I take a deep breath and step into the limo. “Maybe, I could.”
Chapter 8
Where's My Muffin Top?
“Good morning, Ms. Delaney.”
“Sergio, it is exactly one minute past eight o’clock on a Monday
morning. Surely you have better things to do than calling me at work,
especially since you promised to give me an extra week.” A weekend of
Internet research about student loan collection and a brief chat with
Amanda have made me cocky. I lean back in my chair and wave the next
patient over to Charlie’s desk.
Sergio laughs. “Calling you is my job and since you are the most
pleasant of all my debtors, who better than to call first on a Monday
morning. I just wanted to remind you about your payment."
“And I wanted to remind you that you cannot enforce a minimum
payment without first assessing my financial position. I’ve also filed an
online complaint with the Education Commission. I understand collec-
tions have to be frozen until the complaint is resolved.”
Sergio’s voice turns cold. “I haven’t received any notice of your
complaint, and until I do you must make the payments as they fall
due. Otherwise, sneaky debtors like yourself could claim to have filed
a complaint to avoid making their payments. I know all the tricks, Ms.
Delaney. All the tricks.”
My confidence wavers. “Well, you still have to do a financial analy-
sis. I’ll send you my financial statement and you will see there is no way
I can make the minimum payment.”
“I know that trick too.” Sergio sighs. “You spend weeks pretending
to look for the documents. Then you pretend to have sent them. After
a few weeks, you suggest they are lost in the post, and we have to go
through the whole process again.”
“I wouldn’t do that. I spent all weekend getting them together and
I can send the statement to you today.”
Sergio laughs. “How refreshing. Please do send it to me. I would be
delighted to read it. You have my details in the letter I sent. But I will
tell you now the minimum payment will not change. That is our final
number.” He emphasizes the last two words in a voice so loud I have to
hold the phone away from my ear.
I do some quick mental calculations. I have the paychecks from
Redemption. If I work another weekend at the club, and stick to
my noodle diet, I just might be able to make the first payment. And
maybe lose some weight. Helllooo, skinny jeans. Surely by then the
Education Commission will have acknowledged my complaint and
realized their mistake.
“Okay. I’ll do my best.”
“Do you hate me now? Are you going to hang up? Swear at me?
Everyone does.” The slightly needy tone in his voice makes the skin on
my neck prickle.
“No. I don’t hate you. You’re doing your job and I’m trying to
understand that.”
Sergio sighs. “You seem like a nice person, Ms. Delaney. Honest,
trustworthy, and from your file photo, very pretty. I enjoy talking to
you. I can’t say that about my other debtors. Please don’t disappoint
me. I would hate to have to get heavy-handed with you.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “Is that a threat?”
“Of course not. By law, I’m not allowed to make threats, and
I would never do something I’m not allowed to do.” Sergio’s tone
lightens. “Now, how about a joke?”
“A joke?”
“You brightened my day last week with your amusing story. I was able
to return the favor in my own way. My personal circumstances are such
that I don’t have many opportunities to smile. Perhaps you might wish to
build up some more goodwill. You never know when you might need it.”
My jaw tightens. The last thing I want to do right now is tell a joke,
but the tone of his voice suggests it is not really a request. I lean back
and stare at the ceiling. “A debt collector walked into a bar…”
.....
How’s my girl today?
I’m not ur girl
Max frowns
Silly. Learn to text. Frown like this **frowns**
**frowns**
That’s a lot of frowning
Your fault
Sorry. Bad day
Will cheer you up. What r u doing for lunch?
Eating with a friend
Lascivious doctor friend?
No
Crazy black hair friend?
No
Amanda?
No
Male friend?
Yes
**frowns**
Stop frowning. U saw him. Works beside me
Lunch with male friend approved
Gee, tx
Please seek prior approval for all lunches with male friends
Ha ha **rolls eyes**
No ha ha **frowns**
Gotta run. Male friend is here **winks**
.....
“So, how was your weekend?” Charlie beats a rhythm on his Justin
Bieber lunch kit while I grab my brown paper lunch bag and purse from
my desk drawer.
“Same old. Same old.” My lips quiver with a repressed smile. “How
was your course this morning?”
“Same old. Same old.” Charlie shrugs. “I think that’s the fifth time
I’ve had to take Customer Relations 101. This time, I’ve learned to
smile. Imagine that! People like people who smile. No wonder I haven’t
been able to get a date.”
“I had a sort-of date.” I give Charlie a wink and then vacate the
cubicle for Jenny, our new temp trainee. Charlie and I walk down the
corridor toward the cafeteria.
“No!” Charlie clutches his chest in mock horror and staggers back-
ward. “You had a date? Was he breathing?”
