My name is Sanjay Dasari. My grandparents fled India with my mother during World War II when it seemed like Japan was ready to mount an assault on India. My dad fled India during the War of 1971 between India and Pakistan. My parents met shortly after while working as interns at the UCLA hospital. Being both unskilled immigrants, however, they did not have the education to get a degree in medicine. So that is where I come in.

I never really wanted to go into healthcare and medicine. Quite frankly, I was more interested in law. But my parents told me that doctors got paid more and lived happier lives. I can't believe I listened to them.

I am a thirty year old man still trying to pay off my six-year medicine school bill at UCLA. Basically, that meant a two-room apartment that smelled of rats. A car built from the middle ages, and two sets of clean clothes – one being my white hospital jacket.

Next time my parents tell me to do something, remind me to ignore them.

My unluckiness couldn't go on forever. Sometimes, it feels as if those select successful people siphon off all the luck from unfortunates like me. One day, a patient was wheeled into my emergency room after suffering a horrendous multi-vehicle car accident. She was the only one who survived.

My incredible understanding about the human anatomy saved her. Now don't get me wrong, I hate medicine, but that doesn't mean I suck at it. And I had attended the best medical seminars, lectures, and classes at the finest medical universities at Stanford and UCLA. All because my parents told me to. Look where I am now: living in a garbage can. Not literally, of course.

Anyways, I later learned that the patient was Miranda Wilde. Wilde! Her family is filthy rich due to the successes of her little brother, Christopher. And they were infinitely grateful that I saved Miranda and made me their family physician. They paid a lot. So I upgraded to a bigger apartment that didn't smell like rats. But I was still paying off my medical school bill. Wonderful.

I got to see Miranda quite a bit as the months wore on. Quite a bit of this is personal, so I won't go into detail, but Miranda and I were married a year later on October 1. It was a quiet little wedding, held at a beach in Hawaii. The police managed to keep the paparazzi away. God knows I couldn't have been able to afford such an extravagant wedding if the bride wasn't Miranda Wilde.

A few months after the wedding day, and I was back in my room working overtime to make sure my patients' insurance paid me my money. Suddenly, Christopher burst into my waiting room, half-supporting this girl who looked extremely angry yet confused and dizzy at the same time.

"Check up her head. I accidentally hit her on the head with a metal door," he told me.

"Oh really?" the girl responded sarcastically. "Accidentally?"

"What? It was!" Christopher responded exasperatedly. "Here, just take her," he continued, looking behind his back.

I noticed this gesture. "What are you so afraid of?"

"Who," he corrected me. "Just don't let the paparazzi know I'm here. I am so dead if they learn this."

"Don't worry. They won't know. But I need to contact this girl's parents. You know-"

"No! No. No contact. Just make sure she's fine and-"

I interrupted him. "Christopher. It is medical procedure. Her parents must be notified."

Christopher put his hands to his temples and massaged them. "No. No. Oh, this is bad. Wait. Where'd she go?"

I put my hands on his shoulders and told him to relax. "Stop being so jittery. My nurse is looking at her. I just need you to tell me exactly what happened so I know what to check."

Christopher inhaled and exhaled deeply. "Okay. Well, I was singing at Alexis Bender's birthday party. And, well, I wanted to get away unnoticed so I went through the back alleyways. I opened the metal door and it slammed into her head."

"A big metal door?" I asked. "Oh no, this is gonna be bad."

Christopher's face visibly changed. "No! No! It cannot be bad! No, oh, I am in so much trouble..."

I laughed. "I was just joking. It doesn't look like you hit her in the head that hard. The bump is pretty small. I'm just going to give her a quick CT scan. Stay in the waiting room."

Christopher turned around and looked again. "No, let me come in with you. What if the paparazzi finds me?"

I sighed impatiently. "Sure, whatever."

I set up the the machine and laid the girl on the bed. "Just relax, close your eyes, and don't move."

