“You know what I mean. That hate attraction. Esme’s had it, that’s how she met her wife, Nora.” Now Sasha’s eyes were all but twinkling, she seemed so happy to have possibly found a way to help. “Man, they really butted heads hard when they met. Like, fighting right in here in front of everyone, top of their lungs butting heads.” The light went out of her eyes then, and she looked down. “Actually, it was so bad between them, that it madeusfight, Esme and me. When I caught them together upstairs in the old Lounge. That was a whole thing.”
This was intriguing new information to Deb, who had only been coming to the Lounge for five years and was unfamiliar with the complexities of its lore. “Oh, wow.”
“Yeah… not a great moment for any of us.” Sasha kept her head down for another moment, then looked up and shook the bad old memories off. “Anyway, you want to talk to Esme?” she offered. “She’s here tonight, holed up in her office doing payroll. I bet she’d love a break to come out, hear some of the music, and chat with you. It’s been long enough that she finds a whole lot of that stuff with Nora funny now. I’m sure she’s got some good advice.”
Deb considered it briefly and discarded it. “No, thanks. I don’t really know Esme well enough for that, I think.” She picked up her not-beer again and drained it. “I really appreciate you listening and trying to help, though.”
“No problem. But hey, Deb, I need to get back to my kitchen.” Sasha slid out of the booth and picked up the empty beer glass. “You want another one of these non-alcoholic beers?”
She weighed responsibility with her deep need to obliterate her interest in Hayley Milton and sighed. “No, Sash, would you be so kind as to get me a Jack and a beer, and is it okay if I park my ride out in the back lot tonight for safety?”
Sasha nodded, understanding. “Hand me your keys and I’ll get it back there myself. I’ll send Cam over from the bar with your drink, and as a treat, some fresh fries and a slice of my caramel pretzel cheesecake. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” Deb replied, fishing out her credit card to give Cam so she could open a proper tab and get absolutely hammered.
“Is that a banana bag?” Paige asked from the doorway of Deb’s office, eyes wide.
Deb looked up from her desk, where she was busily inserting an IV line into the vein near the crook of her left elbow. She saw no point in lying. “Yes,” she said tersely, gritting her teeth against the sting of the needle. Carefully, she taped the needle down, then reached up to the bag on the pole behind her chair to open the flow valve. The vitamins and electrolytes began their slow creep down the IV tube and into her veins, where she hoped they and the acetaminophen she’d taken earlier would mingle together and finally banish the absolutely lethal hangover she’d awoken with. “I don’t feel so great.”
“A bunch of Boilermakers will do that to you.” Paige pushed herself off of the door frame and sidled into small room, closing the door behind her. “Thanks for all those 1:30 AM texts, by the way, that didn’t interrupt my beauty sleep atall.”
Deb grimaced. “I forgot about those. Sorry.”
“Not a big deal, really. I just like giving you hell when you leave the door open for it.” Paige’s grin was cocky but fond as she plopped down in one of the chairs on the other side of Deb’s desk and propped her sneakered feet up by theChief of Emergency Medicinedeskplate. She was one of the few doctors at Oakridgewho could get away with being so cavalier with the Chief; they’d been in the same resident class at another California hospital years ago. “The opportunities are so rare since you became Chief. You’re getting soft.”
“Perish the thought,” Deb replied dryly. “Not me having to be responsible.” She toyed with the thick, slightly frizzy rope of braided hair that fell over her shoulder. Her head had hurt too much this morning to even think about bundling her dark hair into a high pony or a tight bun. She’d barely survived the sensory nightmare of shower droplets on her skin. “Hey, listen, I’m always happy for a chat, but you don’t usually hunt me down in my office. Something up?”
“Yes.” Paige sat up and brought her feet down off of the desk, to Deb’s relief. Spontaneous and a bit reckless she might be, but her mother had raised her right. Paige sometimes came off as though she’d grown up in a zoo. “So, I had a patient come into the ED today complaining of cardiac pain. We checked; he was about two seconds away from a thoracic aortic aneurysm rupture. Obviously, Doctor Foster whipped him into an OR real damn quick and got to work, but it didn’t go well. The guy’s health was just dire, a lot of weak spots all over… honestly, it’s amazing he’s made it this far in life. That aorta had the structural integrity of a slice of Swiss cheese.”
“Oh, damn.” Deb sat back in her chair and let out a low whistle. “Outcome?”
“Success, incredibly. I think this one could be the miracle of Laura’s career.” Paige grinned, briefly, and then it faded into sober seriousness. “That said, obviously the guy is going to need some pretty close extended care.”
Deb didn’t understand. “Well, yeah. Send him over to ICU.”
Paige arched one dark eyebrow. “I’m so glad we’re on the same page after the stunt you pulled with my compartment syndrome patient yesterday.”
The reminder made Deb squirm in her chair. “Damn it, Paige.”
“You put all of us in the ED in a really bad spot with Hayley Milton, Chief.” Paige leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Now, we’ve smoothed things over pretty well, and she’s always going to put patients first over a petty grudge, for which we can all be thankful.” Her green eyes narrowed. “That said, she wants a full and formal transfer of this patient to the ICU, signed off on by you. And for my part…” One side of Paige’s mouth turned up in a crooked grin. “I would really, really appreciate it if you’d go over there and sincerely apologize, Deb.”
Deb threw her hands in the air, then winced as the needle in her left arm shifted around with the movement. Carefully, she lowered her hands back down and checked to make sure she hadn’t dislodged it entirely. She slid her gaze to meet Paige’s. “Is that really necessary?”
“I could frog-march you over there myself if you like,” Paige said coolly.
“Oh, ho ho,” Deb chortled darkly. “I’d like to see you try.”
Paige said nothing, simply looked pointedly at the needle in Deb’s arm.
“Dirty pool, Paige,” Deb said.
“Whatever gets the job done. Will you apologize to her, Chief?”
Deb sighed. “Yes. As soon as this banana bag is finished. I’m not hauling a hangover remedy around with me on this particular errand.”
“I can accept that.” Paige got to her feet and wandered over to the door. She opened it and then glanced back over her shoulder. “I will be keeping an eye out for you. You might take that needle out, but I can just drag you by that braid there.”
She whisked out the door before Deb could say anything else. Deb sighed again and rubbed her temples. A new and different headache was starting to throb in her temples.
