Fueled Obsession 1

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Fueled Obsession 1 Page 3

by Amanda Heartley


  I took a deep breath and the cute blonde I’d seen behind the wheel of that BMW crossed my mind. Maybe I could tap a girl like that. Classy, beautiful and not at all a skank. Not like the girls I knew. I lay there and thought about all the things on my bucket list that racing for Stockton could bring. I switched off the light, and vowed to stay away from the blow and weed, because I was determined to make this happen.

  Chapter Four — Mollie

  “Ahhh…” I aimed the water massage on my neck and back. My body was sore, and as the hot water pulsated on me, I rotated my neck a few times until I felt it loosen up. I wondered if Natalie felt sore this morning—I was sure if she did, I'd hear about it later. We could’ve died last night on the way home from that stupid club and I didn’t even like it that much. Bunch of jerks and posers. Now, my mind was occupied with those bright, blue eyes. Nat said they were glossed over, but I’d like to think they were vivid. I mean, he was nice enough to come back to the car to see if we were okay. At least he’d stopped, and I wanted to believe that he would’ve helped us, had we needed it. But with Nat calling the cops, and her liberal use of the F-bombs, I probably would’ve left as well. Poor guy—he’d sounded desperate, worried even, but once he’d heard those sirens, he sped off like a thief in the night.

  Come on, girl. Stop daydreaming. I guess I was being stupid, just like Natalie had said. She’d been pissed on the ride home, and wondered why in hell I didn't tell the police anything about the driver. All I could do was say, “I don't know.” I still didn't know. It just seemed like he needed a break.

  I stepped out of the shower, patted myself dry and slid into a fresh pair of scrubs. Fortunately, I had a short shift today and I'd mostly be observing the RN, helping out when needed. After the past couple of weeks, I could do four hours standing on my head. Besides, I could peek in on Simon during my breaks.

  I headed downstairs to grab a bite to eat before heading to the medical center. The smell of bacon was heavenly.

  “Hey, Dad.” My father, one of the city's most successful attorneys, usually left before I did and I realized we hadn't had breakfast together since I was in high school. The housekeeper had kindly left me a plate and I slid onto the stool to eat a few bites.

  “Mollie, why didn't you tell me you were in an accident last night? Did you call the insurance company? Did you go to the hospital?” He slapped his newspaper down on the bar, startling me.

  “Accident? What accident? Some dude cut me off. There was no accident. Dang! Calm down, Dad. I'm fine. The car is fine. Natalie is fine. It’s all good.” I took a bite of bacon and eggs and asked, “What makes you think it was an accident?”

  He gave me a caustic look. “A detective called me this morning, and you know that's not the way I like hearing about these things. These people all know me and he says you won't, or can't, tell them who hit you. What's going on? Did Natalie see the guy?”

  “Oh, my God, no one hit us! A car cut us off. I hit the brakes, the tires screeched a little, nobody was hurt and we’re okay. I wish people would just mind their own business. I don't know who the guy was, neither does Natalie. Can we eat now? I really have to get to work.”

  “Well, if you think of anything, you’d better call me right away and I’ll pass the information on to the detective in charge. Apparently, they’re cracking down on all this street racing.” He stared at me. “Were you racing?”

  My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t believe he’d even ask that question. “Dad, are you serious? Do you know how many times my friends have told me I drive like someone’s grandma? Of course I wasn't racing.” I’d had enough of his annoying questions, so I gave up on the breakfast and poured a to-go mug of coffee instead, loading it with sugar and creamer. You know I might as well go ahead and make him all the way mad. “By the way, the college is looking for volunteers to work at the Village Clinic a few hours a week. I'm going to put my name on the list.”

  “What? You mean the clinic off Duval Street? No way, no how! That's not a safe area, Mollie. Do you know how many shootings and stabbings they have there each month? Can't you volunteer on campus, or at the North Side Clinic?”

  “It's only a few hours a week and I'll make a difference there.” I screwed the lid on my mug and gave Dad a stubborn look as he sighed and tossed his napkin onto his plate.

