Your Neighborhood Vixen: The Neighborhood #3 Read online

  “Not sure. I feel stiff. From lying on the floor earlier, I learned that lying in that position helped ease some of the pain.”

  “Interesting. I’ve ordered an X-ray. I want to rule out one more thing that came to my mind.”

  “What would an X-ray find? Doesn’t that only check out the bones?” Miles asks.

  “I thought of it being pericarditis, which is an inflammation of the sac-like tissue that is around the heart. If Rhiannon has that, then there would be a silhouette around her heart, which an X-ray will pick up. If we don’t see that shadow, then I’m sure that it would be GI related.”

  “G.I.?” Noah asks.

  “Gastrointestinal,” the doctor and I reply in unison. He turns to me. “You’ll be wheeled in there in a little bit. There’s currently a wait, but we’ll get you in there soon.”

  “So wait, you don’t know what’s going on with her?” Noah asks.

  “Not exactly, but until we get this X-ray, I can possibly narrow it down a little more,” he replies.

  “And this is normal? Kinda like a Rochambeau of possible solutions?” Noah asks.

  “I like to think of it as a process of elimination,” Dr. McHottie replies professionally.

  “Is there anything that you need, Rhiannon? More blankets?” he asks me.

  “I could seriously use the facilities,” I reply.

  “Of course, let’s unhook you.” He begins to remove the wires from me.

  “It’s kind of like I’m hooked up to jumper cables.” I laugh as he pulls the last one from the sticker.

  “I’m pretty sure that you would short-circuit it, if that was the case,” he says quietly. Although, not as quiet as I’m sure he was intending. I meet his eyes, he smiles, holds out his hand to help me up, and I take it. My hand grasps his strong-corded forearm as his other hand goes around my waist to steady me on my feet, and I feel butterflies from the contact.

  “I’ll, um - escort you to the restroom,” he says.

  I let go of his arm, and his hand drops away from me as he opens the door, and we exit the room.

  “You seem to be better than when you were first brought in,” he observes.

  “Whatever that cocktail was muted some of the pain. It’s still there, but I can function and breathe better,” I reply.

  “Well, that’s good. The bathroom is just in there.” He points down the hallway just in front of us.

  I thank him and disappear into the space. The smells of hospitals always make me cringe. Hollybrooke General has a hand sanitizer smell to it that I feel like I’ve been dipped in. Upon finishing my personal business, I exit and am confused with where I am. I must look lost as one of the nurses at the station comes to my side.

  “You okay, dear?” she asks.

  I look to her and her graying hair with streaks of pink and purple with kind eyes waiting for my answer.

  “Um, yes. I am not sure how to get back to my room. Dr. McHo-I mean Dr. Mattias escorted me over here, but I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings.”

  She gives me a knowing smile, pats my shoulder, and then takes me back to the main nurses station. She asks my name as she picks up one of the hospital tablets, then scrolls on the screen then leads me in the direction of my room.

  Once inside, I get back on the stretcher.

  “So, have you gotten his number yet?” Noah asks.

  “Well, I’m not 100% sure what is happening with you, since the cocktail that I ordered kinda muted your symptoms.”

  Well, he just got less hot.

  “So, what you’re saying is that you messed up?” Noah asks.

  “No, we eliminated the main concern, and that was Rhiannon’s pain. I looked at the X-rays and we’re clear on the pericarditis. Based upon what you mentioned about caffeine and your headaches, I’m leaning toward ulcers. I want to get a prescription for an acid reducer and see if that helps.”

  “What if this is the first time that I’m experiencing this?”

  “You would likely have a recurrence, but I want to make sure that your stomach lining is good to hopefully alleviate any recurrences. I see that you’re in Mercy, do you have a doctor there?” he asks.

  “Closest doctor to Mercy is here.” I smile.

  “Well, lucky me.” He smiles. “I do clinic as well as the emergency department; I can make sure that you get an appointment with me for a follow-up.”

  “Okay,” I respond.

