He shoves the tablet in my face, and I’m greeted by the intense eyes, and one-of-a-kind body that I’m too familiar with.
“That’s…”
“Margeaux Wild! She’s the coolest woman wrestler in the PEW! She’s such a badass,” he laughs as he scrolls through the news story about her beating up Brice Strickland.
“Hey, does your mom let you use that kinda language?”
He rolls his eyes at me like I’m old-fashioned. “Come on, Dr. J. I’m dying, I should be allowed to say a bad word every once in a while.”
My heart drops from my chest into my stomach. Sammy does this more often than I’d like. He makes these comments about death. I’m not going to lie to him and tell him he’s wrong. I just don’t know what to say to him in these moments.
A knock on the door interrupts us. “Excuse me, I was told I could find Dr. J— Oh. Well, well, well. Looks like I found him.”
Oh. My. Fuck.
“Oh my God! It’s Margeaux Wild! Dr. J! It’s Margeaux Wild!You’reMargeaux Wild!!!” Sammy jumps out of his bed and runs to Margeaux at the doorway, his IV crashes to the floor, yanking free from his arm, which he doesn’t feel over how excited he is by Margeaux. That makes two of us who are stunned by her.
“Hey! Nice to meet you. I’m Margeaux,” she says to Sammy, and the kid lights up like a Christmas tree. “And nice to see you again, Doc. You left this at the gym,” she says to me, holding up my hospital ID badge.
8
MAREGAUX
The lookof pure horror on his face is vindicating. I don’t even try to conceal my smug grin as the small boy leads me into his hospital room. His light blue gown swallows him, reaching his ankles. At least he’s wearing cool superhero socks.
“I’m Sammy! How did you know where my room is?!” This boy is too cute. He’s small and looks on the too-thin side for his age, and his bright blue eyes make him seem like he’s up for anything.
I watch the color drain from Jon’s face and my mood couldn’t be better. He knows he fucked up ditching me this morning, and I’m not letting him off that easily. I didn’t know he was a fucking doctor. That’s certainly a curveball. Usually, guys brag about things like that,I’m a doctor. I’m a lawyer.He’s more modest than most.
I can’t keep my attention on Jon for long because this bouncing boy is rattling off a million questions. It warms my heart that I haveonefan in this horrible city.
“Well, I simply asked where the coolest kid in thisboringplace was, and they sent me right here,” I explain, pointing my fingers at the floor between us, which makes this little boy—Sammy—laugh even more.
“This place sucks. I hate being here,” Sammy says, his bright mood quickly dwindling.
I feel like such an insensitive idiot for reminding this kid he’s in the fucking hospital. I don’t know why he’s here. He’s a little small for his age, but nothing seemswrongwith him. Maybe he’s just sick with a cold or the Flu, and he’s only here for a short stay.
Jon kneels beside him in an instant. “Hey, Champ. Margeaux is here to visityou. I told her how awesome you are, and she dropped everything to be here today.” Jon glances up at me, begging me to go along with this.
The smallest corner of my heart melts seeing Jon talk to Sammy. He seems like such a natural with kids. Guess that’s why he’s a pediatrician. That’s all the information I got from his ID badge.
“Can we show Dr. J your last match? He doesn’t watch wrestling. And that chair slam into Eva Mendoza’s back was epic!” Before I can answer, he’s diving back onto his bed and grabbing his tablet.
“You hit somebody with a chair?” Jon mumbles to me in a tone that’s similar to a parent scolding a child.
I smack my lips at him and roll my eyes. “Not hard. She’s fine.”
“It was so cool, Dr. J! Eva pinned Margeaux, and then Margeaux got up, and snuck behind her and slammed a chair into her back!” Sammy is talking a mile a minute while acting out the match with his pillow, throwing it down, making crashing noises. He’s too adorable. He finally remembers he wanted to show Jon the match and starts scrolling through his tablet. “Here! Watch!” He holds his tablet out for Jon to see, and there it is. The video of my most recent match against Eva. I usually cringe watching my match tapes. I always get so critical, and think about how I could execute a move better, how the choreography could have been different. “Bam! Chair to the back! Look at Eva go down like a sack of potatoes,” Sammy cheers.
“Do you often hit your opponents with chairs?” Jon asks in the most judgmental tone I’ve ever heard.
“No more than you leave women hanging in locker room showers.”
All of the color drains from his face, his jaw completely slack. I pat myself on the shoulder for effectively shutting him up. Luckily, Sammy is too engrossed with his screen to process what I’m saying.
“She had it coming. The Glam Squad has been our rivals since thebeginning. It was time they got the message not to mess with me, or anyone else on Below Zero,” I say crossing my arms, staying in character for Sammy.
“Rrrright,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I dunno. This seems like dumb high school feuds if you ask me.”