  “We're not poor, Mollie, and I don't know why you feel the need to pretend that you are. They have people to work in those areas. No daughter of mine will.”

  I turned my head and rolled my eyes, grabbing my purse and mug as I walked out. Trust Dad to rely on guilt trips to try to keep my behavior in check—or so he thinks. “Just so you know, volunteering at the Village would give me the required volunteer time I need for my course, a whole semester early. I’d have thought that's something you’d be proud of.”

  I heard him call my name, but I didn't go back. He wasn't going to change his mind, and I could be just as stubborn. I loved my dad, but after Mom died of breast cancer six years ago, he’d gotten really strict. Like he was trying to hold onto me somehow, keep me safe. Unfortunately, he couldn’t keep me any safer than I could from those nasty cells, and his attitude about who I should be, or what I should do, pushed me farther away. Even if he thought it was for my “own good,” I guess he didn’t realize how bad I hurt, too.

  I hustled to the medical center, where I had just enough time to check in with Simon before I visited the nurse's station. I pushed the door open and found his bed empty. Hmm... must be gone for tests. Poor kid.

  Before checking in with Judith, I signed my name onto the volunteer sheet for the Village Clinic. I dotted my “i” with a flourish as if to say, “Kiss it, Dad.” It felt good to make my own decisions, go my own way. My check-in went quickly and Judith could hardly contain herself when I told her I wanted to volunteer for the Village.

  “Really? Are you sure? I mean the atmosphere is very different over there. Don’t you want to just try it out first before you commit to the entire six weeks?” She looked concerned, which I interpreted as a lack of trust, just like Dad.

  I put on my go-to fake smile. “I’m sure the Village is where I want to be. I want to go somewhere where I can make a difference. I mean, there are so many fantastic nurses here and these kids get the best care possible. I’ve enjoyed my time here and I hope this isn’t goodbye, but I’d like the chance to help out while I can.”

  “Well, if you’re sure, I’ll sign off on it if you agree to a two-week trial period first. I want you to be sure this is what you want before I assign you there. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  “Also, the clinic director, Dr. Hopkins, is very discerning about the staff there, even the volunteer staff. He will want to interview you first. When are you available?”

  “I’m available today or tomorrow. Whatever is best for Dr. Hopkins. I don’t mind an interview at all.” Just the thought made me nervous, but I was determined to appear as confident as possible. I smiled even bigger and Judith picked up the phone to call the clinic. “I’ll be right back. I want to go check on something.”

  I made the long stroll down the hall and spotted Simon’s parents outside the door. I’d seen them at least a dozen times since Simon came to stay with us. They were really nice people, doing their best to stay positive and upbeat for their little boy. Simon’s mother was crying, her shoulders heaving as she leaned against her husband’s chest. Oh, God, no.

  My chest tightened and I swallowed hard. I paused in mid stride and wondered for a split second if he’d gotten worse. Do I? No. Shit. I knew I couldn’t bother them, but I had to know what had happened to Simon. I turned back to Judith’s office and on my way, I caught up with another student nurse and asked her if she knew anything. She whispered to me, “He has leukemia. We just got the white blood counts back this morning. The prognosis isn’t good. Poor little angel.”

  I wanted to run to him, but with his parent’s outside his room, I thought it best to go back to Judith’s office. “
Dr. Hopkins says he’d like to see you after lunch…oh, dear. You heard about Simon, didn’t you?” I nodded and rubbed the tears out of my eyes. Judith leaned back in her office chair, her narrow eyes appraising me. “As sucky as it is, this is part of the job, Mollie. If you go down there crying in front of them, you’ll cause them to lose hope. And there’s always hope, until there’s none. Never cry in front of a patient or a parent. You do understand?”

  ‘Yes, ma’am.” I took a deep breath and composed myself. I knew it was part of the job. I also knew I felt like I was smothered in my own pain.

  “You’ll have to develop some calluses, especially if you decide to spend six weeks in the Village.”

