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Man Handler (Man Cave - A Standalone Collection Book 3) Page 4
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“Oh, I’m sure he’ll still let you have the job,” she says, slapping her hand at the air as if to suggest he’d do anything for me. Dick hates me. Always has, but I’m not exactly sure why. I wasn’t always showing up late. It’s just been happening more often recently since the bus schedule changed. Before that happened, I could literally run out of my apartment ten minutes before I had to be here, and I’d be on time. Now, I have to leave an extra thirty minutes early, and it’s still a struggle to get here on time. Not like any of that matters now. I’ve been fired from this location.
“Scarlett, what brings you back to our establishment today? If you recall, you were escorted out of here yesterday for a good reason. Am I right?” I cringe at the sound of his voice while summoning my courage as I turn toward him.
“Richard, can I have a word with you for a moment?” I ask him, avoiding eye contact with the habitual twitch in the corner of his top lip. He constantly looks like he wants to murder me.
Dick hesitates for a brief moment, and I hold my breath the entire time. “Sure.” He gestures toward the back room with his arm, and I don’t waste any time before heading back to the quiet employee room. “How can I help you?” He closes the wooden door and pivots on his heels before crossing his arms over his chest. My focus holds tightly to the puckering of his suit jacket, and the way his tie is knotted crookedly, forcing it to hang slightly to the right. “Well? What is it?”
I snap out of my frozen gaze and look up at him, hearing Brendan’s warning about never looking a dick right in the eye, but surely today is an exception. Of course, now I have the desire to burst out laughing, but I know that won’t help me more than I’ve already helped myself. “I was wondering if the opportunity in South Carolina was still available?”
Dick chuckles as if he were expecting me to come running back. The thought makes me want to tell him where he can shove his name so I can get the hell out of this confined room that smells like tuna. “I had a feeling you’d be back.” Like I thought.
“I should have told you I needed the night to consider my options. It was foolish of me to walk out before doing so,” I tell him.
“Agreed. Unfortunately, I offered the position to Darrel last night, and he jumped at the opportunity,” Dick says.
“Darrel? As in Darrel who works one shift a week and always shows up at least an hour late and leaves an hour early?” That man made me look like employee of the year.
“Management told me to offer it to you, and if you didn’t want it, to check with Darrel. There’s not much I can do at this point. My hands are tied, Scarlett.” Are they? Because they sort of look like they’re folded so tightly across his chest that a chest hair is now popping through the opening of his dress shirt. If his tie were straight, it would at least be covering that pucker.
“Awesome. Great, well, I’m so glad I came down here for nothing.” Burning bridges again. It’s something I’m just so damn good at.
“What do you want me to tell you, Scarlett?” He unfolds his arms and places his hand on the doorknob, finalizing this useless conversation.
“That you’re going to tell Darrel there is someone more qualified for the position, and unfortunately, he’s going to have to be let go from his one-day-a-week job?”
Dick stares me for a long minute, narrows his eyes, and sighs through his lip twitch. “I was just testing you to see if you truly wanted the position. It’s yours. Darrel was let go two weeks ago.”
Was he? I didn’t happen to notice his name missing on the schedule. It’s obviously because I’m so amazingly detail oriented. Ugh.
“Right.” I’m mortified. “Well, I’m glad the position is still available.”
“I think you’ll do fine there. Life is a bit slower, and everyone takes extra time to get where they’re going. You’ll fit in well.”
I can’t figure out if that’s an insult to me or the state of South Carolina. Just because everyone in Boston has to act like they’re on speed doesn’t mean the rest of the country should have to keep up.
“I’m looking forward to starting the new position,” I offer, quietly, due to being out of breath from the thoughts racing through my head.
“I will have our travel department book you a flight for Sunday afternoon. There are villas on-site, so we’re going to offer you room and board for one year in addition to your compensation. Look at it as a bonus for transferring.” Well, that was unexpected.
Sunday.
As in three days from now.
As in, I better get my ass in gear real quick.
“Again, I appreciate the offer. Thank you, Dick—Richard.” I reach out to shake his hand, knowing this will, thankfully, be the last time I have to see the man who I’ve grown to dislike a lot over the past few years.
“We’ll miss you around here. Good luck, Scarlett.”
I pull in a lung full of air and walk out the door as he’s opening it, unable to bring myself to voice a similar sentiment in return.
While making my way past the front desk, Tatiana is eagerly waiting to hear what happened, or so it looks by the questioning smile stretched across her face. I give her a thumbs-up as I walk by, knowing Dick is on my heels. Tatiana and I weren’t close since we never worked a shift together, but we passed each other during shift changes. “Good luck!” she offers.
“Thank you! Same to you,” I reply, sincerely, but also glad it’s, and not me, who has to continue working with Dick. Maybe I’ll make more meaningful friendships down in South Carolina. I certainly did a shitty job at maintaining those here, except for Brendan, but he’s like the easiest person to be friends with. He’s there when you need him and quiet when you don’t. I’m the same way with him. It’s perfect.
