Taryn nearly shoutedBingo!Pandering to Andi’s ego and comparing her to a second century Roman gladiator had Andi puffing out her chest and straightening her back. Her arm muscles strained at the stretchy cotton shirt she wore, and Bernice flicked her gaze appreciatively over the display. Taryn considered leaving them to it; they were clearly going to have sex, and Taryn wasn’t sure if any business matters would be concluded until they had.
However, Bernice hadn’t realized that Taryn was the one who needed convincing this residency was a good idea, and while this office environment was extremely pleasant, she was still caged indoors, not moving, and not getting anything done. And if Taryn disliked—no, hated—anything, it was wasted time.
“Our team is used to a nomadic life, and we’re concerned that a six-month residency might make them soft and sloppy,” Taryn said, hoping her words doused the fire enough to get back to topic. “Do you have any thoughts on that?”
Andi shot her an irritated look but then seemed to relax. She knew damn well Taryn had reservations, and that’s exactly why Andi had asked Taryn to come with her.
“I can easily arrange for the concerned members of your team to talk with the Cirque du Soleil performers from any of the six resident shows in Vegas.” Bernice smiled sweetly. “They had similar concerns before they settled into their own rhythm. I believe their newly found financial stability diluted their fears. There are several hundred Cirque artists living their lives quite happily here.” She paused to take another chew of her drink. “And I take safety extremely seriously. While I adore the illusion of wild and risky stunts, I know how important a competent safety team is. I would be more than happy to finance a large safety team, recruited by you, of course, to ensure the health and well-being of your artists.” She looked pointedly at Taryn. “And that would include their mental health.”
Bernice was so damned likeable. She was offering twice the regular pay plus bonuses and healthcare. The schedule was favorable and not too demanding if they took on a few more riders, or “artists,” as Bernice had called them. She’d penciled in regular dark days for the team to take breaks. She was offering a plot of land just outside the main hub of the city for them to set up base, as well as providing condos in the hotel for the management team, if they wanted them. Taryn was the only one who had reservations. Everyone else was a hundred percent behind Andi’s proposal. Taryn was self-aware enough to know her reluctance was personal and had nothing to do with the business side of this offer. She’d left home and everything she knew behind in order to travel the world, to roll like a stone and gather no moss. The thought of staying anywhere longer than two weeks made her incredibly uncomfortable, and she wasn’t certain exactly why. Six months might not seem like long to most people, but time was a slippery mistress, escaping through cracks of inaction and complacency. Taryn’s desire to achieve, to live, to dance, to squeeze every last drop of life from every single moment of her existence sat in direct contradiction to plopping down in Vegas for twenty-six weeks andsettling. One hundred and eighty-two days. She wasn’t about to do the rest of the math, but that was a lot of hours and a lot of seconds.
“What do you say, T?”
Andi’s look of hope and excitement sealed the deal. Who was Taryn to stand in the way of the whole team making some serious money and taking a break from the road? There was potential, she supposed, in having that amount of time to build some serious stunt sets and perfect some awesome set pieces.
Taryn glanced at the ground hundreds of feet below her silly, soft slippers.Leap, and the net will appear. Except she’d never wanted a net. The thrill of the unknown rocketed the blood through her veins. But this wasn’t just about her. This was about her team, her chosen family. “Let’s do it,” she said. Relief and gratitude swam in Andi’s eyes—along with a hint of tears? What the hell was happening? It was like the earth was changing course.Fuck it. Let the chips fall.
Chapter Six
“Incoming from the RUN show. Compound fracture, right leg,” Henri, one of Cassie’s favorite paramedics, said as they looked up at her. “Trauma room?”
“Yes, please,” she said and indicated for Rachel to follow them.
As Henri wheeled in the groaning acrobat, they smiled at Rachel. “Looked like you were having a good time at Infinite last night. Was that your mom with you?”
Rachel frowned and helped Cassie and Henri transfer the patient to the bed. “Ah, they mean your new stud’s best buddy. Not my mom.”
“Rachel.” Cassie fixed her with a serious expression. Henri’s worship of Rachel from afar was cute, but she wasn’t about to give it space right now. Nor did she want to discuss her “new stud,” particularly since Taryn still hadn’t contacted her. “Thank you, Henri. We’ll take it from here.” She arched her eyebrow at them for good measure.
They grabbed their stretcher and backed away to the double doors. “Good luck, buddy,” they said and left.
“Can you tell me your name?” Cassie began to slice through the skin-tight, flesh-colored leggings. The intricate design disappeared around the wound, soaked in scarlet blood.
The patient grunted. “Edison…Wisener.”
“Okay, Edison, do you know how much you weigh?” Cassie visually measured his wound to be around two and a half inches.
“A hundred and twenty-six pounds,” he said around puffs of pained breaths.
“Rachel, 285mg of gantamicin, 2g of cefazolin on the IV, and 15mg of morphine.”
“No contamination?” Rachel opened the cabinet to retrieve the regimen.
“No. Everything looks clean.” Cassie glanced up from his protruding ankle. “What happened?”
“I lost my grip on the wire mid-air in the final scene and landed awkwardly at speed.” He clenched his jaw when Rachel inserted the IV into his arm. “I’ve landed worse than that a hundred times and only got a sprain.”
“Repetitive use and trauma can weaken the bone,” Cassie said to herself more than to Edison.
His breathing slowed as the painkiller kicked in. “How long will it be before I can get back to training?”
Cassie almost laughed at how comically wide Rachel’s eyes opened. “I have no idea, I’m afraid. I need to make sure you and your leg are safe first. We’ll get the orthopedic surgeon to look at you, and they will be able to advise if any bone reconstruction is necessary. After that, you’ll have a period of rehabilitation. You can’t rush any of it.” She inspected the three-inch wound and tilted her head slightly. It didn’t look like he would need much skin or soft tissue reconstruction, though that wasn’t her area of expertise so she wasn’t about to give him any indication of how long his recovery might take. “But you shouldn’t be thinking about performing again just yet.”
Edison grabbed her wrist. “You don’t understand, doc. I have to get back on stage. It’s my life. Thousands of people depend on me.”
She patted his hand and smiled. Rachel uncurled his fingers and placed his hand back at his side while Cassie began to stabilize the fracture. People depended on doctors and nurses like her and Rachel; they didn’t depend on frivolous circus performers. And she really couldn’t understand why any of them did what they did anyway. She’d been on shift when the Ka fatality happened. And even though Cassie didn’t treat that acrobat because she never made it to the hospital, Cassie felt the loss of life was senseless and avoidable. It seemed to her that the audience paying for these shows almost hoped accidents would happen, and that pushed the performers to do even more daring and risky stunts. Over the years, she’d treated quite a few of the Cirque team from the various resident shows. She didn’t deny that they seemed to be responsible and took their preparations and performances seriously, but Cassie couldn’t help but see it as a lack of respect for life.
She completed her work, told Rachel to page the on-call orthopedic surgeon, and exited the trauma room.
