Heartstrings (3 page)

“What’s wrong with that?” I ask defensively.

“Slade Hale is the front man of Flagrant Disregard,” Penny
says eagerly, “They’re only the biggest thing that’s happened to rock in the
last decade.”

“That’s a bold claim,” I laugh.

“I stand by it!” she says adamantly, “They’re absolutely
huge! I heard that they were playing around here this weekend. Who would have
guessed that we’d end up with a real live rock star on our hands?”

“Not me,” I say.

“You don’t seem very impressed,” Penny says.

“Don’t get me wrong,” I say, “That’s probably the most incredible
looking person I’ve seen in real life. And I have you as a coworker. I guess I
just don’t really do the whole pop music thing.”

“A fact that will forever mystify me,” Penny says, smiling
at my compliment nonetheless. “Haven’t you ever been to a rock concert, Julia?”

“I played the clarinet for a year in fourth grade,” I tell
her flatly, “That’s about extreme as I’ve ever gotten.”

“You’re missing out,” she says, crossing her arms, “The
right kind of concert can totally transport you. It’s like magic, and when it’s
real good...it puts you in a state of euphoria you can't experience anywhere
else.”

I roll my eyes at her hyperbolic fawning and go along my
way. "Better than sex even?" I jab sarcastically, as I walk away to
get report from the day shift nurse.

"Way better! Are you kidding?" She yells over my
shoulder.

I just shake my head and smile dismissively.

There are other patients to tend to besides this Slade
fellow, after all. I peek out into the waiting room and see the man’s entourage
waiting for him. They look like they’re holding some kind of vigil for him. By
the look of the group, you’d think that he
was
some kind of prophet. I
frowned, realizing that the guy would probably have a gigantic ego when he came
to. Those celebrity types always seem to think they’re god’s gift to the
planet. Well, I wasn’t so easily swayed. Rock star or no, I was set on treating
Mr. Hale just like any other patient.

Chapter Two

* * * * *

As it turns out, he makes it through surgery just fine—the
bleeding wasn’t as bad as the doctors had originally thought. As soon as he’s
set up in his recovery room, his entourage wants to know whether they can go
back and see him. I’m tasked with the unfortunate job of explaining to a bunch
of groupies and band mates that visitors aren’t allowed at this time of night,
except for family. And though several attempt to persuade me that “music makes
family of us all,” I hold firm. The pack finally disperses, for the time being
at least.

In between patients, I check on our in-house celebrity. He’s
resting, deep in a morphine sleep. I’m glad that everything went well—not just
for his sake, but because god forbid our hospital gets a reputation for
bungling the surgeries of celebrities. Not that I think rock stars are
important, necessarily, but they can be to some people. I go about my work, and
the hours continue to creep on by. After the initial excitement of Mr. Hales’
arrival, everything else seems pretty mundane. As I’m making the rounds, Dr.
Kelly beckons me over to Slades’ room. He looks like a nervous little kid.

“He’s just waking up,” Dr. Kelly tells me, “I want you to be
there, in case he needs anything.”

“OK,” I say, “But I have other patients. I’ll work him
into—”

“No,” Dr. Kelly says, “You stay with him. I know it’s a
little unreasonable to ask, but he’s not exactly a typical patient.”

“Do you want me to ask him for an autograph when he’s
awake?” I ask dryly.

“No need for snark,” Dr. Kelly says, “Just do it, would
you?”

“Of course,” I say, and brush past the doctor. I’ve never
seen Dr. Kelly so much as crack a smile, now here he is, beaming and giddy and
acting for the world like...well...a crazed fan. Who would have known he was the
hard rock type?

