Page 16 of Doctor Enemy

It burns all the way down, pleasant as can be.

Finally, I’ve got a decent distraction.

Chapter six

Lori

“Alright,”saysOlivia,sprawlingout on my couch. “Now that hell day is finished, what are we watching?”

“Mama Mia?” I offer, tossing the bag of buttered popcorn onto the coffee table.

I’ve already stripped out of my scrubs, showered, and changed into a pair of slightly too long blue and yellow striped lounge pants, with a soft gray tee shirt. “That double was a killer.”

It also didn’t have anything to do with Kurt. After talking with the nurses last week, they cleared my name off the schedule.

I had a solid seven days of normal shifts–but then we had a fire that sprung up in a factory across town, and a bunch of people came in with smoke inhalation and burns. It ended up being a double for a lot of us, myself and Olivia included.

Tugging off my slippers, I drop down onto the end of the couch, leaning against the arm of it. “I don’t know about you, but I could use something totally lighthearted.”

“Sure, but a musical?” Olivia makes a face. She’s in her cozy clothes too, and her shoes have been kicked off by the door, her feet propped up on the table. Bright yellow socks. A bit of fun to liven things up.

Ped doctors always wear stuff like this. There’s nothing that will make a crying child perk up faster than seeing someone older than they are wearing something silly. Bright socks, scrunchies, funny little key chains that are hooked to a loop bracelet around your wrist.

My own scrunchies have been tossed onto the coffee table, discarded for the day. The animal heads hooked to them seem almost forlorn at no longer being worn. I pick up one of them, toying with the fuzzy pink flamingo head. “What’s wrong with musicals?”

“I mean, everything? They’re kind of nonsensical. I can’t stand those scenes where everyone just breaks into song with the leads. No one does that.”

“People do flash mobs,” I counter, propping one bare foot up on the coffee table.

I can’t paint my fingernails–a health hazard at work–so I combat that by keeping my toenails painted a series of bright colors, usually shades of yellow, orange, and red. They glitter like Dorothy’s heels today. “Also, how can you watch movies about zombie hoards, but draw the line at musicals?”

She shrugs, snatching up the bag of popcorn and pulling it open. The thick scent of butter wafts into the room. “It’s just different. What about Jurassic Park?”

I make a face. “Lighthearted.”

“That is lighthearted.”

“The dinosaurs kill people!”

Olivia rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but for a joke. You know what? Fine. Let’s just skip the movie, and we’ll go ahead and put on Food Network. Deal?”

I think on it for a moment and then I nod. “Alright, fine.”

There’s nothing better to zone out to than a good cooking competition. And right now, we both need the break.

Olivia and I get together every couple of weeks, whenever our schedules allow. We only met through the ped surgery residency, but we quickly became close friends.

Close enough friends that before the first episode of Cutthroat Kitchen ends, we’re both knocked out sleeping. I don’t wake up until the sound of the phone going off cuts shrilly through the air.

With an undignified snort, I lurch forward, grabbing for the cell phone on autopilot.

At my side, Olivia groans. “My movie night!” She shifts, and the bag of popcorn hits the ground. “My popcorn!”

I swipe to answer. “Hello?”

It’s Glenda’s voice on the other end of the line. “Sweetie I know you’re getting sick of hearing me, but I need you to come back in.”

“No, no, Glenda—” I lean forward, scrubbing my face with my other hand. “You can’t do this to me. I just finished working a double.”

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