Brant didn’t expect to see the receptionist at her desk. The blonde seemed uneasy as he came through the door, quickly stabbing at a button on the phone as she leaned forward to murmur something into the speaker. It left him uneasy, especially when she avoided his eyes as she greeted him.

“Hey, Dr. Layton.” Not quite her usual exuberant welcome.

“Good evening, Lisa,” Brant greeted the receptionist with a cheery wave, meeting her reticence with normalcy though the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something was definitely going on. He was a doctor, for bloody sake. Enough beating around the bush. “So, what’s the emergency?”

Lisa busied herself with some papers on her desk. “I’m sorry to call you in, Dr. Layton, but Dr. Mangal asked me to call you. He said it was very important.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

Mangal. Brant nodded slowly and stepped past her, knowing that they’d be in the conference room. The old fox had something in mind, that’s for sure. The question is what. He frowned and sorted through all possible transgressions. The whole thing stank of an inquisition, but the only thing he could come up with was stealing Mangal’s parking space one time when he was just running in and out to grab something he’d forgotten in his office. Hardly a firing offense.

Maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe it has nothing to do with me at all.

But he turned anyway, looking at Lisa’s back, and noticed the stiffness of her spine. The way she shuffled the same documents, making the pile a ragged mess in her hands.

Oh, it was disciplinary all right. He hadn’t seen her this worked up since Roberts was fired. And if he was reading the situation correctly, all this tension was aimed squarely at him.

He paused, and cleared his throat. “Oh, Lisa, when I asked you earlier to send a car to the airport for me, who did you call?”

“I made the call,” a voice said from the doorway. Brant looked up into the lined face of Dr. Mangal, the senior physician of the partnership, hating that he’d gotten the drop on him again. The old man delighted in sneaking up on the other partners. Catching them out. Like a snake.

Brant pressed his lips tight. It was all he could do to keep from saying something he might regret. There was something a little too smug, a little too satisfied in the older man’s eyes. But then, Mangal was never someone Brant really liked. The man was too standoffish, his bedside manner cold. But the man had been doing reconstructive surgery for longer than Brant had lived, and was considered the best in the field. Contrary to the snide back-biting comments, Brant never worked on his mother’s vanity—there were family lines that weren’t ethically crossed. The only man in the world she trusted with her looks was standing in the doorway, towering over poor Lisa, his ancient bright eyes were fixed on Brant.

It was like having a hawk in a lab coat stare you down. It was unnerving, and no matter how long he’d been there, and no matter how quickly he’d risen in the partnership, that penetrating gaze was one he would never get used to.

“You called an Uber?” Brant asked, trying to keep it casual though his hands wanted nothing more to curl into fists. But being light, backing down, even in the face of someone as intimidating as this, wasn’t in the list of things Brant knew how to do.

“It was more discrete,” Mangal clipped. “Why don’t we discuss this in the conference room?” He smiled at Brant, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was the same smile that a man would use to calm a madman just before reaching for the straitjacket.

Brant straightened and mumbled “thank you” to Lisa, who’d turned deathly pale, and followed his boss down the hall to the room reserved for telling potential patients that surgery can only do so much. Time and nature always had to have a say.

Among the display of noses, breasts, asses, legs, and all kinds of anatomy, largely, though not exclusively female, a table of dark wood crouched in the middle of four overstuffed office chairs. Two of the chairs were already taken.

Henry Williams, second in seniority to John Mangal, had the chair furthest from the door. Mangal sat down beside him. On the other side, Steven Millen, the newest partner and junior to Brant, sat with a warm smile for Brant, but his attitude spoke of someone who would rather be getting a root canal than sitting in this meeting.

Brant took the last chair, the one at the foot of the table. He had a momentary image of the door behind him opening like an airlock in a bad science fiction movie, and his chair, with him in it, getting blown out into the void.

“Gentlemen,” Brant said slowly, “what’s going on? A board meeting with no disclosure after hours? What’s the emergency? Or is there one?”

“In a way there is,” Dr. Mangal began and nodded to William, his eyes glittering and hard.

William shot him a look, but took over the narrative with only a small tremor in his hands. Whatever was coming, he wasn’t exactly in full agreement. “There is a concern, Brant. We’ve been discussing it rather thoroughly. As you know, it was never the position of this partnership to…well, advertise. Dr. Mangal and I are old-fashioned in that regard. It was always considered somewhat…inappropriate for a doctor’s office to hire adverts.”

“This clinic never has needed to.” Brant glanced around the table, completely at a loss. “You have a long-established practice here. The results and clientele speak for themselves.”

“We already have the sterling reputation. There’s…” Steven interjected, and trailed off.

Mangal shot him a quelling look. Brant raised an eyebrow. Apparently, Steven wasn’t allowed to speak, or at least was actively encouraged to hold his tongue. William was Mangal’s mouthpiece, merely iterating what Mangal told him to. This was between him and the old man, and yet, Brant had no idea what exactly this was.

