Sleeper

by Katherine Rhodes

  It was still hard to miss that there was something wrong with it though. It just didn’t act like a normal hand ought to. I curled the fingers in and tried to make a fist, but had to stop for the pain. Years of therapy had finally given me enough strength to hold a few things here and there, and the ability to type. Fists, stretching, anything more than typing and using it for a paperweight was it right now.

  I was still grateful that it had been my left.

  “Does it hurt…”

  “If I do something stupid like try to show you it hurts, yes.”

  Laxmi chuckled. “You’re not mad that I asked.”

  “Laxmi, my hand looks like a prosthesis on a good day and a student 3D-printer rendering of something vaguely resembling a hand on a bad. I’m so used to it.”

  She reached her other hand out and twined her fingers between mine. “You can feel that?”

  Could I fucking ever. “Yes.”

  “And it doesn’t hurt?”

  “Not right now, no.”

  She ran her thumb up and down the outside of mine and just watched the motion. Every part of me was lit up and I wanted to find out if there was more she could light up. “Come back to my place?”

  Her gaze snapped to mine, and I swore that I could see a bright flame behind her dark eyes. “Yes.”

  The check was easy to get since they wanted us to free up the table, and we were out the door and to my car less than five minutes later.

  I leaned over to open the door for her and found myself staring into those black, black eyes. The light from the streetlamps glinted there, and I gave in.

  Pressing her back against the metal and window behind her, I framed her body with mine. I watched as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. It seemed to happen in slow motion, and every part of me tingled.

  “I’m going to kiss you, Laxi,” I whispered, watching her.

  “Yes, please…” The answer was quiet in the night air, but there was no doubt that she said yes, and from the way she was trembling slightly, she was frightened but not about to back out of this.

  I slanted my lips across hers and then kept the kiss light. Parting my lips, I gave her sweet small kisses, let just our breath mingle, and she followed exactly, though her inexperience was clear.

  Which then made me think…

  “Have you ever kissed another woman?”

  Her embarrassment hit me like a truck and I could feel her starting to pull back to get away from me. I laid a hand on her arm, anchoring her there.

  “No, Laxmi. Talk to me.” I pressed a little kiss to the corner of her mouth.

  “You’re my first,” she breathed.

  A bloom of heat rushed from my center out to all my fingers and toes. “You’ve never gone home with another woman…”

  Her cheek brushed against mine and I knew she was shaking her head in the negative. “Never.”

  My lips found the shell of her ear and I nibbled there a moment. “I just wanted to know how much experience you had. I would still like you to come home with me.” I pulled back to see the look in her eyes. It was the same burning intensity they’d had all night.

  “Yes, please.”

  The heat was back in my stomach, and I brushed my lips over hers, just a little “Climb in, Laxmi. I live just over in Haddonfield. We’ll be there in just ten minutes.”

  I popped the handle, opened the door, and she sank into the seat there. A wonderful sense of desire settled over me. The chance to corrupt her in to the world of sex, to be the first to explore that lovely, warm figure. The first to make her scream for God, or me.

  The drive was quick this time of night. From the bank of the Schuykill across the quiet parts of the city we were up and over the Ben Franklin, and zipped through Camden into Collingswood. I took some back roads, pulling my car to a halt in front of the house I shared with Miriam.

  Laxmi had held my hand the whole drive.

  Glancing at the house, I could see the right porch light was on. Coast was clear—she was probably out for the night. Turning the engine off, I was around the car and waiting for her with a hand to help her out.

  As soon as we were inside the house, I closed the door, dropped my purse to the floor, and Laxmi’s next to it. Once again, I framed her with my arms—this time against the wall in the hallway.

  This time, my kiss was anything but chaste. I parted her lips with mine, and stole in to stroke her tongue with mine. She moaned and I suddenly just wanted both of us naked in my bed.

  The door behind me opened as my phone in my purse started playing the ring tone for a CHOP consult.

  I slammed my hand on the wall as I pulled back from the kiss.

  “Shit.”

  Miriam was standing in the door, knob in hand looking contrite, but I ignored her and grabbed the purse off the floor and fished out the phone.

  “Doctor Warner.”

  “Sorry, Doc. We got a bad one coming in. There’s a little sister who saw everything. Officer says she just keeps shrieking, and the mother said that the only—”

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I said, cutting off the nurse and ending the call. I let it slip out of my hand and hit the hallway table with a dull thud. I banged my head on the wall once and looked over at my date.

  “Laxmi…”

  She held up a hand. “I understand. Go.”

  “But—”

  As the dark haired beauty I had almost gotten into my bed said, “I can take an Uber home.” Miriam spoke up from the doorway, “I’ll take her home.”

  Nodding at Miriam, I put a hand on Laxmi’s cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m a doctor, too, don’t forget that.” She smiled, and I could tell that she was genuinely not upset that I was called in. “It could have been me. I do neuro consults at Penn Med.”

  “The first person I meet who understands it…” I grumbled. “Miriam, I’ll give you gas.”

  “No, it’s fine,” she said. “Just go. The kids need you.”

