chapter Three
* * * * *
The hours of my shift tick slowly by with me on rock star watch. Sitting still, tending to Slade Hale, is driving me absolutely insane. I watch the other doctors and nurses pass by the room, rushing here and there, seeing to other patients, and I itch to join them. I didn’t become a nurse to babysit full grown men. If I wanted to do that, I would have kept a boyfriend instead. I try to remind myself that Slade is a person too, and deserves to be taken care of...by why do I have to be the one doing it?
There’s a knock at the door, and I look up to see Penny hovering there. Her face is flushed from running from patient to patient, and I’m a little jealous. She looks across the room toward Slade and lets out a little sigh. “He’s still asleep?”
I get up and walk over to the door, careful not to wake him. “Like a baby,” I say, “A big, arrogant, squalling baby.”
Penny raises an eyebrow at me. “Someone’s feeling uncharitable.”
“I’m not uncharitable!” I say, “I’m just a little bummed about having to be this guy’s serving wench until he’s all better.”
“Why are you not absolutely thrilled about this assignment?” she asks, giving Slade a not-so-subtle once over. “Most women would kill to be in the same room with this guy.”
“He’s not my type,” I say, folding my arms across my chest.
“What is your type, Julia?” Penny asks.
“Battery operated,” I mutter. “Look, I just don’t like his attitude. He’s got this swagger going on that I just find deplorable.”
“Well of course he does,” Penny says, exasperated, “He’s a rock star! Don’t you think that kind of thing is expected of him? Encouraged in him?”
“I really don’t see how that changes anything,” I tell her, “I’m supposed to feel sorry for him because he’s under pressure?”
“Maybe a little,” Penny says, “Would it kill you to try and look past the bravado?”
“It might,” I say.
“Well, at least you’re already at the hospital. You can attempt it and know that help is nearby.”
“Ha,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You know, you’re very adamant about liking this guy. Why are you so eager to give him a break?”
“I think he’s got a touching story,” she says, leaning against the door frame.
“What story?” I ask, checking to see that he’s still asleep. His chest rises and falls rhythmically, and there’s a little half smile still lingering on his lips. I feel a rush of sensation pass through me, like what happens the minute you start down a roller coaster. I’d better get all this out of my system before he wakes up again.
“You really don’t know anything about him?” Penny asks, “About the band, or the music, or anything?”
“Honestly, no,” I say, “He looked really familiar when they wheeled him in. I’m sure I’ve seen pictures or whatever, but you know I don’t pay attention to any of that stuff.”
“Right,” Penny says, “Who needs the Top 40 when you’ve got Carly Simon?”
“Carly Simon is a goddess,” I say, “Don’t knock Carly Simon.”
“Anyway,” Penny says, “Slade Hale’s band, Flagrant Disregard, have been together forever. Like, started in high school, started playing local shows, all that. It’s Slade on vocals, Dodge Bailey on guitar, Joe Wegman on bass, and Annabelle Walsh on drums.”
“There’s a girl in the band?” I ask.
“Yep,” Penny says, “How much of a sexist can he really be if there’s a girl behind the drum kit? I think he’s just messing with you.”
“It remains to be seen,” I say.
“So, they started out playing in Dodge’s garage when they were, like, fifteen. They all lived in South Jersey, and grew up with really heavy rock. Hardcore is really big around there, lots of screaming and all—”
“Ugh,” I say, wrinkling my nose, “Is that the music that sounds like a bunch of vacuum cleaners going at once?”
“Well...Yeah,” Penny says, “But that’s not what Flagrant Disregard does. Anyway, they started playing at battles of the bands, and around their hometown, and then around the state. There are all these great stories about the venues they would end up at—old pool halls, exotic bird stores, the works. They started building up a following, which was surprising to everyone at first. See, what they did was take the hardcore sound they liked themselves and brought back in the emotional element that everyone reviled so much. They dared to be lyrical and even darkly romantic when all the other bands were screaming about hate and anger exclusively. People didn’t know what to do with them at first, but they started to win over the hardcore scene and the emo and indie scenes. They’re the perfect mix, you know?
