She leaned her bare ass back against the sink and folded her arms over her tits, which were red and marked from the roughness of our sex. “You keep quoting hospital rules to me. I don’t even think there is such a rule. I think you made it up so you wouldn’t have to see me outside of the hospital.”
“Look it up in the employee handbook,” I said with a shrug as I tucked my cock into my shorts and pulled up my black scrubs. “Or go ask your fiancé about it. He works in administration. I’m sure he’d tell you the same thing I’m telling you.” I narrowed my eyes to give her a serious look. “I mean, if this isn’t enough for you, we can just stop.”
“No, this is great,” she said quickly, ignoring the fact that we had just fucked in a public restroom the size of a broom closet. It was representative of the nature of our affair. We had fucked in janitor’s closets, empty hospital rooms, public restrooms with locks on the doors, bathroom stalls with no locks, unoccupied labs, service elevators, and the laundry room in the basement. We had anointed pretty much every area within the hospital with the sounds and smells of our sex, but we would never meet outside. Monica was a sweet girl and a nice fuck, but she was not someone I’d give the time of day to on the outside. She knew and I knew it, and it wasn’t really an issue. Monica always got clingy right after sex.
I nudged her aside and washed my hands while she sat on the toilet and cleaned off her cunt with toilet paper then pulled the pink scrubs back up her legs. I dried my hands on a paper towel and kissed her on the forehead.
“I’m going to check on our patient,” I said. “Have a good night. And thanks for this. It was nice.”
“You’re such an asshole,” she huffed, rolling her eyes at me, pretending to be irritated. Then she smiled and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
I unlocked the door and stepped out into the brightly-lit hallway. There were three nurses at a station at the end of the hall. They all looked at me, then quickly looked away.
I smiled and headed toward ICU to check on my patient. I could only imagine the gossip that would start when the nurses saw Monica coming out of the bathroom.
The Dr. Cole Walker legend lived on.
Chapter 4: Lucy
Ed gave me the grand tour of World News Network’s news production facilities that took up the entire top three floors of the WNN building located in New Jersey right across the bay from lower Manhattan. I could see the Statue of Liberty from the balcony off the bullpen, where dozens of reporters and writers toiled to produce the network’s constant flow of news. Apparently, my morning commute would involve a taxi or subway, and a ferry ride that was pleasant in the spring and fall, but hot as fuck in the summer and cold as a witch’s tit in winter. Those were Ed’s words, not mine.
“If you’re here next year think about moving over to this side of the bay,” Ed said as I followed him into his office. He directed me toward a chair and he slid in behind his desk. His belly pushed against the desk, so he pushed his chair back.
“If I’m here next year?” I said, giving him the eye. “You think I’ll be burnt out by then? Or fired?”
Ed smiled and his eyes nearly disappeared above his puffy cheeks. He had gotten even rounder since I’d seen him last. He grunted when he moved and sweated a lot. His once red hair had turned gray and was cut into an old-fashioned crew cut. He tugged a Kleenex from a box on the desk and mopped his face with it.
“This place will burn anybody out,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Look at me. I’m only thirty years old.”
“You don’t look a day over fifty-nine,” I said with a smile. “I appreciate you giving me this chance, Ed. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t,” he said, waving the tissue at me. “If you’re still the hungry go-getter I hired in Chicago all those years ago, you’ll do fine here. The audience and the egos are bigger, otherwise, it’s all the same.”
“When do I get to meet my anchors and staff?” I asked, glancing at the large photographs on his wall of the network stars under Ed’s control. The main anchors for WNN’s Nightly News were Bryant Hart and Stephanie Bean. I’d seen them countless times on TV but had not had the chance to meet them yet.
Bryant was a youthful-looking fifty-something with perfect gray hair and perfect teeth and steel blue eyes that cut into the camera like lasers. He had been the network’s star for twenty years and showed no signs of stopping. Stephanie Bean was probably his tenth co-anchor. It was common knowledge in the industry that Bryant was a bitch to work with and she was just the latest in a long line of comers.
