Page 61 of We Were Something
“I did. The route into Pike Place that the ambulance would have taken was flooded, and we would have been waiting too long. My car was right there, and the closest hospital was only a mile away. I got in a bit of trouble for that one, another thing the papers blew out of proportion.”
“I can see why the hospital wouldn’t have wanted to reprimand the doctor who was getting so much good press. Instead of a child getting hit by a car, flying through a storefront, and then bleeding out, he had his wounds stabilized and was at the hospital within minutes. Sounds like you reallywerethe Protector of Pike Place. Looks like the citizens of the South Bay will be lucky to have you. And who knows? Maybe they’ll christen you with a new title. Hero of Hermosa has a nice ring to it.”
I have to work hard not to roll my eyes, instead giving Lars another tight smile.
“My hope is that there isn’t a situation that requires me to be seen as a hero,” I say. “I’m just a guy who is passionate about medical care and doing everything I can to make sure kids have the best chance at long, happy lives.”
Lars turns to his assistant and says a few words, pointing at something on her clipboard, but I’m not fully listening.
I hate when people talk about me as if I’m some miracle worker because of what happened in Seattle. I’m not. I’m a man who saw a freak accident happen to a child who was justexistingand doing nothing wrong. Anybody would have done it if they’d known what to do. The fact that shit like this even happens in thefirstplace is just…
Gritting my teeth and shoving that thought aside, I glance at my watch.
“Were there any other questions, or do you think we’re close to wrapping things up?” I ask.
Lars grins, oblivious to the fact that I’m desperate to get out of here. “Last question, Dr. Becker, and this one’s a little whacky. If you had to describe yourself as a kind of cheese, what kind would you be?”
A laugh bursts out of me, and I glance over to where Paige is sitting in the corner. She has her hand over her mouth, and I can tell she’s laughing, too.
“Parmesan,” I say, returning my attention to Lars. “Definitely parmesan.”
“I can’tbelievehe actually asked the cheese question,” Paige says as we return to my office a few hours later. “I saw it in a fashion magazine recently, something like ‘what your favorite cheese says about your style,’ or some other kind of ridiculous quiz. Apparently, I hit on a trend.”
“Apparently,” I reply, chuckling as I toss my duffle onto the couch in the corner. “But thank god that’s over. I agreed to do whatever interviews Chief Michaels had PR set up for me, but that was a bit much.”
Paige snorts. “Abit? The interview is supposed to be about you as the new miracle-worker doctor and they had you practically taking all your clothes off in the gym.”
“I’m not a miracle worker.”
“Still. Nearly naked.”
I chuckle at Paige’s very poorly masked jealousy and collapse into my desk chair, rubbing at the bridge of my nose and allowing myself just a minute to reflect on what it felt like to be poked and prodded and posed like a model.
Well, Iassumethat’s what a model goes through. I don’t want anyone thinking I can’t see the difference between myself and a real model.
They got some shots of me in my business casual outfit in the conference room then in my white coat and scrubs posed in a variety of places on the pediatric floor, and they took advantage of the setting sun outside by having me post up in my jeans and Henley in the memorial garden.
That was when Lars’ photographer looked at Paige and said, “Can you do anything to make him smile? Most of the shots are fairly serious.”
Paige gave me a look from where she stood behind Lars before she said, “Nah. Nobody can make him smile. He’s practically a serial killer.”
Which, of course, made me laugh, making the photographer very happy.
Thankfully, I was able to convince them I didn’t have time to go to the beach for a sunset photo shoot in my new swim trunks, because that was something Lars wasveryinterested in. But theydidsomehow find out about the gym in the rehabilitation center and dragged me over there to pose in the snug gray tee and loose track pants I bought with Paige.
“We just want a lot of options,” Lars assured me, though it wasn’t very reassuring.
“I’m just glad I know enough now to put my foot down and say absolutely not to any more interviews that require anything more than a conversation and a few quick pictures.”
Paige slips into the space between me and my desk then does a little hop up so she’s seated on the solid oak.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I thought you lookedincrediblyhandsome,” she says, reaching forward and tucking her finger into the neck of my shirt.
“Oh yeah?”
She smiles and nods at me. “Oh yeah.”
“Well I will happily take your consolation,” I tell her, allowing her to drag me forward until my chest is pressed against the edge of my desk, between her spread thighs.
