Page 7 of Any Means Necessary

“Stop pretending like you’re not one of them,” Veronica grins, looking at me with a light squeal of excitement as she pulls me in for a hug. I breathe a laugh as we embrace, feeding off her energy.

“Hey girl, I missed you,” she announces, pulling back to look down at me. We make quite the pair, physically complete opposites. Where I’m short, fair, and round, Veronica Price is tall, dark, and slender. But we share a love of margaritas and karaoke-nights out.

Ebony and ivory, as we were called around the hospital. And Ronnie made New York Presbyterian so much more fun. “I missed you too.”

It’s the truth, I miss her. Ronnie doesn’t take life too seriously, and her breezy attitude makes heavy situations feel lighter. It’s the reason she works so well in the ER. When she’s nursing everything remains on the surface, allowing her to leave work at the hospital instead of carrying it home with her. She doesn’t let it weigh her down, not like I do.

The hostess seats us outside at a table with a cute white umbrella, a beautiful floral arrangement in the center of the circular wrought iron table. The whole restaurant is aesthetically pleasing—with exposed brick, climbing ivy, and a charming macaroon station. It’s the perfect place for brunch in the city, the kind of place where pretty people take photos to post on social media.

Maybe I’ll take some photos myself.

The waitress is a friendly teenage girl on a mission, with a frizzy red ponytail and a green apron. She takes our order and speed-walks away back inside, skirting around the other servers. Sitting back in the chair, Ronnie’s dark brown eyes move over me in curiosity.

“So tell me all about your life,” she says, crossing one long leg over the other. “You know I love to be in everyone’s business. Just because you left doesn’t mean that saves you.”

“Not much to tell,” I downplay, adjusting the neckline of my dress. “I’m house-sitting a penthouse uptown for some rich businessman for the next few months. The internet is supplying me with a bunch of recipes to try, and I’ve been getting back into drawing.”

“That sounds very relaxing, now I’m getting jealous.”

“It’s been nice, not gonna lie.” My fingers comb my hair back from my face. “So tell me what I’ve missed. It’s only been a few weeks, but I’m sure Dr. Denton has done something asinine.”

“Ugh, he has,” Ronnie says animatedly. “He hooked up with one of the peds nurses then snubbed her. She had a complete meltdown and went psycho on him in the cafeteria. It was crazy.”

“Damn, I can’t believe I missed that. Next time take a video for me.”

“You know I will. I almost called you right after it happened, but then I got paged by a woman who came in barefoot and ended up peeing in a trashcan.” Ronnie rolls her eyes while I cringe at the mental image she’s painted for me. “Damn girl, the unit isn’t the same without you. Everyone is so boring and I have to deal with the crazies by myself.”

“We handled a lot of crazies together.” I laugh. The waitress walks up to deliver our food, placing my iced matcha and croissant sandwich in front of me before placing the spinach omelet, fruit salad, and latte in front of Ronnie. Next comes the pitcher for the bottomless mimosas—the real brunch necessity.

“We need a night out.”

“Hell yeah, we do,” I agree readily. “We need a girl’s night out with karaoke and booze.”

Ronnie is a bit of a party girl, and she definitely knows how to go out and have a good time. She might be a more surface-level friend but that’s exactly what I need right now—light conversation, and distracting fun.

“Fuck, yeah! I’m so down.”

“Ok, yay!” Taking a sip of my iced matcha, the caffeine greets me like a warm hug.

“Where’s the apartment you’re staying in?”

“Columbus Circle.”

“Damn, girl! Central Park West? They don’t just have money, they have money.”

“It’s a really bougie place, definitely out of my price range. I’m getting way too comfortable living in the penthouse, it’s gonna be a slap back to reality when I go back to my regular place in a few months.”

“You should come see my place in Harlem. I’m sure my one-bedroom makes your place in Oregon look like a palace.”

I can’t argue, I know what apartments are like in this city. The place I was renting before Tony set me up at Callum’s was more like a closet than a studio apartment, and cost an arm and a leg. My home in Oregon, a comfortable two-bedroom, is definitely more spacious and lacks the company of cockroaches and mutant rats.

Gross.

“So, who is this mystery businessman? Have you met the guy?” Ronnie asks, taking no time to pour the mimosas.

“His name is Callum. He’s in the city for a few days for business, he showed up last night.” I shrug, accepting the champagne glass and taking a generous sip. The bubbly goes down smoothly. “But I don’t know what kind of businessman he is, so my plan is to just stay out of the way.”

“Probably a good idea.” Ronnie drains her glass easily and reaches for a refill. “Leave the stuffy old guys to their business. It gives us more time for champagne.” She lifts her glass towards me with a grin. I chink my glass with her, my head tipping back in a laugh.

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