Chapter 3
Jake
“You’d fuck her, right?”
Bent over some papers, I didn’t look up at Mark’s question.
“Fuck who?” I asked.
“You know who. Brooke, the sexy new nurse.”
Instead of responding, I choose to sign off on the first sheet of the stack before me. But Mark lingered at the door.
“Oh c’mon, you totally would.”
I lifted my head from the paperwork to deliver him a withering look.
“It doesn’t matter. She’s our nurse, not my girlfriend.”
Mark grinned cockily.
“So, that’s a yes.”
I sighed, my gaze going to the corner of the room. I could almost see it, our bodies entwined, her wailing into the wall—
“Sure,” I said, with a wave of my hand.
“Blam—knew it!” Mark said.
His face assumed a somber expression.
“Though really, from a practical standpoint, I don’t know how productive we’ll be able to be when that—”
His voice abruptly cut off.
“Hello,” Brooke said.
It took me a minute to find my voice myself. Brooke was at the door beside Mark, looking hot as hell. She was decked out in a tight little grey number that came in at the waist and showed off her perfect figure. Luckily, it didn’t look like she’d heard us.
I cleared my throat.
“You’re early.”
Her face fell, those big hazel eyes of hers lowering, as if she was embarrassed.
“Oh, sorry. Yeah. I just thought, my first day and all, I should come early in case you had any special instructions for me. Plus I’ll need some time to get oriented to your procedures, IT systems, and supplies and all.”
Mark’s gaze flickered to mine, while he bit back a smile. Yeah, we could think of some ‘special instructions’ for Brooke alright.
“No. Nothing special today,” I said. “Just going over paperwork before the first few patients come in. Normally Monday is our consultation day, but Deidre scheduled a few for this morning as well.”
I gestured to the same seat as yesterday.
“Have a seat, you’ll find your way around the rest of that stuff in no time.”
She did so, while Mark went over to the other chair in front of the desk and flopped down as well.
“So,” he said, his gaze roving to her, “Seems like yesterday we didn’t get all that much time to talk. Tell us more about yourself.”
Brooke gave a nervous little laugh, tucking a dark strand of hair behind her ear.
“Well, a lot of it is on my résumé. I’ve been a nurse since I finished school. I guess more to know would be that I live around Venice Beach. Oh, what else. Well, I like painting in my spare time.”
“Really?” I asked, “What kind of stuff do you paint?”
“Oh, just about anything really. Modern, impressionism, abstract, you name it. Though I guess my favorite would be the impressionism style.” She gave a half-smile and continued, “It kinda reminds me of how the world looks when I don’t have my contacts in, only prettier.”
“Interesting,” I said, “I like painting too.”
“You see that big old thing there?” Mark said, flicking his wrist at the canvas behind our desk, “Jake did it.”
Brooke’s eyes widened, while her full pink mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ before she spoke.
“That’s remarkable,” she said, her eyes scanning the painting furiously, “The brushstrokes, the chiaroscuro,” her gaze went to me now. “You’re really talented.”
Now I was the one embarrassed and looking away.
“Thanks.”
“So, what about a boyfriend?” Mark continued casually, “Anyone you’d like to invite to our annual holiday ball?”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, seeing as we had all of three employees—four now counting Brooke—so the notion of a holiday ball was asinine.
“Nope,” Brooke said, without elaborating.
“Huh,” Mark said. I could practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighed the pros and cons of fucking our hot new nurse.
A beep from the intercom on my desk interrupted.
“Doctors. Dolores Gisabelle is here about more Botox,” said Deidre, in her typically nervous voice.
“Send her in,” I replied.
Seeing Brooke still awkwardly positioned on the patient chair, Mark rose.
“I’ll grab you a chair,” he said, stepping out of the room.
So, all of us were standing awkwardly when Dolores strode into the room. Behind her with the chair, Mark gestured her to the patient seat.
“Go ahead and sit down, Dolores. I was just getting a chair for our new nurse, Brooke.”
Brooke gave the woman a wan smile.
“Hello,” I said, trying to redirect her attention back to me. No since exposing Brooke to her wrath so soon.
Dolores swiveled her head to me without a word. Truly, she was a frightening specimen of a woman. A walking talking cautionary tale of too much Botox, so when she spoke, only her mouth moved.
“You know why I’m here.”
Her voice was cold and curt, although no emotion showed in her eyes.
I glanced at Mark, who nodded. Being somewhat of a dick himself, he was better equipped to deal with our dick patients.
“Look Dolores, Deidre already told you what we said. We aren’t in a position to give you any more Botox.”
The woman closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her finger stabbed at the side of her cheek.
“You see what that is? A wrinkle. Do you know what gets rid of wrinkles? Botox. I will have it and if you don’t give it to me, I’ll get it somewhere else.”
Mark nodded, smiled.
“That is your prerogative, though of course we caution you against it.”
Dolores rose, eyeing us all with a glittering glare. Her impassive face was terrifying with its emotionless fury. All the anger seemed concentrated in her frizzy white hair.
“Fine,” she finally said, throwing her pink tulle scarf over her shoulder as she stomped off.
“So, this job, it’s not all sunshine and roses,” Mark said, still glaring at the chair Dolores had occupied.
“You’ll see, though,” I cut in with a valiant smile, “It’s like any profession, you’ve got good customers and bad customers. We have more good, though.”
