Lights, Camera, Questions!
Jen the producer smiled at me reassuringly. “Just act natural. Do doctor stuff.”
I haltingly reached for my iPad, which sat next to me on the large, round counter in the middle of our office space. I held the tablet as if it were a foreign object I’d never encountered before. With one barely functioning hand, I attempted to push my glasses up over the bridge of my nose.
“Annie,” my physician’s assistant, Tina, hissed into my ear. “She said act ‘natural.’ You have heard that word before, right?”
“Of course I have.” I gave up on the iPad, setting that back down. Dealing with any kind of modern technology right now was not going to end well for me. Instead, I went analog, grabbing the nearest pen and pretending to scrawl some very important words on a pad of paper.
“She’s doing fantastic,” boomed a deep, melodic voice from the doorway.
I glanced up and found a very familiar face grinning at me, a face I had seen hundreds of times before—not in person, but on TV and on massive billboards splashed all over I-294. Hand out and ready to shake, he strode across the room toward me.
“Doctor Annie Kyle.” He took my hand in both of his large, warm, smooth ones. “So delightful to finally meet you.” He winked.
Little points of heat formed on my cheeks. “Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Carver.”
He patted my hand. “Darius, please.”
As he wandered over to speak to his producer, Tina got right up in my face and started whisper-squealing in my ear. “Oh my god, he is hotter than he looks on television I am going to faint I swear to you right now I am going to faint prepare yourself for that eventuality.”
“Tina,” I said calmly, mentally trying to reroute the blood rushing to my face. “He’s just a human being. And it’s not like he’s the first famous person to step into this office.”
“No, but he is the most beautiful. I mean, even you with your weak eyes can see that.” She flicked the side of my glasses.
Yes, I could see through my nearsightedness and astigmatism that Darius Green, Man on Main Street reporter for WTS TV, was a very good-looking human being. I wasn’t kidding when I said that we were used to having famous people in this office—my clients ran the gamut from a former Top Chef contestant to, of course, the lead anchorwoman at Darius’s station, Gayle Gale, an icon in Chicago if ever there was one.
But Darius did outshine them all, objectively, looks-wise, even if he was a little plasticky for my taste. I’d gone out a few times with another TV newsman, who gave off the same aura of perfection. Darius’s teeth were whiter and straighter than the laws of nature allowed. His dark brown skin glowed in a way that suggested a bathroom cabinet full of expensive creams and serums.
And, besides, he was here in a professional capacity, so even thinking about his looks was out-of-bounds.
“Annie.” Darius returned to me, and a whiff of spice and wood hit my nostrils. “Jen showed me the footage so far, but I need a bit more. Can we get you into an exam room with a patient?”
I checked the clock. I’d blocked out an hour for this interview. My next patient wouldn’t be here for another forty-five minutes. “We’d have to wait…and I’m not sure my patient would be okay with that. They’re very private.”
He glanced at his watch. “I have to depart before then anyway. Maybe you know someone who can pose as a patient?” His high-wattage smile tractor-beamed right to Tina, who nearly melted into a puddle. She reacted to Darius the same way she reacted to her favorite K-Pop acts, or whatever they were called, on YouTube.
But she rallied quickly, and her hand shot up. “Me,” she said with authority. “Yes, I will do it.” She reached behind the desk and grabbed her gym bag. “Call me ‘Mrs. Chestnut,’ heir to a generations-old beverage company, who has been carrying on an affair with a member of the British royal family.”
“You are aware you won’t have any lines,” Darius said.
“I still need to get in character.”
As Tina left the room, I said, “She started out as a theater major.”
“What happened?”
I winced. “She can’t act.”
Darius chuckled, and the sound of his titter resonated off the office walls. “While she’s preparing herself, why don’t you and I sit down for the interview.”
