over me.
I came to a stop. I looked up at the stretch of light blue sky. When the hurt and anger got too much, I liked to stare at the sky. Until the bad memories and the disappointment faded away.
To my left was a park, and I sat on a swing. The trees were recovering their leaves from the ravages of winter. Everything was in such stark and vibrant colour during springtime. It reminded me of that painting Eva had shown me in that coffee shop.
One hundred grand could be yours.
Her voice returned to me like a whisper. A whisper that strengthened even though I tried to silence the sound.
One hundred thousand dollars.
All mine if I did a simple job of replicating someone else’s painting.
It’s wrong. I might get in trouble.
Or I could save the life of Julia’s mother.
And I’d even have leftover for myself.
I took out my cell phone and opened the contacts list. I scrolled to Eva’s name, my finger hovering over the call button. I pressed it before any hesitation could stop me.
It rang for a while. Just when the doubts suggested I end the call, Eva answered.
“Hello, Angela,” she said, a smug undertone to her voice I ignored. It was no time to get angry.
“I’ll do it.”
Five
—
Yet again, another nightmare was being played out before my eyes. I’d made a bad decision. Now I had to deal with the consequences.
On the television, I watched Eva’s face. The news reporter was talking, but I barely heard the words. All I paid attention to was the pertinent text on the screen. That Eva Whittaker, art curator, had been caught committing forgery and fraud.
Several days ago, I’d handed in the forged painting I’d done. I’d been trying to get hold of her for payment. She wouldn’t answer my calls or texts. I’d assumed she’d conned me. And since I’d done something wrong, I had no recourse. I had to accept she’d taken advantage of me. Just like she and I had taken advantage of the original artist.
After I handed in the painting, I’d felt disgusted with myself. How could I have robbed a fellow artist of their intellectual property? It had been a relief Eva had never answered my calls or returned them. It had been a relief she’d never paid me.
And now she’d been caught.
Did that mean I was next?
The thought froze me where I sat in my tiny sofa. What if Eva told them about me? About what I’d done? I already had a criminal record. If it ever got out I was a part of this, I wouldn’t just get probation. It would be jail time. My father warned me he would never help me again.
I was jumpy for the next few days. Every time my phone rang or I heard strange voices outside my door, I thought I was caught. I barely concentrated at work and did so poorly that Gary threatened to fire me.
But as the days went by and my name was not implicated as part of the fraud, I relaxed. Until my phone rang one day, and a familiar voice spoke.
“Hello, Angela, it’s Eva.”
“What do you want?” I bit out, already sensing there was no good news to come from this conversation.
“I think you already know. I’m willing to tell the whole truth about a special someone who forged a painting for me. But I might keep my mouth shut if this someone helped me avoid prison. This someone in this scenario being you.”
“And how do you expect me to do that?”
“You avoided prison not too long ago, I remember. Something to do with being the mayor’s daughter. Maybe you and dear old dad can work the magic for me.”
“I can’t do that, Eva. I—”
“Can’t or won’t? Either way, I don’t give a shit. You’ll do this, Angela. You’ll help me avoid prison. I have a recording of you accepting the job, you know. Think about that.”
She ended the call before I said anything else. When I tried to call her back, she refused to answer.
I threw down my phone in disgust and anger. My fear renewed, I paced my apartment, mulling over my options.
But there were none.
If I asked my dad for help, I’d have to tell him how it involved me. When he heard the reason, he wouldn’t help. He might even call the cops on me himself.
My apartment felt too claustrophobic. I grabbed my jacket and phone and headed outside. Rain had fallen this morning, leaving the streets slick with water. It was still drizzling but I didn’t care.
I took the metal stairway down to the trail parallel to th
e Timber River. It was the longest trail in Melbrooke City. Lots of trees maintained the natural atmosphere.
Except for a man with an umbrella some distance away, I was the only one on the trail. The rain had chased most people inside.
A fresh, damp scent hung in the air. Rain drops continued to fall, speckling my face and my jacket. I breathed in deep breaths, desperate for calm. When I couldn’t find the calm I sought, I leaned against the chipped railing overlooking the river.
Rain had made the usual clear waters dirty brown. The current was stronger too. One large leaf sat on the surface being swept along. I felt like that leaf. No control over where I was going or what was happening. No idea if I’d make it to shore. Or get so waterlogged, I’d sink and rot in the darkness.
All my friends fled the moment I got in trouble. My family had abandoned me. Only Julia was left. And although I knew she’d help, I didn’t want to involve her in this. She had enough troubles of her own to deal with to concern herself with mine.
Eva would take me down with her and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
A presence came up beside me, startling me. I turned to see it was Maddix.
“You should at least put your hood up to protect you from the drizzle. You could catch a cold.” He moved closer, sharing his umbrella with me. Oh, he was the man I’d seen in the distance a few moments ago.
I smiled. “Sounds like something a mother would say. Or a doctor.”
“The best cure is prevention.”
My gaze fell to the camera secured by a strap around his neck. It had the gleam of a very expensive piece of equipment. Not a scratch in sight.
“Are you a photographer?” Then I held up a hand. “Wait, let me guess. A very good one?”
“I’m good, but there is room for improvement.”
“Is this a rare moment of humility?”
“A moment of honesty about my limitations.” He eyed me with curiosity. “Why are you standing by yourself in the rain?”
“It’s barely raining.” I looked away from him and focused on the river. A comfortable quiet settled around us. Raindrops pattered on the umbrella. I met Maddix’s gaze again. “What kind of surgeon are you? You never said.”