“Dr. Mangal,” Brant spoke directly to the old man, bypassing lackeys in favor of getting whatever dreck was coming his way out in the open. “What exactly is the ‘emergency’ I’ve been called in to address? If this is a business meeting, we’re only a week from the monthly meeting. And if there’s no emergency, I’m afraid I really to need to return to—”

“Dr. Layton.” Mangal raised a hand, as if that somehow justified talking over him. “I understand that you have your own methods and your own choices, but at no time, at no time,” Mangal emphasized his point by pressing the table repeatedly with his finger as though manually adding periods to the conversation. “can we allow you to bring a hint of…” he paused, looking for the right word.

“Impropriety,” Williams said helpfully. It was well-rehearsed. Likely discussed at length without him there.

Brant stole a glance to Steven, who refused to meet his eye. Well, if this wasn’t just…fucking dandy. “What the hell are you talking about?” Anger boiled to the surface. He’d been called out of spending time with Mel for some bullshit lame excuse? “What scandal have I apparently embroiled the practice in?” Brant said, his voice cooling by several degrees. He suddenly had an inkling of where this was going.

“You left here a few months ago for a week-long vacation,” Williams started off, ticking each point off on his fingers, “only to wind up drunk and signing up for a stint with a different practice, signing up for three weeks without any notification to any of us. Then leaving us to take over your patients for you.”

“Fine,” Mangal stated, quelling William with a look. Apparently, this wasn’t rehearsed. William seemed to be stealing all the good lines, and Mangal was starting to get tired of his lackey. Mangal cleared his throat, and stabbed at the air for emphasis of his point. “We covered for you. You’ve done excellent work for many years for us. Your work is exceptional. Patients are very pleased. Others constantly request you. However, your mistake was unprofessional.”

“I know.” What else was he going to say?

“You know?” Mangal seemed unprepared for the admittance. “Yes, well, everyone deserves a second chance. We all screw up occasionally.”

“‘Second chance’?” Brant echoed.

“You were drunk!” Mangal said, red creeping up his neck to his face. “Public intoxication, and so drunk you didn’t realize what you were doing! And you woke up in a jungle!”

“Then,” Williams said shortly, jumping in with so much eagerness that you could just about see his tail wagging, “you authorized the surgery of a foreign national, again without consulting any of us, organized a hospital stay and nursing care and surgery, all for free!”

Was this about the money?

Or was the politics making Williams forget himself. Shooting for favored son status, finally airing a jealousy that had been building for some time. “Not to mention flying said patient and an ex-pat doctor here, and setting them up in your home!” Williams finished this last tidbit in triumph.

Mangal actually looked surprised. He hadn’t known.

“Do you have any idea how that looks?” Mangal shouted, easily getting his game back, and going right back on the offensive. “You’re putting up a young, attractive bush doctor and a foreign juvenile in your house without any sort of chaperone—”

“Mel is the chaperone.”

“Mel? Who the hell is ‘Mel’?” Any pretense of William’s involvement was gone. This was between him and Mangal now, and the colder Brant became the more heated Mangal got.

“Dr. Melissa Bell, the bush doctor, as you so quaintly put it.”

Williams scoffed. “Bush doctor, my ass! Is the woman even allowed to legally practice?” This time it wasn’t his finger hitting the wood, it was the side of his clenched fist. “Graduated last in her class, and a year after her exams she went into residency. I assume she took the year off to ‘find herself’? I suppose Brazil was where that happened?”

Brant pressed fingertips to his forehead, feeling a knot growing right behind his eyes. “Belize.”

“Does it matter where?” Mangal’s eyes were beginning to bulge. Another minute and the old man would stroke out. Then where would they be? “It’s all the same backwater swampland! They’re still injecting cancer victims with shark piss!”

Brant couldn’t even… “What the…? Did you try to Google again?”

“That woman does not speak for or about this practice!” Mangal slapped the table.

“No, she doesn’t!” Brant snapped and stood. “Nor has she any intention to! This woman is a board-passed doctor; she’s earned her title just like the rest of us. You don’t know who she is, what she’s gone through…” He caught himself. Mel wouldn’t want what happened to her to be an excuse. He shifted gears. “The clinic is not paying for their flight, their accommodations, or the surgery. That’s all coming out of my pocket. Dr. Bell has been given clearance through DI to come here.” Case closed. Or, at least it should have been.

“She is not enough of a chaperone!” William cried over the two of them, but neither of the combatants were listening.

“Look at him,” Steven said quietly. All eyes turned to him. “Look at him.” He pointed to Brant. “He’s young, he’s richer than the president. He’s skilled. Extremely skilled. He’s a professional. Do you really think he would need to go through all this trouble just to get laid?”

“DOCTOR!” Mangal jumped to his feet as well, swaying slightly.

Brant leaned forward, palms flat on the table, staring Mangal right in the eyes. “Is this what this is all about? You think I brought them all the way here to get into her pants?”

“The question is which one,” Williams said snidely.

