What's wrong with nurse Lana?!

Chapter3

****Lana's POV****

I had no suit—I had no freaking suit!

I stared down at the mess I had made of my tiny apartment in my aimless attempt to find a suitable suit I could wear for my interview.

But I found nothing appropriate, most of my old suits were worn out and begging me for mercy already.

The interview was in two days, I couldn't afford to miss it for anything in the world.

I thought hard about pacing the circumference of my room ... .Kayla always had nice corporate wear but going to her right now…when I wasn't sure if the job would end in her discouraging me not to go, it looked like a scam.

$20,000 monthly? That's basically the entire money needed for my dad's surgery, what organization would pay that high for a private nurse if it wasn't a scam?

I could already hear Kayla snapping at me for wanting to fall prey to this, but the thing is…the site I applied from, it seemed legit…I wouldn't know if I didn't try.

I slumped on my bed, counting the ceiling.

What to do, how to sneak into Kayla's place without her notice, or what lie could I tell her…she'd figure me out anyway.

Just then an idea popped into my head. Stephen, yes Stephen, he was Kayla's brother and he lived with her, surely he'd help me get Kayla's stuff.

I was still in my nighties the next morning when I showed up at Stephen's door, all smiles knocking aimlessly for almost 20 minutes.

He opened the door, rubbing his eyes as sleep was yet to clear off from his eyes.

It was 5am in the morning.

“Oh. It's you.” He said slamming the door shut in my face before I could even say anything.

Yeah, typical Stephen, he was a dickhead, always trying to annoy me relentlessly.

I stood in front of the door still reeling from the shock of the door he slammed in my face when he opened the door again.

“What do you want, Lana, it's 5am in the freaking morning.”

I pushed past him into the apartment.

“I don't care about your beauty sleep Stephen, is Kayla at home?”

“Kayla? Aren't you two like, working the late night shift? She'll be here soon.”

I scratched my head. “Uhm… Stephen, I know we aren't like the best of friends but I desperately need your help.”

“No.” He said slumping on his bed.

“You haven't even heard what I have to say… come on Stephen, please…”

He raised his head slightly, confusion washing over his face. “Are you cloned? What's with this begging.”

I rubbed my hands in pleasure, he groaned into his pillow then bolted up.

“Fine, what do you want?”

I grinned. “A suit.”

*****

Stephen had the weirdest suits ever, in his defense he was into fashion and they were fashion statements that made him stand out when he walked into the room.

“This is just too big.” I said standing in front of the mirror, I had on one of his big ass red suit whose hands were credibly short. The suit almost felt like a gown on me.

Stephen shook his head. “You have no style, Lana, this would make you stand out from other applicants, big organizations like that take people with style seriously.”

I bit my lip. “Are you sure…? This is just too big and what do I wear in this, I look like SpongeBob really.”

“Just trust me on this, I've been in this fashion business for almost a decade and I tell you, this would get you the job.”

I contemplated for a moment. “Fine… I'll trust you on this, I'll have this dry-cleaned and ready for D-Day, thanks Stephen.”

“You're welcome, Lana, you'll thank me better after your interview I promise.”

I hope… I weighed the suit, staring at myself one last time before I took it off and left Stephen's place.

I didn't have enough time on my side. I needed to get the suit dry cleaned and also prepare a sample Q&A for the interview.

I needed everything to be in check, so for the entire day and next, I was busy preparing for the grand interview.

******

The day passed by slowly, but eventually the D-Day had come, the interview was scheduled for 11 am and by 8am I was already leaving for the address in question.

It took me roughly 1hr 30 minutes by train. I had on the red suit, thigh high red boots and clung to my bag which had my files in it.

I noticed a lot of stares on me, they were giggling about something, definitely not me.

The direction to the address on my phone's map showed I was 10 minutes close to the venue, it was about 10:30 by now.

I was just about to cross the crosswalk when the car that stood by the traffic started blowing the horn loudly.

So impatient.

I was just about to curse at them quietly when I noticed some unsteadiness in the car, the driver seemed to be panicking while the older man in the backseat seemed to be convulsing.

The traffic wasn't clearing up, things were escalating in the car and a round of passersby surrounded the vehicle.

“Hurry up, doctor John, we need you here immediately.” The driver had gotten off now making urgent calls in a loud voice.

It wasn't like me to meddle, but I felt I could do something about the situation.

I rushed in, pushing past the crowd.

“What are you doing?” The driver panicked.

“I'm a licensed nurse, I can help him.”

So help me God.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, please clear the crowd, he needs air.”

I dropped to my knees beside the open rear door, yanking open my bag to grab the small first-aid kit I’d packed—just in case the interview included some kind of practical test.

I pulled out my stethoscope, pressed it to his chest. His heartbeat was erratic, breathing shallow—almost nonexistent.

I interlaced my hands, placed them on the center of his chest, and began compressions—hard, fast, counting under my breath.

One, two, three…

He wasn’t responding.

Sweat dripped into my eyes. I leaned down, tilted his head back, pinched his nose, and sealed my mouth over his.

Breathe. Once. Twice.

I kept going—compressions, breaths, compressions, breaths—ignoring the crowd, ignoring the red suit now smeared with sweat and street dust, ignoring everything except the man fighting for air beneath my hands.

And then—his eyes flew open.

Wide. Shocked and alive.