Grumpy Doctor

24

Piers

I did the only thing I could think of—

I got shit-faced drunk.

It was pretty easy. As soon as Lori left, I went to a bar around the corner, and started drinking. I didn’t stop drinking, not even when Dr. Baker showed up for a while, not even when a couple of the nurses stopped by to check on me, apparently at Baker’s behest. I kept drinking until I woke up the next morning with a splitting fucking headache in my apartment, on the living room floor, missing a shoe, my mouth tasting like a sewer, and completely unsure of how I made it home alive.

Maybe next time, I wouldn’t. That might not be so bad.

I got up and made breakfast. I retched in the shower, but recovered. I went out, drank coffee at a nice spot near my house, and watched people walk past. Any other day, and I’d be in the operating room, doing what I did best.

Doing the one thing I’d trained my whole life for.

The fucked-up part of it all was, I didn’t feel bad for myself. I was angry, and I felt as though I’d failed, but it didn’t have to be the end of my life. I could find another job somewhere else, or even leave the state if I had to, start over in a new city across the country. I had savings and options and a skill that was very much in demand. I’d be okay, if I wanted to be.

But no, I felt bad for Lori.

I let her down. I was supposed to be her teacher and her mentor, and maybe something more than that, but I’d gotten my ass thrown out, and now she was stuck with Baker and the other surgical clowns. They were good people, but I knew I could turn her into something better than they could, into something that truly shone—into a goddamn star.

Instead, none of that would happen, a bright future lost.

Still, it bothered me. That two-bit hack Gina and pencil-pusher Caroline somehow got the better of me felt like a red-hot poker getting shoved down my throat. I was angry about it, angry as hell, but I didn’t know what I could do.

They had documents, supposedly. I knew it was made-up bullshit, forged to look like my handwriting, but that wouldn’t matter. No court would take my word over their word, regardless of how much I’d tried to rehabilitate my image. I could get a thousand patients in there to attest to my honesty and integrity, and it still wouldn’t matter: the hospitals always won. They had the money and the connections, and now they had the Tippett family, too.

I’d lose, as soon as I got called in front of a judge. I’d lose, and the hospital would throw me out to the carrion birds, glad to be done with me.

All because of money.

So, yes, goddamn it, yes, it pissed me off. I wanted to fight, wanted to burn that whole place to the ground. I wanted to expose Gina and Caroline for what they were—liars, fakes, obsessed with climbing the ranks, uncaring frauds. And yet the more I sat, the more I spent the day doing nothing but turning the problem over and over in my head, the more I knew that I couldn’t do a thing.

And still I started to search for lawyers.

It was around six that night when my phone buzzed. I was sitting on the top floor of Barnes & Noble in their little cafe, drinking bad coffee, using the free Wi-Fi, flipping through page after page of local attorneys that might be able to help. I picked up and answered, not thinking about it.

Lori’s voice. It was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard.

“Hey. You’re alive.”

“Barely,” I said. My hangover still throbbed at my temples. I wasn’t a young man anymore.

“Dr. Baker is boring,” she said. “You’re a better teacher.”

“Of course I am. Is that why you called?”

“No.” A short silence. I watched the barista make a latte—espresso, steamed milk, lots of froth and noise. “I think we should go meet with my cousin.”

“Rees? How do you know he’s not in on this?”

“When I talked to him, he didn’t seem to be a part of it.”

“But he encouraged you to go work somewhere else.”

I could practically see her squirming, wherever she was. “True, but still. What other choice do we have?”

“I’m looking at lawyers.”

“That’s a good idea.” She sounded oddly hopeful, and I immediately regretting telling her that. I didn’t want her to think that I was going to fight this tooth and nail. I’d pursue it, but only to a point. I wouldn’t burn down my life for revenge.

“If your cousin can help, I’m open to it. I’m just skeptical.”

“Where are you right now?”

“In the Barnes & Noble in Rittenhouse.”

“I’m not far. What if I called my cousin and had him meet both of us there?”