Just living

Kenneth

**Kenneth's P.O.V.**

It was Friday night, and I was exhausted from work. Mr. Smith, one of our patients, had a cardiac arrest; his heart was failing, so I had to assist Dr. Rodriguez in performing the heart bypass surgery. We were in the surgery room for hours, trying to make sure that nothing went wrong with the surgery, as his condition was very delicate. A clot had blocked the coronary artery, starving his heart of oxygen beyond the point of no return, and performing the surgery was very risky at this point but necessary if he was to survive.

The surgery was a success, and he was moved to the ward to be monitored.

The day was stressful but heart-filling.

"Ahh, time to party!"

I decided to call Matthew to go out for a drink at T's O'Clock nightclub down in Meca.

Matthew Lamar, of the Lamar family, the second richest family in Masa, is 22 years of age, 6'8, and my best friend. We've been friends since we were babies, and our families are very close.

I called him, fully aware that he was probably still at work; he’s such a workaholic.

“Hey man, still at work?”

“Yeah, I’m just finishing up.”

“Great! I’ll come over so that we can grab a drink.”

“Okay, man. See you in 5.”

I left the hospital and drove off to his workplace. He’s a student lawyer at Texsa Law Firm in Mena, which is a five-minute drive from the hospital.

I pulled up in the parking lot at his workplace and headed to his office, where he was with a blonde older woman, Mrs. Matinaz, his boss. She’s 67 years old, has a fit athletic body, and wears a lot of makeup.

“Good evening, Mrs. Matinaz,” I greeted her as I walked into the office and took a seat in a chair in front of the office desk.

“Ahh… good evening, Kenneth.”

“Matthew, I will need the files for the s****l assault case on my table by 8 a.m. on Monday morning.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Matthew responded with a deep, elegant, professional voice.

“Enjoy your evening, you two,” she said, giving Matthew a half nod. With her eyes, she walked out of the office.

“You have a great boss.”

“She’s married,” Matthew responded to my statement as he grabbed his jacket and walked out of the office.

“I’m just saying, she’s great,” I said as I followed him out of the office to the car.

“She’s not my type,” I added.

“Ah… Hhh, I see,” he responded.

We both laughed as we walked to the car.

We drove to the nightclub in Meca, which is a four-and-a-half-hour drive from Mena, at speed.

The nightclub was packed with people dancing to the loud music. We sat by the bar and ordered two shots of tequila, which we gulped down our throats in one go.

“Ahh,” we both groaned, releasing the stress.

“How did the surgery go?” Matthew asked, ordering us two more scotch drinks on the rocks.

“It was a success.”

“How’s Dr. Rodriguez, by the way?”

“He’s okay; still has quite a temper, but okay,” I responded, smiling and about to take a sip of my now second drink when I noticed a girl dancing on the dance floor.

“Mh, she’s quite a bad dancer.”

“Who?”

“Oh, no one,” I responded with a smirk.

“That smirk can’t be good.”

“I guess we’ll find out,” I said, facing each other with smiles.

I turned my attention back to the girl on the dance floor. She’s 5'6" feet tall, has long straight black hair, and is wearing a short black dress that hugs her curves.

For some reason, I just kept on staring at her and smiling while Matthew was busy talking to Maria on the phone. The two of them have been dating since high school.

She noticed me staring, so I turned away, then turned my attention back to the dance floor a few seconds later, only to find her staring at me with her hands on her hips.

So I took a sip of my drink, ran my fingers through my hair, stood up, and approached her.

“You know, you really shouldn’t stare at someone like that.”