They left the locker room and gathered around the desk with their fellow shift nurses.
“Good morning, ladies. We have a busy day ahead of us,” Janice, the charge nurse from hell, tapped her nails on the counter. “There were three new admissions yesterday, so we are pretty full up here today. Among the new arrivals, there is someone that’s going to need a little bit of extra attention. Also, we’ll need to keep a lid on his identity as best as we can, so you will all be on a need-to-know basis.”
Lexie almost snorted aloud. Every nurse would know the person’s identity five minutes into the shift.
“The phone has already been ringing off the hook this morning and all last night,” as if on cue the phone rang behind the desk; Janice rolled her eyes. “Anyway,” her voice tightened, “do your best and let’s get to it. Your names and assignments are up, so please, go get ready to relieve the night nurses.”
Lexie, Laura, and the other nurses working the day shift approached the marker board and read through the assignments. Her gaze froze mid-way up the board when she saw her name in neat black letters, next to John Doe. Her shoulders slumped and then after catching her eye, Laura smiled over at her apologetically.
“Maybe he won’t be that bad. You know how people in the ER get, they’re so easily excited.”
“Maybe,” Lexie replied in a flat voice, but she didn’t feel overly optimistic considering she only had one patient other than John Doe assigned to her. “He must be a piece of work.”
Amanda, the night shift nurse who’d been with John Doe, met her in the hallway outside the mystery patient’s door. Dark circles lined each of her eyes and several hairs were frizzed out around her ponytail. She briefed Lexie on the patient’s condition and then mumbled, “Good luck,” as she hurried away.
Lexie was so not in the mood. All she wanted to do was crawl back into bed and dream about how Oliver’s body felt against hers. Reality was a bitch.
Taking a deep breath, she entered the room and braced herself for what waited for her. The patient was lying with his back toward her, so she quietly wrote her name and number on the marker board and then began checking his lines. Considering the way Amanda had acted, he wasn’t what she was expecting. There was no yelling, cursing, or objects flying in her direction. She considered at least that much a win.
He wasn’t some aging senator either. He was young. He had longish hair and there was a tattoo peeking out from the neck of his gown.
“If you’re just going to hover over me, you could at least get me some water.” His voice startled her, but not nearly as much as his face. He had spoken to her without opening his eyes, but when he’d turned his face slightly . . . ho-ly crap.
Lying right there in the bed, not a foot from her was Bailey, the lead guitarist for Survival of the Fittest and dream man, Oliver’s brother. She was glad his eyes were closed. She needed a moment to compose herself and possibly a Valium. This could not be happening.
When she found her voice, she reached for the nearby pitcher. “It’s no problem. I can get you some water.” After she set it on his table, she stuffed her trembling hands in her scrub pockets. “My name is Lexie and my number is on the board if you need anything. I have to go check on my other patient, but I’ll be back in a little while to give you your medication.”
“Take your time. I’m not dying today, so they say anyway.” He never bothered to open his eyes.
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it trying to get her thoughts in order. Bailey was there on her floor, and that wasn’t good no matter the diagnosis. No one wanted to be on the bone marrow oncology floor.
Chapter 2
Twenty minutes later, Lexie quietly closed the door behind her and did her best to remain invisible while she readied Bailey’s meds.
“Look, Bailey, don’t make any rash decisions. You don’t even know what’s wrong exactly. There’s no need to panic yet.” The man standing next to his bed was short with clean cut blond hair, an earring she was sure would make Kim Kardashian jealous, and clothes designed for someone at least a decade younger than he was.
“We’ve canceled Charlotte and that’s bad enough, but we can’t cancel DC, too. It’s sold out for Christ’s sake.”
“Thanks for being so concerned for my wellbeing,” Bailey’s tone was sarcastic, but there wasn’t any heat in it. In fact, when she dared another glance, he looked bored.
“You know I’m concerned. I just don’t want you to do anything to piss off the fans if there’s no reason.”
“This isn’t an impulsive decision. Regardless of what the doctor says, there’s no way we can make it to DC on time and frankly, Andy, I don’t have it in me.”
“Bailey, it was a nose bleed caused by exhaustion.” Andy paced in frustration as though dealing with a toddler having a tantrum instead of a grown man with a serious medical condition. “There are only two more shows and then the tour is over. Then, you can get some much-needed R&R. Maybe you can go to the islands for a month, or Cabo.”
While she pushed Bailey’s meds into his IV line, she fought the urge to whack the Andy character over the head with a metal bedpan. He was clearly an idiot.
“Andy, I know you have the label breathing down your neck, but look around you, man. This isn’t the walk-in clinic.”
The door opened and closed behind her, and when she turned she found the doctor studying Bailey’s chart. The sight of the deep crease between Dr. Milo’s dark eyes made her heart sink. It was a look she’d seen before. One glance told her the biopsy results were back and confirmed what he already suspected.
“Good morning, Mr. Honeycutt.”