That was too far, even for Mangal. Both men turned. Brant wasn’t even breathing he was so pissed off. “You’re disgusting. How fucking dare you.” He glared at Williams, daring the old man to stand up so he could knock him off his feet. “You incredible bastard.”

“Well, you’re certainly not going to marry the witch doctor, now are you?” Williams snapped, too stupid to know better and shut up.

Brant’s hands fisted. Only the realization that Mangal would have him arrested if he so much as moved right now kept him from leaping over the table and bashing the man’s face in.

“All right, enough!” Mangal called out with a wheezing cough, and sat heavily in his chair. He waved at Williams, who backed off, slouching in his chair and contenting himself with shooting evil looks in Brant’s direction.

Mangal drew himself up. Even seated, he was still a force to contend with. “You have endangered the reputation of this practice. If there is even a hint of scandal, a breath of impropriety, you’ll be asked to leave… this office and, if I have any say in it, this profession!”

I can’t believe this. They couldn’t hurt him professionally. Except, he’d gone to a friend’s wedding in New York and ended up in Belize. That mistake was his. That could be made into a joke. Not that he cared about himself. But he had his mother, and there were also Mel and Maria to think about. This wasn’t just about him.

Brant stood there, breathing heavily, feeling the sweat trickle down his back despite the air conditioning. What was there to say? He looked at them each in turn. Mangal triumphant. Williams sullen. Steven…Steven refusing to bring his eyes away from the table.

“Then let’s end this now,” Brant said, feeling the tremble in his own hands. Not fear. Anger.

He had to get out of there. Immediately.

He spun and went through the door. Blown out into the void after all.

“Brant, wait!” Steven called and jumped up to follow him, his chair clattering to the floor behind him. He caught him at the door to the waiting room.

Brant spun on him, not caring that Lisa was watching as though she were observing the latest episode of some reality show. “How could you just sit there? You said almost nothing.”

“Damn it, Brant! Not everyone has your money, you know? I worked my ass off to get through school, and I still have crushing loans. I make a fortune here, but you’ve seen where I live, the old car I drive—it’s in the shop as often as not. I can’t lose this place, Brant, not for a while yet.”

Brant exhaled. He rubbed his face, suddenly tired. More exhausted than he could ever remember being. “I’m sorry, Steven.” He slumped against the wall, knowing that just because the rest of the world was made up of assholes that it didn’t mean he had to be one. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“Besides,” Steven said, looking down the hall toward the conference room. “I did what I could. Bringing up the ‘he doesn’t need to do this for sex thing.’ It’s what they were thinking; they’d said as much before you got here. You needed to know.”

“Should I thank you?” Brant’s words were sharp but, seriously, that was Steven’s idea of a rescue party?

Steven looked up at him for a long moment. “Yes, Brant. Yes, you should. I may not have much, but I risked most of it for you just now.”

The stupid thing was, Brant knew he had. Mangal ran the practice with an iron fist. Disobedience of any kind would not be tolerated. The only reason Steven had the job was because someone else had questioned Mangal’s methods last year and lost his. Last he’d heard, Roberts wasn’t even practicing medicine.

But he was just burned out, right? Mangal didn’t have that much reach, did he?

Suddenly unsure, Brant unbent a little. Righteous indignation was all well and good, but there was a certain practicality that had to be considered here. “I’m sorry, Steven. You’re right…I’m just…pissed. They’re way off. They have no idea.”

“Look, you and I both know that the old man can’t revoke your license. There’s little he can do you except kick you out of here. And that’s at the risk of losing his most well-known client. I don’t think he’d be willing to alienate your mother if he didn’t have to. Let him rage. He spoke his piece. It’ll be forgotten tomorrow.”

“Maybe I should leave,” Brant said slowly, feeling the germ of an idea coalesce. “Start my own practice.”

Steven snorted. “No one to cover for you? All the administration? You’re not a businessman, Brant. You have no interest in the number-crunching, the staff-hiring, all if it. You just want to do surgery. That’s all you’ve ever wanted. Don’t step on toes because of bullshit. These guys are retiring soon. You know that. They’re just not ready to hand their baby over to someone who might actually run it better than they did.”

Brant stared at his feet for a moment. “Fine…tell the old man there’s no scandal. I’ll be good.”

Steven smiled at him, relieved. “It only hurts a little, Brant. I’ve gotten very proficient at swallowing my pride.”

Brant nodded, and squeezed Steven’s shoulder. “Listen, come by, huh? I’d like you to meet Mel and Maria.”

Steven sighed and shook his head. “Brant. Pull some strings. Get a room for the girl. Ideally, a hotel for the doctor, but check the girl in to the hospital fast. Today. Kill the rumors now, before they start.”

“Seems like they’ve started already.” Brant sighed. What was he going to say to Mel?

“Then end them. Now. I’ll tell them you’ve cooled off and that you’re ready to play nice.”

Brant inhaled. Somehow the air smelled…off. He nodded, and left the practice without another word.

It occurred to him after he was in his car that Lisa had said something to him as he’d left, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what it was.