I walk into Slade Hale’s room and have to stop a moment to
catch myself. He’s propped against the crisp white sheets, his head leaning to
one side. His black curls are splayed out against his pillow like a halo, and
his body finally seems to have relaxed. This thick, muscular arms lay at his
sides, and his mouth is pulled up into the faintest of smiles. He arches his
back against the bed, testing out his newly reclaimed consciousness. I take one
deep breath after another, trying to compose myself. I don’t give a damn that
he’s famous, but he might actually be fatally handsome. I’m not used to dealing
with gorgeous men, especially famous ones. I force myself to adopt my most
professional demeanor and wait patiently at the foot of his bed, giving him
time to realize that I'm there.

As if in slow motion, his rich brown eyes open and swing
toward me like twin beacons in the darkness. Every cell in my body adjusts, and
aligns to his gaze. I’m paralyzed, rooted to the floor. His eyes linger, and
finally focus. Slade Hale draws in a deep breath as he takes in his
surroundings for the first time. For a moment, confusion clouds his perfect
features—then he starts to put the pieces together. I watch him take in the
hospital bed, the harsh overhead lights, and finally, me. His expression
lingers somewhere in between disgruntled and pompous, and I try to cherish the
moment of silence before he inevitably opens his mouth and starts to speak.

“Excuse me, little girl,” he says, his voice rich and smoky,
“Would you be a dear and wrangle a medical professional for me?”

My jaw falls open as the ire behind his words smacks me
between the eyes. I feel a red hot surge of outrage break over me. I’ve never
been what you might call an even-tempered sort of girl. I never learned how to
keep my mouth shut, or how to abide self-important idiots. I plant my hands
firmly on my hips and level my very best don’t-you-dare-screw-with-me face at
the smug celebrity.

“Excuse
me
,” I shoot back, “I happen to be the nurse
who’s been tasked with looking after you. In case you’re keeping track, that
means that I’m the one controlling your morphine drip.”

“You’re my nurse?” Slade says, cocking an eyebrow at me, “I
thought it was take your daughter to work day, or something.”

“Nope,” I say, “Apparently it’s look after a condescending
douche bag day. Hooray for me.”

“You’re not allowed to talk to me like that,” Slade says,
struggling to sit up in bed, “I’m the patient. I’m injured here.”

“You’re fine,” I say, rolling my eyes, “You’ll be out of
here by the end of the week.”

“The end of the week?” he moans, his perfect jaw tensing,
“That’s unacceptable.”

“Tell that to your internal organs,” I suggest.

“I need to speak with whoever’s in charge,” he says
adamantly.

“You already are,” I tell him, crossing my arms, “So I’d
take the machismo down a notch. Is there anything you need that I can actually
help you with?”

“I need to get out of this place immediately,” Slade says,
“My tour leaves tonight. I have shit to do. We’ve got a show—”

“Don’t you have ‘people’, or something?” I ask, “You famous
types aren’t much for doing your own work, are you?”

“So you know who I am,” Slade says, grinning smugly.

“I had to ask,” I sniff, “Though I was tipped off by your
entourage clogging up the waiting room. Do they always look that unwashed?”

“Let me guess,” he says with a mean laugh, “You don’t like
rock music?”

“Not particularly,” I say.

“No...” he says, “Let me guess. You’re more the Sarah
McLachlan type?”

“Carol King,” I correct him, “But thanks for the overarching
generalization.”

“Any time,” he says. “What’s your name?”

“Nurse Baxter,” I tell him.

“Your first name,” he clarifies.

“It’s Julia,” I say warily.

“What do your friends call you...?” he prompts with a sly
grin.

“You’ll never know,” I inform him with a less-than-sweet
smile of my own. We glare at each other from across the hospital room. I had
expected him to have an ego, but this is something else entirely. It’s hard to
keep my eyes from wandering all over that exquisite body of his, but I don’t
want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I find him attractive. Why do
the best exteriors always house the most vile personalities? Such a waste.

I reach for the blood pressure machine and undo the cuff.

"May I check your blood pressure Mr. Hale?" I ask
politely.