I led Darius, Jen, and their cameraman to my private office. After I took the seat behind my desk, Jen came around and helped me with a microphone. “I’m a little self-conscious about appearing on camera.” I shot Jen a shy smile as she pushed my long, brown hair over my shoulder. I usually wore it up in a ponytail, but today, because of the interview, I tried to style it myself, with curlers and everything. I’d even put on mascara, only managing to poke myself in the eye twice. A new record! Normally I would’ve had Kelly do the whole beautification thing for me, but she’d been scarce since the weekend—probably making up for lost time at work. “I wouldn’t normally do something like this, but Gayle convinced me it’d be the right move for my business.”
“She’s right.” Darius unbuttoned his suit jacket and settled into the guest chair on the other side of my desk. “I’ve interviewed all kinds of people, from teachers to research scientists to busboys. This particular series is all about highlighting folks with various jobs around Chicago. When Gayle told me about you and your practice, I knew we had to talk. I’d heard about concierge medicine but didn’t know much about it. This is our chance to educate the public”—his white teeth flashed my way, his handsomeness sending a giddy thrill down my spine—“and give your business the publicity it deserves.”
I took a deep breath as Jen and the cameraman checked my lighting and did some other video-related stuff that I certainly didn’t learn in med school. I smoothed down my baby blue button-down shirt under my pristine white lab coat. I could feel my brain swirling and a bout of lightheadedness coming on. I knew it was just nerves, but the sensation unsettled me.
“Okay, Annie,” Darius said. “You ready?”
I nodded, swallowing, trying to quickly dissolve the dry knot that had developed in my throat. I was going to blow this. I was about to make a fool of myself on national television. Okay, not “national” television, but WTS was a superstation, right? People from here to Nebraska would tune in to watch me make a jackass of myself.
Very cool and exciting. Thank you for goading me into this, Gayle Gale.
I felt my lips pull into something I hoped resembled a smile.
Darius leaned across the desk. “Just act natural,” he whispered.
There was that word again.
“Pretend we’re just two people having a conversation.”
His warm smile did ease my nerves a bit. The gorgeous man was right. I’d do fine. This was just a simple chat on a topic I knew well.
“Let’s go,” I croaked. “I’m ready.”
I grabbed a sip of water from the mug on my desk as Darius did a quick intro.
“We’ll do the voice-over later, but for now, I’ll just say I’m here today talking to Dr. Annie Kyle, a Chicago physician, who has a very unique kind of job.” He smiled at me again, and I almost forgot about the microphone on my lapel. “We’re going to edit this down for time, so you and I can keep our banter casual here. Don’t worry about going too long or too in depth on your answers.” He paused and drew in a breath. “Dr. Kyle, why don’t you start by telling us what kind of doctor you are.”
Just a conversation. Just a conversation. A chat all about me. This is a test I can’t fail because I know all the answers. “I’m a concierge doctor.”
“A concierge doctor?” He chuckled, and I knew it was a laugh of faux surprise because Gayle had told him exactly what I did for a living and he’d just mentioned it a few minutes ago. “Concierge? Like at a hotel.” He nodded slightly, urging me to go on, to give him more to work with.
Easier said than done.
“Yeah.” I looked right in the camera, and the cameraman shook his head fiercely. Come on, Annie. My eyes shot back to Darius. “Yeah. Like the hotel thing, but not…”
I noticed him glance at Jen as if sending an SOS message. Great. “Can you explain exactly what a concierge doctor does?”
“Yes,” I said, then nodded. My body parts had stopped cooperating with one another. It was the iPad all over again. “A concierge doctor…” I straightened my torso. “A concierge doctor is a regular physician, but patients pay me a monthly fee…”
“And what does that get them?” He smiled encouragingly.
“It gets them…” Again, my eyes snapped to the camera; again, I had to pull them away. I touched the inside of my wrist. My pulse was racing. I drew in a deep breath. Just a conversation. Hardly anyone is going to see this—just the millions of people in the greater Chicagoland area. I’m only here to explain what I do. That’s it.
I straightened my shoulders. “It gets them access,” I said with more confidence. “I take on a smaller patient list, so I’m on call for them twenty-four seven and it’s much easier for them to get in and see me when they want to. I’m available to my patients, whenever they need me.”
There. That wasn’t so bad. Darius and his team of editors could do something with that. Probably.
“So you’re on call constantly?”