So, they started getting all of this attention, and soon the record labels in New York were taking notice. After a while, one of these executive types shows up to a concert they were playing, unbeknownst to them. Afterwards, the guy comes up to Slade and offers him a contract, but there’s a catch. He only wants Slade, not the band. They had this big plan to make him into a solo artist, like Jeff Buckley. And Slade looked his guy in the eye and told him to get lost. He said that the band was a unit, and that it was totally out of the question. He turned down an entire career because he was so loyal to his band. And it’s not like he didn’t need the money, either. He doesn’t exactly come from a family of means.”
“How do you know all this?” I ask.
“I read a lot of magazines,” Penny shrugs.
“What do you mean about his family?” I ask. I’m actually getting wrapped up in this yarn Penny’s spinning.
Penny looks sadly toward Slade. “His dad died when he was ten,” she says softly, “He worked on a construction site. There was an accident. His mom was totally destroyed and never really recovered emotionally. She bounced around from job to job a lot. The worst part is that Slade has two little sisters, so money was super short. He started working from the time we was twelve to help out, and apparently all but raised his sisters himself. He had an entire family relying on him ever since he was a kid. It’s pretty remarkable. Even now, he gives most of the money he makes back to his mom. So, I’d cut the guy some slack, if I were you.”
“How does someone who’s done such wonderful things become such a pompous jerk?” I wonder aloud.
“I wouldn’t say pompous,” Slade slurs sleepily. Penny and I gasp, meeting each other’s gaze as Slade resurfaces from his slumber.
“Have you been awake this whole time?” I ask, turning back toward him. He stretches a little, the tanned skin of his neck going taut. I have the sudden, mad desire to run my hands over his chest, hoist myself onto the bed on top of him. This is getting nuts, it's been way too long.
“I just caught that last bit,” he says, looking up at Penny and I. His eyes light up when he sees that we’re both in the room together. “Goody,” he smiles, “You’re back.”
“How are you feeling?” Penny asks brightly.
“Better now that you’re here,” he says, “Nurse Ratched over here has been busting my balls ever since I got here.”
“That is an exaggeration,” I say pointedly.
“She’s been beating me while the doctors’ backs are turned,” Slade says, pouting dramatically, “She pummels me with a bed pan and makes me call her ‘El Capitan’.”
“Could you do me a favor and be a little less funny when my bosses come in to check on you?” I say, speaking over Penny’s giggling. “I take my job seriously.”
“Well then,” Slade says, “This is just a little constructive criticism, but you could definitely stand to work on your bedside manner. You haven’t offered to sit on my lap once since I got in here.”
“Nor will I,” I say firmly.
“I bet Red here would,” Slade beams at Penny.
“Mr. Hale,” Penny says, laying a hand on her chest like a good old southern belle, “I’m flattered. Really I am. But I’m afraid it’s Julia who’s been assigned to you.”
“Maybe you could at least show her how it’s done before you leave?” Slade presses, “I promise I don’t bite. Not unless that’s what you’re into, of course.”
“Of course,” I mutter.
“Maybe some other time,” Penny smiles, turning to go. “You two play nice, now. You’re stuck with each other, you know.”
She closes the door behind her, leaving Slade and I alone together once again. He heaves a big sigh and leans back in his bed, shooting his gaze toward me.
“Give it to me straight,” he says, “How much longer is this healing process going to take?”
“Like I told you,” I say, “A week or so, tops.”
Slade lets out a groan and closes his eyes. “I don’t want to think about that anymore. I am issuing a ban on that subject.”
“Yes sir,” I scoff.
“Since we’ve been forced into each other’s company,” Slade says, “It’s up to you to help me pass the time.”
“It’s up to me to make sure that you’re medicated and, you know, not dead,” I correct him.
“I require entertainment!” he says dramatically, “You there! Entertain me.”
“I’m not your court jester,” I say, “And besides, aren’t you supposed to be the entertainer here?”
“I can’t exactly serenade you from my hospital bed,” Slade says. “It’s all up to you, kiddo.”
“I don’t think so, sport,” I shoot back. I sit down on the chair next to his bed and cross my arms and legs.
“Come on,” Slade moans. He lays a hand on my knee, imploringly. I stare down at the sudden contact, bewildered. My body temperature must be skyrocketing. I look up into Slade’s face and see that his expression has shifted. He’s not sneering, for once. Just meeting my gaze steadily, honestly. I feel like I’m going to pitch forward and get sucked into those dark eyes forever. Talk about occupational hazards.
“How, exactly, would you like to pass the time?” I ask, alarmed at how raspy my voice has become. All of a sudden, I’m playing the smoldering seductress? That won’t do. I clear my throat anxiously, wishing that Slade would take his hand off me. His touch is distracting.
