Frontline (12 page)

“What’s with the fancy-schmancy new lock?” Denim asks as she enters my apartment.

“Don’t ask,” I mumble, repeating my line to Kelly. I shut the door. “So, you’re off work today?”

Denim joins Kelly on the bed. “My co-worker needed tomorrow off so she asked me to switch with her.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

Denim’s hazel eyes sparkle. “It’s super good news! That girl I hate, you know, the one who works at Clinique across the way? She works every Tuesday. We’re rarely on at the same time, so this Tuesday, I’m determined to steal all of her customers and outsell her. Then, maybe, I’ll get that promotion I’ve dreamed of since I entered the cosmetic industry.”

Denim takes her job very seriously. According to her, she doesn’t simply work in a department store. She’s a MAC makeup authority. An
artiste
.

“What’s that?” Denim points to
the
New York Financial
magazine on the floor
.

Damn it. I really need to shred that thing.

“Uh, that? It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” Kelly picks it up and inspects the cover. “Sara, you might as well fess up about why you have a
business
magazine in your apartment.
People
magazine
is usually as informed as you get.”

“Very funny.”

“Come on, tell us,” Denim says.

“Uh, it was delivered here by mistake.”

“There’s no mailing label.” Kelly arches an eyebrow.

“Uh . . .”

Shit.

Denim eyes me warily. “What’s going on?”

Kelly clues in first. “Okay, who’s the business boy? That’s the only reason you’d be reading
New York Financial
.”

I have no choice but to confess. My blush has already given me away. “The business boy is the guy on the cover, actually.”

Denim’s eyes widen. “Really? Wow, he’s hot.”

“And rich,” Kelly says, scanning the article.

“Too rich.”

Denim laughs. “There’s no such thing as too rich, Sara.”

Wanna bet?

“So, spill,” Kelly says.

I shrug. “There’s nothing to tell. I met him at the hospital Friday night. We went out on a date and now it’s over.”

Denim pouts. “How could you not tell us?”

“Our date was only last night and I’m not going to see him again, so there was no point in getting your hopes up.”

Kelly tosses the magazine aside. “Where did you go on your date?”

I gulp. “Um . . . his place.”

Denim giggles. “Oh, sexy!”

“In Connecticut.”

Denim and Kelly gape at me.

“You went to his house in another
state
on your first date?” Kelly’s voice crescendos. “Did Mr. CEO do a corporate takeover of your common sense?”

I wince. “Trust me, I know. It was a big mistake and I learned my lesson.”

“You should be grateful you’re still alive to tell the tale,” Denim says. “He could’ve, like, murdered you, cut you up into pieces, and stuffed you into garbage bags.”

I recall Trenton’s sword and dagger collection, but I don’t dare bring it up.

“He’s a well-known CEO,” I say, “not a serial killer.”

Denim shakes her head. “That doesn’t mean anything. Appearances can be deceiving.”

Kelly nods. “Next time you have a date, please let me and Denim know about it, as well as where you’re going, just as a precaution. This is New York. Crazies abound.”

“I promise I will.”

“All right, let’s get down to business,” Denim says. “Sara, tell us all about this Merrick guy.”

I recount my evening with Trenton and how I told him off this morning over the phone. By the time I finish, Denim and Kelly are both in agreement: Trenton Merrick is an asshole and not worth another second of my time.

After scolding me again for putting myself in that situation with Trenton to begin with, they conclude they’re happy I dipped my toe into the New York dating pool. They also assure me that just because things didn’t work out with him it doesn’t mean all hope is lost.

Following their strict orders, I dump the
New York Financial
magazine into the garbage. They applaud.

After blow-drying my hair, I change, and the three of us head out for the afternoon. I buy a shirt for fifteen dollars, only after Kelly agrees with Denim that it looks good on me. Denim’s style belongs in the 1980s rather than present-day New York, so I always hesitate in asking for her opinion on outfits. Luckily, Kelly is always willing to be the voice of good taste.

We eat an early dinner and then return home. Denim heads up to her apartment to try on her new vintage purchases, I gather my stethoscope, purse, and the bag with my scrubs in it, and Kelly walks to the depot around the corner to pick up a taxi for her evening shift. She pays tuition for her journalism degree at New York University by driving a taxicab part-time. She’s impatient, loud, and an extremely aggressive driver who is always itching to hit the horn. That, coupled with her sailor’s mouth, makes it the perfect side job for her.

