8
Archer
I look out the window, watching the ground come closer and closer. The plane lands smoothly, and I lean back, yawning for the millionth time on this one-hour flight. I left the hospital at two AM, got home, showered, and slept for an hour and a half, before having to get up and get to the airport in time for my flight into Chicago. Even though it’s early, I’ll still be pushing it to get to the hotel in time to change before going to the conference.
Feeling like I’m walking through a heavy fog, I get a coffee with extra espresso on my way to the baggage claim, and down the whole thing by the time I get my suitcase. There’s a car waiting for me, and it takes effort not to fall asleep on the drive over. Traffic is slow, and while I don’t want to miss anything, the thought of dozing off while stuck in a jam sounds nice right now.
Quinn works in the city. I don’t know where she works, or exactly what she does to even begin to describe it to someone, but she’s here. And so are three million other people. I won’t run into her. I shouldn’t even worry about it.
But I’m not worried.
I’m hopeful.
I close my eyes, remembering the way she felt in my arms. The way she smells. Her smile. Her laugh.
And the way she looked at me. Lust. Want. She was a little bit afraid but determined not to show it. But all that melded into anger, and that final look made my stomach churn. Hurting Quinn is the last thing I want to do.
I need another coffee once I get to the hotel. The room is nice, and the king-sized bed is calling my name. I don’t know why I thought working a nineteen-hour shift before coming here was a good idea.
“Jones, you coming?”
“Yeah,” I tell Dr. Tyler White. Also a surgeon, he’s here for the conference but isn’t interested in the same fellowship. It’s the afternoon, and we’ve already sat through several panels. If I don’t get up and move around, I’ll be asleep in my seat before the next panel starts. Before the convention began this morning, I was able to talk to renowned surgeon, Dr. Crawford, who knew my name from talking with Dr. Miller. It was enough of a small victory to keep me awake and alert through the morning, but now the lack of sleep is hitting me hard.
Tyler and I step out onto the busy sidewalk, both blinking in the bright light. He’s from Texas and isn’t familiar with the city either. We have a break for lunch, and the next panel is geared for OB/GYNs, which I don’t mind missing.
“I’m thinking we should go to one of those pizza places,” Tyler starts. “That serves the famous Chicago-style pizza.”
“Pizza sounds good right now.” Hell, anything sounds good right now. I didn’t have time for breakfast and I had another cup of coffee. Yeah, yeah…I know…doctors make the worst patients. My eating habits turn to shit when I’m working nonstop.
We do our best not to look like tourists as we go to Giordano’s. It’s busy, and we talk about work and the shit hours you pull as a resident. Two women, wearing tight pencil skirts and low-cut blouses, are eyeing us, doing their best to get our attention.
“Are you guys doctors?” one of them asks. She’s petite, with bright eyes and sleek black hair.
“We are,” Tyler says with a smile.
“That’s what we thought,” the other says, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder. “We heard you talking. So you’re both surgeons?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tyler shuffles closer through the busy lobby.
“Wow, that’s amazing.” The blonde flashes another smile. Both women are pretty—very pretty. She’s tall and fit and her tits are practically falling out of her shirt. While I can appreciate how good she looks, and have my cock react accordingly, I don’t feel drawn to her.
I know why, but I refuse to admit it to myself.
“Do you want to join us?” the woman with the dark hair asks. “Our table should be ready any minute now.”
Tyler looks at me, no question in his eyes. These women are flirting, attractive, and will probably be up for something this evening. Sam’s words echo through my head. Would hooking up with someone else make me stop wanting Quinn?
A few minutes later, we’re all seated together. The women—Rene and Charlene—ask us about being doctors and tell us about the city. They’re nice enough, a bit obvious with their attempts at flirting for my liking, but Tyler is eating them up. The blonde, Charlene, has cozied up to him, and they’re already talking about meeting up tonight.
“We’re done at four-thirty,” Tyler tells them.