The moment I step back out into the rain, I see a break in the clouds. How symbolic. I can only hope it’s a little foreshadowing of my future as a Southerner. With relief pouring through me, I pull my phone out of my bag and dial Brendan’s number. That man lives with his phone in his right hand, so I don’t think the phone even rings once before I hear his voice on the other end of the line.
“What happened? Is it a go? I’ve been sitting by the phone for the past two hours schvitzing to death.”
“You were what?” I ask him.
“Sorry, it’s Yiddish. I was sweating to death.”
“Oh … well, it was touch and go there for a minute as Dick attempted to teach me a lesson about life choices, but it’s all good. We leave Sunday. Or, I leave Sunday. I don’t know how fast you can have your life packed up.”
“Sunday, it is. I’m packed up and ready to go, babe. It’s you who has a room full of shit that needs to find a home.”
Right. That. I’m moving, not going on vacation. This should be fun.
“I’ve already started a pile of trash, donation, and things to take.”
“Oh, it’s like a dream come true for you,” I joke.
“It was like orgasming. Honestly, it’s just invigorating to consider the thought of burning some of that shit from the nineties you persist in holding onto.”
“Ten years until the style comes back,” I argue. “I want those jeans you’re referring to by the way.”
“All ten pairs of low-waisted, bootcut, dark denim? You haven’t worn them in the whole time I’ve known you. You have taste, and those are not tasteful. Plus, sweetie, you’re a woman now, not a teenage girl with no curves. Oh, and those Candie’s Mary Janes are going too.”
“I love those!”
“Okay, well you don’t wear those either, and you might need to turn them in for a pair of cowboy boots.”
“Brenny, darling, I told you we aren’t heading out west to the deserts with tumbleweeds.”
“Have you even taken geography?” he asks.
“Yes. Have you?”
“No.”
“Awesome. Well, I guess this is just going to be one big surprise for both of us, but even more so for you,” I tell him.
“Or, we can Google the town
and find out what we’re getting ourselves into.”
“Mmm, I’d rather be surprised. Google can be deceiving with their drone cameras plopping random pictures all over the Internet.”
“Well, suit yourself, but I’ve been Googling all day.”
“I don’t want to know,” I tell him.
“Um, I think you kinda do want to know.”
“No. No, no, no. I’ll hang up on you if you say anything else.”
“I’ll torture you when you get back home then. Love you!”
He’s exaggerating. He likes to do that. He always does that. I’m sure it’s just like any other town with hotels in it. I’m not worried. It’ll be fine.
CHAPTER FOUR
Austin
This is why I’m single. I glance down at my watch just as the little hand hits the two. I’m never home long enough to enjoy a damn beer, never mind entertain a woman. We’ve been short-staffed for more than two years now, so I’m constantly in the floating nurse role. Seeing as this is the only hospital within the surrounding four towns, our ER is constantly swamped with patients so I usually end up there.
After walking in a few hours ago to standing room only, we’re down to the last few patients, and these are the least critically injured.
“Well, at least I didn’t have to watch “Top Gun” again,” Clara says as she slumps over the main counter to take a quick breath.
“And I didn’t have to drink myself to sleep. See? Win-win for both of us.”
“Austin, you make my heart sad.”
“I am perfectly content with drinking myself to sleep. Why would that make your heart sad?”
She groans and lifts her files off the countertop. “Someday, you’ll understand,” Nah, probably not. The despondent look in her eyes mimics my statement as she glances back up at me.
I take a glance around the waiting room. We’re still taking patients in order of the seriousness of their injury. However, I don’t recall seeing the little girl who’s sitting in the corner by herself, squeezing her arm. She looks like she’s trying to be brave, but where the hell are her parents?
I head on over to her and squat down to make eye contact. “Hey, sweetheart, what’s your name?”
“Candace,” she says softly.
“How old are you, Candace?”
“Eight.” She swallows hard and looks down at her arm.
“Where are your parents?” I ask her.
“They’re at home, asleep. I—I kind of snuck out to meet my friend down at the square.
“Is that when you found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time?” I ask her.
She looks terrified. Sneaking out after dark isn’t an uncommon activity around here for kids her age, but it looks like it may be her first offense.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, I’m going to give your parents a call, okay? They need to know you’re down here.”
“Please don’t,” she begs.
“Miss Candace, there are rules I have to follow here. You don’t want me to get in trouble now, do you?”
She looks down, past her injured arm and thinks for a moment. “No, sir.”
“Can you give me your telephone number?”
She exhales loudly and looks up at me, tears filling her eyes. It’s breaking my heart having to get her in trouble. I did the same shit at her age, but I’d lose my job if I didn’t get their permission to treat her.
“555-0253.”
“Got it. Come on over here with me. You know what I bet? I bet your parents will be so worried that you’re hurt that they won’t even be thinking about the part where you snuck out. That’s how parents are, you know?”
“Is that how your parents are?” she asks innocently.
A minute of thoughts enter and exit the dark hole inside of my head. “When I was your age, they sure did.”
“What about now?” she asks. This kid is definitely trying to stall me. Or she was just sent here to test me tonight.
