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“I’ll escort you downstairs.”
“You don’t have to. I can find my way,” she sniffled, staring at the floor.
“I have to, Malaysia. The drug storage room is located on this floor. Will you look at me?”
She threw her hands in the air. “Why, so you can manipulate me again?” she huffed, staring through me. “I don’t want a fucking man. I came home to fix my father’s business. The moment the affairs are in order, I’m moving back to California,” she spit, meeting my gaze.
“Wow. Ok.” I stepped back, eyes widened, clutching my fists. I didn’t want to let her go, but what choice did I have?
I helped Malaysia slip into her leather jacket. After we exited the office, I locked the door. She kept the pace down the corridor. Her cold eyes stared into the distance and Malaysia’s arms were folded tight across her chest.
Doctors and nurses bustled down the hall, darting in and out of patient’s rooms.
“Malaysia, we can take the freight elevator. Call your driver. Tell him to meet you at the door off the east wing next to the loading dock.”
She dropped her arms at her sides. “Ethan, I can take the bus.”
I turned, pointing my finger toward her. “You won’t ever take a bus again!” I snapped.
“You might not want anything to do with me, but as long as you’re in town, you can utilize the car service.”
Her eyes softened. “Ethan.”
My jaw clenched. “Call, Malaysia.”
I waited with her in a tight door way until the driver arrived. The driver hopped out of the truck, opening the rear passenger door.
Before Malaysia climbed inside, I turned on my heels, en route to a patient’s room.
The week of Thanksgiving was always busy at the hospital. Approaching Christmas, crime around the city also increased. I hadn’t seen Malaysia in a little over a week.
Before driving out of the parking garage, I made a phone call.
Peter.
Hey, Ethan. Are we ready for tonight?
Yeah, meet me at my condo. Let yourself in. Set up and we will get to work.
Will do, man.
I disconnected the call.
Carefully, I drove through the slushy streets. The snow fell from the dark sky, covering the roads.
I couldn’t continue to let my mind wander on what had happened with Malaysia. I had a job to perform tonight.
Twenty minutes later, I was walking into the front door of my condo. “Peter!”
“Down the hall.”
I strolled into the office. Peter was standing at his desk, pecking away at the computer keys. He peeked at me momentarily. “Dude, you look like shit.”
“Thanks, Peter, you know I feel like shit, too. I lost my woman last week right before Thanksgiving, so it’s been a rough road.”
“I didn’t know you had a woman,” he said, pushing his black framed glasses up his narrow nose.
“It doesn’t matter. How was your holiday?”