  “Good. It was nice meeting you guys; take care of our girl here. And Rhiannon,” his voice drips with pure seduction as his smoldering gaze returns to me. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”

  Chapter Four

  Days have gone by with no recurrence from the event that landed me in Hollybrooke General. The following few days I was lethargic, and my body felt like it went through the ringer, but I had no additional pains.

  Miles and Noah were treating me like I was made of glass, and it was really starting to piss me off. If I had a tray full of glasses, they would send someone over to grab them from me. If I was rushing around the bar, they would tell me to take a ten!

  Dr. McHottie never outwardly told me to stop drinking coffee, so I haven’t. I am, however, making sure that I’m limiting my intake as well as trying to have something in my stomach upon drinking the nectar from the gods.

  I’m sitting in the waiting room for my follow-up appointment. The clinic is at Hollybrooke General but on the opposite end of the hospital. I’m impressed with the modern decor, the living wall as soon as you walk in the front doors, and that the color of the waiting room chairs isn’t seafoam green.

  “Ms. Jones?” a voice calls from behind me.

  I stand, straighten my blouse, and turn facing the older nurse with the different colored hair who helped me find the hospital room.

  “Oh hello, dear,” she greets me. “I see you found the clinic all right?” She winks.

  “Thank you, yes. How are you?” I ask.

  “I should be asking that question of you. But I’m well, thank you for asking; now it’s your turn.”

  “I’m good. I’m not going to say that everything went away, but I haven’t had any issues.”

  “That’s great to hear. Luke will be delighted.”

  “Luke?” I ask.

  “Dr. Mattias,” she corrects herself with a small smile.

  “Oh yeah, sorry. I’ve been calling him something else.”

  “You wouldn’t be the only one; he’s quite the looker. In my day, if a young man such as he was a doctor, he wouldn’t be single. But I’m sure he’s just busy and waiting for that perfect woman to come along,” she replies endearingly.

  “The perfect woman? Oh, Mary-Lou, don’t you know that you are the perfect woman for all men?” Dr. McHottie says, rushing into the room. He walks to the sink and washes his hands, and as he reaches for the paper towels, he turns and his mega-watt smile made me forget why I was here.

  “Oh, Luke. I’m too old for you.” She swats at him.

  “Age ain’t nothing but a number, you know that,” he teases her and winks at me. She hands him what I am assuming is my file, and he places it on the counter and looks at me.

  “Hi, Rhiannon, how are you feeling?” he asks.

  “All good,” I reply, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.

  “Have you had any reoccurring symptoms?”

  “None. I’m happy to report that I haven’t felt any of it. I sure as hell do feel like a fool though, if I just had indigestion.”

  “I wouldn’t say it was indigestion. I truly think that you had some ulcers, which wanted to become known. I also would say that it was smart to come in. If you were having a heart attack, then not coming in would have been unfortunate.”

  “True,” I agree.

  “A heart attack in a woman is different than in a man. You had the signs one would complain of, which luckily the EKG ruled out. But coming in was the smartest thing that you could do.”

  “I’m glad too.” I nod in agreement.

  “Now, I’m going to have another EKG completed, just to be thorough. Is there anything else that you would like me to look at while you’re here?” he asks.

  “I’m healthy doc; this is the biggest thing to happen to me medically since wisdom teeth.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Would you mind undressing from the waist up? The gown will go on with the opening on front to easily attach the nodes. I’ll go get Mary-Lou, and she’ll run the test. I’ll return right after.”

  “You won’t be in the room?” I ask.

  “You’ll basically be bare chested; I understand how uncomfortable that is, so generally Mary-Lou conducts these on my behalf.”

  “I’m okay if you do it. You’re a medical professional, you’ve seen dead bodies and all sort of states of undress, I’m sure.”

  “That’s not the only reason that Mary-Lou will conduct the EKG.”

  “Oh, and what else? Have I offended you?” I hope that I haven’t.

