Chapter Five

Rachael returned to the second floor break room some time later after having made a completely unnecessary trip to the vending machine downstairs. She really just had to clear her head, and walking around was one of the only things guaranteed to do that for her. She seated herself at the table with her lunch-if you could call a bag of Doritos and a bottled water lunch-and absent-mindedly opened them. She sat alone with her munchies and her thoughts for some time until she was joined by a visitor.

"We've gotta quit meeting like this," Cheryl quipped from the doorway.

Rachael turned to her with a half-hearted smile. "Who's watching the front desk?"

"Who knows." The blonde seated herself at the table. "So, what's the deal with that Mike guy, anyway?"

Rachael looked at her curiously. "Why, you like him or something?"

"I don't know about that, but it sure seems he likes you."

Something about that tone rubbed Rachael the wrong way. "What are you talking about?"

Cheryl smirked. "I consider myself to be a pretty good reader of people," she said. "He acts like he's fifteen again when you're around."

"He's just shy. It's kind of refreshing, I think. Most guys have this…I don't know…they feel they're entitled to whatever they want, you know? He's not like that. He's different."

"Heh…sounds like the feeling is mutual, I'd say."

She sighed wearily; she had told Cheryl numerous times that she'd make a good detective. "I just met him like three days ago. He fixed my truck for me when it broke down, and then I ran into him a couple times after that. He lives in my apartment building."

"Really?" Cheryl quirked her eyebrows at this. "Well that's convenient. But, you never answered my question."

"I…didn't know there was one."

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Do you like him or not?"

"Well…sure, I guess. But as a friend. I already have a boyfriend." She shook her head in frustration. "Look, if I wasn't already seeing someone, I might possibly think about it. But I'm with a really great guy right now and I wouldn't think of ever cheating on him."

"Man, you are so fucking weak. So you've got a boyfriend, so fucking what? Everyone cheats on whoever they're seeing. You don't think for a second he might be cheating on you right now? And if he is, do you think that he's sitting somewhere having this same conversation with someone, concerning himself so deeply with your feelings?"

"Now that's not fair. Lance is a great guy and we respect each other."

"Okay, so you like the nice guy type. In that case, here's another question for you…if you're gonna be seeing someone on the side, why would you go for someone who's just like who you're already with? I mean, I've met your Mr. Wonderful. Sure he's nice, but he's kind of a wuss. You can do way better."

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"Hey, I'm just looking out for a friend. Frankly, Rachael, you're a little naïve."

"Ugh, you…just…go to hell!" Rachael fumed as she bolted from her chair and slammed it home before storming out the door. She walked the halls for some time, not even knowing where she was going or what she was doing. A lump lingered at the back of her throat and angry tears threatened to fall at an inopportune time unless she took a moment to gather herself. Up ahead of her, two nurse's aides rounded the corner, and she quickly ducked into the nearby supply room. There, she busied herself arranging linens in an indeterminate order, almost succeeding in forgetting what she had been so upset about, until…

"Rachael…?"

She whirled around, startled, and received even more of a shock when she saw Mike standing there. A sudden flood of panic struck her when she considered he might have seen-or heard-her outburst earlier. She could be quite formidable when she was angry, and she was embarrassed when other people had to see it. She enjoyed having a bit of a cool level-headedness about her.

"What are you doing?" It started to come out as a harsh demand, but she amended it mid-sentence to be more of a casual greeting. It was then she noticed that he had a laundry cart full of clean sheets in tow.

"Just putting away these things." He paused momentarily with his hand poised on the handle of the cart. "Hey…is something wrong?"

She sighed defeatedly. Despite her best efforts, she had never been any good at hiding it when she was upset about something. "I…it's just been one of those days, you know?" she explained, her voice cracking. "I guess all nurses get worn down eventually."

He nodded understandingly. "I'm sure they do. That's why I really admire that profession. I mean, it doesn't matter how bad a day you've had, or even how bad your week has been; when it's all said and done, you've helped somebody. And sometimes, you mean the difference between someone living and dying. There's gotta be something to be said for that."

