Good luck at your new job.
Call me,
Brandon
Beneath his name he’d listed his home telephone number, his work number, cell number, and e-mail address. Scarlet’s namesake must be pretty darn good in the sack. “Call down to Human Resources,” she told Ashley. “Ask if there’s a new hire named Scarlet and where she works.”
While Ashley did as instructed, Cindy grabbed the card from Scarlet’s hand and read it. “Yowza.” She used the card to fan herself then handed it to Linda.
“Mercy me,” Linda said. “You girls today.” She shook her head in disapproval.
Ashley put down the phone and looked up apologetically. “A Scarlett, with two ‘t’s, Ryan began work as a unit secretary in the pediatric ER today.”
“And you all,” Scarlet pointed to each of the chocolate eating culprits while squinting her eyes in playful accusation, “ate the poor girl’s hard-earned chocolates.”
“We had help,” Linda said. “It’s an unwritten rule that chocolates at a nursing station are fair game. Dig in or don’t complain when you miss out. No invitation needed.”
“Nursing is a stressful occupation,” Cindy added. “Nurses need chocolate to help us cope and keep us happy so we can be at our caring and competent best.” She snapped her fingers. “If you give me a few minutes I bet I can find a research study to support that.”
Scarlet smiled. “What’s the damage?” She lifted the lid. One lone milk chocolate remained in the upper right corner surrounded by approximately thirty empty little square partitions. And it’d been squeezed to reveal its dark pink center.
“I told them to save you one,” Ashley said.
“We think it’s raspberry,” Cindy added.
“You like raspberry,” Linda chimed in.
Since it wasn’t in good enough shape to offer up as an ‘at least I managed to save you one’ peace offering, Scarlet popped the partially mutilated chocolate into her mouth. Yup. Raspberry. Surrounded by creamy, rich, delicious chocolate. She held off swallowing to draw out the experience. Then fought the urge to inhale and let her eyes drift closed to savor the pleasure. Pathetic. “Back to work. All of you,” she said with a few shoos of her hands.
“What are you going to do about the chocolates?” Ashley asked.
You. Not we. Because Scarlet always stood up for her staff. No matter what. She replaced the cover and flung the box into the garbage can. “What chocolates?” she asked with an innocent smile.
Her staff smiled back.
“What about the flowers?” Ashley asked.
Scarlet carefully placed the card back in the envelope, tucked in the flap, and inserted it back into its plastic pronged holder. “I’ll bring them down to the ER after I check in on little Miss Gupta.”
* * *
As far as bad days went—and Dr. Lewis Jackson, head of the Pediatric Emergency Room at Angel’s, had experienced some pretty hellacious ones over the past nine months, since finding out he was the father and new primary caregiver to his demon of a now thirteen-year-old daughter—today was shaping up to be one of the worst. Two nurses out sick. A new unit secretary, who, while nice to look at, had clearly overstated her abilities, and Jessie, taken into police custody for shoplifting at a drug store and truancy.
The one bright spot in his afternoon, whether because of his scrubs and hospital ID, or Angel’s excellent reputation, or Jessie’s difficult past year, the police officer in charge had convinced the store manager to let her off with a warning.
Lewis stood on the curb outside the police station and raised his arm up high to hail a cab. “This is by far the stupidest and most inconsiderate stunt you’ve pulled since you’ve gotten here.” And that was saying something. A yellow minivan taxi pulled to a stop. Lewis slid open the rear door, grabbed Jessie by her arms and pushed her in ahead of him.
“Angel Mendez Children’s Hospital,” he told the driver then closed the door. “Pediatric Emergency Room entrance. And if you can get us there in under fifteen minutes I’ll give you an extra twenty.”
At the added incentive, the driver swerved back into traffic, cutting off another taxi. And a bus. And almost taking out a bike-riding delivery man. Horns honked. Drivers yelled out their open windows. Middle fingers flew. A typical taxi ride in New York City.
Lewis turned his attention back to Jessie. “What were you thinking?” Leaving school. Wandering the streets of Manhattan. Unaccompanied. Unsupervised. Unprotected. At the thought of all the terrible things that could have happened to her fear knotted his gut.
Per usual Jessie didn’t look at him. She just sat there in her baggy black clothes, mad at the world, and ignored him. But this time when she reached into her pocket for the beloved ear buds she used to effectively drown him out with vile music, which would likely be responsible for permanent damage to her eardrums, he yanked the white cords from her hands. “I’m talking to you, young lady. And this time you are going to listen.”
She glared at him in response.
“Your behavior is unacceptable, and I have had enough. I’m sorry your mother passed away. I’m sorry she never told me about you.” And even sorrier she’d spent so much of her time bad-mouthing him to the point Jessie had hated him at first sight without ever giving him a chance. “I’m sorry your life was uprooted from Maryland to the heart of New York City. I’m sorry I work such long hours. But I’m all you have. And I’m trying.”
He’d given up his privacy, his freedom, and a very active and satisfying sex life to spend quality time with and be a good role model for his daughter. He’d hired nannies to watch her after school when he had to work, while she’d achieved new heights of belligerent teenage obnoxiousness to the point none stayed longer than a month. He’d hired a car service to take her to and from school on days he couldn’t, while she didn’t show up to meet them at the designated times and locations, leaving them to wait, and charge him for every minute. He brought home pizza, thinking all kids loved pizza. Jessie wanted Chinese food. He brought home Chinese food, she wanted Italian. He’d gotten her a fancy cellphone so they could keep in touch while he was working. To date, she hadn’t responded to one of his calls or text messages. And the only time she’d used it to contact him was today, to ask him to come down to the police station.
He was trying, dammit. Was it too much to expect her to try, too?
“You left me at that police station for two hours.” Her words oozed accusation and anger.
“Because I was at work when you pulled your little caper, and I don’t have the type of job where I can run out at a moment’s notice. I have a responsibility to my patients. I had to call in another doctor, on his day off, pay him overtime, and wait for him to come in and cover for me before I could leave.”
Jessie crossed her arms over her chest and said, “I hate you.”
No surprise there. “Well I’ve got news for you.” Lewis crossed his arms over his chest, just like his stubborn, moody daughter, and glared right back at her. “Right now I hate you, too.”
The second the words left his mouth he hated himself more. Lewis Jackson, the over-achiever who never failed at anything was failing at single parenthood. Even worse, he was failing his troubled young daughter.
The taxi screeched to a halt at their destination with one minute to spare. Jessie was out of the cab and heading to the electric doors before Lewis had even paid. After practically throwing the fare, plus tip and a crisp twenty dollar bill, at the driver, he slid out and ran to catch up. “Jessie. Wait.”
She didn’t.
He ran into the ER. “Don’t you dare—”
Jessie