This is not what I had in mind when I said I wanted to take you out for dinner,” Drew said as he walked side by side with London along the greenbelt that flanked the Colorado River.
“Too bad. This is what I felt like eating.” She took a huge bite out of the giant pretzel he’d bought her from a street vendor.
When her shift ended a half hour ago, they quickly left the hospital before she could get roped into an emergency. But she’d thwarted Drew’s plans of wining and dining her at one of Austin’s legendary restaurants by claiming she wasn’t all that hungry. She decided she needed a walk to clear her head, thus their current early evening stroll.
She held the pretzel out to him. “Want some? It’s good.”
He shook his head. “Enjoy your carnival food. I plan to have a real dinner once I get back to my place. You know, like an adult.”
“Whatever,” she laughed, rolling her eyes. She took another bite of her pretzel, leaving a trace of mustard at the corner of her mouth.
Drew considered kissing the mustard off her face as he’d done with the cupcake frosting last night, but then thought better of it. They were in public, not the privacy of his bedroom. Depending on her mood, she would either punch him in the eye or rip his clothes off and mount him in the middle of the park. There seemed to be no in-between when it came to London.
Not wanting to risk injury or an indecent exposure arrest, Drew caught her by the elbow and said, “You do eat with your whole face, don’t you?” He swiped the mustard away with his thumb.
“I’m around kids all day,” she said. “I guess they’ve rubbed off on me.”
Her eyes followed his thumb as he licked the mustard off it. He let his tongue linger a bit longer than necessary just to mess with her.
“Ready to go back to my place?” Drew asked.
“I thought you were going to have dinner like an adult?” she asked.
“We can order in. Dinner in bed. That could be very adult.”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes still on his mouth. “I’ll stick to my pretzel. For now,” she added.
They continued along the walkway, hugging the right side to give the bike riders access to the path.
“So, what’s the outpatient program you wanted to talk to me about?” London asked.
“I didn’t think we could talk about it now that we’re no longer at the hospital.”
“Of course we can.”
“Wait, so how does this ‘no mixing business with pleasure’ thing work? Does it not go both ways?”
She shook her head. “No hanky-panky at the hospital, but we can have hospital talk after hours,” she clarified.
“For future reference, I prefer sexy shenanigans to hanky-panky.”
“Noted.” She stuffed the last of her pretzel into her mouth and walked over to a trash can to throw away the wrapper. When she returned to him, she made a get on with it motion with her hand. “So, this program?”
“Yeah, it’s this thing that Dr. Coleman—”
“Hold up.” She held up a hand. “Just to let you know, if it’s something to do with Coleman, I probably hate it.”
“What’s the deal between you two?”
“Frederick Coleman has not liked me from the moment I stepped into that hospital.”
“What did you say to him, London?”
She gasped. “Why do I have to be the bad guy here?”
“Because, as someone who has been on the receiving end of that razor-sharp tongue of yours, I know the damage it can cause.”
She stopped walking and folded her arms across her chest. “Since when do you have a problem with what I do to you with my tongue?”
“Okay, I like your tongue much better now, but when we were in high school, I had a very different perception,” Drew said. He was as tempted to kiss that smug smirk off her lips as he’d been with the mustard. “Are you going to give me the dirt on your feud with Coleman, or what?”
“If it’s a feud, then it is one-sided,” London said. “I try my best not to spend any of my precious energy on that man. And, to be honest, I’m still not sure why he doesn’t like me.” She shrugged. “Well, other than him being a misogynist who thinks men should be doctors and women should be nurses.”
“No shit?” Drew asked.
“No shit,” she answered. She let out an exhausted breath. “Actually, I do know what his issue is with me. He doesn’t like the ‘hype’ surrounding me.”
“You’re too much of a badass for him?”
“It would seem so. It’s not as if I make a habit of touting my accomplishments—okay, that’s a bit of a stretch. Even I can admit that I’m the queen of the humblebrag, but I’m working on myself. Anyway, there are not many residents with a CV as decorated as mine.” She shrugged. “I’m an overachiever, what can I say?”
“You think you have to tell me you’re an overachiever? As if I didn’t have a front-row seat to watching you twist yourself into knots over test scores.”
“If you think it was bad in high school, it’s nothing compared to how obsessed I became about grades in college and med school,” she said. “But the real hype started after an incident that happened back when I was a first-year resident, during my general surgery rotation. The patient’s gallbladder had erupted, and the attending had just removed it, and then he quit.”
