Page 2 of Love Bank
“Like hell hell?” he asked, face all twisted up and, surprisingly, even more handsome.
“That’s what we NorCal people call it. It’s actually Auburn Hill, California. Add a little country twang to it, shorten it, and boom, you now live in Hell.” I smiled, truly enjoying myself for once. “So, if you ever have fertility issues, you just let me know and I can fix you right up.”
Rhett went a little pale under his tan like most men did when we talked about the family jewels not being worth much.
Gabby leaned in, whispering, “Considering the test I took yesterday, I think we’re all good in that department.”
“Gabby?” Lavender gasped.
Gabby nodded, her smile taking over her face. The two women hugged while I eyed Rhett’s jewels rather openly.
“Well done, fellas,” I told them. You had to remember, I dealt with penises and sperm all day long. Totally normal to talk directly to them.
Rhett moved his hand to cover his fly and edged closer to Gabby.
“Actually, Lucille, I have a television director friend who might be interested in your business. Do you mind if I give him your name and number?” Gabby seemed sincere, which made me want to accept.
“Sure, sure. I mean, they’d have to blur a lot of things out, but the place is a hotbed of crazy stories. You won’t believe the number of times we catch women trying to steal the samples!”
Gabby, Rhett, and Lavender burst out laughing again and I rode the high.
The high of having fun.
The high of speaking the truth for once.
The high of being the center of attention.
Shoot, maybe I’d be getting myself a goat once I got home. These goat challenges were powerful indeed. Maybe the next one could challenge me to find a boyfriend to break this thirty-six-year dry spell.
Not sure what kind of man I could find in Hell, but I was up for the challenge.
1
Lucille
“Thank God for Keva and underwire garments,” I muttered, coming around the corner and seeing the lights on at the clinic already. Considering I should have been there twenty minutes ago, I could beat myself up over my own tardiness, or I could simply pat myself on the back for my insightfulness in hiring such a responsible front desk clerk. Keva was the real deal: young, hardworking, and organized. What she lacked in street smarts could be made up for by her unfaltering kindness.
A loud horn shook me from my frazzled Monday morning thoughts.
“What in the gold-digging hell is this?”
In the rearview mirror, I saw a huge gray bus behind me, the driver reaching down to the steering wheel like he was going to lay on the horn again. All because I was going thirty in a thirty-five zone. This here was Brinestone Way, the brand-new road paved just days before my clinic opened to the public. Mayor Bennett had grand aspirations of making Auburn Hill a thriving metropolis, all starting with bringing in new businesses along this stretch of road. There was no need for speeding and, dammit, I’d been here first.
I threw my free hand up in the air, hoping it properly conveyed my irritation at his aggressiveness. I refrained from using the middle finger, though I swear it was itching to get in on the action.
“Damn magical goat stirring things up,” I muttered.
I put on my blinker and tapped the brakes as I approached my turn-in. Every bolt, spring, and dried-out belt in the ol’ 1968 convertible Karmann Ghia struck up a symphony as I eased her over the huge bump of a curb and into the parking lot. The huge bus barreled on down the road barely missing my back bumper, shaking the frame of poor Ghia in its aftermath.
I narrowed my eyes at the back of it, picturing it getting a flat tire or two and that nasty driver begging me for assistance. I scoffed out loud at the chances of me lifting a finger. He’d be on his knees crying and I’d simply honk at him and tell him to get out of the way. Justice was served, even if only in my own head. Where was Waldo when you needed him? Sheriff Waldo that is, not the guy with the striped hat in those kids’ books. Sheriff Waldo didn’t take kindly to strangers showing up in town and being rude.
I shook myself and focused on what was important. My establishment. My pride and joy.
Coastal Fertility Clinic.
Also known as a spank bank.
Now I know most entrepreneurs don’t start off their solo journey thinking they want to open up a clinic where men jack off all day long, but when you have a master’s degree in nursing like me, and you’re sick of running your tail off all day at the hospital for middlin’ wages, you had to think outside the box.
