Page 149 of The Doctors Will See You Now

I sighed and smiled at the same time.

“So where are we going tomorrow night, dearest Mother?”

“Kinky Boots.”

“Kinky Boots…the Broadway show?”

“I’ll meet you at your place at six forty-five,” she said by way of answer, scooping her purse up from the desk and walking straight out the automatic doors.

I looked around, and set after set of eyes jumped away.

Good Lord, my mom knew how to make an entrance and an exit. That woman was hell on wheels, and I’d rejoice the day she found a man who kept up with her feisty ways.

With no choice but to give in to the fact that I’d be seeing fucking Kinky Boots tomorrow night, my mind wandered to an irritatingly recurrent thought, and I decided there was something I had to do before I got consumed by the exciting—and oftentimes bloody and gross—world of emergency medicine.

“I’ll be back in just a minute,” I told the ER charge nurse for the night. Beverly nodded. She was a lot more lenient than Deb, the slave driver.

Against my better judgment, I stepped around the corner, scrolled through my recent calls, and clicked one to dial. It rang back in my ear as I waited.

“Heeello?”

“Harlow?”

Yeah. So, apparently, the article was bothering me a little more than I wanted to believe. But this was good. I could talk to her really quick, get all of my gripes off of my chest, and then get on with my night and my job.

“That’s me. Who’s this?”

“It’s Scott.”

“Scott who?”

Scott who? Was she serious?

“Scott Shepard. You’ve called me before. Don’t you have my number saved in your phone?”

“Ohh. That Scott. Sorry, I know a couple, and I didn’t bother to look at the caller ID when you called.”

I ran a frustrated hand through my hair. “Who in the hell doesn’t look to see who it is when someone calls?”

“Sometimes, I don’t. Is that all you needed?”

“Is that all I needed?” I nearly roared. What an irritating woman. “I didn’t know about your fucking loony tunes habit before my call, so, no, that’s not the reason for my fucking call.”

“Oh-kay.” She was completely nonplussed. “So, what’s the reason?”

Clenching my fists as tight as I could manage without causing serious injury, I worked to steady my words. “The article.”

“What article?”

Oh my God. I was going to strangle a woman for the first time in my life. In fact, I’d never even considered it before now. But for Harlow Paige, I was willing to get dressed, take a cab, climb whatever fucking flights of stairs I had to, and bang on her door in order to do it.

“You know what article.”

“Is it about you?”

“Of course it’s about me!” My voice felt scratchy as Beverly came to a sliding stop around the corner. I waved her off with a wildly gesticulating arm.

“Well, geez. I didn’t know. Maybe you really love Sia, and you’re mad about the piece I did on her hair. What do I know?”