Page 41 of Worlds Collide

I didn’t write all week even though my hand was twitching with the need to play the guitar or try out a new melody on my piano.

I watched a lot of TV, played a lot of tennis, and I even wentdown to the beach until I was spotted, then I decided I better go back home before someone managed to take a picture of me again.

But what the fuck else am I supposed to do with all the hours in the day if Hawk and I are taking a real, long break?

I called Cindy and Tristan again, told them all about what Birdie and I had talked about. Then I had a quick conversation with Bruce, our business manager, just to check up on things.

I went to a couple of meetings, had breakfast with Linda, toyed with the idea of maybe trying producing for other artists so I could still do something with music, but then remembered I’ve never been good with computers or with the whole talking-to-other-people thing, and lastly I even tried reading a book.

Turns out Hawk may not be the only one in our family with ADHD ’cause I didn’t even get through one chapter.

I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with myself for however long this break is supposed to be.

So spending my Sunday with one of the best people I know, who’s not one of Derek’s friends—at least he’s not part of the friends group I’m currently avoiding—and who seems to like my company, is very much an improvement.

Uninvited, the thought, the question of what CJ is doing today comes into my head and I can’t seem to shake it.

He’s probably working.

Aren’t young doctors supposed to be working all the time?

Yeah, he’s probably working, but if he’s not, then?—

“What the fuck,” I shout, completely taken off guard when I see Hawk on one of the TVs. He’s in a suite at the Warriors’ stadium, and he’s sitting next to none other than CJ.

“Hey, isn’t that your boyfriend?” Clive, bless his heart, asks.

I growl and stop myself from throwing my water bottle at the TV.

What the fuck is my brother doing?

THIRTEEN

CJ

Wednesday evening,after having Thai food with Gracie, I went back to work, and everything was fine at first. Work was a welcome distraction from the shitshow of a morning I’d had.

The evening rush is always a bit chaotic, but for midweek, it was pretty standard.

When the night shift started, I was assigned to help out in the ER, and Dr. Yang told me I’d be assigned there with him, except for his patient hours, for the rest of the week.

On Thursday, at not even eight in the morning, there was a weird shift in the air, and no one was prepared.

It’s not like there was a huge pileup in the 405 like there seems to be at least once a week.

No, this was something different, and a lot more concerning.

A lot of children started being brought into the ER over the next couple of days. Most with high fevers, others with small sprains, and a few with concussions.

Soon enough, we all realized there was something suspicious about the whole thing. It actually took me the longest to figure it out—I guess all the other doctors and the nurses didn’t want to completely humiliate me by telling me—but when a woman asks you to give her a hundred thousand dollars to pay off her debts while you’re checking the dilatation of her daughter’s pupils, it kind of puts things into perspective.

Not one kid had a fever, there were no visible sprains on any x-rays, and definitely no signs of concussions.

All those parents had faked that their children had illnesses just to get a few minutes of my time to ask me for money.

Apparently the article mentioned that I’m a surgery resident focused mostly on pediatrics, and at which hospital. They all actually thought I would just hand them money, as if I’m carrying wads of cash around like some kind of drug lord.

It was honestly kind of disgusting—not to mention idiotic—the way they wasted everyone’s time looking over their perfectly healthy children. We could’ve been checking on other patients, helping people who actually needed it.

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