I punch him in the shoulder. “You’re just jealous.”
“I have to admit I do have an itch to punch the as-yet unidentified
bastard in the face for moving in on my territory. I should have marked
you—maybe pissed on your feet.”
“I meant you’re jealous I had a date.”
“I had a date, too.”
Charlie drops hints about his mystery date, but I’m only half lis-
tening. I see Torment in every shadow. I hear his husky voice in every
corridor. I smell the fresh, citrus scent of his cologne. I imagine his
arms wrapped around me. I wish he hadn’t just dropped me off on
Saturday night but Colton had insisted on having him checked out by
his private doctor.
“Mac. There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Good afternoon, Doctor Drake.” Charlie spares me the embar-
rassment of being totally unaware of my surroundings by being overly
genial and shaking Dr. Drake’s hand.
Dr. Drake frowns and turns to me. “I’ve been looking for you.”
My heart sinks in my chest. Did Big Doris file a complaint after
handing me two green slips in the space of an hour? How was I to know
two chair casters have to be under the desk at all times?
“Ready for our lunch date?” He winks and flashes his pearly whites.
Oh God. I totally forgot. “Um. Actually, I…I brought my lunch.
Maybe we could do it another day.”
Dr. Drake plucks my lunch bag from m
y hand with this thumb
and index finger. Without even looking over his shoulder, he tosses it
backward and into the garbage can.
“Score!” Charlie shouts. “Good shot, Doctor Drake. You missed
your calling in the NBA.”
Dr. Drake’s cheeks flush ever so slightly and he gives Charlie a
bemused smile. “Actually, wrestling was my thing in college, but I’ve
always enjoyed handling balls.”
Don’t look at Charlie. Don’t look at Charlie. DON’T LOOK
AT CHARLIE.
“I’m sure you do,” Charlie’s voice shakes with repressed laughter.
“As does Mac. We were just discussing how much she enjoys—”
“Charlie! Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Three’s a crowd. I get it. And look, I see the lovely Doris watching
us from the entrance to the cafeteria.” Charlie gives me a wink and
walks briskly toward the glaring woman in the lime green suit, his every
step punctuated with a little squeak from his Crocs.
“He’s quite a character,” Dr. Drake muses.
“He’s got a good sense of humor.”
Dr. Drake studies me for a long moment. “You two seem
quite close.”
“We’re good friends.” I twist my school ring around my finger—
round and round and round.
“And that’s all?” He puts a hand on my lower back and steers me
away from the cafeteria.
“Just friends.”
Dr. Drake smiles and his hand slides around me to squeeze my hip.
“Good to hear.”
“Um…the cafeteria is the other way.” I slide out of his grasp and
spin around.
Dr. Drake motions to an exit door at the end of the hallway. “I’m
taking you to the Surgeon’s Club. It’s a new private club just down the
block run by a few friends of mine. You and I have some business to
discuss and I thought we could do so without the distraction of all your
male friends vying for your attention in the cafeteria. I’ve already talked
to Jenny and she has agreed to cover for you.”
Um…what male friends? Who’s vying for my attention? Charlie?
I swallow hard and follow him outside. The door slams closed, and
I catch a glimpse of my faded, Tweety Bird scrubs in the glass. “I’m not
really dressed for a private club.”
“Nonsense. It’s run by medical professionals and a favorite with the
hospital lunch crowd. There are always a few people in scrubs.”
We walk down the block to a tall, brick building with a heavy oak
door. Dr. Drake slides his card through the card reader and heaves the
door open. I freeze, poised on the threshold of the ultimate masculine
man cave, scented with the fragrant odor of bloody meat. The dark
wood details, worn Persian carpets, and leather furniture imbue the
room with an air of exclusivity. The white walls covered with taxidermy
remind me of the zoo. A deer looks balefully down at me as I follow Dr.
Drake to a table by the window.
“I’m the only person wearing scrubs.” I take my seat and glance
around the room. I recognize almost everyone from the hospital. “I’m
also the only woman, and the only person who is not a doctor.”
He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Relax. You’re with me.
No one is going to say anything.”
Maybe not, but they’ll be wondering why Dr. Drake is slumming
it with the staff.
Dr. Drake smiles at the waiter, waiting patiently by the table.
“We’ll have the Chateaubriand, medium rare, baby potatoes, and
spring vegetables. No wine. We’re on duty. Just water.” The waiter
scratches everything down on his pad and, before I can say anything,
he is gone.
“I like my meat cooked.” My voice rises in pitch. “Well cooked.
Charred to a crisp. If it’s pink and squishy with blood oozing out
of it—”
Doctor Drake cuts me off. “It would taste even better. The chef
here is extraordinary. I promise you’re going to love it.”