Stephanie was in her early thirties but tried to sell it as late twenties. She was a drop dead gorgeous blonde, a former Miss Kentucky, who had come out of journalism school full of talent and drive and reportedly fucked, clawed and backstabbed her way to the network chair. These were my two stars that worked for me, at least during the hour when I was in the booth controlling the show.
“Let me give you a little insight on your anchors,” Ed said quietly, even though the office door was shut. “Bryant Hart is an egotistical pussy hound that’s probably fucked most of the women worth fucking in the place and will try to fuck you.”
“Define ‘worth fucking’,” I said with a smile. “And should I be flattered that I’m included in that club?”
“You know what I mean,” Ed said, huffing, shaking his head. “He’s like most male anchors. He thinks he’s a bigger star than he is, though Bryant’s numbers are pretty damn good and have been for a long time. Good enough to make him the number two anchorman on cable.”
“And what about Miss Kentucky?” I asked, nodding at her picture. She really was gorgeous, with her big blonde hair and infectious smile and a pair of legs reportedly insured for a million dollars. “What’s her story?”
Ed leaned back in the chair and laced his fingers over his round belly. “Stephanie is a piece of work. Q-Ratings are off the chart with men. Not so much with women, which is why we paired her with Bryant. She is bright, talented, smart, and will probably be our sole anchor if she hangs around long enough for Bryant to either retire or drop dead of a heart attack in a strip bar. She is also conniving, ruthless, self-serving, and the most narcissistic person you will ever meet. You will either love or hate her immediately and the feeling will be mutual, I guarantee.”
“Lovely,” I said. “So, I have two anchors with two huge egos to contend with. Anyone else I need to be warned about? What about the sports guy and the weatherman?”
Ed smiled and shook his head. “Both easily managed because they’re not that smart,” Ed said. He wagged a finger at the anchor’s pictures on the wall. “Nope, these are the Medusas of the bunch. Everyone else, reporters, producers, writers, tech, directors, assistants, are easy as pie to manage compared to those two.”
“That’s good to know,” I said with a nod. “So, if everyone understands that when it comes to producing the show, I’m in charge, we should have no problems.”
“You will have no problem there,” he said, his round head bobbing as if the muscles in his neck were giving out. “Even those with the biggest egos understand that the show comes first. They want every newscast to be the best it can be. And if anyone gives you shit,” he said, grinning at me, “I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it without running to me.”
I smiled. “I think I’ll be fine.”
“Oh, one more thing,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows planted on the desk. “Dr. Cole Walker is coming in for a meeting later today. I’d like you to be on hand.”
“Dr. Cole Walker?” I vaguely knew the name, but couldn’t put a face to it. “Who is he?”
“Dr. Walker is one of the world’s foremost cardiologists,” Ed said proudly, as if he were talking about one of his kids. He started moving folders around on the desk, looking for something. “I thought I had his bio and headshot here somewhere.”
“Why would a cardiologist have a bio and headshot?” I asked.
He gave up the search and laced his fingers together on the desk like he needed to keep his hands busy. “Walker has done a medical segment for us every Friday for the last year or so. He comes on set with Bryant and Stephanie and answers a medical question from a viewer. I’m pretty sure that Stephanie is giving him a hand job under the desk. He’s that goddamn good looking.”
“Okay, so why is he coming in for a meeting?”
“Because his Q-Ratings are off the fucking charts,” Ed said, looking for the folder again. “The audience loves him. The powers that be upstairs who keep up with such things think we need to give him a longer segment or put him on twice a week. And there’s talk of even giving him his own show.” He shook his head as if he were respectful of the guy’s talent. It was something I’d rarely seen Ed do. “The guy could be the next Dr. Oz, if Dr. Oz looked like Ben Affleck in his prime.”
“Well, I can’t wait to meet him,” I said. “What time?”