the clipboard she held out to me. “I’m not actually working tonight. I’m just here to set up for tomorrow.”
“Set up? For the research meeting? I can get some help sent up for that.”
I waved a hand. “I like doing it myself. That way I’ll know right where everything is for tomorrow.” Plus, it’s not like I have anything else to do. The words were unspoken, but their truth still rang in the air between us.
“Dave and I would love to have dinner with you soon,” Portia said.
I smiled and turned back toward the dreaded hallway, glancing over my shoulder at her. “Sounds great. Let me know when. Have a good night.”
“Good luck tomorrow,” she called. “You’ll be great.”
I waved and walked double-time down the hallway. Mercifully, Dean and Nips were nowhere to be seen. The elevator doors were open and I stepped in, relief washing over me when the doors closed and ER disappeared from view.
When I got back to the main desk area of my floor my friend, Hattie, looked up from the computer she was working at.
“You run into Nurse Wretched?”
“Yep.”
She gave a disgusted look and shook her head.
“I think Dean’s lost more hair since the last time I saw him,” I said.
“Hopefully it’s all gonna fall out of his head and sprout on his back and in his ears,” Hattie said. “Lousy bastard.”
Her Southern accent still made me smile. Anything Hattie said came out sounding sweet, even if she was talking about Dean, whom she never said anything nice about.
I was a transplant to New Orleans. Dean had been assigned here during med school and I’d followed. It was very different from my native city of Detroit, but damned if the place hadn’t grown on me. And my research project on maternal blood sugar got started here. Coupled with my work at this hospital, NOLA was my life.
And that meant I’d never be far away from Dean and Nips. Surely they’d break up soon and get jobs somewhere else. Then I could stop being gossiped about, stop being the scorned ex-wife. And I sure didn’t want him back. Absolutely not. Never. Nada. Just the mere thought of it sent a shiver up my spine.
“You okay?” Hattie asked.
“Yeah.” I sighed. Was I okay? Pretty much. Other than still feeling stupid once in a while, and being mad at having been taken advantage of, and worrying about not ever turning a man’s head again, yeah, I guess I was okay. Damn Dean. He’d also walked away with my confidence.
I BLEW ONTO the small, flat panel I’d pulled from the furnace. Dust particles flew into the air. Did anyone ever clean the fucking furnaces in this place? I’d been told when I started work here almost a month ago that this furnace was haunted. No matter what anyone did, it was unreliable. Apparently cleaning it hadn’t occurred to the brain trust.
Ah, well. I’d take a look at it. Replacing an industrial furnace of this size would cost a ton of dough. Fixing it would score me points with my boss John. Like me, he was an Army veteran, so I’d felt an immediate loyalty to him.
I set to work cleaning and checking sensors, losing myself in the work. I was qualified to do police work since being honorably discharged from the military after serving my time, but I hadn’t felt any desire to go down that route. This job was a better fit for me. I was a night owl who loved fixing things. And not worrying about getting my ass shot at for the first time in two years was a nice bonus.
My work phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out to check the message.
Hi! It’s Tracy in Ambulatory Surgery. My printer is going bonkers. Can you fix it??????
I knitted my brows together skeptically. I was supposed to refer all computer issues to the IT department, but the guy on call tonight was a douche nozzle. And Ambulatory Surgery had kickass coffee. I packed up my tools and headed for the stairwell.
Tracy was grinning at me as I approached the desk. “Hey, sugar,” she said, winking. “Thanks a bunch.”
I
“Set up? For the research meeting? I can get some help sent up for that.”
I waved a hand. “I like doing it myself. That way I’ll know right where everything is for tomorrow.” Plus, it’s not like I have anything else to do. The words were unspoken, but their truth still rang in the air between us.
“Dave and I would love to have dinner with you soon,” Portia said.
I smiled and turned back toward the dreaded hallway, glancing over my shoulder at her. “Sounds great. Let me know when. Have a good night.”
“Good luck tomorrow,” she called. “You’ll be great.”
I waved and walked double-time down the hallway. Mercifully, Dean and Nips were nowhere to be seen. The elevator doors were open and I stepped in, relief washing over me when the doors closed and ER disappeared from view.
When I got back to the main desk area of my floor my friend, Hattie, looked up from the computer she was working at.
“You run into Nurse Wretched?”
“Yep.”
She gave a disgusted look and shook her head.
“I think Dean’s lost more hair since the last time I saw him,” I said.
“Hopefully it’s all gonna fall out of his head and sprout on his back and in his ears,” Hattie said. “Lousy bastard.”
Her Southern accent still made me smile. Anything Hattie said came out sounding sweet, even if she was talking about Dean, whom she never said anything nice about.
I was a transplant to New Orleans. Dean had been assigned here during med school and I’d followed. It was very different from my native city of Detroit, but damned if the place hadn’t grown on me. And my research project on maternal blood sugar got started here. Coupled with my work at this hospital, NOLA was my life.
And that meant I’d never be far away from Dean and Nips. Surely they’d break up soon and get jobs somewhere else. Then I could stop being gossiped about, stop being the scorned ex-wife. And I sure didn’t want him back. Absolutely not. Never. Nada. Just the mere thought of it sent a shiver up my spine.
“You okay?” Hattie asked.
“Yeah.” I sighed. Was I okay? Pretty much. Other than still feeling stupid once in a while, and being mad at having been taken advantage of, and worrying about not ever turning a man’s head again, yeah, I guess I was okay. Damn Dean. He’d also walked away with my confidence.
I BLEW ONTO the small, flat panel I’d pulled from the furnace. Dust particles flew into the air. Did anyone ever clean the fucking furnaces in this place? I’d been told when I started work here almost a month ago that this furnace was haunted. No matter what anyone did, it was unreliable. Apparently cleaning it hadn’t occurred to the brain trust.
Ah, well. I’d take a look at it. Replacing an industrial furnace of this size would cost a ton of dough. Fixing it would score me points with my boss John. Like me, he was an Army veteran, so I’d felt an immediate loyalty to him.
I set to work cleaning and checking sensors, losing myself in the work. I was qualified to do police work since being honorably discharged from the military after serving my time, but I hadn’t felt any desire to go down that route. This job was a better fit for me. I was a night owl who loved fixing things. And not worrying about getting my ass shot at for the first time in two years was a nice bonus.
My work phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out to check the message.
Hi! It’s Tracy in Ambulatory Surgery. My printer is going bonkers. Can you fix it??????
I knitted my brows together skeptically. I was supposed to refer all computer issues to the IT department, but the guy on call tonight was a douche nozzle. And Ambulatory Surgery had kickass coffee. I packed up my tools and headed for the stairwell.
Tracy was grinning at me as I approached the desk. “Hey, sugar,” she said, winking. “Thanks a bunch.”
I
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