Page 7 of Need Me
Brooke sighed and flopped back in her chair. “The one doctor here is such a pain in the ass. He doesn’t finish charts before he goes home half the time, which holds up insuranceclaims.”
“That sucks. Sorry about that. Is he an older guy?” Robertasked.
“Yeah. Close to seventy, Iguess.”
Robert asked, “Is your charting systemnew?”
“Just installed six months ago,” she said. “Why?”
“Some people his age aren’t good at learning new software programs. Maybe he’s not finishing charts because he doesn’t understand the program, but doesn’t want to admit it,” Robert replied. “He might just need a little more training onit.”
Brooke thought about the way Dr. Danforth peck-typed. “You might be right. He doesn’t have any trouble with emailing and stuff, but he’s so slow aboutcharts.”
“Do you have a manual for the program?” Robert asked. “If you do, you could make a flowchart that shows how to navigate the system and put it by the computers. We use visual aids here all thetime.”
“A flowchart?” Brooke rubbed her forehead. “I’m a nurse, Robert, not a secretary. I don’t know anything about makingflowcharts.”
His warm laugh made her smile. “Tell you what, why don’t I take your mind off this? Have dinner with me Fridaynight?”
That made her perk up. “DinnerFriday?”
“Yeah. Seven-thirty?”
Brooke wanted to twirl around her office in triumph. Instead she settled for doing a silent little chair dance. “That would be perfect,” she said calmly while inside she wassinging.
“Great. I’ll see you then. Don’t forget that manual, okay?” Robertasked.
Brook appreciated his thoughtfulness. “I won’t. See you Friday night,Superman.”
She heard him groan right before she hung up and laughed. Her mood much improved after Robert’s call, Brooke went back towork.
* * *
Goingthrough his suits a couple of nights later, Robert was dismayed by the selection in his closet. It had been several years since he’d bought a new one. He wanted to impress the hell out of Brooke, but there was nothing impressive about any of his suits. Pulling out a gray one, he looked at it and showed it to Corky, his rescuedog.
“What do youthink?”
The big mutt of no determinate breed lay on Robert’s bed. Corky cocked his head and then put a paw over hiseyes.
Robert frowned at him. “It’s notthatbad. Isit?”
Corky whined and rolledover.
“Has to be bad if even your dog doesn’t like it,” Robertmuttered.
His pet skunk, Sketch, clambered onto the bed and curled up next to Corky. The two were best friends and almost inseparable. All of Robert’s menagerie were rescues of one sort of another. Besides Corky and Sketch, he had a Thoroughbred mare, a big mule, two goats, one of which only had three legs, and threecats.
“Okay, I need a suit, but what kind, what kind…?” His text message alert went off. Seeing that it was Tyler, he ran to the living room. On Wednesday nights, he and several of his new friends playedNexGen Militia, a badass online apocalyptic military game. Tyler, an A-type personality, even when it came to games, hated it when any of them were late gettingonline.
Robert already had the game ready, so he hopped on the couch, put on his headset and adjusted his mic. “I’mhere.”
“Hey, Robert,” Tyler said in his ear. “Ric?”
“Here.”
“Chase?”
Heavy breathing was followed by, “Holy shit,” in a Texan accent. “Rub it harder,baby.”