“What do you mean he quit?”
“He quit. Right there in the middle of the surgery. He said, ‘I’m done,’ put down the number eleven blade, and walked out of the operating room.”
“What the fuck? Who does that?”
“Those may have been my exact words. It’s one of the few details I can’t recall from that day,” London said. “I just remember taking over. After getting past the shock of what had just happened, several of the nurses ran to get another surgeon to help, but by the time that surgeon arrived, I was in the zone. She allowed me to complete the procedure.” She flicked imaginary dust off her shoulders. “And that’s how the legend was born.”
“Damn, London. That’s pretty badass. No, that’s totally badass. You’ve earned the right to brag.”
“Well, if you ask Coleman, what I did that day wasn’t a huge deal.”
“So he’s a hater,” Drew stated.
“A big one. The fact that I’m a woman only irritates him more. I wasn’t being hyperbolic when I said the thing about him believing that women should only be nurses and not strive to be physicians. He’s actually said those words. I haven’t heard them directly, but several of my colleagues have.”
“And no one has brought it up to Human Resources?”
“The thing you need to know about Coleman is that he’s been at County since they laid the first bricks on the building. No one questions him because he’s such a legend. And when someone does question him, she’s labeled a troublemaker.
“I’m never disrespectful to his face,” she continued. “I understand that I’m a resident and he’s been at this for decades. But I won’t just sit there and take shit either. Or remain quiet when I see something I don’t agree with.”
“You shouldn’t,” Drew said. “I think if more people had questioned some of the decisions that have been made at County, the hospital wouldn’t be in the position it’s in now. Which brings me to this program.”
Drew gestured to the knee-high rock wall that lined this portion of the walking path. He waited for London to take a seat before continuing. “Now, I know geriatrics isn’t your wheelhouse.”
“The exact opposite of my wheelhouse,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, but I still want your opinion. It’s about the Seniors Clinic that’s attached to outpatient care services.”
“That’s still in operation? I thought County disbanded it after the city built that new Council on Aging facility last year.”
“That’s the reason for the sudden drop-off.” Drew snapped his fingers. “I couldn’t figure it out. It looks as if the number of patients using it has steadily declined over the years, but there was a significant drop about fifteen months ago, and no explanation for it.”
“From what I hear, Coleman was pissed because that Seniors Clinic was a feather in his cap,” London said. “Now he can’t tout the success of the program to the hospital’s board of directors.”
“Yeah, but the hospital is still putting a good portion of its budget into a clinic that no one is using.”
She looked over at him, a furious scowl on her face. “Are you kidding me?”
Drew held his hands up. “Don’t blame the messenger. Trident’s chief auditor discovered it this morning. It raised a huge red flag for him. When I looked a little deeper, it just didn’t seem to make any sense.”
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “I have been begging for the past year for a sensory room on the pediatric floor, and Coleman has shot me down, citing the budget. Yet he’s spending funds on a clinic no one uses?”
Drew raised his hands again. He didn’t have an answer for her. Instead, he asked, “What’s a sensory room?”
Her anger remained palpable. Drew could tell that she was struggling to get it under control.
“It’s a room to help calm kids—particularly my ASD patients, those who have autism spectrum disorder,” she explained. “Being in a hospital is scary for all kids, but the loud noises and those bright fluorescent lights—hell, even the ID bracelets we have to put on their wrists—can be intolerable for a child with sensory issues. I want to design a room for our unit with special lighting, weighted vests and blankets, and other things that help calm patients with autism.
“Even the patients without autism would benefit. There have been studies that show that just a few hours in a sensory room prior to surgery can have a big impact on kids. It’s like you playing basketball with Ahmad earlier today. It gives them a sense of normalcy and makes them forget they’re in a hospital and about to undergo this frightening procedure.”
“Have you looked into how much it would cost?” She leveled him with a droll look. “Stupid question,” Drew said. “Of course you, of all people, have done your homework.”
“I have it budgeted down to the cost of the multiple textured rugs for the floor,” she said. “It would run well over a hundred grand for the room I really want, but I’m willing to settle for something on a much smaller scale. It can be done for about forty thousand.”
Drew wouldn’t dare tell her how much had been spent on that defunct clinic this past year. Given the state of the hospital’s financial health at the moment, and the amount of items on the priority list, he wasn’t sure Trident would find an extra hundred thousand for her room.
Of course…
“I can give the hospital the money for it.”