“Perfect!” Charlene wiggles closer. “We’re having this little office party at five and you should totally come crash it with us.”
“Your boss won’t mind?”
“Nah.” Rene waves her hand in the air. “She’s cool. Or at least she tries to be,” she says with a laugh. “She’ll probably be in her office working the whole time and won’t even notice. Talk about a bore.”
“Yeah,” Charlene coos. “You should totally come. It’s catered and everything, and it has free drinks.”
“You got me there,” Tyler laughs. “I suppose we can swing by.”
“Great!” Charlene beams and gives him the address, as well as her number. We make small talk as we eat, and Tyler pays the whole bill at the end of our meal. Charlene fawns over him on our way out.
“You know,” he tells me as we head back to the convention. “I didn’t want to go to this fucking thing. I think after tonight I’ll be glad.”
“Yeah,” I chuckle. “All I was hoping for was a foot in the door for that fellowship.”
“You’ll be getting more than that.”
I go along with it, acting like I’m looking forward to meeting up with the women tonight and the prospect of getting laid. Looking around the busy city, I wonder where Quinn is and what she’s doing right now.
We get to the convention with time to spare before the next panel. I go up to my room, setting the timer on my phone for twenty minutes. I stretch out on the bed and close my eyes. Five minutes later, my phone rings. Grumbling, I sit up and see it’s Mom.
“Hey, Mom,” I answer, heart already in my throat.
“Archer,” she says, voice strained, and I know something bad happened. “Is this a bad time?”
“No, Mom, it’s never a bad time. What’s going on?”
“I found a bottle of pills in Robert’s room when I was cleaning.”
“What does the bottle say?” I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Lorazepam.”
“That’s Ativan. What do the pills look like?”
“Round and orange.”
I sigh. “That’s not Ativan. Give me the numbers scored in the pill.” I’ve been over this with her before. She can enter this information into a Google search and find the pill. But I know she’s anxious and upset. I know how guilty she and dad feel over their oldest son becoming an addict.
They feel like they failed him, like they weren’t good en
ough and didn’t give him enough attention. I’ve tried to tell them that’s not the case. They’re not bad parents. They gave us everything they could. I turned out okay. Better than okay, according to some.
“It’s amphetamine and dextroamphetamine.”
“Is that bad?”
“Yes, Mom, it’s bad. It’s Adderall.”
Mom doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “That doesn’t mean he’s taking it. It was in the back of the closet, along with a pack of cigarettes. And I know he doesn’t smoke anymore. I’d smell it on his clothes if he did.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I lost all faith in my brother recovering after his third failed attempt at rehab.
“Would it show up on a drug test?”
“Depends on what they are looking for. Given his history, I’d assume they’d check for a wide range.”
“Good. He passed the test last week.”
“Then maybe he isn’t taking it.”
“I just want my Bobby back,” she says softly. “I miss him.”
“Me too, Mom. How’s Dad? Is he taking his blood pressure medication every day?”
“I make him. And remind him that his doctor son won’t hesitate to call and yell.” I can hear the smile in Mom’s voice. I let out a small breath of relief. “I’ll let you go. Thanks, Archie.”
“Anytime, Mom.”
I lay back down and close my eyes but am not able to fall back asleep. It’s been a long time since I spoke with my brother. We’re not on the best terms, with me struggling not to blame him for everything and him being jealous I actually did something with my life. When my alarm goes off, I’m glad to get up and get Bobby out of my head. He’s pretty much out of my life.
The final panels are interesting, and once they’re over, Tyler and I get a cab into the city. Charlene texts and says she’ll meet us in the lobby, and once we get there, it’s apparent why. They work in a high-rise, and security clearance is needed to go up into their office.
The place is open and modern and Rene sits behind the front desk. She bats her eyes and smiles when she sees me. Then the phone rings, and she answers it, holding up her finger, signaling me to hold on a minute.