I imagine Dr. Drake tearing into a raw steak, bloody juices drip-
ping down his chin. Bile rises in my throat. If anyone should be
eating raw steak, it’s Max not the capital C conservative doctor. Does
Max like his steak rare? I would guess he does. Predators usually like
fresh meat.
“We should get down to business before the food arrives.” Dr. Drake
steeples his fingers and his normal, genial expression turns serious. “I’ve
been reviewing personnel files in anticipation of the upcoming annual
reviews. I must admit I had forgotten you were in pre-med, but I never
knew you were near the top of your class. Why didn’t you apply to
medical school?”
I shrug. “I didn’t know if it was what I really wanted to do, and I
didn’t have the money.”
Dr. Drake shakes his head. “You have a healing gift, Mac. You have
a responsibility to share it. I want to help.”
“How?”
“I know people on the scholarship committees. I can direct you
to the scholarships you have the best chance of winning. I can help
you fill out the forms. I can put in a good word for you with my
friends on various admissions committees. I’ll even tutor you when you
get in.”
My mouth drops open. “That’s very kind of you, but why do you
want to help me?”
He beams. “I think you would be a great doctor, and we need more
doctors. You have compassion, intelligence, and empathy. Your EMT
coworkers and your coworkers in the hospital have had nothing but
praise for you.”
My cheeks flame and I stare at the table. “I don’t know. I just…I
need time to decide what I really want in life.”
“It’s been almost three years since you graduated,” Dr. Drake says.
“You’re spinning your wheels. You can’t stay on the admissions desk
forever. You need to move forward. I’m giving you a chance to grab the
brass ring. Don’t let it go.”
Thankfully, the waiter arrives with our food. As specified, the meat
is barely cooked. Bloody juices seep into the two minuscule potatoes
and three steamed green beans artfully arranged on my plate. Already
The elk above Dr. Drake’s head glares at me, and I give my excuses and
beat a hasty retreat to the luxurious, wood-paneled washroom.
After I splash water on my face and reapply my makeup, I take a
few deep breaths and prepare to return to the menagerie. My phone
buzzes in my purse and I check the Caller ID. Max. Is he checking up on me already?
.....
How is lunch?
Bad
What’s wrong?
Change of plans. Different lunch companion
Male companion
Yes
Black hair?
No
Brown hair?
No
Blond hair?
Yes
Doctor?
Yes
Lascivious doctor?
Actually, he’s being quite nice
Not approved
Too late
Not approved
We’re already in the middle of lunch
Not approved
I see someone figured out how to use his Repeat button
I’m coming to the hospital
I’m not at the hospital
Where are you?
Not telling. Chill
Chill?
I’m a big girl. I can handle myself
You’re a sexy girl. I want to handle you
Naughty Max
You need me, I’m there
Sweet Max
Maybe I should come and find you
No Max
Yes Max
BAD MAX
......
Anticipation ratchets through me after I end the call. Is he just teasing
or is he seriously going to try and find me? I tuck my phone into the
pocket of my scrubs and make my way back to the table. Dr. Drake has
finished his meal. My steak has stopped bleeding, but now it is floating
in a congealed puddle of pink fat. Yummy.
“I’m not feeling very well.” I put my fork and knife at four o’clock
on the plate. “I think I might have a touch of stomach flu. I’ve lost
my appetite.”
The elk smiles and nods approvingly. I pick up my water glass and
take a sip.
“Maybe you should come to my office,” Dr. Drake suggests. “I can
give you a thorough examination. We wouldn’t want anything spread-
ing through the staff.”
I choke and splutter water over the plate. “Actually, I’m sud-
denly feeling a lot better. Maybe, I was just dehydrated.” I pick up
my fork and knife and slice into the unroasted beast with the zeal of
my housemate, Rob, on a bar crawl. It quivers. I put a tiny piece of
steak in my mouth, press my lips together and chew. Soft. Squishy.
Like flesh.
No. Chicken. It tastes like chicken. It tastes like chicken.
I gag.
“Mac!” Dr. Drake leaps from his seat.
I force the meat down and put my utensils on my plate. “I’m fine.
You were right. It was delicious, and very filling.”
“Well then we’ll have to come back another day. If you liked that,
you’ll love the raw lamb. They serve warmed lamb blood on the side.
Delicious and full of iron.”
My stomach heaves. “You’re kidding.”
“Yes, I am.” Dr. Drake chortles. “They don’t warm the blood.”
I slap my hand over my mouth in case I lose what little I ate all over
Dr. Drake’s shoes. “Can I go back to work now?”
Dr. Drake gives me a wink. “Off you go. Next time we’ll just have