  I leaned and gave Laxmi a good peck—which strangely felt like the last kiss I would give her—and grabbed my purse and phone. “I’ll call you, Laxi!”

  I darted out the door.

  Fischer

  I ripped the scrub cap off my head and threw it in the hamper. I scrubbed my eyes, yawned, and shook my head.

  “Get it?”

  Glancing up, I saw the head of emergency surgery standing there, arms folded. There was nervous energy rolling off him even though he looked calm and collected.

  “Got it.” I sighed. “You knew I would. That’s why you called me.”

  “You’re a cocky bastard, you know that?”

  “Am I? Or do I just spend enough time rooting around in people’s brains to know what I’m doing?”

  Gutiérrez dropped his arms and the nervousness flowed away from him. I liked that about him. He worried about each and every child that came through his emergency room—and more about the ones that were truly in danger.

  “You have the social worker coming in?”

  “I have Doctor Warner coming in for the sister. I have a call in to Paige Domingues for DHS, and I had called you about the little boy.”

  I turned on the water to scrub out. “The mother? Father?”

  “The mother is sitting in the waiting room, the father is in the tank.”

  Sighing, I hung my head. “Bets?”

  “She’ll refuse charges. Take him back. Things will settle for the boy while he recovers from fucking brain surgery, but the little girl is going to be his target until she either gets hurt or the kid recovers.” He folded his arms again. “Are we getting a full recovery on the boy?”

  Staring down into the sink, I hedge my answer until I realized he wasn’t moving until I said something. “I’m optimistic for a full recovery.”

  “That bad?”

  “I had to wing brain surgery. So yes. That bad.” I pulled the bloodied scrubs off. “I’m done here.”

  “I need you to—”
r />   I stared hard at Gutiérrez. “No. I was here to do the surgery and that’s it.”

  “You could be the difference—”

  “No. That’s the way it is, and that’s the way it’s going to be. I won’t talk to anyone about anything. That’s the deal.”

  “Fisch…”

  The scrubs got tossed in the bin. “Deal. Just deal. I got the kid back from the dead.”

  Pushing past Gutiérrez, I shoved into the hallway and strode away from him. The locker room wasn’t too far away, but I had to be fast—Pablo Gutiérrez was going to be after me to talk to Domingues, and that other doctor, Warner.

  I had successfully managed to avoid meeting him. I hoped to continue that streak. From what I’d heard, Warner was no one to eff with when it came to DHS. Thankfully, he was only a consult here.

  The locker room should have been empty. It was nearly two in the morning and there shouldn’t have been anyone but the regulars, and they were all on shift at this point.

  There was no mistaking the fabulous ass that was framed between the bench and the locker as I walked in. I had only a few seconds to admire it before the person straightened and turned around. She jumped and clutched at her chest.

  I’d thought the ass nice—there was so much more.

  “I’m sorry,” I managed.

  God, she was…

  I couldn’t find the words for her. Gorgeous wasn’t right, beautiful wasn’t either. Ephemeral was too much for her earthiness, and there was nothing coming to me. She had shocking green eyes, bright and curious, and brown hair with highlights that were clearly from a salon, but not cheaply done. Her skin was smooth, unblemished. And it looked creamy, like a taste of it would dance on the tongue for hours, reminding a person of the flavor of peaches and scents of summer.

  Holy crap, where had that come from?

  That, and the chubby I was now sporting.

  “It’s fine,” she said after getting herself under control. “Just didn’t expect to have anyone walk in this late.”

  “I’m not usually here this late,” I answered. “Just getting ready to go.”

  She nodded. “Wish I was. Got called in from an incredible date…”

  “Damn.” I knew that feeling. Hustling along before Domingues showed up, I popped the locker open and grabbed my coat and messenger bag. “Good luck, Doctor. I have to hustle.”

  She nodded and closed her own locker as the door behind me opened.

  “Hey, Wren!”

  Well, fuck. I hadn’t made it.

  The funny thing was, hearing the woman’s dulcet tones behind me, there was a pained looked on the other woman’s face. Curious? She wasn’t fond of Paige either?

  “Hi, Paige. Did you just get here?”

  “I did…”

  The woman snagged her folio and purse and dodged around me. “I’ll catch you later. Nice meeting you!” She was out the door.

  “Well, that was rude,” Paige said. “Were you on the Barrows boy, Fischer? I’ll need to talk to you if you were. There’s a lot about this case that you can help me with if you talk to me about the results of the—”

  “No.” I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. The door was seriously in my way and I banged it all the way open.

  “Fisch—”

  “I said no.” Hauling ass down the hall, I didn’t even bother trying to get an elevator. I just went straight to the stairs and walked down.

  There was no way I was getting caught up in all that. It wasn’t my business. My business was the brain. No matter how they got there, no matter where they were going, my business was the brain.

  Despite my best effort, I still wasn’t free and clear. Gutiérrez was standing next to the door, his arms folded over his chest. Again.

  “What is your problem, Fisch?” His voice was quiet and angry. “You gave the same run down I did on that kid, and yet you won’t help us put that abuser away. You won’t ever help us when there is a clear case of abuse or neglect or something just wrong.”

  “It’s not my business.”