  “No, quite the opposite. I don’t want to overstep boundaries. Since I’m attracted to you, it’s best that Mary-Lou takes this on.” He moves to exit the room and stops at the doorway. “I shouldn’t have even said that.”

  My jaw is on the floor as the door closes.

  “Your EKG still reflects favorably. So I would say to be careful with caffeine. Otherwise, Pepcid and Tums are your friends for immediate relief,” Dr. McHottie says, reviewing the results which to me looks like a bunch of squiggly lines.

  “So I’m given the clean bill of health?” I ask.

  “Rhiannon, you’re twenty-eight, and all your levels are perfect. I think you just had a bad spell of whatever was irritating your stomach, and your body reacted and fought off whatever it was.”

  “Good.”

  “Yes, good,” he says, his gaze lingering on mine.

  “Now about the other thing?”

  “Other thing?” he asks with concern. “I thought you said everything else was all right?”

  “What you said before Mary-Lou did my EKG.”

  “Oh, well yeah. I don’t think that I’ve hidden any of my thoughts on you very well. I know that I’ve actually said some unprofessional things, and for that I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not,” I say, hoping that he understand what I’m saying.

  “Rhiannon, you’re my patient,” he says.

  “Not if you sign off that everything is all right. That I have no more follow-ups.”

  “Shit. Do you know how unethical this conversation is?” he asks with a heavy sigh.

  I put myself in his position and then with sadness I nod.

  “I’m sorry. I would never want to jeopardize your career. If we’re all done here, then I can be on my way. I have a shift tonight anyway.” I jump down off the examination table feeling embarrassed that I even broached the subject.

  I should have just let it lie and pretended that he never said he was attracted to me. I’m sure I wouldn’t be the only one ever in his career.

  Surely, not.

  I check out at the reception area and make my way through the parking lot. Behind me, I hear my name being called, and I look over my shoulder to see Dr. McHottie weaving between the parked cars on his way toward me.

  I turn fully just as he pulls me into his arms. With one hand cradling my jaw and the other around my waist, he pulls me into him. His lips touch mine tentatively at first and then with fury as I open up to him. His tongue enters my mouth as my hands clutch to the back of his arms. His kiss consumes me; I can feel him everywhere and not in enough places at the same time.

  He pulls back and takes a deep breath.

  “Wait, what’s happening here?” I manage to say, even though my mind is telling me to shut the hell up and stop questioning what is happening.

  “Fuck what the rules say. Sometimes, rules are meant to be broken.”

  Chapter Five

  “So, when are you going to see him again?” Valerie asks leaning against the bar top.

  “He mentioned something about having a few days off and coming to visit.” I shrug as I key my customers order into the point of sale system.

  “A few days off…is he going to stay with you?” she asks.

  “We haven’t really discussed the details. It was more like we made out in the parking lot, then he said he would come and visit me.”

  “No other talking happened, only the locking of lips?” she asks, and it’s a valid question.

  “Well, he asked if he can come and see me. I said that he could and then he said, ‘Great, I have a few days off,’ to which I replied, ‘Awesome’. Then we kissed again.”

  “So, this hot doctor could ultimately be a serial killer, coming to visit you here in town, and you guys basically just kissed then agreed to see one another again?”

  “When you put it like that, I guess I missed some steps.” I shrug.

  “You got his number, right?” she asks.

  “Of course, I did. I’m not new at meeting people.” I roll my eyes.

  “Well, sometimes I beg to differ. Since I’ve known you, I haven’t known of you to actually date any guys. “

  “Well, that’s because there are no guys in Mercy that are worth dating.” I flip my receipt book closed and turn to her with my hands on her hips.

  “I beg to differ.” She smiles.

  “Present company’s boyfriend excluded, although, I will say that before you tamed him, he was still not worth me dating.”

  “Wait, did you guys?” Valerie let’s her question hang in the air.

  “No. Ew and gross. Absolutely not. That would be like dating my brother, and I’m not down with incest.” I scrunch my nose at the thought.