I scratched my neck and accidentally moved the microphone. Jen ran over to fix it. I folded my hands tightly in my lap to keep from making that mistake again. “Um…yes. I’m the only doctor in the practice right now—my mentor, who brought me in, retired about a year ago—which means I’m officially on call all the time.”
“That must be tough on your social life.” Darius winked.
A blush crept up my neck, and I checked myself before I said What social life? “It’s okay,” I said. “My patients don’t really abuse the situation. But, yeah, my time is never really my own. There’s always that looming responsibility. I can’t let go and unwind like other people.”
“If you were to unwind,” he said with a smirk, “what would you do with your time?”
“Um…” I frowned. What did anyone do with their time? “I like running. I watch a lot of TV and movies.”
“That’s fun.” He smiled encouragingly. “Do you travel?”
“I haven’t been on vacation in years,” I said.
“Because you can’t take time off, or…?”
“Because I choose not to. Because my job is what I do with my time. My mentor, Katherine, brought me into this practice because she knew how seriously I would take the job.” I leaned forward, feeling a bit more secure. “I could bring in another doctor or someone to cover for me once in a while, and maybe I’m a perfectionist, but I don’t feel comfortable doing that. This is my vocation, and I’m fully committed to it. Besides, with a practice like this—” I clamped my mouth shut.
“With a practice like this…?” Darius raised his eyebrows, encouraging me to continue.
“I just meant that in a practice like this, I have a lot of VIP clients. I mean, to me, all my clients are VIPs, but some of them are also, quite literally, very important people, even outside the doctor’s office.” I chuckled. “I don’t feel comfortable handing their care off to just anyone.”
My moment of levity appeared to encourage Darius. “You won’t name any names?”
“Oh, of course not.” Shocked that he would even ask that, I felt my eyes widen.
He tapped his note cards on the desk. “So, in this series, we obviously like to find out all we can about the subjects’ jobs, but also how those careers affect the rest of your life.” He flashed his megawatt smile again, along with a quick wink. “I’d like to go back to the social life thing. Are you married?”
“No,” I said.
“Dating anyone?”
I shook my head.
“Is it safe to assume that it’s pretty tough to date when you’re on call so much of the time?”
“Well, yes,” I said. “And also it’s hard to find a guy who understands that my job and my patients come first. I worked hard to get to where I am, and I need to find someone who’s okay with—”
My phone buzzed, and I glanced down.
“‘Okay with…’” Darius prompted me.
“I’m sorry.” I snatched my phone off the desk, holding it close to my chest, shielding the screen from his eyes as well as the looming camera lens. One of my patients was contacting me with an urgent question of a very private persuasion. “I need to return this call.”
“Ironic that we were just talking about how your job affects the rest of your life.”
“Just how it goes.” I stood, and Jen rushed over to remove the microphone from my shirt collar. “I’m so sorry that we have to cut our interview short, but you wanted to know what being a concierge doctor was like.” I grinned, shrugging.
“You’re right. I did want to know all about your career.” Darius glanced at his watch. “And I think I want to know more. I need to know more. I know our time is almost up today, but can I come back early next week?”
Shit. And here I thought I’d escaped. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”
“Fine,” he said. “Do that and get back to me.” My phone buzzed again. This time it was Darius sending me his contact information.
“Okay,” I said. “Will do.”
Darius held out his well-manicured hand again, and I shook it. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Annie. We’ll talk again soon.” The overhead lights glinted off his teeth, and again my knees buckled slightly. I didn’t normally go gaga over celebrities, but I actually watched Darius on the news, and he was just as impressive in person.
Sending a quick text back to my patient, I headed toward the door. “It was really nice talking to you.”
“Next time, I want to dig deeper into your need to find someone who understands the rigors of your career.”
I turned around.
He shrugged, looking vulnerable for the first time today. “That really hit home with me.” He flashed a smile. “Call me to set up a time to talk again.”
“I will.” Swallowing the knot that had developed in my throat, I held up my phone. “I really have to handle this, though. Goodbye.” Then I pulled open the door, stepped into the lobby, tripped on the rug, and nearly fell flat on my face.