As the doctor started what was sure to be a gut wrenching conversation, she waited off to the side as Bailey sat up a little straighter in the bed to hear the worst news of his life.
“We received your test results this morning from the lab.” Dr. Milo paused and looked at Andy, as if just noticing his presence. “Maybe you should step out for a moment?”
“It’s fine, just go ahead and tell me what you found,” Bailey waved a dismissive hand at Andy as though to say ‘don’t pay him any attention, I never do.’
Dr. Milo cleared his throat and went back to ignoring Andy. “It seems as though our speculation was correct, you have a type of Leukemia. It’s called Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia also known as APL. It’s a cancer of the blood and bone marrow.”
Bailey’s face remained unreadable, but Andy’s went completely white. The fool had truly believed there wasn’t anything major wrong with his star.
“What does that mean for Bailey?” Andy gripped the end of the bedrail, his knuckles whitening as Dr. Milo continued to speak.
“On the positive side, there is a high success rate for this kind of leukemia with the proper treatment.” The doctor gestured with the hand holding the stylus. “The down side is that the treatment is somewhat rigorous.”
Bailey crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sure I can take it. What does this brutal treatment entail?”
“A specific chemotherapy treatment is where we’ll begin, but we’ll help you remain as comfortable as possible while you’re here. You’re in very good hands.”
“Will he be able to finish the tour? Say, wait to start treatment for a few weeks?” The pitiful hope in Andy’s voice made the sick feeling in her stomach worsen. She didn’t care how much money was at stake. The doctor just told a man he had cancer and all this guy could think about was the bottom line. People never ceased to amaze her.
When she finished hanging a new bag on Bailey’s stand, she let her eyes search his face for any sign of betrayal from his friend, but she didn’t see any. He seemed unconcerned with the way Andy was talking about him. She thought of Simone and thanked God to have someone in her life who she could depend on.
“No, I wouldn
’t recommend discharging Mr. Honeycutt prior to treatment and I most certainly wouldn’t condone any more shows.” Dr. Milo’s tone suggested he, too, was annoyed by Andy’s interruptions. “You see, when Bailey checked in with us, he was already suffering from DIC, which is why he has needed so much blood since arriving.”
Bailey cocked his head to the side. “What exactly is DIC?”
“Disseminated Intravascular Coagulation, it’s characterized by a rapid increase in the number of immature white blood cells, resulting in rapid progression of malignant cell counts and crowding of the bone marrow. This results in anemia and low platelet counts, which can cause serious bleeding.” When the other men’s eyes glazed over, Dr. Milo took a breath and leveled his gaze at Bailey. “In my opinion, it would be in your best interest to start treatment immediately.”
Bailey shrugged his shoulders as if he hadn’t just been told his life was about to turn upside down. “Well, that’s what we’ll do then.”
“Very well, Mr. Honeycutt we’ll get everything in order. Please let me know if you have any questions.” Dr. Milo left the room after giving Bailey a sympathetic smile and a without a second glance at Andy.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Andy returned to pacing the room, but now his steps were faster, more determined. “Bailey, I think we need to release a press statement immediately. I’ll call Nicole and have her whip something up and then I’ll call the guys at the label and let them know what’s going on. We’ll figure out a way to make up the canceled shows as soon as possible, and then . . .”
He let his sentence trail off when Lexie stepped forward. For a brief moment he looked confused as he stared at her like she had appeared out of thin air.
“Mr. Honeycutt needs his rest, and I need to finish my assessment. If you wouldn’t mind coming back later . . .” Lexie leveled an intent stare, wondering if he was smart enough to take the hint.
Bailey had his head back on the pillow and he was staring at the ceiling. He seemed completely unaware of his friend’s ramblings. She admired him for being able to tune him out.
“Right, of course,” Andy finally snapped out of it. “I’ll get in touch with you later.” Still looking harried, he left the two of them alone.
“Thanks for that,” Bailey kept his eyes trained on the ceiling.
“No problem. Getting rid of pests is just one of my many job requirements.”
“Andy really isn’t so bad once you get to know him.”
“Uh-huh,” Lexie placed a blood pressure cuff around his bicep. She couldn’t help but notice his tattoos and the way in which they wound around his defined arm.
“As far as managers go, he’s a good one. Some are serious assholes. Andy’s been with us a long time.”
“If you say so. I don’t know anything about managers.” She made note of his stats. “Is there anything I can get you?”
“No, thanks. I think I just need some time to process.” He raised his head and looked at her. “Will you be back in soon?”
“Yep, I’m afraid you’ll be seeing a lot of me today.”
“That part of the treatment doesn’t sound too bad.”
“We’ll see if you still feel that way after I stick you a few times.” She was all the way to the door when she heard him call out to her, “See you around, Sexy Lexie.”
She couldn’t stop the blush from flooding her checks. “Maybe you should just stick to calling me Lexie.”
“My nickname for you is much more fun.”
Someone tapped the door twice and when she turned, Oliver was standing in the room. At six foot three, he was a foot taller than she was and with his build . . . Jesus. She was pretty sure even her teeth had started to sweat.
