Page 7 of Doc Showmance
Was I about to get fired? Did the client who got in my technician’s face about wait time and refusing to pay from yesterday complain? I loved when a client thought I wouldn’t clap back. It wasn’t okay to give my staff hell.
With dread, I suspected this had everything to do with Ian Todd. And the secret plan.
I checked my messages; my phone had been buzzing throughout the appointment against my pants. The number of messages from my brothers, Bruno and Marino, required I scroll the screen. Sometimes they behaved like twelve-year-olds, yet they were both in their late twenties.
Bruno:Marino did something stupid. Like scary dumb. Sure, no surprise, but this is bad. He relapsed.
Marino:It was months ago.
Bruno:The guy was at the house. He threatened ME thinking I was you. He had a knife.
Marino:I got it under control.
Bruno:Like hell you do. He waved a knife at me and said he’d carve me up if I didn’t cough up the money you owe him. Where the F are you, Amber?
Marino:We can talk about it later. It’s all good.
Bruno:Marino’s a dick brain. He owes money to a loan shark again, to the tune of at least 20k. He bet it on a NASCAR race and lost. Looks like rehab didn’t hold.
“What?” I whooshed out loud.
Dr. Morris turned, eyebrows raised.
“Nothing. Just a phone message.” I shoved the phone deep in my lab coat pocket. Marino had…hasa gambling problem. He’d done so well since he finished rehab two years ago. Marino was part of the reason I chose ER medicine—it paid the highest for a residency, and I needed to pay off the fifteen thousand he’d racked up while I was in vet school. He was my brother, so of course I paid it off for him. Marino swore he wouldn’t gamble anymore.
Dr. Morris closed the door behind him. “Sit.”
I plopped down in the stiff, straight back chair on the other side of his desk. A sense of déjà vu from being in the high school principal’s office swamped me. As a “difficult” teenager who didn’t take direction from authority figures well, I’d been in detention more times than I cared to count.
“Is this about barking at a client yesterday for being mean to the staff?” I asked.
“What?” Dr. Morris covered his eyes. “Did you make a mess?”
“No. We’re all good. Is this about the confessional booth, then?”
Dr. Morris sighed. “They have been nagging me to remind you you’re obligated to spend five minutes a day in there talking to the camera. You can’t sit in there and file your nails or check your email.”
“My contract with the TV company doesn’t specify I have to speak in there. Is this about Kovac, then?” We’d butted heads yesterday in an argument that probably made great TV. “His medicine’s crap and you know it.”
“He agreed to move to overnights,” Dr. Morris said. “That should keep the two of you apart.”
“I thought he was the cornerstone of the whole show. They love our arguments.”I don’t.“Doesn’t he hate overnights?”
“The producer is more interested in you than him. As for Kovac, I’ve been trying to buy out his twenty-five percent ownership for months. His retirement is long overdue. He conceded to go to overnights and cut down on hours, but he has nothing in his life other than work. His wife left him last year. His kids aren’t around. No grandkids.” Dr. Morris tented his hands. There was something hesitant in his expression. “You’ve been taking on some tough surgeries recently with good outcomes. That’s impressive.”
“Okay. Thanks?” Compliments from him boded poorly.
“We’re here to talk about the show…and you.” He dropped his hands from their tent.
“Are they dropping me from filming?” Hope soared, although the income loss would be a bummer.
“No. You’re staying on the show.”
Drop that joy right back into the negatives. “Why do you tolerate the cameras? Everything about the show is a pain in the ass. The camera crew is always in the way. The clients act weird on camera. Sometimes, even the staff acts odd. We’re attracting clients who hope to be on the show whose pets often don’t even have emergency problems.”
“Key words you said there arewe’re attracting clients.”
“The show is annoying.” I crossed my arms. “They edit things out to make everything more dramatic, sometimes to the point that it warps reality. None of us on staff other than Kovac and one or two techs are showoffs who want to be front and center in the type of drama this show is looking for.”