"I suppose so, but…sometimes I feel like I'm just fighting a losing battle." She knew as soon as these words left her mouth that the conversation no longer concerned work. "Sometimes I feel like I'm fighting a battle between what I should do and what I want to do."

"Yeah…" He kept his eyes on the ground. "Well…I think there comes a point in just about anything that you deal with that you have to make a choice like that. I personally think that if more people just went after what they want more often and just said, 'to hell with the consequences', the world would be a slightly less pissed off place." He laughed. "But that's just me. There's so much that could go wrong with that."

She smiled amusedly at the ambiguity of this advice, and took a moment to study him. He wore the standard dark gray work uniform of the custodial staff, sans nametag, since they had yet to order shirts for him. The loaner uniform fit him well, though. She never noticed before, but he actually had a decent amount of muscle on his frame. She realized then that he noticed her appraising him, and her face flooded with heat.

"That's really good advice," she said lamely. "You should've been a therapist or something."

"Aw, I don't know about that," he said. "But anyway…I hope the rest of your day goes a little better."

"I think it will. Thanks."

"Sure." His eyes dropped to the floor. "Uh…if you're not doing anything after work, how about joining me at Southfield for a couple drinks?"

She quirked her head to the side to meet his wandering eyes. Even if it wasn't so obvious that he was anticipating rejection, she would not have been able to resist. "I'd like that. And with any luck we won't attract any police attention."

By the time lunch rolled around, Mike was pretty happy with life. He returned yet again to the second floor break room with his lunch-a bologna sandwich supplemented with vending machine chips and soda-and ate in solitude for several minutes. Of course, as he'd soon learned with this particular location of the hospital, it was never lonesome for long.

"Hey there Casanova," a familiar voice greeted him.

"Cheryl." He was beginning to wonder how many people came into the hospital that no one knew about because there was no one at the front desk.

"Hey, why don't we go have a drink after work today?" she said as she sat beside him. He thought she was serious until he noted her exaggerated schoolgirlish actions, and looked away in embarrassment. "Maybe we'll get arrested, hehe."

"How did you know about that…?" As soon as he said this he was sorry.

"I know more than people give me credit for. I figured you out right away. I knew you weren't really her boyfriend. You're just some creepy guy who takes advantage of naïve women. It's because of assholes like you that I don't like men anymore."

"Oh…I'm sorry."

She laughed. "Don't be. And don't misunderstand me either. I'm not one of those crusaders for women's rights or anything. I think that stupid bitches who dedicate all their time to finding and keeping boyfriends deserve everything they get."

"You think Rachael is one of those?" He wanted to sound forceful but it didn't quite come out that way.

"No, that's just it. I think she's one of the good ones. She just needs a little…guidance."

"So…you want to date her or something?"

"No, I want you to date her."

He munched thoughtfully on chips as he pondered this. "I don't think I understand."

"God, you men…" Cheryl grumbled disgustedly. "Okay, listen up. I want you to do this, and don't say you won't because I know you want to, and you were gonna do it anyway. It'll end disastrously, she'll be completely distraught and miserable, and that's where I come in…"

"Okay, so let me get this straight. You're counting on a relationship between Rachael and I to end badly so you can have her for yourself?"

Her only answer was a sly grin and a tap of her finger on the side of her nose. Mike shook his head.

"That's evil. I don't think she'd like you much if she knew."

"Who says she ever has to know? On that note, she won't ever know…right?"

He faltered, dumbfounded. "I…don't feel so good…"

"Right, she will be none the wiser." She perched herself on the edge of the table, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned in toward him threateningly. "Because if you fuck this up, I will do something to you. And I don't know what that is, because no one's ever tried to screw me over before."

With this, she made a classic cheesy villain's exit, leaving Mike alone with his neglected lunch and his thoughts. As far as he was concerned, she would just have to come up with something horrendous to do to him, because his relationship with Rachael was not going to end in catastrophe. He was, nonetheless, going to brace himself for that blowback, because he had no doubts that Cheryl was capable of considerable evil. The cute ones were often insane.