She started shaking her head before he could finish. “No. It’s not as simple as just throwing money at it,” she said. “That’s my dad’s answer for everything.” The derision in her voice told Drew all he needed to know about that.
“Besides,” she continued. “It will take more than just money for the sensory room to be a success. It takes an ongoing commitment from the hospital. There are new therapies being discovered all the time, and the room would need to be updated every few years.”
He could make sure there was enough to cover upkeep well into the future, but Drew had a feeling she would shoot that down as well.
“Don’t give up hope just yet,” he said.
“I haven’t, but I know it’s an extreme long shot,” she said.
“It is.” He shrugged. “But it may not be as out of reach as you’re thinking.”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, but then they widened with hopeful excitement. “Are you saying there’s space for my sensory room in the budget?”
“Slow down, Dr. Kelley. I can’t guarantee anything. That’s not in my job description.” Drew stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles. “But, as you know, one of the key outcomes of the work Trident is doing will be the recommendations we make about which programs should be slashed and which would add value to County. The team will need to perform a deeper assessment, but it sounds as if this sensory room deserves a place on the recommendation list.”
Her mouth dropped open and that hope in her eyes turned to excitement.
“This is probably against the rules, but I so want to give you a blow job right now.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “That is definitely a violation of the hospital’s code of ethical conduct for contract employees, and against Texas law, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“You can always give me a blow job just because you like doing it.”
“I do like it.” There was a tinge of wonder in her voice. She looked over at him, shaking her head in disbelief. “Did you imagine back in high school that would ever be the case?”
“Not in a million years,” Drew answered honestly. Had he hoped for and dreamed about it? Every fucking night for his entire senior year and several years beyond.
Yet, for some reason, Drew held himself back from admitting it. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t bring himself to tell her how infatuated he’d been with her all those years ago. Maybe because it still hurt to know it had been so one-sided.
Drew heard the faint sounds of a guitar being strummed from somewhere in the distance. He tipped his head in order to hear it better.
“Did you hurt your neck playing basketball with Ahmad?” London asked.
“No.” He held up his hand and listened for a moment longer. “Albert King. ‘Born Under a Bad Sign.’ I knew that bridge sounded familiar.” He smiled. “If there’s one thing Austin has going for it, it’s being the live music capital of the world.”
“That is just one of the things this town has going for it,” she said. “Funny enough, it’s the one thing about Austin that I don’t pay much attention to. I’m not a huge concert fan.”
“But there are so many. There’s a blues festival in Zilker Park next weekend that I was thinking about going to.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re a fan of blues.”
“Yeah. A huge one. What’s wrong with blues?”
“Oh, Drew. Drew. Drew.” She heaved out a dramatic sigh. “If I was afraid for even a second that I was catching feelings for you, that admission would be enough to quash them.”
She laughed, but Drew had a hard time finding any humor in her words. They’d been together nearly every evening for going on two weeks. She hadn’t caught even a few feelings in that time?
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
“Well, first there’s the whole hating-you-for-most-of-my-life thing. Granted, I haven’t been entirely fair to you on that front—”
“Not fair at all,” he interjected.
She shrugged. “Yes, I know. I’m working on it. But that’s not the only reason.” She gestured in the area of his chest. “That Omega symbol branded into your pec? My dad belongs to that fraternity. And now I find out you love blues music too.”
“Again, what’s the problem with blues?”
“All three of my siblings are named after blues musicians, because that’s just how big a fan Kenneth Kelley is of the genre. He’s been playing with a local cover band for years. Which means, Drew Sullivan, you’re basically my dad.” She leaned forward and pretended to hurl. “If the sex wasn’t so good, I would break off this thing we have going right this instant.”
Well, fuck. He should just go ahead and tell her how obsessed he’d been with her back in high school. Her reaction couldn’t make him feel any worse.
“Why do you look so sad?” she asked with a laugh.
“In the span of five minutes I went from being the guy you like giving blow jobs to, to the guy who reminds you of your dad. I want to throw myself in that river over there.”
She laughed even harder.
“Come on,” she said, rising from her perch on the rock wall and tugging at his arm. “There’s only one way for me to make this up to you.”
They continued east on the walking trail, but after a few steps, Drew stopped.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He hooked his thumb back over his shoulder. “My apartment is that way. Unless we have different ideas about how you can make up for comparing me to your dad?”
“I guess there’s more than one way to make it up to you,” she said. “We can do both. But, for now, let’s go find out where that music is coming from.”