Page 27 of The Potter

Opening the door, the stench of stale cigarettes and old carpet hits us in the face.

“Charming,” Vance mutters, pushing in with a scowl, stopping just inside the door, taking in my made-up bed and overnight bag that has spilled out on top of the quilt. The handles on the dresser drawers are broken, otherwise, my clothes would be folded in there so Vance didn’t get an eyeful of my underwear and support braces.

I scramble across the room and start shoving stuff back into the bag, pointing to the far end of the room. “The bathroom is there. You’ll need to shove hard to get the door to close.”

Pausing, Vance gives me one more cursory look before making his way to the bathroom. And like I suggested, he puts his shoulder into the door, closing it with a bang.

When he’s no longer smothering me with his presence, I slump back onto the bed and exhale. What a crazy day. What a crazy week. Never would I have imagined that this mission to get on Dr. Potter’s schedule would have gone so sideways. And this ride home? What was that all about? It almost feels like Dr. Potter is Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. His hot and cold behavior is exhausting. I can’t decide if he’s a dick or a good man like the article suggested. He’s hard to read, and that’s unfortunate. I already have terrible men-reading skills—I failed at the last one. I don’t need another test I can’t pass.

I don’t know if I can handle it emotionally.

The bathroom door opens, and Vance comes out with wide eyes, his thumb pointing over his shoulder. “You don’t have hot water.” He blinks slowly. “And there’s a fish in your sink.”

I don’t bother sitting up. My body is exhausted to the core. I just need to lie here for a day or so. “I have hot water,” I correct. “You just have to give it ten minutes.” I wave it off like it’s the least of my worries.

“Ten minutes?” He sounds offended but, fortunately, doesn’t address the fish issue.

Staring up at the ceiling, I grin. “I know it’s probably hard for you to understand, but sometimes, us regular people have to wait on things.” I pause, hearing his steps come closer. “I hear it builds character.”

The bed dips, and I turn, finding Vance eyeing me. “Are you really planning to stay here until I perform your surgery?”

His voice is dangerously low, his eyes weighted with something like anger.

“Yes, I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Vance’s throat bobs, his jaw tight with tension. “Let me call a colleague. I promise—”

I don’t give him time to finish. “It has to be you. No one but you.”

He releases a breath, raking his hands through his hair. “Halle…” He says my name like it’s painful. “I want to help you, I do. And I know you don’t believe me, but I can’t do your surgery. It’s too risky.”

“It’s not,” I argue. “The last surgeon I spoke to said with proper monitoring and an experienced surgeon, I would have a good possibility of success.”

“A possibility,” he reiterates. “Not a promise. You could die on the table. Why risk it?”

I sit up and face the man who is the only roadblock between me and my future career in show business. “Because these scars no longer define me. I want new opportunities, not a reminder of the past.”

Halle

Two weeks later, I’m finding a routine at Potter’s Plastics.

Vance shows up at the motel first thing, every morning, demanding I accept his pity ride to the office.

We argue and end up late for work.

At five, he stands in the doorway of my office, his briefcase in hand, insisting it’s time to leave.

We argue more.

I don’t get home until six, at which point, I ask him if he’s ready to take on my case. He says no, and I go inside.

Rinse and repeat. Every. Single. Day.

We’re at a stalemate.

I am no closer to getting on Vance’s schedule than I was three weeks ago. At this point, even I doubt my abilities of persistence. Maybe it’s time I consider another surgeon. After all, the goal is a blank slate, a fresh start. Vance may have been the one to inspire that decision, but he isn’t the only surgeon around.

I need to find someone just as credentialed and willing. Which is how I find myself confiding in Duke in one of the exam rooms. Astor was at a meeting, and since I was all caught up, I insisted on helping.

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