  We’d had this discussion before and I knew she was right. I did get too attached to the kids and my game face was sorely lacking. I knew it and she knew it. “What do you do? How do you handle it?”

  “I think about the kids. I think, ‘Does this kid need one more person crying in front of him? Does he need another hug or teardrop?’ The answer to that most of the time is no. He needs a professional medical worker—a nurse who will take him through the process, day by day. Someone who will feed him, encourage him and make him comfortable while he fights for his life. That’s what I think about.”

  “That’s actually great advice. Thanks, Judith.” I smartly changed the subject. “So after lunch, huh? All right, I’ll be there. Thanks again.”

  We moved on to our teaching session and I tried my best to be an attentive student. The time flew by and I became more excited about my afternoon appointment. On my way out of the medical center, I stopped in to see Simon. I tapped lightly then walked in. “Hi, Mollie,” Simon greeted me in his weak, young voice.

  “Hi, Simon. I brought you something.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a sticker that read, “Hug Me!” I unpeeled it from the paper and attached it to the skin on the back of his hand. “Know what this is?” He shook his head. He had a head full of curly, dark hair and big, dark eyes that looked like two smudges against his olive skin. “It’s a ‘Hug Me’ button. When I come visit you, just press that button and I’ll give you a hug. I bet this ‘Hug Me’ button will work with Mom, too.”

  “What happens when it doesn’t stick anymore?” He looked worried and tapped it tentatively.

  “No worries, I’ve got you covered.” I pulled out a small roll of ‘Hug Me’ stickers and put them on his side table. He tapped on his button and I hugged him again. “See? It really works. I have to go a little early today, but I’ll be back in the morning. Will you be wearing your sticker?” He nodded and smiled at me. I waved bye to Simon and his parents, then left the room with a smile. It wasn’t until I got into the car that I turned into a blubbering idiot. Get it together, Mollie. You have an interview in an hour.

  I tapped on my phone and called Natalie. “Hi, Nat! Still talking to me?” I was willing to eat some crow if I had to—I needed my friend. I caught her in a great mood, as the first meeting with her potential new client went well. “That’s so awesome. What’s next?” I listened to her punch list and made the appropriate comments when she paused. When Natalie homed in on something, she was like a dog on a bone—albeit a gorgeous, stylish dog on a bone.

  “Guess what? I’ve got an appointment with Dr. Hopkins this afternoon. He’s the managing physician at the Village Clinic. Apparently, he doesn’t just let anyone volunteer there so I have to pass some kind of face-to-face interview.”

  Natalie got quiet. I could practically see the look on her face through the phone. “Mollie? Are you serious about this? I mean, the Village? Do you even know where that’s at? It’s off Duval Street. You’ll have to park where you can see your car—I mean—you drive a BMW, for God’s sake.”

  “Okay, now. I’ve already heard all this from Dad. It would be nice if one person in my life believed in me.” I felt a little pouty about the whole thing.

  “Whoa, girl! I never said I didn’t believe in you. I know for a fact that you can do whatever you put your mind to. I’m the kid who helped hold the cat down while you tried to dye his fur pink. Remember? I’m the friend who stood by you when you wanted to win those dopey 4-H club awards. Oh, Lord…How many times did we measure that stupid lima bean plant? Did that stupid thing ever grow past an inch?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I’m that friend. I know you CAN do anything that you put your mind to, but why would you? I mean, you’re not a poor kid. How are you going to relate to them?”

  “They need someone to help them; someone who won’t judge them just because they’re poor. This is what I’ve trained for, and as I told Dad earlier—who almost blew a fuse by the way—it’s only for a few weeks. This will help me graduate a little earlier and it’ll give me more experience.”

  “Well, I’m on your side, no matter what you do. You’ve got this. Dr. Hopkins is going to love you.” We ended our phone call in an upbeat way. That made me happy, but I felt a little miffed about her initial response and it just made me want to succeed even more. My stomach grumbled and I weighed my drive-through options. I didn’t normally do drive-through food, but I had little choice today. I tossed down a soggy chicken sandwich and made my way to Duval Street. The clinic was right off the street, so that was good. Great! Natalie has me nervous about parking my car. I pulled in front, parallel parking like a pro—at least I thought so.