Whenever Kelly’s schedule lines up with mine, she offers to drive me to work, off the meter. It’s against the rules, but somehow she manages to get away with it. I’m always grateful for any opportunity to avoid the subway.

I meet her in front of our building at six thirty. Traffic is brutal, but Kelly’s extensive knowledge of traffic patterns, shortcuts, and her daring NASCAR-worthy maneuvers make the drive fun and much quicker than I expect.

We make a hard right. Manhattan General sits t
wo blocks ahead. I lean down to retrieve my bags from the floor of the cab.

Kelly honks the horn twice. “Ugh, what’s with these fuc
king people blocking the road?” The cab inches forward. “I have to drop you off here, Sara. I won’t be able to get much closer because of these assholes taking up the entire street.”

I rummage through my purse for my hospital
identification badge. “That’s fine. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

Kelly pulls over and throws the vehicle into park. “Jesus. Either the President is in town, or there’s a massive funeral procession congregating right outside your hospital.”

I look through the windshield. My stomach lurches. A lineup of luxury black vehicles sits double-parked along the road.

“That’s not a funeral procession.” I grip the door handle, my lips curled into a sneer. “But Trenton Merrick is about to become a dead man.”

I pull the door handle, but not in time. Kelly engages the automatic locks, holding me prisoner in the cab.

“Trenton Merrick is at your hospital and he brought an entourage?”

“I plan on telling him to get lost. Now, open the door.”

Kelly looks at me suspiciously. “I thought you did that already.”

I eye the lineup of luxury vehicles ahead. “He obviously didn’t take me seriously.”

“Well, he will when I’m through with him. I’m going to kick him in his gold-plated balls!”

I cringe. “There’s gotta be a more reasonable way to handle this.”

Kelly picks up her two-way taxi radio. “Fine, I’m calling the police. I can get on their frequency and they’ll be here in no time.”

I shake my head. “Don’t. I can handle him by myself.”

“Sara, he showed up at your place of employment after you told him never to contact you again. If he’s not here because of some dire medical emergency, then that’s harassment.”

I snatch the radio from her and shove it in its holder. “If you call the police, this will turn into a bigger spectacle than it already is. I don’t want everyone at work knowing what’s going on.”

Kelly purses her lips.

“I promise if I feel threatened, I’ll call security. But I don’t think Trenton is here to hurt me. He’s not that kind of guy.”

Kelly lifts her eyebrows. “Don’t defend him. You don’t know that for sure.”

“Either way, the hospital is a busy, public place. I’ll be surrounded by tons of people so I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Sara, I don’t know . . . what if he leaves your work and you think everything is fine, and then he follows you home?”

I recall Trenton’s previous unexpected visit to my apartment. That could, in fact, be his next move. Not to mention that he changed my lock and might have a key.

I spot Sean standing beside one of the parked black cars, wearing sleek black sunglasses and the typical Tin Man attire: a light gray suit. I wonder if Trenton is waiting for me in one of the vehicles or if he’s already inside the hospital.

“Let me talk to Merrick’s men and find out what’s going on, just in case he really is here because of an emergency.”

It’s highly unlikely, but I have to make sure before I barge into the hospital and accuse Trenton of stalking me.

Kelly sighs and disengages the locks.

I smile and open the door. “I’ll call you later and let you know what happened.”

Bags in hand, I exit the cab. Kelly joins me on the sidewalk.

“What are you doing?”

She squares her shoulders. “I’m coming with you to talk to Merrick’s goons.”

My eyes widen. Kelly’s temper against Trenton’s Tin Men is a recipe for catastrophe.

“Is that the guy we should talk to?” She points to Sean and snorts. “He looks like a pushover.”

“Don’t even think about it, Kelly. Plus, you shouldn’t leave your cab unattended. You’re parked illegally.”

Traffic is at a standstill down the street, blocked by Trenton’s motorcade. Horns honk, drivers lean out their windows, profanity flies through the air. Two police officers stroll by, surveying the convoy, and continue on their way without doing anything.

Kelly grabs my arm and marches toward the hospital. “Come on. There’s no way I’m letting you confront them alone.”

Sean turns to us.