  He stalked closer to me. “You did an eight hour surgery on that kid’s brain and you think how he got there and where he’s going is not your business.”

  “I am in the business of repairing. Not judging.”

  “You’re not judging, you’re saving a life. You’re helping someone who can’t do anything about their predicament to get out of a shit situation. The kid is five. Five, and had his brain reconstructed thanks to you and whatever blunt instrument his father could find.”

  “I am a doctor. Not a social worker, not a psychologist. I had to cancel appointments at my office to save his life. And I did. What more do you want?”

  “A fucking spark of humanity,” Gutiérrez snapped. “Just one goddamn spark of it.” He stepped closer. “That kid is going to die if he goes back to the father. You can stop that.”

  Quirking an eyebrow, I stared at him. “Can I?”

  “You can and you fucking know it.”

  “I can’t take away from my practice—”

  “Practice two things in your dealings with disease: either help or do not harm the patient.”

  “Don’t throw the Epidemics at me,” I snapped. “I did not help someone today, and may have caused harm by not being at her appointment. For one of the most fascinating case I have ever been referred.”

  Turning so I could slip by him, he didn’t try to stop me. But he wasn’t done with me.

  “You’re all about the prestige, eh, Doctor Strange?” I tossed a middle finger at him without turning around. “Fine. Good to know. Next time, I’ll skip your name on the consult list.”

  That made me stop and walk back to him. “If you want them to die? You go right ahead and do that. I will save every life I can, if you call me. I will not be caught up in the bureaucratic bullshit that comes after this.”

  “Cuts into your golf time, you lazy bastard?”

  “Fuck you, Pablo. I am the best neurosurgeon in this town and you know it.”

  “The problem, Fisch, is that you know it, too.” He walked backward away from me. “I’m skipping you, dude. Next time, you’re not first. Next time, don’t be afraid to tell me no because the prestige isn’t there helping a five year old not only live, but escape the fucking monsters that brought him here.”

  He spun on his heal and strode back inside.

  “You’ll let them die?”

  Gutiérrez stopped in the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder. “No. Maybe Corman’s hand isn’t as exacting as yours, but I’m giving them the chance to live beyond your perfect operating room. See you around, Fisch.”

  The head of emergency surgery of one of the best children’s hospitals in the world had just dismissed me. All because I wouldn’t speak to his precious social team.

  Fuck that. I didn’t do bureaucracy.

  Dr. Emil Corman would do just fine.

  “Skylar, did you confirm the appointment with Temperance Warner?”

  She looked up at me, batted her eyes and tried to smile seductively. “Yes, Doctor.”

  Snatching the file off her desk, I walked away. “What time did she say she would be here?”

  “She asked for two, Doctor. She said she needed some sleep.”

  “Sleeping until two? Well, there was part of the problem.” I shook my head.

  “Kind of lazy,” Skylar said, giving me this bizarre, nearly anime-style eyes with a sultry look.

  I made a mental note to think about replacing her soon. She was just way too interested in getting on my dick and in my bank account.

  After closing the door on the office and making myself a cup of coffee, I flipped open the file on Warner, Temperance Dear to find the notes Laxmi had left for me. As always, my associate had taken notes that were without equal. The woman had such an instinct for patient care I was so glad she had fallen into my lap at the university.

  When Gutierrez had called me the day before, I had the secretary cancel all the appointments for
the day, except this woman’s. She had been a thrilling case from the day her file crossed my desk. Dubrovsky and I were best friends in college, research buddies, coauthors on quite a few papers.

  We approached problems differently, and we did this often: swapped patients. Luck had us each settling just 90 miles apart, and one Acela train ride to each other.

  The human brain fascinated me, endlessly. And while I was a world class neurosurgeon, I was more taken by the way conscious and the subconscious worked. Sleep could be so damned hard to achieve for some people and others couldn’t stay awake.

  This woman couldn’t fall asleep. According to the notes that Rana had left, she slept maybe two hours a night, and that was usually when she just dropped out in the middle of the night. Just one cycle of REM, but that was more than some people got.

  Dub’s usual method of split sleep for this situation didn’t work. Normally, if a person could get the one cycle, there was a way to get a second one in during the night part of the cycle. Getting up between them, reading, getting a glass of water, checking email or the internet, and then down for the second. It wasn’t ideal, but two cycles of REM were really helpful for most insomniacs.

  She couldn’t get the second one.

  The attack had been lasting for almost three years. Medicines didn’t help. Hypnosis hadn’t helped. Music, relaxation, even a short course of ECT hadn’t done anything. It just kept on. She just stayed awake.

  The speaker on the phone beeped and Skylar’s voice filled the room. “Doctor, your first appointment is here.”

  I flipped the file closed and started the day, Warner’s case flitting through my mind the whole day. I also realized I was doing that to keep everything that Pablo Gutierrez had barked at me last night.

  No. Bureaucracy.

  Midway through the day I walked into the waiting room to grab one of the seltzers we kept for the patients, and found the woman from the night before sitting there, shielding her eyes, half reading a magazine.

  What the hell had her name been? Dominguez had called her… Birdy? Sparrow? Wren!

  “Excuse me, Wren?”