“This punk isn’t giving you a hard time, is he?” Oliver crossed to the bedside and used the back of his hand to hit his brother’s shoulder.
When she didn’t reply, because her mouth had gone dry and she’d momentarily forgotten how to speak, they both turned their attention to her.
“Hello?” Bailey smirked at her as she continued to stand there like a mute, moron. “Oliver, I think you paralyzed another one.”
They both ginned wider.
With heat blazing from her every pore, Lexie straightened her spine. “Your brother was just informing me of the new incredibly inappropriate nickname he made up for me and in turn, I was about to set him straight.”
Oliver’s grin fell away and concern lined his face. “I see. Well, I think the only way I can chastise my little brother properly is to hear the nickname myself.” He took a few steps toward her as he used one of his large hands to rub his chin. One of the same hands he’d touched her with the night before.
Her eyes widened as it occurred to her how stupid she would feel to say it out loud, and to Oliver no less. “No, don’t worry about it.”
“No, no. I insist. What did the heathen say, exactly?”
She cleared her throat, and with as much dignity as she could muster, she mumbled, “Sexy Lexie.”
The tattoos on Oliver’s arms danced across his flexing muscles as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, I see where you’re coming from, but I’m sorry.” He pressed his lips together and let his eyes roam over her from head to toe and back again. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to agree with him.”
Bailey let out a whoop and Oliver’s smile returned.
She counted to ten silently in her head before her temper got the best of her and she ripped them both a new one. Regardless of how incredibly hot Oliver was, he did not get to call her Sexy Lexie. “I understand that you guys are used to getting what you want, but I’m your nurse, not your call girl. A little respect is in order, don’t you think?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bailey winked. “Feisty, aren’t you?”
“You don’t know the half of it.” She stormed out the door and when she heard their laughter, stopped midstride as she ground her teeth together.
“She is a feisty one.” It was Oliver’s voice and as much as she didn’t want to let it bother her, she couldn’t stop the overwhelming sense of mortification.
The gym was packed after work, but she wasn’t going to flake. She found an elliptical and stepped on ready to shed the tension from her shoulders. Her daily ritual at the gym always made her feel better after a long day and it had definitely been one of those.
Even though she’d only been assigned two patients that morning, the afternoon brought new admissions to the floor who needed to be dealt with and lots of paperwork to be sorted and entered into the computer. Her eyes felt crossed from all the reading.
Fortunately, her other patient was one she was more than familiar with. Mr. Roberts had been coming in to see her for almost a year, off and on. He was a sweet old man who never complained. She loved seeing him, but hated it when he was there. She worried each time he ended up in the hospital it would be his last.
He was one of the few patients who seemed to take everything in stride. He made jokes and always patted her hand with his soft older one and asked her to tell him all about her life. He was constantly trying to marry her off. He’d been married for forty-five years before his wife had passed away and he believed, as he’d told her on numerous occasions that she needed to meet someone so she could be as happy as he’d been. She usually found a way to laugh off his questions, or she would ask him to tell her about how he and Mrs. Roberts had met. She didn’t have the heart to explain to him that love was not something she was interested in.
There had been a time once, years ago, when she thought she had found ‘the one’. They did everything together and made plans. The two of them had been inseparable, until they hadn’t, and she had no desire to feel that pathetic again. Unlike some people she knew, she wasn’t going to bounce from one man to another to justify her life. One surefire way to make sure it did
n’t happen was to avoid falling in love at all costs. Keep things simple and light. That was her motto.
Her time on the elliptical was doing its job. Her heart rate was elevated and she’d worked up a nice sweat. As she tilted her head back to take a swig from her water bottle, the headline on the TV overhead caught her eye. “Bailey Honeycutt, lead guitarist for the band Survival of the Fittest, hospitalized in Atlanta.”
The word was out.
When she finally returned to her apartment and flipped on the TV, Bailey’s status was the first story on E! News, which considering how many phone calls the hospital had been bombarded with, was no surprise. As she settled into her favorite worn chair, she picked up the remote and turned up the volume. Andy appeared onscreen looking ready for TV in a fresh suit and wearing a solemn expression.
“I regret to inform you that the rumors are true in regard to Bailey’s health. At this time, we will be canceling all remaining shows on this leg of the tour, but Bailey wants me to assure fans that as soon as he is able, Survival of the Fittest will visit the remaining cities. Fans can expect a complete refund and the apologies of the entire band. Bailey will be remaining in Atlanta for treatment and wanted to express his appreciation for everyone’s support. Thank you for respecting his privacy during this difficult time.”
The entertainment reporters jumped in with opinions without missing a beat. Lexie sat back on her couch with a slouch. So, he was going to remain in Atlanta. She assumed he would return home to L.A. for treatment. Her phone rang on the table next to her, breaking her line of thought.
“Did you see E! News tonight?” Simone almost shouted into her ear. “Wait, you weren’t asleep were you?”
A Face in the Crowd Page 2