3rd Time's the Charm

Chapter 1“You know the drill, Mrs. Morris.” Doctor Nick Davros raised his voice over the screaming toddler trapped in his mother’s lap. “Make sure he finishes the complete cycle of antibiotics and bring him back in if things don’t improve.” Nick hurried out of the room and pulled the door closed behind him. The wood offered his tortured eardrums only minor relief, but at least the air in the hallway, while tinged with a faint scent of disinfectant, was free of the overpowering smell of the eucalyptus cough drops. Mrs. Morris’s apparent cure for all ills. His shoulders sagged, his forehead clunking against the cool surface. How did she stand the noise? Little Chase Morris might have an ear infection, but his lungs? They worked just fine. He handed the Morris’s patient chart off to the billing clerk at the front desk and eyed the stack piled on the intake side of the small ledge. The approach of fall meant the start of both school and cold and flu season, and the double whammy meant Thursdays at the walk-in clinic were usually a nightmare. Today was no exception. Nick counted the manila folders in his head, groaning at the result. Eight of the exam rooms still had patients waiting to be seen. “What do we have, Sheri?” he asked the physician’s assistant in charge of triage for this shift. “It’s your lucky day, Doctor Sweet Cheeks.” She fanned the charts out like a deck of cards while she rattled off his choices. “Top picks. Exam 3’s a suspected case of jock itch. We’ve got an ingrown toenail in 7—patient’s diabetic.” She gave him a meaningful grimace over her rainbow-striped reading glasses. “And a chest infection in 9.” Nick scanned the times noted on the intake forms. The winner was—the chest infection signed in first. Yuck. Probably sinus driven brought on by the last weather change. With drainage. He shuddered. And phlegm. He had worked double shifts at the 24-hour urgent care center for three months now. He liked being a doctor. He liked knowing he made a difference. But despite his years of med school and residency, he still hated phlegm. Phlegm was gross. Seriously. And that little fact? Had never been brought up in any of his pre-med studies. Nick would even swear the instructors had deliberately kept his first phlegm-producing patient hidden until too late to change his mind about a career in medicine. But beggars couldn’t be choosers and for the next couple of years, at least until he made a dent in the staggering total of his student loans, Nick definitely fit the category of beggar. Which meant a front row seat to all the strange and unnatural bodily fluids that went along with being a general practitioner. “Great,” Nick said, his words heavy with resigned doom. Sheri cackled. Despite the grandmotherly appearance reinforced by her teddy bear printed scrubs, she was too inherently evil for the sound to be called a giggle. She patted him on the shoulder with mock sympathy. The entire staff knew about his hang-up. “I can think of one or two body fluids you wouldn’t mind seeing more of,” Sheri sing-songed, her voice as sly as her sideways smirk. “Who has time?” Nick held his hand out for the chart in question. Sheri clutched the folder to her chest, holding it captive amid the leering teddy bears. “I thought you had a date this weekend. Am I passing on bad intel?” “Your reputation as she-who-knows-all is safe, don’t worry.” Nick thrust his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat and rocked from side to side. “But a date does not imply body fluids.” “It should.” “Maybe I’m not that easy.” Nick ignored her disbelieving jeer. He grabbed the chart, raising it aloft in triumph before heading down the corridor. He wouldn’t say he’d forgotten about his upcoming double date, more like the knowledge had become buried beneath the demands of his day. Which, if he allowed himself to think about it, explained why he was not in the committed relationship he wanted, and his large and extended family, expected. Everyone joked about the benefits of marrying a doctor, but the reality of Nick’s responsibilities throughout his education and work so far had ended more than one relationship over the years. Still, he had his upcoming date to look forward to. Nick took a second to savor the thought; good food, good conversation, and despite what he told Sheri, a damn good chance of at least a b*****b. But before he started singing his version of the Hallelujah chorus, he had to get through the rest of the week. Starting with this chest infection. Nick paused outside exam 9 and scanned the notes taken during intake. Hmm, older male in his late fifties. Overweight, of course. Blood pressure a little high and an elevated temperature. Nick listened to the rattling cough coming from the room and winced at the liquid sound. Not good. Nick closed the chart, then hesitated at a raucous burst of laughter. The patient must have brought a friend. “Christ, your t**s are bigger than my last girlfriend’s!” Nice voice for an obviously straight guy, deep but not rough. Nick shivered, the syllables sliding down his spine like a lover’s hand. Damn. He always had a thing for a man who could caress his skin with nothing save a few carefully chosen words. Too bad he didn’t get to enjoy the sensation. Another one of those wet-sounding coughs reverberated against the door, instant death to any kind of enjoyment. “Like you ever had a girlfriend.” “Hey, I was quite the ladies’ man in the first grade.” Desperate to put off entering the room and face yet another chest infection (his third of the night), Nick concentrated on the second, perhaps not so straight according to the conversation, voice. Was the owner cute? Blond or brunet? Light eyes or dark? Good thing Sheri was up front, she’d want to take bets and Nick still owed her from last week. Totally inappropriate behavior according to his ethics instructors, but these stolen moments kept the staff going through the long shifts. “Yeah, right.” “Honest. I used to kiss Missy Collins in the coat closet every day at lunch.” “So, what happened?” Shamed by the wheezing gasps punctuating the last sentence, Nick knew he should get this show on the road, but he held off, wanting to hear the answer. “Like all women, she proved fickle and broke my heart.” Nick smiled at the melodramatic sigh. “I found her hiding in our little love nest with Billy MacDonal. He traded her a kiss for a peek at the wart on his finger.” “Figures.” The rough chuckle faded into a series of racking coughs. “We wouldn’t have lasted.” The owner of Nick’s new favorite voice shared the punch line to the story. “I have it on good authority, specifically Billy, she left him for Karen Meyers, an entire grade ahead.” Now or never, Nick told himself. He rapped lightly on the door and stepped through. Two men waited for him. One sat hunched over on the exam table, the usual paper gown crumpled beneath the thick hand pressed to his chest. The other sprawled in the extra chair, long legs kicked casually out in front of him. Based on their dusty jeans and concrete-covered work boots Nick guessed they worked construction. The friend, and Nick presumed main storyteller, still had his shirt on. Shirts, actually. Worn flannel draped over a faded T-shirt. A ball cap kept Nick from seeing his face, but since he wasn’t the patient, his appearance didn’t matter. Did it? “Hi,” Nick said. He reached out to shake their work-callused hands. “I’m Doctor Davros.”