I glanced at Brooke’s face nervously. For some reason, I wanted her to believe me, to like this job and to stay. She looked less shaken than I’d expected, and gave me a valiant smile.
“You have to take the good with the bad,” she said.
“Mr. Antoine Toutou with his wife, Helga,” Deidre’s voice chirped over the intercom.
“Send them in,” I told her.
As soon as they stepped in, we settled and went to work.
The rest of the morning passed uneventfully in comparison to our first consultation. Brooke saw our usual mix of customers, most of whom were harmless, either wanting to improve on what they already had, or to correct an actual deformity.
By one o’clock we were all talked-out and slumped in our seats.
The ting of my metal clock sounding the hour stirred me to life.
“Want to get lunch?”
Brooked nodded.
“Definitely.”
Deidre, as usual, declined to join us with a decided shake of her cropped glossy dark hair. She was always using lunchtime to catch up on her work, and today was no exception. So, that left the both of us accompanying Brooke to Pablo’s.
“Best pizza in town, you’ll see,” I said, as we approached the little open-air hut.
“And if you don’t like it, I could be persuaded to finish yours for you,” Mark quipped.
It turned out that Brooke loved Pablo’s as much as we did. She loved Henrietta, the kindly stout wife of Pablo. She loved the vibrant piñata’s lining the walls. She loved the bright orange and blue tables. And, most of all, she loved the pizza.
“I never would have thought mushroom and pineapple could be so good,” she admitted, surprise still clouding her features, as she took another big bite of her slice.
“We discovered it when Jake tried to do the whole vegetarian thing,” Mark explained. “Lasted about… a week.”
I elbowed him before setting the record straight. “It was two weeks.”
Mark snorted.
“Yeah, and thousands of little piggies and cows owe their lives to you.”
Brooke was a surprisingly quick eater, and was the first to finish.
“So,” she said, her eyes going from me to Jake, “You two know a lot about me now, but I don’t know all that much about either of you.”
“Ask away,” Mark said, spreading his arms, “I’m an open book.”
So, she did. She asked us about how long we’d been in L.A. (forever), and how long we’d been surgeons (three years). She asked me about my art and I told her gladly.
“I’ve even got a studio in my house on the beach. Perfect setting to inspire an artist; the play of the waves, the setting sun on the water. You should—”
I paused mid-sentence after a glance at Brooke found her gaze enrapt, her mind converting my words into pictures in her head. This would be the perfect time to invite her to come see it, and try it out herself.
“Want some mango juice?” Mark asked.
She nodded, and I exhaled, relieved for the save. As attractive as Brooke was, I was not going to go there.
“First, I have to go to the bathroom, though,” Brooke said, heading to the back.
“Thought there was gonna be no nurse involvement,” Mark said, raising his brows.
I nodded firmly.
“And I meant it.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see,” Mark said, with a knowing smile.
I ignored him, clenching my fist under the table. Why wouldn’t Mark believe me? He knew my story, and that I wasn’t a ridiculous reckless playboy like he was.
When Brooke came back, we were treated to a jig on the bright blue piano by Pablo’s wife.
“Would you?” Brooke asked, glancing at the piano, then back at me.
“Sure,” Mark said, before I could answer, rising and taking her hand.
I watched them walk across the wooden floor towards the piano, and bit my pizza with a savagery that surprised me. I had meant what I’d told Mark about Brooke. It didn’t matter how much I liked her, any sort of relationship between us would be dangerous at best, disastrous at worse. But Mark clearly didn’t share my sentiments; look at him there with his arm around her—he clearly had no qualms about trying to incorporate Brooke into his already woman-packed life.
The music was lively, a sort of Caribbean-sounding jig. Brooke and Mark danced gaily, grinning happily at each other. As Mark conveyed Brooke around, she threw me a joyful wave.
I tried to tear my gaze away from them, but I couldn’t manage. Every shift of his hand position, as it went lower down her spine, put me on edge and had me gripping the table. What was going on with me?
I gulped down the rest of my water. The problem was that I was just watching while Mark beckoned Brooke into his bed, as another one of his playmates for the week. The anonymous girls he screwed was one thing, his bed had a greater turnover rate than McDonalds. Figuratively speaking of course, since I doubted if any of them got anywhere near his actual bed. But this situation was different. Was I supposed to sit and watch while he seduced a colleague of mine, a kind and interesting girl who deserved so much better? Not to mention the employment problems that could result. Maybe it wasn’t my place to get involved with her, but it was at least my place to prevent her from the heartache that was practically guaranteed if she got involved with Mark.
When they returned to the table, they were red-cheeked and out of breath. I smiled unconvincingly, and we continued eating our lunch without incident. Brooke enjoyed her mango juice, Jake and I split the bill, despite Brooke’s initial protests, and we all returned to the office. As the rest of the day progressed, we moved from consultations to surgery, my thoughts returning to Brooke more and more.
I found it strange that she was so interesting to me. It wasn’t just that she was hot, with those big eyes set over that button nose and pouty lips. It was the expression she wore when she listened to you, the totally-entranced look that came into her eyes. As if she really heard you.
It was a shame that she was my nurse, because I would’ve given anything to get to know her more. I still hadn’t decided what to do about the Mark situation, but felt like I needed to do something.