Chapter 11
The annual benefit for pediatric research for the National Heart Society was held in a different metropolitan city every year. Some years Jonah attended, other years he didn’t. It wasn’t as important to him as the events held by the American Heart Association or those specifically for African American cardiologists. But the prestige of being the keynote speaker would make the Atlanta Journal Constitution tomorrow and every relevant medical journal published in the country within a few months. That’s why Gunter had asked him to return the phone call. It was good publicity, and every business needed that.
Jonah looked around at the prestigious gathering of his peers. Cardiologists and surgeons chatted; some local, others not, but he knew most of them from conferences and events he’d attended over the years. He could guess the limited subjects of their conversations. The primary topics were billing, rising cost of malpractice insurance, health maintenance organizations, and golf. Their wives were on to more pleasant conversations like upcoming summer vacations and the rising cost of condo rentals on the Florida coast. When those conversations were spent, they’d move on to interior decorating. It was shallow, but this was his world.
Faith was standing nearby speaking with the wife of a prominent Atlanta pastor. He didn’t care where they were, she always seemed to gravitate toward other Christians. It was like she had a radar for finding them or they her. All signs of her earlier anger were now gone, and she looked lovely in the dress she’d chosen. Its knee length hemline showed off the fantastic legs and figure she managed to keep from her morning runs.
“Dr. Morgan.”
Jonah turned to find a petite Latino woman behind him.
“I’m Amanda Desoto, the coordinator for tonight’s event.” She presented her hand for him to shake. “I just wanted to come over and personally thank you for agreeing to deliver the speech tonight on such short notice.”
“You’re welcome. I appreciate the opportunity,” Jonah replied.
She hadn’t let go of his hand yet, and she was smiling as she continued to look him up and down. “Is that your lovely wife you came in with?”
Jonah gently eased his hand out of her grip. “Yes, it is. I’ll introduce you when Reverend Shorter’s wife turns her loose.”
“Of course.” Her eyes darkened, and she smiled devilishly. “I was hoping you’d say it wasn’t your wife. I guess it’s true all the handsome men in Atlanta are married.”
“I’m sure not all.” He nodded past her. “Ms. Desoto, do you know my colleague, Tom Cooper?”
“Miss,” she corrected, flashing another one of her bright smiles.
“Dr. Cooper is a family practitioner.”
“Yes, Christian Brothers.” She said the words like they left a nasty aftertaste in her mouth. “What an interesting concept.”
“I’ll allow Cooper to tell you about it,” Jonah said, patting him on the shoulder and walking away. If it was an unfaithful husband she wanted, Cooper was her man.
Jonah pulled out his cell phone just as Faith glanced away from Mrs. Shorter. He pointed to it, and then to the direction of the entrance, letting her know he was stepping out to make a phone call. Once he was away from the noisy crowd, he dialed.
“Kimble Heart Center.”
“Hi Evelyn.” Jonah recognized the unit clerk’s voice.
“Dr. Morgan,” she said cheerfully. “How are you this evening?”
“I’m good. I was calling to see if my patient had come in tonight.”
“Let me see.” He heard her fingers on a computer keyboard. “I’m sure I saw your name earlier, but what’s the patient’s name?”
“Lazarus is the last name. Amadi”
“Oh yes. He and his family are here. They’re actually in with the life specialist right now for pretesting counseling.”
Jonah waved at a couple who walked by. The surgeon was one of his colleagues from Kimble and would probably help with Amadi’s case, if he needed an operation.
“Good. I was hoping they were settled in.”
“He’s got a heavy day tomorrow—MRI—biopsy, he must be a pretty scared little guy.”
“I hope not.” Jonah reached around to massage the back of his neck with his free hand.
“Will we see you tomorrow?”
“Yes, I’ll do the biopsy myself. Tell Amadi hello for me.”
“Will do, Doctor. You have a good evening.”
“You too.”
Jonah returned the phone to his pocket just as Samaria and a young man entered the building. Samaria, clad in a metallic red, skin tight mini-dress, looked like she had just walked off the set of one of those vile, booty shaking, rump rocking music videos. Her feet were strapped into lace up sandals with heels that had to be five inches high. Her hair, a frizzy mess, could have provided a weave for at least three or four other women in the room.
Jonah turned his back, hoping she wouldn’t see him. Wishing he hadn’t seen her.
“Dr. Morgan.” Too late. “Is that you?” Then . . .” Malik, come meet my boss.”
Jonah turned around.
Malik, a street thug in a surprisingly smart tuxedo, offered one hand to Jonah while rubbing his chin with the other. “Whaz up, Doc?”
Samaria shoved him in the side and cast him a nasty look. “That’s Doctor, Malik,” she said nastily. “Doctor Morgan is the speaker for this evening.”
“A’ight, a’ight den, whaz up, Doctor M?” Malik corrected.
This time Samaria stepped in front of her escort. Smiling tightly, she asked, “Are you ready for the big presentation?”
Presentation. Was she kidding? The show was right here in the lobby. The BET Video Awards, apparently. He had to force himself to move his eyes from the spectacle. Samaria’s breasts, barely concealed in one of those red push-up bras, moved in front of him like dancing globs of Jell-O. Those work scrubs were hiding a lot.
Jonah cleared his throat. “I don’t know if I’d use the word excited. You’ve said one speech, you’ve said them all. But I’m in my element when I talk about my work, so I’m looking forward to it.”
“It must be exciting to be such an important man.”
She was flirting.
“It’s actually more humbling than exciting.” He looked in the main ballroom and noticed several people were now taking their seats. “Look, dinner’s about to be served. I’d better find Faith.”
“Nice to almost meet ya, Doctor M.” Jonah could tell by the assertion in his voice, that Samaria’s friend didn’t like being pushed aside.
Jonah hated pre-judging anyone, but he hoped the guy wasn’t dangerous. The hostile glare he’d given Samaria was a definite sign that he didn’t like being disrespected. Didn’t she realize she’d only attract one kind of man in a dress like that? A thug. They came in all shapes and sizes. Those in jeans hanging down to the backs of their knees and those in two thousand dollar suits.
Jonah reached for his hand and gave it a firm shake. “Enjoy the evening.” He nodded. “Sam.”
Walking away, he heard Malik say, “Stay black, brother . . .” and then Samaria let go a string of curse words.