  It didn’t look like a clinic from the outside, more like a storefront, but the inside looked clean and tidy, even though the furniture was worn and it was busier than I’d expected. There were pregnant women with swollen feet, waiting to be seen, and kids running around, some crying, some playing with toys. I saw a cute little girl crying as she sat on her pregnant mom’s lap. All of this just reinforced my decision to help these folks out. Maybe here I could make a real difference. I straightened the magazines on the coffee table out of habit as I passed, and made my way to the counter.

  There was a kid in front of me, about fifteen years old, with a bloodied bandage on his hand. He told the receptionist how he’d fallen off his skateboard and cut it open on some glass, and although I wanted to help him right there and then, I knew it wasn’t my place to do so. At least, not yet. I waited patiently until he’d been checked in and taken away to a side room by one of the nurses for treatment before I introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Mollie DuBois. I’m here to see Dr. Hopkins.”

  An attractive, dark-skinned woman smiled at me, “Yes, he’ll be right with you. You can come on back.” A buzzer sounded; I pushed a wooden door open and stepped behind the counter. “Right back here, Miss DuBois.” I followed the nurse to a small office.

  She knocked on the door, then opened it and introduced me. “Dr. Hopkins, this is Mollie DuBois for her interview.”

  “Ah, thank you, Nicole.” Dr. Hopkins got out of his chair and moved around the desk to greet me. He was a lot younger than I’d expected. He stuck out his hand to shake mine and with a warm, kind smile on his face, he said, “Miss DuBois, so happy to meet you. Please have a seat.”

  I moved to sit down in the chair next to his desk. “Thank you, Dr. Hopkins. It’s very nice to meet you, too. I appreciate you seeing me at such short notice.”

  “The pleasure’s all mine. Now, Judith just sent over your resumé and it’s very impressive. You seem to be on target to graduate soon and I gather that pediatric nursing is your focus?” I liked the doctor immediately. He had a kind face, dark skin and a brilliant smile.

  “Yes, I love working with children. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I understand that this is a volunteer position and I’m totally prepared to serve my six weeks of internship here, if you can use my help.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I’d like you to fulfill the two-week training first, and then we’ll see if you still find it a good fit. You know it’s not as nice here as it is at the main hospital where there’s no lack of supplies—or insurance?”

  “Oh, yes, I do know that. That’s no problem for me. I don’t mind h
ard work.” I smiled at him.

  He smiled back. “I believe you. Well, as you can see, we don’t do surgery here, just some minor outreach procedures, some general and prenatal care. We also administer immunizations and perform basic first aid. Nothing too serious. Can you start tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely! Thank you so much.”

  “Great. Check in with Nicole at the front desk on your way out and she’ll tell you when she needs you. If you have any questions, she’s the one to ask. Welcome aboard.”

  Chapter Five — Jack

  I woke up in a fog and my mouth felt like a fucking cat had slept in it. My head pounded and I had no intention of getting up, so I just lay there, looking at the ceiling. The events of last night came flooding back to me. The race, the money, the blowjob. Shit, I probably shouldn’t have kicked that girl out of the car but it served her right, though. Wonder what Dylan would feel like if he found out his chick sucked my dick? Speaking of chicks—I just remembered, I nearly killed two of ‘em last night.

  Fuck, I need to get my head on straight.

  I didn’t hear any noise from the living room, and I hoped Mom was either gone or passed out drunk. It was already after one in the afternoon, so it could’ve been either. I had things to do, so I forced myself to sit up on the side of the bed, grabbed my laptop and fired it up. I flipped it open to my inbox and yes, there it was—the email from Stockton that I’d read the night before. I read it again, word for word, and pieced together in my mind what I thought was a great response. I needed to buy some time so I could pass their drug tests. I wrote a few lines, thanking them for inviting me into their organization and explained that I had prior commitments for the next few weeks, but would be available after that.

 

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