He groans audibly and puts out his muscular arm. I
immediately notice the intricate tattoo designs interweaving along his entire
arm, and although I've never been much for tattoos - his did look sexy on him.
I wrap the blood pressure cuff around his arm and secure it snuggly, press the
start button on the machine and grab my stethoscope from around my neck to
listen to his lungs.

"May I pull your shirt up so that I can listen to your
lung sounds?" I ask, desperately controlling the quaver in my voice.

"Hey, hey, at least wait till the second date," he
jokes. I'm sure he can tell how uneasy he's making me.

I do my best to ignore the jab and lift up his hospital
gown.

Oh my God...look at those abs,
I think to myself,
Ryan
Lochte ain't got shi...

"I can assure you this isn't a free show young
lady," he laughs.

Now, I've been a nurse for a little while now, and I don't
think I've ever turned this shade of red before, especially not in a patient's room.
The way he's making me lose my cool definitely has me worried. I place my
stethoscope over his beautifully sculpted pecs and attempt to change the topic,
"Take a deep breath for me please."

He does.

We do the charade a few more times, and I make sure that my
mind's eye gets a good picture to take home. I finish and pull his gown back
down.

“Everything sounds good, and your vital signs are near
perfect. I’m going to check on my other patients,” I tell him, turning toward
the door.

“You’re leaving?” he asks. He sounds genuinely offended.

“Yes,” I tell him, “There are other people that exist in the
world who also need medical attention.”

As if on cue, Penny appears in the doorway with an anxious
smile on her face. For a long moment, she stares dumbly at Slade, grinning from
ear to ear. I clear my throat, and she tears her eyes away from the rock star
long enough to look at me. “Dr. Kelly wanted me to know that he’s reassigned
the rest of your patients.”

“What?” I hiss, pulling her out into the hallway, out of
earshot of Slade.

“He wants you to stay with Slade and make sure he’s
comfortable,” Penny tells me, “It’s a big deal having a celebrity here. You’re
the best nurse here right now, and Dr. Kelly wants to make sure that this guy
gets the best possible treatment.”

“He might not want me to stay after all, if that’s the
case,” I mutter.

“What do you mean?” Penny asks.

“I mean, I’m not sure if I can be in the same room alone
with that man and not throttle him,” I say heatedly.

“Come on,” Penny says, giving me a push back toward Slade’s
room, “I’m sure he’s not that bad.”

She disappears from sight as I begrudgingly turn my
attention back to the rock star. He looks let down, all of sudden. “What is
it?” I ask.

“I was hoping she’d stick around,” the man says, “You two
would look great co-starring in some of my nastier nurse fantasies. Do you have
anything to wear other than that jumpsuit?”

“You mean my scrubs,” I say, “That I am required to wear on
the job. Which this is. My profession. I’m not sticking around so that men like
you can belittle me and get their rocks off while—”

“Whoa, whoa—” he laughs, “I was just trying to pay you a
compliment.”

“Is that what that was?” I say, “Because from over here it
just sounded like rampant sexist and an unchecked ego.”

“Well...It was probably that, too,” he says, “But mostly I
was just trying to tell you that I think you’re very pretty.”

“Gee, mister!” I squeal sarcastically, clapping my hands
together, “I guess I can quit my job and spend the rest of my life trailing you
around from seedy hotel to seedy hotel with blow jobs at the ready!”

“That would be nice,” he says with a smile.

I open my mouth to tell him that he’s the most despicable,
vile, pathetic excuse for a man that I’ve ever laid eyes on, but just at that
moment, Dr. Kelly pokes his head through the door. Of course.

“You’re up!” the doctor smiles, “That’s great. Mr. Hale, I
just want you to know that we are going to give you the best care that we
possibly can. I’ve assigned Julia here to be your personal nurse for the
duration of your stay. She won’t leave your side once—so if you need anything
at any time, don’t hesitate to ask her. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to
accommodate your every need.”

“I certainly hope so,” Slade says, leering at me.

I stifle a shudder.