Page 10 of Private Exhibit
Serves you right, Andy thought. He'd tried to put the boy out of his mind, but it hadn't worked. Andy had dreamt of him all night long, then woke up with his hand on his cock, imagining the boy right there beside him in bed.
Getting the message about the dead body had startled him at first, imagining he'd see that boy there, then turned out to be a godsend. Just the distraction he needed so he wouldn't spend his day off pacing his apartment, dreaming about things he couldn't have.
Except now he had another mystery on his hands.
No ghost?Junior asked, then rolled his eyes again.Obviously. Then you could just ask him who he is.
Andy chuckled.
No wallet?
Andy shook his head.Apparently, he came into the E.R. in the middle of the night, falling-down drunk and raving about paying for his sins. He passed out and then died before he could tell anybody his name. Andy studied the body. According to the scans he'd run and what he'd seen of the body's insides, the guy was in his late thirties or early forties—right around Andy's age—but he looked much older. He looked haggard, as though life had tormented him.
Poor guy, Andy thought. The man had probably been relieved to be dying, to have all his problems be over, only to find out that his soul still existed apart from his body and that he'd have to suffer the memory of his sins for eternity.
That was a feeling Andy knew all too well.
No wonder the man's ghost was a no-show. The guy had probably taken one look at his lifeless corpse—the reality of his situation slamming into him like a freight train—and fled.
Junior took a silent step closer, interrupting his thoughts.You know your boss is in your office, by the way, he announced, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.
Andy looked up, then scowled again.The hells?What was Bokin doing there?Be right back, he told Junior, then stepped past the ghost and strode across the morgue.
He opened the door to his office—his admittedly messy office, with files strewn across the desk—and found the hospital owner, Harel Bokin, leaning back in his chair.
Andy crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here? It's the weekend.”
“Hospitals don't get weekends, so neither do I,” his boss replied. “Though I could ask you the same thing.”
Andy shrugged. “I got a text that there was a new body. Had nothing better to do, so I figured I might as well come in rather than leaving it for tomorrow.”
Bokin raised his eyebrows. “You know, the last time I came down here, you were late that day, I recall, and certainly not for the first time. And when I pointed that out, your exact words were,'What's the rush? They aren't going to get any deader.'”
Andy leaned back against the wall and stared at the floor. “So fire me already if I'm such a hassle.”
“I can't fire you. You're the best gods-damned doctor I've ever met.”
Andy scowled. “I'm not a doctor anymore. Not in that way.”
“You could be.”
Andy clenched his jaw.
“Look.” Bokin stood and buttoned his suit jacket. “I didn't come here to argue. I came with a proposition.”
Andy looked up, feeling his whole body tense, remembering the last time Bokin had used those words. He swallowed down a heavy pit of guilt and asked, “What proposition?”
Bokin stepped out from behind the desk and stood in front of him. “I'll give you two choices.”
“I hate this already.”
Bokin ignored that. “One, you can go back upstairs and reopen your practice.”
“No.”
“Your office is just as you left it.”
Andy blinked. “You kept my office? It's been four years.”