She nodded.

I pushed a button and the machine started whirring. I told my nurse to escort her back into the examination room while I waited for the scans to print out.

As I stood in the back room waiting for the scan to print, I thought about how much trouble I was in. I just broke three important rules today: allowing a non-family member into the examination room, allowing a non-family member's examination to be paid with a family insurance, and not notifying a minor's parents. Dammit, if only Christopher wasn't my brother-in-law.

The scan printed out, and everything was intact. There were no concussions and it seemed to be only a minor bruise. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I returned to the examination room and was pleased that my nurse had took the initiative to hang up curtains to block Christopher out. He was waiting impatiently, pacing the curtain's perimeter.

My nurse pulled open the curtains and let herself out. "She seems fine," she said.

"Thanks Sherry," I responded.

I went inside and closed the curtain. Christopher, who had tried to enter just as I closed the curtain, hit his head against my closed fist. Ouch, that must have hurt.

"You okay?" I called out.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

The girl giggled.

"What's your name?" I asked her.

"Jessica."

"Jessica," I repeated. I pulled out a flashlight and shined it in her eyes, waving it back and forth. "I want you to follow this light with your eyes." She followed them without any sign of muscular strain.

"Well, I've done a thorough exam and the CT scan was normal. Everything looks good!"

Christopher stuck his head in through the curtains. "So she's okay?"

I turned around, annoyed, and told him to get out.

I turned back to Jessica and continued, "There's no sign of head trauma and I'm absolutely certain that you don't have a concussion."

Jessica looked confused. "So how come I threw up?"

"Maybe it was something you ate. Or maybe it was a reaction to meeting that doofus."

She smiled at that comment.

Christopher stuck his head in through the curtains once more. "It's a curtain, Sanjay, I can hear you." Ooh, he didn't seem to happy. Gosh, I was just joking.

"No, no you can't," I told him firmly, silently telling him to get out.

"Wait, you guys know each other?" Jessica asked.

"Yeah. He's my sister's husband," Christopher replied. I nodded.

Jessica closed her eyes and shook her head. "So I can go now?" She asked, clearly impatient. What is it with kids these days, so impatient about everything?

"Yes," I told her. "But I want you to put an ice pack on that bump until you get home. I'll be right back."

I went into the back room to find an ice pack. While there, I bumped into Sherry who informed me that the paparazzi had indeed tracked Christopher down.

"They won't leave," Sherry told me. "I told them that this hospital was private property, but then they reminded me that UCLA is public property. I don't really know the rules-"

"Don't worry about it," I told her. "We'll figure it out."

I returned to the examination room and heard Christopher talking on the phone with his parents, who seemed to want him home right away. Maybe it wasn't just kids who were so impatient these days. Why do people live such hurried lives nowadays?

He hung up the phone and started heading out. I stopped him.

"That may be a problem," I informed him. "My waiting room is full of big guy with big cameras."

"What? T-the paparazzi found me?"

I nodded.

He closed his eyes and massaged the cavity on his nose in worry. "Umm, Sanjay, what kind of car do you drive?"

"It wouldn't be anything you'd be interested in," I told Christopher. "I'm still paying off six years of medical school." Thank you for reminding me of that.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. My eyes opened wide. No...he wouldn't.

"Perfect. How about a trade?"

Wow, maybe he would. But it would be a pretty unfair trade, nonetheless, and I pride myself in being honest.

"No!"

Christopher shook the keys in front of my face. "It only happens once."

I stared at the keys and it finally struck me what Christopher was offering. I do deserve a good car after all these years of studying and hard work. "Okay," I told him, and we switched keys.

Of course, my streak of luck had to end sooner or later. As I backed out of the parking lot that night, I drove my new Ferrari straight into a cement pillar. Damn it.

Well, this is part 2 of my Starstruck series featuring random supporting characters. I hope you enjoyed reading! Please R&R