“Tell me about yourself,” he says, clasping his hands across his stomach as if he had heard my unspoken wish.
“That’s not a very interesting subject,” I say dryly. “Not with the life you lead, I’m sure.”
“Hey now!” he says, “Don’t put yourself down. I’m sure that your life is very interesting. Tell me all about it. Regale me with tales of your youth.”
“My youth is kind of still occurring,” I remind him.
“Very true, little one,” he ribs.
I ignore the bait. “Well,” I begin, “I live around here, obviously. Not far, anyway.”
“Not too far from my old stomping grounds,” he says, “I’m from Jersey.”
“I know,” I say, “Penny filled me in on your history. You know, this is dangerous place for you to be, as a Jersey native. Pennsylvanians have very strong opinions about people from New Jersey.”
“And vice versa,” Slade says. “Don’t tell me you’re a Philly girl?”
“I’m an outside of Philly girl,” I say, “Born and bred.”
“Gross,” he says.
“You should talk!” I exclaim, “I bet you even call New York ‘The City’.”
“Of course I do,” Slade says, “I’m not like you Pennsylvania people who say that Philly is actually ‘The City’. That’s straight up blasphemy.”
“New York’s got nothing on Philly,” I say heatedly, “Philly is cleaner, cooler, friendlier—”
“And lamer, and smaller, and less connected,” Slade says. “New York is the biggest, most outrageous, most exciting place in the entire world.”
“We have cheese steaks!” I say.
“We have bagels!” Slade shoots back.
“I’m not having this argument with you,” I say, folding my arms. “God, I can’t believe I’m sitting here arguing the merits of New Jersey.”
“Don’t be a snob,” he says, “South Jersey and Central Pennsylvania are on pretty even footing.”
“I suppose we can agree on that, anyway,” I admit.
“So, other than the fact that you’re delusional enough to think that Philly is better than New York, and overlooking the fact that you’re probably a goddamn Flyers fan, what else is there to know about you?” Slade asks.
“First of all, I like the Penguins,” I say, “Don’t be a heathen. What else is there...Well, I’m an only child. There’s that. It was a little lonely, but the haul at Christmas was worth it, I suppose.”
“What do you do when you’re not being a nurse?” Slade asks.
“What do you mean?” I reply, “I’m always a nurse.”
“In your free time, then,” he says, “What do you like to do?”
“Sleep,” I say immediately.
“And eat and breathe, I’m sure,” Slade says, “But what do you do for fun?”
I stare at him blankly. The concept of fun has become a little fuzzy for me over the past couple of years. I rack my brain, trying to remember what interests me...It’s alarmingly difficult. “Well,” I say, “I like to hang out with my cat, Gustav. I know how that sounds, but I’m really not a cat lady. I only have the one. And I like fixing my house up. Do it yourself projects, that kind of thing. I’m going to make an up-cycled laundry hamper this weekend.”
“Living in the edge,” Slade says.
“Don’t make fun,” I say.
“A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be stuck at home knitting things out of cat hair, in my opinion,” Slade says.
“I don’t—I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, flustered. He used the “b” word. No one ever said that to me before. I’d been called cute and adorable all my life, but it was the rare occasion that someone called me beautiful.
“Got a boyfriend?” Slade asks.
“Yeah,” I lie. I don’t want him getting any ideas.
“What’s his name?” he asks.
“Bernard,” I mumble, standing up from my chair. “Do you need anything? You must be hungry by now.”
“Not in the way you’re thinking,” he says, letting his eyes wander up and down my body. “Are you sure you don’t have special sexy uniforms that you only bust out for company parties? I can see a hell of a figure hidden under that jump suit.”
“I’m sure,” I say.
“Damn,” he sighs. “Fine, then. I guess I’d like something to eat.”
“I’ll be right back,” I say.
I hurry out of the room, and am surprised to find that I’ve gone all shaky. My every nerve is poised for something—the only problem is, I have no idea what that something is. This guy is getting to me, that’s for sure. I take a deep breath as I lean against the wall, steadying myself. I just have to make it through a few more days of this, and then I’ll be cruising across the country all by myself. I’ve never needed a vacation more in my entire life, and Slade’s not helping matters. I can take him, though. He may be the rock star, but as a nurse, I’m still the one calling the shots.