  “So back to your hot doctor serial killer.”

  “Dude! He’s totally not a serial killer,” I defend.

  “How do you know?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, waiting for my answer.

  “He’s nice. He’s a doctor, and all the nurses had good things to say about him.”

  “That’s his public persona. Did you social media stalk him?”

  “Wouldn’t that be his public persona too?” I ask.

  “Well, kinda. You can tell a lot by the friends that they have, the posts on their page, and their photos,” Valerie says.

  “Do you remember that show, Dexter? He seemed like a totally normal dude. Had a job in law enforcement, a wife and kids, and a totally normal life.” I point out to her.

  “So, you agree with me?” She asks.

  “Oh, fuck you. Don’t you have a job?”

  “It’s Sunday. I don’t work on Sundays.”

  “Don’t you have a boyfriend to harass?” I return.

  “He’s out buying man things.”

  “Man things?” I ask.

  “You know, like tools and shit. His drill broke and we just bought this new light fixture, and I would rather have it up on the ceiling versus taking up space in a box on the floor.”

  “You’re such a demanding girlfriend,” I say while laughing.

  “Learn from me. Demand information from him. Get to know your Dr. McHottie before he comes out to Mercy.”

  “Yes, mom.”

  I did as Valerie mentioned. I looked up Luke on social media. Nothing was reflecting as a warning sign for something to be off about him. He had a mostly private profile, but what was viewable was normal.

  Puppies, memes, and photos of him in scrubs. He sounds perfect to me.

  I texted him after Valerie left the bar and still didn’t have any replies by the time I got off work.

  I pull my phone out of my purse once I pulled into my driveway and groan.

  I had my phone on silent, and he totally did text me an hour ago.

  I throw the phone back in my purse, get out of the car, and walk up my driveway. I curse my personal self-doubt and unlock my front door.

  I live in a small cottage with a granny flat in the back yard. The granny flat in the back, I rent to my mom, even though it’s included with my rent. It helps me pay for her needs too. Or, rather, helps me to make sure that in her drunken stupor, she does not die. I change out of my work clothes and slip on my flip-flops to check on her. It’s become ridiculous that I’m her caretaker when she’s the parent, but it’s a routine that I have lived my entire life, or, at least, ever since I can remember.

  My dad has never been around. In fact, my mom refers to him as a passing sperm donor, and he doesn’t even know that I exist. My mother injured herself at some job she used to have and now has life-long disability that comes in monthly. When she’s coherent, which isn’t often, she will tell you that she drinks to numb the pain, and I’m not sure what her disability really is because she hasn’t really had many days where she’s sober enough to talk about it. She keeps her medical records locked up, and I’ve never been privy to any personal information about her.

  So you can say that I’m her caregiver, as I just know the surface shit about her, and I take care of her as much as I can. I make sure she has food in her fridge and I make sure she gets in the shower regularly, even if I have to do it myself. I also make sure that she doesn’t choke on her own vomit, which is, embarrassingly too often, something that I do.

  I don’t bother knocking on her door; I walk into her space and almost recoil at the putrid smell. I’m not sure where it’s coming from, but I’m pretty sure that it wasn’t there yesterday. I go in search of her- the space isn’t very big- and find her immediately on the other side of her couch on the floor, asleep. A few feet away from her, I see the cause of the nasty smell and grab the carpet cleaner from under the sink.

  I rush to my mom’s side and feel for her pulse. She’s fine and steady, and I don’t see any issue with her at the moment. I turn to clean up the vomit trail and push up my sleeves.

  I’m not a large woman, I’m only five foot five and about a buck fifty. My mother is maybe two inches taller than me and at least two hundred pounds. When she’s passed out, she weighs a ton, but the good thing is that she’s impossible to wake in this state, so I drag her, quite literally, to where her bed is in the other room. With enough elbow grease and a lot of swearing, twenty minutes later, she’s safely in her bed with a waste basket beside the bed in case she’s coordinated enough to lean in that direction if she has to vomit again.