Beautifully Awake(3)

“Umm, who do you think found it? I sure as fuck wasn’t the one down there investigating.”

Too much information.

“Gross. My eyes hurt. I could’ve done without that visual.” I chuckled so hard I didn’t have a prayer of holding back a snort this time. So much for being discreet on a crowded elevator.

Sierra was beyond comfortable talking about all things sex, and if there was a gene responsible for embarrassment, she was congenitally deficient. No detail was too personal. For as cosmopolitan as she played it, Sierra was blessed with diarrhea of the mouth within her intimate circle. A circle that started and ended with me since we were seven years old.

“Honestly, you need more than a visual, you need a freakin’ tutorial. Just saying. Maybe it’s time to mount the horse again-”

“You need serious help,” I quipped while shaking my head.

Time to change the topic. That didn’t mean she was wrong. She was more right than I would admit. Sierra knew enough about my past not to push the issue, but I appreciated her brutal honesty. It came from a good place.

“Anyway, I really called to remind you ‘bout tonight and make sure you don’t let the new guy get your panties in a bunch. He’s supposedly a real ball of sunshine. So since your day’s basically gonna suck, just look forward to happy hour instead.”

“And this is making me feel better how? Wait. How do you know about him?” I balanced my cell in the crook of my neck and pushed my office door open. I lucked out; I didn’t have to share my office like the six other case managers did. In reality, it was a converted storage closet attached to the security office, but it served its purpose.

“Dodd was at the hospital yesterday working on an endowment contract, and he said all the nurses couldn’t shut up about the new guy. I meant to call you last night, but placenta brain took over.”



Basically, a brain surgeon and a dick was what she was saying.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Who are you kidding? It wouldn’t matter if he was Mr. Rogers, you’d still be running to the bathroom all morning. Is it sick and twisted that I’m jealous? Bet you’re feeling skinny.”

“Sierra. Do me a favor and just stop talking.” She knew me too well.

“You know I’m right. You’re awesome at your job, and sure, it sucks you have to start from scratch every month with all new people, but whatever. You’ll have your shit figured out by noon and then you’ll be back to saving the world. It probably works in your favor. You totally thrive under pressure. And tonight you get to pig out on Rosa’s guacamole and not worry about gaining a pound ‘cause you made plenty of room. Bitch! I’m jealous!”

“Just. Stop. Talking.”

“Fine. I’ll see your skinny ass at six-thirty. Wa-hoo, favorite night of the month!” She sounded entirely too bubbly for this hour.

“Of course I’ll be there. Now can I go to work?” My huff was half-hearted at best.

“Fine, you’re no fun, but if there are any hotties on your team this month, I’m gonna want details. Your eyes still work, right? Even if your vagina’s sealed shut by now.”

“I’m hanging up now. Go gestate or something, see ya tonight.”

I ended the call and dropped my stuff in a desk drawer. The clock read 6:20. Sierra was right. I was all twisted for no reason. Much like the night before the first day of school, anticipation was the killer. Once you got there, you realized it was pretty much the same story, different day.

My actual job stayed the same every month, just the characters changed. I was good at it too, despite the fact it had little to do with social work. And technically, I didn’t need to play into the hierarchical ass-kissing that the residents did, but the whole vibe still affected me. Everything depended on the team. Basically a mishmosh of ambitious personalities dictated the tone of the month. Some months it worked, some months it sucked. Either way, a margarita and killer tacos waited for me on the flip side of the day.



The nurses’ station was quiet when I got there. Rounds didn’t start for another five minutes, so I booted up my tablet and checked email. Suddenly a strong nudge to my hip sent me flying. My left foot jetted out to stop myself from face planting. I blushed from the near miss and glanced up to a familiar cocky smile and a pair of dimples to die for.

“Two rotations in a row, how’d I get so lucky?” Dr. Guy Hunter said in his raspy voice and tilted his head to the side.

“Hey you! I thought you were going to plastics this month.” My voice jumped two octaves, and my grin reached halfway up to my eyes.