“I’m a grown man, so no one needs to worry about me now,” I tell her.
“Everyone needs someone to worry about them,” she retorts.
I inhale sharply and reach over the counter for the phone. “You said, 555-02—”
“53,” she repeats.
The phone rings a couple of times before a croaky voice answers. “Who in the world is calling at this time of night?”
“Uh, yes, hi, ma’am. This is Austin Trace, an RN down at Blytheville Medical.”
“Oh, dear God, is everything okay? Is it my father, Harris? Did he fall again?”
“No, no, ma’am. I have Candace down here. She’s okay, but she has a bit of a contusion I need to treat on her arm, and I can’t do so without your permission.”
“That’s impossible,” she says, sounded exhaustedly confused. “Candace is sleeping in her bedroom next door.”
“I hate to be the messenger, but The Square was a bit more exciting than her bed tonight, ma’am.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’ll be just fine, but I need your permission to treat her.”
“Yes, yes, of course, I’ll be right down, but you go ahead and start working on her.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll see you shortly.”
Candace covers her face with her uninjured hand. “I’m dead.”
“Maybe, but we all live and learn, kid. Trust me.” I take her to the triage area and get her seated on the bed. “Let’s take a look.” She pulls up her sleeve and exposes an injury far worse than I expected to see. There’s exposed tissue surrounded by blisters. At a glance, it looks like second and third-degree burns. I take a hospital gown from under the bed and lay it down beside her. “Do you think you’re able to change into this or would you like me to find a female nurse to help you out?”
“I think I can do it myself,” she says.
“I’ll be back in just a minute.” I close the curtain and circle around triage to find Clara, but she must be in with a patient. There’s no way Candace is going to be able to put that gown on. I can’t imagine how she’s as calm as she is with as much pain she must be in. She’s quite possibly in shock.
I page the doctor on duty, letting him know about the wound that should have been checked out hours ago, which is when the injury must have happened. When I return to the triage bay that Candace is in, I call out, “Are you all set in there?” There’s no answer. Shit. “Candace?”
As I’m getting ready to tear the curtain down, I hear a frantic mother out at the front check-in area, and I’m afraid that none of this is going to end well. I rip open the curtain, finding Candace unconscious on the bed, still fully clothed. I page a Code Pink for pediatrics and check her pulse, which is slow but not in the danger zone, and her respirations seem shallow but even. I clip an oxygen detector to her finger and find that to be in the normal range as well. She must have panicked, or the pain caught up with her. I cover her with a blanket, since she is almost surely in shock, and before I can do any further evaluation, the pediatric doc walks in to assess the situation, and I give him the run down.
“You might want to go make sure someone is settling the parents down out there, and see if they need any help. I’ll start working on this little one, but I’ll need a triage team in a few minutes.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Scarlett
Sunday
The details between Thursday and today are a bit blurry considering I spent most of my time spinning in circles like a tornado as I chucked everything I own into mislabeled boxes. I shipped as much as I could, donated some, stored my furniture in a rental unit, and packed the necessities into a couple of suitcases. Now, here we are, getting ready to land in Charleston, South Carolina.
Without saying goodbye to anyone, since I hadn’t given a thirty-day notice, I left our final rent check and the key in an envelope under the landlord’s door and headed to the airport.
I press my forehead against the window, staring out into the blinding sun and array of p
alm trees. It’s beautiful.
This was the right choice, I think to myself. Leaning back in my seat, I consider the fact that I owe Brendan a big thank you. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have taken this leap.
I twist my neck and glance over at him. He’s asleep with his head cocked over his left shoulder, so I place my hand on his arm and squeeze gently as I tell him, “We’re about to land.” This man is the deepest sleeper I’ve ever met, but when I manage to wake him up, you’d think I threw him in front of a speeding bus.
“Brenny,” I call out a little louder. I give his arm a shake and lift it from his lap, but when I release it, it falls back to its place. “Brenny!” I slap his face with a little force—the kind of force I know it takes to wake him. He gasps, his head shoots upright, and he looks around like he’s lost in the middle of the dark.
“It’s okay,” I say gently. “You’re on the plane, and we’re getting ready to land.”
He slaps his hand against his chest and finally looks over at me. “Why the hell did you startle me like that?”
I raise my brows. “You can’t answer that question on your own?”
“Scarlett, there has to be some gesture in between lightly tapping my arm and slapping me across the face.”
“How would you know if I attempted an in-between gesture or not?”
“I know you.”
“And I know nothing less would wake you up, so I’m sorry.”
An elderly woman sitting in the row beside us leans forward and peers in our direction with a small, wrinkled smile. “You two look so young but you sound like you’ve been married for twenty years.” She chuckles. “How long have you been together?”
Before I can let out a response, Brendan replaces his hand on his chest. “Oh, no, no, no, no, we aren’t married. That would never work out. She’s so controlling. Plus, she has that whole Boston-girl attitude going on.” He curls his bottom lip over his top, closes his eyes and shakes his head as if I were the nastiest creature in the world.
“He’s so sweet, isn’t he?” I ask the woman.