“Sara!” He greets me with a wide grin and adjusts his earpiece.

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t
Sara
me. What are you doing here?”

“Let me rephrase that.” Kelly flips her hair behind her shoulders. “What she means to ask is
—is your boss sick?”

Sean raises his eyebrows. “Sick?”

“How about bleeding profusely on account of some sort of injury?” She taps the toe of her knockoff Louboutin on the sidewalk.

“Huh?”

“Is he experiencing excruciating pain? Has he been diagnosed with some terrible disease? Is he dying?”

“Uh, no.”

Kelly scoffs. “Then tell him to get the fuck away from Sara’s hospital and let her work in peace.”

Sean lowers his sunglasses and peers at her over the frame. “And who, may I ask, are you?”

She steps toward him, her nose in the air. “I’m Sara’s friend. Who are you?”

Additional members of Trenton’s security detail gather around us, including Christopher. They all wear the same stern expression.

Sean pushes his sunglasses back in place and dismisses Kelly with a wave of his hand. “This doesn’t concern you, sweetheart.”

Uh oh.

Kelly seethes. “Sweetheart?”

Sean smirks.

“Come on, Sara, let’s go.” Kelly grabs my elbow. “We’re calling the cops.”

“How about you let Sara speak for herself?” Sean folds his arms across his chest.

Kelly scowls and releases me. “Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are? She’s not going in there!”

“Trenton just wants to talk to her.”

“Well, she doesn’t want to talk to him.”

Kelly and Sean stand chest-to-chest, glaring at each other, as the other Tin Men close in on alert. Kelly isn’t intimidated. She and Sean continue shouting at each other over the traffic noise and amidst stares from curious pedestrians.

It’s clear that Kelly enjoys their heated tête-à-tête and has no desire to back down. Sean stands his ground because Trenton is his boss and he’s doing what he’s paid to do. Their argument is futile.

I force Kelly and Sean apart and step between them.

“Listen, you’re both super stubborn so fighting will get you nowhere.” I turn to Kelly. “I know you mean well, but I have to deal with Trenton on my own. I’ll call you later.”

Kelly tries to argue, but I hush her. Sean chuckles and she looks about ready to kill him. I wheel around to face him. His laughter ceases.

“This is between me and Trenton.” I point between his eyes. “You and the other men stay outside, got it? This is my place of employment and I don’t want you embarrassing me further, especially not in front of my boss.”

Sean removes his sunglasses and glances over his shoulder at the rest of the Tin Men.

“Okay, Sara,” he says, turning back to me. “But if Trenton calls, we’re coming in. That’s just how it goes.”

“He won’t need you. I’m pissed off, but I’m going to remain civilized. I don’t want to get fired.”

Kelly pulls me aside. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

She nods and focuses her icy stare on Sean.

I look back and forth between the two of them.

“See ya ’round,
honey
.” Sean smirks again.

Kelly’s eyes linger on him for a few tense moments before she hugs me and walks back to her cab. On her journey, she glances over her shoulder and tosses her hair, her gaze fixated on Sean as she sashays her hips.

I turn to Sean and note a sparkle in his eyes as he watches her retreat. Shaking his head and grinning, he mumbles something under his breath. Then he catches my stare and clears his throat, his expression serious again.

“Trenton’s inside, Sara. Be nice to him, okay? He’s, uh . . . had it pretty rough since your phone call this morning.”

“That doesn’t give him the right to show up here,” I say as the other Tin Men return to their original posts.

Sean shrugs. “He means well.”

“That still doesn’t make it right.”

Sean sighs and places his hands in his pockets. “Listen, don’t tell Trenton I told you this, but . . .” He looks down at his feet. “Let’s just say I’ve known the guy for years and I’ve never seen him like this. You’re good for him, Sara. You make him . . . happy.”

“Trenton’s behavior toward me is strange to say the least. Regardless of his intentions, he’s crossed the line by coming here.”

“Is your hostility toward him about last night? Because he had no choice but to leave quickly
—”

“It’s a culmination of a lot of things.”

Sean puts his sunglasses back on. “Please try to look past the mistakes he’s made and give him a chance. He’s trying, he really is. This is all just so new to him.”

“I’m late for work.
Good-bye, Sean.”

I catch Christopher’s stare from down the sidewalk. He nods. I don’t know how to respond except to give a small wave.

