The two of them were tellin’ stories about the ‘good old days’ last night. Mostly filling Wendy in, I think. And Adam and McKay didn’t even blink twice about it. Like all these shenanigans were well known and accepted. No wonder she’s crazy. My girls do not get up to shenanigans.
Anyway.
The kitchen is a break room for the medical staff, which consists of two nurses and Doc. The nurses fill me in on their rotating twelve-hour shifts as one pours me a cup of coffee and the other staples together a comprehensive report on Donovan’s condition over the past several weeks.
Sasha smiles at them as they talk, sipping her own cup of coffee—which was not poured for her. But it’s a fake smile. It’s the smile Sasha uses when she’s only pretending to listen. I think she knows them.
Doc comes in and heads straight for the coffeemaker. He’s the perfect side character in this story. Old, wise, curmudgeon-y. And even though I don’t smoke anymore, and I don’t even like people who smoke these days, I kinda like the fact that Doc smokes.
It says two things. One, he’s all out of fucks. And two, life is way past its prime by the time you’re in your eighties. You really need to focus on the pleasure side of things at this point because no one gets out alive.
And then I’m humming that fucking Shinedown song, wishing I had a guitar.
“You’re happy today.”
It’s coffee-cup nurse. Her name is Sabella. She is not your typical nurse. Neither of them are, but Sabella looks like a stripper wearing a nurse costume. Big tits, legs that go on forever, and long, reddish-brown hair held back by one of those white old-fashioned head thingys that have a red cross on them. She’s wearing a matching short, short, short—like micro-mini kinda short—skirt that comes with pleats, and a polo shirt unbuttoned at the collar. Like maybe Sabella is gonna slip out on her break and play tennis or, alternatively, star in a porn video.
The other one—comprehensive-report nurse—is called Cerene. Pronounced Serene, but she tells me, “That’s Cerene with a C,” like this is how she always reports her name. “Hi, I’m Cerene with a C.” She’s not as slutty as Sabella, she’s missing the pleated micro-mini and instead she’s wearing denim shorty-shorts and her tits are spilling out of a white tube top, but at this point, I’m like a hundred-and-one percent positive that she’s not on duty and this outfit is her version of Friday casual.
Doc is wearing a white lab coat with gray cotton slacks and a polo shirt underneath. He’s a dirty old man, that’s what he is. Because his girls look like this because he wants them to look like this.
Whatever floats his boat.
“I’m not humming because I’m happy,” I tell Sabella. “I’ve got an earworm and no guitar to kill it.”
She looks at me like maybe there’s an actual worm in my ear and Sasha stifles a laugh.
“Well,” Doc says as he turns towards us, stirring his coffee. “What’s on the agenda today?”
He asks me this like I’m in charge. So I shrug. “I’m not sure.”
He eyes me as he takes his first sip of coffee. “Do you have a plan?”
A plan? No. Not exactly. I’ve never come upon a situation like this in my career as a mindfucker. So I’m still working on that. But that’s not something you say out loud, so I pull something out of my ass. “I’m gonna wake him up, talk to whoever appears, and go from there.”
It’s probably the only course of action available, really.
I mean, I can’t get inside his head if he’s in a fucking coma.
Doc considers this, then nods. “OK. What kind of drugs do you need?”
“I brought my own.”
He nods, amicable, but then says, “That’s not what I asked.”
Fine. It’s a proprietary cocktail that took me years to develop, but he’s like a hundred and eight. Who’s he gonna tell? The nurses, on the other hand, need to go. So I nod at them, and Doc says, “Girls. Give us some privacy. Go swim for a bit.”
They don’t argue, just leave the kitchen and Doc follows them into the breezeway, watching to make sure they exit out to the pool area.
When he comes back, I say, “Scopolamine and Lectra.” Then I wait to see if he needs to ask what Lectra is.
But no. He knows. Because that’s not what he asks. Instead he says, “Where do you plan on getting the Lectra?”
“I guess that’s where Adam comes in. But I’ll need more than that. I haven’t done a lot of mind control over the last ten years, but I’ve kept up with technology.” Doc nods. Like he knows where this is going. “So I’m also gonna need an EKG.”
“I have one.”
“And a tone generator.”