Page 20 of Any Means Necessary

“There is,” he concedes, his hand running down his beard. “I won’t lie to you and say last night was a one-off. But the person I used to call is no longer an option.”

“Lucky me,” I can’t help but joke.

“In my line of work, I like to have a medical professional available to me at all times. Now that my previous arrangement is over, I’m looking for a replacement.”

“You’re talking about Tony,” I guess, the pieces suddenly clicking together until it makes sense. Callum nods, the weight of his focus never leaving me.

“Tony did more for me than just watch the apartment while I was out of town. And now there’s a position to fill. I want you to fill it, Doc.”

“You want me to work for you long term… as a private nurse?”

“Not specifically my nurse, but essentially yes.”

“So this would mean, what?” I need to know exactly what he’s proposing before I give him a response. Obviously having foreseen this, as a businessman, Callum slides a contract across the desk to rest in front of me. I thumb through it, it’s a few pages long. Colored tabs mark the different spots to sign—blue for signatures and yellow for initials.

“You’d live here in the city permanently. I’d require you to be available to me at all times, but you won’t always be working. You’ll basically be on-call, and act as a medical professional on my behalf. You’d accompany me to certain meetings, and travel occasionally.” He flips to the last few pages and taps on the paper. “And I require all of my employees to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement.”

The NDA isn’t shocking, I already signed something similar when I signed the house-sitting agreement. Wealthy people, especially super private ones like Callum, don’t like people knowing their business. I’m betting his actual business has something to do with it too.

“So if someone gets sick or injured, I’d treat them for you? Like a concierge doctor.” It’s not uncommon for people to hire medical care out privately. I know a few girls who got sick of dealing with the randoms in the emergency room and decided to work for wealthy, old people who need a nurse to wheel them around and keep track of their many pills.

“Something like that.”

“And the incident at the nightclub. Something like that could happen again?”

“It’s possible.” Callum’s casual response is too vague. So I press.

“But is it probable?” The silent stare is answer enough. Damn, that’s a yes. But is that something I can handle? Or even something I can live with?

Dealing with the aftermath of violence isn’t a new concept to me, I see gore walk through the ER doors all the time. You’d be surprised how many idiots think they know how to operate a chainsaw and end up detaching whole limbs. Not to mention the number of muggings and shootings that leave their victims riddled with gaping holes like bloody swiss cheese. A missing finger is just the tip of the iceberg, small fish really.

But there’s a big difference between seeing the result of violence and knowing the people creating it. I know myself well enough to realize that I’m cool enough under pressure to handle any trauma, no matter how shocking. When I snap into gear, there’s nothing I can’t handle. My work ethic isn’t the question here, it’s my conscience.

“How long is the contract for?”

“Three years to start,” Callum says, sliding a check across the desk to sit next to the contract. “You’ll receive this first payment upfront with a decent signing bonus.”

There’s no helping how my eyes widen at the absurd number written at the bottom next to my name.

Damn, that’s a lot of zeros.

“And if I decide not to sign, I have to leave?” The initial rush of excitement is slowly fading as reality slides back in. This isn’t just another few months exploring a new city, I’d be moving here permanently. Taking this job means leaving my apartment, my friends, my younger sister Samantha, and the job waiting for me back home. It means leaving Mia. I’d be abandoning the west coast to become a New York resident.

“Not right away, I won’t kick you out on the street tonight. But you could only stay until I fill the position.”

“I’ll need to read through this,” I say, picking up the contract and leaving the check where it sits on the desk. It’s calling my name, but the uncertainty spinning muffles the sound in my head.

“Of course, take it,” Callum agrees deeply. “I want you to think about it. But I need your answer by tomorrow morning.”

I nod, holding the contract gingerly as I stand.

The walk back to my room has my heart thundering in apprehension. This is a big decision, one that dramatically changes my life. My first thought is to call Mia, my instincts are to talk it out with my best friend. But this is something I have to decide for myself, with no one else's opinions or judgment.

Plus, I know how Mia’s going to feel about this. She’ll do her best to be objective and supportive, but anything she advises is going to be tainted by her bias. And if there’s anyone who can influence my decision-making, it’s her.

Reading through every line of the legal document, it looks like a fairly straightforward contract, but it’s air-tight. There’s no wiggle room. Once I sign it that’s it. There’s no changing my mind. The job sounds easy enough, definitely easier than what I do daily at the hospital. Plus the pay is so much more than I thought I would ever make in my lifetime.

And the thought of having to leave, so much sooner than I thought I would, and having to go back to my regular life in Oregon has dread clawing at my stomach. I love my home, but the idea of having to walk back into an emergency room makes me want to curl into a fetal position. It’s too soon, way too fucking soon—I need more time.

---