Page 15 of Hellcat Barbies: Imani
“I won’t. It’s always on straight. Well, until I fuck up the doc. I’ll take it off then because I don’t want to corrupt my queen image,” I say and we both laugh.
“Well, then you will like this. You can kick his ass and it won’t violate this severance. The money. The only way they can seek it back is if you talk about what happened during the surgery. Now, you just have to hope they don’t call the police on your ass. If they do, I’ll hop in Violet and be there in a few hours,” she says referring to her deep purple Hellcat.
“I know you will and I appreciate that. Send me your email address too, please and thanks again, girl.”
“Anytime. Sending it now. I love you, sign it, and call me if they lock yo’ ass up,” she says before ending the call.
I take the pen, initial in the three spots, then sign and date the last page. When I’m done, I stand and walk to the door. When I open it to walk out, I notice Bryan heading my way with a box so I return to the table and my seat. As soon as he walks in, he places the empty printer paper box on the table then reaches for the agreement, glances at the pages, then nods. He signs it next.
“Write the email addresses on this,” he says after pulling a small piece of paper from his pocket. I do then give it back to him. “I’ll be right back after I scan this,” he says before leaving back out. He returns not even five minutes later. He waits while I check my email and confirm my receipt. Then, he straightens his posture. He reaches into the box and pulls out my badge. “It’s activated for the next thirty minutes so you can gather your stuff. You can leave it with security when you leave.”
“Got it,” is all I say before picking up the box and leaving him in that conference room.I got shit to do.
Focused and determined to utilize my limited time to the fullest, I damn near run out of HR and trek to the elevators. As it ascends, my emotions resurface.They really fucking fired me!My anger seems to build each floor and by the time I’m off the elevator, I’m pissed to the highest level.
I don’t even speak to LeAnn at the info desk in front of the Trauma Surgery entrance. I walk straight to it and badge in. The slow-moving large door seems to be extra slow today and my patience is non-existence. I walk out and turn to the side as soonas the elevator door starts to open and I’m down the hall before it’s fully open.
Razor focused on finding the fuck boy doctor, I badge into the employee locker room, leave that stupid box there, then rush out to the surgery board. I find his name and see that he has a surgery in OR4 in thirty minutes. It’s his first one of the day so, he should be in the sink area of the room, scrubbing. The first scrub is the longest and he prefers to scrub alone while listening to his stupid playlist.
Before I walk into OR4, I spot one of the nurses eyeing me. I’m sure she knows by now that I’m fired. Word travels with the speed of light in these hospitals so my time is limited. She’ll be telling someone soon that I’m in the operating area; I have to act fast.
I rush inside and immediately here one of his rhythmless songs blasting. Through the round window in the door, I see him hunched over the sink, scrubbing his hands with the antimicrobial soap. As quiet as I can, I ease the door open. I’m inside and behind him before he notices me.
“You can’t be here,” he grits with too much damn audacity.
“And youshouldn’tbe here,” I fire back before kicking him hard as shit on his calve
“Ugh!’ he yelps like a wounded dog as he drops to the floor.
The way he collapses, I know I got lucky and probably hit his peroneal nerve. He lands on his knees and his head misses the sink by a millimeter. While he’s down, I don’t waste another minute. I pounce on him, side slapping the shit out of his face.
“Lying muthafucka! You fucked with the wrong scrub tech,” I spit.
He’s screaming like a bitch and basically defenseless. While I’m fucking him up, he keeps trying to move but his feet aren’t cooperating. I definitely hit his peroneal.That’s what his ass gets.
I don’t know how, when, or even who but right when I’m about to mush the doctor’s head into the sink, a strong arm yokes me back. My feet are off the ground and I’m being pulled back.
“Let me go!” I demand.
“Miss Imani, please stop,” a deep, stern, but calm voice that I recognize says.
Micheal. The security guard.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he insists.
“You’re already hurting me,” I lie. I’m not hurt just pissed and annoyed as hell. I want to be back in the room, on Dr. Stetson’s bitch-ass. “Let me down,” I yell while trying to wiggle out of his grip.
“I’m just doing my job, Miss Imani.”
In the past, I kind of liked how he addresses everyone by either miss or mister. Right now, I hate the shit, real bad and my annoyance and piss-sivity is getting worse.
“Do your job and go walk his ass out!” I yell, now drawing a crowd. A few nurses, some scrub techs, and a doctor are now in the hall but I don’t give a damn.
“Thanks to you, they’re carrying him out,” he says. “Didn’t know you had all that in you,” he says with amusement but I’m far from amused. Nothing is funny.
“You next, if you don’t let me go!” I huff and he really laughs.
“We both know that’s not true. Now, stop,” he says more sternly. Then, in a hush tone, he speaks slower, almost pleading, “They want you out. Let me walk you out. I don’t want to carry you like this through the hospital. Please.”
