style="font-size:15px;"> “I’ll be right there, Ruby.” Jack hung up, thankful he had an excuse to leave. He grabbed his bag from the floor next to his desk, checking quickly to make sure it contained his heavy-duty clippers. If he recalled, the little billy goat that made occasional forays into town from who-knew-where had horns long enough to keep its head stuck in a bucket.
He stood and went to the coatrack near his office door and pulled his heavy, dark brown canvas barn jacket off the rack. Slipping into it, he met the eyes of the eager reporter. The cameraman’s face was already buried behind his camera. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
“Can you just answer a couple of quick—”
He held up a hand again. “It’s an emergency. Sorry.”
Marina’s face glowed, clearly having picked up the scent of opportunity. “We’ll come along.”
Irritated and knowing that telling them no didn’t work—they simply followed along at a distance—Jack nodded. “Okay, just give me a sec.”
He turned and headed for the examination room, but realized he didn’t want to leave them inside with access to his office. He whirled and headed back toward them. “Why don’t you go ahead and wait for me in your van. Give you time to warm it up.”
Marina nodded in agreement. “Sure. Good idea.”
Her cameraman opened the door for her, and then Jack held it for him as he maneuvered the expensive video camera unit through the doorway. Jack closed the door, turning the lock as quietly as he could. He then headed straight for the examination room and out the other door that led out back, effectively ditching the news crew. His gut told him the last thing Ruby needed was to have her upset featured on the evening news. And it would be, because she was a fellow winner.
Besides, since he only had to pass Faulkner’s Hardware and The Brimming Cup, then cross the side street Mayor Bobby Larson had had the ballocks to rename Big Draw Drive to reach the back of The Mercantile, he’d be shortening the time it took him to get there.
As he made his way along the backside of the Main Street businesses, which looked much smaller than they did from the front with their old-west style facades, all Jack could think about was how nice it would be to move some place where he could do his job without having to slip out the back door of his own clinic.
A place where no one knew who he was, or could remind him of his pain.
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