With my eyes trained ahead, I walk into the hospital, past Triage, and across the ER toward the employee lounge. The unit is swamped as usual. I change into my scrubs and stuff my belongings into my locker. I’m on the floor less than thirty seconds before Valerie approaches.

“Thank goodness you’re here. Trenton Merrick is back for a follow-up visit and he personally requested you as his nurse.”

Shocker.

I expected his excuse for coming here to be a lot more creative.

“His head wound required only five stitches and they’re dissolvable,” I say. “Not to mention he told me during his last visit that he employs a private physician.”

“Mr. Merrick also said his auxiliary foundation will be contacting us on Tuesday.” Valerie waves his chart in my face. “Perhaps he’ll increase his original amount if we treat him well during his follow-up.”

“He’s clogging up our ER.”

“Whether his request is impractical or not, we aren’t turning him away. We may lose the donation altogether.” Valerie points across the unit. “I’ll have another nurse receive report on your other patients. Go and prepare Mr. Merrick for Dr. Shore. He’s in Room Three.”

I drape my stethoscope over the back of my neck and grab his chart from Valerie. Derek stands at the nurses’ station, fussing over a bouquet of long-stemmed roses in an ornate crystal vase. I acknowledge him with a wave and exhale a deep breath before walking to Trenton’s room.

You can do this, Sara.

Focusing on the floor, I open the sliding glass door, determined to save the Florence Nightingale routine for a patient who actually deserves it. This visit calls for Nurse Ratched.

Trenton’s spicy scent ambushes me before I even enter the room; one whiff and my heart races like I’ve just run a marathon. Memories of his lips on mine and my legs wrapped around him flood my senses, momentarily diffusing my anger.

As I step inside, close the door, and pull the curtain for privacy, I gear up for the debate of a lifetime, knowing Trenton’s penchant for being a persistent and artful negotiator. I’m hoping to stand up to him and leave here with my dignity intact.

“Do you mind telling me what the hell you’re doing here, Mr. Merrick?”

I look at Trenton and suppress a gasp. The fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow across his stern features. His hair is neatly styled and he’s dressed in a charcoal suit, but his ashen complexion and the dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes betray him.

“Good evening, Sara.” His soft voice caresses my ears like a symphony.

Paging Nurse Ratched. You’re wanted in the ER, stat!

I release a deep breath. “How did you know I was working tonight? I just got called in this morning.”

Trenton shrugs. “Lucky guess.”

I narrow my eyes. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

He sits down at the edge of the bed, his long legs spread out in front of him, the soles of his shiny leather shoes pressed to the white tile. “I had to see you, so I called your boss to find out if you were working tonight.”

I place my hand on my hip. “She’s not allowed to give out employee information, so try that one again, Mr. Merrick.”

Trenton smirks. “The rules don’t apply to me, Sara.”

I walk toward him and slap his chart down onto the bedside table. “Oh, really?”

His eyes meet mine and I realize I’m standing in between his legs. I step back.

“To obtain the information I required, I told your boss I wanted to stop by for a follow-up visit sometime over the next few days, and then I requested you as my nurse. She said you would be in tonight so I made my arrangements.”

“I told you never to contact me again.”

“You made that decision under duress.” He waves his hand dismissively. “I needed the opportunity to defend myself and to change your mind. Since I prefer discussing pertinent matters in person, I came here. I don’t regret my choice because it will be worth it after I get what I want.”

“And what’s that?” I fold my arms across my chest.

“You.”

His vigilant stare disarms me. I look to the floor, hoping he won’t see my blush. His words are fit for a classic Hollywood film script—those incredibly cheesy love stories that always make me swoon. All that’s missing is the corny orchestral music swelling in the background.

Trenton lifts my chin and I’m swept away in his fervent blue eyes again.

“You need to trust me, Sara.” He takes my hand in his. “My quick departure last night was necessary. I wish I could explain to you why, but the matter is business related, and thus, strictly confidential.”

“If it’s work related, you’re right, it’s none of my business.” I pry my hand from his grip. “It just would’ve been nice if you’d said good-bye first, especially since we were on a date that
you
went to such lengths to secure, and because before you took off, you were dry-humping me against a frickin’ wall. I mean, that would be common courtesy, right?”