schoolgirl crush sort of feeling. And Roxie didn’t like it. In her experience men were unreliable, opportunistic and good for one thing only—sex. Add in emotion and the fun factor took a nosedive.
“Thank you, everyone,” she said.
Fig didn’t move.
“Back to work, you,” she said, using her hands to shoo him along. “I hear a phone ringing.”
He turned his back to the patient and leaned toward her. “Your mom called,” he said quietly. “She sounded upset.”
Last night had been particularly difficult. Roxie hated to leave for work this morning but what else could she do? They both depended on her income.
“She said she couldn’t find the knobs for the stove,” he added.
Duh. Because last week she hadn’t turned off a burner, which caused the macaroni and cheese she’d made to burn and spew the smoke that prompted their obnoxious, constantly complaining neighbor to call the fire department. Which was the reason every damn thing in her not-so-terrific life had gone from “barely tolerable but afloat” to “she’s taking on water!” fast approaching “she’s going down. Abandon ship.”
“There’s a perfectly logical explanation for that,” Roxie said. “Which is none of your business. Next time tell her to call my cell.” She turned to her patient.
Fig reached for her arm to stop her. “She told me she’d tried but you didn’t answer,” he whispered.
What? Roxie always answered Mami’s calls. She patted her breast pocket. Empty. Jammed her hands into both scrub coat pockets, rummaged through their contents. Bandage scissors. Alcohol prep pads. Tape. Three injectable Demerol cartridges. Damn it, she needed to get in to talk to Victoria. Two paperclips. Three pens. A box of thermometer probes. A roll of candies. And a breakfast bar she hadn’t had time to eat.
No phone.
She yanked her hands out so fast something went flying. A pen? It rolled under the bedside stand. She’d get it later. “Shoot. Where the heck did I leave my phone?” Mami panicked if she couldn’t reach her. How long had it been since she’d called?
Roxie bent to look under the bed.
“Hot-pink with crystals, right?” Fig asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for it.”
“Thanks.”
“And you got these.” He handed her some slips of pink paper from his pocket.
She looked at the male names on each of six message slips. So they’d seen the video. Perverts. She ripped the papers in half and tossed them in the trash. “Anything else?” she asked, losing patience, wanting to get finished admitting her patient so she could call home then find her phone. Which contained that link she should have deleted upon receipt.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Always fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.
After getting her new patient settled Roxie took a minute to use a phone at the nurses’ station. “Hola, Mami.”
She started to cry.
“No. Please don’t cry. You don’t need the stove. I left you a sandwich in the refrigerator.”
“I want to make hard-boiled eggs,” her mother said.
“It’s egg salad. Your favorite.”
“Que buena hija. You’re a good daughter.”
“Gracias. Look, I have to get back to work. I misplaced my phone. If you need me call the floor and Fig will get me.”
Nothing.
“Okay, Mami?”
“Okay,” she said, her mouth full. “It’s good. I was hungry.”
Roxie smiled. “Be careful getting back to bed. I’ll come straight home after work.” She hung up the phone, dropped her head and let out a sigh of relief.
When she looked up her eyes met Fig’s. “If my mom calls back …”
“I’ll come find you,” he finished.
“Thanks.” Her stomach growled.
“Go eat. If any of your patients buzz I’ll have Ali or Victoria check on them.”
“I think I will.” She stood. Swayed. Grabbed on to the counter to steady herself at the same time Fig reached for her. “Wow. Looks like the tank is empty. Time to refuel.”
“Is that all it is?” Fig asked, looking concerned. And … suspect?
“Do you have any idea how many calories it takes to run this body?” she asked. “I skipped breakfast this morning. And, thanks to you, worked through my break.” She lifted a shaky hand to flatten her hair. “I’m fine.” Always fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.
“I’ll walk you to the lounge,” Fig offered.
She pulled her elbow out of his loose hold. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She exited the nurses’ station, her head feeling disconcertingly foggy. Maintaining focus on the lounge door, she took deep breaths, concentrated on each step and willed her body to continue moving forward. Passing out at work would not be a good thing.
Two bottles of chocolate milk and two bologna-and-cheese sandwiches on rye later, Roxie felt back to her usual self. And ready to tackle Victoria before returning to her patients.
Just outside the open door to Victoria’s office, Roxie heard Fig talking. “You have your proof right there,” he said. “You asked me to watch her and I did. She showed up to work with bloodshot eyes, forgot her stethoscope in the nurses’ lounge and misplaced her phone—which the pharmacy tech found in the med cart.”
A flush of anger heated Roxie’s skin. Fig was reporting her activities to Victoria, who had asked him to watch her? Why?
“And she almost passed out at the nurses’ station not fifteen minutes ago,” he went on. “I think it’s time to switch your focus from trying to find Roxie innocent to figuring out a way to help her out of this mess.”
Find Roxie innocent of what? Help her out of what mess? Exactly how much did they know about what was going on in her life? She walked into the office and with narrowed eyes looked from Victoria—sitting behind her desk, prim and professional—to Fig, looking all relaxed in the one chair across from Victoria. “What mess might that be?” she asked Fig. “And you hired him to watch me?” she asked Victoria. “Why?”
Victoria looked down at her desk at a lone cartridge of injectable Demerol.
Roxie slid her hand into her pocket and found only two of the three that had been there earlier.
Not good.
CHAPTER
